1 
 
 OF   THE 
 
 Theological   Seminary, 
 
 PRINCETON,    N.  J. 
 Case, ^.^..^rr:    n,^. 
 
 Book, Ko, ... 
 
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LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 
 
 JOHN  LOCKE,  one  of  the  most  eminent  philosophers,  and  valuable 
 writers  of  his  age  and  country,  was  born  at  Wrington,  in  Somersetshire, 
 on  the  29th  August  1632.  His  father,  who  had  been  bred  to  the  law,  acted 
 in  the  capacity  of  steward,  or  court -keeper  to  colonel  Alexander  Popham, 
 by  whose  interest,  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  civil  law,  he  became  a  cap- 
 tain in  the  service  of  parliament.  The  subject  of  this  article  was  sent,  at  a 
 proper  age,  to  Westminster  school,  whence  he  was  elected  in  1651  to 
 Christ-church  college,  Oxford.  Here  he  much  distinguished  himself  for 
 his  application  and  proficiency ;  and  having  taken  the  degree  of  BA.  in 
 1655,  and  of  MA.  in  1658,  he  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  physic.  In 
 the  year  1664,  he  accepted  of  an  offer  to  go  abroad,  in  the  capacity  of  secre- 
 tary to  sir  William  Swan,  appointed  envoy  from  Charles  II.  to  the  elector 
 of  Brandenburg,  and  other  German  princes ;  but  he  returned  in  the  course 
 of  a  year,  and  resumed  his  studies  with  renewed  ardour.  In  1666  he  was 
 introduced  to  Lord  Ashley,  afterwards  the  celebrated  political  earl  of 
 Shaftesbury,  to  whom  he  became  essentially  serviceable  in  his  medical  ca- 
 pacity, and  who  was  led  to  form  so  high  an  opinion  of  his  general  powers, 
 that  he  prevailed  upon  him  to  take  up  his  residence  in  his  house,  and  urged 
 him  to  apply  his  studies  to  politics  and  philosophy.  By  his  acquaintance 
 w^ith  this  nobleman,  Mr  Locke  was  introduced  to  the  duke  of  Buckingham, 
 the  earl  of  Halifax,  and  others  of  the  most  eminent  persons  of  their  day. 
 In  1668,  at  the  request  of  the  earl  and  countess  of  Northumberland,  he  ac- 
 companied them  in  a  tour  to  France  ;  and  on  his  return  was  employed  by 
 lord  Ashley,  then  chancellor  of  the  exchequer,  in  drawing  up  the  funda- 
 mental constitutions  of  the  American  state  of  Carolina.  He  also  inspected 
 the  education  of  that  nobleman's  son,  and  was  much  consulted  on  the  mar- 
 riage of  the  latter,  the  eldest  son,  by  which  was  the  celebrated  author  of  the 
 Characteristics.  In  1670  he  began  to  form  the  plan  of  his  Essay  on  the 
 Human  Understanding ;  and  about  the  same  time  was  made  a  fellow  of  the 
 royal  society.  In  1672  lord  Ashley,  having  been  created  earl  of  Shaftes- 
 bury, and  raised  to  the  dignity  of  chancellor,  he  appointed  Mr  Locke  to  the 
 office  of  secretary  of  presentations,  which,  however,  he  lost  the  following 
 year,  when  the  earl  was  obliged  to  resign  the  seals.  Being  still  president 
 of  the  board  of  trade,  that  nobleman  then  made  Mr  Locke  secretary  to  the 
 same ;  but  the  commission  being  dissolved  in  1674,  he  lost  that  appointment 
 also.  In  the  following  year  he  graduated  as  a  bachelor  of  physic,  and  being 
 apprehensive  of  a  consumption,  travelled  into  France,  and  resided  some 
 time  at  Montpelier.  In  1679  he  returned  to  England,  at  the  request  of  the 
 earl  of  Shaftesbury,  then  again  restored  to  power ;  and  in  1682,  when  that 
 nobleman  was  obliged  to  retire  to  Holland,  he  accompanied  him  in  his 
 exile.  On  the  death  of  his  patron  in  that  country,  aware  how  much  he  was 
 disliked  by  the  predominant  arbitrary  faction  at  home,  he  chose  to  remain 
 abroad ;  and  was  in  consequence  accused  of  being  the  author  of  certain 
 
 3 
 
4  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 
 
 tracts  against  the  English  government ;  and  altliougli  tJieso  were  aflerwanls 
 discovered  to  be  the  work  of  another  person,  he  was  arbitrarily  ejected  from 
 his  studentship  of  Christ  churcli,  by  the  king's  connnand.  Thus  assailed, 
 he  contiiuied  abroad,  nobly  refusing  to  accept  a  pardon,  which  the  cele- 
 brated ^VilliaIn  Penn  undertook  to  procure  for  him,  expressing  himself  like 
 the  chancellor  L'liospital,  in  similar  circumstances,  ignorant  of  the  crimes 
 of  which  he  had  been  declared  guilty.  In  1G85,  when  Monmouth  undertook 
 his  ill-concerted  enterprize,  the  English  envoy  at  the  Hague  demanded  the 
 person  of  Mr  Locke,  and  several  others,  which  demand  obliged  him  to  con- 
 ceal himself  for  nearly  a  year;  but  in  1G86  he  again  appeared  in  public,  and 
 formed  a  literary  society  at  Amsterdam,  in  conjunction  with  Limborch, 
 Le  Clerc  and  others.  During  the  time  of  his  concealment,  he  also  wrote 
 his  first  "  Letter  concerning  Toleration,"  which  was  printed  at  Gouda,  in 
 1689,  under  the  title  of  "  Epistola  de  Tolerantia,"  and  was  rapidly  trans- 
 lated into  Dutch,  French,  and  English.  At  the  Revolution,  this  eminent 
 person  returned  to  England  in  the  fleet  which  conveyed  the  princess  of 
 Orange,  and  being  deemed  a  suflerer  for  the  principles  on  which  it  was 
 established,  he  was  made  a  conmiissioner  of  appeals,  and  was  soon  after 
 gratified  by  the  establishment  of  toleration  by  law.  In  1(390  he  published 
 his  celebrated  "  Essay  concerning  Human  Understanding,"  which  was  in- 
 stantly attacked  by  various  writers  among  the  oracles  of  learning,  most  of 
 whose  names  are  now  forgotten.  It  was  even  proposed,  at  a  meeting  of 
 the  heads  of  houses  of  the  university  of  Oxford,  to  formally  censure  and 
 discourage  it ;  but  nothing  was  finally  resolved  upon,  but  that  each  master 
 should  endeavour  to  prevent  its  being  read  in  his  college.  Neither  this, 
 however,  nor  any  other  opposition  availed ;  the  reputation,  both  of  the  work 
 and  of  the  author,  increased  throughout  Europe ;  and  besides  being  trans- 
 lated into  French  and  Latin,  it  had  reached  a  fourth  English  edition,  in 
 1700.  In  1G90  Mr  Locke  published  his  second  "  Letter  on  Toleration  ;"  and 
 in  the  same  year  appeared  his  two  "  Treatises  on  Government,"  in  oppo- 
 sition to  the  principles  of  sir  Robert  Filmer,  and  of  the  whole  passive  obe- 
 dient school.  He  next  wrote  a  pamphlet,  entitled,  "  Some  Considerations 
 of  the  Consequences  of  lowering  the  Interest  and  Value  of  Money,"  1691, 
 8vo,  which  was  followed  by  other  smaller  pieces  on  the  same  subject.  In 
 1692  he  published  a  third  "  Letter  on  Toleration;"  and  the  following  year 
 his  "  Thoughts  concerning  Education."  In  1695  he  was  made  a  commis- 
 sioner of  trade  and  plantations,  and  in  the  same  year  published  his  "  Rea- 
 sonableness of  Christianity,  as  delivered  in  the  Scriptures;"  which  being 
 warmly  attacked  by  Dr  Edwards,  in  bis  "  Socinianism  Unmasked,"  Mr 
 Locke  followed  with  a  first  and  second  "  Vindication,"  in  which  he  de- 
 fended himself  with  great  mastery.  The  use  made  by  Toland,  and  other 
 latitudinarian  writers,  of  the  premises  laid  down  in  the  "  Essay  on  the 
 Human  Understanding,"  at  length  produced  an  opponent  in  the  celebrated 
 bishop  Stillingfleet,  who,  in  his  "  Defence  of  the  Doctrine  of  the  Trinity," 
 censured  some  passages  in  Mr  Locke's  essay,  and  a  conti-oversy  arose,  in 
 which  the  great  reading  and  proficiency  in  ecclesiastical  antiquities  of  the 
 prelate,  necessarily  yielded  in  an  argumentative  contest  to  the  i-easoning 
 powers  of  the  philosopher.  With  his  publications  in  this  controversy, 
 which  were  distinguished  by  peculiar  mildness  and  m-banity,  Mr  Locke  re- 
 tired from  the  press,  and  his  asthmatic  complaint  increasing,  with  the  rec- 
 titude which  distinguished  the  whole  of  his  conduct,  he  resigned  his  post 
 of  commissioner  of  trade  and  plantations,  although  king  William  was  very 
 unwilhng  to  receive  it,  observing,  that  he  could  not  in  conscience  hold  a 
 situation  to  which  a  considerable  salaiy  was  attached,  without  performing 
 the  duties  of  it.  From  this  time  he  lived  wholly  in  retirement,  where  he 
 applied  himself  to  the  study  of  scripture  ;  while  the  sufferings  incidental  to 
 his  disorders  were  materially  alleviated  by  the  kind  attentions  and  agree- 
 able conversation  of  lady  Maiiham,  who  was  the  daughter  of  the  learned 
 
LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  5 
 
 Dr  Cudworth,  and  for  many  years  his  intimate  friend.  Mr  Locke  existed 
 nearly  two  years  in  a  very  declining  state,  and  at  length  expired  in  a  man- 
 ner correspondent  with  his  great  piety,  equanimity,  and  rectitude,  on  the 
 28th  of  October,  1704.  He  was  buried  at  Oates,  where  there  is  a  neat 
 monument  erected  to  his  memory,  with  a  modest  Latin  inscription  indited 
 by  himself.  The  moral,  social,  and  political  character  of  this  eminent  and 
 valuable  man,  is  sufficiently  illustrated  by  the  foregoing  brief  account  of 
 his  life  and  labours ;  and  the  effect  of  his  writings  upon  the  opinions,  and 
 even  fortunes  of  mankind,  will  form  the  most  forcible  eulogium  on  his 
 mental  superiority.  Of  his  "  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding"  it  may 
 be  said,  that  no  book  of  tlie  metaphysical  class  has  ever  been  more  gene- 
 rally read;  or,  looking  to  its  overthrow  of  the  doctrine  of  innate  ideas,  none 
 lias  produced  greater  consequences.  In  the  opinion  of  Dr  Reed  he  gave 
 the  first  example  in  the  English  language  of  writing  on  abstract  subjects 
 with  simplicity  and  perspicuity.  No  author  has  more  successfully  pointed 
 out  the  danger  of  ambiguous  words,  and  of  having  distinct  notions  on  sub- 
 jects of  judgment  and  reasoning;  while  his  observations  on  the  various 
 powers  of  the  human  understanding,  on  the  use  and  abuse  of  words,  and  on 
 the  extent  and  limits  of  human  knowledge,  are  drawn  from  an  attentive 
 reflection  on  the  operations  of  his  own  mind,  the  only  source  of  genuine 
 knowledge  on  those  subjects.  Several  topics,  no  doubt,  are  introduced  into 
 tliis  celebrated  production,  which  do  not  strictly  belong  to  it,  and  some  of 
 its  opinions  have  been  justly  controverted.  In  some  instances,  too,  its 
 author  is  verbose,  and  wanting  in  his  characteristic  perspicuity ;  but  with 
 all  these  exceptions,  and  even  amidst  the  improvements  in  metaphysical 
 studies,  to  which  this  work  itself  has  mainly  conduced,  it  will  ever  prove 
 a  valuable  guide  in  the  acquirement  of  the  science  of  the  human  mind. 
 His  next  great  work,  his  "  Two  Treatises  on  Government,"  although  neces- 
 sarily opposed  by  the  theorists  of  divine  right  and  passive  obedience,  and 
 by  writers  of  jacobitical  tendencies,  essentially  espouses  the  principles 
 which,  by  placing  the  house  of  Brunswick  on  the  throne  of  Great  Britain, 
 may  be  deemed  the  constitutional  doctrine  of  the  country,  and  as  such  it  has 
 been  ably  and  unanswerably  defended.  Besides  the  works  already  men- 
 tioned, Mr  Locke  left  several  MSS.  behind  him,  from  which  his  executors, 
 sir  Peter  King  and  Mr.  Anthony  Collins,  published  in  1706,  his  paraphi-ase 
 and  notes  upon  St  Paul's  Epistles  to  the  Galatians,  Corinthians,  Romans, 
 and  Ephesians,  with  an  essay  prefixed  for  the  understanding  of  St  Paul's 
 Epistles,  by  a  reference  to  St  Paul  himself.  In  1706  the  same  parties  pub- 
 lished, "  Posthumous  Works  of  Mr  Locke,"  8vo,  comprising  a  treatise 
 "On  the  Conduct  of  the  Understanding;"  "An  Examination  of  Male- 
 branche'e  Opinion  of  seeing  all  Things  in  God,"  &c. 
 
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AN    ESSAY 
 
 CONCERNING 
 
 HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN   LOCKE,    GENT. 
 
TO 
 
 THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE  THOMAS, 
 
 EARL  OF  PEMBROKE  AND  MONTGOMERY; 
 
 BARON   HERBERT   OP   CARDIFF,    LORD   ROSS    OF   KENDAL,    PAR,  PITZHUOH, 
 
 MARMION,  ST  QUINTIN,  AND   SHURLAND ;    LORD   PRESIDENT  OF 
 
 HIS   majesty's  MOST  HONOURABLE  PRIVY  COUNCIL, 
 
 AND    LORD    LIEUTENANT   OF    THE  COUNTY 
 
 OF  WILTS,  AND  SOUTH  WALES. 
 
 MT  ZiORD, 
 
 This  Treatise,  which  is  grown  up  under  your  lordship's  eye,  and 
 has  ventured  into  the  world  by  your  order,  does  now,  by  a  natural  kind  of 
 right,  come  to  your  lordship  for  that  protection,  which  you  several  years 
 since  promised  it.  It  is  not  that  I  think  any  name,  how  great  soever,  set 
 at  the  beginning  of  a  book,  will  be  able  to  cover  the  faults  that  are  to  be 
 found  in  it.  Things  in  print  must  stand  and  fall  by  their  own  worth,  or  the 
 reader's  fancy.  But  there  being  nothing  more  to  be  desired  for  truth  tlian 
 a  fair,  unprejudiced  hearing,  nobody  is  more  like  to  procure  me  that  than 
 your  lordship,  who  is  allowed  to  have  got  so  intimate  an  acquaintance 
 with  her,  in  her  more  retired  recesses.  Your  lordship  is  known  to  have 
 so  far  advanced  your  speculations  in  the  most  abstract  and  general  know- 
 ledge of  things  beyond  the  ordinary  reach,  or  common  methods,  that  your 
 allowance  and  approbation  of  the  design  of  this  treatise  will  at  least  pre- 
 serve it  from  being  condemned  without  reading;  and  will  prevail  to  have 
 those  parts  a  little  weighed,  which  might  otherwise,  perhaps,  be  thought  to 
 deserve  no  consideration,  for  being  somewhat  out  of  the  common  road. 
 The  imputation  of  novelty  is  a  terrible  charge  among  those  who  judge  of 
 men's  heads,  as  they  do  of  their  perukes,  by  the  fashion ;  and  can  allow 
 none  to  be  right,  but  the  received  doctrines.  Truth  scarce  ever  yet  carried 
 it  by  vote  any  where  at  its  first  appearance :  new  opinions  are  always  sus- 
 pected, and  usually  opposed  without  any  other  reason,  but  because  they  are 
 not  already  common.  But  truth,  like  gold,  is  not  the  less  so  for  being 
 newly  brought  out  of  the  mine.  It  ia  trial  and  examination  must  give  it 
 price,  and  not  any  antique  fashion :  and  though  it  be  not  yet  current  by  the 
 public  stamp ;  yet  it  may,  for  all  that,  be  as  old  as  nature,  and  is  certainly 
 not  the  less  genuine.  Your  lordship  can  give  great  and  convincing  in- 
 stances of  this,  whenever  you  please  to  oblige  the  public  with  some  of  those 
 large  and  comprehensive  discoveries  you  have  made  of  truths  hitherto  un- 
 known, unless  to  some  few,  from  whom  your  lordship  has  been  pleased  not 
 wholly  to  conceal  them.  This  alone  were  a  sufficient  reason,  were  there 
 no  other,  why  I  should  dedicate  this  Essay  to  your  lordship ;  and  its  having 
 some  little  correspondence  with  some  parts  of  that  nobler  and  vast  system 
 of  the  sciences  your  lordship  has  made  so  new,  exact,  and  instructive  a 
 draught  of,  I  think  it  glory  enough,  if  your  lordship  permit  me  to  boast, 
 B  9 
 
10  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 that  here  aiul  there  I  have  fallen  into  some  thoughts  not  wholly  different 
 from  yours.  If  your  lordship  tliink  fit,  that,  by  your  encouragement,  this 
 should  appear  in  the  world,  1  hope  it  may  bo  a  reason  some  time  or  other, 
 to  lead  your  lordship  farther ;  and  you  will  allow  me  to  say,  that  you  here 
 give  the  world  an  earnest  of  something,  that,  if  they  can  bear  with  this, 
 will  be  truly  worthy  their  expectation.  This,  my  lord,  shows  what  a  pre- 
 sent I  here  make  to  your  lordship ;  just  such  as  the  poor  man  does  to  his 
 rich  and  great  neighbour,  by  whom  the  basket  of  flowers  or  fruit  is  not  ill 
 taken,  though  he  has  more  plenty  of  his  own  growth;  and  in  much  greater 
 perfection.  Worthless  things  receive  a  value,  when  they  are  made  the 
 offerings  of  respect,  esteem,  and  gratitude:  these  you  have  given  me  so 
 mighty  and  peculiar  reasons  to  have,  in  the  liighest  degree,  for  your  lord- 
 ship, that  if  they  can  add  a  price  to  what  they  go  along  with,  proportion- 
 able to  their  own  greatness,  I  can  with  confidence  brag,  I  here  make  your 
 lordship  the  richest  present  you  ever  received.  This  I  am  sure,  I  am  under 
 the  greatest  obligations  to  seek  all  occasions  to  acknowledge  a  long  train 
 of  favours  I  have  received  from  your  lordship :  favours,  though  great  and 
 important  in  themselves,  yet  made  much  more  so  by  the  forwardness,  con- 
 cern, and  kindness,  and  other  obliging  circumstances,  that  never  failed  to 
 accompany  them.  To  all  this,  you  are  pleased  to  add  that  which  gives  yet 
 more  weight  and  relish  to  all  the  rest :  you  vouchsafe  to  continue  me  in 
 some  degrees  of  your  esteem,  and  allow  me  a  place  in  your  good  thoughts ; 
 1  had  almost  said  friendship.  This,  my  lord,  your  words  and  actions  so 
 constantly  show  on  all  occasions,  even  to  others  when  I  am  absent,  that  it 
 is  not  vanity  in  me  to  mention  what  every  body  knows  :  but  it  would  be 
 want  of  good  manners,  not  to  acknowledge  what  so  many  are  witnesses  of, 
 and  every  day  tell  me  I  am  indebted  to  your  lordship  for.  I  wish  they 
 could  as  easily  assist  my  gratitude,  as  they  convince  me  of  the  great  and 
 growing  engagements  it  has  to  your  lordship.  This,  I  am  sure,  I  should 
 write  of  the  understanding  without  having  any,  if  I  were  not  extremely 
 sensible  of  them,  and  did  not  lay  hold  on  this  opportunity  to  testify  to  the 
 world,  how  much  I  am  obliged  to  be,  and  how  much  I  am.  My  Lord, 
 Your  Lordship's  most  humble 
 
 And  most  obedient  servant, 
 
 JOHN  LOCKE. 
 
 Dorset-  Court, 
 
 24  May,  1689. 
 
EPISTLE  TO  THE  READER. 
 
 Reader, 
 
 I  HERE  put  into  thy  hands,  what  has  been  the  diversion  of  some  of 
 my  idle  and  heavy  hours :  if  it  has  the  good  luck  to  prove  so  of  any  of  thine, 
 and  thou  hast  but  half  so  much  pleasure  in  reading,  as  I  had  in  writing  it, 
 thou  wilt  as  little  think  thy  money,  as  I  do  my  pains,  ill  bestowed.  Mis- 
 take not  this  for  a  commendation  of  my  work ;  nor  conclude,  because  I  was 
 pleased  with  the  doing  of  it,  that  therefore  I  am  fondly  taken  with  it  now 
 it  is  done.  He  that  hawks  at  larks  and  sparrows,  has  no  less  sport,  though 
 a  much  less  considerable  quarry,  than  he  that  flies  at  nobler  game :  and  he 
 is  little  acquainted  with  the  subject  of  this  treatise,  the  understanding, 
 who  does  not  know,  that  as  it  is  the  most  elevated  faculty  of  the  soul,  so 
 it  is  employed  with  a  greater  and  more  constant  delight  than  any  of  the 
 other.  Its  searches  after  truth  are  a  sort  of  hawking  and  hunting,  wherein 
 the  very  pursuit  makes  a  great  part  of  the  pleasure.  Every  step  the  mind 
 takes  in  its  progress  towards  knowledge,  makes  some  discovery,  which  is 
 not  only  new,  but  the  best  too,  for  the  time  at  least. 
 
 For  the  understanding,  like  the  eye,  judging  of  objects  only  by  its  own 
 sight,  cannot  but  be  pleased  with  what  it  discovers,  having  less  regret  for 
 what  has  escaped  it,  because  it  is  unknown.  Thus  he  who  has  raised  him- 
 self above  the  alms-basket,  and,  not  content  to  live  lazily  on  scraps  of 
 begged  opinions,  sets  his  own  thoughts  on  work,  to  find  and  follow  truth, 
 will  (whatever  he  lights  on)  not  miss  the  hunter's  satisfaction ;  every  mo- 
 ment of  his  pursuit  will  reward  his  pains  with  some  delight,  and  he  will 
 have  reason  to  think  his  time  not  iU  spent,  even  when  he  cannot  much 
 boast  of  any  great  acquisition. 
 
 This,  reader,  is  the  entertainment  of  those  who  let  loose  their  own 
 thoughts,  and  follow  them  in  writing ;  which  thou  oughtest  not  to  envy 
 them,  since  they  afford  thee  an  opportunity  of  the  like  diversion,  if  thou 
 wilt  make  use  of  thy  own  thoughts  in  reading.  It  is  to  them,  if  they  are 
 thy  own,  that  I  refer  myself:  but  if  they  are  taken  upon  trust  from  others, 
 it  is  no  great  matter  what  they  are,  they  not  following  truth,  but  some 
 meaner  consideration :  and  it  is  not  worth  while  to  be  concerned,  what  he 
 says  or  thinks,  who  says  or  thinks  only  as  he  is  directed  by  another.  If 
 thou  judgest  for  thyself,  I  know  thou  wilt  judge  candidly ;  and  then  I  shall 
 not  be  harmed  or  offended,  whatever  be  thy  censure.  For  though  it  be  cer- 
 tain, that  there  is  nothing  in  this  treatise,  of  the  truth  whereof  I  am  not 
 fldly  persuaded ;  yet  I  consider  myself  as  liable  to  mistakes,  as  I  can  think 
 thee,  and  know  that  this  book  must  stand  or  fall  with  thee,  not  by  any 
 opinion  I  have  of  it,  but  thy  own.  If  thou  findest  little  in  it  new  or  in- 
 structive to  thee,  thou  art  not  to  blame  me  for  it.  It  was  not  meant  for 
 those  that  had  already  mastered  this  subject,  and  made  a  thorough  ac- 
 quaintance with  their  own  understandings ;  but  for  my  own  information, 
 and  the  satisfaction  of  a  few  friends,  who  acknowledged  themselves  not  to 
 
 11 
 
12  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 have  sufficiently  considered  it.  Were  it  fit  to  trouble  thee  with  the  history 
 of  this  Essay,  I  should  tell  thee,  that  five  or  six  friends  meeting  at  my 
 chamber,  and  discoursing  on  a  subject  very  remote  from  this,  found  them- 
 selves quickly  at  a  stand,  by  tlio  difficulties  that  rose  on  every  side.  After 
 we  had  a  while  puzzled  ourselves,  without  coming  any  nearer  a  resolution 
 of  those  doubts  which  perplexed  us,  it  came  into  my  thoughts,  that  we  took 
 a  wrong  course :  and  that  before  we  set  ourselves  upon  inquiries  of  that 
 nature,  it  was  necessary  to  examine  our  own  abilities,  and  see  what  objects 
 our  understandings  were,  or  were  not,  fitted  to  deal  with.  This  I  proposed 
 to  the  company,  who  all  readily  assented;  and  thereupon  it  was  agreed, 
 that  this  should  be  our  first  inquiry.  Some  hasty  and  undigested  thoughts 
 on  a  subject  I  had  never  before  considered,  which  I  set  down  against  our 
 next  meeting,  gave  the  first  entrance  into  this  discourse ;  which  having 
 been  thus  begun  by  chance,  was  continued  by  entreaty ;  written  by  inco- 
 herent parcels ;  and  after  long  intervals  of  neglect,  resumed  again,  as  my 
 humour  or  occasions  permitted ;  and  at  last,  in  a  retirement,  where  an 
 attendance  on  my  health  gave  me  leisure,  it  was  brought  into  that  order 
 thou  now  seest  it. 
 
 This  discontinued  way  of  writing  may  have  occasioned,  besides  others, 
 two  contrary  faults,  viz.  that  too  little  and  too  much  may  be  said  in  it.  If 
 thou  findest  any  thing  wanting,  I  shall  be  glad,  that  what  I  have  writ  gives 
 thee  any  desire  that  I  should  have  gone  farther :  if  it  seems  too  much  to 
 thee,  thou  must  blame  the  subject ;  for  when  I  put  pen  to  paper,  I  thought 
 all  I  should  have  to  say  on  this  matter  would  have  been  contained  in  one 
 sheet  of  paper ;  but  the  farther  I  went,  the  larger  prospect  I  had  ;  new  dis- 
 coveries led  me  still  on,  and  so  it  grew  insensibly  to  the  bulk  it  now  appears 
 in.  I  will  not  deny,  but  possibly  it  might  be  reduced  to  a  narrower  com- 
 pass than  it  is ;  and  that  some  parts  of  it  might  be  contracted ;  the  way  it 
 has  been  writ  in,  by  catches,  and  many  long  intervals  of  interruption,  being 
 apt  to  cause  some  repetitions.  But  to  confess  the  truth,  I  am  now  too  lazy, 
 or  too  busy  to  make  it  shorter. 
 
 I  am  not  ignorant  how  little  I  herein  consult  my  own  reputation,  when 
 I  knowingly  let  it  go  with  a  fault,  so  apt  to  disgust  the  most  judicious,  who 
 are  always  the  nicest  readers.  But  they  who  know  sloth  is  apt  to  content 
 itself  with  any  excuse,  will  pardon  me,  if  mine  has  prevailed  on  me,  where, 
 I  think,  I  have  a  very  good  one.  I  will  not  therefore  allege  in  my  defence, 
 that  the  same  notion,  having  different  respects,  may  be  convenient  or  ne- 
 cessary to  prove  or  illustrate  several  parts  of  the  same  discourse  ;  and  that 
 60  it  has  happened  in  many  parts  of  this  :  but  waiving  that,  I  shall  frankly 
 avow,  that  I  have  sometimes  dwelt  long  upon  the  same  argument,  and  ex- 
 pressed it  different  ways,  with  a  quite  different  design.  I  pretend  not  to 
 publish  this  Essay  for  the  information  of  men  of  large  thoughts,  and  quick 
 apprehensions ;  to  such  masters  of  knowledge  I  profess  myself  a  scholar, 
 and  therefore  warn  them  beforehand  not  to  expect  any  thing  here,  but  what, 
 being  spun  out  of  my  own  coarse  thoughts,  is  fitted  to  men  of  my  own 
 size  ;  to  whom,  perhaps,  it  will  not  be  unacceptable,  that  I  have  taken  some 
 pains  to  make  plain  and  familiar  to  their  thoughts  some  truths,  which  esta- 
 olished  prejudice,  or  the  abstractedness  of  the  ideas  themselves,  might 
 render  difficult.  Some  objects  had  need  be  turned  on  every  side ;  and 
 when  the  notion  is  new,  as  I  confess  some  of  these  are  to  me,  or  out  of  the 
 ordinary  road,  as  I  suspect  they  will  appear  to  others  ;  it  is  not  one  simple 
 view  of  it,  that  will  gain  it  admittance  into  every  understanding,  or  fLx  it 
 there  with  a  clear  and  lasting  impression.  There  are  few,  I  believe,  who 
 have  not  observed  in  themselves  or  others,  that  what  in  one  way  of  pro- 
 posing was  very  obscure,  another  way  of  expressing  it  has  made  very  clear 
 and  intelligible :  though  aflerward  the  mind  found  little  difference  in  the 
 phrases,  and  wondered  wiiy  one  failed  to  be  understood  more  than  the  other. 
 But  every  thing  does  not  hit  alike  upon  every  man's  imagination.     Wo 
 
EPISTLE  TO  THE  READER.  13 
 
 have  our  understandingg  no  less  different  than  our  palates  ;  and  he  that 
 thinks  the  same  truth  shall  be  equally  relished  by  every  one  in  the  same 
 dress,  may  as  well  hope  to  feast  every  one  with  the  same  sort  of  cookery : 
 the  meat  may  be  the  same,  and  the  nourishment  good,  yet  every  one  not 
 be  able  to  receive  it  with  that  seasoning ;  and  it  must  be  dressed  another 
 way,  if  you  will  have  it  go  down  with  some  even  of  strong  constitutions. 
 The  truth  is,  those  who  advised  me  to  publish  it,  advised  me,  for  this  reason, 
 to  publish  it  as  it  is :  and  since  I  have  been  brought  to  let  it  go  abroad,  I 
 desire  it  should  be  understood  by  whoever  gives  himself  the  pains  to  read 
 it ;  I  have  so  little  affection  to  be  in  print,  that  if  I  were  not  flattered  this 
 Essay  might  be  of  some  use  to  others,  as  I  think  it  has  been  to  me,  I 
 should  have  confined  it  to  the  view  of  some  friends,  who  gave  the  first  oc- 
 casion to  it.  My  appearing  therefore  in  print,  being  on  purpose  to  be  as 
 useful  as  I  may,  I  think  it  necessary  to  make  what  I  have  to  say  as  easy 
 and  intelligible  to  all  sorts  of  readers  as  I  can.  And  I  had  much  rather  the 
 speculative  and  quick-sighted  should  complain  of  my  being  in  some  parts 
 tedious,  than  that  any  one,  not  accustomed  to  abstract  speculations,  or  pre- 
 possessed with  difierent  notions,  should  mistake,  or  not  comprehend  my 
 meaning. 
 
 It  will  possibly  be  censured  as  a  great  piece  of  vanity  or  insolence  in  me, 
 to  pretend  to  instruct  this  our  knowing  age ;  it  amounting  to  little  less, 
 when  I  own,  that  I  publish  tliis  Essay  with  hopes  it  may  be  useful  to  others. 
 But  if  it  may  be  permitted  to  speak  freely  of  those,  who  with  a  feigned 
 modesty  condemn  as  useless,  what  they  themselves  write,  methinks  it 
 savours  much  more  of  vanity  or  insolence,  to  publish  a  book  for  any  other 
 end  ;  and  he  fails  very  much  of  that  respect  he  owes  the  public,  who  prints, 
 and  consequently  expects  men  should  read  that,  wherein  he  intends  not 
 that  they  should  meet  with  any  thing  of  use  to  themselves  or  others  :  and 
 should  nothing  else  be  found  allowable  in  this  treatise,  yet  my  design  will 
 not  cease  to  be  so  ;  and  the  goodness  of  my  intention  ought  to  be  some 
 excuse  for  the  worthlessness  of  my  present.  It  is  that  chiefly  which  se- 
 cures me  from  the  fear  of  censure,  which  I  expect  not  to  escape  more  than 
 better  writers.  Men's  principles,  notions,  and  relishes  are  eo  different,  that 
 it  is  hard  to  find  a  book  which  pleases  or  displeases  all  men.  I  acknow- 
 ledge the  age  we  live  in  is  not  the  least  knowing,  and  therefore  not  the 
 most  easy  to  be  satisfied.  If  I  have  not  the  good  luck  to  please,  yet  nobody 
 ought  to  be  offended  with  me.  I  plainly  tell  all  jny  readers,  except  half  a 
 dozen,  this  treatise  was  not  at  first  intended  fof  them  ;  and  therefore  they 
 need  not  be  at  tiie  trouble  to  be  of  that  nuint)er.  But  yet  if  any  one  thinks 
 fit  to  be  angry,  and  rail  at  it,  he  may  dr>  it  securely :  for  I  shall  find  some 
 better  way  of  spending  my  time  than  in  such  kind  of  conversation.  I  shall 
 always  have  the  satisfaction  to  have  aimed  sincerely  at  truth  and  useful- 
 ness, though  in  one  of  the  meanest  ways.  The  commonwealth  of  learning 
 is  not  at  this  time  without  master-builders,  whose  mighty  designs  in  ad- 
 vancing the  sciences,  will  leave  lasting  monuments  to  the  admiration  of 
 posterity :  but  every  one  must  not  hope  to  be  a  Boyle,  or  a  Sydenham :  and 
 in  an  age  that  produces  such  masters,  as  the  great  Huygenius,  and  the  in- 
 comparable Mr  Newton,  with  some  others  of  that  strain,  it  is  ambition 
 enough  to  be  employed  as  an  under-labourer  in  clearing  the  ground  a  little, 
 and  removing  some  of  the  rubbish  that  lies  in  the  way  to  knowledge ;  which 
 certainly  had  been  very  much  more  advanced  in  the  world,  if  the  endea- 
 vours of  ingenious  and  industrious  men  had  not  been  much  cumbered  with 
 the  learned  but  frivolous  use  of  uncouth,  affected,  or  unintelligible  terms, 
 introduced  into  the  sciences,  and  there  made  an  art  of,  to  that  degree,  that 
 philosophy,  which  is  nothing  but  the  true  knowledge  of  things,  was  thought 
 unfit,  or  incapable  to  be  brought  into  well-bred  company,  and  polite  con- 
 versation. Vague  and  insignificant  forms  of  speech,  and  abuse  of  language, 
 have  so  long  passed  lor  mysteries  of  science ;  and  hard  and  misapplied 
 
14  OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 words,  with  little  or  no  meaning,  have,  by  prescription,  such  a  right  to  be 
 mistaken  for  deep  learning,  and  height  of  speculation,  that  it  will  not  be 
 easy  to  persuade  either  those  wiio  speak,  or  those  who  hear  tiieni,  that 
 they  are  but  the  covers  of  ignorance,  and  liinderance  of  true  knowledge. 
 To  break  in  upon  the  sanctuary  of  vanity  and  ignorance,  will  be,  I  suppose, 
 some  service  to  human  understanding ;  though  so  few  are  apt  to  think  they 
 deceive  or  are  deceived  in  the  use  of  words,  or  that  the  language  of  the 
 sect  they  are  of  has  any  faults  in  it,  which  ought  to  be  examined  or  cor- 
 rected ;  that  I  hope  I  shall  be  pardoned,  if  I  have  in  the  tliird  book  dwelt 
 long  on  this  subject,  and  endeavoured  to  make  it  so  plain,  that  neither  the 
 inveterateness  of  the  mischief,  nor  the  prevalence  of  the  fashion,  shall  be 
 any  excuse  for  those  who  will  not  take  care  about  the  meaning  of  their  own 
 words,  and  will  not  suffer  the  significancy  of  their  expressions  to  be  in- 
 quired into. 
 
 I  have  been  told  that  a  short  epitome  of  this  treatise,  which  was  printed 
 1688,  was  by  some  condemned  without  reading,  because  innate  ideas  were 
 denied  in  it ;  they  too  hastily  concluding,  that  if  innate  ideas  were  not  sup- 
 posed, there  would  be  little  left  eitber  of  the  notion  or  proof  of  spirits.  If 
 any  one  take  the  like  offence  at  the  entrance  of  this  treatise,  I  shall  desire 
 him  to  read  it  through ;  and  then  I  hope  he  will  be  convinced,  that  the 
 taking  away  false  foundations,  is  not  to  the  prejudice,  but  advantage  of 
 truth ;  which  is  never  injured  or  endangered  so  much,  as  when  mixed  with, 
 or  built  on,  falsehood.     In  the  second  edition,  I  added  as  followeth : 
 
 The  bookseller  will  not  forgive  me,  if  I  say  nothing  of  this  second  edi- 
 tion, which  he  has  promised,  by  the  correctness  of  it,  shall  make  amends 
 for  the  many  faults  committed  in  the  former.  He  desires  too,  that  it  should 
 be  known,  that  it  has  one  whole  new  chapter  concerning  identity,  and 
 many  additions  and  amendments  in  other  places.  These,  I  must  inform 
 my  reader,  are  not  all  new  matter,  but  most  of  them,  either  farther  con- 
 firmations of  what  I  had  said,  or  explications,  to  prevent  others  being  mis- 
 taken in  the  sense  of  what  was  formerly  printed,  and  not  any  variation  in 
 me  from  it ;  I  must  only  except  the  alterations  I  have  made  in  Book  II, 
 Chap.  21. 
 
 What  I  had  there  writ  concerning  liberty  and  the  will,  I  thought  deserved 
 as  accurate  a  view  as  I  was  capable  of:  those  subjects  having  in  all  ages 
 exercised  the  learned  part  of  the  world  with  questions  and  difficulties  that 
 have  not  a  Httle  perplexerl  morality  and  divinity,  those  parts  of  knowledge 
 that  men  are  most  concerned  to  be  clear  in.  Upon  a  closer  inspection  into 
 the  working  of  men's  minds,  and  a  stricter  examination  of  those  motives 
 and  views  they  are  turned  by,  I  ha.ve  found  reason  somewhat  to  alter  the 
 thoughts  I  formerly  had  concerning  that,  which  gives  the  last  deternunation 
 to  the  will  in  all  voluntary  actions.  Thia  I  cannot  forbear  to  acknowledge 
 to  the  world  with  as  much  freedom  and  readiness,  as  I  at  first  published 
 what  then  seemed  to  me  to  be  right ;  thinking  myself  more  concerned  to 
 quit  and  renounce  any  opinion  of  my  own,  than  oppose  that  of  another, 
 when  truth  appears  against  it.  For  it  is  truth  alone  I  seek,  and  that  will 
 always  be  welcome  to  me,  when  or  from  whence  soever  it  comes. 
 
 But  what  forwardness  soever  I  have  to  resign  any  opinion  I  have,  or  to 
 recede  from  any  thing  I  have  writ  upon  the  first  evidence  of  any  error  in  it ; 
 yet  this  I  must  own,  that  I  have  not  had  the  good  luck  to  receive  any  light 
 from  those  exceptions  I  have  met  with  in  print  against  any  part  of  my 
 book ;  nor  have,  from  any  thing  that  has  been  urged  against  it,  found  rea- 
 son to  alter  my  sense  in  any  of  the  points  that  have  been  questioned. 
 Whether  the  subject  I  have  in  hand  requires  often  more  thought  and  atten- 
 tion than  cursory  readers,  at  least  such  as  are  prepossessed,  are  willing  to 
 allow ;  or  whether  any  obscurity  in  my  expression  casts  a  cloud  over  it,  and 
 these  notions  are  made  difficult  to  others'  apprehensions  in  my  way  of 
 treating  them;  so  it  is,  that  my  meaning,  I  find,  is  often  mistaken,  and  I 
 
EPISTLE  TO  THE  READER.  ;  15 
 
 have  not  the  good  luck  to  be  every  vv^here  rightly  understood.  There  are 
 so  many  instances  of  this,  that  I  think  it  justice  to  my  reader  and  myself 
 to  conclude,  that  either  my  book  is  plainly  enough  written  to  be  rightly 
 understood  by  those  who  peruse  it  with  that  attention  and  indifferency, 
 which  every  one  who  will  give  himself  the  pains  to  read,  ought  to  employ 
 in  reading ;  or  else,  that  I  have  writ  mine  so  obscurely,  that  it  is  in  vain  to 
 go  about  to  mend  it.  Whichever  of  these  be  the  truth,  it  is  myself  only 
 am  affected  thereby,  and  therefore  I  shall  be  far  from  troubling  my  reader 
 witli  what  I  think  might  be  said,  in  answer  to  those  several  objections  I 
 have  met  with  to  passages  here  and  there  of  my  book ;  since  I  persuade 
 myself,  that  he  who  thinks  them  of  moment  enough  to  be  concerned  whe- 
 ther they  are  true  or  false,  will  be  able  to  see,  that  what  is  said  is  either 
 not  well  founded,  or  else  not  contrary  to  my  doctrine,  when  I  and  my 
 opposer  came  both  to  be  well  understood. 
 
 If  any,  careful  that  none  of  their  good  thoughts  should  be  lost,  have  pub- 
 lished their  censures  of  my  Essay,  with  this  honour  done  to  it,  that  they 
 will  not  suffer  it  to  be  an  Essay ;  I  leave  it  to  the  public  to  value  the  obli- 
 gation they  have  to  their  critical  pens,  and  shall  not  waste  my  reader's 
 time  in  so  idle  or  ill-natured  an  employment  of  mine,  as  to  lessen  the  satis- 
 faction any  one  has  in  himself,  or  gives  to  others  in  so  hasty  a  confutation 
 of  what  I  have  written. 
 
 The  booksellers  preparing  for  the  fourth  edition  of  my  Essay,  gave  me 
 notice  of  it,  that  I  might,  if  I  had  leisure,  make  any  additions  or  iterations 
 I  shoidd  think  fit.  Whereupon  I  thought  it  convenient  to  adwrtise  the 
 reader,  that  besides  several  corrections  I  had  made  here  and  there,  there 
 was  one  alteration  which  it  was  necessary  to  mention,  because  it  ran 
 through  the  whole  book,  and  is  of  consequence  to  be  rightly  understood. 
 What  I  thereupon  said  was  this  : 
 
 Clear  and  distinct  ideas  are  terms,  which,  though  familiar  and  frequent 
 in  men's  mouths,  I  have  reason  to  think  every  one,  who  uses,  does  not 
 perfectly  understand.  And  possibly  it  is  but  here  and  there  one,  who  gives 
 himself  the  trouble  to  consider  them  so  far  as  to  know  what  he  himself  or 
 others  precisely  mean  by  them :  I  have  therefore  in  most  places  chose  to 
 put  determinate  or  determined,  instead  of  clear  and  distinct,  as  more  likely 
 to  direct  men's  thoughts  to  my  meaning  in  this  matter.  By  those  denomi- 
 nations, I  mean  some  object  in  the  mind,  and  consequently  determined,  i.  e. 
 such  as  it  is  there  seen  and  perceived  to  be.  This,  I  think,  may  fitly  be 
 called  a  determinate  or  determined  idea,  when  such  as  it  is  at  any  time 
 objectively  in  the  mind,  and  so  determined  there,  it  is  annexed,  and  without 
 variation  determined  to  a  name  or  articulate  sound,  which  is  to  be  steadily 
 the  sign  of  that  very  same  object  of  the  mind  or  determinate  idea. 
 
 To  explain  this  a  little  more  particularly.  By  determinate,  when  applied 
 to  a  simple  idea,  I  mean  that  simple  appearance  which  the  mind  has  in  its 
 view,  or  perceives  in  itself,  when  that  idea  is  said  to  be  in  it :  by  determi- 
 nate, when  applied  to  a  complex  idea,  I  mean  such  an  one  as  consists  of  a 
 determinate  number  of  certain  simple  or  less  complex  ideas,  joined  in  such 
 a  proportion  and  situation,  as  the  mind  has  before  its  view,  and  sees  in  itself, 
 when  that  idea  is  present  in  it,  or  should  be  present  in  it,  when  a  man  gives 
 a  name  to  it :  I  say  should  be,  because  it  is  not  every  one,  not  perhaps  any 
 one,  who  is  so  careful  of  his  language,  as  to  use  no  word,  tiU  he  views  in  his 
 mind  the  precise  determined  idea,  which  he  resolves  to  make  it  the  sign  of. 
 The  want  of  this  is  the  cause  of  no  small  obscurity  and  confusion  in  men's 
 thoughts  and  discourses. 
 
 I  know  there  are  not  words  enough  in  any  language  to  answer  all  the 
 variety  of  ideas  that  enter  into  men's  discourses  and  reasonings.  But  this 
 hinders  not,  but  that  when  any  one  uses  any  term,  he  may  have  in  his  mind 
 a  determined  idea,  which  he  makes  it  the  sign  of,  and  to  which  he  should 
 keep  it  steadily  annexed,  during  that  present  discourse.     Where  he  does 
 
16  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 not,  or  cannot  do  this,  he  in  vain  pretends  to  clear  or  distinct  ideas :  it  is 
 plain  his  are  not  so ;  and  therefore  there  can  be  expected  nothing  but  ob- 
 scurity and  confusion,  where  such  terms  are  made  use  of,  which  have  not 
 such  a  precise  determination. 
 
 Upon  tJiis  ground  I  have  thought  determined  ideas  a  way  of  speaking 
 less  liable  to  mistakes,  than  clear  and  distinct ;  and  where  men  have  got 
 such  determined  ideas  of  all  that  they  reason,  inquire,  or  argue  about,  they 
 will  find  a  great  part  of  their  doubts  and  disputes  at  an  end.  The  greatest 
 part  of  the  questions  and  controversies  that  perplex  mankind,  depending  on 
 the  doubtful  and  uncertain  use  of  words,  or  (which  is  the  same)  indeter- 
 rained  ideas,  winch  they  are  made  to  stand  for ;  I  have  made  choice  of  these 
 terms  to  signify,  1.  Some  immediate  object  of  the  mind,  which  it  perceives 
 and  has  before  it,  distinct  from  the  sound  it  uses  as  a  sign  of  it.  2.  That 
 this  idea,  thus  determined,  i.  e.  which  the  mind  has  in  itself,  and  knows 
 and  sees  there,  be  determined  without  any  change  to  that  name,  and  that 
 name  determined  to  that  precise  idea.  If  men  had  such  determined  ideaa 
 in  their  inquiries  and  discourses,  they  would  both  discern  how  far  their  own 
 inquiries  and  discourses  went,  and  avoid  the  greatest  part  of  the  disputes 
 and  wranglings  they  have  with  others. 
 
 Besides  this,  the  bookseller  will  think  it  necessary  I  should  advertise  the 
 reader,  that  there  is  an  addition  of  two  chapters  wholly  new ;  the  one  of  the 
 association  of  ideas,  the  other  of  enthusiasm.  These,  with  some  other 
 larger  additions  never  before  printed,  he  has  engaged  to  print  by  themselves, 
 after  thaHame  manner,  and  for  the  same  purpose  as  was  done  when  this 
 Essay  had  the  second  impression. 
 
 In  the  sixth  edition,  there  is  very  little  added  or  altered ;  the  greatest  part 
 of  what  is  new  is  contained  in  the  21st  chapter  of  the  second  book,  which 
 any  one,  if  he  thinks  it  worth  while,  may,  with  a  very  little  labour,  tran- 
 scribe into  the  margin  of  the  former  edition. 
 
AN  ANALYSIS  OF  MR  LOCKE'S  DOCTRINE   OF  IDEAS,  IN  HIS  ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING 
 
 Tlic  Word  idea  comprelic-ridg  whiUucvcr  i«  tlie  Object  of  the  Undemtaoding,  b.  1.  c.  I. 
 
 I.  locm  i)Pt  innate. 
 
 lipoauM  it  !•  of  no  UM  to  .up|.o»c:  lli.-in  >o.  book  1.  '   ''■  S  !•  «•  3.  4  «!• 
 
 The  ilcpi  to  knu«li-dge  diMoverablc.  ibid.  u4  ^  li   >■■  «•  «■  '■  *i  ••  *"•  ^   ■*•  "■  *•  ^  **• 
 
 Nut  purovivcd  ia  a  atal«  of  infancy,  b,  1.  e<  8.  ^  ^. 
 
 lleuion  iit'cciwry  to  lltlir  discovery,  ibid.  ^  9. 
 
 Idea  of  God,  not  innate,  c.  4.  ^  H,  (licreforo  no  ol'i*  r.  t  17. 
 
 l*rineiltlcft  not  iunute,  bfcuuse  idea*  arc  not  10.  c.  i^'-  '.  *>•  l^* 
 
 Rcir-eridrnce  not  lufneient  to  |iri>ve  llicm  W.  a.  •!■  U  1".  ^tl,  23. 
 
 Nor  iniiv.rul  aairnL.  ibid.  ^S  3,  »■ 
 
 rs,  •  ■ 
 
 AtuMit  not  truly  nnircrpal  in  prinaiplea.-^  ,  ^ 
 
 Men  think  not  alivnyi.  b.  i.  c.  I.  ^  10,  he.  i   I'J 
 To  tnpiiOHC  the  contrary  woulil  be  making  iIiH 
 And  baviiiK  tbou^litt  that  come  neitlicr  fron>  . 
 Probable  that  thinking  may  he  no  more  tlian  i 
 Impoiaible  to  determine  whether  God  may  im> 
 
 Whence  llio  opiidon  of  innalu  Ideas,  b.  1.  c.  -t.  ^  '■' 
 
 ^7■ 
 
 landn 
 
 1.5  C. 
 
 m  of  the  aoul.  ibid,  and  c.  19.  4  4. 
 L  thongbl  If  1  Mlid  aubttaaco.  b.  i. 
 
 .  3.  S  i. 
 ig.  b.  3.  t.  1.  «  19. 
 
 S.  4  6. 
 
 FlOni   .SlKRATlMK. 
 
 I.  'rlio  primary  rjualili 
 
 *l.  1*hn  letondui*)-  r)ualilici 
 
 11.  Th»  iJ/i(.in  of  our  loll**. 
 
 C  Solidity,         From  touch  only.  b.  S.  o.  4. 
 )  I'-MOMion,  I  j,.^„„  .i-i.t  „„a  touch.  0.  S. 
 
 i  From  one  acntc  only.  c.  3 
 ?  Eiiat  not  ad  extra,  c.  8.  ^  13. 
 
 I  MoliM,     ?  j,j^^  ^^j  „„j  ,„ujh  „    J 
 t-ltcat,  > 
 
 rSounJa, 
 
 'l'a>le«, 
 
 J  Coloira, 
 
 1  Smclla, 
 
 I  of  Bcnaation  ollon  ftlttro 
 
 rl.  The  hiM 
 
 a.  K-M.i    ■ 
 
 judgment  c.  0.  %h  8,  «,  10. 
 '.Is  knowledge,  c.  9.  4  15. 
 
 ,    9.  4  1. 
 
 •  .1  or  pasiive  poroepUon.  ibid,  and  %  4. 
 uotian  of  objecu  on  our  organs.  §  3. 
 
 .  kinds  with  respect  U  its  objects,  c.  21.  4  i. 
 
 '  '• 
 <  il  by  attention  and  rcpetilton.  4  3. 
 I  I.,    iiind'oitcn  active  in  iu  4  7. 
 (  MdonjB  to  Brutes.  I)  10. 
 
 .  .     ,  C  Chance.  4  5. 
 
 Armcfrom         |  Habit.  4  C. 
 ,,  ,  C  Antipathies.  4  7. 
 
 Una.  of  iErrors.449,  18. 
 
 >••  It  0  114  s. 
 
 implv  mydcfc.  4  6 
 
 11.  44  10,  11. 
 en.ral.  4  9. 
 
 made.  b.  3.  c.  3.  ^%  6,  7,  8. 
 Ir  use  c.  0.439. 
 
 ibid.  4  II. 
 
 «.d.p.ei,..    {-^2 
 
 IXxtKl  not  ad  estrn.  ibid. 
 
 3...3.4.5.,.c,.4..8.^S:rr7;"''^'.^- 
 
 ^1.  ArVKr;..!     Iri.   ,    ..    .    e.  C.  ^  «. 
 9.  SiKi.  »g>.  ibid.  4  3. 
 
 3    II,    .  '■  '•  '■  '^  '■ 
 
 c  them.  ibid.  4  3. 
 
 r.  .-     -».«...    C  Moat  words  so.  4  1. 
 
 I .  l.encr.1  te.  Mi  c.  3.  ^  ^^^  _^^j_.   ^^  ^    ^ 
 
 9.  Names  of    simple  J  J 
 ideas.  ..4.  ^f 
 
 111.  Ideas  considered  with  regard  to  iheir  Objects. 
 
 ^1.  Sucli  nncompoanded  appearances, 
 
 Sum  iBIUs. 
 
 \  mentioned  in  part  2,  < 
 
 Those  the  materials  of  all  our  knowledge,  b.  2. 
 .  The  mind  can  neither  make  nor  destroy  them.  < 
 .  Cannot  be  defined,  b.  3.  c.  3.  44  4, 
 .  Nor  ranked  into  genusesj'ibid.  4  16 
 .  All  odeiiuale.  b.  2.  c.  SI.  4  2. 
 .  Not  fictions  of  oui-  fancies,  but  real. 
 
 causes  or  pallems.  ibid. 
 .  Positive  ideas  from  private  causes.  I 
 
 Numbri 
 
 .  7.  4  10. 
 2.  4  2. 
 
 Motion, 
 Pcrcepli 
 
 lastes,  kc.  b.  2.  c. 
 rest,  &c.  c.  5. 
 >n,  retention,  &c. 
 
 IV.  Ideas  toosidcrpd  with  regard  to  their  Qualitiea. 
 What  meant  by  theLf.  b.  S.  c.  29.  44  2,  4. 
 Causes  of  obscurity.  I 
 
 i^) 
 
 'I.  Simiile.  -; 
 
 :.  30.  ^  2.  b.  4.  c.  4.  §  \.  though  thej  do  not  antwer  to  an; 
 
 .  2.  o.  8.  ^^  1,  6.     A  probable  reason  of  it.  ibid.  ^  ^ 
 
 rindefinite.  b.  2.  o.  16.  %  S. 
 .  <  Not  actually  infinite,  c  17.  §  8. 
 
 ^.Imperfect  for  want  of  names,  o.  IG   §  5. 
 
 rits  ideii  from  sight  or  touch,  c.  5. 
 Synonymous  to  extension,  c.  IS.  §  24. 
 
 J  Vacuum  or  ncgntion  of  body.  ibid.  §  22. 
 
 1  Mode  of  finite  beings,  c.  15.  %  S. 
 
 I  A  relative  idea.  o.  26.^  3. 
 
 LRel.aivc  to  the  situation  of  bodies,  c.  13.  4  7. 
 
 f  Means  continuance  of  existence,  c.  14.  §  9. 
 Its  idea  not  from  motion,  c.  14.  ^  6. 
 But  from  rcfiectiun  on  the  train  of  our  ideas.  ^  2. 
 Motions  too  quick  or  slow,  not  perceived,  why.  §§  7,  8. 
 Time,  mode  of  finite  beings,  c.  17,  §  I. 
 A  mode  of  quantity,  c.  17,  §  1.     Why  not  applicable  to 
 
 other  ideas,  ibid.  %  6. 
 A.n  imaginary  addibility  without  end.  %  4. 
 \pplied  to   number,   space,  and  duration,  in  the  same 
 I  sense.  §§  7-10. 
 
 Partly  positive,  partly  negative.  ^§  15 — 19. 
 I^How  applied  to  the  Deity.  §  I. 
 Modes  of  motion,  sounds,  colours,  tastes,  &c.  o.  18, 
 
 ^J."^'*Mtelalive.  c.28.  §  15. 
 ..?  Absolute  or 
 3  Relative,  ibid. 
 5.  §  10. 
 
 C  1.  Dull  organs.  %  2. 
 <2.  Slight  imi*rft-otio 
 C3.  Weak  men  ory.  ib 
 
 ,  _     1  ory.  ibid. 
 
 So,  with  regard  to  tliuir  names.  §  10,  and  b.  3.  c.  2.  %  4. 
 Some    5*^'^'"^  ^°  reisoH.  b.  2.  c.  29.  ^§  U,  15. 
 C  Obscure  to  imagination,  ibid. 
 ,  What  meant  by  ther ;.  b.  2.  c.  2*i.  %  4. 
 So  with  regard  to  tli^ir  numcs.  %%  5,  C,  10,  Jl. 
 
 ^1.  Want  of  a  sufioient   number 
 
 3.  Causes  of  this  oonfu!  ion. 
 
 'I.  Voluntary  combination  of  ideas, 
 c.  22.  %  2.  b.  3.  c.  5.  §  3. 
 
 ]  S.  Want  of  orde! 
 L3.  Want  of  stca^ 
 
 nple  ideas  in  the  aumplex 
 
 the  disposition  of  them.  4  8*- 
 
 ^.  in  the  application  of  names.  4  ^• 
 
 ^  ,4,  14,  15. 
 
 t' stead 
 Distinct  in  some  res  leots,  conliised  in  others 
 nple  ideas  rea  .  e.  30.  4  2. 
 .  Ideas  of  substances  il  ay  be  either.  4  ^ 
 "  TlsTieALr  I  •*•  *"''  "'>"'"  "f  relatioiii.  443,  4. 
 
 L4.  With  respect  to  nauies.   ^C 
 ri.  All  true  in  a  metaphysical  sense,  c.  32.  44  2,  3,  2(}. 
 
 IV.  2.  Simple  ideas  true.  4  18. 
 Tnor.  and          J  ,i.  And  modes.  4  17. 
 
 F.iUK,  or  BicnT    "(  4.  Substances,  when  not  Uuc.  4  ,18. 
 
 and  Wno.to.  TOther  men's  ideas.  4  81. 
 
 5.  Ideas  may  be  so  eWiep  with  respect  to  <  Some  real  existence.  4  22. 
 L  (T\\e  essence  of  things.  4  24. 
 
 ri.  Simple  ideas.  0.  31.  |4  2,  12.  i 
 
 V.  2.  Modes.  44  3,  14.  >Ade.,ualc.  , 
 AoEatJiTK  and     J  3.  Relations,  ibid.                         J 
 
 iNAnctlua'rK  ]  4.  Substances  always.  (§  6,  10.  i 
 
 I  5.  Modes  may  be  with  respect    >Inade<|uate. 
 I  to  names.  4  4.  ) 
 
 2.  Mi 
 
 2.  Preserved  by  1 
 ^j       J  3.  Eaist  only  in  the  mind.  b.  2. 
 1  4.  All  adequate. 
 
 22.  4  8.  b. 
 .  31.  4  3. 
 
 V.  Of  Knowledge,  Reason,  Faith,  Judgment. 
 4  12. 
 
 except  with  reference  to  names.  4  4.  or  to  the 
 ideas  in  other  men's  minds.  4  5. 
 5.  Beal  if  made  of  consistent  ideas,  b.  2.  c.  30.  4  4. 
 
 C  Invention,  c.  22.  4  9. 
 ,6.  Acquired  by    <  Observation,  ibid. 
 
 C  Use  of  words,  ibid,  and  b.  3.  c.  5.  4  IS. 
 
 [1.  Collection  of  qualities  existing  together,  c.  23.  4  9. 
 2.  Applied  differently  to  God,  spirit,  and  body.  0.  13.  4  IS. 
 3.  Ranked  according  to  their  nominal  essences,  b.  5.  c.  3.  4  2.  tic 
 4.  No  substratum  beyond  the  qualities,  b.  2.  c.  13,  18,  20.  0.  23.  4  23. 
 5.  Material  and  immaterial,  their  ideas  equally  clear,  c.  IS.  4  IS.  c.  23.  4  5. 
 6.  Their  ideas  inadequate,  c.  31.  4  8. 
 L7.  Collective  ideas  of  them,  what.  c.  24. 
 
 f  I.  lletwixt  two  things  at  least,  c.  25.  44  1,6.  , 
 
 9.  ..^11  aUm.««  w..|AUUuat  r.,larinn   .*."'    ^^    -'""ill"       ijii  11^^  ■ 
 
 S.  Terminate  in  simple  ideas,  c.  28.  4  18.  c.  K.  4  9.  ~ 
 
 4.  Often  clearer  than  the  things  related,  c.   28.  4    19.   0.  25.  4   8.     Absolute  terms 
 
 stence.  44  2,  17. 
 
 I.,  .Kf„„  ,1    5  4.    Why.  4  : 
 .'  -    4  15.  and  c. 
 
 5.  Particle 
 
 I 
 
 C  Connect  i.le 
 
 .  :.        <  Show  their 
 
 (  Mai'ks  of  at 
 
 .  ..ences.  4  14. 
 ^.tlier.  4  10. 
 ».  4  IS. 
 ).  4  «. 
 
 .  Volition. 
 
 6.  Ahslntel  terms,  o.  H. 
 Xj.  Concrete,  ibid, 
 p    ro..rf..Ung.  ^  „.„,„„,,,,. 
 
 r  of  choosing,     >  Man  not  free.  ^  2.^ 
 ^  -         -       lulling.  5  Uett-Pinincd  by  «n\iclv.  %  SS. 
 
 i   «.■"""■  "*"'^«"«^''?  <1  ■  ,blc.  b.  I.  e.  S.  %  3  t.  a.  c:  20.  §  I. 
 
 9.  Pair  ucMsurilT  bitvfji  ,;,ij. 
 
 A.  Fixittcnee.  c.  ".  ^  7 
 I  A.  Unitv.  ibid. 
 
 Li>oiihir.ii, «),,. ,. 
 
 >w  made.  ^  U. 
 
 fen-  5  Real  rssenoes.  o.  9.  %  ]S. 
 
 dCoexistii)gqualities,^^l3,  U. 
 togt'lhrr.  %  1. 
 Uiion».  f^S  3,  4. 
 iclion  tin  the  mind.  ibid, 
 prc-dicable  of  oDe  inothrr.  %  1. 
 
 mi^wMW     'I 
 
 often  stand  for  them.  c.  25.  ^  3.  c.  26.  §§  4,  G.  Often  without  c 
 0.  25.  ^  2.  All  terms  relative  which  lead  the  mind  bryond  the 
 inatcd.  %  10. 
 
 5.  May  alter,  and  the  things  remain  the  same.  c.  25.  ^^  5,  10. 
 
 6.  Proportional,  as  bigger,  equal,  &o.  c.  28.  §  1. 
 
 7 .  Natural,  at  father,  son.  ibid.  §  2. 
 
 8.  Civil,  or  instituted,  ibid.  ^  3 
 
 9.  Moral,  as  referred  to  ! 
 
 elative  terms. 
 Mibject  denom- 
 
 C  Divine.  ^S 
 ;law.  §§  4,  14.      <  Civil,  §  'j. 
 C  Of  esteem. 
 
 10.  Identity  and  di- 
 Tcrsity.  c.  27." 
 
 ^  10.  be. 
 
 §§  3.  U  29. 
 
 THodes.  §  2. 
 
 Substances,  ibid,  priocipium  individu 
 Vegetables.  %  4. 
 Animals.  ^  5. 
 Man.  %%  6,  8,  9. 
 
 fDefincd.  ^  9. 
 A  forensic  terra.  %  26.  docs  not  consist  in  the  aaro 
 bstanoes.  §^  i<i,  I3,  14. 
 Person.^  Consists  in  sameness  of  consoience^^  10,  IC,  19. 
 c  only  object  of  rewards   and   punishmeui 
 18,  19,  20. 
 
 ;ed  to  one  individual  substance.  %  25. 
 The  former,  that  which  make^  some  other  tiling  be;; 
 beginning  from  some  other  thing.  §^  1,  2. 
 
 and  place,  o.  26.  §  3.  c.  13.  5§  7—10.5!!"'"*  ^^^^Z^-  ^.J- 
 ^  f  From  cteiiion.  ibid 
 
 Con  versanti 
 
 about      ■    . 
 1.  Proposi' 
 
 lily  bad. 
 
 f  1.  Meaul.  b.  4.  c.  5.  ^ij  3,  5. 
 
 2.  Vei-t>i4l.  ibidsr     How  known. 
 
 3.  Iden(ica),  tcauh  nothing,  ibid.  %  2. 
 TAs  to  simple  iileas  i 
 J  Not  so  as  to  substances,  ibid.  &cc. 
 
 4.  Genei^l.  o.  6.-S  Of^en  trifling,  c.  8.  %  9. 
 I  Concern  not  cxistcnoQ.  c.  9.  %  1. 
 
 LThcir  certainty,  in  what.  c.  C.  k  16. 
 
 5.  MornI,  capable  of  demonstration,  c.  3.  ^  8.  c.  12.  %  8. 
 Of  little  use,  5  Not  first  known,  c.  7.  ^^  8,  9. 
 
 because       \  Nut  the  foundati( 
 May  be  uf 
 
 L6.  Mr.v: 
 
 3.  Ideas,  as  to  thei 
 aprecmenL   or 
 disagreemvilt. 
 which  consists 
 
 CIn  disputing.  ^  it. 
 C  In  teuoliing  the  scit 
 
 I,  Identity  or  di 
 2i  RclAlion.  o.  1 
 ]j Coexistence,  i 
 
 -ersity.  o.  1.  §  4.  c.  3.  §  8. 
 §  5.  0.3.  ^  18.  c.  7.  ^  A. 
 1.  ^  6.  c.  3.  $9.0.  7.  §  5 
 
 '  Of  oursel 
 
 cs.  ibid. 
 7.  k  4. 
 
 4i 
 
 1.  Actual,  c.  I.  4  8. 
 
 2.  Habitual.  4  9. 
 
 3.  Real  and  visiona 
 
 9.  4  3.  by  intuition. 
 
 iifcit,i'fe^.ii.lsji'!p?<j,i*.'r 
 
 islicd. 
 
 rid.  retentic 
 
 Hsooiation, 
 C  1.  Intuition,  o.  1 .  44  1,  2.  and  o.  17. 
 
 1.  Waysof  acquinm;  it,by<2.  Demonstration,  o.  2.  4  2. 
 
 (.5.  Sense.  4  14.  and  o.  3.  4  S 
 C  None  without  ideas.  4  1. 
 
 2.  Us  extent,  c.  .t  <  Narrower  than  our  ideas.  4  ''• 
 
 i.  Very  scanty  as  to  substances.  44  9 — 1 
 C  Want  ol'  ideas,  c.  3.  %  23. 
 
 3.  Want  of  it  caii-'l  "y       < ofn  discoverable  connexion  bet 
 
 ' of  tracing  and  examining  them. 
 
 rBy  comparing  clear  ideas.  44  3,  C,  7. 
 
 J  Experience.  4  9. 
 I  Employing  it  about  its  most  proper  objects.  4  11 
 
 them.  4  28. 
 4  30. 
 
 .4.  Tho  way  to  i 
 c.  12 
 
 -*•  cUi^e-.'*(i*«tt4^ 
 
 '  I.  Its  several  sen 
 
 2.  Wherein  il  f 
 .1.  Four  degree. 
 4.  Not  opposite  i 
 
 3.  How  dislinp;.!/' 
 
 6.  Things  al.o>'   ' 
 
 7.  Things  conlr», 
 
 8.  One  last  juilg. 
 
 9.  Its  province  t<i 
 
 10.  By  syllogism  u 
 
 11.  By  ar>iiini«-iit' 
 
 LAvoiding  hypothes< 
 '   «.  17.  4  1. 
 <ll.  4  8. 
 •  <■  4  3. 
 '"'■•  4  24. 
 
 I  Irom  it.  c.  18.  4  2. 
 ••'1  be  objects  of  faith,  ibid.  §4  7,  S. 
 '"  it  cannot.  §  10. 
 '  'cry  thing,  o.  19.  4  14 
 iilp  whether  revelation  be  divine.  ibi< 
 Ire  best  way.  c.  17.  ^  4. 
 
 I'Vereonndiara.^ 
 
 '  ll^oranliani.      , 
 
 "        -    4  1'.' 
 
 .(u,l 
 
 r«e 
 
 "h 
 
 5.  Power 
 
 C  Active  r 
 
 1  spirit,  b.  S.  c  21.  4  4. 
 I  ,  .rq  body.  ibid. 
 
 I  6.  Succession.  \  J"'  f'"'-  notion,  c.  14.  4  6. 
 
 C  from  lilt  |^j„  of  nor  ideas,  ibid. 
 
 eason.  c.  18.  4  2. 
 y  Knowledge,  c.  15.'  §  3. 
 
 ^nthusiasm.  c.  19.  vid.  asi 
 vrersuasion.  c.  19.  S  12. 
 ""■""•'edge.  c.  14.  5  •). 
 ptcbabilift,,.  J  4.  ,„j  ,,    „ 
 
 3.  Regnlates  the  diBT'-ia  oruaenl.  e.  16. 
 p'roof.  c.  20.  \  2 
 
 4.  Its  mistakes  oecs.""  re- J  Ability    5  5 
 
 I  'oclioalion.  §  6. 
 •^Proper  measures  or  i 
 
 !  Distinguished  1.. 
 
 1.  Supplies  the  " 
 
 2.  Conversant  abo 
 
 •  from  1 
 
 ,  under  retention.  II.  ». 
 
 erning  facts,  a.  Ifi.  ^  6. 
 
 matters  of  speculation.  \  IS. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 ESSAY  CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 BOOK  I. 
 OP  INNATE  NOTIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER  I. 
 
 The  Introduction. 
 Sect.   1.   An  inquiry  into   the  under- 
 standing, pleasant  and  useful. 
 
 2.  Design. 
 
 3.  Method. 
 
 4.  Useful  to  know  the  extent  of  our 
 comprehension. 
 
 5.  Our  capacity  proportioned  to  our 
 state  and  concerns,  to  discover 
 things  useful  to  us. 
 
 6.  Knowing  the  extent  of  our  capa- 
 cities will  hinder  us  from  useless 
 curiosity,  scepticism,  and  idle- 
 ness. 
 
 7.  Occasion  of  this  essay. 
 
 8.  What  idea  stands  for. 
 
 CHAPTER  II. 
 
 JVo  innate  speculative  principles. 
 
 1.  The  way  shown  how  we  come  by 
 any  knowledge,  sufficient  to  prove 
 it  not  innate. 
 
 3.  General  assent,  the  great  argu- 
 ment. 
 
 3.  Universal  consent  proves  nothing 
 innate. 
 
 4.  What  is,  is;  and  it  is  impossible 
 for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not 
 to  be;  not  universally  assented  to. 
 
 5.  Not  on  the  mind  naturally  im- 
 printed, because  not  known  to 
 children,  idiots,  &c. 
 
 6.  7.  That'  men    know    them    when 
 
 they   come   to  the  use  of  reason, 
 
 answered. 
 8.   If    reason    discovered  them,    that 
 
 would  not  prove  tliem   innate. 
 9 — 11.   It  is  false  that  reason  discovers 
 
 them. 
 12.   The  coming  to  the  use  of  reason, 
 
 not  liie   time   we  come    to    know 
 
 these  maxims. 
 
 13.  By  this  they  are  not  distinguished 
 from  otlier  knowable  ti'Uths. 
 
 14.  If  coming  to  the  use  of  reason 
 were  tlie  time  of  their  discovery, 
 it  would  not  prove  them  innate. 
 
 15.  16.  The  steps  by  which  the  mind 
 
 attains  several  ti'uths. 
 
 17.  Assenting  as  soon  as  proposed  and 
 understood,  proves  them  not  in- 
 nate. 
 
 18.  If  such  an  assent  be  a  mark  of  in- 
 
 nate, then  that  one  and  two  are 
 equal  to  three;  that  sweetness  is 
 not  bitterness;  and  a  thousand  the 
 like,  must  be  innate.  ' 
 
 19.  Such  less  general  propositions 
 known  before  these  universal 
 maxims. 
 
 20.  One   and    one  equal   to    two,  &c. 
 
 not  general  nor  useful,  answered. 
 
 21.  These  maxims  not    being    known 
 
 sometimes  until  proposed,  proves 
 them  not  innate. 
 
 22.  Implicitly  known  before  proposing, 
 signifies  that  the  mind  is  capable 
 of  understanding  them,  or  else 
 signifies  nothing. 
 
 23.  The  argument  of  assenting  on  first 
 hearing  is  upon  a  false  supposi- 
 tion of  no  precedent  teaching. 
 
 24.  Not  innate,   because    not    univer- 
 
 sally assented  to. 
 
 25.  These  maxims  not  the  first  known. 
 
 26.  And  so  not  innate. 
 
 27.  Not  innate,  because  they  appear 
 least,  where  what  is  innate  shows 
 itself  clearest. 
 
 28.  Recapitulation. 
 
 CHAPTER  III. 
 
 JiTo  innate  practical  principles. 
 1.  No  moral  principles  so   clear  and 
 
Ld 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING, 
 
 9. 
 10. 
 
 11- 
 14, 
 
 15- 
 
 20. 
 
 21. 
 
 32- 
 
 97. 
 
 80  generally  received  as  the  fore- 
 mentioned  speculative  maxims. 
 Faith   and  justice    not  owned    as 
 princii)les  by  all  men.  --■' 
 
 Obj.  Thougli  men  deny  them  in 
 their  practice,  yet  they  admit 
 them  in  their  thoughts,  answered. 
 
 Moral  rules  need  a  proof,  er^o, 
 not  innate. 
 
 Instance  in  keeping  compacts. 
 Virtue    generally    approved,    not 
 because  innate,   but  because  pro- 
 fitable. 
 
 Men's  actions  convince  us  that 
 the  rule  of  virtue  is  not  their  in- 
 ternal principle. 
 
 Conscience  no  proof  of  any  innate 
 moral  rule. 
 
 Instances  of  enormities  practised 
 without  remorse. 
 
 Men  have  contrary  practical  prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 -13.  Whole  nations  reject  several 
 moral  rules. 
 
 Those  who  maintain  innate  prac- 
 tical principles,  tell  us  not  what 
 they  are, 
 
 -19,  Lord  Herbert's  innate  princi- 
 ples examined. 
 
 Obj.  Innate  principles  may  be  cor- 
 rupted, answered. 
 Contrary  principles  in  the  world, 
 
 -26,  How  men  commonly  come  by 
 their  principles. 
 Principles  must  be  examined. 
 
 CHAPTER  IV. 
 
 Other  considerations  about  innate  prin- 
 ciples, both  speculative  and  prac- 
 tical. 
 
 1.  Principles  not  innate,  unless  their 
 
 ideas  be  innate. 
 
 2,  3.  Ideas,    especially  those    belong- 
 
 ing to  principles,    not  bora  with 
 children. 
 4,  5.  Identity,  an  idea  not  innate. 
 
 6.  Whole  and  part,  not  innate  ideas. 
 
 7.  Idea  of  worship  not  innate, 
 
 8 — 11.  Idea  of  God,  not  innate, 
 12.  Suitable  to  God's  goodness,  that 
 all  men  should  have  an  idea  of 
 him,  therefore  naturally  imprint- 
 ed by  liim,  answered, 
 13-16,  Ideas  of  God  various  in  differ- 
 ent men. 
 
 17.  If  the  idea  of  God  be  not  innate, 
 no  other  can  be  supposed  innate, 
 
 18.  Idea  of  substance  not  innate, 
 
 19.  No  propositions  can  be  innate, 
 since  no  ideas  are  innate. 
 
 20.  No  ideas  are  remembered,  till  af- 
 ter they  have  been  introduced, 
 
 21.  Principles  not  innate,  because  of 
 little  use,  or  little  certainty. 
 
 22.  Difference  of  men's  discoveries 
 depends  upon  the  different  appli- 
 cations of  their  faculties, 
 
 23.  Men  must  think  and  know  for 
 themselves, 
 
 24.  Whence  the  opinion  of  innate 
 principles, 
 
 25.  Conclusion. 
 
 BOOK  II. 
 
 OF  IDEAS 
 
 CHAPTER  I. 
 
 Of  ideas  in  general,  and  their  original. 
 Sect.  1,  Idea  is  the  object  of  thinking, 
 
 2.  All  ideas  come  from  sensation  or 
 reflection,    , 
 
 3.  The  objects  of  sensation  one 
 source  of  ideas, 
 
 4.  The  operations  of  our  minds  the 
 other  source  of  them. 
 
 5.  All  our  ideas  are  of  the  one  or 
 the  other  of  these, 
 
 6.  Observable  in  children, 
 
 7.  Men  are  differently  furnished  with 
 these,  according  to  the  different 
 objects  they  converse  with. 
 
 8.  Ideas  of  reflection  later,  because 
 they  need  attention. 
 
 9.  The  soul  begins  to  have  ideas 
 ■when  it  begins  to  perceive. 
 
 10.  The  soul  thinks  not  always;  for 
 this  wants  proofs, 
 
 11.  It  is  not  always  conscious  of  it, 
 
 12.  If  a  sleeping  man  thinks  without 
 knowing  it,  the  sleeping  and  wa- 
 king man  are  two  persons. 
 Impossible  to  convince  those  that 
 sleep  without  dreaming,  that  they 
 think. 
 
 That  men  dream  without  remem- 
 bering it,  in  vain  urged. 
 
 15.  Upon  this  hypothesis,  the  thoughts 
 of  a  sleeping  man  ought  to  be 
 most  rational. 
 
 16.  On  this  hypothesis  the  soul  must 
 have  ideas  not  derived  from  sen- 
 sation or  reflection,  of  which  there 
 is  no  appearance. 
 
 13 
 
 14, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 19 
 
 17.  If  I  think  when  I  know  it  not,  no- 
 body else  can  know  it. 
 
 18.  How  knows  any  one  the  soul  always 
 thinks?  For  if  it  be  not  a  self-evi- 
 dent proposition,  it  needs  proof. 
 
 19.  That  a  man  should  be  busy  in 
 thinking,  and  yet  not  retain  it  the 
 next  moment,  very  improbable. 
 
 20 — 23.  No  ideas  but  from  sensation 
 or  reflection,  evident,  if  we  ob- 
 serve children. 
 
 24.  The  original  of  all  our  knowledge. 
 
 25.  In  the  reception  of  simple  ideas  the 
 understanding  is  most  of  all  passive. 
 
 CHAPTER  n. 
 
 Of  simple  ideas . 
 1.  Uncompounded  appearances. 
 S,  3.  The  mind  can  neither  make  nor 
 destroy  them. 
 
 CHAPTER  m. 
 
 Of  ideas  of  one  sense. 
 
 1.  As  colours,  of  seeing^  sounds,  of 
 hearing. 
 
 2.  Few  simple  ideas  have  names 
 
 CHAPTER  IV. 
 
 Of  solidity. 
 
 1.  We  receive  this  idea  from  touch. 
 
 2.  Solidity  fills  space. 
 
 3.  Distinct  from  space. 
 •4.  From  hardness. 
 
 5.  On  solidity  depend  impulse,  re- 
 sistance, and  protrusion. 
 
 6.  What  it  is. 
 
 CHAPTER  V. 
 
 Of  simple  ideas  by  more  than  one  sense. 
 
 CHAPTER  VI. 
 
 Of  simple  ideas  of  reflection. 
 
 1.  Simple  ideas  are  the  operations  of 
 the  mind  about  its  other  ideas. 
 
 2.  The  idea  of  perception,  and  idea 
 of  willing,  we  have  from  reflection. 
 
 CHAPTER  VII. 
 
 Of  simple  ideas,  both  of  setisation  and 
 
 reflection. 
 1 — 6.  Pleasure  and  pain. 
 
 7.  Existence  and  unity. 
 
 8.  Power. 
 
 9.  Succession. 
 
 10.  Simple  ideas,  the  materials  of  all 
 our  knowledge. 
 
 CHAPTER  VIII. 
 
 Other  considerations  concerning  simple 
 
 ideas. 
 1-6.  Positive  ideas  from  privative  causes. 
 
 7, 8.  Ideas  in  the  mind,  qualities  in  bo- 
 dies. 
 
 9,  10.  Primary  and  secondary  quali- 
 ties. 
 
 11,  12.   How  primary  qualities  produce 
 their  ideas. 
 
 13,  14.   How  secondary. 
 
 15 — 23.  Ideas  of  primary  qualities,  are 
 
 resemblances;  of  secondary,  not. 
 24,  25.   Reason  of  our  mistake  in  this. 
 26.  Secondary  qualities  two-fold;  first, 
 
 immediately  perceivable;  secondly, 
 
 mediately  perceivable. 
 
 CHAPTER  IX. 
 
 Of  perception. 
 1.  It  is  the  first  simple  idea  of  reflec- 
 tion. 
 2 — 4.   Perception   is   only   when  the 
 
 mind  receives  the  impression. 
 5,-  6.  Children,  though  they  have  ideas 
 
 in  the  womb,  have  none  innate. 
 7.   Which  ideas  first,  is  not  evident. 
 8 — 10.  Ideas  of  sensation  often  changed 
 by  the  judgment. 
 11 — 14.   Perception  puts  the  difference 
 between  animals  and  inferior  be- 
 ings. 
 15.   Perception  the  inlet  of  knowledge. 
 
 CHAPTER  X. 
 
 Of  reteiition. 
 
 1.  Contemplation. 
 
 2.  Memory. 
 
 3.  Attention,  repetition,  pleasure,  and 
 pain,  fix  ideas. 
 
 4.  5.  Ideas  fade  in  the  memory. 
 
 6.  Constantly  repeated  ideas  can 
 scarce  be  lost. 
 
 7.  In  remembering,  the  mind  is  often 
 active. 
 
 8.  9.  Two  defects  in  the  memory,  obli- 
 vion and  slowness. 
 
 10,  Bi'utes  have  memory. 
 
 CHAPTER  XI. 
 
 Of  discerning,  &c. 
 
 1.  No  knowledge  without  it. 
 
 2.  Difference  of  wit  and  judgment. 
 
 3.  Clearness  alone  hinders  confusion. 
 
 4.  Comparing. 
 
 5.  Brutes  compare  but  imperfectly. 
 
 6.  Compounding. 
 
 7.  Brutes  compound  but  little. 
 
 8.  Naming. 
 
 9.  Abstraction. 
 
 10,  11.  Brutes  abstract  not. 
 
 12,  13.  Ideots  and  madmen. 
 
 14.  Method. 
 
 15.  These  are  the  beginnings  of  human 
 knowledge. 
 
20 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 16.  Appeal  to  experience. 
 
 17.  Dark  room. 
 
 CIIAPTKR  XII. 
 
 Of  compk'.v  ideas. 
 
 1.  Made  by  tlie   mind  out  of  simple 
 ones. 
 
 2.  Made  voluntarily. 
 
 3.  Arc  either  modes,   substances,  or 
 relations. 
 
 4.  Modes. 
 
 5.  Simple  and  mixed  modes, 
 
 6.  Substances  single  or  collective. 
 
 7.  Relation. 
 
 8.  The  abstrusest  ideas  from  the  two 
 sources. 
 
 CHAPTER  XIII. 
 
 Of  space  and  its  simple  modes. 
 
 1.  Simple  modes. 
 
 2.  Idea  of  space. 
 
 3.  Space  and  extension. 
 
 4.  Immensity. 
 
 5.  6.  Figure. 
 7—10.  Place. 
 
 11 — 14.  Extension  and  body  not  the 
 same. 
 
 15.  The  definition  of  extension,  or  of 
 space,  does  not  explain  it. 
 
 16.  Division  of  beings  into  bodies  and 
 spirits  proves  not  body  and  space 
 the  same. 
 
 17.  18.  Substance,  which  we  know  not, 
 no  proof  against  space  without 
 body. 
 
 19,  20.  Substance  and  accidents  of  little 
 
 use  in  philosophy. 
 21.  A    vacuum     beyond     the    utmost 
 
 bounds  of  body. 
 82.  The  power  of  annihilation  proves 
 
 a  vacuum. 
 
 23.  Motion  proves  a  vacuum. 
 
 24.  The  ideas  of  space  and  body  dis- 
 tinct. 
 
 25.  26.  Extension,  being  inseparable 
 from  body,  proves  it  not  the  same. 
 
 27.  Ideas  of  space  and  solidity  dis- 
 tinct. 
 
 28.  Men  differ  little  in  clear  simple 
 ideas. 
 
 CHAPTER  XIV. 
 
 Of  duration  and  its  simple  modes. 
 1.  Duration  is  fleeting  extension. 
 2 — 4.  Its  idea   from  reflection   on  the 
 train  of  our  ideas. 
 5.   The  idea  of  duration  applicable  to 
 
 things  while  we  sleep. 
 6-8.  The  idea  of  succession  not  from 
 motion. 
 
 9 — 11.  The  train  of  ideas  has  a  cer- 
 tain degree  of  quickness. 
 
 12.  This  train,  the  measure  of  other 
 successions. 
 
 13 — 15.  The  mind  cannot  fix  long  on 
 one  invariable  idea. 
 
 16.  Ideas,  however  made,  include  no 
 sense  of  motion. 
 
 17.  Time  is  duration  set  out  by  mea- 
 sures. 
 
 18.  A  good  measure  of  time  must  di- 
 vide its  whole  duration  into  equal 
 periods. 
 
 19.  The  revolutions  of  the  sun  and 
 moon  the  properest  measures  of 
 time. 
 
 20.  But  not  by  their  motion,  but  pe- 
 riodical appearances. 
 
 21.  No  two  parts  of  duration  can  be 
 certainly  known  to  be  equal. 
 
 22.  Time  not  the  measure  of  motion. 
 
 23.  Minutes,  hours,  and  years  not  ne- 
 cessary measures  of  duration. 
 
 24 — 26.  Our   measure    of  time    appli- 
 cable to  duration  before  time. 
 27—30.  Eternity. 
 
 CHAPTER  XV. 
 
 Of  duration  and  expansion  considered 
 together. 
 
 1.  Both  capable  of  greater  and  less. 
 
 2.  Expansion  not  bounded  by  matter. 
 
 3.  Nor  duration  by  motion. 
 
 4.  Why  men  more  easily  admit  infi- 
 nite duration  than  infinite  expan- 
 sion. 
 
 5.  Time  to  duration  is  as  place  to  ex- 
 pansion. 
 
 6.  Time  and  place  are  taken  for  so 
 much  of  either  as  are  set  out  by 
 the  existence  and  motion  of  bodies. 
 
 7.  Sometimes  for  so  much  of  either 
 as  we  design  by  measure  taken 
 from  the  bulk  or  motion  of  bodies. 
 
 8.  They  belong  to  all  beings. 
 
 9.  All  the  parts  of  extension  are  ex- 
 tension; and  all  the  parts  of  dura- 
 tion are  duration. 
 
 10.  Their  parts  inseparable. 
 
 11.  Duration  is  as  a  line,  expansion  as 
 a  solid. 
 
 Duration  has  never  two  parts  to- 
 gether, expansion  all  together. 
 
 12 
 
 CHAPTER  XVI, 
 
 Of  number. 
 
 1.  Number,    the    simplest   and    most 
 universal  idea. 
 
 2.  Its  modes  made  by  addition. 
 
 3.  Each  mode  distinct 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 21 
 
 ■i.  Therefore  demonstrations  in  num- 
 bers the  most  precise. 
 5,  6.  Names  necessary  to  numbers. 
 
 7.  Wliy  cliildren  number  not  earlier. 
 
 8.  Number  measures  all  measurables. 
 
 CHAPTER  XVII. 
 
 Of  Infinity. 
 
 1.  Infinity,  in  its  original  intentions, 
 attributed  to  space,  duration,  and 
 number. 
 
 2.  The  idea  of  finite  easily  got. 
 
 3.  How  we  come  by  the  idea  of  infinity. 
 
 4.  Our  idea  of  space  boundless. 
 
 5.  And  so  of  duration. 
 
 6.  Why  other  ideas  are  not  capable  of 
 infinity. 
 
 7.  Difference  between  infinity  of  space 
 and  space  infinite. 
 
 8.  We  have  no  idea  of  infinite  space. 
 
 9.  Number  affords  us  the  clearest  idea 
 of  infinity. 
 
 10,  11.  Our  different  conception  of  the 
 infinity  of  number,  duration  and 
 expansion, 
 
 12.  Infinite  divisibility. 
 
 13,  14.  No  positive  idea  of  infinity. 
 
 15,  16.  What  is  positive,  what  nega- 
 tive, in  our  idea  of  infinite. 
 
 16,  17.  We  have  no  positive  idea  of 
 
 infinite  duration. 
 18.  No  positive  idea  of  infinite  space. 
 
 20.  Some  think  they  have  a  positive 
 idea  of  eternity,  and  not  of  infi- 
 nite space. 
 
 21.  Supposed  positive  idea  of  infinity, 
 cause  of  mistakes. 
 
 22.  All  these  ideas  from  sensation  and 
 reflection. 
 
 CHAPTER  XVIII. 
 
 Of  other  simple  modes, 
 1,2.   Modes  of  motion. 
 
 3.  Modes  of  sounds. 
 
 4.  Modes  of  colours. 
 
 5.  Modes  of  tastes  and  smells. 
 
 6.  Some  simple  modes  have  no  names. 
 
 7.  Why  some  modes  have,  and  others 
 have  not  names. 
 
 CHAPTER  XIX. 
 
 Of  the  modes  of  thinking. 
 1,  2.  Sensation  remembrance,  contem- 
 plation, &c. 
 
 3.  The  various  attention  of  the  mind 
 in  thinking. 
 
 4.  Hence  it  isprobable  that  thinking  is 
 the  action,  not  essence  of  the  soul. 
 
 CHAPTER  XX. 
 
 Of  modes  of  pleasure  and  pain. 
 
 Pleasure  and  pain  simple  ideas. 
 
 Good  and  evil,  what. 
 
 Our  passions   moved  by  good  and 
 
 evil. 
 
 Love. 
 
 Hatred. 
 
 Desire. 
 
 Joy. 
 
 Sorrow. 
 
 Hope. 
 
 Fear. 
 
 Despair. 
 
 Anger. 
 
 Envy. 
 
 What  passions  all  men  have. 
 
 16.  Pleasure  and  pain,  what. 
 
 Shame. 
 
 These  instances  do  show  how  our 
 
 ideas  of  the  passions  are  got  from 
 
 sensation  and  reflection. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXI. 
 
 Of  power. 
 
 1.  This  idea  how  got. 
 
 2.  Power  active  and  passive. 
 
 3.  Power  includes  relation. 
 
 4.  The  clearest  idea  of  active  power 
 had  from  spirit. 
 
 5.  Will  and  understanding  two  pow- 
 ers. 
 
 6.  Faculties. 
 
 7.  Whence  the  ideas  of  liberty  and 
 necessity. 
 
 8.  Liberty,  what. 
 
 9.  Supposes  understanding  and  will. 
 
 10.  Belongs  not  to  volition. 
 
 11.  Voluntary  opposed  to  involuntary, 
 not  to  necessary. 
 
 12.  Liberty,  what. 
 
 13.  Necessity,  what. 
 
 14-20.  Liberty  belongs  not  to  the  will. 
 
 21.  But  to  the  agent  or  man. 
 
 22-24.  In  respect  of  willing,  a  man  is 
 not  free. 
 
 25-27.  The  will  determined  by  some- 
 thing without  it. 
 
 28.  Volition,  what. 
 
 29.  What  determines  the  will. 
 
 30.  Will  and  desire  must  not  be  con- 
 founded. 
 
 31.  Uneasiness  determines  the  will. 
 
 32.  Desire  is  uneasiness, 
 
 33.  The  uneasiness  of  desire  deter- 
 mines the  will. 
 
 34.  This  the  spring  of  action. 
 
 35.  The  greatest  positive  good  deter- 
 mines not  the  will,  but  uneasiness. 
 
 36.  Because  the  removal  of  uneasiness 
 is  the  first  step  to  happiness. 
 
 37.  Because    uneasiness  alone   is  pre- 
 .    sent 
 
22 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 58.  Because  all,  who  allow  the  joys  of 
 heaven  possible,  pursue  them  not. 
 But  a  _a;reat  uneasiness  is  never  ne- 
 glected. 
 
 39.  Desire  accompanies  all  uneasiness. 
 
 40.  The  most  pressing  uneasiness  na- 
 turally determines  the  will. 
 
 41.  All  desire  happiness. 
 
 42.  Happiness,  what. 
 
 43.  What  good  is  desired,  what  not. 
 
 44.  Why  the  greatest  good  is  not  al- 
 ways desired. 
 
 45.  Why,  not  being  desired,  it  moves 
 not  the  will. 
 
 46.  Due  consideration  raises  desire. 
 
 47.  The  power  to  suspend  the  prose- 
 cution of  any  desire,  makes  way  for 
 consideration. 
 
 48.  To  be  determined  by  our  own 
 judgment  is  no  restraint  to  liberty. 
 
 49.  The  freest  agents  are  so  deterinined. 
 
 50.  A  constant  determination  to  a  pur- 
 suit of  happiness  no  abridgment  of 
 liberty. 
 
 51.  The  necessity  ofpursuing  true  hap- 
 piness the  foundation  of  all  liberty. 
 
 52.  The  reason  of  it. 
 
 53.  Government  of  our  passions  the 
 right  improvement  of  liberty. 
 
 54.  55.  How  men  come  to  pursue  dif- 
 ferent courses, 
 
 56.  How  men  come  to  choose  ill. 
 
 57.  First,  from  bodily  pains.  Second- 
 ly, from  wrong  desires  arising  from 
 wrong  judgment. 
 
 58.  59.  Our  judgment  of  present  good 
 
 or  evil  always  right. 
 
 60.  From  a  wrong  judgment  of  what 
 makes  a  necessary  part  of  their 
 happiness. 
 
 61,  62.  A  more  particular   account  of 
 
 wrong  judgments. 
 
 63.  In  comparing  present  and  future. 
 
 64,  65.  Causes  of  this. 
 
 66.  In  considering  consequences  of  ac- 
 tions. 
 
 67.  Causes  of  this. 
 
 68.  Wrong  judgment  of  what  is  neces- 
 sary to  our  happiness. 
 
 69.  We  can  change  the  agreeableness 
 or  disagreeableness  in  things. 
 
 70.  Preference  of  vice  to  virtue,  a 
 manifest  wrong  judgment. 
 
 71-73.   Recapitulation. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXII. 
 
 Of  mixed  modes. 
 
 1.  Mixed  modes,  what. 
 
 2.  Made  by  the  mind. 
 
 3.  Sometimes  got  by  the  explication 
 of  their  names. 
 
 4.  The  name  ties  the  parts  of  the  mix- 
 ed modes  into  one  idea. 
 
 5.  The  cause  of  making  mixed  modes. 
 
 6.  Why  words  in   one  language  have 
 none  answering  in  another. 
 
 7.  And  languages  change. 
 
 8.  Mixed  modes,  where  they  exist. 
 
 9.  How   we  get  the  ideas  of   mixed 
 modes. 
 
 10.  Motion,  thinking,  and  power  have 
 been  most  modified. 
 
 11.  Several  words   seeming  to   signify 
 action,  signify  but  the  effect. 
 
 12.  Mixed  modes  made  also  of  other 
 ideas. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXIIi 
 
 Of  the  complex  ideas  of  siibstaiicex. 
 
 1.  Iileas  of  substances,  how  made. 
 
 2.  Our  ideas  of  substances  in  general. 
 
 3.  6.  Of  the  sorts  of  substances. 
 
 4.  No  clear  idea  of  substance  in  gene- 
 ral. 
 
 5.  As  clear  an  idea  of  spirit  as  body. 
 
 7.  Powers  a  great  part  of  our  com- 
 plex idea  of  substances. 
 
 8.  And  why. 
 
 9.  Three  sorts  of  ideas  make  our  com- 
 plex ones  of  substances. 
 Powers  make  a  great  part  of  our 
 complex  ideas  of  substances. 
 The  now  secondary  qualities  of 
 bodies  would  disappear,  if  we  could 
 discover  the  primary  ones  of  their 
 minute  parts. 
 
 Our  faculties  of  discovery  suited  to 
 our  state. 
 Conjecture  about  spirits. 
 
 14.  Complex  ideas  of  substances. 
 
 15.  Idea  of  spiritual  substances  as  clear 
 as  of  bodily  substances. 
 
 16.  No  idea  of  abstract  substance. 
 
 17.  The  cohesion  of  solid  parts,  and 
 impulse,  the  primary  ideas  of  body. 
 
 18.  Thinking  and  motivity  the  primary 
 ideas  of  spirit. 
 
 19-21.    Spirits  capable  of  motion. 
 
 22.   Idea  of  soul  and  body  compared. 
 
 23-27.  Cohesion  of  solid  parts  in  body, 
 as  hard  to  be  conceived  as  thinking 
 in  a  soul. 
 
 28,  29.  Communication  of  motion  by 
 impulse,  or  by  thought,  equally  in- 
 telligible. 
 
 30.  Ideas  of  body  and  spirit  compared. 
 
 31.  The  notion  of  spirit  involves  no 
 more  difficulty  in  it  than  that  of 
 body. 
 
 32.  We  know  nothing  beyond  our 
 simple  ideas. 
 
 33-35.  Idea  of  God. 
 
 10. 
 
 12 
 
 13 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 23 
 
 36.  No  ideas  in  our  complex  one  of 
 spirits,  but  those  got  from  sensa- 
 tion or  reflection. 
 
 37.  Recapitulation. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXIV. 
 
 Of  collective  ideas  of  substances, 
 
 1.  One  idea. 
 
 2.  Made  by  the  power  of  composing 
 in  the  mind. 
 
 3.  All  artificial  things  are  collective 
 ideas. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXV. 
 
 Of  relation. 
 
 2.  Relation,  what. 
 
 Relations,  without  correlative  terms 
 not  easily  perceived. 
 
 3.  Some  seemingly  absolute  terms 
 contain  relations. 
 
 4.  Relation  different  from  the  things 
 related. 
 
 5.  Change  of  relation  may  be  without 
 any  change  in  the  subject. 
 
 6.  Relation  only  betwixt  two  things. 
 
 7.  All  things  capable  of  relation. 
 
 8.  The  ideas  of  relation  clearer  often, 
 than  of  the  subjects  related. 
 
 9.  Relations  all  terminate  in  simple 
 ideas. 
 
 10.  Terms  leading  the  mind  beyond 
 the  subjects  denominated,  are  rela- 
 tive. 
 
 11.  Conclusion. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXVI. 
 
 Of  cause  and  effect,  and  other  relations, 
 
 1.  Whence  their  ideas  got. 
 
 2.  Creation,  generation,  making  al- 
 teration. 
 
 3.  4.  Relations  of  time. 
 
 5.  Relations  of  place  and  extension. 
 
 6.  Absolute  terms  often  stand  for  re- 
 latioas. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXVn. 
 
 Of  identity  and  diversity 
 
 1.  Wherein  identity  consists. 
 
 2.  Identity  of  substances. 
 Identity  of  modes. 
 
 3.  Principium  individuationis. 
 
 4.  Identity  of  vegetables. 
 ^.   Identity  of  animals. 
 
 6.  Identity  of  man. 
 
 7.  Identity  suited  to  the  idea. 
 
 8.  Same  man. 
 
 9.  Personal  identity. 
 
 10.  Consciousness  makes  personal  iden- 
 tity. 
 
 11.  Personal  identity  in  change  of  sub- 
 stances. 
 
 12-15.  Whether  in  the  change  of  think- 
 ing substances. 
 
 16.  Consciousness  makes  the  same  per- 
 son. 
 
 17.  Self  depends  on  consciousness. 
 
 18.  20.  Objects  of  reward  and  punish- 
 
 ment. 
 21,  22.  Difference  between  identity  of 
 
 man  and  person. 
 23-25.  Consciousness  alone  makes  self. 
 26,  27.  Person  a  forensic  term. 
 
 28.  The  difficulty  from  ill  use  of  names. 
 
 29.  Continued  existence  makes  iden- 
 tity. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
 
 Of  other  relations. 
 
 1.  Proportional. 
 
 2.  Natural. 
 
 3.  Instituted. 
 
 4.  Moral. 
 
 5.  Moral  good  and  evil. 
 
 6.  Moral  rules. 
 
 7.  Laws. 
 
 8.  Divine  law,  the  measure  of  sin  and 
 duty. 
 
 9.  Civil  law,  the  measure  of  crimes 
 and  innocence. 
 
 10,  11.  Philosophical  law,  the  measure 
 of  virtue  and  vice. 
 
 12.  Its  enforcements,  commendation, 
 and  discredit. 
 
 13.  These  three  laws  the  rules  of  mo- 
 ral good  and  evil. 
 
 14.  15.  Morality  is  the  relation  of  ac- 
 tions to  these  rules. 
 
 16.  The  denominations  of  actions  often 
 mislead  us. 
 
 17.  Relations  innumerable. 
 
 18.  All  relations  terminate  in  simple 
 ideas. 
 
 19.  We  have  ordinarily  as  clear  (or 
 clearer)  notions  of  the  relation,  as 
 of  its  foundation. 
 
 20.  The  notion  of  the  relation  is 
 the  same,  whether  the  rule  any 
 action  is  compared  to  be  true  or 
 false. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXIX. 
 
 Of  clear  and  distinct,  obscure  and  con- 
 fused ideas. 
 
 1.  Ideas,    some    clear    and    distinct, 
 others  obscure  and  confused. 
 
 2.  Clear  and  obscure,   explained  by 
 sight. 
 
 3.  Causes  of  obscurity. 
 
 4.  Distinct  and  confused,  what. 
 
 5.  Objection. 
 
 6.  Confusion  of  ideas  is  in  reference 
 to  their  names. 
 
24 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 7.  Defaults  which  make  confusion. 
 First,  Complex  ideas  made  u[t  of 
 too  few  sim])Ic  ones. 
 
 8.  Secondly,  Or  its  simple  ones  jum- 
 bled disorderly  togetiier. 
 
 9.  Thirdly,  Or  arc  mutable  or  unde- 
 termined. 
 
 Confusion,    without    reference    to 
 names,  hardly  conceivable. 
 Confusion    concerns    always    two 
 ideas. 
 
 12.  Causes  of  confusion. 
 
 13.  Complex  ideas   m.iy  be   distinct  in 
 one  part,  and  confused  in  another. 
 
 14.  This,  if  not  heeded,  causes  confu- 
 sion in  our  arguings. 
 
 15.  Instance  in  eternity. 
 
 16.  — ^  Divisibility  of  matter. 
 
 10 
 
 11 
 
 CHAPTER  XXX. 
 
 Of  real  and  fantastical  ideas. 
 
 1.  Real  ideas  are  conformable  to  their 
 archetypes. 
 
 2.  Simple  ideas  all  real. 
 
 3.  Complex  ideas  are  voluntary  com- 
 binations. 
 
 4.  Mixed  modes,  made  of  consistent 
 ideas,  are  real. 
 
 5.  Ideas  of  substances  are  real,  when 
 they  agree  with  the  existence  of 
 things. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXXI. 
 
 Of  adequate  and  inadequate  ideas. 
 
 1.  Adequate  ideas  are  such  as  per- 
 fectly represent  their  archetypes. 
 
 2.  Simple  ideas  all  adequate. 
 
 3.  Modes  are  all  adequate. 
 
 4.  5.  Modes,    in  i-eference    to    settled 
 
 names,  may  be  inadequate. 
 
 6,7.  Ideas  of  substances,  as  referred  to 
 real  essences,  not  adequate. 
 
 8-11.  Ideas  of  substances,  as   collec- 
 tions of  their  qualities,  are  all   in- 
 adequate. 
 )fi.   Simple  ideas  ix.TU7rct,  and  adequate. 
 
 13.  Ideas  of  substances  are  lurvTra.,  and 
 inadequate. 
 
 14.  Ideas  of  modes  and  relations  are 
 archetypes,  and  cannot  but  be  ade- 
 quate. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXXII. 
 
 Of  true  a?id  false  ideas. 
 
 1.  Truth  and  falseiiood  properly  be- 
 longs to  propositions. 
 
 2.  Metaphysical  truth  contains  a  tacit 
 proposition. 
 
 5.  No  idea,  as  an  appearance  in  the 
 mind,  true  or  false. 
 
 4.  Ideas  referred  to  any  thing,  maj 
 be  true  or  false. 
 
 5.  Other  men's  ideas,  real  existence, 
 and  supposed  real  essences,  arc 
 what  men  usually  refer  their  ideas 
 to. 
 
 C-8.  The  cause  of  such  references. 
 
 9.  Simple  ideas  may  be  false  in  re- 
 ference to  others  of  the  same  name, 
 but  are  least  liable  to  be  so. 
 
 10.  Ideas  of  mixed  modes  most  liable 
 to  be  false  in  this  sense. 
 
 11.  Or  at  least  to  be  thought  false. 
 
 12.  And  why. 
 
 13.  As  referred  to  real  existences,  none 
 of  our  ideas  can  be  false,  but  those 
 of  substances. 
 
 14.  16.  First,  Simple  ideas  in  this  sense 
 not  false,  and  why. 
 
 15.  Though  one  man's  idea  of  blue 
 should  be  different  from  another's. 
 
 17.  Secondly,  Modes  not  false. 
 
 18.  Thirdly,  Ideas  of  substances,  when 
 false. 
 
 19.  Truth  or  falsehood  always  sup- 
 poses affirmation  or  negation. 
 
 20.  Ideas  in  themselves  neither  true 
 nor  false. 
 
 21.  But  are  false,  first,  when  judged 
 agreeable  to  another  man's  idea, 
 without  being  so. 
 
 22.  Secondly,  when  judged  to  agree  to 
 real  existence,  when  they  do  not. 
 
 23.  Thirdly,  when  judged  adequate 
 without  being  so. 
 
 24.  Fourthly,  when  judged  to  represent 
 the  real  essence. 
 
 25.  Ideas,  when  false. 
 
 26.  More  properly  to  be  called  right 
 or  wrong. 
 
 27.  Conclusion. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXXni. 
 
 Of  the  association  of  ideas. 
 
 1.  Something  unreasonable  in  most 
 men. 
 
 2.  Not  wholly  from  self-love. 
 
 3.  Nor  from  education. 
 
 4.  A  degi-ee  of  madness. 
 
 5.  From  a  wrong  connexion  of  ideas. 
 
 6.  This  connexion  how  made. 
 
 7,8.  Some  antipathies  an  effect  of  it. 
 9.   A  great  cause  of  errors. 
 10 — 12.  Instances. 
 13.  Why  time  cures  some  disorders  in 
 
 the  mind,  which  reason  cannot. 
 14-16.  Farther  instances  of  the  effects 
 of  the  association  of  ideas. 
 
 17.  Its  influence  on  intellectual  habits. 
 
 18.  Observable  in  different  sects. 
 
 19.  Conclusion. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 86 
 
 BOOK  III. 
 OF  WORDS. 
 
 CHAPTER  I. 
 
 Of  toords  or  language  in  general. 
 Sect.  1.  Man  fitted  to  form  articulate 
 sounds. 
 2.  To  make  them  signs  of  ideas. 
 3,4.  To  make  general  signs. 
 
 5.  Words    ultimately    derived    from 
 such  as  signify  sensible  ideas. 
 
 6.  Distribution. 
 
 CHAPTER  H. 
 
 Of  the  signification  of  words. 
 
 1.  Words  are  sensible  signs  necessary 
 for  communication. 
 
 2,  3.  Words  are  the  sensible   signs  of 
 his  ideas  who  uses  them. 
 
 4.  Words  often  secretly  referred,  first, 
 to  the  ideas  in  other  men's  minds. 
 
 5.  Secondly,  to  the  reality  of  things. 
 
 6.  Words  by  use  readily  excite  ideas. 
 
 7.  Words  often  used  without  signifi- 
 cation. 
 
 8.  Their  signification  perfectly  arbi- 
 trary. 
 
 CHAPTER  m. 
 
 Of  general  terms. 
 
 1.  The  greatest  part  of  words  general. 
 
 2.  For  every  particular  thing  to  have 
 a  name,  is  impossible. 
 
 3.  4.  And  useless. 
 
 5.  What  things  have  proper  names. 
 C — 8.  How  general  words  are  m.ade. 
 
 9.  General    natures    are   nothing  but 
 abstract  ideas. 
 
 10.  Why  the  genus  is  ordinarily  made 
 use  of  in  definitions. 
 
 11.  General  and  universal  are  crea- 
 tures of  the  understanding. 
 
 12.  Abstract  ideas  are  the  essences  of 
 the  genera  and  species. 
 
 13.  They  are  the  workmanship  of  the 
 understanding,  but  have  their 
 similitude  in  the  foundation  of 
 things. 
 
 14.  Each  distinct  abstract  idea  is  a  dis- 
 tinct essence. 
 
 15.  Real  and  nominal  essence. 
 
 16.  Constant  connexion  between  the 
 name  and  nominal  essence. 
 
 17.  Supposition,  that  species  are  dis- 
 tinguished by  their  real  essences, 
 useless. 
 
 18.  Real  and  nominal  essence  the  same 
 in  simple  ideas  and  modes,  differ- 
 ent in  substances. 
 
 D 
 
 19.  Essences  ingenerable  and  incor- 
 ruptible. 
 
 20.  Recapitulation. 
 
 CHAPTER  IV. 
 
 Of  the  names  of  simple  ideas. 
 
 1.  Names  of  simple  ideas,  modes,  and 
 substances,  have  each  something 
 peculiar. 
 
 2.  First,  Names  of  simple  ideas  and 
 substances,  intimate  real  existence. 
 
 3.  Secondly,  Names  of  simple  ideas 
 and  modes  signify  always  both  real 
 and  nominal  essence. 
 
 4.  Thirdly,  Names  of  simple  ideas  un- 
 definable. 
 
 5.  If  all  were  definable,  it  would  be  a 
 process  in  infinitum. 
 
 6.  What  a  definition  is. 
 
 7.  Simple  ideas,  why  undefinable. 
 
 8.  9.  Instances,  motion. 
 
 10.  Light. 
 
 11.  Simple  ideas,  why  undefinable  fur- 
 ther explained. 
 
 12.  13.  The  contrary  showed  in  com- 
 plex ideas  by  instances  of  a  statue 
 and  rainbow. 
 
 14.  The  names  of  complex  ideas  when 
 to  be  made  intelligible  by  words. 
 
 15.  Fourthly,  Names  of  simple  ideas 
 least  doubtful. 
 
 16.  Fifthly,  Simple  ideas  have  few 
 ascents  in  linse  prsedicamentali. 
 
 17.  Sixthly,  Names  of  simple  ideas 
 stand  for  ideas  not  at  all  arbitrary. 
 
 CHAPTER  V. 
 
 Of  the  names  of  mixed  modes  and  rela- 
 tions. 
 
 1.  They  stand  for  abstract  ideas  as 
 other  general  names. 
 
 2.  First,  The  ideas  they  stand  for  are 
 made  by  the  understanding. 
 
 3.  Secondly,  Made  arbitrarily,  and 
 without  patterns. 
 
 4.  How  this  is  done. 
 
 5.  Evidently  arbitrary,  in  that  the  idea 
 is  often  before  the  existence. 
 
 6.  Instances,  murder,  incest,  stabbing. 
 
 7.  But  still  subservient  to  the  end  of 
 language. 
 
 8.  Whereof  the  intranslatable  words 
 of  divers  languages  are  a  proof. 
 
 9.  This  shows  species  to  be  made  for 
 communication. 
 
 10,  11.  In  mixed  modes,  it  is  the  name 
 
28 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 that  tics  the  combination  together, 
 and  makes  it  a  species. 
 
 12.  For  the  originals  of  mixed  modes, 
 we  look  no  farliier  than  the  mind, 
 which  also  shows  tlieiii  to  he  tiie 
 workmansliip  ot"  the  undersl;in(ling. 
 
 13.  Their  being  made  by  the  under- 
 standing without  patterns,  shows 
 tiie  reason  wiiy  they  are  so  com- 
 pounded. 
 
 14.  Names  of  mi.xed  modes  stand  al- 
 ways for  their  real  essences. 
 
 15.  Why  their  names  are  usually  got 
 before  their  ideas. 
 
 16.  Reason  of  my  being  so  large  on 
 this  subject. 
 
 CHAPTER  VI. 
 
 Of  the  names  of  substances. 
 
 1.  The  common  names  of  substances 
 
 stand  for  sorts. 
 
 2.  The  essence  of  each  sort  is  the  ab- 
 stract idea. 
 
 3.  The  nominal  and  real  essence  dif- 
 ferent. 
 
 4-6.  Nothing  essential  to  individuals. 
 7,  8.  The  nominal   essence  bounds  the 
 
 species. 
 9.  Not  the    real    essence    which    we 
 
 know  not. 
 
 10.  Not  substantial  forms,  which  we 
 know  less. 
 
 11.  That  the  nominal  essence  is  that 
 whereby  we  distinguish  species, 
 farther  evident  from  spirits. 
 
 12.  Whereof  there  are  probably  num- 
 berless species. 
 
 13.  The  nominal  essence  that  of  the 
 species,  proved  from  water  and  ice. 
 
 14 — 18.  Difficulties  against  a  certain 
 number  of  real  essences. 
 
 19.  Our  nominal  essences  of  substan- 
 ces, not  perfect  collections  of  pro- 
 perties. 
 
 21 .  But  such  a  collection  as  our  name 
 stands  for. 
 
 22.  Our  abstract  ideas  are  to  us  the 
 measures  of  species.  Instances  in 
 that  of  man. 
 
 23.  Species  not  distinguished  by  gene- 
 ration. 
 
 24.  Not  by  substantial  forms. 
 
 25.  The  specific  essences  are  made  by 
 the  mind. 
 
 26.  27.  Therefore  very  various  and  un- 
 certain. 
 
 28.  But  not  80  arbitrary  as  mixed 
 modes. 
 
 29.  Though  very  imperfect. 
 
 30.  Which  yet  serve  for  common  con- 
 verse 
 
 31.  But  make  several  essences  signified 
 by  tlie  same  name. 
 
 32.  The  more  general  our  ideas  are, 
 the  more  incomplete  and  partial 
 they  are. 
 
 33.  This  all  accommodated  to  the  end 
 of  speech. 
 
 34.  Instance  in  cassiowary. 
 
 35.  Men  make  the  species.  Instance 
 gold. 
 
 36.  Though  nature  niakes  the  simili- 
 tude. 
 
 37.  And  continues  it  in  the  races  of 
 things. 
 
 38.  Each  abstract  idea  is  an  essence. 
 
 39.  Genera  and  species  are  in  order  to 
 naming.      Instance  watch. 
 
 40.  Species  of  artificial  things  less  con- 
 fused than  natural. 
 
 41.  Artificial  things  of  distinct  species. 
 
 42.  Substances  alone  have  proper 
 names. 
 
 43.  Difficulty  to  treat  of  words  with 
 words. 
 
 44.  45.  Instance  of  mixed  modes  in 
 kineah  and  niouph. 
 
 46,  47.  Instance  of  substances  in  zahab. 
 
 48.  Their  ideas  imperfect,  and  there- 
 fore various. 
 
 49.  Therefore  to  fix  their  species  a 
 real  essence  is  supposed. 
 
 50.  Which  supposition  is  of  no  use. 
 
 51.  Conclusion. 
 
 CHAPTER  VII. 
 
 Of  particles. 
 
 1.  Particles    connect   parts  or  whole 
 sentences  together. 
 
 2.  In  them  consists  the   art  of  well 
 speaking. 
 
 3.  4.  They    show   what   relation    the 
 mind  gives  to  its  own  thoughts. 
 
 5,  Instance  in  but. 
 
 6.  This    matter    but   lightly  touched 
 here. 
 
 CHAPTER  VIII. 
 
 Of  abstract  and  concrete  terms. 
 
 1.  Abstract  terms  not  predicable  one 
 of  another,  and  why. 
 
 2.  They  show  the   difference  of  oup 
 ideas. 
 
 CHAPTER  IX. 
 
 Of  the  imperfection  of  -words. 
 
 1.  Words  arc  used  for  recording  and 
 communicating  our  thoughts. 
 
 2.  Any  words  will  serve  for  recording. 
 
 3.  Communication  by  words,  civil  or 
 philosophical. 
 
 4.  The  imperfection  of  words,  is  the 
 doubtfulness  of  their  signification 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 27 
 
 5.  Caases  of  their  imperfection. 
 
 6.  The  names  of  mixed  modes  doubt- 
 ful: first,  because  the  ideas  they 
 stand  for  are  so  complex. 
 
 7.  Secondly,  Because  they  have  no 
 standards. 
 
 8.  Propriety  not  a  sufficient  remedy. 
 
 9.  The  way  of  learning  these  names 
 contributes  also  to  their  doubtful- 
 ness. 
 
 10.  Hence  unavoidable  obscurity  in  an- 
 cient authors. 
 
 il.  Names  of  substances  of  doubtful 
 signification. 
 
 12.  Names  of  substances  referred. — 
 First,  To  real  essences  that  cannot 
 be  known. 
 
 1.3,  14.  Secondly,  To  coexisting  quali- 
 ties, which  are  known  but  im- 
 perfectly. 
 
 15.  With  this  imperfection  they  may 
 serve  for  civil,  but  not  well  for 
 philosophicul  use. 
 
 16.  Instance — Liquor  of  nerves. 
 
 17.  Instance — Gold. 
 
 18.  The  names  of  simple  ideas  the  least 
 doubtful . 
 
 19.  And  next  to  tliem  simple  modes. 
 
 20.  The  most  doubtful,  are  the  names 
 of  very  compounded  mixed  modes 
 and  substances. 
 
 21.  Why  this  imperfection  charged 
 upon  words. 
 
 22.  23.  This  should  teach  us  modera- 
 tion in  imposing  our  own  sense  of 
 old  authors, 
 
 CHAPTER  X. 
 
 Of  the  abuse  of -words. 
 
 1.  Abuse  of  words. 
 
 2,  3.  First,  Words  without  any,  or 
 ■without  clear  ideas. 
 
 4.  Occasioned  by  learning  names  be- 
 fore the  ideas  they  belong  to. 
 
 5.  Secondly,  Unsteady  application  of 
 them. 
 
 6.  Thirdly,  Affected  obscurity  by 
 wrong  application. 
 
 7.  Logic  and  dispute  have  much  con- 
 tributed to  it. 
 
 8.  Calling  it  subtilty 
 
 9.  This  learning  very  little  benefits 
 society. 
 
 10.  But  destroys  the  instruments  of 
 knowledge  and  communication. 
 
 11.  As  useful  as  to  confound  the  sound 
 of  the  letters. 
 
 12.  This  art  has  perplexed  religion  and 
 justice. 
 
 13.  And  ought  not  to  pass  for  learning. 
 
 14.  Fourthly,  Taking  them  for  tilings. 
 
 15.  Instance  in  matter. 
 
 16.  This  makes  errors  lasting. 
 
 17.  Fifthly,  Setting  them  for  what  they 
 cannot  signify. 
 
 18.  V.  g.  Putting  them  for  the  real  es- 
 sences of  substances. 
 
 19.  Hence  we  think  every  change  of 
 our  idea  in  substances,  not  to 
 change  the  species. 
 
 20.  The  cause  of  this  abuse,  a  supposi- 
 tion of  nature's  working  always  re- 
 gularly. 
 
 21.  This  abuse  contains  two  false  sup- 
 positions. 
 
 22.  Sixthly,  A  supposition  that  words 
 have  a  certain  and  evident  signifi- 
 cation. 
 
 23.  The  ends  of  language.  First,  To 
 convey  our  ideas. 
 
 24.  Secondly,  To  do  it  with  quickness. 
 
 25.  Thirdly,  Therewith  to  convey  the 
 knowledge  of  things. 
 
 26-31.  How  men's  words  fail  in  all  these. 
 
 32.  How  in  substances. 
 
 33.  How  in  modes  and  relations. 
 
 34.  Seventhly,  Figurative  speech  also 
 an  abuse  of  language. 
 
 CHAPTER  XL 
 
 Of  the  remedies  of  the  foregoing  imper- 
 fectio7is  and  abuses. 
 
 1.  They  are  worth  seeking. 
 
 2.  Are  not  easy. 
 
 3.  But  yet  necessary  to  philosophy. 
 
 4.  Misuse  of  words,  the  cause  of  great 
 errors. 
 
 5.  Obstinacy, 
 
 6.  And  wrangling. 
 
 7.  Instance — Bat  and  bird. 
 
 8.  First  remedy,  To  use  no  word  with- 
 out an  idea. 
 
 9.  Secondly,    To  have  distinct   ideas 
 annexed  to  them  in  modes. 
 
 10.  And  distinct  and  conformable  in 
 substances. 
 
 11.  Thirdly,  Propriety. 
 
 12.  Fourthly,  To  make  known  their 
 meaning. 
 
 13.  And  that  in  three  ways. 
 
 14.  First,  In  simple  ideas  by  synony- 
 mous terms  or  showing. 
 
 15.  Secondly,  In  mixed  modes  by  de- 
 finition. 
 
 16.  Morality  capable  of  demonstration. 
 
 17.  Definitions  can  make  moral  dis- 
 courses clear. 
 
 18.  And  is  the  only  way. 
 
 19.  Thirdly,  In  substances  by  showing 
 and  defining. 
 
 20.  21.  Ideas  of  the  leading  qualities  of 
 substances,  are  best  got  by  showing. 
 
28 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 22.  The  ideas  of  their  powers  best  by  ,  25 
 definition.  1 2G. 
 
 23.  A  reflection  on  the  knowledge  of  I 
 spirits.  1 17, 
 
 24.  Ideas  .ilso  of  substances   must  be  j 
 conformable  to  thiujis. 
 
 Not  easy  to  be  made  so. 
 Fifthly,  By  constancy  in  their  sig- 
 nification. 
 
 Wlien    the   variation  is  to   be  ex- 
 plained. 
 
 BOOK  IV. 
 OF  KNOWLEDGE  AND  OPINION. 
 
 CHAPTER  I. 
 
 Of  hnoiuledge  in  tfeneral. 
 Sect.  1.   Our    knowledge     conversant 
 about  our  ideas. 
 
 2.  Knowledge  is  the  perception  of  the 
 agreement  or  disagreement  of  two 
 ideas. 
 
 3.  This  agreement  fourfold. 
 
 4.  First,  Of  identity  or  diversity. 
 
 5.  Secondly,  Relation. 
 
 6.  Thirdly,  Of  coe.\istence. 
 
 7.  Fourthly,  Of  real  e.xistence. 
 
 8.  Knowledge  actual  or  h.ibitual. 
 
 9.  Habitual  knowledge  twofold. 
 
 CHAPTER  n. 
 
 Of  the  degrees  of  our  knoidedge. 
 
 1.  Intuitive. 
 
 2.  Demonstrative. 
 
 3.  Depends  on  proofs. 
 
 4.  But  not  so  easy. 
 
 5.  Not  without  precedent  doubt. 
 
 6.  Not  so  clear. 
 
 7.  Each  step  must  have  intuitive  evi- 
 dence. 
 
 8.  Hence  the  mistake  ex  prcecognitis 
 et  prseconccssis. 
 
 9.  Demonstration  not  limited  to  quan- 
 tity. 
 
 10 — 13.  Why  it  has  been  so  thought. 
 
 14.  Sensitive  knowledge  of  particular 
 existence. 
 
 15.  Knowledge  not  always  clear,  where 
 the  ideas  are  so. 
 
 CHAPTER  Iir. 
 
 Of  the  extent  of  human  knoivledge. 
 
 1 .  First,  No  farther  than  we  have  ideas. 
 
 2.  Secondly,  No  farther  than  we  can 
 perceive  their  agreement  or  disa- 
 greement. * 
 
 3.  Thirdly,  Intuitive  knowledge  ex- 
 tends itself  not  to  all  the  relations 
 of  all  our  ideas. 
 
 4.  Fourthly,  Not  demonstrative  know- 
 ledge. 
 
 5.  Fifthly,  Sensitive  knowledge  nar- 
 rower than  either. 
 
 6.  Sixthly,  Our  knowledge  therefore 
 narrower  than  our  ideas. 
 
 7.  How  far  our  knowledge  reaches. 
 
 8.  J'irst,  Our  knowledge   of  identity 
 and  diversity,  as  far  as  our  ideas. 
 
 9.  Secondly,   Of  coexistence    a  very 
 little  way. 
 
 10.  Because  the  connexion  between 
 most  simple  ideas  is  unknown. 
 
 11.  Especially  of  secondary  qualities. 
 
 12-14.  And  fartlier,  because  all  connex- 
 ion between  any  secondary  and  pri- 
 mary qualities  is  undiscoverable. 
 
 15.  Of  repugnancy  to  coexist  larger. 
 
 16.  Of  the  coexistence  of  powers  a  very 
 little  way. 
 
 17.  Of  spirits  yet  narrower. 
 
 18.  Thirdly,  Of  other  relations,  it  is  not 
 easy  to  say  how  far.  Morality  ca- 
 pable of  demonstration. 
 
 19.  Two  things  have  made  moral  ideas 
 thought  incapable  of  demonstra- 
 tion. Their  complexedness  and 
 want  of  sensible  i-epresentations. 
 
 20.  Remedies  of  those  difficulties. 
 
 21.  Fourthly,  Of  real  existence,  we 
 have  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  our 
 own,  demonstrative  of  God's,  sen- 
 sitive of  some  few  other  things, 
 
 22.  Our  ignorance  great. 
 
 23.  First,  One  cause  of  it  want  of  ideas, 
 either  such  as  we  have  no  concep- 
 tion of,  or  such  as  particularly  we 
 have  not. 
 
 24.  Because  of  their  remoteness,  or, 
 
 25.  Because  of  their  minuteness. 
 
 26.  Hence  no  science  of  bodies. 
 
 27.  Much  less  of  spirits. 
 
 28.  Secondly,  Want  of  a  discoverable 
 connexion  between  ideas  we  have. 
 
 29.  Instances. 
 
 30.  Thirdly,  Want  of  tracing  our  ideas. 
 
 31.  Extent  in  respect  of  universality. 
 
 CHAPTER  IV. 
 
 Of  the  reality  of  our  knoioledffe. 
 
 1.  Objection,     knowledge    placed    in 
 ideas,  may  be  all  bare  vision. 
 
 2,  3.  Answer,     not    so,    where    ideas 
 agree  with  things. 
 
 4.   As,  firr.t,  all  simple  ideas  do. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 29 
 
 5.  Secondly,  All  complex  ideas,  ex- 
 cept of  substances. 
 
 6.  Hence  the  reality  of  mathematical 
 knowledge. 
 
 7.  And  of  moral. 
 
 8.  Existence  not  required  to  make  it 
 real. 
 
 9.  Nor  will  it  be  less  true  or  certain, 
 because  moral  ideas  are  of  our  own 
 making  and  naming. 
 
 10.  Misnaming  disturbs  not  the  cer- 
 tainty of  the  knowledge. 
 
 11.  Ideas  of  substances  have  their  ar- 
 chetypes without  us. 
 
 12.  So  far  as  they  agree  witli  those,  so 
 far  our  knowledge  concerning  them 
 is  real. 
 
 13.  In  our  inquiries  about  substances, 
 we  must  consider  ideas,  and  not 
 confine  our  thoughts  to  names  or 
 species  supposed  set  out  by  names. 
 
 14.  15.  Objection  against  a  changeling 
 being  something  between  man  and 
 beast,  answered. 
 
 16.  Monsters. 
 
 17.  Words  and  species. 
 
 18.  Recapitulation. 
 
 CHAPTER  V. 
 
 Of  truth,  in  general. 
 
 1.  What  truth  is. 
 
 2.  A  right  joining  or  separating  of 
 signs;  i.  e.  ideas  or  words. 
 
 3.  Which  makes  mental  or  verbfil  pro- 
 positions. 
 
 4.  Mental  propositions  are  very  hard 
 to  be  treated  of. 
 
 5.  Being  nothing  but  joining,  or  se- 
 parating ideas  without  words. 
 
 6.  When  mental  propositions  contain 
 real  truth,  and  when  verbal. 
 
 7.  Objection  against  verbal  truth,  that 
 thus  it  may  be  all  chimerical. 
 
 8.  Answered,  Real  truth  is  about  ideas 
 agreeing  to  things. 
 
 9.  Falsehood  is  the  joining  of  names 
 otherwise  than  their  ideas  agree. 
 
 10.  General  propositions  to  be  treated 
 of  more  at  large. 
 
 11.  Moral  and  metaphysical  truth. 
 
 CHAPTER  VI. 
 
 Of  universal  propositions,  their  truth 
 and  certainty, 
 
 1.  Treating  of  words,  necessary  to 
 knowledge. 
 
 2.  General  truths,  hardly  to  be  under- 
 stood, but  in  verbal  propositions. 
 
 3.  Certainty  two-fold,  of  truth  and  of 
 knowledge. 
 
 4.  No  proposition  can  be  known  to  be  1 
 
 true,  where  the  essence  of  each  spe- 
 cies mentioned  is  not  known. 
 
 5.  This  more  particularly  concerns 
 substances. 
 
 6.  Tlie  trutli  of  few  universal  propo- 
 sitions concerning  substances,  is  to 
 be  known. 
 
 7.  Because  coexistence  of  ideas  in  few 
 cases  is  to  be  known. 
 
 8.  9.  Instance  in  gold. 
 
 10.  As  far  as  any  such  coexistence  can 
 be  known,  so  far  universal  proposi- 
 tions may  be  certain.  But  this  will 
 go  but  a  little  way,  because, 
 
 11,  12.  The  qualities  which  make  our 
 complex  ideas  of  substances  depend 
 mostly  on  external,  remote,  and 
 unperceived  causes. 
 
 13.  Judgment  may  reach  farther,  but 
 that  is  not  knowledge. 
 
 14.  What  is  requisite  for  our  know- 
 ledge of  substances. 
 
 15.  Whilst  our  ideas  of  substances  con- 
 tain not  their  I'eal  constitutions,  we 
 can  make  but  few  general  certain 
 propositions  concerning  them. 
 
 16.  Wherein  lies  the  general  certainty 
 of  propositions. 
 
 CHAPTER  VII. 
 
 Of  maxims. 
 
 1.  They  are  self-evident 
 
 2.  Wherein  that  self-evidence  consists. 
 
 3.  Self-evidence  not  peculiar  to  re- 
 ceived axioms. 
 
 4.  First,  As  to  identity  and  diversity, 
 all  propositions  are  equally  self- 
 evident. 
 
 5.  Secondly,  In  coexistence  we  have 
 few  self-evident  propositions. 
 
 6.  Thirdly,  In  other  relations  we  may 
 have. 
 
 7.  Fourthly,  Concerning  real  exist- 
 ence, we  have  none. 
 
 8.  These  axioms  do  not  much  influ- 
 our  other  knowledge. 
 
 9.  Because  they  are  not  the  truths 
 the  first  known. 
 
 10.  Because  on  them  the  other  parts  of 
 our  knowledge  do  not  depend. 
 
 11.  What  use  these  general  maxims 
 have. 
 
 12.  Maxims,  if  cax-e  be  not  taken  in 
 the  use  of  words,  may  prove  con- 
 tradictions. 
 
 13.  Instance  in  vacuum. 
 
 14.  They  prove  not  the  existence  of 
 things  without  us. 
 
 15.  Their  application  dangerous  about 
 complex  ideas. 
 
 16 — 18.   Instance  in  man. 
 
so 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 19.  Little  use  of  these  maxims  in  proofs 
 where  we  have  clear  and  distinct 
 ideas. 
 
 20.  Their  use  dangerous,  where  our 
 ideas  arc  confused. 
 
 CHAPTER  VIII. 
 
 Of  trifling  propositions . 
 
 1.  Some  propositions  bring  no  in- 
 crease to  our  knowledge. 
 
 2,  3.    As,  first,  identical  propositions. 
 
 4.  Secondly,  When  apart  of  any  com- 
 plex idea  is  predicated  of  the  whole. 
 
 5.  As  part  of  the  definition  of  the 
 term  defined. 
 
 6.  Instance — Man  and  palfry. 
 
 7.  For  tliis  teaches  but  the  significa- 
 tion of  words. 
 
 8.  But  no  real  knowledge. 
 
 9.  General  propositions  concerning 
 substances  are  often  trifling. 
 
 10.  And  why. 
 
 11.  Thirdly,  Using  words  variously  is 
 trifiing  with  them. 
 
 12.  Marks  of  verbal  propositions.  First, 
 Predicated  in  abstract. 
 
 1.3,  Secondly,  A  part  of  the  definition 
 predicated  of  any  term. 
 
 CHAPTER  IX. 
 
 Of  our  k^ioTvledge  of  existence. 
 
 1.  General  certain  propositions  con- 
 cern not  existence. 
 
 2.  A  threefold  knowledge  of  existence. 
 
 3.  Our  knowledge  of  our  own  exist- 
 ence is  intuitive. 
 
 CHAPTER  X. 
 
 Of  the  existence  of  a  God. 
 
 1.  We  are  capable  of  knowing  cer- 
 tainly that  there  is  a  God. 
 
 2.  Man  knows  that  he  himself  is. 
 
 3.  He  knows  also,  that  nothing  can- 
 not produce  a  being,  therefore 
 something  eternal. 
 
 4.  That  eternal  Being  must  be  most 
 powerful. 
 
 5.  And  most  knowing. 
 
 6.  And  therefore  God. 
 
 7.  Our  idea  of  a  most  perfect  being, 
 not  the  sole  proof  of  a  God. 
 
 8.  Something  from  eternity. 
 
 9.  Two  sorts  of  beings,  cogitative  and 
 incogitative. 
 
 10  Incogitative  being  cannot  produce 
 
 a  cogitative. 
 11,  12.  Therefore,  there  has  been   an 
 
 eternal  wisdom. 
 l.S.    Whether  material  or  no. 
 14.   Not  material,  First,  Because  every 
 
 particle  of  matter  is  not  cogitative. 
 
 15.  Secondly,   One    particle   alone    of 
 matter  cannot  be  cogitative. 
 
 16.  Thirdly,  A  system  of  incogitative 
 matter  caimot  be  cogitative. 
 
 17.  Whether  in  motion  or  at  rest. 
 
 18.  19.  Matter  not  coeternal   with  an 
 eternal  mind. 
 
 CHAPTER  XI. 
 
 the  knowledge  of  the  existence  of 
 
 other  things. 
 Is  to  be  had  only  by  sensation. 
 Instance — Whiteness  of  this  paper. 
 Tliis,   though    not    so    certain    as 
 demonstration,  yet  may  be   called 
 knowledge,  and  proves   the   exist- 
 ence of  things  witliout  us. 
 First,  Because  we  cannot  have  them 
 but  by  the  inlets  of  the  senses. 
 Secondly,  Because  an  idea  from  ac- 
 tual sensation,  and  another  from  me- 
 mory, are  very  distinct  perceptions. 
 Thirdly,  Pleasure  or  pain,  which 
 accompanies   actual   sensation,  ac- 
 companies not  the  returning  of  those 
 ideas  without  the  external  objects. 
 Fourthly,    Our   senses    assist    one 
 another's   testimony  of  the   exist- 
 ence of  outward  things. 
 This  certainty  is  as  great  as  our 
 condition  needs. 
 
 But  reaches  no  farther  than  actual 
 sensation. 
 
 Fqlly  to  expect  demonstration  in 
 every  thing. 
 
 Past  existence  is  known  by  memory. 
 The  existence  of  spirits  not  know- 
 able. 
 
 Particular  propositions  concerning 
 existence  are  knowable. 
 And  general  propositions  concern- 
 ins;  abstract  ideas. 
 
 CHAPTER  XII. 
 
 Of  the  improvement  of  our  knowledge. 
 
 1.  Knowledge  is  not  from  maxims. 
 
 2.  The  occasion  of  that  opinion. 
 
 3.  But  from  the  comparing  clear  and 
 distinct  ideas. 
 
 4.  Dangerous  to  build  upon  precarious 
 principles, 
 
 5.  This  no  certain  way  to  truth. 
 
 6.  But  to  compare  clear  complete  ideas 
 under  steady  names. 
 
 7.  The  true  method  of  advancing 
 knowledge  is  by  considering  our 
 abstract  ideas. 
 
 8.  By  which  morality  also  may  be 
 made  clearer. 
 
 9.  But  knowledge  of  bodies  is  to  be 
 improved  only  by  experience. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 31 
 
 to.  This  may  procure  us  convenience, 
 not  science. 
 
 11.  We  are  fitted  for  moral  knowledge 
 and  natural  improvements. 
 
 12.  But  must  beware  of  liypotheses  and 
 wrong  principles. 
 
 13.  The  true  use  of  liypotheses. 
 
 14.  Clear  and  distinct  ideas  with  set- 
 tled names,  and  tlie  finding  of  those 
 which  show  their  agreement  or 
 disagreement,  are  the  ways  to  en- 
 large our  knowledge. 
 
 15.  Mathematics  an  instance  of  it. 
 
 CHAPTER  XIII. 
 
 Some  other  considerations  concerning 
 our  knowledge. 
 
 1.  Our  knowledge  partly  necessary, 
 partly  voluntary. 
 
 2.  The  application  voluntary;  but  we 
 know  as  things  are,  not  as  we  please. 
 
 3.  Instances  in  number,  and  in  natural 
 religion. 
 
 CHAPTER  XIV. 
 
 Of  judgment. 
 
 1.  Our  knowledge  being  short,  we 
 want  something  else. 
 
 2.  What  use  to  he  made  of  this  twi- 
 light estate. 
 
 3.  Judgment  supplies  the  want  of 
 knowledge. 
 
 4.  Judgment  is  the  presuming  things 
 to  be  so,  without  perceiving  it. 
 
 CHAPTER  XV. 
 
 Of  probability. 
 
 1.  Probability  is  the  appearance  of 
 agreement  upon  fallible  proofs. 
 
 2.  It  is  to  supply  the  want  of  know- 
 ledge. 
 
 3.  Being  that  which  makes  us  pre- 
 sume things  to  be  true,  before  we 
 know  tliem  to  be  so. 
 
 4.  The  grounds  of  probability  are  two; 
 conformity  with  our  own  expe- 
 rience, or  the  testimony  of  others' 
 experience. 
 
 5.  In  this  all  the  agreements,  pro  and 
 C071,  ought  to  be  examined  before 
 we  come  to  a  judgment. 
 
 6.  They  being  capable  of  great  variety, 
 
 CHAPTER  XVI. 
 
 Of  the  degrees  of  assent. 
 
 1.  Our  assent  ought  to  be  regulated 
 by  the  grounds  of  probability. 
 
 2.  These  cannot  be  always  all  actually 
 
 n  view,  and  then  we  must  content 
 ourselves  with  the  i-emembrance 
 that  we  once  saw  ground  for  sucli 
 a  degree  of  assent. 
 
 3.  The  ill  consequence  of  this,  if  our 
 former  judgment  were  not  rightly 
 made. 
 
 4.  Tlie  riglit  use  of  it  is  mutual  chari- 
 ty and  forbearance 
 
 5.  Probability  is  either  of  matter  of 
 fact  or  speculation. 
 
 6.  The  concurrent  experience  of  all 
 other  men  with  ours,  produces  as- 
 surance approaching  to  knov/ledge. 
 
 7.  Unquestionable  testimony  and  ex- 
 perience for  the  most  part  jiroduce 
 confidence. w 
 
 8.  Fair  testimony,  and  the  nature  of 
 the  thing  indifferent,  produces  also 
 confident  belief. 
 
 9.  Experience  and  testimonies  clash- 
 ing, infinitely  vary  the  degrees  ol 
 probability. 
 
 10.  Traditional  testimonies,  the  farther 
 removed,  the  less  their  proof. 
 
 11.  /Yet  lii  story  is  of  great  use. 
 
 12. 'lu  things  wliich  sense  cannot  dis- 
 cover, analogy  is  the  great  rule  of 
 probability. 
 
 13.  One  case  where   contrary  experi- 
 .  ence  lessens  not  the  testimony. 
 
 14.  The  bare  testimony  of  revelation 
 is  the  highest  certainty. 
 
 CHAPTER  XVn 
 
 Of  reason. 
 
 1.  Various  significations  of  the  word 
 reason. 
 
 2.  Wherein  reasoning  consists. 
 
 3.  Its  four  parts. 
 
 4.  Syllogism  not  the  great  instrument 
 of  reason. 
 
 5.  Helps  little  in  demonstration,  less 
 in  probability. 
 
 6.  Serves  not  to  increase  our  know- 
 ledge, but  fence  with  it. 
 
 7.  Other  helps  should  be  sought 
 
 8.  We  reason  about  particulars. 
 
 9.  First,  Reason  fails  us  for  want  of 
 ideas. 
 
 10.  Secondly,  Because  of  obscure  and 
 imperfect  ideas. 
 
 11.  Thirdly,  For  want  of  intermediate 
 ideas. 
 
 12.  Fourthly,  Because  of  wrong  prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 13.  Fifthly,  Because  of  doubtful  terms. 
 
 14.  Our  higliest  degree  of  knowledge 
 is  intuitive  without  reasoning. 
 
 15.  The  next  is  demonstration  by  rea- 
 soning. 
 
 16.  To  supply  the  narrowness  of  this, 
 we  have  nothing  but  judgment  upon 
 probable  i-easoning. 
 
 17.  Intuition,  demonstration,  judgment. 
 
32 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 18.  Consequences  of  words,  anil  conse 
 qiiences  of  ideas. 
 
 19.  Four  sorts  of  arguments:  first,  Ad 
 verecundiam. 
 
 20.  Secondly,  Ad  ignorantiam. 
 
 21.  Thirdly,  Ad  liominem. 
 
 22.  Fourthly,  Ad  judicium. 
 
 23.  Above,  contrary,  and  according  to 
 reason. 
 
 24.  Reason  and  faith  not  opposite. 
 
 CHAPTER  XVIII. 
 
 Of  faith  and  reason,  and  their  distinct 
 provinces. 
 
 1.  Necessary  to  know  their  bounda- 
 ries. 
 
 2.  Faith  and  reason  what,  as  contra- 
 distinguished. 
 
 3.  No  new  simple  idea  can  be  con- 
 veyed by  traditional  revelation. 
 
 4.  Traditional  revelation  may  make 
 us  know  propositions  kno wable  also 
 by  reason,  but  not  with  the  same 
 certainty  that  reason  doth. 
 
 5.  Revelation  cannot  be  admitted 
 against  the  clear  evidence  of  reason. 
 
 6.  Traditional  revelation  much  less. 
 
 7.  Things  above  reason. 
 
 8.  Or  not  contrary  to  reason,  if  reveal- 
 ed, are  matter  of  faith. 
 
 9.  Revelation,  in  matters  where  rea- 
 son cannot  judge,  or  but  probably, 
 ought  to  be  hearkened  to. 
 
 10.  In  matters  where  reason  can  afford 
 certain  knowledge,  that  is  to  be 
 hearkened  to. 
 
 11.  If  the  boundaries  be  set  between 
 faith  and  reason,  no  enthusiasm,  or 
 extravagancy  in  religion,  can  be 
 contradicted. 
 
 CHAPTER  XIX. 
 
 Of  enthusiasm. 
 
 1.  Love  of  trutli  necessary. 
 
 2.  A  forwardness  to  dictate,  whence. 
 
 3.  Force  of  enthusiasm. 
 
 4.  Reason  and  revelation. 
 
 5.  Rise  of  enthusiasm. 
 
 6.  7.  Enthusiasm. 
 
 12 
 
 13 
 
 8,  9.  Enthusiasm  mistaken  for  seeing 
 
 and  feeling. 
 3.  Enthusiasm  how  to  be  discovered. 
 I.    Entiiusiasm  fails  of  evidence  that 
 
 the  proposition  is  from  God. 
 
 Firmness  of  persuasion  no    proof 
 
 that  any  proposition  is  from  God. 
 
 Light  in  the  mind,  what. 
 
 14.  Revelation  must  be  judged  of  by 
 reason. 
 
 15,  16.   Belief  no  proof  of  revelation. 
 
 CHAPTER  XX. 
 
 Of  ivrotiff  asseiit,  or  error. 
 
 1.  Causes  of  error. 
 
 2.  First,  Want  of  proofs. 
 
 3.  Obj.  What  shall  become  of  those 
 who  want  them,  answered. 
 
 4.  People  hindered  from  inquiry. 
 
 5.  Secondly,  Want    of    skill    to    use 
 them. 
 
 6.  Thirdly,  Want  of  will  to  use  them. 
 
 7.  Fourthly,  Wrong  measures  of  pro- 
 bability: whereof. 
 
 8 — 10.   First,    Doubtful    propositions 
 taken  from  principles. 
 
 11.  Secondly,  Received  hypotheses. 
 
 12.  Thirdly,  Predominant  passions. 
 
 13.  The  means  of  evading  probabili- 
 ties, 1st,  Supposed  fallacy. 
 
 14.  2dly,  Supposed  arguments  for  the 
 contrary. 
 
 15.  What  probabilities  determine  the 
 assent. 
 
 16.  Where  it  is  in  our  power  *to  sus- 
 pend it. 
 
 17.  Fourthly,  Authority. 
 
 18.  Men  not  in  so  many  errors  as  is 
 imagined. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXL 
 
 Of  the  division  of  the  sciences. 
 
 1.  Three  sorts. 
 
 2.  First,  Physica. 
 
 3.  Secondly,  Practica. 
 
 4.  Thirdly,  2))/^6<a)T/»j». 
 
 5.  This  is  the  first  division  of  the  ob- 
 jects of  knowledge. 
 
OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 BOOK   I. 
 
 ON  INNATE  NOTIONS.  /"?  t/^ 
 
 CHAPTER  I. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Sect.  1.  An  inquiry  into  the  understanding,  pleasant  and  useful. — 
 Since  it  is  the  understanding  that  sets  man  above  the  rest  of  sensible 
 beings,  and  gives  him  all  the  advantage  and  dominion  which  he  has  over 
 them ;  it  is  certainly  a  subject,  even  from  its  nobleness,  worth  our  labour  to 
 inquire  into.  The  understanding,  like  the  eye,  whilst  it  makes  us  see  and 
 perceive  aU  other  things,  takes  no  notice  of  itself;  and  it  requires  art  and 
 pains  to  set  it  at  a  distance,  and  make  it  its  own  object.  But  whatever 
 be  the  difficulties  that  lie  in  the  way  of  this  inquiry,  whatever  it  be  that 
 keeps  us  so  much  in  the  dark  to  ourselves ,  sure  I  am,  that  all  the  light  we 
 can  let  in  upon  our  own  minds,  all  the  acquaintance  we  can  make  with  our 
 own  understandings,  wiU  not  only  be  very  pleasant,  but  bring  us  great  ad- 
 vantage, in  directing  our  thoughts  in  the  search  of  other  things. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Design. — This,  therefore,  being  my  purpose,  to  inquire  into 
 the  original,  cerlainty,  and  extent  of  human  knowledge,  together  with  the 
 grounds  and  degrees  of  belief,  opinion,  and  assent;  I  shall  not  at  present 
 meddle  with  the  physical  consideration  of  the  mind,  or  trouble  myself  to 
 examine  wherein  its  essence  consists,  or  by  what  motions  of  our  spirits, 
 or  alterations  of  our  bodies,  we  come  to  have  any  sensation  by  our  organs, 
 or  any  ideas  in  our  understandings ;  and  whether  those  ideas  do,  in  their 
 formation,  any,  or  all  of  them,  depend  on  matter  or  no:  these  are  specu- 
 lations, which,  however  curious  and  entertaining,  I  shall  decline,  as  lying 
 out  of  my  way,  in  the  design  I  am  now  upon.  It  shall  suffice  to  my  present 
 purpose,  to  consider  the  discerning  faculties  of  a  man,  as  they  are  employ- 
 ed about  the  objects  which  they  have  to  do  with :  and  I  shall  imagine  I  have 
 not  wholly  misemployed  myself  in  the  thoughts  I  shaU  have  on  this  occa- 
 sion, if,  in  this  historical,  plain  method,  I  can  give  any  account  of  the  waya 
 whereby  our  imderstandings  come  to  attain  those  notions  of  things  we 
 have,  and  can  set  down  any  measures  of  the  certainty  of  our  knowledge, 
 or  the  groimds  of  those  persuasions,  which  are  to  be  found  amongst  men,  so 
 various,  different,  and  wholly  contradictory ;  and  yet  asserted  somewhere 
 or  other  with  such  assurance  and  confidence,  that  he  that  shall  take  a 
 view  of  the  opinions  of  mankind,  observe  their  opposition,  and  at  the  same 
 time  consider  the  fondness  and  devotion  wherewith  they  are  embraced,  the 
 resolution  ancTeagerness  wherewith  they  are  maintained,  may  perhaps  have 
 reason  to  suspect,  that  either  there  is  no  such  thing  as  truth  at  all,  or  that 
 mankind  hath  no  sufficient  means  to  attain  a  certain  knowledge  of  it. 
 
34  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Bookl. 
 
 Skct.  3.  Method. — It  is,  therefore,  worth  while  to  search  out  the  bounds 
 between  opinion  and  knowledge;  and  examine  by  what  measures,  in 
 things,  whereof  we  have  no  certain  knowledge,  we  ought  to  regulate  our 
 assent,  and  moderate  our  persuasions.  In  order  whereuiito,  I  shall  pursue 
 this  following  method. 
 
 First,  I  shall  inquire  into  the  original  of  those  ideasj  notions,  or  whatever 
 else  you  please  to  call  them,  whieli  a  man  observes,  and  is  conscious  to 
 himself  he  has  in  his  mind ;  and  the  ways  whereby  the  understanding 
 comes  to  be  furnished  with  them. 
 
 Secondly,  I  shall  endeavour  to  show  what  knowledge  the  understanding 
 hath  by  those  ideas;  and  the  certainty,  evidence,  and  extent  of  it. 
 
 Thirdly,  I  shall  make  some  inquiry  into  the  nature  and  grounds  of  faith 
 or  opinion ;  whereby  I  mean  that  assent  which  we  give  to  any  proposition 
 as  true,  of  whose  truth  yet  we  have  no  certain  knowledge :  and  here  we 
 shall  have  occasion  to  examine  the  reasons  and  degrees  of  assent. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Useful  to  know  the  extent  of  our  comprehension. — If,  by  this 
 inquiry  into  the  nature  of  the  understanding,  I  can  discover  the  powers 
 thereof,  how  far  they  reach,  to  what  things  they  are  in  any  degree  propor- 
 tionate, and  where  they  fail  us ;  I  suppose  it  may  be  of  use  to  prevail  with 
 the  busy  mind  of  man  to  be  more  cautious  in  meddling  with  things  exceed- 
 ing its  comprehension ;  to  stop  when  it  is  at  the  utmost  extent  of  its  tether ; 
 and  to  sit  down  in  a  quiet  ignorance  of  those  things,  which,  upon  examina- 
 tion, are  found  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  our  capacities.  We  should  not 
 then,  perhaps,  be  so  forward,  out  of  an  affectation  of  a  universal  knowledge, 
 to  raise  questions,  and  perplex  ourselves  and  others  with  disputes  about 
 things  to  which  our  understandings  are  not  suited,  and  of  which  we  can- 
 not frame  in  our  minds  any  clear  or  distinct  perceptions,  or  whereof  (as  it 
 has,  perhaps,  too  often  happened)  we  have  not  any  notions  at  all.  If  we 
 can  find  out  how  far  the  understanding  can  extend  its  views,  how  far  it  has 
 faculties  to  attain  certainty,  and  in  what  cases  it  can  only  judge  and  guess, 
 we  may  learn  to  content  ourselves  with  what  is  attainable  by  us  in  this 
 state. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Our  capacity  suited  to  our  state  and  concerns. — For,  though 
 the  comprehension  of  our  understandings  comes  exceeding  short  of  the 
 vast  extent  of  things,  yet  we  shall  have  cause  enough  to  magnify  the  boun- 
 tiful Author  of  our  being,  for  that  proportion  and  degree  of  knowledge  he 
 has  bestowed  on  us,  so  far  above  all  the  rest  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  our 
 mansion.  Men  have  reason  to  be  well  satisfied  with  what  God  hath 
 thought  fit  for  them,  since  he  has  given  them  (as  St.  Peter  says)  -s-avT* 
 is-gsc  ^&)ii\  xai  tla-'i^uctv,  whatsoever  is  necessary  for  the  conveniences  of  life, 
 and  information  of  virtue ;  and  has  put  within  the  reach  of  their  discovery  the 
 comfortable  provision  for  this  life,  and  the  way  that  leads  to  a  better. 
 How  short  soever  their  knowledge  may  come  of  an  universal  or  perfect 
 comprehension  of  whatsoever  is,  it  yet  secures  their  great  concernments, 
 that  they  have  light  enough  to  lead  them  to  the  knowledge  of  their  Maker, 
 and  the  sight  of  their  own  duties.  Men  may  find  matter  sufficient  to  busy 
 their  heads,  and  employ  their  hands  with  variety,  delight,  and  satisfaction ; 
 if  they  will  not  boldly  quarrel  with  their  own  constitution,  and  throw  away 
 the  blessings  their  hands  are  filled  with,  because  they  are  not  big  enough 
 to  grasp  every  thing.  We  shall  not  have  much  reason  to  complain  of  the 
 narrowness  of  our  minds,  if  we  will  but  employ  them  about  what  may 
 be  of  use  to  us:  for  of  that  they  are  very  capable :  and  it  will  be  an  unpar. 
 donable,  as  well  as  childish  peevishness,  if  we  under\'alue  the  advantages 
 of  our  knowledge,  and  neglect  to  improve  it  to  the  ends  for  which  it  was 
 i^'iven  us,  because  there  are  some  thijigs  that  are  set  out  of  the  reach  of  it. 
 It  will  be  no  excuse  to  an  idle  and  untoward  servant,  who  would  not  at- 
 tend his  business  by  candlelight, -to  plead  that  he  had  not  broad  sunshine. 
 The  candle  that  is  set  up  in  us,  shines  bright  enough  for  all  our  purposes. 
 
Ch.  I.  INTRODUCTION.  35 
 
 The  discoveries  we  can  make  with  this,  ought  to  satisfy  us :  and  wg  shall 
 then  use  our  understanding  right,  when  we  entertain  all  objects  in  that 
 way  and  proportion  tliat  they  are  suited  to  our  faculties,  and  upon  those 
 grounds  they  are  capable  6t"  being  proposed  to  us ;  and  not  peremptorily  or 
 intemperately  require  demonstration,  and  demand  certainty,  where  proba- 
 bility only  is  to  be  had,  and  which  is  sufficient  to  govern  all  our  concern- 
 ments. If  we  will  disbelieve  every  thing,  because  we  cannot  certainly 
 know  all  things,  we  shall  do  much-what  as  wisely  as  he,  who  would  not 
 use  his  legs,  but  sit  still  and  perish,  because  he  had  no  wings  to  fly. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Knowledge  of  our  capacity  a  cureofsce/pticism  and  idleness. — 
 When  we  know  our  own  strength,  we  shall  the  better  know  what  to  un- 
 dertake with  hopes  of  success ;  and  when  we  have  well  surveyed  the  pow- 
 ers of  our  own  minds,  and  made  some  estimate  what  we  may  expect  from 
 them,  we  shall  not  be  inclined  either  to  sit  still,  and  not  set  our  thoughts 
 on  work  at  all,  in  despair  of  knowing  any  thing;  or,  on  the  other  side,  ques- 
 tion every  thing,  and  disclaim  all  knowledge,  because  some  tilings  are  not 
 to  be  understood.  It  is  of  great  use  to  the  sailor  to  know  the  length  of 
 his  line,  though  he  cannot  with  it  fathom  all  the  depths  of  the  ocean.  It 
 is  well  he  knows  that  it  is  long  enough  to  reach  the  bottom,  at  such  plaqes 
 as  are  necessary  to  direct  liis  voyage,  and  caution  him  against  runninsx 
 upon  shoals  that  may  ruin  him.  Our  business  here  is  not  to  know  all  things, 
 but  those  which  concern  our  conduct.  If  we  can  find  out  those  measures 
 whereby  a  rational  creature,  put  in  that  state  in  which  man  is  in,  in  this  world, 
 may  and  ought  to  govern  his  opinions,  and  actions  depending  thereon,  we 
 need  not  to  be  troubled  that  some  other  things  escape  our  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Occasion  of  this  essay. — This  was  that  which  gave  the  first  rise 
 to  this  essay  concerning  the  miderstanding.  For  I  thought  that  the  first 
 step  towards  satisfying  several  inquiries  the  mind  of  man  was  very  apt  to 
 run  into,  was  to  take  a  survey  of  our  own  understanding,  examine  our 
 own  powers,  and  see  to  what  things  they  were  adapted.  Till  that  was 
 done,  I  suspected  we  began  at  the  wrong  end,  and  in  vain  sought  for  satis- 
 faction in  a  quiet  and  sure  possession  of  truths  that  most  concerned  us, 
 whilst  we  let  loose  our  thoughts  into  the  vast  ocean  of  being;  as  if  all  that 
 boundless  extent  were  the  natural  and  unbounded  possession  of  our  under- 
 standings, wherein  there  was  nothing  exempt  from  its  decisions,  or  that 
 escaped  its  comprehension.  Thus  men,  extending  their  inquiries  beyond 
 their  capacites,  and  letting  their  thoughts  wander  into  those  depths  where 
 they  can  find  no  sure  footing,  it  is  no  wonder  that  they  raise  questions, 
 and  multiply  disputes,  which,  never  coming  to  any  clear  resolution,  are 
 proper  only  to  continue  and  increase  their  doubts,  and  to  confirm  them  at 
 last  in  perfect  scepticism.  Whereas,  were  the  capacities  of  our  understand- 
 ings well  considered,  the  extent  of  our  knowledge  once  discovered,  and  the 
 horizon  found,  which  sets  the  bounds  between  the  enlightened  and  dark 
 parts  of  things,  between  what  is  and  what  is  not  comprehensible  by  us ; 
 men  would,  perhaps,  with  less  scruple  acquiesce  in  the  avowed  ignorance  of 
 the  one,  and  employ  their  thoughts  and  discourse  with  more  advantage  and 
 satisfaction  in  the  other. 
 
 Sect.  8.  What  idea  stands  for. — Thus  much  I  thought  necessary  to  say 
 concerning  the  occasion  of  this  inquiry  into  human  understanding.  But, 
 before  I  proceed  on  to  what  I  have  thought  on  this  subject,  I  must  here  in 
 the  entrance  beg  pardon  of  my  reader  for  the  frequent  use  of  the  word  "idea," 
 which  he  will  find  in  the  following  treatise.  It  being  tliat  term  which,  I 
 tliink,  serves  best  to  stand  for  whatsoever  is  the  object  of  the  understand- 
 ing when  a  man  thinks ;  I  have  used  it  to  express  whatever  is  meant  by 
 phantasm,  notion,  species,  or  whatever  it  is  which  the  mind  can  be  employed 
 about  in  thinking;  and  I  could  not  avoid  frequently  using  it(l). 
 
 (1)  Tills  modest  apology  of  our  author  could  not  procure  liMn  the  free  use 
 of  the  word  idea:  but  great  oB'eiice  has  been  taken  at  it,  and  it  has  beenceusured 
 
36  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 I  presume  it  will  be  easily  granted  me,  that  tliere  are  such  ideas  in  men's 
 minds;  every  one  is  conscious  of  them  in  himself,  and  men's  words  and  ac- 
 tions will  satisfy  him  tliat  they  are  in  others. 
 
 Our  first  inquiry  then  sliall  be,  how  they  come  into  the  mind. 
 
 as  of  dangerous  consequence:  to  wliich  you  may  see  what  he  answers.  "The 
 world,"  sailh  tlie  bisliop  of  IVorcestet;*  "  halli  been  strangely  amused  yi\\.\\ideaa 
 of  late,  and  we  have  been  told,  that  strange  things  might  be  done  by  the  hel\i  of 
 ideas;  and  yet  these  ideas,  at  last,  come  to  be  only  common  notions  of  things, 
 which  we  must  make  use  of  in  our  reasoning.  You  [i.  e.  the  author  of  the 
 Essay  concerning  Human  Understanding)  say  in  that  chapter  about  the  exis- 
 tence of  God,  you  tlioiight  it  most  proper  to  express  yourself  in  the  most  usual 
 and  familiar  way,  by  common  words  and  expressions.  I  would  you  had  done  so 
 quite  through  your  book;  for  then  you  had  never  given  that  occasion  to  the  ene- 
 mies of  our  faith,  to  take  up  your  new  way  of  ideas,  as  an  cfiectual  battery  (as 
 they  imagined)  against  tlie  mysteries  of  the  Christian  faith.  But  you  miglit  have 
 enjoyed  the  satisfaction  of  your  ideas  long  enough  before  I  had  taken  notice  of 
 them,  unless  I  had  found  them  employed  about  doing  mischief." 
 
 To  which  our  author  repliesf,  It  is  plain,  that  that  which  your  lordship  appre- 
 hends, in  my  book,  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  the  article  which  your 
 lordship  has  endeavoured  to  defend,  is  my  introducing  new  terms;  and  tliat 
 which  your  lordship  instances  in,  is  that  of  ideas.  And  the  reason  your  lord- 
 ship gives  in  every  of  these  places,  why  your  lordship  has  such  an  apprehension 
 oiideas,  that  they  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  that  article  of  faith  which 
 jour  lordship  has  endeavoured  to  defend,  is  because  they  have  been  applied  to 
 such  purposes.  And  1  migiit  (your  lordship  says)  have  enjoyed  the  satisfaction 
 of  my  ideas  long  enough  before  you  had  taken  notice  of  them,  unless  your  lord- 
 ship had  found  them  employed  in  doing  mischief.  Which,  at  last,  as  I  humb?y 
 conceive,  amounts  to  thus  much,  and  no  more,  viz:  That  your  lordship  fears 
 ideas,  i.  e.  the  term  ideas,  may,  some  time  or  other,  prove  of  very  dangerous 
 consequence  to  what  your  lordship  has  endeavoured  to  defend,  because  they 
 have  been  made  use  of  in  arguing  against  it.  For  I  am  sure  your  lordship  does 
 not  mean,  that  you  apprehend  the  things  signified  by  ideas,  may  be  of  dangerous 
 consequence  to  the  article  of  faith  your  lordship  endeavours  to  defend,  because 
 they  have  been  made  use  of  against  it:  for  (besides  that  your  lordship  mentions 
 terms)  that  would  be  to  expect  that  tliose  who  oppose  that  article,  should  op- 
 pose it  without  any  thoughts;  for  the  things  signified  by  ideas,  s>re  nothing  but 
 the  immediate  objects  of  our  minds  in  thinking:  so  that  unless  any  one  can  op- 
 pose'the  a^rficle  your  lordship  defends,  without  thinking  on  something,  he  must 
 use  the  things  signified  by  ideas;  for  he  that  thinks,  must  have  some  immediate 
 object  of  his  mind  in  thinking,  i.  e.  must  have  ideas. 
 
 But  whether  it  be  tlie  name,  or  the  thing;  ideas  in  sound,  or  ideas  in  significa- 
 tion; that  your  lordship  apprehends  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  that  ar- 
 ticle of  faith  -which  your  lordship  endeavours  to  defend;  it  seems  to  me,  I  will 
 not  say  a  new  -ivay  of  reasoning  (for  that  belongs  to  me),  but  were  it  not  your 
 lordship's,  I  should  think  it  a  very  extraoixlinary  way  of  reasoning,  to  write 
 against  a  book,  wherein  your  lordship  acknowledges  they  are  not  used  to  bad 
 purposes,  nor  emploj'ed  to  do  mischief,  only  because  j'ou  find  that  ideas  are, 
 by  those  who  oppose  your  lordship,  employed  to  do  mischief;  and  so  apprehend 
 they  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  the  article  your  lordship  has  en- 
 gaged in  the  defence  of.  For  whether  ideas  as  terms,  or  ideas  as  the  immediate 
 objects  of  the  mind  signified  by  those  terms,  may  be,  in  your  lordship's  appre- 
 hension, of  dangerous  consequence  to  that  articCe ;  I  do  not  see  how  your  lord- 
 ship's writing  against  the  notions  of  ideas,  as  stated  in  my  book,  will  at  all  hinder 
 your  opposers y/'0?re  employing  them  in  doing  mischief,  as  before. 
 
 However,  be  that  as  it  will,  so  it  is,  that  your  lordship  apprehends  these  neio 
 terms,  these  ideas,  -with  -which  the  -world  hath  of  late  been  so  strangely  amused, 
 
 *  Answer  to  Mr  Locke's  First  Letter. 
 
 t  In  his  Second  Letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Worcester. 
 
Ch.  1.  INTRODUCTION.  fl7 
 
 {though  at  last  they  come  to  be  only  common  notions  of  things,  as  30ur  lordihlp 
 owns,)  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  that  article. 
 
 My  lord,  if  any,  in  answer  to  your  lordship's  sennons,  and  in  olhev  pamphlets, 
 wherein  your  lordship  complains  they  have  talked  so  much  of  ideas,  have  been 
 troublesome  to  your  lordship  with  that  term,  it  is  not  strange  that  your  lordship 
 should  be  tired  with  that  sound:  but  how  natural  soever  it  be  to  our  weak  con- 
 stitutions to  be  offended  -with  any  sound  wherewith  an  importunate  din  hath  been 
 made  about  our  ears;  yet,  my  lord,  I  know  your  lordship  has  a  better  opinion  of 
 the  articles  of  our  faith,  than  to  tliink  any  of  them  can  be  overturned,  or  so  much 
 as  shaken,  with  a  breath  formed  into  any  sound  or  term  whatsoever. 
 
 Names  are  but  the  arbitrar}'  marks  of  conceptions;  and  so  they  be  sufficiently 
 appropriated  to  them  in  their  use,  I  know  no  other  difference  any  of  them  have 
 in  particular,  but  as  they  are  of  easy  or  difficult  pronunciation,  and  of  a  more  or 
 less  pleasant  sound;  and  what  particular  antipathies  there  may  be  in  men  to  some 
 of  them,  upon  that  account,  it  is  not  easy  to  be  foreseen.  Tliis,  I  am  sure,  no  ierm 
 whatsoever  in  itself,  bears  one  more  than  another,  any  opposition  to  truth  of  any 
 kind;  they  are  only  propositions  that  do  or  can  oppose  the  truth  of  any  article  or 
 doctrine;  and  thus  no  term  is  privileged  from  being  set  in  opposition  to  truth. 
 
 There  is  no  word  to  be  found,  which  may  not  be  brought  into  a  proposition, 
 wherein  the  most  sacred  and  most  evident  truths  may  be  opposed;  but  that  is  not 
 a  fault  in  the  term,  but  him  that  uses  it.  And  therefore  I  cannot  easily  persuade 
 myself  (whatever  your  lordship  hath  said  in  the  heat  of  your  concern)  that  you 
 have  bestowed  so  much  pains  upon  my  book,  because  the  word  idea  is  so  much 
 used  there.  For  though  upon  my  saying,  in  my  chapter  about  the  existence 
 of  God,  'that  I  scarce  used  the  word  idea  in  that  chapter,'  your  lordship 
 wishes  that  I  had  done  so  quite  through  jny  book;  yet  I  must  rather  look  upon 
 that  as  a  compliment  to  me,  wherein  your  lordship  wished  that  my  book  had  been 
 all  through  suited  to  vulgar  readers,  not  used  to  that  and  the  like  terms,  than 
 that  your  lordship  has  such  an  apprehension  of  the  word  idea;  or  that  there  is 
 any  such  harm  in  the  use  of  it,  instead  of  the  word  notion  (with  which  your  lord- 
 ship seems  to  take  it  to  agree  in  signification,)  that  your  lordship  would  think  it 
 worth  your  while  to  spend  any  part  of  your  valuable  time  and  thoughts  about  my 
 book,  for  having  the  word  idea  so  often  in  it;  for  this  would  be  to  make  your 
 lordship  to  write  only  against  an  impropriety  of  speech.  I  own  to  your  lord- 
 ship, it  is  a  great  condescension  in  your  lordship  to  have  done  it,  if  that  word 
 have  such  a  share  in  what  your  lordship  has  writ  against  my  book,  as  some 
 expressions  would  persuade  one;  and  I  wo<ild,  for  the  satisfaction  of  your  lord- 
 ship, change  the  term  of  idea  for  a  better,  if  your  lordship,  or  any  one,  could 
 help  me  to  it;  for,  that  notion  will  not  so  well  stand  for  every  immediate  object 
 of  tlie  mind  in  thinking,  as  idea  does,  I  have  (as  I  guess)  somewhere  given 
 a  reason  in  my  book,  by  showing  that  the  term  notion  is  more  peculiarly  appro- 
 priated to  a  certain  sort  of  those  objects,  which  I  call  mixed  modes:  and  I  think 
 it  would  not  sound  .illngether  so  v.ell,  to  say,  the  notion  of  red,  and  the  notion  of 
 a  horse;  as  the  idea  of  red,  and  the  idea  of  a  horse.  But  if  any  one  thinks  it  will, 
 I  contend  not;  for  I  have  no  fondness  for,  nor  any  antipathy  to,  any  particular 
 articulate  sounds;  nor  do  I  think  there  is  any  spell  or  fascination  in  any  of  them. 
 
 But  be  the  word  idea  proper  or  improper,  I  do  not  see  how  it  is  the  better  or 
 the  worse,  because  ill  men  have  made  use  of  it,  or  because  it  has  been  made  use 
 of  to  bad  purposes;  for  if  that  be  a  reason  to  condemn,  or  lay  it  by,  we  must  lay 
 by,  the  terms  scripture,  reason,  perception,  distinct,  clear,  &c.  Nay,  the  name 
 of  God  himself  will  not  escape;  for  I  do  not  think  any  one  of  these,  or  any  other 
 term,  can  be  produced,  which  hath  not  been  made  use  of  by  such  men,  and  to 
 such  purposes.  And,  therefore,  if  the  Unitarians,  in  their  late  pamphlets,  have 
 talked  very  much  of  and  strangely  amused  the  tvorld  -with  ideas,  I  cannot  believe 
 your  lordship  will  think  that  word  one  jot  the  worst,  or  (he  more  dangerous, 
 because  they  use  it;  any  more  than,  for  their  use  of  them,  you  will  think  reason 
 or  scripture  terms  ill  or  dangerous.  And  therefore  what  your  lordship  says,  thai 
 I  might  have  enjoyed  tlie  satisfaction  of  my  ideas  long  enough  before  your  lordship 
 had  taken  notice  of  them,  unless  you  had  found  them  employed  in  doing  mischief, 
 will,  I  presume,  when  your  lordship  has  considered  again  of  this  matter,  prevail 
 with  your  lordship,  to  !ct  me  enjoy  still  the  satisfaction  I  take  in  my  ideas,  i.  c. 
 
08  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 a«  mueli  eatisfnction  ns  I  cnn  tnkc  in  so  small  a  matter,  as  is  the  using  of  a  proper 
 term,  notwiilistaiiding;  it  should  be  employed  by  others  in  doing  mischief. 
 
 For,  my  loril,  it'  I  sliould  k-avc  it  wliolly  out  of  my  book  and  substitute  the 
 word  notion  cvltv  wlu-rc  in  the  room  of  it,  and  every  body  else  should  do  so  too, 
 (tlioiij^li  your  lordship  docs  not,  I  suppose,  suspect  tliat  I  have  the  vanity  to  think 
 they  would  follow  my  cxaniple)  my  hook  would,  it  seems,  be  the  more  to  your 
 lonlship's  likini^;  hut  1  do  not  see  how  this  would  one  jot  abate  the  mischief 
 your  lordshij)  coni|)laius  of.  For  the  Utiitarians  might  as  much  employ  notions 
 »s  they  do  now  ideas  to  do  mischief;  unless  they  arc  such  fools  to  think  they  can 
 conjure  with  this  notable  word  idea,  and  that  the  force  of  what  they  say  lies  in 
 the  sound,  and  not  in  liie  signification  of  their  terms. 
 
 This  I  am  sure  of,  that  the  truths  of  the  Christian  religion  can  be  no  more 
 battered  by  one  word  tlian  another;  nor  can  they  be  beaten  down  or  endangered 
 by  any  sound  whatsoever.  And  1  am  apt  to  flatter  myself,  that  your  lordsliip  is 
 satisfied  that  there  is  no  harm  in  the  woi'd /(/f«s,  because  you  say,  you  should  not 
 have  taken  any  notice  of  my  ideas,  if  the  enemies  of  oin- faith  had  not  taken  vp 
 my  new  ~>.vay  o/"  ideas,  as  an  effectual  battery  against  the  mysteries  of  the  Chris- 
 tian  faith.  In  which  place,  by  nexi<  way  of  ideas,  nothing,  I  tliink,  can  be  con- 
 strued to  be  meant,  but  my  expressing  myself  by  that  o(  ideas;  and  not  by  other 
 more  common  words  and  of  ancienter  standing  in  the  E}tglish  language. 
 
 As  to  the  objection  of  the  author's  way  by  ideas  being  a  new  way,  he  thus  an- 
 swers: my  new  way  by  ideas,  or  my  way  by  ideas,  which  often  occurs  in  your 
 lordship's  letter,  is,  I  confess,  a  very  large  and  doubtful  expression;  and  may,  in 
 the  full  latitude,  comprehend  my  whole  essay;  because  treating  in  it  of  the  un- 
 derstanding, which  is  nothing  but  tlie  faculty  of  thinking,  I  could  not  well  treat 
 of  that  faculty  of  the  mind,  which  consists  in  thinking,  without  considering  the 
 immediate  objects  of  the  mind  in  thinking,  which  I  call  ideas:  and  therefore,  in 
 treating  of  the  understanding,  I  guess  it  will  not  be  thought  strange,  that  the 
 greatest  part  of  my  book  has  been  taken  up  in  considering  what  these  objects  of 
 the  mind,  in  thinking,  are;  whence  thej' come;  what  use  the  mind  makes  of  them, 
 in  its  several  ways  of  thinking;  and  what  are  tlie  outward  marks  whereby  it  sig- 
 nifies them  to  others,  or  records  them  for  its  own  use.  And  this,  in  short,  is 
 my  way  by  ideas,  that  which  your  lordship  calls  my  new  way  by  ideas;  which, 
 my  lord,  if  it  be  7iew,  it  is  but  a  new  history  of  an  old  thing.  For  I  think  it  will 
 not  be  doubted,  that  men  always  performed  the  actions  of  ^A/wA^wj",  reasoning,  be- 
 lieving, and  knowing,  just  after  the  same  manner  that  they  do  now ;  though  whether 
 the  same  account  has  heretofore  been  given  of  the  way  how  they  perfoi-med 
 these  actions,  or  wherein  they  consisted,  I  do  not  know.  Where  I  as  well  read 
 as  your  lordship,  I  should  have  been  safe  from  that  gentle  repx-imand  of  your 
 lordships  for  thinking  my  way  of  ideas  IHEW,  for  want  of  looking  inW  other  men's 
 thoughts,  which  appear  in  their  books. 
 
 Your  lordship's  words,  as  an  acknowledgement  of  your  instructions  in  the  case, 
 and  as  a  warning  to  others,  who  will  be  so  bold  adventurers  as  to  spin  anything 
 barely  out  of  their  own  thoughts,  I  shall  set  down  at  large.  And  they  run  thus: 
 "Whether  you  took  this  way  of /V/fos  from  the  modern  philosopher  mention- 
 ed by  you,  is  not  at  all  material;  but  I  intended  no  reflection  upon  you  in  it 
 (for  that  you  mean,  by  my  commending  you  as  a  scholar  of  so  great  a  master.) 
 I  never  meant  to  take  from  you  the  honour  of  your  own  inventions:  and  I  do 
 believe  you  when  you  say.  That  you  wrote  from  your  own  thoughts,  and  the 
 ideas  you  had  there.  But  many  things  may  seem  new  to  one,  that  converses 
 only  with  his  own  thoughts,  which  really  are  not  so;  as  he  may  find,  when  he 
 looks  into  the  thoughts  of  other  men,  which  appear  in  their  books.  And,  there- 
 fore, although  I  have  a  just  esteem  for  the  invention  of  such,  who  can  spin  vo- 
 lumes barely  out  of  their  own  thoughts,  yet  I  am  apt  to  think  they  would  oblige 
 the  world  more,  if,  after  they  have  thought  so  much  themselves,  thej'  would 
 examine  what  thoughts  others  liavc  had  before  them,  concerning  the  same  things; 
 that  so  those  may  not  be  thought  their  own  inventions,  which  are  common  to 
 themselves  and  others.  If  a  man  should  try  all  the  magnetical  experiments  himself, 
 and  publish  thciu  as  his  own  thoughts,  he  might  take  himself  to  be  the  inventor 
 ot  thuni;  hut  lie  that  cxuniinys  and  compares  them  with   what  Gilbert  and  others 
 
Ch.  1.  INTRODUCTION.  39 
 
 have  done  before  him,  will  not  diminish  the  praise  of  his  diligence,  but  may 
 wish  he  had  compared  his  thoughts  with  other  men's;  by  which  the  world  would 
 receive  greater  advantage,  although  he  had  lost  the  honour  of  being  an  original." 
 
 To  alleviate  ray  fault  herein,  I  agree  with  your  lordship,  that  many  tilings  may 
 seem  new  to  one  that  converses  only  ~Mth  his  oion  thoughts,  ivldch  really  are  not 
 so:  but  I  must  crave  leave  to  suggest  to  your  lordship,  that  if,  in  the  spinning  of 
 them  out  of  his  own  thoughts,  they  seem  new  to  him,  he  is  certainly  the  inven- 
 tomf'them?  Htid  they  may  as  justly  he  thought  his  own  invention,  as  any  one's; 
 anTTtre^s'as  certainly  the  inventor  of  them,  as  any  one  who  thought  on  them  be- 
 fore him:  the  distinction  of  invention,  or  not  invention,  lying  not  in  thinking  first, 
 or  not  first,  but  in  borrowing,  or  not  borrowing,  our  thoughts  from  another:  and 
 lie  to  whom,  spinning  them  out  of  his  own  thoughts,  they  seem  nevi,  could  not 
 certainly  borrow  them  from  another.  So  he  truly  \n\ exited,  printing  in  Europe, 
 ■who,  without  any  communication  with  the  Chinese,  spun  it  out  of  his  own  thoughts; 
 though  it  was  never  so  true,  that  the  Chinese  had  the  use  of  printing,  nay  of 
 printing  in  the  very  same  way  among  them,  many  ages  before  him.  So  that  he 
 that  spins  any  thing  out  of  his  own  thoughts,  Xh&X.  seems  new  to  him,  cannot  cease 
 (o  think  it  his  own  invention,  should  he  examine  ever  so  far:  ivhat  thoughts 
 others  have  had  before  him,  concerning  the  same  thing,  and  should  find,  by  ex- 
 amining, that  they  had  the  same  thoughts  too. 
 
 But  what  great  obligation  this  ivoiildhe  to  the  world,  or  weighty  cause  of  turn- 
 ing over  and  looking  into  books,  I  confess  I  do  not  see.  The  great  end  to  me, 
 in  conversing  with  my  own  or  other  men's  thoughts,  in  matters  of  speculation, 
 is  to  find  truth,  without  being  much  concerned  whether  my  own  spinning  of  it 
 out  of  mine,  or  their  spinning  of  it  out  of  their  own  thoughts,  helps  me  to  it. 
 And  how  little  I  affect  the  honour  of  an  original,  may  be  seen  at  that  place  of  my 
 book,  where,  if  any  where,  that  itch  of  vain  glory  was  likeliest  to  have  shown 
 itself,  had  I  been  so  overrun  with  it  as  to  need  a  cure:  it  is  where  I  speak  of 
 certainty,  in  these  following  words,  taken  notice  of  by  your  lordship,  in  another 
 place:  "  I  think  I  have  shown  wherein  it  is  that  certainty,  real  certainty  consists; 
 which,  whatever  it  was  to  others,  was,  I  confess,  to  me,  heretofore,  one  of  those 
 desiderata  which  I  found  great  want  of." 
 
 Here,  my  lord,  however  new  this  seemed  to  me,  (and  the  more  so  because, 
 possibly  I  had  in  vain  hunted  for  it  in  the  books  of  others)  yet  I  spoke  of  it  as 
 new,  only  to  myself;  leaving  others  in  the  undisturbed  possession  of  what,  either 
 by  invention,  or  reading,  was  theirs  before;  without  assuming  to  myself  any  other 
 honour,  but  that  of  my  own  ignorance,  until  that  time,  if  others  before  had  shown 
 wherein  certainty  lay.  And  yet,  my  lord,  if  I  had,  upon  this  occasion,  been  for- 
 ward to  assume  to  myself  the  honour  of  an  original,  I  think  I  had  been  pretty 
 safe  in  it;  since  I  should  liavc  had  your  lordship  for  my  guarantee  and  viridicator 
 in  that  point,  who  are  pleased  to  call  it  nexo,  and,  as  such,  to  write  against  it. 
 
 And  truly,  my  lord,  in  this  respect,  my  book  has  had  very  unlucky  stars,  since 
 it  hath  had  the  misfortune  to  displease  your  lordship,  with  many  things  in  it,  for 
 their  novelty;  as,  nexo  xvay  of  reasoning,  neiv  hypothesis  about  reason,  new  sort 
 of  certainty,  new  terms,  nexo  way  of  ideas,  new  method  of  certainty,  £/c.  And 
 yet,  in  other  places,  your  lordship  seems  to  think  it  worthy  in  me  of  your  lord- 
 ship's reflection.  Cor  saying  but  what  others  have  said  before;  as  where  I  say, 
 "In  the  different  make  of  men's  tempers,  and  application  of  their  thoughts,  some 
 arguments  prevail  more  on  one,  and  some  on  another,  for  the  confirmation  of  the 
 same  truth."  Your  lordship  asks,  "  jrhat  is  thi^  different  from  what  all  men  of 
 understanding  have  said .?"  Again,  I  take  it,  your  lordship  meant  not  these  words 
 for  a  commendation  of  my  book,  where  you  say,  but  if  no  more  be  meant  by 
 "The  simple  ideas  that  come  in  by  sensation,  or  reflection,  and  their  being  the 
 foundation  of  our  knowledge,"  67/f  that  our  notions  of  things  come  in,  either  from, 
 our  senses,  or  the  exercise  of  our  minds,-  as  there  is  nothing  extraordinary  in  the 
 discovery,  so  your  lordship  is  far  enough  from  opposing  that,  wherein  you  think 
 all  matifcind  are  agreed. 
 
 And  again.  But  what  need  all  this  great  noise  about  ideas  and  certainty,  true 
 and  real  certainty  by  ideas,  if,  after  all,  it  comes  only  to  this,  that  our  ideas  only 
 represent  to  us  such  things,  from  whence  we  bring  arguments  to  prove  the  truth 
 of  things? 
 
40  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Bookl. 
 
 But  the  ivovUl  hath  been  strantfely  amused  with  ideas  of  late;  and  nve  have  been 
 told,  that  sirauffi'.  thinffx  might  be  done  by  the  help  q/"  ideas;  and  yet  these  ideas,  aX 
 last,  come  to  be  only  common  notions  of  things,  -vhich  ive  must  make  use  of  in  our 
 reasoning.     Ami  to  tlic  like  imipose  in  otlior  places. 
 
 Whetlier,  tluTcfore,  at  last,  your  lor<Iblii|i  will  resolve  that  it  is  new  or  no, 
 or  more  laiilty  \>y  its  being  new,  must  be  left  to  your  lordship.  This  1  find  by 
 it,  that  my  book  cannot  avoid  being  condemned  on  the  one  side  or  the  other;  nor 
 do  I  see  a  possibility  to  help  it.  If  there  be  readers  that  like  only  7iew  thoughts; 
 or,  on  the  other  side,  others  that  can  bear  nothing  but  what  can  be  justified  by 
 received  authorities  in  print;  I  must  desire  them  to  make  themselves  amends  in 
 that  part  which  tliey  like,  for  the  displeasure  thcj-  receive  in  the  other;  but  if 
 any  should  be  so  e>;aot,  as  to  find  fault  with  both,  truly  I  know  not  well  what  to 
 say  to  them.  The  case  is  a  plain  case;  tlie  book  is  all  over  naught,  and  there  is 
 not  a  sentence  in  it,  that  is  not,  either  for  its  antiquity  or  novelty,  to  be  con- 
 demned; and  so  there  is  a  short  end  of  it.  Prom  your  lordship,  indeed,  in  par- 
 ticular, I  can  hope  for  something  better;  for  your  lordship  thinks  the  general 
 design  of  it  so  good,  tliat  this,  I  flatter  myself,  would  prevail  on  your  lordship  to 
 preserve  it  from  the  fire. 
 
 But  as  to  the  way,  your  lordship  thinks,  I  should  have  taken  to  prevent  the 
 having  it  thought  my  invention,  when  it  was  common  to  me  with  others,  it  unluck- 
 ily so  fell  out,  in  the  subject  of  my  Essay  of  Unman  Understanding,  that  I 
 could  not  look  into  the  thoughts  of  other  men  to  inform  myself:  for  my  design 
 being,  as  well  as  I  could,  to  copy  nature,  and  to  give  an  account  of  the  opera- 
 tions of  the  mind  in  thinking,  I  could  look  into  nobody's  understanding  but  my 
 own,  to  see  how  it  wrought;  nor  have  a  prospect  into  other  men's  minds,  to 
 riew  their  thoughts  there,  and  observe  what  steps  and  motions  they  took,  and 
 by  what  gradations  they  proceeded  in  their  acquainting  themselves  with  truth, 
 and  their  advance  in  knowledge:  what  we  find  of  their  thoughts  in  books,  is  but 
 the  result  of  this,  and  not  the  progress  and  working  of  their  minds,  in  coming 
 to  the  opinions  or  conclusions  they  set  down  and  published. 
 •  All,  therefore^  that  I  can  say  of  my  book  is,  that  it  is  a  copy  of  my  own  mind, 
 in  its  several  ways  of  operation:  and  all  that  I  can,  say  for  the  publisliing  of  it  is, 
 that  I  think  the  intellectual  faculties  are  made,  and  operate  alike  in  most  men; 
 and  that  some,  that  I  showed  it  to  before  I  published  it,  liked  it  so  well,  that  I 
 was  confirmed  in  that  opinion.  And,  therefore,  if  it  should  happen  that  it  should 
 not  be  so,  but  that  some  men  should  have  wa3^s  of  thinking,  reasoning,  or  arriv- 
 ing at  certainty,  different  from  others,  and  above  those  that  I  find  my  mind  to  use 
 and  acquiesce  in,  I  do  not  see  of  what  use  my  book  can  be  to  them.  I  can  only 
 make  itniy  humble  request,  in  my  own  name,  and  in  the  name  of  those  that  are 
 of  my  size,  who  find  their  minds  work,  reason,  and  know  in  the  same  low  way 
 that  mine  does,  that  tliose  men  of  a  more  happy  genius  would  show  us  the  way 
 of  their  nobler  fliglUs;  and  particularly  would  discover  to  us  their  shorter  or 
 surer  way  to  certainly,  than  by  ideas,  and  the  observing  their  agreement  or 
 disagreement. 
 
 Your  lordship  adds,  lint  now  it  seems,  nothing  is  hitelligible  but  what  sxdts  with 
 the  new  way  of  ideas.  My  lord,  the  7iew  way  of  ideas,  and  the  old  way  of  speak- 
 ing intelligibly*,  was  always  and  ever  will  be  the  same;  and  if  I  may  take  the 
 liberty  to  declare  my  sense  of  it,  herein  it  consists;  1.  That  a  man  use  no  words, 
 but  such  as  he  makes  the  sign  of  certain  determined  objects  of  his  mind  in 
 thinking,  which  he  can  make  known  to  another.  2.  Next,  That  he  use  the 
 same  word  steadily  for  the  sign  of  the  same  immediate  object  of  his  mind  in 
 thinking.  3.  That  he  join  those  words  together  in  propositions,  according  to 
 the  grammatical  rules  of  that  language  he  speaks  in.  4.  That  he  unites  those 
 sentences  into  a  coherent  discourse.  Thus,  and  thus  only,  I  humbly  conceive, 
 any  one  may  ])reserve  himself  from  the  confines  and  suspicion  of  jargon,  whether 
 he  pleases  to  call  those  immediate  objects  of  his  mind,  which  his  words  do,  or 
 should  stand  for,  ideas  or  no. 
 
 *  Mr  Locke's  Third  Letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Worcester. 
 
Ch.  2.  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND.  41 
 
 CHAPTER  II. 
 
 NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  INIIND. 
 
 Sect.  1.  The  way  shown  how  we  come  by  any  knowledge,  sufficient  to 
 prove  it  not  innate. — It  is  an  established  opinion  among  some  men,  that 
 there  are  in  the  understanding  certain  innate  principles ;  some  primary  no- 
 tions; K6/yg<  ivyoiai,  characters  as  it  were,  stamped^uppn  the  mind  of  man, 
 which  tne  soul  receives  in  its  very  first  being,  and  brings  into  the  world 
 with  it.  It  would  be  sufficient  to  convince  imprejudiced  readers  of  the  false- 
 ness of  this  supposition,  if  I  should  only  show  (as  I  hope  I  shall  in  the 
 following  parts  of  this  discourse)  how  men,  barely  by  the  use  of  their  nat- ; 
 ural  faculties,  may  attain  to  all  the  knowledge  they  have,  without  the  help  of 
 any  innate  impressions ;  and  may  arrive  at  certainty,  without  any  such  ori- 
 ginal notions  or  principles.  For  I  imagine  any  one  will  easily  grant,  that 
 it  would  be  impertinent  to  suppose  the  ideas  of  colour  innate  in  a  creature,> 
 to  whom  God  hath  given  sight  and  a  power  to  receive  them  by  the  eyes, 
 from  external  objects :  and  no  less  unreasonable  would  it  be  to  attribute  se- 
 veral truths  to  tlie  impressions  of  nature,  and  innate  characters,  when  we 
 may  obserie  in  ourselves  faculties  fit  to  attain  as  easy  and  certain  know- 
 ledge of  them,  as  if  they  were  originally  imprinted  on  the  mind. 
 
 But  because  a  man  is  not  permitted,  without  censiu-e,  to  follow  his  own 
 thoughts  in  the  search  of  truth,  when  they  lead  him  ever  so  little  out  of  the 
 common  road,  I  shall  set  down  the  reasons  that  made  me  doubt  of  the  truth 
 of  that  opinion,  as  an  excuse  for  my  mistake,  if  I  be  in  one ;  which  I  leave  to 
 be  considered  by  those,  who,  with  me,  dispose  themselves  to  embrace  truth, 
 wherever  they  find  it. 
 
 Sect.  2.  General  assent,  the  great  argument. — There  is  nothing  more 
 commonly  taken  for  granted,  than  that  there  are  certain  principles,  both 
 speculative  and  practical  (for  they  speak  of  both)  universally  agreed  upon 
 by  all  mankind ;  which,  therefore,  they  argue,  must  needs  be  constant  im- 
 pressions which  the  souls  of  men  receive  in  their  first  beings,  and  which 
 they  bring  into  the  world  with  them,  as  necessarily  and  really  as  they  do 
 any  of  their  inhei'ent  faculties,  v 
 
 Sect.  3.    Universal  consent  proves  .nothing  innate. — This   argument, 
 drawn  irom  universal  consent,  has  this  misfortune  in  it,  that  if  it  were  true, 
 in  matter  of  fact,  that  there  were  certain  truths  wherein  all  mankind  agi"eed,  'I 
 it  would  not  prove  them  innate,  if  there  can  be  any  other  way  shown  how  . 
 men  may  come  to  that  ujiiversal  agreement  in  the  things  they  do  consent 
 in;  which  I  presume  may  be  done. 
 
 Sect.  4.  "  WJiatjs,  is,"  and  "  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  he, 
 and  not  to  be,"  not  universally  assented  to. — But,  which  is  worse,  this  ar- 
 gument of  universal  consent,  which  is  made  use  of  to  prove  innate  princi- 
 ples, seems  to  me  a  demonstration  that  there  are  none  such ;  because  there 
 are  none  to  which  all  mankind  give  a  universal  assent.  I  shaU  begin  with 
 the  speculative,  aud  instance  in  those  magnified  principles  of  demonstration, 
 "  whatsoever  is,  is;"  and,  "  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and 
 not  to  be ;"  which,  of  all  others,  I  think  have  the  most  allowed  title  to  in- 
 nate. These  have  so  settled  a  reputation  of  maxims  universally  received, 
 that  it  will  no  doubt  be  thought  strange,  if  any  one  should  seem  to  question 
 it.  But  yet  I  take  liberty  to  say,  that  these  propositions  are  so  far  irom 
 having  a  universal  assent,  that  there  are  a  great  part  of  mankind  to  whom 
 they  are  not  so  much  as  known. 
 F 
 
42  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 >£l 
 
 ,  Sect.  5.  Not  on  the  mind  naturally  imprinted,  because  not  known,  to 
 children,  ideots,  cj-c. — For,  first,  it  is  evident,  tliat  all  children  and  idcots 
 have  not  the  least  apprehension  or  thono;ht  of  them  ;  and  the  want  of  that  is  / 
 enough  to  destroy  that  universal  assent,  which  must  needs  he  the  neces-  ' 
 sary  concomitant  of  all  innate  truths ;  it  seeming  to  me  near  a  contradiction 
 to  say,  that  there  arc  truths  miprinted  on  the  soul,  which  it  perceives  or 
 understands  not;  imprinting,  if  it  signify  any  thing,  being  nothing  else  but, 
 the  making  certain  truths  to  be  perdeivcd.  For,  to  imprint  any  thing  on 
 the  mind,  withoiit  the  mind's  perceiving  it,  seems  to  me  hardly  intelligible. 
 If,  therefore,  children  and  ideots  have  souls,  have  minds,  with  those  impres-/i-^ 
 sions  upon  them,  thej'^  must  unavoidably  perceive  them,  and  necessarily'^ 
 know  and  assent  to  these  truths ;  which,  since  they  do  not,  it  is  evident 
 that  there  are  no  such  impressions:  for  if  they  are  not  notions  naturally 
 imprinted,  how  can  they  lie  irmatel  and  if  they  are  notions  imprinted,  how 
 can  they  be  unknown  !  To  say  a  notion  is  imprinted  on  the  mind,  and  yet 
 at  the  same  time  to  say  that  the  mind  is  ignorant  of  it,  and  never  yet 
 took  notice  of  it,  is  to  make  this  impression  nothing.  No  proposition  can 
 be  said  to  be  in  tlie  mind,  wliich  it  never  yet  knew,  which  it  was  never  yet 
 conscious  of:  for  if  any  one  may,  then,  by  the  same  reason,  all  propositions 
 that  are  true,  and  the  mind  is  capable  of  ever  assenting  to,  may  be  said  to 
 be  in  the  mind,  and  to  be  imprinted :  since,  if  any  one  can  be  said  to  be  in 
 the  mind,  which  it  never  yet  knew,  it  nnist  be  only  because  it  is  capable 
 of  knowing  it;  and  so  the  mind  is  of  all  truths  it  ever  shall  know.  Nay, 
 thus  truths  may  be  imprinted  on  the  mind  which  it  never  did,  nor  ever  shall 
 know ;  for  a  man  may  live  long,  and  die  at  last  in  ignorance  of  many  truths, 
 which  his  mind  was  capable  of  knowing,  and  that  with  certainty.  So  that, 
 if  the  capacity  of  knowing  be  the  natural  impression  contended  for,  all  the 
 truths  a  man  ever  comes  to  know,  will,  by  this  account,  be  every  one  of 
 them  innate;  and  this  gi-eat  point  will  amoiuit  to  no  more,  but  only  to  a 
 very  improper  way  of  speaking :  which,  whilst  it  pretends  to  assert  the 
 contrary,  says  nothing  different  from  those  who  deny  innate  principles; 
 for  nobody,  I  think,  ever  denied  that  the  mind  was  capable  of  knowing 
 several  tmths.  The  capacity,  they  say,  is  innate;  tlie  knowledge,  ac- 
 quired. But  then,  to  what  end  such  contest  for  certain  innate  max- 
 ims'? If  truths  can  be  imprinted  on  the  understanding  without  being  per- 
 ceived, I  can  see  no  difference  there  can  be  between  any  truths  the  mind 
 is  capable  of  knowing,  in  respect  of  tlicir  original :  they  must  all  be  innate, 
 or  all  adventitious :  in  vain  shall  a  man  go  about  to  distinguish  them.  He, 
 therefore,  that  talks  of  innate  notions  in  the  understanding,  cannot  (if  he 
 intend  thereby  any  distinct  sort  of  truths)  mean  such  truths  to  be  in  the 
 understanding,  as  it  never  perceived,  and  is  yet  wholly  ignorant  of:  for  if 
 these  words  (to  be  in  the  understanding)  have  any  propriety,  they  signify 
 to  be  understood :  so  that,  to  be  in  the  understanding,  and  not  to  be  un- 
 derstood— to  be  in  the  mind,  and  never  to  be  perceived — is  all  one  as  to 
 say,  any  thing  is,  and  is  not,  in  the  mind  or  understanding.  If  therefore 
 these  two  propositions,  "  whatsoever  is,  is,"  and,  "  it  is  impossible  for  the 
 same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be,"  are  by  nature  imprinted,  children  cannot 
 be  ignorant  of  them;  infants,  and  all  that  have  souls,  must  necessarily  have 
 them  in  their  understandings,  know  the  truth  of  them,  and  assent  to  it. 
 
 Sect.  6.  That  men  know  them  when  they  come  to  the  use  of  reason, 
 answered. — To  avoid  this,  it  is  usually  answered,  that  all  men  know  and 
 assent  to  them,  when  they  come  to  the  use  of  reason,  and  this  is  enough  to 
 prove  them  innate.     I  answer. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Doubtful  expressions,  that  have  scarce  any  signification,  go 
 for  clear  reasons  to  those  who,  being  prepossessed,  take  not  the  pains  to 
 examine  even  what  they  themselves  say.  For  to  apply  this  answer  with 
 any  tolerable  sense  to  our  present  purpose,  it  must  signify  one  of  tliese 
 two  things:  either,  that  as  soon  as  men  come  to  the  use  of  reason,  Ihose 
 eupposed  native  inscriptions  come  to  be  known  and  observed  by  them  ;  or 
 
Ch.  2.  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND.  43 
 
 else,  that  the  use  and  exercise  of  men's  reason  assists  them  in  the  discove- 
 ry of  these  principles,  and  certainly  makes  them  known  to  them. 
 
 Sect.  8.  If  reason  discovered  them,  that  would  not  prove  theminnate.  "' 
 — If  they  mean,  that  by  the  use  of  reason  men  may  discover  these  prin-  . 
 ciples,  and  that  this  is  sufficient  to  prove  them  innate,  their  way  of  argu- 
 ing will  stand  thus,  viz.  that  whatever  truths  reason  can  certainly  discover 
 to  us,  and  make  us  firmly  assent  to,  those  are  all  naturally  imprinted  on 
 the  mind;  since  that  universal  assent,  which  is  made  the  mark  of  them, 
 amounts  to  no  more  but  this ;  that  by  the  use  of  reason  we  are  capable  to 
 come  to  a  certain  knowledge  of,  and  assent  to  them ;  and  by  this  means, 
 there  will  be  no  difference  between  the  maxims  of  the  mathematicians,  and 
 theorems  they  deduce  from  them :  all  must  be  equally  allowed  innate ;  they 
 being  all  discoveries  made  by  the  use  of  reason,  and  truths  that  a  rational 
 creature  may  certainly  come  to  know,  if  he  apply  his  thoughts  rightly  that 
 way. 
 
 Sect.  9.  It  is  false  that  reason  discovers  them. — But  how  can  these 
 men  think  the  use  of  reason  necessary  to  discover  principles  that  are  sup- 
 posed innate,  v.'hen  reason  (if  we  may  believe  them)  is  nothing  else  but 
 the  faculty  of  deducing  unknown  truths  from  principles,  or  propositions,  I 
 that  are  already  known  1  That  certainly  can  never  be  thought  innate,  which 
 we  hare  need  of  reason  to  discover;  unless,  as  I  have  said,  we  will  have 
 all  the  certain  truths  that  reason  ever  teaches  us  to  be  innate.  We  may 
 as  well  think  the  use  of  reason  necessary  to  make  our  eyes  discover  visi- 
 ble objects,  as  that  there  should  be  need  of  reason,  or  the  exercise  thereof, 
 to  make  the  understanding  see  what  is  originally  engraven  on  it,  and  can- 
 not be-in  the  understanding,  before  it  be  perceived  by  it.  So  that  to  make 
 reason  discover  tliose  truths  thus  imprinted,  is  to  say,  that  the  use  of  rea- 
 son discovers  to  a  man.  what  he  knew  before ;  and  if  men  have  those  innate 
 impressed  truths  originai.y,  and  before  the  use  of  reason,  and  yet  are  always 
 ignorant  of  them,  till  they  come  to  the  use  of  reason;  it  is  in  effect  to  say, 
 that  men  know,  and  know  them  not,  at  the  same  time. 
 
 Sect.  10.  It  will  here  perhaps  be  said,  that  mathematical  demonstrations, 
 tind  other  truths  that  are  not  innate,  are  not  assented  to  as  soon  as  pro- 
 posed, wherein  they  are  distinguished  from  these  maxims,  and  other  innate 
 truths.  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  of  assent  upon  the  first  proposing, 
 more  particularly  by  and  bye.  I  shall  here  only,  and  that  very  readily,  al- 
 low, that  these  maxims  and  mathematical  demonstrations  are  in  this  differ- 
 ent; that  the  one  has  need  of  reason,  using  of  proofs,  to  make  them  out, 
 and  to  gain  our  assent ;  but  the  other,  as  soon  as  understood,  are,  without 
 any  the  least  reasoning,  embraced  and  assented  to.  But  I  withal  beg  leave 
 to  observe,  that  it  lays  open  the  weakness  of  this  subterftige,  which  re-  ■ 
 quires  the  use  of  reason  for  the  discovery  of  these  general  truths;  since  it 
 must  be  confessed  that  in  their  discovery  there  is  no  use  made  of  reasoning  at 
 all.  And  I  think  those  who  give  this  answer  will  not  be  forward  to  affirm, 
 that  the  knowledge  of  this  maxim,  "  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same 
 thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be,"  is  a  deduction  of  our  reason;  for  this  would  be 
 to  destroy  that'  bounty  of  nature  they  seem  so  fond  of,  whilst  they  make 
 the  knowledge  of  those  principles  to  depend  on  the  labour  of  our  thoughts. 
 For  all  reasoning  is  search,  and  casting  about,  and  requires  pains  and  ap- 
 plication ;  and  how  can  it,  with  any  tolerable  sense,  be  supposed,  that  what 
 was  imprinted  by  nature,  as  the  foundation  and  guide  of  our  reason,  should 
 need  the  use  of  reason  to  discover  if? 
 
 Sect.  11.  Those  who  will  take  the  pains  to  reflect  witli  a  little  atten- 
 tion on  the  operations  of  the  understanding,  will  find,  that  this  ready  assent^ 
 of  the  mind  to  some  truths,  depends  not  either  on  native  inscription,  or  on^ 
 the  use  of  reason;  but  on  a  faculty  of  the  mind  quite  distinct  from  both  of 
 them,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter.     Reason,  therefore,  having  nothing  to  do 
 in  procuring  our  assent  to  these  ma::ims,  if  bv  saving  that  men  know  nv^  g> 
 
4-1  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 .•  t  • 
 
 assent  to  them  when  they  come  to  the  use  of  reason,  be  meant,  that  the 
 use  of  reason  assists  us  in  the  knowledge  of  these  maxims,  it  is  utterly  false ; 
 and  were  it  true,  would  prove  them  not  to  be  innate. 
 
 Sect.  12.  The  comivf>-  to  the  use  of  reason,  not  the.  time  we  come  to 
 know  these  iitaxims. — If  by  knowing  and  assenting  to  them,  when  we  come 
 to  the  use, of  reason,  be  meant,  that  this  is  the  time  wlien  they  come  to  be 
 taken  notice  of  by  the  mind;  and  that,  as  soon  as  children  come  to  the  use 
 of  reason,  they  come  also  to  Icnow  and  assent  to  these  maxims;  this  also 
 is  false  and  fi-ivolous.  First,  it  is  false :  because  it  is  evident  these  maxims 
 are  not  in  the  mind  so  early  as  the  use  of  reason,  and  therefore  the  coming 
 to  the  use  of  reason  is  falsely  assigned  as  the  time  of  their  discovery.  How 
 many  instances  of  the  use  of  reason  may  we  observe  in  children,  a  long 
 time  before  they  have  any  knov/ledge  of  this  maxim,  "  that  it  is  impossi- 
 bj^for  the  same  thing  to  be^  and  not  to  be?"  And  a  great  part  of  illiterate 
 people,  and  savages,  pass  many  years,  even  of  their  rational  age,  without 
 ever  thinking  on  this  and  the  like  general  propositions.  I  grant,  men  come 
 not  to  the  knowledge  of  these  general  and  more  abstract  truths,  which  are 
 thought  innate,  till  they  come  to  tlie  use  of  reason ;  and  I  add,  nor  then 
 neither:  which  is  so  because,  till  after  they  come  to  the  use  of  reason,  those 
 general  abstract  ideas  are  not  framed  in  the  mind,  about  which  those  gener- 
 al maxims  are,  which  are  mistaken  for  innate  principles :  but  are  indeed 
 discoveries  made,  and  verities  introduced  and  brought  into  the  mind,  by 
 the  same  way,  and  discovered  by  the  same  steps,  as  several  other  propo- 
 sitions, wliich  nobody  was  ever  so  extravagant  as  to  suppose  innate.  This 
 I  hope  to  make  plain  in  the  sequel  of  this  discourse.  I  allow  therefore  a 
 necessity  that  men  should  come  to  the  use  of  reason  before  they  get  the 
 knowledge  of  those  general  truths,  but  deny  that  men's  coming  to  the  use 
 of  reason  is  the  time  of  their  discovery. 
 
 Sect.  13.  By  this  they  are  not  distinguishedfrom other knowahletruths. 
 — In  the  mean  time  it  is  observable,  that  this  saying.  That  men  know  and 
 assent  to  these  maxims  when  they  come  to  the  use  of  reason,  amounts,  in 
 reality  of  fact,  to  no  more  but  this,  That  they  are  never  known  nor  taken 
 notice  of,  before  the  use  of  reason,  but  may  possibly  be  assented  to,  some 
 time  after,  during  a  man's  life,  but  when,  is  uncertain ;  and  so  may  all  other 
 knowable  truths,  as  well  as  these ;  which  therefore  have  no  advantage  nor 
 distinction  fi-om  others,  by  this  note  of  being  known  when  we  come  to 
 the  use  of  reason,  nor  are  thereby  proved  to  be  innate,  but  quite  contrary. 
 
 Sect.  14.  If  coming  to  the  use  of  reason  were  the  time  of  their  discov- 
 ery, it  would  not  prove  them  inyiate. — But,  secondly,  were  it  true  that  the 
 precise  time  of  their  being  known' and  assented  to  were  when  men  come 
 to  the  use  of  reason,  neither  would  that  prove  them  innate.  This  way  of 
 arguing  is  as  frivolous  as  the  supposition  of  itself  is  false.  For  by  what 
 kind  of  logic  will  it  appear,  that  any  notion  is  originally  by  nature  imprin- 
 ted in  the  mind  in  its  first  constitution,  because  it  comes  first  to  be  obser- 
 ved and  assented  to,  when  faculty  of  the  mind,  which  has  quite  a  distinct 
 province,  begins  to  exert  itself?  And  therefore,  the  coming  to  the  use  of 
 speech,  if  it  were  supposed  the  time  that  these  maxims  are  first  assented 
 to,  (which  it  may  be  with  as  much  truth  as  the  time  when  men  come  to 
 the  use  of  reason)  would  be  as  good  a  proof  that  they  were  innate,  as  to 
 say,  they  are  innate,  because  men  assent  to  them  when  they  come  to  the 
 use  of  reason.  I  agree  then  with  these  men  of  innate  principles,  that  there 
 is  no  knowledge  of  these  general  and  self-evident  maxims  in  the  mind,  till 
 it  comes  to  the  exercise  of  reason ;  but  I  deny  that  the  coming  to  the  use 
 of  reason  is  the  precise  time  when  they  are  first  taken  notice  ofj  and  if 
 thaTwerc  the  precise  tirne,  I  deny  that  it  would  prove  them  innate.  All 
 that  can,  with  any  truth,  be  meant  by  this  proposition,  that  men  assent  to 
 them  when  they  come  to  tlie  use  of  reason,  is  no  more  but  this ;  that  the 
 
Ch.  2.  ON  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND.  4B 
 
 making  of  general  abstract  ideas,  and  the  understanding  of  general  names, 
 being  a  concomitant  of  the  rational  faculty,  and  growing  up  with  it,  children 
 commonly  get  not  those  general  ideas,  nor  learn  the  names  that  stand  for 
 them,  till,  having  for  a  good  while  exercised  their  reason  about  familiar  and 
 more  particular  ideas,  they  are,  by  their  ordinary  discourse  and  actions  with 
 others,  acknowledged  to  be  capable  of  rational  conversation.  If  assenting 
 to  these  maxims,  when  men  come  to  the  use  of  reason,  can  be  true  in  any 
 other  sense,  I  desire  it  may  be  shown  ;  or  at  least,  how  in  this,  or  any  other 
 sense,  it  proves  them  innate. 
 
 Sect.  15.  The  steps  by  which  the  mind  attains  several  truths. — The  | 
 senses  at  first  let  in  particular  ideas,  and  furnish  the  yet  empty  cabinet ;   l 
 and  the  mind  by  degrees  growing  familiar  with  some  of  them,  they  are  lodg-   | 
 ed  in  the  memory,  and  names  got  to  them :  afterward  the  mind,  proceeding    ' 
 farther,  abstracts  them,  and  by  degrees  learns  the  use  of  general  names.     In 
 this  manner,  the  mind  comes  to  be  furnished  with  ideas  and  language,  the 
 materials  about  which  to  exercise  its  discursive  faculty ;  and  the  use  of .    ; 
 reason  becomes  daily  more  visibloj  as  tKesc'ihaterials  that  give  it  employ-  V 
 ment  mcrease.     But  though  the  having  of  general  ideas,  a,nd  the  use  of  gen- 
 eral wordVahd" reason,  usually  gi'ow  together,  yet,  I  see  not  how  this  any 
 way  proves  them  innate.     The  knowledge  of  some  truths,  I  confess,  is  very 
 early  in  the  mind,  but  in  a  way  that  shows  them  not  to  be  innate.     For,  if 
 we  wiU  observe,  we  shall  find  it  still  to  be  about  ideas,  not  innate,  but  ac- 
 quired ;  it  being  about  those  first  which  are  imprinted  by  external  things, 
 with  which  infants  have  earliest  to  do,  which  make  the  most  jfrequent  im- 
 pressions on  their  senses.     In  ideas  chus  got,  the  mind  discovers  that  some 
 agree  and  others  differ,  probably  as  soon  as  it  has  any  use  of  memory ;  as 
 soon  as  it  is  able  to  retain  and  perceive  distinct  ideas.     But  whether  it  be 
 then,  or  no,  this  is  certain;  it  floes  so  long  before  it  has  the  use  of  words,  or 
 comes  to  that,  which  we  commonly  call  "t]iej^se_ofjreagon."     For  a  child 
 knows  as  certainly,  before  it  can  speak,  the  difference  between  the  ideas  of 
 sweet  and  bitter  (i.  e.  that  sweet  is  not  bitter)  as  it  knows  aflerward  (when  it 
 comes  to  speak)  that  wormwood  and  sugar  plums  are  not  the  same  thing. 
 
 Sect.  16. — A  child  knows  not  that  three  and  four  are  equal  to  seven,  till 
 he  comes  to  be  able  to  count  seven,  and  has  got  the  name  and  idea  of  equal- 
 ity ;  and  then,  upon  explaining  those  words,  he  presently  assents  to,  or  ra- 
 ther perceives  the  truth  of,  that  proposition.  But  neither  does  he  then 
 readily  assent,  because  it  is  an  innate  truth,  nor  was  his  assent  wanting  till 
 then,^ecause  he  wanted  the  use  of  reason ;  but  the  truth  of  it  appears  to 
 him,  ra^soon  as  he  has  settled  in  liis  mind  the  clear  and  distinct  ideas  that 
 these  names  stand  for;  and  then  he  knows  the  truth  of  that  proposition, 
 upon  the  same  grounds,  and  by  the  sam.e  means,  that  he  knew  before  that 
 a  rod  and  a  cherry  are  not  the  same  tiling ;  and  upon  the  same  grounds  also, 
 that  he  may  come  to  know  afterward,  "that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same 
 thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be,"  as  shall  be  more  fiiUy  shown  hereafter.  So  that 
 the  later  it  is  before  any  one  comes  to  have  those  general  ideas,  about  wliich 
 those  maxims  are ;  or  to  know  the  signification  of  those  general  terms  that 
 stand  for  them ;  or  to  put  together  in  his  mind  the  ideas  they  stand  for ;  the  later 
 also  will  it  be  before,  he  comes  to  assent  to  those  maxims,  whose  terms, 
 with  the  ideas  they  stand  for,  being  no  more  innate  than  those  of  a  cat  or 
 a  weasel,  he  must  stay  tiU  time  and  observation  have  acquainted  him  with 
 them ;  and  then  he  will  be  in  a  capacity  to  know  the  truth  of  these  maxims, 
 upon  the  first  occasion  that  shall  make  him  put  together  those  ideas  in  his 
 mind,  and  observe  whether  they  agree  or  disagree,  according  as  is  expres- 
 sed in  those  propositions.  And  therefore  it  is,  that  a  man  knows  that  eigh- 
 teen and  nineteen  are  equal  to  thirty-seven,  by  the  same  self-evidence  that 
 he  knows  one  and  two  to  be  equal  to  three ;  yet  a  child  knows  this  not  so 
 soon  as  the  other,  not  for  want  of  the  use  of  reason,  but  because  the  ideas 
 
46  OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1 
 
 the  words  eighteen,  nineteen,  and  thirty-seven  stand  fur,  are  not  so  soon 
 got,  as  those  wiiicli  are  signified  by  one,  two,  and  three. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Assent ini>;  as  soon  as  jrroposed  and  understood,  proves  them 
 not  innate. — Tiiis  evasion  therefore  of  general  assent,  wlieu  men  come  to 
 the  use  of  reason,  failing  as  it  does,  and  leaving  no  difference  between  those 
 supposed  innate,  and  other  truths  that  are  atlerward  acquired  and  learnt, 
 men  have  endeavoured  to  secure  a  universal  assent  to  those  they  call  max- 
 ims, by  saying,  they  are  generally  assented  to  as  soon  as  proposed,  and  the 
 terms  they  are  proposed  in,  understood:  seeing  all  men,  even  children,  as 
 soon  as  they  hear  and  understand  the  terms,  assent  to  these  propositions, 
 they  think  it  is  sufficient  to  prove  them  innate.  For  since  men  never  fail, 
 after  they  have  once  understood  the  words,  to  acknowledge  them  for  imdoubt- 
 ed  truths  they  would  infer,  that  certainly  these  propositions  were  first  lodged 
 in  the  imderstanding,  which,  without  any  teaching,  the  mind,  at  the  very 
 first  proposal,  immediately  closes  with,  and  assents  to,  and  after  that  never 
 doubts  again. 
 
 Sect.  18.  If  such  an  assent  be  a  mark  of  innate,  then  "that  one  and 
 two  are  equal  to  three;  that  sweetness  is  not  bitterness,'^  and  a  thousand 
 the  like,  must  be  innate. — In  answer  to  this,  I  demand  "  whether  ready  as- 
 sent given  to  a  proposition  upon  first  hearing,  and  understanding  the  terms, 
 be  a  certain  mark  of  an  innate  principle !"  If  it  be  not,  such  a  general  assent 
 is  in  vain  urged  as  a  proof  of  them:  if  it  be  said,  that  it  is  a  mark  of  innate, 
 they  must  then  allow  all  such  propositions  to  be  innate  which  are  generally 
 assented  to  as  soon  as  heard,  whereby  they  will  find  themselves  plentifully 
 stored  with  innate  principles.  For  upon  the  same  ground,  viz.  of  assent 
 at  first  hearing  and  understanding  the  terras,  that  men  would  have  those 
 maxims  pass  for  innate,  they  must  also  admit  several  propositions  about 
 numbers  to  be  innate;  and  thus,  that  one  and  two  are  equal  to  three;  that 
 two  and  two  are  equal  to  four ;  and  a  multitude  of  other  the  like  proposi- 
 tions in  numbers,  that  every  body  assents  to  at  first  hearing  and  understand- 
 ing the  terms,  must  have  a  place  among  these  innate  axioms.  Nor  is  this 
 the  prerogative  of  numbers  alone,  and  propositions  made  about  sevetal  of 
 them ;  but  even  natural  philosophy  and  all  the  other  sciences,  afford  proposi- 
 tions which  are  sure  to  meet  with  assent  as  soon  as  they  are  understood. 
 That  two  bodies  cannot  be  in  the  same  place,  is  a  truth  that  nobody  any 
 more  sticks  at,  than  at  these  maxims:  "that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same 
 things  to  be,  and  not  to  be ;  that  white  is  not  black ;  that  a  square  is  not  a 
 circle ;  that  yellowness  is  not  sweetness ;"  these,  and  a  million  of  other  such 
 propositions  (as  many  at  least  as  we  have  distinct  ideas  of),  every  man  in 
 his  wits,  at  first  hearing,  and  knowing  what  the  names  stand  for,  must  ne- 
 cessarily assent  to.  If  these  men  will  be  true  to  their  own  rule,  and  have 
 assent  at  first  hearing  and  understanding  the  terms  to  be  a  mark  of  innate, 
 they  must  allow,  not  only  as  many  innate  propositions,  as  men  have  dis- 
 tinct ideas,  but  as  many  as  men  can  make  propositions,  wherein  different 
 ideas  are  denied  one  of  another.  Since  every  proposition,  wherein  one  dif- 
 ferent idea  is  denied  of  another,  will  as  certainly  find  assent  at  first  hear- 
 ing and  understanding  the  terms,  as  this  general  one,  "it  is  impossible  for 
 the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be ;"  or  that  which  is  the  foundation  of  it, 
 and  is  the  easier  understood  of  the  two,  "the  same  is  not  different:"  by 
 which  account  they  will  have  legions  of  innate  propositions  of  this  one 
 sort,  without  mentioning  any  other.  But  since  no  proposition  can  be  in- 
 nate, unless  the  ideas,  about  which  it  is,  be  innate;  this  will  be,  to  suppose 
 all  our  ideas  of  colours,  sounds,  taste,  figure,  &c.  innate,  than  which  there 
 cannot  be  any  thing  more  opposite  to  reason  and  experience.  Universal 
 and  ready  assent,  upon  hearing  and  understanding  the  terms,  is  (I  grant) 
 a  mark  of  self-evidence ;  but  self-evidence,  depending  not  on  innate  impres- 
 sions, but  on  something  else  (as  we  shall  show  hereafter),  belongs  to  sev- 
 eral propositions,  which  nobody  was  yet  so  extravagant  as  to  pretend  to  be 
 Imiate. 
 
Ch.  2.  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND.  47 
 
 Sect.  19.  Such  less  general  propositions  known  before  these  universal 
 maxims. — Nor  let  it  be  said,  that  those  more  particular  self-evident  pro- 
 positions, which  are  assented  to  at  first  hearing,  as,  that  one  and  two  are 
 equal  to  three ;  that  green  is  not  red,  &c. ;  are  received  as  the  consequence 
 of  those  more  universal  propositions,  which  are  looked  on  as  innate  prin- 
 ciples ;  since  any  one,  who  will  but  take  the  pains  to  observe  what  passes  in 
 the  understanding,  will  certainly  find,  that  these,  and  the  like  less  general 
 propositions,  are  certainly  known,  and  firmly  assented  to,  by  those  who  are 
 utterly  ignorant  of  those  more  general  maxims ;  and  so,  being  earlier  in  the 
 mind  than  those  (as  they  are  called)  first  principles,  cannot  owe  to  them 
 the  assent  wherewith  they  are  received  at  first  hearing. 
 
 Sect.  20.  One  and  one  equal  to  two,  <^c.  not  general  nor  useful, 
 answered. — If  it  be  said,  that  "  these  propositions,  viz.  two  and  two  are 
 equal  to  four ;  red  is  not  blue,  &c.  are  not  general  maxims,  nor  of  any  great 
 use;"  I  answer,  that  makes  nothing  to  the  argument  of  universal  assent,  upon 
 hearing  and  understanding:  for,  if  that  be  the  certain  mark  of  innate,  whatever 
 proposition  can  be  found  that  receives  general  assent  as  soon  as  heard  and 
 understood,  that  must  be  admitted  for  an  innate  proposition,  as  well  as  this 
 maxim,  "  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be;"  they 
 being  upon  this  ground  equal.  And  as  to  the  difference  of  being  more  gen- 
 eral, that  makes  this  maxim  more  remote  from  being  innate ;  those  general 
 and  abstract  ideas  being  more  strangers  to  our  first  apprehensions,  than  those 
 of  more  particular  self-evident  propositions  ;  and  therefore  it  is  longer  be- 
 fore they  are  admitted  and  assented  to  by  the  growing  understanding. 
 And  as  to  the  usefulness  of  these  magnified  maxims,  that  perhaps  will  not 
 be  found  so  great  as  is  generally  conceived,  when  it  comes  in  its  due  place 
 to  be  more  fully  considered. 
 
 Sect.  21.  These  maxims  not  being  known  sometimes  until  proposed, 
 proves  the?n  not  innate. — But  we  have  not  yet  done  with  assenting  to 
 propositions  at  first  hearing  and  understanding  their  terms ;  it  is  fit  we  first 
 take  notice,  that  this,  instead  of  being  a  mark  that  they  are  innate,  is  a  proof 
 of  the  contrary ;  since  it  supposes  that  several,  who  understand  and  know 
 other  things,  are  ignorant  of  these  principles,  until  they  are  proposed  to  them ; 
 and  that  one  may  be  unacquainted  with  these  truths,  until  he  hears  them 
 from  others.  For  if  they  were  innate,  what  need  they  be  proposed  in  or- 
 der to  gaining  assent ;  when,  by  being  in  the  understanding,  by  a  natural 
 and  original  impression  (ifthere  were  any  such),  they  could  not  but  be  known 
 before  f  Or  doth  the  proposing  them  print  them  clearer  in  the  mind  than 
 nature  did  1  If  so,  then  the  consequence  will  be,  that  a  man  knows  them 
 better  after  he  has  been  thus  taught  them  than  he  did  before.  Whence  it 
 will  follow,  that  these  principles  may  be  made  more  evident  to  us  by  others' 
 teaching,  than  nature  has  made  them  by  impression ;  which  will  ill  agree 
 with  the  opinion  of  innate  principles,  and  give  but  little  authority  to  them ; 
 but,  on  the  contrary,  makes  them  unfit  to  be  the  foundations  of  all  our  other 
 knowledge,  as  they  are  pretended  to  be.  This  cannot  be  denied;  that  men 
 grow  first  acquainted  with  many  of  these  self-evident  truths,  upon  their 
 being  proposed ;  but  it  is  clear,  that  whosoever  does  so,  finds  in  himself 
 that  he  then  begins  to  know  a  proposition  which  he  knew  not  before,  and 
 which,  from  thenceforth,  he  never  questions ;  not  because  it  was  innate,  j 
 but  because  the  consideration  of  the  nature  of  the  things  contained  in  those  i 
 words,  would  not  suffer  him  to  think  otherwise,  how  or  whensoever  he  is 
 brought  to  reflect  on  them :  and  if  whatever  is  assented  to,  at  first  hearing 
 and  understanding  the  terms,  must  pass  for  an  innate  principle,  every  well- 
 grounded  observation,  drawn  from  particulars-  into  a  general  rule,  must  be 
 innate;  when  yet  it  is  certain,  that  not  all,  but  only  sagacious  heads,  light 
 at  first  on  these  observations,  and  ii^uce  them  into  general  propositions, 
 not  innate,  but  collected  from  a  preceii'ug  acquaintance,  and  reflection  on 
 particular  instances.     These,  when  observing  men  have  made  them,  un- 
 
4S  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 observing  ni^,  vvheu  they  are  proposed  to  them,  csmnot  refuJse  their  as- 
 sent to. 
 
 Sect.  22.  Implicitly  known  before  proposing,  signifies,  that  the  mind  is 
 capable  of  andeislunding  them,  or  else  signifies  nothing. — If  it  be  said, 
 "  the  understanding  liath  an  implicit  knowledge  of  these  principles,  but  not 
 an  explicit,  before  this  tirst  hearing,"  (as  they  must,  who  will  say,  '« that 
 they  are  in  the  understanding,  before  they  are  known")  it  will  be  liard  to 
 conceive  what  is  meant  by  a  principle  imprmted  on  the  understanding  im- 
 plicitly, unless  it  be  this;  that  the  mind  is  capable  of  understanduig  and 
 assenting  firmly  to  such  propositions.  And  thus  all  mathematical  demon- 
 strations, as  well  as  first  principles,  must  be  received  as  native  impressiona 
 on  the  mind ;  which  I  fear  they  will  scarce  allow  them  to  be,  wlio  find  it 
 harder  to  demonstrate  a  proposition,  than  assent  to  it  when  demonstrated. 
 And  few  mathematicians  will  be  forward  to  believe,  that  all  tlie  diagrams 
 they  have  drawn  were  but  copies  of  those  innate  characters  wliich  nature 
 had  engraven  upon  their  minds. 
 
 Sect.  23.  The  argument  of  assenting  on  first  hearing,  is  upon  a  false 
 supposition  of  no  precedent  teaching. — There  is,  I  fear,  this  further  weak- 
 ness in  the  foregoing  argument,  which  would  persuade  us,  that  therefore 
 those  maxims  are  to  be  tiiought  innate,  wliich  men  admit  at  first  hearing, 
 because  they  assent  to  propositions,  which  they  are  not  taught,  nor  do  re- 
 ceive from  the  force  of  any  argument  or  demonstration,  but  a  bare  explication 
 or  understanding  of  the  terms.  Under  which,  there  seems  to  me  to  lie  this 
 fallacy ;  that  men  are  supposed  not  to  be  taught,  nor  to  learn  any  thing  de 
 novo ;  when,  in  truth,  they  are  taught,  and  do  learn  something  they  were 
 ignorant  of  before.  For  first,  it  is  evident,  that  they  have  learned  the  terms 
 and  their  signification,  neither  of  wliich  was  born  with  them.  But  this  is 
 not  ail  the  acquired  luiowledge  m  the  case :  the  ideas  themselves,  about  which 
 the  proposition  is,  are  not  bom  with  them,  no  more  than  their  names,  but 
 got  afterward.  So  that  in  all  propositions  that  are  assented  to  at  first  hearing, 
 the  terms  of  the  proposition,  their  standing  for  such  ideas,  and  the  ideas  them- 
 selves that  they  stand  for,  being  neither  of  them  innate,  I  would  fain  know 
 what  there  is  remaining  in  such  propositions  that  is  innate.  For  I  would  glad- 
 ly have  any  one  name  that  proposition,  whose  terms  or  ideas  were  either  of 
 them  innate.  We  by  degrees  get  ideas  and  names,  and  learn  their  appro- 
 priated connexion  one  with  another  ;  and  then  to  propositions  made  in  such 
 terms,  whose  signification  we  have  learnt,  and  wherein  the  agreement  or  dis- 
 agreement we  can  perceive  in  our  ideas,  when  put  together,  is  expressed, 
 we  at  first  hearing  assent;  though  to  other  propositions,  in  themselves  as 
 certain  and  evident,  but  which  are  concerning  ideas  not  so  soon  or  so  ea- 
 sily got,  we  are  at  the  same  time  no  way  capable  of  assenting.  For  though 
 a  child  quickly  assents  to  tliis  proposition,  that  an  "  apple  is  not  fire," 
 when,  by  familiar  acquaintance,  he  has  got  the  ideas  of  those  two  different 
 things  distinctly  imprinted  on  his  mind,  and  has  learnt  that  the  names  apple 
 and  fire  stand  for  them ;  yet,  it  will  be  some  years  after,  perhaps,  before  the 
 same  child  will  assent  to  this  proposition,  "  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same 
 thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be;"  because,  that  though,  perhaps,  the  words  are  as 
 easy  to  be  learnt,  yet  the  signification  of  them  being  more  large,  comprehen- 
 sive, and  abstract,  than  of  the  names  annexed  to  those  sensible  things  the 
 child  hath  to  do  with,  it  is  longer  before  he  learns  their  precise  meaning,  and 
 it  requires  more  time  plainly  to  form  in  his  mind  those  general  ideas  they 
 stand  for.  Till  that  be  done,  you  will  in  vain  endeavour  to  make  any  child 
 assent  to  a  proposition  made  up  of  such  general  terms :  but  as  soon  as  ever 
 he  has  got  those  ideas,  and  learned  their  names,  he  forwardly  closes  with 
 the  one  as  well  as  the  other  of  the  fore-mentioned  propositions,  and  with 
 both  for  the  same  reason,  viz.  because  he  finds  the  ideas  he  has  in  his 
 mind  to  agree  or  disagree,  according  as  the  words  standing  for  them  are 
 ailirmsd  or  denied  one  of  another  in  the  projiosition.     But  if  propo.sitioud 
 
Ch.  2.  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND.  49 
 
 be  brought  to  him  in  words,  which  stand  for  ideas  he  has  not  yet  in  hia 
 mind,  to  such  propositions,  however  evidently  true  or  false  in  themselves, 
 he  affords  neither  assent  nor  dissent,  but  is  ignorant :  for  words  being  but 
 empty  sounds,  any  farther  than  they  are  signs  of  our  ideas,  we  cannot  but 
 assent  to  them,  as  they  correspond  to  those  ideas  we  have,  but  no 
 ferther  than  that.  But  the  showing  by  what  steps  and  ways  knowledge 
 comes  into  our  mhids,  and  the  grounds  of  several  degrees  of  assent,  being 
 the  business  of  the  following  discourse,  it  may  suffice  to  have  only  touched 
 on  it  here,  as  one  reason  that  made  me  doubt  of  those  innate  principles. 
 
 Sect.  24.  Not  innate,  because  not  universally  assented  to. — To  conclude 
 this  argument  of  universal  consent,  I  agree,  with  these  defenders  of  innate 
 principles,  that  if  they  are  innate,  they  must  needs  have  universal  assent ; 
 for  that  a  truth  should  be  innate,  and  yet  not  assented  to,  is  to  me  as  unin- 
 telligible, as  for  a  man  to  know  a  truth,  and  be  ignorant  of  it  at  the  same 
 time.  But  then,  by  these  men's  own  confession,  they  cannot  be  innate ; 
 since  they  are  not  assented  to  by  those  who  luiderstand  not  the  terms,  nor 
 by  a  great  part  of  those  who  do  understand  them,  but  have  yet  never  heard 
 nor  thought  of  those  propositions;  which,  I  think,  is  at  least  one  half  of 
 mankind.  But  were  the  number  far  less,  it  would  be  enough  to  destroy 
 universal  assent,  and  thereby  show  these  propositions  not  to  be  innate,  if 
 children  alone  were  ignorant  of  them. 
 
 Sect.  25.  These  maxims  not  the  first  known. — But  that  I  may  not  be 
 accused  to  argue  from  the  thoughts  of  infants,  which  are  unknown  to  us, 
 and  to  conclude  from  what  passes  in  their  understandings  before  they  ex- 
 press it ;  T  say  next,  that  these  two  general  propositions  are  not  the  truths 
 that  first  possess  the  minds  of  children,  nor  are  antecedent  to  all  acquired 
 and  adventitious  notions:  which,  if  they  were  innate,  they  must  needs  be. 
 Whether  we  can  determine  it  or  no,  it  matters  not ;  there  is  certainly  a 
 time  when  children  begin  to  think,  and  their  words  and  actions  do  assure 
 us  that  they  do  so.  When  therefore  they  are  capable  of  thought,  of  know- 
 ledge, of  assent,  can  it  rationally  be  supposed  they  can  be  ignorant  of  those 
 notions  that  nature  has  imprinted,  were  there  any  such?  Can  it  be  imagi- 
 ned with  any  appearance  of  reason,  that  they  perceive  the  impressions 
 from  things  without,  and  be  at  the  same  time  ignorant  of  those  characters 
 which  nature  itself  has  taken  care  to  stamp  within]  Can  they  receive  and 
 assent  to  adventitious  notions,  and  be  ignorant  of  those  which  are  supposed 
 woven  into  the  very  principles  of  their  being,  and  imprinted  there  in  in- 
 delible characters,  to  be  the  foundation  and  guide  of  all  their  acquired  know- 
 ledge and  future  reasonings  1  This  would  be  to  make  nature  take  pains  to 
 no  purpose,  or  at  least,  to  write  very  ill ;  since  its  characters  could  not  be 
 read  by  those  eyes  which  saw  other  things  very  well ;  and  those  are  very 
 ill  supposed  the  clearest  parts  of  truth,  and  the  foundations  of  all  our  know- 
 ledge, which  are  not  first  known,  and  without  which  the  undoubted  know- 
 ledge of  several  other  things  may  be  had.  The  child  certainly  knows  that 
 the  nurse  that  feeds  it  is  neither  the  cat  it  plays  with,  nor  the  blackmoor 
 it  is  afraid  of;  that  the  wormseed  or  mustard  it  reftises  is  not  the  apple  or 
 sugar  it  cries  for;  this  it  is  certaintly  and  undoubtedly  assured  of:  but 
 will  any  one  say,  it  is  by  virtue  of  this  principle,  "  that  it  is  impossible  for 
 the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be,"  that  it  so  firmly  assents  to  these  and 
 other  parts  of  its  knowledge ;  or  that  the  child  has  any  notion  or  apprehen- 
 sion  of  that  proposition,  at  an  age,  wherein  yet,  it  is  plain,  it  knows  a 
 great  many  other  truths  1  He  that  will  say,  children  join  these  general 
 abstract  speculations  with  their  sucking  bottles,  and  their  rattles,  may  per- 
 haps with  justice,  be  thought  to  have  more  passion  and  zeal  for  his  opinion, 
 but  less  sincerity  and  truth,  than  one  of  that  age. 
 
 Sect.  26.  And  so  not  innate. — Though  therefore  there  be  several  gen- 
 eral  propositions  that  meet  with  constant  and  ready  assent,  as  soon  as 
 proposed  to  men  grown  up,  who  have  attained  the  use  of  more  general 
 G 
 
50  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 and  abstract  ideas,  and  names  standing  for  them ;  yet  tlicy  not  being  to  be 
 found  in  those  of  tender  years,  who  nevertheless  know  other  things,  they 
 cannot  protend  to  universal  assent  of  intelligent  persons,  and  so  by  no 
 means  can  be  supjjoscd  innate;  it  being  impossible  that  any  truth  which  is 
 innate  (if  there  were  any  such)  should  be  unknown,  at  least  to  any  one 
 who  knows  any  thing  else:  since,  if  there  arc  innate  truths,  they  must  be 
 innate  thoughts;  there  being  nothing  a  trutii  in  the  mind  that  it  has  never 
 thought  on.  Whereby  it  is  evident,  if  there  be  any  innate  truths  in  the 
 mind,  they  must  necessarily  be  the  first  of  any  thought  on ;  the  first  that 
 appear  there. 
 
 Sect.  27.  Not  innate,  because  they  appear  least,  where  what  is  innate 
 shows  itself  clearest. — That  the  general  maxims  we  are  discoursing  of  are 
 not  known  to  children,  idiots,  and  a  great  part  of  mankind,  we  have  already 
 sufficiently  proved ;  whereby  it  is  evident,  they  have  not  a  universal  assent, 
 nor  are  general  impressions.  But  there  is  tliis  farther  argument  in  it 
 against  their  being  innate :  that  these  characters,  if  they  were  native  and 
 original  impressions,  should  appear  fairest  and  clearest  in  those  persons 
 in  whom  yet  we  find  no  footsteps  of  them :  and  it  is,  in  my  opinion,  a  strong 
 presumption  that  they  ere  not  innate,  since  they  are  least  known  to  those, 
 in  whom,  if  they  were  innate,  they  must  needs  exert  themselves  with  most 
 force  and  vigour.  For  children,  idiots,  savages,  and  illiterate  people,  being 
 of  all  others  the  least  corrupted  by  custom,  or  borrowed  opinions,  learning 
 and  education  having  not  cast  their  native  thoughts  into  new  moulds,  nor 
 by  superinducing  foreign  and  studied  doctrines,  confoimded  those  fair 
 characters  nature  had  written  there ;  one  might  reasonably  imagine,  that 
 in  their  minds,  these  innate  notions  should  lie  open  fairly  to  every  one's 
 view,  as  it  is  certain  the  thoughts  of  children  do.  It  might  very  well  be 
 expected,  that  these  principles  should  be  perfectly  known  to  naturals,  which 
 being  stamped  immediately  on  the  soul  (as  these  men  suppose),  can  have 
 no  dependence  on  the  constitutions  or  organs  of  the  body,  the  only  con- 
 fessed difference  between  them  and  others.  One  would  think,  according 
 to  these  men's  principles,  that  all  these  native  beams  of  light  (were  there 
 any  such)  should  in  those  who  have  uo  reserves,  no  arts  of  concealment, 
 shine  out  in  their  full  lustre,  and  leave  us  in  no  more  doubt  of  their  being 
 there,  than  we  are  of  their  love  of  pleasure  and  abhorrence  of  pain.  But, 
 alas !  among  children,  idiots,  savages,  and  the  grossly  illiterate,  what  gen- 
 eral maxims  are  to  be  found  ]  What  universal  principles  of  knowledge  ] 
 Their  notions  are  few  and  narrow,  borrowed  onlyf  rom  those  objects  they  have 
 had  most  to  do  with,  and  wliich  have  made  upon  their  senses  the  frequentest 
 and  strongest  impressions.  A  child  knows  his  nurse  and  his  cradle,  and  by 
 degrees,  the  playthings  of  a  little  more  advanced  age ;  and  a  young  savage 
 has,  perhaps,  his  head  filled  with  love  and  hunting,  according  to  the  fashion 
 of  nis  tribe.  But  he  that  from  a  child  untaught,  or  a  wild  inhabitant  of  the 
 woods,  would  expect  these  abstract  maxims  and  reputed  principles  of 
 sciences,  will,  I  fear,  find  himself  mistaken.  Such  kind  of  general  propo- 
 sitions are  seldom  mentioned  in  the  huts  of  Indians,  much  less  are  they  to 
 be  found  in  the  thoughts  of  children,  or  any  impressions  of  them  on  the 
 minds  of  naturals.  They  are  the  language  and  business  of  the  schools  and 
 academies  of  learned  nations,  accustomed  to  that  sort  of  conversation  or 
 learning,  where  disputes  are  frequent;  these  maxims  being  suited  to  arti- 
 ficial argumentation,  and  useful  for  conviction,  but  not  much  conducing  to 
 the  discovery  of  truth  or  advancement  of  knowledge.  But  of  their  small  use 
 for  the  improvement  of  knowledge,  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  more  at 
 large,  I.  4,  c.  7. 
 
 Sect.  28.  Recapitulation. — I  know  not  how  absurd  this  may  seem  to 
 the  masters  of  demonstration :  and  probably  it  will  hardly  down  with  any 
 body  at  first  hearing.  I  must  therefore  beg  a  little  truce  with  prejudice, 
 and  the  forbearance  of  censure,  till  I  have  been  heard  out  in  the  sequel  of 
 
Ch.  2.  NO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.  51 
 
 this  discourse,  being  very  willing  to  submit  to  better  judgments.  And  smce 
 I  impartially  search  after  truth,  I  shall  not  be  sorry  to  be  convinced  that  I 
 have  been  too  fond  of  my  own  notions ;  which,  I  confess,  we  are  all  apt  to 
 be,  when  application  and  study  have  warmed  our  heads  with  them. 
 
 Upon  the  whole  matter,  I  cannot  see  any  ground  to  think  these  two 
 speculative  maxims  innate,  since  they  are  not  universally  assented  to ;  and 
 the  assent  they  so  generally  find  is  no  other  than  what  several  propositions, 
 not  allowed  to  be  innate,  equally  partake  in  with  them ;  and  since  the  as- 
 sent that  is  given  them  is  produced  another  way,  and  comes  not  from 
 natural  inscription,  as  I  doubt  not  but  to  make  appear  in  the  following  dis- 
 course. And  if  these  first  principles  of  knowledge  and  science  are  found 
 not  to  be  innate,  no  other  speculative  maxims  can  (I  suppose)  with  better 
 right  pretend  to  be  so. 
 
 CHAPTER  III. 
 
 NO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES. 
 
 Sect.  1.  No  moral  principles  so  clear  and  so  generally  received  as  the 
 forementioned  speculative  maxims. — If  those  specidative  maxims,  whereof 
 we  discoursed  in  the  foregoing  chapter,  have  not  an  actual  universal  assent 
 from  all  mankind,  as  we  there  proved,  it  is  much  more  visible  concerning 
 practical  principles,  that  they  come  short  of  a  universal  reception :  and  I 
 think  it  will  be  hard  to  instance  any  one  moral  rule  which  can  pretend  to 
 so  general  and  ready  an  assent  .as,  "what  is,  is;"  or  to  be  so  manifest  a 
 truth  as  this,  "that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be." 
 Whereby  it  is  evident  that  they  are  farther  removed  from  a  title  to  be  in- 
 nate ;  and  the  doubt  of  their  being  native  impressions  on  the  mind  is  stronger 
 against  those  moral  principles  than  the  other.  Not  that  it  brings  their  truth 
 at  all  in  question :  they  are  equally  true,  though  not  equally  evident.  Those 
 speculative  maxims  carry  their  own  evidence  with  them :  but  moral  princi- 
 ples require  reasoning  and  discourse,  and  some  exercise  of  the  mind,  to  dis- 
 cover the  certainty  of  their  truth.  They  lie  not  open  as  natural  characters 
 engraven  on  the  mind  ;  which,  if  any  such  were,  they  must  needs  be  visible 
 by  themselves,  and  by  their  own  light  be  certain  and  known  to  every  body. 
 But  this  is  no  derogation  to  truth  and  certainty,  no  more  than  it  is  to 
 the  truth  or  certainty  of  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  being  equal  to  two 
 right  ones ;  because  it  is  not  so  evident,  as,  "the  whole  is  bigger  than  a  part ;" 
 nor  so  apt  to  be  assented  to  at  first  hearing.  It  may  suffice,  that  these 
 moral  rules  are  capable  of  demonstration ;  and  therefore  it  is  our  own  fault 
 if  we  come  not  to  a  certain  knowledge  of  them.  But  the  ignorance  wherein 
 many  men  are  of  them,  and  the  slowness  of  assent  wherewith  others  receive 
 them,  are  manifest  proofs  that  they  are  not  innate,  and  such  as  offer  them- 
 selves to  their  view  without  searching. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Faith  and  justice  not  owned  as  principles  by  all  men. — Whether 
 there  be  any  such  moral  principles,  wherein  all  men  do  agree,  I  appeal  to 
 any  who  have  been  but  moderately  conversant  in  the  history  of  mankind, 
 and  looked  abroad  beyond  the  smoke  of  their  own  chimneys.  Where  is 
 that  practical  truth,  that  is  universally  received  without  doubt  or  question, 
 as  it  must  be  if  innate]  Justice,  and  keeping  of  contracts,  is  that  which 
 most  men  seem  to  agree  in.  This  is  a  principle  which  is  thought  to  extend 
 itself  to  the  densof  thieves,  and  the  confederacies  of  the  greatest  villains ;  and 
 they  who  have  gone  farthest  towards  the  putting  off  of  humanity  itself,  keep 
 faith  and  rules  of  justice  one  with  another.  I  grant  that  outlaws  themselves 
 do  this  one  amongst  another ;  but  it  is  without  receiving  these  as  the  innate 
 
52 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.     ^ 
 
 .-i'?^=i^^>Uw»^ 
 
 Book.  1. 
 
 laws  of  nature.  They  practise  them  as  rules  of  convenience  within  their 
 own  coinmunilies :  but  it  is  impossible  to  conceive,  tliathe  embraces  justice 
 as  a  i)ractical  princi])le,  who  acts  fairly  with  his  fellow-higiiwayrnaii,  and 
 at  the  same  time  plunders  or  kills  the  next  honest  man  he  meets  witli.  Jus- 
 tice and  truth  are  the  common  ties  of  society;  and,  therefore,  even  outlaws 
 and  robbers,  who  break  with  all  the  world  besides,  must  keep  faith  and  rules 
 of  equity  among  themselves,  or  else  they  cannot  hold  together.  But  will 
 any  one  say,  that  those  that  live  by  fraud  or  rapine  have  innate  principles 
 of  truth  and  justice  which  they  allow  and  assent  to. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Objection,  Though  men  deny  them  in  their  practice,  yet  they 
 admit  them  in  their  thoughts,  answered. — Perhaps  it  will  be  urged,  that 
 tlie  tacit  assent  of  their  minds  agrees  to  what  their  practice  contradicts. 
 I  answer,  first,  I  have  always  thought  the  actions  of  men  the  best  interpre- 
 ters of  their  thoughts.  But  since  it  is  certain,  that  most  men's  practices, 
 and  some  men's  opeu  professions,  have  either  questioned  or  denied  these  prin- 
 ciples, it  is  impossible  to  establish  an  universal  consent  (though  we  should 
 look  for  it  only  amongst  grown  men,)  without  which  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
 clude them  innate.  Secondly,  it  is  very  strange  and  unreasonable  to  sup- 
 pose innate  practical  principles  that  terminate  only  in  contemplation.  Prac- 
 tical principles  derived  from  nature  are  there  for  operation,  and  must  pro- 
 duce conformity  of  action,  not  barely  speculative  assent  to  their  truth,  or 
 else  they  are  in  vain  distinguished  from  specidative  maxims.|l|  Nature,  I  con- 
 fess, lias  put  into  man  a  desire  of  happiness,  and  an  aversion  to  misery ; 
 tliese  indeed  are  innate  practical  principles,  which  (as  practical  principles 
 ought)  do  continue  constantly  to  operate  and  influence  all  our  actions  with- 
 out ceasing;  these  may  be  observed,  in  all  persons  and  all  ag-es,  steady  and 
 universal;  but  these  are  inclinations  of  the  appetite  to  good,  not  impressions 
 of  truth  on  the  understanding.  I  deny  not  that  there  are  natural  tendencies  ^ 
 imprinted  on  the  minds  of  men ;  and  that,  from  the  very  first  instances  of 
 sense  and  perception,  there  are  some  tilings  that  are  grateful,  and  others  un- 
 welcome to  them ;  some  things  that  they  incline  to,  and  others  that  they 
 fly ;  but  this  makes  nothing  for  innate  characters  on  the  mind,  which  are  to 
 be  the  principles  of  knowledge,  regulating  our  practice.  Such  natural  im- 
 pressions on  the  understanding  are  so  far  fi"om  being  confirmed  hereby,  that 
 this  is  an  argument  against  them ;  since,  if  there  were  certain  characters 
 imprinted  by  nature  on  the  understanding,  as  the  principles  of  knowledge, 
 we  could  not  but  perceive  them  constantly  operate  in  us,  and  influence  our 
 knowledge,  as  we  do  those  others  on  the  will  and  appetite;  which  never 
 cease  to  be  the  constant  springs  and  motives  of  all  our  actions,  to  which  we 
 perpetually  feel  them  strongly  impelling  us. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Moral  rules  need  a  proof,  ergo,  not  innate. — Another  reason 
 that  makes  me  doubt  of  any  innate  practical  principles,  is,  that  I  think 
 there  cannot  any  one  moral  rule  be  proposed,  whereof  a  man  may  not  just- 
 lydemand  a_reason ;  which  would  be  perfectly  ridiculous  and  absurd,  if  they 
 ■WereTnnate,  or  so  much  as  self-evident ;  which  every  innate  principle  must 
 needs  be,  and  not  need  any  proof  to  ascertain  its  truth,  nor  want  any  reason 
 to  gain  it  approbation.  He  would  be  thought  void  of  common  sense,  who 
 asked,  on  the  one  side,  or  on  the  other  side  went  to  give  a  reason,  why  "it 
 is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be."  It  carries  its  own 
 light  and  evidence  with  it,  and  needs  no  other  proof:  he  that  understands  the 
 terms,  assents  to  it  for  its  own  sake,  or  else  nothing  will  ever  be  able  to 
 prevail  with  him  to  do  it.  But  should  that  most  unshaken  rule  of  morality, 
 and  foundation  of  all  social  virtue,  "  that  one  should  do  as  he  would  be 
 done  unto,"  be  proposed  to  one  who  never  heard  it  before,  but  yet  is  of  ca- 
 pacity to  understand  its  meaning,  might  he  not,  without  any  absurdity,  ask 
 a  reason  why  7  And  were  not  he  that  proposed  it  bound  to  make  out  the 
 truth  and  reasonableness  of  it  to  him  7  whicli  plainly  shows  it  not  to  be  in- 
 nate ;  for  if  it  were,  it  could  neither  want  nor  receive  any  proof;  but  must 
 
 « 
 
1 
 
 a' 
 
 V 
 
 Ch.  3  NO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.  53 
 
 needs  (at  least  as  soon  as  heard  and  understood)  be  received  and  assented 
 to,  as  an  unquestionable  truth,  which  a  man  can  by  no  means  doubt  of.  So 
 tliat  tlie  truth  of  all  these  moral  rules  plainly  depends  upon  some  other  an- 
 tecedent to  them,  and  from  which  they  must  be  deduced ;  which  could  not 
 IjeTif  eitlier  they  were  innate,  or  so  much  as  self-evident. 
 \  Sect.  5.  Instance  in  keeping  compacts. — That  men  should  keep  their 
 
 '  compacts,  is  certainly  a  great  and  undeniable  rule  in  morality.     But  yet,  if 
 
 \\  a  Christian,  who  has  the  view  of  happiness  and  misery  in  another  life,  be 
 
 ,  (  asked  why  a  man  must  keep  his  word !  he  will  give  this  as  a  reason ;  Because 
 
 '  God,  who  has  the  power  of  eternal  lite  and  death,  requires  it  of  us.     But  if 
 
 a  Hobbist  be  asked  why,  he  will  answer.  Because  the  public  requires  it, 
 I  and  the  leviathan  will  punish  you  if  you  do  not.     And  if  one  of  the  old       \ 
 
 philosophers  had  been  asked,  he  would  have  answered.  Because  it  was  dis-       fs 
 honest,  below  the  dignity  of  a  man,  and  opposite  to  virtue,  the  highest  per- 
 fection of  human  nature,  to  do  otherwise. 
 
 Sect.  6.   Virtue  generally  approved,  not  because  innate,  but  because  \>^ 
 profitable. — Hence  naturally  flows  the  great  variety  of  opinions  concern-     P 
 ing  moral  rules  which  are  to  be  found  among  men,  according  to  the  differ-      ^ 
 ent  sorts  of  happiness  they  have  a  prospect  of,  or  propose  to  themselves :      ^ 
 j  which  could  not  be,  if  practical  principles  were  innate,  and  imprinted  in  our    ]  ^ 
 
 x^  -.       minds  immediately  by  the  hand  of  God.     I  grant  the  existence  of  God  is  so 
 V^        many  ways  manifest,  and  the  obedience  we  owe  him  so  congruous  to  the 
 ^        light  of  reason,  that  a  great  part  of  mankind  give  testimony  to  the  law  of    j  a^, 
 ;  »>.      nature ;  but  yet  I  think  it  must  be  allowed,  that  several  moral  rules  may  re-    j  i 
 J  I  I  J   ceive  from  mankind  a  very  general  approbation,  without  either  knowing  or  \» 
 ^  !      admitting  the  true  ground  of  morality;  which  can  only  be  the  will  and  law     K 
 .  >  '       of  a  God,  who  sees  men  in  the  dark,  has  in  his  hand  rewards  and  punish-    I  ^ 
 \}        raents,  and  power  enough  to  call  to  account  the  proudest  offender:  for  God    j  ^ 
 y|        having,  by  an  inseparable  connexion,  joined  virtue  and  public  happiness  to- 
 V        gether,  and  made  the  practice  thereof  necessaiy  to  the  preservation  of  society,       ^^^ 
 S.^  '      and  visibly  beneficial  to  all  with  whom  the  virtuous  man  has  to  do,  it  is  no      ^ 
 .' V)        wonder  that  every  one  should  not  only  allow,  but  recommend  and  magnify,      ^ 
 ^i       those  rules  to  others,  from  whose  observance  of  them  he  is  sure  to  reap  ad-       ^ 
 Cjl       vantage  to  himself.     He  may,  out  of  interest  as  well  as  conviction,  cry  up 
 v]_      that  for  sacred,  which,  if  once  trampled  on  and  profaned,  he  himself  cannot 
 f  ,      be  safe  nor  secure.     This,  thougli  it  takes  nothing  from  the  moral  and  eter-  I  Ij^ 
 nal  obligation  which  these  rules  evidently  have,  yet  it  shows  that  the  out-  I   |^   " 
 ward  acknowledgment  men  pay  to  them  in  their  words,  proves  not  that  I    i'^ 
 they  are  innate  principles;  nay,  it  proves  not  so  much  as  that  men  as-        !^ 
 sent  to  them  inwardly  in  their  own  minds,  as  the  inviolable  rules  of  tlieir  own        '^ 
 •  ^i       practice  ;  since  we  find  tliat  self-interest,  and  the  conveniences  of  this  life, 
 \Jj       make  many  men  own  an  outward  profession  and  approbation  of  them,  whose        y 
 ^'       actions  sufficiently  prove  that  they  very  little  consider  the  lawgiver  that        I 
 y       prescribed  these  rules,  nor  the  hell  that  he  has  ordained  for  the  punishment        f 
 J ' .     of  those  that  transgress  them.  ^ 
 
 <\  Sect.  7.  Men's  actions  convince  us  that  the  rule  of  virtue  is  not  their       \ 
 
 n)^         internal  principle. — For  if  we  will  not  in  civility  allow  too  much  sincerity        $  . 
 to  professions  of  most  men,  but  think  their  actions  to  be  the  interpreters  of       \ 
 their  thoughts,  we  shall  find  that  they  have  no  such  internal  veneration  for    (.,   r 
 tji^se  rules,  nor  so  fiiU  a  persuasion  of  their  certainty  and  obligation.     The    ^\-^ 
 J  great  principle  of  morality,  "to  do  as  one  woidd  be  done  to,"  is  more  com-     '^M\^ 
 mended  than  practised.     But  the  breach  of  this  rule  cannot  be  a  greater        v\ 
 vice  than  to  teach  others  that  it  is  no  moral  rule,  nor  obligatory,  would  be        ft 
 
 »>K 
 
 A 
 
 «\  vice   man  uo  leacn  orncrs  rnai  it  is  no  moral  rule,  nor  oDUgatory,  wouiaoe 
 
 \  ^-  thought  madness,  and  contrary  to  that  interest  men  sacrjAe  to,  when  they 
 
 '  )n-eak  it  themselves.     Perhaps  conscience  will  be  urgedw  checking  us  for  \    ' 
 
 I  such  breaches,  and  so   the  internal  obligation  and  establishment  of  the  rule  v 
 
 \J  be  preserved.  V^ 
 
 I*  Sect.  8.    (Jonscienre  no  proof  of  any  innate  moral  rale. — To  which  I  V^ 
 
 ^ 
 
1 
 
 54  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 answer,  that  I  doubt  not  but,  without  being  written  on  their  hearts,  many 
 men  may,  by  tlie  same  way  that  they  come  to  the  knowledge  of  other  things, 
 come  to  assent  to  several  moral  rules,  and  be  convinced  of  their  obligation. 
 Others  also  may  come  to  be  of  the  same  mind,  from  their  education,  com- 
 pany, and  customs  of  their  country ;  wJiicli  persuasion,  however  got,  will 
 serve  to  set  conscience  on  work,  which  is  nothing  else  but  our  own  opinion 
 or  judgment  of  the  moral  rectitude  or  pravity  of  our  own  actions.  And  if 
 conscience  be  a  proof  of  innate  principles,  contraries  may  be  innate  princi- 
 ples ;  since  some  men,  with  the  same  bent  of  conscience,  prosecute  what 
 others  avoid. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Instances  of  enormities  practised  without  remorse. — But  I 
 cannot  see  how  any  men  should  ever  transgress  those  moral  rules,  with 
 conlldence  and  serenity,  were  they  innate,  and  stamped  upon  their  minds. 
 View  but  an  army  at  the  sacking  of  a  town,  and  see  what  observation  or 
 sense  of  moral  principles,  or  what  touch  of  conscience  for  all  the  out- 
 rages they  do.  Robberies,  murders,  rapes,  are  the  sports  of  men  set  at 
 liberty  from  punishment  and  censure.  Ilave  there  not  been  whole  nations, 
 and  those  of  the  most  civilized  people,  amongst  whom  the  exposing  their 
 childi'en,  and  leaving  them  in  the  fields  to  perish  by  want  or  wild  beasts, 
 has  been  the  practice,  as  little  condemned  or  scrupled,  as  the  begetting  them] 
 Do  they  not  still,  in  some  countries,  put  tliem  into  the  same  graves  with 
 their  mothers,  if  they  die  in  childbirth ;  or  despatch  them,  if  a  pretended 
 astrologer  declares  them  to  have  unhappy  stars!  And  are  there  not  places 
 where,  at  a  certain  age,  they  kill  or  expose  their  parents  without  any  re- 
 morse at  all!  In  a  part  of  Asia,  the  sick,  when  their  case  comes  to  bo 
 thought  desperate,  are  carried  out  and  laid  on  the  earth,  before  they  are 
 dead ;  and  left  there,  exposed  to  wind  and  weather,  to  perish  without  as- 
 sistance or  pity(a).  It  is  familiar  among  the  Mingrelians,  a  people  professing 
 Christianity,  to  bury  their  children  alive  without  scruple(i).  There  are 
 places  where  they  geld  their  children(c).  The  Caribbees  were  wont 
 to  geld  their  children,  on  purpose  to  fat  and  eat  them(d).  And  GarcOcisso 
 de  la  Vega  tells  us  of  a  people  in  Peru  which  were  wont  to  fat  and  eat  the 
 children  they  got  on  their  female  captives,  whom  they  kept  as  concubines 
 for  that  purpose ;  and  when  they  were  past  breeding,  the  mothers  them- 
 selves were  killed,  too,  and  eaten(e).  The  virtues  whereby  the  Tououpin- 
 ambos  believed  they  merited  paradise  were  revenge,  and  eating  abundance 
 of  their  enemies.  They  have  not  so  much  as  the  name  of  God(/),  and  havei 
 no  religion,  no  worsliip.  The  saints  who  are  canonized  amongst  the  Turks 
 lead  lives  which  one  cannot  with  modesty  relate.  A  remarkable  passage 
 •to  this  purpose,  out  of  the  voyage  of  Baumgarten,  which  is  a  book  not 
 every  day  to  be  met  with,  I  shall  set  down  at  large  in  the  language  it  is 
 published  in.  Ibi  (sc.  prope  Belbes  in  iEgypto)  vidimus  sanctum  unura 
 Saracenicum  inter  arenarum  cumulos,  ita  ut  ex  utero  matris  prodiit,  nudum 
 sedentem.  Mos  est,  ut  didicimus,  Mahometistis,  ut  eos,  qui  amentes  et 
 sine  ratione  sunt,  pro  Sanctis  colant  et  venerentur.  Insuper  et  eos,  qui  cum 
 diu  vitamegerint  inquinatissimam,  voluntariam  demum  pcenitentiam  et  pau- 
 pertatem,  sanctitate  venerandos  deputant.  Ejusmodi  vero  genus  horninum 
 libertatem  quandam  effriBnem  liabent,  domes  quas  volunt  intrandi,  edendi, 
 bibendi,  et  quod  majus  est,  concumbendi ;  ex  quo  concubitu  si  proles  secuta 
 fuerit,  sancta  similiter  habetur.  His  ergo  hominibus  dum  vivunt,  mag- 
 nos  exhibent  honores;  mortuis  vero  vel  templa  vel  moiiumenta  extruunt 
 amplissima,  eosque  contingere  ac  sepelire  maxima;  fortunse  ducunt  loco. 
 Audivimus  hjec  dicta  et  dicenda  per  interpretem  aMucrelo  nostro.  Insuper 
 sanctum  ilium,  ajem  eo  loco  vidimus,  publicitus  apprime  commendari,  eum 
 
 (a)  Griiber  apud  Thevenot,  part  4,  p.  13.     {b)  Lambert  apud  Thevenot,  p.  38. 
 
 (<■)  Vossiiis  de  Xili  Origine,  c.  IS,  19.         {d)  P.  Mart  Dec.  1. 
 
 (e)  Hist.  <lrs  Incas.  1.  1.  c.  12.  (/)  Lery,  c.  16,  21G    231. 
 
i  1  Ch.  3.             NO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.                  55 
 
 \j  j  esse  hominem  sanctum,  divinum  ac  integritate  praecipuum ;  eo  quod,  nee 
 
 \i  foBminarum  unquam  esset,  nee  puerorum  sed  tantuminodo  as|ellarum  con- 
 
 y  cubitor  atque  mullaruni.     Peregr.  Baumgarten,  1.  2,  e.  I,  p.  73.     More  of 
 
 V  the  same  kind,  concerning  these  precious  saints  among  the  Tui-ks,  may  be 
 nTI  seen  in  Pietro  della  Valle,  in  his  letter  of  the  25th  of  January  1616.     Where 
 
 \  then  are  those  innate  principles  of  justice,  piety,  gratitude,  equity,  chastity  1 
 
 \  '  Or,  where  is  that  universal  consent,  that  assures  us  there  are  such  inbred 
 
 r  rules  1     Murders  in  duels,  when  fashion  has  made  them  honourable,  are 
 
 I  committed  without  remorse  of  conscience ;  nay,  in  many  places,  innocence 
 
 ^  in  this  case  is  the  greatest  ignominy.     And  if  we  look  abroad,  to  take  a 
 
 .  ^\  view  of  men  as  they  are,  we  shall  find  that  they  have  remorse  in  one  place, 
 
 ^  for  doing  or  omitting  that  which  others,  in  another  place,  think  they  merit  by. 
 
 T  Sect.  10.  Me7i  have  contrary  practical  principles. — He  that  will  care- 
 
 i  fully  peruse  the  history  of  mankind,  and  look  abroad  into  the  several  tribes 
 
 '  of  men,  and  with  indifference  survey  their  actions,  will  be  able  to  satisfy 
 
 \  himself  that  there  is  scarce  that  principle  of  morality  to  be  named,  or  rule 
 
 V  of  virtue  to  be  thought  on,  (those  only  excepted  that  are  absolutely  neces- 
 sary to  hold  society  together,  which  commonly,  too,  are  neglected  betwixt 
 
 "^JJ  distinct  societies,)  which  is  not,  somewhere  or  other,  slighted  and  con- 
 
 1  i  demned  by  the  general  fashion  of  whole  societies  of  men,  governed  by 
 
 '  J  practical  opinions  and  rules  of  living  quite  opposite  to  others. 
 
 ^i  Sect.  11.  Whole  nations  reject  several  moral  rules. — Here,  perhaps,  it 
 
 \  will  be  objected,  that  it  is  no  argument  that  the  rule  is  not  known,  because 
 
 it  is  broken.     I  grant  the  objection  good  where  men,  though  they  transgress, 
 
 yet  disown  not  the  law ;  where  fear  of  shame,  censure,  or  punishment,  car- 
 
 i  ries  the  mark  of  some  awe  it  has  upon  them.     But  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
 
 ^  ceive  that  a  whole  nation  of  men  should  all  publicly  reject  and  renounce 
 
 what  every  one  of  them,  certainly  and  infallibly,  knew  to  be  a  law ;  for  so 
 
 p  they  must,  who  have  it  naturally  imprinted  on  their  minds.     It  is  possible 
 
 6  i  men  may  sometimes  own  rules  of  morality,  which,  in  their  private  thoughts, 
 
 0 '  they  do  not  believe  to  be  true,  only  to  keep  themselves  in  reputation  and 
 
 (K^  esteem  among  those  who  are  persuaded  of  their  obligation.     But  it  is  not 
 
 .  tj  to  be  imagined  that  a  whole  society  of  men  should  publicly  and  professed- 
 
 ^  ly  disown  and  cast  off  a  rule,  which  they  could  not,  in  their  own  minds, 
 
 ^  but  be  infallibly  certain  was  a  lavv ;  nor  be  ignorant  that  all  men  they  should 
 
 (  have  to  do  with  knew  it  to  be  such :  and  therefore  must  every  one  of  them 
 
 sV  apprehend  irom  others  all  the  contempt  and  abhorrence  due  to  one  who 
 
 ^,  professes  himself  void  of  humanity :  and  one,  who,  confounding  the  known 
 
 *  and  natural  measures  of  right  and  wrong,  cannot  but  be  looked  on  as  the 
 
 J  professed  enemy  of  their  peace  and  happiness.  ^'Whatever  practical  prin- 
 
 ji  ciplejs  innate,  cannot  but  be  known  to  every  one  to  be  just  and  good^    It  is 
 
 NS  therefore  little  less  than  a  contradiction  to  suppose  that  whole  nations  of 
 
 men  should,  both  in  their  professions  and  practice,  unanimously  and  uni- 
 
 X^J  versally  give  the  lie  to  what,  by  the  most  invincible  evidence,  every  one  of 
 
 "•4  them  knew  to  be  true,  right,  and  good.     This  is  enough  to  satisfy  us  that 
 
 i  no  practical  rule,  which  is  any  where  universally,  and  with  public  approba- 
 
 \  tion  or  allowance,  transgressed,  can  be  supposed  innate.     But  I  have  some- 
 
 J ,  thing  further  to  add,  in  answer  to  this  objection. 
 
 \J !  Sect.  12.  The  breaking  of  a  rule,  say  you,  is  no  argument  that  it  is 
 
 '*'  unknown.     I  grant  it:  but  the  generally  allowed  breach  of  it   anywhere, 
 
 k  I  say,  is  a  proof  that  it  is  not  innate.     For  example,  let  us  take  any  of  these 
 
 c  rules,  which  being  the  most  obvious  deductions  of  human  reason,  and  con- 
 
 f  formable  to  the  natural  inclination  of  the  greatest  part  of  men,   fewest 
 
 \  people  have  had  the  impudence  to  deny,  or  inconsideration  to  doubt  of. 
 
 K  If  any  can  be  thought  to  be  naturally  imprinted,  none,  I  think,  can  have  a 
 
 vj  fairer  pretence  to  be  innate  than  this;  "  parents  preserve  and  cherish  your 
 
 ^  children."     When,  therefore,  you  say  that  this  is  an  innate  rule,  what  do 
 
 you  mean  ?     Either  that  it  is  an  innate  principle,  which  upon  all  occasions 
 
^ 
 
 58  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 excites  and  directs  the  actions  of  all  men;  or  else,  that  it  is  a  tnith,  which 
 all  men  have  imprinted  on  their  minds,  and  which  therefore  they  know  and 
 assent  to.     JJiit  in  neither  of  these  senses  is  it  innate.     First,  that  it  is 
 not  a  principle  which  intUicnces  all  men's  actions,  is  what  I  have  proved 
 by  the  examples  betbre  cited :  nor  need  we  seek  so  far  as  Mingrelia  or 
 Peru  to  find  instances  of  snch  as  neglect,  abuse,  nay,  and  destroy  their  chil- 
 dren; or  look  on  it  only  as  the  more  than  brutality  of  some  savage  and 
 barbarous  nations,  when  we  remember  that  it  was  a  familiar  and  uncon- 
 dcmned  practice  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans  to  expose,  without  pity 
 or  remorse,  their  innocent  infants.     Secondly,  that  it  is  an  innate  truth, 
 known  to  all  men,  is  also  false.     For  "  parents,  preserve  your  children," 
 is  so  far  jrom  an  innate  truth,  that  it  is  no  truth  at  all:  it  being  a  com- 
 mand, and  not  a  proposition,  and  so  not  capable  of  truth  or  falsehood.     To 
 make  it  ca;ial)le  of  being  assented  to  as  true,  it  must  be  reduced  to  some 
 such  propositions  as  this:  "it  is  the  duty  of  parents  to  preserve  their  cliil-    y^ 
 dren."     But  wliat  duty  is,  cannot  bo  understood  without  a  law ;  nar^Uwy  » 
 be  known,  or  sr.j)posed,  without  a  lawjiiaker,  or  without  reward  and  punish-      i^. 
 raent;  so  that  it  is  impossible  that  tliisTTjt'-any  other  practical  principle,      j, 
 should  bo  innate,  i.  c.  be  imprinted  on  the  mind  as  ^duty;,  without  suppos-      ^ 
 ing  the  ideas  of  God,  of  law,  of  obligation,  of  punishmeritvof  a  life  after      V 
 this,  innate.  For  that  punishment  follows  not,  in  this  life,  the  Breach  of  this      * 
 rule,  and  consequently,  that  it  has  not  the  force  of  a  law  in  countries  where      I 
 the  generally  allowed  practice  runs  counter  to  it,  is  in  itself  evident.     But 
 these  ideas  (which  nmst  be  all  of  them  innate,  if  any  thing  as  a  duty  be  so)~~  ., 
 are  so  far  from  being  innate,  that  it  is  not  every  studious  or  thinking  man,        ^^ 
 much  less  every  one  that  is  born,  in  whom  they  are  to  be  found  clear  and       .T 
 distinct:  and  that  one  of  them,  which  of  all  others  seems  most  likely  to  be       K 
 innate,  is  not  so  (I  mean  the  idea  of  God)  I  think,  in  the  next  chapter,       '^ 
 will  appear  very  evident  to  any  considering  man.  ^ 
 
 —   Sect.  13.  From  what  has  been  said,  I  think  we  may  safely  conclude,       (^ 
 that  whatever  practical  rule  is,  in  any  place,  generally,  and  with  allowance,      |\ 
 broken,  cannot  be  supposed  innate:   it  being  impossible  that  men  should,       * 
 without  shame  or  fear,  confidently  and  serenely  break  a  rule,  which  they      !  ^ 
 could  not  but  evidently  know  that  God  had  set  up,  and  would  certainly      '  '^ 
 punish  the  breach  of  (which  they  must,  if  it  were  innate)  to  a  degree  to       ** 
 make  it  a  very  ill  bargain  to  the  transgressor.     Without  such  a  knowledge 
 as  this,  a  man  can  never  be  certain  that  an}^  thing  is  his  duty.     Ignorance,       > 
 or  doubt  of  the  law,  hopes  to  escape  the  knowledge  or  power  of  the  law-         ^ 
 maker,  or  the  like,  may  malce  men  give  way  to  a  present  appetite ;  but       '.> 
 let  any  one  see  the  fault,  and  the  rod  by  it,  and  with  the  transgression  a       f.]^ 
 fire  .ready  to  punish  it ;  a  pleasure  tempting,  and  the  hand  of  the  Almighty       .^' 
 visibly  held  up,  and  prepared  to  take  vengeance  (for  this  must  be  the  case,        ^^ 
 where  any  duty  is  imprinted  on  the  mind ;)  and  then  tell  me  whether  it  be       } 
 possible  for  people,  with  such  a  prospect,  such  a  certain  knowledge  as  this,        " 
 wantonly,  and  without  scruple,  to  offend  against  a  law  which  they  carry       •  "^ 
 about  them  in  indelible  characters,  and  that  stares  them  in  the  face  whilst 
 they  are  breaking  it  ]    Whether  men,  at  the  same  time  that  they  feel  in  them- 
 selves the  imprinted  edicts  of  an  omnipotent  lawmaker,  can  with  assurance 
 and  gaiety  slight  and  trample  under  foot  his  most  sacred  injunctions?     And 
 lastly,  whether  it  be  possible,  that  whilst  a  man  thus  openly  bids  defiance 
 to  this  innate  law  and  supreme  lawgiver,  all  the  by-standers,  yea,  even  the 
 governors  and  riders  of  the  people,  full  of  the  same  sense  both  of  the  law 
 and  law-maker,  should  silently  connive,  without  testifying  their  dislike,  or 
 laying  the  least  blame  on  if!     Principles  of  actions  indeed  there  are  lodged 
 in  men's  appetites,  but  these  are  so  far  from  being  innate  moral  principles, 
 that,  if  they  uere  left  to  their  full  swing,  they  woidd  carry  men  to  the  over- 
 turniug  of  all  morality.     Moral  laws  are  set  as  a  curb  and  restraint  to  these 
 exorbitant  desires,  which  they  cannot  be  but  by  rewards  and  punishments,  that 
 
Ch.  3.  NO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.  57 
 
 will  overbalance  the  satisfaction  any  one  shall  propose  to  himself  in  the 
 breach  of  the  law.  If,  therefore,  any  thing  be  imprinted  on  the  mind  of  all 
 men  as  a  law,  all  men  must  have  a  certain  and  unavoidable  knowledge  that 
 certain  and  unavoidable  punishment  will  attend  the  breach  of  it.  For  if 
 men  can  be  ignorant  or  doubtful  of  what  is  innate,  innate  principles  are  in- 
 sisted on  and  urged  to  no  purpose ;  truth  and  certainty  (the  things  pretended) 
 are  not  at  all  secured  by  them ;  but  men  are  in  the  same  uncertain  floating 
 estate  with  as  withoutthem.  An  evident  indubitable  knowledge  of  unavoida- 
 ble punislmient,  great  enough  to  make  the  transgression  very  uneligible,  must 
 accompany  an  innate  law ;  unless,  with  an  innate  law,  they  can  suppose  an 
 innate  gospel  too.  1  would  not  be  here  mistaken,  as  if,  because  I  deny  an 
 innate  law,  I  thought  there  were  none  but  positive  laws.  There  is  a  great 
 deal  of  difference  between  an  innate  law,  and  a  law  of  nature ;  between 
 sometliing  imprinted  on  our  minds  in  their  very  original,  and  something 
 that  we  being  ignorant  of,  may  attain  to  the  knowledge  of  by  the  use  and 
 due  application  of  our  natural  faculties.  And  I  think  they  equally  forsake  the 
 truth,  who,  running  into  contrary  extremes,  either  ailirm  an  innate  law,  or 
 deny  that  there  is  a  law  knowable  by  the  light  of  nature,  i.  e.  without  the 
 help  of  positive  revelation. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Those  who  maintain  innate  jwaciical  principles,  tell  us  not 
 what  they  are. — The  difterence  there  is  among  men  in  their  practical  prin- 
 ciples is  so  evident,  that,  I  think,  I  need  say  no  more  to  evince  that  it  will 
 be  impossible  to  find  any  innate  moral  rules  by  this  mark  of  general  assent: 
 and  it  is  enough  to  make  one  suspect  that  the  supposition  of  such  innate 
 principles  is  but  an  opinion  taken  up  at  pleasure;  since  those  who  talk  so 
 confidently  of  t!icm  are  so  sparing  to  tell  us  whicli  they  are.  This  might 
 with  justice  be  expected  from  those  men  who  lay  stress  upon  this  opinion; 
 and  it  gives  occasion  to  distrust  either  their  knowledge  or  charity,  who, 
 declaring  that  God  has  imprinted  on  the  minds  of  men  the  foundations  of 
 knowledge,  and  the  rules  of  living,  are  yet  so  little  favourable  to  the  infor- 
 mation of  their  neighbours,  or  the  quiet  of  mankind,  as  not  to  point  out 
 to  them  which  they  are,  in  the  variety  men  are  distracted  with.  But, 
 in  truth,  were  there  any  such  innate  principles,  there  would  be  no  need  to 
 teach  them.  Did  men  find  such  innate  propositions  stamped  on  their  minds, 
 they  would  easily  be  able  to  distinguish  them  from  other  trutlis,  that  they 
 afterwards  learned  and  deduced  from  them ;  and  there  would  be  nothing 
 more  easy  than  to  know  what,  and  how  many,  they  were.  There  could  be 
 no  more  doubt  about  their  number  than  there  is  about  the  number  of  our 
 fingers ;  and  it  is  like  then  every  system  would  be  ready  to  give  them  us 
 by  tale.  But  since  nobody,  that  I  know,  has  yet  ventured  to  give  a  cata- 
 logue of  them,  they  cannot  blame  those  who  doubt  of  these  innate  principles; 
 since  even  they  v/ho  require  men  to  believe  that  there  are  such  innate 
 propositions,  do  not  tell  us  what  they  are.  It  is  easy  to  foresee,  that  if 
 different  men  of  different  sects  should  go  about  to  give  us  a  list  of  those 
 innate  practical  principles,  they  would  set  down  only  such  as  suited  their 
 distinct  hypotheses,  and  were  fit  to  support  the  doctrines  of  their  particu- 
 lar schools  or  churches ;  a  plain  evidence  that  there  are  no  such  innate 
 truths.  Nay,  a  great  part  of  men  are  so  far  from  finding  any  such  innate 
 moral  principles  in  themselves,  that  by  denying  freedom  to  mankind,  and 
 thereby  making  men  no  other  than  bare  machines,  they  take  away  not  only  j 
 innate,  but  all  moral  rules  whatsoever,  and  leave  not  a  possibility  to  believe  j 
 any  such,  to  those  who  cannot  conceive  how  any  thing  can  be  capable  of  i 
 a  law  that  is  not  a  free  agent ;  and,  upon  that  gi'ound,  they  must  necessa-  .' 
 rily  reject  all  principles  of  virtue,  who  cannot  put  morality  and  mechanism 
 together ;  which  are  not  very  easy  to  be  reconciled  or  made  consistent. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Lord  Herbert's  innate  principles  examined. — When  I  had 
 writ  this,  being  informed  that  my  lord  Herbert  had,  in  his  book  De  Veritate, 
 assigned  these  innate  principles,  I  presently  coa:  ulted  him,  hoping  to  find, 
 H 
 
58  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 in  a  man  of  so  great  parts,  something  that  might  satisfy  me  in  this  point, 
 and  put  an  end  to  my  inquiry.  In  his  cliapter  oe  Instinctu  Naturali,  p.  7ii, 
 edit.  165G,  I  met  with  these  six  marlis  of  his  Notitiic  Communes  :  1.  Prioritas. 
 2.  Independentia.  3.  Universahtas.  4.  Certitudo.  5.  Ncccssitas,  i.  e. 
 as  he  explains  it,  faciunt  ad  liominis  conservationem.  6.  Modus  conforma- 
 tionis,  i.  e.  Assensus  imlla  interposita  mora.  And  at  the  latter  end  of  his 
 little  treatise,  De  Religione  Laici,  lie  says  this  of  these  innate  principles : 
 Adeo  ut  non  uniuscujusvis  roligionis  confinio  arctcntur  que  ubique  vigcnt 
 veritates.  Sunt  enim  in  ipsa  mente  ccclitus  dcscriptcc,  nullisquetraditioni- 
 bus,  sive  scriptis,  sive  non  scri])tis,  obnoxifc,  p.  3.  And  "  Veritates  nostra) 
 catholicjB  quffi  tanquam  indubia  Dei  effata  in  foro  interiori  descriptse.  Thus 
 having  given  the  marks  of  the  innate  principles,  or  common  notions,  and 
 asserted  their  being  imprinted  on  the  minds  of  men  by  the  hand  of  God,  he 
 proceeds  to  set  them  down,  and  they  are  these  :  1.  Esse  aliquod  supremum 
 numen.  2.  Numen  illud  coli  debere.  3.  Virtutem  cum  pietate  conjunc- 
 tam  optiman  esse  rationem  cultus  divini.  4.  Ilesipiscendum  esse  a  pecca- 
 tis.  5.  Dari  prajmimii  vel  poenam  post  hanc  vitam  transactam.  Though 
 I  allow  these  to  be  clear  truths,  and  such  as,  if  rightly  explained,  a  rational 
 creature  can  hardly  avoid  giving  his  assent  to ;  yet  I  think  he  is  far  from 
 proving  them  innate  impressions  "  in  foro  interiori  descriptae."  For  I  must 
 take  leave  to  observe, 
 
 Sect.  10.  First,  that  these  five  propositions  are  either  not  all,  or  more  than 
 all,  those  common  notions  writ  on  our  minds  by  the  finger  of  God,  if  it 
 were  reasonable  to  believe  any  at  all  to  be  so  written :  since  there  are  other 
 propositions,  which,  even  by  his  own  rules,  have  as  just  a  pretence  to  such 
 an  original,  and  may  be  as  well  admitted  for  innate  principles,  as  at  least 
 some  of  these  five  he  enumerates,  viz.  "  do  as  thou  wouldst  be  done  unto;" 
 and  perhaps  some  hundreds  of  others,  when  well  considered. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Secondly,  that  all  his  marks  are  not  to  be  found  in  each  of 
 liis  five  propositions,  viz.  his  first,  second,  and  third  marks  agree  perfectly 
 to  neither  of  them ;  and  the  first,  second,  third,  fourth,  and  sixth  marks 
 agree  but  ill  to  his  third,  fourth,  and  fifth  propositions.  For  besides  that 
 we  are  assured  firom  history  of  many  men,  nay,  whole  nations,  who  doubt 
 or  disbelieve  some  or  all  of  them,  I  cannot  see  how  the  third,  viz.  "  that 
 virtue  joined  with  piety  is  the  best  worship  of  God,"  can  be  an  innate  prin- 
 ciple, when  the  name  or  sound,  virtue,  is  so  hard  to  be  understood ;  liable 
 to  so  much  uncertainty  in  its  signification  ;  and  the  thing  it  stands  for  so 
 much  contended  about,  and  difficult  to  be  known.  And  therefore  this  can 
 be  but  a  very  uncertain  rule  of  human  practice,  and  serve  but  very 
 little  to  the  conduct  of  our  lives,  and  is  therefore  very  unfit  to  be  assign- 
 ed as  an  innate  practical  principle. 
 
 Sect.  18.  For  let  us  consider  this  proposition  as  to  its  meaning  (for  it 
 is  the  sense,  and  not  sound,  that  is  and  must  be  the  principle  or  common 
 notion,)  viz.  "  virtue  is  the  best  worship  of  God;"  i.  e.  is  most  acceptable 
 to  him ;  which,  if  virtue  be  taken,  as  most  commonly  it  is,  for  those  actions 
 which,  according  to  the  different  opinions  of  several  countries,  are  accoun- 
 ted laudable,  will  be  a  proposition  so  far  from  being  certain,  that  it  will 
 not  be  true.  If  virtue  be  taken  for  actions  conformable  to  God's  will, 
 or  to  the  rule  prescribed  by  God,  which  is  the  true  and  only  measure 
 of  virtue,  when  virtue  is  used  to  signify  what  is  in  its  own  nature  right 
 and  good  :  then  this  proposition,  "  that  virtue  is  the  best  worship  of  God," 
 will  be  most  true  and  certain,  but  of  very  little  use  m  human  life  :  since  it 
 will  amount  to  no  more  but  this,  viz.  "  that  God  is  pleased  with  the  doing 
 of  what  he  commands;"  which  a  man  may  certainly  know  to  be  true,  with- 
 out knowing  what  it  is  that  God  doth  command ;  and  so  be  as  far  from 
 any  rule  or  principle  of  liis  actions  as  he  was  before.  And  I  think  very 
 few  will  take  a  proposition  which  amounts  to  no  more  than  this,  viz. 
 "  that  God  is  pleased  with  tlie  doing  of  what  he  himself  commands,"  for 
 
Ch.  3.  NO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.  59 
 
 an  innate  moral  principle  writ  on  the  minds  of  all  men  (however  true 
 and  certain  it  may  be,)  since  it  teaches  so  little.  Whosoever  does  so, 
 will  have  reason  to  think  hundreds  of  propositions  innate  principles  ;  since 
 there  are  many  which  have  as  good  a  title  to  be  received  for  such,  which 
 nobody  yet  ever  put  into  that  rank  of  innate  principles. 
 
 Sect.  19.  Nor  is  the  fourth  proposition  (viz.  "  men  must  repent  of  their 
 sins")  much  more  instructive,  till  what  those  actions  are  that  are  meant  by 
 sins  be  set  down.  For  the  word  peccata,  or  sins,  being  put,  as  it  usually  is,  to 
 signify  in  general  ill  actions,  that  will  draw  punishment  upon  the  doers, 
 what  great  principle  of  morality  can  that  be,  to  tell  us  we  should  be  sorry, 
 and  cease  to  do  that  which  will  bring  mischief  upon  us,  without  knowing 
 what  those  particular  actions  are,  that  will  do  so  I  Indeed,  this  is  a  very 
 true  proposition,  and  lit  to  be  inculcated  on,  and  received  by  those,  who 
 are  supposed  to  have  been  taught,  what  actions  in  all  kinds  are  sins ;  but 
 neither  this  nor  the  former  can  be  imagined  to  be  innate  principles,  nor 
 to  be  of  any  use,  if  they  were  innate,  unless  the  particular  measures  and 
 bounds  of  all  virtues  and  vices  were  engraven  in  men's  minds,  and 
 were  innate  principles  also  ;  which  I  tliink  is  very  much  to  be  doubted. 
 And,  therefore,  I  imagine  it  will  scarce  seem  possible  that  God  should  en- 
 grave principles  in  men's  minds,  in  words  of  uncertain  signification,  such 
 as  virtues  and  sins,  which,  among  different  men,  stand  for  different  things  ; 
 nay,  it  cannot  be  supposed  to  be  in  words  at  all ;  which,  being  in  most  of 
 these  principles  very  general  names,  cannot  be  understood,  but  by  knowing 
 the  particulars  comprehended  under  them.  And,  in  tlie  practical  instances, 
 the  measures  must  be  taken  from  the  knowledge  of  the  actions  themselves, 
 and  the  rules  of  them,  abstracted  fi'om  words,  and  antecedent  to  the  know- 
 ledge of  names  ;  v/hich  rules  a  man  must  know,  what  language  soever  he 
 chance  to  learn,  whether  English  or  Japanese,  or  if  he  should  learn  no  lan- 
 guage at  all,  or  never  should  understand  the  use  of  words,  as  happens  in 
 the  case  of  dumb  and  deaf  men.  When  it  shall  be  made  out  that  men 
 ignorant  of  words,  or  untaught  by  the  laws  and  customs  of  their  country, 
 know  that  it  is  part  of  the  worship  of  God  not  to  kill  another  man  ;  not  to 
 know  more  women  than  one ;  not  to  procure  abortion ;  not  to  ex- 
 pose their  childi-en ;  not  to  take  fi-om  another  what  is  his,  though 
 we  want  it  ourselves,  but,  on  the  contrary,  relieve  and  supply  his 
 wants  ;  and  whenever  we  have  done  the  contrary  we  ought  to  repent, 
 be  sorry,  and  resolve  to  do  so  no  more  :  when,  I  say,  all  men  shall  be  proved 
 actually  to  know  and  allow  all  these,  and  a  thousand  other  such  rules,  all 
 which  come  under  these  two  general  words  made  use  of  above,  viz.  "  virtues 
 et  peccata,"  virtues  and  sins,  there  will  be  more  reason  for  admitting  these 
 and  the  like  for  common  notions  and  practical  principles.  Yet,  after  all, 
 universal  consent  (were  there  any  in  moral  principles)  to  truths,  the  know- 
 ledge whereof  may  be  attained  otherwise,  would  scarce  prove  them  innate  ; 
 which  is  all  I  contend  for. 
 
 Sect.  20.  Obj. — innate  princifles  may  he  comipted,  answered. — Nor 
 wUl  it  be  of  much  moment  here  to  offer  that  very  ready,  but  not  very  ma- 
 terial answer,  (viz.)  that  the  innate  principles  of  morality  may,  by  education 
 and  custom,  and  the  general  opinion  of  those  among  whom  we  converse, 
 be  darkened,  and  at  last  quite  worn  out  of  the  minds  of  men.  Which  as- 
 sertion of  theirs,  if  true,  quite  takes  away  the  argument  of  universal  consent, 
 by  which  this  opinion  of  innate  principles  is  endeavoured  to  be  proved ;  un- 
 less those  men  will  tliink  it  reasonable  that  their  private  persuasions,  or  that 
 of  their  party,  should  pass  for  universal  consent :  a  thing  not  unfrequently 
 done,  when  men,  presuming  themselves  to  be  the  only  masters  of  right  rea- 
 son, cast  by  the  votes  and  opinions  of  the  rest  of  mankind  as  not  worthy  the 
 reckoning.  And  then  their  argument  stands  tiuis:  "the  principles  which 
 all  mankind  allow  for  true  are  innate ;  those  that  men  of  right  reason  admit, 
 are  the  principles  allowed  by  all  maukiud ;  we,  and  tho.se  of  our  mind,  are 
 
60  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 men  of  roason;  therefore,  we  agreeing,  our  principles  are  innate ;"  which  is 
 a  very  pretty  way  of  arguing,  and  a  short  cut  to  infallibility.  For  other- 
 wise it  will  be  hard  to  understand,  how  there  be  some  principles  which  all 
 men  do  acknowledge  and  agree  in;  and  yet  there  are  none  of  those  princi- 
 ples, which  are  not  by  depraved  custom  and  ill  education  blotted  out  of  the 
 minds  of  many  men ;  which  is  to  say,  that  all  men  admit,  but  yet  many  men 
 do  deny  and  dissent  from  them.  And  indeed  the  supposition  of  such  first 
 principles  will  serve  us  to  very  litle  purpose ;  and  we  shall  be  as  much  at  a 
 loss  with  as  without  them,  if  they  may,  by  any  human  power,  such  as  the 
 will  of  our  teachers,  or  opinions  of  our  companions,  be  altered  or  lost  in  us . 
 and  notwithstanding  all  this  boast  of  first  principles  and  innate  light,  we 
 shall  be  as  much  in  the  dark  and  uncertainty,  as  if  there  were  no  such  thing 
 at  all :  it  being  all  one,  to  have  no  rule,  and  one  that  will  warp  any  way ; 
 or,  among  various  and  contrary  rules,  not  to  know  which  is  the  right.  But 
 concerning  innate  principles,  I  desire  these  men  to  say,  whether  they  can, 
 or  cannot,  by  education  and  custom,  be  blurred  and  blotted  out:  if  they  can- 
 not, we  must  find  them  in  all  mankind  alike,  and  they  must  be  clear  in  every 
 body :  and  if  they  may  suifer  variation  irom  adventitious  notions,  we  must 
 then  find  them  clearest  and  most  perspicuous  nearest  the  fountain,  in  chil- 
 dren and  illiterate  people,  who  have  received  least  impressions  from  foreign 
 opinions.  Let  them  take  which  side  they  please,  they  will  certainly  find 
 it  inconsistent  with  visible  matter  of  fact  and  daily  observation. 
 
 Sect.  21.  Contrary  principles  in  the  world. — I  easily  grant  that  there 
 are  great  numbers  of  opinions,  which  by  men  of  different  countries,  educa- 
 tions, and  tempers,  are  received  and  embraced  as  first  and  unquestionable 
 principles;  many  whereof,  both  for  their  absurdity,  as  well  as  oppositions 
 to  one  another,  it  is  impossible  should  be  true.  But  yet  all  those  proposi- 
 tions, how  remote  soever  from  reason,  are  so  sacred  somewhere  or  other, 
 that  men,  even  of  good  understanding  in  other  matters,  will  sooner  part 
 with  their  lives,  and  whatever  is  dearest  to  them,  than  suffer  themselves  to 
 doubt,  or  others  to  question,  the  truth  of  them.  •  ■ 
 
 Sect.  22.  How  men  commonly  come  by  their  principles. — Tliis,  however 
 strange  it  may  seem,  is  that  which  every  day's  experience  confirms ;  and 
 will  not,  perhaps,  appear  so  wonderfiil,  if  we  consider  the  ways  and  steps 
 by  which  it  is  brought  about ;  and  how  really  it  may  come  to  pass,  that  doc- 
 trines that  have  been  derived  firom  no  better  original  than  the  superstition 
 of  a  nurse,  or  the  authority  of  an  old  woman,  may,  by  length  of  time  and 
 consent  of  neighbours,  grow  up  to  the  dignity  of  principles  in  religion  or 
 morality.  For  such  who  are  carefiil  (as  they  call  it)  to  principle  children 
 well  (and  few  there  be  who  have  not  a  set  of  those  principles  for  them, 
 which  they  believe  in)  instil  into  the  imwary,  and  as  yet  unprejudiced  im- 
 derstanding  (for  white  paper  receives  any  characters,)  those  doctrines  they 
 would  have  them  retain  and  profess.  These  being  taught  them  as  soon  as 
 they  have  any  apprehension,  and  still  as  they  grow  up  confirmed  to  them, 
 either  by  the  open  profession,  or  tacit  consent,  of  all  they  have  to  do  with : 
 or  at  least  by  those  of  whose  wisdom,  knowledge,  and  piety,  they  have  an 
 opinion,  who  never  suffer  those  propositions  to  be  otherwise  mentioned, 
 but  as  the  basis  and  foundation  on  which  they  build  their  religion  and  man- 
 ners ;  come,  by  these  means,  to  have  the  reputation  of  unquestionable,  self- 
 evident,  and  innate  truths. 
 
 Sect.  23.  To  which  we  may  add,  that  when  men,  so  instructed,  are 
 grown  up,  and  reflect  on  their  own  minds,  they  cannot  find  any  thing  more 
 ancient  there  than  those  opinions  which  were  taught  them  before  their  me- 
 mory began  to  keep  a  register  of  their  actions,  or  date  the  time  when  any  new 
 thing  appeared  to  them  ;  and  therefore  make  no  scruple  to  conclude,  that 
 those  propositions,  of  whose  knowledge  they  can  find  in  themselves  no  ori- 
 ginal, were  certainly  the  impress  of  God  and  nature  upon  their  minds,  and 
 not  taught  them  by  any  one  else.    These  they  entertain  and  submit  to,  as 
 
Ch.  3.  NO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.  61 
 
 many  do  to  their  parents,  with  veneration  ;  not  because  it  is  natural ;  nor 
 do  children  do  it  where  they  are  not  so  taught ;  bat  because,  having  been 
 always  so  educated,  and  having  no  remembrance  of  the  beginning  of  this 
 respect,  they  think  it  is  natural. 
 
 Sect.  24.  This  will  appear  very  likely,  and  almost  unavoidably  to  come 
 to  pass,  if  we  consider  the  nature  of  mankind,  and  the  constitution  of  hu- 
 man affairs ;  wherein  most  men  cannot  live  without  employing  their  time 
 in  the  daUy  labours  of  their  calling;  nor  be  at  quiet  in  their  minds  without 
 some  foundation  or  principle  to  rest  their  thoughts  on.  There  is  scarce 
 any  one  so  floating  and  superficial  in  his  understanding,  who  hath  not  some 
 reverenced  propositions,  which  are  to  him  the  principles  on  which  he  bot- 
 toms his  reasonings ;  and  by  which  he  judgeth  of  truth  and  falsehood,  right 
 and  wrong  :  which  some,  wanting  skiU  and  leisure,  and  others  the  inclina- 
 tion, and  some  being  taught  that  they  ought  not  to  examine,  there  are  few 
 to  be  found  who  are  not  exposed  by  their  ignorance,  laziness,  education,  or 
 precipitancy,  to  take  them  upon  trust. 
 
 Sect.  25.  This  is  evidently  the  case  of  all  children  and  yoimgfolk  ,  and 
 cuBtopi,  a  greater  power  than  nature,  seldom  failing  to  make  them  worship 
 for  divine  what  she  hath  inured  thera  to  bow  their  minds  and  submit 
 their  understandings  to,  it  is  no  wonder  that  grown  men,  either  perplexed 
 in  the  necessary  affairs  of  life,  or  hot  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasures,  should 
 not  seriously  sit  down  to  examine  their  own  tenets ;  especially  when  one 
 of  their  principles  is,  that  principles  ought  not  to  be  questioned.  And  had 
 men  leisure,  parts,  and  will,  who  is  there  almost  that  dare  shake  the  fomi- 
 dations  of  all  his  past  thoughts  and  actions,  and  endure  to  bring  upon  him- 
 self the  shame  of  having  been  a  long  time  wholly  in  mistake  and  error? 
 Who  is  there  hardy  enough  to  contend  with  the  reproach  which  is  every 
 where  prepared  for  those  who  dare  venture  to  dissent  from  the  received 
 opinions  of  their  country  or  party  I  And  where  is  the  man  to  be  found 
 that  can  patiently  prepare  himself  to  bear  the  name  of  whimsical,  skeptical, 
 or  atheist,  which  he  is  sure  to  meet  with,  who  does  in  the  least  scruple  any 
 of  the  common  opinions  f  And  he  will  be  much  more  afraid  to  question 
 those  principles,  when  he  shall  think  them,  as  most  men  do,  the  standards 
 set  up  by  God  in  his  mind,  to  be  the  rule  and  touchstone  of  all  other  opin- 
 ions. And  what  can  hinder  him  from  thinking  them  sacred,  when  he  finds 
 them  the  earliest  of  his  own  thoughts,  and  the  most  reverenced  by  others? 
 
 Sect.  26.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  how  by  these  means  it  comes  to  pass 
 that  men  worship  the  idols  that  have  been  set  up  in  their  minds  ;  grow  fond 
 of  the  notions  they  have  long  been  acquainted  with  there ;  and  stamp  the 
 characters  of  divinity  upon  absurdities  and  errors ;  become  zealous  votaries 
 to  bulls  and  monkeys  ;  and  contend  too,  fight  and  die,  in  defence  of  their 
 opinions  ;•' Dum  solos  credit  habendos  esse  deos,  quoa  ipse  colit."  For 
 since  the  reasoning  faculties  of  the  soul,  which  are  almost  constantly,  though 
 not  always  warily  nor  wisely  ^  employed,  would  not  know  how  to  move, 
 for  want  of  a  foundatian  and  footing,  in  most  men ;  who,  through  laziness 
 or  avocation,  do  not,  or  for  want  of  time,  or  true  helps,  or  for  other  causes, 
 cannot  penetrate  into  the  principles  of  knowledge,  and  trace  truth  to  its 
 fountain  and  original ;  it  is  natural  for  them,  and  almost  unavoidable,  to 
 take  up  with  some  borrowed  principles :  which  being  reputed  and  pre- 
 sumed to  be  the  evident  proofs  of  other  things,  are  thought  not  to  need 
 any  other  proof  themselves.  Whoever  shall  receive  any  of  these  into  his 
 mind,  and  entertain  them  there,  with  the  reverence  usually  paid  to  prin- 
 ciples, never  venturing  to  examine  them,  but  accustoming  himself  to  believe 
 them,  because  they  are  to  be  believed,  may  take  up  from  his  education,  and 
 the  fashions  of  his  country,  any  absurdity  for  innate  principles  ;  and  by  long 
 poring  on  the  same  objects,  to  dim  his  sight,  as  to  take  monsters  lodged 
 in  his  own  brain  for  the  images  of  the  Deity,  and  the  workmanship  of  his 
 hands. 
 
62  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Bookl. 
 
 Sect.  27.  Principles  must  be  examined. — By  this  progress  now  many  there 
 are  who  arrive  at  principles  wiiich  they  believe  innate  may  be  easily  observ- 
 ed, in  the  variety  of  opposite  principles  held  and  contended  for  by  all  sorts 
 and  degrees  of  men.  And  he  that  shall  deny  this  to  be  the  method  where- 
 in most  men  proceed  to  the  assurance  they  have  of  the  truth  and  evidence 
 of  their  principles,  will  perhaps  find  it  a  hard  matter  any  other  way  to  ac- 
 count for  the  contrary  tenets  which  are  firmly  believed,  confidently  asserted, 
 and  which  great  numbers  are  ready  at  any  time  to  seal  with  their  blood. 
 And,  indeed,  if  it  be  the  privilege  of  innate  principles  to  be  received  upon 
 their  own  authority,  without  examination,  I  know  not  what  may  not  be  believ- 
 ed, or  how  any  one's  principles  can  be  questioned.  If  they  may  and  ought  to 
 be  examined,  and  tried,  I  desire  to  know  how  first  and  innate  principles 
 can  be  tried ;  or  at  least  it  is  reasonable  to  demand  the  marks  and  charac- 
 ters, whereby  the  genuine  innate  principles  may  be  distinguished  from 
 others  ;  that  so,  amidst  the  great  variety  of  pretenders,  I  may  be  kept  from 
 mistakes  in  so  material  a  point  as  tliis.  When  this  is  done,  I  shall  be 
 ready  to  embrace  such  welcome  and  useful  propositions ;  and  till  then,  I  may 
 with  modesty  doubt,  since  I  fear  nniversal  consent,  which  is  the  only  one 
 produced,  will  scarce  prove  a  sufficient  mark  to  direct  my  choice  and  as- 
 sure me  of  any  innate  principles.  From  what  has  been  said,  I  think  it 
 past  doubt  that  there  are  no  practical  principles  wherein  all  men  agree, 
 and  therefore  none  innate. 
 
 CHAPTER  IV. 
 
 OTHER    CONSIDERATIONS    CONCERNING    INNATE    PRINCIPLES, 
 BOTH  SPECULATIVE  AND  PRACTICAL. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Principles  not  innate,  unless  their  ideas  he  innate. — Had 
 those  who  would  persuade  us  that  there  are  innate  principles,  not  taken 
 them  together  in  gross,  but  considered  separately  the  parts  out  of  which 
 those  propositions  are  made,  they  would  not,  perhaps,  have  been  so  for- 
 ward to  believe  they  were  innate:  since,  if  the  ideas  which  made  up  those 
 truths  were  not,  it  was  impossible  that  the  propositions  made  up  of  them 
 should  be  innate,  or  the  knowledge  of  them  be  born  with  us.  For  if  the 
 ideas  be  not  innate,  there  was  a  time  when  the  mind  was  without  those 
 principles ;  and  then  they  will  not  be  innate,  but  be  derived  from  some 
 other  original.  For  where  the  ideas  themselves  are  not,  there  can  be  no 
 knowledge,  no  assent,  no  mental  or  verbal  propositions  about  them. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Ideas,  especially  those  belonging  to  principles,  not  born  with 
 children. — If  we  will  attentively  consider  new-born  children,  we  shall  have 
 little  reason  to  think  that  they  bring  many  ideas  into  the  world  with  them. 
 For  bating  perhaps  some  faint  ideas  of  hunger  and  thirst,  and  warmth, 
 and  some  pains  which  they  may  have  felt  in  the  womb,  there  is  not  the 
 least  appearance  of  any  settled  ideas  at  all  in  them ;  especially  of  ideas 
 answering  the  terms  which  make  up  those  universal  propositions  that  are 
 esteemed  innate  principles.  One  may  perceive  how,  by  degrees,  after- 
 ward, ideas  come  into  their  minds ;  and  that  they  get  no  more,  nor  no  other 
 than  what  experience,  and  the  observation  of  things  that  come  in  their 
 way,  furnish  them  with :  which  might  be  enough  to  satisfy  us  that  they 
 are  not  original  characters  stamped  on  the  mind. 
 
 Sect.  8.  "  It  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be,"  is 
 certainly  (if  there  be  any  such)  an  innate  principle.  But  can  any  one 
 think,  or  will  any  one  say,  that  impossibility  and  identity  are  two  innate 
 ideas?     Are  they  such  as  all  mankind  have,  and  bring  into  the  world  with 
 
Ch.  4.  _^     NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES.  63 
 
 them  1  And  are^hose  which  are  the  first  in  children,  and  antecedent  to 
 all  acquired  ones?  If  they  are  innate,  they  must  needs  be  so.  Hath  a 
 child  an  idea  of  impossibility  and  identity  before  it  has  of  white  or  black, 
 sweet  or  bitter  ?  And  is  it  from  the  knowledge  of  this  principle  that  it 
 concludes,  that  wormwood  rubbed  on  the  nipple  hath  not  the  same  taste 
 that  it  used  to  receive  from  thence]  Is  it  the  actual  knowledge  of"  im- 
 possibiJe  est  idem  esse,  et  non  esse,"  that  makes  a  child  distinguish  between 
 its  mother  and  a  stranger?  or  that  makes  it  fond  of  the  one  and  flee  the 
 other?  Or  does  the  mindregidate  itself  and  its  assent  by  ideas  that  it  never 
 yet  had?  or  the  understanding  draw  conclusions  from  principles  which  it 
 never  yet  knew  nor  understood?  The  names  impossibility  and  identity 
 stand  for  two  ideas,  so  far  from  being  innate,  or  born  with  us,  that  I  think 
 it  requires  great  care  and  attention  to  form  them  right  in  our  understanding. 
 They  are  so  far  from  being  brought  into  the  world  with  us,  so  remote  from 
 the  thoughts  of  infancy  and  childhood,  that  I  believe,  upon  examination,  it 
 will  be  found  that  many  grown  men  want  them. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Identity,  an  idea  not  innate. — If  identity  (to  instance  in  that 
 alone)  be  a  native  impression,  and  consequently  so  clear  and  obvious  to  us, 
 that  we  must  needs  know  it  even  from  our  cradles,  I  would  gladly  be  re- 
 solved by  one  of  seven,  or  seventy  years  old,  whether  a  man,  being  a  crea- 
 ture, consisting  of  soul  and  body,  be  the  same  man  when  his  body  is  chan- 
 ged? Whether  Euphorbus  and  Pythagoras,  having  had  the  same  soul, 
 were  the  same  men,  though  they  lived  several  ages  asunder?  Nay, 
 whether  the  cock  too,  which  had  the  same  soul,  were  not  the  same  with 
 both  of  them?  Whereby,  perhaps,  it  will  appear  that  our  idea  of  sameness 
 is  not  so  settled  and  clear  as  to  deserve  to  be  thought  innate  in  us.  For 
 if  those  innate  ideas  are  not  clear  and  distinct,  so  as  to  be  universally 
 known,  and  naturally  agreed  on,  they  cannot  be  subjects  of  universal  and 
 undoubted  truths ;  but  will  be  the  unavoidable  occasion  of  perpetual  un- 
 certainty. For,  I  suppose,  every  one's  idea  of  identity  wiU  not  be  the 
 same  that  Pythagoras  and  others  of  his  followers  have :  and  which  then 
 shall  be  true  ?  Which  innate  ?  Or  are  there  two  diflferent  ideas  of  identity, 
 both  innate?" 
 
 Sect.  5.  Nor  let  any  one  think  that  the  questions  I  have  here  proposed 
 about  the  identity  of  man,  are  bare  empty  speculations ;  which,  if  they  were, 
 would  be  enough  to  show  that  there  was  in  the  understandings  of  men  no 
 innate  idea  of  identity.  He  that  shall,  with  a  little  attention,  reflect  on 
 the  resurrection,  and  consider  tliat  divine  justice  will  bring  to  judgment, 
 at  the  last  day,  the  very  same  persons,  to  be  happy  or  miserable  in  the 
 other,  who  did  well  or  ill  in  this  life,  will  find  it  perhaps  not  easy  to  resolve 
 with  himself  what  makes  the  same  man,  or  wherein  identity  consists :  and  will 
 not  be  forward  to  think  he,  and  every  one,  even  children  themselves,  have 
 naturally  a  clear  idea  of  it. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Whole  and  part  not  innate  ideas. — Let  us  examine  that  prin- 
 ciple of  mathematics,  viz.  "  that  a  whole  is  bigger  than  a  part."  This, 
 I  take  it,  is  reckoned  among  innate  principles.  I  am  sure  it  has  as  good 
 a  title  as  any  to  be  thought  so ;  which  yet  nobody  can  think  it  to  be,  when 
 he  considers  the  ideas  it  comprehends  in  it,  "  whole  and  part,"  are  perfect- 
 ly relative ;  but  the  positive  ideas,  to  which  they  properly  and  immediately 
 belong,  are  extension  and  number,  of  wliich  alone  whole  and  part  are  re- 
 lations. So  that  if  whole  and  part  are  innate  ideas,  extension  and  number 
 must  be  so  too ;  it  being  impossible  to  have  an  idea  of  a  relation  without 
 having  any  at  all  of  the  thing  to  which  it  belongs,  and  in  which  it  is  found- 
 ed. Now,  whether  the  minds  of  men  have  naturally  imprinted  on  them 
 the  ideas  of  extension  and  number,  I  leave  to  be  considered  by  those  who 
 are  the  patrons  of  innate  principles. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Ideas  of  worship  not  innate. — "  That  God  is  to  be  worshipped," 
 is,  without  doubt  as  great  a  truth  as  any  can  enter  into  the  mind  of  man, 
 
64  OF  IIUALAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 and  (It'scrvco  the  first  place  among  all  practical  principles.  But  yet  it  caji 
 by  no  means  be  thought  innate,  unless  the  ideas  of  God  and  worship  are 
 innate.  That  the  idea  tiieterin  worship  stands  for  is  not  in  the  understand- 
 ing of  children,  and  a  character  stamped  on  the  mind  in  its  first  original,  I 
 think,  will  be  easily  granted  by  any  one  that  considers  how  few  there  be, 
 among  grown  men,  wlio  have  a  clear  and  distinct  notion  of  it.  And,  I 
 suppose,  there  cannot  be  any  thing  more  ridiculous  than  to  say  that 
 children  have  this  practical  ])rinciple  innate,  "that  God  is  to  be  worship- 
 ped:" and  yet  that  they  know  not  what  that  worship  of  God  is,  which  is 
 their  duty.     But  to  pass  by  this : 
 
 Skot.  8.  Idea  of  God  not  innate. — If  any  idea  can  be  imagined  innate, 
 the  idea  of  God  may,  of  all  others,  for  many  reasons,  be  thought  so ;  since  it 
 is  hard  to  conceive  how  there  should  be  innate  moral  principles  without  an 
 innate  idea  of  a  Deity:  without  a  notion  of  a  lawmaker,  it  is  impossible  to 
 have  a  notion  of  a  law,  and  an  obligation  to  observe  it.  Besides  the 
 atheists  taken  notice  of  among  the  ancients,  and  left  branded  upon  the  re- 
 cords of  history,  hath  not  navigation  discovered,  in  these  later  ages,  whole 
 nations,  at  the  bay  of  SoldaniaCff)»  ^  Brazil(i),  in  Boranday(c),  and  in  the 
 I  Caribee  islands,  &c.  among  whom  there  was  to  be  found  no  notion  of  a  God, 
 I  no  religion  "J  Nicholaus  del  Techo  in  literis  ex  Paraquaria  de  Caaiguarum 
 conversione,  has  these  words((Z):  "  Reperi  eam  gentem  nullum  nomen 
 habere,  quod  Deum  et  hominis  animam  significet,  nulla  sacra  habet,  nulla 
 idola."  These  are  instances  of  nations  where  imcultivated  nature  has 
 been  left  to  itself,  without  the  help  of  letters  and  discipline,  and  the  im- 
 provement of  arts  and  sciences.  But  there  are  others  to  be  found,  who  have 
 enjoyed  these  in  a  very  great  measure,  who  yet,  for  want  of  a  due  application 
 of  their  thoughts  this  way,  want  the  idea  and  knowledge  of  God.  It  will,  I 
 doubt  not,  be  a  surprise  to  others,  as  it  was  to  me,  to  find  the  Siamites  of  this 
 number.  But  for  this  let  them  consult  the  king  of  France's  late  envoy 
 thither(e),  who  gives  no  better  account  of  the  Chinese  themselves(y*). 
 And  if  we  will  not  believe  La  Loubere,  the  missionaries  of  China,  even  the 
 Jesuits  themselves,  the  great  encomiasts  of  the  Chinese,  do  all,  to  a  man, 
 agree,  and  will  convince  us  that  the  sect  of  the  literati,  or  learned,  keeping 
 to  the  old  religion  of  China,  and  the  ruling  party  there,  are  all  of  them 
 atheists.  [Vid.  Navarette,  in  the  collection  of  voyages,  vol.  i.  and 
 Historia  cultus  Sinensium.]  And  perhaps  if  we  should,  with  attention, 
 mind  the  lives  and  discourse  of  people  not  so  far  oflf",  we  should  have  too 
 much  reason  to  fear,  that  many  in  more  civilized  countries  have  no  very 
 strong  and  clear  impressions  of  a  Deity  upon  their  minds;  and  that  the  com- 
 plaints of  atheism,  made  from  the  pulpit,  are  not  without  reason.  And 
 though  only  some  profligate  wretches  own  it  too  barefacedly  now ;  yet  per- 
 haps we  should  hear  more  than  we  do  of  it  from  others,  did  not  the  fear  of 
 the  magistrate's  sword,  or  their  neighbour's  censure,  tie  up  people's 
 tongues ;  which,  were  the  apprehensions  of  punishment  or  shame  taken 
 away,  would  as  openly  proclaim  their  atheism,  as  their  lives  do  (g). 
 
 (a)  Roe  apud  Thevenot,  p.  2.  {b)  Jo.  de  Lery,  c.  16. 
 
 c)  Martiniere  2  01  Terry   JJL.  and    2J_.  Ovington  4P. 
 
 (d)  Relatio  triplex  de  rebus  Indicis  Caaiguarum  ±3_ 
 
 (e)  La  Loubere  du  Royaume  du  Siara,  t.  1,  c.  9,  sect.  15,  and  c.  20,  sect.  22, 
 and  c.  22,  sect.  6. 
 
 (/)  lb.  t.  1.  c.  20,  sect.  4,  and  c.  23. 
 
 (o)  ^'*  ^^'^  reasoning  of  the  author  against  innate  ideas,  great  blame  hath  been 
 laid  ;  because  it  seems  to  invalidate  an  argument  commonly  used  to  prove  the 
 being  of  a  God,  viz.  universal  consent :  to  which  our  author  answers*,  I  think 
 that  the  universal  consent  of  mankind,  as  to  the  being  of  a  God,  amounts  to  thus 
 much,  that  the  vastly  greater  majority  of  mankind  have,  in  all  ages  of  the  world, 
 
 *  In  his  third  letter  to  the  nisho[i  of  Worcester. 
 
Cb.  4.  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES/-^  65       ^ 
 
 Sect.  9.  But  had  all  mankind,  every  where,  a  notion  of  a  God,  (whereof  ' 
 
 yet  history  tells  us  the  contrary)  it  would  not  from  thence  follow  that  the  : 
 
 idea  of  him  was  innate.  For  though  no  nation  were  to  be  found  without  a 
 name,  and  some  few  dark  notions  of  him,  yet  that  would  not  prove  them  to 
 be  natural  impressions  on  the  mind,  any  more  than  the  names  of  tire,  or  the  i 
 
 sun,  heat,  or  number,  do  prove  the  ideas  they  stand  for  to  be  innate,  be- 
 cause the  names  of  those  things,  and  the  ideas  of  them,  are  so  universally 
 received  and  known  among  mankind.  Nor,  on  the  contrary,  is  the  want 
 of sucli  a  name,  or  the  absencel)fliu,fh  a  notion,  out  of  men's  minds,  any 
 argument  against  the  being  of  a  God;  any  more  than  it  would  be  a  proof 
 that  there  was  no  loadstone  in  the  world,  because  a  great  part  of  mankind 
 had  neither  a  notion  of  any  such  thing,  nor  a  name  for  it;  or  bjf%ny  show 
 of  argument  to  prove,  that  there  are  no  distinct  and  various  species  of 
 angels  or  intelligent  beings  above  us,  because  we  have  no  ideas  of  such  dis- 
 tinct species,  or  names  for  them:  for  men  being  furnished  with  words,  by 
 the  common  language  of  their  own  countries,  can  scarce  avoid  having 
 some  kind  of  ideas  of  those  things,  whose  names  those  they  converse  with 
 have  occasion  frequently  to  mention  to  them.  And  if  they  carry  with  it 
 the  notion  of  excellency,  greatness,  or  something  extraordinary;  if  ap- 
 prehension and  concernment  accompany  it;  if  the  fear  of  absolute  and  ir- 
 resistible power  set  it  on  upon  the  mind,  the  idea  is  likely  to  sink  the  deeper, 
 and  spread  the  farther:  especially  if  it  be  sucli  an  idea  as  is  agreeable  to  the 
 common  light  of  reason,  and  naturally  deducible  from  every  part  of  our 
 knowledge,  as  that  of  a  God  is.  For  the  visible  marks  of  extraordinary 
 wisdom  and  power  appear  so  plainly  in  all  the  works  of  the  creation,  that 
 a  rational  creature,  who  will  but  seriously  reflect  on  them,  cannot  miss  the 
 discovery  of  a  Deity.  And  the  influence  that  the  discovery  of  such  a  being 
 must  necessarily  have  on  the  minds  of  all,  that  have  but  once  heard  of  it,  is 
 so  great,  and  carries  such  a  weight  of  thought  and  communication  with  it, 
 that  it  seems  strange  to  me  that  a  whole  nation  of  men  should  be  any 
 
 actually  believed  a  God  ;  that  the  majority  of  the  remaining  part  have  not 
 actually  disbelieved  it;  and  consequently  those  who  have  actually  opposed  the 
 belief  of  a  God  have  truly  been  very  few.  So  that  comparing  those  that  have 
 actually  disljelieved,  with  those  who  have  actually  believed  a  God,  their  number 
 is  so  inconsiderable,  that  in  respect  ofthis  incomparably  greater  majority,  of  those 
 who  have  owned  the  belief  of  a  God,  it  may  be  said  to  be  the  universal  consent 
 of  mankind. 
 
 This  is  all  the  universal  consent  which  truth  or  matter  of  fact  will  allow  ;  and 
 therefore  all  that  can  he  made  use  of  to  prove  a  God.  But  if  any  one  would  ex- 
 tend it  farther,  and  speak  deceitfully  for  God ;  if  this  universality  should  be 
 urged  in  a  strict  sense,  not  for  much  the  majority,  but  for  a  general  consent  of 
 every  one,  even  to  a  man,  in  all  ages  and  countries,  this  would  make  it  either  no 
 argument,  or  a  perfectly  useless  and  unnecessary  one.  For  if  any  one  deny  a  God, 
 such  an  universality  of  consent  is  destroyed  \  and  if  nobody  does  deny  a  God,  what 
 need  of  arguments  to  convince  atheists  ? 
 
 I  would  crave  leave  to  ask  you  lordship,  were  there  ever  in  the  world  any 
 atheists  or  no  ?  If  there  were  not,  what  need  is  there  of  raising  a  question  about 
 the  being  of  a  God,  when  nobody  questions  it  ?  What  need  of  provisional  argu- 
 ments against  a  fault,  from  which  mankind  are  so  wholly  free,  and  which  by  an 
 universal  consent,  they  may  be  presumed  to  be  secure  from  ?  If  you  say  (as  I 
 doubt  not  but  you  will)  that  there  have  been  atheists  in  the  world,  then  your 
 lordship's  universal  consent  reduces  itself  to  only  a  great  majority  ;  and  then 
 make  that  majority  as  great  as  you  will,  whac  I  have  said  in  the  place  quoted  by 
 your  lordship  leaves  it  in  its  full  force  ;  and  I  have  not  said  one  word  that  does 
 in  the  least  invalidate  this  argument  for  a  God.  The  argument  I  was  upon  there, 
 was  to  show,  that  the  idea  of  God  was  not  innate  ;  and  to  my  purpose  it  was 
 sufficient,  if  there  were  but  a  less  number  found  in  the  world,  who  bad  no  idea 
 of  God,  than  your  lordship  will  allow  there  have  been  of  professed  atheists  ;  for 
 I 
 
06  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  I. 
 
 where  found  so  brutish  as  to  want  the  notion  of  a  God,  than  that  they 
 should  be  without  any  notion  of  numbers  or  tire. 
 
 -  Sect.  10.  Tlic  Jianie  of  God  being  once  mentioned  in  any  part  of  the 
 world,  to  express  a  superior,  powerful,  wise,  invisible  being-,  the  suitable- 
 ness of  such  a  notion  to  the  principles  of  common  reason,  and  the  interest 
 men  will  always  have  to  mention  it  otlen,  must  necessarily  spread  it  far  and 
 wide,  and  continue  it  down  to  all  generations;  though  yet  the  general  re- 
 ception of  this  name,  and  some  imperfect  and  unsteady  notions  conveyed 
 thereby  to  the  unthinking  part  of  mankind,  prove  not  the  idea  to  be  innate ; 
 but  only  that  they  who  made  the'discovery  had  made  a  right  use  of  their 
 reason,  thought  maturely  of  the  causes  of  things,  and  traced  them  to  their 
 original;  from  whom  other  less  considering  people,  having  once  received  so 
 important  a  notion,  it  could  not  easily  be  lost  again. 
 
 Sect.  11.  This  is  all  could  be  inferred  from  the  notion  of  a  God,  were 
 it  to  be  found  universally  in  all  the  tribes  of  mankind,  and  generally 
 acknowledged  by  men  grown  to  maturity  in  all  countries.  For  the 
 generality  of  the  acknowledging  of  a  God,  as  I  imagine,  is  extended  no 
 farther  than  that ;  which  if  it  be  sufficient  to  prove  the  idea  of  God  innate, 
 will  as  well  prove  the  idea  of  fire  innate ;  since,  I  think,  it  may  be  truly 
 said,  that  there  is  not  a  person  in  the  world,  who  has  a  notion  of  a  God, 
 who  has  not  also  the  idea  of  fire.  I  doubt  not,  but  if  a  colony  of  yomig 
 children  should  be  placed  in  an  island  where  no  fire  was,  they  would 
 certainly  neither  have  any  notion  of  such  a  thing,  nor  name  for  it ;  how 
 generally  soever  it  were  received  and  known  in  all  the  world  besides :  and 
 perhaps  too  their  apprehensions  would  be  as  far  removed  from  any  name 
 or  notion  of  a  God,  till  some  one  among  them  had  employed  his  thoughts 
 to  inquire  into  the  constitution  and  causes  of  things,  which  would  easily 
 lead  him  to  the  notion  of  a  God;  which  having  once  taught  to  others,  rea- 
 son, and  the  natural  propensity  of  their  own  thoughts,  would  afterward  pro- 
 pagate and  continue  among  them.  ^, 
 
 ■whatsoever  is  innate  must  be  universal  in  the  strictest  sense.  One  exception  is 
 a  sufficient  proof  against  it.  So  that  all  that  I  said,  and  which  was  quite  to  ano- 
 ther purpose,  did  not  at  all  tend,  nor  can  be  made  use  of,  to  invalidate  tlie  argu- 
 ment for  a  Deity,  grounded  on  such  an  universal  consent,  as  your  lordship,  and 
 all  that  build  on  it,  must  own  ;  which  is  only  a  very  disproportionate  majority  ; 
 •such  an  universal  consent  my  argument  there  neither  affirms  nor  requires  to  be 
 less  than  you  will  be  pleased  to  allow  it.  Your  lordship  therefore  might,  with- 
 out any  prejudice  to  those  declarations  of  good-will  and  favour  you  have  for  the 
 author  of  the  "Essay  of  Human  Understanding,"  have  spared  the  mentioning 
 his  quoting  authors  tliat  are  in  print,  for  matters  of  fact  to  quite  another  purpose,  ' 
 "as  going  about  to  invalidate  the  argument  for  a  Deity,  from  the  universal  con- 
 sent of  mankind;  since  he  leaves  that  universal  consent  as  entire  and  as  large 
 as  you  yourself  do,  or  can  own,  or  suppose  it.  But  here  I  liave  no  reason  to  be 
 sorry  that  your  lordship  has  given  me  this  occasion  for  tlie  vindication  of  this 
 passage  of  my'  book  ;  if  there  should  be  any  one  besides  your  lordship,  who 
 should  so  far  mistake  it,  as  to  think  it  in  the  least  invalidates  the  argument  for  a 
 God,  from  the  universal  consent  of  mankind. 
 
 But  because  you  question  the  credibility  of  those  authors  Ihave  quoted,  which 
 you  say  were  very  ill-chosen,  I  will  cr.ive  leave  to  say,  that  he  whom  I  relied  on 
 for  his  testimony  concerning  the  Hottentots  of  Soldania,  was  no  less  a  man  than 
 an  ambassador  from  the  king  of  England  to  the  Great  Mogul  ;  of  whose  rela- 
 tion. Monsieur  Tlievenot,  no  ill  judge  in  the  case,  had  so  great  an  esteem, 
 that  he  was  at  the  pains  to  translate  into  French  and  publisli  it  in  his 
 (which  is  counted  no  injudicious)  Collection  of  Travels.  But  to  intercede  with 
 your  lordship  for  a  little  more  favourable  allowance  of  credit  to  Sir  Thomas 
 Roe's  relation  ;  Coore,  an  inhabitant  of  the  country,  who  could  speak  English, 
 assured  Mr  Terry*,  tliat  they  of  Soldania  had  no  God.     But  if  he,  too,  have  the 
 
 *  Terry's  Voyage,  p.  17,  23. 
 
Ch.  4.  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES.  67 
 
 Sect.  12.  Suitable  to  God's  goodness,  that  all  men  should  /lare^an' iiV*]^I^/^ 
 idea  of  him,  therefore  naturally  imprinted  by  him,  ajisujered.— ^Indeed  '<^*^ 
 it  is  urged,  that  it  is  suitable  to  the'  goodness  of  God  to  imprint  upon  the 
 minds  of  mey  characters  and  notions  of  himself,  and  not  to  leave  them  in 
 the  dark  and  doubt  in  so  grand  a  concernment;  and  also  by  that  means  to 
 secure  to  himself  the  homage  and  veneration  due  from  so  intelligent  a 
 creature  as  man ;  and  therefore  he  has  done  it. 
 
 This  argument,  if  it  be  of  any  force,  will  prove  much  more  than  those 
 who  use  it  in  this  case  expect  from  it.     For  if  we  may  conclude  that  God     . 
 hath  done  for  men  all  that  men  shall  judge  is  best  for  them,  because  it  is 
 suitable  to  his  goodness  so  to  do ;  it  will  prove  not  only  that  God  has  im- 
 printed on  the  minds  of  men  an  idea  of  himself,  but  that  he  hath  plainly   .      ,. 
 stamped  there,  in  fair  characters,  all  that  men  ought  to  know  or  believe  of     i.    • 
 him,  all  that  they  ought   to  do  in  obedience  to  his  will ;  and  that  he  hath 
 given  them  a  will  and  affections  conformable  to  it.     This,  no  doubt,  every 
 one  will  think  better  for  men,  than  that  they  should  in  the  dark  grope  after     '  -l. 
 knowledge,  as  St  Paul  tells  us  all  nations  did  after  God,  Acts  xvii.  27,       '' 
 than  that  their  wills  should  clash  Vv'ith  their  understandings,  and  their  ap- 
 petites cross  their  duty.     The  Romanists  say,  it  is  best  for  men,  and  so 
 suitable  to  the  goodness  of  God,  that  there  should  be  an  infallible  judge  of       ^^, 
 controversies  on  earth;  and  therefore  there  is  one.     And  I,  by  the  same 
 reason  say,  it  is  better  for  men  that  every  man  himself  should  be  infallible. 
 I   leave  them  to  consider,  whether  by  the  force  of  this  argument   they 
 shall  think  that  every  man  is  so.     I  think  it  a  very  good  argument  to  say, 
 the  infinitely  wise  God  hath  made  it  so ;  and  therefore  it  is  best.     But  it 
 
 ill  luck  to  find  no  credit  with  you,  I  hope  you  will  be  a  little  more  favoui-able  to  ^ 
 a  divine  of  the  church  of  England,  now  living,  and  admit  of  his  testimony  in  '•' 
 confirmation  of  Sir  Thomas  Roe's.  This  worthy  gentleman,  in  the  relation  -*- 
 of  >j|is  voyage  to  Surat,  printed  but  two  years  since,  speaking  of  the  same  -i 
 people,  has  these  words*:  "They  are  sunk  even  below  idolatry,  are  desti-  ■~^ 
 tute  of  both  priest  and  temple,  and,  saving  a  little  show  of  rejoicing,  which  ,^- 
 is  made  at  the  full  and  new  moon,  have  lost  all  kind  of  religious  devotion.  '!* 
 Nature  has  so  richly  provided  for  their  convenience  in  this  life,  that  they  have  ^ 
 drowned  all  sense  of  the  God  of  it,  and  are  grown  quite  careless  of  the  next."    '3 
 
 But  to  provide  against  the  clearest  evidence  of  atheism   in  these  people,  you 
 say,    "  that  the   account  given  of  them  makes  them  not  fit  to  be  a    standard      ^  — 
 for  the  sense  of  mankind."     This,  I  think,   may  pass  for  nothing,  till   some-      <  , 
 body  be  found  that  makes  them  to  be  a  standard    for  the  sense   of  mankind.        ^ 
 All  the  use  I  made  of  them  was  to  show,  that  there  were   men  in  the  world        — 
 that  had  no  innate  idea  of  a  God.      But  to  keep  something  like  an  argument       ^^ 
 going,  (for  what  will  not  that  do  ?)  you  go  near  denying  those  Cafers  to  be  men. 
 What  else  do  these  words  signify?    "A  people  so  strangely  bereft   of  common 
 sense,    that  they  can  hardly  be  reckoned  among  mankind,  as  appears  by   the 
 best  accounts  of  the  Cafers  of  Soldania,    Sec."     I   hope,  if  any   of  them  were 
 called  Peter,  James,   or  John,  it  would  be  past  scruple  that  they  were  men  : 
 however,  Courwee,  Wewena,  and  Cowsheda,  and  those  others  wlio  had  names, 
 that  had  no  places  in  your  nomenclator,  v/ould  hardly  pass  muster  with  your  _ 
 lordship.  X 
 
 My  Lord,  I  should  not  mention  this,  but  that  what  you  yourself  say  here,  ^ 
 may  be  a  motive  to  you  to  consider,  that  what  you  have  laid  such  sti-ess  .on  J*" 
 concerning  the  general  nature  of  man,  as  a  real  being,  and  the  subject  of  proper- 
 ties, amounts  to  nothing  for  the  distinguishing  of  species  ;  since  y  oil  yourself  own, 
 that  there  may  be  individuals,  wherein  there  is  a  common  nature  witli  a  parti- 
 cular subsistence  proper  to  each  of  them  ;  whereby  you  are  so  little  ahle  to  know 
 of  which  of  the  ranks  or  sorts  they  are,  into  which  you  say  God  has  ordered  be- 
 ings, and  which  he  hath  distinguished,  by  essential  properties,  that  you  are  in 
 doubt  whether  they  ought  to  be  reckoned  among  mankind  or  no. 
 
 *  Mr  Ovington,  p.  489. 
 
68 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 Book  i. 
 
 seems  to  mc  a  little  too  nuicli  confidence  of  our  own  wisdom  to  say,  "  I 
 think  it  best,  and  tlierciure  God  hath  made  it  so;"  and,  in  the  matter  in 
 hand,  it  will  be  in  vain  to  argue  from  such  a  topic  that  God  Jiath  done  so, 
 when  certain  experience  shows  us  that  he  hath  not.     But  the  goodness  of 
 God  hath  not  been  wanting  to  men  witliout  such  original  impressions  of 
 knowledge,  or  ideas  stamped  on  the  mind :  since  he  hath  furnished  man 
 with  those  faculties,  which  will  serve   for  the  sufficient  discovery  of  all 
 things  requisite  to  the  end  of  such  a  being.     And  I  doubt  not  but  to  show 
 that  a  man,  by  the  right  use  of  his  natural  abilities,  may,  without  any  innate 
 principles,  attain  a  knowledge  of  a  God,  and  other  things  that  concern  him. 
 God  having  endued  man  with  those  faculties  of  knowing  which  he  hath,  was 
 no  more  obliged  by  his  goodness  to  plant  those  innate  notions  in  his  mind, 
 than  that,  having  given  him  reason,  hands,  and  materials,  he  should  build 
 him  bridges  or  houses ;  which  some  people  in  the  world,  however  of  good 
 parts,  do  either  totally  want,  or  are  but  ill  provided  of,  as  well  as  others 
 are  wholly  without  ideas  of  God,  and  principles  of  morality ;  or  at  least 
 \.  ^^*^'''' have  _but  very  ill  ones.     The  reason  in  both  cases  being,  that  they  never 
 <*\'U\  \"^<v\  employed  tlieir  parts,  Faculties,  and  powers  industriously  that  way,  but  con- 
 »-vw^.        tented  tiiemselves  with  the  opinions,  fashions,  and  things  of  their  country, 
 as  they  found  them,  without  looking  any  farther.     Had  you  or  I  been  bom 
 ^      at  the  bay  of  Soldania,  possibly  our  thoughts  and  notions  had  not  exceeded 
 V      those  brutish  ones  of  the  Hottentots  that  inhabit  there :  and  had  the  Virginia 
 king  Apochancana  been  educated  in  England,  he  had  been,  perhaps,  as 
 V       knowing  a  divine,  and  as  good  a  mathematician,  as  any  in  it.     The  differ- 
 ence between  him  and  a  more  improved  Englishman  lying  barely  in  this, 
 that  the  exercise  of  his  faculties  was  bounded  within  the  ways,  modes,  and 
 notions  of  his  own  country,  and  never  directed  to  any  other  or  farther  in- 
 quiries ;  and  if  he  had  not  any  idea  of  a  God,  it  was  only  because  he  pur- 
 sued not  those  thoughts  that  would  have  led  him  to  it. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Ideas  of  God  various  in  different  men. — I  grant  that  if  there 
 were  any  idea  to  be  found  imprinted  on  the  minds  of  men,  we  have  reason 
 to  expect  it  should  be  the  notion  of  his  Maker,  as  a  mark  God  set  on  his 
 Qwn  workmanship,  to  mind  man  of  his  dependence  and  duty ;  and  that  here- 
 in should  appear  the  first  instances  of  human  knowledge.  But  how  late  is 
 it  before  any  such  notion  is  discoverable  in  children"?  And  when  we  find 
 it  there,  how  much  more  does  it  resemble  the  opinion  and  notion  of  the 
 teacher,  than  represent  the  true  God  7  He  that  shall  observe  in  children 
 the  progress  whereby  their  minds  attain  the  knowledge  they  have,  will  think 
 that  the  objects  they  do  first  and  most  familiarly  converse  with,  are  those  that 
 make  the  first  impressions  on  their  understandings ;  nor  will  he  find  the 
 least  footsteps  of  any  other.  It  is  easy  to  take  notice  how  their  thoughts 
 enlarge  themselves,  only  as  they  come  to  be  acquainted  with  a  greater 
 variety  of  sensible  objects,  to  retain  the  ideas  of  them  in  their  memories; 
 and  to  get  the  skill  to  compound  and  enlarge  them,  and  several  ways  put 
 them  together.  IIow  by  these  means  they  come  to  frame  in  their  minds 
 an  idea  men  have  of  a  Deity  I  shall  hereafler  show. 
 _^Sect.  14.  Can  it  be  thought  that  the  ideas  men  have  of  God  are  the 
 cnara ctcrs  and  marks  of  himself,  engraven  on  their  minds  by  his  own  fin- 
 ger, when  we  see  that  in  the  same  country,  under  one  and  the  same  name, 
 men  have  far  different,  nay,  oflen  contrary  and  inconsistent  ideas  and 
 conceptions  of  him?  Their  agreeing  in  a  name  or  sound,  will  scarce 
 prove  an  innate  notion  of  him. 
 
 §^cxj,5.  What  true  or  tolerable  notion  of  a  Deity  could  they  have, 
 -^lio'  acknowledged  and  worshipped  hundreds'?  Every  deity  that  they 
 owned  above  one  was  an  infallible  evidence  of  their  ignorance  of  him,  and 
 a  proof  that  they  had  no  true  notion  of  God,  where  unity,  infinity,  and 
 eternity,  were  excluded.  To  which,  if  we  add  their  gross  conceptions  of 
 corporeity,  expressed  in  their  images  and  representations  of  their  deities ; 
 
 ^ 
 
Ch.  4.  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES.  69 
 
 the  amours,  marriages,  copulations,  lusts,  quarrels,  and  other  mean  qualities 
 attributed  by  them  to  their  gods  ;  we  shall  have  little  reason  to  think,  that 
 the  heathen  world,  i.  e.  the  greatest  part  of  mankind,  had  such  ideas  of 
 God  in  their  minds,  as  he  himself,  out  of  care  that  they  should  not  be  mis- 
 taken about  him,  was  author  of.  And  this  miiversality  of  consent,  so 
 much  argued,  if  it  prove  any  native  impressions,  it  will  be  only  this, 
 that  God  imprinted  on  the  minds  of  all  men,  speaking  the  same  language,! 
 a  aame  for  himself  but  not  any  idea :  since  those  people,  who  agreed  in 
 the  name,  had  at  the  same  time  far  different  apprehensions  about  the 
 thing  signified.  If  they  say,  that  the  variety  of  deities  worshipped  by  the 
 heathen  world  were  but  figurative  ways  of  expressing  the  several  attributes 
 of  that  incomprehensible  being,  or  several  parts  of  his  providence ;  I  an- 
 swer, what  they  might  be  in  their  original  I  will  not  here  inquire  ;  but  that 
 they  were  so  in  the  thoughts  of  the  vulgar,  I  think  nobody  will  affirm. 
 And  he  that  will  consult  the  voyage  of  the  bishop  of  Beryte.  c.  13,  (not  to 
 mention  other  testimonies)  will  find  that  the  theology  of  the  Siamites 
 professedly  owns  a  plurality  of  gods  :  or  as  the  Abbe  de  Choisy  more  judi- 
 ciously remarks,  in  his  Journal  du  Voyage  de  Siam,  \^,  it  consists  properly 
 in  acknowledging  no  God  at  all. 
 
 If  it  be  said,  that  wise  men  of  all  nations  came  to  have  true  conceptions 
 of  the  unity  and  infinity  of  the  Deity,  I  grant  it.     But  then  this, 
 
 First,  Excludes  universality  of  consent  in  any  thing  but  the  name ;  for 
 those  wise  men  being  very  few,  perhaps  one  of  a  thousand,  this  universality 
 is  very  narrow. 
 
 Secondly,  It  seems  to  me  plainly  to  prove,  that  the  truest  and  best  no- 
 tions men  had  of  God,  were  not  imprinted,  but  acquired  by  thought  and 
 meditation,  and  a  right  use  of  their  faculties :  since  the  wise  and  considerate 
 men  of  the  world,  by  a  right  and  careful  employment  of  their  thoughts  and 
 reason,  attained  true  notions  in  this,  as  well  as  other  things ;  whilst  the 
 lazy  and  inconsiderate  part  of  men,  making  far  the  greater  number,  took 
 up  their  notions  by  chance,  from  common  tradition  and  \'ulgar  conceptions, 
 without  much  beating  their  heads  about  them.  And  if  it  be  a  reason  to 
 think  the  notion  of  God  innate,  because  all  wise  men  had  it,  virtue,  too, 
 must  be  innate,  for  that  also  wise  men  have  always  had. 
 
 Sect.  16.  This  was  evidently  the  case  of  all  Gentilism :  nor  hath  even 
 among  Jews,  Christians,  and  Mahometans,  who  acknowledge  but  one  God, 
 this  doctrine,  and  the  cai-e  taken  in  those  nations  to  teach  men  to  have  true 
 notions  of  a  God,  prevailed  so  far  as  to  make  men  to  have  the  same  and  the 
 true  ideas  of  him.  How  many,  even  among  us,  will  be  found,  upon  inquiry,  to 
 fancy  him  in  the  shape  of  a  man  sitting  in  heaven  ;  and  to  have  many  other  ab- 
 surd and  unfit  conceptions  of  him?  Christians,  as  well  as  Turks,  have  had 
 whole  sects  owning  and  contending  earnestly  for  it,  and  that  the  Deity 
 was  corporeal,  and  of  human  shape :  and  though  we  find  fevv'  among  us 
 who  profess  themselves  anthropomorphites,  (though  some  I  have  met  with 
 that  own  it)  yet,  I  believe,  he  that  will  make  it  his  business,  may  find  among 
 the  ignorant  and  uninstructed  Christians,  many  of  that  opinion.  Talk  but 
 with  country  people,  of  almost  any  age,  or  young  people  of  almost  any 
 condition ;' and  you  shall  find,  that  though  the  name  of  God  be  fi-equently 
 in  their  mouths,  yet  the  notions  they  apply  tlais  name  to  are  so  odd,  low, 
 and  pitiful,  that  nobody  can  imagine  they  were  taught  by  a  rational  man, 
 much  less  that  they  were  characters  written  by  the  finger  of  God  himself. 
 Nor  do  I  see  how  it  derogates  more  from  the  goodness  of  God,  that  he  has 
 given  us  minds  unfurnished  with  these  ideas  of  himself,  than  that  he  hath 
 sent  us  into  the  world  with  bodies  unclothed,  and  that  there  is  no  art  or 
 skill  born  with  us :  for,  heincr  fittpd  yf]i]i  fnr-ult.ips  to  attain  these,  it  is  want 
 of  industry  and  consideration  m  us,  and  not  of  bounty  in  him,  if  we  have 
 them  not.     It  is  as  certain  that  there  is  a  God,  as  tliat  the  opposite  angles, 
 
70  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 made  by  the  intersection  of  two  strait  lines,  are  equal.  There  was  never 
 any  rational  creature,  that  set  himself  sincerely  to  examine  the  truth  of 
 these  i)roposiliony,  that  could  fail  to  assent  to  them;  though  yet  it  be  past 
 doubt  that  there  are  many  men,  who,  having  not  applied  their  thoughts 
 that  way,  are  ignorant  botii  of  the  one  and  the  other.  If  any  one  think 
 fit  to  call  this,  (whicli  is  the  utmost  of  its  extent)  universal  consent,  such 
 an  one  I  easily  allow ;  but  such  an  universal  consent  as  this,  proves,  not  the 
 idea  of  God,  any  more  than  it  docs  the  idea  of  such  angles,  innate. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Ij  the  idea  of  God  be  not  innate,  no  other  can  be  supposedin- 
 nate. — Since,  then,  though  the  knowledge  of  a  God  be  the  most  natural 
 discovery  of  huiiiaii  reason,  yet  the  idea  of  him  is  not  innate,  as,  I  think, 
 is  evident  fi'om  what  lias  been  said ;  I  imagine  there  will  scarcely  be  another 
 idea  found,  that  can  pretend  to  it:  since,  if  God  hath  set  any  impression, 
 any  character,  on  the  understanding  of  men,  it  is  most  reasonable  to  expect 
 it  should  have  been  some  clear  and  uniform  idea  of  himself,  as  far  as  our  weak 
 capacities  were  capable  to  receive  so  incomprehensible  and  infinite  an  ob- 
 ject. But  our  minds  being  at  first  void  of  that  idea,  which  we  are  most 
 concerned  to  have,  it  is  a  strong  presumption  against  all  other  innate  char- 
 acters. I  must  own,  as  far  as  I  can  observe,  I  can  find  none,  and  would 
 be  glad  to  be  informed  by  any  other. 
 
 Skct.  18.  Idea  of  substance  not  innate. — I  confess  there  is  another  idea, 
 which  would  be  of  general  use  for  mankind  to  have,  as  it  is  of  general 
 talk,  as  if  Jiey  had  it;  and  that  is  the  idea  ofsubstance,  which  we  neither  have, 
 nor  can  have,  by  sensation  or  reflection.  If  nature  took  care  to  provide 
 us  aay  ideas,  vv  e  might  well  expect  they  should  be  such  as  by  our  own 
 faculties  we  cannot  procure  to  ourselves ;  but  we  see,  on  the  contrary,  that 
 since  by  those  vv'ays,  v/hereby  our  ideas  are  brought  into  our  minds,  this 
 is  not,  we  have  no  such  clear  idea  at  all,  and  therefore  signify  nothing  by 
 the  word  substance,  but  only  an  uncertain  supposition  of  we  know  not 
 what,  i.  e.  of  something  whereof  we  have  no  particular  distinct  positive 
 idea,  which  we  take  to  be  the  substratum,  or  support,  of  those  ideas  we 
 know. 
 
 Sect.  19.  No  proj>ositions  can  be  innate,  since  no  ideas  are  innate. — 
 Whatever  then  we  talk  of  innate,  either  speculative  or  practical,  principles, 
 it  may,  with  as  much  probability,  be  said,  that  a  man  hath  lOOZ.  sterlmg  in 
 his  pocket,  and  yet  denied  that  he  hath  either  penny,  shilling,  crown,  or  any 
 other  coin  out  of  which  the  sum  is  to  be  made  up,  as  to  think  that  certain 
 propositions  are  innate,  when  the  ideas  about  which  they  are,  can  by  no 
 means  be  supposed  to  be  so.  The  general  reception  and  assent  that  is 
 given  doth  not  at  all  prove  that  the  ideas  expressed  in  them  are  innate : 
 for  in  many  cases,  however  the  ideas  came  there,  the  assent  to  words, 
 expressing  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  such  ideas,  will  necessarily 
 follow.  Every  one,  that  hath  a  true  idea  of  God  and  worship,  will  assent 
 to  this  proposition,  "  that  God  is  to  be  worshipped,"  when  expressed  in  a 
 language  he  understands :  and  every  rational  man,  that  hath  not  thought 
 on  it  to-day,  may  be  ready  to  assent  to  this. proposition  to-morrow;  and 
 yet  millions  of  men  jnay  be  well  supposed  to  want  one  or  both  those  ideas 
 to-day.  For  if  "we  will  allow  savages  and  most  country  pecfple  to  have 
 ideas  of  God  and  worship,  (which  conversation  with  them  will  not  make 
 one  forward  to  believe,)  yet  I  think  few  children  can  be  supposed  to  have 
 those  ideas,  which  therefore  they  must  begin  to  have  some  time  or  other; 
 and  then  they  will  begin  to  assent  to  that  proposition,  and  make  very  lit- 
 tle question  of  it  ever  after.  But  such  an  assent  upon  hearing,  no  more 
 proves  the  ideas  to  be  innate,  than  it  does  that  one  born  blind  (with  cataracts, 
 which  will  be  couched  to-morrow)  had  the  innate  ideas  of  the  sim,  or 
 liqht,  or  saffron,  or  yellow;  because,  when  his  sight  is  cleared,  he  will  cer- 
 tnmly  assent  to  this  proposition,  "  that  the  sun  is  lucid,  or  that  saffron  is 
 yollow;"  and,  therefore,  if  such  an  assent  upon  hearing  cannot  prove  the 
 
Ch.  4,  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES.  71 
 
 ideas  innate,  it  can  much  less  tlie  propositions  made  up  of  those  ideas. 
 If  they  have  any  innate  ideas,  I  would  be  glad  to  be  told  what,  and  how 
 many,  they  are. 
 
 Sect.  20.  No  innate  ideas  in  the  memory. — To  which  let  me  add:  if 
 there  be  any  innate  ideas,  any  ideas  in  the  mind,  which  the  mind  does  not 
 actually  tliink  on,  they  must  be  lodged  in  the  memory,  and  from  thence  must 
 be  brought  into  view  by  remembrance  :  i.  e.  must  be  laiown,  when  they 
 are  remembered  to  have  been  perceptions  in  the  mind  before,  unless  remem- 
 brajice  can  be  without  remembrance.  For  to  remember  is  to  perceive  any 
 thing  with  memory,  or  with  a  consciousness  that  it  was  known  or  perceived 
 before :  without tliis,  whatever  idea  comes  into  the  mind  is  new,  and  not  re- 
 membered ;  this  consciousness  of  its  havingbeen  in  the  mind  before,  being  that 
 which  distinguishes  remembering  from  all  other  ways  of  tliinking.  What- 
 ever idea  was  never  perceived  by  the  mind  was  never  in  the  mind.  What- 
 ever idea  is  in  the  mind,  is  either  an  actual  perception,  or  else,  having  been 
 an  actual  preception,  is  so  in  the  mind,  that  by  the  memory  it  can  be  made 
 an  actual  perception  again.  Whenever  there  is  the  actual  perception  of 
 an  idea  without  memory,  the  idea  appears  perfectly  new  and  unknown 
 before  to  the  understanding.  Whenever  the  memory  brings  any  idea  into 
 actual  view,  it  is  with  a  consciousness  that  it  had  been  there  before,  and 
 was  not  wholly  a  stranger  to  the  mind.  Whether  this  be  not  so,  I  appeal 
 to  every  one's  observation  ;  and  then  I  desire  an  instance  of  an  idea,  pre- 
 tended to  be  innate,  which  (before  any  impression  of  it,  by  ways  hereafter 
 to  be  mentioned)  any  one  could  revive  and  remember  as  an  idea  he  had 
 formerly  known;  without  which  consciousness  of  a  former  perception 
 there  is  no  remembrance ;  and  whatever  idea  comes  into  the  mind  without 
 that  consciousness,  is  not  remembered,  or  comes  not  out  of  the  memory,  nor 
 can  be  said  to  be  in  the  mind  before  that  appearance  :  for  what  is  not  either 
 actually  in  view,  or  in  the  memory,  is  in  the  mind  no  way  at  all,  and  is  all  one 
 as  jf  it  had  never  been  there.  Suppose  a  child  had  the  use  of  his  eyes,  till 
 he  knows  and  distinguishes  colours  ;  but  then  cataracts  slmt  the  windows, 
 and  he  is  forty  or  fifty  years  perfectly  in  the  dark,  and  in  that  time  per- 
 fectly loses  all  memory  of  the  ideas  of  colours  he  once  had.  This  was  the 
 case  of  a  blind  man  I  once  talked  with,  who  lost  his  sight  by  the  small-pox 
 when  he  was  a  child,  and  had  no  more  notion  of  colours  than  one  born  blind. 
 I  ask,  whether  any  one  can  say  this  man  had  then  any  ideas  of  colours  in  his 
 mind,  any  more  than  one  born  blind'?  And  I  think  nobody  will  say  that 
 either  of  them  had  in  his  mind  any  idea  of  colours  at  all.  His  cataracts  are 
 couched,  and  then  he  has  the  ideas  (which  he  remembers  not)  of  colours, 
 de  novo,  by  his  restored  sight,  conveyed  to  his  mind,  and  that  without  any 
 consciousness  of  a  former  acquaintance  :  and  these  now  he  can  revive  and 
 call  to  mind  in  the  dark.  In  this  case  all  these  ideas  of  colours,  which 
 when  out  of  view  can  be  revived  with  a  consciousness  of  a  former  acquain- 
 tance, being  thus  in  the  memory,  are  said  to  be  in  the  mind.  The 
 use  I  make  of  this  is,  that  whatever  idea,  being  not  actually  in  view,  is  in 
 the  mind,  is  there  only  by  being  in  the  memory;  and  if  it  be  not  in  the 
 memory,  it  is  not  in  the  mind ;  and  if  it  be  in  the  memory,  it  cannot  by  the 
 memory  be  brought  into  actual  view,  without  a  perception  that  it  comes 
 out  of  the  memory ;  which  is  this,  that  it  had  been  known  before,  and  is 
 now  remembered.  If,  therefore,  there  be  any  innate  ideas,  they  must  be  in 
 the  memory,  or  else  no  where  in  the  mind;  and  if  they  be  in  the  memory, 
 they  can  be  revived  without  any  impression  from  without ;  and  whenever 
 they  are  brought  into  the  mind,  they  are  remembered,  i.  e.  they  bring  with 
 them  a  perception  of  their  not  being  wholly  new  to  it.  This  being  a  con- 
 stant and  distinguishing  difference  between  what  is,  and  what  is  not  in 
 the  memory,  or  in  the  mind ;  that  what  is  not  in  the  memory,  whenever  it 
 appears  there,  appears  perfectly  new  and  unknown  before  ;  and  what  is  in  the 
 memory,  or  in  the  mind,  wheneverit  is  suggested  by  the  memory,  appears  not 
 
73  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 to  be  new,  but  the  mind  finds  it  in  itself,  and  knows  it  was  there  before. 
 By  this  it  may  be  tried,  whetlier  there  be  any  innate  ideas  in  the  mind,  be- 
 fore impression  from  Bcnsation  or  reflection.  I  would  fain  meet  with  the 
 man  who,  when  he  came  to  tlie  use  of  reason,  or  at  any  other  time,  re- 
 membered any  one  of  them;  and  to  whom,  atler  he  was  born,  they  were 
 never  new.  If  any  one  will  say,  there  are  ideas  in  tiie  mind  that  are  not 
 in  the  memory,  I  desire  him  to  explain  himself,  and  make  what  lie  says 
 intelligible. 
 
 Sect.  21.  Principles  not  innate,  because  of  little  tise,  or  little  cer- 
 tainty.— Besides  what  I  have  already  said,  there  is  another  reason  why  I 
 doubt  that  neither  these  nor  any  other  princi))les  are  innate.  I  that  am 
 fully  persuaded  tliat  the  infinitely  wise  God  made  all  tilings  in  perfect 
 wisdom,  cannot  satisfy  myself  why  he  should  be  supposed  to  print  upon  the 
 minds  of  men  some  universal  principles;  whereof  those  that  are  pretended 
 innate,  and  concern  speculation,  are  of  no  great  use;  and  tliose  that  con- 
 cern practice  not  self  evident:  and  neither  of  tliem  distinguishable  from 
 some  other  truths,  not  allowed  to  be  innate.  For  to  what  purpose  should 
 characters  be  graven  on  the  mind  by  the  finger  of  God,  which  are  not 
 clearer  there  than  those  which  are  afterwards  introduced,  or  cannot  be  distin- 
 guished from  them]  If  any  one  thinks  there  are  such  innate  ideas  and  pro- 
 positions, which  by  their  clearness  and  usefulness  are  distinguishable  from 
 all  that  is  adventitious  in  the  mind,  and  acquired,  it  will  not  be  a  hard 
 matter  for  him  to  tell  us  which  they  are,  and  then  every  one  will  be  a  fit 
 judge  whether  they  be  so  or  no;  since  if  there  be  such  innate  ideas  and  im- 
 pressions, i)lainly  different  from  all  other  perceptions  and  knowledge, 
 every  one  will  find  it  true  in  himself.  Of  the  evidence  of  these  supposed 
 innate  maxims  I  have  spoken  already ;  of  their  usefulness  I  shall  have  oc- 
 casion to  speak  more  hereafter. 
 
 Sect.  22.  Difference  of  men^s  discoveries  depends  upon  the  different 
 application  of  their  faculties. — To  conclude :  some  ideas  forwardly  offer 
 themselves  to  all  men's  understandings ;  some  sorts  of  truth  result  from  any 
 ideas,  as  soon  as  the  mind  puts  them  into  propositions;  other  truths  require 
 a  train  of  ideas  placed  in  order,  a  due  comparing  of  them,  and  deductions 
 made  with  attention,  before  they  can  be  discovered  and  assented  to. 
 Some  of  the  first  sort,  because  of  their  general  and  easy  reception,  have 
 been  mistaken  for  innate ;  but  the  truth  is,  ideas  and  notions  are  no  more 
 born  with  us  than  arts  and  sciences,  though  some  of  them  indeed  offer 
 themselves  to  our  faculties  more  readily  than  others,  and  therefore  are  more 
 generally  received;  though  that  too  be  according  as  the  organs  of  our 
 bodies  and  powers  of  our  minds  happen  to  be  employed:  God  having  fitted 
 men  with  faculties  and  means  to  discover,  receive,  and  retain  truths,  ac- 
 cording as  they  are  employed.  The  great  diiference  that  is  to  be  found 
 in  the  notions  of  mankind  is  from  the  different  use  they  put  their  faculties 
 to ;  whilst  some  (and  those  the  most)  taking  things  upon  trust,  misem- 
 ploy their  power  of  assent,  by  lazily  enslaving  their  minds  to  the  dictates 
 and  dominion  of  otliers  in  doctrines,  which  it  is  their  duty  carefiilly  to  e.x- 
 amine,  and  not  blindly,  with  an  implicit  faith,  to  swallow ;  others,  employ- 
 ing their  thouglits  only  about  some  few  things,  grow  acquainted  sufficiently 
 with  them,  attain  great  degrees  of  knowledge  in  them,  and  are  ignorant  of 
 all  other,  having  never  let  their  thoughts  loose  in  the  search  of  other  in- 
 quiries. Thus,  tliaL  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  ones, 
 is  a  truth  as  certain  as  any  thing  can  be,  and  I  think  more  evident  than 
 many  of  those  propositions  that  go  for  principles ;  and  yet  there  are  millions, 
 liowever  expert  in  other  tilings,  who  know  not  this  at  all,  because  they 
 never  set  their  thoughts  on  work  about  such  angles  ;  and  he  that  certainly 
 knows  this  proposition,  may  yet  be  utterly  ignorant  of  the  truth  of  other  pro- 
 positions, in  mathematics  itself,  which  are  as  clear  and  evident  as  tliis,  be- 
 cause, in  his  search  of  those  mathematical  truths,  he  stopped  his  thoughts 
 
Ch.  4.  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES.  73 
 
 short,  and  went  not  so  far.  The  same  may  happen  concerning  the  notions 
 we  have  of  the  being  of  a  Deity ;  for  though  there  be  no  truth  which  a  man 
 may  more  evidently  make  out  to  himself  than  the  existence  of  a  God,  yet 
 he  that  shall  content  himself  with  things  as  he  finds  them,  in  this  world, 
 as  they  minister  to  his  pleasures  and  passions,  and  not  make  inquiry  a  little 
 farther  into  the  causes,  ends,  and  admirable  contrivances,  and  pursue  the 
 thoughts  thereof  v/ith  diligence  and  attention,  may  live  long  without  any 
 notion  of  such  a  being.  And  if  any  person  hath  by  talk  put  such  a  notion 
 into  his  head,  he  may  perhaps  believe  it ;  but  if  he  hath  never  examined  it, 
 his  knowledge  of  it  will  be  no  perfecter  than  his,  who  having  been  told  that 
 the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  ones,  takes  it  upon 
 trust,  without  examining  the  demonstration  ;  and  may  yield  his  assent  as  a 
 probable  opinion,  but  hath  no  knowledge  of  the  truth  of  it;  which  yet  his 
 faculties,  if  carefully  employed,  were  able  to  make  clear  and  evident  to 
 him.  But  this  only  by  the  by,  to  show  how  much  our  knowledge  depends 
 upon  the  right  use  of  those  powers  nature,  hath  bestov/ed  upon  us,  and  how 
 little  upon  such  innate  principles,  as  are  in  vain  supposed  to  be  in  all  man- 
 kind for  their  direction ;  which  all  men  could  not  but  know,  if  they  were 
 there,  or  else  they  would  be  there  to  no  purpose ;  and  which,  since  all  men 
 do  not  know,  nor  can  distinguish  from  other  adventitious  truths,  we  may 
 well  conclude  there  are  no  such. 
 
 Sect.  23.  i][c7i  must  think  and  knoio  for  themsehes.-^What  censure, 
 doubting  thus  of  innate  principles,  may  deserve  from  men,  who  will  be  apt 
 to  call  it  pidling  up  the  old  foundations  of  knowledge  and  certainty,  I  can- 
 not tell ;  I  persuade  myself,  at  least,  that  the  way  I  have  pursued,  being 
 conformable  to  trutli,  lays  those  foundations  surer.  This,  I  am  certain,  I 
 have  not  made  it  my  business  either  to  quit  or  follow  any  authority  m  the 
 ensuing  discourse :  truth  has  been  my  only  aim,  and  wherever  that  has  ap- 
 peared to  lead,  my  thoughts  have  impartially  followed,  without  minding 
 whether  the  footsteps  of  any  other  lay  that  way  or  no.  Not  that  I  want  a 
 due  respect  to  other  men's  opinions  ;  but  after  all,  the  greatest  reverence  is 
 due  to  truth :  and  I  hope  it  will  not  be  thought  arrogance  to  say  that  per- 
 haps we  should  make  gi'eater  progress  in  the  discovery  of  rational  and  con- 
 templative knowledge  if  we  soug-ht  it  in  the  fountain,  in  the  considei'ation 
 of  things  themselves,  and  made  use  rather  of  our  own  thoughts  than  other 
 men's  to  find  it;  for  I  think  we  may  as  rationally  hope  to  see  with  other . 
 men's  eyes,  as  to  know  by  other  men's  understandings.  So  much  as  we 
 ourselves  consider  and  comprehend  of  truth  and  reason,  so  much  we  pos- 
 sess of  real  and  true  knowledge.  The  floating  of  other  men's  opinions  in 
 oiir  brains  makes  us  not  one  jot  the  more  knowing,  though  they  happen  to 
 be  true.  What  in  them  was  science,  is  in  us  but  opiniatrety  ;  whilst  we 
 give  up  our  assent  only  to  reverend  names,  and  do  not,  as  they  did,  employ 
 our  own  reason  to  understand  those  truths  which  gave  them  reputation. 
 Aristotle  was  certainly  a  knowing  man,  but  nobody  ever  thought  him  so, 
 because  he  blindly  embraced,  and  confidently  vented,  the  opinions  of  another. 
 And  if  the  taking  up  of  another's  principles,  without  examining  them,  made 
 not  him  a  philosopher,  I  suppose  it  will  hardly  make  any  body  else  so.  In 
 the  sciences,  every  one  has  so  much  as  lie  really  knows  and  comprehends  ; 
 what  he  believes  only,  and  takes  upon  trust,  are  but  shreds  ;  which,  how- 
 ever well  in  the  whole  piece,  make  no  considerable  addition  to  his  stock  who 
 gathers  them.  Such  borrowed  wealth,  like  fairy-money,  though  it  were 
 gold  in  the  hand  from  which  he  received  it,  will  be  but  leaves  and  dust 
 when  it  comes  to  use. 
 
 Sect.  24.  Whence  the  opinion  of  innate  principles. — When  men  have 
 found  some  general  propositions,  that  could  not  be  doubted  of  as  soon  as 
 understood,  it  was,  I  know,  a  short  and  easy  way  to  conclude  them  innate. 
 This  being  once  received,  it  oased  the  lazy  from  the  pains  of  search,  and 
 stopped  the  inquiry  of  the  doubtful  concerning  all  that  was  once  styled  in- 
 K 
 
74  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1 
 
 nate.  And  it  was  of  no  email  advantage  to  tliose  wlio  afFected  to  be 
 masters  and  teachers,  to  make  this  tlie  principle  of  princi])los,  "  that  princi- 
 ples must  not  be  questioned:"  for  havintr  once  establislied  this  tenet,  tliat 
 there  are  innate  principles,  it  put  their  followers  upon  a  necessity  of  receiv- 
 ing some  doctrines  as  such;  which  was  to  take  them  off  from  the  use  of 
 their  own  reason  and  judgment,  and  put  tliem  upon  believing  and  taking 
 them  upon  trust,  without  farther  examination:  in  which  posture  of  blind 
 credulity  they  might  be  more  easily  governed  by,  and  made  useful  to,  some 
 Bort  of  men,  who  had  the  skill  and  office  to  principle  and  guide  them.  Nor 
 is  it  a  small  power  it  gives  one  man  over  another,  to  liave  the  authority  to 
 be  the  dictator  of  principles,  and  teacher  of  unquestionable  truths ;  and  to 
 make  a  man  swallow  tiiat  for  an  innate  principle  which  may  serve  to  his 
 purpose  who  teacheth  them;  whereas,  had  they  examined  the  ways  where- 
 by men  came  to  tlie  liuowledge  of  many  universal  trutjis,  they  would  have 
 found  them  to  result  in  the  minds  of  men,  from  the  being  of  things  them- 
 selves, when  duly  considered;  and  that  they  were  discovered  by  the  appli- 
 cation of  those  faculties  that  were  fitted  by  nature  to  receive  and  judge  of 
 them,  when  duly  employed  about  them. 
 
 Sect.  25.  Conclusion. — To  show  how  the  understanding  proceeds  here- 
 in, is  the  design  of  the  following  discourse ;  which  I  shall  proceed  to,  when 
 I  have  first  premised,  that  hitherto,  to  clear  my  way  to  those  foundations 
 which  I  conceive  are  the  only  true  ones  whereon  to  establish  those  notions 
 we  can  have  of  our  own  knowledge,  it  hath  been  necessary  for  me  to  give 
 an  account  of  the  reasons  I  had  to  doubt  of  innate  principles.  And  since 
 the  arguments  which  are  against  them  do  some  of  them  rise  from  common 
 received  opinions,  I  have  been  forced  to  take  several  things  for  granted, 
 which  is  hardly  avoidable  to  any  one,  whose  task  it  is  to  show  the  false- 
 hood or  improbability  of  any  tenet :  it  happening  in  controversial  discourses 
 as  it  does  in  assaulting  of  towns,  where,  if  the  ground  be  but  firm  whereon 
 the  batteries  are  erected,  there  is  no  farther  inquiry  of  whom  it  is  borrow- 
 ed, nor  whom  it  belongs  to,  so  it  affords  but  a  fit  rise  for  the  present  pur- 
 pose. But  in  the  future  part  of  this  discourse,  designing  to  raise  an  edifice 
 uniform  and  consistent  with  itself,  as  far  as  my  own  experience  and  obser- 
 vation will  assist  me,  I  hope  to  erect  it  on  such  a  basis,  that  I  shall  not 
 need  to  shore  it  up  with  props  and  buttresses,  leaning  on  borrowed  or 
 begged  foundations  ;  or  at  least,  if  mine  prove  a  castle  in  the  aij,  I  will 
 endeavour  it  shall  be  all  of  a  piece,  and  hang  together.  Wherein  I  warn 
 the  reader  not  to  expect  undeniable  cogent  demonstrations,  unless  I  may  be 
 allowed  the  privilege,  not  seldom  assumed  by  others,  to  take  my  princi- 
 ciples  for  granted;  and  then,  I  doubt  not,  but  I  can  demonstrate  too.  All 
 that  I  shall  say  for  the  principles  I  proceed  on,  is,  that  I  can  only  appeal  to 
 men's  own  unprejudiced  experience  and  observation,  whether  they  be  true 
 or  no ;  and  this  is  enough  for  a  man  who  professes  no  more  than  to  lay 
 down  candidly  and  freely  his  own  conjectures  concerning  a  subject  lying 
 somewhat  in  the  darjc,  without  any  other  design  than  an  unbiassed  inquiry 
 after  truth. 
 
Ch.  1.  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  75 
 
 BOOK   II. 
 
 OF  IDEAS. 
 
 CHAPTER  I. 
 
 OF  IDEAS  IN    GENERAL,    AND   THEIR   ORIGINAL. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Idea  is  the  object  of  thinking. — Every  man  being  conscious 
 to  himself  that  he  thinks,  and  that  which  his  mind  is  applied  about  whilst 
 thinking,  being  the  ideas  that  are  there,  it  is  past  doubt,  that  men  have  in 
 their  minds  several  ideas,  such  as  are  those  expressed  by  the  words  wliite- 
 ness,  hardness,  sweetness,  thinking,  motion,  man,  elephant,  army,  drun- 
 kenness, and  others.  It  is  in  the  tirst  place  then  to  be  inquired,  how  he 
 comes  by  them.  I  know  it  is  a  received  doctrine,  that  men  have  native  ideas 
 and  original  characters  stamped  upon  their  minds  in  their  very  first  being. 
 Tills  opinion  I  have,  at  large,  examined  already ;  and  I  suppose,  what  I 
 have  said,  in  the  foregoing  book,  will  be  much  more  easily  admitted,  when 
 I  have  shown  whence  the  understanding  may  get  all  the  ideas  it  has,  and 
 by  what  ways  and  degrees  they  may  come  into  the  mind ;  for  which  I  shall 
 appeal  to  every  one's  own  observation  and  experience. 
 
 Sect.  2.  All  ideas  come  from  sensation  or  reflection. — Let  us  then  suppose 
 the  mind  to  be,  as  \ve  say,  wliite  paper,  void  of  all  characters,  without  any 
 ideas  ;  how  comes  it  to  be  furnished  1  Whence  comes  it  by  that  vast  store 
 which  the  busy  and  boundless  fancy  of  man  has  painted  on  it,  with  an 
 almost  endless  variety?  Whence  has  it  all  the  materials  of  reason  and 
 knowledge  1  To  this  I  answer  in  one  word,  from  experience ;  in  that  all 
 our  knowledge  is  founded,  and  from  that  it  ultimately  derives  itself.  Our 
 observation  employed  either  about  external  sensible  objects,  or  about  the 
 internal  operations  of  our  minds,  perceived  and  reflected  on  by  ourselves, 
 is  that  which  supphes  our  understandings  with  all  the  materials  of  thinking. 
 These  two  are  the  fountains  of  knowledge,  from  whence  all  the  ideas  we 
 have,  or  can  naturally  have,  do  spring. 
 
 Sect.  3.  The  objects  of  sensation  one  source  of  ideas. — First,  Our 
 senses,  conversant  about  particular  sensible  objects,  do  convey  into  the  mind 
 several  distinct  perceptions  of  things,  according  to  those  various  ways 
 wherein  those  objects  do  affect  them :  and  tlms  we  come  by  those  ideas 
 we  have  of  yellov/,  white,  heat,  cold,  soft,  hard,  bitter,  sweet,  and  all 
 those  which  we  call  sensible  qualities ;  which,  when  I  say  the  senses  con- 
 vey into  the  mind,  I  mean,  they,  from  external  objects,  convey  into  the  mind 
 what  produces  there  those  perceptions.  This  great  source  of  most  of  the 
 ideas  we  have,  depending  wholly  upon  our  senses,  and  derived  by  them  to 
 the  understanding,  I  call  sensation. 
 
 Sect.  4.  The  operations  of  our  minds  the  other  source  of  them. — 
 Secondly,  The  other  fountain  from  which  experience  furnisheth  the  un- 
 derstanding with  ideas,  is  the  perception  of  the  operations  of  our  own  mind- 
 within  us,  as  it  is  employed  about  the  ideas  it  has  got,  which  operations, 
 when  the  soid  comes  to  reflect  on  and  consider,  do  furnish  tlie  under- 
 standing with  another  set  of  idea,  which  could  not  be  had  from  tilings  with- 
 out ;  and  such  are  preception,  thinking,  doubting,  believing,  reasoning, 
 knowing,  willing,  and  all  the  different  actings  of  our  own  minds ;  which  we 
 being  conscious  of  and  observingin  ourselves,  do  from  these  receive  into  our 
 understandings  as  distinct  ideas,  aa  we  do  from  bodies  affecting  our  senses. 
 
76  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 This  source  of  ideas  every  man  has  wholly  in  himself;  and  though  it  be 
 not  sense,  as  havinsr  nothing  to  do  with  external  objects,  yet  it  is  very  like 
 it,  and  might  properly  enough  be  called  internal  sense.  But  as  I  call  the 
 other  sensation,  so  I  call  this,  reflection,  the  ideas  it  affords  being  such 
 only  as  the  mind  gets  by  reflecting  on  its  own  operations  within  itself.  By 
 reflection,  then,  in  the  following  part  of  this  discourse,  I  would  be  under- 
 stood to  mean  that  notice  wliich  the  mind  takes  of  its  own  operations,  and 
 the  manner  of  them  ;  by  reason  whereof  there  come  to  be  ideas  of  these 
 operations  in  the  understanding.  These  two,  I  say,  viz.  external  material 
 things,  as  the  objects  of  sensation  and  the  operations  of  our  own  minds  with- 
 in, as  the  objects  of  reflection  ;  are  to  me  the  only  originals  from  whence 
 all  our  ideas  take  their  beginnings.  The  term  operations  here  1  use  in  a 
 large  sense,  as  comprehending  not  barely  the  actions  of  the  mind  about 
 its  ideas,  but  some  sort  of  passions  arising  sometimes  from  them,  such  as  is 
 the  satisfaction  or  uneasiness  arising  from  any  thought. 
 
 Sect.  5.  All  our  ideas  are  of  the  one  or  the  other  of  these. — The  un- 
 derstanding seems  to  me  not  to  have  the  least  glimmering  of  any  ideas, 
 which  it  doth  not  receive  from  one  of  these  two.  External  objects  furnish 
 the  mind  with  the  ideas  of  sensible  qualities,  which  are  all  those  different 
 perceptions  they  produce  in  us :  and  the  mind  furnishes  the  understand- 
 ing with  ideas  of  its  own  operations. 
 
 These,  when  we  have  taken  a  full  survey  of  them  and  their  several 
 modes,  combinations,  and  relations,  we  shall  find  to  contain  all  our  whole 
 stock  of  ideas ;  and  that  we  have  nothing  in  our  minds  which  did  not  come 
 in  one  of  these  two  ways.  Let  any  one  examine  his  own  thoughts,  and 
 thoroughly  search  into  his  understanding  ;  and  then  let  him  tell  me,  whe- 
 ther all  the  original  ideas  he  has  there  are  any  other  than  of  the  objects  of 
 his  senses,  or  of  the  operations  of  his  mind,  considered  as  objects  of  his  re- 
 flection ;  and  how  great  a  mass  of  knowledge  soever  he  imagines  to  be  lodg- 
 ed there,  he  will,  upon  taking  a  strict  view,  see  that  he  has  not  any  idea  in 
 his  mind,  but  what  one  of  these  two  have  imprinted ;  though  perhaps  with 
 infinite  variety  compounded  and  enlarged  by  the  understanding,  as  we  shall 
 see  hereafter. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Observable  in  children. — He  that  attentively  considers  the 
 state  of  a  child,  at  his  first  coming  into  the  world,  will  have  little  reason  to 
 think  him  stored  with  plenty  of  ideas,  that  are  to  be  the  matter  of  his  future 
 knowledge:  it  is  by  degrees  he  comes  to  be  furnished  with  them.  And 
 though  the  ideas  of  obvious  and  familiar  qualities  imprint  themselves  before 
 the  memory  begins  to  keep  a  register  of  time  or  order,  yetitis  oflen  so  late 
 before  some  unusual  qualities  come  in  the  way,  that  there  are  few  men  that 
 cannot  recollect  the  beginning  of  their  acquaintance  with  them  ;  and  if  it 
 were  worth  while,  no  doubt  a  child  might  be  so  ordered  as  to  have  but  a 
 very  few  even  of  the  ordinary  ideas,  till  he  were  grown  up  to  a  man.  But 
 all  that  are  born  into  the  world  being  surrounded  with  bodies  that  per- 
 petually and  diversely  affect  them,  variety  of  ideas,  whether  care  be  taken 
 of  it  or  no,  are  imprinted  on  the  minds  of  children.  Light  and  colours  are 
 busy  at  hand  every  where,  when  the  eye  is  but  open ;  sounds  and  some 
 tangible  qualities  ftiil  not  to  solicit  tlieir  proper  senses,  and  force  an  entrance 
 to  the  mind ;  but  yet,  I  think,  it  will  be  granted  easily,  that  if  a  child  were 
 kept  in  a  place  where  he  never  saw  any  other  but  black  and  white  till  he 
 were  a  man,  he  would  have  no  more  ideas  of  scarlet  or  green,  than  he  that 
 from  his  childhood  never  tasted  an  oyster  or  a  pine-apple  has  of  those  par- 
 ticular relishes. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Men  are  differently  furnished  with  these,  according  to  the 
 different  objects  they  converse  with. — Men  then  come  to  be  furnished 
 with  fewer  or  more  simple  ideas  from  without,  according  as  the  objects  they 
 converse  with  afford  greater  or  less  variety ;  and  from  the  operations  of 
 their  minds  within,  according  as  they  more  or  less  reflect  on  them.     Foi 
 
Ch.  1.  THE  ORIGINAL  OF  OUR  IDEAS.  77 
 
 thouo-h  he  that  contemplates  the  operations  of  his  mind  cannot  but  have  plain 
 and  clear  ideas  of  them ;  yet,  unless  he  turns  his  thoughts  that  way,  and  con- 
 siders them  attentively,  he  will  no  more  have  clear  and  distinct  ideas  of  all 
 the  operations  of  his  mind,  and  all  that  may  be  observed  therein,  than  he  will 
 have  all  the  particular  ideas  of  any  landscape,  or  of  the  parts  and  motions 
 of  a  clock,  who  will  not  turn  his  eyes  to  it,  and  with  attention  heed  all  the 
 parts  of  it.  The  picture  or  clock  may  be  so  placed,  that  they  may  come  in 
 his  way  every  day ;  but  yet  he  will  have  but  a  confused  idea  of  all  the  parts 
 they  are  made  up  of,  till  he  applies  himself  with  attention  to  consider  them 
 each  in  particular. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Ideas  of  reflection  later,  because  they  need  attention. — And 
 hence  we  see  the  reason,  why  it  is  pretty  late  befoi-e  most  children  get  ideas 
 of  the  operations  of  their  own  minds :  and  some  have  not  any  very  clear  or 
 perfect  ideas  of  the  gi-eatest  part  of  them  all  their  lives  :  because,  though  they 
 pass  there  continually,  yet,  like  floating  visions,  they  make  not  deep  impres- 
 sions enough  to  leave  in  the  mind  clear,  distinct,  lasting  ideas,  till  the  un- 
 derstanding turns  inward  upon  itself,  reflects  on  its  own  operations,  and 
 makes  them  the  objects  ofits  own  contemplation.  Children,  when  they  come 
 first  into  it,  are  surrounded  with  a  world  of  new  things,  which,  by  a  con- 
 stant solicitation  of  their  senses,  draw  the  mind  constantly  to  them,  forward 
 to  take  notice  of  new,  and  apt  to  be  delighted  with  the  variety  of  changing 
 objects.  Thus  the  first  years  are  usually  employed  and  diverted  in  looking  / 
 abroad.  Men's  business  in  them  is  to  acquaint  themselves  with  what  is 
 to  be  found  without:  and  so  growing  up  in  a  constant  attention  to  outward 
 sensation,  seldom  make  any  considerable  reflection  on  what  passes  within 
 them,  until  they  come  to  be  of  riper  years ;  and  some  scarce  ever  at  all. 
 
 Sect.  9.  The  soul  begins  to  have  ideas,  when  it  begins  to  perceive. — 
 To  asli  at  what  time  a  man  has  first  any  ideas,  is  to  ask  when  he  begins  to 
 perceive  ?  having  ideas,  and  perception,  being  the  same  thing.  I  know  it 
 is  an  opinion,  that  the  soul  always  thinks,  and  that  it  has  the  actual  per- 
 ception of  ideas  in  itself  constantly,  as  long  as  it  exists ;  and  that  actual 
 thinking  is  as  inseparable  from  the  soul  as  actual  extension  is  from  the 
 Dody ;  which,  if  true,  to  inquire  after  the  beginning  of  a  man's  ideas  is  the 
 same  as  to  inquire  after  the  beginning  of  his  soul :  for  by  tliis  account  soul 
 and  its  ideas,  as  body  and  its  extension,  wiH  begin  to  exist  both  at  the 
 same  time. 
 
 Sect.  10.  The  soul  thinks  not  always,  for  this  wants  proof . — But 
 whether  the  soul  be  supposed  to  exist  antecedent  to,  or  coeval  with,  or  some 
 time  after  the  first  rudiments  of  organization,  or  the  beginnings  of  life  in 
 the  body,  I  leave  to  be  disputed  by  those  who  have  better  thought  of  that 
 matter.  I  confess  myself  to  have  one  of  those  duU  souls,  that  doth  not  per- 
 ceive itself  always  to  contemplate  ideas,  nor  can  conceive  it  any  more  ne- 
 cessary for  the  soul  always  to  tliink,  than  for  the  body  always  to  move ;  the 
 perception  of  ideas  being  (as  I  conceive)  to  the  soul,  what  motion  is  to  the 
 body,  not  its  essence,  but  one  of  its  operations.  And,  therefore,  though 
 thinking  be  supposed  ever  so  much  the  proper  action  of  the  soul,  yet  it  is 
 not  necessary  to  suppose  that  it  should  be  always  thinking,  always  in  ac- 
 tion. That,  perhaps,  is  the  privilege  of  the  infinite  Author  and  Preserver  of 
 things,  who  never  slumbers  nor  sleeps ;  but  is  not  competent  to  any  finite 
 being,  at  least  not  to  the  soul  of  man.  We  know  certainly,  by  experience, 
 that  we  sometimes  think,  and  thence  draw  this  infallible  consequence,  that 
 there  is  something  in  us  that  has  a  power  to  think :  but  whether  that  sub- 
 stance perpetually  thinks  or  no,  we  can  be  no  farther  assured  than  experi- 
 ence informs  us.  For  to  say  that  actual  thinking  is  essential  to  the  soul, 
 and  inseparable  fi-om  it,  is  to  beg  what  is  in  question,  and  not  to  prove  it  by 
 reason ;  which  is  necessary  to  be  done,  if  it  be  not  a  self-e\'ident  proposition. 
 But  whether  this,  "that  the  soul  always  thinks,"  be  a  self-evident  proposi- 
 tion, that  every  body  assents  to  at  first  hearing,  I  appeal  to  mankind.     It 
 
78  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 is  doubted  whether  I  thought  ot  all  last  niglit  or  no ;  the  question  being  about 
 a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  begging  it  to  bring,  as  a  proof  for  it,  an  hypothesis, 
 whicii  is  the  very  thing  in  dispute ;  by  which  way  one  may  prove  any  thing ; 
 and  it  is  but  supposing  that  all  watches,  whilst  the  balance  beats,  think  ; 
 and  it  is  sufficiently  proved,  and  past  doubt,  that  my  watch  thought  all  last 
 night.  But  he  that  would  not  deceive  himself,  ought  to  build  his  hypothesis 
 on  matter  of  fact,  and  make  it  out  by  sensible  experience,  and  not  presume 
 on  matter  of  fact,  because  of  liis  hypothesis:  that  is,  because  he  supposes  it 
 to  be  so:  which  way  of  proving  amounts  to  this,  that  I  must  necessarily 
 think  all  last  night,  because  another  supposes  I  always  think,  though  I  my- 
 self  cannot  perceive  that  I  always  do  so. 
 
 But  men  in  love  with  their  opinions  may  not  only  suppose  what  is  in 
 question,  but  allege  wrong  matter  of  fact.  How  else  could  any  one  make 
 it  an  inference  of  mine,  "  that  a  thing  is  not,  because  we  are  not  sensible  of 
 it  in  our  sleep?"  I  do  not  say  there  is  no  soul  in  a  man,  because  he  is  not 
 sensible  of  it  in  his  sleep :  but  I  do  say,  he  cannot  think  at  any  time,  waking 
 or  sleeping,  without  being  sensible  of  it.  Our  being  sensible  of  it,  is  not 
 necessary  to  any  thing,  but  to  our  thoughts :  and  to  them  it  is,  and  to  them 
 it  will  always  be  necessary,  till  we  can  think  without  being  conscious  of  it. 
 
 Sect.  11.  It  is  not  always  conscious  of  it. — I  grant  that  the  soul  in  a 
 waking  man  is  never  without  thought,  because  it  is  the  condition  of  being 
 awake :  but  whether  sleeping  without  dreaming  be  not  an  affection  of  the 
 whole  man,  mind  as  well  as  body,  may  be  worth  a  waking  man's  considera- 
 tion ;  it  being  hard  to  conceive  that  any  thing  should  think,  and  not  be  con- 
 scious of  it.  If  the  sold  doth  think  in  a  sleeping  man  without  being  con- 
 scious of  it,  I  ask,  whether,  during  such  thinking,  it  has  any  pleasure  or  pain, 
 or  is  capable  of  happiness  or  misery  1  I  am  sure  the  man  is  not,  any  more 
 than  the  bed  or  earth  he  lies  on.  For  to  be  happy  or  miserable,  without  being 
 conscious  of  it,  seems  to  me  utterly  inconsistent  and  impossible.  Or  if  it  be 
 possible  that  the  soul  can,  whilst  the  body  is  sleeping,  have  its  thinking,  en- 
 joyments and  concerns,  its  pleasure  or  pain  apart,  which  the  man  is  not 
 conscious  of,  nor  partakes  in ;  it  is  certain  that  Socrates  asleep,  and  So- 
 crates awake,  is  not  the  same  person ;  but  his  soul  when  he  sleeps,  and  So- 
 rates  the  man,  consisting  of  body  and  soul  when  he  is  waking,  are  two  per- 
 sons ;  since  waking  Socrates  has  no  knowledge  of,  or  concernment  for,  that 
 happiness  or  misery  of  his  soul  which  it  enjoys  alone  by  itself  whilst  he  sleeps, 
 without  perceiving  any  thing  of  it,  any  more  than  lie  has  for  the  happiness 
 or  misery  of  a  man  in  the  Indies,  whom  he  knows  not.  For  if  we  take 
 wholly  away  all  consciousness  of  our  actions  and  sensations,  especially  of 
 pleasure  and  pain,  and  the  concernment  that  accompanies  it,  it  will  be  hard  to 
 know  wherein  to  place  personal  identity. 
 
 Sect.  12.  If  a  sleeping  man  thinks  without  knowing  it,  the  sleeping 
 and  waking  man  are  two  persons. — "The  soul,  during  sound  sleep,  thinks," 
 say  these  men.  Whilst  it  thinks  and  perceives,  it  is  capable  certainly  of 
 those  of  delight  or  trouble,  as  well  as  any  other  perceptions ;  and  it  must 
 necessarily  be  conscious  of  its  own  perceptions.  But  it  has  all  this  apart ; 
 the  sleeping  man,  it  is  plain,  is  conscious  of  nothing  of  all  this.  Lotus 
 suppose  then  that  the  soul  of  Castor,  while  he  is  sleeping,  retired  from  his 
 body,  which  is  no  impossible  supposition  for  the  men  I  have  here  to  do  with, 
 who  so  liberally  allow  life,  without  a  thinking  soul,  to  all  other  animals. 
 These  men  cannot  then  judge  it  impossible  or  a  contradiction,  that  the  body 
 should  live  without  the  soul ;  nor  that  the  soul  should  subsist  and  think,  or 
 have  perception,  even  perception  of  happiness  or  misery,  without  the  body. 
 Let  us  then,  as  I  say,  suppose  the  soul  of  Castor  separated,  during  his  sleep, 
 from  his  body,  to  think  apart.  Let  us  suppose,  too,  that  it  chooses  for  its 
 scene  of  thinking,  the  body  of  another  man,  v.  g.  Pollux,  who  is  sleeping 
 without  a  soul :  for  if  Castor's  soul  can  think,  whilst  Castor  is  asleep,  what 
 Caetor  is  never  conscious  of,  it  is  no  matter  what  place  he  chooses  to  think  in. 
 
Ch.  1.  THE  ORIGINAL  OF  OUR  IDEAS.  79 
 
 We  have  here,  then,  the  bodies  of  two  men  with  only  one  soul  between  them, 
 which  we  will  suppose  to  sleep  and  wake  by  turns  ;  and  the  soul  still  think- 
 ing in  the  waking  man,  whereof  the  sleeping  man  is  never  conscious,  has 
 never  the  least  perception.  I  u,Sk,  then,  whether  Castor  and  Pollux,  thus, 
 with  only  one  soul  between  them,  which  thinks  and  perceives  in  one  what 
 the  other  is  never  conscious  of,  nor  is  concerned  for,  are  not  two  distinct 
 persons,  as  Castor  and  Hercules,  or  as  Socrates  and  Plato  were  1  And 
 whether  one  of  them  might  not  be  very  happy,  and  the  other  very  miser- 
 able 1  Just  by  the  same  reason  they  make  the  soul  and  the  man  two  per- 
 sons, who  make  the  soul  think  apart  what  the  man  is  not  conscious  of. 
 For  I  suppose  nobody  will  make  identity  of  person  to  consist  in  the  soul's 
 being  united  to  the  very  same  numerical  particles  of  matter  ;  for  if  that  be 
 necessary  to  identity,  it  will  be  impossible  in  that  constant  flux  of  the  par- 
 ticles of  our  bodies,  that  any  man  should  be  the  same  person  two  days,  or 
 two  moments,  together. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Im-possible  to  convince  those  that  sleep  without  dreaming, 
 that  they  think. — Thus,  methinks,  every  drowsy  nod  shakes  their  doctrine, 
 who  teach,  that  the  soul  is  always  thinking.  Those,  at  least,  who  do  at 
 any  time  sleep  without  dreaming,  can  never  be  convinced  that  their  thoughts 
 are  sometimes  for  four  hours  busy  without  their  knowing  of  it ;  and  if  they 
 are  taken  in  the  very  act,  waked  in  the  middle  of  that  sleeping  contempla- 
 tion, can  give  no  manner  of  account  of  it. 
 
 Sect.  14.  That  men  dream  without  remembering  it,  in  vain  urged. — It 
 will  perhaps  be  said,  "  that  the  soul  thinks  even  in  the  somadest  sleep,  but 
 the  memory  retains  it  not."  That  the  soul  in  a  sleeping  man  should  be 
 this  moment  busy  a  thinking,  and  the  next  moment  in  a  waking  man,  not 
 remember  nor  be  able  to  recollect  one  jot  of  all  those  thoughts,  i^  very  hard 
 to  be  conceived,  and  would  need  some  better  proof  than  bare  assertion  to 
 make  it  be  believed.  For  who  can,  without  any  more  ado,  but  being  barely 
 told  so,  imagine  that  the  greatest  part  of  men  do,  during  all  their  lives,  for 
 several  hours  every  day,  think  of  something,  which  if  they  were  asked,  even 
 in  the  middle  of  these  thoughts,  they  could  remember  nothing  at  all  of! 
 Most  men,  I  think,  pass  a  great  part  of  their  sleep  without  dreaming.  I 
 once  knew  a  man  that  was  bred  a  scholar,  and  had  no  bad  memory,  who  told 
 me  he  had  never  dreamed  in  his  life  till  he  had  that  fever  he  was  then 
 newly  recovered  of,  which  was  about  the  five  or  six  and  twentieth  year  of 
 his  age.  I  suppose  the  world  affords  more  such  instances :  at  least  every 
 one's  acquaintance  will  furnish  him  with  examples  enough  of  such  as  pass 
 most  of  their  nights  without  dreaming. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Upon  this  hypothesis  the  thoughts  of  a  sleeping  man  ought 
 to  be  most  rational. — To  think  often,  and  never  to  retain  it  so  much  as 
 one  moment,  is  a  very  useless  sort  of  thinking ;  and  the  soul,  in  such  a  state 
 of  thinking,  does  very  little,  if  at  all,  excel  that  of  a  looking-glass,  which 
 constantly  receives  a  variety  of  images,  or  ideas,  but  retains  none ;  they 
 disappear  and  vanish,  and  there  remain  no  footsteps  of  them  ;  the  looking- 
 glass  is  never  the  better  for  such  ideas,  nor  the  soul  for  such  thoughts. 
 Perhaps  it  will  be  said,  "  that  in  a  waking  man  the  materials  of  the  body 
 are  employed  and  made  use  of  in  thinking;  and  that  the  memory  of  thoughts 
 is  retained  by  the  impressions  that  are  made  on  the  brain,  and  the  traces 
 there  left  after  such  thinking;  but  that  in  the  thinking  o|'the  soul,  which 
 is  not  perceived  in  a  sleeping  man,  there  the  soul  thinks  apart,  and  making 
 no  use  of  the  organs  ofthe  body,  leaves  no  impression  on  it,  and  consequently  no 
 memory  of  such  thoughts."  Not  to  mention  again  the  absurdity  of  two  distinct 
 persons,  which  follows  from  this  supposition,  I  answer  farther,  that  what- 
 everideas  the  mirxd  can  receive  and  contemplate  without  the  help  ofthe  body, 
 it  is  reasonable  to  conclude  it  can  retain  without  the  help  of  the  body  too ; 
 or  else  the  soul,  or  any  separate  spirit,  will  have  but  little  advantage  by 
 thinking.     If  it  has  no  memory  of  its  own  thoughts  ;  if  it  cannot  lay  them 
 
80  OF  IIU:.L\N   UNDERSTANDING.  BjBok  2. 
 
 up  for  its  own  use,  and  be  able  to  recall  them  upon  occasion;  if  it  cannot 
 reflect  ujjon  what  is  pa^^t,  and  make  use  o^'  its  Ibrnier  experiences,  rea- 
 sonings, and  cunteinjjlutions,  to,  wliat  purpose  does  it  think  ?  Tlioy,  who 
 make  the  soul  a  thinking  tiii!ij>-,  at  this  rate,  will  not  make  it  a  much  more 
 noble  being,  than  those  do,  whom  they  condehin  for  allowing  it  to  be  noth- 
 ing but  the  subtilest  parts  of  matter.  Characters  drawn  on  dust,  that  the 
 first  breath  of  wind  cfl'accs ;  or  impressions  made  on  a  heap  of  adorns,  or  ani- 
 mal spirits,  are  altogether  as  useful,  and  render  the  subject  as  noble,  as 
 the  thoughts  of  a  soul  that  perish  in  thinking;  that  once  out  of  sight  arc 
 gone  for  ever,  and  leave  no  memory  of  themselves  behind  them.  Nature 
 never  makes  excellent  things  for  mean  or  no  uses  :  and  it  is  hardly  to  be 
 conceived,  that  our  infinitely  wise  Creator  should  make  so  admirable  a 
 faculty  as  the  power  of  thinking,  that  faculty  which  comes  nearest  the  ex- 
 cellency of  his  own  incomprehensible  being,  to  be  so  idly  and  uselessly 
 employed,  at  least  a  fourth  part  of  its  time  here,  as  to  think  constantly, 
 without  remembering  any  of  those  thoughts,  without  doing  any  good  to 
 itself  or  others,  or  being  any  way  useful  to  any  other  part  of  the  creation. 
 If  we  will  examine  it,  we  shall  not  find,  I  suppose,  the  motion  of  dull  and 
 senseless  matter,  any  where  in  the  universe,  made  so  little  use  of,  and  so 
 wholly  thrown  away. 
 
 Sect.  16.  On  this  hypothesis  the  soul  must  have  ideas  not  derived 
 from  sensation  or  reflection,  of  which  there  is  no  appearance. — It  is  true, 
 we  have  sometimes  instances  of  perception  whilst  we  are  asleep,  and  re- 
 tain the  memory  of  those  thoughts ;  but  how  extravagant  and  incoherent 
 for  the  most  part  they  are,  how  little  conformable  to  the  perfection  and 
 order  of  a  rational  being,  those  who  are  acquainted  with  dreams  need  not 
 be  told.  This  I  would  willingly  be  satisfied  in,  whether  the  soul,  when  it 
 thinks  thus  apart,  and  as  it  were  separate  from  the  body,  acts  less  ration- 
 ally than  when  conjointly  with  it  or  no.  If  its  separate  thoughts  be  less  ra- 
 tional, then  these  men  must  say,  that  the  soul  owes  the  perfection  of 
 rational  thinking  to  the  body  :  if  it  does  not,  it  is  a  wonder  that  our  dreams 
 should  be,  for  the  most  part,  so  frivolous  and  irrational;  and  that  the  soul 
 should  retain  none  of  its  more  rational  soliloquies  and  meditations. 
 
 Sect.  17.  If  I  think  when  I  know  it  not,  nobody  else  can  know  it. — 
 Those  who  so  confidently  tell  us  that  "the  soul  always  actually  thinks,"  I 
 would  they  would  also  tell  us  what  those  ideas  are  that  are  in  the  soul  of 
 a  child  before,  or  just  at  the  union  with  the  body,  before  it  hath  received 
 any  by  sensation.  The  dreams  of  sleeping  men  are,  as  I  take  it,  all 
 made  up  of  the  waking  man's  ideas,  though  for  the  most  part,  oddly  put 
 together.  It  is  strange,  if  the  soul  has  ideas  of  its  own,  that  it  derived  not 
 from  sensation  or  reflection  (as  it  must  have  if  it  thought  before  it  recei- 
 ved any  impressions  from  the  body)  that  it  should  never  in  its  private 
 thinking  (so  private  that  the  man  himself  perceives  it  not)  retain  any 
 of  them,  the  very  moment  it  wakes  out  of  them,  and  then  make  the  man 
 glad  with  new  discoveries.  Who  can  find  it  reasonable  that  the  soul  should, 
 in  its  retirement,  during  sleep,  have  so  many  hours'  thoughts,  and  yet 
 never  light  on  any  one  of  those  ideas  it  borrowed  not  from  sensation 
 or  reflection ;  or,  at  least,  preserve  the  memory  of  none  but  such,  which, 
 being  occasioned  fi-om  the  body,  must  needs  be  less  natural  to  a  spirit .' 
 It  is  strange  the  soul  should  never  once  in  a  man's  whole  life  recall  over 
 any  of  its  pure  native  thoughts,  and  those  ideas  it  had  before  it  borrowed 
 any  thing  from  the  body ;  never  bring  into  the  waking  man's  view  any  other 
 ideas  but  what  have  a  tang  of  the  cask,  and  manifestly  derive  their  ori- 
 ginal from  that  union.  If  it  always  thinks,  and  so  had  ideas  before  it  was 
 united,  or  before  it  received  any  from  the  body,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  but 
 that  during  sleep  it  recollects  its  native  ideas ;  and  during  that  retirement 
 from  communicating  wdth  the  body,  whilst  it  thinks  by  itself,  the  ideas  it 
 is  busied  about  shnuld  be,  sometimes  at  least,,  those  more  naturd  and  con- 
 
Ch.  1.  THE  ORIGINAL  OF  OUR  IDEAS.  81 
 
 genial  ones  wliich  it  had  in  itself,  under! ved  from  the  body,  or  its  own 
 operations  about  them ;  which,  since  the  waking-  man  never  remembers, 
 we  must  from  this  hypothesis  conclude,  either  that  the  soul  remembers 
 something  tiiat  the  man  does  not,  or  else  that  memory  belongs  only  to 
 such  ideas  as  are  derived  from  the  body,  or  the  mind's  operations  about 
 them. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Howknows  any  one  that  the  soul  always  thinks?  for  if  it  be  not 
 a  self-evident  froposition,  it  needs  proof. — I  would  be  glad  also  to  learn 
 from  these  men,  who  so  confidently  pronounce  that  the  human  soul,  or, 
 which  is  all  one,  that  a  man  always  tliinks,  how  they  come  to  know  if! 
 nay,  how  they  come  to  know  that  they  themselves  think,  when  they  them- 
 selves do  not  perceive  it  1  This,  I  am  afraid,  is  to  be  sure  without  proofs  ; 
 and  to  know,  without  perceiving:  it  is,  I  suspect,  a  confused  notion, 
 taken  up  to  serve  an  hypothesis ;  and  none  of  those  clear  truths,  that 
 either  their  own  evidence  forces  us  to  admit,  or  common  experience 
 makes  it  impudence  to  deny.  For  the  most  that  can  be  said  of  it  is, 
 that  it  is  possible  the  soul  may  always  think,  but  not  always  retain  it  in 
 jiemory :  and  I  say,  it  is  as  possible  that  tlie  soul  may  not  always  think, 
 and  much  more  probable  that  it  should  sometimes  not  tliink,  than  that  it 
 should  often  think,  and  that  a  long  while  togetlier,  and  not  be  conscious  to 
 itself  the  next  moment  after  that  it  had  thought. 
 
 Sect.  19.  That  a  man  should  be  busy  in  thinking,  and  yet  not  retain  it 
 the  next  moment,  very  improbable. — To  suppose  the  soul  to  think,  and  the 
 man  not  to  perceive  it,  is,  as  has  been  said,  to  make  two  persons  in  one 
 man;  and  if  one  considers  well  tliese  men's  way  of  speaking,  one  should 
 be  led  into  a  suspicion  that  they  do  so.  For  they  who  tell  us  that  the  soul 
 always  thinks,  do  never,  that  I  remember,  say  tliat  a  man  always  thinks. 
 Can  the  soul  think,  and  not  the  man?  or  a  man  think,  and  not  be  conscious 
 of  it'.'  This,  perhaps,  would  be  suspected  of  jargon  in  others.  If  they  say 
 the  man  tliinks  always,  but  is  not  always  conscious  of  it,  they  may  as  well 
 say  his  body  is  extended  without  having  parts :  for  it  is  altogether  as  in- 
 telligible to  say,  that  a  body  is  extended  without  parts,  as  that  any  thing 
 thinks  witliout  being  conscious  of  it,  or  perceiving  that  it  does  so.  They 
 who  talk  thus  may,  with  as  much  reason,  if  it  be  necessary  to  their  hypo- 
 thesis, say,  that  a  man  is  always  hungry,  but  that  he  does  not  always  feel 
 it :  whereas  hunger  consists  in  that  very  sensation,  as  thinking  consists  in 
 being  conscious  that  one  thinks.  If  they  say  that  a  man  is  always  conscious 
 to  himself  of  thinking ;  I  ask  how  they  know  it.  Consciousness  is  the 
 perception  of  what  passes  in  a  man's  own  mind.  Can  another  man  per- 
 ceive that  I  am  conscious  of  any  thing,  when  I  perceive  it  not  myself  J 
 No  man's  knowledge  here  can  go  beyond  his  experience.  Wake  a  man 
 out  of  a  sound  sleep,  and  ask  him  what  he  was  that  moment  thinking  of? 
 If  he  himself  be  conscious  of  nothing  he  then  thought  on,  he  must  be  a 
 notable  diviner  of  thoughts  that  can  assure  him  that  he  was  thinking;  may 
 he  not  with  more  reason  assure  him  he  was  not  asleep?  This  is  something 
 beyond  philosophy ;  and  it  cannot  be  less  than  revelation,  that  discovers  to 
 another  thoughts  in  my  mind,  when  I  can  find  none  there  myself:  and  they 
 must  needs  have  a  penetrating  sight,  who  can  certainly  see  that  I  think,  when 
 .1  cannot  perceive  it  myself,  and  when  I  declare  that  I  do  not :  and  yet 
 can  see  that  dogs  or  elephants  do  not  think,  when  they  give  all  the  demon- 
 stration of  it  imaginable,  except  only  telling  us  that  they  do  so.  This 
 some  may  suspect  to  be  a  step  beyond  the  Rosicrucians ;  it  seeming  easier 
 to  make  one's  self  invisible  to  others,  than  to  make  another's  thoughts 
 visible  to  nic,  which  are  not  visible  to  himself  But  it  is  but  defining 
 the  suul  to  be  "  a  substance  that  always  tliinks, "-and  the  business  is  done. 
 If  such  a  definition  be  of  any  authority,  I  know  not  what  it  can  serve  for, 
 but  to  make  many  men  suspect  that  they  have  no  souls  at  all,  since  they 
 find  a  good  part  oF  their  lives  pass  away  without  thinking.  For  no  defi- 
 L 
 
82  OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book.  2. 
 
 nitions  that  I  know,  no  suppositions  of  any  sect,  arc  of  force  enough  to 
 destroy  constant  experience ;  and  perhaps  it  is  the  affectation  of  knowing 
 beyond  what  we  perceive,  that  makes  so  much  useless  dispute  and  noise 
 in  the  world. 
 
 Sect.  20.  No  ideas  but  from  sensation  or  reflection  evident,  if  we  ob- 
 serve children. — I  see  no  reason,  therefore,  to  believe  that  the  soul  thinks 
 before  the  senses  have  furnislied  it  with  ideas  to  think  on ;  and  as  those  are 
 increased  and  retained,  so  it  comes,  by  exercise,  to  improve  its  faculty  of 
 thinking,  in  the  several  partsofit,  as  well  as  afterward,  by  compounding  those 
 ideas,  and  reflecting  on  its  own  operations;  it  increases  its  stock  as  well  as 
 facility  in  remembering,  imagining,  reasoning,  and  other  modes  of  thinking. 
 
 Sect.  21.  He  that  will  suffer  himself  to  be  informed  by  observation  and 
 experience,  and  not  make  his  own  hypothesis  the  rule  of  nature,  will  find 
 few  signs  of  a  soul  accustomed  to  much  thinking  in  a  new-born  child,  and 
 much  fewer  of  any  reasoning  at  all.  And  yet  it  is  hard  to  imagine,  that 
 the  rational  soul  should  think  so  much,  and  not  reason  at  all.  And  he 
 that  wiU  consider  that  infants  newly  come  into  the  world,  spend  the  great- 
 est part  of  their  time  in  sleep,  and  are  seldom  awake,  but  when  either  hunger 
 calls  for  the  teat,  or  some  pain  (the  most  importunate  of  all  sensations),  or 
 some  other  violent  impression  upon  the  body,  forces  the  mind  to  perceive 
 and  attend  to  it :  he,  I  say,  who  considers  this,  will,  perhaps,  find  reason  to 
 imagine,  that  a  foetus  in  the  mother's  womb  differs  not  much  fi-om  the  state 
 of  a  vegetable ;  but  passes  the  greatest  part  of  its  time  without  percep- 
 tion or  thought,  doing  very  little  in  a  place  where  it  needs  not  seek  for  food, 
 and  is  surrounded  with  liquor,  always  equally  soft,  and  near  of  the  same 
 temper;  where  the  eyes  have  no  light,  and  the  ears,  so  shut  up,  arc  not 
 very  susceptible  of  sounds ;  and  where  there  is  little  or  no  variety,  or  change 
 of  objects  to  move  the  senses. 
 
 Sect.  22.  Follow  a  child  from  its  birth,  and  observe  the  alterations  that 
 time  makes,  and  you  shall  find,  as  the  mind  by  the  senses  comes  more  and 
 more  to  be  furnished  with  ideas,  it  comes  to  be  more  and  more  awake ; 
 thinks  more,  the  more  it  has  matter  to  think  on.  After  some  time  it  be- 
 gins to  know  the  objects,  which,  being  most  familiar  with  it,  have  made 
 lasting  impressions.  Thus  it  comes  by  degrees  to  know  the  persons  it 
 daily  converses  with,  and  distinguish  them  from  strangers ;  which  are  in- 
 stances and  effects  of  its  coming  to  retain  and  distinguish  the  ideas  the 
 senses  convey  to  it.  And  so  we  may  observe  how  the  mind,  by  degrees, 
 improves  in  these,  and  advances  to  the  exercise  of  those  other  faculties  of 
 enlarging,  compounding,  and  abstracting  its  ideas,  and  of  reasoning  about 
 them,  and  reflecting  upon  all  these,  of  which  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak 
 more  hereafter. 
 
 Sect.  23.  If  it  shall  be  demanded,  then,  when  a  man  begins  to  have 
 any  ideas  ■?  I  tliink  the  true  answer  is,  when  he  first  has  any  sensation. 
 For  since  there  appear  not  to  be  any  ideas  in  the  mind,  before  the  senses 
 have  conveyed  any  in,  I  conceive  that  ideas  in  the  understanding  are  coeval 
 with  sensation ;  which  is  such  an  impression  or  motion,  made  in  some  part 
 of  the  body,  as  produces  some  perception  in  the  understanding.  It  is  about 
 these  impressions  made  on  our  senses  by  outward  objects,  that  the  mind 
 seems  first  to  employ  itself  in  such  operations  as  we  call  perception,  re- 
 membering, consideration,  reasoning,  &c. 
 
 Sect.  24.  The  original  of  all  our  knowledge. — In  time  the  mind  comes 
 to  reflect  on  its  own  operations,  about  the  ideas  got  by  sensation,  and  there- 
 by stores  itself  with  a  new  set  of  ideas,  which  I  call  ideas  of  reflection. 
 These  are  the  impressions  that  are  made  on  our  senses  by  outward  objects,  that 
 are  extrinsical  to  the  mind,  and  its  own  operations,  proceeding  from  powers 
 intrinsical  and  proper  to  itself:  which,  when  reflected  on  by  itself,  becoming 
 also  objects  of  its  contemplation,  are,  as  I  have  said,  the  original  of  all 
 knowledge.     Thus,  the  first  capacity  of  human  intellect  is    that  the  mind 
 
Ch.  1.  THE  ORIGINAL  OF  OUR  IDEAS.  83 
 
 is  fitted  to  receive  the  impressions  made  on  it,  either  through  the  senses, 
 by  outward  objects,  or  by  its  own  operations,  when  it  reflects  on  them. 
 Tliis  is  the  first  step  a  man  makes  towards  the  discovery  of  any  thing,  and 
 tlie  ground  work  whereon  to  build  all  those  notions  which  ever  he  shall 
 have  naturally  in  this  world.  All  those  sublime  thoughts  which  tower  above 
 the  clouds,  and  reach  as  high  as  heaven  itself,  take  their  rise  and  footing 
 here :  in  all  that  good  extent  wherein  the  mind  wanders,  in  those  remote 
 speculations  it  may  seem  to  be  elevated  with,  it  stirs  not  one  jot  beyond 
 those  ideas  which  sense  or  reflection  have  offered  for  its  contemplation. 
 
 Sect.  25.  In  the  reception  of  simple  ideas,  the  understanding  is  for 
 the  most  part  passive. — In  this  part  the  understanding  is  merely  passive  ; 
 and  whether  or  no  it  will  have  these  beginnings,  and,  as  it  were,  materials 
 of  knowledge,  is  not  in  its  own  power.  For  the  objects  of  our  senses  do, 
 many  of  them,  obtrude  their  particular  ideas  upon  our  minds,  whether  we 
 will  or  no :  and  the  operations  of  our  minds  will  not  let  us  be  without,  at 
 least,  some  obscure  notions  of  them.  No  man  can  be  wholly  ignorant  of 
 what  he  does  when  he  thinks.  These  simple  ideas,  when  offered  to  the 
 mind,  the  understanding  can  no  more  refuse  to  have,  nor  alter,  when  they 
 are  imprinted,  nor  blot  them  out,  and  make  new  ones  itself,  than  a  mirror 
 can  refuse,  alter,  or  obliterate  the  images  or  ideas  which  the  objects  set 
 before  it  do  therein  produce.  As  the  bodies  that  surround  us  do  diversely 
 affect  our  organs,  the  mind  is  forced  to  receive  the  impressions,  and  can- 
 not avoid  the  perception  of  those  ideas  that  are  annexed  to  them. 
 
 CHAPTER   II. 
 
 OF  SIjVIPLE  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Uncompounded  appearances. — The  better  to  understand  the 
 nature,  manner,  and  extent  of  our  knowledge,  one  thing  is  careftdly  to  be 
 observed  concerning  the  ideas  we  have:  and  that  is,  that  some  of  them  are 
 simple,  and  some  complex. 
 
 Though  the  qualities  that  affect  our  senses  are,  in  the  things  themselves, 
 so  united  and  blended,  that  there  is  no  separation,  no  distance  between 
 them  ;  yet  it  is  plain  the  ideas  they  produce  in  the  mind  enter  by  the  senses 
 simple  and  unmixed :  for  though  the  sight  and  touch  often  take  in  from  the 
 same  object,  at  the  same  time,  different  ideas,  as  a  man  sees  at  once  mo- 
 tion and  colour,  the  hand  feels  softness  and  warmth  in  the  same  piece  of 
 virax;  yet  the  simple  ideas,  thus  united  in  the  same  subject,  are  as  perfectly 
 distinct  as  those  that  come  in  by  different  senses  :  the  coldness  and  hard- 
 ness which  a  man  feels  in  a  piece  of  ice  being  as  distinct  ideas  in  the 
 mind  as  the  smell  and  whiteness  of  a  lily  ;  or  as  the  taste  of  sugar  and 
 smell  of  a  rose.  And  there  is  nothing  can  be  plainer  to  a  man  than  the 
 clear  and  distinct  perceptions  he  has  of  those  simple  ideas  ;  which,  being 
 each  in  itself  uncompounded,  contains  in  it  nothing  but  one  uniform  ap- 
 pearance C  conception  in  the  mind,  and  is  not  distinguishable  into  differ- 
 ent ideas. 
 
 Sect.  2.  The  mind  can  neither  make  nor  destroy  them. — These  simple 
 ideas,  the  materials  of  all  our  knowledge,  are  suggested  and  furnished  to 
 the  mind  only  by  those  two  ways  above  mentioned,  viz.  sensation  and  re- 
 flection(l).     When  the  understanding  is  once  stored  with  these  simple 
 
 (1)  Against  this,  that  the  materials  of  all  our  knowledge  are  suggested,  and 
 furnished  to  the  mind  only  by  sensation  and  reflection,  the  Bishop  of  Worcester 
 makes  use  of  the  idea  of  substance  in  these  words:  "  If  the  idea  of  substance  be 
 grounded  upon  plain  and  evident  reason,  then  we  must  allow  an  idea  of  substance. 
 
84  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book.  I. 
 
 ideas,  it  has  the  power  to  repeat,  compare,  and  unite  them,  even  to  on  al- 
 most infinite  variety ;  and  so  can  make  at  pleasure  new  complex  ideas. 
 But  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  the  most  exalted  wit  or  enlarged  understand- 
 ing, by  any  quickness  or  variety  of  thought,  to  invent  or  frame  one  new 
 eiinple  idea  in  the  mind,  not  taken  in  by  the  ways  aforementioned  :  nor  c£ui 
 any  force  of  the  understanding  destroy  those  that  are  there.  The  dominion 
 or  man  in  this  little  world  of  his  own  understanding,  being  much- what  the 
 
 ■which  comes  not  in  by  sensation  or  reflection  5  and  so  we  may  be  certain  of  some- 
 thing which  we  have  not  by  these  ideas." 
 
 To  which  our  author  answers*:  These  words  of  yonr  lordship's  contain  nothing 
 as  I  see  in  them  against  me:  for  I  never  said  that  the  general  idea  of  substance 
 comes  in  by  sensation  and  reflection;  or  that  it  is  a  simple  idea  of  sensation  or 
 reflection,  though  it  be  ultimately  founded  in  tlieni;  for  it  is  a  complex  idea,  made 
 up  of  the  general  idea  of  something,  or  being  with  the  relation  of  a  support  to 
 accidents.  For  general  ideas  come  not  into  the  mind  by  sensation  or  reflection, 
 but  are  the  creatures  or  inventions  of  the  understanding,  as  I  think  I  liave  shownt; 
 and  also  how  the  mind  makes  them  from  ideas  which  it  has  got  by  sensation  and 
 reflection:  and  as  to  tlae  ideas  of  relation,  how  the  mind  forms  them,  and  how 
 they  are  derived  from,  and  ultimately  terminate  in,  ideas  of  sensation  and  reflec- 
 tion, I  have  likewise  shown. 
 
 But  that  I  may  not  be  mistaken,  what  I  mean,  when  I  speak  of  ideas  of  sensa- 
 tion and  reflection,  as  the  materials  of  all  our  knowledge;  give  me  leave,  my  lord, 
 to  set  down  here  a  place  or  two,  out  of  my  book,  to  explain  myself;  as  I  thus 
 speak  of  ideas  of  sensation  and  reflection: 
 
 "That  these,  when  we  have  taken  a  full  survey  of  them,  and  their  several 
 modes,  and  the  compositions  made  out  of  them,  we  shall  And  to  contain  all  our 
 ■whole  stock  of  ideas,  and  we  liave  nothing  in  our  minds  which  did  not  come  in 
 one  of  these  two  ways:):."     This  thought,  in  anotlier  place,   I  express  thus: 
 
 "  Tliese  are  the  most  considerable  of  those  simple  ideas  which  the  mind  has, 
 and  out  of  which  is  made  all  its  other  knowledge  ;  all  whicli  it  receives  by  the 
 two  forementioned  ways  of  sensation  and  reflcction§."     And, 
 
 "  Thus  1  have,  in  a  short  draught,  given  a  view  of  our  original  ideas,  from 
 whence  all  the  rest  are  derived,  and  of  which  they  are  made  up|l." 
 
 This,  and  the  like,  said  in  other  places,  is  what  I  have  thought  concerning  ideas 
 of  sensation  and  reflection,  as  the  foundation  and  materials  of  all  our  ideas,  and 
 consequently  of  all  our  knowledge  :  1  have  set  down  these  particulars  out  of  my 
 book,  that  the  i-eader,  having  a  full  view  of  my  opinion  herein,  may  the  better 
 see  what  in  it  is  liable  to  your  lordship's  reprehension.  For  that  your  lordship 
 is  not  very  well  satisfied  with  it,  appears  not  only  by  the  words  under  consider- 
 ation, but  by  these  also:  "  But  we  are  still  told,  that  our  understanding  can  have 
 no  other  ideas,  but  either  from  sensation  or  reflection." 
 
 Your  lordship's  argument,  in  the  passage  we  are  upon,  stands  thus  :  if  the  gene- 
 ral idea  of  substance  be  grounded  upon  plain  and  evident  reason,  then  ■we  must 
 allow  an  idea  of  substance,  which  comes  not  in  by  sensation  or  reflection.  This 
 is  a  consequence  which,  with  submission,  I  think  will  not  hold,  because  it  is 
 founded  upon  a  supposition  ■\>hich  I  think  will  not  hold,  viz.  That  reason 
 and  ideas  are  inconsistent ;  for  if  that  supposition  be  not  true,  then  the  general 
 idea  of  substance  may  be  grounded  on  plain  and  evident  reason  ;  and  yet  it  will 
 not  follow  from  thence,  that  it  is  not  ultimately  grounded  on,  and  derived  from, 
 ideas  which  come  in  by  sensation  or  reflection,  and  so  cannot  be  said  to  come 
 in  by  sensation  or  reflection. 
 
 To  explain  myself,  and  clear  my  meaning  in  this  matter.  All  the  ideas  of  all 
 the  sensible  qualities  of  a  cherry  come  into  my  mind  by  sensation  ;  tlie  ideas  of 
 perceiving,  thinking,  reasoning,  knowing,  &c.  come  into  my  mind  by  reflection. 
 The  ideas  of  these  qualities  and  actions,  or  powers,  are  perceived  by  the  mind  to 
 be  by  themselves  inconsistent  with  existence  :  or  as  your  lordship  well  expresses 
 
 •  In  his  first  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Worcester. 
 
 t  B.  3.  c.  3.     B.  2.  c.  25,  &c.  28.  sect.  18. 
 
 t   B.  2.  c.  1.  sect.  5.  §  B.  2.  c.  7.  sect.  10.  |1  B.    2.  c.  21.    sect  73. 
 
Ch.  2.  OF  SIMPLE  mEAS.  85 
 
 same  as  it  is  in  the  great  worM  of  nsible  things  ;  wherein  his  power,  hovr- 
 ever  managed  by  art  and  skill,  reaches  no  farther  than  to  compound  and 
 divide  the  materials  that  are  made  to  his  hand  ;  but  can  do  nothing  towards 
 the  making  the  least  particle  of  new  matter,  or  destroying  one  atom  of 
 what  is  alreadv  in  being.  The  same  inability  will  every  one  lind  in  him- 
 self, who  shall  go  about  to  fashion  in  his  understanding  any  simple  idea, 
 not  received  in  by  his  senses  from  external  objects,  or  by  reflection  from 
 the  operations  of  his  own  mind  about  them.  I  would  have  any  one  try  to 
 fancy  any  taste  which  had  never  affected  his  palate  ;  or  frame  the  idea  of  a 
 scent  he  had  never  smelt :  and  when  he  can  do  this,  I  will  also  conclude 
 that  a  blind  man  hath  ideas  of  colours,  and  a  deaf  man  true  distinct  notions 
 of  sounds. 
 
 Sect.  3.  This  is  the  reason  why,  though  we  cannot  believe  it  impossi- 
 ble to  God  to  make  a  creature  with  other  organs,  and  more  ways  to  con- 
 vey into  the  understanding  the  notice  of  those  corporeal  things  than  those 
 five,  as  they  are  usually  counted,  which  he  has  given  to  man  :  yet  I  think 
 it  is  not  possible  for  any  one  to  imagine  any  other  qualities  in  bodies,  how- 
 soever constituted,  whereby  they  can  be  taken  notice  of,  besides  sounds, 
 tastes,  smells,  visible  and  tangible  qualities.  And  had  mankind  been  made 
 but  with  four  senses,  the  qualities  then  which  are  the  object  of  the  fifth 
 
 it,  we  find  that  we  can  have  no  true  conception  of  any  modes  or  accidents,  but  we 
 must  conceive  a  substratum,  or  subject,  wherein  they  are,  /.  e.  that  they  cannot 
 exist  or  subsist  of  themselves.  Hence  the  mind  perceives  their  necessaiy  con- 
 nexion with  inherence,  or  being  supported  ;  which  being  a  relative  idea,  super- 
 added to  the  red  colour  in  a  cherry,  or  to  thinking  in  a  man,  the  mind  f£"ames 
 the  correlative  idea  of  a  support.  For  I  never  denied  tliat  the  mind  could  frame 
 to  itself  ideas  of  relation,  but  have  showed  the  quite  contrary  in  my  chapters 
 about  relation.  But  because  a  relation  cannot  be  founded  in  nothing,  or  be  the 
 relation  of  nothing,  and  the  thing  here  related  as  a  supporter,  or  a  support,  is  not 
 represented  to  the  mind  by  any  clear  and  distinct  idea;  therefore  the  obscure 
 and  indistinct  vague  idea  of  thing,  or  something,  is  all  that  is  left  to  be  the  positive 
 idea,  which  lias  the  relation  of  a  support  or  substi-atum,  to  modes  or  accidents  ; 
 and  that  general  indetermined  idea  of  something  is,  by  the  abstraction  of  the  mind, 
 derived  also  from  the  simple  ideas  of  sensation  and  reflection;  and  thus  the  mind, 
 from  the  positive,  simple  ideas  got  by  sensation  and  reflection,  comes  to  the  gene- 
 i-hI  relative  idea  of  substance,  which,  without  these  positive  simple  ideas,  it  would 
 never  have. 
 
 This  your  lordship  (without  giving  by  detail  all  the  particular  steps  of  the 
 mind  in_  this  business)  has  well  expressed  in  this  more  familiar  way:  we  find 
 we  can  have  no  true  conception  of  any  modes  or  accidents  but  we  must  conceive 
 a  substratum,  or  subject,  wherein  they  are  ;  since  it  is  a  repugnancy  to  our  con- 
 ceptions of  things,  that  modes  or  accidents  should  subsist  by  themselves. 
 
 Hence  your  lordship  calls  it  the  rational  idea  of  substance  :  and  rays,  "  I  grant, 
 that  by  sensation  and  reflection  we  come  to  know  the  powers  and  properties  of 
 things  ;  but  our  reason  is  satisfied  that  there  must  be  something  beyond  these,  be- 
 cause it  is  impossible  that  they  should  subsist  by  themselves:"  so  that  if  this  be 
 that  which  your  lordship  means  bv  the  rational  idea  of  substance,  I  see  nothing 
 there  is  in  it  against  what  I  have  said,  that  it  is  founded  on  simple  ideas  of  sensa- 
 tion or  reflection,  and  that  it  is  a  very  obscure  idea. 
 
 Your  lordship's  conclusion  from  your  foregoing  words  is,  "and  so  we  may 
 be  certain  of  some  things  which  we  have  not  by  those  ideas  ;"  which  is  a  propo- 
 sition, whose  precise  meaning  your  lordship  will  forgive  me,  if  I  profess,  as  it 
 stands  there,  I  do  not  understand.  For  it  is  uncertain  to  me  whether  your  lord- 
 ship means,  we  may  certainly  know  the  existence  of  something,  which  we  liave 
 not  by  those  ideas  ;  or  certainly  know  the  distinct  properties  of  sometlxing,  which 
 we  have  not  by  those  ideas:  or  certainly  know  the  truth  of  some  proposition  which 
 we  have  not  by  those  ideas  :  for  to  be  certain  of  something  m.iy  signify  either  of 
 tliese.  But  in  which  soever  of  these  it  be  meant,  I  do  not  see  how  I  am  concerned 
 in  it. 
 
86  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 sense,  had  been  as  far  from  our  notice,  imagination,  and  conception,  as  now 
 any  belonging  to  a  sixtli,  seventh,  or  eiglith  sense,  can  possibly  be  :  which, 
 whetlier  yet  some  otlier  creatures,  in  some  otlier  parts  of  this  vast  and 
 Btupendous  universe,  may  not  have,  will  be  a  great  presuuiption  to  deny. 
 He  that  will  not  set  himself  proudly  at  the  top  of  all  things,  but  will  con- 
 sider tlie  immensity  of  this  fabric,  and  the  great  variety  that  is  to  be  found 
 in  this  little  and  inconsiderable  part  of  it  which  he  has  to  do  with,  may  be 
 apt  to  think,  that  in  other  mansions  of  it  there  may  be  other  and  different 
 intelligent  being:;,  of  whose  faculties  he  has  as  little  knowledge  or  appre- 
 hension, as  a  worm  shut  up  in  one  drawer  of  a  cabinet  hath  of  the  senses 
 or  understanding  of  a  man  :  such  variety  and  excellency  being  suitable  to 
 the  wisdom  and  power  of  the  Maker.  1  have  here  followed  the  common 
 opinion  of  man's  having  but  five  senses  ;  though,  perhaps,  there  may  be 
 justly  counted  more  :  but  either  supposition  serves  equally  to  my  present 
 purpose. 
 
 CHAPTER  III. 
 
 OF  roEAS  OF  ONE  SENSE. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Division  of  simple  ideas. — The  better  to  conceive  the  ideas 
 we  receive  from  sensation,  it  may  not  be  amiss  for  us  to  consider  them  in 
 reference  to  the  different  ways  whereby  they  make  their  approaches  to  our 
 minds,  and  make  themselves  perceivable  by  us. 
 
 First,  then,  There  axe  some  which  come  into  our  minds  by  one  sense 
 only. 
 
 Secondly,  There  are  others,  that  convey  themselves  into  the  mind  by 
 more  senses  than  one. 
 
 Thirdly,  Others  that  are  had  from  reflection  only. 
 
 Fourthly,  There  are  some  that  make  themselves  way,  and  are  suggested 
 to  the  mind  by  all  the  ways  of  sensation  and  reflection. 
 
 We  shall  consider  them  apart  under  their  several  heads. 
 
 First,  There  are  some  ideas  which  have  admittance  only  through  one 
 sense,  which  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  receive  them.  Thus  light  and  colours, 
 as  white,  red,  yellow,  blue,  with  their  several  degrees  or  shades,  and  mix- 
 tures, as  green,  scarlet,  purple,  sea-green,  and  the  rest,  come  in  only  by 
 the  eyes:  all  kinds  of  noises,  sounds,  and  tones,  only  by  the  ears:  the  se- 
 veral tastes  and  smells,  by  the  nose  and  palate.  And  if  these  organs,  or 
 the  nerves,  which  are  the  conduits  to  convey  them  from  W'ithout  to  their 
 audience  in  the  brain,  the  mind's  presence  room  (as  I  may  so  call  it),  are 
 any  of  them  so  disordered,  as  not  to  perform  their  functions,  they  have  no 
 postern  to  be  admitted  by ;  no  other  way  to  bring  themselves  into  view, 
 and  be  perceived  by  the  understanding. 
 
 The  most  considerable  of  those  belonging  to  the  touch  are  heat  and  cold, 
 and  solidity ;  all  the  rest,  consisting  almost  wholly  in  the  sensible  configu- 
 ration, as  smooth  and  rough,  or  else  more  or  less  firm  adhesion  of  the 
 parts,  as  hard  and  soft,  tough  and  brittle,  are  obvious  enough. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Few  simple  ideas  have  names. — I  think  it  will  be  needless  to 
 enumerate  all  the  particular  simple  ideas  belonging  to  each  sense.  Nor 
 indeed  is  it  possible,  if  we  would;  there  being  a  great  many  more  of  them 
 belonging  to  most  of  the  senses  than  we  hav3  names  for.  The  variety  of 
 smells,  which  are  as  many  almost,  if  not  more,  than  species  of  bodies  in  the 
 world,  do  most  of  them  want  names.  Sweet  and  stinking  commonly  serve 
 our  turn  for  these  ideas,  which  in  effect  is  little  more  than  to  call  them 
 pleasing  or  displeasing;  though  the  smell  of  a  rose  and  violet,  both  sweet, 
 are  certainly  very  distinct  ideas.     Nor  are  the  different  tastes,  that  by  our 
 
 1 
 
Ch.  3.  OF  IDEAS  OF  ONE  SENSE.  87 
 
 palates  we  receive  ideas  of,  mucli  better  provided  with  names.  Sweet, 
 bitter,  sour,  harsh,  and  salt,  are  almost  all  the  epithets  we  have  to  denomi- 
 nate that  numberless  variety  of  relishes  which  are  to  be  found  distinct,  not 
 only  in  almost  every  sort  of  creatures,  but  in  the  different  parts  of  the  same 
 plant,  fruit,  or  animal.  The  same  may  be  said  of  colours  and  sounds.  I 
 shall,  therefore,  in  the  account  of  simple  ideas  I  am  here  giving,  content 
 myself  to  set  down  only  such  as  are  most  material  to  our  present  purpose, 
 or  are  in  themselves  less  apt  to  be  taken  notice  of,  though  they  are  very 
 frequently  the  ingredients  of  our  complex  ideas,  among  which,  I  think,  I 
 may  well  account  solidity ;  which,  therefore,  I  shall  treat  of  in  the  next  chap- 
 ter. 
 
 CHAPTER  IV. 
 
 OF  SOLIDITY. 
 
 Sect.  1.  We  receive  this  idea  from  touch. — The  idea  of  solidity  were- 
 «eive  by  our  touch ;  and  it  arises  from  the  resistance  which  we  find  in  body, 
 to  the  entrance  of  any  other  body  into  the  place  it  possesses,  till  it  has  left 
 it.  Thbre  is  no  idea  which  we  receive  more  constantly  from  sensation 
 than  solidity.  Whether  we  move  or  rest,  in  what  posture  soever  we  are, 
 we  always  feel  something  under  us  that  supports  us,  and  hinders  our  far- 
 ther sinking  downward :  and  the  bodies  which  we  daily  handle  make  us 
 perceive,  that,  whilst  they  remain  between  them,  they  do  by  an  insurmount- 
 able force  hinder  the  approach  of  the  parts  of  our  hands  that  press  them. 
 That  which  thus  hinders  the  approach  of  two  bodies,  when  they  are  moved 
 one  toward  another,  I  call  solidity.  I  will  not  dispute  whether  this  ac- 
 ceptation of  the  word  solid  be  nearer  to  its  original  signification  than  that 
 which  mathematicians  use  it  in  :  it  suffices,  that  I  think  the  common  notion 
 of  solidity  will  allow,  if  not  justify,  this  use  of  it;  but,  if  any  one  think  it, 
 better  to  call  it  impenetrability,  he  has  my  consent.  Only  I  have  thought 
 the  term  solidity  the  more  proper  to  express  this  idea,  not  only  because  of 
 its  vulgar  use  in  that  sense,  but  also  because  it  carries  something  more  of 
 positive  in  it  than  impenetrability,  which  is  negative,  and  is,  perhaps,  more 
 a  consequence  of  solidity  than  solidity  itself.  This,  of  all  others,  seems  the 
 idea  most  intimately  connected  with,  and  essential  to,  body,  so  as  nowhere 
 else  to  be  found  or  imagined,  but  only  in  matter.  And  though  our  senses 
 take  no  notice  of  it,  but  in  masses  of  matter,  of  a  bulk  sufficient  to  cause  a 
 sensation  in  us;  yet  the  mind,  having  once  got  this  idea  from  such  grosser 
 sensible  bodies,  traces  it  farther ;  and  considers  it,  as  well  as  figure,  in  the 
 minutest  particle  of  matter  that  can  exist;  and  finds  it  inseparably  inherent 
 in  body,  wherever  or  however  modified. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Solidity  fills  space. — This  is  the  idea  which  belongs  to  body, 
 whereby  we  conceive  it  to  fill  space.  The  idea  of  which  filling  of  space  is, 
 that,  where  we  imagine  any  space  taken  up  by  a  solid  substance,  we  con- 
 ceive it  so  to  possess  it,  that  it  excludes  all  other  solid  substances  ;  and  will 
 for  ever  hinder  any  other  two  bodies,  that  move  toward  one  another  in  a 
 straight  line,  from  coming  to  touch  one  another,  unless  it  removes  from 
 between  them,  in  a  line  not  parallel  to  that  which  they  move  in.  This  idea 
 of  it  the  bodies  which  we  ordinarily  handle  sufficiently  furnish  us  with. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Distinct  from  space. — This  resistance,  whereby  it  keeps  other 
 bodies  out  of  the  space  which  it  possesses,  is  so  great,  that  no  force,  how 
 great  soever,  can  surmount  it.  All  the  bodies  in  the  world,  pressing  a  drop 
 of  water  on  all  sides,  will  never  be  able  to  overcome  the  resistance  which 
 it  will  make,  soft  as  it  is,  to  their  approaching  one  another,  till  it  be  re- 
 
88  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 moved  out  of  their  way  :  whereby  our  idea  of  solidity  is  distingiiished  both 
 from  ])urc  space,  which  is  capable  neither  of  resistance  nor  motion,  and 
 from  the  ordinary  idea  of  hardness.  For  a  man  may  conceive  two  bodies  at  a 
 distance,  so  as  tlicy  may  approach  one  another,  without  touching-  or  dis- 
 placing any  solid  tliino-,  till  tlieir  superficios  come  to  meet :  wliercby  I  think 
 we  have  tlie  clear  idea  of  s])aci!  without  solidity.  For  (not  to  go  so  far  as 
 annihilatio!)  of  any  particular  body)  I  ask,  whether  a  man  cannot  have  the 
 idea  of  the  motion  of  one  single  body  alone,  without  any  other  succeeding 
 immediately  into  its  place  ]  I  think  it  is  evident  he  can  :  the  idea  of  mo- 
 tion in  one  body  no  more  including  the  idea  of  motion  in  another,  than  the 
 idea  of  a  square  figure  in  one  body  includes  the  idea  of  a  square  figure  in 
 another.  I  do  not  ask,  whether  bodies  do  so  exist  that  the  motion  of  one 
 body  cannot  be  really  without  the  motion  of  another!  To  determine  this 
 either  way,  is  to  beg  the  question  for  or  against  a  vacuum.  But  my  ques- 
 tion is,  whether  one  cannot  have  the  idea  of  one  body  moved  whilst  others 
 are  at  rest?  And  I  think  this  no  one  will  deny.  If  so,  then  the  place  it 
 deserted  gives  us  the  the  idea  of  pure  space  without  solidity,  whereinto 
 any  other  body  may  enter,  without  either  resistance  or  protrusion  of  any 
 thing.  When  the  sucker  in  a  pump  is  drawn,  the  space  it  filled  in  the 
 tube  is  certainly  the  same  whether  any  other  body  follows  the  motion  of 
 the  sucker  or  not:  nor  does  it  imply  a  contradiction  that,  upon  the  motion 
 of  one  body,  another  that  is  only  contiguous  to  it  should  not  follow  it.  The 
 necessity  of  such  a  motion  is  built  only  on  the  supposition  that  ti.e  world 
 is  full,  but  not  on  the  distinct  ideas  of  space  and  solidity ;  which  are  as 
 different  as  resistance  and  not  resistance ;  protrusion  and  not  protrusion. 
 And  that  men  have  ideas  of  space  without  a  body,  their  very  disputes  about 
 a  vacuum  plainly  demonstrate,  as  is  showed  in  another  place. 
 
 Sect.  4.  From  hardness. — Solidity  is  hereby  also  differenced  from  hard- 
 ness, in  that  solidity  consists  in  repletion,  and  so  an  utter  exclusion  of 
 other  bodies  out  of  the  space  it  possesses;  but  hardness,  in  a  firm  cohesion 
 of  the  parts  of  matter,  making  up  masses  of  a  sensible  bulk,  so  that  the 
 whole  does  not  easily  change  its  figure.  And,  indeed,  hard  and  sofl  are 
 names  that  we  give  to  things  only  in  relation  to  the  constitutions  of  our 
 own  bodies ;  that  being  generally  called  hard  by  us  which  will  put  us  to 
 pain  sooner  than  change  figure  by  the  pressure  of  any  part  of  our  bodies  ; 
 and  that  on  the  contrary  soft,  which  changes  the  situation  of  its  parts  upon 
 an  easy  and  unpainful  touch. 
 
 But  this  difficulty  of  changing  the  situation  of  the  sensible  parts  among 
 themselves,  or  of  the  figure  of  the  whole,  gives  no  more  solidity  to  the 
 hardest  body  in  the  world,  than  to  the  softest ;  nor  is  an  adamant  one  jot 
 more  solid  than  water.  For  though  the  two  flat  sides  of  two  pieces  of 
 marble  will  more  easily  approach  each  other,  between  which  there  is  noth- 
 ing but  water  or  air,  than  if  there  be  a  diamond  between  them ;  yet  it  is  not 
 that  the  parts  of  the  diamond  are  more  solid  than  those  of  water,  or  resist 
 more  ;  but  because,  the  parts  of  water  being  more  easily  separable  from 
 each  other,  they  will,  by  a  side-motion,  be  more  easily  removed,  and  give 
 way  to  the  approach  of  the  two  pieces  of  marble.  But  if  they  could  be 
 kept  from  making  place  by  that  side-motion,  they  would  eternally  hinder 
 the  approach  of  these  two  pieces  of  marble  as  much  as  the  diamond;  and  it 
 would  be  as  impossible  by  any  force  to  surmount  their  resistaiioe,  as  to 
 surmount  the  resistance  of  the  parts  of  a  diamond.  The  soflest  body  in 
 the  world  will  as  invincibly  resist  the  coming  together  of  any  other  two  bodies 
 if  it  be  not  put  out  of  the  way,  but  remain  between  them,  as  the  hardest 
 that  can  be  found  or  imagined.  He  that  shall  fill  the  yielding  soft  body 
 well  with  air  or  water,  will  quickly  find  its  resistance:  and  ho  that  tliinks 
 that  nothing  but  bodies  that  are  hard  can  keep  his  hands  from  approach- 
 ing one  another,  will  be  pleased  to  make  a  trial  with  the  air  enclosed  in  a 
 football.     The  experiment,  I  have  been  told,  was  made  at  Florence  with  a 
 
Ch.  4.  OF  SOLIDITY,  SO 
 
 hollow  globe  of  gold  filled  with  water,  and  exactly  closed,  which  farther 
 shows  the  solidity  of  so  sotl  a  body  as  water.  For  the  golden  globe  thus  fill- 
 ed being  put  into  a  press  which  was  driven  by  the  extreme  force  of  screws, 
 the  water  made  itself  way  through  the  pores  of  that  very  close  metal ;  and, 
 finding  no  room  for  a  near  approach  of  its  particles  within,  got  to  the  out- 
 side, where  it  rose  like  a  dew,  and  so  fell  in  drops,  before  the  sides  of  the 
 globe  could  be  made  to  yield  to  the  violent  compression  of  the  engine 
 that  squeezed  it. 
 
 Sect.  5.  On  solidity  depend  impulse,  resistance,  and  protrusion. — By 
 this  idea  of  solidity,  is  the  extension  of  body  distinguished  from  the  exten- 
 sion of  space :  tlie  extension  of  body  being  nothing  but  1;he  cohesion  or  con-  , 
 tinuity  of  solid,  separable,  moveable  parts;  and  the  extension  of  space,  the  \ 
 continuity  of  unsolid,  inseparable,  and  iminoveable  parts.  Upon  the  soli-  \ 
 dity  of  bodies  also  depend  their  mutual  impulse,  resistance,  and  protrusion. 
 Of  pure  space  then,  and  solidity,  there  are  several,  (among  which  I  confess 
 myself  one)  who  persuade  themselves  they  have  clear  and  distinct  ideas ; 
 and  that  they  can  think  on  space,  without  any  thing  in  it  that  resists  or  is 
 protruded  by  body.  This  is  the  idea  of  pure  space,  which  they  think  they 
 have  as  clear  as  any  idea  they  can  have  of  the  extension  of  body  ;  the  idea 
 of  the  distance  between  tlie  opposite  parts  of  a  concave  superficies  being 
 equally  as  clear  without  as  with  the  idea  of  any  solid  parts  between  :  and 
 on  the  other  side  they  persuade  themselves,  that  they  have,  distinct  from 
 that  of  pure  sp:ice,  the  idea  of  something  that  fills  space,  that  can  be  pro- 
 truded by  the  impulse  of  other  bodies,  or  resist  their  motion.  If  there  be 
 others  that  have  not  these  two  ideas  distinct,  but  confound  them,  and 
 make  but  one  of  them,  I  know  not  how  men,  who  have  the  same  idea 
 under  different  names,  or  different  ideas  under  the  same  name,  can  in  that 
 case  talk  with  one  another ;  any  more  than  a  man,  who,  not  being  blind  or 
 deaf,  has  distinct  ideas  of  the  colovir  of  scarlet,  and  the  sound  of  a  trumpet, 
 could  discourse  concerning  scarlet  colour  with  the  blind  man  I  mentioned 
 in  another  place,  who  fancied  that  the  idea  of  scarlet  was  like  the  sound 
 of  a  trumpet. 
 
 Sect.  6.  What  it  is. — If  any  one  ask  me  what  this  solidity  is?  I  send 
 him  to  his  senses  to  inform  him ;  let  him  put  a  flint  or  a  football  between 
 his  hands  and  then  endeavour  to  join  them,  and  he  will  know.  If  he  tliinks 
 this  not  a  sufficient  explication  of  solidity,  what  it  is,  and  wherein  it  con- 
 sists, I  promise  to  tell  him  what  it  is,  and  wherein  it  consists,  when  he 
 teUs  me  what  thinking  is,  or  wherein  it  consists  :  or  explains  to  me  what 
 extension  or  motion  is,  which  perhaps  seems  much  easier.  The  simple 
 ideas  we  have  are  such  as  experience  teaches  them  us  :  but  if,  beyond  that, 
 we  endeavour  by  words  to  make  them  clearer  in  the  mind,  we  shall  suc- 
 ceed no  better  than  if  we  went  about  to  clear  up  the  darkness  of  a  blind 
 man's  mind  by  talking ;  and  to  discourse  into  him  the  ideas  of  light  and 
 colours.     The  reason  of  this  I  shall  show  in  another  place. 
 
 CHAPTER  V. 
 
 OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS    OF  DIVERS   SENSES. 
 
 The  ideas  we  get  by  more  than  one  sense  are  of  space,  or  extension, 
 figure,  rest,  and  motion ;  for  these  make  perceivable  impressions,  both  on 
 the  eyes  and  touch :  and  we  can  receive  and  convey  into  our  minds  the 
 ideas  of  the  extension,  figure,  motion,  and  rest  of  bodies,  both  by  seeing 
 and  feeling.  But  having  occasion  to  speak  more  at  large  of  these  in  ano- 
 ther place,  I  here  only  onnmcratc  them. 
 M 
 
90  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 CHAPTER  VI. 
 
 OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  OF  REFLECTION. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Simple  ideas  are  the  operations  of  the  mind  about  its  other 
 ideas. — Tlie  mind,  receiving  the  idoas,  mentioned  in  tlie  foregoing  chapters, 
 from  witiiout,  when  it  turns  its  view  inward  upon  itself,  and  observes  its 
 own  actions  about  those  idoas  it  has,  takes  from  thence  other  ideas,  which 
 are  as  capable  to  be  the  objects  of  its  contemplation  as  any  of  those  it  re- 
 ceived from  foreign  things. 
 
 Sect.  2.  The  idea  of  perception,  and  idea  of  willing,  we  have  from  re- 
 flection.— The  two  great  and  principal  actions  of  the  mind,  which  are 
 most  frequently  considered,  and  whicR  are  so  frequent,  that  every  one  that 
 pleases  may  take  notice  of  them  in  himself,  are  these  two  :  perception  or 
 thinking;  and  volition  or  willing.  The  power  of  thinking  is  called  the  un- 
 derstanding, and  the  power  of  volition  is  called  the  will  ;  and  these  two 
 powers  or  abilities  in  the  mind  are  denominated  faculties.  Of  some  of  the 
 modes  of  these  simple  ideas  of  reflection,  such  as  are  remembrance,  dis- 
 cerning, reasoning,  judging,  knowledge,  faith,  &c.,  I  shall  have  occasion  to 
 speak  liearafter. 
 
 CHAPTER  Vn. 
 
 OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  OF  BOTH  SENSATION  AND  REFLECTION. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Pleasure  and  pain. — There  be  other  simple  ideas  which  con- 
 vey themselves  into  the  mind  by  all  the  ways  of  sensation  and  reflection, 
 viz.  pleasure  or  delight,  and  its  opposite,  pain  or  uneasiness,  power,  ex- 
 istence, unity. 
 
 Sect.  2. — Delight  or  uneasiness,  one  or  other  of  them,  join  themselves 
 to  almost  all  our  ideas,  both  of  sensation  and  reflection :  and  there  is  scarce 
 any  aSection  of  our  senses  from  without,  any  retired  thought  of  our  mind 
 within,  which  is  not  able  to  produce  in  us  pleasure  or  pain.  By  pleasure 
 and  pain  I  would  be  understood  to  signify  whatsoever  delights  or  molests 
 us  most ;  whether  it  arises  from  the  thoughts  of  our  minds,  or  any  thing 
 operating  on  our  bodies.  For  whether  we  call  it  satisfaction,  delight,  plea- 
 sure, happiness,  &c.  on  the  one  side ;  or  uneasiness,  trouble,  pain,  torment, 
 anguish,  misery,  &c.  on  the  other;  they  are  still  but  different  degrees  of 
 the  same  thing,  and  belong  to  the  ideas  of  pleasure  and  pain,  delight  or  un- 
 easiness ;  which  are  the  names  I  shall  most  commonly  use  for  those  two 
 sorts  of  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  3.  The  infinitely  wise  Author  of  our  being,  having  given  us  the 
 power  over  several  parts  of  our  bodies,  to  move  or  keep  them  at  rest  as  we 
 tliink  fit;  and  also,  by  tlie  motion  of  them,  to  move  ourselves  and  other 
 contiguous  bodies  in  which  consist  all  the  actions  of  our  body;  having  also 
 given  a  power  to  our  minds,  in  several  instances,  to  choose  among  its  ideas, 
 which  it  will  think  on,  and  to  pursue  the  inquiry  of  this  or  that  subject  with 
 consideration  and  attention,  to  excite  us  to  these  actions  of  thinking  and 
 motion  that  we  are  capable  of;  has  been  pleased  to  join  to  several  thoughts, 
 and  several  sensations,  a  perception  of  delight.  If  this  were  wholly  sepa- 
 rated from  all  our  outward  sensations  and  inward  thoughts,  we  should 
 Ijave  no  reason  to  prefer  one  thought  or  action  to  another ;  negligence  to 
 attention,  or  motion  to  rest.     And  so  we  should  neither  stir  our  bodies, 
 
Ch.  7.        IDEAS  OF  SENSATION  AND  REFLECTION.  91 
 
 nor  employ  our  minds,  bnt  lot  our  thoughts  (if  I  may  so  call  it)  run  adrift, 
 without  any  direction  or  design;  and  sutfer  the  ideas  of  oiu-  minds,  like  vm- 
 regarded  shadows,  to  make  their  appearances  there,  as  it  happened,  without 
 attending  to  them.  In  which  state,  man,  however  furnished  with  the  facul- 
 ties of  understanding  and  will,  would  be  a  very  idle  inactive  creature,  and 
 pass  his  time  only  in  a  lazy,  lethargic  dream.  It  has  therefore  pleased  our 
 wise  Creator  to  annex  to  several  objects,  and  the  ideas  which  we  receive 
 from  them,  as  also  to  several  of  our  thoughts,  a  concomitant  pleasure,  and 
 that  in  several  objects,  to  several  degrees :  that  those  faculties  which  he 
 had  endowed  us  with  miglit  not  remain  wholly  idle  and  unemployed  by  us. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Pain  has  the  same  efficacy  and  use  to  set  us  on  work  that' 
 pleasure  has,  we  being  as  ready  to  employ  our  faculties  to  avoid  that,  as  to 
 pursue  this ;  only  this  is  worth  our  consideration,  that  pain  is  often  produ- 
 ced by  the  same  objects  and  ideas  that  produce  pleasure  in  us.  This  their 
 near  conjunction,  which  makes  us  often  feel  pain  in  the  sensations  where 
 we  expected  pleasure,  gives  us  new  occasion  of  admiring  the  wisdom  and 
 goodness  of  our  Maker;  who,  designing  the  preservation  of  our  being,  has 
 annexed  pain  to  the  application  of  many  things  to  our  bodies,  to  warn  us 
 of  the  harm  that  they  will  do,  and  as  advices  to  withdraw  from  them.  But 
 he,  not  designing  our  preservation  barely,  but  the  preservation  of  every  part 
 and  organ  in  its  perfection,  hath,  in  many  cases,  annexed  pain  to  those 
 very  ideas  which  delight  us.  Thus  heat,  that  is  very  agTeeable  to  us  in  one 
 degree,  by  a  little  greater  increase  of  it,  proves  no  ordinary  torment;  and 
 the  most  pleasant  of  all  sensible  objects,  light  itself,  if  there  be  too  much 
 of  it,  if  increased  beyond  a  due  proportion  to  our  eyes,  causes  a  very  pain- 
 ful sensation ;  which  is  wisely  and  favourablj^  so  ordered  by  nature,  that 
 when  any  object  does  by  the  vehemency  of  its  operation  disorder  the  in- 
 struments of  seneation,  whose  structures  cannot  but  be  very  nice  and 
 delicate,  we  might,  by  the  pain,  be  warned  to  withdraw  before  the  organ 
 be  quite  put  out  of  order,  and  so  be  unfitted  for  its  proper  function  for  the 
 future.  The  consideration  of  those  objects  that  produce  it  may  well  per- 
 suade us,  that  this  is  the  end  or  use  of  pain.  For  though  great  light  be 
 insufferable  to  our  eyes,  yet  the  highest  degree  of  darkness  does  not  at  all 
 disease  them ;  because  that  causing  no  disorderly  motion  in  it,  leaves  that 
 ciirious  organ  unharmed,  in  its  natural  state.  But  yet  excess  of  cold  as  well 
 as  heat  pains  us,  because  it  is  equally  destructive  to  that  temper  which  is 
 necessary  to  tlie  preservation  of  life,  and  the  exercise  of  the  several  func- 
 tions of  the  body,  and  which  consists  in  a  moderate  degree  of  warmth;  or, 
 if  you  please,  a  motion  of  the  insensible  parts  of  our  bodies  confined  within 
 certain  bounds. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Beyond  all  this  we  may  find  another  reason,  why  God  hath 
 scattered  up  and  down  several  degrees  of  pleasure  and  pain,  in  all  the  things 
 that  environ  and  affect  us,  and  blended  them  together  in  almost  all  that 
 our  thoughts  and  senses  have  to  do  with ;  that  we  finding  imperfection,  dis- 
 satisfaction, and  want  of  complete  happiness,  in  all  the  enjoyments  which 
 the  creatures  can  afford  us,  might  be  led  to  seek  it  in  the  enjoyment  of  Him, 
 "  with  whom  there  is  fulness  of  joy,  and  at  whose  right  hand  are  pleasures 
 for  evermore." 
 
 Sect.  6.  Pleasure  and  pain. — Though  what  I  have  here  said  may  not 
 perhaps  make  the  ideas  of  pleasure  and  pain  clearer  to  us  than  our  own 
 experience  does,  which  is  the  only  way  that  we  are  capable  of  having  them ; 
 yet  the  consideration  of  the  reason  why  they  are  annexed  to  so  many  other 
 ideas,  serving  to  give  us  due  sentiments  of  the  wisdom  and  goodness  ofthe 
 Sovereign  Disposer  of  all  things,  may  not  be  unsuitable  to  the  main  end  of 
 these  inquiries;  the  knowledge  and  veneration  of  him  being  the  chief  end  of 
 all  our  thoughts,  and  the  proper  business  of  all  understandings. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Existence  and  unity. — Existence  and  unity  are  two  other  ideas 
 that  are  suggested  to  the  understanding  by  every  object  without,  and  every 
 
93  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 idea  witliin.  Wlicn  ideas  are  in  oiir  minds,  we  consider  tlicm  as  being  ac- 
 tually there,  as  well  as  we  consider  tliing-s  to  be  actually  without  us  :  which 
 is,  that  tliey  exist,  or  have  existence ;  and  whatever  we  can  consider  as  one 
 thing,  whether  a  real  being  or  idea,  suggests  to  the  understanding  the  idea 
 of  unity. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Power. — Power  also  is  another  of  those  simple  ideas  which 
 we  receive  from  sensation  and  reflection.  For  observing  in  ourselves,  that 
 we  can  at  pleasure  move  several  parts  of  our  bodies  which  were  at  rest,  the 
 effects  also  that  natural  bodies  are  able  to  produce  in  one  another  occur- 
 ing  every  moment  to  our  senses,  we  both  these  ways  get  the  idea  of  power. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Succession. — Besides  these  there  is  another  idea,  which, 
 though  suggested  by  our  senses,  yet  is  more  constantly  offered  to  us  by 
 what  passes  in  our  minds ;  and  that  is  the  idea  of  succession.  For  if  we 
 look  immediately  into  ourselves,  and  reflect  on  what  is  observable  there, 
 we  shall  find  our  ideas  always,  whilst  we  are  awake,  or  have  any  thought, 
 passing  in  train,  one  going  and  another  coming  without  intermission. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Simple  ideas  the  materials  of  all  our  knoioledge. — These,  if 
 they  are  not  all,  are  at  least  (as  I  think)  the  most  considerable  of  those 
 simple  ideas  which  the  mind  has,  and  out  of  which  is  made  all  its  other 
 knowledge ;  all  which  it  receives  only  by  the  two  forementioned  ways  of  sen- 
 sation and  reflection.  • 
 
 Nor  let  any  one  think  these  too  narrow  bounds  for  the  capacious  mind 
 of  man  to  expatiate  in,  wliich  takes  its  flight  farther  than  the  stars,  and 
 cannot  be  confined  by  the  limits  of  the  world ;  that  extends  its  thoughts  often 
 even  beyond  the  utmost  expansion  of  matter,  and  makes  incursions  into  that 
 incomprehensible  inane.  I  grant  all  this,  but  desire  any  one  to  assign  any 
 simple  idea  which  is  not  received  from  one  of  those  inlets  before  mention- 
 ed, or  any  complex  idea  not  made  out  of  those  simple  ones.  Nor  will  it 
 be  so  strange  to  think  these  few  simple  ideas  sufficient  to  employ  the  quick- 
 est thought  or  largest  capacity,  and  to  furnish  the  materials  of  all  that  va- 
 rious knowledge,  and  more  various  fancies  and  opinions  of  all  mankind,  if 
 we  consider  how  many  words  may  be  made  out  of  the  various  composition 
 of  twenty-four  letters,  or  if,  going  one  step  farther,  we  will  but  reflect  on 
 the  variety  of  combinations  that  maybe  made  with  barely  one  of  the  above- 
 mentioned  ideas,  viz .  number,  whose  stock  is  inexliaustible  and  truly  infinite ; 
 and  what  a  large  and  immense  field  doth  extension  alone  afford  the  mathe- 
 maticians ! 
 
 CHAPTER  VIII. 
 
 SOME   FARTHER   CONSIDERATIONS   CONCERNING   OIJR   SIMPLE 
 
 IDEAS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Positive  ideas  from  frivative  causes. — Concerning  the  simple 
 ideas  of  sensation  it  is  to  be  considered,  that  whatsoever  is  so  constituted 
 in  nature  as  to  be  able,  by  affecting  our  senses,  to  cause  any  perception 
 in  the  mind,  doth  thereby  produce  in  the  imderstanding  a  simple  idea,  which, 
 whatever  be  the  external  cause  of  it,  when  it  comes  to  be  taken  notice  of 
 by  our  discerning  faculty,  it  is  by  the  mind  looked  on  and  considered  there 
 to  be  a  real  positive  idea  in  the  understanding,  as  much  as  any  other  whatso- 
 ever, though  perhaps  the  cause  of  it  be  but  privation  of  the  subject. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Thus  the  ideas  of  heat  and  cold,  light  and  darkness,  white  and 
 black,  motion  and  rest,  arc  equally  clear  and  positive  ideas  in  the  mind, 
 though  perhaps  some  of  the  causes  which  produce  them  arc  barely  priva- 
 tions in  subjects,  from  whence  our  senses  derive  those  ideas.     These  the 
 
Ch.  8.  SIMPLE  IDEAS.  93 
 
 understanding,  in  its  view  of  them,  considers  all  as  distinct  positive  ideas, 
 without  taking'  notice  of  the  causes  that  produce  them ;  which  is  an  inquiry 
 not  belonging  to  the  idea,  as  it  is  in  the  understanding,  but  to  the  nature 
 of  the  things  existing  without  us.  These  are  two  very  different  things,  and 
 careftdly  to  be  distinguished ;  it  being  one  thing  to  perceive  and  know  the 
 idea  of  white  or  black,  and  quite  another  to  examine  what  kind  of  particles 
 they  must  be,  and  how  ranged  in  the  superficies,  to  make  any  object  ap- 
 pear white  or  black. 
 
 Sect.  3.  A  painter  or  dyer,  who  never  inquired  into  their  causes,  hath 
 the  ideas  of  white  and  black,  and  other  colours,  as  clearly,  perfectly,  and 
 distinctly  in  liis  imderstanding,  and  perhaps  more  distinctly,  than  the  philo- 
 sopher, who  hath  busied  himself  in  considering  their  natures,  and  thinks  he 
 knows  how  far  either  of  them  is  in  its  cause  positive  or  privative ;  and  the  idea 
 of  black  is  no  less  positive  in  liis  mind  than  that  of  white,  however  the  cause 
 of  that  colour  in  the  external  object  may  be  only  a  privation. 
 
 Sect.  4.  If  it  were  the  design  of  my  present  midertaking  to  inquire  into  the 
 natural  causes  and  manner  of  perception,  I  sliould  offer  this  as  a  reason 
 why  a  privative  cause  might,  in  some  cases  at  least,  produce  a  positive  idea, 
 viz.  t]iat  all  sensation  being  produced  in  us,  only  by  different  degrees  and  modes 
 of  motion  in  our  animal  spirits,  variously  agitated  by  external  objects,  the 
 abatement  of  any  former  motion  must  as  necessarily  produce  a  new  sensa- 
 tion, as  the  variation  or  increase  of  it ;  and  so  introduce  a  new  idea,  wliich 
 depends  only  on  a  different  motion  of  the  animal  spirits  in  that  organ. 
 
 Sect.  5.  But  whether  this  be  so  or  no,  I  wiU  not  here  determine,  but 
 appeal  to  every  one's  own  experience,  whether  the  shadow  of  a  man,  though 
 it  consist  of  nothing  but  the  absence  of  light  (and  the  more  the  absence  of 
 light  is,  the  more  discernible  is  the  shadow)  does  not,  when  a  man  looks 
 on  it,  cause  as  clear  and  positive  idea  in  his  mind,  as  a  man  himself,  though 
 covered  over  with  a  clear  sunshine  1  and  the  picture  of  a  shadow  is  a  posi- 
 tive thing.  Indeed,  we  have  negative  names,  which  stand  not  directly  for 
 positive  ideas,  but  for  their  absence,  such  as  insipid,  silence,  nihU,  &c. 
 which  words  denote  positive  ideas;  v.  g.  taste,  sound,  being,  with  a  sig- 
 nification of  their  absence  1 
 
 Secp.  6.  Positive  ideas  from  privative  causes. — And  thus  one  may 
 truly  be  said  to  see  darloiess.  For  supposing  a  hole  perfectly  dark,  from 
 whence  no  light  is  reflected,  it  is  certain  one  may  see  the  figure  of  it,  or 
 it  may  be  painted ;  or  whether  the  inli  I  write  with  makes  any  other  idea, 
 is  a  question.  The  privative  causes  I  have  here  assigned  of  positive  ideas 
 are  according  to  the  common  opinion :  but  in  tnath  it  will  be  hard  to  deter- 
 mine whether  there  be  really  any  ideas  from  a  privative  cause,  tiU  it  be  de- 
 termined whether  rest  be  any  more  a  privation  than  motion. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Ideas  in  the  mind,  qualities  in  bodies. — To  discover  the  nature 
 of  our  ideas  the  better,  and  to  discourse  of  them  intelligibly,  it  will  be  con- 
 venient to  distinguish  them  as  they  are  ideas  or  perceptions  in  our  minds, 
 and  as  they  are  modifications  of  matter  in  the  bodies  that  cause  such  per- 
 ceptions in  us  ;  that  so  we  may  not  think  (as  perhaps  usually  is  done)  that  , 
 they  are  exactly  the  images  and  resemblances  of  something  inherent  in  / 
 the  subject;  most  of  those  of  sensation  being  in  the  mind  no  more  the  like- 
 ness of  something  existing  without  us,  than  the  names  that  stand  for  them 
 are  the  likeness  of  our  ideas,  which  yet,  upon  hearing,  they  are  apt  to  ex- 
 cite in  us. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Whatsoever  tlie  mind  perceives  in  itself,  or  is  the  immediateW 
 object  of  perception,  thought,  or  imderstanding,  that  I  callidsaLi  and  the!  / 
 power  to  produce  any  idea  in  our  mind  I  call  quality  of  tlie  subject  whereinl  , 
 that  power  is.     Thus  a  snowbaU  liaving  the  power  to  produce  in  us  the    ^ 
 ideas  orwliite,  cold,  and  round,  the  powers  to  produce  those  ideas  in  us, 
 as  they  are  in  the  snowball,  I  call  qualities  ;  and  as  tlicy  are  sensations  or 
 perceptions  in  our  miderstandings,  I  call  thcra  ideas;  which  ideas,   if  I 
 
94  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 speak  of  sometimes  as  in  the  things  tliemsclves,  I  would  be  understood  to 
 wean  those  qualities  in  the  objects  which  produce  thcni  in  us. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Primani  qualities. — Qualities  thus  considered  in  bodies  are, 
 first,  such  as  are  utterly  inseparable  from  the  body,  in  wliat  estate  soever 
 it  be  ;  such  as  in  all  the  alterations  and  chano;es  it  suffers,  all  the  force  can 
 be  used  upon  it,  it  constantly  keeps ;  and  such  as  sense  constantly  finds  in 
 every  particle  of  matter  which  has  bulk  enough  to  be  perceived,  and  the 
 mind  finds  inseparable  from  every  particle  of  matter,  though  less  than  to 
 make  itself  singly  be  perceived  by  our  senses  :  v.  g.  take  a  grain  of  wheat, 
 divide  it  into  two  parts,  each  part  has  still  solidity,  extension,  figure,  and 
 mobility;  divide  it  again  and  it  retains  still  the  same  qualities;  and  so  di- 
 vide it  on  till  the  parts  become  insensible,  they  must  retain  still  each  of 
 them  all  those  qualities :  for  division  (which  is  all  that  a  mill,  or  pestle, 
 or  any  other  body  does  upon  another,  in  reducing  it  to  insensible  parts) 
 can  never  take  away  either  solidity,  extension,  figure,  or  mobility  from  any 
 body,  but  only  makes  two  or  more  distinct  separate  masses  of  matter  of 
 that  which  was  but  one  before ;  all  which  distinct  masses,  reckoned  as  so 
 many  distinct  bodies,  after  division,  make  a  certain  number.  These  I  call 
 original  or  primary  qualities  of  body,  which  I  think  we  may  observe  to 
 produce  simple  ideas  in  us,  viz.  solidity,  extension,  figure,  motion  or  rest,  ■ 
 and  number. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Secondary  qualities. — Secondly,  such  qualities  which  in  truth 
 are  nothing  in  the  objects  themselves,  but  powers  to  produce  various  sensa- 
 tions in  us  by  their  primary  qualities,  i.  e.  by  the  bulk,  figure,  texture,  and 
 motion  of  their  insensible  parts,  as  colours,  sounds,  tastes,  &c.  these  I  call 
 secondary  qualities.  To  these  might  be  added  a  Ijhir^^ort,  which  are  al- 
 lowed to  be  barely  powers,  though  they  are  as  mucli  real  qualities  in  the 
 subject  as  those  which  I,  to  comply  with  the  common  way  of  speaking, 
 call  qualities,  but  for  distinction,  secondary  qualities.  For  the  power  in 
 fire  to  produce  a  new  colour,  or  consistency,  in  wax  or  clay,  by  its  primary 
 qualities,  is  as  much  a  quality  in  fire  as  the  power  it  has  to  produce  in  me 
 a  new  idea  or  sensation  of  warmth  or  burning,  which  I  felt  not  before,  by 
 the  same  primary  qualities,  viz.  the  bulk,  texture,  and  motion  of  its  insen- 
 sible parts. 
 
 Sect.  11.  How  primary  qualities  produce  their  ideas. — The  next  thing 
 to  be  considered  is,  how  bodies  produce  ideas  in  us  ;  and  that  is  manifestly 
 by  impulse,  the  only  way  which  we  can  conceive  bodies  to  operate  in. 
 
 Sect.  12.  If  then  external  objects  be  not  united  to  our  minds,  when  they 
 produce  ideas  therein,  and  yet  we  perceive  these  original  qualities  in  such 
 of  them  as  singly  fall  under  our  senses,  it  is  evident  that  some  motion 
 must  be  thence  continued  by  our  nerves  or  animal  spirits,  by  some  parts 
 of  our  bodies,  to  the  brain,  or  the  seat  of  sensation,  tliere  to  produce  in  our 
 minds  the  particular  ideas  we  have  of  them.  And  since  the  extension, 
 figure,  number,  and  motion  of  bodies,  of  an  observable  bigness,  may  be  per- 
 ceived at  a  distance  by  the  sight,  it  is  evident  some  singly  imperceptible  - 
 bodies  must  come  from  them  to  the  eyes,  and  thereby  convey  to  the  brain 
 some  motion,  which  produces  these  ideas   which  we  have  of  them  in  us. 
 
 Sect.  I'S.  How  secondary. — After  the  same  manner  that  the  ideas  of 
 these  original  qualities  are  produced  in  us,  we  may  conceive  that  the  ideas 
 of  secondary  qualities  are  also  produced,  viz.  by  the  operations  of  insensi- 
 ble particles  on  our  senses.  For  it  being  manifest  that  there  are  bodies, 
 each  whereof  are  so  small  that  we  cannot,  by  any  of  our  senses,  discover 
 either  their  bulk,  figure,  or  motion,  as  is  evident  in  the  particles  of  the  air 
 and  water,  and  others  extremely  smaller  than  those,  perhaps  as  much  small- 
 er than  the  particles  of  air  and  water,  as  the  particles  of  air  and  water  are 
 smaller  than  peaf,  or  hailstones ;  let  us  suppose  at  present,  that  the  different 
 motions  and  figures,  bulk  and  number  of  such  particles,  affecting  the  se> 
 veral  organs   of  our  senses,  produce  in  us  those  different  sensations,  which 
 
Ch.  8.  SIMPLE  IDEAS.  95 
 
 we  have  from  the  colours  and  smells  of  bodies ',  v.  g.  that  a  violet,  by  the 
 impulse  of  such  insensible  particles  of  matter  of  peculiar  figures  and  bulks, 
 and  in  different  degrees  and  modifications  of  their  motions,  causes  the 
 ideas  of  the  blue  colour  and  sweet  scent  of  that  flower  to  be  produced  in 
 our  minds,  it  being  no  more  impossible  to  conceive  that  God  should  annex 
 such  ideas  to  such  motions,  with  which  they  have  no  similitude,  than  that 
 he  should  annex  the  idea  of  pain  to  the  motion  of  a  piece  of  steel  dividing 
 our  flesh,  with  which  that  idea  hath  no  resemblance. 
 
 Sect.  14.  What  I  have  said  concerning  colours  and  smells  may  be  un- 
 derstood also  of  tastes  and  sounds,  and  other  the  like  sensible  qualities  ; 
 which,  whatever  reality  we  by  mistake  attribute  to  them,  are  in  truth  noth- 
 ing in  the  objects  themselves,  but  powers  to  produce  various  sensations  in 
 us,  and  depend  on  those  primary  qualities,  viz.  bulk,  figure,  texture,  and 
 motion  of  parts,  as  I  have  said. 
 
 Sect.  1.5.  Ideas  of  primary  qualities  are  resemblances  ;  of  secondary, 
 not. — From  whence  I  think  it  easy  to  draw  this  observation,  that  the  ideas 
 of  primary  quahties  of  bodies  are  resemblances  of  them,  and  tlieir  patterns 
 do  really  exist  in  the  bodies  themselves ;  but  the  ideas  produced  in  us  by 
 these  secondary  qualities  have  no  resemblance  of  tliem  at  all.  There  is 
 nothing  like  our  ideas  existing  in  the  bodies  themselves.  They  are  in 
 the  bodies,  we  denominate  from  them,  only  a  power  to  produce  those  sen- 
 sations in  us  ;  and  what  is  sweet,  blue,  or  warm  in  idea,  is  but  the  certain 
 bulk,  figure,  and  motion  of  the  insensible  parts  in  the  bodies  themselves, 
 which  we  call  so. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Flame  is  denominated  hot  and  light ;  snow  white  and  cold ; 
 and  manna  white  and  sweet,  fi-om  the  ideas  they  produce  in  us  :  which 
 qualities  are  commonly  thought  to  be  the  same  in  those  bodies  that  those 
 ideas  are  in  us,  the  one  the  perfect  resemblance  of  the  other,  as  they  are  in 
 a  mirror ;  and  it  would  by  most  men  be  judged  very  extravagant  if  one  should 
 say  otherwise.  And  yet  he  that  will  consider  that  the  same  fire,  that 
 at  one  distance  produces  in  us  the  sensation  of  warmth,  does  at  a  nearer 
 approach  produce  in  us  the  far  different  sensations  of  pain,  ought  to  bethink 
 himself  what  reason  he  has  to  say,  that  his  idea  of  warmth,  which  was 
 produced  in  him  by  the  fire,  is  actually  in  the  fire :  and  his  idea  of  pain, 
 which  the  same  fire  produced  in  him  the  same  way,  is  not  in  the  fire. 
 Why  are  whiteness  and  coldness  in  snow,  and  pain  not,  when  it  produces 
 the  one  and  the  other  idea  in  us,  and  can  do  neither  but  by  the  bulk,  figure, 
 number,  and  motion  of  its  solid  parts. 
 
 Sect.  17.  The  jfarticular  bulk,  number,  figure,  and  motion  of  the  parts 
 of  fire,  or  snow,  are  really  in  them,  whether  any  one's  senses  perceive  them 
 or  no ;  and  therefore  they  may  be  called  real  qualities,  because  they  really 
 exist  in  those  bodies;  but  light,  heat,  whiteness,  or  coldness,  are  no  more 
 really  in  them  than  sickness  or  pain  is  in  manna.  Take  away  the  sensa- 
 tion of  them ;  let  not  the  eyes  see  light  or  colours,  nor  the  ears  hear  sounds ; 
 let  the  palate  not  taste,  nor  the  nose  smell;  and  all  colours,  tastes,  odours, 
 and  sounds,  as  they  are  such  particular  ideas,  vanish  and  cease,  and  are 
 reduced  to  their  causes,  i.  e.  bulk,  figure,  and  motion  of  parts. 
 
 Sect.  18.  A  piece  of  manna  of  a  sensible  bulk  is  able  to  produce  in  us  the 
 idea  of  a  round  or  square  figure,  and,  by  being  removed  from  one  place  to 
 another,  the  idea  of  motion.  This  idea  of  motion  represents  it  as  it  really 
 is  in  the  manna  moving :  a  circle  or  square  are  the  same,  whether  in  idea 
 or  existence,  in  the  mind  or  in  the  manna  ;  and  this  both  motion  and  figure 
 are  really  in  the  manna,  whether  we  take  notice  of  them  or  no  :  this  every 
 body  is  ready  to  agree  to.  Besides,  manna,  by  the  bulk,  figure,  texture, 
 and  motion  of  its  parts,  has  a  power  to  produce  the  sensations  of  sickness, 
 and  sometimes  of  acute  pains  or  gripings  in  us.  That  these  ideas  of  sick- 
 ness and  pain  are  not  in  the  manna,  but  effects  of  its  operations  on  us,  and 
 are  nowhere  when  we  feel  them  not :  this  also  every  one  readily  agrees  to. 
 
96  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 And  yet  men  are  hardly  to  be  brought  to  tliink,  tliat  sweetness  and  wliite- 
 ness  are  not  really  in  manna  ;  which  arc  but  the  effects  of  the  operations 
 of  manna,  by  the  motion,  size,  and  figure  of  its  particles  on  the  eyes  and 
 palate ;  as  the  pain  and  sickness  caused  by  manna  are  confessedly  nothing 
 but  the  effects  of  its  operation  on  the  stomach  and  guts,  by  the  size,  mo- 
 tion, and  figure  of  its  insensible  parts  (for  by  nothing  else  can  a  body 
 operate,  as  lias  been  proved;)  as  if  it  could  not  operate  on  the  eyes  and 
 palate,  and  thereby  produce  in  the  mind  particular  distinct  ideas,  which  in 
 itself  it  has  not,  as  well  as  we  allow  it  can  ojierate  on  the  guts  and  stom- 
 ach, and  thereby  produce  distinct  ideas,  which  in  itself  it  has  not.  These 
 ideas  being  all  effects  of  the  operations  of  manna  on  several  parts  of  our 
 bodies,  by  the  size,  figure,  number,  and  motion  of  its  parts ;  why  those  pro- 
 duced by  the  eyes  and  palate,  should  ratlier  be  thought  to  be  really  in  the 
 manna  than  those  produced  by  the  stomach  and  guts  ;  or  why  the  pain  and 
 sickness,  ideas  that  are  the  effects  of  manna,  should  be  thouglit  to  be  no- 
 where when  they  are  not  felt ;  and  yet  the  sweetness  and  whiteness,  effects 
 of  the  same  manna  on  other  parts  of  the  body,  by  waj's  equally  as  unknown, 
 should  be  thought  to  exist  in  the  manna,  when  they  are  not  seen  or  tasted, 
 would  need  some  reason  to  explain. 
 
 Sect.  19.  Ideas  of  'primary  qualities  are  resemblances ;  of  secondary,  not. 
 — Let  us  consider  the  red  and  white  colour  in  porphyry  :  liinder  light  from 
 striking  on  it,  and  its  colours  vanish ;  it  no  longer  produces  any  such  ideas 
 in  us  ;  upon  the  return  of  light  it  produces  these  appearances  on  us  again. 
 Can  any  one  think  any  real  alterations  are  made  in  the  porphyry  by  the 
 presence  or  absence  ofhght:  and  that  those  ideas  of  whiteness  and  redness 
 are  really  in  porphyry  in  the  light,  when  it  is  plain  it  has  no  colour  in  the 
 dark?  It  has,  indeed,  such  a  configuration  of  particles,  both  night  and  day, 
 as  are  apt  by  the  rays  of  light  rebounding  from  some  parts  of  that  hard 
 stone,  to  produce  in  us  the  idea  of  redness,  and  from  others  the  idea  of 
 whiteness ;  but  whiteness  or  redness  are  not  in  it  at  any  time,  but  such  a 
 texture,  that  hath  the  power  to  produce  such  a  sensation  in  us. 
 
 Sect.  20.  Pound  an  almond,  and  the  clear  white  colour  will  be  altered 
 into  a  dirty  one,  and  the  sweet  taste  into  an  oily  one.  What  real  altera- 
 tion can  the  beating  of  the  pestle  make  m  any  body,  but  an  alteration  of 
 the  texture  of  it  1 
 
 Sect.  21.  Ideas  l)eing  thus  distinguished  and  understood,  we  may  be  able 
 to  give  an  account  how  the  same  water,  at  the  same  time,  may  produce  the 
 idea  of  cold  by  one  hand,  and  of  heat  by  the  other;  whereas  it  is  impossible 
 that  tlie  same  water,  if  those  ideas  were  really  in  it,  .should  at  the  same 
 time  be  both  hot  and  cold  :  for  if  we  imagine  warmth,  as  it  is  in  our  hands, 
 to  be  nothing  but  a  certain  sort  and  degree  of  motion  in  the  minute  parti- 
 cles of  our  nerves  or  animal  spirits,  we  may  understand  how  it  is  possible 
 th'at  the  same  water  may,  at  the  same  time,  produce  the  sensations  of  heat 
 in  one  hand,  and  cold  in  the  other ;  which  yet  figure  never  does, 
 that  never  producing  the  idea  of  a  square  by  one  hand,  which  has 
 produced  the  idea  of  a  globe  by  another.  But  if  the  sensation  of  heat  and 
 cold  be  nothing  but  the  increase  or  diminution  of  the  motion  of  the  minute 
 parts  of  our  bodies,  caused  by  the  corpuscles  of  any  other  body,  it  is  easy 
 to  be  understood,  that  if  that  motion  be  greater  in  one  hand  than  in  the 
 other  ;  if  a  body  be  applied  to  the  two  hands,  which  has  in  its  minute 
 particles  a  greater  motion,  than  in  those  of  one  of  the  hands,  and  a  less 
 than  in  those  of  the  other ;  it  will  increase  the  motion  of  the  one  hand, 
 and  lessen  it  in  the  other,  and  so  cause  the  different  sensations  of  heat  and 
 cold  that  depend  thereon. . 
 
 Sect.  22.  I  have  in  what  just  goes  before  been  engaged  in  physical  in- 
 quiries a  little  farther  than  perhaps  I  intended.  But  it  being  necessary  to 
 make  the  nature  of  sensation  a  little  understood,  and  to  make  the  differ- 
 ence between  the  qualities  in  bodies  and  the  ideas  produced  by  them  in  the 
 
Ch.  8.  SIMPLE  IDEAS.  97 
 
 mind,  to  be  distinctly  conceived,  without  which  it  were  impossible  to  dis- 
 course intelligibly  of  them,  I  hope  I  shall  be  pardoned  this  little  excursion 
 into  natural  philosophy,  it  being  necessary  in  our  present  inquiry  to  dis- 
 tinoTiish  the  primary  and  real  qualities  of  bodies,  which  are  always  in  them 
 (viz.  solidity,  extension,  figure,  number,  and  motion  or  rest ;  and  are 
 sometimes  perceived  by  us,  viz.  when  the  bodies  they  are  in  are  big  enough 
 singly  to  be  discerned)  from  those  secondary  and  imputed  qualities,  w^hich 
 are  but  the  powers  of  several  combinations  of  those  primary  ones,  when 
 they  operate,  without  being  distinctly  discerned;  whereby  we  may  also 
 come  to  know  what  ideas  are,  and  what  are  not,  resemblances  of  something 
 really  existing  in  the  bodies  we  denominate  from  them. 
 ;'  Sect.  23.  Three  sorts  of  qualities  in  bodies. — The  qualities  then  that 
 are  in  bodies,  rightly  considered,  are  of  three  sorts. 
 
 First,  The  bulk,  figure,  number,  situation,  and  motion  or  rest  of  their 
 solid  parts;  those  are  in  them,  whether  we  perceive  them  or  no;  and 
 when  they  are  of  that  size  that  we  can  discover  them,  we  have  by  these 
 an  idea  of  the  thing,  as  it  is  in  itself,  as  is  plain  in  artificial  things.  These 
 I  call  primary  qualities. 
 
 Secondly,  The  power  that  is  in  any  body,  by  reason  of  its  insensible 
 primary  qualities,  to  operate  after  a  peculiar  mamier  on  any  of  oiu:  senses, 
 and  thereby  produce  in  us  the  different  ideas  of  several  colours,  sounds, 
 smells,  tastes,  &c.     These  are  usually  called  sensible  qualities. 
 
 Tlurdly,  The  power  that  is  in  any  body,  by  reason  of  the  particular  con- 
 stitution of  its  primary  qualities,  to  make  such  a  change  in  the  bulk,  figure, 
 texture,  and  motion  of  another  body,  as  to  make  it  operate  on  our  senses, 
 differently  fronr  what  it  did  before.  Thus  the  sun  has  a  power  to  make 
 wax  white,  and  fire  to  make  lead  fiuid.     These  are  usually  called  powers. 
 
 The  first  of  these,  as  has  been  said,  I  think  may  be  properly  called  real, 
 original,  or  primaiy  qualities,  because  they  are  in  the  things  themselves, 
 whether  they  are  perceived  or  no  ;  and  upon  their  different  modifications 
 it  is,  that  the  secondary  qualities  depend. 
 
 The  other  two  are  only  powers  to  act  differently  upon  other  things, 
 which  powers  result  from  the  different  modifications  of  those  primary 
 qualities. 
 
 Sect.  24.  The  first  are  resemblances.  The  second  thought  resem- 
 blances, but  are  not.  The  third  neither  are,  nor  are  thought  so. — But 
 though  the  two  latter  sorts  of  qualities  are  powers  barely,  and  nothing  but 
 powers,  relating  to  several  other  bodies,  and  resulting  fi-om  the  different 
 modifications  of  the  original  qualities,  yet  they  are  generally  otherwise 
 thought  of:  for  the  second  sort,  viz.  the  powers  to  produce  several  ideas  in 
 us  by  our  senses,  are  looked  upon  as  real  qualities,  in  the  things  thus 
 affecting  us ;  but  the  third  sort  are  called  and  esteemed  barely  powers,  v.  g. 
 the  idea  of  heat  or  light,  which  we  receive  by  our  eyes  or  touch  from  the 
 sun,  are  commonly  thought  real  qualities,  existing  in  the  sun,  and  some- 
 thing more  than  mere  powers  in  it.  But  when  we  consider  the  sun,  in 
 reference  to  wax,  which  it  melts  or  blanches,  we  look  on  the  whiteness  and 
 soflness  produced  in  the  wax,  not  as  qualities  in  the  sun,  but  effects  pro- 
 duced by  powers  in  it :  w^hereas,  if  rightly  considered,  these  qualities  of 
 light  and  warmth,  which  are  perceptions  in  me  when  I  am  warmed  or  en- 
 lightened by  the  sun,  are  no  othenvise  in  the  sun,  than  the  changes  made 
 in  the  wax,  w^hen  it  is  blanched  or  melted,  are  in  the  sun.  They  are  all 
 of  them  equally  powers  in  the  sun,  depending  on  its  primary  qualities; 
 whereby  it  is,  able,  in  the  one  case,  so  to  alter  the  bulk,  figure,  texture,  or 
 motion  of  some  of  the  insensible  parts  of  my  eyes  or  hands,  as  thereby  to 
 produce  in  me  the  idea  of  hght  or  heat ;  and  in  the  other,  it  is  able  so  to 
 alter  the  bulk,  figure,  texture,  or  motion  of  the  insensible  parts  of  the  wax, 
 as  to  make  them  fit  to  produce  in  me  the  distinct  ideas  of  white  and  fluid. 
 
 Sect.  25.  The  reason  why  the  one  are  ordinarily  taken  for  real  qualities, 
 N 
 
98  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  % 
 
 and  the  otlier  only  for  bare  powers,  seems  to  be  because  the  ideas  we  have 
 ot"  distinct  colours,  soniuls,  &c.  containing  nothing  at  all  in  them  of  bulk, 
 figure,  or  motion,  we  are  not  apt  to  think  them  the  eifects  of  these  primary 
 qualities,  which  appear  not,  to  our  senses,  to  operate  in  their  production  ;' 
 and  with  which  they  have  not  any  apparent  cong-ruity,  or  conceivable  con- 
 nexion.. Hence  it  is  that  we  are  so  forward  to  imagine,  that  those  ideas 
 are  the  resemblances  of  something  really  existing  in  the  objects  themselves  ; 
 since  sensation  discovers  nothing  of  bulk,  figure,  or  motion  of  parts  in 
 their  production  ;  nor  can  reason  show  how  bodies,  by  their  bulk,  figure, 
 and  motion,  should  produce  in  the  mind  the  ideas  of  blue  or  yellow,  &c. 
 But  in  the  other  case,  in  the  operations  of  bodies  changing  the  qualities 
 one  of  another,  we  plainly  discover,  that  the  quality  produced  hath  com- 
 monly no  resemblance  with  any  thing  in  the  thing  producing  it :  wherefore 
 we  look  on  it  as  a  bare  effect  of  power.  For  though  receiving  the  idea 
 of  heat  or  light  from  the  sun,  we  are  apt  to  think  it  is  a  perception  and  re- 
 semblance  of  such  a  quality  in  the  sun ;  yet  when  we  see  wax,  or  a  fair 
 face,  receive  change  of  colour  from  the  sun,  we  cannot  imagine  that  to  be 
 the  reception  or  resemblance  of  any  thing  in  the  sun.  because  we  find  not 
 those  different  colours  in  the  sun  itself.  For  our  senses  being  able  to  ob- 
 serve a  likeness  or  unlikeness  of  sensible  qualities  in  two  different  external 
 objects,  we  forwardly  enough  conclude  the  production  of  any  sensible 
 quality  in  any  subject  to  be  an  effect  of  bare  power,  and  not  the  communi- 
 cation of  any  quality,  which  was  really  in  the  efficient,  when  we  find  no 
 such  sensible  quality  in  the  thing  that  produced  it.  But  our  senses  not 
 being  able  to  discover  any  unlikeness  between  the  idea  produced  in  us,  and 
 the  quality  of  the  object  producing  it,  we  are  apt  to  imagine  that  our  ideas 
 are  resemblances  of  something  in  the  objects,  and  not  the  effects  of  certain 
 powers  placed  in  the  modification  of  their  primary  qualities,  with  which 
 primary  qualities  the  ideas  produced  in  us  have  no  resemblance. 
 
 Sect.  26.  Secondary  qualities  twofold ;  Jirst,  immediately  perceivable; 
 secondly,  inediately  perceivable. — To  conclude:  beside  those  before-men- 
 tioned primary  qualities  in  bodies,  viz.  bulk,  figure,  extension,  number,  and 
 motion  of  their  solid  parts ;  all  the  rest  whereby  we  take  notice  of  bodies, 
 and  distinguish  them  one  from  another,  are  nothing  else  but  several  pow- 
 ers in  them  depending  on  those  primary  qualities ;  whereby  they  are  fitted, 
 either  by  immediately  operating  on  our  bodies  to  produce  several  different 
 ideas  in  us ;  or  else,  by  operating  on  other  bodies,  so  to  change  their  primary 
 qualities,  as  to  render  them  capable  of  producing  ideas  in  us  different  from 
 what  before  they  did.  The  former  of  these,  I  think,  may  be  called  secon- 
 dary qualities,  immediately  perceivable :  the  latter,  secondary  quaUties, 
 mediately  perceivable. 
 
 CHAPTER  IX. 
 
 OF  PERCEPTION. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Perception  thejirst  simple  idea  of  reflection. — Perception,  as 
 it  is  the  first  faculty  of  the  mind,  exercised  about  our  ideas ;  so  it  is  the  first 
 and  simplest  idea  we  have  from  reflection,  and  is  by  some  called  thinking 
 in  general.  Though  thinking,  in  the  propriety  of  the  English  tongue,  sig- 
 nifies that  sort  of  operation  in  the  mind  about  its  ideas,  wherein  the  mind 
 is  active ;  where  it,  with  some  degree  of  voluntary  attention,  considers 
 any  thing.  For  in  bare  naked  perception,  the  mind  is,  for  the  most  part, 
 only  passive ;  and  what  it  perceives,  it  cannot  avoid  perceiving. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Perception  is  only  when  the  mind  receives  the  impression. — What 
 perception  is,  every  one  will  know  better  by  reflecting  on  what  he  does  him- 
 
Ch.  9.  OF  PERCEPTION.  99 
 
 self,  what  he  sees,  hears,  feels,  &c.  or  thinks,  than  by  any  discourse  of 
 mine.  Whoever  reflects  on  what  passes  in  his  own  mind,  cannot  miss  it, 
 and  if  he  does  not  reflect,  all  the  words  in  the  world  cannot  make  him  have 
 any  notion  of  it. 
 
 Sect.  3.  This  is  certain,  that  whatever  alterations  are  made  in  the  body, 
 if  they  reach  not  the  mind ;  whatever  impressions  are  made  on  the  outward 
 parts,  if  they  are  not  taken  notice  of  within;  there  is  no  perception.  Fire 
 may  burn  our  bodies,  with  no  other  effect  than  it  does  a  billet,  unless  the 
 motion  be  continued  to  the  brain,  and  there  the  sense  of  heat,  or  idea  of 
 pain,  be  produced  in  the  mind,  wherein  consists  actual  perception. 
 
 Sect.  4.  How  often  may  a  man  observe  in  himself,  that  whilst  his  mind 
 is  intently  employed  in  tlie  contemplation  of  some  objects,  and  curiously 
 surveying  some  ideas  that  are  there,  it  takes  no  notice  of  impressions  of 
 sounding-  bodies  made  upon  the  organ  of  hearing  with  the  same  alteration 
 that  uses  to  be  for  the  producing  the  idea  of  sound.  A  sufficient  impulse 
 there  may  be  on  the  organ ;  but  if  not  reaching  the  observation  of  the  mind, 
 there  follows  no  perception ;  and  though  the  motion  that  uses  to  produce 
 the  idea  of  sound  be  made  in  the  ear,  yet  no  sound  is  heard.  Want  of- 
 sensation,  in  this  case,  is  not  through  any  defect  in  the  organ,  or  that  the 
 man's  ears  are  less  affected  than  at  other  times  when  he  does  hear :  but 
 that  which  uses  to  produce  the  idea,  though  conveyed  in  by  the  usual  or- 
 gan, not  being  taken  notice  of  in  the  understanding,  and  so  imprinting  no 
 idea  in  the  mind,  there  follows  no  sensation.  So  that  wherever  there  is 
 sense,  or  perception,  there  some  idea  is  actually  produced  and  present  in 
 the  understanding. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Children,  though  they  have  ideas  in  the  woirib,  have  none  in- 
 nate.— Therefore,  I  doubt  not  but  children,  by  the  exercise  of  their  senses 
 about  objects  that  affect  them  in  the  womb,  receive  some  few  ideas  before 
 they  are  born ;  as  the  unavoidable  effects,  either  of  the  bodies  that  environ 
 them,  or  else  of  those  wants  or  diseases  they  suffer :  among  which  (if  one 
 may  conjecture  concerning  things  not  very  capable  of  examination)  I  think 
 the  ideas  of  hunger  and  v/armth  are  two ;  which  probably  are  some  of  the 
 first  that  children  have,  and  which  they  scarce  ever  part  with  again. 
 
 Sect.  6.  But  though  it  be  reasonable  to  imagine  that  children  receive 
 some  ideas  before  they  come  into  the  world,  yet  those  simple  ideas  are  far 
 from  those  innate  principles  which  some  contend  for,  and  we  above  have 
 rejected.  These  here  mentioned  being  the  effects  of  sensation,  are  only 
 from  some  aflfections  of  the  body,  which  happen  to  them  there,  and  so  de- 
 pend on  something  exterior  to  the  mind ;  no  otherwise  differing  in  their 
 manner  of  production  from  other  ideas  derived  from  sense,  but  only  in  the 
 precedency  of  time;  whereas  those  innate  principles  are  supposed  to  be 
 quite  of  another  nature,  not  coming  into  the  mind  by  any  accidental  alter- 
 ations in,  or  operations  on,  the  body;  but,  as  it  were,  original  characters 
 impressed  upon  it  in  the  very  first  moment  of  its  being  and  constitution. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Which  ideas  first,  is  not  evident. — As  there  are  some  ideas 
 which  we  may  reasonably  suppose  may  be  introduced  into  the  minds  of 
 children  in  the  womb,  subservient  to  the  necessities  of  their  life  and  being 
 there ;  so,  after  they  are  born,  those  ideas  are  the  earliest  imprinted  which 
 happen  to  be  the  sensible  qualities  which  first  occur  to  them :  among  which 
 light  is  not  the  least  considerable,  nor  of  the  weakest  efficacy.  And  how 
 covetous  the  mind  is  to  be  furnished  with  all  such  ideas  as  have  no  pain  ac- 
 companying them,  may  be  a  little  guessed  by  what  is  observable  in  chil- 
 dren new-born,  who  always  turn  their  eyes  to  that  part  from  whence  the 
 light  comes,  lay  them  how  you  please.  But  the  ideas  that  are  most  familiar 
 at  first  being  various,  according  to  the  divers  circumstances  of  children's  first 
 entertainment  in  the  world,  the  order  wherein  the  several  ideas  come  at  first 
 into  the  mind  is  very  various  and  uncertain  also ;  neither  is  it  much  materia^ 
 to  know  it. 
 
100  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Ideas  of  sensation  often  changed  by  the  judgment. — We  ara' 
 further  to  cot^  .  ■  oncerning  perception,  that  the  ideas  we  receive  by  sen- 
 sation arc  -'V  .A  grown  people  altered  by  the  judgment,  without  our  taking 
 notice  of  it.  When  we  set  before  our  eyes  a  round  globe,  of  any  uniform  co- 
 lour, V.  g.  gold,  alabaster,  or  jet,  it  is  certain  that  the  idea  tliereby  imprinted 
 in  our  mind  is  of  aflat  circle  variously  shadowed,  with  several  degrees  of 
 livht  and  brightness  coming  to  our  eyes ;  but  we  having  by  use  been  accus- 
 tomed to  perceive  w'hat  kind  of  appearance  convex  bodies  are  wont  to  make 
 in  us,  what  alterations  are  made  in  the  reflections  of  light  by  the  diflference 
 of  the  pensible  figures  of  bodies,  the  judgment  presently,  by  an  habitual  cus^ 
 tom,  alters  the  appearances  into  their  causes ;  so  that  from  that  which  is  truly 
 variety  of  shadow  or  colour,  collecting  the  figure  it  makes  it  pass  for  a  mark 
 or  figure,  and  frames  to  itself  the  perception  of  a  convex  figure  and  a  uniform 
 colour :  when  the  idea  we  receive  from  thence  is  only  a  plane,  variously  co- 
 loured, as  is  evident  in  painting.  To  which  purpose  I  shall  liere  insert  a  pro- 
 blem of  that  ingeniop  ;ind  studious  promoter  of  real  knowledge,  the  learn- 
 ed and  worthy  Mr  '  .ineaux,  which  he  was  pleased  to  send  me  in  a  letter 
 some  months  sine.  5  and  it  is  this:  suppose  a  man  born  blind  and  now  adult, 
 and  taught  by  liis  touch  to  distinguish  between  a  cube  and  a  sphere  of  the 
 same  m&tal,  and  nighly  of  the  same  bigness,  so  as  to  tell  when  he  felt  one 
 and  the  other,  which  is  the  cube,  which  the  sphere.  Suppose  then  the  cube 
 and  the  sphere  placed  on  a  table,  and  the  blind  man  be  made  to  see :  quaere, 
 "whether  by  his  sight,  before  he  touched  them,  he  could  now  distinguish  and 
 tell  which  is  the  globe,  which  the  cube !"  to  which  the  acute  and  judicious 
 proposer  answers,  not.  For  though  ho  has  obtained  the  experience  of  how- 
 a  globe,  how  a  cube  aflfects  his  touch ;  yet  he  has  not  yet  obtained  the  ex- 
 perience, that  what  affects  his  touch  so  or  so,  must  affect  his  sight  so  or 
 so ;  or  that  a  protuberant  angle  in  the  cube  that  pressed  his  hand  unequally 
 shall  appear  to  his  eye  as  it  does  in  the  cube.  I  agree  with  this  thinking 
 gentleman,  whom  I  am  proud  to  call  my  friend,  in  his  answer  to  this  his 
 problem  ;  and  am  of  opinion  that  the  blind  man,  at  first  sight,  would  not 
 be  able  with  certainty  to  say,  which  was  the  globe,  which  the  cube,  whilst 
 he  only  saw  them :  though  he  could  unerringly  name  them  by  his  touch, 
 and  certainly  distinguish  them  by  the  difference  of  their  figures  felt.  This 
 I  have  set  down,  and  leave  with  my  reader,  as  an  occasion  for  him  to  con- 
 sider how  much  he  may  be  beholden  to  experience,  improvement,  and  ac- 
 quired notions,  where  he  thinks  he  had  not  the  least  use  of,  or  help  from 
 them:  and  the  rather,  because  this  observing  gentleman  farther  adds,  that 
 having,  upon  the  occasion  of  my  book,  proposed  this  to  divers  very  inge- 
 nious men,  he  hardly  ever  met  with  one,  that  at  first  gave  the  answer  to  it 
 which  he  thinks  true,  till  by  hearing  his  reasons  they  were  convinced. 
 
 Sect.  9.  But  this  is  not,  I  think,  usual  in  any  of  our  ideas  but  those/' 
 received  by  sight :  because  sight,  the  most  comprehensive  of  all  our  sen  " 
 ses,  conveying  to  our  minds  the  ideas  of  light  and  colours,  which  are  pe- 
 culiar only  to  that  sense ;  and  also  the  far  different  ideas  of  space,  figure, 
 and  motion,  the  several  varieties  whereof  change  the  appearance  of  its 
 proper  object,  viz.  light  and  colours ;  we  bring  ourselves  by  use  to  judge  of 
 the  one  by  the  other.  This,  in  many  cases,  by  a  settled  habit,  in  things 
 whereof  we  have  frequent  experience,  is  performed  so  constantly,  and  so 
 quick,  that  we  tak^  that  for  the  reception  of  our  sensation  which  is  an  idea 
 formed  by  our  judgment :  so  that  one,  viz,  that  of  sensation,  serves  only 
 to  excite  the  other,  and  is  scarce  taken  notice  of  itself:  as  a  man  who  reads 
 or  hears  with  attention  and  understanding,  takes  little  notice  of  the  char- 
 acters or  sounds,  but  of  the  ideas  that  are  excited  in  him  by  them. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Nor  need  we  wonder  that  this  is  done  with  so  little  notice, 
 if  we  consider  how  very  quick  the  actions  of  the  mind  are  performed :  for 
 as  itself  is  thought  to  take  up  no  space,  to  have  no  extension,  so  its  ac- 
 tions seem  to  require  no  time,  but  many  of  them  seem  to  be  crowded  inta 
 
Ch.  9.  OF  PERCEPTION.  101 
 
 an  instant.  I  speak  this  in  comparison  to  the  actions  of  tVe  body.  Any 
 one  may  easily  observe  tiiis  in  his  own  thoughts,  who  v  '  i  take  the  pains 
 to  reflect  on  them.  How,  as  it  were  in  an  instant,  do  our  minds  with  one 
 glance  see  all  the  parts  of  a  demonstration,  which  may  very  well  be  called 
 a  long  one,  if  we  consider  the  time  it  wiU  require  to  put  it  into  words,  and 
 step  by  step  show  it  another]  Secondly,  we  shall  not  be  so  much  surprised 
 that  this  is  done  in  us  with  so  little  notice,  if  we  consider  how  the  facilitj' 
 which  we  get  of  doing  things,  by  a  custom  of  doing,  makes  them  often  pass 
 in  us  without  our  notice.  Habits,  especially  such  as  are  begun  very  early, 
 come  at  last  to  produce  actions  in  us  which  often  escape  oar  observation. 
 How  frequently  do  we,  in  a  day,  cover  our  eyes  with  our  eyelids,  without 
 perceiving  that  we  are  at  all  in  the  dark!  Men  that  by  custom  have  got 
 the  use  of  a  by-word,  do  almost  in  every  sentence  pronounce  sounds  which, 
 though  taken  notice  of  by  others,  they  themselves  neither  liear  nor  observe; 
 and  therefore  it  is  not  so  strange  that  our  mind  should  often  change  the 
 idea  of  its  sensation  into  that  of  its  judg-ment,  and  make  one  serve  only  to 
 excite  the  other,  without  our  taking  notice  of  it. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Perception  puts  the  difference  between  animals  and  inferior  , 
 beings. — This  faculty  of  perception  seems  to  me  to  be  that  which  puts  the 
 distinction  betwixt  the  animal  kingdom  and  the  inferior  parts  of  nature. 
 For  however  vegetables  have,  many  of  them,  some  degrees  of  motion,  and 
 upon  the  different  application  of  other  bodies  to  them,  do  very  briskly  alter 
 their  figures  and  motions,  and  so  have  obtained  the  name  of  sensitive  plants, 
 from  a  motion  which  has  some  resemblance  to  that  which  in  animals  follows 
 upon  sensation  ;  yet  I  suppose  it  is  all  bare  mechanism,  and  no  otherwise 
 produced  than  the  turning  of  a  wild  oat-beard,  by  the  insinuation  of  the 
 particles  of  moisture,  or  the  shortening  of  a  rope  by  the  affusion  of  water; 
 all  which  is  done  without  any  sensation  in  the  subject,  or  the  having  or 
 receiving  any  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Perception,  I  believe,  is  in  some  degree  in  all  sorts  of  animals ; 
 though  in  some,  possibly,  the  avenues  provided  by  nature  for  tlie  reception 
 of  sensations  are  so  few,  and  the  perception  they  are  received  with  so  ob- 
 scure and  dull,  that  it  comes  extremely  short  of  the  quickness  and  variety 
 of  sensation  which  are  in  other  animals;  but  yet  it  is  sufficient  for,  and 
 wisely  adapted  to,  the  state  and  condition  of  that  sort  of  animals  who  are 
 thus  made;  so  that  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  the  Maker  plainly  appear 
 in  all  the  parts  of  this  stupendous  fabric,  and  all  the  several  degrees  and 
 i*anks  of  creatures  in  it. 
 
 Sect.  13.  We  may,  I  think,  from  tlie  make  of  an  oyster  or  cockle,  reason- 
 ably conclude  that  it  has  not  so  many  nor  so  quick  senses  as  a  man,  or 
 several  other  animals;  nor  if  it  had,  would  it,  in  that  state  and  incapacity 
 of  transferring  itself  from  one  place  to  another,  be  bettered  by  tJiem. 
 What  good  would  siglit  and  liearing  do  to  a  creature  that  cannot  move 
 itself  to  or  from  the  objects  wherein  at  a  distance  it  perceives  good  or  evilT 
 And  would  not  quickness  of  sensation  be  an  inconvenience  to  an  animal 
 that  must  lie  still,  where  chance  has  once  placed  it ;  and  there  receive  the 
 afflux  of  colder  or  warmer,  ciean  or  foul  water,  as  it  happens  to  come  to  it? 
 
 Sect.  14.  But  yet  I  cannot  but  think  tliere  is  some  small  dull  perception 
 whereby  they  are  distinguished  from  perfect  insensibility.  And  that  this 
 may  be  so,  we  have  plain  instances  even  in  mankind  itself  Take  one,  in 
 whom  decrepit  old  age  has  blotted  out  tlie  memory  of  his  past  knowledge, 
 and  clearly  wiped  out  the  ideas  his  mind  was  formerly  stored  with:  and 
 has,  by  destroying  his  sight,  hearing,  and  smell  quite,  and  his  taste  to  a 
 great  degree,  stopped  up  almost  all  the  passages  for  new  ones  to  enter;  or, 
 if  there  be  some  of  tlie  inlets  yet  half  open,  the  impressions  made  are  scarce 
 perceived,  or  not  at  all  retained.  How  far  such  an  one  (notwithstanding 
 all  that  is  boasted  of  innate  principles)  is  in  his  knowledge  and  intellectual 
 faculties  above  the  condition  of  a  cockle  or  an  oyster,  I  leave  to  be  consid- 
 
102  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 ercd.  And  if  a  man  had  passed  sixty  years  in  euch  a  state,  as  it  is  possi- 
 ble lie  might,  as  w  oil  as  three  days,  I  wonder  what  difference  there  would 
 have  been,  in  any  intellectual  perfections,  between  him  and  the  lowest  de- 
 gree of  animals. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Perception  the  inlet  of  hwwledge. — Perception  then  being 
 the  tirst  step  and  degree  towards  knowledge,  and  the  inlet  of  all  the  mate- 
 rials  of  it,  tlie  fewer  senses  any  man,  as  well  as  any  other  creature,  hath, 
 and  tlie  fewer  and  duller  the  impressions  are  that  are  made  by  them,  and 
 the  duller  the  faculties  are  that  are  employed  about  them,  the  more  remote 
 are  they  from  that  knowledge  which  is  to  be  found  in  some  men.  But  this 
 being  in  great  variety  of  degrees  (as  may  be  perceived  among  men)  cannot 
 certainly  be  discovered  in  the  several  species  of  animals,  much  less  in  their 
 particular  individuals.  It  suffices  me  only  to  have  remarked  liei'e,  that  per- 
 ception is  the  first  operation  of  all  our  intellectual  faculties,  and  tlie  inlet 
 of  all  knowledge  in  our  minds:  and  Iain  apt,  too,  to  imagine  that  it  is 
 perception,  in  the  lowest  degree  of  it,  which  puts  the  boundaries  between 
 animals  and  the  inferior  ranks  of  creatures.  But  this  I  mention  only  as 
 my  conjecture  by  the  by ;  it  being  indifferent  to  the  matter  in  hand  which 
 way  the  learned  shall  determine  of  it. 
 
 CHAPTER  X. 
 
 OF  RETENTION. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Contemplation. — The  next  faculty  of  the  mind,  whereby  it 
 makes  a  farther  progress  toward  knowledge,  is  that  which  I  call  retention, 
 or  the  keeping  of  those  simple  ideas  which  from  sensation  or  reflection  it 
 hath  received.  This  is  done  two  ways  ;  first  by  keeping  the  idea,  which 
 is  brought  into  it,  for  some  time  actually  in  view ;  which  is  called  con-- 
 templation. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Me7nory. — The  other  way  of  retention  is  the  power  to  revive  ^ 
 again  in  our  minds  those  ideas  which,  after  imprinting,  have  disappeared, 
 or  have  been  as  it  wore  laid  aside  out  of  sight :  and  thus  we  do  when  we 
 conceive  heat  or  light,  yellow  or  sweet,  the  object  being  removed.  This  is 
 memory,  which  is  as  it  were  the  store-house  of  our  ideas.  For  the  narrow 
 mind  of  man  not  being  capable  of  having  many  ideas  under  view  and  con- 
 sideration at  once,  it  was  necessary  to  have  a  repository  to  lay  up  those 
 ideas,  which  at  another  time  it  might  have  use  of  But  our  ideas  be- 
 ing nothing  but  actual  perceptions  in  the  mind,  which  cease  to  be  any 
 thing  when  there  is  no  perception  of  them,  this  laying  up  of  our  ideas  in 
 the  repository  of  the  memory  signifies  no  more  but  this,  that  the  mind  has 
 a  power  in  many  cases  to  revive  perceptions  which  it  once  had,  with  this 
 additional  perception  annexed  to  them,  that  it  has  had  them  before.  And  in 
 this  sense  it  is,  that  our  ideas  are  said  to  be  in  our  memories,  when  indeed  i 
 they  are  actually  nowhere,  but  only  there  is  an  ability  in  the  mind  when  itJ 
 will  to  revive  them  again,  and  as  it  were  paint  them  anew  on  itself,  though 
 some  with  more,  some  with  less  difficulty;  some  more  lively,  and  others  more 
 obscurely.  And  thus  it  is,  by  the  assistance  of  this  faculty,  that  we  are  to 
 have  all  those  ideas  in  our  understandings,  which,  though  we  do  not  actually 
 contemplate,  yet  we  can  bring  in  sight,  and  make  appear  again,  and  be  the 
 objects  of  our  thoughts,  without  the  help  of  those  sensible  qualities  which 
 first  imprinted  them  there. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Attention,  repetition,  pleasure,  and  pain,  fix  ideas. — Attention 
 and  repetition  nelp  much  to  the  fixing  any  ideas  in  the  memory  :  but  those 
 which  natually  at  first  make  the  deepest  and  most  lasting  impression  are 
 those  which  are  accompanied  with  pleasure  or  pain.     The  great  business 
 
Ch.  10.  OF  RETENTION.  103 
 
 of  the  senses  being  to  make  us  take  notice  of  what  hurts  or  advantages  the 
 body,  it  is  wisely  ordered  by  nature  (as  has  been  shown)  that  pain  should 
 accompany  the  reception  of  several  ideas :  which  supplying  the  place  of 
 consideration  and  reasoning  in  children,  and  acting  quicker  than  considera- 
 tion in  grown  men,  makes  both  the  old  and  young  avoid  painful  objects 
 with  that  haste  which  is  necessary  for  their  preservation ;  and,  in  both, 
 settles  in  the  memory  a  caution  for  the  future. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Ideas  fade  in  the  memory. — Concerning  the  several  degrees  of 
 lasting,  wherewith  ideas  are  imprinted  on  the  memory,  we  may  observe 
 that  some  of  them  have  been  produced  in  the  understanding  by  an  object 
 affecting  the  senses  once  only,  and  no  more  than  once  ;  others,  that  have 
 more  than  once  offered  themselves  to  the  senses,  have  yet  been  little  taken 
 notice  of:  the  mind  either  heedless,  as  in  children,  or  otherwise  employed, 
 as  in  men,  intent  only  on  one  thing,  not  setting  the  stamp  deep  into  itself: 
 and  in  some,  where  they  are  set  on  with  care  and  repeated  impressions, 
 either  through  the  temper  of  the  body,  or  some  other  fault,  the  memory  is 
 very  weak.  In  all  these  cases,  ideas  in  the  mind  quickly  fade,  and  often 
 vanish  quite  out  of  the  understanding,  leaving  no  more  footsteps  or  remain- 
 ing characters  of  themselves  than  shadows  do  flying  over  fields  of  corn; 
 and  tlie  mind  is  as  void  of  them  as  if  they  had  never  been  there. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Thus  many  of  those  ideas  which  were  produced  in  the  minds 
 of  children,  in  the  beginning  of  their  sensation,  (some  of  which,  perhaps, 
 as  of  some  pleasures  and  pains,  were  before  they  were  born,  and  others  in 
 their  infancy,)  if  in  the  future  course  of  their  lives  they  are  not  repeated 
 again,  are  quite  lost,  without  the  least  glimpse  remaining  of  them.  This 
 may  be  observed  in  those  who  by  some  mischance  have  lost  their  sight 
 when  they  were  very  young",  in  whom  the  ideas  of  colours  having  been  but 
 slightly  taken  notice  of,  and  ceasing  to  be  repeated,  do  quite  wear  out ;  so 
 that  some  years  afler  there  is  no  more  notion  nor  memory  of  colours  left 
 in  their  minds  than  in  those  of  people  born  blind.  The  memory  of  some, 
 it  is  true,  is  very  tenacious,  even  to  a  miracle :  but  yet  there  seems  to  be 
 a  constant  decay  of  all  our  ideas,  even  of  those  which  are  struck  deepest, 
 and  in  minds  the  most  retentive ;  so  that  if  they  be  not  sometimes  renevv  ed 
 by  repeated  exercises  of  the  senses,  or  reflection  on  those  kinds  of  objects 
 which  at  first  occasioned  them,  the  print  wears  out,  and  at  last  there  re- 
 mains nothing  to  be  seen.  Thus  the  ideas,  as  well  as  children  of  our  youth, 
 often  diebefoi'e  us:  and  our  minds  represent  to  us  those  tombs  to  which  we 
 are  approaching ;  where,  though  the  brass  and  marble  remain,  yet  the  in- 
 scriptions are  effaced  by  time,  and  the  imagery  moulders  away.  The 
 pictures  drawn  in  our  minds  are  laid  in  fading  colours,  and  if  not  sometimes 
 refreshed,  vanish  and  disappear.  How  much  the  constitution  of  our  bodies 
 and  the  make  of  our  animal  spirits  are  concerned  in  this,  and  whether  the 
 temper  of  the  brain  makes  this  difference,  that  in  some  it  retains  the 
 characters  draws  on  it  like  marble,  in  others  like  freestone,  and  in  others 
 little  better  than  sand,  I  shall  not  here  inquire ;  though  it  may  seem  pro- 
 bable, that  the  constitution  of  the  body  does  sometimes  influence  the 
 memory ;  since  we  oftentimes  find  a  disease  quite  strip  the  mind  of  all  its 
 ideas,  and  the  flames  of  a  fever  in  a  few  days  calcine  all  those  images  to 
 dust  and  confusion,  which  seemed  to  be  as  lasting  as  if  graved  in  marble. 
 Sect.  6.  Constantly  repeated  ideas  can  scarce  be  lost. — But  concerning 
 the  ideas  themselves,  it  is  easy  to  remark  that  those  that  are  oflenest  re- 
 freshed (among  which  are  those  that  are  conveyed  into  the  mind  by  more 
 ways  than  one)  by  a  frequent  return  of  the  objects  or  actions  that  produce 
 them,  fix  themselves  best  in  the  memory,  and  remain  clearest  and  longest 
 there:  and  therefore  those  which  are  of  the  original  qualities  of  bodies,  viz. 
 solidity,  extension,  figure,  motion,  and  rest;  and  those  that  almost  con- 
 stantly affect  our  bodies,  as  heat  and  cold :  and  those  which  are  the  affec- 
 tions of  all  kinds  of  beings,  as  existence,   duration  and  number,   which 
 
104  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 almost  every  object  that  affects  our  senses,  every  thought  which  employs 
 our  minds,  brintf  along  with  them:  these,  I  say,  and  the  like  ideas,  are 
 seldom  quite  lost  whilst  the  mind  retains  any  ideas  at  all. 
 
 Sect.  7.  In  remembering,  the  mind  is  often  activ£.~ — In  this  secondary 
 perception,  as  I  may  so  call  it,  or  viewing  again  the  ideas  that  are  lodged  in 
 the  memory,  tlic  mind  is  ofientimes  more  than  barely  passive ;  the  appear- 
 ance of  those  dormant  pictures  depending  sometimes  on  the  will.  The 
 mind  voTy  often  sets  itself  on  v/orlc  in  search  of  some  hidden  "Tdea,  and 
 turns  as  it  were  tlie  eye  of  the  soul  upon  it ;  though  sometimes  too  they 
 start  uj)  in  our  mind:^  of  their  own  accord,  and  oflcr  themselves  to  the  un- 
 derstanding; and  very  often  are  roused  and  tumbled  out  of  their  dark  cells 
 into  open  daylight  by  turbulent  and  tempestuous  passions,  our  affections 
 bringing  ideas  to  our  memory,  which  had  otherwise  lain  quiet  and  unre- 
 garded. This  farther  is  to  be  observed,  concerning  ideas  lodged  in  the  me- 
 mory, and  upon  occasion  revived  by  the  mind,  that  they  are  not  only  (as 
 the  word  revive  imports)  none  of  them  new  ones  :  but  also  that  the  mind 
 takes  notice  of  them,  as  of  a  former  impression,  and  renews  its  acquaintance 
 with  them  as  with  ideas  it  had  known  before  ;  so  that  though  ideas  formerly 
 imprinted  are  not  all  constantly  in  view,  yet  in  remembrance  they  are  con- 
 stantly known  to  be  such  as  have  been  formerly  imprinted,  i.  e.  in  view, 
 and  taken  notice  of  before  by  the  understanding. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Tico  defects  in  the  memory,  oblivion  and  slowness. — Memory,  in 
 an  intellectual  creature,  is  necessary  in  the  the  next  degree  to  perception. 
 It  is  of  so  great  moment,  that  where  it  is  wanting,  all  the  rest  of  our 
 faculties  are  in  a  great  measure  useless ;  and  we,  in  our  thoughts,  reason- 
 ings, and  knowledge,  could  not  proceed  beyond  present  objects,  were  it  not 
 for  the  assistance  of  our  memories,  wherein  there  maybe  two  defects. 
 
 First,  That  it  loses  the  idea  quite,  and  so  far  it  produces  perfect  igno- 
 rance; for  since  we  can  know  nothing  farther  than  we  have  the  idea 
 of  it,  when  that  is  gone,  we  are  in  perfect  ignorance. 
 
 Secondly,  That  it  moves  slowly,  and  retrieves  not  the  ideas  that  it  has, 
 and  are  laid  up  in  store,  quick  enough  to  serve  the  mind  upon  occasion. 
 This,  if  it  be  to  a  great  degree,  is  stupidity;  and  he  who,  through  this  default 
 in  his  memory,  has  not  the  ideas  that  are  really  preserved  there  ready  at 
 hand  when  need  and  occasion  call  for  them,  were  almost  as  good  be  without 
 them  quite,  since  they  serve  him  to  little  purpose.  The  dull  man,  who 
 loses  the  opportunity  whilst  he  is  seeking  in  his  mind  for  those  ideas  that 
 should  serve  his  turn,  is  not  much  more  happy  in  his  knowledge  than  one 
 that  is  perfectly  ignorant.  It  is  the  business  therefore  of  the  memory  to  fur- 
 nish to  the  mind  those  dormant  ideas  which  it  has  present  occasion  for; 
 in  the  having  them  ready  at  hand  on  all  occasions  consists  that  which  we  call 
 invention,  fancy,  and  quickness  of  parts. 
 
 Sect.  9.  These  are  defects,  we  may  observe,  in  the  memory  of  one  man 
 compared  with  another.  There  is  another  defect  which  we  may  conceive 
 to  be  in  the  memory  of  man  in  general,  compared  with  some  superior 
 created  intellectual  beings,  which  in  this  faculty  may  so  far  e.vccl  man, 
 that  they  may  have  constantly  in  view  the  whole  scene  of  all  their  former 
 actions,  wherein  no  one  of  the  thoughts  they  have  ever  had  may  slip  out 
 of  their  sight.  The  omniscience  of  (iod,  who  knows  all  things,  past,  pre- 
 sent, and  to  come,  and  to  whom  the  thoughts  of  men's  hearts  always  lie 
 open,  may  satisfy  us  of  the  possibility  of  this.  For  who  can  doubt  but  God 
 may  communicate  to  those  glorious  spirits,  his  immediate  attendants,  any 
 of  his  perfections,  in  what  proportions  he  pleases,  as  far  as  created  finite 
 beings  can  be  capable!  It  is  reported  of  that  prodigy  of  parts.  Monsieur 
 Pascal,  that  till  the  decay  of  his  health  had  impaired  his  memory,  he  for- 
 got nothing  of  what  he  had  done,  read,  or  tiiought,  in  any  part  of  his 
 rational  age.  This  is  a  privilege  so  little  known  to  most  men,  that  it 
 seems  almost  incredible  to  those  who,  after  the  ordinary  way,  measure  all 
 
Ch.  10.  OF  RETENTION  105 
 
 others  by  themseives :  but  yet,  when  considered,  may  help  us  to  enlarge 
 our  thoughts  towards  greater  perfection  of  it  in  superior  ranks  of  spirits. 
 For  this  of  Mr  Pascal  was  still  with  the  narrowness  that  human  minds  are 
 confined  to  here,  of  having  great  variety  of  ideas  only  by  succession,  not 
 all  at  once ;  whereas  the  several  degrees  of  angels  may  probably  have 
 ".arger  views,  and  some  of  them  be  endowed  with  capacities  able  to  retain 
 together,  and  constantly  set  before  them,  as  in  one  picture,  all  their  past 
 knowledge  at  once.  This,  we  may  conceive,  would  be  no  small  advantage 
 to  the  knowledge  of  a  thinking  man,  if  all  his  past  thoughts  and  reasonings 
 could  be  always  present  to  him :  and  therefore  we  may  suppose  it  one  of 
 those  ways  wherein  the  knowledge  of  separate  spirits  may  exceedingly 
 surpass  ours. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Brutes  have  memory. — This  faculty  of  laying  up  and  retain- 
 ing the  ideas  that  are  brought  into  the  mind,  several  other  animals  seem 
 to  have  to  a  great  degree,  as  well  as  man :  for,  to  pass  by  other  instances, 
 birds  learning  of  tunes,  and  tlie  endeavours  one  may  observe  in  them  to  hit 
 the  notes  right,  put  it  past  doubt  with  me  that  they  have  perception,  and 
 retain  ideas  in  their  memories,  and  use  them  for  patterns :  for  it  seems  to 
 me  impossible  that  they  should  endeavour  to  conform  their  voices  to  notes 
 (as  it  is  plain  they  do)  of  which  they  had  no  ideas.  For  though  I  should 
 grant  sound  may  mechanically  cause  a  certain  motion  of  the  animals  spirits, 
 in  the  brains  of  those  birds,  whilst  the  tune  is  actually  playing;  and  that 
 motion  may  be  continued  on  to  the  muscles  of  the  wings,  and  so  the  bird 
 mechanically  be  driven  away  by  certain  noises,  because  this  may  tend  to 
 the  bird's  preservation ;  yet  thai  can  nei'er  be  supposed  a  reason  why  it 
 should  cause  mechanically,  either  whilst  the  tune  is  playing,  much  less  after 
 it  has  ceased,  sucli  a  motion  of  the  organs  in  the  bird's  voice,  as  should  con- 
 form it  to  tlie  note;;  of  a  foreign  sound,  which  imitation  can  be  of  no  use  to 
 the  bird's  preservation.  But,  which  is  more,  it  cannot  with  any  appear- 
 ance of  reason  be  supposed  (much  less  proved)  that  birds,  without  sense 
 and  memory,  can  approach  their  notes  nearer  and  nearer  by  degrees  to  a 
 tune  played  yesterday,  which,  if  they  have  no  idea  of  in  their  memory,  is 
 nowhere,  nor  can  be  a  pattern  for  them  to  imitate,  or  which  any  repeated 
 essays  can  bring  them  nearer  to  :  since  there  is  no  reason  why  the  sound 
 of  a  pipe  should  leave  traces  in  their  brains,  which,  not  at  first,  but  by  their 
 after  endeavours,  should  produce  the  like  sounds ;  and  why  the  sounds  they 
 make  themselves  should  not  make  traces  which  they  should  follow,  as  well 
 as  those  of  the  pipe,  is  impossible  to  conceive. 
 
 CHAPTER  XI. 
 
 OF  DISCERNING  AND  OTHER  OPERATIONS  OF  THE  MIND. 
 
 Sect.  1.  No  knowledge  without  discernment. — Another  faculty  we  may 
 take  notice  of  in  our  minds,  is  that  of  discerning  and  distinguishing  between 
 the  several  ideas  it  has.  It  is  not  enough  to  have  a  confused  perception 
 of  something  in  general:  unless  the  mind  had  a  distinct  perception  of  differ- 
 ent objects,  and  their  qualities,  it  would  be  capable  of  very  little  knowledge, 
 1  hough  the  bodies  that  affect  us  were  as  busy  about  us  as  they  are  now,  and 
 the  mind  were  continually  employed  in  thinking.  On  this  faculty  of  distin.* 
 guishing  one  thing  from  another  depends  the  evidence  and  certainty  of 
 several,  even  very  general  propositions,  which  have  passed  for  innate  truths ; 
 because  men  overlooking  the  true  cause  why  those  propositions  find  univer- 
 sal assent,  impute  it  wholly  to  native  uniform  impressions,  whereas  in  truth 
 it  depends  upon  this  clear  discerning  faculty  of  the  mind,  whereby  it  perceives 
 two  ideas  to  be  the  same  or  different.  But  of  this  more  hereafter. 
 O 
 
106  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 Sect.  2.  The  difference  of  wit  and  judgment. — How  much  tlie  imper- 
 fection of  accurately  discriniinating  ideas  one  from  another  hes  either  in 
 the  dulness  or  faults  of  the  organs  of  sense,  or  want  of  acuteness,  exercise, 
 or  attention  in  the  imderstanding,  or  hastiness  and  precipitancy,  natural 
 to  some  tempers,  I  will  not  here  examine ;  it  suffices  to  take  notice,  that 
 this  is  one  of  the  operations  that  the  mind  may  reflect  on  and  observe  in 
 itself  It  is  of  that  consequence  to  its  other  knowledge,  that  so  far  as  this 
 faculty  is  in  itself  dull,  or  not  rightly  made  use  of,  for  the  distinguishing 
 one  thing  from  another,  so  far  our  notions  are  confused,  and  our  reason 
 and  judgment  disturbed  or  misled.  If  in  having  our  ideas  in  the  memory 
 ready  at  hand  consists  quickness  of  parts  :  in  tliisof  havingthemunconfused, 
 and  being  able  nicely  to  distinguish  one  thing  from  another,  where  there 
 is  but  the  least  diiference,  consists,  in  a  great  measure,  the  exactness  of 
 judgment  and  clearness  of  reason,  which  is  to  be  observed  in  one  man  above 
 another.  And  hence  perhaps  may  be  given  some  reason  of  that  common 
 observation,  that  men  who  have  a  great  deal  of  wit,  and  prompt  memories, 
 have  not  always  the  clearest  judgment  or  deepest  reason  :  for  wit  lying  / 
 most  in  the  assemblage  of  ideas,  and  putting  those  together  with  quickness 
 and  variety,  wherein  can  be  found  any  resemblance  or  congruity,  thereby 
 to  make  up  pleasant  pictures  and  agreeable  visions  in  the  fancy ;  judgment, 
 on  the  contrary,  lies  quite  on  the  other  side,  in  separating  carefully,  one  ' 
 from  another,  ideas,  wherein  can  be  found  the  least  difference,  thereby  to 
 avoid  being  misled  by  similitude,  and  by  affinity  to  take  one  thing  for  another. 
 This  is  a  way  of  proceeding  quite  contrary  to  metaphor  and  allusion,  wherein 
 for  the  most  part  lies  that  entertainment  and  pleasantry  of  wit  which  strikes 
 so  lively  on  the  fancy,  and  therefore  is  so  acceptable  to  all  people,  because  its 
 beauty  appears  at  first  sight,  and  there  is  required  no  labour  of  thought  to  ex- 
 amine what  truth  or  reason  there  is  in  it.  The  mind,  without  looking  any 
 fiirther,  rests  satisfied  with  the  agreeableness  of  the  picture,  and  the  gayety 
 of  the  fancy ;  and  it  is  a  kind  of  an  affront  to  go  about  to  examine  it  by  the  se- 
 vere rules  of  truth  and  good  reason ;  whereby  it  appears  that  it  consists  in 
 something  that  is  not  perfectly  conformable  to  them. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Clearness  alone  hinders  confusion. — Tothe  welldistinguisliing 
 our  ideas,  it  chiefly  contributes  that  they  be  clear  and  determinate ;  and 
 where  they  are  so,  it  will  not  breed  any  confusion  or  mistake  about  them, 
 though  the  senses  should  (as  sometimes  they  do)  convey  them  from  the 
 same  object  differently  on  different  occasions,  and  so  seem  to  err :  for 
 though  a  man  in  a  fever  should  from  sugar  have  a  bitter  taste,  which  at 
 another  time  would  produce  a  sweet  one,  yet  the  idea  of  bitter  in  that  man's 
 mind  would  be  as  clear  and  distinct  from  the  idea  of  sweet  as  if  he  liad 
 tasted  only  gall.  Nor  does  it  make  any  more  confusion  between  the  two 
 ideas  of  sweet  and  bitter,  that  the  same  sort  of  body  produces  at  one  time 
 one,  and  at  another  time  another  idea  by  the  taste,  than  it  makes  a  confu- 
 sion in  two  ideas  of  Vv'hite  and  sweet,  or  white  and  round,  that  the  same 
 piece  of  sugar  produces  them  both  in  the  mind  at  the  same  time.  And  the 
 ideas  of  orange  colour  and  azure  that  are  produced  in  the  mind  by  the  same 
 parcel  of  infijsion  of  lignum  nephriticum,  are  no  less  distinct  ideas  than 
 tho.se  of  the  same    colours  taken  from  two  very  different  bodies. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Comparing. — The  comparing  them  one  with  another,  in  res- 
 pect of  extent,  degrees,  time,  place,  or  any  other  circumstances,  is  another 
 operation  of  the  mind  about  its  ideas,  and  is  that  upon  which  depends  all 
 that  large  tribe  of  ideas  comprehended  under  relations;  which  of  how  vast 
 an  extent  it  is,  I  shall  have  occasion  to  consider  hereafter. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Brutes  compare  hut  imperfectlij. — How  far  brutes  partake  in 
 this  faculty  is  not  easy  to  determine;  I  imagine  they  have  it  not  in  any 
 great  degree ;  for  though  they  probably  have  several  ideas  distinct  enough, 
 yet  it  seems  to  me  to  be  the  prerogative  of  human  understanding,  when  it 
 has  sufficiently  distinguij;hed  any  ideas   bo   as  to   perceive  them  to  be  per- 
 
Ch.  11.  DISCERNING.  107 
 
 fectly  different,  and  so  consequently  two,  to  cast  about  and  consider  in  what 
 circumstances  the^^  arc  capable  to  be  compared;  and,  therefore,  I  think 
 beasts  compare  not  their  ideas  farther  than  some  sensible  circumstances 
 annexed  to  tiie  objects  themselves.  The  other  power  of  comparing,  which 
 may  be  observed  in  men,  belonging  to  general  ideas,  and  useful  only  to  ab- 
 stract reasonings,  we  may  probably  conjecture  beasts  have  not. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Compounding- — The  next  operation  we  may  obseiwe  in  the 
 mind  about  its  ideas,  is  conmositioii,  whereby  it  puts  together  several  of  those 
 simple  ones  it  has  recMve3"Tfrom  sensation  and  reflection,  and  combines 
 them  into  complex  ones.  Under  this  of  composition  may  be  reckoned  also 
 that  of  enlarging,  wherein,  though  the  composition  does  not  so  much  ap- 
 pear as  in  more  complex  ones,  yet  it  is  nevertheless  a  putting  several  ideas 
 together,  though  of  the  same  kind.  Thus,  by  adding  several  units  together, 
 we  make  the  idea -of  a  dozen;  and  putting  together  the  repeated  ideas  of 
 several  perches,  we  frame  that  of  a  furlong. 
 
 Sect  7.  Brutes  compound  but  little. — In  tliis,  also,  I  suppose,  brutes 
 come  far  short  of  men  ;  for  though  they  take  in  and  retain  together  several 
 combinations  of  simple  ideas,  as  possibly  the  shape,  smell,  and  voice  of  his 
 master,  make  up  the  complex  idea  a  dog  has  of  him,  or  rather  are  so  many 
 distinct  marks  whereby  he  knov/s  him;  yet  I  do  not  think  they  do  of 
 themselves  ever  compound  them,  and  make  complex  ideas.  And  perhaps, 
 even  where  we  think  they  have  complex  ideas,  it  is  only  one  simple  one 
 that  directs  them  in  the  knowledge  of  several  things,  which  possibly  they 
 distinguish  less  by  their  sight  than  we  imagine ;  for  I  have  been  credibly 
 informed  that  a  bitch  will  nurse,  play  with,  and  be  fond  of  young  foxes,  as 
 much  as,  and  in  place  of,  her  puppies,  if  you  can  but  get  them  once  to  suck 
 her  so  long  that  her  inilk  may  go  through  them.  And  those  animals  which 
 have  a  numerous  brood  of  young  ones  at  once,  appear  not  to  have  any 
 knowledge  of  their  number;  for  though  they  are  mightily  concerned  for  any 
 of  thfeir  young  that  are  taken  from  them  whilst  they  are  in  sight  or  hearing, 
 yet  if  one  or  two  of  them  be  stolen  from  them  in  their  absence,  or  with- 
 out noise,  they  appear  not  to  miss  them,  or  to  have  any  sense  that  their 
 number  is  lessened. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Naming. — When  children  liave,  by  repeated  sensations,  got 
 ideas  fixed  in  their  memories,  they  begin  by  degrees  to  learn  the  use  of  signs. 
 And  when  they  have  got  the  skill  to  apply  the  organs  of  speech  to  the  framing 
 of  articulate  sounds,  they  beg-in  to  make  use  of  words  to  signify  their  ideas 
 to  others.  These  verbal  signs  they  sometimes  borrow  from  others,  and 
 sometimes  make  themselves,  as  one  may  observe  among  the  new  and  un- 
 usual names  children  often  give  to  things  in  the  fa-st  use  of  language. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Abstraction. — The  use  of  v/ords  then  being  to  stand  as  out- 
 ward marks  of  our  internal  ideas,  and  those  ideas  being  taken  from  particu- 
 lar things,  if  every  particular  idea  that  we  take  in  should  have  a  distinct 
 name,  names  must  be  endless.  To  prevent  this,  the  mind  makes  the  par- 
 ticular ideas,  received  from  particular  objects,  to  become  general ;  which 
 is  done  by  considering  them  as  they  are  in  the  mind,  such  appearances, 
 separate  from  all  other  existences,  and  the  circumstances  of  real  existence,  as 
 time,  place,  or  any  other  concomitant  ideas.  This  is  called  abstraction, 
 whereby  ideas,  taken  from  particular  beings,  becomes  general  representatives 
 of  all  of  the  same  kind,  and  their  names  general  names,  applicable  to  what- 
 ever exists  conformable  to  such  abstract  ideas.  Such  precise  naked  appear- 
 ances on  the  mind,  without  considering  how,  whence,  or  with  what  others 
 they  came  there,  the  understanding  lays  up  (with  names  commonly  annexed  to 
 them)  as  the  standard  to  rank  real  existences  into  sorts,  as  they  agree  with 
 these  patterns,  and  to  denominate  them  accordingly.  Thus  the  same  colour 
 being  observed  to-day  in  chalk  or  snow,  which  the  mind  yesterday  received 
 from  milk,  it  considers  that  appearance  alone  makes  it  a  representative  of 
 all  of  that  kind  ;  and  having  o-iven  it  the  name  whiteness,  it  bv  that  sound  sig- 
 
103  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 nifies  the  same  quality,  wlieresoover  to  be  imagined  or  met  with  :  and  thus 
 universals,  wliether  ideas  or  terms,  are  made. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Brutes  abstract  not. — If  it  may  be  doubted,  wlietlier  beasts 
 compound  and  enlarge  their  ideas  that  way  to  any  degi-ee  ;  tliis,  I  think,  I 
 may  be  positive  in,  that  the  power  of  abstracting  is  not  at  all  in  them;  and 
 that  the  having  of  general  ideas  is  that  which  j)nts  a  perfect  distinction  be- 
 tween man  and  brutes,  and  is  an  excellency  which  the  faculties  of  brutes 
 do  by  no  means  attain  to.  For  it  is  evident  we  observe  no  footsteps  in 
 them  of  making  use  of  general  signs  for  universal  ideas ;  from  which  we  have 
 reason  to  imagine  that  they  have  not  the  faculty  of  abstracting,  or  making 
 general  ideas,  since  they  have  no  use  of  words,  or  any  other  general  signs. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Nor  can  it  be  imputed  to  their  want  of  fit  organs  to  frame  articu- 
 late sounds,  that  they  have  no  use  or  knowledge  of  general  words ;  since 
 many  of  tliem,  we  tiad,  can  fashion  such  sounds,  and  pronounce  words  dis- 
 tinctly enough,  but  never  with  any  such  application.  And,  on  the  other 
 side,  men,  who,  through  Gome  defect  in  the  organs  want  words,  yet  fail  not 
 to  express  their  universal  ideas  by  signs,  which  serve  them  instead  of  gen- 
 eral words ;  a  faculty  which  we  see  beasts  come  short  in.  And,  therefore, 
 I  thinlc  we  may  suppose,  that  it  is  in  tliis  that  the  species  of  brutes  are  dis- 
 criminated from  man;  and  it  is  that  proper  difference  wherein  they  are 
 wholly  separated,  and  which  at  last  widens  to  so  vast  a  distance :  for  if  they 
 have  any  ideas  at  all,  and  are  not  bare  machines  (as  some  would  have  them) 
 we  cannot  deny  them  to  have  some  reason.  It  seems  as  evident  to  me,  that 
 they  do  some  of  them  in  certain  instances  reason,  as  that  they  have 
 sense :  but  it  is  only  in  particular  ideas,  just  as  they  received  them  from 
 their  senses.  They  are  the  best  of  them  tied, up  within  those  narrow 
 bounds,  and  have  not  (as  I  think)  the  faculty  to  enlarge  them  by  any  kind 
 of  abstraction. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Idiots  and  madmen. — How  far  idiots  are  concerned  in  the 
 want  or  weakness  of  any  or  all  of  the  foregoing  faculties,  an  exact  observa- 
 tion of  their  several  ways  of  faltering  would  no  doubt  discover :  for  those 
 who  either  perceive  but  dully,  or  retain  the  ideas  that  come  into  their  minds 
 but  ill,  who  cannot  readily  excite  or  compound  them,  will  have  little  matter 
 to  think  on.  Those  who  cannot  distinguish,  compare,  and  abstract,  would 
 hardly  be  able  to  understand  and  make  use  of  language,  or  judge,  or  reason, 
 to  any  tolerable  degree ;  but  only  a  little  and  imperfectly  about  things  pre- 
 sent, and  very  familiar  to  their  senses.  And,  indeed,  any  of  the  foremen- 
 tioned  faculties,  if  wanting,  or  out  of  order,  produce  suitable  effects  in  men's 
 understandings  and  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  13.  In  fine,  the  defect  in  naturals  seems  to  proceed  from  want  of 
 quickness,  activity,  and  motion  in  the  intellectual  faculties,  whereby  they 
 are  deprived  of  reason;  whereas  madmen,  on  the  other  side,  seem  to  suffer 
 by  the  other  extreme ;  for  they  do  not  appear  to  me  to  have  lost  the  faculty 
 of  reasoning;  but  having  joined  together  some  ideas  very  wrongly,  they 
 mistake  them  for  truths,  and  they  err  as  men  do  that  argue  right  from  wrong 
 principles.  For  by  the  violence  of  their  imaginations,  having  taken  their 
 fancies  for  realities,  they  make  right  deductions  from  them.  Thus  you 
 shall  find  a  distracted  man  fancying  himself  a  king,  with  a  right  inference 
 require  stiitablc  attendance,  respect,  and  obedience ;  others,  who  have 
 thought  themselves  made  of  glass,  have  used  the  caution  necessary  to  pre- 
 serve such  brittle  bodies.  Hence  it  comes  to  ])ass  that  a  man,  who  is  very 
 sober,  and  of  a  right  understanding  in  all  other  things,  may  in  one  particu- 
 lar be  as  frantic  as  any  in  Bedlam ;  if  either  by  any  sudden  very  strong  im- 
 pression, or  long  fixing  his  fancy  upon  one  sort  of  thoughts,  incoherent 
 ideas  have  been  cemented  together  so  powerfully,  as  to  remain  united.  But 
 there  are  degrees  of  madness,  as  of  folly ;  the  disorderly  jumbling  ideas  to- 
 gether is  in  some  more,  some  less.  In  short,  lierein  seems  to  lie  the  difference 
 between  idiots  and  madmen,  that  madmen  put  wrong  ideas  together,  and 
 
Ch.  11.  DISCERNING.  109 
 
 so  make  wrong  propositions,  but  argue  and  reason  right  from  them ;  but 
 idiots  make  very  few  or  no  propositions,  and  reason  scarce  at  all. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Method. — These,  I  think,  are  the  first  faculties  and  operations 
 of  the  mind,  which  it  makes  use  of  in  understanding ;  and  though  they  are 
 exercised  about  all  its  ideas  in  general,  yet  the  instances  I  have  hitherto 
 o-iven  have  been  chiefly  in  simple  ideas  :  and  I  have  subjoined  the  explica- 
 tion of  these  faculties  of  the  mind  to  that  of  simple  ideas,  before  I  come  to 
 what  I  have  to  say  concerning  complex  ones,  for  these  following  reasons  : 
 
 First,  Because  several  of  these  faculties  being  exercised  at  first  princi- 
 pally about  simple  ideas,  we  might,  by  following  nature  in  its  ordinary 
 method,  trace  and  discover  them  in  their  rise,  progress,  and  gradual  improve- 
 ments. 
 
 Secondly,  Because  observing  the  faculties  of  the  mind,  how  they  operate 
 about  simple  ideas,  which  are  usually,  in  most  men's  minds,  much  more 
 clear,  precise,  and  distinct  than  complex  ones  ;  we  may  the  better  examine 
 and  learn  how  the  mind  abstracts,  denominates,  compares,  and  exercises 
 its  other  operations  about  those  which  are  complex,  wherein  we  are  much 
 more  liable  to  mistake. 
 
 Thirdly,  Because  these  very  operations  of  the  mind  about  ideas,  received 
 from  sensations,  are  themselves,  when  reflected  on,  another  set  of  ideas, 
 derived  from  that  other  source  of  our  knowledge  which  I  call  reflection,  and 
 therefore  fit  to  be  considered  in  this  place  after  the  simple  ideas  of  sensa- 
 tion. Of  compounding,  comparing,  abstracting,  &c.,  I  have  but  just  spoken, 
 having  occasion  to  treat  of  them  more  at  large  in  other  places. 
 
 Sect.  15.  These  are  the  beginnings  of  human  knowledge. — And  thus  I 
 have  given  a  short,  and,  I  think,  true  history  of  the  first  beginnings  of  hu- 
 man knowledge,  whence  the  mind  has  its  first  objects,  and  by  what  steps 
 it  makes  its  progress  to  the  laying  in  and  storing  up  those  ideas,  out  of 
 which  is  to  be  framed  all  the  knowledge  it  is  capable  of;  wherein  I  must 
 appeal  to  experience  and  observation,  whether  I  am  in  the  right ;  the  best 
 way  to  come  to  truth  being  to  examine  things  as  really  they  are,  and  not  to 
 conclude  they  are,  as  we  fancy  of  ourselves,  or  have  been  taught  by  others 
 to  imagine. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Appeal  to  experience. — To  deal  truly,  this  is  the  only  way 
 that  I  can  discover,  whereby  the  ideas  of  things  are  brought  into  the  under- 
 standing :  if  other  men  have  either  innate  ideas,  or  infused  principles,  they 
 have  reason  to  enjoy  them;  and  if  they  are  sure  of  it,  it  is  impossible  for 
 others  to  deny  them  tlie  privilege  that  they  have  above  their  neighbours. 
 I  can  speak  but  of  what  I  find  in  myself,  and  is  agi-eeable  to  those  notions ; 
 which,  if  we  will  examine  the  whole  course  of  men  in  their  several  ages, 
 countries,  and  educations,  seem  to  depend  on  those  foundations  which  I 
 have  laid,  and  to  correspond  with  this  method  in  all  the  parts  and  degrees 
 thereof. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Dark  room.—^I  pretend  not  to  teach,  but  to  inquire,  and  there- 
 fore cannot  but  confess  here  again,  that  external  and  internal  sensation  are 
 the  only  passages  that  I  can  find  of  knowledge  to  the  understanding.  These 
 alone,  as  far  as  I  can  discover,  are  the  windows  by  which  light  is  let  into 
 this  dark  room :  for  methinks  the  understanding  is  not  much  unlike  a  closet 
 wholly  shut  fi"om  light,  with  only  some  little  opening  left,  to  let  in  external 
 visible  resemblances,  or  ideas  of  things  without :  would  the  pictures  coming 
 into  such  a  dark  room  but  stay  there,  and  lie  so  orderly  as  to  be  found  upon 
 occasion,  it  would  very  much  resemble  the  understanding  of  a  man,  in  re- 
 ference to  all  objects  of  sight  and  the  ideas  of  them. 
 
 These  are  my  guesses  concerning  the  means  whereby  the  understand- 
 ing comes  to  have  and  retain  simple  ideas ;  and  the  modes  of  them,  with 
 some  other  operations  about  them.  I  proceed  now  to  examine  some  of 
 these  simple  ideas,  and  their  modes,  a  little  more  particularly. 
 
110  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2 
 
 CHAPTER  XII. 
 
 '  OF  COMPLEX  IDEAS, 
 
 Sect.  1.  Made  by  the  mind  out  of  simple  ones. — We  have  hitherto  con. 
 sidered  those  ideas,    in   the   reception  whereof  tlie  mind  is  only  passive , 
 which  ^re  those  simple  ones  received  from  sensation  and  reflection  before 
 mentioned,  whereof  tlie  mind  cannot  make  one  to   itself,    nor   liave   any 
 idea  which  does  not  wholly  consist  of  them.     But  as  the  mind  is  wholly 
 passive  in  the  reception  of  all  its  simple  ideas,  so  it  exerts  several  acts 
 of  its  own,  whereby,  out  of  its  simple  ideas,  as  the  materials  and  foun- 
 dations of  the  rest,  the  others  are  framed.     The  acts  of  the  mind,  wherein 
 it  exerts  its  power  over  its  simple  ideas,  are  chiefly  these  three  :  1.  Com-  j 
 bining  several  simple  ideas  into  one  compound  one,  and  thus  all  complex  j 
 ideas  are  made.     2.  The  second  is  bringing  two  ideas,  whether  simple  or  i 
 complex,  together,  and  setting  them  by  one  another,  so  as  to  take  a  view  I 
 of  them  at  once,  without  uniting  them  into  one;  by  which  way  it  gets  alll 
 its  ideas  of  relations.     3.  The  third  is  separating  them  from  all  other  ideas  1 
 that  accompany  them  in  their  real  existence  ;  this  is  called  abstraction :  ' 
 and  thus  all  its  general  ideas  are  made.     This  shows  man's  power,  and  its 
 way  of  operation,  to  be  much-what  the  same  in  the  material  and  intellec- 
 tual world  :  for  the  materials  in  both  being  such  as  he  has  no  power  over, 
 either  to  make  or  destroy,  all  that  man  can  do  is  either  to  unite  them  together, 
 or  to  set  them  by  one  another,  or  wholly  separate  them.     I  shall  here  begin 
 with  the  first  of  these,  in  the  consideration  of  comple.x  ideas,  and  come  to 
 the  other  two  in  their  due  places.     As  simple  ideas  are  observed  to  exist 
 in  several  combinations  united  together,  so  the  mind  has  a  power  to  con- 
 sider several  of  thena  united  together  as  one  idea  ;  and  that  not  only  as  they 
 are  united  in  external  objects,  but  as  itself  has  joined  them.     Ideas  thus 
 made  up  of  several  simple  ones  put  together,  I  call  complex ;  such  as  are 
 beauty,  gratitude,  a  man,  an  army,  the  universe  ;  which,  though  complica- 
 ted of  various  simple  ideas,  or  complex  ideas  made  up  of  simple  ones,  yet 
 are,  when  the  mind  pleases,  considered  each  by  itself  as  one  entire  thing, 
 and  signified  by  one  name. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Made  voluntarily. — In  this  faculty  of  repeating  and  joining 
 together  its  ideas,  the  mind  has  great  power  in  varying  and  multiplying 
 the  objects  of  its  thoughts  infinitely  beyond  what  sensation  or  reflection 
 furnished  it  with  ;  but  all  this  still  confined  to  those  simple  ideas  which  it 
 received  from  those  two  sources,  and  which  are  the  ultimate  materials  of 
 all  its  compositions  :  for  simple  ideas  are  all  from  things  themselves,  and 
 of  these  the  mind  can  have  no  more  nor  other  than  what  are  suggested  to  it. 
 It  can  have  no  other  ideas  of  sensible  qualities  than  what  come  from  with- 
 out by  the  senses,  nor  any  ideas  of  other  kind  of  operations  of  a  thinking 
 substance  than  what  it  finds  in  itself;  but  when  it  has  once  got  these  simple 
 ideas,  it  is  not  confined  barely  to  observation,  and  what  offers  itself  from 
 without :  it  can,  by  its  own  power,  put  together  those  ideas  it  has,  and 
 make  new  complex  ones,  which  it  never  received  so  united. 
 
 Sect  3.  Are  either  modes,  substances,  or  relations. — Complex  ideas, 
 however  compounded  and  decompounded,  though  their  number  be  infinite, 
 and  the  variety  endless,  wherewith  they  fill  and  entertain  the  thoughts  of 
 men;  yet,  I  think,  they  may  be  all  reduced  under  these  three  heads:  1. 
 Modes.     2.  Substances.     3.  Relations. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Modes. — First,  Modes  I  call  such  complex  ideas,  which,  how- 
 ever compounded,  contain  not  in  them  the  supposition  of  subsisting  by 
 
Ch.  12.  OF  COMPLEX  IDEAS.  Ill 
 
 themselves,  but  are  considered  as  dependencies  on,  or  affections  of  sub- 
 stances :  such  as  are  ideas  signified  by  the  words  triangle,  gratitude,  mur- 
 der, &c.  And  if  in  this  I  use  the  word  mode  in  somewhat  a  different  sense 
 from  its  ordinary  signification,  I  beg  pardon :  it  being  unavoidable  in  dis- 
 courses, differing  fi-om  the  ordinary  received  notions,  either  to  make  new 
 words,  or  to  use  old  words  in  somewhat  a  new  signification :  the  latter 
 whereof,  in  our  present  case,  is  perhaps  the  more  tolerable  of  the  two. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Simjde  and  77iixed7nodes. — Of  these  modes,  there  are  two  sorts 
 which  deserve  distinct  consideration.  First,  there  are  some  which  are 
 only  variations,  or  different  combinations  of  the  same  simple  idea,  without 
 the  mixture  of  any  other,  as  a  dozen  or  score ;  which  are  nothing  but  the 
 ideas  of  so  many  distinct  units  added  together ;  and  these  I  call  simple  modes, 
 as  being  contained  within  tlie  bounds  of  one  simple  idea. 
 
 Secondly,  There  are  others  compounded  of  simple  ideas  of  several  kinds, 
 put  together  to  make  one  complex  one  ;  v.  g.  beauty,  consisting  of  a  cer- 
 tain composition  of  colour  and  figure,  causing  delight  in  the  beholder ; 
 theft,  which  being  the  concealed  change  of  the  possession  of  any  thing, 
 without  the  consent  of  the  proprietor,  contains,  as  is  visible,  a  combination 
 of  several  ideas  of  several  kinds:  and  these  I  call  mixed  modes. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Substances,  single  or  collective. — Secondly,  the  ideas  of  sub- 
 stances are  such  combinations  of  simple  ideas  as  are  taken  to  represent 
 distinct  particular  things  subsisting  by  themselves  ;  in  which  the  supposed 
 or  confused  idea  of  substance,  such  as  it  is,  is  always  the  first  and  chief. 
 Thus,  if  to  substance  be  joined  the  simple  idea  of  a  certain  dull  whitish 
 colour,  with  certain  degrees  of  weight,  hardness,  ductility,  and  fiasibility, 
 we  have  the  idea  of  lead,  and  a  combination  of  the  ideas  of  a  certain  sort 
 of  figure,  with  the  powers  of  motion-  TS^hought  and  reasoning,  joined  toV 
 substance,  make  the  ordinary  idea  of  a  man.  Now  of  substances  also 
 there  are  two  sorts  of  ideas ;  one  of  single  substances,  as  they  exist 
 separately,  as  of  a  man,  or  a  sheep ;  the  other  of  several  of  those  put  to- 
 gether, as  an  army  of  men,  or  flock  of  sheep ;  which  collective  ideas  of 
 several  substances  thus  put  together,  are  as  much  each  of  them  one  single 
 idea,  as  that  of  a  man,  or  a  unit. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Relation. — Thirdly,  the  last  sort  of  complex  ideas  is  that  we 
 call  relation,  which  consists  in  the  consideration  and  comparing  one  idea 
 with  another.     Of  these  several  kinds  we  shall  treat  in  their  order. 
 
 Sect.  8.  The  abstrusest  ideas  from  the  two  sources. — If  we  trace  the 
 progress  of  our  minds,  and  with  attention  observe  how  it  repeats,  adds  to- 
 gether, and  unites  its  simple  ideas  received  fi-om  sensation  or  reflection,  it 
 will  lead  us  farther  than  at  first  perhaps  we  should  have  imagined.  And  I 
 believe  we  shall  find,  if  we  warily  observe  the  originals  of  our  notions,  that  ■ 
 even  the  most  abstruse  ideas,  how  remote  soever  they  may  seem  from  sense, 
 or  from  any  operations  of  our  own  minds,  are  yet  only  such  as  the  under- 
 standing fi-ames  to  itself  by  repeating  and  joining  together  ideas,  that  it  had 
 either  from  objects  of  sense,  or  from  its  own  operations  about  them:  so  that 
 even  those  large  and  abstract  ideas  are  derived  from  sensation  or  reflection, 
 being  no  other  than  what  the  mind,  by  the  ordinary  use  of  its  own  faculties, 
 employed  about  ideas  received  from  objects  of  sense,  or  from  the  opera- 
 tions it  observes  in  itself  about  them,  may  and  does  attain  unto'.  This  I 
 shall  endeavour  to  show  in  the  ideas  we  have  of  space,  time,  and  infinity, 
 and  some  few  others,  that  seem  the  most  remote  irom  those  originals. 
 
112  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 CHAPTER  XIII. 
 
 OF  SIMPLE   MODES  ;  AND  FIRST,  OF  THE  SIMPLE  MODES  OF 
 
 SPACE. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Simple  modes. — Though  in  the  foregoing  part  I  have  often  men- 
 tioned simple  ideas,  whicli  are  truly  the  materials  of  all  our  knowledge ;  yet 
 having  treated  of  them  there  rather  in  the  way  that  they  come  into  the 
 mind,  than  as  distinguished  from  others  more  compounded,  it  will  not 
 be  perhaps  amiss  to  take  a  view  of  some  of  them  again  under  this  con- 
 sideration, and  examine  those  different  modifications  of  the  same  idea, 
 which  the  mind  either  finds  in  things  existing,  or  is  able  to  make  within 
 itself,  without  the  help  of  any  extrinsical  object,  or  any  foreign  suggestion. 
 
 Those  modifications  of  any  one  simple  idea  (whicli,  as  has  been  said,  I 
 call  simple  modes)  are  as  perfectly  different  and  distinct  ideas  in  the  mind 
 as  those  of  the  greatest  distance  or  contrariety.  For  the  idea  of  two  is  as 
 distinct  from  that  of  one  as  blueness  from  heat,  or  either  of  them  from  any 
 number  :  and  yet  it  is  made  up  only  of  that  simple  idea  of  a  unit  repeated  ; 
 and  repetitions  of  this  kind  joined  together,  make  those  distinct  simple 
 modes,  of  a  dozen,  a  gross,  a  million. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Idea  of  space. — I  shall  begin  with  the  simple  idea  of  space. 
 I  have  showed  above,  chap.  4,  that  we  get  the  idea  of  space  both  by  our 
 sight  and  touch ;  which  I  think  is  so  evident,  that  it  would  be  as  needless  to 
 go  to  prove  that  men  perceive,  by  their  sight,  a  distance  between  bodies  of 
 different  colours,  or  between  the  parts  of  the  same  body,  as  that  they  see 
 colours  themselves ;  nor  is  it  less  obvious  that  they  can  do  so  in  the  dark  by 
 feeling  and  touch. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Space  and  extension. — This  space,  considered  barely  in  length 
 between  any  two  beings,  without  considering  any  thing  else  between  them, 
 is  called  distance ;  if  considered  in  length,  breadth,  and  thickness,  I  think 
 it  may  be  called  capacity.  The  term  extension  is  usually  applied  to  it  in 
 what  manner  soever  considered. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Immensity. — Each  different  distance  is  a  different  modification  of 
 space :  and  each  idea  of  any  different  distance  or  space  is  a  simple  mode 
 of  this  idea.  Men,  for  the  use  and  by  the  custom  of  measuring,  settle  in 
 their  minds  the  ideas  of  certain  stated  lengths,  such  as  are  an  inch,  foot, 
 yard,  fathom,  mile,  diameter  of  the  earth,  &c.  which  are  so  many  distinct 
 ideas  made  up  only  of  space.  When  any  such  stated  lengths  or  measui-es 
 of  space  are  made  familiar  to  men's  thoughts,  they  can  in  their  minds  re- 
 peat them  as  often  as  they  will,  without  mixing  or  joining  to  them  the  idea 
 of  body,  or  any  thing  else ;  and  frame  to  themselves  the  ideas  of  long, 
 square,  or  cubic,  feet,  yards,  or  fathoms,  here  among  the  bodies  of  the 
 universe,  or  else  beyond  the  utmost  bounds  of  all  bodies ;  and  by  adding 
 these  still  one  to  another,  enlarge  their  ideas  of  space  as  much  as  they 
 please.  The  power  of  repeating  or  doubling  any  idea  we  have  of  any  dis- 
 tance, and  adding  it  to  the  former  as  often  as  we  will,  without  being  ever 
 able  to  come  to  any  stop  or  stint,  let  us  enlarge  it  as  much  as  we  will,  is 
 that  which  gives  us  the  idea  of  immensity. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Figure. — There  is  another  modification  of  this  idea,  which  is 
 nothing  but  the  relation  which  the  parts  of  the  termination  of  extension  or 
 circumscribed  space  have  among  themselves.  This  the  touch  discovers  in 
 sensible  bodies,  whose  extremities  come  within  our  reach ;  and  the  eye 
 takes  both  from  bodies  and  colours,  whose  boundaries  are  within  its  view : 
 where  observing  how  the  extremities  ten/iii^afe  either  in  straight  lines, 
 which  meet  at  discernible  angles,  or  in  crooked  lines,  wherein  no  angles 
 
Ch.  13.  SIMPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE.  113 
 
 can  be  perceived,  by  considering  tliese  as  they  relate  to  one  another,  in  all 
 parts  of  the  extremities  of  any  body  or  space,  it  has  that  idea  we  call  figure, 
 wiiich  affords  to  the  mind  infinite  variety.  For  besides  the  vast  nmnber 
 of  different  figures  tliat  do  really  exist  in  the  colierent  masses  of  matter, 
 the  stock  that  the  mind  has  in  its  power,  by  varying  the  idea  of  space,  and 
 tliereby  making  still  new  compositions,  by  repeating  its  own  ideas,  and 
 joining  them  as  it  pleases,  is  perfectly  inexhaustible ;  and  so  it  can  multi- 
 ply figures  in  infinitum. 
 
 StcT.  G.  Figure. — For  the  mind  having  a  power  to  repeat  the  idea  of 
 any  length  directly  stretched  out,  and  join  it  to  another  in  the  same  direc- 
 tion, wliich  is  to  double  the  length  of  that  straiglit  line,  orelse  jom  another 
 with  what  inclination  it  thinks  fit,  and  so  make  what  sort  of  angle  it  pleases ; 
 and  being  able  also  to  shorten  any  line  it  imagines,  by  taking  from  it  one- 
 half  or  one-fourth  or  what  part  it  pleases,  without  being  able  to  come  to 
 an  end  of  any  such  divitdons,  it  can  make  ail  angle  of  any  bigness  ;  so  also 
 the  lines  that  are  its  sides,  of  what  length  it  pleases,  with  joining  again  to 
 other  lines  of  different  lengths,  and  at  different  angles,  till  it  has  wholly 
 inclosed  any  space,  it  is  evident  that  it  can  multiply  figures,  both  in  their 
 shape  and  ca,pacity,  in  infinitum ;  all  which  are  but  so  many  different 
 simple  modes  of  space. 
 
 The  same  that  it  can  do  with  straight  lines,  it  can  also  do  with  crooked, 
 or  crooked  and  straight  together;  and  the  same  it  can  do  in  lines  it  can 
 also  in  superficies:  by  which  we  may  be  led  into  farther  thoughts  of  the 
 endless  variety  of  figures,  that  the  mind  has  a  power  to  make,  and  thereby 
 to  multiply  the  simple  modes  of  space. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Place. — Another  idea  coming  under  this  head,  and  belonging  to 
 this  tribe,  is  that  we  call  place.  As  in  simple  space  we"  consider  tlie  re- 
 lation of  distance  between  any  two  bodies  or  points ;  so  in  our  idea  of 
 place  we  consider  the  relation  of  distance  betwixt  any  tiling  and  any  two 
 or  more  points,  wliich  are  considered  as  keeping  the  same  distance  one  ' 
 with  another,  and  so  considered  as  at  rest :  for  when  we  find  any  thing  at 
 the  same  distance  now  which  it  was  yesterday,  from  any  two  or  more 
 points,  which  have  not  since  changed  their  distance  one  with  another,  and 
 with  which  we  then  compared  it,  we  say  it  hath  kept  the  same  place :  but 
 if  it  hath  sensibly  altered  its  distance  with  either  of  those  points,  we  say 
 it  hath  changed  its  place  :  tliough  vulgarly  speaking,  in  the  common  notion 
 of  place,  we  do  not  always  exactly  observe  the  distance  from  these  precise 
 points,  but  from  larger  portions  of  sensible  objects,  to  which  we  consider 
 the  tiling  placed  to  bear  relation,  and  its  distance  from  which  we  have 
 some  reason  to  observe. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Thus  a  company  of  chess-men  standing  on  the  same  squares 
 of  the  chess-board  where  we  left  them,  we  say  they  are  all  in  the  same 
 place,  or  unmoved ;  though  perhaps  the  chess-board  hath  been  in  the  mean 
 time  carried  out  of  one  room  into  another ;  because  we  compared  them 
 only  to  the  parts  of  the  chess-board  which  keep  the  same  distance  one  with 
 another.  The  chess-board,  we  also  say,  is  in  the  same  place  it  was,  if  it 
 remain  in  the  same  part  of  the  cabin,  though  perhaps  the  ship  which  it  is 
 in  sails  all  the  while  :  and  the  ship  is  said  to  be  in  the  same  place,  supposing 
 it  kept  the  same  distance  with  the  parts  of  the  neighbouring  land,  though 
 perhaps  the  earth  hath  turned  round:  and  so  both  chess-men,  and  board, 
 and  ship,  have  every  one  changed  place,  in  respect  of  remoter  bodies,  which 
 have  kept  the  same  distance  one  with  another.  But  yet  the  distance  from 
 certain  parts  of  the  board  being  that  which  determines  the  place  of  the 
 chess-men  :  and  the  distance  fi'om  the  fixed  parts  of  the  cabin  (with  which 
 we  made  the  comparison)  being  that  which  determined  the  place  of  the 
 chess-board ;  and  the  fixed  parts  of  the  earth  that  by  which  we  determined 
 the  place  of  the  ship  ;  these  things  may  be  said  to  be  in  the  same  place  in 
 those  respects :  though  their  distance  from  some  other  things,  which  in  this 
 P 
 
114  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 matter  wo  did  not  consider,  being  varied,  they  liavc  undoubtedly  changed 
 place  in  that  rcs])ect:  and  we  ourselves  shall  think  so  when  we  have  occa- 
 sion to  compare  them  with  those  other. 
 
 Sect.  9.  But  this  modification  of  distance  we  call  plnce,  being  made  by 
 men  for  their  common  use,  that  by  it  they  might  be  able  to  design  the  par- 
 ticular position  of  things,  where  they  had  occasion  for  such  designation ; 
 men  consider  and  determine  of  tliis  place  by  reference  to  those  adjacent 
 things  which  best  served  to  their  present  purpose,  without  considering 
 other  things,  which  to  answer  another  purpose  would  better  determine  the 
 place  of  the  same  thing.  Thus,  in  the  chess-board,  the  use  of  the  designa- 
 tion of  the  place  of  each  chess-man  being  determined  only  within  that 
 chequered  piece  of  wood,  it  would  cross  that  purpose  to  measure  it  by  any 
 thing  else  :  but  when  these  very  chess-men  are  put  up  in  a  bag,  if  any  one 
 should  ask  where  the  black  king  is,  it  would  be  proper  to  determine  the 
 place  by  the  parts  of  the  room  it  was  in,  and  not  by  the  chess-board ;  there 
 being  another  use  of  designing  the  place  it  is  now  in,  than  when  in  play  it 
 was  on  the  chess-board,  and  so  must  be  determined  by  other  bodies.  So 
 if  any  one  should  ask,  in  what  place  are  the  verses  which  report  the  story 
 of  Nisus  and  Euryalus,  it  would  be  very  improper  to  determine  this  place 
 by  saying,  they  were  in  such  a  part  of  the  earth,  or  in  Bodley's  library : 
 but  the  right  designation  of  the  place  would  be  by  the  parts  of  Virgil's 
 works  ;  and  the  proper  answer  would  be,  that  these  verses  were  about  the 
 middle  of  the  ninth  book  of  his  iEneid ;  and  that  they  have  been  always 
 constantly  in  the  same  place  ever  since  Virgil  was  printed ;  which  is  true, 
 though  the  book  itself  hath  moved  a  thousand  times  ;  the  use  of  the  idea 
 of  place  here  being  to  know  in  what  part  of  the  book  that  story  is,  that  so 
 upon  occasion  We  may  know  where  to  find  it,  and  have  recourse  to  it  for 
 use. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Place. — ^That  our  idea  of  place  is  notliing  else  but  such  a  rela- 
 tive position  of  any  thing,  as  I  have  before  mentioned,  I  think  is  plain,  and 
 will  be  easily  admitted,  when  we  consider  that  we  can  have  no  idea  of  the 
 place  of  the  universe,  though  we  can  of  all  the  parts  of  it ;  because  beyond 
 that  we  have  not  the  idea  of  any  fixed,  distinct,  particularbeings,  in  reference 
 to  which  we  can  imagine  it  to  have  any  relation  of  distance  ;  but  all 
 beyond  it  is  one  uniform  space  or  expansion,  wherein  the  mind  finds  no 
 variety,  no  marks.  For  to  say  that  the  world  is  somewhere,  means  no 
 more  than  that  it  does  exist :  this,  though  a  phrase  borrowed  from  place, 
 signifying  only  its  existence,  not  location  ;  and  when  one  can  find  out  and 
 frame  in  his  mind,  clearly  and  distinctly,  the  place  of  the  universe,  he  will 
 be  able  to  tell  us  whether  it  moves  or  stands  still  in  the  undistinguishable 
 inane  of  infinite  space:  though  it  be  true  that  the  word  place  has  some- 
 times a  more  confijsed  sense,  and  stands  for  that  space  which  any  body 
 takes  up  ;  and  so  the  universe  is  in  a  place.  The  idea  therefore  of  place 
 we  have  by  the  same  means  that  we  get  the  idea  of  space  (whereof  this  is 
 but  a  particular  limited  consideration,)  viz.  by  our  sight  and  touch ;  by 
 either  of  which  we  receive  into  our  minds  the  ideas  of  extension  or  distance. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Extension  and  body  not  the  same. — There  are  some  that 
 would  persuade  us  that  body  and  extension  are  the  same  thing:  who 
 either  change  the  signification  of  words,  which  I  would  not  suspect  them 
 of,  they  having  so  severely  condemned  the  philosophy  of  others,  because 
 it  hath  been  too  much  placed  in  the  imcertain  meaning  or  deceitfiil  ob- 
 scurity of  doubtful  or  insignificant  terms.  If  therefore  they  mean  by  body 
 and  extension  the  same  tiiat  other  people  do,  viz.  by  body,  something  that  , 
 is  solid  and  extended,  whose  parts  are  separable  and  moveable  different 
 ways  ;  and  by  extension  only  the  space  that  lies  between  the  extremities 
 of  those  solid  coherent  parts,  and  which  is  possessed  by  them,  they  con- 
 found very  different  ideas  one  with  anotlier.  For  I  appeal  to  every  man's 
 own  thoughts,  whether  the  idea  of  space  be  not  as  distinct  from  that  of 
 
Ch.  13.  SIMPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE.  115 
 
 solidity  as  it  is  from  the  idea  of  scarlet  colour  1  It  is  true,  solidity  cannot  exist 
 without  extension,  neither  can  scarlet  colour  exist  without  extension ;  but 
 this  hinders  not  but  that  they  arc  distinct  ideas.  Many  ideas  require  others 
 as  necessary  to  tlieir  existence  or  conception,  which  yet  are  very  distinct 
 ideas.  Motion  can  neither  be,  nor  be  conceived,  without  space ;  and  yet 
 motion  is  not  space,  nor  space  motion :  space  can  exist  without  it,  and  they 
 are  very  distinct  ideas ;  and  so,  I  think,  are  those  of  space  and  solidity. 
 Solidity  is  so  inseparable  an  idea  from  body,  that  upon  that  depends  its  fill- , 
 ing  of  space,  its  contact,  impulse,  and  communication  of  motion  upon 
 impulse.  And  if  it  be  a  reason  to  prove  that  spirit  is  different  from 
 body,  because  thinidng  includes  not  the  idea  of  extension  in  it,  the  same 
 reason  will  be  as  valid,  I  suppose,  to  prove  that  space  is  not  body,  because 
 it  includes  not  the  idea  of  solidity  in  it :  space  and  solidity  being  as  dis- 
 tinct ideas  as  thinking  and  extension,  and  as  wholly  separable  in  the  mind 
 one  from  another.  Body,  then,  and  extension,  it  is  evident,  are  two  dis- 
 tinct ideas.     For, 
 
 Sect.  12.  I^-st,  Extension  includes  no  solidity,  nor  resistance  to  the  . 
 motion  of  body,  as  body  does. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Secondly,  The  parts  of  pure  space  are  inseparable  one  from 
 the  other ;  so  that  the  continuity  cannot  be  separated,  neither  really  nor 
 mentally.  For  I  demand  of  any  one  to  remove  any  part  of  it  from  another 
 with  which  it  is  continued,  even  so  much  as  in  thought.  To  divide  and 
 separate  actually,  is,  as  I  think,  by  removing  the  parts  one  from  another,  to 
 make  two  superficies,  where  before  there  was  a  continuity  ;  and  to  divide 
 mentally,  is  to  make  in  the  mind  two  superficies,  where  before  there  was 
 a  continuity,  and  consider  them  as  removed  one  from  the  other  ;  which  can 
 only  be  done  in  things  considered  by  the  mind  as  capable  of  being  sepa- 
 rated, and  by  separation,  of  acquiring  new  distinct  superficies,  which  they 
 then  have  not,  but  are  capable  of ;  but  neither  of  these  ways  of  separation, 
 whether  real  or  mental,  is,  as  I  think,  compatible  to  pure  space. 
 
 It  is  true,  a  man  may  consider  so  much  of  such  a  space  as  is  answerable 
 or  commensurate  to  a  foot,  without  considering  the  rest ;  which  is  in- 
 deed a  partial  consideration,  but  not  so  much  as  mental  separation  or 
 division  ;  since  a  man  can  no  more  mentally  divide,  without  considering 
 two  superficies  separate  one  from  the  other,  than  he  can  actually  divide 
 without  making  two  superficies  disjoined  one  fi-om  the  other  :  but  a  partial 
 consideration  is  not  separating.  A  man  may  consider  light  in  the  sun, 
 without  its  heat ;  or  mobility  in  body,  without  its  extension,  without  think- 
 ing of  their  separation.  One  is  only  a  partial  consideration,  terminating  in 
 one  alone;  and  the  other  is  a  consideration  of  both,  as  existing  separately. 
 Sect.  14.  Thirdly,  The  parts  of  pure  space  are  immovable,  which  fol- 
 lows fi-om  their  inseparability  ;  motion  being  nothing  but  change  of  distance 
 between  any  two  things  ;  but  this  cannot  be  between  parts  that  are  insepa-  - 
 rable,  which  therefore  must  needs  be  at  perpetual  rest  one  among  another. 
 Thus  the  determined  idea  of  simple  space  distinguishes  it  plainly  and 
 sufficiently  from  body;  since  its  parts  are  inseparable,  immovable,  and 
 without  resistance  to  the  motion  of  body. 
 
 Sect.  15.  The  definition  of  extension  explains  it  not. — If  any  one  ask 
 me  what  this  space  I  speak  of  is]  I  will  tell  him,  when  he  tells  me  what 
 his  extension  is.  For  to  say,  as  is  usually  done,  that  extension  is  to  have 
 partes  extra  partes,  is  to  say  only  that  extension  is  extension :  for  what  am 
 I  the  better  informed  in  the  nature  of  extension  when  I  am  told,  that  ex- 
 tension is  to  have  parts  that  are  extended  exterior  to  parts  that  are  exten- 
 ded, i.  e.  extension  consists  of  extended  parts  1  As  if  one  asking  what  a 
 fibre  was  1  I  should  answer  him,  that  it  was  a  thing  made  up  of  several 
 fibres :  would  he  thereby  be  enabled  to  understand  what  a  fibre  was  better 
 than  he  did  before  1  Or  rather,  would  he  not  have  reason  to  think  that  my 
 desigri  was  to  make  sport  with  him,  rather  than  seriously  to  instruct  him  1 
 
116  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Division  of  beings  into  bodies  and  spirits  proves  not  space  and 
 body  the  same. — Those  who  contend  that  space  and  body  are  the  same, 
 bring  this  dilemma,  cither  this  space  is  something  or  nothing  ;  if  nothing 
 be  between  two  bodies,  they  must  necessarily  touch  ;  if  it  be  allowed  to  be 
 something,  they  ask  whether  it  be  body  or  spirit  1  To  which  I  answer  by 
 another  question,  who  told  them  that  there  was  or  could  be  nothing  but 
 solid  beings  which  could  not  think,  and  thinking  beings,  that  were  not  ex- 
 tended ?  which  is  all  they  mean  by  the  terms  body  and  spirit. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Substance  which  we  know  not,  no  proof  against  space  with- 
 out body. — If  it  be  demanded  (as  usually  it  is)  whether  this  space,  void  of 
 body,  be  substance  or  accident,  I  shall  readily  answer,  I  know  not,  nor  shall 
 be  ashamed  to  own  my  ignorance,  till  they  that  ask  show  me  a  clear  dis- 
 tinct idea  of  substance. 
 
 Sect.  18.  I  endeavour,  as  much  as  I  can,  to  deliver  myself  from  those 
 fallacies  which  we  are  apt  to  put  upon  ourselves  by  taking  words  for  things. 
 It  helps  not  our  ignorance  to  feign  a  knowledge  where  we  have  none,  by 
 making  a  noise  with  sounds,  without  clear  and  disthict  significations. 
 Names  made  at  pleasure  neither  alter  the  nature  of  things,  nor  make  us 
 understand  them,  but  as  they  are  signs  of,  and  stand  for  determined  ideas  : 
 and  I  desire  those  who  lay  so  much  stress  on  the  sound  of  these  two  sylla- 
 bles, substance,  to  consider  whether  applying  it,  as  they  do,  to  the  infinite, 
 incomprehensible  God,  to  finite  spirit,  and  to  bodj'',  it  be  in  the  same  sense  ; 
 and  whether  it  stands  for  the  same  idea,  when  each  of  those  three  so  dif- 
 ferent beings  are  called  substances'?  If  so,  whether  it  will  thence  follow 
 that  God,  spirits,  and  body,  agreeing  in  the  same  common  nature  of  sub- 
 stance, differ  not  any  otherwise  than  in  a  bare  different  modification  of  that 
 substance ;  as  a  tree  and  a  pebble,  being  in  the  same  sense  body,  and  agree- 
 ing in  the  common  nature  of  body,  differ  only  in  the  bare  modification  of  that 
 common  matter ;  which  will  be  a  very  harsh  doctrine.  If  they  say  that 
 they  apply  it  to  God,  finite  spirits,  and  matter,  in  three  different  significa- 
 tions ;  and  that  it  stands  for  one  idea,  when  God  is  said  to  be  a  substance  ; 
 for  another,  when  the  soul  is  called  subtance ;  and  for  a  third,  when  a  body 
 is  called  so  :  if  the  name  substance  stands  for  three  several  distinct  ideas, 
 they  would  do  well  to  make  known  those  distinct  ideas,  or  at  least  to  give 
 three  distinct  names  to  them,  to  prevent,  in  so  important  a  notion,  the  con- 
 fusion and  errors  that  will  naturally  follow  from  the  promiscuous  use  of  so 
 doubtful  a  term ;  which  is  so  far  from  being  suspected  to  have  three  distinct, 
 that  in  ordinary  use  it  has  scarce  one  clear  distinct  signification  ;  and  if  they 
 can  thus  make  three  distinct  ideas  of  substance,  what  hinders  why  another 
 may  not  make  a  fourth? 
 
 Sect.  19.  Substance  and  accidents,  of  little  use  in  philosophy* — They 
 who  first  ran  into  the  notion  of  accidents,  as  a  sort  of  real  beings  that  needed 
 something  to  inhere  in,  were  forced  to  find  out  the  word  substance  to  sup- 
 port them.  Had  the  poor  Indian  philosopher  (who  imagined  that  the  earth 
 also  wanted  something  to  bear  it  up)  but  thought  of  this  word,  substance, 
 he  needed  not  to  have  been  at  the  trouble  to  find  an  elephant  to  support  it, 
 and  a  tortoise  to  support  his  elephant :  the  word  substance  would  have  done 
 it  effectually.  And  he  that  inquired  might  have  taken  it  for  as  good  an 
 answer  from  an  Indian  philosopher,  that  substance,  without  knowing  what 
 it  is,  is  that  which  supports  the  earth,  as  we  take  it  for  a  sufficient  answer,  and 
 good  doctrine,  from  our  European  philosophers,  that  substance,  without 
 knowing  what  it  is,  is  that  which  supports  accidents.  So  that  of  substance 
 we  have  no  idea  of  what  it  is,  but  only  a  confused  flbgcure  one  of  what  it 
 does. 
 
 Sect.  20.  Whatever  a  learned  man  may  do  here,  an  intelligent  American, 
 who  inquired  into  the  nature  of  things,  would  scarce  take  it  for  a  satisfac- 
 tory account,  if,  desiring  to  learn  our  architecture,  he  should  be  told  that 
 a  pillar  was  a  thing  supported  by  a  basis,  and  a  basis  something  that  sup- 
 
Ch.  13.  SIMPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE.  117 
 
 ported  a  pillar.  Would  he  not  think  himself  mocked,  instead  of  taught, 
 with  such  an  account  as  this  ]  And  a  stranger  to  them  would  be  very  lib- 
 erally instructed  in  the  nature  of  books,  and  the  things  they  contained,  if 
 he  should  be  told,  that  all  learned  books  consisted  of  paper  and  letters,  and  that 
 letters  were  things  inhering  in  paper,  and  paper  a  thing  that  held  forth  letters  ; 
 a  notable  way  of  having  clear  ideas  of  letters  and  paper  !  But  were  the  Latin 
 words  inh(Brentia  and  suhstantia  put  into  the  plain  English  ones  that  an- 
 swer them,  and  were  called  sticking  on  and  underpropping,  they  would  bet- 
 ter discover  to  us  the  very  great  clearness  there  is  in  the  doctrine  of  sub- 
 stance and  accidents,  and  show  of  what  use  they  are  in  deciding  of  questions 
 in  philosophy.  .zi   ■'  :  "~^'---<        .-i  --  , 
 
 Sect.  21.  A  vacuum  beyond  the  titmost  bounds  of  body. — But  to  return 
 to  our  idea  of  space.  If  body  be  not  supposed  infinite,  which  I  think  no 
 one  will  affirm,  I  would  ask,  whether,  if  God  placed  a  man  at  the  extremi- 
 ty of  corporeal  beings,  he  could  not  stretch  his  hand  beyond  his  body?  If 
 he  could,  then  he  would  put  his  arm  where  there  vv'as  before  space  with- 
 out body,  and  if  there  he  spread  his  fingers,  there  would  still  be  space  be- 
 tween them  without  body.  If  he  could  not  stretch  out  his  hand,  it  must  be 
 because  of  some  external  hindrance  ;  (for  we  suppose  him  a,live,  with  such 
 a  power  of  moving  the  parts  of  his  body  that  he  hath  now,  which  is  ^  ot  in 
 itself  impossible,  if  God  so  pleased  to  have  it ;  or  at  least  it  is  not  impossi- 
 ble for  God  so  to  move  him  :)  and  then  I  ask,  whether  that  which  hinders 
 his  hand  from  moving  outwards  be  substance  or  accident,  something  or 
 nothing  ■?  And  when  they  have  resolved  that,  they  will  be  able  to  resolve 
 themselves  what  that  is,  which  is  or  may  be  between  two  bodies  at  a  dis- 
 tance, that  is  not  body,  and  has  no  solidity.  In  the  mean  time,  the  argu- 
 ment is  at  least  as  good,  that  v/here  nothing  hinders  (as  beyond  the  utmost 
 bounds  of  all  bodies)  a  body  put  in  motion  may  move  on :  as  where  there  is 
 nothing  between,  there  two  bodies  must  necessarily  touch :  for  pure  space 
 between  is  sufficient  to  take  away  the  necessity  of  mutual  contact ;  but  bare 
 space  in  the  way  is  not  sufficient  to  stop  motion.  The  truth  is,  these  men 
 must  either  own  that  they  think  body  infinite,  though  they  are  loath  to  speak  . 
 it  out,  or  else  affirm  that  space  is  not  body.  For  I  would  fain  meet  with 
 that  thinking  man,  that  can  in  his  thoughts  set  any  bounds  to  space  more 
 than  he  can  to  duration,  or  by  thinking  hope  to  arrive  at  the  end  of  either: 
 and,  therefore,  if  his  idea  of  eternity  be  infinite,  so  is  his  idea  of  immensity : 
 they  are  both  finite  or  infinite  alike. 
 
 Sect.  22.  The  power  of  annihilation  proves  a  vacuum. — Farther,  those 
 who  assert  the  impossibility  of  space  existing  without  matter,  must  not  on- 
 ly make  body  infinite,  but  must  also  deny  a  power  in  God  to  annihilate  any 
 part  of  matter.  No  one,  I  suppose,  will  deny  that  God  can  put  an  end  to 
 all  motion  that  is  in  matter,  and  fix  all  the  bodies  of  the  universe  in  a  per- 
 fect quiet  and  rest,  and  continue  them  so  long  as  he  pleases.  Whoever 
 then  will  allow  that  God  can,  during  such  a  general  rest,  anniliilate  either 
 this  book,  or  the  body  of  him  that  reads  it,  must  necessarily  admit  the  pos- 
 sibility of  a  vacuum;  for  it  is  evident  that  the  space  that  was  filled  by  the 
 parts  of  the  annihilated  body  will  still  remain,  and  be  a  space  without  body : 
 for  the  circumambient  bodies  being  in  perfect  rest,  are  a  wall  of  adamant, 
 and  in  that  state  make  it  a  perfect  impossibility  for  any  other  body  to  get 
 into  that  space.  And  indeed  the  necessary  motion  of  one  particle  of  mat- 
 ter into  the  place  from  whence  another  particle  of  matter  is  removed,  is 
 but  a  consequence  from  the  supposition  of  plentitude  ;  which  will  therefore 
 need  some  better  proof  than  a  supposed  matter  of  fact,  which  experiment 
 can  never  make  out :  our  own  clear  and  distinct  ideas  plainly  satisfying  us 
 that  there  is  no  necessary  connexion  between  space  and  solidity,  since  we 
 can  conceive  the  one  without  the  other.  And  those  who  dispute  for  or  against 
 a  vacuum,  do  thereby  confess  they  have  distinct  ideas  of  vacutuu  and  plenum, 
 i.e.  that  they  have  an  idea  of  extension  void  of  solidity,  though  theydenyits 
 
118  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 existence,  or  else  they  dispute  about  nothing  at  all.  For  they  whoso 
 much  alter  the  signification  of  words  as  to  call  extension  body,  and  conse- 
 quently make  the  whole  essence  of  body  to  be  notliincr  but  pure  extension 
 without  solidity,  must  talk  absurdly  whenever  they  speak  of  vacuum,  since 
 it  is  impossible  for  extension  to  be  without  extension  :  for  vacuum,  whether 
 we  afiirm  or  deny  its  existence,  signifies  space  without  body,  whose  very  ex- 
 istence no  one  can  deny  to  be  possible,  who  will  not  make  matter  infinite,  and 
 take   from  God  a  power  to  annihilate  any  particle  of  it. 
 
 Sect.  23.  MgI  ion  proves  a  vacuum. — But  not  to  go  so  far  as  beyond  the 
 utmost  bounds  of  body  in  the  universe,  nor  appeal  to  God's  omnipotency 
 to  find  a  vacuum,  the  motion  of  bodies  that  are  in  our  view  and  neighbour- 
 hood seems  to  me  plainly  to  evince  it.  For  I  desire  any  one  so  to  divide 
 a  solid  body,  of  any  dimension  he  pleases,  as  to  make  it  possible  for  the 
 solid  parts  to  move  up  and  down  freely  every  way  within  the  bounds  of 
 that  superficies,  if  there  be  not  left  in  it  a  void  space  as  big  as  the  least 
 part  into  which  he  has  divided  the  said  solid  body.  And  if  where  the 
 least  particle  of  the  body  divided  is  as  big  as  a  mustard-seed,  a  void  space 
 equal  to  the  bulk  of  a  mustard-seed  be  requisite  to  make  room  for  the  free 
 motion  of  the  parts  of  the  divided  body  within  the  bounds  of  its  superficies, 
 where  the  particles  of  matter  are  100,000,000  less  than  a  mustard-seed, 
 there  must  also  be  a  space  void  of  solid  matter  as  big  as  100,000,000  part 
 of  a  mustard-seed  ;  for  if  it  hold  good  in  one  it  will  hold  in  the  other,  and  so  on 
 in  infinitum.  And  let  this  void  space  be  as  little  as  it  will,  it  destroys  the 
 hypothesis  of  plentitude  :  for  if  there  can  be  a  space  void  of  body  equal  to 
 the  smallest  separate  particle  of  matter  now  existing  in  nature,  it  is  still 
 space  without  body,  and  makes  as  great  a  difference  between  space  and 
 body,  as  if  it  were  fj^iya.  x^irfxa.,  a  distance  as  wide  as  any  in  nature. 
 And  therefore  if  we  suppose  not  the  void  space  necessary  to  motion  equal 
 to  the  least  parcel  of  the  divided  solid  matter,  but  to  1-10  or  1-1000  of  it,  the 
 same  consequence  will  always  follow  of  space  without  matter. 
 
 Sect.  24.  The  ideas  of  space  and  body  distinct. — But  the  question  being 
 here,  "  whether  the  idea  of  space  or  extension  be  the  same  with  the  idea 
 ofbody,"itis  not  necessary  to  prove  the  real  existence  of  a  vacuum,  but 
 the  idea  of  it ;  which  it  is  plain  men  have,  when  they  inquire  and  dispute 
 whether  there  be  a  vacuum  or  no  :  for  if  they  had  not  the  idea  of  space 
 without  body,  they  could  not  make  a  question  about  its  existence  ;  and  if 
 their  idea  of  body  did  not  include  in  it  something  more  than  the  bare  idea 
 of  space,  they  could  have  no  doubt  about  the  plentitude  of  the  word  ;  and 
 it  would  be  as  absurd  to  demand  whether  there  were  space  without  body, 
 as  whether  there  were  space  without  space,  or  body  without  body,  since 
 these  were  but  different  names  of  the  same  idea. 
 
 Sect.  25.  Extension  be ins^  inseparable fro7n  body,  proves  it  not  the  same. 
 — It  is  true,  that  the  idea  of  extension  joins  itself  so  inseparably  with  all 
 visible  and  most  tangible  qualities,  that  it  suffers  us  to  see  no  one,  or 
 feel  very  faw  external  objects,  without  taking  in  impressions  of  extension 
 too.  This  readiness  of  extension  to  make  itself  be  taken  notice  of  so  con- 
 stantly with  other  ideas,  has  been  the  occasion,  I  guess,  that  some  have 
 made  the  whole  essence  of  body  to  consist  in  extension  ;  which  is  not 
 much  to  be  wondered  at,  since  some  have  had  their  minds,  by  their  eyes 
 and  touch  (the  busiest  of  all  our  senses,)  so  filled  with  the  idea  of  exten- 
 sion, and  as  it  were  wholly  possessed  with  it,  that  they  allowed  no  exist- 
 ence to  anything  that  hail  not  extension.  I  shall  not  now  argue  with 
 those  men  who  take  the  measure  and  possibility  of  all  being  only  from  their 
 narrow  and  gross  imaginations ;  but  having  here  to  do  only  with  those  who 
 conclude  tlie  essence  of  body  to  be  extension,  because  they  say  they  cannot  im- 
 agine any  sensible  quality  of  any  body  without  extension,  I  shall  desire  them 
 to  consider,  that  had  they  reflected  on  their  ideas  of  tastes  and  smells  as 
 much  as  on  those  of  sight  and  touch ;  nay,  had  they  examined  their  ideas 
 
 i 
 
Ch.  13.  SIIVIPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE.    .  119 
 
 of  hunger  and  thirst,  and  several  other  pains,  they  would  have  found  that 
 they  included  in  them  no  idea  of  extension  at  all;  which  is  but  an  affec- 
 tion of  body,  as  well  as  the  rest,  discoverable  by  our  senses,  which  are 
 scarce  acute  enough  to  look  into  the  pure  essences  of  things. 
 
 Sect.  26.  If  those  ideas  which  are  constantly  joined  to  all  others  must 
 therefore  be  concluded  to  be  the  essence  of  those  things  which  have  con- 
 stantly those  ideas  joined  to  them,  and  are  inseparable  from  them,  then 
 unity  is,  without  doubt,  the  essence  of  every  thing:  for  there  is  not  any  ob- 
 ject of  sensation  or  reflection  which  does  not  carry  with  it  the  idea  of  one  ; 
 but  the  weakness  of  this  kind  of  argument  we  have  already  shown  suffi- 
 ciently. 
 
 Sect.  27.  Ideas  of  space  and  solidity  distinct. — To  conclude,  whatever 
 men  shall  think  concerning  the  existence  of  a  vacuum,  this  is  plain  to  me, 
 that  we  have  as  clear  an  idea  of  space  distinct  from  solidity,  as  we  have 
 of  solidity  distinct  from  motion,  or  motion  from  space.  We  have  not  any 
 two  more  distinct  ideas,  and  we  can  as  easily  conceive  space  without 
 solidity,  as  we  can  conceive  body  or  space  without  motion,  though  it  be 
 never  so  certain  that  neither  body  nor  motion  can  exist  without  space.  But 
 whether  any  one  will  take  space  to  be  only  a  relation  resulting  from  the 
 existence  of  other  beings  at  a  distance,  or  whether  they  will  think  the  words 
 of  the  most  knowing  king  Solomon,  "The  heaven,  and  the  heaven  of 
 heavens  cannot  contain  thee,"  or  those  more  emphatical  ones  of  the  in- 
 spired pliilosopher  St  Paul,  "  In  him  we  live,  move,  and  have  our  being," 
 are  to  be  understood  in  a  literal  sense,  I  leave  every  one  to  consider :  only 
 our  idea  of  space  is,  I  think,  such  as  I  have  mentioned,  and  distinct  from 
 that  of  body.  For  whether  we  consider  in  matter  itself  the  distance  of 
 its  coherent  solid  parts,  and  call  it,  in  respect  of  those  solid  parts,  exten- 
 sion ;  or  whether,  considering  it  as  lying  between  the  extremities  of  any 
 body  in  its  several  dimensions,  we  caU  it  length,  breadth,  and  thickness ; 
 or  else,  considering  it  as  lying  between  any  two  bodies  or  positive  beings, 
 without  any  consideration  whether  there  be  any  matter  or  no  between,  we 
 call  it  distance  :  however  named  or  considered,  it  is  always  the  same  uniform 
 simple  idea  of  space,  taken  from  objects  about  which  our  senses  have  been 
 conversant ;  whereof  having  settled  ideas  in  our  minds,  we  can  revive,  re- 
 peat, and  add  them  one  to  another  as  often  as  we  will,  and  consider  the 
 space  or  distance  so  imagined  either  as  filled  with  solid  parts,  so  that 
 another  body  cannot  come  there  without  displacing  and  thnisting  out  the 
 body  that  was  there  before,  or  else  as  void  of  solidity,  so  that  a  body  of 
 equal  dimensions  to  that  empty  or  pure  space  may  be  placed  in  it  without 
 the  removing  or  expulsion  of  any  thing  that  was  there.  But,  to  avoid  con- 
 fusion in  discourses  concerning  this  matter,  it  were  possibly  to  be  wislied 
 tliat  the  name  extension  were  applied  only  to  matter,  or  the  distance  of  the  ex- 
 tremities of  particular  bodies;  and  the  term  expansion  to  space  in  general, 
 with  or  without  solid  matter  possessing  it,  so  as  to  say  space  is  expanded, 
 and  body  extended.  But  in  this  every  one  has  liberty :  I  propose  it  only 
 for  the  more  clear  and  distinct  way  of  speaking. 
 
 Sect.  28.  Men  differ  little  in  clear  simple  ideas. — The  knowing  precise- 
 ly what  our  words  stand  for,  would,  I  imagine,  in  this,  as  well  as  a  great 
 many  other  cases,  quickly  end  the  dispute  :  for  I  am  apt  to  think  that  men, 
 when  they  come  to  examine  them,  find  their  simple  ideas  aU  generally  to 
 agree,  though  in  discourse  with  one  another  they  perhaps  confound  one 
 another  with  different  names.  I  imagine  that  men  who  abstract  their  thoughts, 
 and  do  well  examine  the  ideas  of  their  own  minds,  cannot  much  differ  in 
 thinking,  however  they  may  perplex  themselves  with  words,  according  to 
 the  way  of  speaking  of  the  several  schools  or  sects  they  have  been  bred  up 
 in  :  though  among  unthinking  men,  who  examine  not  scrupulously  and  care- 
 fidly  their  own  ideas,  and  strip  them  not  from  the  marks  men  use  for  them, 
 but  confound  them  with  words,  there  must  be  endless  dispute,  %vrangling, 
 
120  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 andjaYgon;  especially  if  they  be  learned  hookish  men,  devoted  to  some 
 sect,  and  accustomed  to  the  langiia.f;e  of  it,  and  have  learned  to  talk  after 
 others.  But  if  it  should  happen  lliat  any  two  thinking  men  should  reallj'' 
 have  different  ideas,  I  do  not  aCc-  how  they  could  discourse  or  argue  one  with 
 another.  Here  1  mu.st  r,<  \  be  mistalscn,  to  think  that  every  floating  imagi- 
 nation in  men's  brains  is  ^.-lesently  of  that  sort  of  ideas  I  speak  of.  It  is 
 not  easy  for  the  mind  to  put  olf  those  confused  notions  and  prejudices  it  has 
 imbibed  from  cu.'it.->m,  inadvenency,  and  connnon  conversation:  it  requires 
 pains  and  assiduity  to  examine  its  ideas,  till  it  resolves  them  into  those 
 clear  and  distinct  simple  ones,  out  of  which  they  are  compounded ;  and  to  see 
 which,  among  its  simples  ones,  have  or  have  not  a  necessary  connexion 
 and  dependence  one  upon  another.  Till  a  man  doth  this  in  the  primary 
 and  original  notion  of  things,  he  builds  upon  floating  and  uncertain  princi- 
 ples, and  will  often  find  himself  at  a  loss. 
 
 CHAPTER  XIV. 
 
 OF  nURATIOiSr,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Duration  is  fleeting  extensicn. — There  is  another  sort  of  dis- 
 tance or  length,  the  idea  whereof  we  get  not  from  the  permanent  parts  of 
 space,  but  from  the  fleeting  and  perpetually  perishing  parts  of  succession. 
 This  we  call  duration,  the  simple  modes  whereof  are  any  different  lengths 
 of  it  whereof  we  have  distinct  ideas,  as  hours,  days,  years,  &.c.  time  and 
 eternity. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Its  idea  from  reflection  on  the  train  of  our  ideas. — The 
 answer  of  a  gi'eat  man  to  or  e  who  asked  what  time  was  "  Si  non  rogas 
 intelligo"  (which  amountL  to  this,  the  more  I  set  myself  to  think  of  it, 
 the  less  I  understand  it)  might  perhaps  persuade  one  that  time,  which  re- 
 veals all  other  things,  is  itself  not  to  be  discovered.  Duration,  time,  and 
 eternity,  are  not  without  reason  thought  to  have  something  very  abstruse 
 in  their  nature.  But  however  remote  these  may  seem  from  our  compre- 
 hension, yet  if  we  trace  them  right  to  their  originals,  I  doubt  not  but  one  of 
 those  sources  of  all  our  knowledge,  viz.  sensation  and  reflection,  will  be 
 able  to  ftirnish  us  with  these  ideas  as  clear  and  distinct  as  many  others  which 
 are  thought  much  less  obscure  ;  and  we  shall  find  that  the  idea  of  eternity 
 itself  is  derived  from  the  same  common  original  with  the  rest  of  our  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  3.  To  understand  time  and  eternity  aright,  we  ought  with  atten- 
 tion to  consider  what  idea  it  is  we  have  of  duration,  and  how  we  came  by 
 it.  It  is  evident  to  any  one,  who  will  but  observe  what  passes  in  his 
 own  mind,  that  there  is  a  train  of  ideas  which  constantly  succeed  one 
 another  in  his  understanding  as  long  as  he  is  awake.  Reflection  on  these  j 
 appearances  of  several  ideas,  one  after  another,  in  our  minds,is  that  which 
 furnishes  us  with  the  idea  of  succession ;  and  the  distance  between  any 
 parts  of  that  succession,  or  between  the  appearance  of  any  two  ideas  in  our 
 minds,  is  that  we  call  duration :  for  whilst  we  are  thinking,  or  whilst  we 
 receive  successively  several  ideas  in  our  minds,  we  know  that  we  do  exist; 
 and  so  we  call  the  existence,  or  the  continuation  of  the  existence  of  our- 
 selves, or  any  thing  else,  commensurate  to  the  succession  of  any  ideas  in 
 our  minds,  the  duration  of  ourselves,  or  any  other  thing  co-existent  with 
 our  thinking. 
 
 Sect.  4.  That  we  have  our  notion  of  succession  and  duration  from  this 
 original,  viz.  from  reflection  on  the  train  of  ideas  which  we  find  to  appear 
 one  after  another  in  our  own  minds,  seems  plain  to  me,  in  that  we  have  no 
 perception  of  duration,  b'lt  by  considering  the  train  of  ideas  that  take  their 
 
Ch.  14.  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  121 
 
 turns  in  our  understandings.  When  that  succession  of  ideas  ceases,  our 
 perception  of  duration  ceases  with  it;  which  every  one  clearly  experiments 
 in  himself,  whilst  he  sleeps  soundly,  whether  an  hour  or  a  day,  a  month 
 or  a  year ;  of  which  duration  of  things,  while  he  sleeps  or  thinks  not,  he 
 has  no  perception  at  all,  but  it  is  quite  lost  to  him ;  and  the  moment  where- 
 in he  leaves  off  to  think,  till  the  moment  he  begins  to  think  again,  seems  to 
 him  to  have  no  distance.  And  so  I  doubt  not  it  would  be  to  a  waking  man, 
 if  it  were  possible  for  him  to  keep  only  one  idea  in  his  mind,  without  va- 
 riation and  the  succession  of  others.  And  we  see  that  one  who  fixes  his 
 thoughts  very  intently  on  one  thing,  so  as  to  take  but  little  notice  of  the 
 succession  of  ideas  that  pass  in  his  mind,  whilst  he  is  taken  up  with  that 
 earnest  contemplation,  lets  slip  out  of  his  account  a  good  part  of  that  dura- 
 tion, and  thinks  that  time  shorter  than  it  is.  But  if  sleep  commonly  unites 
 the  distant  parts  of  duration,  it  is  because  during  that  time  we  have  no  suc- 
 cession of  ideas  in  our  minds :  for  if  a  man,  during  his  sleep,  dreams,  and  vari- 
 ety of  ideas  make  themselves  perceptible  in  his  mind  one  afteranother,  he  hath 
 then,  during  such  dreaming,  a  sense  of  duration,  and  the  length  of  it :  by 
 which  it  is  to  me  very  clear,  that  men  derive  their  ideas  of  duration  from 
 their  reflections  on  the  train  of  the  ideas  they  observe  to  succeed  one  ano- 
 ther in  their  own  understandmgs  ;  without  which  observation  they  can 
 have  no  notion  of  duration,  whatever  may  happen  in  the  world. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Tlie  idea  of  duration  applicable  to  things  whilst  loe  sleep. — 
 Indeed  a  man  having,  from  reflecting  on  the  succession  and  number  of  his 
 own  thoughts,  got  the  notion  or  idea  of  duration,  he  can  apply  that  notion 
 to  things  which  exist  while  he  does  not  think ;  as  he  tliat  has  got  the  idea  " 
 cf  extension  from  bodies  by  his  sight  or  touch,  can  apply  it  to  distances 
 where  no  body  is  seen  or  felt.  And  therefore,  though  a  man  has  no  percep- 
 tion of  the  length  of  duration,  which  passed  whilst  he  slept  or  thought  not, 
 yet  having  observed  the  revolution  of  days  and  nights,  and  found  the  length 
 of  their  duration  to  be  in  appearance  regular  and  constant,  he  can,  upon  the 
 supposition  that  that  revolution  has  proceeded  after  the  same  manner  whilst 
 he  was  asleep,  or  thought  not  as  it  used  to  do  at  other  times :  he  can,  1  say, 
 imagine  and  make  allowance  for  the  length  of  duration  whilst  he  slept. 
 But  if  Adam  and  Eve  (when  they  were  alone  in  the  world,)  instead  of  their 
 ordinary  night's  sleep,  had  passed  the  whole  twenty-four  hours  in  one  con- 
 tinued sleep,  the  duration  of  that  twenty-four  hours  had  been  irrecoverably 
 lost  to  them,  and  been  for  ever  left  out  of  their  account  of  time. 
 
 Sect.  6.  The  idea  of  succession  not  frommotion. — Thus,  by  reflecting 
 on  the  appearing  of  various  ideas  one  after  another  in  our  understandings, 
 we  get  the  notion  of  succession  ;  wliich,  if  any  one  would  think  we  did 
 rather  get  from  our  observation  of  motion  by  our  senses,  he  will  perhaps 
 be  of  my  mind  when  he  considers,  that  even  motion  produces  in  his  mind 
 an  idea  of  succession  no  otherwise  than  as  it  produces  there  a  continued 
 train  of  distinguishable  ideas.  For  a  man  looking  upon  a  body  i-eally 
 moving,  perceives  yet  no  motion  at  all,  unless  that  motion  produces  a  con- 
 stant train  of  successive  ideas :  v.  g.  du  man  becalmed  at  sea,  out  of 
 sight  of  land,  in  a  fair  day,  may  look  on  the  sun,  or  sea,  or  ship,  a  whole 
 hour  together,  and  perceive  no  motion  at  all  in  either ;  though  it  be  certain 
 that  two,  and  perhaps  all  of  them,  have  moved  during  that  time  a  great 
 way.  But  as  soon  as  he  perceives  either  of  them  to  have  changed  dis- 
 tance with  some  other  body,  as  soon  as  this  motion  produces  any  new  idea 
 in  him,  then  he  perceives  that  there  has  been  motion.  But  wherever  a 
 man  is,  with  all  things  at  rest  about  him,  without  perceiving  any  motion  at  all ; 
 if  during  this  hour  of  quiet  he  has  been  thinking,  he  will  perceive  the  vari- 
 ous ideas  of  his  own  thoughts  in  his  own  mind,  appearing  one  after  another, 
 and  thereby  observe  and  find  succession  where  he  could  observe  no  motion. 
 
 Sect.  7.  And  this,  I  think,  is  the  reason  why  motions  very  slow,  though 
 thev  are  constant,  are  not  perceived  bv  us  ;  because,  in  their  remove  from 
 
 Q 
 
122  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 one  sensible  part  toward  anotlior,  tlieir  change  of  distance  is  so  slow,  tliat 
 it  causes  no  new  ide^s  in  us,  but  a  good  while  one  after  another  :  and  so 
 not  causing  a  cunslaut  train  of  new  ideas  to  Ibllow  one  anoliior  innnediately 
 in  our  minds,  we  have  nojjerception  of  motion  ;  which  consisting  in  a  con- 
 stant succession,  we  cannot  perceive  that  succession,  without  a  constant 
 succession  of  varying  ideas  arising  from  it. 
 
 Sect.  8.  On  tlie  contrary,  tilings  tluit  move  so  swift  as  not  to  affect  the  *' 
 senses  distinctly  with  several  distinguishable  distances  of  their  motion,  and 
 so  cause  not  any  train  of  ideas  in  the  mind,  are  not  also  perceived  to  move  ; 
 for  any  thing  that  moves  round  about  in  a  circle  in  less  time  than  our  ideas 
 are  wont  to  succeed  one  another  in  our  minds,  is  not  perceived  to  move, 
 but  seems  to  be  a  perfect  entire  circle  of  that  matter  or  colour,  and  not  a 
 part  of  a  circle  in  motion. 
 
 Sect.  9.  The  train  of  ideas  has  a  certain  degree  of  quickness. — Hence 
 I  leave  it  to  others  to  judge  whether  it  be  not  probable  that  our  ideas  do, 
 whilst  we  are  awake,  succeed  one  another  in  our  minds  at  certain  distances, 
 not  much  unlike  the  images  in  the  inside  of  a  lantern  turned  round  by  the 
 lieat  of  a  candle.  This  appearance  of  theirs  in  train,  though  perhaps  it 
 may  be  sometimes  faster,  and  sometime  slower,  yet  I  guess,  varies  not 
 very  much  in  a  waking  man  :  there  seem  to  be  certain  bounds  to  the  quick- 
 ness and  slowness  of  the  succession  of  those  ideas  one  to  another  in  our 
 minds,  beyond  which  they  can  neither  delay  nor  hasten. 
 
 Sect.  10.  The  reason  I  have  for  this  odd  conjecture  is  from  observing, 
 that  in  the  impressions  made  upon  any  of  our  senses  we  can  but  to  a  cer- 
 tain degree  perceive  any  succession  ;  which,  if  exceeding  quick,  the  sense 
 of  succession  is  lost,  even  in  cases  where  it  is  evident  that  there  is  a  real 
 succession.  Let  a  cannon-bullet  pass  through  a  room,  and  in  its  way  take 
 with  it  any  limb  or  fleshy  parts  of  a  man  ;  it  is  as  clear  as  any  demonstra- 
 tion can  be,  that  it  must  strike  successively  the  two  sides  of  the  room.  It 
 is  also  evident,  that  it  must  touch  one  part  of  the  flesh  first,  and  another 
 after,  and  so  in  succession :  and  yet  I  believe  nobody  who  ever  felt  the 
 pain  of  such  a  shot,  or  heard  the  blow  against  the  two  distant  walls,  could 
 perceive  any  succession  either  in  the  pain  or  sound  of  so  swift  a  stroke. 
 Such  a  part  of  duration  as  this,  wherein  we  perceive  no  succession,  is  that 
 which  we  may  call  an  instant,  and  is  that  which  takes  up  the  time  of  only 
 one  idea  in  our  minds  without  the  succession  of  another,  wherein,  there- 
 fore, we  perceive  no  succession  at  all. 
 
 Sect.  11.  This  also  happens  where  the  motion  is  so  slow  as  not  to  sup- 
 ply a  constant  train  of  fresh  ideas  to  the  senses  as  fast  as  the  mind  is  ca- 
 pable of  receiving  new  ones  into  it ;  and  so  other  ideas  of  our  own  thoughts, 
 having  room  to  come  into  our  minds  between  those  offered  to  our  senses 
 by  the  moving  body,  there  the  sense  of  motion  is  lost ;  and  the  body,  though 
 it  really  moves,  yet  not  changing  perceivable  distance  with  some  other  bo- 
 dies as  fast  as  the  ideas  of  our  own  minds  do  naturally  follow  one  another  in 
 train,  the  thing  seems  to  stand  still,  as  is  evident  in  the  hands  of  clocks 
 and  shadows  of  sun-dials,  and  other  constant  but  slow  motions ;  where, 
 though  after  certain  intervals,  we  perceive  by  the  change  of  distance  that 
 it  hath  moved,  yet  the  motion  itself  we  perceive  not. 
 
 Sect.  12.  This  train  the  measure  of  other  successions. — So  that  to  me 
 it  seems  that  the  constant  and  regular  succession  of  ideas  in  a  waking  man 
 is,  as  it  were,  the  measure  and  standard  of  all  other  successions  :  whereof  if 
 any  one  either  exceeds  the  pace  of  our  ideas,  as  where  two  sounds  or  pains, 
 &c.  take  up  in  their  succession  the  duration  of  but  one  idea,  or  else  where 
 any  motion  or  succession  is  so  slow  as  that  it  keeps  not  pace  with  the  ideas  in 
 our  minds,  or  the  quickness  in  which  tliey  take  their  turns;  as  when  any 
 one  or  more  ideas,  in  their  ordinary  course,  come  into  our  mind  between 
 those  which  are  oftered  to  the  sight  by  the  different  perceptible  distances 
 of  a  body  in  motion,  or  between  sounds  or  smells  following  one  another; 
 
Ch.  14.  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  123 
 
 there  also  the  sense  of  a  constant  continued  succession  is  lost,  and  we  per- 
 ceive it  not  but  with  certain  gaps  of  rest  between. 
 
 Sect.  13.  The  mind  cannot  fix  long  on  one  invariable  idea. — If  it  be  so 
 that  the  ideas  of  our  minds,  whilst  we  have  any  there,  do  constantly  change 
 and  shift  in  a  continual  succession,  it  would  be  impossible,  may  any  one 
 say,  for  a  man  to  think  long  of  any  one  thing.  By  which,  if  it  be  meant 
 that  a  man  may  have  one  self-same  single  idea  a  long  time  alone  in  his 
 mind,  without  any  variation  at  all,  I  think,  in  matter  of  fact,  it  is  not  pos- 
 sible ;  for  which  (not  knowing  how  the  ideas  of  our  minds  are  framed,  of 
 what  materials  they  are  made,  whence  they  have  their  light,  and  how  they 
 come  to  make  their  appearances)  I  can  give  no  other  reason  but  experi- 
 ence :  and  I  would  have  any  one  try  whether  he  can  keep  one  unvaried 
 single  idea  in  his  mind  without  any  other,  for  any  considerable  time  to- 
 gether. 
 
 Sect.  14.  For  trial,  let  him  take  any  figure,  any  degree  of  light  or  white- 
 ness, or  what  other  he  pleases ;  and  he  will,  I  suppose,  find  it  difficult  to 
 keep  all  other  ideas  out  of  his  mind ;  but  that  some,  either  of  another  kind, 
 or  various  consid(^rations  of  that  idea  (each  of  which  considerations  is  a  new 
 idea)  will  constantly  succeed  one  another  in  his  thoughts,  let  him  be  as 
 wary  as  he  can. 
 
 Sect.  15.  All  that  is  in  a  man's  power  in  this  case,  I  think,  is  only  to 
 mind  and  observe  what  the  ideas  are  that  take  their  turns  in  his  understand- 
 ing; or  else  to  direct  the  sort,  and  call  in  such  as  he  hath  a  desire  or  use 
 of:  but  hinder  the  constant  succession  of  fresh  ones,  I  think,  he  cannot, 
 thougli  he  may  commonly  choose  whether  he  will  heedfully  observe  and 
 consider  them. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Ideas,  however  made,  include  no  sense  of  motion. — Whether 
 these  several  ideas  in  a  man's  mind  be  made  by  certain  motions,  I  will  not 
 here  dispute  :  but  this  I  am  sure,  that  they  include  no  idea  of  motion  in  their  ap- 
 pearance ;  and  if  a  man  had  not  the  idea  ofmotion  otherwise,  I  think  he  would 
 have  none  at  all ;  which  is  enough  to  my  present  purpose,  and  sufficiently 
 shows  that  the  notice  we  take  of  the  ideas  of  our  own  minds  appearing 
 there  one  after  another,  is  that  which  gives  us  the  idea  of  succession  and 
 duration,  without  v/hich  we  should  have  no  such  ideas  at  all.  It  is  not  then 
 motion,  but  the  constant  train  of  ideas  in  our  minds,  whilst  we  are  waking, 
 that  furnishes  us  with  the  idea  of  duration ;  whereof  motion  no  otherwise 
 gives  us  any  perception  than  as  it  causes  in  our  minds  a  constant  succes- 
 sion of  ideas,  as  I  have  before  showed:  and  we  have  as  clear  an  idea  of 
 succession  and  duration,  by  the  train  of  other  ideas  succeeding  one  another 
 in  our  minds,  without  the  idea  of  any  motion,  as  by  the  train  of  ideas  caused 
 by  the  uninterrupted  sensible  change  of  distance  between  two  bodies,  which 
 we  have  from  motion ;  and  therefore  we  should  as  well  have  the  idea  of 
 duration  were  there  no  sense  ofmotion  at  all. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Time  is  duration  set  out  by  measures. — Having  thus  got  the 
 idea  of  duration,  the  next  thing  natural  for  the  mind  to  do  is  to  get  some 
 measure  of  this  common  duration,  whereby  it  might  judge  of  its  different 
 lengths,  and  consider  the  distinct  order  wherein  several  things  exist,  with- 
 out which  a  gi'eat  part  of  our  knowledge  would  be  confused,  and  a  gi'eat 
 part  of  history  be  rendered  very  useless.  This  consideration  of  duration, 
 as  set  out  by  certain  periods,  and  marked  by  certain  measures  or  epochs, 
 ig  that  I  think,  which  most  properly  we  call  time. 
 
 Sect.  18.  A  good  measure  of  time  must  divide  its  whole  duration  into 
 equal  periods. — In  the  measuring  of  extension  there  is  nothing  more  required 
 but  the  application  of  the  standard  or  measure  we  make  use  of  to  the  thing 
 of  whose  extension  we  would  be  informed.  But  in  the  measuring  of  du- 
 ration this  cannot  be  done,  because  no  two  different  parts  of  succession 
 can  be  put  together  to  measure  one  another :  and  nothing  being  a  measure 
 of  duration  but  duration,  as  nothing  is  of  extension  but  extension,  we  cannot 
 
124  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 keep  by  us  any  standing  nnvanMng  measure  of  duration,  whicli  consists  in 
 a  constant  fleeting  succession,  as  we  can  of  certain  lengths  of  extension, 
 as  inches,  feet,  yards,  &c.  marked  out  in  permanent  parcels  of  matter. 
 Nothing,  then,  could  serve  well  for  a  convenient  measure  of  time  but  what 
 has  divided  the  whole  length  of  its  duration  iirto  apparently  equal  portions, 
 by  constantly  repeated  periods.  What  portions  of  duration  are  not  distin- 
 guished, or  considered  as  distinguished  and  measured  by  such  periods, 
 come  not  so  properly  under  the  notion  of  time,  as  appears  by  such  phrases 
 as  these,  viz.  before  all  time,  and  when  time  shall  be  no  more. 
 
 Sect.  19.  The  revolutions  of  the  sun  and  moon,  the  properest  mea- 
 sures of  time. — The  diurnal  and  annual  revolutio:i3  of  the  sun,  as  having 
 been,  from  the  beginning  of  nature,  constant,  regular^  and  universally  ob- 
 servable by  all  mankind,  and  supposed  equal  to  one  another,  have  been 
 with  reason  made  use  of  for  the  measure  of  duration.  But  the  distinc- 
 tion of  days  and  years  having  depended  on  the  motion  of  the  sun,  it  has 
 brought  this  mistake  with  it,  that  it  has  been  thought  that  motion  and 
 duration  were  the  measure  one  of  another:  for  men,  in  the  measuring  of 
 the  length  of  time,  having  been  accustomed  to  the  ideas  of  minutes,  hours, 
 days,  months,  years,  &.c.  which  they  found  themselves  upon  any  mention 
 of  time  or  duration  presently  to  think  on,  all  which  portions  of  time  were 
 measured  out  by  the  motion  of  those  heavenly  bodies ;  they  were  apt  to 
 confound  time  and  motion,  or  at  least  to  think  that  they  had  a  necessary 
 connexion  one  with  another :  whereas  any  constant  periodical  appearance 
 or  alteration  of  ideas  in  seemingly  equidistant  spaces  of  duration,  if  constant- 
 ly and  universally  observable,  would  have  as  well  distinguished  the  intervals 
 of  time  as  those  that  have  been  made  use  of.  For  supposing  the  sun,  which 
 some  have  taken  to  be  a  fire,  had  been  lighted  up  at  the  same  distance  of 
 time  that  it  now  every  day  comes  about  to  the  same  meridian,  and  then 
 gone  out  again  about  twelve  hours  after,  and  that  in  the  space  of  an  annual 
 revolution  it  had  sensibly  increased  in  brightness  and  heat,  and  so  decreas- 
 ed again ;  would  not  such  regular  appearances  ser\-e  to  measure  out  the 
 distances  of  duration,  to  all  that  could  observe  it,  as  well  without  as  with 
 motion?  For  if  the  appearances  were  constant,  universally  observable, 
 and  in  equidistant  periods,  they  would  serve  mankind  for  measures  of  time 
 as  well,  were  the  motion  away. 
 
 Sect.  20.  But  not  by  their  motion,  but  periodical  appearances. — For 
 the  freezing  of  water,  or  the  blowing  of  a  plant,  returning  at  equidistant 
 periods  in  all  parts  of  the  earth,  would  as  well  serve  men  to  reckon  their 
 years  by,  as  the  motions  of  the  sun:  and  in  effect  we  see  that  some  people 
 in  America  counted  their  years  by  the  coming  of  certain  birds  among  them 
 at  their  certain  seasons,  and  leaving  them  at  others.  For  a  fit  of  an  ague, 
 the  sense  of  hunger  or  thirst,  a  smell,  or  a  taste,  or  any  other  idea  return- 
 ing constantly  at  equidistant  periods,  and  making  itself  universally  be  taken 
 notice  of,  would  not  fail  to  measure  out  the  course  of  succession,  and  dis- 
 tinguish the  distance  of  time.  Thus,  we  see  that  men  born  blind  count 
 time  well  enough  by  years,  whose  revolutions  yet  they  cannot  distinguish 
 by  motions  that  they  perceive  not :  and  I  ask  whether  a  blind  man,  who 
 distinguished  liis  years  either  by  the  heat  of  summer  or  cold  of  winter ;  by 
 the  smell  of  any  flower  of  the  spring,  or  taste  of  any  fruit  of  tlie  autumn  ; 
 would  not  have  a  better  measure  of  time  than  the  Romans  had  before  the 
 reformation  of  their  calendar  by  Julius  CjBsar,  or  many  other  people,  whose 
 years,  notwithstanding  the  motion  of  the  sun,  which  they  pretend  to  make 
 use  of,  are  very  irregular?  And  it  adds  no  small  difficulty  to  chronolog\%  that 
 the  exact  lengths  of  the  years  tliat  several  nations  counted  by  are  hard  to  be 
 known,  they  differing  very  much  one  from  another,  and  I  think  T  may  say 
 all  of  them  from  the  precise  motion  of  the  sun.  And  if  the  sun  moved  from 
 the  creation  to  the  flood,  constantly  in  the  equator,  and  so  equally  dispersed 
 its  light  and  lioat  to  all  habitable  parts  of  the  earth,  in  days  all  of  the  same 
 
Ch.  14.  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  125 
 
 length,  without  its  annual  variations  to  the  tropics,  as  a  late  ingenious  author 
 supposes(«) :  I  do  not  think  it  very  easy  to  imagine  that  (notwithstanding 
 the  motion  of  the  sun)  men  should,  in  the  antediluvian  world,  from  the  be- 
 ginning-, count  by  years,  or  measure  their  time  by  periods,  that  had  no  sen- 
 sible marks  very  obvious  to  distinguish  them  by. 
 
 Sect.  21.  No  two  parts  of  duration  can  be  certainly  known  to  be  equal. 
 — But  perhaps  it  will  be  said,  without  a  regular  motion,  such  as  of  the  sun 
 or  some  other,  how  could  it  ever  be  known  that  such  periods  were  equal  1 
 To  which  I  answer,  the  equality  of.  any  other  returning  appearances  might 
 be  known  by  the  same  way  that  that  of  days  was  known  or  presumed  to 
 be  so  at  first ;  which  was  only  by  judging  of  them  by  the  train  of  ideas 
 which  had  passed  in  men's  mind,  in  the  intervals :  by  which  train  of  ideas 
 discovering  inequality  in  the  natural  days,  but  none  in  the  artificial  days, 
 the  artificial  days,  or  v!j;!^Q;,juii>-x,  were  guessed  to  be  equal,  which  was  suf- 
 ficient to  make  them  serve  for  a  measure :  though  exacter  search  has  since 
 discovered  inequality  in  the  diurnal  revolutions  of  the  sun,  and  we  know 
 not  whether  the  annual  also  be  not  unequal.  These  yet,  by  their  presumed 
 and  apparent  equality,  serve  as  well  to  reckon  time  by  (though  not  to  mea- 
 sure the  parts  of  duration  exactly)  as  if  they  could  be  proved  to  be  exactly 
 equal.  We  must  therefore  carefully  distinguish  betwixt  duration  itself 
 and  the  measures  we  make  use  of  to  judge  of  its  length.  Duration  in  itself 
 is  to  be  considered  as  going  on  in  one  constant,  equal,  uniform,  course : 
 but  none  of  the  measures  of  it,  which  we  make  use  of,  can  be  known  to 
 do  so ;  nor  can  we  be  assured  that  their  assigned  parts  or  periods  are 
 equal  in  duration  one  to  another ;  for  two  successive  lengths  of  duration, 
 however  measured,  can  never  be  demonstrated  to  be  equal.  The  motion 
 of  the  sun,  which  the  world  used  so  long  and  so  confidently  for  an  exact 
 measure  of  duration,  has,  as  I  said,  been  found  in  its  several  parts  unequal: 
 and  though  men  have  of  late  made  use  of  a  pendulum,  as  a  more  steady 
 and  regular  motion  than  that  of  the  sun,  or  (to  speak  more  truly)  of  the 
 earth;  yet  if  any  one  should  be  asked  how  he  cjrtainly  knows  that  the  two 
 successive  swings  of  a  pendulum  are  equal,  it  would  be  very  hard  to  satisfy 
 him  that  they  are  infallibly  so :  since  we  cannot  be  sure  that  the  cause  of 
 that  motion,  which  is  unknown  to  us,  shall  always  operate  equally:  and 
 we  are  sure  that  the  medium  in  which  the  pendulum  moves  is  not  constantly 
 the  same  :  either  of  which  varying,  may  alter  the  equality  of  such  periods, 
 and  thereby  destroy  the  certainty  and  exactness  of  the  measure  by  motion^  , 
 as  well  as  any  other  periods  of  other  appearances  ;  the  notion  of  duration 
 still  remaining  clear,  though  our  measures  of  it  cannot  any  of  them  be  de- 
 monstrated to  be  exact.  Since  then  no  two  portions  of  succession  can  be 
 brought  together,  it  is  impossible  ever  certainly  to  know  their  equality. 
 All  that  we  can  do  for  a  measure  of  time,  is  to  take  such  as  have  continual 
 successive  appearances  at  seemingly  equidistant  periods ;  of  which  seeming 
 equality  we  have  no  other  measure  but  such  as  the  train  of  our  own  ideas 
 have  lodged  in  our  memories,  with  the  concurrence  of  other  probable  rea- 
 sons, to  persuade  us  of  their  equality. 
 
 Sect.  22.  Time  not  the  measure  of  motion. — One  thing  seems  strange 
 to  me,  that  whilst  all  men  manifestly  measured  time  by  the  motion  of  the 
 great  and  visible  bodies  of  the  world,  time  yet  should  be  defined  to  be  the 
 "  measure  of  motion ;"  whereas  it  is  obvious  to  every  one  who  reflects  ever 
 so  little  on  it,  that,  to  measure  motion,  space  is  as  necessary  to  be  consid- 
 ered as  time ;  and  those  who  look  a  little  farther,  will  find  also  the  bulk  of 
 the  thing  moved  necessary  to  be  taken  into  the  computation  by  any  one  who 
 will  estimate  or  measure  motion,  so  as  to  judge  right  of  it.  Nor  indeed  does 
 motion  any  otherwise  conduce  to  the  measuring  of  duration,  than  as  it  con- 
 stantly brings  about  the  return  of  certain  sensible  ideas  in  seeming  equidis- 
 
 (a)  Dr  Burnet's  Theory  of  the  Earth. 
 
126  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 tant  periods.  For  if  tlio  motion  of  the  sun  were  as  unequal  as  of  a  sliip 
 driven  by  unsteady  winds,  sometimes  very  slow,  and  at  otliers  irregularly 
 very  switl;  or  if,  being  constantly  equally  swift,  it  yet  was  not  circular,  and 
 producediiot  the  same  appearances,  it  would  not  at  all  help  us  to  measure 
 time,  any  more  than  the  seeming  unequal  motion  of  a  comet  does. 
 
 Sect.  23.  Minutes,  hours,  days,  and  years,  not  necessary  meastires  of 
 duration. — Minutes,  hours,  days,  and  years,  are  then  no  more  necessary 
 to  time  or  duration,  than  inches,  feet,  yards,  and  miles,  marked  out  in  any 
 matter,  are  to  extension:  for  though  we  in  this  part  of  the  universe,  by  the 
 constant  use  of  them,  as  of  periods  set  out  by  the  revolutions  of  the  sun,  or  as 
 known  parts  6f  such  periods,  have  fi.xed  the  ideas  of  such  lengths  of  dura- 
 tion in  our  minds,  which  we  apply  to  all  parts  of  time,  whose  lengths  we 
 would  consider;  yet  there  may  be  other  parts  of  the  universe,  Avhere  they 
 no  more  use  these  measures  of  ours,  than  in  Japan  they  do  our  inches,  feet, 
 or  miles ;  but  yej[  something  analogous  to  them  there  nuist  be.  For  without 
 some  regular  periodical  returns,  we  could  not  measure  ourselves,  or  signify 
 to  others  the  length  of  any  duration,  though  at  the  same  time  the  world 
 were  as  full  of  motion  as  it  is  now,  but  no  part  of  it  disposed  into  regular  and 
 apparently  equidistant  revolutions.  But  the  different  measures  that  may  be 
 made  use  of  for  the  account  of  time  do  not  at  all  alter  the  notion  of  dura- 
 tion, which  is  the  thing  to  be  measured,  no  more  than  the  different  stand- 
 ards of  a  foot  and  a  cubit  alter  the  notion  of  extension  to  those  who  make 
 use  of  those  different  measures. 
 
 Sect.  24.  Our  vieasure  of  time  applicable  to  duration  before  time. — 
 The  mind  having  once  got  such  a  measure  of  time  as  the  annual  revolution 
 of  the  sun,  can  apply  that  measure  to  duration,  wherein  that  measure  itself 
 did  not  exist,  and  with  which,  in  the  reality  of  its  being,  it  had  nothing  to  do : 
 for  should  one  say,  that  Abraham  was  born  in  the  two  thousand  seven  hundred 
 and  twelfth  year  of  the  Julian  period,  it  is  altogether  as  intelligible  as  reck- 
 oning from  the  beginning  of  the  world,  though  there  were  so  far  back  no 
 motion  of  the  sun,  nor  any  motion  at  all.  For  though  the  Julian  period  be 
 supposed  to  begin  several  hundred  years  before  there  were  really  either 
 days,  nights,  or  years,  marked  out  by  any  revolutions  of  the  sun  ;  yet  we 
 reckon  as  right,  and  thereby  measure  durations  as  well,  as  if  really  at  that 
 time  the  sun  had  existed,  and  kept  the  same  ordinary  motion  it  doth  now. 
 The  idea  of  duration  equal  to  an  annual  revolution  of  the  sun  is  as  easily 
 applicable  in  our  thoughts  to  duration,  where  no  sun  nor  motion  was,  as 
 the  idea  of  a  foot  or  yard,  taken  from  bodies  here,  can  be  applied  in  our 
 thoughts  to  distances  beyond  the  confines  of  the  world,  where  are  no  bodies 
 at  all. 
 
 Sect.  25.  For  supposing  it  were  five  thousand  six  hundred  and  thirty- 
 nine  miles,  or  millions  of  miles,  from  this  place  to  the  remotest  body  of  the 
 universe  (for,  being  finite,  it  must  be  at  a  certain  distance)  as  we  suppose 
 it  to  be  five  thousand  six  hundred  and  thirty  nine  years  from  this  time  to 
 the  first  existence  of  any  body  in  the  beginning  of  the  world ;  we  can  in 
 our  thoughts,  apply  this  measure  of  a  year  to  duration  before  the  creation, 
 or  beyond  the  duration  of  bodies  or  motion,  as  we  can  this  measure  of  a 
 mile  to  space  beyond  the  utmost  bodies  ;  and  by  the  one  measure  duration 
 where  there  was  no  motion,  as  well  as  by  the  other  measure  space  in  our 
 thoughts  where  there  is  no  body. 
 
 Sect.  26.  If  it  be  objected  to  me  here,  that,  in  this  way  of  explaining 
 of  time,  I  have  begged  what  I  should  not,  viz.  that  the  world  is  neither 
 eternal  nor  infinite ;  I  answer,  that  to  my  present  purpose  it  is  not  needful, 
 in  this  place,  to  make  use  of  arguments  to  evince  the  world  to  be  finite, 
 both  in  duration  and  extension  ;  but  it  being  at  least  as  conceivable  as  the 
 contrary,  I  have  certainly  the  liberty  to  suppose  it,  as  well  as  any  one  hath 
 to  suppose  the  contrary ;  and  I  doubt  not  but  that  every  one  that  will  go 
 about  it,  may  easily  conceive  in  his  mind  the  beginning  of  motion,  though 
 
Ch.  14.  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  127 
 
 not  of  all  duration,  and  so  may  come  to  a  stop  and  non  ultra  in  his  con- 
 sideration of  motion.  So  also  in  his  thoughts  he  may  set  limits  to  bodv 
 and  the  extension  belonging  to  it,  but  not  to  space  where  no  body  is ;  the 
 utmost  bounds  of  space  and  duration  being  beyond  the  reach  of  thought, 
 as  well  as  the  utmost  bounds  of  number  are  beyond  the  largest  comprehen- 
 sion of  the  mind ;  and  all  for  the  same  reason,  as  we  shall  see  in  another 
 place. 
 
 Sect.  27.  Eternity. — By  the  same  means,  therefore,  and  from  the  same 
 original  that  we  come  to  have  the  idea  of  time,  we  have  also  that  idea  which 
 we  call  eternity;  viz.  having  got  the  idea  of  succession  and  duration,  by  re- 
 flecting on^THe  train  of  our  own  ideas,  caused  in  us  either  by  the  natural 
 appearances  of  those  ideas  coming  constantly  of  themselves  into  our  waking 
 thoughts,  or  else  caused  by  external  objects  successively  affecting  our  sen- 
 ses ;  and  having  from  the  revolutions  of  the  sun  got  the  ideas  of  certain 
 lengths  of  duration,  we  can  in  our  thoughts  add  such  lengths  of  duration  to 
 one  another,  as  often  as  we  please,  and  apply  them,  so  added,  to  durations 
 past  or  to  come :  and  this  we  can  continue  to  do  on,  without  bounds  or 
 limits,  and  proceed  in  infinitum,  and  apply  thus  the  length  of  the  annual 
 motion  of  the  sun  to  duration,  supposed  before  the  sun's,  or  any  other 
 motion  had  its  being ;  which  is  no  more  difficult  or  absurd,  than  to  apply 
 the  notion  I  have  of  the  moving  of  a  shadow  one  hour  to-day  upon  tlie  sun 
 dial  to  the  duration  of  sometliing  last  night,  v.  g.  the  burning  of  a  candle; 
 which  is  now  absolutely  separate  from  all  actual  motion  :  and  it  is  as  impos- 
 sible for  the  duration  of  that  flame  for  an  hour  last  night  to  coexist  with  any 
 motion  that  now  is,  or  for  ever  shall  be,  as  for  any  part  of  duration,  that 
 was  before  the  beginning  of  the  world  to  coexist  with  the  motion  of  the 
 sun  now.  But  yet  this  hinders  not,  but  that  having  the  idea  of  the  length 
 of  the  motion  of  the  shadow  on  a  dial  between  the  marks  of  two  hours,  I  can 
 as  distinctly  measure  in  my  thoughts  the  duration  of  that  candlelight  last  night, 
 as  I  can  the  duration  of  any  thing  that  does  now  exist :  and  it  is  no  more  than 
 to  think,  that  had  the  sun  shone  then  on  the  dial,  and  moved  after  the  same 
 rate  it  doth  now,  the  shadow  on  the  dial  would  have  passed  from  one  hour 
 line  to  another,  whilst  that  flame  of  the  candle  lasted. 
 
 Sect.  28.  The  notion  of  an  hour,  day,  or  year,  being  only  the  idea  I 
 have  of  the  length  of  certain  periodical  regular  motions,  neither  of  which 
 motions  do  ever  all  at  once  exist,  but  only  in  the  ideas  I  have  of  them  in  my 
 memory,  derived  from  my  senses  or  reflection ;  I  can  with  the  same  ease, 
 and  for  the  same  reason,  apply  it  in  my  thoughts  to  duration  antecedent 
 to  all  manner  of  motion,  as  well  as  to  any  thing  that  is  but  a  minute,  or  a 
 day,  antecedent  to  the  motion,  that  at  this  very  moment  the  sun  is  in.  All 
 things  past  are  equally  and  perfectly  at  rest ;  and  to  this  way  of  consider- 
 ation of  them  are  all  one,  whether  they  were  before  the  beginning  of  the 
 world,  or  but  yesterday :  the  measuring  of  any  duration  by  some  motion 
 depending  not  at  all  on  the  real  coexistence  of  that  thing  to  that  motion, 
 or  any  other  periods  of  revolution,  but  the  having  a  clear  idea  of  the  length 
 of  some  periodical  known  motion,  or  other  intervals  of  duration  in  my  mind, 
 and  applying  that  to  the  duration  of  the  thing  I  would  measure. 
 
 Sect.  29.  Hence  we  see,  that  some  men  imagine  the  duration  of  the 
 world,  from  its  first  existence  to  this  present  year  1689,  to  have  been  five 
 thousand  six  hundred  and  thirty-nine  years,  or  equal  to  five  thousand  six 
 hundred  and  thirty-nine  annual  revolutions  of  the  sun,  and  others  a  great 
 deal  more  ;  as  the  Egyptians  of  old,  who  in  the  time  of  Alexander  counted 
 twenty-three  thousand  years  from  the  reign  of  the  sun ;  and  the  Chinese 
 now,  who  account  the  world  three  millions  two  hundred  and  sixty-nine 
 thousand  years  old  or  more:  which  longer  duration  of  the  world,  according 
 to  their  computation,  though  I  should  not  believe  it  to  be  true,  yet  I  can 
 equally  imagine  it  with  them,  and  as  truly  understand,  and  say  one  is  lon- 
 ger than  the  other,  as  I  understand  that  Methusalem'a  life  was  longer  than 
 
128  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 Enoch's.  And  if  the  common  reckoning  of  five  tiiousand  six  hundred  and 
 thirty-nine  should  be  true  (as  it  may  bo  as  well  as  any  other  assigned,)  It 
 hinders  not  at  all  my  imagining  what  others  mean  when  they  make  the 
 world  one  thousand  years  older,  since  every  one  may  with  the  same  facility 
 imagine  (I  do  not  say  believe)  the  world  to  be  fifty  thousand  years  old,  as 
 five  thousand  six  hundred  and  thirty-nine ;  and  may  as  well  conceive  the 
 duration  of  fifty  thousand  years  as  five  thousand  six  hundred  and  thirty- 
 nine.  Whereby  it  appears,  that  to  the  measuring  the  duration  of  any  thing 
 by  time,  it  is  not  requisite  that  that  tiling  should  be  coexistent  to  the  mo- 
 tion we  measure  by,  or  any  other  periodical  revolution;  but  it  suffices  to 
 this  purpose,  tiiat  we  have  the  idea  of  the  length  of  any  regular  periodical 
 appearances,  which  we  can  in  our  minds  apply  to  duration,  with  wliich 
 the  motion  or  appearance  never  coexisted. 
 
 Sect.  30.  For  as  in  the  history  of  the  creation,  delivered  by  Moses,  I 
 can  imagine  tliat  light  existed  three  days  before  the  sun  was,  or  had  any 
 motion,  barely  by  thinking,  that  the  duration  of  light,  before  the  sun  was 
 created,  was  so  long  as  (if  the  sun  had  moved  then,  as  it  doth  now)  would 
 have  been  equal  to  three  of  his  diurnal  revolutions ;  so  by  the  same  way  I 
 can  have  an  idea  of  the  chaos,  or  angels  being  created  before  there  was 
 either  light,  or  any  continued  motion,  a  minute,  an  hour,  a  day,  a  year,  or 
 one  thousand  years.  For  if  I  can  but  consider  duration  equal  to  one  mi- 
 nute, before  either  the  being  or  motion  of  any  body,  I  can  add  one  minute 
 more  till  I  come  to  sixty ;  and  by  the  same  way  of  adding  minutes,  hours, 
 or  years,  (/.  e.  such  or  such  parts  of  the  sun's  revolutions,  or  any  other  pe- 
 riod whereof  I  have  the  idea)  proceed  in  infinitum,  and  suppose  a  duration 
 exceeding  as  many  such  periods  as  I  can  reckon,  let  me  add  whilst  I  will ; 
 which  I  think  is  the  notion  we  have  of  eternity,  of  whose  infinity  we  have 
 no  other  notion  than  we  have  of  the  infinity  of  number,  to  which  we  can 
 add  for  ever  Vv'ithout  end. 
 
 Sect.  31.  And  thus  I  think  it  is  plain,  that  from  those  two  fountains  of 
 all  Imowledge  before  mentioned,  viz.  reflection  and  sensation,  we  get  ideas 
 of  duration,  and  the  measures  of  it. 
 
 For,  first.  By  observing  what  passes  in  our  minds,  how  our  ideas  there 
 in  train  constantly  some  vanish,  and  others  begin  to  appear,  we  come  by 
 the  idea  of  succession. 
 
 Secondly,  By  observing  a  distance  in  the  parts  of  this  succession,  we  get 
 the  idea  of  duration. 
 
 Thirdly,  By  sensation  observing  certain  appearances,  at  certain  regular 
 and  seeming  equidistant  periods,  we  get  the  ideas  of  certain  lengths  or 
 measures  of  duration,  as  minutes,  hours,  days,  years,  &c. 
 
 Fourthly,  By  being  able  to  repeat  those  measures  of  time  or  ideas  of 
 stated  length  of  duration  in  our  minds,  as  often  as  we  will,  we  can  come 
 to  imagine  duration,  where  nothing  does  really  endure  or  exist ;  and  thus 
 we  imagine  to-morrow,  next  year,  or  seven  years  hence. 
 
 Fifthly,  By  being  able  to  repeat  ideas  of  any  length  of  time,  as  of  a  mi- 
 nute, a  year,  or  an  age,  as  often  as  we  will,  in  our  own  thoughts,  and  ad- 
 ding them  one  to  another,  without  ever  coming  to  the  end  of  such  addition 
 any  nearer  than  we  can  to  the  end  of  number,  to  which  we  can  always  add  ; 
 we  come  by  the  idea  of  eternity,  as  the  future  eternal  duration  of  our  souls, 
 as  well  as  the  eternity  of  that  infinite  Being,  which  must  necessarily  have 
 always  existed. 
 
 Sixthly,  By  considering  any  part  of  infinite  duration,  as  set  out  by  pe- 
 riodical measures,  we  come  by  the  idea  of  what  we  call  time  in  general. 
 
CI).  15.        DURATION  AND  EXPANSION  CONSIDERED.         129 
 
 CHAPTER  XV 
 
 OF  DURATION  AND  EXPANSION  CONSIDERED  TOGETHER, 
 
 Sect.  1.  Both  capable  of  greater  and  less. — Though  we  have  in  the 
 precedent  chapters  dwelt  pretty  long  on  the  considerations  of  space  and 
 duration ;  yet  they  being  ideas  of  general  concernment,  that  have  some- 
 thing very  abstruse  and  peculiar  in  their  nature,  the  comparing  them  one 
 with  another  may  perhaps  be  of  use  for  their  illustration  ;  and  we  may  have 
 the  more  clear  and  distinct  conception  of  them,  by  taking  a  view  of  them 
 too-ether.  Distance  or  space,  in  its  simple  abstract  conception,  to  avoid 
 confusion,  I  call  expansion,  to  distinguish  it  from  extension,  which  by  some 
 is  used  to  express  this  distance  only  as  it  is  in  the  solid  parts  of  matter,  and  so 
 includes,  or  at  least  intimate,  the  idea  of  body :  whereas  the  idea  of  pure 
 distance  includes  no  such  thing.  I  prefer  also  the  word  expansion  to  space, 
 because  space  is  often  applied  to  distance  of  fleeting  successive  parts,  which 
 never  exist  together,  as  well  as  to  those  which  are  permanent.  In  both 
 these  (viz.  expansion  and  duration)  the  mind  has  this  common  idea  of 
 continued  lengths,  capable  of  greater  or  less  quantities :  for  a  man  has  as 
 clear  an  idea  of  the  difference  of  the  length  of  an  hour  and  a  day,  as  of  an 
 inch  and  a  foot. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Expansion  not  bounded  by  matter. — The  mind  having  got  the 
 idea  of  the  length  of  any  part  of  expansion,  let  it  be  a  span  or  a  pace,  or 
 what  length  you  will,  can,  as  has  been  said,  repeat  that  idea  ;  and  so,  ad- 
 ding it  to  the  former,  enlarge  its  idea  of  length,  and  make  it  equal  to  two 
 spans,  or  two  paces,  and  so  as  often  as  it  will,  till  it  equals  the  distance 
 of  any  parts  of  the  earth,  one  from  another,  and  increase  thus,  till  it  amounts 
 to  the  distance  of  the  sun  or  remotest  star.  By  such  a  progression  as  this, 
 setting  out  from  the  place  where  it  is,  or  any  other  place,  it  can  proceed 
 and  pass  beyond  all  those  lengths,  and  find  nothing  to  stop  its  going  on, 
 either  in,  or  without  body.  It  is  true,  we  can  easily,  in  our  thoughts,  come 
 to  the  end  of  solid  extension;  the  extremity  and  bounds  of  all  body  we  have 
 no  difficulty  to  arrive  at :  but  when  the  mind  is  there,  it  finds  nothing  to 
 hinder  its  progress  into  this  endless  expansion ;  of  that  it  can  neither  find 
 nor  conceive  any  end.  Nor  let  any  one  say,  that  beyond  the  bounds  of 
 body  there  is  nothing  at  all,  unless  he  will  confine  God  within  the  limits  of 
 matter.  Solomon,  whose  understanding  was  filled  and  enlarged  with  wis- 
 dom, seems  to  have  other  thoughts,  when  he  says,  "  heaven,  and  the  heaven 
 of  heavens,  cannot  contain  thee  :"  and  he,  I  think,  very  much  magnifies  to 
 himself  the  capacity  of  his  own  understanding,  who  persuades  himself  that 
 he  can  extend  his  thoughts  farther  than  God  exists,  or  imagine  any  expan- 
 sion where  he  is  not. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Nor  duration  by  motion. — Just  so  is  it  in  duration.  The  mind 
 having  got  the  idea  of  any  length  of  duration,  can  double,  multiply,  and 
 enlarge  it,  not  only  beyond  its  own,  but  beyond  tlie  existence  of  all  cor- 
 poreal beings,  and  all  the  measures  of  time,  taken  from  the  great  bodies  of 
 the  world  and  their  motions.  But  yet  every  one  easily  admits,  that  though 
 we  make  duration  boundless,  as  certainly  it  is,  we  cannot  yet  extend  it  be- 
 yond all  being.  God,  every  one  easily  allows,  fills  eternity,  and  it  is  hard 
 to  find  a  reason  why  any  one  should  doubt  that  he  likewise  fills  immen- 
 sity. His  infinite  being  is  certainly  as  boundless  one  way  as  another,  and 
 methinks  it  ascribes  a  little  too  much  to  matter  to  say  where  there  is  no 
 body,  there  is  nothing. 
 
 Sect.  4.    Why  men  more  easily  admit  infinite  duration  than  infinite 
 expansion. — Hence,  I  think,  we  may  learn  the  reason  why  every  one  fami- 
 R 
 
180  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 liarly,  and  without  the  least  hesitation,  speaks  of,  and  supposes,  eternity, 
 uud  slicks  not  to  aacribe  infinity  to  duration;  but  it  is  with  more  doubting 
 and  reserve  that  many  admit  or  suppose  the  infinity  of  space.  The  reason 
 whereof  seems  to  me  to  be  this;  tliat  duration  and  extension  being  used  as 
 names  of  afiections  belonging  to  other  beings,  we  easily  conceive  in  God 
 infinite  duration,  and  we  cannot  avoid  doing  go  ;  but  not  attributing  to  him 
 extension,  but  only  to  matter,  which  is  finite,  we  are  apter  to  doubt  of  the 
 existence  of  expansion  without  matter,  of  which  alone  we  commonly  sup- v 
 pose  it  an  attribute.  And  therefore  when  men  pursue  their  thouglits  of 
 space,  they  are  apt  to  stop  at  the  confines  of  body,  as  if  space  were  there 
 at  an  end  too,  and  reached  no  farther.  Or  if  their  ideas  upon  consideration 
 carry  them  farther,  yet  they  term  what  is  beyond  the  limits  of  the  universe 
 imaginary  space ;  as  if  it  were  nothing,  because  there  is  no  body  existing 
 in  it:  whereas  duration,  antecedent  to  all  body,  and  to  the  motions  which 
 it  is  measured  by,  they  never  term  imaginary,  because  it  is  never  supposed 
 void  of  some  other  real  existence.  And  if  the  names  of  things  may 
 at  all  direct  our  thoughts  towards  the  originals  of  men's  ideas  (as  I  am 
 apt  to  think  they  may  very  much)  one  may  have  occasion  to  think,  by 
 the  name  duration,  that  the  continuation  of  existence,  with  a  kind  of  resis- 
 tance to  any  destructive  force,  and  the  continuation  of  solidity  (which  is 
 apt  to  be  confounded  with,  and,  if  we  look  into  the  minute  anatomical  parts 
 of  matter,  is  little  different  from,  hardness)  were  thought  to  have  some 
 analogy,  and  gave  occasion  to  words  so  near  of  kin  as  durare  and  durum 
 esse.  And  that  durare  is  applied  to  the  idea  of  Jiardness  as  well  as  that 
 of  existence,  we  see  in  Horace,  epod.  xvi.  "ferro  duravit  secula."  But 
 be  that  as  it  will,  this  is  certain,  that  whoever  pursues  his  own  thoughts, 
 will  find  them  sometimes  launch  out  beyond  the  extent  of  body  into  the 
 infinity  of  space  or  expansion;  the  idea  whereof  is  distinct  and  separate- 
 from  body  and  all  other  things :  which  may  (to  those  who  please)  be  a  sub- 
 ject of  farther  meditation. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Time  to  duration  is  as  place  to  expansion. — Time  in  general 
 is  to  diifation  as  place  to  expansion.  They  are  so  much  of  those  bound- 
 less oceans  of  eternity  and  immensity  as  is  set  out  and  distinguished  from 
 the  rest*,  as  it  were,  by  landmarks ;  and  so  are  made  use  of  to  denote 
 the  position  of  finite  real  beings,  in  respect  one  to  another,  in  those  uni- 
 form infinite  oceans  of  duration  and  space.  These,  rightly  considered,  are 
 only  ideas  of  determinate  distances,  from  certain  known  points  fixed  in 
 distinguishable  sensible  things,  and  supposed  to  keep  the  same  distance 
 one  from  another.  From  such  points  fixed  in  sensible  beings  we  reckon, 
 and  from  them  we  measure  our  portions  of  those  infinite  quantities  ;  which, 
 so  considered,  are  that  which  we  call  time  and  place.  For  duration  and 
 space  being  in  themselves  uniform  and  boundless,  the  order  and  position 
 of  things,  without  such  known  settled  points,  would  be  lost  in  them,  and 
 all  things  would  lie  jumbled  in  an  incurable  confusion. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Ti7ne  and  place  are  taken  for  so  much  of  either,  as  are  set  out 
 by  the  existence  and  motion  of  bodies. — Time  and  place,. taken  thus  for 
 determinate  distinguishable  portions  of  those  infinite  abysses  of  space  and 
 duration,  set  out  or  supposed  to  be  distinguished  from  the  rest  by  marks 
 and  known  boundaries,  have  each  of  them  a  twofold  acceptation. 
 
 First,  Time  in  general  is  commonly  taken  for  so  much  of  infinite  duration 
 as  is  measured  by,  and  eoexistent  with,  the  existence  and  motions  of  the 
 great  bodies  of  the  universe,  as  far  as  we  know  any  thing  of  them:  and  in 
 this  sense  time  begins  and  ends  with  the  frame  of  tliis  sensible  world,  as 
 in  these  phrases  before  mentioned,  before  all  time,  or  when  time  shall  be 
 no  more.  Place  likewise  is  taken  sometime  for  that  portion  of  infinite 
 space  which  is  possessed  by,  and  comprehended  witliin,  the  material  world, 
 and  is  thereby  distinguished  from  the  rest  of  expansion ;  though  this  may 
 more  properly  be  called  extension  than  place.     Within  these  two  are  con- 
 
Ch.  15.      DURATION  AND  EXPANSION  CONSIDERED.  131 
 
 fined,  and  by  the  observable  parts  of  them  are  measured  and  determined, 
 the  particular  time  or  duration,  and  the  particular  extension  and  place  of 
 a!l  corporeal  beings. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Somttimes  for  so  much  of  either,  as  we  design  by  measures 
 taken  from  the  bulk  or'motion  of  bodies. — Secondly,  Sometimes  the  word 
 time  is  used  in  a  larger  sense,  and  is  applied  to  parts  of  that  infinite  dura- 
 tion, not  that  were  really  distinguished  and  measured  out  by  this  real  ex- 
 istence, and  periodical  motions  of  bodies  that  were  appointed  from  the  be- 
 ginning to  be  for  signs,  and  for  seasons,  and  for  days,  and  years,  and  are 
 accordmgly  our  measure  of  time; — but  such  other  portions  too  of  that  in- 
 finite uniform  duration,  wliich  we,  upon  any  occasion,  do  suppose  equal  to 
 certain  lengths  of  measured  time;  and  so  consider  them  as  bounded  and 
 determined.  For  if  we  should  suppose  the  creation  or  fall  of  the  angels 
 was  at  the  beginning  of  the  Julian  period,  we  should  speak  properly  enough, 
 and  should  be  mrderstood,  if  we  said,  it  is  a  longer  time  since  the  creation 
 of  angels  than  the  creation  of  the  world  by  seven  thousand  six  hundred  and 
 forty  years ;  whereby  we  would  mark  out  so  much  of  that  undistinguished 
 duration  as  we  suppose  equal  to,  and  would  have  admitted,  seven  thousand 
 six  hundred  and  forty  annual  revolutions  of  the  sun,  moving  at  the  rate  it 
 now  does.  And  thus  likewise  we  sometimes  speak  of  place,  distance,  or 
 bulk,  in  the  great  inane  beyond  the  confines  of  the  world,  when  we  consid- 
 er so  much  of  that  space  as  is  equal  to,  or  capable  to  receive  a  body  of  any 
 assigned  dimensions,  as  a  cubic  foot;  or  do  suppose  a  point  in  it  at  such 
 a  certain  distance  from  any  part  of  the  universe. 
 
 Sect.  8.  They  belong  to  all  beings. — Where  and  when  are  questions 
 belonging  to  all  finite  existences,  and  are  by  us  always  reckoned  li'om  some 
 known  parts  of  this  sensible  world,  and  from  some  certain  epochs  marked 
 out  to  us  by  the  motions  observable  in  it.  Without  some  such  fixed  parts 
 or  periods,  the  order  of  things  would  be  lost  to  our  finite  understandings,  in  the 
 boundless  invariable  oceans  of  duration  and  expansion  which  comprehend 
 in  them  all  finite  beings,  and  in  their  full  extent  belong  only  to  the  Deity. 
 And  therefore  we  are  not  to  wonder  that  we  comprehend  them  not,  and  do 
 so  oflen  find  our  thoughts  at  a  loss,  when  we  would  consider  them  either 
 abstractly  in  tliemselves,  or  as  any  way  attributed  to  the  first  incomprehen- 
 sible being.  But  when  applied  to  any  particular  finite  beings,  the  extension, 
 of  any  body  is  so  much  of  that  infinite  space  as  the  bulk  of  the  body  takes 
 up ;  and  place  is  the  position  of  any  body,  when  considered  at  a  certain 
 distance  from  some  other.  As  the  idea  of  the  particular  duration  of  any  thing  is 
 an  idea  of  that  portion  of  infinite  duration  which  passed  during  the  existence 
 of  that  thing;  so  the  time  when  the  thing  existed,  is  the  idea  of  that  space 
 of  duration  which  passed  between  some  known  and  fixed  period  of  dura- 
 tion, and  the  being  of  that  thing.  One  shows  the  distance  of  the  extremi- 
 ties of  the  bulk  or  existence  of  the  same  thing,  as  that  it  is  a  foot  square, 
 or  lasted  two  years  ;  the  other  shows  the  distance  of  it  in  place  or  existence 
 from  other  fixed  points  of  space  or  duration,  as  that  it  was  in  the  middle 
 of  Lincoln's-inn-fields,  or  the  first  degi-ee  of  Taurus,  and  in  the  year  of 
 our  Lord  1671,  or  the  1000th  year  of  the  Julian  period:  all  which  distances  we 
 measure  by  preconceived  ideas  of  certain  lengths  of  space  and  duration,  as 
 inches,  feet,  miles,  and  degrees  ;  and  in  the  other,  minutes,  days,  and  years. 
 
 Sect.  9.  All  the  parts  of  extension  are  extension;  and  all  the  farts  of 
 duration  are  duration. — There  is  one  thing  more  wherein  space  and  dura- 
 tion have  a  great  conformity  :  and  that  is,  though  they  are  justly  reckoned 
 among  oinr  simple  ideas,  yet  none  of  the  distinct  ideas  we  have  of  either  is 
 without  all  manner  of  composition(2)  ;  it  is  the  very  nature  of  both  of  them 
 
 (2)  It  has  been  objected  to  Mr  Locke,  that  if  space  consists  of  parts,  as  it  is  con- 
 fessed in  this  place,  he  should  not  have  reckoned  it  in  the  number  of  simple  ideas  ; 
 because  it  seems  to  be   inconsistent  with  what  he  says  elsewhere,  that  a  simple 
 
13-3  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 to  consist  of  parts:  but  their  parts  beinnr  all  of  the  same  kind,  and  without 
 the  mixture  of  any  otlier  idea,  hinder  them  not  from  Iiaving  a  place  among 
 simple  ideas.  Could  tlio  mind,  as  in  number,  come  to  so  small  a  part  of 
 extension  or  duration  as  excluded  divisibility,  that  would  be,  as  it  were, 
 the  indivisible  unit  or  idea;  by  repetition  of  which  it  would  make  its  more 
 enlarged  ideas  of  extension  and  duration.  But  since  the  mind  is  not  able 
 to  frame  an  idea  of  any  space  without  parts,  instead  thereof  it  makes  use  of 
 the  common  measures,  which,  by  familiar  use,  in  each  country,  have  imprint- 
 ed themselves  on  the  memory,  (as  inches  and  feet,  or  cubits  and  parasangs; 
 and  so  seconds,  minutes,  hours,  days,  and  years  in  duration :)  the  mind 
 makes  use,  I  say,  of  such  ideas  as  these,  as  simple  ones;  and  these  are  the 
 component  parts  of  larger  ideas,  which  the  mind,  upon  occasion,  makes 
 by  the  addition  of  such  known  lengths,  which  it  is  acquainted  with.  On  the 
 other  side,  the  ordinary  smallest  measure  we  have  of  either  is  looked  on  as 
 an  unit  in  number,  when  the  mind  by  division  would  reduce  them  into  less 
 
 idea  is  uncompounded,  and  contains  in  it  nothing  but  one  uniform  appearance  or 
 concoptioti  of  the  mind,  and  is  not  distinguishable  into  different  ideas.  It  is 
 fartlier  olijected,  that  Mr  Locke  lias  not  given  ih  the  eleventh  chapter  of  the  second 
 book,  where  he  begins  to  speak  of  simple  ideas,  an  exact  definition  of  what  he 
 understands  by  the  words  simple  ideas.  To  tliese  difficulties  Mr  Locke  answers 
 thus  :  To  l)egin  with  the  last,  he  declares  that  he  has  not  treated  his  subject  in  an 
 order  perfectly  scholastic,  having  not  had  much  familiarity  with  those  sort  of 
 books  during  the  writing  of  his,  and  not  remembering  at  all  the  method  in  which 
 they  are  written  ;  and  therefore  his  readers  ought  not  to  expect  definitions  regu- 
 larly placed  at  the  beginning  of  each  new  subject.  Mr  Locke  contents  himself  to 
 employ  the  principal  terms  that  he  uses,  so  that  from  his  use  of  them  the  reader 
 may  easily  comprehend  what  he  means  by  them.  But  with  respect  to  the  term 
 simple  idea,  he  has  had  the  good  luck  to  define  that  in  the  place  cited  in  the 
 objection  ;  and  therefore  there  is  no  reason  to  supply  that  defect.  The  question 
 then  is  to  know  whether  the  idea  of  extension  agrees  with  this  definition  ?  which 
 will  eff'ectually  agree  to  it,  if  it  be  understood  in  the  sense  which  Mr  Locke  had 
 principally  in  his  view  ;  for  that  composition  which  he  designed  to  exclude  in 
 that  definition  was  a  composition  of  differeut  ideas  in  the  mind,  and  not  a  com- 
 position of  the  same  kind  in  athing  whose  essence  consists  in  having  parts  of  the 
 same  kind,  where  you  can  never  come  to  a  part  entirely  exempted  from  this  com- 
 position. So  that  if  the  idea  of  extension  consists  in  having  partes  extra  partes 
 (as  the  schools  speak,)  it  is  always,  in  the  sense  of  Mr  Locke,  a  simple  idea; 
 because  the  idea  of  having  partes  extra  partes  cannot  be  resolved  into  two  other 
 ideas.  For  the  remainder  of  the  objection  made  to  Mr  Locke,  with  i-espect  to  the 
 nature  of  extension,  Mr  Locke  was  aware  of  it,  as  may  be  seen  in  sect.  9,  chap. 
 15,  of  the  second  book,  where  he  says,  that  "  the  least  portion  of  space  or  exten- 
 sion, whereof  we  have  a  clear  and  distinct  idea,  may  perhaps  be  the  fittest  to  be 
 considered  by  us  as  a  simple  idea  of  that  kind  out  of  which  our  complex 
 modes  of  space  and  extension  are  made  up."  So  that,  according  to  Mr  Locke, 
 it  may  very  fitly  be  called  a  simple  idea,  since  it  is  the  least  idea  of  space  that 
 the  mind  can  form  to  itself,  and  that  cannot  be  divided  by  the  mind  into  any  less, 
 ■whereof  it  has  in  itself  any  determined  perception.  From  whence  it  follows,  that 
 it  is  to  the  mind  one  simple  idea  :  and  that  is  sufficient  to  take  away  this  objection  : 
 for  it  is  not  the  design  of  Mr  Locke,  in  this  place,  to  discourse  of  any  thing  but 
 concerning  the  idea  of  the  mind.  But  if  this  is  not  sufiicient  to  clear  the  diffi- 
 culty, Mr  Locke  hath  nothing  more  to  add,  but  that  if  the  idea  of  extension  is  so 
 peculiar  that  it  cannot  exactly  agree  with  the  definition  tiiat  he  has  given  of  those 
 simple  ideas,  so  that  it  diff'ers  in  some  manner  from  all  others  of  that  kind,  he 
 thinks  it  is  better  to  leave  it  there  exposed  to  this  difficulty,  than  to  make  a  new 
 division  in  his  favour.  It  is  enough  for  Mr  Locke  that  his  meaning  can  be  un- 
 derstood. It  is  very  commen  to  observe  intelligible  discourses  spoiled  by  too 
 much  subtlety  in  nice  divisions.  AVe  ought  to  put  things  together  as  well  as  we 
 can,  doctrime  causa  :  but,  after  all,  several  things  will  not  be  bundled  up  to- 
 gether under  our  terms  and  ways  of  speaking. 
 
Ch.  15.     DURATION  AND  EXPANSION  CONSIDERED.  133 
 
 fractions.  Thoiig-Ii  on  both  sides,  both  in  addition  and  division,  either  of 
 space  or  duration,  when  the  idea  under  consideration  becomes  very  big  or 
 very  small,  its  precise  bulk  becomes  very  obscure  and  confused;  and  it  is 
 the  number  of  its  repeated  additions  or  divisions  that  alone  remains  clear 
 and  distinct,  as  will  easily  appear  to  any  one  who  will  let  his  thoughts  loose  in 
 the  vast  expansion  of  space,  or  divisibility  of  matter.  Every  part  of  dura- 
 tion is  duration  too;  and  every  part  of  extension  is  extension,  both  of  them 
 capable  of  addition  or  division  ininjinitum.  But  the  least  portions  of  either 
 of  them,  whereof  we  have  clear  and  distinct  ideas,  may  perhaps  be  fittest 
 to  be  considered  by  us  as  the  simple  ideas  of  that  kind,  out  of  whicii  our 
 complex  modes  of  space,  extension,  and  duration,  are  made  up,  and  into 
 which  they  can  again  be  distinctly  resolved.  Such  a  small  part  in  duration 
 may  be  called  a  moment,  and  is  the  time  of  one  idea  in  our  minds  in  the 
 train  of  their  ordinary  succession  there.  The  other  wanting  a  proper  name, 
 I  know  not  whether  I  may  be  allowed  to  call  a  sensible  point,  meaning  there- 
 by the  least  particle  of  matter  or  space  we  can  discern,  which  is  ordinarily 
 about  a  minute,  and  to  the  sharpest  eyes  seldom  less  than  thirty  seconds  of 
 a  circle,  whereof  the  eye  is  the  centre. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Their  parts  inseparable. — Expansion  and  duration  have  this 
 farther  agreement,  that  though  they  are  both  considered  by  us  as  having  parts, 
 yet  their  parts  are  not  separable  one  from  another,  no,  not  even  in  thought ; 
 though  the  parts  of  bodies  from  whence  we  take  our  measure  of  the 
 one,  and  the  parts  of  motion,  or  rather  the  succession  of  ideas  in  our  minds, 
 from  whence  we  take  the  measure  of  the  other,  may  be  interrupted  and 
 separated ;  as  the  one  is  often  by  rest,  and  the  other  is  by  sleep,  which  we 
 call  rest  too. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Duration  is  as  a  line,  expansion  as  a  solid. — But  there  is 
 this  manifest  difference  between  them;  that  the  ideas  of  length,  which  we 
 have  of  expansion7ai"e  turned  every  way,  and  so  make  figure,  and  breadth, 
 and  thickness ;  but  duration  is  but  as  it  were  the  length  of  one  straight  line 
 extended  in  infinitum,  not  capable  of  multiplicity,  variation,  or  figure  ; 
 but  is  one  common  measure  of  all  existence  whatsoever,  wherein  all  things, 
 whilst  they  exis^t,  equally  partake.  For  this  present  moment  is  common  to 
 all  things  that  are  now  in  being,  and  equally  comprehends  that  part  of 
 their  existence,  as  much  as  if  they  were  all  but  one  single  being;  and  we 
 may  truly  say,  they  all  exist  in  the  same  moment  of  time.  Whether  an- 
 gels and  spirits  have  any  analogy  to  this,  in  respect  of  expansion,  is  beyond 
 my  comprehension ;  and,  perhaps,  for  us,  who  have  understandings  and 
 comprehensions  suited  to  our  own  preservation,  and  the  ends  of  our 
 own  being,  but  not  to  the  reality  and  extent  of  all  other  benigs;  it  is  near 
 as  hard  to  conceive  any  existence,  or  to  have  an  idea  of  any  real  being, 
 with  a  perfect  negation  of  all  manner  of  expansion,  as  it  is  to  have  the 
 idea  of  any  real  existence  with  the  perfect  negation  of  all  manner  of  dura- 
 tion ;  and  therefore  what  spirits  have  to  do  with  space,  or  how  they  com- 
 municate in  it,  we  know -not.  All  that  we  know  is,  that  bodies  do  each 
 singly  possess  its  proper  portion  of  it,  according  to  the  extent  of  solid  parts ; 
 and  thereby  exclude  all  other  bodies  from  having  any  share  in  that  parti- 
 cular portion  of  space,  whilst  it  remains  there. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Duration  has  never  two  parts  together,  expansion  all  to- 
 gether.— Duration,  and  time,  which  is  a  part  of  it,  is  the  idea  we  have  of 
 perishing  distance,  ofwhich  no  two  parts  exist  together,  but  follow  each  other 
 in  succession  ;  as  expansion  is  the  idea  of  lasting  distance,  all  whose  parts 
 exist  together,  and  are  not  capable  of  succession.  And  therefore,  though 
 we  cannot  conceive  any  duration  without  succession,  nor  can  put  it  to- 
 gether in  our  thoughts,  that  any  being  does  now  exist  to-morrow,  or  possess 
 at  once  more  than  the  present  moment  of  duration ;  yet  we  can  conceive 
 the  eternal  duration  of  the  Almighty  far  different  from  that  of  man,  or  any 
 other  finite  being;  because  man  comprehends  not  in  his  knowledge,  or  pow- 
 er, all  past  and  fntin-e  things;  his  thoughts  are  but  of  yesterday,  and  he 
 
134  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 knows  not  wliat  to-morrow  will  bring  forth.  What  is  once  passed  he  can 
 never  recall,  and  wliat  ih  yet  to  come  he  cannot  make  jjrcsent.  What  I 
 Bay  of  man  I  say  of  all  finite  beings;  who,  though  they  may  far  exceed 
 man  in  knowledge  and  power,  yet  are  no  more  than  tlic  nieaiiost  creature, 
 in  comparison  with  God  himself  Finite  of  any  magnitude  holds  not  any 
 portion  to  infinite.  God's  infinite  duration  being  accompanied  witii  inrinite 
 knowledge  and  infinite  power,  he  sees  all  things  past  and  to  come  ;  and 
 they  are  no  more  distant  from  his  knowledge,  no  farther  removed  from  his 
 sight,  than  the  j-rcsent:  tliey  all  lie  under  the  same  view;  and  there  is  no- 
 thing wliich  he  cannot  make  exist  each  moment  he  pleases.  For  the  e.x- 
 istence  of  all  things  depending  upon  his  good  pleasure,  all  things  exist  every 
 moment  that  he  thinks  fit  to  have  them  exist.  To  conclude,  expansion 
 and  duration  do  mutually  embrace  and  comprehend  each  other;  every  part 
 of  space  being  in  every  part  of  duration,  and  every  part  of  duration  in  every 
 part  of  expansion.  Such  a  combination  of  two  distinct  ideas  is,  I  suppose, 
 scarce  to  be  found  in  all  that  great  variety  we  do  or  can  conceive,  and  may 
 afford  matter  to  farther  speculation. 
 
 CHAPTER  XVI. 
 
 OF  NUMBER. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Number  the  simplest  and  most  universal  idea. — Amongallthe 
 ideas  we  have,  as  there  is  none  suggested  to  the  mind  by  more  ways,  so 
 there  is  none  more  simp-!e  than  that  of  unity,  or  one.  It  has  no  shadow  of 
 variety  or  composition  in  it :  every  object  our  senses  are  employed  about, 
 every  idea  in  our  understandings,  every  thought  of  our  minds,  bring  this 
 idea  along  with  it ;  and  therefore  it  is  the  most  intimate  to  our  thoughts, 
 as  well  as  it  is,  in  its  agreement  to  all  other  things,  the  most  universal  idea 
 we  have.  For  number  applies  itself  to  men,  angels,  actions,  thoughts, 
 every  thing  that  either  doth  exist  or  can  be  imagined. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Its  modes  made  by  addition. — By  repeating  this  idea  in  our 
 minds,  and  adding  the  repetitions  together,  we  come  by  the  complex  ideas 
 of  the  modes  of  it.  Thus  by  adding  one  to  one,  we  have  the  complex  idea 
 of  a  couple  ;  by  putting  twelve  units  together,  we  have  the  complex  idea 
 of  a  dozen;  and  so  of  a  score,  or  a  million,  or  any  other  number. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Each  mode  distinct. — The  simple  modes  of  numbers  are  of  all 
 other  the  most  distinct :  every  the  least  variation,  which  is  an  unit,  making 
 each  combination  as  clearly  different  from  that  which  approacheth  nearest 
 to  it,  as  the  most  remote:  two  being  as  distinct  from  one  as  two  hundred ; 
 and  the  idea  of  two  as  distinct  from  the  idea  of  three  as  the  magnitude  of  the 
 whole  earth  is  from  that  of  a  mite.  This  is  not  so  in  other  simple  modes, 
 in  which  it  is  not  so  easy,  nor  perhaps  possible,  for  us  to  distinguish  betwixt 
 two  approaching  ideas,  which  yet  are  really  different.  For  who  will  under- 
 take to  find  a  difference  between  the  white  of  this  paper,  and  tliat  of  the  next 
 degree  to  it ;  or  can  form  distinct  ideas  of  every  the  least  excess  in  extension. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Therefore  demonstration  in  nuvibers  the  most  precise. — The 
 clearness  and  distinctness  of  each  mode  of  number  fi-om  all  others,  even  those 
 that  approach  nearest,  makes  me  apt  to  think  that  demonstrations  in  num- 
 bers, if  they  are  not  more  evident  and  exact  than  in  extension,  yet  they  are 
 more  general  in  their  use,  and  more  determinate  in  their  application;  be- 
 cause the  ideas  of  numbers  are  more  precise  and  distinguishable  tlian  in  exten- 
 Bion,where  every  equality  and  excess  are  not  so  easy  to  be  observed  or  measur- 
 ed ;  because  our  thoughts  cannot  in  space  amvo  at  any  determined  small- 
 ness,  beyond  which  it  cannot  go,  as  an  unit;  and  therefore  the  quantity  or 
 proportion  of  any  the  least  excess  cannot  be  discovered:  which  is  clear 
 
Ch.  16.  NUMBER.  135 
 
 otherwise  in  number,  where,  as  has  been  said,  ninety-one  is  as  distinguish- 
 able from  ninety  as  from  nine  thousand,  thougli  ninety-one  be  the  next  im- 
 mediate excess  to  ninety.  But  it  is  not  so  in  extension,  where  wliatsoever 
 is  more  than  just  a  foot  or  an  inch,  is  not  distinguishable  from  the  standard 
 of  a  foot  or  an  incli:  and  in  lines  whicli  appear  of  an  equal  length,  one  may 
 be  longer  tliau  the  other  by  innumerable  parts ;  nor  can  any  one  assign  an 
 angle  which  shall  be  the  next  biggest  to  a  right  one. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Names  necessary  to  numbers. — By  the  repeating,  as  has  been 
 said,  the  idea  of  an  unit,  and  joining  it  to  another  unit,  we  make  thereof 
 one  collective  idea,  marked  by  the  name  two.  And  whosoever  can  do  this, 
 and  proceed  on  still,  adding  one  more  to  the  collective  idea  which  he  had 
 of  any  number,  and  give  a  name  to  it,  may  count  or  have  ideas  for  several 
 collection  of  units,  distinguished  one  from  another,  as  far  as  he  hath  a  se- 
 ries of  names  for  following  numbers,  and  a  memory  to  retain  that  series, 
 with  their  several  names ;  all  numeration  being  but  still  the  adding  of  one  unit 
 to  more,  and  giving  to  the  whole  together,  as  comprehended  in  one  idea,  a 
 new  or  distinct  name  or  sign,  whereby  to  know  it  from  those  before  and  after, 
 and  distinguish  it  from  every  smaller  or  greater  multitude  of  units.  So  that 
 he  can  add  one  to  one,  and  so  to  two,  and  so  go  on  with  his  tale,  taking 
 still  with  him  the  distinct  names  belonging  to  every  progression;  and  so 
 again,  by  subtracting  an  unit  from  each  collection,  retreat  and  lessen  them; 
 is  capable  of  all  the  ideas  of  numbers  within  the  compass  of  his  language, 
 or  for  which  he  hath  names,  though  not  perhaps  of  more.  For  the  several 
 simple  modes  of  numbers,  being  in  our  minds  but  so  many  combinations 
 of  units,  which  have  no  variety,  nor  are  capable  of  any  other  difference  but 
 more  or  less,  names  or  marks  for  each  distinct  combination  seem  more  ne- 
 cessary than  in  any  other  sort  of  ideas.  For  without  such  names  or  marks 
 we  can  hardiy  well  ma!ce  use  of  numbers  in  reckoning,  especially  where  the 
 combination  is  made  up  of  any  gTeat  multitude  of  units ;  which  put  to- 
 gether without  a  name  or  mark,  to  distinguish  that  pi'ecise  collection,  will 
 hardly  be  kept  from  being  a  heap  in  confusion. 
 
 Sect.  6.  This  I  think  to  be  the  reason  why  some  Americans  I  have 
 spoken  with,  (who  were  otherwise  of  quick  and  rational  parts  enough,)  could 
 not,  as  we  do,  by  any  means  count  to  one  thousand,  nor  had  any  distinct 
 idea  of  that  number,  though  they  could  reckon  very  well  to  twenty ;  because 
 their  language  being  scanty,  and  accommodated  only  to  the  few  necessaries 
 of  a  needy  snnple  life,  unacquainted  either  with  trade  or  mathematics,  had 
 no  words  in  it  to  stand  for  one  thousand  ;  so  that  when  they  were  discours- 
 ed with  of  those  great  numbers,  they  would  show  the  hairs  of  their  head 
 to  express  a  great  multitude  which  they  could  not  number  ;  which  inability, 
 I  suppose,  proceeded  from  their  want  of  names.  The  Tououpinambos  had 
 no  names  for  numbers  above  five  ;  any  number  beyond  that  they  made  out 
 by  showing  their  fingers,  and  the  fingers  of  others  who  were  present(6).  And 
 I  doubt  not  but  we  ourselves  might  distinctly  number  in  words  a  great  deal 
 farther  than  we  usually  do,  would  we  find  out  but  some  fit  denomination  to 
 signify  them  by;  whereas  in  the  way  we  take  now  to  name  them  by  millions 
 of  millions  of  millions,  &c.  it  is  hard  to  go  beyond  eighteen,  or  at  most  four 
 and  twenty  decimal  progressions,  without  confusion.  But  to  show  how 
 much  distinct  names  conduce  to  our  well  reckoning,  or  having  useful  ideas 
 of  numbers,  let  us  set  all  these  following  figures  in  one  continued  line,  as 
 the  marks  of  one  number:  v.  g. 
 
 Nonillions.  Octillions.  Septillions.  Sextillions.  Quintillions. 
 
 857324  162486              34.5896             437918  423147 
 
 Quatrillions.  Trillions.          Billions.  Millions.  Units. 
 
 248106  23.5421              261734             368149  623137 
 
 (6)  Histoire  d'lui  voyasje,  fait  en  la  terre  du  Brasil,  par  Jean  de  Lery,  c.  20.  ^£1.. 
 
A 
 
 130  UF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 The  ordinary  way  of  naming  this  nnmber  in  English  will  be  the  often  re- 
 peating of  millions,  of  millions,  of  millions,  of  millions,  of  millions,  of  mil- 
 lions, of  millions,  of  millions  (which  is  the  denomination  of  the  second  six 
 figures.)  In  which  way  it  will  be  very  hard  to  have  any  distinguishing  no- 
 tions of  this  number  ;  but  whether,  by  giving  every  six  ligures  a  new  and  or- 
 derly denomination,  these,  and  i>erhaps  a  great  many  more  figures  in  j)ro- 
 gression,  might.not  easily  be  counted  distinctly,  and  ideas  of  them  both  got 
 more  easily  to  ourselves,  and  more  plainly  signified  to  others,  I  leave  it  to 
 be  considered.  This  I  mention  only  to  siiow  how  necessary  distinct  names 
 are  to  numbering,  without  pretending  to  introduce  new  ones  of  my  inven- 
 tion. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Why  children  number  7iot  earlier. — Thus  children,  either  for 
 want  of  names  to  mark  the  several  progressions  of  numbers,  or  not  having 
 yef  the  faculty  to  collect  scattered  ideas  into  complex  ones,  and  range  them 
 m  a  regular  order,  and  so  retain  them  in  their  memories,  as  is  necessary  to 
 reckoning  ;  do  not  begin  to  number  very  early,  nor  proceed  in  it  very  far 
 or  steadily,  till  a  good  while  after  they  are  well  furnished  with  good  store 
 of  other  ideas  ;  and  one  may  oflen  observe  them  discourse  and  reason  pret- 
 ty well,  and  have  very  clear  conceptions  of  several  other  things,  before  they 
 can  tell  twenty.  Ajid  some,  through  the  default  of  their  memories,  who 
 cannot  retain  the  several  combinations  of  numbers,  with  their  names  annex- 
 ed in  their  distinct  orders,  and  the  dependence  of  so  long  a  train  of  numeral 
 progi'essions,  and  their  relation  one  to  another,  are  not  able  all  their  lifetime 
 to  reckon  or  regularly  go  over  any  moderate  series  of  numbers.  For  he 
 that  will  count  twenty,  or  have  any  idea  of  that  number,  must  know  that 
 nineteen  went  before,  with  the  distinct  name  or  sign  of  every  one  of  them, 
 as  they  stand  marked  in  their  order ;  for  wherever  this  fails,  a  gap  is  made, 
 the  chain  breaks,  and  the  progress  in  numbering  can  go  no  farther.  So 
 that  to  reckon  right,  it  is  required,  1.  That  the  mind  distinguish  carefiilly/ 
 two  ideas,  which  are  different  one  from  another  only  by  the  addition; 
 or  subtraction  of  one  unit.  2.  That  it  retain  in  memory  the  names  or 
 marks  of  the  several  combinations,  from  an  unit  to  that  number  ;  and  that 
 not  confusedly,  and  at  random,  but  in  that  exact  order  that  the  numbers  fol- 
 low one  another;  in  either  of  which,  if  it  trips,  the  whole  business  of  number- 
 ing will  be  disturbed,  and  there  will  remain  only  the  confused  idea  of  multi- 
 tude, but  the  ideas  necessary  to  distinct  numeration  will  not  be  attained  to. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Number  measures  all  measurables. — This  farther  is  observa- 
 ble in  number,  that  it  is  that  which  the  mind  makes  use  of  in  measuring 
 all  things  that  by  us  are  measurable,  which  principally  are  expansion  and 
 duration ;  and  our  idea  of  infinity,  even  when  applied  to  those,  seems  to 
 be  nothing  but  the  infinity  of  number.  For  what  else  are  our  ideas  of  eter- 
 nity and  immensity,  but  the  repeated  additions  of  certain  ideas  of  imagined 
 parts  of  duration  and  expansion,  with  the  infinity  of  number,  in  which  we 
 can  come  to  no  end  of  addition?  For  such  an  inexhaustible  stock,  number 
 (of  all  other  our  ideas)  most  clearly  furnishes  us  with,  as  is  obvious  to  every 
 one.  For  let  a  man  collect  into  one  sum  as  great  a  number  as  he  pleases, 
 this  multitude,  how  gi'eat  soever,  lessens  not  one  jot  the  power  of  adding 
 to  it,  or  brings  him  any  nearer  the  end  of  the  inexhaustible  stock  of  number, 
 where  still  there  remains  as  much  to  be  added  as  if  none  were  taken  out. 
 And  this  endless  addition  or  addibility  (if  any  one  like  the  word  better)  of 
 numbers,  so  apparent  to  the  mind,  is  that,  I  think,  which  gives  us  the  clear- 
 est and  most  distinct  idea  of  infinity :  of  which  more  in  the  following  chap- 
 ter. 
 
Ch.  17.  ,  INFINITY  137 
 
 CHAPTER  XVII. 
 
 OF  INFINITY. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Infinity,  in  its  original  intention,  attributed  to  space,  dura- 
 tion, and  number. — He  that  would  know  what  kind  of  idea  it  is  to  which 
 we  give  the  name  of  infinity,  cannot  do  jt  better  than  by  considering  to 
 what  infinity  is  by  the  mind  more  immediately  attributed,  and  then  how 
 the  mind  comes  to  frame  it. 
 
 Finite  and  infinite  seem  to  me  to  be  looked  upon  by  the  mind  as  the 
 modes  of  quantity,  and  to  be  attributed  primarily  in  their  first  designation 
 onty^tb  those  things  which  have  parts,  and  are  capable  of  increase  or  dimi- 
 nution, by  the  addition  or  subtraction  of  any  the  least  part;  and  such  are 
 the  ideas  of  space,  duration,  and  number,  which  we  have  considered  in  the 
 foregoing  chapters.  It  is  true,  that  we  cannot  but  be  assured,  that  the 
 great  God,  of  whom  and  from  whom  are  all  things,  is  incomprehensibly 
 infinite :  but  yet,  when  we  apply  to  that  first  and  supreme  Being,  our  idea 
 of  infinite,  in  our  weak  and  narrow  thoughts,  we  do  it  primarily  in  respect 
 of  his  duration  and  ubiquity;  and,  I  think,  more  figuratively  to  his  power 
 wisdom,  and  goodness,  and  other  attributes,  which  are  properly  inexhaus- 
 tible and  incomprehensible,  t&c.  For,  when  we  call  them  infinite,  we  have 
 no  other  idea  of  this  infinity,  but  what  carries  with  it  some  reflection  on, 
 and  intimation  of,  that  number  or  extent  of  the  acts  or  objects  of  God's  pow- 
 er, wisdom,  and  goodness,  which  can  never  be  supposed  so  great  or  so 
 many,  which  these  attributes  will  not  always  surmount  and  exceed,  let  us 
 multiply  them  in  our  thoughts  as  far  as  we  can ;  with  all  the  infinity  of 
 endless  number.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  how  these  attributes  are  in  God, 
 who  is  infinitely  beyond  the  reach  of  our  narrow  capacities.  They  do, 
 without  doubt,  contain  in  them  all  possible  perfection :  but  this,  I  say,  is 
 our  way  of  conceiving  them,  and  these  our  ideas  of  their  infinity. 
 
 Sect.  2.  The  idea  offiiiite  easily  found. — Finite,  then,  and  infinite,  being 
 by  the  mind  looked  on  as  modifications  of  expansion  and  duration,  the  next 
 thing  to  be  considered  is,  how  the  mind  comes  by  them.  As  for  the  idea 
 of  finite,  there  is  no  great  difficulty.  The  obvious  portions  of  extension, 
 that  afl^ect  our  senses,  carry  with  them  into  the  mind  the  idea  of  finite ;  and 
 the  ordinary  periods  of  succession,  whereby  we  measure  time  and  duration, 
 as  hours,  days,  and  years,  are  bounded  lengths.  The  difficulty  is,  how 
 we  come  by  those  boundless  ideas  of  eternity  and  immensity,  since  the  ob- 
 jects we  converse  with  come  so  much  short  of  any  approach  or  proportion 
 to  that  largeness. 
 
 Sect.  3.  How  we  come  by  the  idea  of  infinity. — Every  one  that  has  any 
 idea  of  any  stated  lengths  of  space,  as  a  foot,  finds  that  he  can  repeat  that 
 idea  :  and,  joining  it  to  the  former,  make  the  idea  of  two  feet ;  and  by  the  ad- 
 dition of  a  third,  tlu-ee  feet ;  and  so  on,  without  ever  coming  to  an  end  of 
 his  addition,  whether  of  the  same  idea  of  a  foot,  or  if  he  pleases  of  doubling 
 it,  or  any  other  idea  he  has  of  any  length,  as  a  mile,  or  diameter  of  the  earth, 
 or  of  the  orbus  magnus ;  for  whichsoever  of  these  he  takes,  and  how  often 
 soever  he  doubles,  or  any  otherwise  multiplies  it,  he  finds  that  after 
 he  has  continued  this  doubling  in  his  thoughts,  and  enlarged  his  idea  as  much 
 as  he  pleases,  he  has  no  more  reason  to  stop,  nor  is  one  jot  nearer  the  end 
 of  such  addition,  than  he  was  at  first  setting  out.  The  power  of  enlarging 
 his  idea  of  space  by  farther  additions,  remaining  still  the  same,  he  hence 
 takes  the  idea  of  infinite  space. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Our  idea  of  space  boundless. — Tliis,  I  think,  is  the  way  where- 
 by tne  mind  gets  the  idea  of  infinite  space.     It  is  a  quite  different  considera- 
 S 
 
138  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 tion  to  examine  whether  the  mind  has  the  idea  of  such  a  boundless  space 
 actually  existing,  since  our  ideas  are  not  always  proofs  of  the  existence  of 
 things;  but  yet,  since  this  comes  here  in  our  \va\',  I  suppose  I  may  say, 
 that  we  are  apt  to  tliink  that  si>ace  in  itself  is  actually  boundless :  to  which 
 imagination,  tiie  idea  of  space  or  expansion  of  itself  naturally  leads  us.  For 
 it  being  considered  by  us  either  as  the  extension  of  body,  or  as  existing  by 
 itself,  without  any  solid  matter,  taking  it  up  (for  of  such  a  void  space  we 
 liave  not  only  the  idea,  but  I  have  proved,  as  1  think,  from  the  motion  of 
 body,  its  necessary  existence),  it  is  impossible  tiie  mind  should  be  ever 
 able  to  find  or  suppose  any  end  <A'  it,  or  be  stopped  any  where  in  its  pro- 
 gress in  this  space,  how  far  soever  it  extends  its  thoughts.  Any  bounds 
 made  with  body,  even  adamantine  walls,  are  so  far  from  putting  a  stop  to 
 the  mind  in  its  farther  progress  in  space  and  extension,  that  it  rather  fa- 
 cilitates and  enlarges  it;  for  so  far  as  that  body  reaches,  so  far  no  one  can 
 doubt  of  extension  :  and  when  we  are  come  to  the  utmost  extremity  of 
 body,  what  is  there  that  can  there  put  a  stop  and  satisfy  the  mind  that  it 
 is  at  the  end  of  space,  when  it  perceives  that  it  is  not ;  nay,  when  it  is 
 satisfied  that  body  itself  can  move  into  it  1  For  if  it  be  necessary 
 for  the  motion  of  body,  that  there  should  be  an  empty  space,  though  ever 
 so  little,  here  among  bodies;  and  if  it  be  possible  for  body  to  move  in  or 
 through  that  empty  space  (nay,  it  is  impossible  for  any  particle  of  matter 
 to  move  but  into  an  empty  space,)  the  same  possibility  of  a  body's  moving 
 into  a  void  space,  beyond  the  utmost  bounds  of  body,  as  well  as  into  a  void 
 space  interspersed  among  bodies,  will  always  remain  clear  and  evident: 
 the  idea  of  empty  pure  space,  whether  within  or  beyond  the  confines  of 
 all  bodies,  being  exactly  the  same,  differing  not  in  nature,  though  in  bulk; 
 and  there  being  nothing  to  hinder  body  from  moving  into  it.  So  that 
 wherever  the  mind  places  itself  by  any  thought,  either  among  or  remote 
 from  all  bodies,  it  can  in  this  uniform  idea  of  space  nowhere  find  any  bounds, 
 any  end ;  and  so  must  necessarily  conclude  it,  by  the  very  nature  and  idea 
 of  each  part  of  it,  to  be  actually  infinite. 
 
 Sect.  5.  A7id  so  of  duration. — As  by  the  po_wer  we  find  in  ourselves  Qf 
 repeating,  as  often  as  we  will,  any  idea  of  space,  we  get  the  idea  of 
 immensity,  so,  by  being  able  to  repeat  the  idea  of  any  length  of  duration 
 we  have  in  our  minds,  with  all  the  endless  addition  of  number,  we  come 
 by  the  idea  of  eternity.  For  we  find  in  ourselves,  we  can  no  more  come 
 to  an  end  of  such  repeated  ideas,  than  we  can  come  to  the  end  of  number, 
 which  every  one  perceives  lie  cannot.  But  here  again  it  is  another  ques- 
 tion, quite  different  from  our  having  an  idea  of  eternity,  to  know  wheth- 
 er there  were  any  real  being,  whose  duration  has  been  eternal.  And  as 
 to  this,  I  say,  he  that  considers  something  now  existing,  must  necessarily 
 come  to  something  eternal.  But  having  spoke  of  this  in  another  place,  I 
 shall  here  say  no  more  of  it,  but  proceed  on  to  some  other  considerations 
 of  our  idea  of  infinity. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Why  other  ideas  are  not  capable  of  infinity. — If  it  be  so,  that 
 our  idea  of  infinity  be  got  from  the  power  we  observe  in  ourselves  of  re- 
 peating without  end  our  own  ideas ;  it  may  be  demanded,  "  why  we  do  not 
 attribute  infinite  to  other  ideas,  as  well  as  those  of  space  and  duration;  " 
 since  they  may  be  as  easily  and  as  often  repeated  in  our  minds  as  the  other  ; 
 and  yet  nobody  ever  thinks  of  infinite  sweetness,  or  infinite  whiteness, 
 though  he  can  repeat  the  idea  of  sweet  or  white  as  frequently  as  those  of  a 
 yard,  or  a  day  ?  To  which  I  answer,  all  the  ideas  that  are  considered  as 
 having  parts,  and  are  capable  of  increase  by  the  addition  of  any  equal  or 
 less  parts,  afford  us  by  their  repetition  the  idea  of  infinity  ;  because  with 
 this  endless  repetition  there  is  continued  an  enlargement,  of  which  there 
 can  be  no  end.  But  in  other  ideas  it  is  not  so  :  for  to  the  largest  idea  of 
 extension  or  duration  that  I  at  present  have,  the  addition  of  any  the  least 
 part  makes  an  increase;  but  to  the  perfectest  idea  I  have  of  the  whitest 
 
Ch.  17.  INFINITY.  139 
 
 whiteness,  if  I  add  another  of  a  less  or  equal  whiteness  (and  of  a  whiter 
 than  I  have  I  cannot  add  the  idea,)  it  makes  no  increase,  and  enlarges  not 
 my  idea  at  all  ;  and  therefore  the  different  ideas  of  whiteness,  &c.  are  called 
 degrees.  For  those  ideas  that  consist  of  parts  are  capable  of  being  aug- 
 mented  by  every  addition  of  the  least  part ;  but  if  you  take  the  idea  of 
 white,  which  one  parcel  of  snow  yielded  yesterday  to  your  sight,  and  another 
 idea  of  white  from  another  parcel  of  snow  you  see  to-day,  and  put  them  to- 
 gether in  your  mind,  they  embody,  as  it  were,  and  run  into  one,  and  the 
 idea  of  whiteness  is  not  at  all  increased  ;  and  if  we  add  a  less  degree  of 
 whiteness  to  a  greater,  we  are  so  far  from  increasing  that  we  diminish  it. 
 Those  ideas  that  consist  not  of  parts  cannot  be  augmented  to  what  pro- 
 portion men  please,  or  be  stretched  beyond  what  they  have  received  by 
 their  senses,  but  space,  duration,  and  number,  being  capable  of  increase 
 by  repetition,  leave  in  the  mind  an  idea  of  endless  room  for  more :  nor  can 
 we  conceive  any  where  a  stop  to  a  farther  addition  or  progression,  and  so 
 those  ideas  alone  lead  our  minds  towards  the  thought  of  infinity. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Difference  between  infinity  of  space,  and  space  infinite. — 
 Though  our  idea  of  infinity  arise  irom  the  contemplation  of  quantity,  and 
 the  endless  increase  the  mind  is  able  to  make  in  quantity,  by  the  repeated 
 additions  of  what  portions  thereof  it  pleases  ;  yet  I  guess  we  cause  great 
 confusion  in  our  thoughts,  when  we  join  infinity  to  any  supposed  idea  of 
 quantity  the  mind  can  be  thought  to  have,  and  so  discourse  or  reason  about 
 an  infinite  quantity,  viz.  an  infinite  space,  or  an  infinite  duration.  For 
 our  idea  of  infinity  being,  as  I  think,  an  endless  growing  idea;  but  the 
 idea  of  any  quantity  the  mind  has,  being  at  that  time  terminated  in  that 
 idea  (for  be  it  as  great  as  it  will,  it  can  be  no  greater  than  it  is,)  to  join  infinity 
 to  it,  is  to  adjust  a  standing  measure  to  a  growing  bulk;  and  therefore  I 
 think  it  is  not  an  insignificant  subtlety,  if  I  say  that  we  are  carefully  to 
 distinguish  between  the  idea  of  the  infinity  of  space,  and  the  idea  of  a  space 
 infinite  :  the  first  is  nothing  but  a  supposed  endless  progression  of  the 
 mind,  over  what  repeated  ideas  of  space  it  pleases  ;  but  to  have  actually 
 in  the  mind  the  idea  of  a  space  infinite,  is  to  suppose  the  mind  already 
 passed  over,  and  actually  to  have  a  view  of  all  those  repeated  ideas  of  space, 
 which  an  endless  repetition  can  never  totally  represent  to  it;  which  carries 
 in  it  a  plain  contradiction. 
 
 Sect.  8.  We  have  no  idea  of  infinite  space. — This,  perhaps,  will  be  a 
 little  plainer,  if  we  consider  it  in  numbers.  The  infinity  of  numbiers,  to 
 the  end  of  whose  addition  every  one  perceives  there  is  no  approach,  easily 
 appears  to  any  one  that  reflects  on  it ;  but  how  clear  soever  this  idea  of 
 the  infinity  of  number  be,  there  is  nothing  yet  more  evident,  than  the  ab- 
 surdity of  the  actual  idea  of  an  infinite  number.  Whatsoever  positive  ideas 
 we  have  in  our  minds  of  any  space,  duration,  or  number,  let  them  be  ever 
 so  great,  they  are  still  finite  ;  but  when  we  suppose  an  inexhaustible  re- 
 mainder, from  which  we  remove  all  bounds,  and  wherein  we  allow  the 
 mind  an  endless  progression  of  thought,  without  ever  completing  the 
 idea,  there  we  have  our  idea  of  infinity  ;  which,  though  it  seems  to  be  pretty 
 clear  when  we  consider  nothing  else  in  it  but  the  negation  of  an  end,  yet 
 when  we  would  frame  in  our  minds  the  idea  of  an  infinite  space  or  duration, 
 that  idea  is  very  obscure  and  confused,  because  it  is  made  up  of  two  parts, 
 very  different,  if  not  inconsistent.  For  let  a  man  frame  in  his  mind  an  idea 
 of  any  space  or  number  as  great  as  he  will,  it  is  plain  the  mind  rests  and 
 terminates  in  that  idea,  which  is  contrary  to  the  idea  of  infinity,  which 
 consists  in  a  supposed  endless  progression.  And  therefore  I  think  it  is,  that 
 we  are  so  easily  confounded,  when  we  come  to  argue  and  reason  about  infinite 
 space  or  duration,  &c.  :  because  the  parts  of  such  an  idea  not  being  per- 
 ceived to  be,  as  they  are,  inconsistent,  the  one  side  or  the  other  always 
 perplexes,  whatever  consequences  we  draw  from  the  other  ;  as  an  idea  of 
 motion  not  passing  on  would  perplex  any  one,  who  should  argue  from 
 
140  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 such  an  idea,  whicli  is  not  better  than  an  idea  of  motion  at  rest :  and  such 
 anotlier  seems  to  me  to  be  the  idea  of  a  space,  or  (wiiich  is  the  same  thing) 
 a  number  infinite,  i.  e.  of  a  space  or  number  which  the  mind  actually  has, 
 and  so  views  and  terminates  in;  and  of  a  space  or  number  which  in  a  constant 
 and  endless  enlargfiiig  and  progression,  it  can  in  thouglit  never  attain  to. 
 For  how  large  soever  an  idea  of  space  I  have  in  my  mind,  it  is  no  larger 
 than  it  is  that  instant  that  I  have  it,  though  I  be  capable  the  next  instant 
 to  double  it,  and  so  on  in  infmitum  :  for  tliat  alone  is  infinite  which  has  no 
 bounds  ;  and  that  the  idea  of  infinity,  in  vvliich  our  thoughts  can  find  none. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Number  affords  us  the  clearest  idea  of  infinity. — But  of  all 
 other  ideas,  it  is  number,  as  I  liave  said,  which,  I  think,  furnishes  us  with 
 the  clearest  and  most  distinct  idea  of  infinity  we  are  capable  of.  For  even 
 in  space  and  duration,  when  the  mind  pursues  the  idea  of  infinity,  it  there 
 makes  use  of  the  ideas  and  rej)etitions  of  numbers,  as  of  millions  and  mil- 
 lions of  miles,  or  years,  which  are  so  many  distinct  ideas,  kept  best  by 
 number  from  running  into  a  confused  heap,  wherein  the  mind  loses  itself; 
 and  when  it  has  added  together  as  many  millions,  &c.  as  it  pleases,  of 
 known  lengtJis  of  space  or  duration,  the  clearest  idea  it  can  get  of  infinity 
 is  the  confused  incomprehensible  remainder  of  endless  addible  numbers  which 
 affords  no  prospect  of  stop  or  boundary. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Our  different  conception  of  the  infinity  of  number,  duration, 
 and  expansion. — It  will,  perliaps,  give  us  a  little  fartiier  light  into  the  idea 
 we  have  of  infinity,  and  discover  to  us  that  it  is  nothing  but  the  infinity  of 
 number  applied  to  dfeterminate  parts,  of  which  we  have  in  our  minds  the 
 distinct  ideas,  if  we  consider  that  number  is  not  generally  thought  by  us 
 infinite,  whereas  duration  and  extension  are  apt  to  be  so ;  which  arises 
 from  hence,  that  in  number  we  are  at  one  end  as  it  were  :  for  there  being 
 in  number  nothing  less  than  a  unit,  we  there  stop,  and  are  at  an  end ;  but 
 in  addition  or  increase  of  number,  we  can  set  no  bounds.  And  so  it  is 
 like  a  line,  whereof  one  end  terminating  with  us,  the  other  is  extended 
 still  forward  beyond  all  that  we  can  conceive ;  but  in  space  and  duration  it 
 is  otherwise.  For  in  duration  we  consider  it,  as  if  this  line  of  number 
 were  extended  both  ways,  to  an  unconceivable,  undeterminate,  and  infinite 
 length :  which  is  evident  to  any  one  that  will  but  reflect  on  what  considera- 
 tion he  hath  of  eternity ;  which,  I  suppose,  he  will  find  to  be  nothing  else 
 but  the  turning  this  infinity  of  number  both  ways  a  parte  ante  and  a  parte 
 post,  as  they  speak.  For  when  we  would  consider  eternity,  a  parte  ante, 
 what  do  we  but,  beginning  from  ourselves  and  the  present  time  we  are  in, 
 repeat  in  our  minds  the  idea  of  years,  or  ages,  or  any  other  assignable 
 portion  of  duration  past,  with  a  prospect  of  proceeding  in  such  addition  with 
 all  the  the  infinity  of  number  ?  and  when  we  would  consider  eternity,  a  parte 
 postk,  we  just  after  the  same  rate  begin  from  ourselves,  and  reckon  by  mul- 
 tiplied periods  yet  to  come,  still  extending  that  line  of  number,  as  before. 
 And  these  two  being  put  together,  are  that  infinite  duration  we  call  eternity ; 
 which,  as  we  turn  our  view  either  way,  forward  or  backward,  appears  in- 
 finite, because  we  still  turn  that  way  the  infinite  end  of  number,  i.  e.  the 
 power  still  of  adding  more. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Tlie  same  happens  also  in  space,  wherein  conceiving  onrselves 
 to  be  as  it  were  in  the  centre,  we  do  on  all  sides  pursue  those  indetermina- 
 ble lines  of  number:  and  reckoning  any  way  from  ourselves,  a  yard,  mile, 
 diameter  of  the  earth,  or  orbis  magnus,  by  the  infinity  of  number,  we  add 
 others  to  them  as  oflen  as  we  will ;  and  having  no  more  reason  to  set  bounds 
 to  those  repeated  ideas  than  we  have  to  set  bounds  to  number,  we  have 
 that  indeterminable  idea  of  immensity. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Infinite  divisibility. — And  since  in  any  bulk  of  matter  our 
 thoughts  can  never  arrive  at  the  utmost  divisibility,  therefore  there  is  an  ap- 
 parent infinity  to  us  also  in  that,  which  has  the  infinity  also  of  number ;  but 
 with  this  difference,  that,  in  the  former  considerations  of  the  infinity  of 
 
Ch.  17.  INFINITY.  141 
 
 space  and  duration,  we  only  use  addition  of  numbers;  whereas  this  is  like 
 the  division  of  an  unit  into  its  fi-actions,  wherein  the  mind  also  can  proceed 
 in  infinitum,  as  well  as  in  the  former  additions ;  it  being  indeed  but  the  ad- 
 dition still  of  new  numbers:  though  in  the  addition  of  the  one  we  can  have 
 no  more  the  positive  idea  of  a  space  infinitely  great,  than,  in  the  division 
 of  the  other,  we  can  have  the  idea  of  a  body  infinitely  little;  our  idea  of 
 infinity  being,  as  I  may  say,  a  growing  or  fugitive  idea,  still  in  a  bomidless 
 progression,  that  can  stop  nowhere. 
 
 Sect.  13.  No  positive  idea  of  infinity . — Though  it  be  hard,  I  think,  to 
 find  any  one  so  absurd  as  to  say  he  has  the  positive  idea  of  an  actual  infinite 
 number ;  the  infinity  whereof  lies  only  in  a  power  still  of  adding  any  combi- 
 nation of  units  to  any  former  number,  and  that  as  long  and  as  much  as 
 one  will ;  the  like  also  being  in  the  infinity  of  space  and  duration,  which 
 power  leaves  always  to  the  mind  room  for  endless  additions  ;  yet  there  be 
 those  who  imagine  they  have  positive  ideas  of  infinite  duration  and  space. 
 It  would,  I  think,  be  enough  to  destroy  any  such  positive  idea  of  infinite,  to 
 ask  him  that  has  it,  whether  he  could  add  to  it  or  no ;  which  would  easily 
 show  the  mistake  of  such  a  positive  idea.  We  can,  I  think,  have  no  posi- 
 tive idea  of  any  space  or  duration  which  is  not  made  up  of,  and  commensurate 
 to,  repeated  numbers  of  feet  or  yards,  or  days  and  years,  which  are  the  com- 
 mon measures,  whereof  we  have  the  ideas  in  our  minds,  and  whereby  we 
 judge  of  the  greatness  of  this  sort  of  quantities.  And  therefore,  since  an 
 infinite  idea  of  space  or  duration  must  needs  be  made  up  of  infinite  parts,  it 
 can  have  no  other  infinity  than  that  of  number,  capable  still  of  farther  addi- 
 tion ;  but  not  an  actual  positive  idea  of  a  number  infinite.  For,  I  think, 
 it  is  evident  that  the  addition  of  finite  things  together  (as  are  all  lengths, 
 whereof  we  have  the  positive  ideas)  can  never  otherwise  produce  the  idea 
 of  infinite,  than  as  number  does;  which,  consisting  of  additions  of  infinite 
 units  one  to  another,  suggests  the  idea  of  infinite,  only  by  a  power  we  find 
 we  have  of  stQl  increasing  the  sum,  and  adding  more  of  the  same  kind, 
 without  coming  one  jot  nearer  the  end  of  such  progression. 
 
 Sect.  14.  They  who  would  prove  their  idea  of  infinite  to  be  positive, 
 seem  to  me  to  do  it  by  a  pleasant  argument,  taken  from  the  negation  of  an 
 end;  which  being  negative,  the  negation  of  it  is  positive.  He  that  consi- 
 ders that  the  end  is,  in  body,  but  the  extremity  or  superficies  of  that  body, 
 will  not  perhaps  be  forward  to  grant  that  the  end  is  a  bare  negative  :  and 
 he  that  perceives  the  end  of  his  pen  is  black  or  white,  will  be  apt  to  think 
 that  the  end  is  something  more  than  a  pure  negation.  Nor  is  it,  when  ap- 
 plied to  duration,  the  bare  negation  of  existence,  but  more  properly  the 
 last  moment  of  it.  But  if  they  will  have  the  end  to  be  nothing  but  the  bare 
 negation  of  existence,  I  am  sure  they  cannot  deny  but  the  beginning  is  the 
 first  instant  of  being,  and  is  not  by  any  body  conceived  to  be  a  bare  nega- 
 tion: and,  therefore,  by  their  own  argument,  the  idea  of  eternal,  a  parte 
 ante,  or  of  a  duration  without  a  beginning,  is  but  a  negative  idea. 
 
 Sect.  1.5.  What  is  positive,  what  negative,  in  our  idea  of  infinite. — The 
 idea  of  infinite  has,  I  confess,  something  of  positive  in  all  those  things  we 
 apply  to  it.  When  we  would  think  of  infinite  space  or  duration,  we  at 
 first  step  usually  make  some  veiy  large  idea,  as  perhaps  of  millions  of  ages, 
 or  miles,  which  possibly  we  double  and  multiply  several  times.  All  that 
 we  thus  amass  together  in  our  thoughts,  is  positive,  and  the  assemblage  of 
 a  great  number  of  positive  ideas  of  space  or  duration.  But  what  still  re- 
 mains beyond  this,  we  have  no  more  a  positive  distinct  notion  of,  than  a 
 mariner  has  of  the  depth  of  the  sea;  where,  having  let  down  a  large  portion 
 of  his  somiding-line,  he  reaches  no  bottom:  whereby  he  knows  the  depth 
 to  be  so  many  fathoms  and  more  ;  but  how  much  that  more  is  he  hath  no 
 distinct  notion  at  all  :  and  could  he  always  supply  new  line,  and  find  the 
 plummet  always  sink,  without  ever  stopping,  he  would  be  something  in  the 
 posture  of  the  mind  reaching  after  a  complete  and  positive  idea  of  infinity. 
 
14-2  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 In  which  case  let  this  line  be  ten,  or  ten  thousand  fathoms  ]on<^,  it  equally 
 discovers  what  is  beyond  it;  and  gives  only  this  conliisfd  and  comparative 
 idea,  that  this  is  not  all,  but  one  may  yet  go  farther.  So  much  as  the  mind 
 comprehends  of  any  space,  it  has  a  positive  idea  of ;  but  in  endeavouring  to 
 make  it  infinite,  it  being  always  enlarging,  always  advancing,  the  idea  is 
 still  imperfect  and  incomplete.  So  much  space  as  the  mind  takes  a  view 
 of  in  its  contemplation  of  greatness,  is  a  clear  picture,  and  positive  in  the 
 understanding :  but  infinite  is  still  greater.  1.  Then  the  idga  of  so  much 
 is  positive  and  clear.  2.  The  idea. of  greater  is  also  clear,  but  it  is  but  a 
 comjjarative  idcn,  viz.  the  idea' of  so  nuich  greater  as  cannot  be  compre- 
 hended ;  and  is  plainly  negative,  not  positive.  For  he  has  no  positive  clear 
 idea  of  the  largeness  of  any  e.Ktension  (which  is  that  sought  for  in  the  idea 
 of  infinite,)  that  has  not  a  comprehensive  idea  of  the  dimensions  of  it ;  and 
 such  nobody,  I  think,  pretends  to  in  what  is  infinite.  For  to  say  a  man 
 has  a  positive  clear  idea  of  any  quantity,  without  knowing  how  great  it  is, 
 is  as  reasonable  as  to  say,  he  has  the  positive  clear  idea  of  the  number  of 
 the  sands  on  the  sea-shore,  who  knows  not  how  many  there  be,  but  only 
 that  they  are  more  than  twenty.  For  just  such  a  perfect  and  positive  idea  has 
 he  of  an  infinite  space  or  duration,  who  says  it  is  larger  than  the  extent  or 
 duration  often,  one  hundred,  one  thousand,  or  any  other  number  of  miles, 
 or  years,  whereof  he  has,  or  can  have,  a  positive  idea ;  which  is  all  the 
 idea,  I  think,  we  have  of  infinite.  So  that  what  lies  beyond  our  positive 
 idea  towards  infinity,  lies  in  obscurity ;  and  has  the  indeterminate  confu- 
 sion of  a  negative  idea,  wherein  I  know  I  neither  do  nor  can  comprehend 
 all  I  would,  it  being  too  large  for  a  finite  and  narrow  capacity :  and  that 
 cannot  but  be  very  far  from  a  positive  complete  idea,  wherein  the  greatest 
 part  of  what  I  would  comprehend  is  left  out,  under  the  undeterminate  in- 
 timation of  being  still  greater :  for  to  say,  that  having  in  any  quantity 
 measured  so  much,  or  gone  so  far,  you  are  not  yet  at  the  end,  is  only  to 
 say,  that  that  quantity  is  greater.  So  that  the  negation  of  an  end,  in  any 
 quantity  is,  in  other  words,  only  to  say  that  it  is  bigger  :  and  a  total  negation 
 of  an  end  is  but  carrying  this  bigger  still  with  you,  in  all  the  progressions 
 your  thoughts  shall  make  in  quantity,  and  adding  this  idea  of  still  greater 
 to  all  the  ideas  you  have,  or  can  be  supposed  to  have,  of  quantity.  Now, 
 whether  such  an  idea  as  that  be  positive,  I  leave  any  one  to  consider. 
 
 Sect.  16.  We  have  no  positive  idea  of  an  infinite  duration. — I  ask  those 
 who  say  they  have  a  positive  idea  of  eternity,  whether  their  idea  of  duration 
 includes  in  it  succession,  or  not  1  If  it  does  not,  they  ought  to  show  the 
 diflference  of  their  notion  of  duration,  when  applied  to  aji  eternal  being  and 
 to  a  finite ;  since  perhaps,  there  may  be  others,  as  w^ell  as  I,  who  will  own 
 to  them  their  weakness  of  understanding  in  this  point ;  and  acknowledge 
 that  the  notion  they  have  of  duration  forces  them  to  conceive,  that  what- 
 ever has  duration,  is  of  a  longer  continuance  to-day  than  it  was  yesterday. 
 If,  to  avoid  succession  in  external  existence  they  recur  to  the  punctum 
 stans  of  the  schools,  I  suppose  they  will  thereby  very  little  mend  the  matter, 
 or  help  us  to  a  more  clear  and  positive  idea  of  infinite  duration,  there  being 
 nothing  more  inconceivable  to  me  tlian  duration  without  succession.  Be- 
 sides, t\\?it  punctum  stans,  if  it  signify  any  thing,  hcmgnon  quantum,  finite 
 or  infinite,  cannot  belong  to  it.  But  if  our  weak  apprehensions  cannot 
 separate  succession  from  any  duration  whatsoever,  our  idea  of  eternity  can 
 be  nothing  but  of  infinite  succession  of  moments  of  duration,  wherein  any 
 thing  does  exist ;  and  whether  any  one  has,  or  can  have  a  positive  idea  of 
 an  actual  infinite  number,  I  leave  him  to  consider,  till  his  infinite  number 
 be  so  great  that  he  himself  can  add  no  more  to  it;  and  as  long  as  he  can 
 increase  it,  I  doubt  he  himself  will  think  the  idea  he  hath  of  it  a  little  too 
 scanty  for  positive  infinity. 
 
 Sect.  17.  I  think  it  unavoidable  for  every  considering  rational  creature, 
 that  will  but  examine  his  own  or  any  other  existence,  to  have  the  notion 
 
Ch.  17.  INFINITY.  143 
 
 of  an  eternal  wiae  Being,  who  had  no  beginning;  and  such  an  idea  of  infi- 
 nite duration  I  am  sure  I  have.  But  this  negation  of  a  beginning  being  but 
 the  negation  of  a  positive  thing,  scarce  gives  me  a  positive  idea  of  infinity ; 
 which,  whenever  I  endeavour  to  extend  my  thouglUs  to,  I  confess  myself 
 at  a  loss,  and  I  find  I  cannot  attain  any  clear  comprehension  of  it. 
 
 Sect.  18.  No  ])ositive  idea  of  infinite  space. — He  that  thinks  he  has  a 
 positive  idea  of  infinite  space,  will,  when  he  considers  it,  find  that  he  can 
 no  more  have  a  positive  idea  of  the  gi'eatest,  than  he  has  of  the  least  space. 
 For  in  this  latter,  which  seems  the  easier  of  the  two,  and  more  within  our 
 comprehension,  we  are  capable' only  of  a  comparative  idea  of  smallness, 
 which  will  always  be  less  than  any  one  whereof  we  have  the  positive  idea. 
 All  our  positive  ideas  of  any  quantity,  whether  great  or  little,  have  always 
 bounds  ;  though  our  comparative  idea,  whereby  we  can  always  add  to  the 
 one  and  take  from  the  other,  hath  no  bounds ;  for  that  which  remains  either 
 great  or  little,  not  being  comprehended  in  that  positive  idea  which  we  have, 
 lies  in  obscurity ;  and  we  have  no  other  idea  of  it,  but  of  the  power  of  en- 
 larging the  one,  and  diminishing  the  other,  without  ceasing.  A  pestle  and 
 mortar  will  as  soon  bring  any  particle  of  matter  to  indivisibility  as  the 
 acutest  thought  of  a  mathematician  ;  and  a  surveyor  may  as  soon  with  his 
 chain  measure  out  infinite  space  as  a  philosopher  by  the  quickest  flight  of 
 mind  reach  it,  or  by  thinking  comprehend  it ;  which  is  to  have  a  positive 
 idea  of  it.  He  that  thinks  on  a  cube  of  an  inch  diameter,  has  a  clear  and 
 positive  idea  of  it  in  his  mind,  and  so  can  frame  one  of  a  half,  a  quarter, 
 and  an  eighth,  and  so  on  till  he  has  the  idea  in  his  thoughts  of  something 
 very  little ;  but  yet  reaches  not  the  idea  of  incomprehensible  littleness  which 
 division  can  produce.  What  remains  of  smallness  is  as  far  fi-om  his  thoughts 
 as  when  he  first  began ;  and  therefore  he  never  comes  at  all  to  have  a  clear 
 and  positive  idea  of  that  smallness  which  is  consequent  to  infinite  divisibility. 
 
 Sect.  19.  What  is  positive,  what  negative,  in  our  idea  of  infinite. — 
 Every  one  that  looks  towards  infinity  does,  as  I  have  said,  at  first  glance 
 make  some  very  large  idea  of  that  which  he  applies  it  to,  let  it  be  space  or 
 duration  ;  and  possibly  he  wearies  his  thoughts,  by  multiplying  in  his  mind 
 that  first  large  idea :  but  yet  by  that  he  comes  no  nearer  to  the  having  a 
 positive  clear  idea  of  what  remains  to  make  up  a  positive  infinite,  than  the 
 country-fellow  had  of  the  water,  which  was  yet  to  come  and  pass  the  chan- 
 nel of  the  river  where  he  stood : 
 
 Rusticus  cxpectat  dum  transeat  amtiis,  at  ille 
 Labitur,  et  labetur  in  omne  volubilis  sevum. 
 
 Sect.  20.  Some  think  they  have  a  positive  idea  of  eternity,  and  not  of 
 infinite  space. — There  are  some  I  have  met  with,  that  put  so  much  difference 
 between  infinite  duration  and  infinite  space,  that  they  persuade  themselves 
 that  they  have  a  positive  idea  of  eternity ;  but  that  they  have  not,  nor  can 
 have,  any  idea  of  infinite  space.  The  reason  of  which  mistake  I  suppose  to 
 be  this,  that  finding  by  a  due  contemplation  of  causes  and  effects,  that  it  is 
 necessary  to  admit  some  eternal  being,  and  so  to  consider  the  real  existence 
 of  that  being,  as  taken  up  and  commensurate  to  their  idea  of  eternity ;  but, 
 on  the  other  side,  not  finding  it  necessary,  but,  on  the  contrary,  apparently 
 absurd,  that  body  should  be  infinite ;  they  forwardly  conclude,  that  they 
 have  no  idea  of  infinite  space,  because  they  can  have  no  idea  of  infinite 
 matter.  Which  consequence,  I  conceive,  is  very  ill  collected;  because 
 the  existence. of  matter  is  noways  necessary  to  the  existence  of  space,  no 
 more  than  the  existence  of  motion,  or  the  sun,  is  necessary  to  duration, 
 though  duration  use  to  be  measured  by  it :  and  I  doubt  not  but  that  a  man 
 may  have  the  idea  of  ten  thousand  miles  square,  without  any  body  so  big, 
 as  well  as  the  idea  of  ten  thousand  years,  without  any  body  so  old.  It 
 seems  as  easy  to  mc   to  have  the   idea  of  space  empty  of  body,   as  to 
 
144  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 think  of  the  capacity  of  a  bushel  without  corn,  or  the  hollow  of  a  nut- 
 shell without  a  kernel  in  it:  it  being  no  more  necessary  tliat  there  should 
 he  existing  a  solid  body  infinitely  extended,  because  we  have  an  idea  of 
 the  infinity  of  space,  than  it  is  necessary  that  the  world  should  be  eter- 
 nal, because  we  liave  an  idea  of  infinite  duration.  And  why  should  we 
 think  our  idea  of  infinite  space  requires  the  real  existence  of  matter 
 to  support  it,  when  we  find  that  we  iiave  as  clear  an  idea  of  an  infinite 
 duration  to  come,  as  we  have  of  infinite  duration  past]  Though,  I 
 suppose,  nobody  thinks  it  conceivable,  that  any  thing  does  or  has  existed 
 in  that  future  duration.  Nor  is  it  possible  to  join  our  idea  of  future  dura- 
 tion with  present  or  past  existence,  any  more  than  it  is  possible  to  make 
 the  ideas  of  yesterday,  to-day,  and  to-morrow  to  be  the  same;  or  bring  agea 
 past  and  future  togetlier,  and  make  tiicm  contemporary.  But  if  these 
 men  are  of  the  mind,  that  they  have  clearer  ideas  of  infinite  duration  than 
 of  infinite  space,  because  it  is  past  doubt  that  God  has  existed  from  all 
 eternity,  but  there  is  no  real  matter  coextended  with  infinite  space ;  yet 
 those  philosophers  who  are  of  opinion  that  infinite  space  is  possessed  by 
 God's  infinite  omnipresence,  as  well  as  infinite  duration  by  his  eternal  ex- 
 istence, must  be  allowed  to  have  as  clear  an  idea  of  infinite  space  as  of  in- 
 finite duration ;  though  neither  of  them,  I  think,  has  any  positive  idea  of  in- 
 finity in  either  case.  For  whatsoever  idea  a  man  has  in  his  mind  of  any 
 quantity,  he  can  repeat  it,  and  add  it  to  the  former  as  easily  as  he  can  add 
 together  the  ideas  of  two  days,  or  two  paces,  which  are  positive  ideas  of 
 lengths  he  has  in  his  mind,  and  so  on  as  long  as  he  pleases;  whereby  if  a 
 man  had  a  positive  idea  of  infinite,  either  duration  or  space,  he  could  add 
 two  infinites  together ;  nay,  make  one  infinite  infinitely  bigger  than  another ; 
 absurdities  too  gross  to  be  confiited. 
 
 Sect.  21.  Supposed  positive  ideas  of  infinity,  cause  of  mistakes. — But  yet, 
 if  after  all  this,  there  being  men  who  persuade  themselves  that  they  have 
 clear  positive  comprehensive  ideas  of  infinity,  it  is  fit  they  enjoy  their 
 privilege :  and  I  should  be  very  glad  (with  some  others  that  I  know,  who 
 acknowledge  they  have  none  such)  to  be  better  informed  by  their  commu- 
 nication. For  I  have  been  hitherto  apt  to  think  that  the  great  and  inex- 
 tricable difficulties  which  perpetually  involve  all  discourses  concerning 
 infinity,  whether  of  space,  duration,  or  divisibility,  have  been  the  certain 
 marks  of  a  defect  in  our  ideas  of  infinity,  and  the  disproportion  the  nature 
 thereof  has  to  the  comprehension  of  our  narrow  capacities.  For  whilst 
 men  talk  and  dispute  of  infinite  space  or  duration,  as  if  they  had  as  com- 
 plete and  positive  ideas  of  them  as  they  have  of  the  names  they  use  for 
 them,  or  as  they  have  of  a  yard,  or  an  hour,  or  any  other  determinate 
 quantity ;  it  is  no  wonder  if  the  incomprehensible  nature  of  the  thing  they 
 discourse  of,  or  reason  about,  leads  them  into  perplexities  and  contradic- 
 tions ;  and  their  minds  be  overlaid  by  an  object  too  large  and  mighty  to 
 be  surveyed  and  managed  by  them. 
 
 Sect.  22.  All  these  ideas  from  sensation  and  reflection. — If  I  have 
 dwelt  pretty  long  on  the  consideration  of  duration,  space,  and  number,  and 
 what  arises  from  the  contemplation  of  them,  infinity;  it  is  possibly  no  more 
 than  the  matter  requires ;  there  being  few  simple  ideas  whose  modes  give 
 more  exercise  to  the  thoughts  of  men  than  these  do.  I  pretend  not  to 
 treat  of  them  in  their  full  latitude;  it  suffices  to  my  design  to  show  how 
 the  mind  receives  them,  siich  as  they  are,  from  sensation  and  reflection ; 
 and  how  even  the  idea  we  have  of  infinity,  how  remote  soever  it  may  seem 
 to  be  from  any  object  of  sense  or  operation  of  our  mind,  hag  nevertheless, 
 as  all  our  other  ideas,  its  original  there.  Some  mathematicians  perhaps, 
 of  advanced  speculations,  may  have  other  ways  to  introduce  into  their 
 minds  ideas  of  infinity;  but  this  hinders  not,  but  that  they  themselves,  as 
 well  as  all  other  men,  got  the  first  ideas  which  they  had  of  infinity  from 
 lensation  and  reflection,  in  the  method  we  have  here  set  down. 
 
Ch.  18.  OF  OTHER  SIMPLE  MODES.  145 
 
 CHAPTER  XVIII. 
 
 OF  OTHER  SIMPLE  MODES. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Modes  of  motion. — Though  I  have  in  tlie  foregoing  chapters 
 shown  how  from  y iinple  ideas,  taken  in  by  sensation,  tlie  mind  comes  to  extena 
 itself  even  to  infinity;  which  however  it  may,  of  all  others,  seem  most  re- 
 mote from  any  sensible  perception,  yet  at  last  hath  nothing  in  it  but  what 
 is  made  out  of  simple  ideas,  received  into  the  mind  by  the  senses,  and  atler- 
 ward  there  put  together  by  the  faculty  the  mind  has  to  repeat  its  own  ideas  : 
 thongh,  I  say,  these  might  be  instances  enough  of  simple  modes  of  the  sim- 
 ple ideas  of  sensation,  and  suffice  to  show  how  the  mind  comes  by  them ; 
 yet  I  shall,  for  method's  sake,  though  briefly,  give  an  account  of  some  few 
 more,  and  then  proceed  to  more  complex  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  2.  To  slide,  roll,  tumble,  walk,  creep,  run,  dance,  leap,  skip,  and 
 abundance  of  others  that  might  be  named,  are  words  which  are  no  sooner 
 heard  but  every  one,  who  understands  English,  has  presently  in  his  mind 
 distinct  ideas,  which  are  all  but  the  different  modifications  of  motion.  Modes 
 of  motion  answer  those  of  extension :  swifl  and  slow  are  two  different  ideas 
 of  motion,  the  measures  whereof  are  made  of  the  distances  of  time  and  space 
 put  together;  so  they  are  complex  ideas  comprehending  time  and  space 
 with  motion. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Modes  of  sounds. — The  like  variety  have  we  in  sounds.  Every 
 articulate  word  is  a  different  modification  of  sound :  by  which  we  see,  that 
 from  the  sense  of  hearing,  by  such  modifications,  the  mind  may  be  furnish- 
 ed with  distinct  ideas  to  almost  an  infinite  number.  Sounds  also,  besides 
 the  distinct  cries  of  birds  and  beasts,  are  modified  by  diversity  of  different 
 notes  of  different  length  put  together,  which  make  that  complex  idea  called 
 a  tune,  which  a  musician  may  have  in  his  mind  when  he  hears  or  makes 
 no  sound  at  all,  by  reflecting  on  the  ideas  of  those  sounds  so  put  together 
 silently  in  his  own  fancy. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Modes  of  colours. — Those  of  colours  are  also  very  various:  some 
 we  take  notice  of  as  the  different  degrees,  or,  as  they  are  termed,  shades 
 of  the  same  colour.  But  since  we  very  seldom  make  assemblages  of  colours 
 either  for  use  or  deliglit,  but  figure  is  taken  in  also,  and  has  its  part  in. 
 it,  as  in  painting,  weaving,  needleworks,  &c.  those  which  are  taken  notice 
 of  do  most  commonly  belong  to  mixed  modes,  as  being  made  up  of  ideas 
 of  divers  kinds,  viz.  figure  and  colour,  such  as  beauty,  rainbow,  &c. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Mode.';  of  taste. — All  compounded  tastes  and  smells  are  also 
 modes  made  up  of  the  simple  ideas  of  those  senses.  But  they  being  such 
 as  generally  we  have  no  names  for,  are  less  taken  notice  of,  and  cannot  be 
 set  down  in  writing;  and  therefore  must  be  lefl  without  enumeration  to  the 
 thoughts  and  experience  of  my  reader. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Some  simple  modes  have  no  names. — In  general  it  may  be  ob- 
 served that  those  simple  modes  which  are  considered  but  as  different  degrees 
 of  the  same  simple  idea,  though  they  are  in  themselves  many  of  them  very 
 distinct  ideas,  yet  have  ordinarily  no  distinct  names,  nor  are  much  taken 
 notice  of  as  distinct  ideas,  where  the  difference  is  but  very  small  between 
 them.  Whether  men  have  neglected  these  modes,  and  given  no  names 
 to  them,  as  wantingmeasuresnicely  to  distinguish  them;  or  because,  when 
 they  were  so  distinguished,  that  knowledge  would  not  be  of  general  or  neces- 
 sary use,  I  leave  it  to  the  thoughts  of  others :  it  is  sufficient  to  my  purpose  to 
 show  that  all  our  simple  ideas  come  to  our  minds  only  by  sensation  and 
 reflection ;  and  that  when  the  mind  has  them,  it  can  variously  repeat  and 
 T 
 
v46  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 compound  them,  and  so  make  new  complex  ideas.  But  though  white,  red, 
 or  sweet,  &c.  have  not  been  modified  or  made  into  complox  ideas,  by  sev- 
 eral combinations,  so  as  to  be  named,  and  thereby  ranked  into  species;  yet 
 some  others  of  the  simple  ideas,  viz-  those  of  unity,  duration,  motion,  &c. 
 above  instanced  in,  as  also  power  and  thinking,  have  been  thus  modified  to 
 a  great  variety  of  complex  ideas,  with  names  belonging  to  them. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Why  some  modes  have,  and  others  have  not,  names. — The  rea- 
 son whereof,  I  suppose,  has  been  this  ;  tliat,  the  great  concernment  of  men 
 being  with  men  one  among  another,  the  knowledge  of  men  and  their  actions, 
 and  the  signifying  of  them  to  one  another,  was  most  necessary ;  and  there- 
 fore they  made  ideas  of  actions  very  nicely  modified,  and  gave  those  com- 
 plex ideas  names,  that  they  might  the  more  easily  record  and  discourse  of 
 those  things  they  were  daily  conversant  in,  without  long  ambages  and  cir- 
 cumlocutions ;  and  that  the  things  they  were  continually  to  give  and  receive 
 information  about  might  be  the  easier  and  quicker  understood.  That  this 
 is  so,  and  that  men  in  framing  different  complex  ideas,  and  giving  them 
 names,  have  been  much  governed  by  the  end  of  speech  in  general  (which 
 is  a  very  short  and  expedite  way  of  conveying  their  thoughts  one  to  another,) 
 is  evident  in  the  names  which  in  several  arts  have  been  found  out  and  ap- 
 plied to  several  complex  ideas  of  modified  actions  belonging  to  their  several 
 trades,  for  despatch  sake,  in  their  direction  or  discourses  about  them  ;  which 
 ideas  are  not  generally  framed  in  the  minds  of  men  not  conversant  about 
 these  operations.  And  thence  the  words  that  stand  for  them,  by  the  great- 
 est part  of  men  of  the  same  language,  are  not  understood  :  v.  g.  colshire, 
 drilling,  filtration,  cohobation,  are  words  standing  for  certain  complex  ideas, 
 which  being  seldom  in  the  minds  of  any  but  those  few  whose  particular  em- 
 ployments do  at  every  turn  suggest  them  to  their  thoughts,  those  names  of 
 them  are  not  generally  understood  but  by  smiths  and  chymists  ;  who  having 
 framed  the  complex  ideas  which  these  words  stand  for,  and  having  given 
 names  to  them,  or  received  them  from  others,  upon  hearing  of  these  names 
 in  communication,  readily  conceive  those  ideas  in  their  minds  ;  as  by  co- 
 hobation all  the  simple  ideas  of  distilling,  and  the  pouring  the  liquor  distilled 
 from  any  thing  back  upon  the  remaining  matter,  and  distilling  it  again. 
 Thus  we  see  that  there  are  great  varieties  of  simple  ideas,  as  of  tastes  and 
 smells,  which  have  no  names,  and  of  modes  many  more;  which  either  not  hav- 
 ing been  generally  enough  observed,  or  else  not  being  of  any  great  use  to  be 
 taken  notice  of  in  the  affairs  and  converse  of  men,  they  have  not  had  names 
 given  to  them,  and  so  pass  not  for  species.  This  we  shall  have  occasion 
 hereafler  to  consider  more  at  large,  when  we  come  to  speak  of  words. 
 
 CHAPTER  XIX. 
 
 OF  THE  MODES  OF  THINKING. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Sensation,  remembrance,  contemplation,  cj-c.  When  the  mind  '^ 
 turns  its  view  inwards  upon  itself,  and  contemplates  its  own  actions,  think- 
 ing is  the  first  that  occurs.  In  it  the  mind  observes  a  great  variety 
 of  modifications,  and  from  thence  receives  distinct  ideas.  Thus  the  per- 
 ception which  actually  accompanies,  and  is  annexed  to  any  impression  on 
 the  body,  made  by  an  external  object,  being  distinct  from  all  other  modifications 
 of  thinking,  furnishes  the  mind  with  a  distinct  idea,  which  we  call  sensa- 
 tiQn  ;  which  is,  as  it  were,  the  actual  entrance  of  any  idea  into  the  under- 
 standing by  the  senses.  The  same  idea,  when  it  again  recurs  without  the 
 operation  of  the  like  object  on  the  external  sensory,  is  remembrance  ;  if  it 
 be  sought  afler  by  the   mind,   and   with  pain   and   endeavour  found  and 
 
Ch.  19.  OF  THE  MODES  OF  THINKING.  147 
 
 brought  again  in  view,  it  is  recollection ;  if  it  be  held  there  long  under  at- 
 tentive consideration,  it  is  contemplation.  When  ideas  float  in  our  mind, 
 witliout  any  reflection  or  regard  of  the  understanding,  it  is  that  which  the 
 French  call  reverie  ;  our  language  has  scarce  a  name  for  it.  When  the 
 ideas  that  offer  themselves  (tor,  as  Ihave  observed  in  another  place,  wliilst 
 we  are  avrake  there  will  always  be  a  train  of  ideas  succeeding  one  another 
 in  our  minds)  are  taken  notice  of,  and,  as  it  were,  registered  in  the  memo- 
 ry, it  is  attention.  When  the  mind,  with  great  earnestness,  and  of  choice, 
 fixes  its  view  on  any  idea,  considers  it  on  all  sides,  and  will  not  be  called 
 ofl'by  the  ordinary  solicitation  of  other  ideas,  it  is  that  we  call  intention 
 or  study.  vSleep,  witliout  dreaming,  is  rest  from  all  these:  and  dreaming 
 itself  is  the  having  of  ideas  (whilst  the  outward  senses  are  stopped,  so 
 that  they  receive  not  outward  objects  with  their  usual  quickness)  in  the 
 mind,  not  suggested  by  any  e.xternal  objects  or  known  occasion,  nor  under 
 any  choice  or  conduct  of  the  understanding  at  all.  And  whether  that, 
 which  we  call  ecstasy,  be  not  dreaming  with  the  eyes  open,  I  leave  to  be 
 e.xamined. 
 
 Sect.  2.  These  are  some  few  instances  of  those  various  modes  of  think- 
 ing which  tlie  mind  may  observe  in  itself,  and  so  have  as  distinct  ideas  of, 
 as  it  hath  of  white  and  red,  a  square  or  a  circle.  I  do  not  pretend  to  enu- 
 merate them  all,  nor  to  treat  at  large  of  this  set  of  ideas  which  are  got 
 from  reflection :  that  Vv'ould  be  to  make  a  volume.  It  suflices  to  my  present 
 purpose  to  have  shown  here,  by  some  few  examples,  of  what  sort  these 
 ideas  are,  and  how  the  mind  comes  by  them ;  especially  since  I  shall  have 
 occasion  hereafter  to  treat  more  at  large  of  reasoning,  judging,  volition, 
 and  knowledge,  which  are  some  of  the  most  considerable  operations  of 
 the  mind  and  modes  of  thinking. 
 
 Sect.  3.  The  various  attrition  of  the  mind  in  thinking. — But  perhaps 
 it  may  not  be  an  unpardonable  digression,  nor  wholly  impertinent  to  our 
 present  design,  if  we  reflect  here  upon  the  diflerent  state  of  the  mind  in 
 thinking,  which  those  instances  of  attention,  reverie,  and  dreaming,  &ic. 
 before  mentioned,  naturally  enough  suggest.  That  there  are  ideas,  some 
 or  other,  always  present  in  the  mind  of  awaking  man,  everyone's  experi- 
 ence convinces  him,  though  the  mind  employs  itself  about  them  with  seve- 
 ral degrees  of  attention.  Sometimes  the  mind  fixes  itself  with  so  much 
 earnestness  on  the  contemplation  of  some  objects,  that  it  turns  their  ideas 
 on  all  sides,  remarks  their  relations  and  circumstances,  and  views  every 
 part  so  nicely,  and  with  such  intention,  that  it  shuts  out  all  other  thoughts, 
 and  takes  no  notice  of  the  ordinary  impressions  made  then  on  the  senses 
 which  at  another  season  would  produce  very  sensible  perceptions :  at 
 other  times  it  barely  observes  the  train  of  ideas  that  succeed  in  the  under- 
 standing, without  directing  and  pursuing"  any  of  them ;  and  at  other  times 
 it  lets  them  pass  almost  quite  unregarded,  as  faint  shadows  that  make  no 
 impression. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Hence  it  is  probable  that  thinking  is  the  action,  not  essence  of 
 the  soul. — This  difference  of  intention  and  remission  of  the  mind  in  thinking, 
 with  a  great  variety  of  degrees  between  earnest  study  and  very  near  minding 
 nothing  at  all,  everj'  one,  I  think,  has  experimented  in  himself  Trace  it 
 a  little  farther,  and  you  find  the  mind  in  sleep  retired  as  it  were  from  the 
 senses,  and  out  of  the  reach  of  those  motions  made  on  the  organs  of  sense, 
 which  at  other  times  produce  very  vivid  and  sensible  ideas.  I  need  not 
 for  this,  instance  in  those  who  sleep  out  whole  stormy  nights,  without  hear- 
 ingthe  thunder,  or  seeing  the  lightning,  or  feeling  the  sliaking  of  the  house, 
 wliich  are  sensible  enough  to  those  who  are  wakingi  but  in  this  retirement 
 of  the  mind  from  the  senses,  it  often  retains  a  yet  more  loose  and  incohe- 
 rent manner  of  thinking,  which  we  call  dreaming;  and,  last  of  all,  sound 
 sleep  closes  the  scene  quite,  and  puts  an  end  to  all  appearances.  This,  1  tliink,. 
 almost  every  one  has  experience  of  in  himself,  and  his  own  observation  with- 
 
148  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 out  difficulty  leads  him  thus  far.  That  which  I  would  farther  conclude  from 
 hence  is,  tliat  since  tlie  mind  can  sensibly  put  on,  at  several  times,  several 
 degrees  of  tliinking-,  and  be  sometimes  even  in  a  waking  man  so  remiss,  as 
 to  iiave  thoughts  dim  and  obscure  to  that  degree,  that  tlicy  are  very  little 
 removed  from  none  at  all ;  and  at  last,  in  the  dark  retirements  of  sound 
 sleep,  loses  the  siglit  perfectly  of  all  ideas  whatsoever:  since,  I  say,  this  is 
 evidently  so  in  matter  of  fact  and  constant  experience,  I  ask  whether  it  be 
 not  probable  that  thinking  is  the  action,  and  not  the  essence,  of  the  soul?  since 
 the  operations  of  agents  will  easily  admit  of  intention  and  remission, 
 but  the  essences  of  things  arc  not  conceived  capable  of  any  such  variation. 
 But  this  by  the  by. 
 
 CHAPTER  XX. 
 
 OF  MODES  OF  PLEASURE  AND  PAIN, 
 
 Sect.  1.  Pleasure  and  pain  simple  ideas. — Among  the  simple  ideas 
 which  we  i-eceive  both  from  sensation  and  reflection,  pain  and  pleasure  are 
 two  very  considerable  ones.  For  as  in  the  body  there  is  sensation  barely  in 
 itself,  or  accompanied  with  pain  or  pleasure  ;  so  the  thought  or  perception 
 of  the  mind  is  simply  so,  or  else  accompanied  also  with  pleasure  or  pain,  delight 
 or  trouble,  call  it  how  you  please.  These,  like  other  simple  ideas,  cannot 
 be  described,  nor  their  names  defined ;  the  way  of  knowing  them  is,  as  of 
 the  simple  ideas  of  the  senses,  only  by  experience.  For  to  define  them  by 
 the  presence  of  good  or  evil,  is  no  otherwise  to  make  them  known  to  us, 
 than  by  making  us  reflect  on  what  we  feel  in  ourselves,  upon  the  several 
 and  various  operations  of  good  and  evil  upon  our  minds,  as  they  are  differ- 
 ently applied  to  or  considered  by  us. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Good  and  evil,  what. — Things  then  are  good  or  evil  only  in  re- 
 ference to  pleasure  or  pain.  That  we  call  good,  which  is  apt  to  cause  or 
 increase  pleasure  or  diminish  pain  in  us ;  or  else  to  procure  or  preserve  us 
 the  possession  of  any  other  good,  or  absence  of  any  evil.  And,  on  the 
 contrary,  we  name  tliat  evil,  which  is  apt  to  produce  or  increase  any  pain, 
 or  diminish  any  pleasure  in  us  ;  or  else  to  procure  us  any  evil,  or  deprive 
 us  of  any  good.  By  pleasure  and  pain,  I  must  be  understood  to  mean  of 
 body  or  mind,  as  they  are  commonly  distinguished ;  though,  in  truth,  they 
 be  only  different  constitutions  of  the  mind,  sometimes  occasioned  by  disor- 
 der in  the  body,  sometimes  by  thoughts  of  the  mind. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Our  passions  moved  by  good  and  evil. — Pleasure  and  pain,  and 
 that  which  causes  them,  good  and  evil,  are  the  hinges  on  which  our  pas- 
 sions turn :  and  if  we  reflect  on  ourselves,  and  observe  how  these,  under 
 various  considerations,  operate  in  us,  what  modifications  or  tempers  of 
 mind,  what  internal  sensations  (if  I  may  so  call  them)  they  produce  in  us, 
 we  may  thence  form  to  ourselves  the  ideas  of  our  passions. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Love. — Thus  any  one  reflecting  upon  the  thought  he  has  of  the 
 delight  which  any  present  or  absent  thing  is  apt  to  produce  in  him,  has  the 
 idea  we  call  love.  For  when  a  man  declares  in  autumn,  when  he  is  eating 
 them,  or  in  spring,  when  there  are  none,  that  he  loves  grapes,  it  is  no  more 
 but  that  the  taste  of  grapes  delights  him  :  let  an  alteration  of  health  or  con- 
 stitution destroy  the  deliglit  of  their  taste,  and  he  then  can  be  said  to  love 
 grapes  no  longer. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Hatred. — On  the  contrary,  the  thought  of  the  pain  which  any 
 thing  present  or  absent  is  apt  to  produce  in  us,  is  what  we  call  hatred. 
 Were  it  my  business  here  to  inquire  any  farther  than  into  the  bare  ideas  of 
 our  passions,  as  they  depend  on  different  modifications  of  pleasure  and  pain, 
 I  should  remark,  that  oiu-  love  and  hatred  of  inanimate  insensible  beings, 
 
Cli.  20.  MODES  OF  PLEASURE  AND  PAIN.  149 
 
 is  commonly  founded  on  tliat  pleasure  and  pain  which  we  receive  from  their 
 use  and  application  any  way  to  our  senses,  though  with  their  destruction  : 
 but  hatred  or  love,  to  beings  capable  of  happiness  or  misery,  is  often  the 
 uneasiness  or  delight  which  we  find  in  ourselves,  arising  from  a  considera- 
 tion of  their  very  being  or  happiness.  Thus  the  being  and  welfare  of  a 
 man's  ciiildrcn  or  friends,  producing  constant  delight  in  him,  he  is  said  con- 
 stantly to  love  them.  But  it  suffices  to  note,  that  our  ideas  of  love  and 
 hatred  are  but  the  dispositions  of  the  mind,  in  respect  of  pleasure  and  pain 
 in  general,  however  caused  in  us. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Desire. — The  uneasiness  a  man  finds  in  himself  upon  the  ab- 
 sence of  any  thing,  whose  present  enjoymerkt  carries  the  idea  of  delight 
 with  it,  is  that  we  call  desire  ;  which  is  greater  or  less  as  that  uneasiness 
 is  more  or  less  vehement.  Where,  by  the  by,  it  may  perhaps  be  of  some 
 use  to  remark,  that  the  chief,  if  not  only  spur  to  human  industry  and 
 action,  is  uneasiness.  For  whatsoever  good  is  proposed,  if  its  absence 
 carries  no  displeasure  or  pain  with  it,  if  a  man  be  easy  and  content  with- 
 out it,  there  is  no  desire  of  it,  nor  endeavour  after  it ;  tlaere  is  no  more  but 
 a  bare  velleity,  the  term  used  to  signify  the  lowest  degree  of  desire,  and 
 that  which  is  next  to  none  at  all,  when  there  is  so  little  uneasiness  in 
 the  absence  of  any  thing,  that  it  carries  a  man  no  farther  than  some  faint 
 wishes  for  it,  without  any  more  effectual  or  vigorous  use  of  the  means  to 
 attain  it.  Desire  also  is  stopped  or  abated  by  the  opinion  of  the  impos- 
 sibility or  unattainableness  of  the  good  proposed,  as  far  as  the  uneasiness 
 is  cured  or  allayed  by  that  consideration.  This  might  carry  our  thoughts 
 farther,  were  it  seasonable  in  this  place. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Joy. — Joy  is  a  delight  of  the  mind  from  the  consideration  of  the 
 present  or  assured  approaching  possession  of  a  good ;  and  we  are  then  pos- 
 sessed of  any  good  when  we  have  it  so  in  our  power  that  we  can  use  it 
 when  we  please.  Thus  a  man  almost  starved  has  joy  at  the  arrival  of 
 relief,  even  before  he  has  the  pleasure  of  using  it :  and  a  farther,  in  whom 
 the  very  well-being  of  his  children  causes  delight,  is  always,  as  long  as 
 his  children  are  in  sucli  a  state,  in  the  possession  of  that  good ;  for  he  needs 
 but  to  reflect  on  it  to  have  that  pleasure. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Sorrow. — Sorrow  is  uneasiness  in  the  mind  upon  the  thought 
 ofa  good  lost,  which  might  have  been  enjoyed  longer,  or  the  sense  of  a 
 present  evil. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Hope. — Hope  is  that  pleasure  in  the  mind,  which  every  one 
 finds  in  himself  upon  the  thought  ofa  profitable  future  enjoyment  of  a  thing 
 which  is  apt  to  delight  him. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Fear. — Fear  is  an  uneasiness  of  the  mind  upon  the  thought 
 of  future  evil  likely  to  befall  us. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Despair. — Despair  is  the  thought  of  the  unattainableness  of 
 any  good,  which  works  differently  in  men's  minds,  sometimes  producing 
 uneasiness  or  pain,  sometimes  rest  and  indolency. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Anger. — Anger  is  uneasiness  or  discomposure  of  the  mind 
 upon  the  receipt  of  any  injury,  with  a  present  purpose  of  revenge. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Envy. — Envy  is  an  uneasiness  of  the  mind,  caused  by  the 
 consideration  of  a  good  we  desire,  obtained  by  one  we  think  should  not 
 have  had  it  before  us. 
 
 Sect.  14.  What  passions  all  men  have. — These  two  last,  envy  and 
 anger,  not  being  caused  by  pain  and  pleasure,  simply  in  themselves,  but 
 having  in  them  some  mixed  considerations  of  ourselves  and  others,  are  not 
 therefore  to  be  found  in  all  men,  because  those  other  parts  of  valuing  their 
 merits,  or  intending  revenge,  are  wanting  in  them  :  but  all  the  rest  termina- 
 ting purely  in  pain  and  pleasure,  are,  I  think,  to  be  found  in  all  men.  For 
 we  love,  desire,  rejoice,  and  hope,  only  in  respect  of  pleasure  ;  we  hate, 
 fear,  and  grieve,  only  in  respect  of  pain  ultimately  :  in  fine,  all  these  pas- 
 sions are  moved  by  things,  only  as  they  appear  to  be  the  causes  of  pleasure 
 
150  OF  IIU^AIAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 and  pain,  or  to  have  pleasure  or  pain  some  way  or  other  annexed  to  them. 
 Thus  we  extend  our  hatred  usually  to  tJie  subject  (at  least  if  a  sensible 
 or  voluntary  agent)  which  has  produced  pain  in  us,  because  the  fear  it 
 leaves  is  a  constant  pain :  but  we  do  not  so  constantly  love  what  has  done 
 us  good;  because  pleasure  operates  not  so  strongly  on  us  as  ))ain,.  and  because 
 we  are  not  so  ready  to  have  hope    it  will  do  so  again.     But  this  by  the  by. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Pleasure  and  pain,  what. — By  pleasure  and  j)aui,  delight  and  un- 
 easiness, I  must  all  along  be  understood  (as  I  have  above  intimated)  to 
 mean,  not  only  bodily  pain  and  pleasure,  but  whatsoever  delight  or  uneasi- 
 ness is  felt  by  us,  wliether  arising  from  any  grateful  or  unacceptable  sen- 
 sation or  reflection. 
 
 Sect.  16.  It  is  farther  to  be  considered,  that  in  reference  to  the  passions, 
 the  removal  or  lessening  of  a  pain  is  considered  and  operates  as  a  plea- 
 sure ;   and  the  loss  or  dmninishing  of  a  pleasure  as  a  pain. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Shame.  The  passions,  too,  have  most  of  them  in  most  per- 
 sons operations  on  the  body,  and  cause  various  changes  in  it;  which  not 
 being  always  sensible,  do  not  make  a  necessary  part  of  the  idea  of  each 
 passion.  For  shame,  which  is  an  uneasiness  of  the  mind  upon  the  thought 
 of  having  done  something  which  is  indecent,  or  will  lessen  the  valued  esteem 
 which  others  have  for  us,  has  not  always  blushing  accompanying  it. 
 
 Sect.  18.  These  instances  to  show  how  onr  ideas  of  the  passions  are  got 
 from  sensation  and  reflection. — I  would  not  be  mistaken  here,  as  if  I 
 meant  this  as  a  discourse  of  the  passions;  they  are  many  more  than  those 
 I  have  here  named ;  and  those  I  have  taken  notice  of  would  each  of  them 
 require  a  much  larger  and  more  accurate  discourse.  I  have  only  mentioned 
 these  here  as  so  many  instances  of  modes  of  pleasure  and  pain  resulting  in  our 
 minds  from  various  considerations  of  good  and  evil.  I  might  perhaps  have 
 instanced  in  other  modes  of  pleasure  and  pain  more  simple  than  these,  as 
 the  pain  of  hunger  and  thirst,  and  the  pleasure  of  eating  and  drinking  to  re- 
 move them:  the  pain  of  tender  eyes,  and  the  pleasure  of  music;  pain  from 
 captious  uninstructive  wrangling,  and  the  pleasure  of  rational  conversation 
 with  a  friend,  or  of  well-directed  study  in  the  search  and  discovery  of  truth. 
 But  the  passions  being  of  much  more  concernment  to  us,  I  rather  made 
 choice  to  instance  in  them,  and  show  how  the  ideas  we  have  of  them  are 
 derived  from  sensation  and  reflection. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXI. 
 
 OF  POWER. 
 
 Sect.  1.  This  idea  how  got. — The  mind  being  every  day  informed,  by 
 the  senses,  of  the  alteration  of  those  simple  ideas  it  observes  in  things  with- 
 out, and  taking  notice  how  one  comes  to  an  end,  and  ceases  to  be,  and 
 another  begins  to  exist  which  was  not  before:  reflecting  also  on  what 
 passes  within  itself,  and  observing  a  constant  change  of  its  ideas,  some- 
 limes  by  the  impression  of  outward  objects  on  the  senses,  and  sometimes 
 by  the  determination  of  its  own  choice;  and  concluding  from  what  it  has  so 
 constantly  observed  to  have  been,  that  the  like  changes  will  for  the  future  be 
 made  in  the  same  things  by  like  agents,  and  by  the  like  ways;  considers 
 in  one  thing  the  possibility  of  having  any  of  its  simple  ideas  changed,  and 
 in  another  the  possibility  of  making  that  change;  and  so  comes  by  that  idea 
 which  wc  call  power.  Thus  wc  say  fire  has  a  power  to  melt  gold,  i.  e.  to 
 destroy  the  consistency  of  its  insensible  parts,  and  consequently  its  hard- 
 ness, and  make  it  fluid;  iind  gold  has  a  power  to  be  melted;  that  the  sun 
 has  a  power  to  blanch  wax,  and  wax  a  power  to  be  blanched  by  the  sun, 
 whereby  the  yellowness  is  destroyed,  and  whiteness  made  to  exist  in  its 
 
Ch.  21.  OF  POWER.  151 
 
 room.  In  which  and  the  like  cases,  the  power  we  consider  is  in  reference 
 to  the  change  of  perceivable  ideas;  for  we  cannot  observe  any  alteration  to 
 be  made  in,  or  operation  upon,  any  thing,  but  by  the  observable  change  of 
 its  sensible  ideas ;  nor  conceive  any  alteration  to  be  made,  but  by  conceiv- 
 ing a  change  of  some  of  its  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Power  active  and  passive. — Power,  thus  considered,  is  twofold, 
 viz.  as  able  to  make,  or  able  to  receive,  any  change  ;  the  one  may  be  called 
 active,  and  the  other  passive  power.  Whether  matter  be  not  wholly  des- 
 titute of  active  power,  as  its  author,  God,  is  truly  above  all  passive  power, 
 and  whether  the  intermediate  state  of  created  spirits  be  not  that  alone  which 
 is  capable  of  both  active  and  passive  power,  may  be  worth  consideration. 
 I  shall  not  now  enter  into  that  inquiry  ;  my  present  business  being  not  to 
 search  into  the  original  of  power,  but  how  we  come  by  the  idea  of  it.  But 
 since  active  powers  make  so  great  a  part  of  our  complex  ideas  of  natural 
 substances  (as  we  shall  see  hereafter,)  and  I  mention  them  as  such,  accord- 
 ing to  common  apprehension  ;  yet  they  being  not  perhaps  so  truly  active 
 powers,  as  our  hasty  thoughts  are  apt  to  represent  them,  I  judge  it  not 
 amiss,  by  this  intimation,  to  direct  our  minds  to  the  consideration  of  God 
 and  spirits,  for  the  clearest  idea  of  active  powers. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Power  includes  relation. — I  confess  power  includes  in  it  some 
 kind  of  relation  (a  relation  to  action  or  change,)  as  indeed  which  of  our 
 ideas,  of  what  kind  soever,  when  attentively  considered,  does  not?  For 
 our  ideas  of  extension,  duration,  and  number,  do  they  not  all  contain  in 
 them  a  secret  relation  of  the  parts]  Figiu-e  and  motion  have  something 
 relative  in  them  much  more  visibly  :  and  sensible  qualities,  as  colours  and 
 smells,  &c.  what  are  they  but  the  powers  of  different  bodies,  in  relation  to 
 our  perception  ?  &c.  And  if  considered  in  the  things  themselves,  do  they 
 not  depend  on  the  bulk,  figure,  texture,  and  motion  of  the  parts!  all  which  in- 
 clude some  kind  of  relation  in  them.  Our  idea,  therefore,  of  power,  I  think, 
 may  well  have  a  place  among  other  simple  ideas,  and  be  considered  as  one 
 of  them,  being  one  of  those  that  make  a  principal  ingredient  in  our  complex 
 ideas  of  substances,  as  we  shall  hereafter  have  occasion  to  observe. 
 
 Sect.  4.  The  clearest  idea  of  active  poiver  had  from  spirit. — We  are 
 'abundantly  ftn-nished  with  the  idea  of  passive  power  by  almost  all  sorts  of 
 sensible  things.  In  most  of  them  we  cannot  avoid  observing  their  sensi- 
 ble qualities,  nay,  their  very  substances,  to  be  in  a  continual  flux  :  and  there- 
 fore with  reason  we  look  on  them  as  liable  still  to  the  same  change.  Nor 
 have  we  of  active  power  (which  is  the  more  proper  signification  of  the 
 word  power)  fewer  instances :  since  whatever  change  is  observed,  the  mind 
 must  collect  a  power  somewhere  able  to  ma]-:e  that  change,  as  well  as  a 
 possibility  in  the  thing  itself  to  receive  it.  But  yet,  if  we  will  consider 
 it  attentively,  bodies,  by  our  senses,  do  not  afford  us  so  clear  and  distinct 
 an  idea  of  active  power  as  we  have  fi-om  reflection  on  the  operations  of 
 our  minds.  For  all  power  relating  to  action, — and  there  being  but  two 
 sorts  of  action  whereof  we  have  any  idea,  viz.  thinking  and  motion, — let 
 us  consider  whence  we  have  the  clearest  ideas  of  the  powers  which  produce 
 these  actions.  1.  Of  thinking,  body  affords  us  no  idea  at  all:  it  is  only  from 
 reflection  that  we  have  that.  2.  Neither  have  we  from  body  any  idea  of  the 
 beginning  of  motion.  A  body  at  rest  affords  us  no  idea  of  any  active  power 
 to  move ;  and  when  it  is  set.  in  motion  itself,  that  motion  is  rather  a  passion 
 than  an  action  in  it.  For  when  the  ball  obeys  the  stroke  of  a  billiard-stick, 
 it  is  not  any  action  of  the  ball,  but  bare  passion :  also,  when  by  impulse  it 
 sets  another  ball  in  motion  that  lay  in  its  way,  it  only  communicates  the 
 motion  it  had  received  from  another,  and  loses  in  itself  so  much  as  the  other 
 received  :  which  gives  us  but  a  very  obscure  idea  of  an  active  power  of 
 moving  in  body,  whilst  we  observe  it  only  to  tranfer,  but  not  produce,  any 
 motion.  For  it  is  but  a  very  obsc.ire  idea  of  power,  which  reaches  not 
 the  production  of  the  action,  but  the  continuation  of  the  passion.     For  so 
 
152  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 is  motion  in  a  body  impelled  by  another;  the  continuation  of  the  alteration 
 made  in  it  ti'oni  rest  to  motion  being  little  more  an  action  than  the  continua- 
 tion of  the  alteration  of  its  figure  by  the  same  blow,  is  an  action.  The  idea 
 of  the  beginning  of  motion  we  have  only  from  reflection  on  what  passes 
 in  ourselves,  where  we  find  by  experience,  that  barely  by  willing  it,  barely 
 by  a  thought  of  the  mind,  we  can  move  the  parts  of  our  bodies  which  were 
 before  at  rest.  So  that  it  seems  to  me,  we  have,  from  the  observation  of 
 the  operation  of  bodies  by  our  senses,  but  a  very  imperfect  obscure  idea  of 
 active  power,  since  they  afford  us  not  any  idea  in  themselves  of  the  power 
 to  begin  any  action,  either  motion  or  thought.  But  if,  from  the  impulse 
 bodies  are  observed  to  make  one  upon  another,  any  one  thinks  he  has  a 
 clear  idea  of  power,  it  serves  as  well  to  my  purpose,  sensation  being  one 
 of  those  ways  whereby  the  mind  comes  by  its  ideas :  only  I  thought  it  worth 
 while  to  consider  here,  by  the  way,  whether  the  mind  doth  not  receive  its 
 idea  of  active  power  clearer  from  reflection  on  its  own  operations  than  it 
 doth  from  any  external  sensation. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Will  and  understanding  two  powers. — This  at  least  I  think 
 evident,  that  we  find  in  ourselvesaj)ovvgr  to  begin  or  forbear,  continue  or  end 
 several  actions  of  our  minds,  and  motions  of  our  bodies,  barely  by  a  thought 
 or  preference  of  the  mind  ordering,  or,  as  it  were,  commanding  the  doing 
 or  not  doing  such  or  such  a  particular  action.  This  power  which  the  mind 
 has  thus  to  order  the  consideration  of  any  idea,  or  the  forbearing  to  consi- 
 der it:  or  to  prefer  the  motion  of  any  part  of  the  body  to  its  rest,  and  vice 
 versa,  in  any  particular  instance:  is  that  which  we  call  the  will.  The  actual 
 exercise  of  that  power,  by  directing  any  particular  action,  or  its  forbearance, 
 is  that  which  we  call  volition  or  willing.  The  forbearance  of  that  action, 
 consequent  to^uch  order  or  command  of  the  mind,  is  called  voluntary. 
 And  whatsoever  action  is  performed  without  such  a  thought  of  the  mind,  is 
 called  involuntary.  The  power  of  perception  is  that  which  we  call  the  un- 
 derstanding. Perception,  which  we  make  the  act  of  the  understanding,  is 
 of  three  sorts  :  1.  The  perception  of  ideas  in  our  minds.  2.  The  percep- 
 tion of  the  signification  of  signs.  3.  The  perception  of  the  connexion  or 
 repugnancy,  agreement  or  disagreement,  that  there  is  between  any  of  our 
 ideas.  All  these  are  attributed  to  the  understanding,  or  perceptive  power, 
 though  it  be  the  two  latter  only  that  use  allows  us  to  say  we  understand. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Faculty. — These  powers  of  the  mind,  viz.  of  perceiving,  and 
 of  preferring,  are  usually  called  by  another  name  :  and  the  ordinary  way  of 
 speaking  is,  that  the  understanding  and  will  are  two  faculties  of  the  mind; 
 a  word  proper  enough,  if  it  be  used  as  all  words  should  bo,  so  as  not  to 
 breed  any  confusion  in  men's  thoughts,  by  being  supposed  (as  I  suspect 
 it  has  been)  to  stand  for  some  real  beings  in  the  soul,  that  performed  those 
 actions  of  understanding  and  volition.  For  when  we  say  the  will  is  the 
 commanding  and  superior  faculty  of  the  soul ;  that  it  is,  or  is  not  free  ;  that  it 
 determines  the  inferior  faculties  ;  that  it  follows  the  dictates  of  the  under- 
 standing, &c. ;  though  these,  and  the  like  expressions,  by  those  that  care- 
 fully attend  to  their  own  ideas,  and  conduct  their  thoughts  more  by  the 
 evidence  of  things  than  the  sound  of  words,  may  be  understood  in  a  clear 
 and  distinct  sense;  yet  I  suspect,  I  say,  that  this  way  of  speaking  of  facul- 
 ties has  misled  many  into  a  confused  notion  of  so  many  distinct  agents  in 
 us,  which  had  their  several  provinces  and  authorities,  and  did  command, 
 obey,  and  perform  several  actions,  as  so  many  distinct  beings :  which  has 
 been  no  small  occasion  of  wrangling,  obscurity,  and  uncertainty  in  ques- 
 tions relating  to  them. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Whence  the  ideas  of  liberty  and  necessity. — Every  one,  I  think, 
 finds  in  himself  a  power  to  begin  or  forbear,  continue  or  put  an  end  to  seve- 
 ral actions  in  himself.  From  the  consideration  of  the  extent  of  this  power 
 of  the  mind  over  the  actions  of  the  man,  which  every  one  finds  in  himself, 
 arise  the  ideas  of  liberty  and  necessity. 
 
Ch.  21.  OF  POWER.  153 
 
 Sect.  8.  Liberty,  what. — All  the  actions  that  we  have  any  idea  of  re-  " 
 ducine'  themselves,  as  has  been  said,  to  these  two,  viz.  thinking  and  motion  ; 
 so  far  as  a  man  has  power  to  think,  or  not  to  think,  to  move,  or  not  to 
 mote,  according  to  the  preference  or  direction  of  his  own  mind  :  so  far  is 
 jj^man  free.  AVherever  any  performance  or  forbearance  are  not  equally 
 "in  a  man's  power;  wherever  doin^  or  not  domo- will  equally  follow  upo"n^ 
 the  preference  ot  hi»  mind"  riirentiino-  iTythere  lie  is  not  tree,  though  per- "" 
 haps  the  action  may  be  voluntary.  So  that  the  idea  of  liberty  is  the  idea 
 of  a  power  in  any  agent  to  do  or  forbear  any  particular  action,  according 
 to  the  determination  or  thought  of  the  mind,  whereby  either  of  them  is  pre- 
 ferred to  the  other  :  where  either  of  them  is  not  in  the  power  of  the 
 agent  to  be  produced  by  him,  according  to  his  volition,  there  he  is  not  at 
 liberty  ;  that  agent  is  under  necessity.  So  that  liberty  cannot  be  where 
 there  is  no  thought,  no  volition,  no  will ;  but  there  may  be  thought,  there 
 may  be  will,  there  may  be  volition,  where  there  is  no  liberty.  A  little 
 consideration  of  an  obyious  instance  or  two  may  make  this  clear. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Supposes  the  understanding  and  will. — A  tennis-ball,  whether 
 ni  motion  by  the  stroke  of  a  racket,  or  lying  still  at  rest,  is  not  by  any  one 
 taken  to  be  a  free  agent.  If  we  inquire  into  the  reason,  we  shall  find  it  is 
 because  we  conceive  not  a  tennis-ball  to  think,  and  consequently  not  to 
 have  any  volition,  or  preference  of  motion  to  rest,  or  vice  versa ;  and  there- 
 fore has  not  liberty,  is  not  a  free  agent ;  but  all  its  both  motion  and  rest 
 come  under  our  idea  of  necessary,  and  are  so  called.  Likewise,  a  man 
 falling  into  the  v/ater,  (a  bridge  breaking  under  him)  has  not  herein  liberty, 
 is  not  a  free  agent.  For  though  he  has  volition,  though  he  prefers  his  not 
 falling  to  falling,  yet  the  forbearance  of  that  motion  not  being  in  his  power, 
 the  stop  or  cessation  of  that  motion  follows  not  upon  his  volition ;  and 
 therefore  therein  he  is  not  free.  So  a  man  striking  himself  or  his  friend, 
 by  a  convulsive  motion  of  his  arm,  which  it  is  not  in  his  power,  by  volition, 
 or  the  direction  of  liis  mind,  to  stop,  or  forbear,  nobody  thinks  he  has  in 
 this  liberty;  every  one  pities  him,  as  acting  by  necessity  and  constraint*. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Belongs  not  to  volition. — Again,  suppose  a  man  be  carried, 
 while  fast  asleep,  into  a  room,  where  is  a  person  he  longs  to  see  and  speak 
 with,  and  be  there  locked  fast  in,  beyond  his  power  to  get  out,  he  awakes, 
 and  is  glad  to  find  himself  in  so  desirable  company,  which  he  stays  willing- 
 ly in,  i.  e.  prefers  his  stay  to  going  away;  I  ask,  is  not  this  stay  voluntary  ? 
 I  think  nobody  will  doubt  it ;  and  yet,  being  locked  fast  in,  it  is  evident  he 
 is  not  at  liberty  not  to  stay,  he  has  not  freedom  to  be  gone.  So  that  lib- 
 erty is  not  an  idea  belonging'  to  volition,  or  preferring ;  but  to  the  person 
 having  the  power  of  doing,  or  forbearin^ty  to  dn,  a  f  cording  as  the  mind  shall 
 choose  or  direct  Our  idea  of  liberty  reaches  as  far  as  that  power,  and  no 
 farther.  For  wherever  restraint  comes  to  check  that  power,  or  compulsion 
 takes  away  that  indifferency  of  ability  on  either  side  to  act,  or  to  forbear  ac- 
 ting, there  liberty,  and  our  notion  of  it,  presently  ceases. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Volunlary  opposed  to  involuntary,  not  to  necessary. — We 
 have  instances  enough,  and  often  more  than  enough,  in  our  own  bodies. 
 A  man's  heart  beats,  and  the  blood  circulates,  which  it  is  not  in  his  power, 
 by  any  thought  or  volition  to  stop ;  and  therefore  in  respect  to  these  mo- 
 tions, where  rest  depends  not  on  his  choice,  nor  would  follow  the  determina- 
 tion of  his  mind,  if  it  should  prefer  it,  he  is  not  a  free  agent.  Convulsive 
 motions  agitate  his  legs,  so  that,  though  he  wills  it  ever  so  much,  he  can- 
 not, by  any  power  of  his  mind,  stop  their  motion,  (as  in  that  odd  disease 
 called  Chorea  Sancti  viti,)  but  he  is  perpetually  dancing :  he  is  not  at 
 liberty  in  tliis  action,  but  under  as  much  necessity  of  moving  as  a  stone 
 that  falls,  or  a  tennis-ball  struck  with  a  racJcet.  On  the  other  side,  a  palsy 
 or  the  stocks  hinder  his  legs  from  obeying  the  determination  of  his  mind, 
 if  it  would  thereby  transfer  his  body  to  another  place.  In  all  these  there 
 is  want  of  freedom  ;  though  the  sitting  still  even  of  a  paralytic,  whilst  lie 
 
151  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 prefers  it  to  a  removal,  is  truly  voluntary.  Voluntary  then  is  not  opposed  to 
 necessary,  but  to  involuntary.  For  a  man  may  prefer  wiiat  lie  can  do  to  what 
 he  cannot  do  ;  the  state  he  is  in  to  its  absence  or  change,  though  necessity 
 has  made  it  in  itself  unalterable. 
 
 Sect.  1"2.  Liberty,  what. — As  it  is  in  the  motions  of  the  body,  so  it  is 
 in  the  thcug-lits  of  our  minds:  where  any  one  is  such  that  we  have  power 
 to  take  it  up,  or  lay  it  by,  according  to  the  preference  of  the  mind,  there 
 we  are  at  liberty.  A  waking  man  being  under  the  necessity  of  having  some 
 ideas  constantly  in  his  mind,  is  not  at  liberty  to  think  or  not  to  think,  no 
 more  than  he  is  at  liberty,  whether  his  body  sliall  touch  any  other  or  no ; 
 but  whether  he  will  remove  his  contemplation  from  one  idea  to  another  is 
 many  times  in  liis  choice  ;  and  then  he  is,  in  respect  of  his  ideas,  as  much 
 at  liberty  as  he  is  in  respect  of  bodies  he  rests  on  :  he  can  at  pleasure  re- 
 move himself  from  one  to  another.  J3utj^J:  some  ideas  to  the  mind,  like 
 some  motions  to  the  body,  are  such  as  in  certaTn  circumstances  it  cannot 
 avoid,  nor  oblaTii  "their  a&gcijceTy  tlie  utmost  effort  it  can  use.  A  man  on 
 the  rack  is  not  at  liberty  to  lay  by  the  idea  of  pain,  and  divert  himself  with 
 other  contemplations:  and  sometimes  a  boisterous  passion  hurries  our 
 thoughts,  as  a  hurricane  does  our  bodies,  without  leaving  us  the  liberty  of 
 thinking  on  other  things,  which  we  would  rather  choose.  But  as  soon  as 
 thejniiijixegains  the  power  to  stop  or  continue,  begin  or  forbear,  any  oTOiese 
 motions  of  thebody_vvitliout,  or  thoughts  within,  according  as  it  thinks  ht  to 
 pfefei\eitHer  to  the  other,  we  then  consider  the  man  as  a  trpe  ftgpnt  .ngain. 
 
 Sect n37~JVecessTty,  what. — Wherever  thought  is  wholly  wanting,  or 
 the  power  to  act  or  forbear  according  to  the  direction  of  thought ;  there 
 necessity  takes  place.  This  in  an  agent  capable  of  volition,  when  the  be- 
 ginning or  continuation  of  any  action  is  contrary  to  that  preference  of  his  mind, 
 is  called  compulsion  ;  when  the  hindering  or  stopping  any  action  is  con- 
 trary to  his  volition,  it  is  called  restraint.  Agents  that  have  no  thought, 
 no  volition  at  all,  are  in  every  thing  necessary  agents. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Liberty  belongs  not  to  the  will. — If  this  be  so  (as  I  imagine 
 it  is)  I  leave  it  to  be  considered  whether  it  may  not  help  to  put  an  end  to 
 that  long  agitated,  and  I  think  unreasonable,  because  unintelligible,  ques- 
 tion, viz.  whether  man's  will  be  free  or  no  ]  For,  if  I  mistake  not,  it 
 follows,  from  what  I  have  said,  that  the  question  itself  is  altogether  improper ; 
 and  it  is  as  insig-niticant  to  ask,  whether  man's  will  be  free,  as  to  ask  whether 
 his  sleep  be  switl,  or  his  virtue  square  ;  liberty  being  as  little  applicable 
 to  the  will  as  swiftness  of  motion  is  to  sleep,  or  squareness  to  virtue. 
 Every  one  would  laugh  at  the  absurdity  of  such  a  question  as  either  of  these  ; 
 becaiise  it  is  obvious  that  the  modifications  of  motion  belong  not  to  sleep,  nor 
 the  difference  of  figure  to  virtue  ;  and  when  any  one  well  considers  it,  I  think 
 he  will  as  plainly  perceive  that  liberty,  which  is  but  a  power,  belongs "OTlyTp, 
 "agents,  and  cannot  be  an  attribute  or  modification  of  the  will,  whichTs  also 
 but  a  power. 
 
 ^ECT.  15.   Volition. — Such  is    the  difficulty  of  explaining   and  giving 
 
 clear  notions  of  internal  actions,    by  sounds,  that   I  must  here  warn  my 
 
 reader  that  ordering,  directing,  choosing,  preferring,  &c.  which  I  have  made 
 
 use   of,  will  not  distinctly  enough  express  volition,  unless  he  will  reflect  on 
 
 what  he  himself  does  when  he  wills.     For  example,  preferring,  which  seems 
 
 perhaps  best  to  express  the  act  of  volition,  does  it  not  precisely.     For 
 
 though  a  man  would  prefer  flying  to  walking,  yet  who  can  say  he  ever 
 
 I   wills  itl     Volition^it  is  plain,  is  an  act  ofjhe  mind  knowingly  exerting 
 
 1  that  dominion  it  takes  itself  to  have  over  aiiy^parro|TlTe_nianjJy?^^m^^ 
 
 LS^^it  in,  of  wltlioldingjt  from,  any  j)articular. action.     Andjwhat  isTHe 
 
 1  wjll^  but  the  faculty  to  do  this?     And  is  that  faculty' any  thing  mbreirr 
 
 effect   than^power,  the  power   of  the  mind  to  determine  its  thoughts,  to 
 
 the  producing,  continuing,  or  stopping  any  action,  as  far  as  it  depends  on 
 
 us?     For  can  it  bo  denied,  that  whatever  agent  has  a  power  to  think  on 
 
Ch.  21.  OF  POWER.  155 
 
 its  own  actions,  and  to  prefer  their  doing  or  omission,  either  to  other,  has 
 that  faculty  called  will!  Will  then  is  nothing  but  such  a  power.  Liberty, 
 on  the  other  side,  is  the  power  a  man  has  to  do  or  forbear  doing  any  par- 
 ticular action,  according  as  its  doing  or  forbearance  has  the  actual  preference 
 in  the  mind ;  which  is  the  same  tiling  as  to  say,  according  as  he  himself 
 wills  it. 
 
 "^  Sect.  16.  Powers  belonging  to  agents. — It  is  plain,  then,  that  the  will 
 is  nothing  but  one  power  or  ability,  and  freedom  another  power  or  ability ; 
 so  that  to  ask,  whether  the  will  has  freedom,  is  to  ask  whether  one  power 
 has  another  power,  one  ability  another  ability'?  a  question  at  first  sight  too 
 grossly  absurd  to  make  a  dispute,  or  need  an  answer.  For  who  is  it  that 
 sees  not  that  pjjwers  belong  only  to  agents,  and  are  attributes  only  of  sub- 
 stances, and  not  of  powers  themselves]  So  that  this  way  of  putting  the 
 question,  viz.  whether  the  will  be  freel  is  in  effect  to  ask,  whether 
 the  will  be  a  substance,  an  agent?  or  at  least  to  suppose  it,  since  freedom 
 can  properly  be  attributed  to  nothing  else.     Tf  freedom  can  with  anv  pro- 
 
 431-ipty  i''f  fp^prb  bp  applied  to  power,  it  may  be  attributed  to  the  £ower 
 that  is  in  a  man  to  produce  or  tbrbear  proQU( 
 
 lucing  motion  in  parts  of  his 
 
 body,  by  choice  or  m'eference:  wliicTi  is  tha^  which  denominates  him  free, 
 and  laSeiedom  itself  But  if  any  one  shouldask  whether  freedom  were  tree," 
 Tie^'ould  be  suspected  not  to  understand  well  what  he  said ;  and  he  would 
 be  thought  to  deserve  Midas's  ears,  who,  knowing  that  rich  was  a  denomi- 
 nation for  the  possession  of  riches,  should  demand  whether  riches  themselves 
 were  rich. 
 
 Sect.  17.  However,  the  nams  faculty,  which  men  have  given  to  this 
 power  called  the  v^-ill,  and  whereby  they  have  been  led  into  away  of  talking 
 of  the  will  as  actintr,  may,  by  an  appropriation  that  disguises  its  true  sense, 
 serve  a  little  to  palliate  the  absurdity  ;  yet  the  will  in  truth  signifies  nothing 
 but  a  power,  or  ability,  to  prefer  or  choose :  and  when  the  will,  under  the 
 name  of  a  faculty,  is  considered,  as  it  is,  barely  as  an  ability  to  do  some- 
 thing, the  absurdity  in  saying  it  is  free,  or  not  free,  will  easily  discover 
 itself.  For  if  it  be  reasonable  to  suppose  and  talk  of  faculties  as  distinct 
 beings  that  can  act  (as  we  do,  when  we  say  the  will  orders,  and  the  will 
 is  free,)  it  is  fit  that  we  should  make  a  speaking  faculty,  and  a  walking 
 faculty,  and  a  dancing  faculty,  by  which  those  actions  are  produced  which 
 are  but  several  modes  of  motion  ;  as  well  as  we  make  the  will  and  under- 
 standing to  be  faculties,  by  which  the  actions  of  choosing  and  perceiving 
 are  produced,  which  are  but  several  modes  of  thinking ;  and  we  may  as 
 properly  say,  that  it  is  the  singing  faculty  sings,  and  the  dancing  faculty 
 dances ;  as  that  the  will  chooses,  or  that  the  understanding  conceives  ;  or 
 as  is  usual,  that  the  will  directs  the  understanding,  or  the  understanding 
 obeys  or  obeys  not  the  will :  it  being  altogether  as  proper  and  intelligible 
 to  say,  that  the  power  of  speaking  directs  the  power  of  singing,  or  the 
 power  of  singing  obeys  or  disobeys  the  power  of  speaking. 
 
 Sect.  18.  This  way  of  talking,  nevertheless,  has  prevailed,  and,  as  I 
 guess,  produced  great  confusion.  For  these  being  all  different  powers  in 
 the  mind,  or  in  the  man,  to  do  several  actions,  he  exerts  them  as  he  thinks 
 fit:  but  the  power  to  do  one  action  is  not  operated  on  by  the  power  of 
 doing  another  action.  For  the  power  of  thinking  operates  not  on  the 
 power  of  choosing,  nor  the  power  of  choosing  on  the  power  of  thinking; 
 no  more  than  the  power  of  dancing  operates  on  the  power  of  singing,  or 
 the  power  of  singing  on  the  power  of  dancing ;  as  any  one,  who  reflects 
 on  it,  will  easily  perceive :  and  yet  this  is  it  which  we  say,  when  we  thus 
 speak,  that  the  will  operates  on  the  understanding,  or  the  understanding  on  the 
 will. 
 
 Sect.  19.  I  grant,  that  this  or  that  actual  thought  may  be  the  occasion 
 of  volition,  or  exercising  the  power  a  man  has  to  choose ;  or  the  actual 
 choice  of  the  mind,  the  cause  of  actual  thinking  on  this  or  that  thing : 
 
156  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 as  the  actual  singing  of  such  a  tune  may  be  the  cause  of  dancuig  such  a 
 dance;  and  the  actual  dancing  of  such  a  dance,  the  occasion  of  singing  such 
 a  tune.  But  in  all  these  it  is  not  one  power  tiiat  operates  on  another;  but 
 it  is  the  mind  that  operates,  and  exerts  these  powers  ;  it  is  the  man  that 
 does  the  action  ;  it  is  the  agent  that  has  power,  or  is  able  to  do.  For  pow- 
 ers are  relations,  not  agents :  and  that  which  has  the  power  or  not  the 
 power  to  operate,  is  that  alone  which  is  or  is  not  free,  and  not  the  power 
 itself.  For  freedom,  or  not  freedom,  can  belong  to  nothing  but  what  has 
 or  has  not  a  power  to  act. 
 
 Sect.  20.  Liberty  belongs  not  to  the  will. — The  attributing  to  faculties 
 that  which  belonged  not  to  them,  has  given  occasion  to  this  way  of  talking: 
 but  the  introducing  into  discourses  concerning  the  mind,  with  the  name 
 of  faculties,  a  notion  of  their  operating,  has,  1  suppose,  as  little  advanced 
 our  knowledge  in  that  part  of  ourselves,  as  the  great  use  and  mention  of 
 the  like  invention  of  faculties,  in  the  operations  of  the  body,  has  helped 
 us  in  the  knowledge  of  physic.  Not  that  I  deny  there  are  faculties,  both  in 
 the  body  and  mind :  they  both  of  them  have  their  powers  of  operating,  else 
 neither  the  one  nor  the  other  could  operate.  For  nothing  can  operate  that 
 is  not  able  to  operate ;  and  that  is  not  able  to  operate  that  has  no  power  to 
 operate.  Nor  do  I  deny,  that  those  words,  and  the  like,  are  to  have  their 
 place  in  the  common  use  of  languages,  that  have  made  them  current.  It 
 looks  like  too  much  affectation  wholly  to  lay  them  by:  and  philosophy  itself, 
 though  it  likes  not  a  gaudy  dress,  yet  when  it  appears  in  public,  must  have 
 so  much  complacency  as  to  be  clothed  in  the  ordinary  fashion  and  language 
 of  the  country,  so  far  as  it  can  consist  with  truth  and  perspicuity.  But  the 
 fault  has  been,  that  faculties  have  been  spoken  of  and  represented  as  so  many 
 distinct  agents.  For  it  being  asked,  what  it  was  that  digested  the  meat  in 
 our  stomachs  1  it  was  a  ready  and  very  satisfactory  answer,  to  say,  that 
 it  was  the  digestive  faculty.  What  was  it  that  made  any  thing  come  out 
 of  the  body  J  the  expulsive  faculty.  What  moved  ?  the  motive  faculty. 
 And  so  in  the  mind  the  intellectual  faculty,  or  the  understanding,  understood; 
 and  the  elective  faculty,  or  the  will,  willed  or  commanded.  This  is,  in 
 short,  to  say,  that  the  ability  to  digest,  digested ;  and  the  ability  to  move, 
 moved ;  and  the  ability  to  understand,  understood.  For  faculty,  ability, 
 and  power,  I  think,  are  but  different  names  of  the  same  things  :  which 
 ways  of  speaking,  when  put  into  more  intelligible  words,  will,  I  think, 
 amount  to  this  much;  that  digestion  is  performed  by  something  that  is 
 able  to  digest,  motion  by  something  able  to  move,  and  understanding  by 
 something  able  to  understand.  And  in  truth  it  would  be  very  strange  if 
 it  should  be  otherwise ;  as  strange  as  it  would  be  for  a  man  to  be  free 
 without  being  able  to  be  free. 
 
 Sect.  21.  But  to  the  agent  or  man. — To  return  then  to  the  inquiry 
 about  liberty,  I  think  the  question  is  not  proper,  whether  the  will  be  free, 
 but  whether  a  man  be  free.     Thus,  I  think, 
 
 1.  That  so  far  as  any  one  can,  by  the  direction  or  choice  of  his  mind, 
 preferring  the  existence  of  any  action  to  the  nonexistence  of  that  action, 
 and  vice  versa,  make  it  to  exist,  or  not  exist ;  so  far  he  is  free.  For  if  1 
 can,  by  a  thought  directing  the  motion  of  my  finger,  make  it  move  when 
 it  was  at  rest,  or  vice  versa,  it  is  evident,  that  in  respect  of  that  I  am  free: 
 and  if  I  can,  by  a  like  thought  of  my  mind,  preferring  one  to  the  other, 
 produce  either  words  or  silence,  I  am  at  liberty  to  speak  or  hold  my  peace ; 
 and  as  far  as  this  power  reaches,  of  acting,  or  not  acting,  by  the  determi- 
 nation of  his  own  thoughts  preferring  either,  so  far  a  man  is  free.  For  how'' 
 can  we  think  any  one  freer  than  to  have  the  power  to  do  what  he  will  ]  And 
 so  fti,r  as  any  one  can,  by  preferring  any  action  to  its  not  being,  or  rest  to  any 
 action,  produce  that  action  or  rest,  so  far  can  he  do  what  he  will.  For 
 such  a  preferring  of  action  to  its  absence  is  the  willing  of  it ;  and  we  can 
 scarce  tell  how  to  imagine  anv  being  freer  than  to  be  able  to  do  what  he 
 
C]i.  21.  OF  POWER.  157 
 
 wills.  So  that  in  respect  of  actions  within  the  reach  of  such  a  power  in 
 him,  a  man  seems  as  tree  as  it  is  possible  for  freedom  to  make  him. 
 
 Sect.  22.  In  respect  of  willing  a  man  is  not  free. — But  the  inquisitive 
 mind  of  man,  willing  to  sliift  off  from  himself,  as  far  he  can,  all  thoughts  of 
 guilt,  though  it  be  by  putting  himself  into  a  worse  state  than  that  of  fatal  neces- 
 sity, is  not  content  with  this :  freedom,  unless  it  reaches  farther  than  this, 
 will  not  serve  the  turn  :  and  it  passes  for  a  good  plea,  that  a  man  is  not 
 free  at  all,  if  he  be  not  as  free  to  will  as  he  is  to  act  what  he  wills.  Con- 
 cerning a  man's  liberty,  there  yet  therefore  is  raised  tliis  farther  question, 
 whether  a  man  be  free  to  will  ?  wliich  I  think  is  what  is  meant,  when  it 
 is  disputed  whether  the  will  be  free.     And  as  to  that  I  imagine, 
 
 Sect.  23. — 2.  That  willing,  or  volition,  being  an  action,  and  freedom  con- 
 sisting in  a  power  of  acting  or  not  acting,  a  man  in  respect  of  willing,  or 
 the  act  of  volition,  when  any  action  in  liis  power  is  once  proposed  to  his 
 thoughts  as  presently  to  be  done,  cannot  be  free.  The  reason  whereof  is 
 very  manifest :  for  it  being  unavoidable  that  the  action  depending  on  hia 
 will  should  exist  or  not  exist ;  and  its  existence  or  not  existence,  following 
 perfectly  the  determination  and  preference  of  his  will ;  he  cannot  avoid 
 willing  the  existence  or  not  existence  of  that  action  ;  it  is  absolutely  neces- 
 sary that  he  will  the  one  or  the  other  ;  i.  e.  prefer  the  one  to  the  other : 
 since  one  of  them  must  necessarily  follow  :  and  that  which  does  follow, 
 follows  by  the  choice  and  determination  of  his  mind,  that  is,  by  his  willing 
 it :  for  if  he  did  not  will  it,  it  would  not  be.  So  that  in  respect  of  the  act 
 of  willing,  a  man  in  such  a  case  is  not  free  :  liberty  consisting  in  a  power 
 to  act,  or  not  to  act ;  which  in  regard  of  volition,  a  man,  upon  such  a  pro- 
 posal, has  not.  For  it  is  imavoidably  necessary  to  prefer  the  doing  or  for- 
 bearance of  an  action  in  a  man's  power,  which  is  once  so  proposed  to  his 
 thoughts  ;  a  man  must  necessarily  will  the  one  or  the  other  of  them,  upon 
 which  preference  or  volition  the  action  or  its  forbearance  certainly  follows,  and 
 is  tridy  voluntary.  But  the  act  of  volition,  or  preferring  one  of  the  two,  being 
 that  which  he  cannot  avoid,  a  man  in  respect  of  that  act  of  wilhng  is  under 
 a  necessity,  and  so  cannot  be  free ;  unless  necessity  and  freedom  can  con- 
 sist together,  and  a  man  can  be  free  and  bound  at  once. 
 
 Sect.  24.  This  then  is  evident,  that  in  all  proposals  of  present  action, 
 a  man  is  not  at  liberty  to  will  or  not  to  will,  because  he  cannot  forbear  will- 
 ing :  liberty  consisting  in  a  power  to  act  or  to  forbear  acting,  and  in  that 
 only.  For  a  man  that  sits  still  is  said  yet  to  be  at  liberty,  because  he  can 
 walk  if  he  wills  it.  But  if  a  man  sitting  still  has  not  a  power  to  remove  him- 
 self, he  is  not  at  liberty  ;  so  likewise  a  man  falling  down  a  precipice,  though 
 in  motion,  is  not  at  liberty,  because  he  cannot  stop  that  motion  if  he  would. 
 This  being  so,  it  is  plain  that  a  man  that  is  walking,  to  whom  it  is  proposed 
 to  give  off  walking,  is  not  at  liberty  whether  he  will  determine  himself  to  walk, 
 or  give  off  walking,  or  no  :  he  must  necessarily  prefer  one  or  the  other  of 
 them,  walking  or  not  walking  ;  and  so  it  is  in  regard  of  all  other  actions  in 
 our  power  so  proposed,  which  are  the  far  greater  number.  For  consider- 
 ing the  vast  number  of  voluntary  actions  that  succeed  one  another  every 
 moment  that  we  are  awake  in  the  course  of  our  lives,  there  are  but  few  of 
 them  that  are  thought  on,  or  proposed  to  the  wull  till  the  time  they  are  to  be 
 done ;  and  in  all  such  actions,  as  I  have  shown,  the  mind,  in  respect  of  will- 
 ing, has  not  a  power  to  act,  or  not  to  act,  wherein  consist  liberty.  The  mind 
 in  that  case  has  not  a  power  to  forbear  w^illing ;  it  cannot  avoid  some  deter- 
 mination concerning  them,  let  the  consideration  be  as  short,  the  thought 
 as  quick,  as  it  will ;  it  either  leaves  the  man  in  the  state  he  was  before 
 thinking,  or  changes  it ;  continues  the  action,  or  puts  an  end  to  it.  Where- 
 by it  is  manifest,  that  it  orders  and  directs  one,  in  preference  to  or  with 
 neglect  of  the  other,  and  thereby  either  the  continuation  or  change  be- 
 comes unavoidably  voluntary. 
 
153  OF  HUMAN   UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 Sect.  25.  The  will  determined  by  something  without  it. — Since  then  it 
 is  plain,  that  in  most  cases  a  man  is  not  at  hberty,  whether  he  will  will  or 
 no  ;  tlie  next  tiling  demanded,  is,  whether  a  man  be  at  liberty  to  will  which 
 of  the  two  he  pleases,  motion  or  rest?  This  qnestion  carries  the  absurdity 
 of  it  so  manifestly  in  itself,  that  one  might  thereby  sufficiently  be  convinced 
 that  liberty  concerns  not  the  will.  For  to  ask,  whether  a  man  be  at  liberty 
 to  will  either  motion  or  rest,  speaking  or  silence,  which  he  pleases,  is  to 
 ask,  wiiether  a  man  can  will  what  he  wills,  or  be  pleased  with  what  he  is 
 pleased  with?  A  question  which,  I  think,  needs  no  answer ;  and  they  who 
 can  make  a  question  of  it,  must  sup])ose  one  will  to  determine  the  acts  of 
 another,  and  another  to  determine  that ;  and  so  on  in  infinitum. 
 
 Sect.  26.  To  avoid  these  and  the  like  absurdities,  nothing  can  be  of 
 greater  use,  tiian  to  establish  in  our  minds  determined  ideas  of  the  things 
 under  consideration.  If  the  ideas  of  liberty  and  volition  were  well  fixed 
 in  our  understandings,  and  carried  along  with  us  in  our  minds,  as  they 
 ought,  through  all  the  questions  that  are  raised  about  them,  I  suppose  a 
 great  part  of  the  ditficultics  that  perplex  men's  thoughts,  and  entangle  their 
 understandings,  would  be  much  easier  resolved,  and  we  should  perceive 
 where  the  confused  signification  of  terms,  or  where  the  nature  of  the  thing- 
 caused  the  obscurity. 
 
 Sect.  27.  Freedom. — First,  then,  it  is  carefully  to  be  remembered,  that 
 freedom  consists  in  the  dependence  of  the  existence,  or  not  existence  of 
 any  action,  upon  our  volition  of  it;  and  not  in  the  dependence  of  any  action, 
 ;  orits  contrary,  on  our  preference.  A  man  standing  on  a  cliff  is  at  liberty 
 to  leap  twenty  yards  downward  into  the  sea,  not  because  he  has  a  power 
 to  do  the  contrary  action,  which  is  to  leap  twenty  yards  upwards,  for  that 
 he  cannot  do ;  but  he  is  therefore  free,  because  he  had  a  power  to  leap  or 
 not  to  leap.  But  if  a  greater  force  than  his  either  holds  liim  fast  or  tumbles 
 him  down,  he  is  no  longer  free  in  that  case  ;  because  the  doing  or  forbear- 
 ance of  that  particular  action  is  no  longer  in  his  power.  He  that  is  a  close 
 prisoner  in  a  room  twenty  feet  square,  being  at  the  north  side  of  his  cham- 
 ber, is  at  liberty  to  walk  twenty  feet  southward,  because  he  can  walk  or 
 not  walk  it ;  but  is  not,  at  the  same  time,  at  liberty  to  do  the  contrary,  i.  e. 
 to  walk  twenty  feet  northward. 
 
 In  tliis  then  consists  freedom,  viz.  in  our  being  able  to  act  or  not  to  act, 
 according  as  we  shall  choose  or  will. 
 
 Sect.  28.  Volition,  whet. — Secondly,  we  must  remember,  that  volition 
 or  willing  is  an  act  of  the  mind  directing  its  thought  to  the  production  of 
 any  action,  and  thereby  exerting  its  power  to  produce  it.  To  avoid  multi- 
 plying of  words,  I  would  crave  leave  here,  under  the  word  action,  to  com- 
 prehend the  forbearance  too  of  any  action  proposed  ;  sitting  still,  or  holding 
 one's  peace,  when  walking  or  speaking  are  proposed,  though  mere  forbear- 
 ances, requiring  as  much  the  determination  of  the  will,  and  being  as  often 
 weighty  in  their  consequences  as  the  contrary  actions,  may,  on  that  con- 
 sideration, well  enough  pass  for  actions  too:  but  this  I  say,  that  I  may  not 
 be  mistaken,  if  for  brevity  sake  I  speak  thus. 
 
 Sect.  29.  What  determines  the  will. — Thirdly,  the  will  being  no- 
 thing "^t  a  power  in  the  mind  to  direct  the  operative  faculties  of  a  man  to 
 motion  or  rest,  as  far  as  they  depend  on  such  direction;  to  the  question, 
 what  is  it  determines  the  will?  the  true  and  proper  answer  is,  Hi^jnimL 
 For  that  which  determines  the  general  power  of  directing  to  this  or  that  par- 
 ticular direction,  is  nothing  but  the  agent  itself  exercising  the  power  it  has 
 that  particular  way.  If  this  answer  satisfies  not,  it  is  plain  the  meaning 
 of  the  question,  what  determines  the  will  ?  is  this,  what  moves  the  miiid, 
 in  every  particular  instance,  to  determine  its  general  power  of  directing  to 
 this  or  that  particular  motion  or  rest  ?  And  to  this  I  answer,  the  motive 
 for  continuing  in  the  same  state  or  action,  is  only  the  present  satisfaction 
 
Ch.  21.  OF  POWER.  159 
 
 in  it ;  the  motive  to  change  is  always  some  uneasiness :  nothing  setting  us 
 upon  the  change  of  state,  or  upon  any  new  action,  but  some  uneasiness. 
 Tins  is  the  great  motive  that  works  on  the  mind  to  put  it  upon  action,  which 
 for  shortness  sake  we  will  call  determining  of  the  will ;  which  I  shall  more  at 
 large  explain. 
 
 Sect.  30.  Will  and  desire  must  not  he  confounded. — But  in  the  way  to 
 it,  it  will  be  necessary  to  premise,  that  though  I  have  above  endeavoured  to 
 express  the  act  of  volition  by  choosing,  preferring,  and  the  like  terms,  that 
 signify  desire  as  well  as  volition,  for  want  of  other  words  to  mark  that  ac- 
 tion of  the  mind,  whose  proper  name  is  willing  or  volition ;  yet  it  being  a 
 very  simple  act,  whosoever  desires  to  understand  what  it  is,  will  better  find 
 it  by  reflecting  on  his  own  mind,  and  observing  what  it  does  when  it  wills, 
 than  by  any  variety  of  articulate  sounds  whatsoever.  This  caution  of  being 
 careful  not  to  be  misled  by  expressions  that  do  not  enough  keep  up  the  dif- 
 ference between  the  will  and  several  acts  of  the  mind  that  are  quite  distinct 
 from  it,  I  think  the  more  necessary ;  because  I  find  the  will  often  confounded 
 with  several  of  the  affections,  especially  desire,  and  one  put  for  the  other; 
 and  that  by  men  who  would  not  willingly  be  thought  not  to  have  had  very 
 distinct  notions  of  things,  and  not  to  have  writ  very  clearly  about  them. 
 This,  I  imagine,  has  been  no  small  occasion  of  obscurity  and  mistake  in  this 
 matter;  and  therefore  is,  as  much  as  may  be,  to  be  avoided.  For  he  that 
 shall  turn  his  thoughts  inwards  upon  what  passes  in  his  mind  when  he  wills, 
 shall  see  that  the  will  or  power  of  volition  is  conversant  about  nothing  but 
 that  particular  determination  of  the  mind,  whereby  barely  by  a  thought  the 
 mind  endeavours  to  give  rise,  continuation,  or  stop,  to  any  action  which  it 
 takes  to  be  in  its  power.  This,  well  considered,  plainly  shows  that  the 
 will  is  perfectly  distinguished  from  desire ;  which  in  the  very  same  action 
 may  have  a  quite  contrary  tendency  from  that  which  our  will  sets  us  upon. 
 A  man  whom  I  cannot  deny,  may  oblige  me  to  use  persuasions  to  another, 
 which,  at  the  same  time  I  am  speaking,  I  may  wish  may  not  prevail  on 
 him.  In  this  case,  it  is  plain  the  will  and  desire  run  counter.  I  will  the 
 action  that  tends  one  way,  whilst  my  desire  tends  another,  and  that  the  di- 
 rect contrary  way.  A  man  who  by  a  violent  fit  of  the  gout  in  his  limbs  finds 
 a  doziness  in  his  head,  or  a  want  of  appetite  in  his  stomach  removed,  de- 
 sires to  be  eased  too  of  the  pain  of  his  feet  or  hands  (for  wherever  there  is 
 pain  there  is  a  desire  to  be  rid  of  it)  though  yet,  whilst  he  apprehends  that 
 the  removal  of  the  pain  may  translate  the  noxious  humour  to  a  more  vital 
 part,  his  will  is  never  determined  to  any  one  action  that  may  serve  to  re- 
 move this  pain.  Whence  it  is  evident  that  desiring  and  willing  are  two 
 distinct  acts  of  the  mind ;  and  consequently  that  the  will,  which  is  but  the 
 power  of  volition,  is  much  more  distinct  from  desire. 
 
 Sect.  31.  Uneasiness  determines  the  will. — To  return  then  to  the  in- 
 quiry, what  is  it  that  determines  the  will  in  regard  to  our  actions?  And 
 that,  upon  second  thoughts,  I  am  apt  to  imagine  is  not,  as  is  gene- 
 rally supposed,  the  greater  good  in  view,  but  some  (and  for  the  most  part 
 the  most  pressing)  uneasiness  a  man  is  at  present  under.  This  is  that 
 which  successively  determines  the  will,  and  sets  us  upon  those  actions  we 
 perform.  This  uneasiness  we  may  call,  as  it  is,  desire;  which  is  an  un- 
 easiness of  the  mind  for  the  want  of  some  absent  good.  All  pain  of  tlie 
 body,  of  what  sort  soever,  and  disquiet  of  the  mind,  is  uneasiness :  and 
 \vith  this  is  always  joined  desire,  equal  to  the  pain  or  uneasiness  felt,  and 
 is  scarce  distinguishable  from  it.  For  desire  being  nothing  but  an  uneasi- 
 ness in  the  want  of  an  absent  good,  in  reference  to  any  pain  felt,  ease  is 
 that  absent  good ;  and  till  that  ease  be  attained,  we  may  call  it  desire,  no- 
 body feeling  pain  that  he  wishes  not  to  be  eased  of,  with  a  desire  equal 
 to  that  pain,  and  inseparable  fi-om  it.  Besides  this  desire  of  ease  from  pain, 
 there  is  another  of  absent  positive  good ;  and  here  also  the  desire  and  un- 
 easiness are  equal.     As  much  as  we  desire  any  absent  good,  so  much  are 
 
IGO  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 we  in  pain  for  it.  But  liere  all  absent  good  does  not,  according  to  the 
 greatness  it  has,  or  is  acknowledged  to  have,  cause  pain  equal  to  that 
 greatness  fas  all  pain  causes  desire  equal  to  itself:  because  the  absence  of 
 good  is  not  alway  apaiu,  as  the  presence  of  j)ain  is.  And  therefore  absent 
 good  may  be  looked  on  and  considered  without  desire;  but  so  much  as  there 
 is  any  whore  of  desire,  so  much  there  is  of  uneasiness. 
 
 Sect.  8:2.  Desire  is  uneasiness. — That  desire  is  a  state  of  imeasiness, 
 every  one  who  reflects  on  himself  will  quickly  find.  Who  is  there  that 
 has  not  felt  in  desire  what  the  wise  man  says  of  hope  (which  is  not  much 
 different  from  it,)  that  "  it  being  deferred,  makes  the  heart  sickl"  and  that 
 still  proportionable  to  the  greatness  of  the  desire ;  which  sometimes  raises 
 the  uneasiness  to  that  pitch,  that  it  makes  people  cry  out,  give  me  children, 
 give  rhe  the  thing  desired,  or  I  die !  Life  itself,  and  all  its  enjoyments,  is  a 
 burden  that  cannot  be  borne  under  the  lasting  and  unreraoved  pressure  of  such 
 an  uneasiness. 
 
 Sect.  33.  The  uneasiness  of  desire  determines  the  will. — Good  and 
 evil,  present  and  absent,  it  is  true,  work  upon  the  mind :  but  that  which 
 immediately  determines  the  will,  from  time  to  time,  to  every  voluntary 
 action,  is  the  uneasiness  of  desire,  fixed  on  some  absent  good :  either 
 negative,  as  indolence  to  one  in  pain  ;  or  positive,  as  enjoyment  of  pleasure. 
 That  it  is  this  uneasiness  that  determines  the  will  to  the  sucessive  volun- 
 tary actions,  whereof  the  greatest  part  of  our  lives  is  made  up,  and  by 
 which  we  are  conducted  through  different  courses  to  different  ends,  I 
 shall  endeavour  to  show,  both  from  experience  and  the  reason  of  the 
 thing. 
 
 Sect.  34.  This  is  the  spring  of  action. — When  a  man  is  perfectly  con- 
 tent with  the  state  he  is  in,  which  is,  when  he  is  perfectly  without  any 
 uneasiness,  what  industry,  what  action,  what  will  is  there  left,  but  to  con- 
 tinue in  it  ]  of  this  every  man's  observation  will  satisfy  him.  And  thus  we 
 see  our  All-wise  Maker,  suitably  to  our  constitution  and  frame,  and  know- 
 ing what  it  is  that  determines  the  will,  has  put  into  man  the  uneasiness  of 
 hunger  and  thirst,  and  other  natural  desires,  that  return  at  their  seasons 
 to  move  and  determine  their  wills,  for  the  preservation  of  themselves,  and 
 the  continuation  of  their  species.  For  I  think  we  may  conclude,  that  if 
 the  bare  contemplation  of  these  good  ends,  to  which  we  are  carried  by 
 these  several  uneasinesses,  had  been  sufficient  to  determine  the  will,  and 
 set  us  on  work,  we  should  have  had  none  of  these  natural  pains,  and  per- 
 haps in  this  world  little  or  no  pain  at  all.  "  It  is  better  to  marry  than  to 
 burn,"  says  St  Paul ;  where  we  may  see  what  it  is  that  chiefly  drives  men 
 into  tlie  enjoyments  of  conjugal  life.  A  little  burning  felt  pushes  us  more 
 powerfully  than  greater  pleasures  in  prospect  draw  or  allure. 
 
 Sect.  35.  The  greatest  positive  good  determines  not  the  will,  but  un- 
 easiness.— It  seems  so  established  and  settled  a  maxim  by  the  general  con- 
 sent of  all  mankind,  that  good,  the  greater  good,  determines  the  will,  that  I 
 do  not  at  all  wonder,  that  when  I  first  published  my  thoughts  on  this  sub- 
 ject, I  took  it  for  granted  ;  and  I  imagine  that  by  a  great  many  I  shall  be 
 thought  more  excusable  for  having  then  done  so,  than  that  now  I  have 
 ventured  to  recede  from  so  received  an  opinion.  But  yet,  upon  a  stricter 
 inquiry,  I  am  forced  to  conclude,  that  good,  the  greater  good,  though  ap- 
 prehended, and  acknowledged  to  be  so,  does  not  determine  the  will,  until 
 our  desire,  raised  proportionably  to  it,  makes  us  uneasy  in  the  want  of  it. 
 Convince  a  man  e^ef  so  much  that  plenty  has  its  advantages  oyer  poverty  ; 
 make  him  second  own,  that  the  handsome  conveniences  of  life  are  better 
 than  nasty  penury  ;  yet  as  long  as  he  is  content  with  the  latter,  and  finds 
 no  uneasiness  in  it,  "he  moves  not ;  his  will  never  is  determined  to  any  ac- 
 tion that  shall  bring  him  out  of  it.  Let  a  man  be  ever  so  well  persuaded 
 of  the  advantages  of  virtue,  that  it  is  as  necessary  to  a  man  who  has  any 
 great  aims  in  this  world,  or  hopes  in  the  next,  as  food  to  life;  yet,  till  ho 
 
Ch.21.  OF  POWER.  161 
 
 hungers  and  tliirsts  after  righteousness,  till  he  feels  an  uneasiness  in  the 
 want  of  it,  his  will  will  not  be  determined  to  any  action  in  pursuit  of  this 
 confessed  greater  good;  but  any  other  uneasiness  he  feels  in 'himself  shall 
 take  place,  and  carry  his  will  to  other  actions.  On  the  other  side,  let  a 
 drunkard  see  that  his  health  decays,  his  estate  wastes  ;  discredit  and  dis- 
 eases, and  the  want  of  all  things,  even  of  his  belo^ved  "drink,  attends  him 
 in  the  course  he  follows  ;  yet  the  returns  of  uneasiness  to  miss  his  com- 
 panions, the  habitual  thirst  after  his  cups  at  the  usual  time,  drives  him  to 
 the  tavern,  though  he  has  in  his  view  the  loss  of  health  and  plenty,  and 
 perhaps  of  the  joys  of  another  life  :  the  least  of  which  is  no  inconsiderable 
 good,  but  such  as  he  confesses  is  far  greater  than  the  tickling  of  his  palate 
 with  a  glass  of  wine,  or  the  idle  chat  of  a  soalving  club.  It  is  not  want 
 of  viewing  the  greater  good  ;  for  he  sees  and  acknowledges  it,  and,  in  the 
 intervals  of  his  drinking  hours,  will  take  resolutions  to  pursue  the  greater 
 good  ;  but  when  the  uneasiness  to  miss  his  accustomed  delight  returns,  the 
 greater  acknowledged  good  loses  its  hold,  and  the  present  uneasiness  de- 
 termines the  will  to  the  accustomed  action  ;  which  thereby  gets  stronger 
 footing  to  prevail  against  the  next  occasion,  though  he  at  the  same  time 
 makes  secret  promises  to  himself,  that  He  will  do  so  no  more:  this  is  the 
 last  time  he  will  act  against  the  attainment  of  those  greater  goods.  And 
 thus  he  is  from  time  to  time  in  the  state  of  tha.t  unhappy  eomplainer, 
 video  meliora  proboqiie,  deteriora  sequor:  which  sentence,  allowed  for  true, 
 and  madegoodby  constant  experience,  may  this,  and  possibly  no  other  \yay, 
 be  easily  made  intelligible. 
 
 Sect.  36.  Because  the  removal  of  uneasiness  is  the  first  step  to  happi- 
 ness.— If  we  inquire  into  the  reason  of  what  experience  makes  so  evident 
 in  fact,  and  examine  why  it  is  uneasiness  alone  operates  on  the  will,  and 
 determines  it  in  its  choice:  we  shall  find  that  we  being  capable  but  of  one 
 determination  of  the  will  to  one  action  at  once,  the  present  uneasiness  that 
 we  are  under  does  naturally  determine  the  will,  in  order  to  that  happiness 
 which  we  all  aim  at  in  all  our  actions ;  forasmuch  as  whilst  we  are  under 
 any  uneasiness,  we  cannot  apprehend  ourselves  happy,  or  in  the  way  to  it : 
 pain  and  uneasiness  being,  by  every  one,  concluded  and  felt  to  be  inconsist- 
 ent with  happiness,  spoiling  the  relish  even  of  those  good  things  which  we 
 have ;  a  little  pain  serving  to  mar  all  the  pleasure  we  rejoiced  in.  And 
 therefore  that  which  of  coui'se  determines  the  choice  ofourwillto  the  next 
 action,  will  always  be  the  removing  of  pain,  as  long  as  we  have  any  left, 
 as  the  first  and  necessary  step  towards  happiness. 
 
 Sect.  37.  Because  uneasiness  alone  is  present. — Another  reason  why 
 it  is  uneasiness  alone  determines  the  will,  may  be  this :  because  that  alane 
 is  present,  and  it  is  against  the  nature  of  things,  that  what  is  absent  should 
 operate  where  it  is  not.  It  may  be  said,  that  absent  good  may  by  contem- 
 plation be  brought  home  to  the  mind,  and  made  present.  The  idea  of  it 
 indeed  may  be  in  the  mind,  and  viewed  as  present  there  ;  but  nothing  will 
 be  in  the  mind  as  a  present  good,  able  to  counterbalance  the  removal  of  any 
 uneasiness  which  we  are  under,  till  it  raises  our  desire  ;  and  the  Uneasiness 
 of  that  has  prevalency  in  determining  the  will.  Till  then,  the  idea  in  the 
 mind  of  whatever  good,  is  there  only,  like  other  ideas,  the  object  of  bare 
 inactive  speculation,  but  operates  not  on  the  will,  nor  sets  us  on  work  ; 
 the  reason  whereof  I  shall  show  by  and  by.  How  many  are  to  be  found, 
 that  have  had  lively  representations  set  before  their  minds  of  the  unspeak- 
 able joys  of  heaven,  which  they  acknowledge  both  possible  and  probable 
 too,  who  yet  would  be  content  to  take  up  with  their  happiness  here? 
 And  so  the  prevailing  uneasinesses  of  their  desires,  let  loose  after  the  en- 
 joyments of  this  life,  take  their  turns  in  the  determining  their  wills  ;  and 
 all  that  while  they  take  not  one  step,  are  not  one  jot  moved  towards  the 
 good  things  of  another  life,  considered  as  ever  so  great. 
 V 
 
162  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book.  2 
 
 Sect.  38.  Because  all  toho  allow  the  joys  of  heaven  possible,  pursue 
 them  not. — Were  the  will  (Ictcrmined  by  the  views  ofgood,  as  it  appears 
 in  contemplation  greater  or  less  to  the  understandintf,  which  is  the  state 
 of  all  absent  good,  and  that  which  in  the  received  opinion  the  will  is  sup- 
 posed to  move  to,  and  to  be  moved  by,  I  do  not  see  liow  it  could  ever  get 
 loose  from  the  infinite  eternal  jo3's  of  heaven,  once  proposed  and  considered 
 as  possible.  For  all  absent  good,  by  which  alone,  barely  proposed  and 
 coming  in  view,  the  will  is  thought  to  be  determined,  and  so  to  set  us  on 
 action,  being  only  possible,  but  not  infallibly  certain  ;  it  is  unavoidable, 
 that  the  infinitely  greater  possible  good  should  regularly  and  constantly  de- 
 termine the  will  in  all  the  successive  actions  it  directs  :  and  then  we  should 
 keep  constantly  and  steadily  in  our  course  towards  heaven,  without  ever 
 standing  still,  or  directing  our  actions  to  any  other  end  ;  the  eternal  condi- 
 tion of  a  future  state  infinitely  outweighing  the  expectation  of  riches  or 
 honour,  or  any  other  worldly  pleasure  which  we  can  propose  to  ourselves, 
 though  we  should  grant  these  the  more  probable  to  be  obtained :  for  noth- 
 ing future  is  yet  in  possession,  and  so  the  expectation  even  of  these 
 may  deceive  us.  If  it  were  so,  that  the  greater  good  in  view  determines 
 the  will,  so  great  a  good  once  proposed  could  not  but  seize  the  will,  and 
 hold  it  fast  to  the  pursuit  of  this  infinitely  greatest  good,  without  ever  let- 
 ting it  go  again  ;  for  the  will  having  a  power  over  and  directing  the  thoughts 
 as  well  as  other  actions,  would,  if  it  were  so,  hold  the  contemplation  of  the 
 mind  fixed  to  that  good. 
 
 But  any  great  uneasiness  is  never  neglected. — This  would  be  the  state 
 of  the  mind  and  regiUar  tendency  of  the  will  in  all  its  determinations,  were 
 it  determined  by  that  which  is  considered  and  in  view  the  greater  good  ; 
 but  that  it  is  not  so  is  visible  in  experience  :  the  infinitely  greatest  confess- 
 ed good  being  often  neglected  to  satisfy  the  successive  uneasiness  of  our, 
 desires  pursuing  trifles.  But  though  the  greatest  allowed,  even  everlast- 
 ing unspeakable  good,  which  has  sometimes  moved  and  affected  the  mind, 
 does  not  steadfastly  hold  the  will,  yet  we  see  any  very  great  and  prevail- 
 ing uneasiness,  having  once  laid  hold  on  the  will,  lets  it  not  go ;  by  which 
 we  may  be  convinced  what  it  is  that  determines  the  will.  Thus  any  ve- 
 hement pain  of  the  body,  the  ungovernable  passion  of  a  man  violently  in 
 love,  or  the  impatient  desire  of  revenge,  keeps  the  will  steady  and  in- 
 tent ;  and  the  will,  thus  determined,  never  lets  the  understanding  lay  by 
 the  object,  but  all  the  thoughts  of  the  mind  and  powers  of  the  body  are  un- 
 interruptedly employed  that  way,  by  the  determination  of  the  will,  influ- 
 enced by  that  topping  uneasiness  as  long  as  it  lasts  ;  whereby  it  seems  to 
 me  evident,  that  the  will  or  power  of  setting  us  upon  one  action  in  prefer- 
 ence to  all  other,  is  determined  in  us  by  uneasiness.  And  whether  tliis  be 
 not  so,  I  desire  every  one  to  observe  in  himself. 
 
 Sect.  39.  Desire  accompanies  all  uneasiness. — I  have  hitherto  chiefly 
 instanced  in  the  uneasiness  of  desire,  as  that  which  determines  the  will, 
 because  that  is  the  chief  and  most  sensible,  and  the  will  seldom  orders  any 
 action,  nor  is  there  any  voluntary  action  performed,  without  some  desire 
 accompanying  it ;  which  I  think  is  the  reason  why  the  will  and  desire  are 
 so  often  confounded.  But  yet  we  are  not  to  look  upon  the  uneasiness 
 which  makes  up,  or  at  least  accompanies,  most  of  the  other  passions,  as 
 wholly  excluded  in  the  case.  Aversion,  fear,  anger,  envy,  shame,  &c. 
 have  each  their  uneasiness  too,  and  thereby  influence  the  will.  These 
 passions  are  scarce  any  of  them  in  life  and  practice  simple  and  alone,  and 
 wholly  unmixed  with  others ;  though  usually  in  discourse  and  contemplation, 
 that  carries  the  name  which  operates  strongest,  and  appears  most  in  the 
 present  state  of  the  mind:  nay,  there  is,  I  think,  scarce  any  of  the  passions 
 to  be  found  without  desire  joined  with  it.  I  am  sure,  wherever  there  is  un- 
 easiness, there  is  desire  :  for  we  constantly  desire  happiness ;  and  whatever 
 we  feel  of  uneasiness,  so  much  it  is  certain  we  want  of  happiness,  even  in 
 
Ch.  21.  OF  POWER.  163 
 
 our  own  opinion,  let  our  state  and  condition  otherwise  be  what  it  will. 
 Besides,  the  present  moment  not  being  our  eternity,  whatever  our  enjoy- 
 ment be,  we  look  beyond  the  present  and  desire  goes  with  our  foresight, 
 and  that  still  carries  the  will  with  it.  So  that  even  in  joy  itself,  tiiat  which 
 keeps  up  the  action,  whereon  the  enjoyment  depends,  is  tlie  desire  to  con- 
 tinue it,  and  fear  to  lose  it:  and  whenever  a  greater  uneasiness  than  that 
 takes  place  in  the  mind,  the  will  presently  is  by  that  determined  to  some 
 new  action,  and  the  present  deligiit  neglected. 
 
 Sect.  40.  The  most  pressing  uneasiness  naturally  determines  the  will. 
 — But  we  being  in  this  world  beset  with  sundry  uneasinesses,  distracted  with 
 different  desires,  the  next  inquiry  naturally  will  be,  which  of  thein  has  the 
 precedency  in  determining  the  will  to  the  next  action  ?  and  to  that  the  an- 
 swer is,  that  ordinarily  which  is  the  most  pressing  of  those  that  are  judged 
 capable  of  being  then  removed.  For  the  will  being  the  power  of  directing 
 our  operative  faculties  to  some  action,  for  some  end,  cannot  at  any  time 
 be  moved  towards  what  is  judged  at  that  time  unattainable:  that  would  be 
 to  suppose  an  intelligent  being  designedly  to  act  for  an  end  only  to  loose 
 its  labour,  for  so  it  is  to  act  for  what  is  judged  not  attainable :  and  there- 
 fore very  great  uneasinesses  move  not  the  will,  when  they  are  judged  not 
 capable  of  a  cure:  they,  in  that  case,  put  us  not  upon  endeavours.  But, 
 these  set  apart,  the  most  important  and  urgent  uneasiness  we  at  that  time 
 feel,  is  that  which  ordinarily  determines  the  will  successively  in  that  train 
 of  voluntary  actions  which  make  up  our  lives.  The  greatest  present  un- 
 easiness is  the  spur  to  action  that  is  constantly  felt,  and  for  the  most  peir-t 
 determines  the  will  in  its  choice  of  the  next  action.  For  this  we  must 
 carry  along  with  us,  that  the  proper  and  only  object  of  the  will  is  some 
 action  of  ours,  and  nothing  else  :  for  we  produce  nothing  by  our  willing  it  but 
 some  action  in  our  power,  it  is  there  the  will  terminates,  and  reaches  no 
 farther. 
 
 Sect.  41.  All  desire  happiness. — If  it  be  farther  asked  what  it  is  movea 
 desire  ]  I  answer,  happiness,  and  that  alone.  Happiness  and  miseiy  are 
 the  names  of  two  extremes,  the  utmost  bounds  whereof  we  know  not ;  it 
 is  what  "  eye  hath  not  seen,  ear  not  heard,  nor  hath  it  entered  into  the 
 heart  of  man  to  conceive."  But  of  some  degrees  of  both  we  have  very 
 lively  impressions,  made  by  several  instances  of  delight  and  joy  on  the  one 
 side,  and  torment  and  sorrow  on  the  other ;  which,  for  shortness  sake,  I 
 shall  comprehend  under  the  names  of  pleasure  and  pain,  there  being  plea- 
 sure and  pain  of  the  mind  as  well  as  the  body :  "  with  him  is  fulness  of 
 joy,  and  pleasure  for  evermore."  Or,  to  speak  truly,  they  are  all  of  the 
 mind ;  though  some  have  their  rise  in  the  mind  from  thought,  others  in  the 
 body  from  certain  modifications  of  motion. 
 
 Sect.  42.  Happiness,  what.  Happiness,  then,  in  its  full  extent,  is  the 
 utmost  pleasure  we  are  capable  of,  and  misery  the  utmost  pain :  and  the 
 lowest  degree  of  what  can  be  called  happiness  is  so  much  ease  from  all  pain, 
 and  so  much  present  pleasure,  as  without  which  any  one  cannot  be  content. 
 Now  because  pleasure  and  pain  are  produced  in  us  by  the  operation  of 
 certain  objects,  either  on  our  minds  or  our  bodies,  aud  in  different  de- 
 grees, therefore  what  has  an  aptness  to  produce  pleasure  in  us  is  that  we  , 
 call  good,  and  what  is  apt  to  produce  pain  in  us  we  call  evil,  for  no  other 
 reason  but  for  its  aptness  to  produce  pleasure  and  pain  in  us,  wherein 
 consists  our  happiness  and  misery.  Farther,  though  what  is  apt  to  pro- 
 duce any  degree  of  pleasure  be  in  itself  good,  and  what  is  apt  to  produce 
 any  degree  of  pain  be  evil,  yet  it  often  happens  that  we  do  not  call  it  so 
 when  it  comes  in  competition  with  a  greater  of  its  sort ;  because  when  they 
 come  in  competition,  the  degrees  also  of  pleasure  and  pain  have  justly  a 
 preference.  So  that  if  we  will  rightly  estimate  what  we  call  good  and  evil, 
 we  shall  find  it  lies  much  in  comparison:  for  the  cause  of  every  less  de- 
 gree of  pain,  as  well  as  every  greater  degree  of  pleasure,  has  the  nature  of 
 good,  and  vice  versa. 
 
IGl  OF  IIUMAN^UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 Sect.  43.  What  good  is  desired,  what  not. — Though  tliis  be  tliat  which 
 ia  oallctl  pu'^il  ■■iiiil  evil,  and  ajl  jrobd  be  the  proper  object  of  desire  in  gene- 
 ifa,y^  all  good,  even  seen,  and  confessed  to  be  so,  does  not  necessarily 
 mqve  evory  parlicular  man's  desire,  but  only  that  jiart,  or  so  nuicli  of  it  as 
 is  considered  andjaken  to  make  a  necessary  part  of  his  liappiness.  All 
 other  good,  however  great  in  reality  or  appearance,  excites  not  a  man's 
 desires,  who  looks  not  on  it  to  make  a  part  of  that  happiness  wherewith 
 he,  in  his  present  thoughts,  can  satisfy  himself  IIapi)ii!ess,  under  this 
 view,  every  one  constantly  pursues,  and  desires  what  makes  any  part  of 
 it:  other  things,  acknowledged  to  be  good,  he  can  look  upon  without  de- 
 sire, pass  by,  and  be  content  without.  There  is  nobody,  I  think,  so  senseless 
 as  to  deny  that  there  is  pleasure  in  knowledge:  and  for  the  pleasures  of 
 sense,  they  have  too  many  followers  to  let  it  be  questioned  wliether  men 
 are  taken  with  them  or  no.  Now  let  one  man  place  his  satisfaction  in  sen- 
 sual pleasures,  another  in  the  delight  of  knowledge:  though  each  of  them 
 cannot  but  confess  there  is  great  pleasure  in  what  the  other  pursues,  yet 
 neither  of  them  making  the  other's  delight  a  part  of  his  happiness,  their 
 desires  are  not  moved,  but  each  is  satisfied  without  what  the  other  enjoys, 
 and  so  his  will  is  not  determined  to  the  pursuit  of  it.  But  yet  as  soon  as 
 the  studious  man's  hunger  and  thirst  make  him  uneasy,  he,  whose  will  was 
 never  determined  to  any  pursuit  of  good  clieer,  poignant  sauces,  delicious 
 wines,  by  the  pleasant  taste  he  has  found  in  them,  is,  by  the  uneasiness  of 
 hunger  and  thirst,  presently  determined  to  eating  and  drinking,  though 
 possibly  with  great  inditlerency,  what  wholesome  food  comes  in  his  way. 
 And  on  the  other  side,  the  epicure  buckles  to  study  when  shame,  or  the 
 desire  to  recommend  himself  to  his  mistress,  shall  make  him  uneasy  in  the 
 want  of  any  sort  of  knowledge.  Thus,  how  much  soever  men  are  in  ear- 
 nest, and  constant  in  pursuit  of  happiness,  yet  they  may  have  a  clear  view 
 of  good,  great  and  confessed  good,  without  being  concerned  for  it,  or  moved 
 by  it,  if  they  think  they  can  make  up  their  happiness  without  it.  Though 
 as  to  pain,  that  they  are  always  concerned  for ;  they  can  feel  no  uneasiness 
 without  being  moved.  And  therefore  being  uneasy  in  the  want  of 
 whatever  is  judged  necessary  to  their  happiness,  as  soon  as  any  good  ap- 
 pears to  make  a  part  of  their  portion  of  happiness,  they  begin  to  de- 
 sire it. 
 
 Sect.  44.  Why  the  greatest  good  is  not  always  desired. — This,  I 
 think,  any  one  may  observe  in  himself  and  others,  that  the  greater  visible 
 good  does  not  always  raise  men's  desires  in  proportion  to  the  gi'eatn6ss 
 it  appears  and  is  acknowledged  to  have  ;  though  every  little  trouble  moves 
 us,  and  sets  us  on  work  to  get  rid  of  it.  The  reason  whereof  is  evident 
 from  the  nature  of  our  happiness  and  misery  itself.  All  present  pain, 
 whatever  it  be,  makes  a  part  of  our  present  misery  :  but  all  absent  good  ^ 
 does  not  at  any  time  make  a  necessary  part  of  our  present  happiness, 
 nor  the  absence  of  it  make  a  part  of  our  misery.  If  it  did,  we  should 
 be  constantly  and  infinitely  miserable ;  there  being  infinite  degrees  of 
 happiness  whicli  are  not  in  our  possession.  All  uneasiness  therefore  being 
 removed,  a  moderate  portion  of  good  serves  at  present  to  content  men ; 
 and  some  few  degrees  of  pleasure,  in  a  succession  of  ordinary  enjoyments, 
 make  up  a  happiness  wherein  they  can  be  satisfied.  If  this  were  not  so, 
 there  could  be  no  room  for  those  indifferent  and  visible  trifling  actions,  to 
 which  our  wills  are  so  often  determined,  and  wherein  we  voluntarily  waste 
 so  much  of  our  lives ;  which  remissness  could  by  no  means  consist  with  a 
 constant  determination  of  will  or  desire  to  the  greatest  apparent  good. 
 That  this  is  so,  I  think  few  people  need  go  far  from  home  to  be  convinced.' 
 And  indeed  in  this  life  there  are  not  many  whose  happiness  reaches  so  far  as 
 to  afford  them  a  constant  train  of  moderate  mean  pleasures  without  any 
 mixture  of  uneasiness;  and  yet  they  could  be  content  to  stay  here  for  ever: 
 though  they  catmot  deny,  but  that  it  is  possible  there  may  be  a  st^te  of 
 
Ch.  21.  OF  POWER.  165 
 
 eternal  durable  joys  after  this  life,  far  surpassing  aU  the  good  that  is  to  be 
 found  here.  Nay,  they  cannot  but  see  that  it  is  more  possible  than  the 
 attainment  and  continuation  of  that  pittance  of  honour,  riches,  or  pleasure 
 which  they  pursue,  and  for  vvliich  they  neglect  that  eternal  state:  but  yet 
 in  full  view  of  tliis  difference,  satisliedof  the  possibility  of  a  perfect,  secure 
 and  lasting  happiness  in  a  future  state,  and  under  a  clear  conviction  that 
 it  is  not  to  be  had  here,  whilst  they  bound  their  happiness  within  some 
 little  enjoyment  or  aim  of  this  life,  and  exclude  the  joys  of  heaven  from 
 making  any  necessary  part  of  it,  their  desires  are  not  moved  by  this  great- 
 er apparent  good,  nor  their  wills  determined  to  any  action  or  endeavour 
 for  its  attainment. 
 
 Sect.  45.  Why  not  being  desired,  it  moves  not  the  will. — The  ordi- 
 nary necessities  of  our  lives  fill  a  great  part  of  them  with  the  uneasiness 
 of  hunger,  thirst,  heat,  cold,  weariness  of  labour,  and  sleepiness,  in  their 
 constant  returns,  &c.  To  which  if,  besides  accidental  harms,  we  add  the 
 fantastical  uneasiness  (as  itch  after  honour,  power,  or  riches,  &c.)  which 
 acquired  habits  by  fashion,  example,  and  education,  have  settled  in  us,  and 
 a  thousand  other  irregular  desires,  wliich  custom  has  made  natural  to  us ; 
 we  sliall  find,  that  a  very  little  part  of  our  life  is  so  vacant  from  these  un- 
 easinesses, as  to  leave  us  free  to  the  attraction  of  remoter  absent  good. 
 We  are  seldom  at  ease,  and  free  enough  from  the  solicitation  of  our  natu- 
 ral  or  adopted  desires,  but  a  constant  succession  of  uneasinesses  out  of 
 that  stock,  which  natural  wants  or  acquired  habits  have  heaped  up,  take 
 the  will  in  their  turns  :  and  no  sooner  is  one  action  despatched,  which  by 
 such  a  determination  of  the  will  we  are  set  upon,  but  another  uneasiness  ,. 
 is  ready  to  set  us  on  work.  For  the  removing  of  the  pains  we  feel,  and  are  • 
 at  present  pressed  with,  being  the  getting  out  of  misery,  and  consequently 
 the  first  thing  to  be  done  in  order  to  happiness,  absent  good,  though  thought 
 on,  confessed,  and  appearing  to  be  good,  not  maldng  any  part  of  tliis  un- 
 happiness  in  its  absence,  is  jostled  out  to  make  way  for  the  removal  of  those 
 uneasinesses  we  feel ;  till  due  and  repeated  contemplation  has  brought  it 
 nearer  to  our  mind,  given  some  relish  of  it,  and  raised  in  us  some  desire  : 
 which  then  beginning  to  make  a  part  of  our  present  uneasiness,  stands  upon 
 fair  terms  with  the  rest  to  be  satisfied :  and  so,  according  to  its  greatness 
 and  pressure,  comes  in  its  turn  to  determine  the  will. 
 
 Sect.  46.  Due  consideration  raises  desire. — And  thus,  by  a  due  con- 
 sideration, and  examining  any  good  proposed,  it  is  in  our  power  to  . 
 raise  our  desires  in  a  due  proportion  to  the  value  of  that  good,  whereby  in 
 its  turn  and  place  it  may  come  to  work  upon  the  will  and  be  pursued.  For 
 good,  though  appearing,  and  allowed  ever  so  great,  yet  till  it  has  raised 
 desires  in  our  minds,  and  thereby  made  us  uneasy  in  its  want,  it  reaches 
 not  our  wills ;  we  are  not  within  the  sphere  of  its  activity ;  our  wills  being 
 under  the  determination  only  of  those  uneasinesses  v/hich  are  present  to 
 us,  which  (whilst  we  have  any)  are  always  soliciting,  and  ready  at  hand 
 to  give  the  will  its  next  determination  ;  the  balancing,  when  there  is  any 
 in  the  mind,  being  only  which  desires  shall  be  next  satisfied,  which  uneasi- 
 ness first  removed.  Whereby  it  comes  to  pass,  that  as  long  as  any 
 uneasiness,  any  desire  remains  in  our  mind,  there  is  no  room  for  good, 
 barely  as  such,  to  come  at  the  will,  or  at  all  to  determine  it.  Because,  as 
 has  been  said,  the  first  step  in  our  endeavours  after  happiness  being  to  get 
 wholly  out  of  the  confines  of  misery,  and  to  feel  no  part  of  it,  the  will 
 can  be  at  leisure  for  nothing  else,  till  every  uneasiness  we  feel  be  perfectly 
 removed;  which,  in  the  multitude  of  wants  and  desires  we  are  beset  with 
 in  this  imperfect  state,  we  are  not  like  to  be  ever  freed  from  in  this  world. 
 Sect.  47.  The  ■power  to  .suspend  the  prosecution  on  any  de.sire  inaket 
 Tcayfor  consideration. — There  being  in  us  a  great  many  uneasinesses  al- 
 ways soliciting  and  ready  to  determine  the  will,  it  is  natural,  as  I  have 
 Baid,  that  the  greatest  and  most  pressing  should  determine  tiie  will  to  the 
 
166  OF  HUMAl^  UNDERSTANDlko.  Book  2. 
 
 next  action;  and  so  it  docs  for  the  most  part,  but  not  "always.  For  the  , 
 mind  having  in  most  cases,  as  is  evident  in  experience,  a  pov/er  to  suspend » 
 the  execution  and  satistaclioa  oraiiy  of  its  disires,  and  so  all,  one  after  an- 
 other, is  at  li!)crty  to  consider  the  objects  ottiiem,  examine  tliem  on  all  sides, 
 and  weigh  tlicm  with  others.  In  this  lies  the  liberty  man  has  ;  and  from 
 tlie  not  using  of  it  right  comes  all  that  variety  of  mistakes,  errors,  and  faults 
 v\jNch  we  run  into  in  the  conduct  of  our  lives,  and  our  endeavours  after  hap- 
 piness :  whilst  we  precipitate  the  determination  of  our  wills,  and  engage 
 too  soon  before  due  examination.  To  prevent  this,  wejiave  a  power  to  sus- 
 pend the  prosecution  of  this  or  that  desire,  as  every  one  daily  may  experi- 
 ment in  himself  This  seems  to  me  the  source  of  all  liberty;  in  this  seems 
 to  consist  that  which  is  (as  I  think  imj)roperly)  called  free-will.  For  dur- 
 ing this  suspension  of  any  desire,  before  the  will  be  determined  to  action, 
 and  the  action  (which  follows  that  determination)  done,  we  have  opportu- 
 nity to  examine,  view,  and  judge  of  the  good  or  evil  of  what  we  are  going 
 to  do:  and  when,  upon  due  examination,  we  have  judged,  we  have  done  our 
 duty,  all  that  we  can  or  ought  to  do  in  pursuit  of  our  liappiness ;  and  it  is 
 not  a  fault,  but  a  perfection  of  our  nature  to  desire,  will  and  act  according 
 to  the  last  result  of  a  fair  examination. 
 
 Sect.  48.  To  he  determined  by  our  own  judgment,  is  no  restraint  to 
 liberty. — This  is  so  far  from  being  a  restraint  or  diminution  of  freedom, 
 that  it  is  the  very  improvement  and  benefit  of  it;  it  is  not  an  abridgment, 
 it  is  the  end  and  use  of  our  liberty ;  and  the  farther  we  are  removed  from 
 such  a  determination,  the  nearer  we  are  to  misery  and  slavery.  A  perfect 
 indiiferency  in  the  mind,  not  determinable  by  its  last  judgment  of  the  good 
 or  evil  that  is  thought  to  attend  its  clioice,  would  be  so  far  from  being  an 
 advantage  and  excellency  of  any  intellectual  nature,  that  it  would  be  as 
 great  an  imperfection  as  the  want  of  indifferency  to  act  or  not  to  act 
 till  determined  by  the  will,  would  be  an  imperfection  on  the  other  side.  A 
 man  is  at  liberty  to  lift  up  his  hand  to  his  head,  or  let  it  rest  quiet ;  he  is 
 perfectly  indifferent  in  either ;  and  it  would  be  an  imperfection  in  him  if 
 he  wanted  that  power,  if' he  were  deprived  of  that  indifferency.  But  it 
 would  be  as  great  an  imperfection  if  he  had  the  same  indifferency  whether 
 he  would  prefer  the  lifting  up  his  hand,  or  its  remaining  in  rest,  when  it 
 would  save  his  head  or  eyes  from  a  blow  he  sees  coming:  it  is  as  much  a 
 perfection  that  desire,  or  the  power  of  preferring,  should  be  determined  by 
 good,  as  that  the  power  of  acting  should  be  determined  by  the  will;  and 
 the  more  certain  such  determination  is,  the  greater  is  the  perfection.  Nay, 
 were  we  determined  by  any  thing  but  the  last  result  of  our  own  minds, 
 judging  of  the  go  )d  or  evil  of  any  action,  we  were  not  free ;  the  very  end 
 of  our  freedom  being,  that  we  may  attain  the  good  we  choose.  And  there- 
 fore every  man  is  put  under  a  necessity  by  his  constitution,  as  an  intelli- 
 gent being,  to  be  determined  in  willing  by  his  own  thought  and  judgment 
 what  is  best  for  him  to  do  :  else  he  would  be  under  the  determination  of 
 some  other  than  himself,  which  is  want  of  liberty.  And  to  deny  that  a 
 man's  will,  in  every  deTermination,  follows  his  own  judgment,  is  to  say, 
 that  a  man  wills  and  acts  for  an  end  that  he  would  not  have,  at  the  time 
 that  he  wills  and  acts  for  it.  For  if  he  prefers  it  in  his  present  thougjits 
 before  any  other,  it  is  plain  he  then  thinks  better  of  it,  and  would  have  it 
 before  any  otlier;  unless  he  can  have  and  not  have  it,  will  and  not  will  it, 
 at  tlie  same  timi^ ;  a  contradiction  too  manifest  to  be  admitted. 
 
 Sect.  49.  The  freest  agents  are  so  determined. — If  we  look  upon  those 
 superior  beings  above  us,  who  enjoy  perfect  happiness,  we  shall  liave  rea- 
 son to  judge  that  they  are  more  steadily  determined  in  their  choice  of  good . 
 than  we;  and  yet  we  have  no  reason  to  think  they  are  less  happy  or  less 
 free  than  we  are.  And  if  it  were  fit  for  such  poor  finite  creatures  as  we 
 are  to  pronounce  what  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness  could  do,  I  think  wo 
 might  say,  that  God  himself  cannot  choose  what  is  not  good ;  the  freedom 
 of  the  *  mighty  hinders  not  his  being  determined  by  wliat  is  best. 
 
Ch.  21.  OP  POWER.  167 
 
 Sect.  50.  A  constant  determination  to  a  pursuit  of  happiness  no 
 abridgment  of  liberty. — But  to  give  a  right  view  of  this  mistaken  part  of 
 liberty,  let  me  ask,  "  would  any  one  be  a  changeling,  because  he  is  less 
 determined  by  wise  considerations  than  a  wise  man  1  Is  it  worth  the  name 
 of  freedom  to  be  at  liberty  to  play  the  fool  and  draw  shame  and  misery  up-  • 
 on  a  man's  self!"-  If  to  break  loose  from  the  conduct  of  reason,  and  to 
 want  that  restraint  of  examination  and  judgment,  which  keeps  us  from 
 choosing  or  doing  the  worse,  be  liberty,  true  liberty,  madmen  and  fools  are 
 the  only  freemen:  but  yet,  I  think,  nobody  would  choose  to  be  mad  for  the 
 sake  of  such  liberty,  but  he  that  is  mad  already.  The  constant  desire  of 
 happiness,  and  the  constraint  it  puts  upon  us  to  act  for  it,  nobody,  I  think, 
 accounts  an  abridgment  of  liberty,  or  at  least  an  abridgment  of  liberty  to  be 
 complained  of  God  x\lmighty  himself  is  under  the  necessity  of  being  hap- 
 py ;  and  the  more  any  intelligent  being  is  so,  the  nearer  is  its  approach  to 
 infinite  perfection  and  happiness.  That  in  this  state  of  ignorance  we  short- 
 sighted creatures  might  not  mistake  true  felicity,  we  are  endowed  with  a 
 power  to  suspend  any  particular  desire,  and  keep  it  from  determining  the 
 will,  and  engaging  us  in  action.  This  is  standing  still,  where  we  are  not 
 sufficiently  assured  of  the  way  :  examination  is  consulting  a  guide.  The 
 determination  of  the  will  upon  inquiry  is  following  the  direction  of  that  guide : 
 and  he  that  has  a  power  to  act  or  not  to  act,  according  as  such  determina- 
 tion directs,  is  a  free  agent ;  such  determination  abridges  not  that  power 
 wherein  liberty  consists.  He  that  has  his  chains  knocked  off,  and  the  pri- 
 ,son  doors  set  open  to  him,  is  perfectly  at  liberty,  because  he  may  either 
 go  or  stay,  as  he  best  likes  :  though  his  preference  be  determined  to  stay,  by 
 the  darkness  of  the  night,  or  illness  of  the  weather,  or  want  of  other  lodging. 
 He  ceases  not  to  be  free,  though  the  desire  of  some  convenience  to  be  had 
 there  absolutely  determines  his  preference,  and  makes  him  stay  in  his  prison. 
 
 Sect.  51.  The  necessity  of  pursuing  true  happiness  the  foundation  of 
 liberty. — As  therefore  the  highest  perfection  of  intellectual  nature  lies  in  a 
 careful  and  constant  pursuit  of  true  and  solid  happiness,  so  the  care  of  our-' 
 selves,  that  we  mistake  not  imaginary  for  real  happiness,  is  the  necessary 
 foundation  of  our  liberty.  The  stronger  ties  we  have  to  an  unalterable 
 pursuit  of  happiness  in  general,  which  is  our  greatest  good,  and  which,  as 
 such,  our  desires  always  follow,  the  more  are  we  free  from  any  necessary 
 determination  of  our  will  to  any  particular  action,  and  from  a  necessary 
 compliance  with  our  desire,  set  upon  any  particrdar  and  then  appearing 
 preferable  good,  till  we  have  duly  examined  whether  it  has  a  tendency  to, 
 or  be  inconsistent  with,  our  real  happiness :  and  therefore  till  we  are  so 
 much  informed  upon  this  inquiry  as  the  weight  of  the  matter  and  the  nature 
 of  the  case  demands,  we  are,  by  the  necessity  of  preferring  and  pursuing 
 true  happiness  as  our  greatest  good,  obliged  to  suspend  the  satisfaction  of 
 our  desires  in  particular  cases. 
 
 Sect.  52.  The  reason  of  it. — This  is  the  hinge  on  which  tums  the  liberty 
 of  intellectual  beings,  in  their  constant  endeavours  after,  and  a  f^teady  pro- 
 secution of  true  felicity,  that  they  can  suspend  this  prosecution  in  particu-- 
 lar  cases,  till  they  had  looked  before  them,  and  informed  themselves  whether 
 that  particular  thing,  which  is  then  proposed  or  desired,  lie  in  the  way  to 
 their  main  end,  and  make  a  real  part  of  that  which  is  their  greatest  good; 
 for  the  inclination  and  tendency  of  tjieir  nature  to  happiness  is  an  obliga- 
 tion and  motive  to  them  to  take  care  not  to  mistake  or  miss  it :  and  so  ne- 
 cessarily puts  them  upon  caution,  deliberation,  and  wariness,  in  the  direc- 
 tion of  their  particular  actions,  which  are  the  means  to  obtain  it.  What- 
 ever necessity  determines  to  the  pursuit  of  real  bliss,  the  same  necessity  r 
 with  the  same  force  establishes  suspense,  deliberation,  and  scrutiny  of  each 
 successive  desire,  whether  the  satisfaction  of  it  does  not  interfere  with  our 
 true  happiness,  and  mislead  us  from  it.  This,  as  seems  to  me,  is  the 
 great  privilege  of  finite  intellectual  beings  ;  and  I  desire  it  may  be  well  con- 
 
IfiS  OF  HUMAN  Ur^DERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 Eidercd,  whether  the  great  inlet  and  exercise  of  all  the  liberty  men  have, 
 are  capable  of,  or  can  be  useful  to  them,  and  that  whereon  dojiends  the  turn 
 of  fheir  actions,  does  not  lie  in  this,  that  they  can  suspend  their  desires, 
 an(f  stop  tiieni  Imm  dctenninino- tiieir  wi:ls  to  any  action,  till  they  have 
 duly  and  fairly  examined  tliG  good  and  evil  of  it,  as  far  forth  as  the  weiyl't 
 of  the  thing  requires.  This  we  are  able  to  do;  and  when  we  have  done  it, 
 we  have  done  oiu-  duty,  and  all  that  is  in  our  power,  and  indeed  all  tliat 
 nieds.  For  siiKC  the  will  supposes  knowledge  to  guide  its  choice,  all 
 that  we  can  do  :.;  to  hold  our  wills  undetermined  till  we  have  examined 
 the  good  and  evil  of  what  we  desire,  what  follows  after  that,  follows  in  a 
 chain  of  consequences  linked  one  to  another,  all  depending  on  the  last  de- 
 terminat,ion  of  the  judgment ;  which,  whether  it  shall  be  upon  a  hasty  and 
 precipitate  view,  or  upon  a  due  and  mature  examination,  is  in  our  power: 
 experience  showing  us,  that  in  most  cases  we  are  able  to  suspend  the  pre- 
 sent satisfaction  of  any  desire. 
 
 Sect.  53.  Government  of  our  passions  the  right  improvement  of  liberty. 
 — But  if  any  extreme  disturbance  (as  sometimes  it  happens)  possesses  our 
 whqle  mind,  as  when  the  pain  of  the  rack,  an  impetuous  uneasiness,  as  of 
 love,  anger,  or  any  other  violent  passion,  running  away  with  us,  allows  us 
 not  the  liberty  of  thought,  and  we  are  not  masters  enough  of  our  own  minds 
 to  consider  thoroughly  and  examine  fairly  ;  God,  who  knows  our  frailty, 
 pities  our  wea'cness,  and  requires  of  us  no  more  than  we  are  able  to  do,  and 
 sees  what  was  and  what  was  not  in  our  power,  will  judge  as  a  kind  and 
 merciful  father.  Bat  the  forbearance  of  a  too  hasty  compliance  with  our 
 desires,  the  moderation  and  restraint  of  our  passions,  so  that  our  under- 
 standings may  be  free  to  examine,  and  reason  unbiassed  gives  its  judgment, 
 being  that  whereon  a  right  direction  of  our  conduct  to  true  happiness  de- 
 pends ;  it  is  in  this  we  should  employ  our  chief  care  and  endeavours.  In 
 this  we  should  take  pains  to  suit  tlie  relish  of  our  minds  to  the  true  intrinsic 
 good  or  ill  that  is  in  things,  and  not  permit  an  allowed  or  supposed  possi- 
 ble great  and  weighty  good  to  slip  out  of  our  thoughts,  without  leaving  any 
 relish,  any  desire  of  itself  there,  till,  by  a  due  consideration  of  its  true  worth, 
 we  have  formed  appetites  in  our  minds  suitable  to  it,  and  made  ourselves 
 uneasy  in  the  want  of  it,  or  in  the  fear  of  losing  it.  And  how  much  this 
 is  in  every  one's  power,  by  making  resolutions  to  himself  such  as  he  may 
 keep,  is  easy  for  every  one  to  try.  Nor  let  any  one  say  he  cannot  govern 
 his  passions,  nor  hinder  them  from  breaking  out,  and  carrying  him  into  ac- 
 tion ;  for  what  he  can  do  before  a  prince,  or  a  great  man,  he  can  do  alone, 
 or  in  the  presence  of. God,  if  he  will. 
 
 Sect.  54.  How  men  come  to  pursue  different  courses. — From  what  has 
 been  said,  it  is  easj'  to  give  an  account  how  it  comes  to  pass,  that  though 
 all  men  desire  happiness,  yet  their  wills  carry  them  so  contrarily,  and  yet 
 consequently  some  of  them  do  what  is  evil.  And  to  this  1  say,  that  the  va- 
 rious and  contrary  choices  that  men  make  in  the  world  do  not  argue  that 
 they  do  not  all  pursue  good  :  but  that  the  same  thing  is  not  good  to  .every  ' 
 man  alike.  This  variety  of  pursuits  shows  that  every  one  does  not  place~Tns 
 happiness  in  the  same  tiling,  or  choose  the  same  way  to  it.  Were  all 
 the  concerns  of  man  terminated  in  this  life,  why  one  followed  study  and 
 knowledge,  and  another  hawking  and  hunting;  why  one  chose  luxuiy  and 
 debauchery,  and  anotlier  sobriety  and  riches,  would  not  be,  because  every  one 
 of  these  did  not  aim  at  his  ovv^n  happiness,  but  because  their  happiness  was 
 placed  indifferent  things.  And  therefore  it  was  a  right  answer  of  the  phy- 
 sician to  his  patient  tliat  had  sore  eyes:  if  you  have  more  pleasure  in  tjie  taste 
 of  wine  than  in  tlie  use  of  your  sight,  wine  is  good  for  you  ;  but  if  the  pleasure 
 of  seeing  be  greater  to  you  than  that  of  drinking,  wine  is  naugiit. 
 
 Sect.  55.  The  mind  has  a  different  relish,  as  well  as  the  palate;  and  you 
 will  as  fruitlessly  endeavour  to  deliglit  all  men  with  riches  or  glory  (which 
 yet  some  men  plaro  then*  happinrss  in)  as  you  would  to  satisfy  all  mcn'.s 
 
Ch.  21.  OF   POWER.  169 
 
 hunger  with  cheese  or  lobsters  :  which  though  very  agreeable  and  delicious 
 fare  .to  some,  are  to  others  extremely  nauseous  and  offensive :  and  many 
 people  would  with  reason  prefer  the  griping  of  an  hungry  belly  to  thocse  dishes 
 which  are  a  feast  to  others.  Hence  it  was,  I  think,  that  the  philosophers 
 of  old  did  in  vain  inquire,  whether  summicm  honum  consisted  in  riches,  or 
 bodily  delights,  or  virtue,  or  contemplation  :  and  they  might  have  as  rea- 
 sonably disputed  wliether  the  best  relish  were  to  be  found  in  apples,  plums, 
 or  nuts,  and  have  divided  themselves  into  sects  upon  it.  For  as  pleasant 
 tastes  depend  not  on  the  things  themselves,  but  their  agreeableness  to  this 
 or  that  particular  palate,  wherein  there  is  great  variety ;  so  the  greatest 
 happiness  consists  in  the  having  fliose  things  which  produce  the  greatest 
 pleasure,  and  in  the.  absence  of  those  which  cause  any  disturbance,  any  , 
 pain.  Now  these,  to  different  men,  are  very  different  things.  If  therefore  ^ 
 men  in  this  life  only  have  hope,  if  in  this  life  they  can  only  enjoy,  it  is  not 
 strange  nor  unreasonable  that  they  should  seek  their  happiness  by  avoid- 
 ing all  things  that  disease  them  here,  and  by  pursuing  all  that  delight  them ; 
 wherein  it  will  be  no  wonder  to  find  variety  and  difference.  For  if  there 
 be  no  prospect  beyond  the  grave,  the  inference  is  certainly  right,  "  let  us 
 eat  and  drink,  "  let  us  enjoy  what  we  delight  in,  "  for  to-morrow  we  shall 
 die."  This,  I  think,  may  serve  to  show  us  the  reason  why,  though  all 
 men's  desires  tend  to  happiiiess,  yet  they  are  not  moved  by  the  same  ob- 
 ject. Men  may  choose  different  things,  and  yet  all  choose  right ;  suppos- 
 ing them  only  like  a  company  of  poor  insects,  whereof  some  are  bees,  de- 
 lighted with  flowers  and  their  sweetness  ;  others  beetles,  delighted  with 
 other  kinds  of  viands,  which  having  enjoyed  for  a  season,  they  would  cease 
 to  be,  and  exist  no  more  for  ever. 
 
 Sect.  5o.  Hqw  men  come  to  choose  ill. — These  things,  duly  weighed, 
 will  give  us,  as  I  think,  a  clear  view  into  the  state  of  human  liberty.  Li- 
 berty, it  is  plain,  consists  in  a  power  to  do,  or  not  to  do ;  to  do,  or  forbear^ 
 doing,  as  we  will.  This  cannot  be  denied.  But  this  seeming  to  compre- 
 hend only  tlie  actions  of  a  man  consecutive  to  volition,  it  is  farther  inqui- 
 red, "  whetlier  he  be  at  liberty  to  will,  or  no."  And  to  this  it  has  been 
 answered,  that  in  most  cases  a  man  is  not  at  liberty  to  forbear  the  act  of/ 
 volition  :  he  must  exert  an  act  of  his  will,  whereby  the  action  proposed  is 
 made  to  exist,  or  not  to  exist.  But  yet  there  is  a  case  wherein  a  man  is 
 at  liberty  in  respect  of  willing,  and  that  is  the  clioosing  of  a  remote  good 
 as  an  end  to  be  pursued.  Here  a  man  may  suspend  the  act  of  his  choice 
 from  being  determined  for  or  against  the  thing  proposed,  till  he  has  ex- 
 amined v\'!ieUier  it  be  really  of  a  nature  in  itself,  and  consequences  to  make 
 him  happy,  or  no.  For  when  he  has  once  chosen  it,  and  thereby  it  is  be- 
 come a  part  of  his  happiness,  it  raises  desire,  and  that  proportion- 
 ably  gives  h'ra  uneasiness,  which  determines  his  will,  and  sets  him  at 
 work  in  pursuit  of  his  choice  on  all  occasions  that  offer.  And  here  we 
 may  see  how  it  comes  to  pass,  that  a  man  may  justly  incur  punishment, 
 though  it  be  certain  that  in  all  the  particular  actions  that  he  wills,  he  does, 
 and  necessarily  does  v/ill  that  which  he  then  judges  to  be  good.  For, 
 though  his  will  be  always  determined  by  that  which  is  judged  good  by  his 
 understanding,  yet  it  excuses  him  not :  because,  by  a  too  hasty  choice  of  his 
 own  making,  he  has  imposed  on  himself  wrong  measures  of  good  and 
 evil ;  which,  however  false  and  fallacious,  have  the  same  influence  on  all 
 his  tuture  conduct  as  if  they  were  true  and  right.  He  has  vitiated  his 
 own  palate,  and  must  be  answerable  to  himself  for  the  sickness  and  death 
 that  follows  from  it.  The  eternal  law  and  nature  of  things  must  not  be 
 altered  to  comply  with  his  ill-ordered  choice.  If  the  neglect  or  abuse  of 
 the  liberty  he  had  to  examine  what  would  really  and  truly  make  for  his 
 happiness  misleads  him,  the  miscarriages  that  follow  on  it  must  be  imputed 
 to  its  own  election.  He  had  a  povver  to  suspend  liis  determination:  it 
 was  given  him  that  he  might  examine  and  take  care  of  his  own  happiness 
 W 
 
170  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 and  look  that  he  were  not  deceived.  And  ho  could  never  judge  that  it 
 was  better  to  be  deceived  than  not,  in  a  matter  of  so  great  and  near  con- 
 cernment. 
 
 What  lias  been  said  may  also  discover  to  us  the  reason  why  men  in 
 this  world  prefer  different  things,  and  pursue  happiness  by  contrary  courses. 
 But  yet,  since  men  are  always  constant,  and  in  earnest,  in  matters  of  hap- 
 piness and  misery,  the  question  still  remains,  how  men  come  often  to 
 prefer  the  worse  to  the  better ;  and  to  choose  that  which,  by  their  own 
 confession,  has  made  them  miserable  ? 
 
 Sect.  57.  To  account  for  the  various  and  contrary  ways  men  take, 
 though  all  aim  at  being  happy,  we  must  consider  whence  the  various  un- 
 easinesses, that  determine  the  will  in  the  preference  of  each  voluntary 
 action,  have  their  rise. 
 
 From  bodily  pains. — 1.  Some  of  them  come  from  causes  not  in  our  power: 
 such  as  are  often  the  pains  of  the  body  from  want,  disease,  or  outward 
 injuries,  as  the  rack,  &c.  which  when  present  and  violent,  operate  for  the 
 most  part  forcibly  on  the  will,  and  turn  the  courses  of  men's  lives  from 
 virtue,  piety,  and  religion,  and  what  before  they  judged  to  lead  to  happi- 
 ness ;  every  one  not  endeavouring,  or  through  disuse  not  being  able,  by 
 the  contemplation  of  remote  and  future  good,  to  raise  in  himself  desires  of 
 them  strong  enough  to  counterbalance  the  uneasiness  he  feels  in  those 
 bodily  torments,  and  to  keep  his  will  steady  in  the  clioice  of  those  actions 
 which  lead  to  future  liappiness.  A  neighbour  country  has  been  of  late  a 
 tragical  theatre,  from  which  we  might  fetch  instances,  if  there  needed  any, 
 and  the  world  did  not  in  all  countries  and  ages  furnish  examples  enough  to 
 confirm  that  received  observation,  "  necessitas  cogit  ad  turpia;"  and  there- 
 fore there  is  great  reason  for  us  to  pray,  "  lead  us  not  into  temptation." 
 
 From  wrong  desires  arising  from  wrong  judgment. — Other  uneasi- 
 nesses arise  from  our  desires  of  absent  good  ;  which  desires  always  bear 
 proportion  to,  and  depend  on,  the  judgment  we  make,  and  the  relish  we 
 have  of  any  absent  good  :  in  both  which  we  are  apt  to  be  variously  misled, 
 and  that  by  our  own  fault.. 
 
 Sect.  58.  Our  judgment  of  present  good  or  evil  always  right. — ^2.  In 
 the  first  place  I  shall  consider  the  wrong  judgments  men  make  of  future 
 good  and  evil,  whereby  their  desires  are  misled.  For,  as  to  pjesent  hap- 
 piness and  misery,  when  that  alone  comes  into  consideration,  and  the 
 consequences  are  quite  removed,  a  man  never  chooses  amiss  ;  he  knows 
 what  best  pleases  him,  and  that  he  actually  prefers.  Things  in  their 
 present  enjoyment  are  what  they  seem ;  the  apparent  and  real  good  are, 
 in  this  case,  always  the  same :  for  the  pain  or  pleasure  being  just  so  great, 
 and  no  greater  than  it  is  felt,  the  present  good  or  evil  is  really  so  much  as 
 it  appears.  And,  therefore,  were  every  action  of  ours  concluded  within 
 itself,  and  drew  no  consequences  after  it,  we  should  undoubtedly  never  err 
 in  our  choice  of  good  ;  we  should  always  infallibly  prefer  the  best.  Were 
 the  pains  of  honest  industry  and  of  starving  with  hunger  and  cold,  set 
 together  before  us,  nobody  would  be  in  doubt  which  to  choose  :  were 
 the  satisfaction  of  a  lust,  and  the  joys  of  heaven,  offered  at  once  to  any 
 one's  present  possession,  he  would  not  balance  or  err  in  the  determination 
 of  his  choice. 
 
 Sect.  59.  But  since  our  voluntary  actions  carry  not  all  the  happiness, 
 and  misery  that  depend  on  them  along  with  them  in  their  present  perfor- 
 mance, but  are  the  precedent  causes  of  good  and  evil,  which  they  draw 
 after  them,  and  bring  upon  us,  when  they  themselves  are  passed  and  cease 
 to  be  ;  our  desires  look  beyond  our  present  enjoyments,  and  carry  the  mind 
 out  to  absent  good,  according  to  the  necessity  which  we  think  there  is  of 
 it  to  the  making  or  increase  of  our  happiness.  It  is  our  opinion  of  such  a 
 necessity  that  gives  it  its  attraction:  without  that  we  are  not  moved  by 
 absent  good.     For  in  this  narrow'  scantling  of  capacity,  which  we  are  ac- 
 
Cli.  21.  OF  POWER.  171 
 
 customed  to  and  sensible  of  here,  wherein  we  enjoy  but  one  pleasure  at 
 once,  which,  when  all  uneasiness  is  away,  is,  whilst  it  lasts,  sufficient  to 
 make  us  think  ourselves  happy,  it  is  not  all  remote,  and  even  apparent 
 good,  that  affects  us.  Because  the  indolency  and  enjoyment  we  have 
 sufficing  for  our  present  happiness,  we  desire  not  to  venture  the  change  ; 
 smce  we  judge  that  we  are  happy  already,  being  content,  and  that  is 
 enough.  For  who  is  content,  is  happy.  But  as  soon  as  any  new  unea- 
 siness comes  in,  this  happiness  is  disturbed,  and  we  are  set  afresh  on  work 
 in  the  pursuit  of  happiness. 
 
 Sect.  60.  From  a  wrong  judgment  of  what  makes  a  necessary  part  of 
 their  happiness. — Their  aptness  wierefore  to  conclude  that  they  can  be  hap- . 
 py  without  it,  is  one  great  occasion  that  men  often  are  not  raised  to  the 
 desire  of  the  greatest  absent  good.  For  whilst  such  thoughts  possess 
 them,  the  joys  of  a  future  state  move  them  not ;  they  have  little  concern 
 or  uneasiness  about  them  ;  and  the  will,  free  from  the  determination  of 
 such  desires,  is  \ei\  to  the  pursuit  of  nearer  satisfactions,  and  to  the  re- 
 moval of  those  uneasinesses  which  it  then  feels,  in  its  want  of  and  longings 
 after  them.  Change  but  a  man's  view  of  these  things  ;  let  him  see  that 
 virtue  and  religion  are  necessary  to  his  happiness,  let  him  look  into  the 
 future  state  of  bliss  or  misery,  and  see  there  God,  the  righteous  judge, 
 ready  to  "render  to  every  man  accorditig  to  his  deeds;  to  them  who  by 
 patient  continuance  in  well-doing  seek  for  glory,  and  honour,  and  immor- 
 tality, eternal  life  ;  but  unto  every  soul  that  doth  evil,  indignation  and 
 wrath,  tribulation  and  anguish;"  to  him,  I  say,  who  hath  a  prospect 
 of  the  different  state  of  perfect  happiness  or  misery  that  attends  all  men 
 after  this  life,  depending  on  their  behaviour  here,  the  measures  of  good  and 
 evil,  that  govern  his  choice,  are  mightily  changed.  For  since  nothing  of 
 pleasure  and  pain  in  this  life  can  bear  any  proportion  to  the  endless  hap- 
 piness, or  exquisite  misery,  of  an  immortal  soul  hereafter,  actions  in  his 
 power  will  have  their  preference,  not  according  to  the  transient  pleasure 
 or  pain  that  accompanies  or  follows  them  here,  but  as  they  serve  to  secure 
 that  perfect  durable  happiness  hereafter. 
 
 Sect.  61.  A  more  particular  account  of  wrong  judgments. — But  to  ac- 
 count more  particularly  for  the  misery  that  men  often  bring  on  themselves, 
 notwithstanding  that  they  do  all  in  earnest  pursue  happiness,  we  must 
 consider  how  things  come  to  be  represented  to  our  desires,  under  deceit- 
 fill  appearances ;  a,nd  that  is  by  the  judgment  pronouncing  wrongly  con- 
 cerning them.  To  see  how  far  this  reaches,  and  what  are  the  causes  of 
 wrong  judgment,  we  must  remember  that  things  are  judged  good  or  bad  in  a 
 double  sense. 
 
 First,  That  which  is  properly  good  or  bad,  is  nothing  but  barely  pleasure 
 or  pain. 
 
 Secondly,  But  because  not  only  present  pleasure  and  pain,  but  that  also 
 which  is  apt  by  its  efficacy  or  consequences  to  bring  it  upon  us  at  a  dis- 
 tance, is  a  proper  object  of  our  desires,  and  apt  to  move  a  creature  that 
 has  foresight :  therefore  things  also  that  draw  after  them  pleasure  and  pain 
 are  considered  as  good  and  evil. 
 
 Sect.  62.  The  wrong  judgment  that  misleads  us,  and  makes  the  will 
 often  fasten  on  the  worse  side,  lies  in  misreporting  upon  the  various  com- 
 parisons of  these.  The  wrong  judgment  I  am  here  speaking  of,  is  not  what 
 one  man  may  think  of  the  determination  of  another,  but  what  every  man 
 himself  must  confess  to  be  wrong.  For  since  I  lay  it  for  a  certain  ground 
 that  every  intelligent  being  really  seeks  happiness,  which  consists  in  the 
 enjoyment  of  pleasure,  without  any  considerable  mixture  of  uneasiness  ; 
 it  is  impossible  any  one  should  willingly  put  into  his  own  draught  any 
 bitter  ingredient,  or  leave  out  any  thing  in  his  power  that  would  tend  to 
 his  satisfaction,  and  the  completing  of  his  happiness,  but  only  by  wrong  judg- 
 ment.    I  shall  not  here  speak  of  that  mistake,  which  is  tb-^  rov^^''^^}n.\^(■.e 
 
172  OF  nU.AIAN  UM)l]rLSTANDlNG.  Book.  2. 
 
 of  iuviaciblo  error,  wliich  scarce  deserves  tlio  name  of  wrong  judgmemt; 
 but  of  tiiat  wron^  judgment  wiiich  every  man  liimsclf  must  confess  to 
 be  so. 
 
 Sect.  63.  In  comparing  present  and  future. — If,  therefore,  as  to  present 
 pleasure  and  pain,  the  mind,  as  has  been  said,  never  mistakes  that 
 which  is  really  good  or  evil ;  that  which  is  the  greater  pleasure,  or  the 
 greater  pain,  is  reallj' just  as  it  appears.  But  though  present  pleasure  and 
 pain  show  their  ditrcrencc  and  degrees  so  plainly  as  not  to  leave  room  for 
 mistake,  yet  when  we  compare  present  pleasure  or  pain  with  future  (wliich 
 is  usually  the  case  in  the  most  importaiitdeterminations  of  the  will,)  we 
 often  make  wrong  judgments  of  them,  tfting  our  measures  of  them  in  dif- 
 ferent positions  of  distance.  Objects  near  our  view  are  apt  to  be  thought 
 greater  than  those  of  a  larger  size  tiiat  are  more  remote  :  and  so  it  is  with 
 pleasures  and  pains,  tlie  present  is  apt  to  carry  it,  and  those  at  a  distance 
 have  the  disadvantage  in  the  comparison.  Thus  most  men,  like  spendthrift 
 heirs,  are  apt  to  judge  a  little  in  hand  better  than  a  great  deal  to  come  :  and 
 so,  for  small  malters  in  possession,  part  with  greater  ones  in  reversion. 
 But  that  this  is  a  vrrong  judgment  every  one  must  allow,  let  his  pleasure 
 consist  in  whatever  it  will :  since  that  which  is  future  will  certainly  come 
 to  be  present ;  and  then,  having  the  same  advantage  of  nearness,  will  show 
 itself  in  its  full  dimensions,  and  discover  his  wilful  mistake,  who  judged  of  it 
 by  unequal  measures.  Were  the  pleasure  of  drinking  accompanied,  the  very 
 moment  a  man  takes  of^  his  glass,  with  that  sick  stomach  and  aching  head, 
 which,  in  some  men,  are  sure  to  follow  not  many  hours  after,  I  think  no- 
 body, whatever  pleasure  he  had  in  his  cups,  would,  on  these  conditions, 
 ever  let  wine  touch  his  lips  ;  which  yet  he  daily  swallows,  and  the  evil  side 
 comes  to  be  chosen  only  by  the  fallacy  of  a  little  difference  in  time.  But  if 
 pleasure  or  pain  can  be  so  lessened  only  by  a  few  hours'  removal,  how 
 much  more  will  it  be  so  by  a  farther  distance,  to  a  man  that  will  not  by  a 
 right  judgment  do  what  time  will,  i.  e.  bring  it  home  upon  himself,  and 
 consider  it  as  present,  and  there  take  its  true  dimensions  !  This  is  the 
 way  we  usually  impose  on  ourselves,  in  respect  of  bare  pleasure  and  pain, 
 or  the  true  degrees  of  happiness  or  misery :  the  future  loses  its  just  propor- 
 tion, and  what  is  present  obtains  the  preference  as  the  greater.  I  mention 
 not  here  the  wrong  judgment,  whereby  the  absent  are  not  only  lessened, 
 but  reduced  to  perfect  nothing ;  when  men  enjoy  what  they  can  in  present, 
 and  make  sure  of  that,  concluding  amiss  that  no  evil  will  thence  follow. 
 For  that  lies  not  in  comparing  the  greatness  of  future  good  and  evil,  which 
 is  that  we  are  here  speaking  of,  but  in  another  sort  of  wrong  judgment, 
 which  is  concerning  good  or  evil,  as  it  is  considered  to  be  the  cause  and 
 procurement  of  pleasure  or  pain,  that  will  follow  from  it. 
 
 Sect.  64.  Cause  of  this. — The  cause  of  our  judging  amiss,  when  we 
 compare  our  present  pleasure  or  pain  with  future,  seems  to  me  to  be  the 
 weak  and  narrow  constitution  of  our  minds.  We  cannot  well  enjoy  two 
 pleasures  at  once,  much  less  any  pleasure  almost  whilst  pain  possesses 
 us.  The  present  pleasure,  if  it  be  not  very  languid,  and  almost  none 
 at  all,  fills  our  narrow  souls,  and  so  takes  up  the  whole  mind  that  it  scarce 
 leaves  any  thought  of  things  absent ;  or  if,  among  our  pleasures,  there  are 
 some  which  are  not  strong  enough  to  exclude  the  consideration  of  things 
 at  a  distance  ;  yet  we  have  so  great  an  abhorrence  of  pain,  that  a  little  of 
 it  extinguishes  all  our  pleasure  ;  a  little  bitter  mingled  in  our  cup  leaves  no 
 relish  of  the  sweet.  Hence  it  comes  that  at  any  rate  we  desire  to  be  rid 
 of  the  present  evil,  which  we  are  apt  to  think  nothing  absent  can  equal ; 
 because,  under  the  present  pain,  we  find  not  ourselves  capable  of  any  the 
 least  degree  of  happiness.  Men's  daily  com])laints  are  a  loud  proof  of  this : 
 the  pain  that  any  actually  feels  is  still"  of  all  other  the  worst ;  and  it  is 
 with  anguish  they  cry  out,  "  Any  rather  tlian  this  ;  nothing  can  be  so  in- 
 tolerable as  what  I  now  suffer."     And  tlierefore  our  whole  endeavours  and 
 
Ch.  21.  OF  POWER.  173 
 
 thoughts  are  intent  to  get  rid  of  the  present  evil,  before  all  things,  as  the 
 first  necessary  condition  to  our  happiness,  let  what  will  follow.  Nothinjj, 
 as  we  passionately  think,  can  exceed,  or  almost  equal,  the  uneasiness  tftat 
 sits  so  heavy  upon  us.  And  because  the  abstinence  from  a  present  plea- 
 sure that  offers  itself  is  a  pain,  nay  oftentimes  a  very  great  one,  the  desire 
 being  inflamed  by  a  near  and  tempting  object,  it  is  no  wonder  that  that 
 operates  after  the  same  manner  pain  does,  and  lessens  in  our  thoughts 
 what  is  future  ;  and  so  forces  us,  as  it  were,  blindfold  into  its  embraces. 
 
 Sect.  65.  Add  to  this,  that  absent  good,  or  which  is  the  same  thing, 
 future  pleasure,  especially  if  of  a  sort  we  are  unacquainted  with,  seldom  is 
 able  to  counterbalance  any  uneasiness,  either  of  pain  or  desire,  which  is 
 present.  For  its  greatness  being  no  more  than  what  shall  be  really  tasted 
 when  enjoyed,  men  are  apt  enough  to  lessen  that,  to  make  it  give  place  to 
 any  present  desire  ;  and  conclude  with  themselves,  that  when  it  comes  to 
 trial,  it  may  possibly  not  answer  the  report  or  opinion  that  generally  passes 
 of  it ;  they  having  often  found,  that  not  only  what  others  have  magnified, 
 but  even  what  they  themselves  have  enjoyed  with  great  pleasure  and  de- 
 light at  one  time,  has  proved  insipid  or  nauseous  at  another ;  and  therefore 
 they  see  nothing  in  it  for  which  they  should  forego  a  present  enjoyment. 
 But  that  this  is  a  false  way  of  judging,  when  applied  to  the  happiness  of 
 another  life,  they  must  confess  ;  uidess  they  will  say,  "  God  cannot  make 
 those  happy  he  designs  to  be  so."  For  that  being  intended  for  a  state  of 
 happiness,  it  must  certainly  be  agreeable  to  every  one's  wish  and  desire  : 
 could  we  suppose  their  relishes  as  different  there,  as  they  are  here,  yet  the 
 manna  in  heaven  will  suit  every  one's  palate.  Thus  much  of  the  wrong 
 judgment  we  make  of  present  and  future  pleasure  aiid  pain,  when  they  are 
 compared  together,  and  so  the  absent  considered  as  future. 
 
 Sect.  6G.  In  considering  consequences  of  actions. — As  to  things  good 
 or  bad  in  their  consequences,  and  by  the  aptness  that  is  in  them  to  procure 
 us  good  or  evil  in  the  future,  we  judge  amiss  several  ways. 
 
 1.  When  we  judge  that  so  much  evil  does  not  really  depend  on  them, 
 as  in  truth  there  docs. 
 
 2.  When  we  judge,  that  though  the  consequence  be  of  that  moment,  yet 
 it  is  not  of  that  certainty  but  that  it  may  otherwise  fall  out,  or  else  by  some 
 means  be  avoided,  as  by  industry,  address,  change,  repentance,  &c.  That 
 these  are  wrong  ways  of  judging,  were  easy  to  show  in  every  particular,  if 
 I  would  examine  them  at  large  singly :  but  I  shall  only  mention  this  in  ge- 
 neral, viz.  that  it  is  a  very  wrong  and  irrational  way  of  proceeding,  to  ven- 
 ture a  greater  good  for  a  less,  upon  uncertain  guesses,  and  before  a  due  ex- 
 amination be  made  proportionable  to  the  weightiness  of  the  matter,  and  the 
 concernment  it  is  to  us  not  to  mistake.  This,  I  think,  every  one  must 
 confess,  especially  if  he  considers  the  usual  causes  of  this  wrong  judgment, 
 whereof  these  following  are  soni^  : 
 
 Sect.  67.  Causes  of  this. — 1 .  Ignesance  :  he  that  judges  without  inform- 
 ing himself  to  the  utmost  that  he  is  capable,  cannot  acquit  himself  of  judg- 
 ing amiss. 
 
 2.  Inadvertency :  when  a  man  overlooks  even  that  which  he  does  know. 
 This  is  an  affected  and  present  ignorance,  which  misleads  our  judgments 
 as  much  as  the  other.  Judging  is,  as  it  were,  balancing  an  account,  and 
 determining  on  which  side  the  odds  lie.  If  therefore  either  side  be  huddled 
 up  in  haste,  and  several  of  the  sums  that  should  have  gone  into  the  reck- 
 oning be  overlooked  and  left  out,  this  precipitancy  causes  as  wrong  a 
 judgment  as  if  it  were  a  perfect  ignorance.  That  which  most  commonly 
 causes  this  is  the  prevalency  of  some  pi-esent  pleasure  or  pain,  heightened 
 by  our  feeble  passionate  nature,  most  strongly  wrought  on  by  what  is  pre- 
 sent. To  check  this  precipitancy,  our  understanding  and  reason  was  given 
 us,  if  we  will  make  a  right  use  of  it,  to  search  and  see,  and  then  judge  there- 
 upon.   Without  liberty,  the  understanding  would  be  to  no  purpose :  and  with- 
 
174  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book.  2. 
 
 out  understanding,  liberty  (if  it  could  be)  would  signify  nothing.  If  a  man 
 sees  what  would  do  him  good  or  harm,  what  would  make  him  liappy  or  mis- 
 erable, witliout  being  able  to  move  liimself  one  step  towards  or  from  it, 
 wliat  is  he  tlie  better  for  seeing  1  Ajid  he  tliat  is  at  liberty  to  ramble  in  per- 
 fect darkness,  wiiat  is  liis  liberty  better  than  if  he  were  driven  up  and  down 
 as  a  bubble  by  tlio  force  of  the  wind?  The  being  acted  by  a  blind  imjjulse 
 from  without,  or  from  within,  is  little  odds.  The  first,  therefore,  and  great 
 use  of  liberty,  is  to  hinder  blind  precipitancy  ;  the  principal  exercise  of  free- 
 dom is  to  stand  still,  open  tlie  eyes,  look  about,  and  take  a  view  of  tiie  con- 
 sequence of  what  we  are  going  to  do,  as  much  as  the  weight  of  the  matter 
 requires.  How  much  sloth  and  negligence,  heat  and  passion,  the  preva- 
 lency  of  fashion,  or  acquired  indispositions,  do  severally  contribute  on  oc- 
 casion to  these  wrong  judgments,  I  shall  not  here  farther  inquire.  I  shall 
 only  add  one  other  false  judgment,  which  I  thin.k  necessary  to  mention,  be- 
 cause, perhaps,  it  is  little  taken  notice  of,  though  of  great  influence. 
 
 Sect.  68.  Wrong  judgment  of  what  is  necessary  to  our  hajipincss. — 
 All  men  desire  haj)piness,  that  is  past  doubt;  but,  as  has  been  already  ob- 
 served, when  they  are  rid  of  pain,  they  are  apt  to  take  up  with  any  pleasure 
 at  hand,  or  that  custom  has  endeared  to  them,  to  rest  satisfied  in  that ;  and 
 so  being  happy,  till  some  .new  desire,  by  making  them  uneasy,  disturbs  that 
 happiness,  and  shows  them  that  they  are  not  so,  they  look  no  farther  ;  nor 
 is  the  will  determined  to  any  action,  in  pursuit  of  any  other  known  or  ap- 
 parent good.  For  since  wo  find  that  we  cannot  enjoy  all  sorts  of  good, 
 but  one  excludes  another,  we  do  not  fix  our  desires  on  every  apparent  great- 
 er good,  unless  it  be  judged  to  be  necessary  to  our  happiness ;  if  we  think 
 we  can  be  happy  without  it,  it  moves  us  not.  This  is  another  occasion  to 
 men  of  judging  wrong,  when  they  take  not  that  to  be  necessary  to  their 
 happiness  which  really  is  so.  This  mistake  misleads  us  both  in  the  choice 
 of  the  good  we  aim  at,  and  very  often  in  the  means  to  it,  when  it  is  a  re- 
 mote good :  but  which  way  ever  it  be,  either  by  placing  it  where  really 
 it  js  not,  or  by  neglecting  the  means  as  not  necessary  to  it ;  when  a  man 
 misses  his  great  end,  happiness,  he  will  acknowledge  he  judged  not  right. 
 Tljat  which  contributes  to  this  mistake,  is  the  real  or  supposed  unpleasant- 
 ness of  the  actions  which  are  the  way  to  this  end ;  it  seeming  so  preposter- 
 ous a  thing  to  men  to  make  themselves  unhappy  in  order  to  happiness,  that 
 they  do  not  easily  bring  themselves  to  it. 
 
 Sect.  69.  We  can  change  the  agreeableness  or  disagreeableness  in 
 things. — The  last  inquiry  therefore  concerning  this  matter  is,  "  whether 
 it  be  in  a  man's  power  to  change  the  pleasantness  and  unpleasantness  that 
 accompanies  any  sort  of  action?"  And  as  to  that,  it  is  plain  in  many/ 
 cases  he  can.  Men  may  and  should  correct  their  palates,  and  give  relish 
 to  what  either  has,  or  they  suppose  has,  none.  The  relish  of  the  mind  is 
 as  various  as  that  of  the  body,  and  like  that  too  may  be  altered;  and  it  is  a 
 mistake  to  think  that  men  cannot  change  tlie  displeasingness  or  indifferency 
 that  is  in  actions  into  pleasure  and  desire,  if  they  will  do  but  what  is  in  their 
 power.  A  due  consideration  will  do  it  in  some  cases ;  and  practice,  applica- 
 tion, and  custom  in  most.  Bread  or  tobacco  may  be  neglected,  where  they 
 are  shown  to  be  useful  to  health,  because  of  an  indifferency  or  disrelish  to 
 them;  reason  and  consideration  at  first  recommend,  and  begin  their  trial, 
 and  use  finds  or  custom  makes  them  pleasant.  That  this  is  so  in  virtue  too 
 is  very  certain.  Actions  are  pleasing  or  displeasing,  either  in  themselves, v 
 or  considered  as  a  means  to  a  greater  and  more  desirable  end.  The  eating 
 of  a  well-seasoned  dish,  suited  to  a  man's  palate,  may  move  the  mind  by  the 
 delight  itself  that  accompanies  the  eating,  without  reference  to  any  other 
 end  :  to  which  the  ponsideration  of  the  pleasure  thefe  is  in  health  and 
 strength,  (to  which  that  meat  is  subservient)  may  add  a  new  gusto,  able 
 to  make  us  swallow  an  ill-relished  potion.  In  the  latter  of  these,  any  action 
 is  rendered  more  or  less  pleasing  only  by  the  contemplation  of  the  end,  and 
 
Ch.  21.  OF  POWER.      ,  175 
 
 the  being  more  or  less  persuaded  of  its  tendency  to  it,  or  necessary  con- 
 nexion with  it :  but  the  pleasure  of  the  action  itself  is  best  acquired  or  in- 
 creased by  use  and  practice.  Trials  often  reconcile  us  to  that  which  at  a 
 distance  we  looked  on  with  .aversion,  and  by  repetitions  wear  us  into  a 
 liking  of  what  possibly,  in  the  first  essay,  displeased  us.  Habits  have 
 powerful  charms,  and  put  so  strong  attractions  of  easiness  and  pleasure 
 into  what  we  accustom  ourselves  to,  that  we  cannot  forbear  to  do,  or  at 
 least  be  easy  in  the  omission  of  actions,  which  habitual  practice  has  suited, 
 and  thereby  recommends  to  us.  Though  this  be  very  visible,  and  every 
 one's  experience  shows  him  he  can  do  so  ;  yet  it  is  a  part  in  the  conduct 
 of  men  towards  their  happiness,  neglected  to  a  degree,  that  it  will  be  pos- 
 sibly entertained  as  a  paradox,  if  it  be  said,  that  men  can  make  things  or 
 actions  more  or  less  pleasing  to  themselves ;  and  thereby  remedy  that,  to 
 which  one  may  justly  impute  a  great  deal  of  their  wandering.  Fashion 
 and  the  common  opinion  having  settled  wrong  notions,  and  education  and 
 custom  ill  habits,  the  just  values  of  things  are  misplaced,  and  the  pa- 
 lates of  men  corrupted.  Pains  should  be  taken  to  rectify  these;  and  con- 
 trary habits  change  our  pleasure,  and  give  a  relish  to  that  which  is  neces- 
 sary or  conducive  to  our  happiness.  This  every  one  must  confess  he  can 
 do ;  and  when  happiness  is  lost,  and  misery  overtakes  him,  he  will  confess 
 he  did  amiss  in  neglecting  it;  and  condemn  himself  for  it:  and  I  ask  every 
 one,  whether  he  has  not  often  done  so  ■? 
 
 Sect.  70.  Preference  of  vice  to  virtue  a   manifest  wrong  judgment. — 
 I  shall  not  now  enlarge  any  farther  on  the  wrong  judgments  and  neglect 
 of  what  is  in  their  power,  whereby  men  mislead  themselves.     This  would 
 make  a  volume,  and  is  not  my  business.     But  whatever  false  notions,  or 
 shameful  neglect  of  what  is  in  their  power,  may  put  men  out  of  their  way  to 
 happiness,  and  distract   them,  as  we  see,  into  so  different  courses    of  life, 
 this  yet  is  certain,  that  morality,  established  upon  its  true  foundations,  can- 
 not but  determine  the  choice  in  any  one  that  will  but  consider  :  and  he  that 
 will  not  be  so  far  a  rational  creature   as   to  reflect   seriously  upon  infinite 
 happiness  and  misery,  must  needs  condemn  himself  as  not  making  that 
 use  of  his  understanding   he  should.     The  rewards   and   punishments    of 
 another  life,  which  the  Almighty  has    established  as   the   enforcements  of 
 his  law,  are  of  weight  enough  to  determine  the  choice,  against  whatever 
 pleasure  or  pain  this  life  can  show,  when  the  eternal   state   is    considered 
 but  in  its  bare  possibility,  which  nobody  can  make  any  doubt  of     He  that 
 will  allow  exquisite  and  endless  happiness  to  be  but  the  possible  conse- 
 quence of  a  good  life  here,  and  the  contrary  state  the  possible  reward  of  a 
 bad  one,  must  own  himself  to  judge  very  much  amiss  if  he  does  not  con- 
 clude, that  a  virtuous  life,  with  the  certain  expectation  of  everlasting  bliss, 
 which  may  come,  is  to  be  preferred  to  a  vicious  one,  with  the  fear  of  that 
 dreadful  state  of  misery,  which  it  is  very  possible  may  overtake  the  guilty  ; 
 or  at  best  the  terrible  uncertain  hope  of  annihilation.     This  is  evidently 
 so,  though  the  virtuous  life  here  had  nothing  but  pain,  and  the  vicious  con- 
 tinual pleasure  :  which  yet  is,   for   the   most   part,    quite   otherwise,    and 
 wicked  men  have  not  much  the  odds  to  brag  of,  even  in  their  present  pos- 
 session ;  nay,  all  things  rightly  considered,  have,  I  think,  even  the  worst 
 part  here.     But  when  infinite  happiness  is  put  in  one  scale  against  infinite 
 misery  in  the  other,  if  the  worst  that  comes  to  the  pious  man,    if  he  mis- 
 takes, be  the  best  that  the  wicked  can  attain  to,  if  he  be  in  the  right,  who 
 can  without  madness  run  the  venture  ?  Who  in  his  wits  would  choose  to 
 come  within  a  possibility  of  infinite  misery,  which,  if  he  miss,  there  is  yet 
 nothing  to  be  got"  by  the  hazard  ?     Whereas,  on  the  other  side,  the  sober 
 man  ventures  nothing  against  infinite  happiness  to  be  got,  if  his  expecta- 
 tion comes  to  pass.     If  the  good  man  be  in  the  right,  he  is  eternally  happy  ; 
 if  he  mistakes,   he  is  not    miserable  ;   he    feels   nothing.     On  the    other 
 side,  if  the  wicked  man  be  in  the  right,  he  is  not  happy ;  if  he  mistakes,  he  is 
 
17G  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 infinitely  miserable.  Must  it  not  be  a  most  manifest  wrong' judgment  that 
 does  not  jircsently  see  to  which  side,  in  this  case,  the  i)reterence  is  to  be 
 given  1  I  liave  tbrbornc  to  mcntion-any  thing  of  tiie  certainty  or  probability  of 
 a  future  state,  designing  here  to  sliow  the  wrong  judgment  that  any  one 
 must  allow  he  malvcs  upon  his  own  principles,  laid  how  he  pleases,  who 
 prefers  the  short  pleasures  of  a  vicious  life  upon  any  consideration,  whilst 
 he  knows,  and  cannot  but  be  certain,  that  a  future  life  is  at  least  possible./ 
 
 Sect.  71.  Recapilulation. — To  conclude  this  inquiry  into  human  liberty, 
 which,  as  it  stood  before,  I  myself  from  tjic  beginning  fearing,  and  a  very 
 judicious  friend  of  mine,  since  the  pu!)lication,  suspecting  to  have  some 
 mistake  in  it,  though  he  could  not  particularly  show  it  me,  I  was  put 
 upon  a  stricter  review  of  this  cliaptcr ;  wherein  lighting  upon  a  very  easy 
 and  scarce  observable  slip  I  had  made,  in  putting  one  seemingly  indif- 
 ferent word  for  another,  that  discovery  opened  to  me  this  present  view, 
 which  here,  in  this  second  edition,  I  submit  to  the  learned  world,  and  which 
 in  short  is  this  :  "  Liberty  is  a  power  to  act  or  not  to  act,  according  as  the  .' 
 mind  directs."  A  power  to  direct  the  operative  faculties  to  motion  or  .- 
 rest  in  particular  instances,  is  that  which  we  call  the  will.  That  which 
 in  the  train  of  our  voluntary  actions  determines  the  will  to  any  change  of 
 operation,  is  some  present  uneasiness ;  which  is,  or  at  least  is  always  ac- 
 companied with,  that  of  desire.  Desire  is  always  moved  by  evil,  to  "fly  it ; 
 because  a  total  freedom  from  pain  always  makes  a  necessary  part  of  our 
 happiness :  but  every  good,  nay,  every  greater  good,  docs  not  constantly 
 move  desire,  because  it  may  not  make,  or  may  not  be  taken  to  make,  any 
 necessary  part  of  our  happiness:  for  all  that  we  desire  is  only  to  be  happy. 
 But  though  this  general  desire  of  happiness  operates  constantly  and  inva- 
 riably, yet  the  satisfaction  of  any  particular  desire  can  be  suspended  from  / 
 determining  the  will  to  any  subservient  action  till  we  have  maturely  ex- 
 amined, whether  the  particular  apparent  good,  which  we  then  desire, 
 makes  a  part  of  our  real  happiness,  or  be  consistent  or  inconsistent  with  it. 
 The  result  of  our  judgment  upon  that  examination  is  what  ultimately  de- 
 termines the  man,  who  could  not  be  free  if  his  will  were  determined  by 
 any  thing  but  his  own  desire,  guided  by  his  own  judgment.  I  know  that 
 liberty  by  some  is  placed  in  an  indifTerency  of  the  man  antecedent  to  the 
 determination  of  his  will.  I  wish  they,  who  lay  so  much  stress  on  such  an 
 antecedent  indifferency,  as  they  call  it,  had  told  us  plainly,  whether  this 
 supposed  indifferency  be  antecedent  to  the  thought  and  judgment  of 
 the  understanding,  as  well  as  to  the  decree  of  the  will.  For  it  is  pretty 
 hard  to  state  it  between  them ;  i.  e.  immediately  after  the  judgment  of  the 
 understanding,  and  before  the  determination  of  the  will,  because  the  de- 
 termination of  the  will  immediately  follows  the  judgment  of  the  understand- 
 ing: and  to  place  liberty  in  an  indifferency,  antecedent  to  the  thought 
 and  judgment  of  the  understanding,  seems  to  me  to  place  liberty  in  a  state 
 of  darkness,  wherein  we  can  neither  see  nor  say  any  thing  of  it ;  at  least 
 it  places  it  in  a  subject  incapable  of  it,  no  agent  being  allowed  capable  of 
 liberty  but  in  consequence  of  thought  and  judgment.  I  am  not  nice  about 
 phrases,  and  therefore  consent  to  say,  with  those  that  love  to  speak  so,  that 
 liberty  is  placed  in  indifferency ;  but  it  is  an  indifferency  which  remains 
 afl;er  the  judgment  of  the  understanding;  yea,  even  after  the  determination 
 of  the  will:  and  that  is  an  indifferency  not  of  the  man  (for  after  he  has 
 once  judged  which  is  best,  viz.  to  do  or  forbear,  he  is  no  longer  indif- 
 ferent,) but  an  indifferency  of  the  operative  powers  of  the  man,  which,/ 
 remaining  equally  able  to  operate,  or  to  forbear  operating,  after,  as  before, 
 the  decree  of  the  will,  are  in  a  state  which,  if  one  pleases,  may  be  called 
 indifferency ;  and  as  far  as  this  indifferency  reaches,  a  man  is  free,  and  no 
 farther :  v.  g.l  have  the  ability  to  move  my  hand,  or  to  let  it  rest ;  that 
 operative  power  is  indifferent  to  move,  or  not  to  move  my  hand :  I  am 
 then  in  that  "respect  perfectly   free.     My  will   determines  that   operative 
 
Ch.21.  OF  POWER.  177 
 
 power  to  rest,  I  am  yet  free,  because  the  indifferency  of  that  my  ope- 
 rative power  to  act,  or  not  to  act,  still  remains  ;  the  power  of  moving  my 
 hand  is  not  at  all  impaired  by  the  determination  of  my  will,  which  at  pre- 
 sent orders  rest ;  the  indifferency  of  that  power  to  act,  or  not  to  act,  is  just  as 
 it  was  before,  as  will  appear,  if  the  will  puts  it  to  the  trial,  by  ordering  the 
 contrary.  But  if  during  the  rest  of  my  hand  it  be  seized  by  a  sudden  palsy, 
 the  indifferency  of  that  operative  power  is  gone;  and  with  it  my  liberty; 
 I  have  no  longer  freedom  in  that  respect,  but  am  under  a  necessity  of  let- 
 ting my  hand  rest.  On  the  other  side,  if  my  hand  be  put  into  motion  by  a 
 convulsion,  the  indifferency  of  that  operative  faculty  is  taken  away  by  that 
 motion,  and  my  liberty  in  that  case  is  lost :  for  I  am  under  a  necessity  of 
 having  my  hand  move.  I  have  added  this  to  show  in  what  sort  of  in- 
 differency liberty  seems  to  me  to  consist,  and  not  in  any  other,  real  or 
 imaginary. 
 
 Sect.  72.  True  notions  concerning  the  nature  and  extent  of  liberty 
 are  of  so  great  importance,  that  I  hope  I  shall  be  pardoned  this  digression, 
 which  my  attempt  to  explain  it  has  led  me  into.  The  ideas  of  will,  volition, 
 liberty,  and  necessity,  in  this  chapter  of  power,  came  naturally  in  my  way. 
 In  a  former  edition  of  this  treatise  I  gave  an  account  of  my  thoughts  con- 
 cerning them,  according  to  the  light  I  then  had :  and  now,  as  a  lover  of 
 truth,  and  not  a  worshipper  of  my  own  doctrines,  I  own  some  change  of 
 my  opinion,  which  I  think  I  have  discovered  ground  for.  In  what  I  first 
 writ,  I  with  an  unbiassed  indifferency  followed  truth,  whither  I  thought  she 
 led  me.  But  neither  being  so  vain  as  to  fancy  infallibility,  nor  so  disin- 
 genuous as  to  dissemble  my  mistakes  for  fear  of  blemishing  my  reputation, 
 I  have,  with  the  same  sincere  design  for  truth  only,  not  been  ashamed  to 
 publish  what  a  severer  inquiry  has  suggested.  It  is  not  impossible  but  that 
 some  may  think  my  former  notions  right,  and  some  (as  I  have  already 
 found)  these  latter,  and  some  neither.  I  shall  not  at  all  wonder  at  this 
 variety  in  men's  opinions ;  impartial  deductions  of  reason  in  controverted 
 points  being  so  rare,  and  exact  ones  in  abstract  notions  not  so  very  easy, 
 especially  if  of  any  length.  And  therefore  I  should  tliink  myself  not  a  little 
 beholden  to  any  one,  who  would  upon  these,  or  any  other  grounds, 
 fairly  clear  this  subject  of  liberty  from  any  difficulties  that  may  yet 
 remain. 
 
 Befoi-e  I  close  this  chapter,  it  may  perhaps  be  to  our  purpose,  and  lielp 
 to  give  us  clearer  conceptions  about  power,  if  we  make  our  thoughts  take 
 a  little  more  exact  survey  of  action.  I  have  said  above,  that  we  have  ideas 
 but  of  two  sorts  of  action,  viz.  motion  and  thinking.  These,  in  truth, 
 though  called  and  counted  actions,  yet,  if  nearly  considered,  will  not  be 
 found  to  be  always  perfectly  so.  For,  if  I  mistake  not,  there  are  instan- 
 ces of  both  kinds,  which,  upon  due  consideration,  will  be  found  rather 
 passions  than  actions,  and  consequently  so  far  the  effects  barely  of  passive 
 powers  in  those  subjects,  which  yet  on  their  a.ccounts  are  thought  agents. 
 For  in  these  instances,  the  substance  that  has  motion  or  thought  receives 
 the  impression,  where  it  is  ])ut  into  that  action  purely  from  without,  and 
 so  acts  merely  by  the  capacity  it  has  to  receive  such  an  impression  from 
 some  external  agent ;  and  such  a  power  is  not  proj^erly  an  active  power, 
 but  a  mere  passive  capacity  in  the  subject.  Sometimes  the  substance  or 
 agent  puts  itself  into  action  by  its  own  power,  and  this  is  properly  active 
 power.  Whatsoever  modification  a  substance  has,  whereby  it  produces 
 any  effect,  that  is  called  action  :  v.  g.  a,  solid  substance  by  motion  operates 
 on  or  alters  the  sensible  ideas  of  another  substance,  and  therefore  this  modi- 
 fication of  motion  we  call  action.  But  yet  this  motion  in  that  solid  substance 
 is,  when  rightly  considered,  buta  passion,  if  it  received  it  only  from  some  ex- 
 ternal agent.  So  that  the  active  power  of  motion  is  in  no  substance  which  - 
 cannot  begin  motion  in  itself,  or  in  another  substance,  when  at  rest.  So 
 X 
 
178  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book !?. 
 
 likewise  in  thinking,  a  power  to  receive  ideas  or  tlioiiglits,  from  tlie  opera- 
 tion of  any  external  substance,  is  called  a  power  of  tliinlvinj^:  but  this  is 
 but  a  passive  power,  or  capacity.  But  to  be  able  to  brin;j  into  view  ideas 
 out  of  si;^ht  at  one's  own  choice,  and  to  conri)are  wliich  of  them  one  thinks 
 fit,  this  is  an  active  power.  This  reflection  may  be  of  some'  use  to  pre- 
 serve us  from  mistakes  about  powers  and  actions,  wliicii  grammar  and  the 
 common  frame  of  languages  may  be  apt  to  lead  us  into;  since  what  is  sig- 
 nified by  verbs  that  grammarians  call  active,  does  not  always  signify  ac- 
 tion :  i;.  g.  this  proposition,  I  see  the  moon,  or  a  star,  or  I  feel  the  heat  of 
 tiie  sun,  though  expressed  by  a  verb  active,  does  not  signify  any  action  in 
 me,  whereby  I  operate  on  those  substances ;  but  the  reception  of  the  ideas 
 of  light,  roundness,  and  heat,  wherein  I  am  not  active,  but  barely  passive, 
 and  cannot  in  that  position  of  my  eyes  or  body  avoid  receiving  them.  But 
 when  I  turn  my  eyes  another  way,  orremovemy  body  out  of  the  sunbeams, 
 I  am  properly  active,  because  of  my  own  choice,  by  a  power  within  my- 
 self, I  put  myself  into  that  motion.  Such  an  action  is  the  product  of  active 
 power. 
 
 Sect.  73.  And  thus  I  have,  in  a  short  draught,  given  a  view  of  our  ori- 
 ginal ideas,  from  whence  all  the  rest  are  derived,  and  of  which  they  are 
 made  up:  which  if  I  would  consider  as  a  philosoplier,  and  examine  on  what 
 causes  they  depend,  and  of  what  they  are  made,  I  believe  they  all  might  bo 
 reduced  to  these  very  few  primary  and  original  ones,  viz.  extension,  solidi- 
 ty, mobility,  or  the  power  of  being  moved,  which  by  our  senses  we  receive 
 from  body;  perceptivity,  or  the  power  of  perception  or  thinking:  motivity, 
 or  the  power  of  moving;  which  by  reflection  we  receive  from  our  minds. 
 I  crave  leave  to  make  use  of  these  two  new  words,  to  avoid  the  danger  of 
 being  mistaken  in  the  use  of  those  which  are  equivocal.  To  which  if  we 
 add  existence,  duration,  number, — which  belong  both  to  the  one  and  the 
 other, — we  have,  perhaps,  all  the  original  ideas,  on  which  the  rest  depend. 
 For,  by  these,  1  imagine,  might  be  explained  the  nature  of  colours,  sound.'^, 
 tastes,  smells,  and  all  other  ideas  we  have,  if  we  had  but  facidties  acute 
 enough  to  perceive  the  severally  modified  extensions  and  motions  of  these 
 minute  bodies,  which  produce  those  several  sensations  in  us.  But  my  pre- 
 sent purpose  being  only  to  inquire  into  the  knowledge  the  mind  has  of 
 things,  by  those  ideas  and  appearances  which  God  has  fitted  it  to  receive 
 from  them,  and  how  the  mind  comes  by  that  knowledge,  rather  than  into 
 their  causes  or  manner  of  production  ;  I  shall  not,  contrary  to  the  design  of 
 this  essay,  set  myself  to  inquire  philosophically  into  tlie  peculiar  constitu- 
 tion of  bodies,  and  the  configuration  of  parts,  whereby  they  have  the  power 
 to  produce  in  us  the  ideas  of  their  sensible  qualities  :  I  shall  not  enter  any 
 farther  into  that  disquisition,  it  sufficing  to  my  purpose  to  observe,  that  gold 
 or  saffron  has  a  power  to  produce  in  us  the  idea  of  yellow,  and  snow 
 or  milk  the  idea  of  white,  which  we  can  only  have  by  our  sight,  without  exam- 
 ining the  texture  of  the  parts  of  those  bodies,  or  the  particular  fig-ures  or  mo- 
 tion of  the  particles  which  rebound  from  them,  to  cause  in  us  that  particular 
 sensation :  though  when  we  go  beyond  the  bare  ideas  in  our  minds,  and  would 
 inquire  into  their  causes,  we  cannot  conceive  any  thing  else  to  be  in  any 
 sensible  object,  whereby  it  produces  different  ideas  in  us,  but  the  different 
 bulk,  figure,  number,  texture,  and  motion  of  its  insensible  parts. 
 
Ch.  22.  OF  MIXED  MODES.  179 
 
 CHAPTER  XXII. 
 
 OF  MIXED  MODES. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Mixed  modes,  what. — Having  treated  of  simple  modes  in  the 
 Foregoing  chapters,  and  given  several  instances  of  some  of  the  most  con- 
 siderable of  them,  to  show  what  thejf  are,  and  how  we  come  by  them, 
 we  are  now  in  the  next  place  to  consider  those  we  call  mixed  modes:  such 
 are  the  coniplex  ideas  we  mark  by  the  names  obligation,  drunkenness,  a 
 lie,  &c.  wTiich  consisting  of  several  combinations  of  simple  ideas  of  differ- 
 ent kinds,  I  have  called  mixed  modes,  to  disting-uish  them  from  the  more 
 simple  modes,  wliich  consist  only  of  simple  ideas  of  the  same  kind.  Tliese 
 mixed  modes  being  also  such  combiiiations  of  simple  ideas  as  are  not  looked 
 upon  to  be  characteristical  marks  of  any  real  beings  that  have  a  steady 
 existence,  but  scattered  and  independent  ideas  put  together  by  the  mind, 
 are  thereby  distinguishable  from  the  complex  ideas  of  substances. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Made  by  the  mind. — That  the  mind,  in  respect  of  its  simple 
 ideas,  is  wholly  passive,  and  receives  them  all  from  the  existence  and  ope- 
 rations of  things,  such  as  sensation  or  reflection  offers  them,  without  being- 
 able  to  make  any  one  idea,  experience  shows  us  :  but  if  we  attentively 
 consider  these  ideas  I  call  mixed  modes,  we  are  now  speaking  of,  we  shall 
 find  their  original  quite  different.  The  mind  oflen  exercises  an  active 
 power  in  malcing  these  several  combinations :  for  it  being  once  furnished 
 with  simple  ideas,  it  can  put  them  together  in  several  compositions,  and 
 60  make  variety  of  complex  ideas,  without  examining  whether  they  exist  so 
 together  in  nature.  And  hence  I  think  it  is  that  these  ideas  are  called 
 notions,  as  if  they  had  tlieir  original  and  constant  existence  more  in  the 
 thoughts  of  men  than  in  the  reality  of  things :  and  to  form  such  ideas,  it 
 sufficed  that  the  mind  puts  the  parts  of  them  together,  and  that  they  were 
 consistent  in  the  understanding,  without  considering  whether  they  had 
 any  real  being :  though  I  do  not  deny  but  several  of  them  might  be  taken 
 from  observation,  and  the  existence  of  several  simple  ideas  so  combined, 
 as  they  ai-e  put  together  in  the  understanding.  For  the  man  who  first 
 framed  the  idea  of  hypocrisy  might  have  either  taken  it  at  first  from  the 
 observation  of  one,  who  made  show  of  good  qualities  whicli  he  had  not, 
 or  else  have  framed  that  idea  in  his  mind,  without  having  any  such  pattern 
 to  fashion  it  by :  for  it  is  evident,  tliat  in  the  beginning  of  languages  and 
 societies  of  men,  several  of  those  complex  ideas,  which  were  consequent 
 to  the  constitutions  established  among  them,  must  needs  have  been  in  the 
 minds  of  men,  before  they  existed  any  whei'e  else:  and  that  many  names 
 that  stood  for  such  comi)lex  ideas  were  in  use,  and  so  those  ideas  framed, 
 before  the  combinations  they  stood  for  ever  existed. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Sometimes  got  by  the  explication  of  their  names. — Indeed, 
 now  that  languages  are  made,  and  abound  with  words  standing  for  such 
 combinations,  a  usual  way  of  getting  these  complex  ideas  is  by  tlie  ex- 
 plication of  those  terms  that  stand  for  them  :  for  consisting  of  a  compaiiy 
 of  simple  ideas  combined,  they  may  by  words,  standing  for  those  simple 
 ideas,  be  represented  to  the  mind  of  one  who  understands  those  words, 
 though  that  complex  combination  of  simple  -.deas  were  never  offered  to  his 
 mind  by  the  real  existence  of  things.  Thus  a  man  may  come  to  have  the 
 idea  of  sacrilege  or  murder,  by  enumerating  to  him  the  simple  ideas  which 
 these  words  stand  for,   witliout   ever   seeing  either  of  them  committed. 
 
 Sect.  4.  The  name  ties  thcparts  of  mixed  modes  into  one  idea. — Every 
 mixed  mode  consisting  of  many  distinct  simple  ideas,  it  seems  reasonable 
 
180  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 to  inquire,  "  whence  it  has  its  unity,  and  how  sucli  a  precise  multitude 
 comes  to  make  but  one  idea,  since  tliat  combination  does  not  always  exist 
 toffether  in  nature  !"  To  whicii  I  answer,  it  is  plain  it  has  its  unity  from  an 
 act  of  the  mind  combining  those  several  simple  ideas  together,  and  con- 
 sidermg  them  as  one  complex  one,  consisting  of  those  parts ;  and  the  mark 
 of  this  union,  or  thatwliichis  looked  on  generally  to  complete  it,  is  one  name 
 given  to  that  combination.  For  it  is  by  their  names  that  men  commonly 
 regulate  their  account  of  their  distinct  species  of  mixed  modes,  seldom 
 allowing  or  considering  any  number  of  simple  ideas  to  make  one  complex 
 one,  but  such  collections  as  tiiere  be  names  for.  Thus,  though  the 
 killing  of  an  old  man  be  as  fit  in  nature  to  be  united  into  one  complex  idea  as 
 tlic  killing  a  man's  father:  yet  tliere  being  no  name  standing  precisely  for 
 tJie  one,  as  there  is  tlic  name  of  parricide  to  mark  the  other,  it  is  not 
 taken  for  a  particular  complexidoa,  nor  a  distinct  species  of  actions  from  that 
 of  killing  a  young  man,  or  any  other  man. 
 
 Sect.  5.  The  cause  of  making  mixed  modes. — If  we  should  inquire  a  little 
 fartlier,  to  see  what  it  is  that  occasions  men  to  make  several  combinations 
 of  simple  ideas  into  distinct,  and,  as  it  were,  settled  modes,  and  neglect  others 
 which  in  the  nature  of  things  themselves  have  as  much  aptness  to  be  com 
 bined  and  make  distinct  ideas,  we  shall  find  the  reason  of  it  to  be  the  end  of 
 language ;  which  being  to  mark  or  communicate  men's  thoughts  to  one 
 another  with  all  the  despatch  that  may  be,  tliey  usually  made  such  collec- 
 tions of  ideas  into  complex  modes,  and  affix  names  to  them,  as  they  have 
 frequent  use  of  in  their  way  of  living  and  conversation,  leaving  others, 
 which  they  have  but  seldom  an  occasion  to  mention,  loose  and  without 
 names  to  tie  them  together;  they  rather  choosing  to  enumerate  (when 
 they  have  need)  such  ideas  as  make  them  up,  by  the  particular  names 
 that  stand  for  them,  than  to  trouble  their  memories  by  multiplying  of  complex 
 ideas  with  names  to  them,  which  they  seldom  or  never  have  any  occasion 
 to  make  use  of. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Why  words  in  one  language  have  none  answering  in  another. 
 — This  shows  us  how  it  comes  to  pass,  that  there  are  in  every  language 
 many  particular  words  which  cannot  be  rendered  by  any  one  single  word 
 of  another.  For  the  several  fashions,  customs,  and  manners  of  one  nation, 
 making  several  combinations  of  ideas  familiar  and  necessary  in  one,  which 
 another  people  have  had  never  any  occasion  to  make,  or  perhaps  so  much 
 as  taken  notice  of;  names  come  of  course  to  be  annexed  to  them,  to  avoid 
 long  periphrases  in  things  of  daily  conversation,  and  so  they  become  so  many 
 distinct  complex  ideas  in  their  minds.  Thus  os-gax/o-^oc  among  the  Greeks,  and 
 proscriptio  among  the  Romans,  were  words  which  other  languages  had  no 
 names  that  exactly  answered,  because  they  stood  for  complex  ideas,  which  / 
 were  not  in  the  minds  of  the  men  of  other  nations.  Where  there  was  no 
 such  custom,  there  was  no  notion  of  any  such  actions ;  no  use  of  such  com- 
 binations of  ideas  as  were  united,  and  as  it  were  tied  together  by  those  terms  : 
 and  therefore  in  other  countries  there  were  no  names  for  them. 
 
 Sect.  7.  And  languages  change. — Hence  also  we  may  see  the  reason 
 why  languages  constantly  change,  take  up  new  and  lay  by  old  terms  ;  because 
 change  of  customs  and  opinions  bringing  with  it  new  combinations  of  ideas, 
 which  it  is  necessary  frequently  to  think  on,  and  talk  about,  new  names, 
 to  avoid  long  descriptions,  are  annexed  to  them,  and  so  they  become  new 
 species  of  complex  modes.  What  a  number  of  different  ideas  are  by  this 
 means  wrapt  up  in  one  short  sound,  and  how  much  of  our  time  and  breath  is 
 thereby  saved,  any  one  will  see,  who  will  but  take  pains  to  enumerate  all  the 
 ideas  that  either  reprieve  or  appeal  stand  for;  and,  instead  of  either  of 
 those  names,  use  a  periphrasis,  to  make  any  one  understand  their  meaning. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Mixed  modes,  where  they  exist. — Though  I  shall  have  occasion 
 to  consider  this  more  at  large,  when  I  come  to  treat  of  words  and  their 
 use,  yet  I  could  not  avoid  to  take  thus  much  notice  here  of  the  names  of 
 
Ch.  22.  OF  MIXED  MODES.  181 
 
 mixed  modes  ;  which  being  fleeting  and  transient  combinations  of  simple 
 ideas,  which  have  but  a  short  existence  any  where  but  in  the  minds  of  men, 
 and  there,  too,  have  no  longer  any  existence  than  whilst  they  are  thought 
 on,  have  not  so  much  any  where  the  appearance  of  a  constant  and  lasting 
 existence  as  in  their  names  :  wliich  are,  therefore,  in  this  sort  of  ideas,  very 
 apt  to  be  taken  for  the  ideas  themselves.  For  if  we  should  inquire  where  the 
 idea  of  a  triumph  or  apotheosis  exists,  it  is  evident  they  could  neither  of 
 them  exist  altogether  any  where  in  the  tilings  themselves,  being  actions 
 that  required  time  to  their  performance,  and  so  could  never  all  exist  together  : 
 and  as  to  the  minds  of  men,  where  the  ideas  of  those  actions  are  supposed 
 to  be  lodged,  they  have  there  too  a  very  uncertain  existence  ;  and  therefore 
 we  are  apt  to  annex  them  to  the  names  that  excite  them  in  us. 
 
 Sect.  9.  How  we  get  the  ideas  of  mixed  modes. — There  are  therefore 
 three  ways  whereby  we  get  the  complex  ideas  of  mixed  modes.  1.  By 
 expefTence  and  observation  of  things  themselves.  Thus  by  seeing  two  men 
 wrestle  or  fence,  we  get  the  idea  of  wrestling  or  fencing.  2.  By  invention, 
 or  voluntarily  putting  together  of  several  simple  ideas  in  our  own  minds  : 
 so  he  that  first  invented  printing,  or  etcliing,  had  an  idea  of  it  in  his  mind 
 before  it  ever  existed.  3.  Which  is  the  most  usual  way,  by  explaining 
 the  names  of  actions  we  never  saw,  or  notions  we  cannot  see  ;  and  by 
 enumerating,  and  thereby,  as  it  were,  setting  before  our  imaginations  all 
 those  ideas  which  go  to  the  making  them  up,  and  are  the  constituent  parts 
 of  them.  For  having  by  sensation  and  reflection  stored  our  minds  with 
 simple  ideas,  and  by  use  got  the  names  that  stand  for  them,  we  can  by 
 those  means  represent  to  another  any  complex  idea  we  would  have  him 
 conceive  ;  so  that  it  has  in  it  no  simple  ideas  but  what  he  knows  and  has 
 with  us  the  same  name  for.  For  all  our  complex  ideas  are  ultimately 
 resolvable  into  simple  ideas,  of  which  they  are  compounded  and  originally 
 made  up,  though  perhaps  their  immediate  ingredients,  as  I  may  so  say, 
 are  also  complex  ideas.  Thus  the  mixed  mode,  which  the  word  lie  stands  for, 
 is  made  up  of  these  simple  ideas  :  1.  Articulate  sounds.  2.  Certain  ideas  y 
 in  the  mind  of  the  speaker.  3.  Those  words  the  signs  of  those  ideas.  4. 
 Those  signs  put  together  by  affirmation  or  negation,  otherwise  than 
 the  ideas  they  stand  for,  are  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker.  I  think  I  need 
 not  go  any  farther  in  the  analysis  of  that  complex  idea  we  call  a  lie  :  what 
 I  have  said  is  enough  to  show,  that  it  is  m.ade  up  of  simple  ideas  ;  and 
 it  could  not  be  but  an  offensive  tediousness  to  my  reader,  to  trouble  him 
 with  a  more  minute  enumeration  of  every  particidar  simple  idea  that  goes 
 to  this  complex  one;  which,  from  what  has  been  said,  he  cannot  but  be 
 able  to  make  out  to  himself.  The  same  may  be  done  in  all  our  complex 
 ideas  whatsoever;  which,  however  compounded  and  decompounded,  may 
 at  last  be  resolved  into  simple  ideas,  which  are  all  the  materials  of  know- 
 ledge or  thought  we  have,  or  can  have.  Nor  shall  we  have  reason  to 
 fear  that  the  mind  is  hereby  stinted  to  too  scanty  a  number  of  ideas, 
 if  we  consider  what  an  inexhaustible  stock  of  simple  modes,  number 
 and  figure  alone  afford  us.  How  far  then  mixed  modes,  which  admit  of  the 
 various  combinations  of  different  simple  ideas,  and  their  infinite  modes,  are 
 from  being  few  and  scanty,  we  may  easily  imagine.  So  that  before  we  have 
 done,  we  shall  see  that  nobody  need  be  afraid  he  shall  not  have  scope  and 
 compass  enough  for  his  thoughts  to  range  in,  though  they  be,  as  I  pretend, 
 confined  only  to  simple  ideas  received  from  sensation  or  reflection,  and 
 their  several  combinations. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Motion,  thinMng,  and  power,  have  been  most  modified. — It 
 is  v%-orth  our  observing,  which  of  all  our  simple  ideas  have  been  most  modi- 
 fied, and  had  most  mixed  ideas  made  out  of  them,  with  names  given  to 
 tliem ;  and  those  have  been  these  three :  thinking  and  motion  (which  are 
 the  two  ideas  which  comprehend  in  them  all  action)  and  power,  from 
 whence  these  actions  are  conceived  to  flow.     The  simple  ideas,  I  say,  of 
 
182  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 thinking,  motion,  and  power,  have  been  those  which  have  been  most  mo- 
 dified, and  out  of  whose  modifications  have  been  made  most  complex 
 modes  witii  names  to  tliem.  For  action  being  tlie  great  business  of  man- 
 kind, and  tlic  wliole  matter  about  wliich  all  laws  are  conversant,  it  is  no 
 wonder  tliat  the  several  modes  of  thinking  and  motion  should  be  taken 
 notice  of,  the  ideas  of  them  observed,  and  laid  uj)  in  the  memory,  and  have 
 names  assigned  to  them;  without  which,  laws  could  be  but  ill  made,  or 
 vice  and  disorder  repressed.  Nor  could  any  communication  be  well  had 
 among  men  without  such  complex  ideas  with  names  to  them  ;  and  there- 
 fore men  have  settled  names,  and  sujiposed  settled  ideas  in  their  ciinds, 
 of  modes  of  action  distinguisiicd  by  their  causes,  means,  objects,  ends,  in- 
 struments, time,  place,  and  other  circumstances;  and  also  of  their  powers 
 fitted  for  those  actions  :  v.  g.  boldness  is  the  power  to  speak  or  do  what 
 we  intend,  before  others,  without  fear  or  disorder;  and  the  Greeks  call  the 
 confidence  of  speaking  by  a  peculiar  name,  <ziTal\;)<jia.\  which  power  or 
 ability  in  man,  of  doing  any  thing,  when  it  has  been  acquired  by  frequent 
 doing  the  same  thing,  is  that  idea  we  name  habit ;  when  it  is  forward,  and 
 ready  upon  every  occasion  to  break  into  action,  we-  call  it  disposition. 
 Thus,  testiness  is  a  disposition  or  aptness  to  be  angry. 
 
 To  conclude:  let  us  examine  any  modes  of  action,  v.  g.  consideration 
 and  assent,  which  are  actions  of  the  mind ;  running  and  speaking,  which 
 are  actions  of  the  body;  revenge  and  murder,  which  are  actions  of  both  to- 
 gether ;  and  we  shall  find  them  but  so  many  collections  of  simple  ideas, 
 which  together  make  up  the  complex  ones  signified  by  those  names. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Several  words  seeming  to  signify  action,  signify  but  the 
 effect. — Power  being  the  source  from  whence  all  action  proceeds,  the  sub- 
 stances wherein  these  powers  are,  when  they  exert  this  power  into  act, 
 are  called  causes ;  and  the  substances  which  thereupon  are  produced,  or 
 the  simple  ideas  which  are  introduced  into  any  subject  by  the  exerting  of 
 that  power,  are  called  efi'ccts.  The  efiicacy  whereby  the  new  substance 
 or  idea  is  produced,  is  called,  in  the  subject  exerting  that  power,  action; 
 but  in  the  subject  wherein  any  simple  idea  is  changed  or  produced,  it  is 
 called  passion :  which  efKcacy,  however  various,  and  the  effects  almost  in- 
 finite, yet  we  can,  I  think,  conceive  it,  in  intellectual  agents,  to  be  nothing 
 else  but  modes  of  thinking  and  willing;  in  corporeal  agents,  nothing  else 
 but  modifications  of  motion.  I  say,  I  think  we  cannot  conceive  it  to  be 
 any  other  but  these  two :  for  whatever  sort  of  action,  besides  these,  pro- 
 duces any  effects,  I  confess  myself  to  have  no  notion  or  idea  of;  and  so  it 
 is  quite  remote  from  my  thoughts,  apprehensions  and  knowledge  ;  and  as 
 much  in  the  dark  to  me  as  five  other  senses,  or  as  the  ideas  of  colours  to  a 
 blind  man :  and  therefore  many  words,  which  seem  to  express  some  ac- 
 tion, signify  nothing  of  the  action  or  modus  operandi  at  all,  but  barely  the 
 effect,  with  some  circumstances  of  the  subject  wrought  on,  or  cause  ope- 
 rating; V.  g.  creation,  annihilation,  contain  in  them  no  idea  of  the  action 
 or  manner  whereby  they  are  .produced,  but  barely  of  the  cause  and  the 
 thing  done.  And  when  a  countryman  says  the  cold  freezes  water,  though 
 the  word  freezing  seems  to  import  some  action,  yet  truly  it  signifies  no- 
 thing but  tJie  effect,  viz.  that  water  that  was  before  fluid  is  become  hard 
 and  consistent,  without  containing  any  idea  of  the  action  whereby  it  is 
 done. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Mixed  modes  made  also  of  other  ideas. — I  think  T  shall  not 
 reed  to  remark  here,  that  though  power  and  action  make  the  greatest  part 
 of  mixed  modes,  marked  by  names,  and  familiar  in  the  minds  and  mouths 
 of  men,  yet  other  simple  ideas,  and  their  several  combinations,  are  not  ex- 
 cluded: much  less,  I  think,  will  it  be  necessary  for  me  to  enumerate  all 
 the  mixed  modes  which  liave  been  settled  with  names  to  them.  That 
 would  be  to  make  a  dictionary  of  the  greatest  part  of  the  words  made  use 
 of  in  divinity,  etliics,  law,  and  politics,  and  several  other  sciences.  AU 
 that  is  requisite  to  my  present  design  is,  to  show  what  sort  of  ideas  those 
 
Ch.  22.  OF  MIXED  MODES.  183 
 
 are,  which  I  call  mixed  modes,  how  the  mind  comes  by  them,  and  that  they 
 are  compositions  made  up  of  simple  ideas  got  from  sensation  and  reflection; 
 vvhicli  I  suppose  I  have  done. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXIII. 
 
 OF  OUR  COMPLEX  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Ideas  of  substances,  how  made. — The  mind  being,  as  I  have 
 declared,  furnished  with  a  great  number  of  the  simple  ideas,  conveyed  in 
 by  the  senses,  as  they  are  found  in  exterior  things,  or  by  reflection  on  its 
 own  operations,  takes  notice  also,  tliata  certain  number  ofthese  simple  ideas 
 go  constantly  together ;  which  being  presumed  to  belong  to  one  thing,  and 
 words  being  suited  to  common  apprehensions,  and  made  use  of  for  quick 
 despatch,  are  called,  so  united  in  one  subject,  by  one  name  ;  which,  by  in- 
 advertency, we  are  apt  afterward  to  talk  of,  and  consider  as  one  simple  idea, 
 which  indeed  is  a  complication  of  many  ideas  together  :  because,  as  I  have 
 said,  not  imagining  how  these  simple  ideas  can  subsist  by  themselves,  we 
 accustom  ourselves  to  suppose  some  substratum  wherein  they  do  subsist, 
 and  from  which  they  do  result,  and  which  therefore  we  call  substance(3). 
 
 (3)  This  section,  which  was  intended  only  to  show  how  the  individuals  of  dis- 
 tinct species  of  substances  came  to  be  looked  upon  as  simple  ideas,  and  so  to 
 have  simple  names,  viz.  from  the  supposed  substratum  or  substance,  which  was 
 looked  upon  as  the  thing  itself  in  which  inhered,  and  from  which  resulted,  that 
 complication  of  ideas,  by  which  it  was  represented  to  us,  hath  been  mistaken 
 for  an  account  of  the  idea  of  substance  in  general ;  and  as  such,  hath  been  repre- 
 sented in  these  words  :  But  how  comes  the  general  idea  of  substance  to  be  framed 
 in  our  minds  ?  Is  this  by  abstracting  and  enlarging  simple  ideas  ?  No  :  But 
 "  it  is  by  a  complication  of  many  simple  ideas  together:  because,  not  imagin- 
 ing how  these  simple  ideas  can  subsist  by  themselves,  we  accustom  ourselves 
 to  suppose  some  substratum  wherein  they  do  subsist,  and  from  whence  they  do 
 result;  whicli  tliereforc  we  call  substance.  "  And  is  this  all,  indeed,  that  is  to  be 
 said  for  the  being  of  substance,  That  we  accustom  ourselves  to  suppose  a  substra- 
 tum ?  Is  that  custom  grounded  upon  true  reason,  or  not  ?  If  not,  then  accidents  or 
 modes  must  subsist  of  themselves  ;  and  these  simple  ideas  need  no  tortoise  to 
 support  them  ;  for  figures  and  colours,  &c.  would  do  well  enough  of  themselves, 
 but  for  some  fancies  men  liave  accustomed  themselves  to. 
 
 To  which  objection  of  the  bishop  of  Worcester,  our  author*  answers  thus: 
 Herein  your  lordsiiip  seems  to  charge  me  with  two  faults  :  one,  That  I  make  the 
 general  idea  of  substance  to  be  framed,  not  by  abstracting  and  enlarging  simple 
 ideas,  but  by  a  complication  of  many  simple  ideas  together  :  the  other,  as  if  I  had 
 said,  the  being  of  substance  had  no  other  foundation  but  the  fancies  of  men. 
 
 As  to  the  first  ofthese,  I  beg  leave  to  remindyour  lordsiiip,  that  I  say  in  more 
 places  than  one,  and  particularly  Book  3,  Chap.  3,  Sect.  6,  and  Book  1,  Chap.  11, 
 Sect.  9,  where,  ex  professo,  I  treat  of  abstraction  and  general  ideas,  tluit  they  are 
 all  made  by  abstracting,  and  therefore  could  not  be  understood  to  mean,  that  that 
 of  substance  was  made  any  other  way  ;  however  my  pen  might  have  slipt,.  or  the 
 negligence  of  expression,  where  I  might  have  something  else  than  the  general  idea 
 of  substance  in  view,  might  make  me  seem  to  say  so. 
 
 Tiiat  I  was  not  speaking  of  the  general  idea  of  substance  in  the  passage  your 
 lordship  quotes,  is  manifest  from  the  title  of  that  chapter,  which  is.  Of  the  com- 
 plex ideas  of  substances;  and  the  first  section  of  it,  which  your  lordship  cites  for 
 those  words  j'on  have  set  down. 
 
 In  which  words  I  do  not  observe  any  that  deny  the  general  idea  of  substance  to 
 
 *   In  his  first  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Worcester. 
 
184  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Our  idea  af  sjibstance  in  general. — So  that  if  any  one  will  ex- 
 amine himself  concorning  his  notion  of  pure  substance  in  general,  he  will 
 find  he  h;is  no  oilier  idea  of  it  at  all,  but  only  a  su|)|)osition  of  lie  knows  not 
 what  support  of  such  qualities,  which  arc  capable  of  producing  simple  ideas 
 
 be  made  by  abstracting,  nor  any  tliat  say  it  is  made  bj'  a  complication  of  many 
 simple  ideas  togctber.  Hut  speaking  in  tbat  place  of  the  ideas  of  distinct  sub- 
 stances, sucb  as  man,  borse,  gold,  kc,  I  saytbey  are  made  up  of  certain  combi- 
 nations of  simple  ideas,  v.bicb  combinations  are  looked  upon,  each  of  tbem,  as 
 one  simple  idea,  tbougb  they  are  many  ;  and  we  call  it  by  one  name  of  substance, 
 thougli  made  up  of  modes,  from  tbe  custom  of  supposing  a  substratum,  wberein 
 that  combination  does  subsist.  So  tliat  in  tbis  paragrapii  I  only  give  au  account 
 of  tbe  idea  of  distinct  substances,  sucb  as  oak,  elci)bant,  iron,  Sec.  bow,  tbough 
 they  arc  made  up  of  distinct  complications  of  modes,  yet  tliey  are  looked  on  as 
 one  idea,  called  by  one  name,  as  making  distinct  sorts  of  substance. 
 
 But  tbat  my  notion  of  su1)stancc  in  general  is  quite  different  fi-om  these,  and 
 has  no  sucb  combination  of  simple  ideas  in  it,  is  evident  from  the  imme<iiate  foU 
 lowing  words,  where  I  say*,  "  The  idea  of  pure  substance  in  general  is  only  a 
 supposition  of  we  know  not  what  support  of  such  qualities  as  arc  capable  of  ])ro- 
 ducing  simple  ideas  in  us."  And  these  two  I  plainly  distinguish  all  along,  ])ar- 
 ticularly  where  I  say,  "  whatever  therefore  be  tbe  secret  and  abstract  nature  of 
 substance  in  general,  all  tlie  ideas  we  have  of  particular  distinct  substances,  are 
 nothing  but  several  combinations  of  simple  ideas,  co-existing  in  such,  though  un- 
 known cause  of  tlieir  union,  as  makes  the  whole  subsist  of  itself." 
 
 The  other  thing  laid  to  my  charge,  is,  as  if  I  took  the  being  of  substance  to  be 
 doubtful,  or  rendered  it  so  by  tlie  imperfect  and  ill-grounded  iJea  I  have  given 
 of  it.  To  whith  I  beg  leave  to  say,  that  I  ground  not  the  bet  Ag,  but  the  idea  of 
 substance,  on  our  accustoming  ourselves  to  suppose  some  substratum;  for  it  is  of 
 the  idea  alone  I  speak  there,  and  not  of  the  being  of  substance.  And  having 
 every  where  affirmed  and  built  upor.  it,  that  a  man  is  a  substaoe?,  I  cannot  be 
 supposed  to  question  or  doubt  of  the  being  of  substance,  till  I  can  question  or 
 doubt  of  my  own  being.  Farther,  I  sayf,  "  Sensation  convinct  Vis,  that  there  are 
 solid,  extended  substances  ;  and  reflection,  that  there  are  thibking  ones."  So 
 that,  I  think,  tlie  being  of  substance  is  not  shaken  by  what  I  have  said  ;  and  if 
 the  idea  of  it  should  be,  yet  (the  being  of  things  depending  noton  our  ideas)  the 
 being  of  substance  would  not  be  at  all  shaken  by  my  saying,  we  had  but  an  ob- 
 scure imperfect  idea  of  it,  and  that  that  idea  came  from  our  accustoming  our- 
 selves to  suppose  some  substratum  :  or  indeed,  if  I  should  say,  we  had  no  idea  of 
 substance  at  all.  For  a  great  many  things  may  be,  and  are  granted  to  have  a 
 being,  and  be  in  nature,  of  wiiich  we  have  no  ideas.  For  example:  it  cannot  be 
 doubted  but  there  are  distinct  species  of  separate  spirits,  of  \vhicl\yet  we  have  no 
 distinct  ideas  at  all  :  it  cannot  be  questioned  but  spirits  have  ways  of  communi- 
 cating their  tlioughts,  and  yet  we  have  no  idea  of  it  at  all. 
 
 The  being  then  of  substance  being  safe  and  secure,  notwithstanding  any  thing 
 I  have  said,  let  us  see  whether  the  idea  of  it  be  not  so  too.  Your  lordship  asks, 
 with  concern,  and  is  this  all,  indeed,  that  is  to  be  said  for  the  being  (if your  lord- 
 ship please,  let  it  be  the  idea)  of  substance,  that  we  accustom  ourselves  to  sup- 
 pose a  substratum  ?  Is  that  custom  grounded  upon  true  reason  or  no  ?  1  have  said 
 that  it  is  grounded  upon  this^,  "That  we  cannot  conceive  how  simple  ideas  of 
 sensible  qualities  should  subsist  alone  ;  and  therefore  we  suppose  them  to  exist 
 in,  and  to  be  supported  by  some  common  subject ;  which  support  we  denote  by 
 the  name  substance."  Which,  I  think,  is  a  true  reason,  because  it  is  the  same 
 your  lordship  grounds  the  supposition  of  a  substratum  on,  in  this  very  page;  even 
 on  the  repugnancy  to  our  conceptions,  that  modes  and  accidents  should  subsist  by 
 themselves.  So  tliat  I  have  the  good  luck  to  agree  here  with  your  lordship  :  and 
 consequently  conclude,  I  have  your  approbation  in  this,  that  the  substratum  to 
 modes  or  accidents,  which  is  our  idea  of  substance  in  general,  is  founded  in  this, 
 "  that  we  cannot  conceive  how  modes  or  accidents  can  subsist  by  themselves." 
 
 •  B.  2.  C.  23.  Sec.  2.  +  lb.  Sec.  29.  t  B.  2.  C.  23.  Sec.  4. 
 
Ch.  23.  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  185 
 
 in  us  ;  which  qualities  are  commonly  called  accidents.  If  any  one  should 
 be  asked,  what  is  the  subject  wherein  colour  or  weight  inheres  ?  he  would 
 have  nothing  to  say,  but  the  solid  extended  parts:  and  if  he  were  demand- 
 ed, what  is  it  that  solidity  and  extension  inhere  in  ?  he  would  not  be  in  a  much 
 better  case  than  the  Indian  before  mentioned,  who,  saying  that  the  world 
 was  supported  by  a  great  elephant,  was  asked  what  the  elephant  rested  on  ? 
 to  which  liis  answer  was,  a  great  tortoise.  But  being  again  pressed  to 
 know  what  gave  support  to  the  broad  backed  tortoise,  replied,  something, 
 he  knew  not  what.  And  thus  here,  as  in  all  other  cases  where  we  use  words 
 without  having  clear  and  distinct  ideas,  we  talk  like  children  ;  who  being 
 questioned  what  such  a  thing  is,  which  they  know  not,  readily  give  this  satis- 
 factory answer,  that  it  is  something :  which,  in  truth,  signifies  no  more, 
 when  so  used,  either  by  children  or  men,  but  that  they  know  not  what ;  and 
 that  the  thing  they  pretend  to  know  and  talk  of,  is  what  they  have  no  dis- 
 tinct idea  of  at  all,  and  so  are  perfectly  ignorant  of  it,  and  in  the  dark.  The 
 idea,  then,  we  have,  to  which  we  give  the  general  name  substance,  being 
 notliing  but  the  supposed,  but  unknown,  support  of  those  qualities  we  find 
 existing,  which  we  imagine  cannot  subsist  sine  re  substante,  without  some- 
 thing to  support  them,  we  call  that  support  substantial ;  which,  according 
 to  the  true  import  of  the  word,  is,  in  plain  English,  standing  under,  or  up- 
 holdi7ig(4:). 
 
 (4)  From  this  para^aph,  there  hath  been  raised  an  objection  br  the  bishop  of 
 "Worcester,  as  if  o'.'.r  author's  doctrine  here  concerning  ideas  had  almost  discard- 
 ed substance  out  of  the  world  :  his  words  in  this  paragraph  being  brouglit  to 
 prove,  that  he  is  one  of  the  gentlemen  of  this  new  wayof  reasoning,  that  have 
 almost  discarded  subftance  out  of  the  reasonable  part  of  the  'world.  To  which 
 our  author  replies*,  Tills,  my  lord,  is  an  accusation,  which  your  lordship  will 
 pardon  me,  if  I  do  not  readily  know  what  to  plead  to,  because  I  do  not  under- 
 stand what  it  is  almost  to  discard  substance  out  of  the  reasonable  part  of  the 
 ■world.  If  your  lordship  means  by  it,  that  I  deny,  or  doubt,  that  there  is  in  the 
 world  any  such  thing  as  substance,  that  your  lordship  will  acquit  me  of,  when 
 your  lordship  looks  again  into  this  23d  cliapter  of  the  second  book,  which  you 
 have  cited  more  than  once  ;  where  you  will  find  these  words,  sect.  4,"  When  we 
 talk  or  think  of  any  particular  sort  of  corporeal  substances,  as  horse,  stone,  he, 
 though  the  idea  we  have  of  either  of  them  be  but  the  complication  or  collection 
 of  those  several  simple  ideas  of  sensible  qualities,  which  we  use  to  find  ujiited  in 
 the  thing  called  horse  or  stone  ;  yet  because  we  cannot  conceive  bov  they  should 
 subsist  alone,  nor  one  in  another,  we  suppose  thei.i  existing  in,  and  supported  by, 
 some  common  subject,  which  support  we  denote  by  the  name  substance  ^  though 
 it  is  certain  we  have  no  clear  or  distinct  idea  of  that  thing  we  suppose  a  support.  " 
 And  again,  sect.  5,  "  The  same  happens  concerningtbe  operations  of  the  mind,  viz. 
 thinking,  reasoning,  fearing,  Sec.  which  we  considering  not  to  subsist  of  them- 
 selves, nor  apprehending  how  they  can  belong  to  body,  or  be  produced  by  it, 
 are  apt  to  think  these  the  actions  of  some  other  substance,  which  we  call  spirit ; 
 whereby  yet  it  is  evident,  that  having  no  other  idea  or  notion  of  matter,  but  some- 
 thing wherein  those  many  sensible  qualities,  which  affect  our  senses,  do  subsist, 
 by  supposing  a  substance,  wherein  thinking,  knowing,  doubting,  and  a  power  of 
 moving,  kc.  do  subsist,  we  have  as  clear  a  notion  of  the  nature  or  substance  of 
 spirit,  as  we  have  of  body  ;  the  one  being  supposed  to  be  (without  knowing  what 
 it  is)  the  substratum  to  those  simple  ideas  we  have  from  without  :  and  the  other 
 supposeil  (with  a  like  ignorance  of  what  it  is)  to  be  the  substratum  to  those  ope- 
 r.itions,  which  we  experiment  in  ourselves  within. "  And  again,  sect.  6, "  "Whatever 
 therefore  be  the  secret  nature  of  substance  in  general,  all  the  ideas  we  have  of 
 p?rticular  distinct  substances,  are  nothing  but  several  combinations  of  simple 
 ideas,  coexisting  in  such,  though  unknown  cause  of  tlieir  union,  as  makes  the 
 whole  subsist  of  itself."     And  I  farther  say,  in  the  same  section,  "  that  we   sup- 
 
 *  In  his  first  letter  to  that  bishop. 
 
186  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Of  the  sorts  of  substances. — An  obscure  and  relative  idea  ot 
 substance  in  g-cncralbeinj^thus  mado,  we  come  to  have  the  ideas  of  particular 
 Borts  of  substances,  by  collecting  such  combinations  ofsimple  ideas,  as  are,  by 
 experience  and  observation  of  men's  senses,  taken  notice  of  to  exist  to- 
 
 pose  these  combinations  to  rest  in,  and  to  be  adherent  to,  that  unknown  common 
 subject  wbicli  inheres  not  in  any  tiling  else."  And,  sect.  3,  '*  That  our  complex 
 ideas  of  substances,  besides  all  those  simple  ideas  they  are  made  up  of,  hare 
 always  tlie  confused  idea  of  something  to  wbich  they  bclonsr,  and  in  which  they 
 subsist;  and  therefore,  wlien  we  speak  of  any  sort  of  substance,  we  say  it  is  a 
 thing  having  such  and  such  qualities;  as  body  is  a  thing  that  is  extended,  figured, 
 and  capable  of  motion  ;  spirit,  a  tiling  cap.ible  of  tliinking. 
 
 "Tiiese,  and  the  like  fasliions  of  speaking  iiuimate,  that  the  substance  is  sop- 
 posed  always  something  besides  tlie  extension,  figure,  solidity,  motion,  thinking, 
 or  other  observable  idea,  tliough  we  know  not  what  it  is." 
 
 "  Our  idea  of  body,  I  say*,  is  an  exteiuled,  solid  substance  ;  and  our  idea  of  soul, 
 is  of  a  substance  that  tbinks.  "  So  that  as  long  as  there  is  any  such  tiling  as  body 
 or  spirit  in  tlie  world,  I  have  done  nothing  towards  the  discarding  substance  out 
 of  the  reasonable  part  of  the  world.  Nay,  as  long  as  there  is  anj'  simple  idea  or 
 sensible  quality  left,  according  to  my  way  of  arguing,  substance  cannot  be  discard- 
 ed; because  all  simple  ideas,  all  sensible  qualities,  carry  with  them  a  supposition  of 
 a  substratum  to  exist  in,  and  of  a  substance  wherein  they  inhere  :  and  of  this  that 
 ■whole  chapter  is  so  full,  that  1  challenge  any  one  who  reads  it,  to  think  I  have 
 almost,  or  one  jot,  discarded  substance  out  of  the  reasonable  pai't  of  the  world. 
 And  of  this,  man,  horse,  sun,  water,  iron,  diamond,  &c.  which  1  have  mentioned 
 of  distinct  sorts  of  substances,  will  be  my  witnesses,  as  long  as  any  such  things 
 remain  in  being  ;  of  which  I  sayt,  "  That  the  ideas  of  substances  are  such  com- 
 binations of  simple  ideas  as  are  taken  to  represent  distinct  particular  things  sub- 
 sisting by  themselves,  in  which  the  opposed  or  confused  idea  of  substance  is 
 always  the  first  and  chief." 
 
 If,  by  almost  discarding  substance  out  of  the  reasonable  part  of  the  world,  your 
 lordship  means,  that  I  have  destroyed,  and  almost  discarded  the  true  idea  we  have 
 of  it,  by  calling  it  a  substratum:}:,  a  supposition  of  we  know  not  what  support  of 
 such  qualities  as  are  capable  of  producing  simple  ideas  in  us,  an  obscure  and  re- 
 lative idea§.  That  without  knowing  what  it  is,  it  is  that  which  supports  accidents  ; 
 so  that  of  substance  we  have  no  idea  of  what  it  is,  but  only  a  confused,  obscure 
 one  of  what  it  does  :  1  must  confess,  this  and  the  like  1  have  said  of  our  idea  of 
 substance  :  and  should  be  very  glad  to  be  convinced  by  your  lordship,  or  anybody 
 else,  that  I  have  spoken  too  meanly  of  it.  lie  that  would  show  me  a  more  clear 
 and  distinct  idea  of  substance,  would  do  mc  a  kindness  I  should  thank  him  for. 
 But  this  is  the  best  I  canhitherto  find,  cither  in  my  own  thoughts,  or  in  the  books 
 of  logicians;  for  theiraccouiit  or  idea  of  it  is  that  it  is  ens,  or,  res  per  se  subsistens, 
 et  siibslans  accidentibits  ;  which  in  effect  is  no  more,  but  that  substance  is  a  being 
 or  tiling;  or,  in  short,  something,  tliey  know  not  what,  or  of  wliicli  they  have  no 
 clearer  idea,  than  that  it  is  something  which  supports  accidents,  or  other  simple 
 ideas  or  modes,  and  is  not  supported  itself,  as  a  mode  or  an  accident.  So  that  I 
 do  not  see  but  Burgersdicius,  Sanderson,  and  the  whole  tribe  of  logicians,  must 
 be  reckoned  with  the  gentlemen  of  this  new  way  of  reasoning,  who  have  almost 
 discardi'd  substance  out  of  the  reasonable  part  of  the  world. 
 
 But  sui);)osing,  my  lord,  that  I,  or  these  gentlemen,  logicians  of  note  in  the 
 schools,  sliould  own  that  we  have  a  very  imperfect,  obscure,  inadequate  idea  of 
 substance,  would  it  not  be  a  little  too  hard  to  charge  us  with  discarding  substance 
 out  of  the  world  ?  For  wliat  almost  discarding,  and  reasonable  part  of  the  world, 
 signifies,  I  must  confess,  I  do  not  clearly  comprehend  :  but  let  almost  and  reason- 
 able part  signify  here  what  they  will,  for  1  dare  say  your  lordship  meant  some- 
 thing by  them;  would  not  your  lordsliip  think  you  were  a  little  hardly  dealt 
 with,  if,  for  acknowledging   yourself  to    have   a  very  imperfect  and  inadequate 
 
 •  B.  2,  C.  23,  Sec.  22.  t  B.  2,  C.  12,  Sec.  6. 
 
 t  B.  2,  C.  23,  Sec.  1,  Sec.2,  Sec.  3.  §  B.  2,  C.  13,  Sec.  19. 
 
Ch.  23.  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  187 
 
 gether,  and  are  therefore  supposed  to  flow  from  the  particular  internal 
 constitution,  or  unknown  essence  of  that  substance.  Thus  we  come  to 
 have  the  ideas  of  a  man,  horse,  gold,  water,  &c.  of  which  substances, 
 whether  any  one  has  any  other  clear  idea,  farther  than  of  certain  simple 
 
 •idea  of  God,  or  of  several  other  things,  which  in  this  very  treatise  you  confess  our 
 understandings  come  short  in,  and  cannot  comprehend,  you  should  be  accused  to 
 be  one  of  these  gentlemen,  that  have  almost  discarded  God,  or  tliose  other  myste- 
 rious things,  whereof  you  contend  we  have  very  imperfect  and  inadequate  ideas, 
 out  of  the  reasonable  world  ?  For  I  suppose  your  lordship  means,  by  almost  dis- 
 carding out  of  the  reasonable  world,  something  that  is  blamable,  for  it  seems 
 not  to  be  inserted  for  a  commendation  ;  and  yet  I  think  he  deserves  no  blame 
 who  owns  the  having  imperfect,  inadequate,  obscure  ideas,  where  he  has  no  better; 
 however,  if  it  be  inferred  from  thence,  that  either  he  almost  excludes  those  things 
 out  of  being,  or  out  of  rational  discourse,  if  that  be  meant  by  tiie  reasonable 
 world  ;  for  the  first  of  these  will  not  hold,  because  the  being  of  things  in  the 
 world  depends  not  on  our  ideas  :  the  latter  indeed  is  true  in  some  degree,  but  it  is 
 no  fault;  for  it  is  certain,  tliat  where  we  have  imperfect,  inadequate,  confused, 
 obscure  ideas,  we  cannot  discourse  and  reason  about  those  things  so  well,  fully, 
 and  clearly,  as  if  we  had  perfect,  adequate,  clear  and  distinct  ideas. 
 
 Other  objections  are  made  against  the  following  parts  of  this  paragraph  by  that 
 reverend  prelate,  viz.  The  repetition  of  the  story  of  the  Indian  philosopher,  and 
 the  talking  like  children  about  substance  :  to  which  our  author  replies  : 
 
 Your  lordship,  I  must  own,  with  great  reason,  takes  notice  that  I  paralleled 
 more  than  once  our  idea  of  substance  with  the  Indian  philosopher's  he-knew- 
 not-M'hat,  whicli  supported  the  tortoise,  &c. 
 
 Tliis  repetition  is,  I  confess,  a  fault  in  exact  writing  :  but  I  have  acknowledged 
 and  excused  it  in  these  words  in  my  preface  :  "  I  am  not  ignorant  how  little  I 
 herein  consult  my  own  reputation,  when  I  knowingly  let  my  essay  go  with  a 
 fault  so  apt  to  disgust  the  most  judicious,  who  are  always  the  nicest  readers." 
 And  there  farther  add,  "  That  I  did  not  publish  my  essay  for  such  great  masters 
 of  knowledge  as  your  lordship  ;  but  fitted  it  to  men  of  my  own  size,  to  whom  re- 
 petitions might  be  sometimes  useful."  It  would  not  therefore  have  been  beside 
 your  lordship's  generosity  (who  were  not  intended  to  be  provoked  by  this  repe- 
 tition) to  have  passed  by  such  a  fault  as  this,  in  one  who  pretends  not  beyond  the 
 lower  rank  of  writers.  But  I  see  your  lordship  would  have  me  exact,  and  with- 
 out any  faults  ;  and  I  wish  I  could  be  so,  the  better  to  deserve  your  lordship's 
 approbation. 
 
 My  saying,  "That  when  we  talk  of  substance,  we  talk  like  children  ;  who 
 being  asked  a  question  about  something  which  they  know  not,  readily  give  this  sa- 
 tisfactory answer.  That  it  is  something  ;"  your  lordship  seems  mightily  to  lay  it  to 
 heart  in  these  words  that  follow  :  "  If  this  be  the  truth  of  the  case,  we  must  still 
 talk  like  ciiildren,  and  I  know  not  how  it  can  be  remedied.  For  if  we  cannot 
 come  at  a  rational  idea  of  substance,  we  can  have  no  principle  of  certainty  to  go 
 upon  in  this  debate." 
 
 If  your  lordship  has  any  better  and  distincter  idea  of  substance  than  mine  is, 
 which  I  have  given  an  account  of,  your  lordship  is  not  at  all  concerned  in  what  I 
 have  there  said.  But  those  whose  idea  of  substance,  whether  a  rational  or  not  ra- 
 tional idea,  is  like  mine,  something,  they  know  not  what,  must  in  that,  with  me,  talk 
 like  children,  when  they  speak  of  sometliing,  thej  know  not  what.  For  a  philoso- 
 pher that  says,  that  wliich  supports  accidents,  is  something,  he  knows  notwliat ; 
 and  a  countryman  that  says,  the  foundation  of  the  great.church  at  Haarlem  is  sup- 
 ported by  something,  lie  knows  not  what ;  and  a  child  that  stands  in  the  dark 
 upon  his  mother's  muff,  and  says  he  stands  upon  something,  he  knows  not  what, 
 in  tliis  respect  talk  all  three  alike.  But  if  the  countryman  knows  tliat  the  foun- 
 dation of  the  churcli  of  Haarlem  is  supported  by  a  rock,  as  tlie  houses  about  Bris- 
 tol are  ;  or  by  gravel,  as  the  houses  about  L,ondon  are  ;  or  by  wooden  piles,  as 
 the  houses  in  Amsterdan\  arc  ;  it  is  plain,  tliat  then  having  a  clear  and  distinct 
 idea  of  the  thing  tliat  sujjports  the  cluu'ch,  he  does  not  talk  of  lliis  matter  as  a 
 child  ;  nor  will  he  of  tlie  support  of  accidents,  when  lie  lias  a  clearer  and  more 
 
188  OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 ideas  co-existing  togetlicr,  I  appeal  to  every  one's  own  experience.  It  is 
 the  ordinary  qualities  observable  in  iron,  or  a  diamond,  put  together,  that 
 make  the  true  c(jmplex  idea  of  those  substances,  which  a  smith  or  a  jewel- 
 ler commonly  knows  better  than  a  philosopher;  who,  whatever  substantial 
 forms  he  may  talk  of,  has  no  other  idea  of  those  substances  than  what  is  fram- 
 ed by  a  collection  of  those  simple  ideas  which  are  to  be  found  in  them  :  only 
 we  must  take  notice,  that  our  complex  ideas  of  substances,  besides  all  those 
 simple  ideas  they  are  made  up  of,  have  always  the  confused  idea  of  some- 
 thino-  to  which  they  belong,  and  in  which  they  subsist.  And,  therefore, 
 when  we  speak  of  any  sort  of  substance,  we  say  it  is  a  thing  having  such 
 or  such  qualities ;  as  body  is  a  thing  that  is  extended,  figured,  and  capable 
 
 distinct  idea  of  it,  than  that  it  is  barely  something.  But  as  long  as  we  think  like 
 children,  incases  where  our  ideas  are  no  clearer-nor  distincter  than  theirs,  I  agree 
 •with  your  lordship,  that  I  know  not  how  it  can  be  remedied,  but  that  we  must  talk 
 like  tliem. 
 
 Farther,  the  bishop  asks,  Whether  there  be  no  difference  between  the  bare 
 being  of  a  thing,  and  its  subsistence  by  itself  ?  To  which  our  author  answers. 
 Yes*.  But  what  will  tiiat  do  to  prove,  that  upon  my  principles,  we  can  come  to 
 no  certainty  of  reason,  that  there  is  any  such  thing  as  substance  ?  You  seem  by 
 this  question  to  conclude,  that  the  idea  of  a  thing  that  subsists  by  itself,  is  a  clear 
 and  <listinct  idea  of  substance  ;  but  I  beg  leave  to  ask.  Is  the  idea  of  the  manner 
 of  subsistence  of  a  thing,  the  idea  of  the  thing  itself?  If  it  be  not,  we  may  have  a 
 clear  and  distinct  idea  of  the  manner,  and  yet  have  none  but  a  very  obscure  and 
 confused  one  of  the  thing.  For  example  ;  I  tell  your  lordship,  that  I  know  a 
 thing  that  cannot  subsist  without  a  support,  and  I  kn-ow  another  thing  that  does 
 subsist  without  a  support,  and  say  no  more  of  them  ;  can  you,  by  having  the 
 clear  and  distinct  ideas  of  having  a  support,  and  not  having  a  support,  say,  that 
 you  have  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  the  thing  that  I  know  which  has,  and  of  the 
 thing  that  I  know  which  has  not  a  support  ?  If  your  lordship  can,  I  beseech  you  to 
 give  me  tlie  clear  and  distinct  ideas  of  these,  which  I  only  call  by  the  general 
 name,  things  that  have  or  have  not  supports  :  for  such  there  are,  and  such  I  shall 
 give  your  lordship  clear  and  distinct  ideas  of,  when  you  shall  please  to  call  upon 
 me  for  tliem  ;  tliougli  I  think  your  lordship  will  scarce  find  them  by  the  general 
 and  confused  idea  of  things,  nor  in  the  clearer  and  more  disUnct  idea  of  baring 
 or  not  having  a  su])port. 
 
 To  sliow  a  Idind  man  that  he  has  no  clear  and  distinct  ilea  of  scarlet,  I  tell 
 him,  that  his  notion  of  it,  tliat  it  is  a  tiling  or  being,  does  not  p.  ove  he  has  any 
 clear  or  distinct  idea  of  it ;  but  barely  that  he  takes  it  to  be  sometliing,  he  knows 
 not  wliat — lie  replies,  tliat  he  knows  more  than  that,  v.  _§•.  he  knows  that  it  sub- 
 sists, or  inheres  in  another  thing  :  and  is  there  no  difference,  sayshc,  inyour  lord- 
 ship's words,  between  the  bare  being  of  a  thing,  and  its  subsistence  in  another  ? 
 Yes,  say  I  to  him,  a  great  deal,  they  are  very  different  ideas.  But  for  all  that, 
 you  have  no  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  scarlet,  nor  such  a  one  as  I  have,  who  see 
 and  know  it,  and  have  no  other  kind  of  idea  of  it,  besides  that  of  inherence- 
 
 Your  lordship  has  the  idea  of  subsisting  by  itself,  and  therefore  you  conclude, 
 you  have  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  the  thing  that  subsils  by  itself:  which,  me- 
 thinka,  is  ail  one,  as  if  your  countryman  siinuld  say,  he  hath  an  idea  of  the  cedar  of 
 Lebanon,  that  it  is  a  tree  of  a  nature  to  need  no  prop  to  lean  on  for  its  support ; 
 therefore  he  hatii  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  a  cedar  of  l^ebanon  :  which  clear 
 and  distinct  idea,  wlicn  he  comes  to  examine,  is  notliing  but  a  general  one  of  a 
 tree,  with  whioli  his  indetermincd  idea  of  a  cedar  is  confounded.  Just  so  is  the 
 idea  of  substance  ;  whicli,  however  called  clear  and  distinct,  is  confounded  with 
 the  general  indetermined  idea  of  something.  But  suppose  that  the  manner  of 
 subsisting  by  itself  gives  us  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  substance,  how  does  that 
 prove,  liiat  upon  my  principles  we  can  come  to  no  certainty  of  reason,  that 
 there  is  any  such  thing  as  substance  in  the  world  '  Which  is  the  proposition  to 
 be  proved. 
 
 *  Mr  Lock's  third  letter. 
 
Ch.  23.  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  189 
 
 of  motion ;  spirit,  a  thing  capable  of  thinking ;  and  so  hardness,  friabil- 
 ity, and  power  to  draw  iron,  we  say,  are  qualities  to  be  found  in  a  load- 
 stone. These,  and  the  lilce  fashions  of  speaking,  intimate  that  the  sub- 
 stance is  supposed  always  something  besides  the  extension,  figure,  solidity, 
 motion,  thinking,  or  other  observable  ideas,  though  we  know  not  what 
 it  is. 
 
 Sect.  4.  No  clear  idea  of  substance  in  general. — Hence,  when  we  talk 
 or  think  of  any  particular  sort  of  corporeal  substances,  as  horse,  stone,  &c. 
 though  the  idea  we  have  of  either  of  them  be  but  the  complication  or  col- 
 lection of  those  several  simple  ideas  of  sensible  qualities,  which  we  use  to 
 find  united  in  the  thing  called  horse  or  stone ;  yet  because  we  cannot  con- 
 ceive how  they  should  subsist  alone,  nor  one  in  another,  we  suppose  them 
 existing  in,  and  supported  by,  some  common  subject ;  which  support  we 
 denote  by  the  name  substance,  though  it  be  certain  we  have  no  clearer  dis- 
 tinct idea  of  that  thing  we  suppose  a  support. 
 
 Sect.  5.  As  clear  an  idea  of  spirit  as  body. — The  same  happens  con- 
 cerning the  operations  of  the  mind,  viz.  thinking,  reasoning,  fearing,  &c. 
 which  we,  concluding  not  to  subsist  of  themselves,  nor  apprehending  how 
 they  can  belong  to  body,  or  be  produced  by  it,  v/e  are  apt  to  think  these  the 
 actions  of  some  other  substance,  which  we  call  spirit :  whereby  yet  it  is 
 evident,  that  having  no  other  idea  or  notion  of  matter,  but  something 
 wherein  those  many  sensible  qualities  which  afl"ect  our  senses,  do  subsist; 
 by  supposing  a  substance,  wherein  thinking,  knowing,  doubting,  and  a 
 power  of  moving,  &c.  do  subsist,  we  have  as  clear  a  notion  of  the  substance 
 of  spirit,  as  we  have  of  body  ;  the  one  being  supposed  to  be  (without  know- 
 ing what  it  is)  the  substratum  to  those  simple  ideas  we  have  from  without ; 
 and  the  other  supposed  (with  a  like  ignorance  of  what  it  is)  to  be  the  substra- 
 tum to  those  operations  we  experiment  in  ourselves  within.  It  is  plain,  then, 
 that  the  idea  of  corporeal  substance  in  matter,  is  as  remote  from  our  con- 
 ceptions and  apprehensions,  as  that  of  spiritual  substance  or  spirit :  and 
 therefore,  from  our  not  having  any  notion  o?  the  substance  of  spirit,  we  can 
 no  more  conclude  its  non-existence,  than  we  can,  for  the  same  reason,  deny 
 the  existence  of  body;  it  being  as  rational  to  affirm  there  is  no  body,  because 
 we  have  no  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  the  substance  of  matter,  as  to  say 
 there  is  no  spirit,  because  we  have  no  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  the  substance 
 of  a  spirit. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Of  the  sorts  of  substances. — Whatever,  therefore,  be  the  secret 
 abstract  nature  o?  substance  in  general,  all  the  ideas  we  have  of  particular 
 distinct  sorts  of  substances  are  nothing  but  several  combinations' of  simple 
 ideas,  coexisting  in  such,  though  unknown,  cause  of  their  union,  as  makes 
 the  whole  subsist  of  itself  It  is  by  such  combinations  of  simple  ideas,  and 
 nothing  else,  that  we  represent  particular  sorts  of  substances  to  ourselves; 
 such  are  the  ideas  we  have  of  their  several  species  in  our  minds;  and  such 
 only  do  we,  by  their  specific  names,  signify  to  others,  v.  g.  man,  horse, 
 sun,  water,  iron:  upon  hearing  which  words,  every  one  who  understands 
 the  language,  frames  in  his  mind  a  combination  of  those  several  simple 
 ideas  which  he  has  usually  observed,  or  fancied  to  exist  together  under  that 
 denomination ;  all  which  he  supposes  to  rest  in,  and  be,  as  it  were,  adherent 
 to  that  unknown  common  subject,  which  inheres  not  in  any  thing  else. 
 Though,  in  the  mean  time,  it  be  manifest,  and  every  one  upon  inquiry  into 
 his  own  thoughts  will  find,  that  he  has  no  other  idea  of  any  substance,  v.  g. 
 let  it  be  gold,  horse,  iron,  man,  vitriol,  bread,  but  what  he  has  barely  of 
 those  sensible  qualities  which  he  supposes  to  inhere,  with  a  supposition 
 of  such  a  substratum,  as  gives,  as  it  were,  a  support  to  those  qualities  or 
 simple  ideas  which  he  has  observed  to  exist  united  together.  Thus,  the 
 idea  of  the  sun,  what  is  it  but  an  agg-regate  of  those  several  simple  ideas, 
 bright,  hot,  roundish,  having  a  constant  regular  motion,  at  a  certain  dis- 
 tance from  us,  and  perhaps  some  ot.'ier  ?  as  he  who  thinks  and  discourses 
 
190  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 of  the  svn,  has  been  more  or  less  accurate  in  observing'  those  sensible 
 qualities,  ideas,  or  properties,  wliich  are  in  that  thing  wJiicli  lie  calls  the 
 sun. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Power  a  great  part  of  our  complex  ideas  of  substance. — For 
 he  has  the  perl'ectest  idea  of  any  of  the  particular  sorts  of  substances,  who 
 has  gathered  and  put  together  most  of  those  simple  ideas  which  do  exist 
 in  it,  among  whicii  are  to  be  reckoned  its  active  powers  and  passive  capa- 
 cities ;  which,  though  not  simple  ideas,  yet,  in  this  respect,  for  brevity's  sake, 
 may  conveniently  enough  be  reckoned  among  them.  Thus,  the  power  of 
 drawing  iron  is  one  of  the  ideas  of  the  complex  one  of  tliat  substance  we 
 call  a  loadstone  ;  and  a  power  to  be  so  drawn,  is  a  part  of  tlie  complex 
 one  we  call  iron  :  which  powers  pass  for  inherent  qualities  in  those  subjects. 
 Because  every  substance,  being  as  apt,  by  the  powers  we  observe  in  it,  to 
 change  some  sensible  qualities  in  other  subjects,  as  it  is  to  produce  in  us 
 those  simple  ideas  whicli  we  receive  immediately  from  it,  does,  by  those 
 new  sensible  qualities  introduced  into  other  subjects,  discover  to  us  those 
 powers  which  do  thereby  mediately  affect  our  senses,  as  regularly  as  its  sen- 
 sible qualities  do  it  immediately,  v.  g.  we  immediately,  by  our  senses, 
 perceive  in  fire  its  heat  and  colour  :  whicli  are,  if  rightly  considered,  noth- 
 ing but  powers  in  it  to  produce  those  ideas  in  us;  we  also,  by  our  senses, 
 perceive  the  colour  and  brittleness  of  charcoal,  whereby  we  come  by  the 
 knowledge  of  another  power  in  fire,  wliich  it  has  to  change  the  colour  and 
 consistency  of  wood.  By  the  former  fire  immediately,  by  the  latter  it 
 mediately  discovers  to  us  these  several  qualities,  which  therefore  we  look 
 upon  to  be  a  part  of  the  qualities  of  fire,  and  so  make  them  a  part  of  the 
 complex  idea  of  it.  For  all  those  powers  that  we  take  cognizance  of,  ter- 
 minating only  in  the  alteration  of  some  sensible  qualities  in  those  subjects 
 on  which  they  operate,  and  so  making  them  exhibit  to  us  new  sensible 
 ideas  :  therefore  it  is  that  I  have  reckoned  these  powers  among  the  simple 
 ideas,  which  make  the  complex  ones  of  the  sorts  of  substances  ;  though 
 these  powers,  considered  in  themselves,  are  truly  complex  ideas.  And 
 in  this  looser  sense  I  crave  leave  to  be  understood,  when  I  name  any  of 
 these  potentialities  among  the  simple  ideas,  which  we  recollect  in  our  minds, 
 when  we  think  of  particular  substances.  For  the  powers  that  are  severally 
 in  them  are  necessary  to  be  considered,  if  we  will  have  true  distinct  notions 
 of  the  several  sorts  of  substances. 
 
 Sect.  8.  And  why. — Nor  are  w'e  to  wonder,  that  powers  make  a  great 
 part  of  our  complex  ideas  of  substances ;  since  their  secondary  ^qualities  are 
 those,  which  in  most  of  them  serve  principally  to  distinguish  substances 
 one  from  another,  and  commonly  make  a  considerable  part  of  the  complex 
 idea  of  the  several  sorts  of  them.  For  our  senses  failing  us  in  the  discovery 
 of  the  bulk,  texture,  and  figure  of  the  minute  parts  of  bodies,  on  which  their 
 real  constitutions  and  differences  depend,  we  are  fain  to  make  use  of  their 
 secondary  qualities,  as  the  characteristical  notes  and  marks  whereby  to  frame 
 ideas  of  them  in  our  minds,  and  distinguish  them  one  from  another.  All 
 which  secondaiy  qualities,  as  has  been  shown,  are  nothing  but  bare  powers. 
 For  the  colour  and  taste  of  opium  are,  as  well  as  its  soporific  or  anodyne 
 virtues,  mere  powers  depending  on  its  primary  qualities,  whereby  it  is  fitted 
 to  produce  different  operations  on  difi'erent  parts  of  our  bodies. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Three  sorts  of  ideas  make  our  complex  ones  of  substances. — 
 The  ideas  that  make  our  complex  ones  of  corporeal  substances  are  of  these 
 three  sorts.  First,  the  ideas  of  the  primary  qualities.x>f-  things,  which  are 
 discovered  by  our  senses,  and  are  in  them  even  when  we  perceive  them  not; 
 such  are  the  bulk,  figure,  number,  situation,  and  motion  of  the  parts  of  bodies, 
 which  are  really  in  them,  whether  we  take  notice  of  them  or  no.  Secondly, 
 the  sensible  secondary  qualities,  which  depending  on  these,  are  nothing  but 
 the  powers  those  substances  have  to  produce  several  ideas  in  us  by  our 
 senses  ;  which  ideas  are  not  in  the  things  themselves,  otherwise  than  aa 
 
Ch.  23.  OUR  IDEAS  OP  SUBSTANCES.  191 
 
 any  thing  is  in  its  cause.  Thirdly,  the  aptness  we  consider  in  any  substance 
 to  give  or  receive  such  alterations  of  primary  qualities,  as  that  the  substance 
 so  altered  should  produce  in  us  different  ideas  from  what  it  did  before  ;  these 
 are  called  active  and  passive  powers;  all  which  powers,  as  far  as  we  have  any 
 notice  or  notion  of  them,  terminate  only  in  sensible  simple  ideas.  For 
 whatever  alteration  a  loadstone  has  the  power  to  make  in  the  minute  par- 
 ticles of  iron,  we  should  have  no  notion  of  any  power  it  had  at  all  to  operate 
 on  iron,  did  not  its  sensible  motion  discover  it:  and  I  doubt  not  but  there 
 are  a  thousand  changes,  that  bodies  we  daily  handle  have  a  power  to  cause 
 in  one  another,  which  we  never  suspect,  because  they  never  appear  in  sen- 
 sible effects. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Powers  make  a  great  part  of  our  comflex  ideas  of  substances. 
 — Powers  therefore  justly  make  a  great  part  of  our  complex  ideas  of  sub- 
 stances. He  that  will  e.xamine  his  complex  idea  of  gold,  will  find  several 
 of  its  ideas  that  make  it  up  to  be  only  powers,  as  the  power  of  being  melted, 
 but  of  not  spending  itself  in  the  fire  ;  of  being  dissolved  in  aqua  regia;  are 
 ideas  as  necessary  to  make  up  our  com.plex  idea  of  gold,  as  its  colour  and 
 weight :  which,  if  duly  considered,  are  also  nothing  but  different  powers. 
 For  to  speak  truly,  yellowness  is  not  actually  in  gold ;  but  is  a  power  in 
 gold  to  produce  that  idea  in  us  by  our  eyes,  when  placed  in  a  due  light :  and 
 the  heat  which  we  cannot  leave  out  of  our  ideas  of  the  sun,  is  no  more  real- 
 ly in  the  sun,  than  the  white  colour  it  introduces  into  w' ax.  These  are  both 
 equally  powers  in  the  sun,  operating,  by  the  motion  and  figure  of  its  sensi- 
 ble parts,  so  on  a  man,  as  to  make  him  have  the  idea  of  heat ;  and  so  on 
 wax,  as  to  make  it  capable  to  produce  in  a  man  the  idea  of  white. 
 
 Sect.  11.  The  new  secondary  qualities  of  bodies  would  disappear,  if 
 we  could  discover  the  primary  ones  of  their  minute  parts, — Had  we  senses 
 acute  enough  to  discern  the  minute  particles  of  bodies,  and  the  real  consti- 
 tution on  which  their  sensible  qualities  depend,  I  doubt  not  but  they  would 
 produce  quite  different  ideas  in  us  ;  and  that  which  is  now  the  yellow  colour 
 of  gold  would  then  disappear,  and  instead  of  it  we  should  see  an  admirable 
 texture  of  parts  of  a  certain  size  and  figure.  This  microscopes  plainly  dis- 
 cover to  us  ;  for  what  to  our  naked  eyes  produces  a  certain  colour,  is,  by 
 thus  augmenting  the  acuteness  of  our  senses,  discovered  to  be  quite  a  dif- 
 ferent thing ;  and  the  thus  altering,  as  it  were,  the  proportion  of  the  bulk 
 of  the  minute  parts  of  a  coloured  object  to  our  usual  sight,  produces  differ- 
 ent ideas  from  what  it  did  before.  Thus  sand  or  pounded  glass,  which  is 
 opaque,  and  white  to  the  naked  eye,  is  pellucid  in  a  microscope  ;  and  a  hair 
 seen  this  way  loses  its  former  colour,  and  is  in  a  great  measure  pellucid, 
 with  a  mixture  of  some  bright  sparkling  colours,  such  as  appear  from  the 
 refraction  of  diamonds,  and  other  pellucid  bodies.  Blood  to  the  naked  eye 
 appears  all  red  ;  but  by  a  good  microscope,  wherein  its  lesser  parts  ap- 
 pear, shows  only  some  few  globules  of  red,  swimming  in  a  pellucid  liquor  : 
 and  how  these  red  globules  would  appear,  if  glasses  could  be  found  that 
 could  yet  magnify  them  a  thousand  or  ten  thousand  times  more,  is  uncer- 
 tain. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Our  faculties  of  discovery  suited  to  our  state. — The  infinitely 
 wise  contriver  of  us,  and  all  things  about  us,  hath  fitted  our  senses,  facul- 
 ties and  organs  to  the  conveniences  of  life,  and  the  business  we  have  to  do 
 here.  We  are  able,  by  our  senses,  to  know  and  distinguish  things  :  and 
 to  examine  them  so  far,  as  to  apply  them  to  our  uses,  and  several  ways  to 
 accommodate  the  exigencies  of  this  life.  We  have  insight  enough  into 
 their  admirable  contrivances  and  wonderfiil  effects,  to  admire  and  magnify 
 the  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness  of  their  author.  Such  a  knowledge  as 
 this,  which  is  suited  to  our  present  condition,  we  want  not  faculties  to  at- 
 tain. But  it  appears  not  that  God  intended  we  should  have  a  perfect,  clear, 
 and  adequate  knowledge  of  them :  that  perhaps  is  not  in  the  comprehension 
 of  any  finite  being.     We  are  furnished  with  faculties,  (dull  and  weak  as  they 
 
192  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 are)  to  discover  enougli  in  the  creatures,  to  lead  us  to  tlie  knowledge  of  the 
 Creator,  and  the  knowledge  of  our  duty;  and  we  are  fitted  well  enougli  with 
 abilities  to  j)rovide  for  tlie  conveniences  of  living:   these  are  our  business 
 in  this  world.     But  were  our  senses  altered,  and  made  much  quicker  and 
 acuter,   the   ajjpearance  and  outward  scheme  of  things  Would  have  quite 
 anotiier  face  to  us  ;  and,  I  am  apt  to  think,  would  be  inconsistent  with  our 
 being,  or  at  least  well-being,  in   this  part  of  the  universe  wliich  we  inhabit. 
 i  He  that  considers  how  little  our  constitution  is  able  to  bear  a  remove  into 
 I  parts  of  this  air,  not  much  higher  than  that  wo  commonly  breatlic  in,  will 
 J  have  reason  to  be  satisfied  that  in  this  globe  of  earth  allotted  for  our  mansion 
 the  all-wise  Architect  has  suited  our  organs,  and  the  bodies  that  are  to  af- 
 fect them,  one  to  another.     If  our  sense  of  hearing  were  but  one  thousand 
 ;.  times  quicker  than  it  is,  how  would  a  perpetual  noise  distract  us !     And  wc 
 should  in  the  quietest  retirement  be  less  able  to  sleep  or  mediate,  than  in 
 the  middle  of  a  sea-fight.     Nay,  if  that  most  instructive    ol"  our  senses, 
 seeing,  were  in  any  man  a  thousand  or  an  hundred  thousand  times  more 
 acute  than  it  is  by  the  best  microscope,  things  several  millions  of  times  less 
 than  the  smallest  object  of  his  sight  now  would  then  be  visible  to  his  naked 
 eyes,  and  so  he  would  come  nearer  to  the  discovery  of  the  texture  and  mo- 
 tion of  the  minute  parts  of  corporeal  things  ;  and  in  many  of  them,  probably, 
 get  ideas  of  their  internal  constitutions.     But  then  he  would  be  in  a  quite 
 ditferent  world  from  other  peo])le  ;  nothing  would  appear  the  same  to  him 
 and  others ;  the  visible  ideas  of  every  thing  would  be  different.     So  that  I 
 doubt  whether  he  and  the  rest  of  men  could  discourse  concerning  the  ob- 
 jects of  sight,  or  have  any  communication  about  colours,  their  appearances 
 being  so  wholly  different.     And  perhaps  such  a  quickness  and  tenderness 
 of  sight  could  not  endure  bright  sunshine,  or  so  much  as  open  daylight ;  nor 
 take  in  but  a  very  small  part  of  any  object  at  once,  and  that  too  only  at  a  very 
 near  distance.     And  if  by  the  help  of  such  microscopical  eyes  (if  I  may  so 
 call  them)  a  man  could  penetrate  farther  than  ordinary  into  the  secret  composi- 
 tion and  radical  texture  of  bodies,  he  would  not  make  any  great  advantage  by 
 the  change,  if  such  an  acute  sight  would  not  serve  to  conduct  him  to  the 
 market  and  exchange ;  if  he  could  not  see  things  he  was  to  avoid  at  a  con- 
 venient distance,  nor  distinguish  things  he  had  to  do  wdth  by  those  sensible 
 qualities  others  do.     He  that  was  sharp-sighted  enough  to  see  the  configu- 
 ration of  the  minute  particles  of  the  spring  of  a  clock,  and  observe  upon 
 what  peculiar  structure  and  impulse  its  elastic  motion  depends,  would  no 
 doubt  discover  something  very  admirable  ;  but  if  e3-es  so  framed  could  not 
 view  at  once  the  hand  and  the  characters  of  the  hour-plate,  and  thereby  at 
 a  distance  see  what  o'clock  it  was,  their  owner  could  not  be  much  benefrted 
 by  that  acuteness  ;  which,  whilst  it  discovered  the  secret  contrivance  of  the 
 parts  of  the  machine,  made  him  lose  its  use. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Conjecture  about  spirits. — And  here  give  me  leave  to  propose 
 an  extravagant  conjecture  of  mine,  viz.  that  since  we  have  some  reason  (if 
 there  be  any  credit  to  be  given  to  the  report  of  things  that  our  philosophy 
 cannot  account  for)  to  imagine  that  spirits  can  assume  to  themselves  bodies 
 of  different  bulk,  figure,  and  conformation  of  parts  ;  whether  one  great  ad- 
 vantage some  of  them  have  over  us  may  not  lie  in  this,  that  they  can  so 
 frame  and  shape  to  themselves  organs  of  sensation  or  perception  as  to  suit 
 them  to  their  present  design,  and  the  circumstances  of  the  object  they 
 would  consider.  For  how  much  would  that  man  exceed  all  others  in  know- 
 ledge, who  had  but  the  faculty  so  to  order  the  structure  of  his  eyes,  that  one 
 sense,  as  to  make  it  capable  of  all  the  several  degrees  of  vision  which  the 
 assistance  of  glasses  (casually  at  first  lighted  on)  has  taught  us  to  conceive ! 
 What  wonders  would  he  discover,  who  could  so  fit  his  eyes  to  all  sorts  of 
 objects,  as  to  see,  when  he  pleased,  the  figure  and  motion  of  the  minute  par- 
 ticles in  the  blood,  and  other  juices  of  animals,  as  distinctly  as  he  does,  at 
 other  times,   the  shape  and  motion  of  the  animals  themselves?     But  to  us, 
 
Ch.  23.  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  193 
 
 in  our  present  state,  unalterable  organs  so  contrived  as  to  discover  the  figure 
 and  motion  of  tlie  minute  parts  of  bodies,  whereon  depend  those  sensible 
 qualities  we  now  observe  in  them,  would  perhaps  be  of  no  advantage.  God 
 has,  no  doubt,  made  them  so  as  is  best  for  us  in  our  present  condition.  He 
 hath  fitted  us  for  the  neighbourhood  of  the  bodies  that  surround  us,  and  we 
 have  to  do  with :  and  though  we  cannot,  by  the  faculties  we  have,  attain  to 
 a  perfect  knowledge  of  things,  yet  they  will  serve  us  well  enough  for  those 
 ends  above  mentioned,  which  are  our  great  concernment.  I  beg  my  reader's 
 pardon  for  laying  before  him  so  wild  a  fancy,  concerning  the  ways  of  percep- 
 tion in  beings  above  us  ;  but  how  extravagant  soever  it  be,  I  doubt  whether 
 we  can  imagine  any  thing  about  the  knowledge  of  angels,  but  afler  this  man- 
 ner, someway  or  other,  in  proportion  to  what  we  find  and  observe  in  our- 
 selves. And  though  we  cannot  but  allow,  that  the  infinite  power  and  wisdom 
 of  God  may  frame  creatures  with  a  thousand  other  faculties  and  ways  of 
 perceiving  things  without  them  than  what  we  have,  yet  our  thoughts  can 
 go  no  farther  tlian  our  own  ;  so  impossible  it  is  for  us  to  enlarge  our  very 
 guesses  beyond  the  ideas  received  from  our  own  sensation  and  reflection. 
 The  supposition,  at  least,  that  angels  do  sometimes  assume  bodies,  needs 
 not  startle  us  ;  since  some  of  the  most  ancient  and  most  learned  fathers  of 
 the  church  seemed  to  believe  that  they  had  bodies  :  and  this  is  certain,  that 
 their  state  and  way  of  existence  is  unknown  to  us. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Complex  ideas  of  substances. — But  to  return  to  the  matter  in 
 hand;  the  ideas  we  have  of  substances,  and  the  ways  we  come  by  them, — 
 I  say,  our  specific  ideas  of  substances  are  notliing  else  but  a  collection  of  a 
 certain  number  of  simple  ideas,  considered  as  united  in  one  thing.  These 
 ideas  of  substances,  though  they  are  commonly  simple  apprehensions,  and 
 the  names  of  them  simple  terms,  yet  in  effect  are  complex  and  compounded. 
 Thus  the  idea  which  an  Englishman  signifies  by  the  name  swan,  is  white 
 colour,  long  neck,  red  beak,  black  legs,  and  whole  feet,  and  all  these  of  a 
 certain  size,  with  a  power  of  swimming  in  the  water,  and  making  a  certain 
 kind  of  noise  :  and  perhaps,  to  a  man  who  has  long  observed  this  kind  of 
 birds,  some  other  properties  which  all  terminate  in  sensible  simple  ideas, 
 all  united  in  one  common  subject. 
 
 Sect  15.  Idea  of  spiritual  substances  as  clear  as  of  bodily  substances. 
 — Besides  the  complex  ideas  we  have  of  material  sensible  substances,  of 
 which  I  have  last  spoken,  by  the  simple  ideas  we  have  taken  from  those 
 operations  of  our  own  minds  which  we  experiment  daily  in  ourselves,  as 
 thinking,  understanding,  willing,  knowing,  and  power  of  beginning  mo- 
 tion, &c.  co-existing  in  some  substance ;  we  are  able  to  frame  the  complex 
 idea  of  an  immaterial  spirit.  And  thus,  by  putting  together  the  ideas  of 
 thinking,  perceiving,  liberty,  and  power  of  moving  themselves  and  other 
 things,  we  have  as  clear  a  perception  and  notion  of  immaterial  substances  as 
 we  have  of  material.  For  putting  together  the  ideas  of  thinking  and  willing, 
 or  the  power  of  moving  or  quieting  corporeal  motion,  joined  to  substance,  of 
 which  we  liave  no  distinct  idea,  we  have  the  idea  of  an  immaterial  spirit : 
 and  by  putting  together  the  ideas  of  coherent  solid  parts,  and  a  power  of 
 being  moved,  joined  with  substance,  of  which  likewise  we  have  no  positive 
 idea,  we  have  the  idea  of  matter.  The  one  is  as  clear  and  distinct  an  idea 
 as  the  other  :  the  idea  of  thinking,  and  moving  a  body,  being  as  clear  and 
 distinct  ideas  as  the  ideas  of  extension,  solidity,  and  being  moved :  for  our 
 idea  of  substance  is  equally  obscure,  or  none  at  all  in  both  ;  it  is  but  a  sup- 
 posed I  know  not  what,  to  support  those  ideas  we  call  accidents.  It  is  for 
 want  of  reflection  that  we  are  apt  to  think  that  our  senses  show  us  nothing 
 but  material  things.  Every  act  of  sensation,  when  duly  considered,  gives 
 us  an  equal  view  of  both  parts  of  nature,  the  corporeal  and  spiritual.  For 
 whilst  I  know,  by  seeing  or  hearing,  «Scc.  that  there  is  some  corporeal  being 
 without  me,  the  object  of  that  sensation;  I  do  more  certainly  know,  that 
 there  is  some  spiritual  being  within  me  that  sees  and  hears.  This,  I  must 
 Z 
 
194  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 be  convinced,  cannot  be  the  action  of  bare  insensible  matter ;  nor  ever  could 
 
 be,  witliout  an  immaterial  thinking  being. 
 
 Sect.  16.  No  idea  of  abstract  substance. — By  the  complex  idea  of  ex- 
 tended, ligured,  coloured,  and  all  other  sensible  qualities,  which  is  all  that 
 we  know  of  it,  we  are  as  far  from  the  idea  of  the  substance  of  body  as  if 
 we  knew  nothing  at  all :  nor  after  all  the  acquaintance  and  familiarity  which 
 we  imagine  we  have  with  matter,  and  the  many  qualities  men  assure  them- 
 selves they  perceive  and  know  in  bodies,  will  it  perhaps  upon  examination 
 be  found,  that  they  have  any  more  or  clearer  primary  ideas  belonging  to 
 body,  than  they  have  belonging  to  immaterial  spirit. 
 
 Sect.  17.  The  cohesion  of  solid  parts  and  impulse  of  primary  ideas  of 
 body. — The  primary  ideas  we  have  peculiar  to  body,  as  contradistinguished 
 to  spirit,  are  the  cohesion  of  solid,  and  consequently  separable,  parts,  and 
 a  power  of  communicating  motion  by  impulse.  These,  I  think,  are  the 
 original  ideas  proper  and  peculiar  to  body ;  for  figure  is  but  the  consequence 
 of  Unite  extension. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Thinking  and  motivity  the  primary  ideas  of  spirit. — The  ideas 
 we  have  belonging  and  peculiar  to  spirit  are  thinking  and  will,  or  a  power 
 of  puttingbody  into  motion  by  thought,  and,  whicli  is  consequent  to  it,  liberty. 
 For  as  body  cannot  but  communicate  its  motion  by  impulse  to  another  body, 
 which  it  meets  with  at  rest,  so  the  mind  can  put  bodies  into  motion,  or 
 forbear  to  do  so,  as  it  pleases.  The  ideas  of  existence,  duration,  and  mo- 
 bility, are  common  to  them  both. 
 
 Sect.  19.  Spirits  capable  of  motion. — There  is  no  reason  why  it  should 
 be  thought  strange,  that  I  make  mobility  belong  to  spirit :  for  having  no 
 other  idea  of  motion  but  change  of  distance  with  other  beings  that  are  con- 
 sidered as  at  rest, — and  finding  that  spirits,  as  well  as  bodies,  cannot  ope- 
 rate but  where  they  are,  and  that  spirits  do  operate  at  several  times  in  several 
 places, — I  cannot  but  attribute  change  of  place  to  all  finite  spirits  (for  of  the 
 infinite  spirit  I  speak  not  here).  For  my  soul  being  a  real  being,  as  well  as 
 my  body,  is  certainly  as  capable  of  changing  distance  with  any  other  body,  or 
 Doing,  as  body  itself,  and  so  is  capable  of  motion.  And  if  a  mathematician  can 
 consider  a  certain  distance,  or  a  change  of  that  distance  between  two  pomts, 
 one  may  certainly  conceive  a  distance  and  a  change  of  distance  between  two 
 spirits  ;  and  so  conceive  their  motion,  their  approach  or  removal,  one  from 
 another. 
 
 Sect.  20.  Every  one  finds  in  himself,  that  his  soul  can  think,  will,  and 
 operate  on  his  body  in  the  place  where  that  is  ;  but  cannot  operate  on  a  body 
 or  in  a  ])lace  an  hundred  miles  distant  from  it.  Nobody  can  imagine  that 
 his  soul  can  think  or  move  a  body  at  Oxford,  whilst  he  is  at  London  ;  and 
 cannot  but  know,  that,  being  united  to  his  body,  it  constantly  changes  place 
 all  the  whole  journey  between  Oxford  and  London,  as  the  coach  or  horse 
 does  that  carries  him,  and  I  think  may  be  said  to  be  truly  all  that  while  in 
 motion  ;  or  if  that  will  not  be  allowed  to  afford  us  a  clear  idea  enough  of 
 its  motion,  its  being  separated  from  the  body  in  death,  I  think,  will ;  for  to 
 consider  it  as  going  out  of  the  body,  or  leaving  it,  and  yet  to  have  no  idea 
 of  its  motion,  seems  to  me  impossible. 
 
 Sect.  21.  If  it  be  said  by  any  one  that  it  cannot  change  place,  because 
 it  hath  none,  for  spirits  are  not  in  loco,  but  ubi ;  I  suppose  that  way  of 
 talking  will  not  now  be  of  much  weight  to  many,  in  an  age  that  is  not  much 
 disposed  to  admire  or  suffer  themselves  to  be  deceived  by  such  unintelligible 
 ways  of  speaking.  But  if  any  one  thinks  there  is  any  sense  in  that  distinc- 
 tion, and  that  it  is  applicable  to  our  present  purpose,  I  desire  him  to  put  it 
 into  intelligible  English  ;  and  then  from  tlience  draw  a  reason  to  show  that 
 immaterial  spirits  are  not  capable  of  motion.  Indeed  motion  cannot  be  attri- 
 buted to  God ;  not  because  he  is  an  immaterial,  but  because  he  is  an  infinite 
 spirit. 
 
 Sect.  22.  Idea  of  soul  and  body  compared. — Let  us  compare  then  our 
 complex  idea  of  an  immaterial  spirit  with  our  complex  idea  of  body,  and  see 
 
Ch.  23.  OUR  IDEAS  OP  SUBSTANCES.  196 
 
 whether  there  be  any  more  obscurity  in  one  than  in  the  other,  and  in  which 
 luvbt.  Our  idea  of  "body,  as  I  think,  is  an  extended  soHd  substance,  ca- 
 pable of  communicating  motion  by  impulse  ;  and  our  idea  of  soul,  as  an  im- 
 material spirit,  is  of  a  substance  that  thinks,  and  has  a  power  of  exciting 
 motion  in  body,  by  willing  or  thought.  These,  I  think,  are  our  complex 
 ideas  of  soul  and  body,  as  contradistinguished ;  and  now  iet  us  examine 
 which  has  most  obscurity  in  it,  and  difficulty  to  be  apprehended.  I  know 
 that  people,  whose  thoughts  are  innnersed  in  matter,  and  have  so  subjected 
 their  minds  to  their  senses,  that  they  seldom  reflect  on  any  tiling  beyond 
 them,  are  apt  to  say,  they  cannot  comprehend  a  thinking  thing,  which  per- 
 liaps  is  true  :  but  1  affirm,  when  they  consider  it  well,  they  can  no  more 
 comprehend  an  extended  thing. 
 
 Sect.  23.  Cohesion  of  solid  parts  in  body  as  hard  to  be  conceived  as 
 thinking  in  a  soul. — If  any  one  say,  he  knows  not  what  it  is  thinks  in  him,  he 
 means  he  knows  not  what  the  substance  is  of  that  thinking  thing:  no  more, 
 say  I,  knows  he  what  the  substance  is  of  that  solid  thing.  Farther,  if  lie 
 says  he  knows  not  how  he  thinks,  I  answer,  neither  knows  he  liow  he  is 
 extended ;  how  the  solid  parts  of  body  are  united,  or  cohere  together  to 
 make  extension.  For  though  the  pressure  of  the  particles  of  air  may  account 
 for  the  cohesion  of  several  parts  of  matter,  that  are  grosser  than  the  parti- 
 cles of  air,  and  have  pores  less  than  corpuscles  of  air, — yet  the  weight  or 
 pressure  of  the  air  will  not  explain,  nor  can  be  a  cause  of  the  coherence 
 of  the  particles  of  air  themselves.  And  if  the  pressures  of  the  ether,  or 
 any  subtiler  matter  than  the  air,  may  unite,  and  hold  fast  together  the 
 parts  of  a  particle  of  air,  as  well  as  other  bodies;  yet  it  cannot  make 
 bonds  for  itself,  and  hold  together  the  parts  that  make  up  every  the 
 least  corpuscle  of  that  materia  subtilis.  So  that  the  hypothesis,  how  in- 
 geniously soever  explained,  by  showing  that  the  parts  of  sensible  bodies  are 
 held  together  by  the  pressure  of  other  external  insensible  bodies,  reaches 
 not  the  parts  of  the  ether  itself;  and  by  how  much  the  more  evident  it  proves 
 that  the  parts  of  other  bodies  are  held  togetJier  by  the  external  pressure  of 
 the  ether,  and  can  have  no  other  conceivable  cause  of  their  cohesion  and 
 union,  by  so  much  the  more  it  leaves  us  in  the  dark  concerning  the  cohe- 
 sion of  the  parts  of  the  corpuscles  of  the  ether  itself;  which  we  can  neither 
 conceive  without  parts,  they  being  bodies,  and  divisible,  nor  yet  how  their 
 parts  cohere,  they  wanting  that  cause  of  cohesion,  which  is  given  of  the  co- 
 hesion of  the  parts  of  all  other  bodies. 
 
 Sect.  24.  But,  in  truth,  the  pressure  of  any  ambient  fluid,  bow  great  so- 
 ever, can  be  no  intelligible  cause  of  the  cohesion  of  the  solid  parts  of  mat- 
 ter. For  though  such  a  pressure  may  hinder  the  avulsion  of  two  polished 
 superficies,  one  from  another,  in  a  line  perpendicular  to  them,  as  in  the  ex- 
 periment of  two  polished  marbles  ;  yet  it  can  never,  in  the  least,  hinder  the 
 separation  by  a  motion,  in  a  line  parallel  to  those  surfaces  ;  because  the 
 ambient  fluid,  having  a  full  liberty  to  succeed  in  each  point  of  space,  desert- 
 ed by  a  laterial  motion,  resists  such  a  motion  of  bodies  so  joined  no  more 
 than  it  would  resist  the  motion  of  that  body,  were  it  on  all  sides  environed 
 by  that  fluid,  and  touched  no  other  body  :  and,  therefore,  if  there  were  no 
 other  cause  of  cohesion,  all  parts  of  bodies  must  be  easily  separable  by  such 
 a  laterial  sliding  motion.  For  if  the  pressure  of  the  ether  be  the  adequate 
 cause  of  cohesion,  wherever  that  cause  operates  not,  there  can  be  no  cohe- 
 sion. And  since  it  cannot  operate  against  such  a  lateral  separation  (as  has 
 been  shown,)  therefore  in  every  imaginary  plane,  intersecting  any  mass  of 
 matter,  there  could  be  no  more  cohesion  than  of  two  polished  surfaces, 
 which  will  always,  notwithstanding  any  imaginable  pressure  of  a  fluid,  easi- 
 ly slide  one  from  another.  So  that,  perhaps,  how  clear  an  idea  soever  we 
 think  we  have  of  the  extension  of  body,  which  is  nothing  but  the  cohesion 
 of  solid  parts,  he  that  shall  well  consider  it  in  his  mind  may  have  reason  to 
 conclude,  that  it  is  as  easy  for  him  to  have  a  clear  idea  how  the  soul 
 thiaks,  as  how  body  \»  extended.     For  since  body  is  no  farther  nor  other- 
 
196  OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 wise  extended  tlian  by  the  union  and  cohesion  of  its  solid  parts,  we  shall 
 very  ill  conipreliend  the  extension  of  body,  without  understanding  wherein 
 consists  tiie  union  and  cohesion  of  its  parts  ;  whicii  seems  to  rne  as  incom- 
 prehensible as  the  manner  of  thinking,  and  how  it  is  performed. 
 
 Sect.  25.  I  allow  it  is  usual  for  most  people  to  wonder  how  any  one 
 should  rind  a  difficulty  in  what  they  think  they  every  day  observe.  Do  we 
 not  see,  will  they  be  ready  to  say,  the  parts  of  bodies  stick  firmly  together] 
 Is  there  any  tiling  more  conmion  !  And  what  doubt  can  there  be  made  of 
 it]  And  the  like,  I  say,  concerning  thinking  and  voluntary  motion  :  do  we 
 not  every  moment  experiment  it  in  ourselves  ;  and  therefore  can  it  be  doubt- 
 ed ]  Tlie  matter  of  fact  is  clear,  I  confess  ;  but  when  we  would  a  little  nearer 
 look  into  it,  and  consider  how  it  is  done,  there  I  think  we  are  at  a  loss,  both 
 in  the  one  and  the  other  ;  and  can  as  little  understand  how  the  parts  of  body 
 cohere,  as  how  we  ourselves  perceive,  or  move.  I  would  have  any  one  in- 
 telligibly explain  to  me  how  the  parts  of  gold,  or  brass  (that  but  now  in 
 fusion  were  as  loose  from  one  another  as  the  particles  of  water  or  the 
 sands  of  an  hour  glass,)  come  in  a  few  moments  to  be  so  united,  and 
 adhere  so  strongly  one  to  another,  that  the  utmost  force  of  men's  arms  cannot 
 separate  them  :  a  considering  man  will,  I  suppose,  be  here  at  a  loss  to  satis- 
 fy his  own,  or  another  man's  understanding. 
 
 Sect.  26.  The  little  bodies  that  compose  that  fluid  we  call  water  are  so 
 extremely  small,  that  I  have  never  heard  of  any  one,  who  by  a  microscope 
 (and  yet  I  have  heard  of  some  that  have  magnified  to  ten  thousand,  nay, 
 to  much  above  a  hundred  thousand  times)  pretended  to  perceive  their 
 distinct  bidk,  figure,  or  motion :  and  the  particles  of  water  are  also  so  per- 
 fectly lo^se  one  from  another,  that  the  least  force  sensibly  separates  thein. 
 Nay,  if  we  consider  their  perpetual  motion,  we  must  allow  them  to  have  no 
 cohesion  one  with  another;  and  yet  let  but  a  sharp  cold  come,  they  unite, 
 they  consolidate,  these  little  atoms  cohere,  and  are  not,  without  great  force, 
 separable.  He  that  could  find  the  bonds  that  tie  these  heaps  of  loose  little  bo- 
 dies together  so  firmly;  he  that  could  make  known  the  cement  that  makes  them 
 stick  so  fast  one  to  another  ;  would  discover  a  great  and  yet  unknown 
 secret :  and  yet,  when  that  was  done,  would  he  be  far  enough  from  making 
 the  extension  of  body  (which  is  the  cohesion  of  its  solid  })arts)  intelligible, 
 till  he  could  show  wherein  consisted  the  union  or  consolidation  of  the  parts 
 of  those  bonds,  or  of  that  cement,  or  of  the  least  particle  of  matter  that  exists. 
 Whereby  it  appears,  that  this  primary  and  supposed  obvious  quality  of  body 
 will  be  found,  when  examined,  to  be  as  incomprehensible  as  any  thing  belong- 
 ingtoour  minds,  and  a  solid  extended  substance  as  hard  to  be  conceived  as  a 
 thinking  immaterial  one,  whatever  difficulties  some  woidd  raise  against  it. 
 
 Sect.  27.  For,  to  extend  our  thoughts  a  little  farther,  that  pressure,  which 
 is  brought  to  explain  the  cohesion  of  bodies,  is  as  unintelligible  as  the  cohe- 
 sion itself.  For  if  matter  be  considered,  as  no  doubt  it  is,  finite,  let  any  one 
 send  his  contemplation  to  the  extremities  of  the  universe,  and  there  see 
 what  conceivable  hoops,  what  bond  he  can  imagine  to  hold  this  mass  of  mat- 
 ter in  so  close  a  pressure  together;  from  whence  steel  has  its  firmness,  and 
 the  parts  of  a  diamond  their  hardness  and  indissolubility.  If  matter  be  finite, 
 it  must  have  its  extremes;  and  there  must  be  something  to  hinder  it  from  scat- 
 tering asunder.  If,  to  avoid  this  difficulty,  any  one  will  throw  himself  into 
 the  supposition  and  abyss  of  infinite  matter,  let  him  consider  what  light  he 
 thereby  brings  to  the  cohesion  of  body,  and  whether  he  be  ever  the  nearer 
 making  it  intelligible  by  resolving  it  into  a  supposition  the  most  absurd  and 
 most  incomprehensible  of  all  other:  so  far  is  our  extension  of  body  (which 
 is  nothing  but  the  cohesion  of  solid  parts)  from  being  clearer,  or  more  dis- 
 tinct, when  we  would  inquire  into  the  nature,  cause,  or  manner  of  it,  than 
 the  idea  of  thinking. 
 
 Sect.  28.  Communication  of  motion  by  impulse,  or  by  thought,  equally 
 intelligible. — Another  idea  we  have  of  body  is  the  power  of  communication 
 
Ch.  23.  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  197 
 
 of  motion  by  impulse  ;  and  of  our  souls,  the  power  of  exciting  motion  by 
 thought.  These  ideas,  the  one  of  body,  the  other  of  our  lainds,  every 
 day's  experience  clearly  furnishes  us  with :  but  if  here  again  we  inquire 
 how  this  is  done,  we  are  equally  in  the  dark.  For  to  the  communication 
 of  motion  by  impulse,  wherein  as  much  motion  is  lost  to  one  body  as  is 
 got  to  the  other,  which  is  the  most  ordinary  case,  we  can  have  no  other 
 conception  but  of  the  passing  of  motion  out  of  one  body  into  another  ;  which, 
 I  think,  is  as  obscure  and  unconceivable,  as  how  our  minds  move  or 
 stop  our  bodies  by  thought :  which  we  every  moment  find  they  do.  The 
 increase  of  motion  by  impulse,  which  is  observed  or  believed  sometimes  to 
 happen,  is  yet  harder  to  be  understood.  We  have  by  daily  experience 
 clear  evidence  of  motion  produced  both  by  impulse  and  by  thought ;  but 
 the  manner,  how,  hardly  comes  within  our  comprehension  ;  we  are  equally 
 at  a  loss  in  both.  So  that  however  we  consider  motion,  and  its  comnmnica- 
 tion,  either  from  body  or  spirit,  the  idea  which  belongs  to  spirit  is  at  least  as 
 clear  as  that  which  belongs  to  body.  And  if  we  consider  the  active  power 
 of  moving,  or  as  I  may  call  it,  motivity,  it  is  much  clearer  in  spirit  than 
 body  ;  since  two  bodies,  placed  by  one  another  at  rest,  will  never  afford  us 
 the  idea  of  a  power  in  the  one  to  move  the  other,  but  by  a  borrowed  mo- 
 tion ;  whereas  the  mind,  every  day,  affords  us  ideas  of  an  active  power  of 
 moving  of  bodies;  and  therefore  it  is  worth  our  consideration,  whether  ac- 
 tive power  be  not  the  proper  attribute  of  spirits,  and  passive  power  of  mat- 
 ter. Hence  may  be  conjectured,  that  created  spirits  are  not  totally  sepa- 
 rate from  matter,  because  they  are  both  active  and  passive.  Pure  spirit, 
 viz.  God,  is  only  active  ;  pure  matter  is  only  passive  ;  those  beings  that  are 
 both  active  and  passive,  we  may  judge  to  partake  of  both.  But  be  that  as 
 it  will,  I  think  we  have  as  many,  and  as  clear  ideas  belonging  to  spirit  as 
 we  have  belonging  to  body,  the  substance  of  each  being  equally  unknown 
 to  us  ;  and  the  idea  of  thinking  in  spirit  as  clear  as  of  extension  in  body  ; 
 and  the  communication  of  motion  by  thought,  which  we  attribute  to  spirit, 
 is  as  evident  as  that  by  impulse,  which  we  ascribe  to  body.  Constant  expe- 
 rience makes  us  sensible  of  both  these,  though  our  narrow  understandings 
 can  comprehend  neither.  For  when  the  mind  would  look  beyond  those 
 original  ideas  we  have  from  sensation  on  reflection,  and  penetrate  into 
 their  causes,  and  manner  of  production,  we  find  still  it  discovers  nothing 
 but  its  own  short-sigiitedness. 
 
 Sect.  29.  To  conclude — sensation  convinces  us  that  there  are  solid  ex- 
 tended substances,  and  reflection,  that  there  are  tliinking  ones ;  experience 
 assures  us  of  the  existence  of  such  beings,  and  that  the  one  hath  a  power 
 to  move  body  by  impulse,  the  other  by  thought ;  this  we  cannot  doubt  of 
 Experience,  I  say,  every  moment  furnishes  us  with  the  clear  ideas  both  of 
 the  one  and  the  other.  But  beyond  tliese  ideas,  as  received  from  their 
 proper  sources,  our  faculties  will  not  reach.  If  we  would  inquire  farther 
 into  their  nature,  causes,  and  manner,  we  perceive  not  the  nature  of  ex- 
 tension clearer  than  we  do  of  thinking.  If  we  would  explain  them  any 
 farther,  one  is  as  easy  as  the  other ;  and  there  is  no  more  difficulty  to  con- 
 ceive how  a  substance  we  know  not  should  by  thought  set  body  into  mo- 
 tion, than  how  a  substance  we  know  not  should  by  impulse  set  body  into 
 motion.  So  that  we  are  no  more  able  to  discover  wherein  the  ideas  be- 
 longing to  body  consist,  than  those  belonging  to  spirit.  From  whence  it 
 seems  probable  to  me,  that  the  simple  ideas  we  receive  from  sensation  and 
 reflection  are  the  boundaries  of  our  thoughts;  beyond  which  the  mind, 
 whatever  efforts  it  would  make,  is  not  able  to  advance  one  jot;  nor  can  it 
 make  any  discoveries,  when  it  would  pry  into  the  nature  and  hidden  causes 
 of  those  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  30.  Idea  of  spirit  and  body  compared. — So  that,  in  short,  the 
 idea  we  have  of  spirit,  compared  with  the  idea  we  have  of  body,  stajids 
 thus :    the   substance  of  spirit   is   unknown   to   us ;    and    so  is   the   sub- 
 
198  OF  HUaiAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2, 
 
 stance  of  body  equally  unknown  to  U8.  Two  primary  qualities  or  proper- 
 ties of  body,  viz.  solid  coherent  parts  and  impulse,  wc  have  distinct  clear 
 ideas  of:  so  likewise  wc  know,  and  have  distinct  clear  ideas  of  two  primary 
 qualities  or  properties  of  spirit,  viz.  thinking,  and  a  power  of  action  ;  i.  e. 
 a  power  of  beginning  or  stopping  several  thouglits  or  motions.  We  have 
 also  the  ideas  of  several  quahties,  inlierent  in  bodies,  and  have  the  clear 
 distinct  ideas  of  them  ;  which  qualities  are  but  the  various  modifications  of 
 the  extension  of  cohering  solid  parts  and  their  motion.  We  have  likewise 
 the  ideas  of  the  several  modes  of  thinking,  viz.  believing,  doubting,  intending, 
 fearing,  hoping;  all  which  are  but  the  several  modes  ol'thinking.  We  have 
 also  the  ideas  of  willing,  and  moving  the  body  consequent  to  it,  and  with 
 the  body  itself  too ;  for,  as  has  been  shown,  spirit  is  capable  of  motion. 
 
 Sect.  31.  The  notion  of  sj)irit  involves  no  more  difficulty  in  it  than 
 that  of  body. — Lastly,  if  tliis  notion  of  immaterial  spirit  may  have  per- 
 haps some  difficulties  in  it  not  easy  to  be  explained,  we  have  therefore  no 
 more  reason  to  deny  or  doubt  the  existence  of  such  spirits,  than  we  have 
 to  deny  or  doubt  the  existence  of  body  ;  because  the  notion  of  body  is  cum- 
 bered with  some  difficulties  very  hard,  and  perhaps  impossible  to  be  ex- 
 plained or  understood  by  us.  For  I  would  fain  have  instanced  any  tiling 
 in  our  notion  of  spirit  more  perplexed,  or  nearer  a  contradiction,  than  the 
 very  notion  of  body  includes  in  it :  the  divisibility  in  infinitum  of  any  finite 
 extension  involving  us,  wliether  we  grant  or  deny  it,  in  consequences  im- 
 possible to  be  e.xplicated  or  made  in  our  apprehensions  consistent :  con- 
 sequences tliat  carry  greater  difficulty,  and  more  apparent  absurdity,  tlian 
 any  thing  that  can  follow  from  the  notion  of  an  immaterial  knowing  sub- 
 stance. 
 
 Sect.  32.  We  know  nothing  beyond  our  simple  ideas. — Which  we  are 
 not  at  all  to  wonder  at,  since  we  having  but  some  few  superficial  ideas  of 
 things,  discovered  to  us  only  by  the  senses  from  without,  or  by  the  mind, 
 reflecting  on  what  it  experiments  in  itself  within,  have  no  knowledge  be- 
 yond that,  much  less  of  the  internal  constitution  and  true  nature  of  things, 
 being  destitute  of  faculties  to  attain  it.  And  therefore  experimenting  and 
 discovering  in  ourselves  knowledge,  and  the  power  of  voluntary  motion,  as 
 certainly  as  we  experiment  or  discover  in  things  without  us  the  cohesion 
 and  separation  of  solid  parts,  which  is  the  extension  and  motion  of  bodies  ; 
 we  have  as  much  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  our  notion  of  immaterial  spirit, 
 as  with  our  notion  of  body,  and  the  existence  of  the  one  as  well  as  the  other. 
 For  it  being  no  more  a  contradiction  tJiat  thinking  shoidd  exist,  separate 
 and  independent  from  solidity,  than  it  is  a  contradiction  that  solidity 
 should  exist  separate  and  independent  from  thinking,  they  being  both 
 but  simple  ideas,  independent  one  from  another, — and  having  as  clear 
 and  distinct  ideas  in  us  of  thinking  as  of  solidity, — I  know  not  why 
 we  may  not  as  well  allow  a  thinking  thing  v/ithout  solidity,  i.  e.  im- 
 material, to  exist,  as  a  solid  thing  without  thinking,  i.  e.  matter,  to 
 exist ;  especially  since  it  is  not  harder  to  conceive  how  thinking  should 
 exist  without  matter,  than  how  matter  should  think.  For  whensoever 
 we  would  proceed  beyond  these  simple  ideas  we  have  from  sensation  and 
 reflection,  and  dive  farther  into  the  nature  of  things,  we  fall  presently  into 
 darkness  and  obscurity,  perplexedness  and  difficulties  ;  and  can  discover 
 nothing  fartlior  but  our  own  blindness  and  ignorance.  But  whichever  of 
 these  complex  ideas  be  clearest,  that  of  body  or  immaterial  spirit,  tliis  is 
 evident,  tliat  the  simple  ideas  tiiat  maliC  them  up  are  no  other  tlian  what 
 we  have  received  from  sensation  or  reflection  ;  and  so  is  it  of  all  our  other 
 ideas  of  substances,  even  of  God  liimself. 
 
 Sect.  33.  Idea  of  God. — For  if  wc  examine  the  idea  we  have  of  the  in- 
 comprehensil)lo  Supreme  lacing,  we  shall  find,  that  we  come  by  it  the  same 
 way  ;  and  that  the  complex  ideas  we  have  both  of  God  and  separate  spirits, 
 aro  made  up  of  the  simple  ideas  we  rcceivo  from  reflection  ;  v.g.  having, 
 
Ch.23.  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  199 
 
 from  what  we  experiment  in  ourselves,  got  the  ideas  of  existence  and  dura- 
 tion ;  oflcnowlcdge  and  power;  of  pleasure  and  happiness  ;  and  of  several 
 other  qualities  and  powers,  which  it  is  better  to  have  than  to  be  without ; 
 when  we  would  frame  an  idea  the  most  suitable  we  can  to  the  Supreme  Be- 
 ing, we  enlarge  every  one  of  these  with  our  idea  of  infinity  ;  and  so  putting 
 them  together,  make  our  complex  idea  of  God.  For  that  the  mind  has  such 
 a  power  of  enlarging  some  of  its  ideas,  received  from  sensation  and  reflection, 
 has  been  already  shown.  •  ^ 
 
 Sect.  34.  If  I  find  that  I  know  some  few  things,  and  some  of  them,  or 
 all,  perhaps,  imperfectly,  I  can  frame  an  idea  of  knowing  twice  as  many; 
 which  I  can  double  again,  as  often  as  I  can  add  to  number;  and  tims  enlarge 
 my  idea  of  knowledge,  by  extending  its  comprehension  to  all  things  exist- 
 ing or  possible.  The  same  also  I  can  do  of  knowing  them  more  perfectly  ; 
 i.  e.  all  their  qualities,  powers,  causes,  consequences,  and  relations,  »Sic.  till 
 all  be  perfectly  known  that  is  in  them,  or  can  any  way  relate  to  them  ;  and 
 tlms  frame  the  idea  of  infinite  or  boundless  knowledge.  The  same  may  al- 
 so be  done  of  power,  till  we  come  to  that  we  call  infinite  :  and  also  of  the 
 duration  of  existence,  without  beginning  or  end ;  and  so  frame  the  idea  of 
 an  eternal  being.  The  degrees  or  extent  wherein  we  ascribe  existence, 
 power,  wisdom,  and  all  other  perfections  (which  we  can  have  any  ideas  of) 
 to  that  sovereign  being  which  we  call  God,  being  all  boundless  and  infinite, 
 we  frame  the  best  idea  of  him  our  minds  are  capable  of:  all  which  is  done, 
 I  say,  by  enlarging  those  simple  ideas  we  have  taken  from  the  operations  of 
 our  own  minds  by  reflection,  or  by  our  senses  from  exterior  things,  to  tiiat 
 vastness  to  which  infinity  can  extend  them. 
 
 Sect.  35.  Idea  of  God. — For  it  is  infinity,  which  joined  to  our  ideas  of 
 existence,  power,  knowledge,  &c.  makes  that  complex  idea  whereby  we  re- 
 present to  ourselves,  the  best  we  can,  the  Supreme  Being.  For  though  in 
 his  own  essence  (which  certainly  we  do  not  know,  not  knowing  the  real 
 essence  of  a  pebble,  or  a  fly,  or  of  our  own  selves)  God  be  simple  and  un- 
 compounded ;  yet,  I  think,  I  may  say  we  have  no  other  idea  of  him  but  a 
 complex  one  of  existence,  knowledge,  power,  happiness,  &c.  infinite  and 
 eternal ;  which  are  all  distinct  ideas,  and  some  of  them,  being  relative,  nve 
 again  compounded  of  others  ;  all  which  being,  as  has  been  shown,  originally 
 got  from  sensation  and  reflection,  go  to  make  up  the  idea  or  notion  we  have 
 of  God. 
 
 Sect.  36.  No  idea  in  our  complex  one  of  spirits,  biit  those  got  from 
 sensation  or  reflection. — This  farther  is  to  be  observed,  that  there  is  no 
 idea  we  attribute  to  God,  bating  infinity,  which  is  not  also  a  part  of  our  com- 
 ])lex  idea  of  other  spirits.  Because,  being  capable  of  no  other  simple  ideas, 
 belonging  to  any  thing  but  body,  but  those  which  by  reflection  we  receive 
 from  the  operation  of  our  minds,  we  can  attribute  to  spirits  no  otiier  but  what 
 we  receive  from  thence :  and  all  the  difference  we  can  put  between  tliem  in 
 our  contemplation  of  spirits,  is  only  in  the  several  extents  and  degrees  of  their 
 knowledge,  power,  duration,  happiness,  &c.  For  tliat  in  our  ideas,  as  well 
 of  spirits  as  of  other  things,  we  are  restrained  to  those  we  receive  from 
 sensation  and  reflection,  is  evident  from  hence,  that  in  o\w  ideas  of  spirits, 
 how  much  soever  advanced  in  perfection  beyond  those  of  bodies,  even  to 
 that  of  infinite,  we  cannot  yet  have  any  idea  of  the  manner  wherein  they 
 discover  their  tlioughts  one  to  another :  though  we  must  necessarily  con- 
 clude, tliat  separate  spirits,  which  are  beings  that  have  perfecter  knowledge 
 and  greater  happiness  tlian  we,  must  needs  have  also  a  perfecter  way  of 
 communicating  their  thoughts  than  we  have,  who  are  fain  to  make  use  of 
 corporeal  signs  and  particular  sounds  ;  which  are  therefore  of  most  general 
 use,  as  being  the  best  and  quickest  we  are  capable  of.  But  of  innnediate 
 commuuicnlion,  liaving  no  experiment  in  ourselves,  and  consequently  no 
 notion  of  il  at  all,  we  have  no  idea  how  spirits,  which  use  not  words,  can 
 with   quickness,   or  much  less  how   spirits  that  have  no  bodies,   can  b« 
 
200  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 masters  of  their  own  thoughts,  and  communicate  or  conceal  them  at  plea- 
 sure, though  we  cannot  but  necessarily  suppose  they  have  such  a  power. 
 
 Sect.  37.  Recapitulation. — And  thus  we  have  seen  what  kind  of  ideas 
 we  have  of  substances  of  all  kinds,  wherein  they  consist,  and  how  we  came 
 by  them.     From  whence,  I  think,  it  is  very  evident, 
 
 First,  that  all  our  ideas  of  the  several  sorts  of  substances  are  nothing 
 but  collections  of  simple  ideas,  with  a  supposition  of  something  to  which 
 they  belong,  and  in  which  they  subsist;  though  of  this  supposed  something 
 we  have  no  clear  distinct  idea  at  all. 
 
 Secondly,  that  all  the  simple  ideas,  that  thus  united  in  one  common  sub- 
 stratum  make  up  our  complex  ideas  of  several  sorts  of  substances,  are  no 
 other  but  such  as  we  have  received  from  sensation  or  reflection.  So  that 
 even  in  those  which  we  think  we  are  most  intimately  acquainted  with,  and 
 that  come  nearest  the  comprehension  of  our  most  enlarged  conceptions,  we 
 cannot  go  beyond  those  simple  ideas.  And  even  in  those  which  seem  most 
 remote  irom  all  we  have  to  do  with,  and  do  infinitely  surpass  any  thing  we 
 can  perceive  in  ourselves  by  reflection,  or  discover  by  sensation  in  other 
 things,  we  can  attain  to  nothing  but  those  simple  ideas,  which  we  original- 
 ly received  from  sensation  and  reflection ;  as  is  evident  in  the  complex  ideas 
 we  have  of  angels,  and  particularly  of  God  himself 
 
 Thirdly,  that  most  of  the  simple  ideas  that  make  up  our  complex  ideas 
 of  substances,  when  truly  considered,  are  only  powers,  however  we  are  apt 
 to  take  them  for  positive  qualities;  v.g.  the  gi'eatest  part  of  the  ideas  that 
 make  our  complex  idea  of  gold  are  yellowness,  great  weight,  ductility,  fusi- 
 bility, and  solubility  in  aqua  regia,  &c.  all  united  together  in  an  unknown 
 substratum ;  all  which  ideas  are  nothing  else  but  so  many  relations  to  other 
 substances,  and  are  not  really  in  the  gold,  considered  barely  in  itself,  though 
 they  depend  on  those  real  and  primary  qualities  of  its  internal  constitution, 
 whereby  it  has  a  fitness  diflferently  to  operate,  and  be  operated  on  by  several 
 other  substances. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXIV. 
 
 OF  COLLECTIVE  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES/ 
 
 Sect.  1.  One  idea. — Besides  these  complex  ideas  of  several  single  sub- 
 stances, as  of  man,  horse,  gold,  violet,  apple,  &c.  the  mind  hath  also  com- 
 plex collective  ideas  of  substances ;  which  I  so  call,  because  such  ideas 
 are  made  up  of  many  particular  substances  considered  together,  as  imited 
 into  one  idea,  and  wliich  so  joined  are  looked  on  as  one :  v.  g.  the  idea  of 
 such  a  collection  of  men  as  make  an  army,  though  consisting  of  a  great 
 number  of  distinct  substances,  is  as  much  one  idea  as  the  idea  of  a  man: 
 and  the  great  collective  idea  of  all  bodies  whatsoever,  signified  by  the  name 
 world,  is  as  much  one  idea  as  the  idea  of  any  the  least  particle  of  matter 
 in  it;  it  suflicnig  to  the  unity  of  any  idea  that  it  be  considered  as  one  repre- 
 sentation or  picture,  though  made  up  of  ever  so  many  particulars. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Made  by  the  power  of  composing  in  the  mind. — These  collec- 
 tive ideas  of  substances  the  mind  makes  by  its  power  of  composition,  and 
 uniting  severally  either  simple  or  complex  ideas  into  one,  as  it  does  by  the 
 siame  faculty  make  the  complex  ideas  of  particular  substances,  consisting 
 of  an  aggregate  of  divers  simple  ideas,  united  in  one  substance ;  and  as  the 
 mind,  by  putting  together  the  repeated  ideas  of  unity,  makes  the  collective 
 mode,  or  complex  idea  of  any  number,  as  a  score,  or  a  gross,  &c.  so  by 
 putting  together  several  particular  substances,  it  makes  collective  ideas  of 
 substances,  as  a  troop,  an  army,  a  swarm,  a  city,  a  fleet;  each  of  which, 
 every  one  finds,  that  he  represents  to  his  own  mind  by  one  idea,  in  ono 
 
Ch.  'U.       OF  COLLECTIVE  IDE.^  OF  SUBSTANCES.  201 
 
 view  ;  and  so  under  that  notion  considers  those  several  thin^  as  perfectly 
 one,  as  one  ship,  or  one  atom.  Xor  is  it  harder  to  conceive  how  an  army 
 of  ten  thousand  men  should  make  one  idea,  than  how  a  man  should  meike 
 one  idea :  it  bein^  as  easy  to  the  mind  to  unite  into  one  the  idea  of  a  great 
 number  of  men,  and  consider  it  as  one,  as  it  is  to  unite  into  one  particular 
 aU  the  distinct  ideas  that  make  up  the  composition  of  a  man,  and  con- 
 sider them  all  together  as  one. 
 
 Sect.  3.  All  artificial  things  are  collective  ideas. — Among  such  kind  of 
 collective  ideas  are  to  be  counted  most  part  of  artificial  things,  at  least  such 
 of  them  as  are  made  up  of  distinct  substances:  and  in  truth,  if  we  consider 
 all  these  collective  ideas  aright,  as  army,  constellation,  universe,  as  they 
 are  united  into  so  many  single  ideas,  they  are  but  the  artificial  draughts  of 
 the  mind  ;  bringing  things  very  remote,  and  independent  on  one  another, 
 into  one  view,  the  better  to  contemplate  and  discourse  of  them,  united  into 
 one  conception,  and  signified  by  one  name.  For  there  are  no  things  so  re- 
 mote, nor  so  contrary-,  which  the  mind  cannot,  by  this  art  of  composition, 
 bring  into  one  idea ;  as  is  visible  in  that  signified'  by  the  name  universe. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXV. 
 
 OF  RELATION, 
 
 Sect.  1.  Relation,  what. — Besides  the  ideas,  whether  simple  or  complex, 
 that  the  mind  has  of  things,  as  they  are  in  themselves,  there  are  others  it^^ 
 gets  from  their  comparison  one  with  another.  The  understanding,  in  the  ^ 
 consideration  of  any  thing,  is  not  confined  to  that  precise  object :  it  can  car- 
 Yv  any  idea  as  it  were  beyond  itself,  or  at  least  look  beyond  it,  to  see  how 
 it  stands  in  conformity  to  any  other.  'SMien  the  mind  so  considers  one 
 thing,  that  it  does  as  it  were  bring  it  to  and  set  it  by  another,  and  carry  its 
 view  from  one  to  the  other :  this  is,  as  the  words  import,  relation  and  res- 
 pect ;  and  the  denominations  given  to  positive  things,  intimating  that  res- 
 pect, and  serving  as  marks  to  lead  the  thoughts  beyond  the  subject  itself 
 denominated  to  something  distinct  from  it,  are  what  we  call  relatives :  and 
 the  things,  so  brought  together,  related.  Thus,  when  the  mind  considers 
 Caius  as  such  a  positive  being,  it  takes  nothing  into  that  idea  but  what 
 really  exists  in  Caius ;  v.  g.  when  I  consider  him  as  a  man,  I  have  nothing 
 in  my  mind  but  the  complex  idea  of  the  species,  man.  So  likewise,  when 
 I  say  Caius  is  a  white  man,  I  have  nothing  but  the  bare  consideration  of  a 
 man  who  hath  that  white  colour.  But  when  I  give  Caius  the  name  hus- 
 band, I  intimate  some  other  person;  and  when  I  give  him  the  name 
 whiter,  I  intimate  some  other  thing  :  in  both  cases  my  thought  is  led  ton . 
 something  beyond  Cedus,  and  there  are  two  things  brought  into  considera- 
 tion. And  since  any  idea,  whether  simple  or  complex,  maybe  the  occasion 
 why  the  mind  thus  brings  two  things  together,  amd  as  it  were  takes  a  view 
 of  them  at  once,  though  still  considered  as  distinct ;  therefore  any  of  our 
 ideas  may  be  the  foundation  of  relation.  As  in  the  above-mentioned  in- 
 stance, the  contract  and  ceremony  of  marriage  with  Sempronia  is  the 
 occasion  of  the  denomination  or  relation  of  husband;  and  the  colour  whit<s 
 the  occasion  why  he  is  said  to  be  whiter  than  freestone. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Relations  without  correlative  terms  not  easily  perceived.— 
 These,  and  the  lilce  relations,  expressed  by  relative  terms,  that  have  others 
 answering  them,  with  a  reciprocal  intimation,  as  father  and  son,  bigger 
 and  less,  cause  and  effect,  are  very  obvious  to  every  one,  and  every  body 
 at  first  eight  perceives  the  relation.  For  father  and  son,  husband  and  wife, 
 and  such  other  correlative  terms,  seem  so  nearly  to  belong  one  to  another, 
 and  through  custom  do  so  readily  cnime  and  answer  one  another  in  peo- 
 2A 
 
202  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 pie's  memories,  that,  upon  the  naming  of  either  of  them,  tlie  thoughts  are 
 presently  carried  beyond  the  thing  so  named;  and  nobody  overlooks  or 
 doubts  of  relation,  where  it  is  so  plainly  intimated.  Eut  where  languages 
 have  failed  to  give  correlative  names,  there  the  relation  is  not  always  so  ' 
 easily  taken  notice  of  Concubine  is,  no  doubt,  a  relative  name,  as  well 
 as  wife  ;  but  in  languages  where  this  and  the  like  words,  have  not  a  corre- 
 lative term,  there  people  are  not  so  apt  to  take  them  to  be  so,  as  wanting 
 that  evident  mark  of  relation  which  is  between  correlatives,  which  seem  to 
 explain  one  another,  and  not  to  be  able  to  exist  but  together.  Hence  it  is, 
 that  many  of  those  names  which,  duly  considered,  do  include  evident  re- 
 lations, have  been  called  external  denominations.  But  all  names,  that  arc 
 more  than  empty  sounds,  nuist  signify  some  idea,  which  is  either  in  the 
 thintr  to  which  the  name  is  apjdied — and  then  it  is  positive,  and  is  looked^ 
 on  as  united  to,  and  existing  in,  the  thing  to  which  the  denomination  is 
 given — or  else  it  arises  from  the  respect  the  mind  finds  in  it  to  something 
 distinct  from  it,  with  wliich  it  considers  it ;  and  then  it  concludes  a  re- 
 lation. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Some  seemingly  absolute  terms  contain  relations. — Another 
 sort  of  relative  terms  there  is  which  are  not  looked  on  to  be  either  relative, 
 or  so  much  as  external  denominations ;  which  yet,  under  the  form  and  ap- 
 pearance of  signifying  something  absolute  in  the  subject,  do  conceal  a  tacit, 
 though  less  observable,  relation.  Such  are  the  seemingly  positive  terms  of 
 old,  great,  imperfect,  &c.  whereof  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  more  at 
 large  in  the  following  chapters. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Relation  different  from  the  things  related. — This  farther  may 
 be  observed,  that  the  ideas  of  relation  may  be  the  same  in  men,  who  have 
 far  different  ideas  of  the  things  that  are  related,  or  that  are  thus  compared  ; 
 ■V.  g.  those  who  have  far  different  ideas  of  a  man,  may  yet  agi'ec  in  the 
 notion  of  a  father ;  which  is  a  notion  mijiejijiduced  J^O^he^^subsJaAce^  or 
 man,  and  refers  only  to  an  act  of  tliat  "thing  called  man,  whereby  he  con- 
 tributes to  the  generation  of  one  of  his  own  kind,  let  man  be  what  it  will. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Change  of  relatioi^-nnuj^be  without  any  change  in  the  subject. 
 — Tlie  nature  therefore  of  relation  consists  in  the  referring  or  comparingYj^ 
 two  things  one  to  another;  from  which  comparison  one  or  both  comes  tor 
 be  denominated.  And  if  either  of  those  things  be  removed,  or  cease  to  be, 
 the  relation  ceases,  and  the  denomination  consequent  to  it,  though  the 
 other  receive  in  itself  no  alteration  at  all;  v.  g.  Cains,  whom  I  consider 
 to-day  as  a  father,  ceases  to  be  so  to-morrow,  only  by  the  deatii  of  his  son. 
 without  any  alteration  made  in  himself.  Nay,  barely  by  the  mind's  chang- 
 ing the  object  to  wiiich  it  compares  any  thing,  the  same  thing  is  capable 
 of  having  contrary  denominations  at  the  same  time:  v.  g.  Caius,  compared 
 to  several  persons,  may  truly  be  said  to  be  older  and  younger,  stronger  and 
 weaker,  &c. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Relation  only  betwixt  two  thmgs. — Wliatsoever  doth  or  can 
 exist,  or  be  considered  as  one  thing,  is  positive ;  and  so  not  only  simple 
 ideas  and  substances,  but  modes  also,  are  positive  beings ;  though  the  parts 
 of  which  they  consist  are  very  often  relative  one  to  another  ;  but  the  whole 
 together  considered  as  one  thing,  and  producing  in  us  the  complex  idea  of 
 one  thing,  wliich  idea  is  in  our  minds  as  one  picture,  though  an  aggregate 
 of  divers  parts,  and  under  one  name,  it  is  a  positive  or  absolute  thing 
 oridea.  Thus  a  triangle,  tlioughthe  parts  thereof,  compared  one  to  another. 
 be  relative,  yet  the  idea  of  the  whole  is  a  positive  absolute  idea.  The  same 
 may  be  said  of  a  family,  a  tune,  &c.  for  there  can  be  no  relation  but  be- 
 twixt two  things  considered  as  two  things.  There  must  alv/ays  be  in  re- 
 lation two  ideas,  or  thin,gs,  eitlier  in  themselves  really  separate,  or  con- 
 sidered as  distinct,  and  then  a  gTOimd  or  occasion  for  their  comparison. 
 
 Sect.  7.  A II  things  capable  of  relation. — Concerning  rGJationiu-general,  ' 
 tliese  things  may  be  coufcidored  :     i4t2l»-*-''^t  tliere  is  no  one  thing,  vvlietliov 
 
Ch.  25.  OF  RELATION.  203 
 
 simple  idea,  substance,  mode,  or  relation,  or  name  of  either  of  them,  which 
 is  not  capable  of  almost  an  infinite  number  of  considerations,  in  reference 
 to  others  things ;  and  therefore  this  makes  no  small  part  of  men's  tlioughts 
 and  words  :  v.  g.  one  single  man  may  at  once  be  concerned  in,  and  sustain 
 all  these  following  relations,  and  many  more,  viz.  father,  brother,  son, 
 grandfather,  grandson,  father-in-law,  son-in-law,  husband,  friend,  enemy, 
 subject,  general,  judge,  patron,  client,  professor,  European,  Englishman, 
 islander,  servant,  master,  possessor,  captain,  superior,  inferior,  bigger,  less, 
 older,  younger,  contemporary,  like,  unlike,  &c.  to  an  almost  infinite  num- 
 ber :  he  being  capable  of  as  many  relations  as  there  can  be  occasions  of 
 comparing  him  to  other  things,  in  any  manner  of  agreement,  disagi'eement, 
 or  respect  whatsoever.  For,  as  I  said,  relation  is  a  way  of  comparing  or 
 considering  two  things  together,  and  giving  one  or  both  of  them  some 
 appellation  from  that  comparison  ;  and  sometimes  giving  even  the  relation 
 itself  a  name. 
 
 Sect.  8.  The  ideas  of  relations  clearer  often  than  of  the  suhjects  rela- 
 ted.— Secondly,  this  farther  may  be  considered  concerning  relation,  that 
 though  iF°be  not  contained  in  the  real  existence  of  things,  but  something  ex- 
 traneous and  superinduced;  yet  the  ideas  which  relative  words  stand  for,  are 
 often  clearer  and  more  distinct  than  of  those  substances  to  which  they  do 
 belong.  The  notion  we  have  of  a  father,  or  brother,  is  a  great  deal  clearer 
 and  more  distinct  than  that  we  have  of  a  man  ;  or,  if  you  will,  paternity 
 is  a  thing  whereof  it  is  easier  to  have  a  clearer  idea  than  of  humanity :  and 
 I  can  much  easier  conceive  w^hat  a  friend  is,  than  what  God  :  because 
 the  knowledge  of  one  action,  or  one  simple  idea,  is  oftentimes  sufficient  to 
 give  me  the  notion  of  a  relation  :  but  to  the  knowing  of  any  substantial 
 being,  an  accurate  collection  of  sundry  ideas  is  necessaiy.  A  man,  if  he 
 compares  two  things  together,  can  hardly  be  supposed  not  to  know  what 
 it  is  wherein  he  compares  them  :  so  that  when  he  compares  any  things  to- 
 gether, he  cannot  but  have  a  veiy  clear  idea  of  that  relation.  The  ideas  ; 
 then  of  relations  are  capable  at  least  of  being  more  perfect  and  distinct  in 
 our  minds  than  those  of  substances.  Because  it  is  commonly  hard  to  know 
 all  the  simple  ideas  which  are  really  in  any  substance,  but  for  the  most 
 part  easy  enough  to  know  the  simple  ideas  that  make  up  any  relation  I  think 
 on,  or  have  a  name  for  ;  v.  g.  comparing  two  men,  in  reference  to  one  com- 
 mon parent,  it  is  very  easy  to  frame  the  ideas  of  brothers,  without  having 
 yet  the  perfect  idea  of  a  man.  For  significant  relative  words,  as  well  aa 
 others,  standing  only  for  ideas,  and  those  being  all  either  simple,  or  made 
 up  of  simple  ones,  it  suffices  for  the  knowing  the  precise  idea  the  relative 
 term  stands  for,  to  have  a  clear  conception  of  that  which  is  the  foundation 
 of  the  relation  ;  which  may  be  done  without  having  a  perfect  and  clear  idea 
 of  the  thing  it  is  attributed  to.  Thus  having  the  notion,  that  one  laid  the  egg 
 out  of  which  the  other  was  hatched,  I  have  a  clear  idea  of  the  relation  ot 
 dam  and  chick,  between  the  two  cassiowaries  in  St  James's  Park  ;  though 
 perhaps  I  have  but  a  very  obscure  and  imperfect  idea  of  those  birds 
 themselves. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Relations  all  terminate  in  Simple  ideas. — Thirdly,  though  there 
 be  a  great  number  of  considerations,  v/herein  things  may  be  compared  one 
 with  another,  and  so  a  multitude  of  relations;  yet  they  all  terminate  in, 
 and  are  concerned  about,  those  simple  ideas,  eitlier  of  sensation  or  reflec- 
 tion: v/hich  I  think  to  be  the  whole  materials  of  all  our  knowledge.  To 
 clear  this,  I  shall  show  it  in  the  most  considerable  relations  that  we  have 
 any  notion  of,  in  some  that  seem  to  be  the  most  remote  from  sense  or  re- 
 flection ;  which  yet  will  appear  to  have  their  ideas  from  thence,  and  leave 
 it  past  doubt,  that  the  notions  we  have  of  them  are  but  certain  simple 
 ideas,  and  so  originally  derived  from  sense  or  reflection. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Terms  leading  the  mind  beyond  the  subject  denominated, 
 are  relative. — Fourthly,  that  relation  being  the   considering  of  one  thing 
 
204  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 with  another,  which  is  extrinsical  to  it,  it  is  evident,  that  all  words  that 
 necessarily  lead  the  mind  to  any  other  ideas  than  are  supposed  really  to 
 exist  in  that  tiling,  to  whicli  the  words  are  applied,  are  relative  words  : 
 V.  g.  a  man  black,  merry,  thoughtful,  thirsty,  angry,  extended  ;  these,  and 
 the  like,  are  all  absolute,  because  they  neither  signify  nor  intimate  any 
 thing  but  what  does  or  is  supposed  really  to  exist  in  the  man  thus  denomi- 
 nated :  but  father,  brother,  king,  husband,  blacker,  merrier,  &c.  are  words 
 which,  together  with  the  thing  they  denominate,  imply  also  something  else 
 separate  and  exterior  to  the  existence  of  that  thing. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Conclusion. — Having  laid  down  these  premises  concerning 
 relation  in  general,  I  shall  now  proceed  to  show,  in  some  instances,  how 
 all  the  ideas  we  have  of  relation  are  made  up,  as  the  others  are,  only  of 
 simple  ideas  ;  and  that  they  all,  how  refined  or  remote  from  sense  soever 
 they  seem,  terminate  at  last  in  simple  ideas.  I  shall  begin  with  tlie  most^/ 
 comprehensive  relation,  wherein  all  things  that  do  or  can  exist  are  coni 
 cerned  ;  and  that  is  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect.  The  idea  whereof, 
 how  derived  from  the  two  fountains  of  all  our  knowledge,  sensation  and 
 reflection,  I  shall  in  the  next  place  consider. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXIV. 
 
 OP  CAUSE  AND  EFFECT,  AND  OTHER  RELATIONS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Whence  their  ideas  got. — In  the  notice  that  our  senses  take 
 of  the  constant  vicissitudes  of  things,  we  cannot  but  observe,  that  several 
 particular,  both  qualities  and  substances,  begin  to  exist;  and  that  they  re-\  j 
 ceive  this  their  existence  from  the  due  application  and  operation  of  some! 
 other  being.  From  this  observation  we  get  our  ideas  of  cause  and  effect. 
 That  which  produces  any  simple  or  complex  idea  we  denote  by  the  gene-  ■/ 
 ral  name  cause  ;  and  that  whicli  is  produced,  effect.  Thus,  finding,  that  in 
 that  substance  which  we  call  wax,  fluidity,  which  is  a  simple  idea  that  was 
 not  in  it  before,  is  constantly  produced  by  the  apjilication  of  a  certain  de- 
 gree of  heat ;  we  call  the  simple  idea  of  heat,  in  relation  to  fluidity  in  wax, 
 the  cause  of  it,  and  fluidity  the  effect.  So  also  finding  that  the  substance 
 of  wood,  which  is  a  certain  collection  of  simple  ideas  so  called,  by  the 
 application  of  fire  is  turned  into  anotlier  substance  called  ashes,  i.  e.  ano- 
 ther complex  idea,  consisting  of  a  collection  of  simple  ideas,  quite  different 
 from  that  complex  idea  which  we  call  wood  ;  we  consider  fire,  in  relation 
 to  ashes,  as  cause,  and  the  ashes  as  etrect.  So  that  whatever  is  consi- 
 dered by  us  to  conduce  or  operate  to  the  producing  any  particular  simple 
 idea,  or  collection  of  simple  ideas,  whether  substance  or  mode,  which  did 
 not  before  exist,  liath  thereby  in  our  minds  the  relation  of  a  cause,  and  so 
 is  denominated  by  us. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Creation,  generation,  making  alteration. — Having  thus,  from 
 what  our  senses  are  able  to  discover,  in  the  operations  of  bodies 
 on  one  another,  got  the  notion  of  cause  and  effect,  viz.  that  a  cause  is 
 that  wliich  makes  any  other  thing,  either  simple  idea,  substance  or  mode, 
 begin  to  be;  and  an  effect  is  tliat  which  had  its  beginning  from  some  other 
 thing,  the  mind  finds  no  great  difficulty  to  distinguish  the  several  originals 
 of  things  into  two  sorts. 
 
 First,  when  tlie  thing  is  wholly  new,  so  that  no  part  thereof  did  ever  ex- 
 ist before;  as  when  a  new  particle  of  matter  doth  begin  to  exist,  in  reritm 
 natnra,  which  had  before  no  being,  and  this  we  call  creation. 
 
 Secondly,  when  a  thing  is  made  up  of  particles,  which  did  all  of  them 
 before  exist,  lint  that  very  thing  so  constituted  of  pre-existing  particles, which 
 considered  all  together  make  up  sucii  a  collection  of  simple  ideas  as  had 
 
Ch.  26.  OP  CAUSE  AND  EFFECT,  &c.  205 
 
 not  any  existence  before ;  as  this  man,  this  egg,  rose,  or  cherry,  &c.  And 
 tliis,  when  referred  to  a  substance,  produced  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature, 
 by  an  internaT  principle,  but  set  on  work  by,  and  received  from  some  ex- 
 ternal agent  or  cause,  and  working  by  insensible  ways,  which  we  perceive 
 not,  we  call  generation  :  when  the  cause  is  extrinsical,  and  the  effect  pro- 
 duced  by  a  sensible  separation,  or  juxta  position  of  discernible  parts,  we  call 
 it  making ;  and  such  are  all  artificial  things.  When  any  simple  idea  is 
 produced  which  was  not  in  that  subject  before,  we  call  it  alteration.  Thus 
 a  man  is  generated,  a  picture  made,  and  either  of  them  altered,  when  any 
 nev/  sensible  quality  or  simple  idea  is  produced  in  either  of  them,  which 
 was  not  there  before  ;  and  the  things  thus  made  to  exist,  which  were  not 
 there  before,  are  effects ;  and  those  thiiigs  which  operated  to  the  existence, 
 causes.  In  which,  and  all  other  cases,  we  may  observe,  that  the  notion 
 of  cause  and  effect  has  its  rise  from  ideas,  received  by  sensation  or  reflec- 
 tion ;  and  that  this  relation,  how  comprehensible  soever,  terminates  at  last 
 in  them.  For  to  have  the  idea  of  cause  and  effect,  it  suffices  to  consider 
 any  simple  idea,  or  substance,  as  beginning  to  exist  by  the  operation  of 
 some  other,  without  knowing  the  manner  of  that  operation. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Relations  of  time. — Time  and  place  are  also  the  foundations  of 
 very  large  relations,  and  all  finite  beings  at  least  are  concerned  in  them. 
 But  having  already  shown,  in  another  place,  how  we  get  these  ideas,  it  may 
 suffice  here  to  intimate,  that  most  of  the  denominations  of  things  received 
 from  time,  are  only  relations.  Thus,  when  any  one  says  that  queen  Eliza- 
 beth lived  sixty-nine,  and  reigned  forty-five  years,  these  words  import  only 
 the  relation  of  that  duration  to  some  other,  and  mean  no  more  than  this, 
 that  the  duration  of  her  existence  was  equal  to  sixty-nine,  and  the  duration 
 of  her  government  to  forty-five  annual  revolutions  of  the  sun  ;  and  so  are 
 all  words,  answering,  how  long.  Again,  William  the  Conqueror  invaded 
 England  about  the  year  1066,  which  means  this,  that  taking  the  duration 
 from  our  Saviour's  time  till  now,  for  one  entire  gre  at  length  of  time,  it  shows 
 at  what  distance  this  invasion  was  from  the  two  extremes  ;  and  so  do  all 
 words  of  time,  answering  to  the  question,  when,  w^hich  show  only  the  dis- 
 tance of  any  point  of  time  from  the  period  of  a  longer  duration,  from  which 
 we  measure,  and  to  which  we  thereby  consider  it  as  related. 
 
 Sect.  4.  There  are  yet,  besides  those,  other  words  of  time,  that  ordi- 
 narily are  thought  to  stand  for  positive  ideas,  which  yet  will,  when  consi- 
 dered, be  found  to  be  relative,  such  as  are  young,  old,  &c.  which  include 
 and  intimate  the  relation  any  thing  has  to  a  certain  length  of  duration 
 whereof  we  have  the  ideain  our  minds.  Thus  having  settled  in  our  thoughts 
 the  idea  of  the  ordinary  duration  of  a  man  to  be  seventy  years,  when  we 
 say  a  man  is  young,  we  mean  that  his  age  is  yet  but  a  small  part  of 
 that  which  usually  men  attain  to :  and  when  we  denominate  him  old,  we 
 mean  that  his  duration  is  run  out  almost  to  the  end  of  that  wliich  men  do 
 not  usually  exceed.  And  so  it  is  but  comparing  the  particular  age,  or  dura- 
 tion of  this  or  that  man,  to  the  idea  of  that  duration  which  we  have  in  our 
 minds,  as  ordinarily  belonging  to  that  sort  of  animals  ;  which  is  plain,  in  the 
 application  of  these  names  to  other  things  ;  for  a  man  is  called  young  at 
 twenty,  and  very  young  at  seven  years  old :  but  yet  a  horse  we  call 
 old  at  twenty,  and  a  dog  at  seven  years  ;  because  in  each  of  these  we 
 compare  their  age  to  different  ideas  of  duration,  which  are  settled  in  our 
 minds,  as  belonging  to  these  several  sorts  of  animals,  in  the  ordinary  course 
 of  nature.  But  the  sun  and  stars,  though  they  have  outlasted  several  gene- 
 rations of  men,  we  call  not  old,  because  we  do  not  know  what  period  God 
 hath  set  to  that  sort  of  beings.  This  term  belonging  properly  to  those 
 things  which  we  can  observe  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things,  by  a  natu- 
 ral decay,  to  come  to  an  end  in  a  certain  period  of  time  ;  and  so  have  in 
 our  minds,  as  it  were,  a  standard  to  which  we  can  compare  the  several 
 parts  of  their  duration  ;  and,  by  the  relation  they  bear  thereunto,  call  them 
 
206  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2 
 
 young  or  old ;  whicli  we  cannot  therefore  do  to  a  ruby  or  diamond,  things 
 vvliose  usual  periods  we  know  not. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Relations  ofjdace  and  extension. — Tlio  relation  also  tliat  things 
 have  to  one  another  in  tlieir  places  and  distances,  is  very  obvious  to  observe ; 
 as  above,  below,  a  mile  distant  ti-oni  Charing-cross,  in  England,  and  in  Lon- 
 don. But  as  in  duration,  so  in  extension  and  bulk,  there  are  some  ideaa 
 that  are  relative,  which  we  signify  by  names  that  are  thought  positive  ;  as 
 great  and  little  are  truly  relations.  For  here  also  having,  by  observation, 
 settled  in  our  minds  the  ideas  of  the  bigness  of  several  species  of  things 
 from  those  we  have  been  most  accustomed  to,  we  make  them  as  it  were  the 
 standards  whereby  to  denominate  the  bulk  of  others.  Thus  we  call  a  great 
 apple,  such  a  one  as  is  bigger  than  the  ordinary  sort  of  those  we  have  been 
 used  to :  and  a  little  horse,  such  a  one  as  comes  not  up  to  the  size  of  that 
 idea  which  we  have  in  our  minds  to  belong  ordinarily  to  liorses  ;  and  that 
 will  be  a  great  horse  to  a  Welchman  which  is  but  a  little  one  to  a  Fleming; 
 they  two  having,  from  the  different  breed  of  their  countries,  taken  severtU 
 sized  ideas  to  which  they  compare,  and  in  relation  to  whicli  they  denomi- 
 nate, their  great  and  their  little. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Absolute  terms  often  stand  for  relations. — So  likewise  weak 
 and  strong  are  but  relative  denominations  of  power,  compared  to  some  ideas 
 we  have  at  that  time  of  greater  or  less  power.  Thus  when  we  say  a  weak 
 man,  we  mean  one  that  has  not  so  nmcli  strength  or  power  to  move,  as  usual- 
 ly men  have,  or  usually  those  of  his  size  have:  which  is  a  comparing  liis 
 strength  to  the  idea  we  have  of  the  usual  sti'ength  of  men,  or  men  of  such 
 a  size.  The  like,  when  wo  say  the  creatures  are  all  weak  things  ;  weak, 
 there,  is  but  a  relative  term,  signifying  the  disproportion  there  is  in  the 
 power  of  God  and  the  creatures.  And  so  abundance  of  words,  in  ordinary 
 speech,  stand  only  for  relations  (and  perhaps  the  greatest  part)  whicli  at 
 first  sight  seem  to  have  no  such  signification:  v.  g.  the  ship  lias  necessary 
 stores.  Necessary  and  stores  are  both  relative  words ;  one  having  a  rela- 
 tion to  the  accomplishing  the  voyage  intended,  and  the  other  to  future  use. 
 All  which  relations,  how  they  are  confined  to  and  terminate  in  ideas  deri- 
 ved from  sensation  or  reflection,  is  too  obvious  to  need  any  explication. 
 
 CHAPTER    XXVII. 
 
 OF   IDENTITY   AND  DIVERSITY. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Wherein  identittj  consists. — Another  occasion  the  mind  often 
 takes  of  comparing,  is  the  very  being  of  things :  when  considering  any 
 thing  as  existing  at  any  determined  time  and  place,  we  compare  it  with 
 itself  existing  at  another  time,  and  thereon  form  the  ideas  of  identity  and 
 diversity.  When  we  see  any  thing  to  be  in  any  place  in  any  instant  of 
 time,  we  are  sure  (be  it  what  it  will )  that  it  is  that  very  thing,  and  not 
 another  which  at  that  same  time  exists  in  another  place,  how  like  and  un- 
 distinguishable  soever  it  may  be  in  all  other  respects  :  and  in  this  consists 
 identity,  when  the  ideas  it  is  attributed  to^vary  not  at  all  from  what  they 
 were  that  moment  wherein  we  consider  their  former  existence,  and  to  which 
 we  compare  the  present.  For  we  never  finding  nor  conceiving  it  possible 
 that  two  tilings  of  the  same  kind  should  exist'  in  the  same  place  at  the  same 
 time,  we  rightly  conclude,  that  whatever  exists  any  where  at  any  time,  ex- 
 cludes all  of  the  same  kind,  and  is  there  itself  alone.  When,  therefore,  we 
 demand,  whether  any  thing  be  the  same  or  no,  it  refers  always  to  some- 
 thing that  existed  such  a  time  in  such  a  place,  which  it  is  certain  at  that 
 instant  was  the  same  with  itself,  and  no  other.  From  whence  it  follows, 
 that  one  thing  cannot  have  two  beginnings  of  existence,  nor  two  things 
 
Ch.  27.  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  207 
 
 one  be^nning;  it  being  impossible  for  two  things  of  the  same  kind  to  be 
 or  exist  in  the  same  instant,  in  the  very  same  place,  or  one  and  the  same 
 thin^  in  different  places.  That  therefore  that  had  one  beginning,  is  the 
 same  thing;  and  that  which  had  a  different  beginning  in  time  and  place 
 from  that,  is  not  the  same,  but  diverse.  That  which  has  made  the  difficulty 
 about  this  relation,  has  been  the  little  care  and  attention  used  in  having  pre- 
 cise notions  of  tlie  things  to  which  it  is  attributed, 
 
 Sect.  2.  Identity  of  substances. — We  have  the  ideas  but  of  three  sorts 
 of  substances:  1.  God.  2.  Finite  intelligences.  3.  Bodies.  First,  God 
 is  without  beginning,  eternal,  unalterable,  and  every  where ;  and  therefore 
 concerning  his  identity  there  can  be  no  doubt.  Secondly,  finite  spirits,  hav- 
 ing had  each  its  determinate  time  and  place  of  beginning  to  exist,  the  rela- 
 tion to  that  time  and  place  will  always  determine  to  each  of  them  its  identity, 
 as  long  as  it  exists.  Thirdly,  the  same  will  hold  of  every  particle  of  matter, 
 to  which  no  addition  or  subtraction  of  matter  being  made,  it  is  the  same. 
 For  though  these  three  sorts  of  substances,  as  we  term  them,  do  not  exclude 
 one  another  out  of  the  same  place  ;  yet  we  cannot  conceive  but  that  they 
 must  necessarily  each  of  them  exclude  any  of  the  same  kind  out  of  the 
 same  place:  or  else  the  notions  and  names  of  identity  and  diversity  would 
 be  in  vain,  and  there  could  be  no  such  distinction  of  substances,  or  any  thing 
 else  one  from  another.  For  example :  could  two  bodies  be  in  the  same 
 place  at  the  same  time,  then  those  two  parcels  of  matter  must  be  one  and 
 the  same,  take  them  great  or  little ;  nay,  all  bodies  must  be  one  and  the 
 same.  For  by  the  same  reason  that  two  particles  of  matter  may  be  in  one 
 place,  all  bodies  may  be  in  one  place :  which,  when  it  can  be  supposed,  takes 
 away  the  distinction  of  identity  and  diversity  of  one  and  more,  and  renders 
 it  ridiculous.  But  it  being  a  contradiction,  that  two  or  more  should  be  one, 
 identity  and  diversity  are  relations  and  ways  of  comparing  well-founded, 
 and  of  use  to  the  understanding. 
 
 Identity  of  modes. — All  other  things  being  but  modes  or  relations  ulti- 
 mately terminated  in  substances,  the  identity  and  diversity  of  each  particular 
 existence  of  them  too  will  be  by  the  same  way  determined :  only  as  to 
 things  whose  existence  is  in  succession,  such  as  are  the  actions  of  finite 
 beings,  v.  g.  motion  and  thought,  both  which  consist  in  a  continued  train 
 of  succession  ;  concerning  their  diversity,  there  can  be  no  question  :  because 
 each  perishing  the  moment  it  begins,  they  cannot  exist  in  different  times,  or 
 in  different  places,  as  permanent  beings  can  at  different  times  exist  in  dis- 
 tant places ;  and  therefore  no  motion  or  thought,  considered  as  at  different 
 times,  can  be  the  same,  each  part  thereof  having  a  different  beginning  of 
 existence. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Principium  individuationis. — From  what  has  been  said,  it  is 
 easy  to  discover  what  is  so  much  inquired  after,  the  principium  individua- 
 tionis; and  that,  it  is  plain,  is  existence  itself,  which  determines  a  being  >/ 
 of  any  sort  to  a  particular  time  and  place,  incommunicable  to  two  beings  of 
 the  same  kind.  This,  though  it  seems  easier  to  conceive  in  simple  sub- 
 Htances  or  modes,'yet  when  reflected  on  is  not  more  difficult  in  compound 
 ones,  if  care  be  taken  to  what  it  is  applied :  v.  g.  let  us  suppose  an  atom, 
 %.  e.  a  continued  body  under  one  immutable  superficies,  existing  in  a  deter- 
 mined time  and  place  :  it  is  evident  that,  considered  in  any  instant  of  its 
 existence,  it  is  in  that  instant  the  same  with  itself  For  being  at  tliat  in- 
 stant what  it  is,  and  nothing  else,  it  is  the  same,  and  so  must  continue  as 
 long  as  its  existence  is  continued ;  for  so  long  it  will  be  the  same,  and  no 
 other.  In  like  manner,  if  two  or  more  atoms  be  joined  together  into  the 
 same  mass,  every  one  of  those  atoms  will  be  the  same,  by  the  foregoing  rule: 
 and  whilst  they  exist  united  together,  the  mass,  consisting  of  the  same 
 atoms,  must  be  the  same  mass,  or  the  same  body,  let  the  parts  be  ever  so 
 differently  jumbled.  But  if  one  of  these  atoms  be  taken  away,  or  one  new  '!t^i^u^iiJ\ 
 one  added,  it  iis  lao  lon^fcr  the  same  mass,  or  the  same  body.     In  the  state 
 
208  OF  HUAIAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 of  living  creatures,  llieir  identity  depends  not  on  amas3oftlie  same  par- 
 ticles, but  on  something  else.  For  in  them  the  variation  of  great  parcels  of 
 matter  alters  not  the  identity  :  an  oak  growing  from  a  plant  to  a  great  tree, 
 and  then  lopped,  is  still  the  same  oak;  and  a  colt  grown  up  to  a  horse, 
 sometimes  fat,  sometimes  lean,  is  all  the  wliile  the  same  horse;  thougii,  in 
 botii  these  cases,  tliere  may  be  a  manifest  change  of  tiie  parts  ;  so  that  truly 
 they  are  not  either  of  them  the  same  masses  of  matter,  though  they  be  truly 
 one  of  them  the  same  oak,  and  the  other  tiie  same  horse.     The  reason 
 
 ■JlVhereof  is,  that  in  these  two  cases,  a  mass  of  matter,  and  a  living  body,  iden- 
 
 /  tity  is  not  applied  to  the  same  thing. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Identity  of  vegetables. — We  must  therefore  consider  wherein 
 an  oak  differs  from  a  mass  of  matter,  and  that  seems  to  me  to  be  in  tiiis, 
 that  tlie  one  is  only  the  cohesion  of  particles  of  matter  any  how  united, 
 the  other  such  a  disi)osition  of  them  as  constitutes  the  parts  of  an  oak ;  and 
 such  an  organization  of  those  parts  as  is  fit  to  receive  and  distribute  nour- 
 ishment, so  as  to  continue  and  frame  the  wood,  bark,  and  leaves,  &lc.  of 
 an  oak,  in  which  consists  the  vegetable  life.  That  being  then  one  plant 
 which  has  such  an  organization  of  parts  in  one  coherent  body  partaking  of 
 one  common  life,  it  continues  to  be  the  same  plant  as  long  as  it  partakes 
 of  tJie  same  life,  though  that  life  be  communicated  to  new  particles  of  mat- 
 ter vitally  united  to  the  living  plant,  in  a  like  continued  organization  con- 
 ibrniable  to  that  sort  of  plants.  For  this  organization  being  at  any  one 
 instant  in  any  one  collection  of  matter,  is  in  that  particular  concrete,  dis- 
 tinguished from  all  other,  and  is  that  individual  life  which  existing  con- 
 stantly from  that  moment  both  forwards  and  backwards,  in  the  same  continuit}' 
 of  insensibly  succeeding  parts  united  to  the  living  body  of  the  plant,  it  has 
 that  identity,  which  makes  the  same  plant,  and  all  the  parts  of  it,  parts  of 
 the  same  plant,  during  all  the  time  that  they  exist  united  in  that  continued 
 organization,  which  is  fit  to  convey  that  common  life  to  all  the  parts  so 
 united. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Identity  of  animals.— The  case  is  not  so  much  different  in 
 brutes,  but  that  any  one  may  hence  see  what  makes  an  animal,  and  con- 
 tinues it  the  same.  Something  we  have  like  this  in  machines,  and  may 
 serve  to  illustrate  it.  For  example,  what  is  a  watch?  It  is  plain  it  is  no- 
 thing but  a  fit  organization,  or  construction  of  parts,  to  a  certain  end, 
 which,  when  a  sufficient  force  is  added  to  it,  it  is  capable  to  attain.  If 
 we  would  suppose  this  machine  one  continued  body,  all  whose  organized 
 parts  were  repaired,  increased,  or  diminished,  by  a  constant  addition 
 or  separation  of  insensible  parts,  with  one  common  life,  we  should  have 
 something  very  much  like  the  body  of  an  animo,l,  with  this  difference,  that 
 in  an  animal  the  fitness  of  the  organization,  and  the  motion  wherein  life  con- 
 sists, begin  together,  the  motion  coming  from  within  ;  but  in  machines,  the 
 force  coming  sensibly  from  without,  is  oflen  away  when  the  organ  is  in  or- 
 der, and  well  fitted  to  receive  it. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Identity  of  man. — This  also  shows  wherein  the  identity  of  the 
 same  man  consists  ;  viz.  in  nothing  but  a  participation  of  the  same  contiimed | 
 life,  by  constantly  fleeting  particles  of  matter,  in  succession,  vitally  united  to| 
 the  same  organized  body.     He  that  shall  place  the  identity  of  man  in  any 
 thing  else,  but,  like  that  of  other  animals,  in  one  fitly  organized  body,  taken 
 in  any  one  instant,  and  from  tlience  continued  under  one  organization  of  life 
 in  several  successively  fleeting  particles  of  matter  united  to  it,  will  find  it 
 liard  to  make  an  embryo,  one  of  years,  mad  and  sober,  the  same  man,  by  any 
 supposition,  that  will  not  make  it  possible  for  Seth,  Ishmael,  Socrates,  Pilate,     , 
 St  Austin,  and  Caesar  Borgia,  to  be  the  same  man.     But  if  the  identity  of]/ 
 soul  alone  makes  the  same  man,  and  there  be  nothing  in  the  nature  of 
 matter  why  the  same  individual  spirit  may  not  be  united  to  different  bodies, 
 it  will  be  possible  that  those  men  living  in  distant  ages,  and  of  different  tem- 
 pers, may  have  been  the  same  man  :  which  way  of  speaking  must  be,  from  a 
 
Ch.  27.  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  209 
 
 very  strange  use  of  the  word  man,  applied  to  an  idea,  out  of  which  body  and 
 shape  are  exchided.  And  that  way  of  speaking-  would  a^ee  yet  worse  with 
 the  notions  of  those  pliilosophers  who  allow  of  transmigration,  and  are  of 
 opinion  that  the  souls  of  men  may,  for  their  miscarriages,  be  detruded  into  the 
 bodies  of  beasts,  as  fit  habitations,  with  organs  suited  to  the  satisfaction  of 
 their  brutal  inclinations.  But  yet,  1  think,  nobody,  could  he  be  sure  that  the 
 soul  of  Heliogabalus  were  in  one  of  his  hogs,  would  yet  say  that  hog  were 
 a  man  or  Heliogabalus. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Identity  suited  to  the  idea. — It  is  not  therefore  unity  of  sub- 
 stance that  comprehends  all  sorts  of  identity,  or  will  determine  it  in  every 
 case:  but  to  conceive  and  judge  of  it  aright,  we  must  consider  what  idea 
 the  u'ord  it  is  applied  to  stands  for;  it  being  one  thing  to  be  the  same  sub- 
 stance, another  tlie  same  man,  and  a  third  the  same  person,  if  person,  man, 
 and  substance  are  three  names  standing  for  three  different  ideas;  for  such 
 as  is  the  idea  belonging  to  that  name,  such  must  be  the  identity;  v.'hich,  if 
 it  had  been  a  little  more  carefully  attended  to,  would  possibly  have  prevent- 
 ed a  great  deal  of  that  confusion,  which  often  occurs  about  this  matter, 
 v^-ith  no  small  seeming  difficulties,  especially  concerning  personal  identity, 
 which  therefore  we  shall  in  the  ne.xt  place  a  little  consider. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Same  man. — An  animal  is  a  living  organized  body;  and  fre- 
 quently the  same  animal,  as  we  have  observed,  is  the  same  continued  life 
 communicated  to  different  particles  of  matter,  as  they  happen  successively 
 to  be  united  to  that  organized  living  body.  And  whatever  is  talked  of  other 
 definitions,  ingenious  observation  puts  it  past  doubt,  that  the  idea  in  our 
 minds,  of  which  the  sound  man  in  our  mouths  is  the  sign,  is  nothing  else 
 but  of  an  animal  of  such  a  certain  form  :  since  I  tliink  I  may  be  confident, 
 that  whoever  should  see  a  creature  of  his  own  shape  and  make,  though  it 
 had  no  more  reason  all  its  life  than  a  cat  or  a  parrot,  would  call  him  still  a 
 man ;  or  whoever  should  hear  a  cat  or  a  parrot  discourse,  reason,  and  phi- 
 losophize, would  call  or  think  it  nothing  but  a  cat  or  a  parrot ;  and  say, 
 the  one  was  a  dull  irrational  man,  and  the  other  a  very  intelligent  ra- 
 tional parrot.  A  relation  we  have  in  an  author  of  great  note  is  sufficient  to 
 countenance  the  supposition  of  a  rational  parrot.     His  words  are(c)  : 
 
 "  I  had  a  mind  to  know  from  Prince  Maurice's  own  mouth  the  account 
 of  a  common,  but  much  credited  story,  that  I  heard  so  often  from  many 
 others,  of  an  old  parrot  he  had  in  Brasil  during  his  government  there,  that 
 spoke,  and  asked,  and  answered  common  questions  like  a  reasonable  crea- 
 ture: so  that  those  of  his  train  there  generally  concluded  it  to  be  witchery 
 or  possession  ;  and  one  of  his  chaplains,  who  lived  long  after  in  Holland, 
 would  never  from  that  time  endure  a  parrot,  but  said,  they  all  had  a  devil  in 
 them.  I  had  heard  many  particulars  of  this  story,  and  assevered  by  peo- 
 ple hard  to  be  discredited,  which  made  me  ask  Prince  Maurice  what  there 
 was  of  it.  He  said,  with  his  usual  plainness  and  dryness  in  talk,  there 
 was  something  true,  but  a  great  deal  false  of  what  had  been  reported.  I 
 desired  to  know  of  him  what  there  was  of  the  first  T  He  told  me  short  and 
 coldly,  that  he  had  heard  of  such  an  old  parrot  wiien  he  had  been  at  Brasil ; 
 and  though  he  believed  nothing  of  it,  and  it  was  a  good  v.-ay  off,  yet  he 
 had  so  much  curiosity  as  to  send  for  it :  that  it  was  a  verj^  great  and  a  very 
 old  one,  and  when  it  came  first  in  the  room  where  the  prince  was,  with  a 
 great  many  Dutchmen  about  him,  it  said  presently.  What  a  company  of 
 white  men  are  here  !  They  asked  it  what  it  thought  that  man  was  1  point- 
 ing to  the  prince.  It  answered,  some  general  or  other  ;  v.-hen  they  brought 
 it  close  to  him,  he  asked  it,  *D'ou  venez  vous  ?  It  answered,  De  Marinnan. 
 
 (r)  Memoirs  of  what  passed  in  Christendom  from  1672  to  I7f)9,  p.   -j-g'-y 
 
 (*)  Whence  come  ye  ?    It  answered,  From  ^Marinnan.   The  prince,  To  whom 
 
 do  you  belong  ?     The  parrot.    To  a  Portuguese.      Prince,   What  do  you  there  ? 
 
 Parrot,  1  look  after  the  chickens.      The  prince  laughed,  aad  said,  You  look  after 
 
 2B 
 
210  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 The  Prince,  A  qui  estes  vous  1  The  parrot,  A  un  Portugais.  Prince,  Qne 
 fais  tu  la?  Parrot,  Je  gardcz  Ics  poulles.  The  prince  laughed,  and  said, 
 Vous  gardoz  les  poulles  1  The  parrot  answered,  Qui,  moi,  et  je  scai  bieu 
 fiiire  ;  and  made  tiie  chuck  four  or  live  times  that  peoj)le  use  to  make  to 
 chickens  when  they  call  them.  I  set  down  the  words  of  this  worthy  dia- 
 logue in  French,  just  as  Prince  Maurice  said  them  to  me.  I  asked  him  in 
 what  language  the  parrot  spoke,  and  he  said,  in  Brasilian  ;  I  asked  wheth- 
 er he  understood  Brasilian ;  he  said,  no,  but  he  had  taken  care  to  have  two 
 interpreters  by  him,  the  one  a  Dutchman  that  spoke  Brasilian,  and  the 
 other  a  Brasilian  that  spoke  Dutch  ;  that  he  asked  them  separately  and  pri- 
 vately, and  both  of  them  agreed  in  telling  him  just  the  same  thing  that  the 
 parrot  had  said.  I  could  not  but  tell  this  odd  story,  because  it  is  so  much 
 out  of  the  way,  and  from  the  first  hand,  and  what  may  pass  for  a  good  one ; 
 for  I  dare  say  this  prince  at  least  believed  himself  in  all  he  told  me,  having 
 ever  passed  for  a  very  honest  and  pious  man  :  I  leave  it  to  naturalists  to 
 reason,  and  to  other  men  to  believe,  as  they  please  upon  it ;  however,  it  is 
 not,  perhaps,  amiss  to  relieve  or  enliven  a  busy  scene  sometimes  with  such 
 digressions,  whether  to  the  purpose  or  no." 
 
 Same  man. — I  have  taken  care  that  the  reader  should  have  the  story  at 
 large  in  the  author's  own  words,  because  he  seems  to  me  not  to  have 
 thought  it  incredible  ;  for  it  cannot  be  imagined  that  so  able  a  man  as  he, 
 who  had  sufficiency  enough  to  warrant  all  the  testimonies  he  gives  of  him- 
 self, should  take  so  much  pains  in  a  place  where  it  had  nothing  to  do,  to 
 pin  so  close  not  only  on  a  man  whom  he  mentions  as  his  friend,  but  on  a 
 prince  in  whom  he  acknowledges  very  great  honesty  and  piety,  a  story 
 which,  if  he  himself  thought  incredible,  he  could  not  but  also  think  ridiculous. 
 The  prince,  it  is  plain,  who  vouches  this  story,  and  our  author,  who  re- 
 lates it  from  him,  both  of  them  call  this  talker  a  parrot ;  and  I  ask  any  one 
 else,  who  thinks  such  a  story  fit  to  be  told,  whether  if  this  parrot,  and  all 
 of  its  kind,  had  always  talked,  as  we  have  a  prince's  word  for  it  this  one 
 did,  whether,  I  say,  they  would  not  have  passed  for  a  race  of  rational  ani- 
 mals :  but  yet  whether  for  all  that  they  would  have  been  allowed  to  be 
 men,  and  not  parrots  ?  For  I  presume  it  is  not  the  idea  of  a  thinking 
 or  rational  being  alone  that  makes  the  idea  of  a  man  in  most  people's 
 sense,  but  of  a  body,  so  and  so  shaped,  joined  to  it :  and  if  that  be  the  idea 
 of  a  man,  the  same  successive  body  not  shifted  all  at  once,  must,  as  well  as 
 the  same  immaterial  spirit,  go  to  the  making  of  the  same  man. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Personal  identity. — This  being  premised,  to  find  wherein  per- 
 sonal identity  consists,  we  must  consider  what  person  stands  for:  which, 
 I  think,  is  a  thinking  intelligent  being,  that  has  reason  and  reflection,  and 
 can  consider  itself  as  itself,  the  same  thinking  thing  in  different  times  and 
 places ;  which  it  does  only  by  that  consciousness  which  is  inseparable  from 
 thinking,  and  as  it  seems  to  me  essential  to  it:  it  being  impossible  for  any 
 one  to  perceive,  without  perceiving  that  he  does  perceive.  When  we  see, 
 hear,  taste,  smell,  feel,  meditate,  or  will  any  thing,  we  know  that  we  do 
 so.  Thus  it  is  always  as  to  our  present  sensations  and  perceptions :  and 
 by  this  every  one  is  to  himself  that  which  he  calls  self;  it  not  being  consi- 
 dered in  this  case  whether  the  same  self  be  continued  in  the  same  or  di- 
 vers substances.  For  since  consciousness  always  accompanies  thinking, 
 and  it  is  that  which  makes  every  one  to  be  what  he  calls  self,  and  thereby 
 distinguishes  himself  from  all  other  thinking  things  ;  in  this  alone  consists 
 personal  identity,  /.  e.  the  sameness  of  a  rational  being  :  and  as  far  as  this 
 consciousness  can  be  extended  backwards  to  any  past  action  or  thought, 
 so  far  reaches  the  identity  of  that  person  ;  it  is  the  same  self  now  it  was 
 
 the  chickens  ?  The  parrot  answered,  Yes,  I  and  I  know  well  enough  how  tu 
 do  it. 
 
Ch.  27.  OF   IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  211 
 
 then  ;  and  it  is  by  the  same  self  with  this  present  one  that  now  reflects  on 
 it,  that  that  action  was  done. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Consciousness  makes  personal  identity. — But  it  is  farther 
 inquired,  whether  it  be  the  same  identical  substance  ?  This  few  would 
 tliink  tliey  had  reason  to  doubt  of,  if  those  perceptions,  with  their  con- 
 sciousness, always  remained  present  in  the  mind,  whereby  the  same  think- 
 ing thing-  would  be  always  consciously  present,  and,  as  would  be  thought, 
 evidently  the  same  to  itself.  But  that  which  seems  to  make  the  difficulty 
 is  this,  that  this  consciousness  being  interrupted  always  by  forgetfulness, 
 there  being  no  moment  of  our  lives  wherein  we  have  the  whole  train  of  all 
 our  past  actions  before  our  eyes  in  one  view,  but  even  the  best  memories 
 losing  the  sight  of  one  part  whilst  they  are  viewing  another  ; — and  we 
 sometimes,  and  that  the  greatest  part  of  our  lives,  not  reflecting  on  our 
 past  selves,  being  intent  on  our  present  tlioughts,  and  in  sound  sleep  having 
 no  thoughts  at  all,  or  at  least  none  with  that  consciousness  which  remarks 
 our  walking  thoughts  ; — I  say,  in  all  these  cases,  our  consciousness  being 
 interrupted,  and  we  losing  the  sight  of  our  past  selves,  doubts  are  raised 
 whether  we  are  the  same  thinking  thing,  i.  e.  the  same  substance,  or  no. 
 Which,  however  reasonable  or  unreasonable,  concerns  not  personal  iden- 
 tity at  all  :  the  question  being,  wliat  makes  the  same  person,  and  not  whe- 
 tlier  it  be  the  same  identical  substance,  which  always  thinks  in  the  same 
 person  ;  which  in  this  case  matters  not  at  all :  different  substances,  by  the 
 same  consciousness  (where  they  do  partake  in  it,)  being  united  into 
 one  person,  as  well  as  different  bodies  by  the  same  life  ai-e  united  into  one 
 animal,  whose  identity  is  preserved,  in  that  change  of  substances,  by  the 
 unity  of  one  continued  life.  For  it  being  the  same  consciousness  that 
 makes  a  man  be  himself  to  himself,  personal  identity  depends  on  that  only, 
 whether  it  be  annexed  solely  to  one  individual  substance,  or  can  be  con- 
 tinued in  a  succession  of  several  substances.  For  as  far  as  any  intelligent 
 being  can  repeat  the  idea  of  any  past  action  with  the  same  consciousness 
 it  had  of  it  at  first,  and  with  the  same  consciousness  it  has  of  any  present 
 action,  so  far  it  is  the  same  personal  self.  For  it  is  by  the  consciousness 
 it  has  of  its  present  thoughts  and  actions,  that  it  is  self  to  itself  now,  and 
 so  will  be  the  same  self,  as  far  as  the  same  consciousness  can  extend  to  ac- 
 tions past  or  to  come  ;  and  would  be  by  distance  of  time,  or  change  of  sub- 
 stance, no  more  two  persons,  than  a  man  be  two  men  by  wearing  other 
 clothes  to-day  than  he  did  yesterday,  with  a  long  or  a  short  sleep  between  : 
 the  same  consciousness  uniting  those  distant  actions  into  the  same  person, 
 whatever  substances  contributed  to  their  production. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Personal  ideiitity  in  change  of  substances. — Thatthis  is  so, 
 we  have  some  kind  of  evidence  in  our  very  bodies,  all  whose  particles, 
 whilst  vitally  united  to  this  same  thinking  conscious  self,  so  that  we  feel 
 when  they  are  touched,  and  are  effected  by,  and  conscious  of  good  or  harm 
 that  happens  to  them,  are  a  part  of  ourselves,  i.  e.  of  our  thinking  conscious 
 self.  Thus  the  limbs  of  his  body  are  to  every  one  a  pail  of  himself:  he 
 sympathizes  and  is  concerned  for  them.  Cut  off  a  hand,  and  thereby  separate 
 it  from  that  consciousness  he  had  of  its  heat,  cold,  and  other  affections,  and 
 it  is  then  no  longer  a  part  of  that  which  is  himself,  any  more  than  the  re- 
 motest part  of  matter.  Thus  we  see  the  substance,  whereof  personal  self  ^ 
 consisted  at  one  time,  may  be  varied  at  another,  without  the  change  of  per-  , 
 sonal  identity  ;  there  being  no  question  about  the  same  person,  though  the 
 limbs,  which  but  now  were  a  part  of  it,  be  cut  off". 
 
 Sect.  12.  But  the  question  is,  "  Whether,  if  the  same  substance  which 
 thinks  be  changed,  it  can  be  the  same  person  ;  or,  remaining  the  same,  it 
 can  be  different  persons  !" 
 
 Whether  in  the  change  of  thinldng  substances. — And  to  this  I  answer, 
 first,  This  can  be  no  question  at  all  to  those  who  place  thought  in  a  purely 
 material  animal  constitution  void  of  an  immaterial  substance.    For  whether 
 
212  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 their  supposition  be  true  or  no,  it  is  plain  they  conceive  personal  identity 
 preserved  in  soniolliiiii,'  else  than  identity  of  substance  ;  as  animal  identity 
 is  preserved  in  identity  of  life,  and  not  of  substance.  And  therefore  those 
 who  place  thinking  in  an  immaterial  substance  only,  before  they  can  come 
 to  deal  with  these  men,  must  siiow  why  personal  identity  cannot  be  pre- 
 served in  tiie  change  of  immaterial  substances,  or  variety  of  particular  im- 
 material substances,  as  well  as  animal  identity  is  j)reserved  in  the  ciiange 
 of  material  substances,  or  variety  of  particular  bodies  :  unless  they  will  say, 
 it  is  one  inmiaterial  spirit  that  makes  the  same  life  in  brutes,  as  it  is  one 
 immaterial  spirit  that  makes  the  same  person  in  men  ;  wiiich  the  Carte- 
 sians at  least  will  not  admit,  for  fear  of  making  brutes  thinking  things  too. 
 
 Sect.  13.  But  next,  as  to  the  lirst  part  of  the  question,  "  Whether  if  the 
 same  thinking  substance  (supposing  iunnaterial  substances  only  to  think) 
 be  changed,  it  can  be  the  same  person  !"  I  answer,  that  cannot  be  re^ 
 solved,  but  by  those  who  know  what  kind  of  substances  they  are  that  do\ 
 think,  and  whether  the  consciousness  of  past  actions  can  be  transferred 
 from  one  thinking  substance  to  another.  I  grant,  were  the  same  conscious- 
 ness the  same  individual  action,  it  could  not ;  but  it  being  but  a  present  re- 
 presentation of  a  past  action,  why  it  may  not  be  possible  that  that  may  be 
 represented  to  the  mind  to  have  been,  which  really  never  was,  will  remain 
 to  be  shown.  And  therefore  how  far  the  consciousness  of  past  actions  is 
 annexed  to  any  individual  agent,  so  that  another  cannot  possibly  have  it, 
 will  be  hard  for  us  to  determme,  till  we  know  what  kind  of  action  it  is  that 
 cannot  be  done  without  a  reflex  act  of  perception  accompanying  it,  and 
 how  performed  by  thinking  substances,  who  cannot  think  without  being- 
 conscious  of  it.  But  that  which  we  call  the  same  consciousness,  not  be- 
 ing the  same  individual  act,  why  one  intellectual  substance  may  not  have 
 represented  to  it,  as  done  by  itself,  what  it  never  did,  and  was  perhaps 
 done  by  some  other  agent ;  why,  I  say,  such  a  representation  may  not  pos- 
 sibly be  witliout  reality  of  matter  of  fact,  as  well  as  several  representations 
 in  dreams  are,  which  yet  whilst  dreaming  we  take  for  true,  will  be  ditEcult 
 to  conclude  from  the  nature  of  things.  And  that  it  never  is  so,  will  by  us, 
 till  we  have  clearer  views  of  the  nature  of  thinking  substances,  be  best  re- 
 solved into  the  goodness  of  God,  who,  as  far  as  the  happiness  or  misery  of 
 any  of  his  sensible  creatures  is  concerned  in  it,  will  not  by  a  fatal  error  of 
 theirs  transfer  from  one  to  another  that  consciousness  which  draws  re- 
 ward or  punishment  with  it.  How  far  this  may  be  an  argument  against 
 those  who  would  place  thinking  in  a  system  of  fleeting  animal  spirits,  I 
 leave  to  be  considered.  But  yet,  to  return  to  the  question  before  us,  it 
 must  be  allowed,  that  if  the  same  consciousness  (which,  as  has  been 
 shown,  is  quite  a  ditl'erent  thing  from  the  same  numerical  figure  or  motion 
 in  body)  can  be  transferred  from  one  thinking  substance  to  another,  it  will 
 be  possible  that  two  thinking  substances  may  make  but  one  person.  For 
 the  same  consciousness  being  preserved,  whether  in  the  same  or  different 
 substances,  the  personal  identity  is  preserved. 
 
 Sect.  14.  As  to  the  second  part  of  the  question,  "  whether  the  same  im- 
 material substance  remaining,  there  may  be  two  distinct  persons  V  which 
 question  seems  to  me  to  be  built  on  this,  whether  the  same  immaterial  be- 
 ing, being  conscious  of  the  action  of  its  past  duration,  may  be  wholly, 
 stripped  of  all  the  consciousness  of  its  past  existence,  and  lose  it  beyond' 
 the  power  of  ever  retrieving  it  again  ;  and  so  as  it  were  beginning  a  new  ac- 
 count from  a  new  period,  have  a  consciousness  that  cannot  reach  beyond 
 this  new  state.  All  those  who  hold  pre-existence  are  evidently  of  this 
 mind,  since  they  allow  the  soul  to  have  no  remaining  consciousness  of  what 
 it  did  in  the  pre-existing  state,  either  wholly  separate  from  body,  or  inform- 
 ing any  other  body  ;  and  if  they  should  not,  it  is  plain  experience  would 
 be  against  them.  So  that  personal  identity  reaching  no  farther  than  con- 
 sciousness reaches,  a  pre-existent  spirit  not  having  continued  so  many 
 
Ch.  ^11.  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  213 
 
 ages  in  a  state  of  silence,  must  needs  make  different  persons.  Suppose  a 
 Ciiristian,  Platonist  or  Pythagorean  should,  upon  God's  having  ended  all  his 
 works  of  creation  the  seventn  day,  think  his  soul  hath  existed  ever  s;nce ; 
 and  would  imagine  it  has  revolved  in  several  human  bodies,  as  i  once  met 
 with  one  who  was  persuaded  his  had  been  the  soul  of  iSocrates,  how  rea- 
 sonably I  will  not  dispute  ;  tliis  I  know,  that  in  the  post  he  tilled,  which 
 was  no  inconsiderable  one,  he  passed  for  a  very  rational  man,  and  the  press 
 has  shown  that  he  wanted  not  parts  or  learning ;  would  any  one  say, 
 that  he  being  not  conscious  of  any  of  Socrates's  actions  or  thoughts,  could 
 be  the  same  person  with  Socrates  !  Let  any  one  reflect  upon  lumself,  and 
 conclude  that  he  has  in  himself  an  immaterial  spirit,  which  is  that  which 
 thinks  in  him,  and  in  the  constant  change  of  his  body  keeps  him  the 
 same  ;  and  is  that  which  he  calls  himself:  let  him  also  suppose  it  to  be  the 
 same  soul  that  was  in  Nestor  or  Thersites  at  the  siege  of  Troy  (for  souls 
 being,  as  far  as  we  know  any  thing  of  them,  in  their  nature  indifferent  to 
 anv  parcel  of  matter,  the  supposition  has  no  apparent  absurdity  in  it), 
 winch  it  may  have  been,  as  well  as  it  is  now  the  soul  of  any  other  man  : 
 but  he  now  having  no  consciousness  of  any  of  the  actions  either  of  Nes- 
 tor or  Thersites,  does  or  can  he  conceive  himself  the  same  person  with 
 either  of  them?  Can  he  be  concerned  in  either  of  their  actions  !  attri- 
 bute them  to  himself,  or  think  them  his  own,  more  than  the  actions  of  any 
 other  man  that  ever  existed  ]  So  that  this  consciousness  not  reaching  to  i  / 
 any  of  the  actions  of  either  of  those  men,  he  is  no  more  one  self  with  ei-  y^ 
 ther  of  them,  than  if  the  soul  or  inmiaterial  spirit  that  now  informs  him  had 
 been  created,  and  began  to  exist,  when  it  began  to  inform  his  present  body; 
 though  it  were  ever  so  true,  that  the  same  spirit  that  informed  Nestor's 
 or  Thersites's  body,  were  numerically  the  same  that  now  informs  liis. 
 For  this  would  no  more  make  him  the  same  person  with  Nestor,  than  if 
 some  of  the  particles  of  matter  that  were  once  a  part  of  Nestor,  were  nov^^ 
 a  part  of  this  man  ;  the  same  immaterial  substance,  without  the  same  con- 
 sciousness, no  more  making  the  same  person  by  being  miited  to  any  body, 
 than  the  same  particle  of  matter,  without  consciousness,  imited  to  any  body, 
 makes  the  same  person.  But  let  him  once  find  himself  conscious  of  any 
 of  the  actions  of  Nestor,  he  then  finds  himself  the  same  person  with  Nes- 
 tor. 
 
 Sect.  1.5.  And  thus  we  may  be  able,  without  any  difficidty,  to  conceive 
 the  same  person  at  the  resurrection,  though  in  a  body  not  exactly  in  make 
 or  parts  the  same  which  he  had  here,  the  same  consciousness  going  along 
 with  the  soul  that  inhabits  it.  But  yet  the  soul  alone,  in  the  change  ot 
 bodies,  would  scarce  to  any  one,  but  to  him  that  makes  the  soul  the  man, 
 be  enough  to  make  the  same  man.  For  should  the  soul  of  a  prince, 
 carrying  with  it  the  consciousness  of  the  prince's  past  life,  enter  and 
 inform  the  body  of  a  cobbler,  as  soon  as  deserted  by  his  own  soul,  every  / 
 one  sees  he  would  be  the  same  person  with  the  prince,  accomitable  only  ' 
 for  the  prince's  actions  ;  but  who  would  say  it  was  the  same  man  !  The 
 body,  too,  goes  to  the  making  the  man,  and  would,  I  guess,  to  every  body 
 determine  the  man  in  this  case ;  wherein  the  soul  with  all  its  princely 
 thoughts  about  it,  would  not  make  another  man  :  but  he  would  be  the  same 
 cobbler  to  every  one  besides  himself  I  know  that,  in  the  ordinary  way  of 
 rpeaking,  the  same  person  and  the  same  man,  stand  for  one  and  the  same 
 thing.  And  indeed  every  one  will  always  have  a  liberty  to  speak  as  he 
 l)leases,  and  to  apply  what  articulate  sounds  to  what  ideas  he  thinks  fit, 
 and  change  them  as  often  as  he  pleases.  But  yet  when  we  will  inquire  what 
 makes  the  same  spirit,  man,  or  person,  we  must  fix  the  ideas  of  spirit,  man, 
 or  person  in  our  minds ;  and  liaving  resolved  with  ourselves  what  we 
 mean  by  them,  it  will  not  be  hard  to  determine  in  either  of  them,  or  the 
 like,  when  it  is  the  same,  and  when  not. 
 
 Sect.   10.   Consciousness   makes  the    same  person. — But  though  tha 
 
214  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 same  immaterial  substance  or  soul  does  not  alone,  wherever  it  be,  and  in 
 whatsoever  state,  make  the  same  man  ;  yet  it  is  j)lain,  consciousness,  as 
 far  as  ever  it  can  ho  extended,  should  it  be  to  ages  ])ast,  unites  existences 
 and  actions,  very  remote  in  time,  into  tlie  same  person,  as  well  as  it  does 
 the  existences  and  actions  of  the  immediately  })receding  moment ;  so  that 
 whatever  has  the  coiisciousness  of  present  and  past  actions,  is  the  same 
 person  to  whom  they  both  belong.  Had  I  the  same  consciousness  that  I 
 saw  tlie  ark  and  Noah's  flood,  as  that  I  saw  an  overflowing  of  the  Tliamej 
 last  winter,  or  as  that  I  write  now  ;  I  could  no  more  doubt  that  I  who 
 write  this  now,  that  saw  the  Thames  overflowed  last  winter,  and  tliat 
 viewed  the  flood  at  the  general  deluge,  was  the  same  self,  place  that  self 
 in  what  substance  you  please,  than  that  I  who  write  this  am  the  same  my- 
 self now  wliilst  I  write  (wiiether  I  consist  of  all  the  same  substance,  ma- 
 terial or  immaterial,  or  no)  that  I  was  yesterday.  For  as  to  this  point  of 
 being  the  same  self,  it  matters  not  whether  tiiis  present  self  be  made  up 
 of  the  same  or  other  substances  ;  I  being  as  much  concerned,  and  as  justly 
 accountable  for  any  action  tliat  was  done  a  thousand  years  since,  appro- 
 priated to  me  now  by  this  self-consciousness,  as  I  am  for  what  I  did  the 
 last  moment. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Self  depends  on  consciousness. — Self  is  that  conscious  think- 
 ing thing  (whatever  substance  made  up  of,  whether  spiritual  or  material, 
 simple  or  compounded,  it  matters  not)  which  is  sensible,  or  conscious  of 
 pleasure  and  pain,  capable  of  happiness  or  misery,  and  so  is  concerned  for 
 itself,  as  far  as  that  consciousness  extends.  Thus  every  one  finds,  that 
 whilst  comprehended  under  that  consciousness,  the  little  finger  is  as  much 
 a  part  of  himself,  as  what  is  most  so.  Upon  separation  of  this  little  finger, 
 should  this  consciousness  go  along  with  the  little  finger,  and  leave  tlie  rest 
 of  the  body,  it  is  evident  the  little  finger  would  be  the  person,  the  same 
 person  ;  and  self  tlien  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  rest  of  the  body. 
 As  in  this  case  it  is  the  consciousness  that  goes  along  with  the  substance, 
 when  one  part  is  separate  from  another,  which  makes  the  same  person, 
 and  constitutes  this  inseparable  self;  so  it  is  in  reference  to.  substances 
 remote  in  time.  That  with  which  the  consciousness  of  this  present  think- 
 ing thing  can  join  itself,  makes  the  same  person,  and  is  one  self  with  it, 
 and  v\'ith  nothing  else;  and  so  attributes  to  itself,  and  owns  all  the  actions 
 of  that  thing  as  its  own,  as  far  as  that  consciousness  reaches,  and  no  far- 
 ther; as  every  one  who  reflects  will  perceive. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Objects  of  reward  and  jninishment. — In  this  personal  iden- 
 tity is  founded  all  tiie  rigiit  and  justice  of  reward  and  punishment ;  happi- 
 ]iess  and  misery  being  tliat  for  which  every  one  is  concerned  for  himself, 
 and  not  mattering  what  becomes  of  any  substance  not  joined  to,  or  affected 
 with  that  consciousness.  For  as  it  is  evident  in  the  instance  I  gave  but 
 now,  if  the  consciousness  went  along  with  tlie  little  finger  when  it  was 
 cu*  ofl^,  tiiat  would  be  the  same  self  which  was  concerned  for  the  whole 
 body  yesterday,  as  making  part  of  itself,  whose  actions  then  it  cannot  but 
 admit  as  its  own  now.  Though  if  the  saniO  body  should  still  live,  and  im- 
 mediately, from  the  separation  of  the  little  finger,  have  its  own  peculiar 
 consciousness,  whereof  the  little  finger  knew  nothing ;  it  would  not  at  all 
 be  concerned  for  it,  as  a  part  of  itself,  or  could  own  any  of  its  actions,  or 
 have  any  of  them  imputed  to  him. 
 
 Sect.  19.  This  may  show  us  wherein  personal  identity  consists ;  not  in 
 tlie  identity  of  substance,  but,  as  I  have  said,  in  the  identity  of  conscious- 
 ness; wherein,  if  Socrates  and  the  present  mayor  of  Quecnborough  agree, 
 they  are  the  same  person:  if  the  same  Socrates  waking  and  sleeping  do 
 not  partake  of  the  same  consciousness,  Socrates  waking  and  sleeping  is 
 not  the  same  person.  And  topunisli  Socrates  waking  for  what  sleeping 
 Socrates  thought,  and  waking  Socrates  was  never  conscious  of,  would  b'! 
 no  more  of  right,  than  to  punish  one  twin  for  what  his  brother  twin  did 
 
Ch.  27.  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  215 
 
 whereof  he  knew  nothing,  because  their  outsides  were  so  hke  that  they 
 couid  not  be  distinguished;  for  such  twins  have  been  seen. 
 
 Sect.  20.  Jiiit  yet  possibly  it  will  still  be  objected,  suppose  I  wholly 
 lose  the  memory  of  some  parts  of  my  life  beyond  a  possibility  of  retrieving 
 them,  so  that  perhaps  I  shall  never  be  conscious  of  them  again ;  yet  am  1 
 not  tlae  same  person  that  did  those  act'ons,  had  those  thoughts  that  I  once 
 was  conscious  of,  though  I  have  now  forgot  them  !  To  which  I  answer, 
 that  we  must  here  take  notice  what  the  word  I  is  applied  to  ;  which,  in 
 this  case,  is  the  man  only.  And  the  same  man  being  presumed  to  be  the 
 same  person,  I  is  easily  here  supposed  to  stand  also  for  the  same  person. 
 But  if  it  be  possible  for  the  same  man  to  have  distinct  incommunicable 
 consciousness  at  different  times,  it  is  past  doubt  the  same  man  would  at* 
 dift'erent  times  make  different  persons  ;  which,  we  see,  is  the  sense  of 
 mankind  in  the  solemnest  declarations  of  their  opinions ;  human  laws  not 
 punishing  the  mad  man  for  the  sober  man's  actions,  nor  the  sober  man  for 
 what  the  mad  man  did,  thereby  making  them  two  persons  :  which  is  some- 
 what explained  by  our  way  of  speaking  in  English,  when  we  say,  such  a 
 one  is  not  himself,  or  is  beside  himself;  in  which  phrases,  it  is  insinuated,  as 
 if  those  who  now,  or  at  least  tirst  used  them,  thought  that  self  was  chang- 
 ed,— the  self-same  person  was  no  longer  in  that  man. 
 
 Sect.  21.  Difference  between  Identity  of  man  and  person. — But  yet  it 
 is  hard  to  conceive  that  Socrates,  the  same  individual  man,  should  be  two 
 persons.  To  help  us  a  little  in  this,  we  muot  consider  what  is  meant  by 
 Socrates  or  the  same  individual  man. 
 
 First,  it  must  be  either  the  same  individual,  immaterial,  thinking  sub- 
 stance ;  in  short,  the  same  nmiierical  soul,  and  nothing  else. 
 
 Secondly,  or  the  same  animal,  without  any  regard  to  an  immaterial 
 soul. 
 
 Thirdly,  or  the  same  immaterial  spirit  imited  to  the  same  animal. 
 
 Now,  take  which  of  these  suppositions  you  please,  it  is  impossible  to 
 make  personal  identity  to  consist  in  any  thing  but  consciousness,  or  reach 
 any  farther  than  that  does. 
 
 For  by  the  first  of  them,  it  must  be  allowed  possible  that  a  man  born  of 
 different  women,  and  in  distant  times,  may  be  the  same  man.  A  way  of 
 speaking,  which,  whoever  admits,  must  allow  it  possible  for  the  same  man 
 to  be  two  distinct  persons  as  any  two  that  have  hved  in  different  ages, 
 without  the  knowledge  of  one  another's  thoughts. 
 
 By  the  second  and  third,  Socrates  in  this  life,  and  after  it,  cannot  be  the 
 same  man  any  way  but  by  the  same  consciousness  ;  and  so  making  human 
 identity  to  consist  in  the  same  thing  wherein  we  place  personal  identity, 
 there  will  be  no  difficulty  to  allow  the  same  man  to  be  the  same  person. 
 But  then  they  who  place  human  identity  in  consciousness  only,  and  not  in 
 something  else,  must  consider  how  they  will  make  the  infant  Socrates  the 
 same  man  with  Socrates  after  the  resurrection.  But  whatsoever  to  some 
 men  makes  a  man,  and  consequently  the  same  individual  man,  wherein 
 perhaps  few  are  agreed,  personal  identity  can  by  us  be  placed  in  nothing 
 but  consciousness,  (which  is  that  alone  which  makes  what  we  call  self) 
 without  involving  us  in  great  absurdities. 
 
 Sect.  22.  But  is  not  man,  drunk  and  sober,  the  same  person, — why 
 else  is  he  punished  for  the  fact  he  commits  when  drunk,  though  he  be 
 never  afterwards  conscious  of  it  ]  Just  as  much  the  same  person  as  a  man 
 that  walks,  and  does  other  things  in  his  sleep,  is  the  same  person,  and  is 
 answerable  for  any  mischief  he  shall  do  in  it.  Human  laws  punish  both, 
 with  a  justice  suitable  to  their  way  of  knowledge  ;  because  in  these  cases 
 they  cannot  distinguish  certainly  what  is  real,  what  counterfeit :  and  so 
 the  ignorance  in  drunkenness  or  sleep  is  not  admitted  as  a  plea.  For 
 though  punishment  be  annexed  to  personality,  and  personality  to  conscious- 
 ness, and  the  drunkard  perhaps  be  not  conscious  of  what   he  did ;  yet 
 
216  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 human  judicatures  justly  punisli  liim  ;  because  the  fact  is  proved  against 
 liiui,  but  want  of  cousciousness  cannot  be  provi-d  for  liiin.  But  in  the  great 
 day,  wherein  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  laid  oj)en,  it  may  be  reasoi;- 
 able  to  think  no  one  sliall  be  made  to  answer  for  what  he  knows  nothing 
 of,  but  shall  receive  his  doom,  his  conscience  accusing  or  excusing  him. 
 
 Sect.  2'S.  Consciousness  alone  makes  self . — Nothing  but  consciousness 
 can  unite  remote  existences  into  the  same  person  ;  the  identity  of  substance 
 will  not  do  it.  For  whatever  substance  tiierc  is,  however  framed,  witliout 
 consciousness  tlicre  is  no  person  :  and  a  carcass  may  be  a  person,  as  well 
 as  any  sort  of  substance  be  so  without  consciousness. 
 
 Could  we  suppose  two  distinct  incommunicable  consciousnesses  acting 
 the  same  body,  the  one  constantly  by  day,  the  other  by  niglit;  and,  on  the 
 other  side,  the  same  consciousness  acting  by  intervals,  two  distinct  bodies  : 
 I  ask,  in  the  first  case,  whether  the  day  and  the  night  man  would  not  be  two 
 as  distinct  persons  as  Socrates  and  Plato  !  And,  whether,  in  the  second 
 case,  there  would  not  be  one  person  in  two  distinct  bodies,  as  much  as  one 
 man  is  the  same  in  two  distinct  clothings  "J  Nor  is  it  at  all  material  to  say, 
 that  this  same,  and  this  distinct  consciousness,  in  the  cases  above  men- 
 tioned, is  owing  to  the  same,  and  distinct  immaterial  substances,  bringing 
 it  with  them  to  those  bodies  ;  which,  whether  true  or  no,  alters  not  the 
 case  ;  since  it  is  evident  the  personal  identity  would  equally  be  determined  ,- 
 by  the  consciousness,  whether  that  consciousness  were  annexed  to  some  ■/ 
 individual  immaterial  substance  or  no.  For  granting  that  the  thinking 
 substance  in  man  must  be  necessarily  supposed  immaterial,  it  is  evident 
 that  immaterial  thinking  thing  may  sometimes  part  with  its  past  conscious- 
 ness, and  be  restored  to  it  again,  as  appears  in  the  forgetfulness  men  often 
 have  of  their  past  actions  :  and  the  mind  many  times  recovers  the  memory 
 of  a  past  consciousness  v/hichit  had  lost  for  twenty  years  together.  Make 
 these  intervals  of  memory  and  forgetfulness  to  take  their  turns  regularly 
 by  day  and  night,  and  you  have  two  persons  with  the  same  immaterial  spirit, 
 as  much  as  in  the  former  instance,  two  persons  with  the  same  body.  So  tliat 
 self  is  not  determined  by  identity  or  diversity  of  substance,  which  it  cannot 
 be  sure  of,  but  only  by  identity  of  consciousness. 
 
 Sect.  24.  Indeed  it  may  conceive  the  substance,  whereof  it  is  now  made 
 up,  to  have  existed  formerly,  united  in  the  same  conscious  being:  but  con- 
 sciousness removed,  that  substance  is  no  more  itself,  or  mal;es  no  more  a 
 part  of  it,  than  any  other  substance  ;  as  is  evident  in  the  instance  we  have 
 already  given  of  a  limb  cut  off,  of  whose  heat,  or  cold,  or  other  affections, 
 having  no  longer  any  consciousness,  it  is  no  more  of  a  man's  self  than  anv 
 other  matter  of  the  universe.  In  like  manner  it  will  be  in  reference  to  any 
 immaterial  substance,  which  is  void  of  that  consciousness  whereby  I  am 
 myself  to  myself:  if  there  be  any  part  of  its  existence  which  I  cannot  upon 
 recollection  join  with  that  present  consciousness,  whereby  I  am  now  my- 
 self, it  is  in  that  part  of  its  existence  no  more  myself  than  any  other  imma- 
 terial being.  For  whatsoever  any  substance  has  thought  or  done,  which  I 
 cannot  recollect,  and  by  my  consciousness  make  my  own  thought  and  action, 
 it  will  no  more  belong  to  me,  whether  a  part  of  me  thought  or  did  it,  than 
 if  it  had  been  thought  or  done  by  any  other  immaterial  being  any  where 
 existing. 
 
 Sect.  25.    I  agree,  the  more  probable  opinion  is,  that  this  conscious-  |  J 
 ness  is  annexed  to,  and  the  affection  of,  one  individual  immaterial  substance.  ' 
 
 But  let  men,  according  to  thoir  diverse  hypotheses,  resolve  of  that  as 
 they  please:  this  every  intelligent  being,  sensible  of  happiness  or  misery, 
 must  grant,  that  there  is  something  that  is  himself,  that  he  is  concerned 
 for,  and  would  have  happy;  that  this  self  has  existed  in  a  continued  dura- 
 tion more  than  one  instant,  and  therefore  it  is  possible  may  exist,  as  it  has 
 done,  months  and  years  to  come,  without  any  certain  bounds  to  be  set  to 
 its  duration  ;   and  may  be  the  same  self,  by  the  same  consciousness,  con- 
 
Ch.  27.  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  217 
 
 tinned  on  for  the  future.  And  thus,  by  his  consciousness,  he  finds  himself 
 to  be  the  same  self  which  did  such  or  such  an  action  some  years  since,  by 
 which  he  comes  to  be  happy  or  miserable  now.  In  all  which  account  of 
 self,  the  same  numerical  substance  is  not  considered  as  making  tlie  same 
 self;  but  the  same  continued  consciousness,  in  which  several  substances 
 may  have  been  united,  and  again  separated  from  it;  which,  whilst  they 
 continued  in  a  vital  union  with  that  wherein  this  consciousness  then  re- 
 sided, made  a  part  of  that  same  self.  Thus  any  part  of  our  bodies,  vitally 
 united  to  that  which  is  conscious  in  us,  makes  a  part  of  ourselves  :  but 
 upon  separation  from  the  vital  union,  by  which  that  consciousness  is  com- 
 municated, that  which  a  moment  since  was  part  of  ourselves  is  now  no 
 more  so  than  a  part  of  another  man's  self  is  part  of  me  ;  and  it  is  not  im- 
 possible but  in  a  short  time  may  become  a  real  part  of  another  person.  And 
 so  we  have  the  same  numerical  substance  become  a  part  of  two  diiferent 
 persons,  and  the  same  person  preserved  under  the  change  of  various  sub- 
 stances. Could  we  suppose  any  spirit  wholly  stripped  of  all  its  memory  or 
 consciousness  of  past  actions,  as  we  find  our  minds  always  are  of  a  great 
 part  of  ours,  and  sometimes  of  them  all,  the  union  or  separation  of  such  a 
 spiritual  substance  would  make  no  variation  of  personal  identity,  any  more 
 than  that  of  any  particle  of  matter  does.  Any  substance  vitally  united  to 
 the  present  tliinlcing  being  is  a  part  of  that  very  same  self  which  now  is :  ^ 
 any  thing  united  to  it  by  a  consciousness  of  former  actions  makes  also  a 
 part  of  the  same  self,  which  is  the  same  both  then  and  now. 
 
 Sect.  26.  Person,  a  forensic  term. — Person,  as  I  take  it,  is  the  name 
 for  this  self.  Wherever  a  man  finds  what  he  calls  himself,  thei'e  I  tliink 
 another  may  say  is  the  same  person.  It  is  a  forensic  term  appropriating 
 actions  and  tlieir  merit ;  and  so  belongs  only  to  intelligent  agents  capable 
 of  a  law,  and  happiness  and  misery.  This  personality  extends  itself  beyond 
 present  existence  to  what  is  past  only  by  consciousness,  whereby  it  be- 
 comes concerned  and  accountable,  owns  and  imputes  to  itself  past  actions, 
 just  upon  the  same  ground,  and  for  the  sam.e  reason  that  it  does  the  pre- 
 sent ;  all  which  is  founded  in  a  concern  for  happiness,  the  unavoidable  con- 
 comitant of  consciousness ;  that  which  is  conscious  of  pleasure  and  pain 
 desiring  that  the  self  that  is  conscious  should  be  happy.  And  therefore 
 whatever  past  actions  it  cannot  reconcile  or  appropriate  to  that  present'self 
 by  consciousness,  it  can  be  no  more  concerned  in  than  if  they  had  never 
 been  done:  and  to  receive  pleasure  or  pain,  i.  e.  reward  or  punishment,  on 
 the  account  of  any  such  action,  is  all  one  as  to  be  made  happy  or  miserable 
 in  its  first  being,  without  any  demerit  at  all.  For  supposing  a  man  pun- 
 ished now  for  what  he  had  done  in  another  life,  whereof  he  could  be  made 
 to  have  no  consciousness  at  all,  what  difference  is  there  between  that  punish- 
 ment, and  being  created  miserable?  And  therefore,  conformable  to  this, 
 the  apostle  tells  us,  that  at  the  great  day,  when  every  one  shall  "receive 
 according  to  liis  doings,  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  laid  open."  The 
 sentence  shall  be  justified  by  the  consciousness  all  persons  shall  have,  that 
 they  themselves,  in  what  body  soever  they  appear,  or  what  substances 
 soever  that  consciousness  adheres  to,  are  the  same  that  committed  those 
 actions,  and  deserve  that  punishment  for  them. 
 
 Sect.  27.  I  am  apt  enough  to  think  I  have,  in  treating  of  this  subject, 
 made  some  suppositions  that  will  look  strange  to  some  readers,  and  pos- 
 sibly they  are  so  in  themselves.  But  yet,  I  think,  they  are  such  as  are 
 pardonable  in  this  ignorance  we  are  in  of  tlie  nature  of  tliat  thinking  thing 
 that  is  in  us,  and  which  we  look  on  as  ourselves.  Did  we  know  what  it 
 was,  or  how  it  was  tied  to  a  certain  system  of  fleeting  animal  spirits  ;  or 
 v/hcther  it  could  or  could  not  perform  its  operations  of  thinking  and 
 memory  out  of  a  body  organized  as  ours  is;  and  whether  it  has  pleased 
 (iod  that  no  one  such  spirit  shall  ever  be  united  to  any  but  one  such  body, 
 upon  tlie  right  constitution  of  whose  organs  its  memory  should  depend;  we 
 2C 
 
•218  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 might  see  the  absurdity  of  some  of  those  suppositions  I  have  made.  But 
 talung,  as  we  ordinarily  now  do,  (in  the  dark  concerning  these  matters) 
 the  soul  of  a  man  fur  an  immaterial  substance,  independent  from  matter, 
 and  indifferent  alike  to  it  all,  there  can  from  the  nature  of  things  be  no 
 absurdity  at  all  to  suppose,  that  the  same  soul  may,  at  different  times,  be 
 united  to  different  bodies,  and  with  them  make  up,  tor  that  time,  one  man : 
 as  well  as  we  suppose  a  part  of  a  sheep's  body  yesterday  should  be  a  part 
 of  a  man's  body  to-morrow,  and  in  tluit  union  make  a  vital  part  of  Melibocus 
 liimself,  as  well  as  it  did  of  his  ram. 
 
 Sect.  28.  Tlic  difficulty  from  ill  i(se  of  names. — To  conclude:  whatever 
 substance  begins  to  exist,  it  must,  during  its  existence,  necessarily  be  the 
 same  :  whatever  compositions  of  substances  begin  to  exist  during  the  union 
 of  those  substances,  the  concrete  must  be  the  same:  whatsoever  mode 
 begins  to  exist,  during  its  existence  it  is  the  same :  and  so  if  the  composi- 
 tion be  of  distinct  substances  and  different  modes,  the  same  rule  holds. 
 Whereby  it  wnll  ap])oar,  that  the  difficulty  or  obscurity  that  has  been  about 
 this  matter,  rather  rises  from  the  names  ill  used,  than  from  any  obscurity  in 
 things  themselves.  For  whatever  makes  the  specific  idea  to  which  the 
 name  is  applied,  if  that  idea  be  steadily  kept  to,  the  distinction  of  any 
 thing  into  the  same,  and  divers,  will  easily  be  conceived,  and  there  can  arise 
 no  doubt  about  it. 
 
 Sect.  29.  Continued  existence  makes  identity. — For  supposing  a 
 rational  spirit  be  the  idea  of  a  man,  it  is  easy  to  know  what  is  the  same 
 man,  viz.  the  same  spirit,  whether  separate  or  in  a  body,  will  be  the  same 
 man.  Supposing  a  rational  spirit  vitally  united  to  a  body  of  a  certain  con- 
 formation of  parts  to  make  a  man  ;  whilst  that  rational  spirit,  with  that  vital 
 conformation  of  parts,  though  continued  in  a  fleeting  successive  body, 
 remains,  it  will  be  the  same.  But  if  t(i  any  one  the  idea  of  a  man  be  but 
 the  vital  union  of  parts  in  a  certain  shape:  as  long  as  that  vital  union  and 
 shape  remain,  in  a  concrete  no  otherwise  the  same,  but  by  a  continued 
 succession  of  fleeting  particles,  it  will  be  the  same  man.  For  whatever  be  the 
 composition  whereof  the  complex  idea  is  made,  whenever  existence  makes 
 it  one  particular  thing  under  any  denomination,  the  same  existence,  con- 
 tinued, preserves  it  the  same  individual  under  the  same  denomination(5). 
 
 (5)  The  doctrine  of  identity  and  diversity  contained  in  this  chapter  the  bishop 
 of  Worcester  pretends  to  be  inconsistent  wiih  tlie  doctrines  of  tlie  Christian  faith, 
 concerning  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  His  way  of  arguing  from  it  is  this:  he 
 says,  the  reason  of  believing  the  resurrection  of  tlie  same  body,  upon  Mr  Locke's 
 grounds,  is  from  tlie  idea  of  identity.  To  which  our  author  answers:*  Give  me 
 leave,  my  lord,  to  say,  that  the  reason  of  believing  any  article  of  the  Christian 
 faith  (such  as  your  lordship  is  here  S[)eaking  of)  to  me,  and  upon  my  grounds, 
 is  its  being  a  part  of  divine  revelation:  upon  this  ground  I  believed  it,  before  1 
 either  writ  that  chapter  of  identity  and  diversity,  and  before  1  ever  thought  of 
 those  propositions  which  your  lordship  cpiotes  out  of  that  chapter;  and  njjon  the 
 same  ground  I  believe  it  still;  and  not  from  my  idea  of  identity.  This  saying  of 
 your  lordship's,  therefore,  being  a  proposition  neither  self-evident,  nor  allowed 
 by  me  to  be  true,  remains  to  be  proved.  So  that  your  foundation  failing,  all 
 your  large  superstructure  built  thereon  comes  to  nothing. 
 
 But,  my  lord,  before  we  go  any  farllier,  I  crave  leave  humbly  to  represent  to 
 your  lordship,  that  [  thouglit  you  undertook  to  make  out  that  my  notion  of  ideas 
 was  inconsistent  with  the  articles  of  the  Christian  faitli.  But  that  which  your 
 lordship  instances  in  here,  is  not,  that  1  yet  know,  an  article  of  tlie  Christian  failh. 
 The  resurrection  of  the  dead  1  acknowledge  to  be  an  article  of  the  Christian  faitli: 
 but  that  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  in  your  lordsiiip's  sense  of  the  same 
 body,  is  an  article  of  the  Ciirislian  failii,  is  wliat,  I  confess,  1  do  not  yet  know. 
 
 In  the  New  Testament  (wherein,  1  think,  are  contained  all  the  articles  of  the 
 
 *  In  his  tJiird  letter  to  tlie  Bishop  of  Worcester. 
 
Ch.  27.  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  219 
 
 Christisii  faith)  I  find  our  Saviour  aiul  the  apostles  to  preach  the  icsui-rection  of 
 the  dead,  and  tlie  resurrection  from  llie  dead,  in  many  places;  but  I  do  not  remem- 
 ber anv  ])h»ce  wiiere  tiie  resurrection  of  the  same  body  is  so  much  as  mentioned. 
 Nay,  which  is  very  remarkable  in  the  case,  I  do  not  remember  in  any  place  of 
 the  New  Testament  (where  the  general  resurrection  at  the  last  day  is  spoken  of) 
 any  such  expression  as  the  resurrection  of  tiie  body,  much  less  of  the  same  body. 
 
 I  say  the  general  resurrection  at  the  last  day;  because,  where  the  resurrection 
 of  some  particular  persons,  presently  upon  our  Saviour's  resurrection,  is  men- 
 tioned, the  words  are,  *The  graves  were  opened,  and  many  bodies  of  saints,  which 
 slept,  arose,  and  came  out  of  the  graves  after  his  resurrection,  and  went  into  tlie 
 Holy  City,  and  appeared  to  many:  of  whicli  peculiar  way  of  speaking  of  tliis  re- 
 surrection, the  passage  itself  gives  a  reason  in  these  words,  Appeared  to  many, 
 i.  e.  those  ■who  slept  ap])eared,  so  as  to  be  known  to  be  risen.  But  this  could 
 not  be  known,  unless  they  brought  witli  them  the  evidence  that  they  were  those 
 who  had  been  dead;  wiiereof  there  were  these  two  proofs,  their  graves  were 
 opened,  and  their  bodies  not  only  gone  out  of  them,  but  appeared  to  be  tlie  same 
 to  tiiose  who  had  kno\i  n  them  formerly  alive,  and  knew  them  to  be  dead  and 
 buried.  For  if  they  had  been  tliose  who  had  been  dead  so  long,  that  all  who 
 knew  them  once  alive  were  now  gone,  those  to  whom  tiiey  appeared  miglit  liave 
 known  them  to  be  men,  but  could  not  have  known  they  were  risen  from  tlic  dead, 
 because  they  never  knew  they  had  been  dead.  All  that  by  their  ajipearing  they 
 could  have  known  was,  they  were  so  many  living  strangers,  of  whose  resur- 
 rection tliey  knew  nothing.  It  was  necessary,  thei'efore,  that  they  should  come 
 in  such  bodies  as  might  in  make  and  size,  8cc.  appear  to  be  the  same  they  had 
 before,  that  they  might  be  known  to  those  of  their  acquaintance  whom  they  ap- 
 peared to.  And  it  is  probable  they  were  such  as  were  newlj'  dead,  whose  bo- 
 dies were  not  yet  dissolved  and  dissipated;  and,  therefore,  it  is  particularly  said 
 here  (differently  from  what  is  said  of  the  general  resurrection,)  that  their  bodies 
 arose;  because  they  were  the  same  that  \reve  then  lying  in  their  graves  the  mo- 
 ment before  they  rose. 
 
 But  your  lordsiiip  endeavours  to  prove  it  must  be  the  same  body:  and  let  us 
 grant  that  your  lordship,  nay,  and  others  too,  think  you  have  proved  it  must  be 
 the  same  body;  will  you  therefore  say,  that  he  holds  what  is  inconsistent  with  an 
 article  of  faith,  who  having  never  seen  this  your  lordship's  interpretation  of  the 
 Scripture,  nor  your  reasons  for  the  same  body,  in  your  sense  of  same  body;  or,  if 
 he  has  seen  them,  yet  not  understanding  them,  or  not  perceiving  the  force  of  them, 
 believes  what  the  Scripture  proposes  to  him,  viz.  that  at  the  last  day  the  dead  shall 
 be  raised,  without  determining  whether  it  shall  be  with  the  very  same  bodies  or  no? 
 
 I  know  your  lordship  pretends  not  to  erect  your  particular  interpretations  of 
 Scripture  into  articles  of  faith.  And  if  you  do  not,  he  that  believes  the  dead 
 shall  be  raised  believes  that  article  of  faith  which  the  Scripture  proposes;  and 
 cannot  be  accused  of  holding  any  thing  inconsistent  with  it,  if  it  should  happen 
 that  what  he  holds  is  inconsistent  with  another  proposition,  tiz.  that  the  dead 
 shall  be  raised  with  the  same  bodies,  in  your  lordship's  sense,  which  I  do  not 
 find  proposed  in  Holy  AVrit  as  an  article  of  faith. 
 
 But  your  lordship  argues,  it  must  be  the  same  body;  which,  as  you  explain 
 same  bodyt,  is  not  the  same  individual  partjcles  of  matter  which  were  unjted  at 
 the  point  of  death,  nor  the  same  particles  of  matter  that  the  sinner  had  at  the 
 time  of  the  commission  of  his  sins;  but  that  it  must  be  the  same  material  sub- 
 stance which  was  vitally  united  to  the  soul  here;  i.  e.  as  I  understand  it,  the 
 same  individual  particles  of  matter  which  were,  some  time  or  ether  during  his 
 life  here,  vitally  united  to  his  soul. 
 
 Your  first  argument  to  prove  tliat  it  must  be  llie  same  body,  in  tins  sense  of 
 the  same  body,  is  taken  from  these  woids  of  our  Sav!our|,  All  that  ai-e  in  the 
 graves  shall  hear  his  voice,  and  shall  come  forth.  From  whence  your  lordship 
 argues^,  lliat  these  words.  All  that  are  in  their  graves,  relate  to  no  other  substance 
 llian  what  was  united  to  the  soul  in  life:  because  a  dift'erent  substance  cannot  be 
 said  to    be  in  the  gr.ives,   and  to  come  out  of  llien).      Which  words  of  your  lord- 
 
 •  Matt,  xxvii.  5'-',  5r..       f  2(1  Answer.         |  John  v.  2S,  20.        §  2d  Answer. 
 
220  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2 
 
 ship's,  if  they  prove  any  thing,  prove  tliat  the  soul  too  is  lodged  in  the  grave,  and 
 raised  out  of  it  at  tlie  last  day.  For  your  lordship  says.  Can  a  different  suhstance 
 be  said  to  be  in  tlic  graves,  and  come  out  of  them?  So  that,  according  to  this 
 iiiterjiretatlon  of  these  words  of  our  Saviour,  no  otiier  substance  being  raised,  but 
 wliat  beai's  his  voice;  and  no  otlier  substance  hearing  iiis  voice,  l)Ut  what,  being 
 called,  conies  out  of  the  grave;  and  no  other  substance  coming  out  of  the  grave, 
 but  what  was  in  the  grave;  any  one  must  conclude,  that  the  soul,  unless  it  be  in 
 tlie  grave,  will  make  no  part  of  the  person  that  is  raised;  unless,  as  your  lord- 
 ship argues  against  me*,  you  can  make  it  out,  that  a  substance  which  never  was 
 in  the  grave  may  come  otit  of  it, 'or  that  the  soul  is  no  substance. 
 
 Hut  setting  aside  the  siibstance  of  the  soul,  another  thing  tliat  will  make  any 
 one  doubt  wlietlier  tliis  your  interpretation  of  our  Saviour'sSvords  be  necessarily 
 to  l)e  received  as  their  true  sense,  is,  tliat  it  will  not  be  very  easily  reconciled 
 to  your  sayingf,  vou  do  not  mean  by  the  same  bodv  the  same  individual  particles 
 whicii  were  united  at  tlie  point  of  death.  And  yet,  by  this  interpretation  of  our 
 Saviour's  words,  you  can  mean  no  other  particles  but  such  as  were  united  at  the 
 point  of  death;  because  you  mean  no  other  substance  but  what  comes  out  of  the 
 grave;  and  no  substance,  no  particles  come  out,  you  say,  but  what  were  in  the 
 grave;  and  I  think  your  lordship  will  not  say,  that  the  particles  that  were  separate 
 from  tke  body  by  perspiration  before  the  point  of  death  were  laid  up  in  the  grave. 
 
 But  your  lordship,  I  find,  has  an  answer  to  this,  viz.  :|:'rhat  by  comparing  this 
 with  other  places,  you  find  that  tlie  words  (of  our  Saviour  above  quoted)  are  to 
 be  understood  of  the  substance  of  the  body,  to  which  tlie  soul  was  united,  and 
 not  to  (I  suppose  your  lordship  writ,  of)  these  individual  particles,  f".  e.  those 
 individual  particles  that  are  in  the  grave  at  the  resurrection.  For  so  they  must 
 be  read,  to  make  your  lordship's  sense  entire,  and  to  the  purpose  of  your  answer 
 here:  and  then,  methiiiks,  this  last  sense  of  our  Saviour's  words  given  by  your 
 lordshi\),  wholly  overturns  the  sense  which  we  have  given  of  them  above,  where 
 from  those  words  you  press  the  belief  of  tlie  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  by 
 this  strong  argument,  that  a  substance  could  not,  upon  hearing  the  voice  of  Christ, 
 come  out  of  the  grave,  whicii  was  never  in  the  grave.  There  (as  far  as  I  can 
 understand  your  words)  your  lordship  argues,  that  our  Saviour's  words  are  to 
 be  understood  of  the  particles  in  the  grave,  unless,  as  your  lordship  says,  one 
 can  make  out  that  a  substance  which  never  was  in  the  grave  may  come  out  of 
 it.  And  here  your  lordship  expressly  says,  That  our  Saviour's  words  are  to  be 
 understood  of  the  substance  of  that  body  to  which  the  soul  was  (at  any  time) 
 united,  and  not  to  those  individual  particles  that  are  in  the  grave.  Which,  put 
 together,  seems  to  me  to  say,  that  our  Saviour's  words  are  to  be  understood  of 
 those  particles  only  which  are  in  the  grave,  and  not  of  those  particles  only  which 
 are  in  the  grave,  but  of  others  also,  which  have  at  any  time  been  vitally  united 
 to  the  soul,  but  never  were  in  the  grave. 
 
 The  next  text  your  lordship  brings  to  make  the  resurrection  of  the  same 
 body,  in  your  sense,  an  article  of  faith,  are  these  words  of  St  Paul:  §For  we  must 
 all  appear  before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ,  that  every  one  may  receive  the 
 things  done  in  his  body,  according  to  that  he  hath  done,  whether  it  be  good  or 
 had.  To  which  your  lordship  subjoins  this  question|l  :  Can  these  words  be 
 understood  of  any  other  material  substance  but  that  body  in  which  these  things 
 were  done?  Answer:  A  man  may  suspend  his  determining  the  meaning  of  the 
 apostle  to  be,  that  a  sinner  shall  suffer  for  his  sins  in  the  very  same  body 
 wherein  he  committed  them;  because  St  Paul  does  not  say  he  shall  have  the 
 very  same  body  when  he  suffers  that  he  had  when  he  sinned.  The  apostle  says 
 indeed,  done  in  his  liody.  The  body  he  had,  and  did  these  things  in,  at  five 
 or  fifteen,  was,  no  doubt,  his  body,  as  much  as  that  which  he  did  things  in  at 
 fifty  was  his  body,  though  his  body  were  not  the  very  same  body  at  those  <lif- 
 ferent  ages;  and  so  will  the  body  which  he  shall  have  after  the  resurrection  ha 
 his  body,  though  it  be  not  the  vei-y  same  with  th;it  which  he  had  at  five,  or  fifteen, 
 or  fifty.  He  that  at  three  score  is  broke  on  the  wlieel  for  a  murder  he  com- 
 mitted at  twenty,  is  punished  for  what  he  did  in  his  body,  tliough  the  body  he 
 
 •  2d  Answer.       t  Ibid.         :);  ibid.         S  2  Cor.  v.  10.       U  2d  Answer. 
 
Ch.  27.  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  221 
 
 has  a.  e.  his  body  at  threescore,  be  not  the  same,  i.  e.  made  up  of  the  same 
 inilividual  parlieles  of  matter  that  that  body  was  which  he  had  forty  years  before. 
 Wiien  your  lonlship  has  resolved  with  yourself  -nhat  that  same  immutable  he 
 is,  wiiicii  at  the  last  judgment  shall  receive  the  things  done  in  his  body,  your 
 lordship  will  easily  see  that  the  body  he  had  when  an  embryo  in  the  womb, 
 when  a  child  playing  in  coats,  when  a  man  marrying  a  wife,  and  when  bed-rid 
 dying  of  a  consumption,  and  at  last,  which  he  shall  have  after  his  resurrection, 
 are  each  of  them  his  body,  though  neither  of  them  be  the  same  body,  the  one 
 with  the  other. 
 
 But  farther,  to  your  lordship's  question,  Can  these  words  be  understood  of 
 any  other  material  substance  but  that  body  in  which  these  things  were  done?  I 
 answer.  These  words  of  St  Paul  may  be  understood  of  another  material  sub- 
 stance than  that  body  in  which  these  things  were  done,  because  your  lordship 
 leaches  rae,  and  gives  me  strong  reason  so  to  understand  them.  Your  lordship 
 says,  *That  you  do  not  say  the  same  particles  of  matter  wiiich  the  sinner  had 
 at  tiie  very  time  of  the  commission  of  his  sins,  shall  be  raised  at  the  last  day. 
 And  your  lordship  gives  this  reason  for  it:  fFor  then  a  long  sinner  must  have  a 
 vast  body,  considering  the  continued  spending  of  particles  by  perspiration 
 Now,  my  lord,  if  the  apostle's  words,  as  your  lordship  would  argue,  cannot  be 
 understood  of  any  other  material  substance,  but  that  body  in  which  these  things 
 were  done  ;  and  no  body,  upon  the  removal  or  change  of  some  of  the  particles 
 that  at  anj'  time  make  it  up,  is  the  same  material  substance  or  the  same  body; 
 it  will,  i  think,  thence  follow,  that  either  the  sinner  must  have  all  the  same 
 individual  particles  vitally  united  to  his  soul  when  he  is  raised  that  he  had  vitally 
 united  to  his  soul  when  he  sinned,  or  else  St  Paul's  words  here  cannot  be  un- 
 derstood to  mean  the  same  body  in  which  the  things  were  done.  For  if  there 
 were  other  particles  of  matter  in  the  body,  wherein  the  things  were  done,  than 
 in  that  which  is  raised,  that  which  is  raised  cannot  be  the  same  body  in  which 
 they  were  done:  unless  that  alone,  which  has  just  all  the  same  individual  par- 
 ticles when  any  action  is  done,  being  the  same  body  wherein  it  was  done,  that 
 also,  which  has  not  the  same  individual  particles  wherein  that  action  was  done, 
 can  be  the  same  body  wherein  it  was  done;  which  is  in  effect  to  make  the  same 
 body  sometimes  to  be  the  same,  and  sometimes  not  the  same. 
 
 Your  lordship  thinks  it  suffices  to  make  the  same  body  to  have  not  all,  but 
 no  other  particles  of  matter,  but  such  as  were  some  time  or  other  vitally  united 
 to  tiie  soul  before;  but  such  a  body,  made  up  of  part  of  the  particles  some  time 
 or  other  vitally  united  to  the  soul,  is  no  more  the  same  body  wherein  the 
 Actions  were  done  in  the  distant  parts  of  the  long  sinner's  life,  than  that  is  the 
 same  body  in  which  a  quarter,  or  half,  or  three-quarters  of  the  same  particles 
 that  made  it  up  are  wanting.  For  example,  a  sinner  has  acted  here  in  his  body 
 an  hundred  years;  he  is  raised  at  the  last  day,  but  with  what  body?  The  same, 
 says  your  lordship,  that  he  acted  in;  because  St  Paul  says,  he  must  receive  the 
 things  done  in  his  body.  What  therefore  must  his  body  at  the  resurrection  con- 
 sist of  ?  Must  it  consist  of  all  the  particles  of  matter  that  have  ever  been  vitally 
 united  to  his  soul?  for  they,  in  succession,  have  all  of  them  made  up  his  body 
 wherein  he  did  these  things:  No,  says  your  lordsliip,:)^  that  would  make  his  body 
 too  vast;  it  suffices  to  make  the  same  body  in  which  these  things  were  dene, 
 that  it  consists  of  some  of  the  particles,  and  no  other,  but  such  as  were  some 
 time  during  his  life  vitallj'  united  to  his  soul.  But,  according  to  this  account, 
 his  body  at  the  resurrection  being,  as  your  lordship  seems  to  limit  it,  near  the 
 same  size  it  was  in  some  part  of  his  life,  it  will  be  no  more  the  same  body 
 in  which  the  things  were  done  in  the  distant  parts  of  his  life,  than  that  is  the 
 same  body  in  which  half,  or  three  quarters,  or  more  of  the  individual  matter 
 that  tlien  made  it  up,  is  now  wanting.  For  example,  let  his  body  at  fifty  years 
 olil  consist  of  a  million  of  parts;  five  hundred  thousand  at  least  of  those  parts 
 will  be  different  from  those  which  made  up  his  body  at  ten  years,  and  at  an 
 hundred.  So  that  to  take  the  numerical  particles  that  made  up  his  body  at  fifty,' 
 or  any  other  season  of  his  life,  or  to  gather  them  promiscuously  out  of  those 
 
 *  2d  Answer.  t  Ibid.  %  Ibid. 
 
222  OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 which  at  different  times  have  successively  been  vitally  united  to  his  soul,  they 
 «ill  no  more  make  the  same  body  which  was  his,  wherein  some  of  his  actions 
 were  done,  llian  tliat  is  the  same  l)oily  whicii  has  but  half  the  same  particles: 
 and  yet  all  your  loi-dship's  argfiiment  here  tor  the  same  body  is,  because  St  Paul 
 says  it  must  be  his  body  in  wliich  these  things  were  done;  which  it  could  not 
 be  if  any  oilier  sulistance  were  joined  to  it,  /.  e.  if  any  other  particles  of  matter 
 made  up  the  body  which  were  not  vitally  united  to  the  soul  when  the  action 
 was  done. 
 
 Again,  your  lordship  says,*  That  you  do  not  say  the  same  individual  par- 
 ticles [shall  make  up  the  body  at  the  resurrection]  which  were  united  at  the 
 point  of  dealii,  for  there  must  be  a  great  alteration  in  thera  in  a  lingering  dis- 
 ease, as  if  a  fat  man  falls  into  a  consumption.  Because  it  is  likely  your  lord- 
 siiip  thinks  these  particles  of  a  decrepit,  wasted,  withered  body  would  be  too  few, 
 or  unfit  to  make  such  a  plump,  strong,  vigorous,  well-sized  body,  as  it  lias 
 l)leased  j-our  lordsliip  to  proportion  out  in  your  tiionghts  to  men  at  the  resur- 
 rection; and  therefore  some  small  portion  of  the  particles  formerly  united  vitally 
 to  tiiat  man's  soul  shall  be  resumed,  to  make  up  his  body  to  the  bulk  your  lord- 
 ship judges  convenient;  but  tiie  greatest  part  of  them  shall  be  left  out,  to  avoid 
 I  lie  making  his  body  more  vast  than  j'our  lordship  thinks  will  be  fit,  as  appears 
 hy  tlu-se  your  lordsbi])'s  words  immediately  following,  viz.  fTliat  you  do  not 
 say  tlie  same  particles  tiie  sinner  had  at  the  very  time  of  commission  of  his  sins: 
 lor  tiieii  a  long  sinner  must  have  a  vast  body. 
 
 But  tijen  pray,  my  lord,  wluit  must  an  embryo  do,  who,  dying  within  a  few 
 hours  after  his  body  was  vitally  united  to  his  soul,  has  no  particles  of  matter 
 which  were  formerly  vitally  united  to  it,  to  make  up  his  body  of  that  size  and 
 l)roportion  which  your  lordship  seems  to  require  in  bodies  at  the  resurrection' 
 Or  must  we  believe  he  shall  remain  content  with  that  small  pittance  of  matter, 
 and  that  yet  imperfect  body  to  eternity,  because  it  is  an  article  of  faith  to  believe 
 the  resurrection  of  the  very  same  body,  i.  e.  made  up  of  only  such  particles  as 
 have  been  vitally  united  to  the  soul?  For  if  it  be  so,  as  your  lordship  says,^ 
 That  life  is  the  result  of  the  union  of  soul  and  body,  it  will  follow,  that  the 
 body  of  an  embryo  dying  in  the  womb  may  be  very  little,  not  the  thousandth 
 part  of  any  ordinary  man.  For  since  from  the  first  conception  and  beginning 
 of  formation  it  has  life,  and  "life  is  the  result  of  the  union  of  the  soul  with  the 
 body,"  an  embryo,  that  shall  die  either  by  the  untimely  death  of  the  mother,  or 
 by  any  other  accident,  presently  after  it  has  life,  must,  according  to  your  lord- 
 ship's doctrine,  remain  a  man  not  an  inch  long  to  eternity;  because  there  are  not 
 particles  of  matter  formerly  united  to  his  soul,  to  make  him  bigger,  and  no 
 other  can  be  made  use  of  to  that  purpose;  though  what  greater  congruity  the 
 soul  hath  wiili  any  particles  of  matter  which  were  once  vitally  united  to  it,  but 
 are  now  so  no  longer,  tlian  it  hath  with  particles  of  matter  which  it  was  never 
 united  to,  would  be  hard  to  determine,  if  that  should  be  demanded. 
 
 By  these  and  not  a  few  other  the  like  consequences,  one  may  see  what  service 
 they  do  to  religion  and  the  Christian  doctrine,  who  raise  questions  and  make 
 articles  of  faitli  about  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  where  the  Scripture 
 says  nothing  of  the  same  body;  or  if  it  does,  it  is  with  no  small  reprimand^  to 
 those  who  make  such  an  in([uiry.  "But  some  man  will  say.  How  are  the  dead 
 raised  up?  and  with  wiiat  body  do  they  come?  Thou  fool,  that  which  thou 
 so  west  is  not  (luickened  except  it  die.  And  that  which  thou  so  west,  thou  so  west 
 not  tiiat  body  tliat  sliall  be,  but  bare  grain,  it  may  chance  of  wheat,  or  of  some 
 other  grain.  But  God  giveth  it  a  body,  as  it  iiath  pleased  him."  Words,  I 
 siiould  think,  sufficient  to  deter  us  from  determining  any  thing  for  or  against 
 the  same  bodies  being  raised  at  the  last  day.  It  suffices  that  all  the  dead  shall 
 be  raised,  and  every  one  appear  and  answer  for  the  tilings  done  in  his  life,  and 
 receive  according  to  the  things  he  has  done  in  his  body,  whether  good  or  bad. 
 Me  tiiat  iielieves  tiiis,  and  has  said  nothing  inconsistent  herewith,  1  presume  may 
 and  must  be  acquitted  from  being  guiltj'  of  any  thing  inconsistent  with  the 
 aiticle  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead. 
 
 *  2d  Answer.  +  Ibid,  :j;  Ibid.  §  1  Cor.  xv.  35,  &.c. 
 
Ch.  27.  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  223 
 
 But  your  lordship,  to  prove  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body  to  be  an  article 
 of  faith,  farther  asks*,  "How  could  it  be  said,  if  any  other  substance  be  joined 
 to  the  soul  at  the  resurrection,  as  its  body,  that  they  were  the  things  done  in 
 or  by  the  body?"  Answer.  Just  as  it  may  be  said  of  a  man  at  an  hundred  years 
 old,  that  hath  then  another  substance  joined  to  liis  soul  than  he  had  at  twentv, 
 that  the  murder  or  drunkenness  he  was  guilty  of  at  twentj'  were  things  done  in 
 the  body:  how  "  by  the  body"  comes  in  here  I  do  not  see. 
 
 Your  lordship  adds,  "  And  St  Paul's  dispute  about  the  manner  of  raising  the 
 body  might  soon  have  ended,  if  there  -were  no  necessity  of  the  same  body." 
 Answer.  When  I  understand  what  argument  there  is  in  these  words  to  prove 
 liie  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  without  the  mixture  of  one  new  atom  of 
 matter,  I  shall  know  what  to  say  to  it.  In  the  mean  time  this  1  understand,  that 
 St  Paul  would  have  put  as  short  an  end  to  all  disputes  about  this  matter  if  he 
 had  said,  that  there  was  a  necessity  of  tlie  same  body,  or  that  it  should  be  the 
 same  body. 
 
 The  next  text  of  Scripture  you  bring  for  the  same  body  is,  "  If  there  be  no 
 resurrection  of  the  dead,  then  is  not  Clirist  raisedf."  From  which  your  lord- 
 ship argues,  |"lt  seems  then  other  bodies  are  to  be  raised  as  his  was."  1  grant 
 other  dead,  as  certainly  raised  as  Christ  was;  for  else  his  resurrection  would  be 
 of  no  use  to  mankind.  But  I  do  not  see  how  it  follows,  that  they  shall  be  raised 
 witli  the  same  body,  as  Christ  was  raised  with  the  same  body,  as  your  lordsliip 
 infers  in  these  words  annexed:  "  And  can  there  be  any  doubt,  whether  his  body 
 was  the  same  material  substance  which  was  united  to  his  soul  before?"  I  answer, 
 None  at  all:  nor  that  it  had  just  the  same  distinguisliing  lineaments  and  marks, 
 yea,  and  the  same  wounds  that  it  had  at  the  time  of  liis  death.  If,  therefore,  your 
 lordship  will  argue  from  other  bodies  being  raised  as  his  was,  that  they  must 
 keep  proportion  with  his  in  sameness;  then  we  must  believe  that  every  man 
 shall  be  raised  with  the  same  limeaments  and  other  notes  of  distinction  he  had 
 at  the  time  of  his  death,  even  with  his  wounds  yet  open,  if  he  had  any,  because 
 our  Saviour  was  so  raised;  which  seems  to  me  scarce  reconcilable  with  what 
 your  lordship  saj'S,  of  a  fat  man  falling  into  a  consumption,  and  dying§. 
 
 But  whether  it  will  consist  or  no  with  your  lordship's  meaning  in  that  place, 
 this  to  me  seems  a  consequence  that  will  need  to  be  better  proved,  viz.  That  our 
 bodies  must  be  raised  the  same,  just  as  our  Saviour's  was:  because  St  Paul  says, 
 "  if  there  be  no  resurrection  of  the  dead,  then  is  not  Christ  risen. "  For  it  may 
 be  a  good  consequence,  Christ  is  risen,  and  therefore  there  shall  be  a  resurrec- 
 tion of  the  dead;  and  yet  this  may  not  be  a  good  consequence,  Christ  was  raised 
 with  the  same  body  he  had  at  his  death,  therefore  all  men  shall  be  raised  with 
 the  same  body  they  had  at  their  death,  contrary  to  what  your  lordship  says  con- 
 cerning a  fat  man  dying  of  a  consumption.  But  the  case  I  think  far  different 
 betwixt  our  Saviour  and  those  to  be  raised  at  the  last  day. 
 
 1.  His  body  saw  not  corruption,  and  therefore  to  give  him  another  body  new 
 moulded,  mixed  with  other  particles,  which  were  not  contained  in  it  as  it  lay  in 
 the  grave,  whole  and  entire  as  it  was  laid  there,  had  been  to  destroy  his  body  to 
 frame  him  a  new  one  without  any  need.  But  why  with  the  remaining  particles 
 of  a  man's  body,  long  since  dissolved  and  mouldered  into  dust  and  atoms, 
 (whereof  possibly  a  great  part  may  have  undergone  variety  of  changes,  and  en- 
 tered into  other  concretions,  even  in  the  bodies  of  other  men)  other  new  par- 
 ticles  of  matter  mixed  with  them,  may  not  serve  to  make  his  body  again,  as  well 
 as  the  mixture  of  new  and  different  particles  of  matter  with  the  old  did  in  the 
 compass  of  his  life  make  his  body,  I  think  no  reason  can  be  given. 
 
 This  may  serve  to  show  why,  though  the  materials  of  our  Saviour's  body  were 
 not  changed  at  his  resurrection,  yet  it  does  not  follow,  but  that  the  body  of  a 
 man  dead  and  rotten  in  his  grave,  or  burnt,  may  at  the  last  day  have  several  new 
 particles  in  it,  and  that  without  any  inconvenience:  since  whatever  matter  is 
 vitally  united  to  his  soul  is  his  body,  as  much  as  is  that  which  was  united  to  it 
 when  he  was  born,  or  in  any  otiier  part  of  his  life. 
 
 2.  In  the  next  place,  the  size,  shape,  figure,  and  lineaments  of  our  Saviour's 
 
 *  2d  Answer.  t  1  Cor.  xv.  16.  |  2d  Answer.  §  Ibid. 
 
224  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 bodj-,  even  to  his  wounds,  into  wliicli  doubtin;^  Thomas  ])Ut  liis  finfjers  and  his 
 luind,  wore  to  be  kept  in  tlie  raised  body  of  our  Saviour,  the  same  lliey  were  at 
 his  death,  to  be  a  conviction  to  his  disciples,  to  whom  lie  showed  himself,  and 
 who  were  to  be  witnesses  of  his  resurrection,  that  their  master,  the  very  same 
 man,  was  crucified,  dead,  and  buried,  and  raised  ajjaiii;  and  therefore  lie  was 
 haiidk'd  by  them,  and  eat  before  tliem  after  he  was  risen,  to  give  them  in  all 
 points  full  satisfaction  that  it  was  really  he,  the  same,  and  not  another,  nor  a 
 spectre  or  apparition  of  him:  though  I  do  not  think  your  lordship  will  thence 
 ars;;ue,  that  because  others  are  to  be  raised  as  he  was,  therefore  it  is  necessary  to 
 believe,  that  because  he  eat  after  his  resurrection,  others  at  the  last  day  shall  rat 
 and  drink  after  they  are  raised  from  the  dead;  which  seems  to  me  as  gfood  an 
 argument  as  because  his  undissolved  body  was  raised  out  of  the  grave,  just  as  it 
 there  lay  entire,  without  the  mixture  of  any  new  particles;  therefore  Ihe  cor- 
 rupted and  consumed  bodies  of  the  dead,  at  the  resurrection,  shall  be  newly 
 framed  oulv  out  of  those  scattered  i)articles  which  were  once  vitally  united  to 
 their  souls,  without  the  least  mixture  of  any  one  single  atom  of  new  matter.  Hut 
 at  the  last  day,  when  all  men  are  raised,  there  will  be  no  need  to  be  assured  of 
 any  one  particular  man's  resurrection.  It  is  enough  that  every  one  shall  appear 
 before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ,  to  receive  according  to  what  he  had  done  in 
 his  former  life:  but  in  what  sort  of  body  he  shall  ap])ear,  or  of  what  particles 
 made  up,  the  Scripture  having  said  nothing,  but  that  it  shall  be  a  spiritual  body 
 raised  in  incorruption,  it  is  not  for  me  to  determine. 
 
 Your  lordship  asks*,  "  Were  they  [who  saw  our  Saviour  after  his  resurrection] 
 witnesses  only  of  some  material  substance  then  united  to  his  soul  ?"'  In  answer, 
 I  beg  your  lordship  to  consider,  whi'llier  you  suppose  our  Saviour  was  to  be 
 known  to  be  the  same  man  (to  the  witnesses  that  were  to  see  him,  and  testify  his 
 resurrection)  by  his  soul,  that  could  be  neither  seen  nor  known  to  be  the  same; 
 or  by  his  body,  that  could  be  seen,  and  by  the  discernible  structure  and  marks 
 of  it,  be  known  to  be  the  same  ?  When  your  lordship  has  resolved  that,  all  that 
 you  say  in  that  page  will  answer  itself.  But  because  one  man  cannot  know 
 auotlier  to  be  the  same,  but  by  tlie  outward  visible  lineaments  and  sensible  marks 
 he  has  been  want  to  be  known  and  distinguished  by,  will  your  lordship  therefoi'e 
 argue,  that  the  Great  Judge,  at  the  last  day,  who  gives  to  each  man,  whom  he 
 raises,  his  new  body,  shall  not  be  able  to  know  who  is  who,  unless  he  give  to 
 every  one  of  them  a  body  just  of  the  same  figure,  size,  and  features,  and  made 
 irp  of  the  very  same  individual  particles  he  had  in  his  former  life  .'  Whether 
 such  a  way  of  arguing  for  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  to  be  an  article  of 
 faith,  contiihutes  much  to  the  strengthening  of  the  credulity  of  the  article  of  the 
 resurrection  of  the  dead,  I  shall  leave  to  the  judgment  of  others. 
 
 Farther,  for  the  proving  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body  to  be  an  article  of 
 faith,  your  lordship  saysf,  "  But  the  apostle  insists  upon  the  resurrection  of 
 Christ,  not  merely  as  an  argument  of  the  jjossibility  of  ours,  but  of  the  certainty 
 of  it  :  because  he  rose  as  the  first-fruits;  Christ  the  first-fruits,  afterward  they 
 that  are  Clirist's  at  his  coming^."  Answer.  No  doubt,  the  resurrection  of  Christ 
 is  a  proof  of  the  certainty  of  our  resurrection.  But  is  it  therefore  a  proof  of  the 
 resurrection  of  the  same  body,  consisting  of  the  same  individual  particles  which 
 concurred  to  the  making  up  of  our  body  here,  without  the  mixture  of  an)'  one 
 other  particle  of  matter  ?      I  confess  1  see  no  such  consequence. 
 
 But  your  lordship  goes  oii§;  "St  Paul  was  aware  of  the  objections  in  men's 
 minds  about  the  lesurrection  of  the  same  body;  and  it  is  of  great  consequence 
 as  to  this  article,  to  show  upon  what  grounds  he  proceeds.  'But  some  men 
 will  say.  How  are  the  dead  raised  up,  and  with  what  body  do  they  come  ?' 
 First,  he  shows,  that  the  seminal  parts  of  plants  are  wonderfully  improved  by 
 tlie  ordinary  jjrovidence  of  God,  in  the  manner  of  their  vegetation."  Answer. 
 I  do  not  (lerfectly  understand  what  it  is  "for  the  seminal  parts  of  plants  to  be 
 v/onderfully  improved  by  the  ordinary  providence  of  God,  in  the  manner  of  their 
 vegetation:"  or  else,  perhaps,  1  should  better  see  how  this  here  tends  to  the 
 proof  of  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  in  your  lordship's  sense. 
 
 •  2d  Answtr.  t  Ibid.  ^  I  Cor.  xv.  20,  23.  §  2d  Answer, 
 
Ch.  27.  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  22.5 
 
 It  continues*,  "They  sow  bar&  grain  of  wheat,  or  of  some  other  grain,  but 
 God  giveth  it  a  body,  as  it  hath  pleased  him,  and  to  every  seed  his  own  body. 
 Here,"  says  your  lordship,  "is  an  identity  of  the  material  substance  supposed." 
 It  may  be  so.  But  to  me  a  diversity  of  the  material  substance,  i.  e.  of  the  com- 
 ponent particles,  is  here  supposed,  or  in  direct  words  said.  For  the  words  of 
 St  Paul,  taken  all  together,  run  thusf,  "That  which  thou  sowest,  thou  sowest 
 not  that  body  which  shall  be,  but  bare  grain;"  and  so  on,  as  your  lordship  has 
 set  down  in  the  remainder  of  them.  From  which  words  of  St  Paul,  the  na- 
 tural argument  seems  to  me  to  stand  thus:  li  the  body  that  is  put  in  the  earth  in 
 sowing  is  not  that  body  which  shall  be,  then  the  body  that  is  put  in  the  grave  is 
 not  that,  i.  e.  the  same  body,  that  shall  be. 
 
 But  your  lordship  proves  it  to  be  the  same  body  by  these  three  Greek  words 
 of  the  text,  tc  TJ/ov  <ru/x:i.,  which  your  lordship  interprets  thus:j:,  "That  proper 
 body  which  belongs  toit. "  Answer.  Indeed  by  those  Greek  words  tc  iSior 
 (Ta^i,  whether  our  translators  have  rightly  rendered  them  "his  own  body," 
 or  your  lordship  more  rightly  "that  proper  body  which  belongs  to  it,"  I  for- 
 merly understood  no  more  but  this,  that  in  the  production  of  wheat, ^and  other 
 grain  from  seed,  God  continued  every  species  distinct  ;  so  that  from  grains  of 
 wheat  sown,  root,  stalk,  blade,  ear,  grains  of  wheat  were  produced,  and  not 
 those  of  barley;  and  so  of  the  rest,  which  I  took  to  be  the  meaning  of  "to  every 
 seed  his  own  body."  Xo,  says  your  lordship,  these  words  prove,  that  to  every 
 plant  of  wheat,  and  to  every  grain  of  wheat  produced  in  it,  is  given  the  proper 
 body  that  belongs  to  it,  which  is  the  same  body  with  the  grain  that  was  sown. 
 Answer.  This,  I  confess,  I  do  not  understand;  because  I  do  not  understand  how 
 one  individual  grain  can  be  the  same  with  twenty,  fifty,  or  an  hundred  individual 
 grains;  for  such  sometimes  is  the  increase. 
 
 But  your  lordship  proves  it.  "For,"  says  your  lordship§,  "Every  seed  having 
 that  body  in  little,  which  is  afterward  so  much  enlarged;  and  in  grain  the  seed  is 
 corrupted  before  its  germination;  but  it  hath  its  proper  organical  parts,  which 
 make  it  the  same  body  with  that  which  it  grows  up  to.  For  although  grain  be 
 not  divided  into  lobes,  as  other  seeds  are,  yet  it  hath  been  found,  by  the  most 
 accurate  observations,  that  upon  separating  the  membranes,  these  seminal  parts 
 are  discerned  in  them;  which  afterwards  grow  up  to  that  bodj-  which  we  call  corn." 
 In  which  words  I  crave  leave  to  observe,  that  your  lordship  supposes,  that  a 
 body  may  be  enlarged  by  the  addition  of  an  hundred  or  a  thousand  times  as  much 
 in  bulk  as  its  own  matter,  and  yet  continue  the  same  body;  which,  I  confess,  I 
 cannot  understand. 
 
 But  in  the  next  place,  if  that  could  be  so,  and  that  the  plant,  in  its  full  growth 
 at  aarvest,  increased  by  a  thousand  or  a  million  of  times  as  much  new  matter 
 added  to  it,  as  it  had  when  it  lay  a  little  concealed  in  the  grain  that  was  sown, 
 was  the  very  same  body;  yet  I  do  not  think  that  your  lordship  will  say,  that 
 every  minute,  insensible,  and  inconceivably  small  grain  of  the  hundred  grains, 
 contained  in  that  little  organized  seminal  plant,  is  every  one  of  them  the  very 
 same  with  that  grain  which  contains  that  whole  seminal  plant  and  all  those  in- 
 visible grains  in  it.  For  then  it  will  follow,  that  one  grain  is  the  same  with  an 
 hundred,  and  an  hundred  distinct  grains  the  same  with  one:  which  1  shall  be 
 able  to  assent  to,  when  I  can  conceive,  that  all  the  wheat  in  the  world  is  but  one 
 grain. 
 
 For  I  beseech  you,  my  lord,  consider  what  it  is  St  Paul  here  speaks  of:  it  is 
 plain  he  speaks  of  that  which  is  sown  and  dies,  i.  e.  the  grain  that  the  husband- 
 man takes  out  of  his  barn  to  sow  in  his  field.  And  of  this  grain  St  Paul  says, 
 "that  it  is  not  that  body  that«hall  be."  These  two,  viz.  "that  which  is  sown 
 and  that  body  that  shall  be,"  are  all  the  bodies  that  St  Paul  here  speaks  of  to 
 represent  the  agreement  or  difference  of  men's  bodies  after  the  resurrection 
 with  those  they  had  before  they  died.  Now,  1  crave  leave  to  ask  your  lordship, 
 which  of  these  two  is  that  little  invisible  seminal  plant,  which  your  lordship 
 here  speaks  of?  Does  your  lordship  mean  by  it  the  grain  that  is  sown  ?  But 
 that  is  not  what  St  Paul   speaks  of;  he  could  not  mean  this  embryonaled  little 
 
 •  2d  Answer.  t  V.  37.  \  2d  Answer.  §  Ibid. 
 
 2  D 
 
226  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 plant,  for  he  could  not  denote  it  by  these  wor*,  *'  that  which  thou  sowest,"for 
 that  he  says  must  die:  but  this  little  embryonated  plant,  contained  in  the  seed 
 that  is  sown,  dies  not;  or  does  your  lordship  mean  by  it,  "the  body  that  shall 
 be?"  But  neither  by  these  words,  "the  body  that  shall  be,"  can  St  Paul  be 
 supposed  to  denote  this  insensible  little  embryonated  jjlant;  for  that  is  already 
 in  being,  contained  in  the  seed  that  is  sown,  and  therefore  could  not  be  spoken 
 of  under  the  name  of  the  body  that  shall  be.  And,  therefore,  I  confess  I  cannot 
 see  of  what  use  it  is  to  your  lordship  to  introduce  here  this  tliird  body,  which 
 St  Paul  mentions  not,  and  to  make  that  the  same,  or  not  the  same  with  any 
 other,  when  those  which  St  Paul  speaks  of  are,  as  I  humbly  conceive,  these 
 two  visible  sensible  bodies,  the  grain  sown,  and  the  corn  grown  up  to  ear:  with 
 neither  of  which  this  insensible  embryonated  plant  can  be  the  same  body,  unless 
 an  insensible  body  can  be  the  same  body  with  a  sensible  body,  and  a  little  body 
 can  be  the  same  body  with  one  ten  thousand,  or  an  liundred  thousand  times  as 
 big  as  itself.  So  that  yet,  I  confess,  I  see  not  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body 
 proved,  from  these  words  of  St  Paul,  to  be  an  article  of  faitli. 
 
 Your  lordship  goes  on*:  "St  Paul  indeed  saith,  that  we  sow  not  that  body 
 that  shall  be;  but  he  speaks  not  of  the  identity,  but  the  perfection  of  it. "  Here 
 my  understanding  fails  me  again:  for  I  cannot  understand  St  Paul  to  say,  that 
 the  same  identical  sensible  grain  of  wheat,  which  was  sown  at  seed-time,  is  the 
 very  same  with  every  grain  of  wheat  in  tlie  ear  at  harvest  that  sprang  from  it: 
 yet  so  I  must  understand  it,  to  make  it  prove,  tliat  the  same  sensible  body  thUt 
 is  laid  in  the  grave,  shall  be  the  very  same  with  that  w  hich  shall  be  raised  at  the 
 resurrection.  For  I  do  not  know  of  anj'  seminal  body  in  little,  contained  in  the 
 dead  carcass  of  any  man  or  woman,  which,  as  your  lordsliip  says,  in  seeds, 
 having  its  proper  organical  ])arts,  shall  afterwards  be  enlarged,  and  at  the  resur- 
 rection grow  up  into  the  same  man.  For  I  never  thought  of  any  seed,  or  seminal 
 parts,  either  of  plant  or  animal,  "so  wonderfully  improved  by  the  providence 
 of  God,"  whereby  the  same  plant  or  animal  should  beget  itself;  nor  ever  heard 
 that  it  was  by  divine  Providence  designed  to  produce  the  same  individual,  but 
 for  the  producing  of  future  and  distinct  individuals  for  the  continuation  of  the 
 same  species. 
 
 Your  lordship's  next  words  aref;  "and  although  there  be  such  a  difference 
 from  the  grain  itself,  when  it  comes  up  to  be  perfect  corn,  with  root,  stalk,  blade, 
 and  ear,  that  it  may  be  said  to  outward  appearance  not  to  be  the  same  body; 
 yet  with  regard  to  the  seminal  and  organical  parts,  it  is  as  much  the  same,  as  a 
 man  grown  up  is  the  same  with  the  embryo  in  the  womb.  Answer.  It  does 
 not  appear  by  any  thing  I  can  find  in  the  text,  that  St  Paul  liere  compared  the 
 body  produced,  with  tlie  seminal  and  organical  parts  contained  in  the  grain  it 
 sprang  from,  but  with  the  wliole  sensible  grain  that  was  grown.  Microscopes 
 had  not  then  discovered  tlie  little  embrj'o  plant  in  the  seed:  and  supposing  it 
 should  have  been  revealed  to  St  Paul,  (thougli  in  tlie  Scripture  we  find  little 
 revelation  of  natural  piiilosophy, )  yet  an  argument  taken  from  a  thing  perfectly 
 tinknown  to  the  Corintliians,  whom  he  writ  to,  could  be  of  no  manner  of  use  to 
 them:  nor  serve  at  all  either  to  instruct  or  to  convince  them.  But  granting  that 
 those  St  Paul  writ  to  knew  it  as  well  as  Mr  Lewenhoek;  yet  your  lordship 
 thereby  proves  not  the  rising  of  the  same  body;  your  lordship  says,  it  is  as  much 
 the  same  [I  crave  leave  to  add  body]  "  as  a  man  grown  up  is  the  same"  (same 
 what,  1  beseech  your  lordship?)  "  with  the  embryo  in  the  womb."  For  that  the 
 body  of  the  embryo  in  the  womb,  and  body  of  the  man  grown  up,  is  the  same 
 body,  I  think  no  one  will  say;  unless  lie  can  persuade  biinself  that  a  body  that 
 is  not  the  hundretlth  part  of  another,  is  the  same  with  tiiat  other;  which  I  think 
 no  one  will  do,  till  having  renounced  this  dangerous  way  by  ideas  of  thinking 
 and  reasoning,  he  has  learnt  to  say,  that  a  part  and  the  whole  are  the  same. 
 
 Your  lordship  goes  on|:,  "And  although  many  arguments  are  used  to  prove 
 that  a  man  is  not  the  same,  because  life,  wiiich  depends  upon  the  course  of  the 
 blood,  and  the  manner  of  respiration,  and  nutrition,  is  so  different  in  both 
 states;    yet  that  man  would  be  thought  ridiculous  that  should  seriously  affirm 
 
 J'  2d  Answer.  t  Ibid.  i  Ibid. 
 
Ch.  27.  OP  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  227 
 
 that  it  was  not  the  same  man."  And  your  lordship  says,  "I  grant  that  the 
 variation  of  great  parcels  of  matter  in  plants,  alters  not  the  identity;  and  that  the 
 organization  of  the  parts  in  one  coherent  body,  partaking  of  one  common  life, 
 makes  the  identity  of  a  plant."  Answer.  My  lord,  I  think  the  question  is  not 
 about  the  same  man,  but  the  same  body.  For  though  I  do  say*,  (somewhat  dif- 
 ferently from  what  your  lordship  sets  down  as  my  words  here)  "  that  that  which 
 has  such  an  organization,  as  is  iit  to  receive  and  distribute  nourisliment,  so  as  to 
 continue  and  frame  the  wood,  bark,  and  leaves,  &c.  of  a  plant,  in  which  consists  jj 
 tlie  vegetable  life,  continues  to  be  the  same  plant,  as  long  as  it  partakes  of  the 
 same  life,  though  that  life  be  communicated  to  new  particles  of  matter,  vitally 
 united  to  the  living  plant;"  yet  I  do  not  remember  that  I  any  where  say,  that  a 
 plant,  which  was  once  no  bigger  than  an  oaten  straw,  and  afterward  grows  to  be 
 above  a  fathom  about,  is  the  same  body,  though  it  be  still  the  same  plant. 
 
 The  well-known  tree  in  Epping  Forest,  called  the  King's  Oak,  which,  from 
 not  weighing  an  ounce  at  first,  grew  to  have  many  tons  of  timber  in  it,  was  all 
 along  the  same  oak,  the  very  same  plant;  but  nobody,  I  think,  will  say  that  it 
 was  the  same  body  when  it  weighed  a  ton,  as  it  was  when  it  weighed  but  aa 
 ounce,  unless  he  has  a  mind  to  signalize  liimself  by  saying,  that  that  is  the 
 same  bodj',  which  has  a  thousand  different  particles  of  matter  in  it,  for  one  par- 
 ticle that  is  the  same;  which  is  no  better  than  to  say,  that  a  thousand  different 
 particles  are  but  one  and  the  same  particle,  and  one  and  the  same  particle  is  a 
 thousand  different  particles;  a  thousand  times  a  greater  absurdity,  than  to  say  half 
 is  the  whole,  or  the  whole  is  the  same  with  the  half;  whicli  will  be  improved  ten 
 thousand  times  yet  farther,  if  a  man  shall  say  (as  your  lordship  seems  to  me  to 
 argue  here)  that  that  great  oak  is  the  very  same  body  with  the  acorn  it  sprang 
 from,  because  there  was  in  that  acorn  an  oak  in  little,  which  was  afterward  (as 
 your  lordship  expresses  it)  so  much  enlarged,  as  to  make  that  mighty  tree. 
 For  this  embryo,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  or  oak  in  little,  being  not  the  hundredth,  or 
 perhaps  the  thousandth  part  of  the  acorn,  and  the  acorn  being  not  the  thousandth 
 part  of  the  grown  oak,  it  will  be  very  extraordinary  to  prove  the  acorn  and  the 
 grown  oak  to  be  the  same  body,  by  a  way  wherein  it  cannot  be  pretended  that 
 above  one  particle  of  an  hundred  thousand,  or  a  million,  is  the  same  in  the  one 
 body  that  it  was  in  the  other.  From  which  way  of  reasoning,  it  will  follow,  , 
 that  a  nurse  and  her  sucking  child  have  the  same  body,  and  be  past  doubt,  that 
 a  mother  and  her  infant  have  the  same  bod}'.  But  this  is  a  way  of  certainty 
 found  out  to  establish  the  articles  of  faith,  and  to  overturn  the  new  method  of 
 certainty  that  your  lordship  says  1  have  started,  which  is  apt  to  leave  men's 
 minds  more  doubtful  than  before. 
 
 And  now  I  desire  your  lordship  to  consider  of  what  use  it  is  to  you  in  the 
 pi-esent  case,  to  quote  out  of  my  essay  these  words,  "that  partaking  of  one 
 common  life,  makes  the  identity  of  a  plant;"  since  the  question  is  not  about  the 
 identity  of  a  plant,  but  about  the  identity  of  a  body;  it  being  a  very  different 
 thing  to  be  tiie  same  plant,  and  to  be  the  same  body.  For  that  which  makes  the 
 same  plant,  does  not  make  the  same  body;  the  one  being  the  partaking  in  the 
 same  continued  vegetable'  life,  the  other  the  consisting  of  the  same  numerical  par-  /\ 
 tides  of  matter.  And  therefore  your  lordship's  inference  from  my  words  above 
 quoted,  in  these  which  you  subjoinf,  seems  to  me  a  very  strange  one,  viz.  "so 
 that  in  things  capable  of  any  sort  of  life,  the  identity  is  consistent  with  a  con- 
 tinued succession  of  parts;  and  so  the  wlieat  grown  up  is  the  snme  body  with  the 
 grain  that  was  sown."  For  I  believe,  if  my  words,  from  which  you  infer,  "and 
 so  the  wheat  grown  up  is  the  same  body  with  the  grain  that  was  sown,"  were 
 put  into  a  syllogism,  this  would  hardly  be  brought  lo  be  the  conclusion. 
 
 But  your  lordship  goes  on  with  consequence  upon  consequence,  though  I  have 
 not  eyes  acute  enough  every  where  to  see  tlie  connexion,  till  you  bring  it  to  the 
 resurrection  of  the  same  body.  The  connexion  of  your  lordsiiip's  words|;  is  as 
 followeth,  "  and  thus  the  alteration  of  the  parts  of  the  body  at  the  resurrection, 
 is  consistent  with  its  identity,  if  its  organization  and  life  be  the  same:  and  this 
 is  a  real  identity  of  the  body,  which  depends  not  upon  consciousness.     From 
 
 *  Essay,  b.  2,  c.  27,  sect.  4.  f  2d  Answer.  +  Ibid. 
 
228  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 whence  it  follows,  lliat  to  make  the  same  body,  no  more  is  required,  but  restor- 
 ing life  to  tlie  organized  jiarts  of  it."  If  the  question  were  about  raising  the 
 same  plant,  1  do  not  say  but  there  niiglit  be  some  appearance  for  making  such 
 an  inference  from  mj'  words  as  this.  "  Wliencc  it  follows,  that  to  make  the 
 same  plant,  no  more  is  recjuired,  but  to  restore  life  to  the  organized  parts  of  it." 
 Hut  tiiis  deduction;  wherein,  from  those  words  of  mine  tiiat  speak  only  of  the 
 identity  of  a  plant,  your  lordship  infers,  there  is  no  more  required  to  make  the 
 same  body,  than  to  make  the  same  plant;  being  loo  subtle  for  me,  1  leave  to  my 
 reader  to  find  out. 
 
 Your  lordsiiip  goes  on  and  says*,  "That  I  grant  likewise,  that  the  identity 
 of  the  same  man  consists  in  a  participation  of  the  same  continued  life,  by  con- 
 stantly fleeting  particles  of  matter  in  succession,  vitally  united  to  the  same  or- 
 ganized body."  Answer.  I  speak  in  these  words  of  the  identity  of  the  same 
 man,  and  your  lordship  thence  roundly  concludes;  "  so  that  there  is  no  diffi- 
 culty of  the  sameness  of  the  body."  But  your  lordship  knows,  that  I  do  not 
 take  these  two  sounds,  man  and  body,  to  stand  for  the  same  thing,  nor  the  iden- 
 tity of  the  man  to  be  tlie  same  with  tiie  identity  of  the  body. 
 
 But  let  us  read  out  your  lordshi[)'s  wordsf.  "  So  that  there  is  no  difficulty 
 as  to  the  sameness  of  the  body,  if  life  were  continued;  and  if,  by  divine  power, 
 life  be  restored  to  that  material  substance  which  was  before  united,  by  a  reunion 
 of  the  soul  to  it,  there  is  no  reason  to  deny  the  identity  of  tiie  body,  not  from 
 the  consciousness  of  the  soul,  but  from  that  life  which  is  the  result  of  the  union 
 of  the  soul  and  body." 
 
 If  I  understand  your  lordship  right,  you  in  these  words,  from  the  passages 
 above  quoted  out  of  my  book,  argue,  that  from  those  words  of  mine  it  will  fol- 
 low, tliat  it  is  or  may  be  the  same  body,  that  is  raised  at  the  resurrection.  If  so, 
 my  lord,  your  lordship  has  then  proved,  that  my  book  is  not  inconsistent  with, 
 but  conformable  to  this  article  of  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  which  your 
 lordship  contends  for,  and  will  have  to  be  an  article  of  faith;  for  though  I  do  by 
 no  means  deny  tliat  the  same  bodies  shall  be  raised  at  the  last  day,  yet  I  see 
 nothing  your  lordship  has  said  to  prove  it  to  be  an  article  of  faith. 
 
 But  your  lordship  goes  on  with  your  proofs,  and  says|:,  "But  St  Paul  still 
 supposes,  that  it  must  be  that  material  substance  to  which  the  soul  was  before 
 united.  For,  saith  he,  '  it  is  sown  in  corruption,  it  is  raised  in  incorruption:  it 
 is  sown  in  dishonour,  it  is  raised  in  glory:  it  is  sown  in  weakness,  it  is  raised  in 
 power:  it  is  sown  a  natural  body,  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body.'  Can  such  a  ma- 
 terial substance,  which  was  never  united  to  the  body,  be  said  to  be  sown  in  cor- 
 ruption, and  weakness  and  dishonour?  either,  therefore,  he  must  speak  of  the 
 body,  or  his  meaning  cannot  be  comprehended."  I  answer,  "Can  such  a 
 material  substance,  which  was  never  laid  in  the  grave,  be  said  to  be  sown,"&c.? 
 For  your  lordship  says§,  "  You  do  not  say  the  same  individual  particles,  which 
 were  united  at  the  point  of  death,  shall  be  raised  on  tiie  last  day;"  and  no  other 
 particles  are  laid  in  the  grave,  but  such  as  are  united  at  the  point  of  death;  either 
 therefore  your  lordship  must  speak  of  another  body,  different  from  that  which 
 was  sown,  which  shall  be  raised,  or  else  your  meaning,  I  think,  cannot  be  com- 
 prehended. 
 
 But  whatever  be  your  meaning,  your  lordship  proves  it  to  be  St  Paul's  mean- 
 ing, that  the  same  body  shall  be  raised  which  was  sown,  in  these  following 
 words]!,  "For  what  does  all  this  relate  to  a  conscious  princijile?"  Answer. 
 The  Scripture  being  express,  that  the  same  person  should  be  raised  and  appear 
 before  tiie  judgment-seat  of  Christ,  that  every  one  may  receive  according  to  what 
 he  had  done  in  his  body;  it  was  very  well  suited  to  common  comprehensions 
 (which  refined  not  about  "  particles  that  had  been  vitally  united  to  the  soul") 
 to  speak  of  the  body  which  each  one  was  to  have  after  the  resurrection,  as  he 
 would  be  apt  to  speak  of  it  himself.  For  it  being  his  body  both  before  and  after 
 tlie  resurrection,  every  one  ordinarily  speaks  of  his  body  as  the  same,  though,  in 
 a  strict  and  philosophical  sense,  as  your  lordship  speaks,  it  be  not  the  very  same. 
 Thus  it  is  no  impropriety  of  speech  to  say,    "This  body  of  mine,  which  was 
 
 *  2d  Answer.         +  Ibid.  |  Ibid.  §  Ibid.  U  Ibid. 
 
Ch.  27.  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  229 
 
 formerly  strong  and  plump,  is  now  weak  and  wasted,"  though  in  such  a  sense  as 
 you  are  speaking  here,  it  be  not  the  same  body.  Revelation  declares  nothing 
 any  where  concerning  the  same  body  in  your  lordship's  sense  of  the  same  body, 
 which  appears  not  to  have  been  thought  of.  The  apostle  directly  proposes  no- 
 tliing  for  or  against  the  same  body,  as  necessary  to  be  believed:  that  which  he  is 
 plain  and  direct  in,  is  opposing  and  condemning  sucJi  curious  questions  about 
 the  body,  which  could  serve  onU'  to  perplex,  not  to  confirm  what  was  material 
 and  necessary  for  them  to  believe,  viz.  a  day  of  judgment  and  retribution  to  men 
 in  a  future  state;  and  therefore  it  is  no  wonder,  that  mentioning  their  bodies,  he 
 should  use  a  way  of  speaking  suited  to  vulgar  notions,  (from  which  it  would  be 
 hard  positively  to  conclude  any  thing  for  tlie  determining  of  tliis  question  espe- 
 cially against  expressions  in  the  same  discourse  that  plainly  incline  to  the  other 
 side,)  in  a  matter  whieii,  as  it  appears,  the  apostle  though  not  necessary  to  de- 
 termine, and  tlie  spirit  of  God  thought  not  fit  to  gratif)'  any  one's  curiosity  in. 
 
 But  your  lordship  says*,  "  The  apostle  speaks  plainly  of  that  body  which  was 
 once  quickened,  and  afterwards  falls  to  corruption,  and  is  to  be  restored  with 
 more  noble  qualities."  I  wish  your  lordship  had  quoted  the  words  of  St  Paul, 
 ■wherein  he  speaks  plainly  of  that  numerical  body  that  was  once  quickened;  they 
 Avould  presently  decide  this  question.  But  your  lordship  proves  it  by  these 
 following  words  of  St  Paul:  "  For  this  corruption  must  put  on  incoi'ruption,  and 
 this  mortal  must  put  on  immortality;"  to  which  your  lordship  adds,  "  that  you 
 do  not  see  how  he  could  more  expresslj'  afiirm  the  identity  of  tiiis  corruptible 
 body,  with  that  after  the  resurrection."  How  expressly'  it  is  affirmed  by  the 
 apostle,  shall  be  considered  by  and  by.  In  the  mean  time,  it  is  past  doubt,  that 
 your  lordship  best  knows  what  you  do  or  do  not  see.  But  this  1  would  be  bold 
 to  say,  that  if  St  Paul  had  any  where  in  this  chapter  (where  there  are  so  many 
 occasions  for  it,  if  it  had  been  necessary  to  have  been  believed)  but  said  in  express 
 words  that  the  same  bodies  should  be  raised,  every  one  else,  who  thinks  of  it, 
 will  see  he  had  more  expressly  aflirmed  the  identity  of  the  bodies  which  men  now 
 have,  with  those  they  shall  have  after  the  resurrection. 
 
 The  remainder  of  your  lordship's  period  isf;  "And  that  without  any  respect 
 to  the  principle  of  self-consciousness. "  Ans.  These  words,  I  doubt  not,  have 
 some  meaning,  but  I  must  own  I  know  not  what;  either  towards  the  proof  of 
 the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  or  to  show,  that  any  thing  I  have  said  concern- 
 ing self-consciousness,  is  inconsistent:  for  I  do  not  remember  that  1  have  any 
 where  said,  that  tlie  identity  of  body  consisted  in  self-consciousness. 
 
 From  your  preceding  words,  your  lordship  concludes  thus:)::  "And  so  if  the 
 Scripture  be  the  sole  foundation  of  our  faith,  this  is  an  article  of  it."  ]My  lord, 
 to  make  the  conclusion  unquestionable,  I  humbly  conceive  the  words  must  run 
 thus:  "  And  so  if  the  Scripture,  and  your  lordship's  interpretation  of  it  be  the 
 sole  foundation  of  our  faith,  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body  is  an  article  of  it.  " 
 For,  with  submission,  your  lordship  has  neither  produced  express  words  of  Scrip- 
 ture for  it,  nor  so  proved  that  to  be  the  meaning  of  any  of  those  words  of  Scrip- 
 ture which  you  have  produced  for  it,  that  a  man  who  reads  and  sincerely  endea- 
 vours to  understand  the  Scripture,  cannot  but  find  himself  obliged  to  believe,  as 
 expressl}',  "that  the  same  bodies  of  the  dead,"  in  your  lordship's  sense,  shall  be 
 raised,  as  "  that  the  dead  shall  be  raised."  And  1  crave  leave  to  give  your  lord- 
 ship this  one  reason  for  it.  He  who  reads  with  attention  this  discourse  of  St 
 Paul§,  where  he  discourses  of  the  resurrection,  will  see,  that  he  plainly  distin- 
 guishes between  the  dead  that  shall  be  raised,  and  the  bodies  of  the  dead.  For  it  is 
 ViK^oijTra.yrK:,  o'i,  are  the  nominative  cases  to|l  iyii^ovTut,  ^a<;9ro/«6»VciVTa/,  iyi^b»- 
 trorrui,  all  along,  and  not  (raifAoLTu,  bodies;  which  one  ma}'  with  reason  think  would 
 some  where  or  other  have  been  expressed,  if  all  this  had  been  said  to  propose  it  as 
 an  article  of  faith,  that  the  very  same  bodies  should  be  raised.  The  same  manner  of 
 speaking  the  spirit  of  God  observes  all  through  the  New  Testament,  where  it  is 
 saidH,  "  raise  the  dead,  quicken  or  make  alive  the  dead,  the  resurrection  of  the 
 
 *  2d  Answer,     f  Ibid,     i  Ibid.     §  1  Cor.  xv.      |  V.  15,  22,  23,  29,  32,  35,  52. 
 f  Matt.  xxii.  31.      .Markxii.26.     John  v.  21.     Acts  xvi.  7.     Rom.    iv.    17. 
 2  Cor.  i.  9.      1  Thess.  iv.  14,  16. 
 
230  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 dead."  Nay,  these  very  words  of  our  Saviour*,  urged  by  your  lordsliip  for  the 
 resurrection  of  the  same  body,  run  tlius,  FTavTSf  ei  iv  tck  /uvx/uiicii;  aKoua-ovr-jti  tmc 
 <}iaiv)tf  ai/Tcu  xai  tKTrogiuo'ov'r^i,  cl  Tot  a.yu6u.  ■7ro(i)VxvT(C  sic  avaras"/*  fa'Xf ,  0/  iTe  to. 
 <fiaux«t  TTga^ai'TSc  e/'c  afaratr/v  x^iVfac.  Would  not  a  wi-U-mcaniti^  searcher  of  the 
 Scriptures  be  apt  to  think,  tliat  if  the  thiiiijliere  intended  by  our  Saviour  were  to 
 teach,  and  propose  it  as  an  article  of  faith,  necessary  to  be  believed  by  every  one, 
 that  the  very  same  bodies  of  the  dead  should  be  raised;  would  not,  I  say,  any  one 
 be  apt  to  think,  tliat  if  our  Saviour  meant  so,  the  words  should  rather  have  been, 
 wavTa  Ta  ^w/uato.  i.  sv  to7c  juvn/uiiioi;,  i.  e.  "  all  the  bodies  that  are  in  the  graves," 
 i-atbcr  than  "all  who  are  in  the  graves;"  which  must  denote  persons,  and  not 
 precisely  bodies? 
 
 Another  evidence,  that  St  Paul  makes  a  distinction  between  the  dead  and  the 
 bodies  of  the  dead,  so  tliat  the  dead  cannot  be  taken  in  this,  1  Cor.  xv.  to  stand 
 precisely  for  the  bodies  of  the  dead,  are  these  words  of  the  apostlef,  "  but  some 
 men  will  say,  how  arc  the  dead  raised?  And  with  what  body  do  they  come?" 
 Which  words,  "  dead"  and  "  they,"  if  supposed  to  stand  precisely  for  the  bodies 
 of  the  dead,  the  question  will  run  thus:  "  How  are  the  dead  bodies  raised?  And 
 ■with  what  bodies  do  the  dead  bodies  come?"  Which  seems  to  have  no  very 
 agreeable  sense. 
 
 This  therefore  being  so,  that  the  spirit  of  God  keeps  so  expressly  to  this  phrase, 
 or  form  of  speaking  in  tlie  New  Testament,  "of  raising,  quickening,  rising, 
 resurrection,  Sic.  of  the  dead,"  where  the  resurrection  of  the  last  day  is  spokea 
 of;  and  that  the  body  is  not  mentioned,  but  in  answer  to  this  question,  "  With 
 what  bodies  shall  those  dead,  who  are  raised,  come?"  so  that  by  the  dead  cannot 
 precisely  be  meant  the  dead  bodies:  I  do  not  see  but  a  good  Cliristian,  who  reads 
 the  Scripture  with  an  intention  to  beT/eve  all  that  is  there  revealed  to  him  concern- 
 ing the  resurrection,  may  acquit  himself  of  his  duty  therein,  without  entering 
 into  the  inquiry,  whether  the  dead  shall  have  the  very  same  bodies  or  no?  Which 
 sort  of  inquiry  the  apostle,  hy  the  appellation  he  bestows  here  on  him  that  makes 
 it,  seems  not  much  to  encourage.  Nor,  if  he  shall  think  himself  bound  to  deter- 
 mine concerning  the  identity  of  the  bodies  of  the  dead  raised  at  the  last  day,  will 
 he,  by  the  remainder  of  St  Paul's  answer,  find  the  determination  of  the  Apostle 
 to  be  much  in  favour  of  the  very  same  body;  unless  the  being  told,  that  the  boily 
 sown,  is  not  that  body  that  shall  be;  that  the  body  raised  is  as  <lifferent  from  that 
 which  was  laid  down,  as  the  flesh  of  man  is  from  the  flesh  of  beasts,  fishes,  and 
 birds;  or  as  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  are  difterent  one  from  another;  or  as  diff'erent 
 as  a  corruptible,  weak,  natural,  mortal  body,  is  from  an  incorruptible,  powerful, 
 spiritual,  immortal  body;  and  lastly,  as  different  as  a  body  that  is  flesh  and  blood, 
 is  from  a  body  that  is  not  flesh  and  blood:  "  for  flesh  and  blood  cannot,"  says  St 
 Paul,  in  this  very  placed,  "inherit  the  kingdom  of  Cod:"  unless,  I  say,  all  this 
 which  is  contained  in  St  Paul's  words,  can  be  supposed  to  be  the  way  to  deliver 
 this  as  an  article  of  faith,  which  is  required  to  be  believed  by  every  one,  viz. 
 "  That  tlie  dead  should  be  raised  wiili  the  very  same  bodies  that  they  had  before 
 in  this  life;"  which  article  proposed  in  these  or  the  like  plain  and  express  words, 
 could  have  left  no  room  for  doubt  in  the  meanest  capacities,  nor  for  contest  in  the 
 most  perverse  minds. 
 
 Your  lordship  adds  in  the  next  words§,  "And  so  it  hath  been  always  under- 
 stood by  the  Christian  church,  viz.  That  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  in 
 your  lordship's  sense  of  the  same  body,  is  an  article  of  faith. "  Answer.  What 
 the  Cbi'istian  church  has  always  understood,  is  beyond  my  knowledge.  But  for 
 those  who  coming  short  of  your  lordshiji's  gi-eat  learningcannot  gather  their  arti- 
 cles of  faith  from  the  understanding  of  all  the  whole  Christian  church,  ever  since 
 the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  (who  make  the  far  greater  part  of  Christians,  I  liiink 
 I  may  say  nine  lii\ii(hed  ninety  and  nine  of  a  thousamd)  but  are  forced  to  have  re- 
 course to  the  Scripture  to  find  them  there,  I  do  not  see,  that  they  will  easily  find 
 there  this  proposed  as  an  article  of  faith,  that  there  shall  be  a  resurrection  of  the 
 same  body;  but  that  there  shall  be  a  resurrection  of  the  dead,  without  explicitly 
 determining,  that  they  shall  be  raised  with  bodies  made  up  wholly  of  the  same 
 
 *  John  v.  28,  29.  t  V.  35.  \  V.  50.  §  2d  Answer. 
 
Ch.  27.  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  231 
 
 particles,  which  were  once  vitally  united  to  their  souls  in  their  former  life,  with- 
 out tlie  mixture  of  an}"  one  other  particle  of  matter,  which  is  that  which  your 
 lordship  means  by  the  same  body.  • 
 
 But  supposing  your  lordship  to  have  demonstrated  this  to  be  an  article  of  faith, 
 though  I  crave  leave  to  own,  that  I  do  not  see  that  all  that  your  lordship  has  said 
 here  makes  it  so  mucli  as  probable  ;  what  is  all  this  to  me  ?  Yes,  says  your  lord- 
 ship in  the  following  words,*  "My  idea  of  personal  identity  is  inconsistent  witli 
 it,  for  it  makes  the  same  body  which  was  here  united  to  tlie  soul,  not  to  be  ne- 
 cessary to  tiie  doctrine  of  the  resurrection.  But  any  material  substance  united 
 to  the  same  principle  of  consciousness,  makes  tlie  same  body." 
 
 This  is  an  argument  of  your  lordship's  whicli  I  am  obliged  to  answer  to.  But 
 is  it  not  fit  that  1  should  first  understand  it  before  I  answer  it  .'  Now  here  1  do  not 
 h'ell  know  what  it  is  "  to  make  a  tiling  not  to  be  necessary  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
 resurrection."  But  to  help  myself  out  the  best  I  can,  with  a  guess,  I  will  con- 
 jecture (which,  in  disputing  with  learned  men,  is  not  very  safe)  your  lordship's 
 meaning  is,  that  "my  idea  of  personal  identity  makes  it  not  necessary"  that  for 
 the  raising  the  same  person  the  body  should  be  the  same. 
 
 Your  lordship's  next  word  is  "  but ;"  to  wliich  I  am  ready  to  reply,  but  what? 
 "What  does  my  idea  of  personal  identity  do  ?  For  something  of  that  kind  the 
 adversative  particle  "  but"  should,  in  the  ordinary  construction  of  our  language, 
 introduce,  to  make  the  proposition  clear  and  intelligible  :  but  here  is  no  such 
 thing.  "  But"  is  one  of  your  lordship's  privileged  particles,  which  I  must  not 
 meddle  witli,  for  fear  your  lordship  complain  of  me  again,  "  as  so  severe  a  critic, 
 that  for  the  least  ambiguity  in  any  particle,  fill  up  pages  in  my  answer,  to  make 
 my  book  look  considerable  for  the  bulk  of  it. "  But  since  this  proposition  here, 
 "  my  idea  of  personal  identity  makes  the  same  body  which  was  here  united  to 
 the  soul,  not  necessary  to  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection,  but  any  material  sub- 
 stance being  united  to  tlie  same  principle  of  consciousness,  makes  the  same  body,'' 
 is  brought  to  prove  my  idea  of  personal  identity  inconsistent  with  the  article  of 
 the  resurrection  ;  I  must  make  it  out  in  some  direct  sense  or  other,  that  I  may 
 see  wliether  it  be  both  true  and  conclusive.  I  therefore  venture  to  read  it  thus: 
 "My  idea  of  personal  identity  makes  the  same  body  which  was  here  united  to 
 the  soul,  not  to  be  necessary  at  the  resurrection  ;  but  allows,  that  any  material 
 substance  being  united  to  the  same  principle  of  consciousness,  makes  the  same 
 body.  Ergo,  my  idea  of  personal  identity  is  inconsistent  with  the  article  of  the 
 resurrection  of  the  same  body.  " 
 
 If  this  be  your  lordship's  sense  in  this  passage,  as  I  here  have  guessed  it  to  be, 
 or  else  I  know  not  wiiat  it  is,  I  answer, 
 
 1.  That  my  idea  of  personal  identity  does  not  allow  that  any  material  sub- 
 stance, being  united  to  tlie  same  principle  of  consciousness,  makes  the  same 
 body.  I  say  no  such  tiling  in  my  book,  nor  any  thing  from  whence  it  may  be 
 interred  ;  and  your  lordship  would  have  done  me  a  favour  to  have  set  down  the 
 words  where  I  say  so,  or  those  from  which  you  infer  so,  and  showed  how  it  fol- 
 lows from  any  thing  I  have  said. 
 
 2.  Granting,  that  it  were  a  consequence  from  my  idea  of  personal  identity,  that 
 "  anj'  material  substance,  being  united  to  the  same  principle  of  consciousness, 
 makes  the  same  body;"  this  would  not  prove  that  my  idea  of  personal  identity  was 
 inconsistent  with  this  proposition,  "  that  the  same  body  shall  be  raised,"  but,  on 
 the  contrary,  affirms  it:  since,  if  I  affirm,  as  I  do,  that  tlie  same  person  shall  be 
 raised,  and  it  be  a  consequence  of  my  idea  of  personal  identity,  tliat  "  any  mate- 
 rial substance  being  united  to  the  same  principle  of  consciousness,  makes  the  same 
 body;"  it  follows,  that  if  the  same  person  be  raised,  the  same  body  must  be  i-aised, 
 and  so  I  have  herein  not  only  said  notiiing  inconsistent  witli  the  resurrection  of  the 
 same  body,  but  have  said  more  for  it  tiian  your  lordship.  For  there  can  be  nothing 
 plainer,  than  that  in  the  Scripture  it  is  revealed,  that  the  same  persons  shall  be 
 raised,  and  appear  before  tlie  judgment  seat  of  Christ,  to  answer  for  what  they 
 have  done  in  their  bodies.     If,  therefore,  whatever  matter  be  joined  to  the  same 
 
 *  2d  Answer. 
 
232  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 principle  of  consciousness  makes  tlic  same  bod}',  it  is  demonstration,  thiit  if  tiie 
 same  persons  iii-e  raised,  liiey  liave  tiie  same  bodies. 
 
 How,  tiien,  your  lordsbip  makes  this  an  incor.sistency  with  the  resurrection  is 
 beyond  my  conception.  "  Yes,"  says  your  lordship,*  "  it  is  inconsistent  witii  it,  for 
 it  makes  the  same  body  wbicii  was  iiere  united  to  tiic  soul  not  to  be  necessary." 
 
 3.  I  answer,  therefore,  tliirdly,  that  this  is  tiie  first  time  1  ever  learnt  that 
 "  not  necessary"  was  tlie  same  witii  "  inconsistent."  I  say,  that  a  body  made  up 
 of  the  same  numerical  parts  of  matter  is  not  necessary  to  tiie  making  of  the  same 
 person  ;  from  whence  it  will  indeed  follow,  that  to  tlie  resurrection  of  the  same 
 l>erson,the  same  numerical  [larticles  of  matter  are  not  required.  What  doesyour 
 lordship  infer  from  iiencei"  to  wit,  tjiis:  therefore,  he  wiio  tiiinks  that  tlie  same 
 particles  of  matter  are  not  necessary  to  tlie  making  of  tlie  same  person,  cannot 
 believe  that  the  same  persons  shall  be  raised  with  bodies  made  of  the  very  same 
 particles  of  matter,  if  God  should  reveal  that  it  shall  be  so,  viz.  that  the  same 
 persons  shall  be  raised  with  tlie  same  bodies  they  had  before.  Which  is  all  one 
 as  to  say,  that  he  wlio  thought  the  blowing  of  rams'  horns  was  not  necessary  in 
 itself  to  the  falling  down  of  the  walls  of  Jericho,  could  not  believe  that  they 
 should  fall  upon  the  blowing  of  rams'  horns,  when  God  had  declared  it  should 
 be  so. 
 
 Your  lordship  says,  "  my  idea  of  personal  identity  is  inconsistent  with  the  article 
 of  the  resurrection:"  the  reason  you  ground  it  on  is  this,  because  it  makes  not  the 
 same  body  necessaiy  to  the  making  the  same  person.  Let  us  grant  your  lordship's 
 consequence  to  be  good,  what  will  follow  from  it?  No  less  than  this,  that  your 
 lordship's  notion  (for  I  dare  not  say  your  lordsliip  has  any  so  dangerous  things  as 
 ideas)  of  personal  iiletitily,  is  inconsistent  witli  the  article  of  the  resurrection.  The 
 demonstration  of  it  is  thus:  your  lordship  says,t  "  It  is  not  necessar}'  that  the 
 body,  to  he  raised  at  the  last  day,  should  consist  of  the  same  particles  of  matter 
 which  were  united  at  the  point  of  deatli,  for  there  must  be  a  great  alteration  in 
 them  in  a  lingering  disease,  as  if  a  fat  man  falls  into  a  consumption:  you  do  not 
 say  the  same  particles  which  the  sinner  had  at  the  very  time  of  commission  of  his 
 sins,  for  tiien  a  long  sinner  must  have  a  vast  body,  considering  the  continual 
 spending  of  particles  iiy  perspiration."  And  again,  here  your  lordship  says,^ 
 •*  You  allow  tlie  notion  of  personal  identity  to  belong  to  the  same  man  under 
 several  changes  of  matter."  From  which  words  it  is  evident,  that  your  lordship 
 supposes  a  person  in  this  world  may  be  continued  and  preserved  the  same  in  a 
 body  not  consisting  of  the  same  individual  particles  of  matter  ;  and  hence,  it  de- 
 monstratively follows,  that  let  your  lordship's  notion  of  personal  identity  be 
 what  it  will,  it  makes  "  tlie  same  body  not  to  be  necessary  to  the  same  person;" 
 and  therefore  it  is  by  your  lordsliip's  rule  inconsistent  with  the  article  of  the 
 resurrection.  When  your  lordsliip  shall  think  fit  to  clear  your  own  notion  of 
 personal  identity  from  this  inconsistency  with  the  article  of  the  resurrection,  I 
 do  not  doubt  but  my  idea  of  personal  identity  will  be  thereby  cleared  too.  Till 
 then,  all  inconsistency  with  that  article,  which  your  lordship  has  here  charged 
 on  mine,  will  unavoidably  fall  upon  your  lordship's  too. 
 
 But  for  the  clearing  of  both,  give  me  leave  to  say,  my  lord,  that  whatsoever  is 
 not  necessary,  does  n".t  thereby  become  inconsistent.  It  is  not  necessary  to  the 
 same  person  that  his  body  should  always  consist  of  the  same  numerical  particles; 
 tliis  is  demonstration,  because  the  particles  of  tlie  bodies  of  the  same  persons  in 
 this  life  change  every  moment,  and  your  lordship  cannot  deny  it:  and  yet  this 
 makes  it  not  inconsistent  with  God's  preserving,  if  he  thinks  fit,  to  the  same  per- 
 sons, bodies  consisting  of  the  same  numerical  particles  always  from  the  resur- 
 rection to  eternity.  And  so  likewise  though  I  say  any  tiling  that  supposes  it  not 
 necessary,  that  the  saine  numerical  particles  which  were  vitally  united  to  the  soul 
 in  this  life  should  be  reunited  to  it  at  the  resurrection,  and  constitute  the  body 
 it  shall  then  have;  yet  it  is  not  inconsistent  with  this,  that  God  may,  if  he  pleases, 
 give  to  every  one  a  body  consisting  only  of  sucli  paiticles  as  were  before  vitally 
 united  to  his  soul.     And  thus,  1  think,  I  have  cleared  my  book  from  all  that  iu- 
 
 *  2d  Answer.  +  Ibid.  ^  Ibid. 
 
Ch.  27.  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  2:33 
 
 consistency  which  your  lordsliip  charges  on  it,  and  would  persuade  the  world  it 
 has  with  the  article  of  the  resurrection  ot"  llie  dead. 
 
 Only  before  I  leave  it,  I  will  set  down  the  remainder  of  what  your  lordsliip 
 savs  upon  this  liead,  tiiat  though  I  see  not  tl»e  coherence  nor  tendency  of  it,  nor 
 the  force  of  any  argument  in  ij;  against  me;  yet  that  nothing  may  be  omitted  that 
 your  lordship  has  thought  fit  to  entertain  your  reader  witii  on  this  new  point,  nor 
 any  one  have  reason  to  suspect,  tliaL  1  iiave  passed  bj'  any  word  of  your  loi-dsiiip's 
 (on  this  now  first  introduced  subject)  wherein  he  miglit  find  your  lordsliip  had 
 proved  what  you  had  promised  in  your  title  page.  Your  remaining  words  are 
 these*:  "The  dispute  is  not  how  far  personal  identity  in  itself  may  consist  in 
 the  very  same  material  substance  ;  for  we  allow  the  notion  of  personal  identity 
 to  belong  to  the  same  man  under  several  ciianges  of  matter;  but  whether  it  doth 
 not  depend  upon  a  vital  union  between  the  soul  and  body,  and  tlie  life  wliich  is 
 consequent  upon  it ;  and  therefore  in  the  resurrection,  the  same  material  sub- 
 stance must  be  reunited,  or  else  it  cannot  be  called  a  resurrection,  but  a  reno- 
 vation, i.  e.  it  may  be  a  new  life,  but  not  a  raising  the  body  from  the  dead."  I 
 confess,  I  do  not  see  how  what  is  liere  ushered  in  by  the  words  "  and  tliere- 
 fore,"  is  a  consequence  from  the  preceding  words:  but  as  to  the  propriety  of  tlie 
 name,  I  tiiink  it  will  not  much  be  questioned,  that  if  the  same  man  rise  svho  was 
 dead,  it  may  very  properly  be  called  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  which  is  the 
 language  of  the  Scripture. 
 
 I  must  not  part  with  this  article  of  the  resurrection  witliout  returning  my 
 thanks  to  your  lordship  for  making  met  take  notice  of  a  fault  in  my  essay.  When 
 I  wrote  that  book,  I  took  it  for  granted,  as  I  doubt  not  but  many  others  have  done, 
 that  the  Scripture  had  mentioned,  in  express  terms,  "  tlie  resurrection  of  the 
 body."  But  upon  the  occasion  your  lordship  lias  given  me  in  your  last  letter, 
 to  look  a  little  more  narrowly  into  what  revelation  has  declared  concerning  the 
 resurrection,  and  finding  no  such  express  words  iri  the  Scripture  as  that  "the 
 body  shall  rise  or  be  raised,  or  the  resurrection  of  the  body."  I  shall  in  the 
 next  edition  of  it  change  these  words  of  my  book|,  "  the  dead  bodies  of  men 
 shall  rise,"  into  these  of  the  Scriptures,  "the  dead  shall  rise."  Not  that  I 
 question  that  the  dead  shall  be  raised  with  bodies;  but  in  matters  of  revelation, 
 I  think  it  not  only  safest,  but  our  duty,  as  far  as  any  one  delivers  it  for  revela- 
 tion, to  keep  close  to  the  words  of  the  Scripture,  unless  he  will  assume  to  him- 
 self the  authority  of  one  inspired,  or  make  himself  wiser  than  the  Holy  Spirit 
 himself,  if  I  had  spoke  of  tlie  resurrection  in  precisely  Scripture  terms,  1  had 
 avoided  giving  your  lordship  the  occasion  of  making§  here  such  a  verbal  reflec- 
 tion on  my  words;  "  what!   not  if  there  be  an  idea  of  identity  as  to  the  body?" 
 
 *  2d  Answer.       t  Ibid.       |  1  Essay,  B.  4.  C.  18.  sect.  7.       §  2d  Answer. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXyill.  ^ 
 
 OF  OTHER  RELATIONS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Proportional. — Besides  the  before-mentioned  occasions  of 
 time,  place,  and  casuality  of  comparing,  or  referring  things  one  to  another, 
 there  are,  as  I  have  said,  infinite  others,  some  whereof  I  shall  mention. 
 
 Firgt,  The  first  I  shall  name,  is  some  one  simple  idea;  which  being 
 capable  of  parts  or  degrees,  affords  an  occasion  of  comparing  the  subjects 
 wherein  it  is  to  one  another,  in  respect  of  that  simple  idea,  v.  g.  whiter, 
 sweeter,  bigger,  equal,  more,  &,c.  These  relations  depending  on  the  equality 
 and  excess  of  the  same  simple  idea,  in  several  subjects,  may  be  called,  if 
 one  will,  proportional :  and  that  these  are  only  conversant  about  those 
 simple  ideas  received  from  sensation  or  reflection,  is  so  evident,  that  nothing 
 need  be  said  to  evince  it. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Natural. — Segondly,  Another  occasion  of  comparing  tilings 
 2  E 
 
234  OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 together,  or  considering  one  tiling,  so  as  to  include  in  that  consideration 
 sonic  other  thing,  is  tlio  circjliastance  of  their  origin  or  beginning;  which 
 being  not  afterwards  to  be  altered,  make  the  relations  depending  thereon 
 as  lusting  as  the  snbjects  to  which  they  belong;  v.  g.  father  and  son, 
 brothers,  cousin-gernians,  &c.  which  have  their  relations  by  one  commu- 
 nity of  blood,  wlierein  they  partake  in  several  degrees;  countrymen,  i.  e. 
 those  who  wore  born  in  the  same  country,  or  tract  of  ground  ;  and  these  I 
 call  naturiil  relations  ;  wherein  we  may  observe,  that  mankind  have  fitted 
 their  notions  and  words  to  the  use  of  common  life,  and  not  to  the  truth 
 and  extent  of  things.  For  it  is  certain,  that  in  reality  the  relation  is  the 
 same  betwixt  the  begetter  and  the  begotten,  in  the  several  races  of  other 
 animals  as  well  as  men:  but  yet  it  is  seldom  said,  this  bull  is  the  grand- 
 father of  such  a  calf;  or  that  two  pigeons  are  cousin-germans.  It  is  very 
 convenient,  that  by  distinct  names  these  relations  should  be  observed,  and 
 marked  out  in  mankind ;  tiiere  being  occasion,  both  in  laws,  and  other 
 comnmnications  one  with  another,  to  mention  and  take  notice  of  men  un- 
 der these  relations :  from  whence  also  arise  the  obligations  of  several  du- 
 ties among  men.  Whereas  in  brutes,  men  having  very  little  or  no  cause 
 to  mind  these  relations,  they  have  not  thought  fit  to  give  them  distinct  and 
 peculiar  names.  This,  by  the  way,  may  give  us  some  light  into  the  differ- 
 ent state  and  growth  of  languages;  which,  being  suited  only  to  the  con- 
 venience of  communication,  are  proportioned  to  the  notions  men  have, 
 and  the  commerce  of  thoughts  familiar  among  them  ;  and  not  to  the  reality 
 or  extent  of  things,  nor  to  the  various  respects  might  be  found  among 
 them,  nor  the  different  abstract  considerations  might  be  framed  about  them. 
 Where  they  had  no  philosophical  notions,  there  they  had  no  terms  to  ex- 
 press them  :  and  it  is  no  wonder  men  should  have  framed  no  names  for 
 those  things  they  found  no  occasion  to  discourse  of  From  whence  it  is 
 easy  to  imagine,  why,  as  in  some  countries,  they  may  not  have  so  much 
 as  the  name  for  a  horse;  and  in  others,  where  they  are  more  careful  of  the 
 pedigrees  of  their  horses  than  of  their  own,  that  there  they  may  have  not 
 only  names  for  particular  horses,  but  also  of  their  several  relations  of 
 kindred  one  to  another. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Instituted. — Thirdly,  Sometimes  the  foundation  of  considering 
 things,  with  reference  to  one  another,  is  some  act  whereby  any  one  comes 
 by  a  moral  right,  power,  or  obligation  to  do  something.  Thus  a  general  is 
 one  that  hath  power  to  command  an  army  :  and  an  army  under  a  general 
 is  a  collection  of  armed  men  obliged  to  obey  one  man.  A  citizen,  or  a 
 burgher,  is  one  who  has  a  right  to  certain  privileges  in  tliis  or  that  place. 
 All  this  sort,  depending  upon  men's  wills,  or  agreement  in  society,  I  call 
 instituted,  or  voluntary  ;  and  may  be  distinguished  from  the  natural,  in  that 
 they  are  most,  if  not  all  of  them,  some  way  or  other  alterable,  and  separa* 
 ble  from  the  persons  to  whom  they  have  sometimes  belonged,  though 
 neither  of  the  substances,  so  related,  be  destroyed.  Now,  though  these 
 are  all  reciprocal,  as  well  as  the  rest,  and  contain  in  them  a  reference  of 
 two  things  one  to  the  other ;  yet,  because  one  of  the-  two  things  often 
 wants  a  relative  name,  importing  that  reference,  men  usually  take  no  no- 
 tice  of  it,  and  the  relation  is  commonly  overlooked :  v.  g.  a.  patron  and 
 client  are  easily  allowed  to  be  relations,  but  a  constable  or  dictator  are  not 
 so  readily,  at  first  hearing,  considered  as  such;  because  there  is  no  pecu- 
 liar name  for  those  who  are  under  tiie  command  of  a  dictator,  or  constable, 
 expressing  a  relation  to  either  of  them;  though  it  be  certain,  that  either  of 
 them  hath  a  certain  power  over  some  others ;  and  so  is  so  far  related  to 
 them,  as  well  as  a  patron  is  to  his  client,  or  general  to  his  army. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Moral. — Fourthly,  There  is  another  sort  of  relation,  which  is  the 
 conformity,  or  disagreement,  men's  voluntary  actions  have  to  a  rule  to  which 
 they  are  referred,  and  by  which  they  are  Judged  of;  which,  I  think,  may  be 
 called  moral  relation,  as  being  that  which  denominates  our  moral  actions, 
 and  deserves   well  to  be  examined  ;  tht>re   being  no  part  of  knowledge 
 
Ch.  28.  OP  MORAL  RELATIONS.  2.35 
 
 wherein  we  should  be  more  careful  to  get  determined  ideas,  and  avoid,  as 
 much  as  may  be,  obscurity  and  confusion.  Human  actions,  when  with 
 their  various  ends,  objects,  manners,  and  circumstances,  they  are  framed 
 into  distinct  complex  ideas,  are,  as  has  been  shown,  so  many  mixed  modes, 
 a  great  part  whereof  have  names  annexed  to  tiiem.  Thus,  supposing 
 gratitude  to  be  a  readiness  to  acknowledge  and  return  kindness  received ; 
 polygamy  to  be  the  having  more  wives  than  one  at  once ;  when  we  frame 
 these  notions  thus  in  our  minds,  we  have  there  so  many  determined  ideas 
 of  mixed  modes.  But  this  is  not  all  tliat  concerns  our  actions ;  it  is  not 
 enough  to  have  determined  ideas  of  them,  and  to  know  what  names  be- 
 long to  such  and  such  combinations  of  ideas.  We  have  a  farther  and 
 greater  concernment,  and  that  is,  to  know  whether  such  actions,  so  made 
 up,  are  morally  good  or  bad. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Moral  good  and  evil. — Good  and  evil,  as  hath  been  shown, 
 B.  IL  Ch.  20,  Sect.  2,  and  Ch.  21,  Sect.  42,  are  notiiing  but  pleasure  or 
 pain,  or  tliat  which  occasions  or  procures  pleasure  or  pain  to  us.  Moral 
 good  and  evil  then  is  only  the  conformity  or  disagreement  of  our  volun- 
 tary actions  to  some  law,  whereby  good  or  evil  is  drawn  on  us  by  the  will 
 and  power  of  the  law-maker;  which  good  and  evil,  pleasure  or  pain,  at- 
 tending our  observance,  or  breach  of  the  law,  by  the  decree  of  the  law- 
 maker, is  that  we  call  reward  and  punishment. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Moral  rules. — Of  these  moral  rules,  or  laws,  to  which  men 
 generally  refer,  and  by  which  they  judge  of  the  rectitude  or  pravity  of 
 their  actions,  there  seem  to  me  to  be  three  sorts,  with  their  three  different 
 enforcements,  or  rewards  and  punishmeiifs.  For  since  it  would  be  utterly 
 in  vain  to  suppose  a  rule  set  to  the  free  actions  of  man,  without  annexing 
 to  it  some  enforcement  of  good  and  evil  to  determine  his  will,  we  must, 
 wherever  we  suppose  a  law,  suppose  also  some  reward  or  punishment  an- 
 nexed to  that  law.  It  would  be  in  vain  for  one  intelligent  being  to  set  a 
 rule  to  the  actions  of  another,  if  he  had  it  not  in  his  power  to  reward  the 
 compliance  with,  and  punish  deviation  from  his  rule,  by  some  good  and 
 evil,  that  is  not  the  natural  product  and  consequence  of  the  action  itself. 
 For  that  being  a  natural  convenience,  or  inconvenience,  would  operate  of 
 itself  without  a  law.  This,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  the  true  nature  of  all  law, 
 properly  so  called. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Laws. — The  laws  that  men  generally  refer  their  actions  to,  to 
 judge  of  their  rectitude,  or  obliquity,  seem  to  me  to  be  these  three.  1.  The 
 divine  law.  2.  The  civil  law.  3.  Tlie  law  of  opinion  or  reputation,  if  I  may 
 so  call  it.  By  the  relation  they  bear  to  the  first  of  these,  men  judge  whe- 
 ther their  actions  are  sins  or  duties  ;  by  the  second,  whether  they  be  crimi- 
 nal or  innocent ;  and  by  the  third,  whether  they  be  virtues  or  vices. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Divine  law,  the  measure  of  sin  and  duty. — First,  The  divine 
 law,  whereby  I  mean  that  law  which  God  has  set  to  the  actions  of  men,  whe- 
 ther promulgated  to  them  by  the  light  of  nature,  or  the  voice  of  revelation.. 
 That  God  has  given  a  rule  whereby  men  should  govern  themselves,  I  think 
 there  is  nobody  so  brutish  as  to  deny.  He  has  a  right  to  do  it ;  we  are  his 
 creatures :  he  has  goodness  and  wisdom  to  direct  our  actions  to  that  which 
 is  best;  and  he  has  power  to  enforce  it  by  rewards  and  punishments,  of  in- 
 finite weight  and  duration,  in  another  life;  for  nobody  can  take  us  out  of 
 his  hands.  This  is  the  only  true  touchstone  of  moral  rectitude,  and  by 
 comparing  them  to  tliis  law  it  is  that  men  judge  of  tlie  most  considerable 
 moral  good  or  evil  of  their  actions;  that  is,  whether  as  duties  or  sins,  they  are 
 like  to  procure  tliem  happiness  or  misery  from  the  hand  of  the  Almighty. 
 Sect.  9.  Civil  law,  the  measure  of  crimes  and  innocence. — Secondly, 
 the  civil  law,  the  rule  set  by  the  commonwealth  to  the  actions  of  those 
 who  belong  to  it,  is  another  rule,  to  which  men  refer  their  actions,  to  judge 
 whether  they  be  criminal  or  no.  This  law  nobody  overlooks  ;  the  rewards 
 and  punishments  that  enforce  it  being  ready  at  hand,  and  suitable  to  tho 
 
236  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 power  that  makes  it;  which  is  the  force  of  the  commonwealth,  engaged  to 
 protect  the  hves,  liberties,  and  possessions  of  tliose  who  live  according  to 
 its  laws,  and  has  power  to  take  away  life,  liberty,  or  goods,  from  him  who 
 disobeys:  which  is  the  punishinent  of  ollciicos  coniniittcd  against  this  law. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Philosophical  law,  the  measure  of  virtue  and  vice. — Tliirdly, 
 the  law  of  ojiinion  or  rcj)iitation.  Virtue  and  vice  are  names  pretended  and 
 supposed  every  where  to  stand  for  actions  in  tlicir  own  nature  riglit  and 
 wrong;  and  as  far  as  tiiey  really  are  so  applied,  they  so  far  are  coincident 
 with  tlie  divine  law  above  mentioned.  But  yet,  whatever  is  pretended,  this  is 
 visible,  tiiat  tliese  names,  virtue  and  vice,  in  the  particular  instances  of 
 their  application,  through  the  several  nations  and  societies  of  men  in  the 
 world,  are  constantly  attributed  only  to  such  actions,  as  in  each  country  j 
 and  society  are  in  reputation  or  discredit.  Nor  is  it  to  be  thought  strange, 
 tiiat  men  every  where  siiould  give  tlie  name  of  virtue  to  those  actions, 
 whicii  among  tliein  are  judged  praise-worthy ;  and  call  that  vice,  which 
 they  account  blameable;  since  otherwise  tliey  would  condemn  tjiemselves 
 if  they  sliould  think  any  tiling  right,  to  which  they  allowed  not  commen- 
 dation :  any  thing  wrong  which  they  let  pass  without  blame.  Thus  the 
 measure  of  what  is  every  where  called  and  esteemed  virtue  and  vice,  is  the 
 approbation  or  dislike,  praise  or  blame,  which  by  a  secret  and  tacit  consent 
 establishes  itself  in  the  several  societies,  tribes,  and  clubs  of  men  in  the 
 world ;  whereby  several  actions  come  to  tind  credit  or  disgrace  among 
 them  according  to  the  judgment,  maxims,  or  fasJiion  of  tiiat  place.  For 
 though  men,  uniting  into  politic  societies,  have  resigned  up  to  the  public  the 
 disposing  of  all  their  force,  so  that  they  cannot  employ  it  against  any  fel- 
 low-citizens any  farther  than  the  law  of  the  country  directs ;  yet  they  retain 
 still  the  power  of  thinking  well  or  ill,  approving  or  disapproving  of  the 
 actions  of  those  whom  they  live  among,  and  converse  with :  and  by  this 
 approbation  and  dislike,  they  establish  among  themselves  what  they  will 
 call  virtue  and  vice. 
 
 Sect.  11. — That  this  is  the  common  measure  of  virtue  and  vice,  will  ap- 
 pear to  any  one  who  considers,  that  though  tJiat  passes  for  vice  in  one  country 
 which  is  counted  a  virtue,  or  at  least  not  vice  in  another,  yet,  every  where,V 
 virtue  and  praise,  vice  and  blame,  go  together.  Virtue  is  every  where  that 
 which  is  thought  praise-worthy ;  and  nothing  else  but  that  which  has  the 
 allowance  of  public  esteem,  is  called  virtuc((3).     Virtue  and  praise  are  so 
 
 (6)  Our  author,  in  his  preface  to  the  fourth  edition,  taking  notice  Iiow  apt  men 
 have  been  to  mistake  liini,  aikled  what  iicre  follows;  Of  tliis  the  ingenious 
 author  of  the  discourse  concerning-  the  nature  of  man  has  given  me  a  late 
 instance,  to  mention  no  other.  Foi-  the  civility  of  his  expressions,  and  the  can- 
 dour that  belongs  to  his  order,  forbid  me  to  tliiiik  tliat  he  would  have  closed  his 
 preface  with  an  insinuation,  as  if  in  what  I  had  said,  hook  ii.  chap.  28,  cencern- 
 ing  the  tiiird  rule  which  men  refer  their  actions  to,  I  went  about  to  make  virtue 
 vice,  and  vice  virtue,  unless  he  had  mistaken  my  meaning;  which  lie  could  not 
 have  done,  if  he  had  but  given  himself  the  trouble  to  consider  what  the  argu- 
 ment was  I  was  then  upon,  and  what  was  the  chief  design  of  that  chapter, 
 I)lainly  enough  set  down  in  the  fourtli  section,  and  those  following.  For  1 
 was  there  not  laying  down  moral  rules,  but  showing  the  original  and  nature  of 
 moral  ideas,  and  enumerating  the  rules  men  make  use  of  in  moral  relations, 
 whether  those  rules  were  true  or  false  :  and,  pursuant  thereunto,  I  tell  what 
 lias  every  where  that  denomination,  which  in  the  language  of  that  place  answers 
 to  virtue  and  vice  in  ours;  which  alters  not  the  nature  of  tilings,  though  men  do 
 generally  judge  of,  and  denominate  their  actions  according  to  the  esteem  and 
 fashion  of  the  place  or  sect  they  are  of. 
 
 If  he  had  been  at  the  pains  to  reflect  on  what  I  had  said,  b.  i.e.  3.  sect.  18,  and  in 
 this  present  chapter,  sect.  13,  14,  15,  and  20,  he  would  have  known  what  I  think 
 of  the  eternal  and  unalterable  nature  of  right  and  wrong,  and  what  I  call  virtue 
 
Ciu  28.  OF  OTHER  RELATIONS.  237 
 
 united,  that  they  are  often  called  by  the  same  name.  Sunt  sua  prtBtnia 
 laiidi,  says  Virgil ;  and  so  Cicero,  Nihil  liabet  natura  prcestantius,  quam 
 honestatem,  quam  laudem,  quam  dignitatem,  quam  decus;  which,  he  tells 
 us,  are  aU  names  for  the  same  thing,  Tusc.  lib.  ii.    This  is  the  language  of 
 
 and  vice:  and  if  he  had  observed,  tliat  in  the  place  he  quotes,  I  only  report  as 
 matter  of  fact  what  others  call  virtue  and  vice,  he  would  not  have  found  it 
 liable  to  any  great  exception.  For,  I  think,  I  am  not  much  out  in  saying,  that 
 one  of  the  rules  made  use  of  in  the  world,  for  a  ground  or  measure  of  a  moral 
 relation,  is  that  esteem  and  reputation  which  several  sorts  of  actions  find  variously 
 in  the  several  societies  of  men,  according  to  which  they  are  there  called  virtues  or 
 vices:  and  whatever  authority  the  learned  Mr  Lowde  places  in  liis  old  English 
 Dictionary,  I  dare  say  it  no  where  tells  him  (if  I  should  appeal  to  it)  that  the 
 same  action  is  not  in  credit,  called  and  counted  a  virtue  in  one  place,  wliicii  being 
 in  disrepute,  passes  for  and  under  tiie  name  of  vice  in  another.  The  taking 
 notice  that  men  bestow  the  names  of  virtue  and  vice  according  to  this  rule  of 
 reputation,  is  all  I  have  done,  or  can  be  laid  to  my  charge  to  have  done,  towards 
 the  making  vice  virtue,  and  virtue  vice.  But  the  good  man  does  well,  and  as 
 becomes  his  calling,  to  be  watchful  in  such  points,  and  to  take  the  alarm,  even 
 at  expressions,  which  standing  alone  by  themselves  miglit  sound  ill,  and  be 
 suspected. 
 
 It  is  to  this  zeal,  allowable  in  his  function,  that  1  forgive  his  citing,  as  he  does, 
 these  words  of  mine  in  sect.  11  of  this  chapter:  "  Tlie  exhortations  of  inspired 
 teachers  have  not  feared  to  appeal  to  common  repute  :  '  whatsoever  things  are 
 lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report,  if  there  be  any  virtue,  if  there  be 
 any  praise,'  &c.  Phil.  iv.  8."  without  taking  notice  of  those  immediately  pre- 
 ceding, whicli  introduce  them,  and  run  thus:  "  whereby  in  the  corruption  of  man- 
 ners, the  true  boundaries  of  the  law  of  nature,  which  ought  to  be  the  rule  of  virtue 
 and  vice,  were  pretty  well  preserved,  so  that  even  the  exhortations  of  inspired 
 teachers,"  &c.  by  which  words,  and  the  rest  of  that  section,  it  is  plain  that  I 
 brought  this  passage  of  St  Paul,  not  to  prove  that  the  general  measure  of  what 
 men  call  virtue  and  vice,  throughout  the  world,  was  the  reputation  and  fashion 
 of  each  particular  society  witliin  itself  ^  but  to  show,  that  though  it  were  so,  yet, 
 for  reasons  I  there  give  men,  in  that  way  of  denominating  their  actions,  did  not 
 for  the  most  part,  much  vary  from  the  law  of  nature;  which  is  that  standing  and 
 unalterable  rule  by  which  they  ought  to  judge  of  the  moral  rectitude  and  pravity 
 of  their  actions,  and  accordingly  denominate  them  virtues  or  vices.  Had  Mr 
 Lowde  considered  this,  he  would  have  found  it  little  to  his  purpose  to  have 
 quoted  that  passage  in  a  sense  I  used  it  not;  and  would,  I  imagine,  have  spared 
 the  explication  he  subjoins  to  it  as  not  very  necessary.  But  I  hope  this  second 
 edition  will  give  him  satisfaction  in  the  point,  and  that  this  matter  is  now  so 
 expressed  as  to  show  him  there  was  no  cause  of  scruple. 
 
 Though  I  am  forced  to  differ  from  him  in  those  apprehensions  he  has  expressed 
 in  the  latter  end  of  his  preface,  concerning  what  I  had  said  about  virtue  and  vice, 
 yet  we  are  better  agreed  than  he  thinks,  in  what  he  says  in  his  third  chapter,  p. 
 78,  concerning  natural  inscription  and  innate  notions.  I  shall  not  deny  him  the 
 privilege  he  claims,  p.  52,  to  state  the  question  as  he  pleases,  especially  when  he 
 states  it  so,  as  to  leave  nothing  in  It  contrary  to  what  I  have  said;  for,  according 
 to  him,  innate  notions  being  conditional  things,  depending  upon  the  concurrence 
 of  several  other  circumstances,  in  order  to  the  soul's  exerting  them;  all  that  he 
 says  for  innate,  imprinted,  impressed  notions  (for  of  innate  ideas  he  says  nothing 
 at  all)  amounts  at  last  only  to  this:  that  there  are  certain  propositions,  which 
 though  the  soul  from  the  beginning,  or  when  a  man  is  born,  docs  not  know,  yet 
 by  assistance  from  the  outward  senses,  and  the  help  of  some  previous  cultivation, 
 it  may  afterwards  come  certainly  to  know  the  truth  of;  which  is  no  more  than 
 what  I  have  affirmed  in  my  first  book.  For  I  suppose,  by  the  soul's  exerting 
 them,  he  means  its  beginning  to  know  tliem,  or  else  the  soul's  exerting  of  notions 
 ■will  be  to  me  a  very  unintelligible  expression;  and  I  think  at  best  is  a  very  unfit 
 one  in  this  case,  it  misleading  men's  thoughts  by  an  insinuation,  as  if  these  no- 
 tions were  in  the  mind  before  tlie  soul  exerts  them;  i.  e.  before  they  are  known; 
 
238  OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 the  heatlien  philosophers,  who  well  understood  wherein  their  notions  of 
 virtue  and  vice  consisted,  and  though  perhaps  by  the  dilFerent  temper,  edu- 
 cation, fashion,  maxims,  or  interests  of  different  sorts  of  rnen,  it  fell  out 
 tliat  what  was  thought  praise-worthy  in  one  place,  escaped  not  censure  in 
 another;  and  so  in  different  societies,  virtues  and  vices  were  changed;  yet,  as 
 to  the  main,  they  for  the  most  part  kept  the  same  every  where.  For  since 
 nothing  can  be  more  natural  than  to  encourage  with  esteem  and  reputation 
 that  wherein  everj"^  one  finds  his  advantage,  and  to  blame  and  discountenance 
 the  contrary;  it  is  no  wonder  that  esteem  and  discredit,  virtue  and  vice, 
 should  in  a  great  measure  every  where  correspond  with  the  unchangeable 
 rule  of  right  and  wrong,  which  the  law  of  God  hath  established :  there 
 being  nothing  that  so  directly  and  visibly  secures  and  advances  the  general 
 good  of  mankind  in  this  world,  as  obedience  to  the  laws  he  has  set  them; 
 and  nothing  that  breeds  such  mischiefs  and  confusion,  as  the  neglect  of 
 them.  And,  therefore,  men,  without  renouncing  all  sense  and  reason,  and 
 their  own  interest,  which  they  are  so  constantly  true  to,  could  not  generally 
 mistake  in  placing  their  commendation  and  blame  on  that  side  that  really 
 deserved  it  not.  Nay,  even  those  men  whose  practice  was  otherwise, 
 failed  not  to  give  their  approbation  right ;  few  being  depraved  to  that  de- 
 gree, as  not  to  condemn,  at  least  in  others,  the  faults  they  themselves  were 
 guilty  of:  whereby,  even  in  the  corruption  of  manners,  the  true  bounda- 
 ries of  the  law  of  nature,  which  ought  to  be  the  rule  of  virtue  and  vice, 
 were  pretty  well  preferred.  So  that  even  the  exhortations  of  inspired 
 teachers  have  not  feared  to  appeal  to  common  repute  :  "  Whatsoever  is 
 lovely,  whatsoever  is  of  good  report,  if  there  be  any  virtue,  if  there  be  any 
 praise,"  &c.  Phil.  iv.  8. 
 
 Sect.  1:^.  Its  enforcements,  commendation,  and  discredit. — If  any  one 
 shall  imagine  that  I  have  forgot  my  own  notion  of  a  law,  when  I  make  the 
 law  whereby  men  judge  of  virtue  and  vice,  to  be  nothing  else  buttlie  consent 
 of  private  men,  who  have  not  authority  enough  to  make  a  law;  especially 
 wanting  that  which  is  so  necessary  and  essential  to  a  law,  a  power  to  enforce 
 it:  I  think  I  may  say,  that  he  who  imagines  commendation  and  disgrace  not  to 
 be  strong  motives  to  men,  to  accommodate  themselves  to  the  opinions  and 
 rules  of  those  with  whom  they  converse,  seems  little  skilled  in  the  nature 
 or  history  of  mankind :  the  greatest  part  whereof  he  shall  find  to  govern 
 themselves  chiefly,  if  not  solely,  by  this  law  of  fashion  ;  and  so  they  do 
 that  which  keeps  them  in  reputation  with  their  company,  little  regard  the 
 laws  of  God,  or  the  magistrate.  The  penalties  tliat  attend  the  breach  of 
 God's  laws,  some,  nay  perhaps  most  men,  seldom  seriously  reflect  on ; 
 
 whereas  truly  before  they  are  known,  there  is  nothing  of  them  in  the  mind  but 
 a  capacity  to  know  them,  when  the  concurrence  of  those  circumstances,  which 
 this  ingenious  author  thinks  necessary,  in  order  to  the  soul's  exerting  them, 
 brings  them  into  our  knowledge. 
 
 P.  52,  1  find  him  express  it  thus:  "these  natural  notions  arc  not  so  imprinted 
 upon  the  soul,  as  that  tliey  naturally  and  necessarily  exert  lliemsclves  (even  in 
 children  and  idiots)  without  any  assistance  from  thu  outward  senses,  or  witliout 
 the  help  of  some  previous  cultivation."  Here,  he  says,  they  exert  themselves, 
 as  p.  78,  that  the  soul  exerts  tliem.  When  he  has  explained  to  himself  or  others 
 ■what  he  means  by  the  soul's  exerting  innate  notions,  or  their  exerting  themselves, 
 and  what  that  i)revious  cultivation  and  circumstances,  in  order  to  their  being  ex- 
 erted, are;  he  will,  I  suppose,  find  there  is  so  little  of  controversy  between  him 
 and  mc  in  the  point,  hating  that  he  calls  that  exerting  of  notions  wliich  I  in  a 
 more  vulgar  style  call  knowing,  that  I  liave  reason  to  think  he  brought  in  my 
 name  upon  this  occasion  only  out  of  the  pleasure  he  has  to  speak  civilly  of  me, 
 ■which  I  must  gratefully  acknowledge  he  has  done  wherever  he  mentions  me, 
 not  without  conferring  on  me,  as  some  others  have  done,  a  title  I  have  no 
 right  to. 
 
Ch.23.  OF  OTHER  RELATIONS.  239 
 
 and  among  those  that  do,  many,  whilst  they  break  tliat  law,  entertain 
 thoughts  of  fliture  reconciliation,  andjnaking  their  peace  for  such  breaches. 
 And  as  to  the  punishments  due  from  the  laws  of  the  commonwealth,  they 
 frequently  flatter  themselves  with  the  hopes  of  impunity.  But  no  man 
 escapes  the  punishment  of  their  censure  and  dislike,  who  offends  against 
 the  fashion  and  opinion  of  the  company  he  keeps,  and  would  recommend 
 himself  to.  Nor  is  there  one  often  thousand,  who  is  stiff  and  insensible 
 enough  to  bear  up  under  the  constant  dislike  and  condemnation  of  his  own 
 club.  He  must  be  of  a  strange  and  unusual  constitution,  who  can  con- 
 tent himself  to  live  in  constant  disgrace  and  disrepute  with  his  own  par- 
 ticular society.  Solitude  many  men  have  sought,  and  been  reconciled  to : 
 but  nobody,  that  has  the  least  thought  or  sense  of  a  man  about  him,  can 
 live  in  society  under  the  constant  dislike  and  ill  opinion  of  his  familiars, 
 and  those  he  converses  with.  This  is  a  burden  too  heavy  for  human  suf- 
 ferance ;  and  he  must  be  made  of  irreconcilable  contradictions,  who  can 
 take  pleasure  in  company,  and  yet  be  insensible  of  contempt  and  disgrace 
 from  his  companions. 
 
 Sect.  13.  These  three  laws,  the  rules  of  moral  good  and  evil. — These 
 three  then.  First,  The  law  of  God;  Secondly,  The  law  of  politic  societies  ; 
 Thirdly,  The  law  of  fashion,  or  private  censure,  are  those  to  which  men 
 variously  compare  their  actions ;  and  it  is  by  their  conformity  to  one  of 
 these  laws  that  they  take  their  measures,  when  they  would  judge  of  their 
 moral  rectitude,  and  denominate  their  actions  good  or  bad. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Morality  is  the  relation  of  actions  to  these  rules. — Whether 
 the  rule,  to  which,  as  to  a  touchstone,  we  bring  our  voluntary  actions,  to 
 examine  them  by,  and  try  their  goodness,  and  accordingly  to  name  them  ; 
 which  is,  as  it  were,  the  mark  of  the  value  we  set  upon  them :  whether,  I 
 say,  we  take  that  rule  from  the  fashion  of  the  country,  or  the  will  of  a  law- 
 maker, the  mind  is  easily  able  to  observe  the  relation  any  action  hath  to 
 it,  and  to  judge  whether  the  action  agrees  or  disagrees  with  the  rule ;  and 
 so  hath  a  notion  of  moral  goodness  or  evil,  which  is  either  conformity  or 
 not  conformity  of  any  action  to  that  rule  :  and  therefore  is  oflen  called 
 moral  rectitude.  This  rule  being  nothing  but  a  collection  of  several  sim- 
 ple ideas,  the  conformity  thereto  is  but  so  ordering  the  action,  that  the 
 simple  ideas  belonging  to  it  may  correspond  to  those  which  the  law  re- 
 quires. And  thus  we  see  how  moral  beings  and  notions  are  founded  on, 
 and  terminated  in,  these  simple  ideas  we  have  received  from  sensation  or 
 reflection.  For  example,  let  us  consider  the  complex  idea  we  signify  by 
 the  word  murder ;  and  when  we  have  taken  it  asunder,  and  examined  all 
 the  particulars,  we  shall  find  them  to  amount  to  a  collection  of  simple  ideas 
 derived  from  reflection  or  sensation,  viz.  First,  from  reflection  on  the  ope- 
 rations of  our  own  minds,  we  have  the  ideas  of  willing,  considering,  pur- 
 posing before  hand,  malice,  or  wishing  ill  to  another ;  and  also  of  life,  or 
 perception,  and  self-motion.  Secondly,  from  sensation  we  have  the  col- 
 lection of  those  simple  sensible  ideas  which  are  to  be  found  in  a  man,  and 
 of  some  action,  whereby  we  put  an  end  to  perception  and  motion  in  a 
 man ;  all  which  simple  ideas  are  comprehended  in  the  word  murder.  This 
 collection  of  simple  ideas  being  found  by  me  to  agree  or  disagree  with  the 
 esteem  of  the  country  I  have  been  bred  in,  and  to  be  held  by  most  men 
 there  worthy  praise  or  blame,  I  call  the  action  virtuous  or  vicious  :  if  I 
 have  the  will  of  a  supreme  invisible  Law-maker  for  my  rule  ;  then,  as  I  sup- 
 pose the  action  commanded  or  forbidden  by  God,  I  call  it  good  or  evil,  sin 
 or  duty ;  and  if  I  compare  it  to  the  civil  law,  the  rule  made  by  the  legis- 
 lative power  of  the  country,  I  call  it  lawful  or  unlawful,  a  crime  or  no 
 crime.  So  that  whencesoever  we  take  the  rule  of  moral  actions,  or  by 
 what  standard  soever  we  frame  in  our  minds  the  ideas  of  \nrtues  or  vices, 
 they  consist  only  and  are  made  up  of  collections  of  simple  ideas,  which  we 
 originally  received  from  sense  or  reflection,  and  their  rectitude  or  obliquity 
 
240  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 consists  in  the  agreement  or  disagreement  with  those  patterns  prescribed 
 by  some  law.  ^^         * 
 
 Sect.  15.  To  conceive  rightly  o'Pfnoral  actions,  we  must  take  notice 
 of  them  under  this  twofold  consideration.  First,  as  Ihcy  are  in  themselves 
 each  made  up  of  such  a  collection  of  simple  id^as.  Thus  drunkenness, 
 or  lying,  signify  such  or  such  a  collection  of  simple  ideas,  which  I  call 
 mi.xcd  modes  :  and  in  this  sense  they  are  as  much  jjositive  absolute  ideas 
 as  the  drinking  of  a  horse,  or  speaking  of  a  parrot.  Secondly,  our  actions 
 are  considered  as  good,  bad,  or  indilferent ;  and  in  this  respect  they  are 
 relative,  it  being  their  conformity  to,  or  disagreement  with,  some  rule  that 
 makes  them  to  be  regular  or  irregular,  good  or  bad,  and  so  as  far  as  they 
 are  compared  with  a  rule,  and  tliereupon  denominated,  they  come  under 
 relation.  Tlius,  the  challenging  and  figliting  with  a  man,  as  it  is  a  certain 
 positive  mode,  or  particular  sort  of  action,  by  particular  ideas,  distinguish- 
 ed from  all  others,  is  called  duelling,  which  when  considered  in  relation 
 to  the  law  of  God,  will  deserve  the  name  sin ;  to  the  law  of  fashion,  in 
 some  countries,  valour  and  virtue ;  and  to  the  municipal  laws  of  some  go- 
 vernments, a  capital  crime.  In  this  case,  when  the  positive  mode  has  one 
 name,  and  anotlier  name  as  it  stands  in  relation  to  the  law,  the  distinction 
 may  as  easily  be  observed  as  it  is  in  substances,  where  one  name,  v.  g. 
 man,  is  used  to  signify  the  thing;  anotlier,  v.  g.  father,  to  signify  the 
 relation. 
 
 Sect.  16.  The  denominations  of  actions  often  mislead  us. — But  because 
 very  frequently  the  positive  idea  of  the  action,  and  its  moral  relation,  are 
 comprehended  together  under  one  name,  and  the  same  word  made  use  of 
 to  express  both  tlie  mode  or  action,  and  its  moral  rectitude  or  obliquity; 
 therefore  the  relation  itself  is  less  taken  notice  of,  and  there  is  often  no 
 distinction  made  between  the  positive  idea  of  the  action,  and  the  reference 
 it  has  to  a  rule.  By  which  confusion  of  these  two  distinct  considerations 
 under  one  term,  those  who  yield  too  easily  to  the  impressions  of  sounds, 
 and  are  forward  to  take  names  for  things,  are  often  misled  in  their  judg- 
 ment of  actions.  Thus  the  taking  from  another  what  is  his,  without  his 
 knowledge  or  allowance,  is  properly  called  stealing;  but  that  name  being 
 commonly  understood  to  signify  also  the  moral  pravity  of  the  action,  and 
 to  denote  its  contrariety  to  the  law,  men  are  apt  to  condemn  whatever 
 they  hear  called  stealing  as  an  ill  action,  disagreeing  with  the  rule  of  right. 
 And  yet  the  private  taking  away  his  sword  from  a  madman,  to  prevent  his 
 doing  mischief,  though  it  be  properly  denominated  stealing,  as  the  name 
 of  such  a  mi.xed  mode;  yet  when  compared  to  the  law  of  God,  and  con- 
 sidered in  its  relation  to  that  supreme  rule,  it  is  no  sin  or  transgression, 
 though  the  name  stealing  ordinarily  carries  such  an  intimation  with  it. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Relations  innumerable. — And  thus  much  for  the  relation  of 
 human  actions  to  a  law,  which  therefore  I  call  moral  relation. 
 
 It  would  make  a  volume  to  go  over  all  sorts  of  relations ;  it  is  not  there- 
 fore to  be  expected  that  I  should  here  mention  them  all.  It  suffices  to  our 
 present  purpose  to  show  by  these  what  the  ideas  are  we  have  of  this  com- 
 prehensive consideration,  called  relation  :  which  is  so  various,  and  the  oc- 
 casions of  it  so  many  (as  many  as  there  can  be  of  comparing  things  one  to 
 another,)  that  it  is  not  very  easy  to  reduce  it  to  rules,  or  under  just  heads. 
 Those  I  have  mentioned,  I  think,  are  some  of  the  most  considerable,  and 
 such  as  may  serve  to  let  us  see  from  whence  we  get  our  ideas  of  re- 
 lations, and  wherein  they  are  founded.  But  before  I  quit  this  argument, 
 from  what  has  been  said,  give  me  leave  to  observe, 
 
 Sect.  18.  All  relations  terminate  in  simple  ideas. — First,  that  it  is 
 evident  that  all  relation  terminates  in,  and  is  ultimately  founded  on,  those 
 simple  ideas  we  have  got  from  sensation  or  reflection  :  so  that  all  that  we 
 have  in  our  thoughts  ourselves  (if  we  think  of  any  thing,  or  have  any 
 meaning)  or  would  signify  to  others,  when  we  use  words  standing  for  re- 
 
Ch.  28.  OF  OTHER  RELATIONS.  241 
 
 lations,  is  nothing  but  some  simple  ideas,  or  collections  of  simple  ideas, 
 compared  one  with  another.  This  is  so  manifest  in  that  sort  called  pro- 
 portional, that  nothing  can  be  more :  for  when  a  man  says  honey  is 
 sweeter  than  wax,  it  is  plain  that  his  thoughts,  in  this  relation,  terminate 
 in  this  simple  idea,  sweetness,  which  is  equally  true  of  all  the  rest;  though, 
 where  they  are  compounded  or  decompounded,  the  simple  ideas  they  are 
 made  up  of  are,  perhaps,  seldom  taken  notice  of.  V.  g.  when  the  word 
 father  is  mentioned:  First,  there  is  meant  that  particular  species,  or  col- 
 lective idea,  signified  by  the  word  man.  Secondly,  those  sensible  simple 
 ideas,  signified  by  the  word  generation ;  and,  thirdly,  the  effects  of  it,  and 
 all  the  simple  ideas  signified  by  the  word  child.  So  the  word  friend  being 
 taken  for  a  man  who  loves,  and  is  ready  to  do  good  to  another,  has  all 
 these  following  ideas  to  the  making  of  it  up ;  first,  all  the  simple  ideas, 
 comprehended  in  the  word  man,  or  intelligent  being.  Secondly,  the  idea 
 of  love.  Thirdly,  the  idea  of  readiness  or  disposition.  Fourthly,  the  idea 
 of  action,  which  is  any  kind  of  thought  or  motion.  Fifthly,  the  idea  of 
 good,  which  signifies  any  thing  that  may  advance  his  happiness,  and  ter- 
 minates at  last,  if  examined,  in  particular  simple  ideas,  of  which  the  word 
 good  in  general  signifies  any  one;  but,  if  removed  from  all  simple  ideas 
 quite,  it  signifies  nothing  at  all.  And  thus  also  all  moral  words  termi- 
 nate at  last,  though  perhaps  more  remotely,  in  a  collection  of  simple  ideas  : 
 the  immediate  signification  of  relative  words  being  very  often  other  sup- 
 posed known  relations,  which,  if  traced  one  to  another,  still  end  in  simple 
 ideas. 
 
 Sect.  19.  We  have  ordinarily  as  clear  (or  clearer)  a  notion  of  the 
 relation,  as  of  its  foundation. — Secqadly,  that  in  relations  we  have  for  the 
 most  part,  if  not  always,  as  clear  a  notion  of  the  relation,  as  we  have  of 
 those  simple  ideas  wherein  it  is  founded.  Agreement  or  disagreement, 
 whereon  relation  depends,  being  things  whereof  we  have  commonly  as 
 clear  ideas  as  of  any  other  whatsoever;  it  being  but  the  distinguishing 
 simple  ideas,  or  their  degrees  one  from  another,  without  which  we  could 
 have  no  distinct  knowledge  at  all.  For  if  I  have  a  clear  idea  of  sweetness, 
 light,  or  extension,  I  have  too  of  equal,  or  more  or  less,  of  each  of  these: 
 if  I  know  what  it  is  for  one  man  to  be  born  of  a  woman,  viz.  Sempronia, 
 I  know  what  it  is  for  another  man  to  be  born  of  the  same  woman,  Sem- 
 pronia; and  so  have  as  clear  a  notion  of  brothers  as  of  births,  and  perhaps 
 clearer.  For  if  I  believed  that  Sempronia  dug  Titus  out  of  the  parsley- 
 bed  (as  they  used  to  tell  children),  and  thereby  became  his  mother;  and 
 that  afterward,  in  the  same  manner,  she  dug  Caius  out  of  the  parsley-bed ; 
 I  had  as  clear  a  notion  of  the  relation  of  brothers  between  them,  as  if  I 
 had  all  the  skill  of  a  midwife:  the  notion  that  the  same  woman  contri- 
 buted, as  mother,  equally  to  their  births,  (though  I  were  ignorant  or  mis- 
 taken in  the  manner  of  it,)  being  that  on  which  I  grounded  the  relation, 
 and  that  they  agreed  in  that  circumstance  of  birth,  let  it  be  what  it  will. 
 The  comparing  them  then,  in  their  descent  from  the  same  person,  without 
 knowing  the  particular  circumstances  of  that  descent,  is  enough  to  found 
 my  notion  of  their  having  or  not  having  the  relation  of  brothers.  But 
 though  the  ideas  of  particular  relations  are  capable  of  being  as  clear  and 
 distinct  in  the  minds  of  those  who  will  duly  consider  them  as  those  of 
 mixed  modes,  and  more  determinate  than  those  of  substances ;  yet  the 
 names  belonging  to  relation  are  often  of  as  doubtful  and  uncertain  signifi- 
 cation as  those  of  substances  or  mixed  modes,  and  much  more  than  those 
 of  simple  ideas ;  because  relative  words  being  the  marks  of  this  compari- 
 son, which  is  made  only  by  men's  thoughts,  and  is  an  idea  only  in  men's 
 minds,  men  frequently  apply  them  to  different  comparisons  of  things,  ac- 
 cording to  their  own  imaginations,  which  do  not  always  correspond  with 
 those  of  others  using  the  same  name. 
 
 Sect.  20.  The  notion  of  the  relation  is  the  same,  whether  the  rule  and 
 2  F 
 
242  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 action  to  be  coinparedis  true  or  false. — Thirdly,  tliat  in  these  I  call  moral 
 relations  1  have  a  true  notion  of  relationTTJy  comparing  the  action  with 
 the  rule,  whether  tlie  rule  be  true  or  false.  For  if  1  measure  any  thing  by 
 a  yard,  I  know  whether  the  thing  I  measure  be  longer  or  shorter  than  that 
 supposed  yard,  though  perliaps  the  yard  I  measure  by  be  not  exactly  the 
 standard,  which  indeed  is  another  inquiry  :  for  though  the  rule  be  errone- 
 ous, and  I  mistaken  in  it,  yet  the  agreement  or  disagreement  observable  in 
 that  which  I  compare  with  makes  me  perceive  the  relation.  Though 
 measuring  by  a  wrong  rule,  I  shall  thereby  be  brought  to  judge  amiss  of  its 
 moral  rectitude,  because  I  have  tried  it  by  that  which  is  not  the  true  rule, 
 yet  I  am  not  mistaken  in  the  relation  which  that  action  bears  to  that  rule 
 I  compare  it  to,  which  is  agreement  or  disagreement. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXIX. 
 
 OF  CLEAR  AND  OBSCURE,  DISTINCT  AND  CONFUSED  IDEAS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Ideas,  some  clear  and  distinct,  others  obscure  and  confused. — 
 Having  shown  the  original  of  our  ideas,  and  taken  a  view  of  their  several 
 sorts,  considered  the  ditference  between  the  simple  and  the  complex,  and 
 observed  how  the  complex  ones  are  divided  into  those  of  modes,  substances, 
 and  relations ;  all  which,  I  think,  is  necessary  to  be  done  by  any  one  who 
 would  acquaint  himself  thoroughly  with  the  progress  of  the  mind  in  its 
 apprehension  and  knowledge  of  things  ;  it  will,  perhaps,  be  thought  I  have 
 dwelt  long  enough  upon  the  examination  of  ideas.  I  must,  nevertheless, 
 crave  leave  to  offer  some  few  other  considerations  concerning  them.  The 
 first  is,  that  some  are  clear,  and  others  obscure  ;  some  distinct,  and  others 
 confused. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Clear  and  obscure  explained  by  sight. — The  perception  of 
 the  mind  being  most  aptly  explained  by  words  relating  to  the  sight,  we 
 shall  best  understand  what  is  meant  by  clear  and  obscure  in  our  ideas  by 
 reflecting  on  what  we  call  clear  and  obscure  in  the  objects  of  sight.  Light 
 being  that  which  discovers  to  us  visible  objects,  we  give  the  name  of 
 obscure  to  that  which  is  not  placed  in  a  light  sufficient  to  discover  minute- 
 ly to  us  the  figure  and  colours  which  are  observable  in  it,  and  which,  in  a 
 better  light,  would  be  discernible.  In  like  manner  our  simple  ideas  are 
 clear  when  they  are  such  as  the  objects  themselves,  from  whence  they 
 were  taken,  did  or  might,  in  a  well-ordered  sensation  or  perception,  present 
 them.  Whilst  the  memory  retains  them  thus,  and  can  produce  them  to 
 the  mind,  whenever  it  has  occasion  to  consider  them,  they  are  clear  ideas. 
 So  far  as  they  either  want  any  thing  of  the  original  exactness,  or  have  lost 
 any  of  their  first  freshness,  and  are,  as  it  were,  faded  or  tarnished  by  time, 
 so  far  are  they  obscure.  Complex  ideas,  as  they  are  made  up  of  simple! 
 ones,  so  they  are  clear  when  the  ideas  that  go  to  their  composition  are' 
 clear;  and  the  number  and  order  of  those  simple  ideas,  that  are  the  in- 
 gredients of  any  complex  one,  is  determinate  and  certain. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Causes  of  obscurity. — The  causes  of  obscurity  in  simple  ideas  i 
 seem  to  be  either  dull  organs,  or  very  slight  and  transient  impressions 
 made  by  the  objects,  or  else  a  weakness  in  the  memory  not  able  to  retain  ' 
 them  as  received.  For  to  return  again  to  visible  objects,  to  help  us  to  ap- 
 prehend this  matter :  if  the  organs  or  faculties  of  perception,  like  wax 
 over-hardened  with  cold,  will  not  receive  the  impression  of  the  seal,  from 
 the  usual  impulse  wont  to  imprint  it;  or,  hke  wax,  of  a  temper  too  soft, 
 will  not  hold  it  well  when  well  imprinted;  or  else  supposing  the  wax  of  a 
 temper  fit,  but  the  seal  not  applied  with  a  sufficient  force  to  nial;c  a  clear 
 
Ch.  29.  OF  CLEAR  AND  OBSCURE  IDEAS.  '^43 
 
 impression :  in  any  of  these  cases,  the  print  left  by  the  seal  will  be  ob- 
 scure.    This,  I  suppose,  needs  no  application  to  make  it  plainer. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Distinct  and  confused,  what. — As  a  clear  idea  is  that  where- 
 of the  mind  has  such  a  full  and  evident  perception,  as  it  does  receive  from 
 an  outward  object  operating  duly  on  a  well-disposed  organ  ;  so  a  distinct 
 idea  is  that  wherein  the  mind  perceives  a  difference  from  all  other;  and  a 
 confused  idea  is  such  a  one  as  is  not  sufficiently  distinguishable  from  ano- 
 ther, from  which  it  ought  to  be  different. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Objection. — If  no  idea  be  confused  but  such  as  is  not  sufficient- 
 ly distinguishable  from  another,  from  which  it  should  be  different,  it  will 
 be  hard,  may  any  one  say,  to  find  any  where  a  confused  idea.  For  let  any 
 idea  be  as  it  will,  it  can  be  no  other  but  such  as  the  mind  perceives  it  to 
 be;  and  that  very  perception  sufficiently  distinguishes  it  from  all  other 
 ideas,  which  cannot  be  other,  i.  e.  different,  without  being  perceived  to  be 
 so.  No  idea  therefore  can  be  undistinguishable  from  another,  from  which 
 it  ought  to  be  different,  unless  you  would  have  it  different  from  itself:  for 
 from  all  other  it  is  evidently  different. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Confusion  of  ideas  is  in  reference  to  their  names. — To  remove 
 this  difficulty,  and  to  help  us  to  conceive  aright  wliat  it  is  that  makes  the 
 confusion  ideas  are  at  any  time  chargeable  with,  we  must  consider,  that 
 things  ranked  under  distinct  names  are  supposed  different  enough  to  be-' 
 distinguished,  that  so  each  sort  by  its  peculiar  name  may  be  marked,  and 
 discoursed  of  apart  upon  any  occasion:  and  there  is  nothing  more  evident, 
 than  that  the  greatest  part  of  dilferent  names  are  supposed  to  stand  for 
 different  things.  Now  every  idea  a  man  has  being  visibly  what  it  is,  and 
 distinct  from  all  other  ideas  but  itself,  that  which  makes  it  confused  is, 
 when  it  is  such,  that  it  may  as  well  be  called  by  another  name  as  that 
 which  it  is  expressed  by :  the  difference  which  keeps  the  things  (to  be 
 ranked  under  those  two  different  names)  distinct,  and  makes  some  of  them 
 belong  rather  to  the  one,  and  some  of  them  to  the  other  of  those  names, 
 being  left  out ;  and  so  the  distinction,  which  was  intended  to  be  kept  up 
 by  those  different  names  is  quite  lost. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Defaults  which  make  confusion. — The  defaults  which  usually 
 occasion  this  confusion,  I  think,  are  chiefly  these  following: 
 
 First,  complex  ideas  made  up  of  too  few  simple  ones. — First,  when  any 
 complex  idea  (for  it  is  complex  ideas  that  are  most  liable  to  confusion)  is 
 made  up  of  too  small  a  number  of  simple  ideas,  and  such  only  as  are  com-^^ 
 mon  to  other  things,  whereby  the  differences  that  make  it  deserve  a  diffe- 
 rent name  are  left  out.  Thus,  he  that  has  an  idea  made  up  of  barely  thei 
 simple  ones  of  a  beast  with  spots,  has  but  a  confused  idea  of  a  leopard,  it  \ 
 not  being  thereby  sufficiently  distinguished  from  a  lynx,  and  several  other 
 sorts  of  beasts  that  are  spotted.  So  that,  such  an  idea,  though  it  hath  the 
 peculiar  name  leopard,  is  not  distinguishable  from  those  designed  by  the 
 names  lynx,  or  panther,  and  may  as  well  come  under  the  name  lynx  as 
 leopard.  How  much  the  custom  of  defining  of  words  by  general  terms 
 contributes  to  make  the  ideas  we  would  express  by  them  confused  and 
 undetermined,  I  leave  others  to  consider.  This  is  evident,  that  confused 
 ideas  are  such  as  render  the  use  of  words  uncertain,  and  take  away  the 
 benefit  of  distinct  names.  When  the  ideas,  for  which  we  use  different 
 terms,  have  not  a  difference  answerable  to  their  distinct  names,  and  so 
 cannot  be  distinguished  by  them,  there  it  is  that  they  are  truly  confused. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Secondly,  or  its  simple  ones  jumbled  disorderly  together. — 
 Secondly,  another  fault  which  makes  our  ideas  confused  is  when,  though 
 the  particulars  that  make  up  any  idea  are  in  number  enough,  yet  they  are  so 
 jumbled  together,  that  it  is  not  easily  discernible  whether  it  more  belongs 
 to  the  name  that  is  given  it  than  to  any  other.  There  is  nothing  more 
 proper  to  make  us  conceive  this  confusion,  than  a  sort  of  pictures  usually 
 shown  as  surprising  pieces  of  art,  wherein  the  colours,  as  they  are  laid  by 
 
244  OF  HUMAN  UADERSTANDING.  Book  y. 
 
 t!ie  pencil  on  the  tabic  itself,  mark  out  very  odd  and  unusiial  figures,  and 
 iiave  no  discernible  order  in  their  position.  This  dranglit,  thus  made  up 
 of  parts  wherein  no  symmetry  nor  order  appears,  is  in  itself  no  more  a  con- 
 fused thing  than  the  picture  of  a  cloudy  sky;  wherein,  though  there  be  as 
 little  order  of  colours  or  figures  to  be  found,  yet  nobody  tlwnks  it  a  con- 
 fused picture.  What  is  it  then  that  makes  it  be  thought  confused,  since 
 the  want  of  symmetry  does  not  ]  as  it  is  plain  it  does  not,  for  another 
 draught  made,  barely  in  imitation  of  this,  could  not  be  called  confused.  I 
 answer,  that  which  makes  it  be  thought  confused  is  the  applying  it  to 
 some  name  to  which  it  does  no  more  discernibly  belong  than  to  some 
 other:  v.  g.  when  it  is  said  to  be  the  picture  of  a  man,  or  Caesar,  then  any 
 one  with  reason  counts  it  confused :  because  it  is  not  discernible  in  that 
 state  to  belong  more  to  the  name  man,  or  Caesar,  than  to  the  name  baboon, 
 or  Pompey ;  which  are  supposed  to  stand  for  different  ideas  from  those 
 signified  by  man  or  Csesar.  But  when  a  cylindrical  mirror,  placed  right, 
 hath  reduced  those  irregular  lines  on  the  table  into  their  due  order  and 
 proportion,  then  tiie  confusion  ceases,  and  the  eye  presently  sees  that  it 
 is  a  man,  or  Caesar,  i.  e.  that  it  belongs  to  those  names,  and  that  it  is  suf- 
 ficiently distinguishable  from  a  baboon,  or  Pompey,  i.  e.  from  the  ideas 
 signified  by  those  names.  Just  thus  it  is  with  our  ideas,  which  are  as  it 
 were  the  pictures  of  things.  No  one  of  these  mental  draughts,  however 
 the  parts  are  put  together,  can  be  called  confused  (for  they  are  plainly 
 discernible  as  they  are,)  till  it  be  ranked  under  some  ordinary  name,  to 
 which  it  cannot  be  discerned  to  belong,  any  more  than  it  does  to  some 
 other  name  of  an  allowed  different  signification. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Thirdly,  or  are  mutable  and  undetermined. — Thirdly,  a 
 third  defect  that  frequently  gives  the  name  of  confused  to  our  ideas,  is 
 when  any  one  of  them  is  uncertain  and  undetermined.  Thus  we  may  ob- 
 serve men,  who,  not  forbearing  to  use  the  ordinary  words  of  their  lan- 
 guage till  they  have  learned  their  precise  signification,  change  the  idea 
 they  make  this  or  that  term  stand  for,  almost  as  often  as  they  use  it.  He 
 that  does  this,  out  of  uncertainty  of  what  he  should  leave  out,  or  put  into 
 his  idea  of  church  or  idolatry,  every  time  he  thinks  of  either,  and  holds 
 not  steady  to  any  one  precise  combination  of  ideas  that  makes  it  up,  is 
 said  to  have  a  confused  idea  of  idolatry,  or  the  church ;  though  this  be 
 still  for  the  same  reason  as  the  former,  viz.  because  a  mutable  idea,  (if  we 
 will  allow  it  to  be  one  idea,)  cannot  belong  to  one  name  rather  than  ano- 
 ther ;  and  so  loses  the  distinction  that  distinct  names  are  designed  for. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Confusion,  without  reference  to  names,  hardly  conceivable. — 
 By  what  has  been  said,  we  may  observe  how  much  names,  as  supposed 
 steady  signs  of  things,  and  by  their  difference  to  stand  for  and  keep  things 
 distinct  that  in  themselves  are  different,  are  the  occasion  of  denominating 
 ideas  distinct  or  confused,  by  a  secret  and  unobserved  reference  the  mind 
 makes  of  its  ideas  to  such  names.  This  perhaps  will  be  fuller  understood 
 after  what  I  say  of  words,  in  the  third  book,  has  been  read  and  considered. 
 But  without  taking  notice  of  such  a  reference  of  ideas  to  distinct  names, 
 as  the  signs  of  distinct  things,  it  will  be  hard  to  say  what  a  confused  idea 
 is.  And  therefore  when  a  man  designs,  by  any  name,  a  sort  of  things,  or 
 any  one  particular  thing,  distinct  from  all  others ;  the  complex  idea  he  an- 
 nexes to  that  name  is  the  more  distinct,  the  more  particular  the  ideas  are, 
 and  the  greater  and  more  determinate  the  number  and  order  of  them  arc, 
 whereof  it  is  made  up.  For  the  more  it  has  of  these,  the  more  it  has  still 
 of  the  perceivable  differences,  whereby  it  is  kept  separate  and  distinct  from 
 all  ideas  belonging  to  other  names,  even  those  that  approach  nearest  to 
 it ;  and  thereby  all  confusion  with  them  is  avoided. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Confusion  concerns  always  two  ideas. — Confusion,  making 
 it  a  difficulty  to  separate  two  things  that  should  be  separated,  concerns 
 always  two  ideas ;    and  those  most  wliich  most  approach  one  another.  - 
 
Ch.29.  OF  CLEAR  AND  OBSCURE  IDEAS.  245 
 
 Whenever  therefore  we  suspect  any  idea  to  be  conflisecl,  we  must  examine 
 what  other  it  is  in  danger  to  be  confounded  with,  or  which  it  cannot  easily 
 be  separated  from ;  and  that  will  always  be  found  an  idea  belonging  to 
 another  name,  and  so  should  be  a  different  thing,  from  which  yet  it  is 
 not  sufficiently  distinct ;  being  either  the  same  with  it,  or  making  a  part 
 of  it,  or  at  least,  as  properly  called  by  that  name  as  the  other  it  is  ranked 
 under ;  and  so  keeps  not  that  difference  from  that  other  idea,  which  the 
 different  names  import. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Causes  of  confusion. — This,  I  think,  is  the  confusion  pro- 
 per to  ideas,  which  still  carries  with  it  a  secret  reference  to  names.  At 
 least,  if  there  be  any  other  confusion  of  ideas,  this  is  that  which  most  of 
 all  disorders  men's  thoughts  and  discourses:  ideas,  as  ranked  undernames, 
 being  those  that  for  the  most  part  men  reason  of  within  themselves,  and 
 always  those  which  they  commune  about  with  others.  And  therefore 
 where  there  are  supposed  two  different  ideas  marked  by  two  different 
 names,  which  are  not  as  distinguishable  as  the  sounds  that  stand  for  them, 
 there  never  fails  to  be  confusion  ;  and  where  any  ideas  are  distinct,  as  the 
 ideas  of  those  two  sounds  they  are  marked  by,  there  can  be  between  them 
 no  confusion. — The  way  to  prevent  it  is  to  collect  and  unite  into  one  com- 
 plex idea,  as  precisely  as  is  possible,  all  those  ingredients  whereby  it  is 
 differenced  fi-om  others ;  and  to  them,  so  united  in  a  determinate  number 
 and  order,  apply  steadily  the  same  name.  But  this  neither  accommodating 
 men's  ease  or  vanity,  or  serving  any  design  but  that  of  naked  truth,  which 
 is  not  always  the  thing  aimed  at,  such  exactness  is  rather  to  be  wished 
 than  hoped  for.  And  since  the  loose  application  of  names  to  undetermin- 
 ed, variable,  and  almost  no  ideas,  serves  both  to  cover  our  own  ignorance, 
 as  well  as  to  perplex  and  confound  others,  which  goes  for  learning  and 
 superiority  in  knowledge,  it  is  no  wonder  that  most  men  should  use  it 
 themselves,  whilst  they  complain  of  it  in  others.  Though,  I  think,  no 
 small  part  of  the  confusion  to  be  found  in  the  notions  of  men  might  by 
 care  and  ingenuity  be  avoided,  yet  I  am  far  fi-om  concluding  it  every  where 
 wilful.  Some  ideas  are  so  complex,  and  made  up  of  so  many  parts,  that 
 the  memory  does  not  easily  retain  the  very  same  precise  combination  of 
 simple  ideas  under  one  name ;  much  less  are  we  able  constantly  to  divine 
 for  what  precise  complex  idea  such  a  name  stands  in  another  man's  use  of 
 it.  From  the  first  of  these,  follows  confusion  in  a  man's  own  reasonings 
 and  opinions  within  himself;  from  the  latter,  frequent  confusion  in  dis- 
 coursing and  arguing  with  others.  But  having  more  at  large  treated  of 
 words,  their  defects  and  abuses,  in  the  following  book,  I  shall  here  say  no 
 more  of  it. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Complex  ideas  may  be  distinct  in  one  part,  and  confused  in 
 another. — Our  complex  ideas  being  made  up  of  collections,  and  so  variety 
 of  simple  ones,  may  accordingly  be  very  clear  and  distinct  in  one  part, 
 and  very  obscure  and  confused  in  another.  In  a  man  who  speaks  of  a  clii- 
 liaedron,  or  a  body  of  a  thousand  sides,  the  ideas  of  the  figure  may  be  very 
 confused,  though  that  of  the  number  be  very  distinct ;  so  that  he  being  able 
 to  discourse  and  demonstrate  concerning  that  part  of  his  complex  idea 
 which  depends  upon  the  number  of  a  thousand,  he  is  apt  to  think  he  has  a. 
 distinct  idea  of  a  chilisedron  ;  though  it  be  plain  he  has  no  precise  idea  of 
 its  figure,  so  as  to  distinguish  it  by  that,  from  one  that  has  but  999  sides ; 
 the  not  obser\ing  whereof  causes  no  small  error  in  men's  thoughts,  and 
 confusion  in  their  discourses. 
 
 Sect.  14.  This,  if  not  heeded,  causes  confusion  in  our  arguings. — 
 He  that  thinks  he  has  a  distinct  idea  of  the  figure  of  a  chilisedron,  let  him 
 for  trial  sake  take  another  parcel  of  the  same  uniform  matter,  viz.  gold  or 
 wax,  of  an  equal  bulk,  and  make  it  into  a  figure  of  999  sides :  he  will,  I 
 doiAt  not,  be  able  to  distinguish  these  two  ideas  one  from  another  by  the 
 number  of  sides,   and  reason  and  argue  distinctly  about  them,  whilst  he 
 
246  OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 keeps  his  thouglits  and  reasoning  to  that  part  only  of  these  ideas  which  is 
 
 contained  in  tlicir  numbers  ;  as  that  tlic  sides  of  tlie  one  coukl  be  divided 
 into  two  c(jnal  numbers,  and  of  the  others  not,  &-c.  But  wiicn  he  goes 
 about  to  distinguisli  them  by  their  figure,  lie  will  there  be  presently  at  a  loss, 
 and  not  be  able,  I  think,  to  frame  in  his  mind  two  ideas,  one  of  them 
 distinct  from  the  other,  by  the  bare  figure  of  these  two  pieces  of  gold,  as 
 he  could,  if  the  same  parcels  of  gold  were  made  one  into  a  cube,  the  other 
 a  figure  of  five  sides.  In  whicli  incomi^lete  ideas  we  are  very  apt  to 
 impose  on  ourselves,  and  wrangle  with  otiiers,  especially  where  they  have 
 particular  and  familiar  names.  For  being  satisfied  in  that  part  of  the  idea, 
 which  we  have  clear, — and  the  name  which  is  familiar  to  us  being  applied 
 to  the  whole,  containing  that  part  also  which  is  imperfect  and  obscure, — 
 we  are  apt  to  use  it  fur  that  confused  part,  and  draw  deductions  from  it, 
 in  the  obscure  part  of  its  signification,  as  confidently  as  we  do  from  the 
 other. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Instance  in  eternity. — Having  frequently  in  our  mouths  the 
 name  eternity,  we  are  apt  to  think  we  have  a  positive  comprehensive 
 idea  of  it,  which  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  there  is  no  part  of  that  duration 
 which  is  not  clearly  contained  in  our  idea.  It  is  true,  that  he  who  thinks 
 so  may  have  a  clear  idea  of  duration  ;  he  may  also  have  a  very  clear  idea 
 of  a  very  great  length  of  duration  ;  he  may  also  have  a  clear  idea  of  the 
 comparison  of  that  great  one  with  still  a  greater :  but  it  not  being  possible 
 for  him  to  include  in  his  idea  of  any  duration,  let  it  be  as  great  as  it  will, 
 the  whole  e.xtent  together  of  a  duration,  where  he  supposes  no  end,  that 
 part  of  his  idea,  which  is  still  beyond  the  bounds  of  that  large  duration  he^ 
 represents  to  his  own  thoughts,  is  very  obscure  and  undetermined.  And 
 hence  it  is,  that  in  disputes  and  reasonings  concerning  eternity,  or  any 
 other  infinity,  we  are  apt  to  blunder,  and  involve  ourselves  in  manifest 
 absurdities. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Divisibility  of  matter. — In  matter  we  have  no  clear  ideas  of 
 the  smallness  of  parts  much  beyond  the  smallest  that  occur  to  any  of  our 
 senses ;  and  therefore  when  we  talk  of  the  divisibility  of  matter  in  infinitum, 
 though  we  have  clear  ideas  of  division  and  divisibility,  and  have  also 
 clear  ideas  of  parts  made  out  of  a  whole  by  division,  yet  we  have  but  very 
 obscure  and  confused  ideas  of  corpuscles,  or  minute  bodies  so  to  be  divided, 
 v;hen  by  former  divisions  they  are  reduced  to  a  smallness  much  exceeding 
 the  perception  of  any  of  our  senses;  and  so  all  that  we  have  clear  and  distinct 
 ideas  of,  is  of  what  division  in  general  or  abstractedly  is,  and  the  relation 
 of  totum  and  parts  ;  but  of  the  bulk  of  the  body  to  be  thus  infinitely  divided 
 afler  certain  progressions,  I  think  we  have  no  clear  nor  distinct  idea  at 
 all.  For  I  ask  any  one,  whether  taking  the  smallest  atom  of  dust  he  ever 
 saw,  he  has  any  distinct  idea  (bating  still  the  number,  which  concerns  not.- 
 extension)  betwixt  tho  10(),000th,  and  the  l,(H)0,()00th  part  of  it.  Or  if  ho 
 thinks  he  can  refine  his  ideas  to  that  degree,  without  losing  sight  of  them, 
 let  him  add  ten  cyphers  to  each  of  those  numbers.  Such  a  degree  of  small- 
 ness is  not  unreasonable  to  be  supposed,  since  a  division  carried  on  so  far 
 brings  it  no  nearer  the  end  of  infinite  division  than  the  first  division  into 
 two  halves  does.  I  must  confess,  for  my  part,  I  have  no  clear  distinct  ideas 
 of  the  different  bulk  or  extension  of  those  bodies,  having  but  a  very  obscure 
 one  of  either  of  them.  So  that,  I  think,  when  we  talk  of  the  division  of 
 bodies  in  infinitum,  our  idea  of  their  distinct  bulks,  which  is  the  subject 
 and  foundation  of  division,  comes,  after  a  little  progression,  to  be  con- 
 founded and  almost  lost  in  obscurity.  For  that  idea  winch  is  to  represent 
 only  bigness,  must  ho  vcrj'  obscure  and  confused,  which  we  cannot  distin- 
 guish from  one  ten  times  as  big,  hut  only  by  number;  so  that  we  have  clear,  dis- 
 tinct ideas,  we  may  say,  often  and  one,  hut  no  distinct  ideas  of  two  such  ex- 
 tensions. It  is  i)lain  from  hence,  that  when  we  talk  of  infinite  divisibility  of 
 body,   or  extension,  our  distinct  and  clear  ideas  arc  only   of  numbers  ; 
 
Ch.  29.  OF  CLEAR  AND  OBSCURE  IDEAS.  247 
 
 but  the  clear  distinct  ideas  of  extension,  after  some  progress  of  division, 
 are  quite  lost:  and  of  sucli  miinite  parts  we  liave  no  distinct  ideas  at  all; 
 but  it  returns,  as  all  our  ideas  of  infinite  do,  at  last  to  that  of  number 
 always  to  be  added,  but  thereby  never  amounts  to  any  distinct  idea  of  ac- 
 tual infinite  parts.  We  have,  it  is  true,  a  clear  idea  of  division,  as  often 
 as  we  think  of  it ;  but  thereby  we  have  no  more  a  clear  idea  of  infinite  parts 
 in  matter,  than  we  have  a  clear  idea  of  an  infinite  number,  by  being  able 
 still  to  add  new  numbers  to  any  assigned  numbers  we  have ;  endless  divisi- 
 bility giving  us  no  more  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  actually  infinite  parts, 
 than  endless  addibility  (if  I  may  so  speak)  gives  us  a  clear  and  distinct 
 idea  of  an  actually  infinite  number,  they  both  being  only  in  a  power  still  of 
 increasing  the  number,  be  it  already  as  great  as  it  will.  So  that  of  what 
 remains  to  be  added  (wherein  consists  the  infinity,)  we  have  but  an  obscure, 
 imperfect,  and  confused  idea ;  from  or  about  which  we  can  argue  or  reason 
 with  no  certainty  or  clearness,  no  more  than  we  can  in  arithmetic  about 
 a  number  of  which  we  have  no  such  distinct  idea,  as  we  have  of  four  or 
 one  hundred ;  but  only  this  relative  obscure  one,  that  compared  to  any 
 other,  it  is  still  bigger ;  and  we  have  no  more  a  clear  positive  idea  of  it 
 when  we  say  or  conceive  it  is  bigger,  or  more  than  400,000,000,  than  if  we 
 should  say  it  is  bigger  than  forty  or  four;  400,000,000  having  no  nearer  a 
 proportion  to  the  end  of  addition  or  number  than  four.  For  he  that  adds 
 only  four  to  four,  and  so  proceeds,  shall  as  soon  come  to  the  end  of  all 
 addition,  as  he  that  adds  400,000,000  to  400,000,000.  And  so  likewise  in 
 eternity,  he  that  has  an  idea  of  but  four  years  has  as  much  a  positive  com- 
 plete idea  of  eternity  as  he  that  has  one  of  400,000,000  of  years :  for  what 
 remains  of  eternity  beyond  either  of  these  two  numbers  of  years  is  as  clear 
 to  the  one  as  the  other,  i.  e.  neither  of  them  has  any  clear  positive  idea  of 
 it  at  all.  For  he  that  adds  only  four  years  to  four,  and  so  on,  shall  as  soon 
 reach  eternity  as  he  that  adds  400,000,000  of  years,  and  so  on ;  or,  if  he 
 please,  doubles  the  increase  as  often  as  he  will ;  the  remaining  abyss  being 
 still  as  far  beyond  the  end  of  all  these  progressions  as  it  is  from  the  length 
 of  a  day  or  an  hour.  For  nothing  finite  bears  any  proportion  to  infinite ; 
 and  therefore  our  ideas,  which  are  all  finite,  cannot  bear  any.  Thus  it  is 
 also  in  our  ideas  of  extension,  when  we  increase  it  by  addition,  as  well  as 
 when  we  diminish  it  by  division,  and  would  enlarge  our  thoughts  to  infinite 
 space.  After  a  few  doublings  of  those  ideas  of  extension,  which  are  the 
 largest  we  are  accustomed  to  have,  we  lose  the  clear  distinct  idea  of  that 
 space ;  it  becomes  a  confusedly  great  one,  with  a  surplus  of  still  greater ; 
 about  which,  when  we  would  argue  or  reason,  we  shall  always  find  our- 
 selves at  a  loss ;  confused  ideas  in  our  arguings  and  deductions  from  that 
 part  of  them  which  is  confused  always  leading  us  into  confusion. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXX. 
 
 OF  REAL  AND  FANTASTICAL  IDEAS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Real  ideas  are  conformable  to  their  archetypes. — Besides 
 what  we  have  already  mentioned  concerning  ideas,  other  considerations 
 belong  to  them,  in  reference  to  things  from  whence  they  are  taken,  or 
 which  they  may  be  supposed  to  represent :  and  thus,  I  think,  they  may 
 come  under  a  threefold  distinction ;  and  are. 
 
 First,  either  real  or  fantastical. 
 
 Secondly,  adequate  or  inadequate. 
 
 Thirdly,  true  or  false. 
 
 First,  by  real  ideas,  I  mean  such  as  have  a  foundation  in  nature ;  euch  as 
 
248  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 Jiave  a  conformity  witli  the  real  being  and  existence  of  tilings,  or  with  their 
 archetypes.  Fantastical  or  ciiimcrical  I  call  such  as  have  no  foundation 
 in  nature,  nor  have  any  conformity  to  that  reality  of  being  to  which  they 
 are  tacitly  referred  as  to  their  archetypes.  If  we  examine  tlie  several  sorts 
 of  ideas  before  mentioned,  we  shall  hnd,  that, 
 
 Sect.  2.  ^Simple  ideas  all  real. — First,  our  simple  ideas  are  all  real,  all 
 agree  to  the  reality  of  things,  not  that  they  are  all  of  them  the  images  or 
 representations  of  what  does  exist ;  the  contrary  whereof,  in  all  but  the 
 primary  qualities  of  bodies,  hath  been  already  shown.  But  though  white- 
 ness and  coldness  are  no  more  in  snow  than  pain  is,  yet  those  ideas  of 
 whiteness  and  coldness,  pain,  &-c.  being  in  us  the  effects  of  powers  in 
 things  without  us,  ordained  by  our  Maker,  to  produce  in  us  such  sensations, 
 they  are  real  ideas  in  us,  whereby  we  distinguish  the  qualities  that  are  really  in 
 things  themselves.  For  these  several  appearances  being  designed  to  be 
 the  inarlcs  whereby  we  are  to  know  and  distinguish  things  which  we  liave 
 to  do  Willi,  our  ideas  do  as  well  serve  us  to  that  purpose,  and  are  as  real 
 distinguishing  characters,  whether  they  be  only  constant  effects,  or  else 
 exact  resemblances  of  something  in  the  things  themselves  ;  the  reaUty  lying 
 in  that  steady  correspondence  they  have  with  the  distinct  constitutions  of 
 real  beings.  But  whether  they  answer  to  those  constitutions,  as  to  causes 
 or  patterns,  it  matters  not;  it  suffices  that  they  are  constantly  produced  by 
 them.  And  thus  our  simple  ideas  are  all  real  and  true,  because  they  an- 
 swer and  agree  to  those  powers '  of  things  which  produce  them  in  our 
 minds  ;  that  being  all  that  is  requisite  to  make  them  real,  and  not  fictions 
 at  pleasure.  For  in  simple  ideas  (as  has  been  shown)  the  mind  is  wholly 
 confined  to  the  operation  of  tilings  upon  it,  and  can  make  to  itself  no  simple 
 idea  more  than  what  it  has  received. 
 
 Sect.  3.    Complex  ideas  are  voluntary  combinations. — Though  the 
 mind  be  wholly  passive  in  respect  of  its  simple  ideas,  yet  I  think  we  may 
 say,  it  is  not  so  in  respect  of  its  complex  ideas :  for  those  being  combina- 
 tions of  simple  ideas  put  together,  and  united  under  one  general  name,  it  is 
 plain  that  the  mind  of  man  uses  some  kind  of  liberty  in  forming  those  com- 
 plex ideas;  how  else  comes  it  to  pass  that  one  man's  idea  of  gold,  or  justice, 
 is  different  from  another's  ]  but  because  he  lias  put  in,  or  left  out  of  his, 
 some  simple  idea  which  the  other  has  not.     The  question  then  is,  which  of 
 these  are  real,  and  which  barely  imaginary  combinations!    What  collec- 
 tions agree  to  the  reality  cf  things,  and  what  not;  and  to  this  I  say,  that, 
 Sect.  4.  Mixed  modes,  made  of  consistent  ideas,  are  real. — Secondly, 
 mixed  modes  and  relations  having  no  other  reality  but  what  they  have  in 
 the  minds  of  men,  there  is  nothing  more  required  to  this  kind  of  ideas  to 
 make  them  real,  but  that  they  be  so  framed,  that  there  be  a  possibility  of 
 existing  conformable  to  them.     These  ideas  themselves  being  archetypes, 
 cannot  differ  from  their  archetypes,  and  so  cannot  be  chimerical,  unless 
 any  one  will  jumble  together  in  them  inconsistent  ideas.     Indeed,  as  any 
 of  them  have  the  names  of  a  known  language  assigned  to  them,  by  which 
 he  that  has  them  in  his  mind  would  signify  them  to  others,  so  bare  possi- 
 bility of  existing  is  not  enough ;   they  must  have  a  conformity  to  the  ordi- 
 nary signification  of  the  name  that  is  given  them,  that  they  may  not  be 
 thought  fantastical ;  as  if  a  man  would  give  the  name  of  justice  to  that  idea 
 which  common  use  calls  liberality.     But  this  fantasticalness  relates  more 
 to  propriety  of  speech  than  reality  of  ideas  :  for  a  man  to  be  undisturbed 
 in  danger,  sedately  to  consider  what  is  fittest  to  be  done,  and  to  execute 
 it  steadily,  is  a  mixed  mode,  or  a  complex  idea  of  an  action  which  may 
 exist.     But  to  be  undisturbed  in  danger,  without  using  one's  reason  or  in- 
 dustry, is  what  is  also  possible  to  be,  and  so  is  as  real  an  idea  as  the  otlier. 
 Though  the  first  of  these,  having  the  name  courage  given  to  it,  may,  in 
 respect  of  that  name,  be  a  right  or  wrong  idea  :  but  the  other,  whilst  it  has 
 not  a  common  received  name  of  any  known  language  assigned  to  it,  is 
 
Ch.  30.  OP  REAL  AND  FANTASTICAL  IDEAS.  249 
 
 not  capable  of  any  deformity,  being  made  with  no  reference  to  any  thing 
 but  itself. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Ideas  of  substances  are  real,  when  they  agree  with  the  exist- 
 ence of  things. — Tliirdly,  our  complex  ideas  of  substances  being  made  all 
 of  them  in  reference  to  things  existing  without  us,  and  intended  to  be  re- 
 presentations of  substances,  as  they  really  are,  are  no  farther  real  than  as 
 they  are  such  combinations  of  simple  ideas  as  are  really  united,  and  co- 
 exist in  things  without  us.  On  the  contrary,  those  are  fantastical,  which 
 are  made  up  of  such  collections  of  simple  ideas  as  were  really  never  united, 
 never  were  found  together  in  any  substance;  v.g.  a  rational  creature,  con- 
 sisting of  a  horse's  head,  joined  to  a  body  of  human  shape,  or  such  as  the 
 centaurs  are  described :  or,  a  body  yellow,  very  malleable,  fusible,  and 
 fixed,  but  lighter  than  common  water :  or  a  uniform,  unorganized  body, 
 consisting,  as  to  sense,  all  of  similar  parts,  with  perception  and  voluntary 
 motion  joined  to  it.  Whether  such  substances  as  tliese  can  possibly  exist 
 or  no,  it  is  probable  we  do  not  know :  but  be  that  as  it  will,  these  ideas  of 
 substances  being  made  conformable  to  no  pattern  existing  that  we  know, 
 and  consisting  of  such  collections  of  ideas  as  no  substance  ever  showed  us 
 united  together,  they  ouglit  to  pass  with  us  for  barely  imaginary:  but  much 
 more  are  those  complex  ideas  so,  which  contain  in  them  any  inconsistency 
 or  contradiction  of  their  parts. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXXI. 
 
 OF  ADEQUATE  AND  INADEQUATE  IDEAS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Adequate  ideas  are  such  as  perfectly  represent  their  arche- 
 types.— Of  our  real  ideas,  some  are  adequate  and  some  are  inadequate. 
 Those  I  call  adequate,  which  perfectly  represent  those  archetypes  which 
 the  mind  supposes  them  taken  from  ;  which  it  intends  them  to  stand  for, 
 and  to  which  it  refers  them.  Inadequate  ideas  are  such  which  are  but  a 
 partial  or  incomplete  representation  of  those  archetypes  to  which  they  are 
 referred.     Upon  which  account  it  is  plain. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Simple  ideas  all  adequate. — First,  that  all  our  simple  ideas  are 
 adequate:  because,  being  nothing  but  the  eifects  of  certain  powers  in 
 things,  fitted  and  ordained  by  God  to  produce  such  sensations  iiijis,  they 
 cannot  but  be  correspondent  and  adequate  to  those  powers ;  and  we  are 
 sure  they  agree  to  the  reality  of  things.  For  if  sugar  produce  in  us  the 
 ideas  which  we  call  whiteness  and  sweetness,  we  are  sure  there  is  a  povver 
 in  sugar  to  produce  those  ideas  in  our  minds,  or  else  they  could  not  have 
 been  produced  by  it.  And  so  each  sensation  answering  the  power  that 
 operates  on  any  of  our  senses,  the  idea  so  produced  is  a  real  idea  (and  not 
 a  fiction  of  the  mind,  which  has  no  power  to  produce  any  simple  idea),  and 
 cannot  but  be  adequate,  since  it  ought  only  to  answer  that  power ;  and  so 
 all  sim])le  ideas  are  adequate.  It  is  true,  the  things  producing  in  us  these 
 simple  ideas,  are  but  few  of  them  denominated  by  us  as  if  they  were  only 
 the  causes  of  tiiem,  but  as  if  those  ideas  were  real  beings  in  them.  For 
 though  fire  be  called  painful  to  the  touch,  whereby  is  signified  the  power 
 of  producing  in  us  the  idea  of  pain,  yet  it  is  denominated  also  liglit  and 
 heat;  as  if  light  and  heat  were  really  something  in  tlie  fire  more  than  a 
 power  to  excite  these  ideas  in  us,  and  tiierefore  are  called  qualities  in,  or 
 of  the  fire.  But  these  being  notliing,  in  truth,  but  powers  to  excite  such 
 ideas  in  us,  I  must  in  that  sense  be  understood  when  I  speak  of  secondary  > 
 qualities,  as  being  in  things  ;  or  of  their  ideas,  as  being  the  objects  tliat 
 excite  them  in  us.  Such  ways  of  speaking,  though  accommodated  to  the 
 vulgar  notions,  without  which  one  cannot  be  well  understood,  yet  truly 
 2G 
 
250  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  Q. 
 
 signify  nothincj  but  those  powers  which  are  in  tilings  to  excite  certain 
 sensations  or  ideas  in  us  :  since  were  tiicrc  no  fit  organs  to  receive  tlie 
 imjjressions  tire  nialces  on  tlie  sight  and  towcli,  nor  a  mind  joined  to  tiiose 
 organs  to  receive  tlie  ideas  ot"  light  and  heat  by  those  impressions  from  the 
 fire  or  sun,  there  would  yet  be  no  more  light  or  heat  in  the  world  than 
 there  would  be  pain,  if  there  were  no  sensible  creature  to  feel  it,  though 
 the  sun  should  continue  just  as  it  is  now,  and  mount  Etna  llame  higher 
 than  ever  it  did.  Solidity  and  extension,  and  the  termination  of  it,  figure, 
 with  motion  and  rest,  whereof  we  have  the  ideas,  would  be  really  in  the 
 world  as  they  are,  whether  there  wore  any  sensible  being  to  perceive  them 
 or  no  ;  and  therefore  we  have  reason  to  look  on  those  as  the  real  modifi- 
 cations of  matter,  and  such  are  the  exciting  causes  of  all  our  various  sen- 
 sations from  bodies.  But  this  being  an  inquiry  not  belonging  to  this  place, 
 I  shall  enter  no  farther  into  it,  but  proceed  to  show  what  complex  ideas 
 are  adequate,  and  what  not. 
 
 Sect.  D.  Modes  are  all  adequate. — Secondly,  our  complex  ideas  of 
 modes  being  voluntary  collections  of  simple  ideas,  which  the  mind  puts  to- 
 gether without  reference  to  any  real  archetypes  or  standing  patterns  exist- 
 ing any  where,  are  and  cannot  but  be  adequate  ideas.  Because  they  not 
 being  intended  for  copies  of  things  really  existing,  but  for  archetypes  made ;  / 
 by  the  mind  to  rank  and  denominate  things  by,  cannot  want  any  thing;! 
 they  having  each  of  them  that  combination  of  ideas,  and  thereby  that  per- 
 fection which  the  mind  intended  they  should,  so  that  the  mind  acquiesces 
 in  them,  and  can  find  nothing  wanting.  Thus,  by  having  the  idea  of  a 
 figure,  with  three  sides  meeting  at  three  angles,  I  have  a  complete  idea, 
 wherein  I  require  nothing  else  to  make  it  perfect.  That  the  mind  is  satis- 
 fied with  the  perfection  of  this  its  idea,  is  plain  in  that  it  does  not  con- 
 ceive that  any  understanding  hath,  or  can  have,  a  more  complete  or  per- 
 fect idea  of  that  thing  it  signifies  by  the  word  triangle,  supposing  it  to 
 exist,  than  itself  has  in  that  complex  idea  of  three  sides  and  three  angles ; 
 in  which  is  contained  all  that  is  or  can  be  essential  to  it,  or  necessary  to 
 complete  it,  wherever  or  however  it  exists.  But  in  our  ideas  of  substances 
 it  is  otherwise.  For  there  desiring  to  copy  things  as  they  really  do  exist, 
 and  to  represent  to  ourselves  that  constitution  on  which  all  their  properties 
 depend,  we  perceive  our  ideas  attain  not  that  perfection  we  intend ;  we 
 .  find  they  still  want  something  we  should  bo  glad  were  in  them,  and  so  are 
 r  all  inadequate.  But  mixed  modes  and  relations,  being  archetypes  without 
 '  patterns,  and  so  having  nothing  to  represent  but  themselves,  cannot  but 
 be  adequate,  every  thing  being  so  to  itself  He  that  at  first  put  together 
 the  idea  of  danger,  perceived  absence  of  disorder  from  fear,  sedate  con- 
 sideration of  what  was  justly  to  be  done,  and  executing  that  without  dis- 
 turbance, or  being  deterred  by  the  danger  of  it,  had  certainly  in  his  mind 
 that  complex  idea  made  up  of  that  combination  ;  and  intending  it  to  be  no- 
 thing else  but  what  it  is,  nor  to  have  in  it  any  other  simple  ideas  but  what  it 
 hath,  it  could  not  also  but  bo  an  adequate  idea:  and  laying  this  up  in  his 
 memory,  with  the  name  courage  annexed  to  it,  to  signify  to  others,  and 
 denominate  from  thence  any  action  he  should  observe  to  agree  with  it,  had 
 thereby  a  standard  to  measure  and  denominate  actions  by,  as  they  agreed 
 to  it.  This  idea  thus  made,  and  laid  up  for  a  pattern,  must  necessarily  be 
 adequate,  being  referred  to  nothing  else  but  itself,  nor  made  by  any  other  ori- 
 ginal, but  the  good  liking  and  will  of  him  that  first  made  this  combination. 
 Sect.  4.  Modes,  in  reference  to  settled  names,  may  he  inadequate. — 
 Indeed  another  coming  after,  and  in  conversation  learning  from  him  the 
 word  courage,  may  make  an  idea  to  which  he  gives  the  name  courage,  dif- 
 ferent from  what  the  first  author  api)lied  it  to,  and  has  in  his  mind  when 
 he  uses  it.  And  in  this  case,  if  he  designs  that  his  idea  in  thinking  should 
 be  conformable  to  the  other's  idea,  as  the  name  he  uses  in  speaking  is  con- 
 formable in  sound  to  his,  from  whom  he  learned  it,  liis  idea  may  be  very 
 
Ch.  31.      OP  ADEQUATE  AND  INADEQUATE  IDEAS.  251 
 
 wrong  and  inadequate :  because,  in  this  case,  making  the  other  man's  idea 
 the  pattern  of  his  idea  in  thinking,  as  the  other  man's  word  or  sound  is  the 
 pattern  of  his  in  speaking,  his  idea  is  so  far  defective  and  inadequate,  as 
 it  is  distant  from  the  archetype  and  pattern  he  refers  it  to,  and  intends  to 
 express  and  signify  by  the  name  he  uses  for  it ;  which  name  he  would  have 
 to  be  a  sign  of  the  other  man's  idea  (to  wliich,  in  its  proper  use,  it  is  pri- 
 marily annexed)  and  of  his  own,  as  agreeing  to  it:  to  which,  if  his  own 
 does  not  exactly  correspond,  it  is  faulty  and  inadequate. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Therefore  these  complex  ideas  of  modes,  when  they  are  re- 
 ferred by  the  mind,  and  intended  to  correspond  to  the  ideas  in  the  mind  of  . 
 some  other  intelligent  being,  expressed  by  the  names  we  apply  to  them, 
 they  may  be  very  deficient,  wrong,  and  inadequate ;  because  they  agree 
 not  to  that  which  the  mind  designs  to  be  their  archetype  and  pattern ;  in 
 which  respect  only,  any  idea  of  modes  can  be  wrong,  imperfect,  or  inade- 
 quate. And  on  this  account  our  ideas  of  mixed  modes  are  the  most  liable 
 to  be  faulty  of  any  other ;  "but  this  refers  more  to  proper  speaking  than 
 knowing  right. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Ideas  of  substances,  as  referred  to  real  essences,  not  ade- 
 quate.— Thirdly,  what  ideas  we  have  of  substances,  I  have  above  shown. 
 Now,  those  ideas  have  in  the  mind  a  double  reference  :  1.  Sometimes  they 
 are  referred  to  a  supposed  real  essence  of  each  species  of  things.  2.  Some- 
 times they  are  only  designed  to  be  pictures  and  representations  in  the 
 mind,  of  things  that  do  exist  by  ideas  of  those  qualities  that  are  discover- 
 able in  them.  In  both  which  ways  these  copies  of  those  originals  and 
 archetypes  are  imperfect  and  inadequate. 
 
 First,  it  is  usual  for  men  to  make  the  names  of  substances  stand  for 
 things,  as  supposed  to  have  certain  real  essences,  whereby  they  are  of  this 
 or  that  species :  and  names  standing  for  nothing  but  the  ideas  that  are  iwj 
 men's  minds,  they  must  consequently  refer  their  ideas  to  such  real  essen- 
 ces as  to  their  archetypes.  That  men  (especially  such  as  have  been  bred 
 up  in  the  learning  taught  in  this  part  of  the  world)  do  suppose  certain  specific 
 essences  of  substances,  which  each  individual,  in  its  several  kinds,  is  made 
 conformable  to,  and  partakes  of,  is  so  far  from  needing  proof,  that  it  will 
 be  thought  strange  if  any  one  should  do  otherwise.  And  thus  they  ordi- 
 narily apply  the  specific  names  they  rank  particular  substances  under  to 
 things  as  distinguished  by  such  specific  real  essences.  Who  is  there  almost, 
 who  would  not  take  it  amiss,  if  it  should  be  doubted,  whether  he  called 
 himself  a  man,  with  any  other  meaning,  than  as  having  the  real  essence 
 of  a  man  ]  And  yet  if  you  demand  what  those  real  essences  are,  it  is  plain 
 men  are  ignorant,  and  know  them  not.  From  whence  it  follows,  that  the 
 ideas  they  have  in  their  minds,  being  referred  to  real  essences,  as  to  arche. 
 types  which  are  unknown,  must  be  so  far  fi'om  being  adequate,  that  they 
 cannot  be  supposed  to  be  any  representation  of  them  at  all.  The  com- 
 plex ideas  we  have  of  substances  are,  as  it  has  been  shown,  certain  collec- 
 tions of  simple  ideas  that  have  been  observed  or  supposed  constantly  to 
 exist  together.  But  such  a  complex  idea  cannot  be  the  real  essence  of  any 
 substance ;  for  then  the  properties  we  discover  in  that  body  would  depend 
 on  that  complex  idea,  and  be  deducible  from  it,  and  their  necessary  con- 
 nexion with  it  be  known:  as  all  properties  of  a  triangle  depend  on,  and  as 
 far  as  they  are  discoverable,  are  deducible  from,  the  complex  idea  of  three 
 lines,  including  a  space.  But  it  is  plain,  that  in  our  complex  ideas  of  sub- 
 stances, are  not  contained  such  ideas,  on  which  all  the  other  qualities 
 that  are  to  be  found  in  them  do  depend.  The  common  idea  men  have 
 of  iron,  is  a  body  of  a  certain  colour,  weight  and  hardness;  and  a  property 
 that  they  look  on  as  belonging  to  it,  is  malleableness.  But  yet  this  pro- 
 perty has  no  necessary  connexion  with  that  complex  idea,  or  any  part  of 
 it;  and  there  is  no  more  reason  to  think  that  malleableness  depends  on  that 
 colour,  weight  and  hardness,  than  that  that  colour,  or  that  weight  depends 
 
252  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 on  its  malleablencss.  And  yot,  tlion<rh  wc  know  notliing  of  tliese  real 
 essences,  there  is  nothing  more  ordinary,  llian  lliat  men  shonld  attribute 
 the  sorts  of  tilings  to  such  essences.  Tlie  particuhir  ])arcel  of  matter, 
 which  makes  the  ring  I  iiave  on  my  finger,  is  forwardly,  by  most  men,  sup- 
 posed to  have  a  real  essence,  whereby  it  is  gold,  and  from  whence  those 
 qualities  flow  which  T  find  in  it,  viz.  its  peculiar  colour,  weight,  hardness, 
 fusibility,  fixedness,  and  change  of  colour  upon  a  slight  touch  of  mercury, 
 &c.  Tliis  essence,  from  which  all  these  properties  flow,  when  I  inquire 
 into  it,  and  search  afler  it,  I  plainly  perceive  I  cannot  discover ;  the  far- 
 thest I  can  go,  is  only  to  presume,  that  it  being  nothing  but  body,  its  real 
 essence,  or  internal  constitution,  on  which  these  qualities  depend,  can  be 
 nothing  but  the  figure,  size,  and  connexion  of  its  solid  parts  ;  of  neither  of 
 which  having  any  distinct  perception  at  all,  can  1  have  any  idea  of  its  es- 
 sence, which  is  the  cause  that  it  has  that  particular  shining  yellowness,  a 
 greater  weight  than  any  thing  I  know  of  the  same  bulk,  and  a  fitness  to 
 have  its  colour  changed  by  the  touch  of  quicksilver.  If  any  one  will  say, 
 that  the  real  essence  and  internal  constitution,  on  which  these  properties 
 depend,  is  not  the  figure,  size  and  arrangement  or  connexion  of  its  solid 
 parts,  but  something  else,  called  its  particular  form,  I  am  farther  from  hav- 
 ing any  idea  of  its  real  essence  than  I  was  before :  for  I  have  an  idea  of 
 figure,  size,  and  situation  of  solid  parts  in  general,  though  I  have  none  of 
 the  particular  figure,  size,  or  putting  together  of  parts,  whereby  the  quali- 
 ties above  mentioned  are  produced ;  which  qualities  I  find  in  that  parti- 
 cular parcel  of  matter  that  is  on  my  finger,  and  not  in  another  parcel  of 
 matter,  with  which  I  cut  the  pen  I  write  with.  But  when  I  am  told  that  some-  ■ 
 thing  besides  the  figure,  size  and  posture  of  the  solid  parts  of  that  body  is  r 
 its  essence,  something  called  substantial  form  :  of  that  I  confess  I  have  no 
 idea  at  all,  but  only  of  the  sound  form,  which  is  far  enough  from  an  idea 
 of  its  real  essence  or  constitution.  The  like  ignorance  as  I  have  of  the 
 real  essence  of  this  particular  substance,  I  have  also  of  the  real  essence 
 of  all  other  natural  ones;  of  which  essences,  I  confess,  1  haveuio  distinct 
 ideas  at  all  :  and  I  am  apt  to  suppose  others,  when  they  examine  their 
 own  knowledge,  will  find  in  themselves,  in  this  one  point,  the  same  sort 
 of  ignorance. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Now,  then,  when  men  apply  to  this  particular  parcel  of  mat- 
 ter on  my  finger,  a  general  name  already  in  use,  and  denominate  it  gold, 
 do  they  not  ordinarily,  or  are  they  not  understood  to  give  it  that  name  as 
 belonging  to  a  particular  species  of  bodies,  having  a  real  internal  essence; 
 by  having  of  which  essence,  this  particular  substance  conies  to  be  of  that 
 species,  and  to  be  called  by  that  name  1  If  it  be  so,  as  it  is  plain  it  is, 
 the  name,  by  which  things  are  marked,  as  ha\nng  that  essence,  must  be 
 referred  primarily  to  that  essence ;  and  consequently  the  idea  to  which 
 that  name  is  given  must  be  referred  also  to  the  essence,  and  be  intended 
 to  represent  it.  Which  essence,  since  they,  who  so  use  the  names,  know 
 not  their  ideas  of  substances,  must  be  all  inadequate  in  that  respect,  as  not 
 containing  in  them  that  real  essence  which  the  mind  intends  they  should. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Ideas  of  siihstances,  as  collections  of  their  qualities,  are  all 
 inadequate. — Secondly,  those  who,  neglecting  that  useless  supposition  of 
 unknown  real  essences,  whereby  they  are  distinguished,  endeavour  to  copy 
 the  substances  that  exist  in  the  world,  by  putting  together  the  ideas  of 
 those  sensible  qualities  that  are  found  co-existing  in  them,  though  they 
 come  much  nearer  a  likeness  of  them  than  those  who  imagine  they  know 
 not  what  real  specific  essences ;  yet  they  arrive  not  at  perfectly  adequate 
 ideas  of  those  substances  they  would  thus  copy  into  their  minds  ;  nor  do 
 those  copies  exactly  and  fully  contain  all  that  is  to  be  found  in  their  arche- 
 types. Because  those  qualities  and  powers  of  substances,  whereof  we 
 make  their  complex  ideas,  are  so  many  and  various,  that  no  man's  com- 
 plex idea  contains  them  all.     That  our  abstract  ideas  of  substances  do  not 
 
Ch.  31.      OF  ADEQUATE  AND  INADEQUATE  IDEAS.  253 
 
 contain  in  them  all  the  simple  ideas  that  are  united  in  the  things  them- 
 selves, it  is  evident,  in  that  men  do  rarely  put  into  their  complex  idea  of 
 any  substance  all  the  simple  ideas  they  do  know  to  exist  in  it.  Because 
 endeavouring  to  make  the  signification  of  their  specific  names  as  clear  and 
 as  little  cumbersome  as  they  can,  they  make  their  specific  ideas  of  the 
 sorts  of  substances,  for  the  most  part,  of  a  few  of  those  simple  ideas  which 
 are  to  be  found  in  them :  but  these  having  no  original  precedency,  or  right 
 to  be  put  in,  and  make  the  specific  idea  more  than  others  that  are  left  out, 
 it  is  plain  that  both  tliese  ways  our  ideas  of  substances  are  deficient  and 
 inadequate.  These  simple  ideas,  whereof  we  make  our  complex  ones  of 
 substances,  are  all  of  them  (bating  only  the  figure  and  bulk  of  some  sorts) 
 powers,  which  being  relations  to  other  substances,  we  can  never  be  sure 
 that  we  know  all  the  powers  that  are  in  any  one  body,  till  we  have  tried 
 what  changes  it  is  fitted  to  give  to,  or  receive  from  other  substances,  in 
 their  several  ways  of  application  :  which  being  impossible  to  be  tried  upon 
 any  one  body,  much  less  upon  all,  it  is  impossible  we  should  have  adequate 
 ideas  of  any  substance  made  up  of  a  collection  of  all  its  properties. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Whosoever  first  lit  on  a  parcel  of  that  sort  of  substance  we  de- 
 note by  the  word  gold,  could  not  rationally  take  the  bulk  and  figure  he 
 observed  in  that  lump  to  depend  on  its  real  essence  or  internal  constitu- 
 tion. Therefore  those  never  went  into  his  idea  of  that  species  of  body; 
 but  its  peculiar  colour,  perhaps,  and  weight,  were  the  first  he  abstracted 
 from  it  to  make  the  complex  idea  of  that  species.  Which  both  are  but 
 powers ;  the  one  to  affect  our  eyes  after  such  a  manner,  and  to  produce  in 
 us  that  idea  we  call  yellow;  and  the  other  to  force  upwards  any  other  body 
 of  equal  bulk,  they  being  put  into  a  pair  of  equal  scales,  one  against  another. 
 Another  perhaps  added  to  these  the  ideas  of  fusibility  and  fixedness,  two 
 other  passive  powers,  in  relation  to  the  operation  of  fire  upon  it;  another, 
 its  ductility  and  solubility  in  aq.  regia,  two  other  powers  relating  to  the 
 operation  of  other  bodies,  in  cnanging  its  outward  figure  or  separation  of 
 it  into  insensible  parts.  These,  or  parts  of  these,  put  together,  usually 
 make  the  complex  idea  in  men's  minds,  of  that  sort  of  body  we  call  gold. 
 
 Sect.  10.  But  no  one,  who  hath  considered  the  properties  of  bodies  in 
 general,  or  this  sort  in  particular,  can  doubt  that  this  called  gold  has  infinite 
 other  properties  not  contained  in  that  complex  idea. 
 
 Some  who  have  examined  this  species  more  accurately,  could,  I  believe, 
 enumerate  ten  times  as  many  properties  in  gold,  all  of  them  as  inseparable 
 from  its  internal  constitution  as  its  colour  or  weight :  and  it  is  probable, 
 if  any  one  knew  all  the  properties  that  are  by  divers  men  known  of  this 
 metal,  there  would  an  hundred  times  as  many  ideas  go  to  the  complex 
 idea  of  gold  as  any  one  man  yet  has  in  his ;  and  yet  perhaps  that  not  be 
 the  thousandth  part  of  what  is  to  be  discovered  in  it.  The  changes  which 
 that  one  body  is  apt  to  receive,  and  make  in  other  bodies  upon  a  due  appli- 
 cation, exceeding  far  not  only  what  we  know,  but  what  we  are  apt  to 
 imagine.  Which  will  not  appear  so  much  a  paradox  to  any  one,  who  will 
 but  consider  how  far  men  are  yet  from  knowing  all  the  properties  of  that 
 one,  no  very  compound  figure,  a  triangle;  though  it  be  no  small  number 
 that  are  already  by  mathematicians  discovered  of  it. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Ideas  of  substances,  as  collections  of  their  qualities,  are  all 
 inadequate. — So  that  all  our  complex  ideas  of  substances  are  imperfect 
 and  inadequate.  Which  would  be  so  also  in  mathematical  figures,  if  we 
 were  to  have  our  complex  ideas  of  them  only  by  collecting  their  properties 
 in  reference  to  other  figures.  How  uncertain  and  imperfect  would  our 
 ideas  be  of  an  ellipsis,  if  we  had  no  other  idea  of  it  but  some  few  of  its 
 properties  1  Whereas  having  in  our  plain  idea  the  whole  essence  of  that 
 figure,  we  from  thence  discover  those  properties,  and  demonstratively  see 
 how  they  flow,  and  are  inseparable  from  it. 
 
254  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book 2. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Simple  ideas  ixluTrt,  and  adequate. — Tlius  the  mind  has 
 three  sorts  of  abstract  ideas,  or  nominal  essences : 
 
 First,  simple  ideas,  which  are  'inlu-^a.,  or  copies,  but  yet  certainly  ade- 
 quate. Because  being  intended  to  express  nothing  but  the  power  in  things 
 to  produce  in  the  mind  such  a  sensation,  that  sensation,  when  it  is  pro- 
 duced, cannot  but  be  the  effect  of  that  power.  So  tiie  paper  I  write  on, 
 having  tlie  power,  in  the  light  (I  speak  according  to  the  common  notion 
 of  light)  to  produce  in  me  the  sensation  wiiich  I  call  white,  it  cannot  but 
 be  tlie  effect  of  such  a  power,  in  something  without  the  mind ;  since  the 
 mind  has  not  the  power  to  produce  any  such  idea  itself,  and  being  meant 
 for  nothing  else  but  the  effect  of  such  a  power,  that  simple  idea  is  real  and 
 adequate :  the  sensation  of  white,  in  my  mind,  being  the  effect  of  that 
 power  which  is  in  the  paper  to  produce  it,  is  perfectly  adequate  to  that 
 power,  or  else  that  power  woidd  produce  a  different  idea. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Ideas  of  substances  are  'UluTra.,  inadequate. — Secondly,  the 
 complex  ideas  of  substances  are  ectypes,  copies  too ;  but  not  perfect  ones, 
 not  adequate ;  which  is  very  evident  to  the  mind,  in  that  it  plainly  per- 
 ceives that  whatever  collection  of  simple  ideas  it  makes  of  any  substance 
 that  exists,  it  cannot  be  sure  that  it  exactly  answers  all  that  are  in  that 
 substance ;  since  not  having  tried  all  the  operations  of  all  other  substances 
 upon  it,  and  found  all  the  alterations  it  would  receive  from,  or  cause  in 
 other  substances,  it  cannot  have  an  exact  adequate  collection  of  all  its  ? 
 active  and  passive  capacities  ;  and  so  not  have  an  adequate  complex  idea 
 of  the  powers  of  any  substance  existing,  and  its  relations,  which  is  that 
 sort  of  complex  idea  of  substances  we  have.  And,  after  all,  if  we  could 
 have,  and  actually  had  in  our  complex  idea,  an  exact  collection  of  all  the 
 secondary  qualities  or  powers  of  any  substance,  we  should  not  yet  thereby 
 have  an  idea  of  the  essence  of  that  thing.  For  since  the  powers  or  quali- 
 ties that  are  observable  by  us,  are  not  the  real  essence  of  that  substance, 
 but  depend  on  it,  and  flow  from  it,  any  collection  whatsoever  of  these 
 qualities,  cannot  be  the  real  essence  of  that  thing.  Whereby  it  is  plain, 
 that  our  ideas  of  substances  are  not  adequate,  are  not  what  the  mind  in- 
 tends them  to  be.  Besides,  a  man  has  no  idea  of  substance  in  general,, 
 nor  knows  what  substance  is  in  itself.  "" 
 
 Sect.  14.  Ideas  of  modes  and  relations  are  archetypes,  and  cannot 
 hut  he  adequate. — Thirdly,  complex  ideas  of  modes  and  relations  are  ori- 
 ginals and  archetypes ;  are  not  copies,  nor  made  afler  the  pattern  of  any 
 real  existence,  to  which  the  mind  intends  them  to  be  conformable,  and  ex- 
 actly to  answer.  These  being  such  collections  of  simyjle  ideas  that  the 
 mind  itself  puts  together,  and  such  collections,  that  each  of  them  contains 
 in  it  precisely  all  that  the  mind  intends  it  sliould,  they  are  archetypes  and 
 essences  of  modes  that  may  exist,  and  so  are  designed  only  for,  and  belong 
 only  to  such  modes,  as  when  they  do  exist,  have  an  exact  conformity  with 
 those  complex  ideas*.  The  ideas  therefore  of  modes  and  relations  cannot 
 but  be  adequate. 
 
 CHAPTER   XXXII. 
 
 OF  TRUE  AND  FALSE  IDEAS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Truth  and  falsehood  properly  helong  to  propositions. — Though 
 truth  and  falsehood  belong,  in  propriety  of  speech,  only  to  propo- 
 sitions, yet  ideas  are  oflentimes  termed  true  or  false  (as  what  words  are 
 tliere  that  are  not  used  with  great  latitude,  and  with  some  deviation  from 
 their   strict   and    proper   significations?)      Though,  I  think,  that  when 
 
Ch.  32.  OF  TRUE  AND  F-\LSE  IDEAS.  355 
 
 ideas  themselves  are  termed  true  or  false,  there  is  still  some  secret  or  tacit 
 proposition,  which  is  the  foundation  of  that  denomination :  as  we  shall  see, 
 if  we  examine  the  particular  occasions  wherein  they  come  to  be  called 
 true  or  false.  In  all  which  we  shall  find  some  kind  of  affirmation  or  ne- 
 gation, which  is  the  reason  of  that  denomination.  For  our  ideas  being 
 nothing  but  bare  appearances  or  perceptions  in  our  minds,  cannot  properly 
 and  simply  in  themselves  be  said  to  be  true  or  false,  no  more  than  a  single 
 name  of  any  thing  can  be  said  to  be  true  or  false. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Metaphysical  truth  contains  a  tacit  proposition. — Indeed  both 
 ideas  and  words  may  be  said  to  be  true  in  a  metaphysical  sense  of  the 
 word  truth,  as  all  other  things,  that  any  way  exist,  are  said  to  be  true,  t.  e. 
 really  to  be  such  as  they  exist.  Though  in  things  called  true,  even  in  that 
 sense,  there  is  perhaps  a  secret  reference  to  our  ideas  looked  upon  as  the 
 standards  of  that  truth,  which  amounts  to  a  mental  proposition,  though  it 
 be  usually  not  taken  notice  of. 
 
 Sect.  3.  JVo  idea,  as  an  appearance  in  the  mind,  true  or  false. — But 
 it  is  not  in  that  metaphysical  sense  of  truth  which  we  inquire  here,  when 
 we  examine  whether  our  ideas  are  capable  of  being  true  or  false,  but  in 
 the  more  ordinary  acceptation  of  those  words :  and  so  I  sav,  that  the  ideas 
 in  our  minds  being  only  so  many  perceptions,  or  appearances  there,  none 
 of  them  are  false:  the  idea  of  a  centaur  having  no  more  falsehood  in  it, 
 when  it  appears  in  our  minds,  than  the  name  centaur  has  falsehood  in  it 
 when  it  is  pronounced  by  our  mouths  or  written  on  paper.  For  truth  or 
 falsehood  lying  always  in  some  affirmation,  or  negation,  mental  or  verbal, 
 our  ideas  are  not  capable,  any  of  them,  of  being  false,  till  the  mind  passes 
 some  judgment  on  them;  that  is,  affirms  or  denies  something  of  them. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Ideas  referred  to  any  thing,  may  be  true  or  false. — Whenever 
 the  mind  refers  any  of  its  ideas  to  any  thing  extraneous  to  them,  they  are 
 then  capable  to  be  called  true  or  false.  Because  the  nmrd  in  such  a  re- 
 ference makes  a  tacit  supposition  of  their  conformity  to  that  thing:  which 
 supposition,  as  it  happens  to  be  true  or  false,  so  the  ideas  themselves  come 
 to  be  denominated.  The  most  usual  cases,  wherein  this  happens,  are 
 these  foUowin? : 
 
 Sect.  b.  Other  men's  ideas,  real  existences,  and  supposed  real  essen- 
 ces, are  what  men  usually  refer  their  ideas  to. — P^st,  when  the  mind 
 supposes  any  idea  it  has  conformable  to  that  in  other  "men's  minds,  called 
 by  the  same  common  name :  v.  g.  when  the  mind  intends  or  judges  its 
 ideas  of  justice,  temperance,  religion,  to  be  the  same  with  what  other 
 men  give  those  names  to. 
 
 Secondly,  when  the  mind  supposes  any  idea  it  has  in  itself  to  be  con- 
 formaroe  to  some  real  existence.  Thus  the  two  ideas  of  a  man  and  a  cen- 
 taur, supposed  to  be  the  ideas  of  real  substances,  are  the  one  true,  and 
 the  other  false ;  the  one  having  a  conformity  to  what  has  really  existed, 
 the  other  not. 
 
 Thirdly,  when  the  mind  refers  any  of  its  ideas  to  the  real  constitution 
 and  essence  of  any  thing  whereon  all  its  properties  depend :  and  thus  the 
 greatest  part,  if  not  all  our  ideas  of  substances,  are  false. 
 
 Sect.  6.  The  cause  of  such  references. — These  suppositions  the  mind 
 is  very  apt  tacitly  to  make  concerning  its  own  ideas.  But  yet,  if  w6  will 
 examine  it,  we  shall  find  it  is  chiefly,  if  not  only,  concerning  its  abstract  com- 
 plex ideas.  For  the  natiu^  tendency  of  the  mind  being  towards  knowledge ; 
 and  finding  that,  if  it  should  proceed  by  and  dwell  upon  any  particular 
 things,  its  progress  would  be  very  slow,  and  its  work  endless  :  therefore  to 
 shorten  its  way  to  knowledge,  and  make  each  perception  more  compre-v 
 hensive  ;  the  first  thing  it  does,  as  the  foundation  of  the  easier  enlarging 
 Its  knowledge,  either  by  contemplation  of  the  things  themselves  that  it 
 would  know,  or  conference  with  others  about  them,  ia  to  bind  them  into 
 bundles,  and  rank  them  so  into  sorts,  that  what  knowledge  it  gets  of  any 
 
256  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 of  them,  it  may  thereby  with  tiFsurance  extend  to  all  of  that  sort;  and  so 
 advance  by  larger  steps  in  tliat,  which  is  its  great  business,  knowledge. 
 This,  as  I  have  elsewlicre  shown,  is  the  reason  why  we  collect  things 
 under  comprehensive  ideas,  with  names  annexed  to  them,  into  genera  and 
 species,  i.  e.  into  kinds  and  sorts. 
 
 Skct.  7.  If  therefore  we  will  warily  attend  to  the  motions  of  the  mind, 
 and  observe  what  course  it  usually  takes  in  its  way  to  knowledge,  we  shall, 
 I  think,  find  that  the  mind  having  got  any  idea,  which  it  thinks  it  may 
 have  use  of,  either  in  contemplation  or  discourse,  the  first  thing  it  does  is 
 to  abstract  it,  and  then  get  a  name  to  it ;  and  so  lay  it  up  in  its  storehouse, 
 the  memory,  as  containing  the  essence  of  a  sort  of  things,  of  which  that 
 name  is  always  to  be  the  mark.  Hence  it  is  that  we  may  often  observe, 
 that  when  any  one  sees  a  new  thing  of  a  kind  that  he  knows  not,  he  pre- 
 sently asks  what  it  is,  meaning  by  that  inquiry  nothing  but  the  name.  As 
 if  the  name  carried  with  it  the  knowledge  of  the  species,  or  the  essence 
 of  it :  whereof  it  is  indeed  used  as  the  mark,  and  is  generally  supposed 
 annexed  to  it. 
 
 Sect.  8.  The  cause  of  such  references. — But  this  abstract  idea  being 
 something  in  the  mind  between  the  thing  that  exists  and  the  name  that 
 is  given  to  it ;  it  is  in  our  ideas,  that  both  the  rightness  of  our  knowledge, 
 and  the  propriety  or  intelligibleness  of  our  speaking,  consists.  And  hence 
 it  is,  that  men  are  so  forward  to  suppose,  that  the  abstract  ideas  they 
 have  in  their  minds,  are  such  as  agree  to  the  things  existing  without  them, 
 to  which  they  are  referred ;  and  are  the  same  also,  to  which  the  names 
 they  give  them  do,  by  the  use  and  propriety  of  that  language,  belong. 
 For  without  tliis  double  conformity  of  their  ideas,  they  find  they  should  both 
 think  amiss  of  things  in  themselves,  and  talk  of  them  unintelligibly  to  others. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Simple  ideas  may  he  false,  in  reference  to  others  of  the  same 
 name,  but  are  least  liable  to  be  so. — First,  then,  I  say,  that  when  the  truth 
 of  our  ideas  is  judged  of  by  the  conformity  they  have  to  the  ideas  which 
 other  men  have,  and  commonly  signify  by  the  same  name,  they  may  be 
 any  of  them  false.  But  yet  simple  ideas  are  least  of  all  liable  to  be  so 
 mistaken ;  because  a  man  by  his  senses,  and  every  day's  observation,  may 
 easily  satisfy  himself  what  the  simple  ideas  are  which  their  several  names 
 that  are  in  common  use  stand  for,  they  being  but  few  in  number,  and  such 
 as  if  he  doubts  or  mistakes  in,  he  may  easily  rectify,  by  the  objects  they 
 are  to  be  found  in.  Therefore  it  is  seldom  that  any  one  mistakes  in  his 
 names  of  simple  ideas,  or  applies  the  name  red  to  the  idea  of  green,  or  the 
 name  sweet  to  the  idea  bitter;  much  less  are  men  apt  to  confound  the 
 names  of  ideas  belonging  to  different  senses,  and  call  a  colour  by  the  name 
 of  a  taste,  &c. ;  whereby  it  is  evident  that  the  simple  ideas  they  call  by 
 any  name  are  commonly  the  same  that  others  have  and  mean  when  they 
 use  the  same  names. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Ideas  of  mixed  modes  most  liable  to  he  false  in  this  sense. — 
 Complex  ideas  are  much  more  liable  to  be  false  in  this  respect;  and  the 
 complex  ideas  of  mixed  modes  much  more  than  those  of  substances :  be- 
 cause in  substances  (especially  those  which  the  common  and  unborrowed 
 nam.es  of  any  language  are  applied  to)  some  remarkable  sensible  qualities, 
 serving  ordinarily  to  distinguish  one  sort  from  another,  easily  preserve 
 those,  who  take  any  care  in  the  use  of  their  words,  from  applying  them 
 to  sorts  of  substances  to  which  they  do  not  at  all  belong.  But  in  mixed 
 modes  we  arc  much  more  uncertain;  it  being  not  so  easy  to  determine  of 
 several  actions,  whether  they  are  to  be  called  justice  or  cruelty,  liberality 
 or  prodigality.  And  so  in  referring  our  ideas  to  those  of  other  men,  called 
 by  the  same  names,  ours  may  be  false ;  and  the  idea  in  our  minds,  which 
 we  express  by  the  word  Justice,  may  perhaps  be  that  which  ought  to  have 
 another  name. 
 
 Sect.  11.   Or  at  least  to  be  thought  false. — But  whether  or  no  our 
 
Cli.  32.  OF  TRUE  AND  FALSE  KEAS.  257 
 
 ideas  of  mixed  modes  are  more  liable  than  any  sort  to  be  diiFerent  fl-ora  those 
 ofother  men,  which  are  marked  by  the  same  names,  this  at  least  is  certain,  that 
 this  sort  of  falsehood  is  much  more  familiarly  attributed  to  our  ideas  of  mixed 
 modes  than  to  any  other.  When  a  man  is  thought  to  have  a  false  idea  of 
 justice,  or  gratitude,  or  glory,  it  is  for  no  other  reason  but  that  his  agrees  not 
 with  the  ideas  which  each  of  those  names  are  the  signs  of  in  other  men. 
 
 Sect.  12.  And  why. — The  reason  whereof  seems  to  me  to  be  this:  that  the 
 abstract  ideas  of  mixed  modes  being  men's  voluntary  combinations  of  such  a 
 precise  collection  of  simple  ideas, — and  so  the  essence  of  each  species  being 
 made  by  men  alone,  whereof  we  have  no  other  sensible  standard  existing  any 
 where  but  the  name  itself,  or  the  definition  of  that  name, — we  have  nothing 
 else  to  refer  these  our  ideas  of  mixed  modes  to,  as  a  standard  to  which  we 
 would  conform  them,  but  the  ideas  of  those  who  are  thought  to  use  those 
 names  in  their  most  proper  significations  ;  and  so,  as  our  ideas  conform  or  dif- 
 fer from  them,  they  pass  for  true  or  false.  And  thus  much  concerning  the 
 truth  and  falsehood  of  our  ideas,  in  reference  to  their  names. 
 
 Sect.  13.  As  referred  to  real  existences,  none  of  our  ideas  can  he  false, , 
 hut  those  of  substances. — Secondly,  as  to  the  truth  and  falseliood  of  our  ideas, 
 in  reference  to  the  real  existence  of  things ;  when  that  is  made  the  standard 
 of  their  truth,  none  of  them  can  be  termed  false,  but  only  our  complex  ideas 
 of  substances. 
 
 Sect.  14.  First,  simple  ideas  in  this  sense  not  false,  and  why. — First,  our 
 simple  ideas  being  barely  such  perceptions  as  God  has  fitted  us  to  receive, 
 and  given  power  to  external  objects  to  produce  in  us  by  established  laws  and 
 ways,  suitable  to  his  wisdom  and  goodness,  though  incomprehensible  to  us, 
 their  truth  consists  in  nothing  else  but  in  such  appearances  as  are  produced 
 in  us,  and  must  be  suitable  to  those  powers  he  has  placed  in  external  objects, 
 or  else  they  could  not  be  produced  in  us  :  and  thus  answering  those  powers, 
 they  are  what  they  should  be,  true  ideas.  Nor  do  they  become  liable  to  any 
 imputation  of  falsehood,  if  the  mind  (as  in  most  men  I  believe  it  does)  judges|., 
 these  ideas  to  be  in  the  things  themselves.  For  God,  in  his  wisdom,  having  set' 
 them  as  marks  of  distinction  in  things,  whereby  we  may  be  able  to  discern 
 one  thing  from  another,  and  so  choose  any  of  them  for  our  uses,  as  we  have 
 occasion  ;  it  alters  not  the  nature  of  our  simple  idea,  whether  we  think  that 
 the  idea  of  blue  be  in  the  violet  itself,  or  m  our  mind  only;  and  only  the  power 
 of  producing  it  by  the  tex-ture  of  its  parts,  reflecting  the  particles  of  light 
 after  a  certain  manner,  to  be  in  the  violet  itself.  For  that  texture  in  the  ob- 
 ject, by  a  regular  and  constant  operation,  producing  the  same  idea  of  blue  in 
 us,  it  serves  us  to  distinguish  by  our  eyes,  that  from  any  other  thing,  whe- 
 ther that  distinguishing  mark,  as  it  is  really  in  the  violet,  be  only  a  peculiar 
 texture  of  parts,  or  else  that  very  colour,  the  idea  whereof  (which  is  in  us) 
 is  the  exact  resemblance.  And  it  is  equally  from  that  appearance  to  be  de- 
 nominated blue,  whether  it  be  that  real  colour,  or  only  a  peculiar  texture  in 
 it,  that  causes  in  us  that  idea:  since  the  name  blue  notes  properly  nothing 
 but  that  mark  of  distinction  that  is  in  a  violet,  discernible  only  by  our  eyes, 
 whatever  it  consists  in  ;  that  being  beyond  our  capacities  distinctly  to  know, 
 and  perhaps  would  be  of  less  use  to  us  if  we  had  faculties  to  discern. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Though  one  man's  idea  of  blue  should  he  different  from  an- 
 others. — Neither  would  it  carry  any  imputation  of  falsehood  to  our  simple 
 ideas,  if,  by  the  different  structure  of  our  organs,  it  were  so  ordered,  that  the 
 same  object  should  produce  in  several  men's  minds  different  ideas  at  the  same 
 time;  v.  g.  if  the  idea  that  a  violet  produced  in  one  man's  mind  by  his  eyes, 
 were  the  same  that  a  marigold  produced  in  another  man's,  and  vice  versa. 
 For  since  this  could  never  be  known,  because  one  man's  mind  could  not  pass 
 into  another  man's  body,  to  perceive  what  appearances  were  produced  by 
 those  organs  ;  neither  the  ideas  hereby,  nor  the  names,  would  be  at  all  con- 
 founded, or  any  falsehood  be  in  either.  For  all  things  that  had  the  texture  of 
 a  violet,  producing  constantly  the  idea  that  he  called  blue ;  and  tiiose  which 
 had  the  texture  of  a  marigold,  producing  constantly  the  idea  which  he  as  con- 
 2  H 
 
258  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 stantly  called  yellow ;  whatever  those  appearances  were  in  his  mind,  he 
 wuiiid  be  able  as  reytilarly  to  distinguish  things  for  his  use  by  tliose  appear- 
 ances, and  understand  and  signify  those  distinctions  marked  by  the  names 
 blue  and  yellow,  as  if  the  aj)pearances,  or  ideas  in  his  mind,  received  from 
 those  two  flowers,  were  exactly  tiie  same  with  the  ideas  in  other  men's  minds. 
 1  am  nevertheless  very  apt  to  thiidc  that  the  sensible  ideas  produced  by  any  / 
 object  in  different  men's  minds  are  most  commonly  very  near  and  undiscern- 
 ibly  alike.  For  which  opinion,  I  think,  there  might  be  many  reasons  offered  : 
 but  that  being  besides  my  present  business,  I  shall  not  trouble  my  reader  with 
 them ;  but  only  mind  him,  that  the  contrary  supposition,  if  it  could  be  proved, 
 is  of  little  use,  either  for  the  improvement  of  our  knowledge,  or  the  conve- 
 iiiency  of  life ;  and  so  we  need  not  trouble  ourselves  to  examine  it. 
 
 Sect.  16.  First,  simple  ideas  in  this  sense  not  false,  and  why. — From 
 what  has  been  said  concerning  our  simple  ideas,  I  think  it  evident,  that 
 our  simple  ideas  can  none  of  them  be  false  in  respect  of  things  existing  with-  ■ 
 out  us.  For  the  truth  of  these  appearances,  or  perceptions  in  our  minds, 
 consisting,  as  has  been  said,  only  in  their  being  answerable  to  the  powers  in 
 external  objects  to  produce  by  our  senses  such  appearances  in  us ; — and  each 
 of  them  being  in  the  mind,  such  as  it  is,  suitable  to  the  power  that  produced 
 it,  and  which  alone  it  represents : — it  cannot  upon  that  account,  or  as  re- 
 ferred to  such  a  pattern,  be  false.  Blue  or  yellow,  bitter  or  sweet,  can  never 
 be  false  ideas  :  these  perceptions  in  the  mind  are  just  such  as  they  are  there, 
 answering  the  powers  appointed  by  God  to  produce  them ;  and  so  are  truly 
 what  they  are  and  are  intended  to  be.  Indeed  the  names  may  be  misapplied, 
 but  that  in  this  respect  makes  no  falsehood  in  the  ideas ;  as  if  a  man  ignorant 
 in  the  English  tongue  should  call  purple  scarlet. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Secondly,  modes  not  false. — Secondly,  neither  can  our  complex 
 ideas  of  modes,  in  reference  to  the  essence  of  any  thing  really  existing,  be 
 false.  Because  whatever  complex  idea  I  have  of  any  mode,  it  hath  no  re- 
 ference to  any  pattern  existing  and  made  by  nature :  it  is  not  supposed  to 
 contain  in  it  any  other  ideas  than  what  it  hath ;  nor  to  represent  any  thing  but 
 such  a  complication  of  ideas  as  it  does.  Thus  when  I  have  the  idea  of  such 
 an  action  of  a  man,  who  forbears  to  afford  himself  such  meat,  drink,  and  cloth- 
 ing, and  other  conveniences  of  life,  as  his  riches  and  estate  will  be  sufficient 
 to  supply,  and  his  station  requires,  I  have  no  false  idea ;  but  such  an  one  as 
 represents  an  action,  either  as  I  find  or  imagine  it;  and  so  is  capable  of 
 neither  truth  nor  falsehood.  But  when  I  give  the  name  frugality  or  virtue  to 
 this  action,  then  it  may  be  called  a  false  idea,  if  thereby  it  be  supposed  to 
 agree  with  that  idea,  to  which,  in  propriety  of  speech,  the  name  of  frugality 
 doth  belong;  or  to  be  conformable  to  that  law,  which  is  the  standard  of  virtue 
 and  vice. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Thirdly,  ideas  of  substances,  when  false. — Thirdly,  our  com- 
 plex ideas  of  substances  being  all  referred  to  patterns  in  things  themselves, 
 may  be  false.  That  they  are  all  false,  when  looked  upon  as  the  representa- 
 tions of  the  unknown  essences  of  things,  is  so  evident,  that  there  needs  no- 
 thing to  be  said  of  it.  I  shall  therefore  pass  over  that  chimerical  supposition, 
 and  consider  them  as  collections  of  simple  ideas  in  the  mind,  taken  from  com- 
 binations of  simple  ideas  existing  together,  constantly  in  things,  of  which 
 patterns  they  are  the  supposed  copies :  and  in  this  reference  of  them  to  the 
 existence  of  things  they  are  false  ideas.  1.  When  they  put  together  simple 
 ideas,  which  in  the  real  existence  of  things  have  no  union ;  as  when  to  the 
 shajje  and  size  that  exist  together  in  a  horse  is  joined,  in  the  same  complex 
 idea,  the  power  of  barking  like  a  dog;  which  throe  ideas,  however  put  to- 
 gether into  one  in  the  mind,  were  never  united  in  nature ;  and  this  there- 
 fore may  be  called  a  false  idea  of  a  horse.  2.  Ideas  of  substances  are,  in  this 
 respect,  also  false,  when  from  any  collection  of  simple  ideas  that  do  always 
 f;xist  together,  there  is  separated,  by  a  direct  negation,  any  other  simple  idea 
 which  is  constantly  joined  witli  them.  Thus,  if  to  extension,  solidity,  fusibi- 
 lity, the  peculiar  weigiitiness  and  yellow  colour  of  gold,  any  om.' join  in  his 
 
Ch.  32.  OF  TRUE  AND  FALSE  IDEAS.  259 
 
 tlioughts  the  negation  of  a  greater  degree  of  fixedness  tlian  is  in  lead  or  cop- 
 per, he  may  be  said  to  have  a  false  complex  idea,  as  well  as  when  he  join?  to 
 those  other  simple  ones  the  idea  of  perfect  absolute  fixedness.  For  either 
 way,  the  complex  idea  of  gold  being  made  up  of  such  simple  ones  as  have  no 
 union  in  nature,  may  be  termed  false.  But  if  we  leave  out  of  this  his  com- 
 plex idea,  that  of  fixedness  quite,  without  either  actually  joining  to,  or  sepa- 
 rating of  it  from  the  rest  in  his  mind,  it  is,  I  think,  to  be  looked  on  as  an 
 inadequate  and  imperfect  idea,  rather  than  a  false  one ;  since,  though  it  contains 
 not  all  the  simple  ideas  that  are  united  in  nature,  yet  it  puts  none  together 
 but  what  do  really  exist  together. 
 
 Sect.  19.   Truth  or  falsehood  always  supposes  affirmation  or  negation. — 
 
 Though  in  compliance  witli  the  ordinary  way  of  speaking  I  have  showed 
 in  what  sense  and  upon  what  ground  our  ideas  may  be  sometimes  called  true 
 or  false,  yet  if  we  look  a  little  nearer  into  the  matter,  in  all  cases  where  any 
 idea  is  called  true  or  false,  it  is  fi-om  some  judgment  that  the  mind  makes,  or 
 is  supposed  to  make,  that  is  true  or  false.  For  truth  or  falsehood  being  never 
 without  some  affirmation  or  negation,  express  or  tacit,  it  is  not  to  be  found 
 but  where  signs  are  joined  and  separated,  according  to  the  agreement  or  disa- 
 greement of  the  things  they  stand  for.  The  signs  we  chiefly  use  are  either 
 ideas  or  words,  wherewith  we  make  either  mental  or  verbal  propositions. 
 Truth  lies  in  so  joining  or  separating  these  representatives,  as  the  things  they 
 stand  for  do  in  themselves  agree  or  disagree ;  and  falsehood  in  the  contrary, 
 as  shall  be  more  fully  shown  hereafter. 
 
 Sect.  20.  Ideas  in  themselves  neither  true  nor  false. — Any  idea  then  which 
 we  have  in  our  minds,  whether  conformable  or  not  to  the  existence  of  things, 
 or  to  any  idea  in  the  minds  of  other  men,  cannot  properly  for  this  alone  be 
 called  false.  For  these  representations,  if  they  have  nothing  in  them  but 
 what  is  really  existing  in  things  without,  cannot  be  thought  false,  being  exact 
 representations  of  something  ;  nor  yet,  if  they  have  any  thing  in  them  differing 
 from  the  reality  of  things,  can  they  properly  be  said  to  be  false  representa- 
 tions, or  ideas  of  things  they  do  not  represent.  But  the  mistake  and  false- 
 hood is, 
 
 Sect.  21.  But  are  false — 1.  When  judged  agreeable  to  another  man's 
 idea  without  being  so. — First,  when  the  mind  having  any  idea,  it  judges  and 
 concludes  it  the  same  that  is  in  other  men's  minds,  signified  by  the  same 
 name  ;  or  that  it  is  conformable  to  the  ordinary  received  signification  or  de- 
 finition of  that  word,  when  indeed  it  is  not:  which  is  the  most  usual  mistake 
 in  mixed  modes,  though  other  ideas  also  are  liable  to  it. 
 
 Sect.  22.  2.  When  judged  to  agree  to  real  existence  when  they  do  not. 
 — Secondly,  when  it  having  a  complex  idea  made  up  of  such  a  collection  of 
 simple  ones  as  nature  never  puts  together,  it  judges  it  to  agree  to  a  species 
 of  creatures  really  existing;  as  when  it  joins  the  weight  of  tin  to  the  colour, 
 fusibility,  and  fixedness  of  gold. 
 
 Sect.  23.  3.  When  judged  adequate,  without  being  so. — Thirdly,  when 
 in  its  complex  idea  it  has  united  a  certain  number  of  simple  ideas  that  do 
 really  exist  together  in  some  sort  of  creatures,  but  has  also  left  out  others  as 
 much  inseparable,  it  judges  this  to  be  a  perfect  complete  idea  of  a  sort  of  things 
 which  really  it  is  not;  i;.  g.  having  joined  the  ideas  of  substance,  yellow, 
 malleable,  most  heavy,  and  fusible,  it  takes  that  complex  idea  to  be  the  com- 
 plete idea  of  gold,  when  yet  its  peculiar  fixedness  and  solubility  in  aqua  regia 
 are  as  inseparable  from  those  other  ideas  or  qualities  of  that  body,  as  they  are 
 one  from  another. 
 
 Sect.  24.  4.  When  judged  to  represent  the  real  essence.  Fourthly,  the 
 mistake  is  yet  greater,  when  I  judge  that  this  complex  idea  contains  in  it  the 
 real  essence  of  any  body  existing,  when  at  least  it  contains  but  some  few  of 
 those  properties  which  flow  fi-om  its  real  essence  and  constitution.  I  say, 
 only  some  few  of  those  properties ;  for  those  properties  consisting  mostly  in 
 the  active  and  passive  powers  it  has,  in  reference  to  other  things,  all  that  are 
 vulgarly  known  of  any  one  body,  of  which  the  complex  idea  of  that  kind  of 
 
260  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Bool<  2. 
 
 things  is  usually  niiulo,  arc  but  a  very  few,  in  comparison  of  wliat  a  man,  that 
 has  several  ways  tried  and  examined  it,  knows  of  tliat  one  sort  of  things  : 
 and  all  that  the  most  expert  man  knows  are  but  a  fuw,  in  com|)arison  of  what 
 are  really  in  that  body,  and  depend  on  its  internal  or  essential  constitution. 
 The  essence  of  a  triangle  lies  in  a  very  little  compass,  consists  in  a  very  few 
 ideas, — three  lines  including  a  space  make  up  that  essence, — but  the  proper- 
 ties that  flow  from  this  essence  are  more  than  can  be  easily  known  or  enu- 
 merated. So  I  imagine  it  is  in  substances,  their  real  essences  lie  in  a  little 
 compass,  though  the  properties  flowing  from  that  internal  constitution  are 
 endless. 
 
 Sect.  25.  Ideas,  when  false. — To  conclude,  a  man  having  no  notion  of 
 any  thing  without  him,  but  by  the  idea  he  has  of  it  in  his  mind  (wliich  idea 
 he  has  a  power  to  call  by  what  name  he  pleases,)  he  may  indeed  make  an 
 idea  neither  answering  the  reason  of  things,  nor  agreeing  to  the  idea  com- 
 monly signified  by  other  people's  words  :  but  cannot  make  a  wrong  or  false 
 idea  of  a  thing,  which  is  no  otherwise  known  to  him  but  by  the  idea  he  has 
 of  it :  V.  g.  when  I  frame  an  idea  of  the  legs,  arms  and  body  of  a  man,  and 
 join  to  this  a  horse's  head  and  neck,  I  do  not  make  a  false  idea  of  any  thing ; 
 because  it  represents  nothing  without  me.  But  when  I  call  it  a  man  or 
 Tartar,  and  imagine  it  to  represent  some  real  being  without  me,  or  to  be  the 
 same  idea  that  others  call  by  the  same  name ;  in  either  of  these  cases  I  may 
 err.  And  upon  this  account  it  is  that  it  comes  to  be  termed  a  false  idea ; 
 though  indeed  the  falsehood  lies  not  in  the  idea,  but  in  that  tacit  mental  pro- 
 position wherein  a  conformity  and  resemblance  is  attributed  to  it,  which  it 
 has  not.  But  yet,  if  having  framed  such  an  idea  in  my  mind,  without  thinking 
 either  that  existence,  or  the  name  man  or  Tartar,  belongs  to  it,  I  will  call  it 
 man  or  Tartar,  I  may  be  justly  thought  fantastical  in  the  naming,  but  not 
 erroneous  in  my  judgment ;  nor  the  idea  any  way  false. 
 
 Sect.  26.  More  properly  to  he  called  right  or  wrong. — Upon  the  whole 
 matter,  I  think  that  our  ideas,  as  they  are  considered  by  the  mind,  either  in 
 reference  to  the  proper  signification  of  their  names,  or  in  reference  to  the 
 reality  of  things,  may  very  fitly  be  called  right  or  wrong  ideas,  according  as! 
 they  agree  or  disagree  to  those  patterns  to  which  they  are  referred.  But  if* 
 any  one  had  rather  call  them  true  or  false,  it  is  fit  lie  use  a  liberty,  which 
 every  one  has,  to  call  things  by  those  names  he  thinks  best;  though,  in  pro- 
 priety of  speech,  truth  or  falsehood  will,  I  think,  scarce  agree  to  them,  but 
 as  they,  some  way  or  other,  virtually  contain  in  them  some  mental  proposi- 
 tion. The  ideas  that  are  in  a  man's  mind,  simply  considered,  cannot  be 
 wrong,  unless  complex  ones,  wherein  inconsistent  parts  are  jumbled  together. 
 All  other  ideas  are  in  themselves  right,  and  the  knowledge  about  them  right 
 and  true  knowledge :  but  when  we  come  to  refer  them  to  any  thing,  as  to 
 their  patterns  and  archetypes,  then  they  are  capable  of  being  wrong,  as  far  as 
 they  disagree  with  such  archetypes. 
 
 CHAPTER   XXXIII. 
 
 OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Something  tinreasonahle  in  most  men. — There  is  scarce  any  one 
 that  does  not  observe  something  that  seems  odd  to  him,  and  is  in  itself  really 
 extravagant  in  the  opinions,  reasonings,  and  actions  of  other  men.  The  least 
 flaw  of  this  kind,  if  at  all  different  from  his  own,  every  one  is  quick-sighted 
 enough  to  espy  in  another,  and  will  by  the  authority  of  reason  forwardly  con- 
 denm,  though  he  be  guilty  of  much  greater  unreasonableness  in  his  own 
 tenets  and  conduct,  which  he  never  perceives,  and  will  very  hardly,  if  at  all, 
 be  convinced  of. 
 
Ijli.  33.  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS.  2G1 
 
 Sect.  2.  Not  tcholly  from  self-love. — This  proceeds  not  wholly  from  self- 
 love,  tlioiigh  that  has  often  a  great  hand  in  it.  Men  of  fair  minds,  and  not 
 given  up  to  the  overweening  of  self-flattery,  are  frequently  guilty  of  it ;  and 
 in  many  cases  one  with  amazement  hears  the  arguings,  and  is  astonished  at 
 the  obstinacy  of  a  worthy  man,  who  yields  not  to  the  evidence  of  reason, 
 though  laid  before  him  as  clear  as  daylight. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Not  from  education. — This  sort  of  unreasonableness  is  usually 
 imputed  to  education  and  prejudice,  and  for  the  most  part  truly  enough,  though 
 that  reaches  not  the  bottom  of  the  disease,  nor  shows  distinctly  enough 
 whence  it  rises,  or  wherein  it  lies.  Education  is  often  rightly  assigned  for  the 
 cause,  and  prejudice  is  a  good  gfeneral  name  for  the  thing  itself;  but  yet,  I 
 think,  he  ought  to  look  a  little  farther,  who  would  trace  this  sort  of  madness 
 to  the  root  it  springs  from,  and  so  explain  it,  as  to  show  whence  this  flaw 
 has  its  original  in  very  sober  and  rational  minds,  and  wherein  it  consists. 
 
 Sect.  4.  A  degree  of  madness. — I  shall  be  pardoned  for  calling  it  by  so 
 harsh  a  name  as  madness,  when  it  is  considered,  that  opposition  to  reason  de- 
 serves that  name,  and  is  really  madness  ;  and  there  is  scarce  a  man  so  free 
 from  it,  but  that  if  he  shovdd  always,  on  all  occasions,  argue  or  do  as  in  some 
 cases  he  constantly  does,  would  not  be  thought  fitter  for  Bedlam  than  civil 
 conversation.  I  do  not  here  mean  when  he  is  under  the  power  of  an  unruly 
 passion,  but  in  the  steady  calm  course  of  his  life.  Tliat  which  will  yet  more 
 apologize  for  this  harsh  name,  and  ungrateful  imputation  on  the  greatest  part 
 of  mankind,  is,  that  inquiring  a  little  by  the  by  into  the  nature  of  madness, 
 b.  ii.  c.  xi.  sect.  13,  I  found  it  to  spring  from  the  very  same  root,  and  to 
 depend  on  the  very  same  cause  we  are  here  speaking  of  This  consideration 
 of  the  thing  itself,  at  a  time  when  I  thought  not  the  least  on  the  subject 
 which  I  am  now  treating  of,  suggested  it  to  me.  And  if  this  be  a  weakness 
 to  which  all  men  are  so  liable  ;  if  this  be  a  taint  which  so  universally  infects 
 mankind  ;  the  greater  care  should  be  taken  to  lay  it  open  under  its  due  name, 
 thereby  to  excite  the  greater  care  in  its  prevention  and  cure. 
 
 Sect.  .5.  From  a  wro7ig  connexion  of  ideas. — Some  of  our  ideas  have  a 
 natural  correspondence  and  connexion  one  with  another  :  it  is  the  office  and 
 excellency  of  our  reason  to  trace  these,  and  hold  them  together  in  that  union 
 and  correspondence  which  is  founded  in  their  peculiar  beings.  Besides  this, 
 there  is  another  connexion  of  ideas  wholly  owing  to  chance  or  custom  :  ideas, 
 that  in  themselves  are  not  all  of  kin,  come  to  be  so  united  in  some  men's  minds, 
 that  it  is  very  hard  to  separate  them ;  they  always  keep  in  company,  and  the 
 one  no  sooner  at  any  time  comes  into  the  understanding,  but  its  associate 
 appears  with  it;  and  if  they  are  more  than  two,  which  are  thus  united,  the 
 whole  gang,  always  inseparable,  show  themselves  together. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Tins  connexion  how  made. — This  strong  combination  of  ideas, 
 not  allied  by  nature,  the  mind  makes  in  itself  eitliex  voluntarily  or  by  chance  ; 
 and  hence  it  comes  in  different  men  to  be  very  different,  according  to  their 
 different  inclinations,  education",  interests,  &c.  Custom  settles  habits  of 
 thinking  in  the  understanding,  as  well  as  of  determining  in  the  will,  and  of 
 motions  in  the  body ;  all  which  seem  to  be  but  trains  of  motion  in  the  animal 
 spirits,  which,  once  set  agoing,  continue  in  the  same  steps  they  have  been 
 used  to,  which,  by  often  treading,  are  worn  into  a  smooth  path,  and  the  mo- 
 tion in  it  becomes  easy,  and  as  it  were  natural.  As  far  as  we  can  compre- 
 hend thinking,  thus  ideas  seem  to  be  produced  in  our  minds ;  or  if  they  are 
 not,  this  may  serve  to  explain  their  following  one  another  in  an  habitual  train, 
 when  once  they  are  put  into  their  track,  as  well  as  it  does  to  explain  such 
 motions  of  the  body.  A  musician  used  to  any  tune  will  find,  that  let  it  but  once 
 begin  in  his  head,  the  ideas  of  the  several  notes  of  it  will  follow  one  another 
 orderly  in  his  understanding,  without  any  care  or  attention,  as  regularly  as 
 his  fingers  move  orderly  over  the  keys  of  the  organ  to  play  out  the  tune  he 
 has  begun,  though  his  unattcntive  thoughts  be  elsewhere  a  wandering. 
 Whether  the  natural  cause  of  these  ideas,  as  well  as  of  that  regular  dancing 
 of  his  fingers,  be  the  motion  of  his  animal  spirits,  I  will  not  determine,  how 
 
262  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Cook  2 
 
 probable  soever,  by  tliis  instance,  it  appears  to  be  so:  but  tins  may  help  ua  a 
 little  to  conceive  of  intellectii;il  habits,  and  of  the  tyin<r  together  of  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Some  antipathies  an  effect  of  it. — Tiiat  there  are  such  associa- 
 tions of  them  made  by  custom  in  tlie  minds  of  most  men,  I  think  nobody  will 
 question,  who  has  well  considered  himself  or  others ;  and  to  this,  perhaps, 
 might  be  justly  attributed  most  of  the  sympathies  and  antipathies  observable- 
 in  men,  wliich  work  as  strongly,  and  produce  as  regular  efii^cts  as  if  they  were 
 natural,  and  are  therefore  called  so,  though  tiiey  at  first  had  no  other  original 
 but  the  accidental  connexion  of  two  ideas,  which  either  the  strength  of  the 
 impression,  or  future  indulgence  so  united,  tliat  they  always  afterward  kept 
 company  together  in  tliat  man's  mind,  as  if  *they  were  but  one  idea.  I  say 
 most  of  the  antipathies,  I  do  not  say  all,  for  some  of  them  are  truly  natural, 
 depend  upon  our  original  constitution,  and  are  born  with  us  ;  but  a  great  part 
 of  those,  which  are  counted  natural,  would  havp  been  known  to  be  from  un- 
 heeded, though,  perhaps,  early  impressions,  or  wanton  fancies  at  first,  which 
 would  have  been  acknowledged  the  original  of  them,  if  they  had  been  warily 
 observed.  A  grown  person  surfeiting  with  honey,  no  sooner  hears  the  name 
 of  it,  but  his  fancy  immediately  carries  sickness  and  qualms  to  his  stomach, 
 and  he  cannot  bear  the  very  idea  of  it ;  other  ideas  of  dislike,  and  sickness, 
 and  vomiting,  presently  accompany  it,  and  he  is  disturbed,  but  he  knows 
 fi-om  whence  to  date  this  weakness,  and  can  tell  how  he  got  this  indis- 
 position. Had  this  happened  to  him  by  an  overdose  of  honey,  when  a  child, 
 all  the  same  effects  would  have  followed,  but  the  cause  would  have  been  mis- 
 taken, and  the  antipathy  counted  natural. 
 
 Sect.  8.  I  mention  this  not  out  of  any  great  necessity  there  is  in  this  pre- 
 sent argument,  to  distinguish  nicely  between  natural  and  acquired  antipathies  ; 
 but  I  take  notice  of  it  for  another  purpose,  viz.  that  those  who  have  children, 
 or  the  charge  of  their  education,  would  think  it  worth  their  while  diligently 
 to  watch,  and  carefully  to  prevent  the  undue  connexion  of  ideas  in  the  minds 
 of  young  people.  This  is  the  time  most  susceptible  of  lasting  impressions; 
 and  though  those  relatmg  to  the  health  of  tiie  body  are  by  discreet  people 
 minded  and  fenced  against,  yet  I  am  apt  to  doubt,  that  those  which  relate 
 more  peculiarly  to  the  mind,  and  terminate  in  the  understanding  or  passions, 
 have  been  much  less  heeded  than  the  thing  deserves :  nay,  tiiose  relating 
 purely  to  the  understanding,  have,  as  I  suspect,  been  by  most  men  wholly 
 overlooked. 
 
 Sect.  9.  A  great  cause  of  errors. — This  wrong  connexion  in  our  minds 
 of  ideas,  in  themselves  loose  and  independent  one  of  another,  has  such  an  in- 
 fluence, and  is  of  so  great  force  to  set  us  awry  in  our  actions,  as  well  moral 
 as  natural  passions,  reasonings,  and  notions  themselves,  that  perhaps  there  is 
 not  any  one  thing  that  desen'es  more  to  be  looked  after. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Instances. — The  ideas  of  goblins  and  sprights  have  really  no 
 more  to  do  with  darkness  than  light :  yet  let  but  a  foolish  maid  inculcate  these 
 often  on  the  mind  of  a  child,  and  raise  them  there  together,  possibly  he  shall 
 never  be -able  to  separate  them  again  so  long  as  he  lives ;  but  darkness  shall 
 for  ever  afterward  bring  with  it  those  frightful  ideas,  and  they  shall  be  so 
 joined  that  he  can  no  more  bear  the  one  than  the  other. 
 
 Sect.  11.  A  man  receives  a  sensible  injury  from  another,  thinks  on  tlic 
 man  and  that  action  over  and  over;  and  by  ruminating  on  them  strongly,  or 
 much  in  his  mind,  so  cements  those  two  ideas  together,  that  he  makes  them 
 almost  one ;  never  thinks  on  the  man,  but  the  pain  and  displeasure  he  suffered  " 
 come  into  his  mind  with  it,  so  that  he  scarce  distinguishes  them,  but  has  as 
 much  an  aversion  for  the  one  as  the  other.  Thus  hatreds  are  often  begotten 
 from  slight  and  almost  innocent  occasions,  and  quarrels  propagated  and  con- 
 tinued in  the  world. 
 
 Sect.  12.  A  man  has  suffered  pain  or  sickness  in  any  place  ;  he  saw  his 
 friend  die  in  such  a  room  ;  though  these  have  in  nature  nothing  to  do  one 
 with  another,  yet  when  the  idea  of  the  place  occurs  to  his  mind,  it  brings 
 (the  impression   being  once  made)  that  of  the  pain  and  displeasure   v/ith 
 
Oh.  33.  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS.  263 
 
 it ;  he  confounds  tliem  in  his  mind,   and  can  as  little  bear  the  one  as  the 
 other. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Why  time  cures  some  disorders  in  the  mind,  which  reason  can- 
 not.— When  this  combination  is  settled,  and  while  it  lasts,  it  is  not  in  the 
 power  of  reason  to  help  us,  and  relieve  us  from  the  effects  of  it.  Ideas  in 
 our  minds,  when  they  are  there,  will  operate  according  to  their  natures  and 
 circumstances  ;  and  here  we  see  the  cause  wliy  time  cures  certain  affections, 
 whicli  reason,  tliough  in  the  right,  and  allowed  to  be  so,  has  not  power  over, 
 nor  is  able  against  them  to  prevail  with  those  who  are  apt  to  heai'ken  to  it  in 
 other  cases.  Tlie  death  of  a  child,  that  was  the  daily  delight  of  his  motlier's 
 eyes,  and  joy  of  her  soul,  rends  from  her  heart  the  whole  comfort  of  her  life, 
 and  gives  her  all  the  torment  imaginable ;  use  the  consolations  of  reason  in 
 tliis  case,  and  you  were  as  good  preach  ease  to  one  on  tlie  rack,  and  hope 
 to  allay,  by  rational  discourses,  the  pain  of  his  joints  tearing  asunder.  Till 
 time  has  by  disuse  separated  the  sense  of  that  enjoyment,  and  its  loss  from 
 the  idea  of  the  child  returning  to  her  memory,  all  representations,  though 
 ever  so  reasonable,  are  in  vain  ;  and  therefore  some,  in  whom  the  union  be- 
 tween these  ideas  is  never  dissolved,  spend  their  lives  in  mourning,  and 
 carry  an  incurable  sorrow  to  their  graves. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Farther  instances  of  the  effect  of  the  association  of  ideas. — A 
 friend  of  mine  knew  one  perfectly  cured  of  madness,  by  a  very  harsh  and 
 offensive  operation.  The  gentleman,  wlio  was  thus  recovered,  with  great 
 sense  of  gratitude  and  acknowledgment,  owned  the  cure  all  his  life  after,  as 
 the  greatest  obligation  he  could  have  received ;  but  whatever  gratitude  and 
 reason  suggested  to  him,  he  could  never  bear  the  sight  of  the  operator  :  that 
 image  brought  back  with  it  the  idea  of  that  agony  which  he  suffered  from  his 
 hands,  which  was  too  mighty  and  intolerable  for  him  to  endure. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Many  children  imputing  the  pain  they  endured  at  school  to  their 
 books  they  were  corrected  for,  so  join  those  ideas  together,  that  a  book  be- 
 comes their  aversion,  and  they  are  never  reconciled  to  the  study  and  use  of 
 them  all  their  lives  after  :  and  thus  reading  becomes  a  torment  to  them, 
 which  otherwise  possibly  they  might  liave  made  the  greatest  pleasure  of  their 
 lives.  There  are  rooms  convenient  enough,  that  some  men  cannot  study  in, 
 and  fashions  of  vessels,  which,  though  ever  so  clean  and  commodious,  they 
 cannot  drink  out  of,  and  that  by  reason  of  some  accidental  ideas  which  are 
 annexed  to  them,  and  make  them  offensive  :  and  who  is  there  that  hath  not 
 observed  some  man  to  flag  at  the  appearance,  or  in  the  company  of  some  certain 
 person  not  otherwise  superior  to  him,  but  because  having  once  on  some  oc- 
 casion got  the  ascendant,  the  idea  of  authority  and  distance  goes  along  with 
 that  of  the  person,  and  he  that  has  been  thus  subjected  is  not  able  to  sepa- 
 rate themf 
 
 Sect.  16.  Instances  of  this  kind  are  so  plentiful  every  where,  that  if  I  add 
 one  more,  it  is  only  for  the  pleasant  oddness  of  it.  It  is  of  a  young  gentle- 
 man, who  having  learned  to  dance,  and  that  to  great  perfection,  there  happen- 
 ed to  stand  an  old  trunk  in  the  room  where  he  learned.  Tiie  idea  of  this  re- 
 markable piece  of  houseliold  stuff  had  so  mixed  itself  with  the  turns  and  steps 
 of  all  his  dances,  tliat  though  in  that  chamber  he  could  dance  excellently  well, 
 yet  it  was  only  whilst  tliat  trunk  was  there ;  nor  could  he  perform  well  in  any 
 other  place,  unless  tliat  or  some  such  other  trunk  had  its  due  position  in  the 
 room.  If  this  story  shall  be  suspected  to  be  dressed  up  with  some  comical  cir- 
 cumstances, a  little  beyond  precise  nature,  I  answer  for  myself,  that  I  had  it 
 some  years  since  from  a  very  sober  and  worthy  man,  upon  his  own  know- 
 ledge, as  I  report  it :  and  I  dare  say,  there  are  very  few  inquisitive  persons, 
 wliorcadthis,  who  have  not  met  with  accounts,  if  not  examples,  of  this  nature, 
 that  may  parallel,  or  at  least  justify  this. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Its  influence  on  intellectual  habits. — Intellectual  habits  and  de- 
 fects  this  way  contracted  are  not  less  frequent  and  powerful,  though  less  ' 
 observed.     Let  the  ideas  of  being  and  matter  be  strongly  joined  either,  by  edu- 
 cation or  much  thought,  whilst  these  are  still  combined  in  the  mind,  what 
 
264  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  2. 
 
 notions,  what  reasonings  will  there  be  about  separate  spirits'!  Let  custom 
 from  the  very  childhood  have  joined  figure  and  sliape  to  the  idea  of  God,  and 
 what  absurdities  will  that  mind  be  liable  to  about  tlie  Deity  ^ 
 
 Let  the  idea  of  infallibility  be  inseparably  joined  to  any  person,  and  these 
 two  constantly  together  possess  the  mind;  and  tiien  one  body,  in  two  places 
 at  once,  shall,  unexamined,  be  swallowed  for  a  certain  trutli,  by  an  implicit 
 faith,  whenever  that  imagined  infallible  person  dictates  and  demands  assent 
 without  inquiry. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Observable  in  different  sects. — Some  such  wrong  and  unnatural 
 combinations  of  ideas  will  be  found  to  establish  the  irreconcileable  opposition 
 between  different  sects  of  philosophy  and  religion;  for  we  cannot  imagine 
 every  one  of  their  followers  to  impose  wilfully  on  himself,  and  knowingly  re- 
 fuse truth  offered  by  plain  reason.  Interest,  though  it  does  a  great  deal  in  the 
 case,  yet  cannot  be  thought  to  work  whole  societies  of  men  to  so  universal  a 
 perverseness,  as  that  every  one  of  them,  to  a  man,  should  knowingly  maintain 
 falsehood :  some  at  least  must  be  allowed  to  do  what  all  pretend  to,  i.  e.  to 
 pursue  truth  sincerely  ;  and  therefore  there  must  be  something  that  blinds  their 
 understandings  and  makes  them  not  see  the  falsehood  of  what  tiiey  embrace 
 f(^r  real  trutli.  That  which  thus  captivates  their  reasons,  and  leads  men  of 
 sincerity  blindfold  from  common  sense,  will,  when  examined,  be  found  to  be 
 what  we  are  speaking  of;  some  independent  ideas,  of  no  alliance  to  one 
 another,  are  by  education,  custom,  and  the  constant  din  of  their  party,  so 
 coupled  in  their  minds,  thatthey  always  appear  there  together ;  and  they  can  no 
 more  separate  them  in  their  thoughts,  than  if  they  were  but  one  idea,  and  they 
 operate  as  if  they  were  so.  This  gives  sense  to  jargon,  demonstration  to  ab- 
 surdities, and  consistency  to  nonsense,  and  is  the  foundation  of  the  greatest, 
 I  had  almost  said,  of  all  the  errors  in  the  world  ;  or  if  it  does  not  reach  so 
 far,  it  is  at  least  the  most  dangerous  one,  since  so  far  as  it  obtains,  it  hinders 
 men  from  seeingand  examining.  When  two  things  in  themselves  disjoined  ap- 
 pear to  the  sight  constantly  united  ;  if  the  eye  sees  these  things  rivetted,  which 
 are  loose,  where  will  you  begin  to  rectify  the  mistakes  that  follow  in  two  ideas, 
 that  they  have  been  accustomed  so  to  join  in  their  minds,  as  to  substitute  one 
 for  the  other,  and,  as  I  am  apt  to  think,  often  without  perceiving  it  themselves? 
 This,  whilst  they  are  under  the  deceit  of  it,  makes  them  incapable  of  con- 
 viction, and  they  applaud  themselves  as  zealous  champions  for  truth,  when 
 indeed  they  are  contending  for  error;  and  the  confusion  of  two  different  ideas, 
 wliich  a  customary  connexion  of  them  in  their  minds  hath  to  them  made  in 
 elTect  but  one,  fills  their  heads  with  false  views,  and  their  reasonings  with 
 false  consequences. 
 
 Sect.  19.  Conclusion. — Having  thus  given  an  account  of  the  original  sorts, 
 and  extent  of  our  ideas,  with  several  other  considerations,  about  these  (I  know 
 not  whether  I  may  say)  instruments  or  materials  of  our  knowledge;  the 
 method  I  at  first  proposed  to  myself  would  now  require,  that  I  should  imme- 
 diately  proceed  to  show  what  use  the  understanding  makes  of  them,  and  what 
 knowledge  we  have  by  them.  This  was  that,  wliich,  in  tlie  first  general  view 
 I  had  of  this  subject,  was  all  tiiat  I  thought  I  should  have  to  do :  but  upon  a 
 nearer  approach,  I  find  that  there  is  so  close  a  connexion  between  ideas  and 
 words;  and  our  abstract  ideas  and  general  words  have  so  constant  a  relation 
 one  to  another,  that  it  is  impossible  to  speak  clearly  and  distinctly  of  our 
 knowledge,  which  all  consists  in  propositions,  without  considering,  first,  the 
 nature,  use,  and  signification  of  language ;  which,  therefore,  must  be  the 
 business  of  the  ne.Kt  book. 
 
Ch.  1.  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  265 
 
 BOOK  III. 
 
 OF  WORDS. 
 CHAPTER  I. 
 
 OF  WORDS,  OR  LANGUAGE  IN  GENERAL. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Man  fitted  to  form  articulate  sounds. — God  having  designed  man 
 for  a  sociable  creature,  made  him  not  only  with  an  inclination,  and  under  a 
 necessity  to  have  fellowship  with  those  of  his  own  kind,  but  furnished  him 
 also  with  language,  which  was  to  be  the  great  instrument  and  common  tie  of 
 society.  Man,  therefore,  had  by  nature  his  organs  so  fashioned,  as  to  be  fit 
 to  frame  articulate  sounds,  which  we  call  words.  But  this  was  not  enough 
 to  produce  language ;  for  parrots,  and  several  other  birds,  will  be  taught  to 
 make  articulate  sounds  distinct  enough,  which  yet,  by  no  means,  are  capable 
 of  language. 
 
 Sect.  2.  To  make  them  signs  of  ideas. — Besides  articulate  sounds,  there- 
 fore, it  was  farther  necessary  that  he  should  be  able  to  use  these  sounds  as 
 signs  of  interna]  conceptions  ;  and  to  make  them  stand  as  marks  for  the  ideas 
 within  his  own  mind,  whereby  they  miglit  be  made  known  to  others,  and  the 
 thoughts  of  men's  minds  be  conveyed  from  one  to  another. 
 
 Sect.  3.  To  make  general  sig7is. — But  neither  was  this  sufficient  to  make 
 words  so  useful  as  they  ought  to  be.  It  is  not  enough  for  the  perfection  of 
 language,  that  sounds  can  be  made  signs  of  ideas,  unless  those  signs  can  be 
 so  made  use  of,  as  to  comprehend  several  particular  things  ;  for  the  multipli- 
 cation of  words  would  have  perplexed  their  use,  had  every  particular  thing 
 need  of  a  distinct  name  to  be  signified  by.  To  remedy  this  inconvenience, 
 language  had  yet  a  farther  improvement  in  the  use  of  general  terms,  whereby 
 one  word  was  made  to  mark  a  multitude  of  particular  existences  :  which  ad- 
 vantageous use  of  sounds  was  obtained  only  by  the  difference  of  the  ideas 
 they  were  made  signs  of;  those  names  becoming  general,  which  are  made  to 
 stand  for  general  ideas,  and  those  remaining  particular,  where  the  ideas  they 
 are  used  for  are  particular. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Besides  these  names  which  stand  for  ideas,  there  be  other  words 
 which  men  make  use  of,  not  to  signify  any  idea,  but  the  want  or  absence  of 
 some  ideas  simple  or  complex,  or  all  ideas  together ;  such  as  nihil  in  Latin, 
 and  in  English  ignorance  and  barrenness.  All  which  negative  or  privitive 
 words  cannot  be  said  properly  to  belong  to,  or  signify  no  ideas  :  for  then  they 
 would  be  perfectly  insignificant  sounds  ;  but  they  relate  to  positive  ideas,  and 
 signify  their  absence. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Words  ultimately  derived  frotn  such  as  signify  sensible  ideas. — 
 It  may  also  lead  us  a  little  towards  the  original  of  all  our  notions  and  know- 
 ledge, if  we  remark  how  great  a  dependence  our  words  have  on  common  sen- 
 sible ideas ;  and  how  those,  which  are  made  use  of  to  stand  for  actions  and 
 notions  quite  removed  from  sense,  have  their  rise  from  thence,  and  from  ob- 
 vious sensible  ideas  are  transferred  to  more  abstruse  significations,  and  mada' 
 to  stand  for  iden.s  that  come  not  under  the  cognizance  of  our  senses ;  v.  g.  to 
 imagine,  apprehend,  comprehend,  adhere,  conceive,  instil,  disgust,  disturb- 
 ance, tranquillity,  fee.  are  all. words  taken  from  the  operations  of  sensible 
 things,  and  applied  to  certain  modes  of  thinking.  S|)ir!t,  in  its  primary  sig- 
 nification, is  breath;. angel,  a  messenger;  and  I  doubt  not,  but  if  we  could 
 trace  them  to  their  sources,  we  should  find,  in  all  la  iguages,  the  names, 
 2  I 
 
266  OF  HUxMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 which  stand  for  tilings  that  fall  not  under  our  senses,  to  have  had  their  first 
 rise  from  sensible  ideas.  By  wliich  we  may  give  some  kind  of  guess,  what 
 kind  of  notions  they  were,  and  whence  derived,  which  tilled  their  minds,  who 
 were  the  first  beginners  of  languages ;  and  how  nature,  even  in  the  naming 
 of  things,  unawares  suggested  to  men  the  originals  and  principles  of  all  their 
 knowledge ;  whilst  to  give  names  that  might  make  known  to  others  any  ope- 
 rations they  felt  in  themselves,  or  any  other  ideas  that  come  not  under  their 
 senses,  they  were  fain  to  borrow  words  from  ordinary  known  ideas  of  sensa- 
 tion, by  that  means  to  make  others  the  more  easily  to  conceive  those  opera- 
 tions they  experimented  in  themselves,  which  made  no  outward  sensible 
 appearances :  and  then  when  they  had  got  known  and  agreed  names,  to  signify 
 those  internal  operations  of  their  own  minds,  they  were  sufficiently  furnished 
 to  make  known  by  words  all  their  other  ideas ;  since  they  could  consist  of 
 nothing,  but  either  of  outward  sensible  perceptions,  or  of  the  inward  opera- 
 tions of  their  minds  about  them  :  we  having,  as  has  been  proved,  no  ideas  at 
 all,  but  what  originally  come  either  from  sensible  objects  without,  or  what  we 
 feel  within  ourselves,  from  the  inward  workings  of  our  own  spirits,  of  which 
 we  are  conscious  to  ourselves  within. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Distribution. — But  to  understand  better  the  use  and  force  of  lan- 
 guage, as  subservient  to  instruction  and  knowledge,  it  will  be  convenient  to 
 consider, 
 
 First,  To  what  it  is  that  names,  in  the  use  of  language,  are  immediately 
 applied. 
 
 Secondly,  Since  all  (except  proper)  names  are  general,  and  so  stand  not 
 particularly  for  this  or  that  single  thing,  but  for  sorts  and  ranks  of  things,  it 
 will  be  necessary  to  consider,  in  the  next  place,  what  the  sorts  and  kinds,  or, 
 if  you  rather  like  the  Latin  names,  what  the  species  and  genera  of  tilings  are; 
 wherein  they  consist,  and  how  they  come  to  be  made.  Tliese  being  (as  they 
 ought)  well  looked  into,  we  shall  the  better  come  to  find  the  right  use  of 
 words,  the  natural  advantages  and  defects  of  language,  and  the  remedies  that 
 ought  to  be  used,  to  avoid  the  incouA-^niences  of  obscurity  or  uncertainty  in 
 the  signification  of  words,  without  which  it  is  impossible  to  discourse  with 
 any  clearness  or  order  concerning  knowledge;  which  being  conversant  about 
 propositions,  and  those  most  commonly  universal  ones,  has  greater  connex- 
 ion with  words  than  perhaps  is  suspected. 
 
 These  considerations,  therefore,  shall  be  the  matter  of  the  following 
 chapters. 
 
 CHAPTER  II. 
 
 OF  THE  SIGXIFICATIOX  OF  WORDS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Words  we  sensible  signs  necessary  for  communication. — Man, 
 though  he  has  great  variety  of  thoughts,  and  such  from  which  others,  as  well 
 as  himself,  might  receive  profit  and  delight ;  yet  they  are  all  within  his  own 
 breast,  invisible  and  hidden  from  others,  nor  can  of  themselves  be  made  to 
 appear.  The  comfort  and  advantage  of  society  not  being  to  be  had  without 
 communication  of  thoughts,  it  was  necessary  that  man  should  find  out  some 
 external  sensible  signs,  whereby  those  invisible  ideas  which  his  thoughts  are 
 made  up  of,  might  be  made  known  to  others.  For  this  purpose  nothing  was 
 60  fit,  either  for  plenty  or  quickness,  as  those  articulate  sounds,  which,  with  so 
 much  ease  and  variety,  he  found  liimself  able  to  make.  Thus  we  may  con- 
 ceive how  words  which  were  by  nature  so  well  adapted  to  that  purpose, 
 come  to  be  made  use  of  by  men,  as  ihe  signs  of  their  ideas  ;  not  by  any  natu- 
 ral connexion  that  there  is  between  particular  articulate  sounds,  and  certain 
 ideas,  for  then  there  would  be  but  one  language  among  all  men:  but  by  a  volun- 
 tary imposition,  whereby  such  a  word  is  made  arbitrarily  the  mark  of  such 
 
Ch.  2.  OF  THE  SIGNIFICATIOPJ  OF  WORDS.  267 
 
 an  idea.     The  use  then  of  words  is  to  be  sensible  marks  of  ideas  ;  and  the 
 ideas  they  stand  for  are  their  proper  and  immediate  signification. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Words  are  the  sensible  signs  of  his  ideas  who  uses  them. — The 
 use  men  have  of  these  marks  being  either  to  record  their  own  thouglits  for 
 the  assistance  of  their  own  memory,  or,  as  it  were,  to  bring  out  their  ideas, 
 and  lay  them  before  the  view  of  others  ;  words  in  their  primary  or  immediafe 
 signification  stand  for  nothing  but  the  ideas  in  the  mind  of  him  that  uses  them, 
 how  imperfectly  soever  or  carelessly  those  ideas  are  collected  from  the  things 
 which  they  are  supposed  to  represent.  When  a  man  speaks  to  another,  it 
 is  that  .he  may  be  understood ;  and  the  end  of  speech  is,  that  those  sounds,  as 
 marks,  may  make  known  his  ideas  to  the  hearer.  That  then  which  words 
 are  the  marks  of,  are  the  ideas  of  the  speaker  :  nor  can  any  one  apply  them 
 as  marks  immediately  to  any  thing  else  but  the  ideas  that  he  himself  hath. 
 For  this  would  be  to  make  them  signs  of  his  own  conceptions,  and  yet  apply 
 them  to  other  ideas  ;  which  would  be  to  make  them  signs,  and  not  signs  of 
 his  ideas  at  the  same  time  ;  and  so,  in  effect,  to  have  no  signification  at  all. 
 Words  being  voluntary  signs,  they  cannot  be  voluntary  signs  imposed  by  him 
 on  things  he  knows  not.  That  would  be  to  make  them  signs  of  nothing, 
 sounds  without  signification.  A  man  cannot  make  his  words  the  signs  either 
 of  qualities  in  things,  or  of  conceptions  in  the  mind  of  another,  whereof  he 
 has  none  in  his  own.  Until  he  has  some  ideas  of  his  own,  he  cannot  suppose 
 them  to  correspond  with  the  conceptions  of  another  man ;  nor  can  he  use  any 
 signs  for  them ;  for  thus  they  would  be  the  signs  of  he  knows  not  what, 
 which  is,  in  truth,  to  be  the  signs  of  nothing.  But  when  he  represents  to  him- 
 self other  men's  ideas  by  some  of  his  own,  if  he  consent  to  give  them  the 
 same  names  that  other  men  do,  it  is  still  to  his  own  ideas  ;  to  ideas  that  he 
 has,  and  not  to  ideas  that  he  has  not. 
 
 Sect.  3.  This  is  so  necessary  in  the  use  of  language,  that  in  this  respect 
 the  knowing  and  the  ignorant,  the  learned  and  unlearned,  use  the  words  they 
 speak  (with  any  meaning)  all  alike.  They,  in  every  man's  mouth,  stand  for 
 the  ideas  he  has,  and  which  he  would  express  by  them.  A  child  having  taken 
 notice  of  nothing  in  the  metal  he  hears  called  gold,  but  the  bright  shining 
 yellow  colour,  he  applies  the  word  gold  only  to  his  own  idea  of  that  colour, 
 and  nothing  else ;  and  therefore  calls  the  same  colour  in  a  peacock's  tail, 
 gold.  Another,  that  hath  better  observed,  adds  to  shining  yellow  great  weight; 
 and  then  the  sound  gold,  when  he  uses  it,  stands  for  a  complex  idea  of  a  shin- 
 ing yellow,  and  very  weighty  substance.  Another  adds  to  those  qualities,  fu- 
 sibility :  and  then  the  word  gold  signifies  to  him  a  body,  bright,  yellow,  fusi- 
 ble, and  very  heavy.  Another  adds  malleability.  Each  of  these  uses  equally 
 the  word  gold,  when  they  have  occasion  to  express  the  idea  which  they  have 
 applied  it  to ;  but  it  is  evident,  that  each  can  apply  it  only  to  his  own  idea  ; 
 nor  can  he  make  it  stand  as  a  sign  of  such  a  complex  idea  as  he  has  not. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Words  often  secretly  referred,  first,  to  the  ideas  in  other  men's 
 minds. — But  though  words,  as  they  are  used  by  men,  can  properly  and  im- 
 mediately signify  nothing  but  the  ideas  that  are  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker ; 
 yet  they  in  their  thoughts  give  them  a  secret  reference  to  two  other  things. 
 
 First,  They  suppose  their  words  to  be  marks  of  the  ideas  in  the  minds  also 
 of  other  men,  with  whom  they  communicate  :  for  else  they  should  talk  in 
 vain,  and  could  not  be  understood,  if  the  sounds  they  applied  to  one  idea 
 were  such  as  by  the  hearer  were  applied  to  another ;  which  is  to  speak  two 
 languages.  But  in  this,  men  stand  not  usually  to  examine  whetlier  the  idea 
 they  and  those  they  discourse  with  have  in  tlieir  minds  be  the  same :  but  think 
 it  enough  that  tlioy  use  the  word,  as  they  imagine,  in  the  common  accepta- 
 tion of  that  language ;  in  v.'hich  they  suppose  that  the  idea  they  make  it  a  sign 
 of  is  precisely  the  same,  to  which  the  understanding  men  of  that  country 
 apply  that  name. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Secondly,  to  the  reality  of  things. — Secondly,  Because  men 
 would  not  be  thought  to  talk  barely  of  their  own  imaginations,  but  of  things 
 as  really  they  are ;  therefore  they  oilen  suppose  their  words  to  stand  also  for 
 
268  OF  irjMAM  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3 
 
 the  realitj"^  of  thin<Ts.  But  this  relating  more  particularly  to  substances,  and 
 their  names,  as  perhaps  the  former  does  to  simple  ideas  and  modes,  we  shall 
 speak  of  tliese  two  diiforent  ways  of  ap])!yin<|  words  more  at  lar^jc,  when  we 
 come  to  treat  of  tiie  names  of  mixed  modes  and  substances  in  particular : 
 though  give  me  leave  here  to  say,  that  it  is  a  perverting  tlie  use  of  Words, 
 and  brings  unavoidable  obscurity  and  confusion  into  their  signification,  when- 
 ever we  make  them  stand  for  any  thing  but  those  ideas  we  have  in  our  own 
 minds. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Words  by  use  readily  excite  ideas. — Concerning  words,  also,  it 
 is  farther  to  be  considered :  first,  that  they  being  immediately  the  signs  of 
 men's  ideas ;  and  by  that  means  tlie  instruments  whereby  men  communicate 
 tlieir  conceptions,  and  express  to  one  another  those  thoughts  and  imagina- 
 tions they  have  within  tlieir  own  breasts  ;  there  comes  by  constant  use  to  be 
 buch  a  connexion  between  certain  sounds  and  the  ideas  they  stand  for,  that' 
 tlie  names  heard  almost  as  readily  excite  certain  ideas,  as  if  the  objects  them- 
 selves, which  are  apt  to  produce  them,  did  actually  affect  the  senses.  Which 
 is  manifestly  so  in  all  obvious  sensible  qualities,  and  in  all  substances  that 
 Irequently  and  familiarly  occur  to  us. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Words  often  used  without  signification. — Secondly,  That  though 
 the  proper  and  immediate  signification  of  words  are  ideas  in  the  mind  of  the 
 speaker,  yet  because  by  familiar  use  from  our  cradles  we  come  to  learn  certain 
 articulate  sounds  very  perfectly,  and  have  them  readily  on  our  tongues,  and 
 always  at  hand  in  our  memories,  but  yet  are  not  always  careful  to  examine  or 
 .•■:etlle  their  significations  perfectly;  it  oflen  happens  that  men,  even  when 
 I  hey  would  apply  themseh'es  to  an  attentive  consideration,  do  set  their 
 thoughts  more  on  words  than  things.  Nay,  because  words  are  many  of  them 
 learned  before  the  ideas  are  known  for  which  they  stand;  therefore  some,  not 
 only  children,  but  men,  speak  several  words  no  otherwise  than  parrots  do,  only 
 because  they  have  learned  them,  and  have  been  accustomed  to  those  sounds. 
 But  so  far  as  words  are  of  use  and  signification,  so  far  is  there  a  constant 
 connexion  between  the  sound  and  the  idea,  and  a  designation  that  the  one 
 stands  for  the  other;  without  which  application  of  them,  they  are  nothing  but 
 so  much  insignificant  noise. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Their  signification  perfectly  arbitrary. — Words,  by  long  and 
 familiar  use,  as  has  been  said,  come  to  excite  in  men  certain  ideas  so  con- 
 stantly and  readily,  that  they  are  apt  to  suppose  a  natural  connexion  be- 
 tween them.  But  that  they  signify  only  men's  peculiar  ideas,  and  that  by 
 a  perfect  arbitrary  imposition,  is  evident,  in  that  tlicy  often  fail  to  excite  in 
 others  (even  that  use  the  same  language)  the  same  ideas  we  take  them  to  be 
 the  signs  of;  and  every  man  has  so  inviolable  a  liberty  to  make  words  stand  for 
 what  ideas  he  pleases,  that  no  one  hath  the  power  to  make  others  have  the 
 same  ideas  in  their  minds  that  he  has,  when  they  use  the  same  words  that  he 
 does.  And  therefore  the  great  Augustus  himself,  in  the  possession  of  that 
 power  which  ruled  the  world,  acknowledged  he  could  not  make  a  new  Latin 
 word;  which  was  as  much  as  to  say,  that  he  could  not  arbitrarily  appoint 
 what  idea  any  sound  should  be  a  sign  of  in  the  mouths  and  common  language 
 of  his  subjects.  It  is  true,  common  use,  by  a  tacit  consent,  appropriates  cer- 
 tain sounds  to  certain  ideas  in  all  languages,  which  so  far  limits  the  signifi- 
 cation of  that  sound,  that  unless  a  man  applies  it  to  the  same  idea,  he  does 
 not  speak  pro])erly :  and  let  me  add,  that  unless  a  man's  words  excite  the 
 same  ideas  in  tiie  hearer  wliicli  he  makes  them  stand  for  in  speaking,  he  does 
 not  speak  intelligibly.  But  vvhatevcr  be  the  consequence  of  any  man's 
 using  of  words  differently,  either  from  their  general  meaning,  or  the  particu- 
 lar sense  of  the  person  to  whom  he  addresses  them,  this  is  certain  their  sig- 
 nification, in  his  use  of  them,  is  limited  to  his  ideas,  and  they  can  be  signs  of 
 noUiinsf  else. 
 
Ch.  3.  GENERAL  TERMS.  269 
 
 CHAPTER  III. 
 
 OF  GENERAL  TERMS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  The  greatest  part  of  words  general. — All  things  that  exist  being 
 particulars,  it  may  perhaps  be  thought  reasonable  that  words,  which  ought  to 
 be  conformed  to  things,  should  be  so  too ;  I  mean  in  their  signification :  but 
 yet  we  find  the  quite  contrary.  The  far  greatest  part  of  words,  that  make 
 all  languages,  are  general  terms ;  which  has  not  been  the  effect  of  neglect  or 
 chance,  but  of  reason  and  necessity. 
 
 Sect.  2.  For  every  particular  thing  to  have  a  name  is  impossible. — First, 
 It  is  impossible  that  every  particular  thing  should  have  a  distinct  peculiar 
 name.  For  the  signification  and  use  of  words,  depending  on  that  connexion 
 which  the  mind  makes  between  its  ideas,  and  the  sounds  it  uses  as  signs  of 
 them,  it  is  necessary,  in  the  application  of  names  to  things,  that  the  mind 
 should  have  distinct  ideas  of  the  things,  and  retain  also  the  particular  name 
 that  belongs  to  every  one,  with  its  peculiar  appropriation  to  that  idea.  But 
 it  is  beyond  the  power  of  human  capacity  to  fi-ame  and  retain  distinct  ideas''/ 
 of  all  the  particular  things  we  meet  with ;  every  bird  and  beast  men  saw, 
 every  tree  and  plant  that  affected  the  senses  could  not  find  a  place  in  the 
 most  capacious  understanding.  If  it  be  looked  on  as  an  instance  of  a  prodi- 
 gious memory,  that  some  generals  have  been  able  to  call  every  soldier  in  their 
 army  by  his  proper  name,  we  may  easily  find  a  reason  why  men  have  never 
 attempted  to  give  names  to  each  sheep  in  their  flock,  or  crow  that  flies  over 
 their  head;  much  less  to  call  every  leaf  of  plants,  or  grain  of  sand  that  came 
 in  their  way,  by  a  peculiar  name. 
 
 Sect.  3.  And  useless. — Secondly,  If  it  were  possible,  it  would  yet  be  use- 
 less ;  because  it  would  not  serve  to  the  chief  end  of  language.  Men  would 
 in  vain  heap  up  names  of  particular  things  that  would  not  serve  them  to  com- 
 municate their  thoughts.  Men  learn  names,  and  use  them  in  talk  with 
 others,  only  that  they  may  be  understood ;  which  is  then  only  done,  when  by 
 use  or  consent  the  sound  I  make  by  the  organs  of  speech  excites  in  another 
 man's  mind,  who  hears  it,  the  idea  I  apply  it  to  in  mine,  when  I  speak  it.  This 
 cannot  be  done  by  names  applied  to  particular  things,  whereof  I  alone  having 
 the  ideas  in  my  mind,  the  names  of  them  could  not  be  significant  or  intelli- 
 gible to  another  who  was  not  acquainted  with  all  those  very  particular  things 
 which  had  fallen  under  my  notice. 
 
 Sect.  4.  T.hi£dly>  But  yet  granting  this  also  feasible  (which  I  think  is 
 not),  yet  a  distinct  name  for  every  particular  thing  would  "not  be  of  any  great 
 use  for  the  improvement  of  knowledge  ;  which,  though  foun^led  in  particular 
 things,  enlarges  itself  by  general  views ;  to  which  things  reduced,  into  sorts 
 under  genefaTiiames,  are  properly  subservient.  These,  with  the  names  be- 
 longing to  them,  come  within  some  compass,  and  do  not  multiply  every  mo- 
 ment, beyond  what  either  the  mind  can  contain,  or  use  requires :  and  there- 
 fore, in  these,  men  have  for  the  most  part  stopped;  but  yet  not  so  as  to  hin- 
 der themselves  from  distinguishing  particular  things  by  appropriated  names, 
 where  convenience  demands  it.  And  therefore  in  their  own  species,  which 
 they  have  most  to  do  with,  and  wherein  they  have  oft;en  occasion  to  mention 
 particular  persons,  they  make  use  of  proper  names ;  and  their  distinct  indi- 
 viduals have  distinct  denominations. 
 
 Sect.  5.  What  things  have  proper  names. — Besides  persons,  countries 
 also,  cities,  rivers,  mountains,  and  other  the  like  distinctions  of  place,  have 
 usually  found  peculiar  names,  and  that  for  the  same  reason ;  tliey  being  such 
 as  men  have  ofl;en  an  occasion  to  mark  particularly,  and,  as  it  were,  set  be- 
 fore others  in  their  discourses  with  tliem.  And  I  doubt  not,  but  if  we  had 
 reason  to  mention  particular  horses,  as  often  as  we  have  to  mention  particu- 
 
aro  OF  HUMAN  Ui\DERST-\NDIN'G.  Book  3. 
 
 larmcn.  we  shoulil  Iiavo  proper  names  for  the  one  as  familiar  as  fbr  the  other; 
 and  BucepliaJus  would  be  a  word  as  much  in  use  as  Alexander.  And  there- 
 fore we  see  that,  among  jookies,  horses  haye  their  projier  names  to  be  known 
 and  distingnished  by  as  commonly  as  theit  servants :  because,  among  them, 
 there  is  otleu  occasion  to  mention  tJiisor  that  particular  horse,  when  he  is  out 
 of  sight. 
 
 Skct.  6.  How  general  words  are  made. — Tlie  next  thing  to  be  considered  is, 
 how  general  wortls  come  to  be  made.  For  since  all  things  that  exist  are  only 
 particulars,  how  come  we  by  general  terms,  or  where  find  we  those  general 
 natures  they  are  supposed  to  stand  lor  ?  Words  become  general,  by  being 
 made  the  signs  of  general  ideas  ;  and  ideas  become  general,  by  separating 
 from  them  the  circumstances  of  time,  and  place,  and  any  other  ideas,  that 
 may  determine  them  to  this  or  that  particular  existence.  By  this  way  of  ab- 
 straction, they  are  made  capable  of  representing  more  indi\-iduals  than  one  ; 
 each  of  which  having  in  it  a  conformity  to  that  abstract  idea,  is  (as  we  call 
 it)  of  that  sort. 
 
 Sect.  7.  But  to  deduce  this  a  little  more  distinctly,  it  will  not  perhaps 
 be  amiss  to  trace  our  notions  and  names  from  their  beginning,  and  ob- 
 ser\e  by  what  degrees  we  proceed,  and  by  what  steps  we  enlarge  oiur. 
 ideas  from  our  lirst  infancy.  There  is  nothing  more  evident,  than  that  the 
 ideas  of  tlie  persons  children  converse  with  (to  instance  in  them  alone)  are 
 like  tlie  persons  themselves,  only  particular.  The  ideas  of  the  niu^e  and  the 
 mother  are  well  framed  in  their  minds;  and,  like  pictures  of  them  there,  re- 
 present only  those  individuals.  The  names  they  lirst  gave  to  them  are  con- 
 fined to  these  individuals;  and  the  names  of  nurse  and  mamma  the  child  uses, 
 determine  themselves  to  tliose  persons.  Afterwards,  when  time  and  a  larger 
 acquaintance  have  made  them  observe,  that  there  axe  a  great  many  other 
 things  in  the  world,  that  in  some  common  agreements  of  shape,  and  several 
 other  qualities,  resemble  their  father  and  mother,  and  those  persons  they  have 
 been  used  to.  they  frame  an  idea,  which  they  find  those  many  particulars  do 
 partake  in ;  and  to  that  they  give,  with  others,  the  name  man  for  example. 
 And  tJius  ihey  come  to  have  a  general  name,  and  a  general  idea.  ^Mierein 
 they  make  nothing  new.  but  only  leave  out  the  complex  idea  they  had  of 
 Peter  and  James,  Alary  and  Jane,  that  which  is  peculiar  to  each, -and  retain 
 only  what  is  common  to  them  all. 
 
 Sect.  S.  By  the  same  way  that  they  come  by  the  general  name  and  idea 
 of  man,  they  easily  advance  to  more  general  names  and  notions.  For  ob- 
 ser\-ing  tJiat  several  things  that  differ  from  their  idea  of  man.  and  cannot 
 tiierefore  be  comprehended  under  tliat  name,  have  yet  certain  qualities,  where- 
 in they  agree  v^ith  man,  by  retaining  only  those  qualities,  and  uniting  them 
 into  one  idea,  they  have  again  another  and  more  general  idea ;  to  which  hav- 
 ing given  a  name, 'they  make  a  term  of  a  more  comprehensive  extension: 
 which  new  idea  is  made,  not  by  any  new  addition,  but  only,  as  before,  by 
 leaving  out  the  shape,  and  some  other  properties  signified  by  the  name  man, 
 and  retaining  only  a  body,  with  life,  sense,  and  spontaneous  motion,  com- 
 prehended under  the  name  animal. 
 
 Sect.  9.  General  natures  are  nothinsc  but  abstract  ideas. — That  this  is 
 the  way  wliereby  men  first  formed  general  ideas,  and  general  names  to  them, 
 1  tlunk,  is  so  evicent.  that  there  needs  no  other  proof  of  it,  but  tlie  consider- 
 ing of  a  man's  self,  or  others,  and  the  ordinary  proceedings  of  their  minds  in 
 knowledge:  and  he  that  thinks  general  natures  or  notions  are  any  thing  else 
 but  such  abstract  and  partial  ideas  of  more  complex  ones,  taken  at  first  from 
 particular  existences,  will.  I  fear,  be  at  a  loss  where  to  find  them.  For  let 
 any  one  reflect,  and  then  tell  me,  wherein  does  his  idea  of  man  differ  from 
 that  of  Peter  and  Paul;  or  his  idea  of  horse  from  that  of  Bucephalus,  but  in 
 the  leaA-ing  out  something  that  is  peculiar  to  each  indindual;  and  retaining  so 
 much  of  those  particular  complex  ideas  of  several  particular  existences  as 
 they  are  foun^  to  agree  inl  Of  the  complex  ideas  signified  by  the  names 
 man  and  horse,  leaving  out  but  those  particulars  wherein  they  differ,  and  re- 
 
Clu  3.  GENERAL  TERMS.  '271 
 
 tainmc  rmlv  th*")*?"  ■<-'''-Tf'n  they  i^r'f:fi,  and  of  tri^xf;  rr;.i<c.'r.;^  a  new  dk^nct 
 complex  idea,  •  ^  '  f-'i-  riarrift  animal  lo  i*. :  ori-i  ha«s  a  more  general 
 term,  that  corno'  '.' '   -';Vf;rai  other  crear.'jr'ir-!.     I^ave  oat  of  the 
 
 irJea  of  animal,  ■'.hnan  ar:  ^'18  mcAion ;  aid  the  lemainti^  eooifAex 
 
 idea,  rnade  up  of  the  rei.. :  . :>le  ones  «f  body,  Hfe  and  noansfament, 
 
 becomes  a  roore  general  out,  ui^ier  the  more  comprehenirive  term  vixen*. 
 And  not  to  dwell  longer  npon  thia  particolar,  ao  erident  in  iteelf^  by  the  «arae 
 way  the  mind  proceeds  to  body,  substance,^  and  at  last  to  being,  thing,  and 
 Boch  univeraal  terms,  wliich  -rtand  for  any  of  our  ideaa  whatsoever.  To  con- 
 clude, this  whole  mystery  (A gf^nera  and  fpeeie*,  which  make  anch  a  noise  in 
 the  schools,  and  are  with  jasitice  so  little  r^arded  out  of  them,  is  nothing 
 else  but  abstract  ideas,  more  or  less  comprebensrv-e,  with  names  annexed  to 
 them.  In  all  which  this  is  constant  and  mnrariable,  that  etreiy  move  genoal 
 term  stands  for  such  an  idea,  as  is  bat  a  pait  of  any  of  those  eoBtamed 
 under  it. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Why  the  genu*  i»  ordinarily  made  use  of  in  iefinitimu. — ^Thit 
 rnay  show  us  the  reason  why,  in  the  defining  of  words,  wfaidi  is  nothing  bat 
 declaring'  their  significations,  we  ntake  use  of  the  genos,  or  next  genial 
 word  that  comprehends  it.  \VTrich  is  not  out  of  necessity,  but  only  to  save 
 the  labour  of  enumerating  the  several  simple  ideas,  wUeh  the  next  general 
 w^ord  or  genus  stands  for ;  or,  perhaps,  sometimes  the  siiame  of  not  being 
 eible  to  do  it.  But  thoogJi  defining  by  genus  and  differentia  'I  crave  leare 
 to  use  these  terms  of  art,  though  originally  Latin,  since  they  most  properly 
 suit  those  notions  they  are  applied  to^  I  say,  thoi^  defining  by  the  gettus 
 be  the  shortest  way,  yet  I  think  it  may  be  doubted  whether  it  be^tbe  best. 
 This  I  am  sure,  it  is  not  the  only,  and  so  not  absofaitely  necessary.  Yar  de- 
 finition being  notbiog  but  making  another  mderstand  by  words  what  idea  the 
 term  defined  stands  for,  a  defiiiution.  is  best  made  hf  ammerating  those 
 simple  ideas  that  are  combined  in  the  signification  of  the  term  defiaed;  and 
 if  Instead  of  such  an  enumeration  mfta  have  accustomed  themselves  to  use 
 the  next  general  term,  it  has  not  been  out  of  necessity,  or  &r  greater  clear- 
 ness, but  for  quickness  and  despatch  sake.  For,  I  think,  that  to  one  who  de- 
 .sired  to  know  what  idea  the  word  man  stood  for,  it  should  be  said,  that  nm' 
 was  a  solid  extended  substance,  having  life,  sense,  spontaneoos  motioD,  and 
 the  faculty  of  reasoning ;  I  doubt  not  Irat  the  meaning  of  the  term  man  woold 
 be  as  well  understood,  and  the  idea  it  stands  fi)r  be  at  least  as  clearly  made 
 rnown,  as  when  it  is  defined  to  be  a  rational  animal :  which,  by  the  several 
 definitions  of  animal,  titem,  and  ccrpvu,  resolves  itself  into  tlwee  ennmer- 
 ated  ideas.  I  have,  in  explaining  the  term  man,  followed  here  the  ordinary 
 definition  of  the  schools:  which  though,  perhaps,  not  the  most  exact,  yet 
 serves  well  enough  to  my  present  purpose.  And  one  may,  in  this  instance, 
 see  what  gave  occasion  to  the  rule,  that  a  definition  must  consist  of  genu* 
 and  differentia ;  and  it  suffices  to  show  us  the  little  necessity  there  is  of  snch 
 a  rule,  or  advantage  in  the  strict  observm^g  of  it.  For  definitions,  as  has  been 
 said,  being  only  the  explaining  of  one  word  bv  several  others,  so  that  the 
 meaning  or  idea  it  stands  tor  may  be  certainly  known ;  languages  are  not  al- 
 ways so  made  according  to  the  rules  of  locjic,  that  every  term  can  have  its 
 signification  exactly  and  clearly  expressed  by  two  others.  Experience  suffi- 
 ciently satisfies  us  to  the  contrary:  or  else  those  who  have  made  thia  rule 
 have  done  iU,  that  they  have  given  us  so  few  definitions  conformable  to  it. 
 Bat  of  definitions,  more  in  the  next  chapter. 
 
 Sect.  11.  General  and  universal  are  creatures  of  the  understanding. — 
 To  return  to  general  words,  it  is  plain  by  what  has  been  said,  that  general 
 and  universal  belong  not  to  the  real  existence  of  things :  but  are  the  inven-  '■ 
 tions  and  creatures  of  the  understanding,  made  by  it,  for  its  own  use,  and 
 concern  only  signs,  whether  words  or  ideas.  W'orids  are  general,  as  has  been 
 said,  when  used  for  signs  of  general  ideas,  and  so  are  applicable  indifferently 
 to  many  particular  things  :  and  ideas  are  general,  when  they  are  set  op  as  the 
 representatives  of  many  particular  things ;  but  universality  belong  not  to 
 things  themselves,  which  are  all  of  them  paiticolar  in  their  existence ;  even 
 
272  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 tliosn  words  and  ideas  wliicli  in  ihcir  signification  are  goneral.  When  tliero- 
 forc  wo  (jnit  particulars,  the  generals  that  rest  am  only  creatures,  of  our  own 
 making  ;  tiieir  general  nature  being  nothing  but  the  cajjacity  they  are  put 
 into  by  the  understanding  of  signifying  or  rejjresenting  many  particulars. 
 For  the  signification  they  have  is  nothing  but  a  relation,  that  by  the  mind  of 
 man  is  added  to  them(l). 
 
 (1 )  Against  this  llie  Bisliop  of  Worcester  objects,  and  our  author*  answers  as  fol- 
 lowetli  :  "However,"  sailli  the  bishop,  "  the  abstracted  ideas  are  tiie  work,  of  the 
 mind,  yet  they  are  not  mere  creatures  of  the  mind  ;  as  appears  by  an  instance  pro- 
 duced of  the  essence  of  the  sun  being  in  one  single  individual  ;  in  wliicli  case  it  is  grant- 
 ed, that  the  idea  may  be  so  abstracted,  tliat  more  suns  miglit  agree  in  it,  and  it  is  as 
 mucli  a  sort,  as  if  tliere  were  as  man}'  suns  as  there  are  stars.  So  that  liere  we  have 
 a  real  essence  subsisting  in  one  individual,  but  capable  of  being  multiplied  into 
 more,  and  the  same  essence  remaining.  But  in  this  one  sun  there  is  a  real  essence, 
 and  not  a  mere  nominal  or  abstracte<l  essence  :  but  suppose  there  were  more  suns, 
 wouUi  not  each  of  them  have  the  real  essence  of  tlic  sun  ?  For  wiial  is  it  makes 
 tbe  second  sun,  but  having  the  same  real  essence  with  the  first  ?  If  it  were  but  a 
 nominal  essence,  tiien  the  second  would  have  nothing  but  the  name." 
 
 This,  as  I  understand  it,  replies  Mr  Locke,  is  to  prove  tiiat  the  abstract  general 
 essence  of  anj'  sort  of  tbiugs,  or  things  of  the  same  denomination,  v.  _§•.  of  man  or 
 marigolcl,  bath  a  real  being  out  of  the  understanding;  whic!i,  I  confess,  1  am  notable 
 to  conceive.  Your  lordship's  proof  here,  brought  out  of  my  essay,  concerning  tlie 
 sun,  I  iiumldy  conceive  will  not  reacli  it;  because  wiiat  is  said  there,  does  not  at  all 
 concern  the  real  but  nominal  essence,  as  is  evident  from  hence,  that  the  idea  I 
 speak  of  tiiere  is  a  complex  idea  ;  but  we  have  no  complex  idea  of  the  internal  con- 
 slitulion  or  real  essence  of  the  sun.  Besides,  I  say  expressly,  that  our  distinguish- 
 ing substances  into  species,  by  nameS,  is  not  at  all  founded  on  their  real  essences. 
 So  that  the  sun  being  one  of  these  substances,  I  cannot,  in  the  place  quoted  by 
 your  lordship,  be  supposed  to  mean  by  essence  of  the  sun  the  real  essence  of  the 
 sun,  \mless  1  had  so  expressed  it.  But  all  this  argument  will  be  at  an  end,  when 
 your  lordship  sliall  have  explained  what  you  mean  by  these  words,  "true  sun."  In 
 my  sense  of  them,  any  thing  will  be  a  true  sun,  to  which  the  name  sun  may  be  truly 
 and  properly  applied,  and  to  that  substance  or  thing  the  name  sun  may  be  truly  and 
 properly  applied,  which  has  united  in  it  that  combination  of  sensible  qualities,  by 
 which  any  thing  else,  that  is  called  sini,  is  distinguislied  from  other  substances,  i.  e. 
 by  the  nominal  essence  :  and  thus  our  sun  is  denominated  and  distinguished  from  a 
 fixed  star,  not  by  a  real  essence  tiiat  we  do  not  know  (for  if  we  did,  it  is  possible 
 we  should  find  the  real  essence  or  constitution  of  one  of  the  fixed  stars  to  be  the 
 same  v.itlj  that  of  our  sun)  but  by  a  complex  idea  of  sensible  qualities  coexisting, 
 whicii,  wherever  they  are  found,  make  a  true  sun.  And  thus  I  crave  leave  to  an- 
 swer youi*  lordship's  question — "For  what  is  it  makes  the  second  sun  to  be  a  true 
 sun,  but  having  the  same  real  essence  with  tiie  first  ?  If  it  were  but  a  nominal  es- 
 sence, then  the  second  would  liave  nothing  but  tiie  name." 
 
 I  humbly  conceive,  if  it  had  tlie  nominal  essence,  it  would  have  something  besides 
 the  name,  viz.  tliat  nominal  essence,  which  is  sufficient  to  denominate  it  truly  a  sun, 
 Or  to  make  it  be  a  true  sun,  though  we  know  nothing  of  that  real  essence  whereon 
 that  nominal  one  depends.  Your  lordship  will  then  argue,  that  tiiat  real  essence  is 
 in  the  second  sun,  and  makes  the  second  sun.  I  grant  it,  when  the  second  sun 
 c  jmes  to  exist,  so  as  to  be  perceived  by  us  to  have  all  the  ideas  contained  in  our 
 complex  idea,  i.  e.  in  oui'  nominal  essence  of  a  sun.  For  should  it  be  true  (as  is 
 now  believed  by  astronomers),  that  the  real  essence  of  the  sun  were  in  any  of  the 
 fixed  stars,  yet  such  a  star  could  not  for  that  be  by  us  called  a  sun,  whilst  it  an- 
 swers not  our  complex  idea,  or  nominal  essence  of  a  sun.  But  how  far  that  will 
 jirove  that  the  essences  of  things,  as  they  are  knowable  by  us,  have  a  reality  in 
 them  distinct  from  that  of  abstract  ideas  in  the  mind,  which  are  merely  creatures 
 of  the  mind,  I  do  not  see  ;  and  we  siiall  farther  inquire,  in  considering  your  lord- 
 ship's following  words.  "Therefore,"  say  you,  "there  must  be  a  real  essence  in 
 every  individual  of  tiie  same  kind."  Yes,  and  I  beg  leave  of  your  lordship  to  say, 
 of  a  different  kind  too.     For  that  alune  is  it  which  makes  it  to  be  what  it  is. 
 
 *  In  his  first,  letter. 
 
Ch.  a  GENERAL  TERMS.  273 
 
 Sect.  12.  Abstract  ideas'  are  the  essences  of  the  genera  and  species. — 
 Tlie  next  thing-  therefore  to  be  considered  is,  wliat  kind  of  signification  it  is 
 that  general  words  have.  For,  as  it  is  evident  that  they  do  not  signify  barely 
 one  particular  thing ;  for  then  they  would  not  be  general  terms,  but  proper 
 names  ;  so  on  the  other  side  it  is  as  evident,  they  do  not  signify  a  plurality  ; 
 for  man  and  men  would  then  signify  the  same,  and  the  distinction  of  numbers 
 
 Tliat  every  individual  substance  has  real,  internal,  individual  constitution,  i.  e.  a 
 real  essence,  that  makes  it  to  be  what  it  is,  I  i-eadily  grant.  Upon  this  your  lord- 
 ship says,  "  Ptter,  James,  and  John,  are  all  true  and  real  men."  Answer.  With- 
 out doubt,  supposing  them  to  be  men,  they  are  true  and  real  men,  i.  e.  supposing 
 the  name  of  tliat  species  belongs  to  them.  And  so  three  bobaques  are  all  true 
 and  real  boljaqucs,  sup])osing  tlie  name  of  that  species  of  animals  belongs  to  them. 
 
 For  1  beseech  j'our  lordsliip  to  consider,  whether  in  your  way  of  argument,  by 
 naming  liiem  Petei-,  James,  and  John,  names  familiar  to  us,  as  appropriated  to  in- 
 dividuals of  the  species  man,  your  lordship  does  not  first  suppose  tiiem  men,  and 
 then  very  safely  ask,  wliellier  they  be  not  all  true  and  real  men  ?  But  if  I  should 
 ask  your  lordship  wbetlier  Weweena,  Chuckerj',  and  Cousheda,  were  true  and  real 
 men  or  no  ?  your  lordship  would  not  be  able  to  tell  me,  till,  I  having  pointed  out  to 
 your  lordsliip  the  individuals  called  by  those  names,  your  lordship,  by  examining 
 ■whether  tliey  had  in  them  those  sensible  qualities  which  your  lordship  has  combined 
 into  that  complex  idea  to  which  )"ou  give  the  specific  name  man,  determined  them 
 all,  or  some  of  them,  to  be  the  S])ecies  wbich  you  call  man,  and  so  to  be  true  and 
 real  men  ;  whicli,  when  your  lordship  has  determined,  it  is  plain  you  did  it  by  that 
 which  is  only  the  nominal  essence,  as  not  knowing  the  real  one.  But  your  lord- 
 ship farther  asks,  "what  is  it  makes  Peter,  James,  and  John  real  men  ?  •Is  it  the 
 attributing  the  general  name  to  them  ?  No,  certainly  ;  but  that  the  true  and  real 
 essence  of  a  man  is  in  every  one  of  them." 
 
 If,  when  your  lordship  asks,  "  What  makes  them  men?"  your  lordship  used  the 
 ■word  making  in  the  proper  sense  for  the  efficient  cause,  and  in  that  sense  it  were 
 true,  that  the  essence  of  a  man,  i.  e.  the  specific  essence  of  that  species  made  a 
 raan;  it  would  undoubtedly  follow,  that  this  specific  essence  had  a  reality  beyond 
 that  of  being  only  a  general  abstract  idea  in  the  mind.  But  when  it  is  said,  that 
 it  is  the  true  and  real  essence  of  a  man  in  every  one  of  them,  that  makes  Peter, 
 James,  and  John  true  and  real  men,  the  true  and  real  meaning  of  these  words  is 
 no  more,  but  that  the  essence  of  that  species,  i.  e.  the  pioperties  answering  the 
 complex  abstract  idea  to  which  the  specific  name  is  given,  being  found  in  them, 
 that  makes  them  to  be  properly  and  truly  called  men,  or  is  the  reason  why  they 
 are  called  men.  Your  lordship  adds,  "And  we  must  be  as  certain  of  this,  as  we 
 are  that  they  are  men." 
 
 How,  I  beseech  your  lordship,  are  we  certain  that  they  are  men,  but  only  by 
 our  senses,  finding  those  properties  in  them  which  answer  the  abstract  complex 
 idea,  which  is  in  our  minds,  of  the  specific  idea  to  which  we  have  annexed  the 
 specific  name  man!"  This  I  take  to  be  the  true  meaning  of  what  your  lordship 
 says  in  the  next  words,  viz.  "They  take  tlieir  denomination  of  being  men  from 
 that  common  nature  or  essence  whicli  is  in  them;"  and  I  am  apt  to  think  these 
 words  will  not  hold  true  in  any  other  sense. 
 
 Your  lordship's  fourth  inference  begins  thus — "That  the  general  idea  is  not 
 made  from  the  simple  ideas  by  the  mere  act  of  the  mind  abstracting  from  circum- 
 stances, but  from  reason  and  consideration  of  the  nature  of  things. " 
 
 I  thought,  my  lord,  that  reason  and  consideration  had  been  acts  of  the  mind, 
 mere  acts  of  the  mind,  when  any  thing  was  done  by  them.  Your  lordship  gives  a 
 reason  for  it,  viz.  "For,  when  we  see  several  individuals  that  have  the  same 
 powers  and  properties,  we  thence  infer,  that  there  must  be  something  common  to 
 all,  which  makes  them  of  one  kind." 
 
 I  grant  tiie  inference  to  be  true;  but  must  beg  leave  to  deny  that  this  proves,  that 
 the  general  idea  the  name  is  annexed  to,  is  not  made  by  the  mind.  I  have  said, 
 and  it  agrees  with  what  your  lordship  here  says,  *That  "  the  mind,  in  making  i's 
 complex  ideas  of  substances,  only  follows  nature,  and  puts  no  ideas  together  wl     U 
 
 *  B.  3,  c.  6.   §.  28,  29. 
 
 2K 
 
274  OF  lIu:.IAi\   UNDEiWTANDlNG.  Book  3. 
 
 (as  the  gi'ammarians  call  llicni)  would  bo  superftiious  and  useless.  That  then' 
 wliich  general  words  sij^nify  is  a  sort  of"  tilings  ;  and  each  of  them  does  that  by 
 being  a  sign  of  an  abstract  idea  in  the  mind,  to  which  idea,  as  things  existing 
 arc  found  to  agree,  so  they  come  to  be  ranked  under  that  name ;  or,  which  is 
 all  one,  be  of  that  sort.  Whereby,  it  is  evident  that  the  essences  of  the  sorts, , 
 or  (if  the  Latin  word  pleases  better)  species  of  things,  are  nothing  else  but 
 
 are  not  supposed  to  have  a  union  in  nature.  Nobody  joins  the  voice  of  a  sheep 
 witli  llie  shape  of  a  horse;  nor  tlie  colour  of  lead  with  the  weight  and  fixedness  of 
 p;ol(l,  to  be  the  complex  ideas  of  any  real  substances;  unless  he  has  a  mind  to  fill 
 his  head  with  ciiimeras,  and  his  discourses  with  unintelli'^ible  words.  Men  ob- 
 siM-ving  certain  qualities  alwaj's  joined  and  existing  together,  therein  copied  nature, 
 and  of  ideas  so  united,  made  their  complex  ones  of  substance,"  &c.  Which  is  very 
 little  drfierent  from  what  your  lordship  here  says,  that  it  is  from  our  observation 
 of  individuals,  that  we  come  to  infer,  "that  there  is  something  common  to  them 
 all."  But  1  do  not  see  how  it  will  thence  follow,  that  the  general  or  specific  idea 
 is  not  made  by  tlie  mere  act  of  tlie  mind.  "No,"  says  your  lordship,  "there  is 
 something  common  to  them  all,  which  makes  them  of  one  kind;  and  if  the  differ- 
 ence of  kinds  be  real,  that  which  makes  them  all  of  one  kind  must  not  be  a  nomi- 
 nal, but  real 'essence. " 
 
 This  maj' be  some  objection  to  the  name  of  nominal  essence;  but  is,  as  I  humbly 
 conceive,  none  to  the  thing  designed  by  it.  There  is  an  internal  constitution  of 
 tilings,  on  which  their  properties  depend.  This  your  lordship  and  I  are  agreed 
 of,  and  this  we  call  the  real  essence.  There  are  also  certain  complex  ideas,  or 
 combinations  of  these  properties  in  men's  minds,  to  wliich  they  commonly  annex 
 specific  names,  or  names  of  sorts  or  kinds  of  things.  This,  I  believe,  your  lordship 
 does  not  deny.  These  complex  ideas,  for  want  of  a  better  name,  I  have  called 
 nominal  essences;  how  properly,  I  will  not  dispute.  But  if  any  one  will  help  me 
 to  a  better  name  for  them,  I  am  ready  to  receive  it;  till  then,  I  must,  to  express 
 myself,  use  this.  Now,  my  lord,  bodj',  life,  and  the  power  of  reasoning,  being 
 not  the  real  essence  of  a  man,  as  I  believe  your  lordship  will  agree,  will  your 
 lordship  say  that  they  are  not  enough  to  make  the  thing  wherein  they  are  found, 
 of  the  kind  called  man,  and  not  of  the  kind  called  baboon,  because  the  difference 
 of  these  kinds  is  real?  If  this  be  not  real  enough  to  make  the  thing  of  one  kind 
 and  not  of  another,  I  do  not  see  how  animal  rationale  can  be  enough  really  to  dis- 
 tinguish a  <nan  from  a  horse;  for  that  is  but  the  nominal,  not  real  essence  of  that 
 kind,  designed  by  the  name  man;  and  yet  1  suppose  every  one  thinks  it  real  enough 
 to  make  a  real  difl'crence  between  that  and  other  kinds.  And  if  nothing  will  serve 
 the  turn,  to  mark  things  of  one  kind,  and  not  of  another,  (wliich,  as  1  have  showed, 
 signifies  no  more  but  ranking  of  them  under  difterent  specific  names)  but  their  real 
 unknown  constitutions,  which  are  the  real  essences  we  are  speaking  of,  I  fear  it 
 would  be  a  long  while  before  we  should  have  really  diflerent  kind  of  substances,  or 
 distinct  names  for  them,  unless  we  could  distinguish  them  by  these  difterences,  of 
 which  we  have  no  distinct  conceptions.  For  I  think  it  would  not  be  readily  an- 
 swered me,  if  I  should  demand,  wherein  lies  the  real  difference  in  the  internal 
 constitution^of  a  stag  from  that  of  a  buck,  which  are  each  of  them  very  well  known 
 to  be  of  one  kind,  and  not  of  the  other;  and  nobody  questions  but  that  the  kinds, 
 whereof  each  of  them  is,  are  really  difterent. 
 
 Your  loi-dship  farther  says,  "And  this  dift'erence  doth  not  depend  upon  the 
 complex  ideas  of  substances,  whereby  men  arbitrarily  join  modes  together  in  their 
 minds."  -I  confess,  my  lord,  I  know  not  what  to  say  to  this,  because  I  do  not  know 
 what  these  complex  ideas  of  substances  are,  whereby  men  arbitrarily  join  modes 
 together  in  their  minds.  But  1  am  apt  to  think  there  is  a  mistake  in  the  matter, 
 by  the  words  that  follow,  which  arc  these:  "For  let  them  mistake  in  their  com- 
 plication of  ideas,  either  in  leaving  out  or  pulling  in  what  doth  not  belong  to  them; 
 and  let  their  ideas  be  what  they  i)lease,  the  real  essence  of  a  man,  and  a  horse,  and 
 a  tree,  are  just  what  they  were." 
 
 The  mistake  I  spoke  of,  I  humbly  suppose  is  this,  that  things  are  here  taken  to 
 be  distinguished  by  their  real  essences;  when,  by  the  very  way  of  speaking  of 
 them,  it  is  clear,  that  they  arc  already  distinguished  by  their  nominal  essences,  and 
 are  so  taken  to  be.      For  what,  1  beseech  your  lordship,  does  your  lordship  mean, 
 
Ch.  3.  GENERAL  TERMS-  275 
 
 those  abstract  ideas.  For  the  having  the  essence  of  any  species  being  thatj, 
 which  makes  any  thing  to  be  of  that  species,  and  tlie  conformity  to  the  ideaj 
 to  whicli  the  name  is  annexed  being  that  wliich  gives  a  right  to  that  name ; 
 tlie  having  the  essence,  and  the  having  that  conformity,  must  needs  be  the 
 same  thing;  since  to  be  of  any  species,  and  to  have  a  riglit  to  the  name  of 
 that  species,  is  all  one.     As,  for  example,  to  be  a  man,  or  of  the  species  man, 
 
 -when  j'ou  say,  "  the  real  essence  of  a  man,  and  a  horse,  and  a  tree,"  but  that  there 
 are  such  khids  already  set  out  by  the  signification  of  these  names,  man,  horse,  tree? 
 And  what,  I  beseech  your  lordsiiip,  is  the  signification  of  eacli  of  these  specific 
 names,  but  the  complex  idea  it  stands  for?  And  lliat  complex  idea  is  tiie  nominal 
 essence,  and  nothing-  else.  So  that  taking  man,  as  your  lordship  does  here,  to 
 stand  for  a  kind  or  sort  of  individuals,  all  which  agree  in  that  common  complex 
 idea,  which  that  specific  name  stands  for,  it  is  certain  that  tlie  real  essence  of  all 
 the  individuals  comprehended  under  the  specific  name  man,  in  your  use  of  it, 
 would  be  just  the  same;  let  others  leave  out  or  put  into  their  complex  idea  of  man 
 what  they  please;  because  tlie  real  essence  on  which  that  unaltered  complex  idea, 
 i.  e.  those  properties  depend,  must  necessarily  be  concluded  to  lie  the  same. 
 
 For  I  take  it  for  granted,  that  in  using  llie  name  man,  in  tiiis  ])lace,  your  lord- 
 ship uses  it  for  that  complex  idea  which  is  in  your  lordship's  mind  of  that  species. 
 So  that  your  lordsliip,  by  putting  it  for,  or  substituting  it  in,  tlie  place  of  that  com- 
 plex idea  wliere  j'ou  say  tlie  real  essence  of  it  is  just  as  it  was,  or  the  very  same  as 
 it  was,  does  suppose  the  idea  it  stands  for  to  be  steadily  the  same.  For,  if  I  change 
 the  signification  of  the  word  man,  whereby  it  may  not  comprehend  just  the  same 
 individuals  which  in  your  loi'dship's  sense  it  does,  but  shut  out  some  of  those  that 
 to  your  lordship  are  men  in  your  signification  of  the  word  man,  or  take  in  others  to 
 which  your  lordsliip  does  not  allow  tlie  name  man  ;  I  do  not  think  you  will  say,  that 
 the  real  essence  of  man  in  both  these  senses  is  the  same.  And  yet  your  lordship 
 seems  to  say  so,  when  you  say,  "Let  men  mistake  in  the  complication  of  their  ideas, 
 either  in  leaving  out  or  putting  in  wliat  doth  not  belong  to  them  ;"  and  let  their 
 ideas  be  what  they  please,  the  real  essence  of  the  individuals  comprehended  under 
 the  names  annexed  to  these  ideas  will  be  the  same  :  for  so,  I  humbly  conceive,  it 
 must  be  put,  to  make  out  what  your  lordship  aims  at.  For,  as  your  lordship  puts 
 it  by  the  name  of  man,  or  any  other  specific  name,  your  lordship  seems  to  me  to 
 suppose,  that  that  name  stands  for,  and  not  for,  the  same  idea,  at  the  same  time. 
 
 For  example,  my  lord,  let  your  lordship's  idea,  to  which  you  annex  the  sign  man, 
 be  a  rational  animal  :  let  another  man's  idea  be  a  rational  animal  of  such  a  shape  ; 
 let  a  third  man's  idea  he  of  an  animal  of  such  a  size  and  shape,  leaving  out  ration- 
 ality ;  let  a  fourth's  be  an  animal  with  a  body  of  such  a  shape,  and  an  immaterial 
 substance,  with  a  power  of  reasoning  ^  let  a  fifth  leave  out  of  his  idea  an  immaterial 
 substance.  It  is  plain  every  one  of  these  will  call  his  a  man,  as  well  as  your  lord- 
 ship ;  and  yet  it  is  as  plain  that  men,  as  standing  for  all  these  distinct,  complex 
 ideas,  cannot  be  supposed  to  have  the  same  internal  constitution,  i.  e.  the  same  real 
 essence.  The  truth  is,  every  distinct  abstract  idea  with  the  name  to  it,  makes  a 
 real  distinct  kind,  whatever  the  real  essence  (which  we  know  not  of  any  of  theni)  be. 
 
 And  therefore  I  grant  it  true  what  your  lordship  says  in  the  next  words,  "  and  let 
 the  nominal  essences  dift'er  ever  so  much,  the  real  common  essences  or  nature  of 
 the  several  kinds  are  not  at  all  altered  by  them,"  i.  e.  that  our  thoughts  or  ideas 
 cannot  alter  the  real  constitutions  that  are  in  things  that  exist,  there  is  nothing  more 
 certain.  But  yet  it  is  true,  that  the  change  of  i(>eas,  to  whicli  we  annex  them,  can 
 and  does  alter  the  signification  of  their  names,  and  thereby  alter  the  kinds,  which 
 by  these  names  we  rank  and  sort  them  into.  Your  lordship  farther  adds,  "and 
 these  real  essences  are  unchangeable,"  i.  e.  the  internal  constitutions  are  unchangea- 
 ble. Of  what,  I  beseech  your  lordship,  are  the  internal  constitutions  unchangeable  ? 
 Not  of  any  thing  that  exists,  but  of  God  alone  ;  for  they  may  be  changed  all  as  easily 
 by  that  hand  that  made  them,  as  the  internal  frame  of  a  watch.  What  then  is  it 
 that  is  unchangeable  ?  The  internal  constitution,  or  real  essence  of  a  species  ; 
 ■which  in  plain  English,  is  no  more  but  this,  whilst  the  same  specific  name,  v.  g.  of 
 man,  horse,  or  tree,  is  annexed  to,  or  made  the  sign  of  the  same  abstract  complex 
 idea,  under  which  I  rank  several  individuals  ;  it  is  impossible  but  the  real  consti- 
 tution on  which  Ih.^t  unaltered,  complex  idea,  or  nominal  essence  depends,  must  be 
 
276  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 and  to  have  a  riglit  to  the  name  man,  is  the  same  thing.  Again,  to  be  a  man,  ' 
 or  of  tlie  species  man,  and  liave  the  essence  of  a  man,  io  the  same  tiling. 
 Now  since  nothing  can  be  a  man,  or  have  a  right  to  the  name  man,  butwliat 
 has  a  conformi-ty  to  the  abstract  idea  the  name  man  stands  for ;  nor  any  thing 
 be  a  man,  or  ]iave  a  right  to  the  species  man,  but  what  has  the  essence  of 
 jthat  species  :  it  follows  that  the  abstract  idea  for  which  the  name  stands,  ancV' 
 I  the  essence  of  the  species  is  one  and  the  same.  From  whence  it  is  easy  to 
 observe,  that  tlie  essences  of  the  sorts  of  things,  and  consequently  tlie  sort- 
 ing of  this,  is  the  workmanship  of  the  understanding,  that  abstracts  and  makes 
 those  genexaiidcas. 
 
 Sect.  13.  They  are  the  workmanship  of  the  understanding,  but  have 
 their  foundation  in  the  similitude  of  things. — I  would  not  here  be  thought 
 to  forget,  much  less  to  deny,  that  nature  in  the  production  of  things  makes 
 several  of  them  alike  ;  there  is  nothing  more  obvious,  especially  in  the  races 
 of  animals  and  all  things  propagated  by  seed.  But  yet,  I  think,  we  may  say 
 •   the  sorting  of  them  under  names  is  the  workmanship  of  the  anderstanding,  /  ^ 
 
 taking  occasion  from  the  similitude  it  observes  among  tliem  to  make  abstract/ 
 /general  ideas,  and  set  them  up  in  the  mind,  with  names  annexed  to  them,  as 
 (  patterns  or  forms  (for  in  that  sense  the  word  form  has  a  very  proper  signifi- 
 cation), to  which  as  particular  things  existing  are  found  to  agree,  so  they 
 come  to  be  of  that  species,  have  that  denomuiation,  or  are  put  into  that  clas- 
 sis.  For  when  we  say,,  this  is  a  man,  that  a  horse;  this  justice,  that  cruelty; 
 this  a  watch,  that  a  jack ;  what  do  we  else  but  rank  things  under  different 
 specific  names,  as  agreeing  to  those  abstract  ideas,  of  which  we  have  made 
 those  names  the  signs'!  And  what  are  the  essences  of  those  species,  set  out 
 and  marked  by  names,  but  those  abstract  ideas  in  the  mind  ;  which  are,  as  it 
 were,  the  bonds  between  particular  things  that  exist,  and  the  names  they  are 
 to  be  ranked  under?  And  when  general  names  have  any  connexion  with 
 particular  beings,  these  abstract  ideas  are  the  medium  that  imites  them ;  so 
 that  the  essences  of  species,  as  distinguished  and  denominated  by  us,  neither 
 are,  nor  can  be  any  thing,  but  those  precise  abstract  ideas  we  have  in  our 
 minds.  And  therefore  the  supposed  real  essences  of  substances,  if  different  ' 
 from  our  abstract  ideas,  cannot  be  the  essences  of  the  species  we  rank  things  •. 
 into.  For  two  species  may  be  one  as  rationally  as  two  different  essences 
 be  the  essence  of  one  species  :  and  I  demand  what  are  the  alterations  may,  or 
 may  not,  be  in  a  horse  or  lead,  without  making  either  of  them  to  be  of  another 
 species?  Tn  determining  the  species  of  things  by  our  abstract  ideas,  this  is 
 easy  to  resolve :  but  if  any  one  will  regulate  himself  herein  by  supposed  real 
 essences,  he  will,  I  suppose,  be  at  a  loss;  and  he  will  never  be  able  to  know 
 when  any  thing  precisely  ceases  to  be  of  the  species  of  a  liorse  or  lead. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Each  distinct  abstract  idea  is  a  distinct  essetice. — Nor  will  any 
 one  wonder  that  I  say  these  essences,  or  abstract  ideas  (which  are  the  mea- 
 sures of  name,  and  the  boundaries  of  species,)  are  the  workmanship  of  the 
 understanding,  who  considers,  that  at  least  the  complex  ones  are  oflen,  in 
 several  men,  different  collections  of  simple  ideas ;  find  therefore  that  is  covet- 
 ousness  to  one  man,  which  is  not  so  to  another.     Nay,  even  in  substances, 
 
 the  same,  i.  e.  in  other  words,  >vliere  we  find  all  the  same  properties,  we  have  rea- 
 son to  conclude  there  is  the  same  real,  internal  constitution  from  which  those  pro- 
 perties flow. 
 
 But  your  lordship  Y»roves  the  real  essences  to  be  unchangeable,  because  God 
 makes  them,  in  these  following  words  :  "  for,  however  there  may  happen  some  va- 
 riety in  individuals  by  particular  accidents,  yet  the  essences  of  men,  and  horses, 
 and  trees,  remain  alwaj's  the  same  :  because  they  do  not  depend  on  the  ideas  of 
 men,  but  on  the  will  of  the  Creator,  who  hath  made  several  sorts  of  beings. " 
 
 It  is  true,  the  real  constitutions  or  essences  of  particular  things  existing  do  not 
 depend  on  the  ideas  of  men,  but  on  the  will  of  the  Creator  :  but  their  being  ranked 
 into  sorts,  under  such  and  such  names,  does  depend,  and  wholly  depend,  on  the 
 ideas  of  men. 
 
CL  3.  GENERAL  TERMS.  277 
 
 where  their  abstract  ideas  seem  to  be  taken  from  the  things  themselves,  they 
 are  not  constantly  the  same  ;  no,  not  in  that  species  which  is  most  familiar  to 
 us,  and  with  which  we  have  the  most  intimate  acquaintance ;  it  having  been 
 more  than  once  doubted,  whether  the  fojtus  born  of  a  v,"oman  were  a  man  ; 
 even  so  far,  as  that  it  hath  been  debated,  whether  it  were,  or  were  not  to  be 
 nourished  and  baptized  ;  which  could  not  be,  if  the  abstract  idea  or  essence,  to 
 which  the  name  man  belonged,  were  of  nature's  making,  and  were  not  the 
 uncertain  and  various  collection  of  simple  ideas,  which  the  understanding  puts 
 together,  and  then  abstracting  it,  affixed  a  name  to  it.  So  that  in  truth  every 
 distinct  abstract  idejj,  is  a  distinct  essence :  and  the  names  that  stand  for  such 
 distinct  ideas  are  the  names  of  things  essentially  different.  Thus  a  circle  is 
 as  essentially  different  from  an  oval,  as  a  sheep  from  a  goat ;  and  rain  is  as 
 essentially  different  from  snow,  as  water  from  earth;  the  abstract  idea  which 
 is  the  essence  of  one  being  impossible  to  be  communicated  to  the  other.  And 
 thus  any  two  abstract  ideas,  that  in  any  part  vary  one  from  another,  with  two 
 distinct  names  annexed  to  them,  constitute  two  distinct  sorts,  or,  if  you 
 please,  species,  as  essentially  different,  as  any  two  of  the  most  remote  or 
 opposite  in  the  world. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Real  and  nominal  essences. — -But  since  the  essences  of  things 
 are  thought  by  some  (and  not  without  reason)  to  be  wholly  unknown,  it  may 
 not  be  amiss  to  consider  the  several  significations  of  the  word  essence. 
 
 First,  essence  ma}'  be  taken  for  the  being  of  any  thing,  whereby  it  is  what 
 it  is.  And  thus  the  real  internal,  but  generally,  in  substances,  miknown  con-\ 
 stitution  of  tilings,  whereon  their  discoverable  qualities  depend,  may  be  called; 
 their  essence.  This  is  the  proper  original  signification  of  the  word,  as  is 
 evident  from  the  formation  of  it;  essentia,  in  its  primaiy  notation,  signifj-ing 
 properly  being.  And  in  this  sense  it  is  still  used,  when  we  speak  of  the  es- 
 sence of  particular  things,  without  giving  them  any  name. 
 
 Secondly,  the  learning  and  disputes  of  the  schools  having  been  much  busied 
 about  genus  and  species,  the  word  essence  has  almost  lost  its  primary  signi- 
 fication ;  and  instead  of  the  real  constitution  of  things,  has  been  almost 
 wholly  applied  to  the  artificial  constitution  of  genus  and  species.  It  is  true, 
 there  is  ordinarily  supposed  a  real  constitution  of  the  sorts  of  things;  and  it  is 
 past  doubt,  there  must  be  some  real  constitution,  on  which  any  collection  of 
 simple  ideas  coexisting  must  depend.  But  it  being  evident  that  things  are 
 ranked  under  names  into  sorts  or  species,  only  as  they  agree  to  certain  ab- 
 stract ideas  to  which  we  have  annexed  those  names,  the  essence  of  each  ge- 
 nus or  sort  comes  to  be  nothing  but  that  abstract  idea,  which  the  general  or 
 sortal  (if  I  may  have  leave  so  to  call  it  from  sort,  as  I  do  general  from  genus) 
 name  stands  for.  And  this  we  shall  find  to  be  that  which  the  word  essence 
 imports  in  its  most  familiar  use.  These  two  sorts  of  essences,  I  suppose, 
 may  not  unfitly  be  termed,  the  one  the  real,  the  other  the  nominal  essence. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Constant  connexion  between  the  name  and  nominal  essence. — 
 Between  the  nominal  essence  and  the  name  there  is  so  near  a  connexion, 
 that  the  name  of  any  sort  of  things  cannot  be  attributed  to  any  particular  be- 
 ing but  what  has  this  essence,  whereby  it  answers  that  abstract  idea,  whereof 
 that  name  is  tlie  sign. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Supposition,  that  species  are  distinguished  by  their  real  essen- 
 ces, useless. — Concerning  the  real  essences  of  corporeal  substances  (to  men- 
 tion these  only),  there  are,  if  I  mistake  not,  two  opinions.  The  one  is  of 
 those  who,  using  the  word  essence  for  they  know  not  what,  suppose  a  cer- 
 tain number,  of  those  essences,  according  to  which  all  natural  things  are  made, 
 and  wherein  they  do  exactly  every  one  of  them  partake,  and  so  become  of 
 this  or  that  species.  The  other  and  more  rational  opinion  is,  of  those  who 
 look  on  all  natural  things  to  have  a  real,  but  unknown  constitution  of  their 
 insensible  parts ;  from  which  flow  those  sensible  qualities  wliich  serve  us  to 
 distinguish  tliem  one  from  another,  according  as  we  have  occasion  to  rank 
 them  into  sorts  under  common  denominations.  The  former  of  these  opin- 
 ions, which  supposes  these  essences  as  a  certain  number  of  forms  or  moulds, 
 
278  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 wherein  all  natural  things  that  exist  are  cast  and  do  equally  partake,  has,  I 
 imagine,  very  nuich  perplcwed  the  knowledge  of  natural  things.  The 
 frequent  productions  of  monsters,  in  all  the  species  of  animals,  and  of 
 changelings  and  other  strange  issues  of  human  birth,  carry  with  them  diffi- 
 culties not  ])ossibIe  to  consist  with  this  hypothesis  :  since  it  is  as  impossible 
 that  two  tilings,  partaking  exactly  of  the  same  real  essence,  should  have 
 different  properties,  as  that  two  figures  partaking  of  the  same  real  essence  of 
 a  circle  should  have  different  properties,  ihit  v.'ore  there  no  other  reason 
 against  it,  yet  the  supposition  of  essences  that  cannot  be  known,  and  the 
 making  of  them  nevertheless  to  be  that  which  distinguishes  the  species  of 
 things,  is  so  wholly  useless  and  unserviceable  to  any  part  of  our  knowledge, 
 that  that  alone  were  sufficient  to  make  us  lay  it  by,  and  content  ourselves 
 with  such  essences  of  the  sorts  or  species  of  things,  as  come  within  the  reach 
 of  our  knowledge  ;  which,  when  seriously  considered,  will  be  found,  as  I 
 *have  said,  to  be  nothing  else  but  those  abstract  complex  ideas  to  which  we 
 have  annexed  distinct  general  names. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Real  and  nominal  essence  the  same  in  simple  ideas  and  modes, 
 different  in  substances. — Essences  being  thus  distinguished  into  nominal  and 
 real,  we  may  farther  observe,  that  in  the  species  of  simple  ideas  and  modes, 
 they  are  always  the  same,  but  in  substances,  always  quite  different.  Thus 
 a  figure,  including  a  space  between  three  lines,  is  tiie  real  as  well  as  nominal 
 essence  of  a  triangle  ;  it  being  not  only  the  abstract  idea  to  which  the  general 
 name  is  annexed,  but  the  very  essentia  or  being  of  the  thing  itself,  that 
 foundation  from  which  all  its  properties  flow,  and  to  which  they  are  all  in- 
 separably annexed.  But  it  is  far  otherwise  concerning  that  parcel  of  matter 
 v.'hich  makes  the  ring  on  my  finger,  wherein  these  two  essences  are  apparently 
 different.  For  it  is  the  real  constitution  of  its  insensible  parts,  on  which  de- 
 pend all  those  properties  of  colour,  weight,  fusibihty,  fixedness,  sfec.  which  are 
 to  be  found  in  it,  which  constitution  we  know  not,  and  so  having  no 
 particular  idea  of,  have  no  name  that  is  the  sign  of  it.  But  yet  it  is  its  colour, 
 weight,  fusibility,  fixedness,  &c.  which  makes  it  to  be  gold,  or  gives  it  aright 
 to  that  name,  which  is  therefore  its  nominal  essence  ;  since  nothing  can  be 
 called  gold,  but  what  has  a  conformity  of  qualities  to  that  abstract  complex 
 idea  to  which  that  name  is  annexed.  But  this  distinction  of  essences  be- 
 longing particularly  to  substances,  we  shall,  when  we  come  to  consider  their 
 names,  have  an  occasion  to  treat  of  more  fully. 
 
 Sect.  19.  Essences  ingenerable  and  incorruptible. — That  such  abstract 
 ideas,  with  names  to  them,  as  we  have  been  speaking  of,  are  essences,  may 
 farther  appear  by  what  we  are  told  concerning  essences,  viz.  that  they  are  all 
 ingenerable  and  incorruptible:  which  cannot  be  true  of  the  real  constitutions 
 of  things,  which  begin  and  perish  with  them.  All  things  that  exist,  besides 
 their  author,  are  all  liable  to  change ;  especially  those  things  we  are  ac- 
 quainted with,  and  have  ranked  into  bands  under  distinct  names  or  ensigns. 
 Thus  that  wliich  was  grass  to-day  is  to-morrow  the  flesh  of  a  sheep,  and  with- 
 in a  few  days  afler  becomes  part  of  a  man  :  in  all  which,  and  the  like 
 cha.nges,  it  is  evident  their  real  essence,  i.  e.  that  constitution,  whereon  the 
 properties  of  these  several  things  depended,  is  destroyed,  and  perishes  with 
 them.  But  essences  being  taken  for  ideas,  established  in  the  mind,  with 
 names  annexed  to  them,  they  are  supposed  to  remain  steadily  the  same, 
 whatever  mutations  the  particular  substances  are  liable  to.  For  whatever 
 becomes  of  Alexander  and  Bucephalus,  the  ideas  to  which  man  and  horse  are 
 annexed  are  sujiposed  nevertheless  to  remain  the  same  ;  and  so  the  essences 
 of  those  species  are  preserved  whole  and  undestroyed,  whatever  changes 
 happen  to  any  or  all  of  the  individuals  of  those  species.  By  this  means,  tfie 
 essence  of  a  species  rests  safe  and  entire,  witiiout  the  existence  of  so  much 
 as  one  individual  of  that  kind.  For  were  there  now  no  circle  existing  any 
 where  in  the  world  (as  perha])s  that  figure  exists  not  any  where  exactly 
 marked  out),  yet  the  idea  annexed  to  that  name  would  not  cease  to  be  what 
 it  is;  nor  cease  to  be  as  a  pattern  to  determine  which  of  the  particular  figures 
 
Ch.  3.  GENERAL  TERMS.  279 
 
 we  meet  with  have  or  have  not  a  right  to  the  name  circle,  and  so  to  show 
 which  of  them,  by  having  that  essence,  was  of  that  species.  And  thougii 
 there  neitlier  were  nor  had  been  in  nature  such  a  beast  as  an  unicorn,  or 
 such  a  fisli  as  a  mermaid ;  yet  suj)posing-  those  names  to  stand  for  complex 
 abstract  ideas,  that  contained  no  inconsistency  in  them,  tJie  essence  of  a  mer- 
 maid is  as  intelligible  as  that  of  a  man  ;  and  tlie  idea  of  an  unicorn  as  cer- 
 tain, steady,  and  permanent  as  that  of  a  horse.  From  what  has  been 
 said,  it  is  evident,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  immutability  of  essences  proves 
 them  to  be  only  abstract  ideas;  and  is  founded  on  the  relation  established  be- 
 tween them  and  certain  sounds  as  signs  of  them ;  and  will  always  be  true  as 
 long  as  the  same  name  can  liave  the  same  signification. 
 
 Sect.  20.  Recapitulation. — To  conclude,  this  is  that  which  in  short  I 
 would  say,  viz.  that  all  the  great  business  of  genera  and  species,  and  their 
 essences,  amounts  to  no  more  but  this,  that  men  making  abstract  ideas,  and 
 settling  them  in  their  minds  with  names  annexed  to  them,  do  thereby  enable 
 themselves  to  consider  tilings,  and  discourse  of  them,  as  it  were  in  bundles, 
 for  the  easier  and  readier  improvement  and  communication  of  their  know- 
 ledge ;  which  would  advance  but  slowly,  were  their  words  and  thoughts  con- 
 fined only  to  particulars. 
 
 CHAPTER  IV, 
 
 OF  THE  NAMES  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Names  of  simple  ideas,  modes,  and  substances,  have  each  some- 
 thing peculiar. — Though  all  words,  as  I  have  shown,  signify  nothing  imme- 
 diately, but  the  ideas  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker ;  yet  upon  a  nearer  survey 
 we  shall  find  that  the  names  of  simple  ideas,  mixed  modes  (under  which  I 
 comprised  relations  too,)  and  natural  substances,  have  each  of  them  some- 
 thing peculiar  and  different  from  the  otiior.     For  example: 
 
 Sect.  2.  First,  names  of  simple  ideas  and  substances  intimate  real  exist- 
 ence.— First,  The  names  of  simple  ideas  and  substances,  with  the  abstract 
 ideas  in  the  mind  which  they  immediately  signify,  intimate  also  some  real 
 existence,  from  which  was  derived  their  original  pattern.  But  the  names  of 
 mixed  modes  terminate  in  the  idea  that  is  in  the  mind,  and  lead  not  tJie 
 thoughts  any  fartlier,  as  we  shall  see  more  at  large  in  the  following  chapter. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Seco7idly,  names  of  simple  ideas  and  modes  signify  always  both 
 real  and  nominal  essence. — Secondly,  The  names  of  simple  ideas  and  modes 
 signify  always  the  real  as  well  as  nominal  essence  of  their  species.  But  the 
 names  of  natural  substances  signify  rarely,  if  ever,  any  thing  but  barely  the 
 nominal  essences  of  those  species  ;  as  we  shall  show  in  the  chajiter  that  treats 
 of  the  names  of  substances  in  particular. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Thirdly,  names  of  simple  ideas  undefnable. —  Thirdly,  The  names 
 of  simple  ideas  are  not  capable  of  any  definition;  the  names  of  all  complex  ideas 
 are.  It  has  not,  that  I  know,  been  yet  observed  by  any  body  what  words  are, 
 and  what  are  not  capable  of  being  defined  ;  the  want  whereof  is  (as  I  am  apt 
 to  think)  not  seldom  the  occasion  of  great  wrangling  and  obscurity  in  men's 
 discourses,  while  some  demand  definitions  of  terms  that  cannot  be  defined ; 
 and  others  think  they  ought  not  to  rest  satisfied  in  an  explication  made  by 
 a  more  general  word,  and  its  restriction  (or,  to  speak  in  terms  of  art,  by  a 
 genus  and  difference,)  when  even  after  such  definition  made  according  to 
 rule,  those  who  hear  it  have  often  no  more  a  clear  conception  of  the  meaning 
 of  the  word  than  they  had  before.  This  at  least  1  think,  that  the  showing 
 what  words  are,  and  what  are  not  capable  of  definitions,  and  wherein  consists 
 a  good  definition,  is  not  wholly  beside  our  present  purpose ;  and  perhaps 
 will  afford  so  much  light  to  the  nature  of  these  signs,  and  our  ideas,  as  to 
 deserve  a  more  particular  consideration. 
 
290  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 Sect.  5.  If  all  were  definable,  it  tvoultl  be  a  process  in  infinitum. — I  will 
 not  here  trouble  myself  to  prove  that  all  terms  are  not  deiiiiahle  from  that  pro- 
 gress 7^^  infinitum,  whicli  it  will  visibly  lead  us  into,  if  \vc  should  allow  that 
 all  names  could  be  delined.  For  if  the  term;-,  of  one  definition  were  still  to 
 be  defined  by  another,  where  at  last  should  we  stop?  But  I  shall,  from  tiie 
 nature  of  our  ideas,  and  the  signification  of  our  words,  show  why  some  names 
 can,  and  others  cannot,  be  defined,  and  which  they  are. 
 
 Sect.  G.  What  a  definition  is. — 1  think  it  is  agi-eed  that  a  definition  is 
 nothing  else,  but  the  sliowing  the  meaning  of  one  word  by  several  other  notf 
 synonymous  terms.  The  meaning  of  words  being  only  the  ideas  they  are 
 made  to  stand  for  by  him  that  uses  them,  the  meaning  of  any  term  is  then 
 phown,  or  the  word  is  defined,  wlien  by  other  words  the  idea  it  is  made  the 
 sign  of,  and  annexed  to,  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker,  is,  as  it  were,  repre- 
 sented or  set  before  the  view  of  another,  and  thus  its  signification  ascer- 
 tained; this  is  the  only  use  and  end  of  definitions,  and  therefore  the  only 
 measure  of  v.'hat  is,  or  is  not  a  good  definition. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Simjde  ideas  why  undefinahle. — This  being  premised,  I  say  that 
 the  names  of  simple  ideas,  and  those  only,  are  incapable  of  being  defined. 
 The  reason  whereof  is  this;  that  the  several  terms  of  a  definition,  signifying 
 several  ideas,  they  can  altogether  by  no  means  represent  an  idea,  which  has 
 no  composition  at  all:  find  therefore  a  definition,  which  is  properly  nothing 
 but  the  showing  the  meaning  of  one  word  by  several  others  not  signifying 
 each  the  same  thing,  can  in  the  names  of  simple  ideas  have  no  place. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Instances ;  motion. — The  not  observing  this  difference  in  our 
 ideas,  and  their  names,  has  produced  that  eminent  trifling  in  the  schools, 
 which  is  so  easy  to  be  observed  in  the  definitions  they  give  us  of  some  few  of 
 tliese  simple  ideas.  For  as  to  the  greatest  part  of  them,  even  those  masters 
 of  definitions  were  fain  to  leave  them  untouched,  merely  by  the  impossibility 
 they  found  in  it.  What  more  exquisite  jargon  could  the  wit  of  man  invent 
 than  this  definition,  "  Tlie  act  of  a  being  in  povv'er  as  far  forth  as  in  power?" 
 which  would  puzzle  any  rational  man,  to  whom  it  was  not  already  known  by 
 its  famous  absurdity,  to  guess  what  word  it  could  ever  be  supposed  to  be  the 
 explication  of  If  Tully,  asking  a  Dutchman  what  "  beweeginge"  was,  should 
 have  received  tins  explication  in  his  own  language,  tliat  it  was  "  actus  entis 
 in  potentia  quatenus  in  potentia ;"  I  ask  whether  any  one  can  imagine  he 
 could  thereby  have  understood  what  the  word  "  beiveeginge"  signified,  or 
 have  guessed  what  idea  a  Dutchman  ordinarily  had  in  his  mind,  and  would 
 signify  to  another,  when  he  used  that  sound. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Nor  have  tlie  modern  philosophers,'  who  have  endeavoured  to 
 throw  ofl'  tlie  jargon  of  the  schools,  and  s"])cak  intelligibly,  much  better  suc- 
 ceeded in  defining  simple  ideas,  whether  by  explaining  their  causes,  or  any 
 otherwise.  The  atomists,  wlio  define  motion  to  be  a  passage  from  one  place 
 to  another,  what  do  they  more  than  put  one  synonymous  word  for  another? 
 For  what  is  passage  other  than  motion  ?  And  if  they  were  asked  what  pas- 
 sage was,  how  could  they  better  define  it  tiian  by  motion  ?  For  is  it  not  at 
 least  as  proper  and  significant  to  say,  passage  is  a  motion  from  one  place  to 
 another,  as  to  say,  motion  is  a  passage,  &c.?  This  is  to  translate,  and  not 
 to  define,  when  we  change  two  words  of  the  same  signification  one  for  an- 
 other ;  which,  when  one  is  better  understood  than  the  other,  may  serve  to 
 discover  wliat  idea  the  unknown  stands  for ;  but  is  very  far  from  a  definition, 
 unless  we  will  say,  every  Englisli  word  in  the  dictionary  is  the  definition  of 
 tlie  Latin  word  it  answers,  and  tliat  motion  is  a  definition  of  moius.  Nor 
 will  the  successive  application  of  the  parts  of  the  superficies  of  one  body  to 
 tho.se  of  another,  which  tlie  Cartesians  give  us,  prove  a  much  better  definition 
 of  motif^n,  when  well  examined. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Light. — "  Tiie  act  of  perspicuous,  as  far  forth  as  perspicuous," 
 is  another  peripatetic  deiinition  of  a  simple  idea;  which  though  not  more  ab- 
 surd than  the  former  of  motion,  yet  betrays  its  uselessness  and  insignificancy  . 
 more  pluiidy,  because  experience  will  easily  convince  any  one,  that  it  cannot 
 
Ch.  4.  NAMES  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS.  281 
 
 make  the  meaning  of  the  word  light  (which  it  pretends  to  deSne)  at  all  un- 
 derstood by  a  blind  man  ;  but  the  definition  of  motion  appears  not  at  first 
 sight  so  useless,  because  it  escapes  tliis  way  of  trial.  For  this  simple  idea, 
 entering  by  the  touch  as  well  as  sight,  it  is  impossible  to  show  an  example 
 of  any  one,  who  has  no  other  way  to  get  the  idea  of  motion  but  barely  by  the 
 definition  of  that  name.  Those  who  tell  us  that  light  is  a  great  number  of 
 little  globules,  striking  briskly  on  the  bottom  of  the  eye,  speak  more  intel- 
 ligibly than  the  schools ;  but  yet  these  words,  ever  so  well  understood,  would 
 make  the  idea  the  word  light  stands  for  no  more  known  to  a  man  that  under- 
 stands it  not  before,  than  if  one  should  tell  him  that  light  was  nothing  but  a 
 company  of  little  tennis-balls,  which  fairies  all  day  long  struck  with  rackets 
 against  some  men's  foreheads,  whilst  they  passed  by  others.  For  grantmg 
 th's  explication  of  the  thing  to  be  true,  yet  the  idea  of  the  cause  of  light,  if 
 we  had  it  ever  so  e.xact,  would  no  more  give  us  the  idea  of  light  itself,  as  it 
 is  such  a  particular  perception  in  us,  than  the  idea  of  the  figure  and  motion 
 of  a  sharp  piece  of  steel  would  give  us  the  idea  of  that  pain  which  it  is  able 
 to  cause  in  us.  For  the  cause  of  any  sensation,  and  the  sensation  itself,  in 
 all  the  simple  ideas  of  one  sense,  are  two  ideas  ;  and  two  ideas  so  ditferect 
 and  distant  from  one  another,  that  no  two  can  be  more  so.  And,  therefore, 
 should  Des  Cartes's  globules  strike  ever  so  long  on  the  retina  of  a  man,  who 
 was  blind  by  a  g-utta  serena,  he  would  thereby  never  have  any  idea  of  light, 
 or  any  thing  approaching  it,  though  he  understood  what  little  globules  were, 
 and  what  striking  on  another  body  was,  ever  so  well.  And  therefore  the 
 Cartesians  verj-  well  distinguish  between  the  light  which  is  the  cause  of  that 
 sensation  in  us,  and  the  idea  which  is  produced  in  us  by  it,  and  is  that  which 
 is  properly  light. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Si:;iple  idtas,  why  undefinable,  farther  explained. — Simple 
 ideas,  as  has  been  shown,  are  only  to  be  got  by  those  impressions  objects 
 themselves  make  on  our  minds,  by  the  proper  inlets  appointed  to  each  sort. 
 If  they  are  not  received  this  way,  all  the  words  in  the  world,  made  use  of  to 
 explain  or  define  any  of  their  names,  will  never  be  able  to  produce  in  us  the 
 idea  it  stands  for.  For  words,  being  sounds,  can  produce  in  us  no  other  simple 
 ideas  than  of  those  very  sounds,  nor  excite  any  in  us  but  by  that  voluntary 
 connexion  which  is  kno\%m  to  be  between  them  and  those  simple  ideas,  which 
 common  use  has  made  them  signs  of.  He  that  thinks  otherwise,  let  him  try 
 if  any  words  can  give  him  the  taste  of  a  pine-apple,  and  make  liim  have  the' 
 true  idea  of  the  relish  of  that  celebrated  delicious  fruit.  So  far  as  he  is  told 
 it  has  a  resemblance  with  any  tastes,  whereof  he  has  the  ideas  already  in  his 
 memory,  imprinted  there  by  sensible  objects  not  strangers  to  his  palate,  so 
 far  may  he  approach  that  resemblance  in  his  mind.  But  this  is  not  giving  us 
 that  idea  by  a  definition,  but  exciting  in  us  other  simple  ideas  by  their  known 
 names  ;  which  will  be  stUl  ver\-  different  from  the  true  taste  of  that  fruit  itself. 
 In  light  and  colours,  and  all  other  simple  ideas,  it  is  the  same  thing;  for  the 
 signification  of  sounds  is  not  natural,  but  only  imposed  and  arbitrary.  And 
 no  definition  of  light  or  redness  is  more  fitted,  or  able  to  produce  either  of 
 those  ideas  in  us,  than  the  sound  light,  or  red,  by  itself.  For  to  hope  to  pro- 
 duce an  idea  of  light  or  colour  by  a  soimd,  however  formed,  is  to  expect  that 
 sounds  should  be  visible,  or  colours  audible,  and  to  make  the  ears  do  the  oflice 
 of  all  the  other  senses :  which  is  all  one  as  to  say,  that  we  might  taste,  smell, 
 and  see  by  the  ears;  a  sort  of  philosophy  worthy  only- of  Sancho  Pancha,  who 
 had  the  faculty  to  see  Dulcinea  by  hearsay.  And  therefore  he  that  has  not 
 before  received  into  his  mind,  by  the  proper  inlet,  the  simple  idea  which  any 
 word  stands  for,  can  never  come  to  know  the  signification  of  that  word  by 
 any  other  words  or  sounds  whatsoever,  put  together  according  to  any  rules 
 of  definition.  Th.e  only  way  is  by  applying  to  his  senses  the  proper  object, 
 and  so  producing  that  idea  in  him,  for  which  he  has  learned  the  name  already. 
 A  studious  blind  man,  vrho  had  mightdy  beat  his  head  about  visible  objects, 
 and  made  use  of  the  explication  of  iiis  books  and  friends  to  understand  those 
 names  of  fight  and  colours  which  often  came  in  his  v.ay,  bragged  one  dav 
 •2  L 
 
282  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 that  he  now  unclcrstood  what  scarlet  fiignificd.  Upon  which  his  friend  de- 
 manding wliat  scarlet  was !  the  blind  man  answered,  it  was  like  the  sound 
 of  a  trumpet.  Just  such  an  understanding  of  the  name  of  any  other  simple 
 idea  will  he  have,  who  liopes  to  get  it  only  from  a  delinition,  or  other  words 
 made  use  of  to  e.xj)lain  it. 
 
 Sect.  12.  The  contrary  showedin  complex  ideas,  by  instances  of  a  sta- 
 tue and  rainbow. — The  case  is  quite  otherwise  in  complex  ideas;  wliich  con- 
 sisting of  several  simple  ones,  it  is  in  the  power  of  words,  standing  for  the 
 several  ideas  that  make  that  composition,  to  imprint  complex  ideas  in  the 
 mind  which  were  never  there  before,  and  so  make  their  names  be  understood. 
 In  such  collections  of  ideas,  passing  under  one  name,  definition,  or  the  teach- 
 ing the  signification  of  one  word  by  several  others,  has  place,  and  may  make 
 us  understand  the  names  of  things  which  never  came  within  the  reach  of  our 
 eenses ;  and  frame  ideas  suitable  to  those  in  other  men's  minds,  when  they  use 
 those  names  :  provided  that  none  of  the  terms  of  the  definition  stand  for  any 
 such  simple  ideas,  which  he  to  whom  the  explication  is  made  has  never  yet 
 had  in  his  thought.  Thus  the  word  statue  may  be  explained  to  a  blind  man 
 by  other  words,  when  picture  cannot;  his  senses  having  given  him  the  idea 
 of  figure,  but  not  of  colours,  which  therefore  words  cannot  excite  in  him. 
 This  gained  the  prize  to  the  painter  against  the  statuary  :  each  of  which  con- 
 tending for  the  excellency  of  his  art,  and  the  statuary  bragging  that  liis  was 
 to  be  preferred,  because  it  reached  farther,  and  even  those  who  had  lost  their 
 eyes  could  yet  perceive  the  excellency  of  it,  the  painter  agreed  to  refer  him- 
 self to  the  judgment  of  a  blind  man ;  who  being  brought  where  there  was  a 
 statue,  made  by  the  one,  and  a  picture  drawn  by  the  other;  he  was  first  led  to 
 the  statue,  in  which  he  traced  with  his  hands  all  the  lineaments  of  the  face 
 and  body,  and  with  great  admiration  applauded  the  skill  of  the  workman. 
 But  being  led  to  the  picture,  and  having  his  hands  laid  upon  it,  was  told  that 
 now  he  touched  the  head,  and  then  the  forehead,  eyes,  nose,  &.c.  as  his  hands 
 moved  over  the  parts  of  the  picture  on  the  cloth,  without  finding  any  the  least 
 distinction:  whereupon  he  cried  out,  that  certainly  that  must  needs  be  a  very 
 admirable  and  divine  piece  of  workmanship,  which  could  represent  to  them  all 
 those  parts  where  he  could  neither  feel  nor  perceive  any  thing. 
 
 Sect.  13.  He  that  should  use  the  word  rainbow  to  one  who  knew  all 
 those  colours,  but  yet  had  never  seen  that  phenomenon,  would,  by  enumera- 
 ting the  figure,  largeness,  position,  and  order  of  the  colours,  so  well  define 
 that  word,  that  it  might  be  perfectly  understood.  But  yet  that  definition, 
 how  exact  and  perfect  soever,  would  never  make  a  blind  man  understand  it; 
 because  several  of  the  simple  ideas  that  make  that  complex  one,  being  such 
 as  he  never  received  by  sensation  and  e.xperience,  no  words  are  able  to  ex- 
 cite them  in  his  mind. 
 
 Sect.  14.  The  names  of  complex  ideas  when  to  be  made  intelligible  by 
 words. — Simple  ideas,  as  has  been  shown,  can  only  be  got  by  experience, 
 from  those  objects  which  are  proper  to  produce  in  us  those  perceptions. 
 When  by  this  means  we  have  our  minds  stored  with  them,  and  know  the 
 names  for  them,  then  we  are  in  a  condition  to  define,  and  by  definition  to  un- 
 derstand the  names  of  complex  ideas,  that  are  made  up  of  them.  But  when 
 any  term  stands  for  a  simple  idea,  that  a  man  has  never  yet  had  in  his  mind, 
 it  is  impossible  by  any  words  to  make  known  its  meaning  to  him.  When 
 any  term  stands  for  an  idea  a  man  is  acquainted  with,  but  is  ignorant  that 
 that  term  is  a  sign  of  it;  there  another  name,  of  the  same  idea  which  he  has 
 been  accustomed  to,  may  make  him  understand  its  meaning.  But  in  no  case 
 whatsoever  is  any  name  of  any  simple  idea  ca])able  of  a  definition. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Fourthly,  names  of  simple  ideas  least  doubtful. — Fourthly,  But 
 though  the  names  of  simple  ideas  have  not  the  help  of  definition  to  determine 
 their  signification;  yet  that  hinders  not  but  that  they  are  generally  less  doubt- 
 ful and  uncertain,  than  those  of  mixed  modes  and  substances ;  because  they 
 fitandmg  only  for  one  simple  perception,  men,  for  the  most  part,  easily  and 
 perfectly  agree  in  their  signification ;  and  there  is  little  room  for  mistake  and 
 
Ch.  4.  .  -NAMES  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS.  233 
 
 wrangling  about  their  meaning.  He  that  knows  once  that  whiteness  is  the 
 name  of  that  colour  he  has  observed  in  snow  or  milk,  will  not  be  apt  to  mis- 
 apply that  word,  as  long  as  he  retains  that  idea ;  which  when  he  has  quite 
 lost,  he  is  not  apt  to  mistake  tlie  meaning  of  it,  but  perceives  he  understands 
 it  not.  There  is  neither  a  multiplicity  of  simple  ideas,  to  be  put  together, 
 which  makes  the  doubtfulness  in  the  names  of  mixed  modes ;  nor  a  supposed 
 but  an  unknown  real  essence,  with  properties  depending  thereon,  the  precise 
 number  whereof  is  also  unknown,  which  makes  the  ditEculty  in  the  names  of 
 substances.  But  on  the  contrary,  in  simple  ideas  the  whole  signiScation  of 
 the  name  is  known  at  once,  and  consists  not  of  parts,  whereof  more  or  less 
 being  put  in,  the  idea  may  be  varied,  and  so  the  signification  of  name  be  ob- 
 scure  and  uncertain. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Fifthly,  simple  ideas  have  few  ascents  in  linea  prcedicamen- 
 tali. — Fifthly,  This  farther  may  be  observed  concerning  simple  ideas  and 
 their  names,  that  they  have  but  few  ascents  in  linea prcedicamentaU  (as  they 
 call  it)  from  the  lowest  species  to  the  snmmum  genus.  The  reason  whereof 
 is,  that  the  lowest  species  being  but  one  simple  idea,  nothing  can  be  left  out 
 of  it ;  that  so  the  difference  being  taken  awaj',  it  may  agree  with  some  other 
 thing  in  one  idea  common  to  them  both ;  which,  ha^^ng  one  name,  is  the  ge- 
 nus of  the  other  two  :  v.  g.  there  is  nothing  that  can  be  left  out  of  the  idea 
 of  white  and  red,  to  make  them  agree  in  one  common  appearance,  and  so 
 have  one  general  name ;  as  rationality  being  left  out  of  the  complex  idea  of 
 man,  makes  it  agree  with  brute,  in  the  more  general  idea  and  name  of  ani- 
 mal: and  therefore  when,  to  avoid. unpleasant  enumerations,  men  would  com- 
 prehend both  white  and  red,  and  several  other  such  simple  idesis  under  one 
 general  name,  they  have  been  fain  to  do  it  by  a  word  which  denotes  only  the 
 way  they  get  into  the  mind.  For  when  wliite,  red,  and  j^ellow  are  all  com- 
 prehended under  the  genus  or  name  colour,  it  signifies  no  more  but  sucli  idea.s 
 as  are  produced  in  the  mind  only  by  the  sight,  and  have  entrance  only 
 through  the  eyes.  And  when  they  would  frame  yet  a  more  general  term,  to 
 comprehend  both  colours  and  sounds,  and  the  like  simple  ideas,  they  do  it  by 
 a  word  that  signifies  all  such  as  come  into  the  mind  only  by  one  sense :  and 
 so  the  general  term  quality,  in  its  ordinarv''  acceptation,  comprehends  colours, 
 sounds,  tastes,  smells,  and  tangible  qualities,  with  distinction  from  extension, 
 number,  motion,  pleasure,  and  pain,  which  make  impressions  on  the  mind, 
 and  introduce  their  ideas  by  more  senses  than  one. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Sixthly,  names  of  simple  ideas  stand  for  ideas,  not  at  all  arbitrary. 
 — S/.r/?(/!/,  The  names  of  simple  ideas,  substances,  and  mixedmodes,  have  also 
 this  difference  ;  that  those  of  mixed  modes  stand  for  ideas  perfectly  arbitrary  ; 
 those  of  substances  are  not  perfectly  so,  but  refer  to  a  pattern,  though  with  some 
 latitude;  and  those  of  simple  ideas  are  perfectly  taken  from  the  existence  of 
 things,  and  are  not  arbitrary  at  all.  Which,  v.-hat  difference  it  makes  in  the 
 significations  of  their  names,  we  shall  see  in  the  following  chapters. 
 
 The  names  of  simple  modes  differ  little  from  those  of  simple  ideas. 
 
 CHAPTER  V. 
 
 OF  THE  NAMES  OF  :MIXED  MODES  AND  KELATIOXS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  They  stand  for  abstract  ideas,  as  well  as  other  general  names. — 
 The  names  ofmixed  modes  being  general,  they  stand,  as  has  been  shown,  for 
 sorts  of  species  of  tilings,  each  of  which  has  its  peculiar  essence.  The 
 essences  of  these  species  also,  as  has  been  shown,  are  nothing  but  the 
 abstract  ideas  in  the  mind,  to  whicli  the  name  is  annexed.  Thus  far  the 
 names  and  essences  of  mixed  modes  have  nothing  but  what  is  common  to  them 
 v\-ith  other  ideas;  but  if  we  take  a  little  nearer  survey  of  them,  we  sha'*l  find 
 that  they  have  something  peculiar,  which  perhaps  may  deserve  our  attention. 
 
284  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.    .  Book  3, 
 
 -%  ' 
 
 Sect.  2.  First,  the  ideas  they  stand  for  are  made  by  tJie  understanding. — 
 The  first  particularity  I  shall  observe  in  them  is,  tliat  fJio  abstract  ideas,  or, 
 if  you  please,  the  essences  of  the  several  species  of  mixed  modes  are  made 
 by  the  understanding,  wherein  they  differ  from  those  of  simple  ideas:  in 
 whicli  sort  the  mind  has  no  power  to  make  any  one,  but  only  receives  such 
 as  are  presented  to  it  by  the  real  existence  of  things  operating  upon  it. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Secoiidly,  made  arbitrurili',  and  without  patterns. — In  the  next 
 place,  these  es:;ences  oi'the  species  of  mixed  modes  are  not  only  made  by  the 
 mind,  but  ina,de  very  arbitrarilj%  made  without  patterns,  or  reference  to  any 
 real  existence.  Wherein  they  diifer  from  those  of  substances,  which  carry 
 with  them  the  supposition  of  some  real  being,  from  which  they  are  taken,  and 
 to  which  they  are  conformable.  But  in  its  complex  ideas  of  mixed  modes, 
 the  mind  takes  a  liberty  not  to  follow  the  existence  of  things  exactly.  It  unites 
 and  retains  certain  collections,  as  so  many  distinct  specific  ideas,  whilst 
 others,  that  as  often  occur  in  nature,  and  are  as  plainly  suggested  by  outward 
 things,  pass  neglected,  without  particular  names  or  specifications.  Nor  does 
 the  mind,  in  these  of  mixed  modes,  as  in  the  complex  idea  of  substances,  ex- 
 amine them  by  the  real  existence  of  things:  or  verify  them  by  patterns,  con- 
 taining such  peculiar  compositions  in  nature.  To  know  whether  his  idea  of 
 adultery  or  incest  be  right,  will  a  man  seek  it  any  where  among  things  exist- 
 ing ]  Or  is  it  true,  because  any  one  has  been  witness  to  such  an  action  ? 
 No  :  but  it  suffices  here,  that  men  have  put  together  such  a  collection  into 
 one  complex  idea,  that  makes  the  archetype  and  specific  idea,  whether  ever 
 any  such  action  were  committed  in  rernm  natura  or  no. 
 
 Sect.  4.  How  this  is  done. — To  understand  this  right,  we  must  consider 
 wherein  tliis  making  of  these  complex  ideas  consists  ;  and  that  is  not  in  the 
 making  any  new  idea,  but  putting  together  those  which  the  mind  had  before.. 
 Wherein  tlie  mind  does  these  three  things  .-  first,  it  chooses  a  certain  num- 
 ber ;  secondly,  it  gives  them  connexion,  and  makes  them  into  one  idea  ;  thirdly, 
 it  ties  them  together  by  a  name.  If  we  examine  how  the  mind  proceeds  in 
 these,  and  what  liberty  it  takes  in  them,  we  shall  easily  observe  how  these 
 essences  of  the  species  of  mixed  modes  are  the  workmanship  of  the  mind, 
 and  consequently,  that  the  species  themselves  are  of  men's  making. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Evidently  arbitrary,  in  that  the  idea  is  often  before  the  e.v- 
 istenc.e. — Nobody  can  doubt,  but  that  these  ideas  of  mixed  modes  are  made 
 by  a  voluntary  collection  of  ideas  put  together  in  the  mind,  independent 
 from  any  original  patterns  in  nature,  who  will  but  reflect  that  this  sort  of 
 complex  ideas  may  be  made,  abstracted,  and  have  names  given  them,  and  , 
 so  a  species  be  constituted,  before  any  one  individual  of  that  species  ever 
 existed.  Who  can  doubt  but  the  ideas  of  sacrilege  or  adultery  might  be 
 framed  in  the  minds  of  men,  and  have  names  given  them;  and  so  these 
 species  of  mixed  modes  be  constituted,  before  either  of  them  was  ever 
 committed  ;  and  might  be  as  well  discoursed  of  and  reasoned  about,  and 
 as  certain  truths  discovered  of  them,  whilst  yet  they  had  no  being  but  in 
 the  understanding,  as  well  as  now,  that  they  have  but  too  frequently  a  real 
 existence?  Whereby  it  is  plain,  how  much  the  sorts  of  mixed  modes  are 
 the  creatures  of  the  understanding,  where  they  have  a  being  as  subservient 
 to  all  the  ends  of  real  truth  and  knowledge,  as  when  they  really  exist :  and 
 we  cannot  doubt  but  law-makers  have  oflen  made  laws  about  species  of  ac- 
 tions, which  were  only  the  creatures  of  their  own  understandings  ;  beings 
 that  had  no  other  existence  but  in  their  own  minds.  And  Ithink  nobody 
 can  deny,  but  that  the  resurrection  was  a  species  of  mixed  modes  in  the  mind 
 before  it  really  existed. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Instances ;  murder,  incest,  stabbing. — To  see  how  arbitrarily 
 these  essences  of  mixed  modes  are  made  by  the  mind,  we  need  but  take  a 
 view  of  almost  any  of  them.  A  little  looking  into  them  will  satisfy  us,  that 
 it  is  the  mind  that  combines  several  scattered  independent  ideas  into  one 
 complex  one,  and,  by  the  common  name  it  gives  them,  makes  them  the  es- 
 sence of  a  certain  species,  without  regulating  itself  by  any  connexion  they 
 
Ch.  5.  NAMES  OF  MIXED  MODES.  285 
 
 have  in  nature.  For  what  greater  connexion  in  nature  has  the  idea  of  a  man, 
 than  the  idea  of  a  sheep,  with  killing ;  that  this  is  made  a  particular  species 
 of  action,  signified  by  the  word  murder,  and  the  otJier  not !  Or  what  union 
 is  there  in  nature  between  the  idea  of  the  relation  of  a  father,  with  killing, 
 than  that  of  a  son,  or  neighbour:  tliat  those  are  combined  into  one  complex 
 idea,  and  thereby  made  the  essence  of  -the  distinct  species  parricide,  whilst 
 the  other  makes  no  distinct  species  at  all?  But  though  they  have  made  kill- 
 ing a  man's  father,  or  mother,  a  distinct  species  from  killing  his  son,  or 
 daughter ;  yet,  in  some  other  cases,  son  and  daughter  are  taken  in  too,  as  well 
 as  father  and  mother ;  and  they  are  all  equally  comprehended  in  the  same 
 species,  as  in  that  of  incest.  Thus  the  mind  in  mixed  modes  arbitrarily  unites 
 into  complex  ideas  such  as  it  finds  convenient ;  whilst  others,  that  liave  alto- 
 gether as  much  union  in  nature,  are  left  loose,  and  never  combined  into  one 
 idea,  because  they  have  no  need  of  one  iTame.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  the 
 mind  by  its  free  choice  gives  a  connexion  to.  a  certain  number  of  ideas,  which 
 in  nature  have  no  more  union  with  one  another,  than  others  that  it  leaves 
 out:  why  else  is  the  part  of  the  weapon,  the  beginning  of  the  w^ound  is  made 
 with,  taken  notice  of  to  make  the  distinct  species  called  stabbing,  and  the 
 figure  and  matter  of  the  weapon  left  out  J  I  do  not  say  this  is  done  without 
 reason,  as  we  shall  see  more  by  and  by;  but  this,  I  say,  that  it  is  done  by  the 
 free  choice  of  the  mind,  pursuing  its  own  ends  ;  and  that  therefore  these  spe- 
 cies of  mixed  modes  are  the  workmanship  of  the  understanding :  and  there  is 
 nothing  more  evident,  than  that,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  framing  these  ideas, 
 the  mind  searches  not  its  patterns  in  nature,  nor  refers  the  ideas  it  makes  to 
 the  real  existence  of  things ;  but  puts  such  together,  as  may  best  serve  its 
 own  purposes,  without  tying  itself  to  a  precise  limitation  of  any  thing  that 
 really  exists. 
 
 Sect.  7.    But  still  subservient  to  the   end  of  language. — But  though 
 these  complex  ideas,  or  essences  of  mixed  modes,  depend  on  the  mind,  and 
 are  made  by  it  with  great  liberty;  yet  they  are  not  made  at  random,  and  jum- 
 bled together  without  any  reason  at  all.     Though  these  complex  ideas  be  not 
 always  copied  from  nature,  yet  they  are  always  suited  to  the  end  for  which 
 abstract  ideas  are  made ;  and  though  they  be  combinations  made  of  ideas  that 
 are  loose  enough,  and  have  as  little  union  in  themselves,  as  several  others  to 
 which  the  mind  never  gives  a  connexion  that  combines  them  into  one  idea; 
 yet  they  are  always  made  for  the  convenience  of  communication,  which  is 
 the  chief  end  of  language.     The  use  of  language  is  by  short  sounds  to  sig- 
 nify with  ease  and  despatch  general  conceptions ;  wherein  not  only  abund- 
 ance of  particulars  may  be  contained,  but  also  a  gi'eat  variety  of  independent 
 ideas  collected  into  one  complex  one.     In  the  making,  therefore,  of  the  spe- 
 cies of  mixed  modes,  men  have  had  regard  only  to  such  combinations  as  they 
 had  occasion  to  mention  one  to  another.     Those  they  have  combined  into 
 distinct  complex  ideas,  and  given  names  to  ;  whilst  others,  that  in  nature 
 have  as  near  a  union,  are  left  loose  and  unregarded.     For  to  go  no  farther 
 than  human  actions  themselves,  if  they  would  make  distinct  abstract  ideas  of 
 all  the  varieties  might  be  observed  in  them,  the  number  must  be  infinite,  and 
 the  memory  confounded  with  the  plenty,  as  well  as  overcharged  to  little  pur- 
 pose.    It  suffices,  that  men  make  and  name  so  many  complex  ideas  of  these 
 mixed  modes,  as  they  find  they  have  occasion  to  have  names  for,  in  the  or- 
 dinary occurrence  of  their  affairs.     If  they  join  to  the  idea  of  killing  the  idea 
 of  father,  or  mother,  and  so  make  a  distinct  species  from  killing  a  man's  son 
 or  neighbour,  it  is  because  of  the  different  heinousness  of  the  crime,  and  the 
 distinct  punishment  is  due  to  the  murdering  a  man's  father  and  mother,  dif- 
 ferent from  what  ought  to  be  inflicted  on  the  murder  of  a  son  or  neighbour ; 
 and  therefore  they  find  it  necessary  to  mention  it  by  a  distinct  name,  which 
 is  the  end  of  making  that  distinct  combination.     But  though  the  ideas  of 
 mother  and  daughter  are  so  differently  treated,  in  reference  to  the  idea  of 
 killing,  that  the  one  is  joined  with  it,  to  make  a  distinct  abstract  idea  with  a 
 name,  and  so  a  distinct  species,  and  the  other  not ;  yet  in  respect  of  carnal 
 
285  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 knowledge,  tliey  are  both  taken  in  under  incest :  and  tliat  stiU  for  the  same 
 convenience  of  exj)ressingundor  one  nftme,  and  reckoninjr  of  one  species, 
 such  unclean  mixtures  as  have  a  peculiar  turpitude  beyond  others:  and  this 
 to  avoid  circumlocutions  and  tedious  descriptions. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Whereof  the  intranslatahle  words  of  divers  languages  are  a 
 proof. — A  moderate  skill  in  different  janguao-es  will  easily  satisfy  one  of  the 
 truth  of  this,  it  being  so  obvious  to  observe  great  store  of  words  in  one  lan- 
 guage, which  have  not  any  that  answer  them  in  another.  Which  plainly 
 sliows,  that  those  of  one  country,  by  their  customs  and  manner  of  life,  have 
 found  occasion  to  make  several  complex  ideas,  and  given  names  to  them, 
 which  others  never  collected  into  specific  ideas.  This  could  not  have  hap- 
 pened, if  these  species  were  the  steady  workmanship  of  nature,  and  not  col- 
 lections made  and  abstracted  by  the  mind,  in  order  to  naming,  and  for  the 
 convenience  of  communication.  The  terms  of  our  law,  which  are  not  eaipty 
 sounds,  will  hardly  rind  words  that  answer  them  in  the  Spanish  or  Italian,  no 
 scanty  languages ;  much  less,  I  think,  could  any  one  translate  them  into  the 
 Caribbec  or  Westoe  tong.ues  :  and  the  Vcrsura  of  the  Romans,  or  Corbari  of 
 the  Jews,  have  no  words  in  other  languages  to  answer  them :  the  reason 
 whereof  is  plain,  from  what  has  been  said.  Nay,  if  wc  look  a  little  more 
 nearly  into  this  matter,  and  exactly  compare  different  languages,  we  shall 
 rind,  that  though  they  have  \vords  which  in  translations  and  dictionaries  are 
 supposed  to  answer  one  another,  yet  there  is  scarce  one  of  ten  among  the 
 names  of  complex  ideas,  especially  of  mixed  modes,  that  stands  for  the  same 
 precise  idea,  which  the  word  does  that  in  dictionaries  it  is  rendered  by. 
 There  are  no  ideas  more  common,  and  less  compounded,  than  the  measures 
 of  time,  extension,  and  weight,  and  the  Latin  names,  hora,  pes,  libra,  are 
 without  difficulty  rendered  by  the  English  names,  hour,  foot,  and  pound  :  but 
 yet  there  is  nothing  more  evident,  than  that  the  ideas  a  Roman  annexed  to 
 these  Latin  names  were  very  far  different  from  those  which  an  Englishman 
 expresses  by  those  English  ones.  And  if  either  of  these  should  make  use  of 
 the  measures  that  those  of  the  other  language  designed  by  their  names,  he 
 would  be  quite  out  in  his  account.  These  are  too  sensible  proofs  to  be 
 doubted ;  and  we  shall  rind  this  much  more  so,  in  the  names  of  more  abstract 
 and  compounded  ideas,  such  as  are  the  greatest  part  of  those  which  make  up 
 moral  discourses;' whose  names,  when  men  come  curiously  to  compare  with 
 those  tiiey  are  translated  into,  in  other  languages,  they  will  rind  very  few  of  - 
 them  exactly  to  correspond  in  the  whole  extent  of  their  signirications. 
 
 Sect.  9.  This  shows  species  to  he  made  for  communication. — The  reason 
 why  I  take  so  particular  notice  of  this  is,  that  we  may  not  be  mistaken  about  1 
 genera  and  species,  and  their  essences,  as  if  they  were  things  regularly  and  ! 
 constantly  made  by  nature,  and  had  a  real  existence  in  things  ;  when  they 
 appear,  upon  a  more  wary  survey,  to  be  nothing  else  but  an  artifice  of  the 
 understanding,  for  the  easier  signifying  such  collections  of  ideas  as  it  should 
 often  have  occasion  to  communicate  by  one  gencriil  term ;  under  which  divers 
 particulars,  as  far  forth  as  they  agreed  to  that  abstract  idea,  might  be  com- 
 prehended. And  if  the  doubtful  signification  of  tiie  word  species  may  make 
 it  sound  harsh  to  some,  that  I  say  the  species  of  mixed  modes  are  made  by 
 the  understanding ;  yet,  I  think,  it  can  by  nobody  be  denied,  that  it  is  the 
 mind  makes  those  abstract  complex  ideas  to  which  specific  names  are  given. 
 And  if  it  be  true,  as  it  is,  that  the  mind  makes  the  patterns  for  sorting  and 
 naming  of  things,  I  leave  it  to  be  considered  who  makes  the  boundaries  of  the 
 sort  or  species  ;  since  with  me  species  and  sort  have  no  other  difference  than 
 that  of  a  Latin  and  English  idiom. 
 
 Sect.  10.  In  mixed  modes  it  is  the  name  that  ties  the  combination  to- 
 gether, and  makes  it  a  species. — Tiie  near  relation  thdt  there  is  between  spe- 
 cies, essences,  and  their  general  names,  at  least  in  mixed  modes,  will  farther 
 a])pear,  when  we  consider  that  it  is  the  name  that  seems  to  preserve  those 
 esponce.-!,  and  give  tiiem  their  lasting  duration.  For  the  connexion  between 
 the  loose  parts  of  those  complex  ideas  being  made  by  tlie  mind,  this  union, 
 
Ch.  5.  NAMES  OF  MIXED  MODES.  287 
 
 which  has  no  particular  foundation  in  nature,  \vould  cease  aoj^ain,  were  there 
 not  something-  that  did,  as  il  were,  tfold  it  together,  and  keep  the  parts  from 
 scattering-.  Thoug-h,  therefore,  it  be  the  ^lind  tliat  makes  the  collection,  it 
 is  the  name  which  is,  as  it  were,  the  knot  that  ties  them  fist  together.  What 
 a  vast  variety  of  different  ideas  does  the  word  triiunphus  hold  together,  and 
 deliver  to  us  as  one  species  !  Had  this  name  been  never  made,  or  quite  lost, 
 we  might,  no  doubt,  have  had  descriptions  of  what  passed  in  that  solemnity : 
 but  yet,  I  think,  that  which  holds  those  different  parts  together,  in  the  unity 
 of  one  complex  idea,  is  that  very  word  annexed  to  it ;  without  which  the 
 several  parts  of  that  would  no  more  be  thought  to  make  one  thing,  than  any 
 other  show,  which,  having-  never  been  made  but  once,  had  never  been  united 
 into  one  complex  idea,  under  one  denomination.  How  much,  therefore,  in 
 mixed  modes,  the  unity  necessary  to  any  essence  depends  on  the  mind,  and 
 how  much  the  continuation  and  tixing  of  that  unity  depends  on  the  name  in 
 common  use  annexed  to  it,  I  leave  to  be  considered  by  those  who  look  upon 
 essences  and  species  as  real  established  things  in  nature. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Suitable  to  this,  we  find,  that  men  speaking  of  mixed  modes, 
 seldom  imagine  or  take  any  other  for  species  of  them,  but  such  as  are  set  out 
 by  name  :  because  they  being  of  man's  making  only,  in  order  to  namingjino 
 such  species  are  taken  notice  of,  or  supposed  to  be,  unless  a  name  be  joined 
 to  it,  as  the  sign  of  a  man's  having  combined  into  one  idea  several  loose  ones : 
 and  by  that  name  giving  a  lasting-  union  to  the  parts,  which  could  otherwise 
 cease  to  have  any,  as  soon  as  the  mind  laid  by  that  abstract  idea,  and  ceased 
 actually  to  think  on  it.  But  when  a  name  is  once  annexed  to  it,  wherein  the 
 parts  of  that  complex  idea  have  a  settled  and  permanent  union  ;  then  is  the 
 essence  as  it  were  established,  and  the  species  looked  on  as  complete.  For 
 to  what  purpose  should  the  memory  charge  itself  with  such  compositions,  un- 
 less it  were  l)y  abstraction  to  make  them  general !  And  to  what  purpose 
 make  them  general,  unless  it  were  that  they  might  have  general  names,  for 
 the  convenience  of  discourse  and  communication  ?  Thus  we  see,  that  kill- 
 ing a  man  with  a  sword  or  a  hatchet,  are  looked  on  as  no  distinct  species  of 
 action :  but  if  the  point  of  the  sword  first  enter  the  body,  it  passes  for  a  dis- 
 tinct species,  where  it  has  a  distinct  name  ;  as  in  England,  in  whose  language 
 it  is  called  stabbing :  but  in  another  country,  where  it  has  not  happened  to 
 be  specified  under  a  peculiar  name,  it  passes  not  for  a  distinct  species.  But 
 in  the  species  of  corporeal  substances,  though  it  be  the  mind  that  makes  the 
 nominal  essence  ;  yet  since  those  ideas  which  are  combined  in  it  are  supposed 
 to  have  a  union  in  nature,  whether  the  mind  joins  them  or  no,  therefore  those 
 are  looked  on  as  distinct  names,  without  any  operation  of  the  mind,  either 
 abstracting  or  giving  a  name  to  that  complex  idea. 
 
 Sect.  V2.  For  the  originals  of  mixed  modes,  we  look  no  farther  than  the 
 mind,  which  also  shows  them  to  be  the  worktnanship  of  the  understand- 
 ing.— Conformable  also  to  what  has  been  said  concerning  the  essences  of 
 the  species  of  mixed  modes,  that  they  are  the  creatures  of  the  understanding, 
 rather  than  the  works  of  nature :  conformable,  I  say,  to  this,  we  find  that 
 their  names  lead  our  thoughts  to  the  mind,  and  no  farther.  When  we  speak 
 of  justice,  or  gratitude,  we  frame  to  ourselves  no  imagination  of  any  thing 
 existing,  which  we  would  conceive ;  but  our  thoughts  terminate  in  the  ab- 
 stract ideas  of  those  virtues,  and  look  not  farther :  as  they  do,  when  we  speak 
 of  a  horse,  or  iron,  whose  specific  ideas  we  consider  not  as  barely  in  the 
 mind,  but  as  in  things  themselves,  which  afford  the  original  patterns  of  those 
 ideas.  But  in  mixed  modes,  at  least  the  most  considerable  parts  of  them, 
 which  are  moral  beings,  we  consider  the  original  patterns  as  being  in  the 
 mind ;  and  to  those  we  refer  for  the  distinguishing  of  particular  beings  under 
 names.  And  hence  I  think  it  is,  that  these  essences  of  the  species  of  mixed 
 modes  are  by  a  more  particular  name  called  notions,  as,  by  a  peculiar  right, 
 appertaining  to  the  understanding. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Their  being  made  by  the  understanding  without  patterns, 
 shows  the  reason  why  they  arc  so  compounded. — Hence  likewise  we  may 
 
2=^3  '  OV  HUMAN  UNDi?R»TANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 n  4' 
 
 loaiM,  why  the  ci»nip]c.\  uiaa.-s  of  mixed  modes  arc  commonly  more  com- 
 pounded and  decompounded  thaij  thpso  bf  natural  siJbstances.  Because  tJjey 
 berng  the  vvorkmaiisiupof  the  urwleTstanding  pursuinjr  only  its  own  ends,  and 
 the  conv^icncy  yi"  exjjressing  in  short  those  ideas  it  woukl  make  known  to 
 another,  it  does  with  great  liberty  unite  often  in  one  abstract  idea  thiiifrs  that 
 in  their  nature  have  no  coherence;  and  so,  under  one  term,  bundle  totrether 
 a  great  variety  of  compounded  and  decompounded  ideas.  Thus  the  name  of 
 procession,  what  a  great  mixture  of  indei'cndent  ideas  of  persons,  habits,  ta- 
 pers, orders,  motions,  sounds,  does  it  contain  in  that  complex  one,  which 
 tlie  mind  of  man  has  arbitrarily  put  together,  to  express  by  that  one  name  ! 
 Whereas  the  complex  ideas  of  the  sorts  of  substances  are  usually  made  up  of 
 only  a  small  number  of  simi)le  ones;  and  in  the  species  of  animals,  these  two, 
 viz.  ^liape  and  voice,  commonly  make  the  whole  nominal  essence. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Names  of  mixed  modes  stand  always  for  their  real  essences. — 
 Another  thing  we  may  observe  from  what  lias  been  said  is,  that  the  names  of 
 mixed  modes  signify  (when  they  have  any  determined  signification)  the  real 
 essences  of  their  species.  For  these  abstract  ideas  being  the  workmanship 
 of  the  mind,  and  not  referred  to  the  real  existence  of  things,  there  is  no  sup- 
 position of  any  thing  more  signified  by  that  name,  but  barely  that  complex 
 idea  the  mind  itself  has  formed,  which  is  all  it  would  have  expressed  by  it : 
 and  is  that  on  whicli  all  the  properties  of  the  species  depend,  and  from  which 
 alone  they  all  flow :  and  so  in  tiiose  the  real  and  nominal  essence  is  the  same  ;* 
 which  of  what  concernment  it  is  to  the  certain  knowledge  of  general  truth, 
 we  shall  see  hereafter. 
 
 Secjx.  15.  Why  their  names  are  usnully  got  before  their  ideas. — This 
 also  may  show  us  the  reason  why,  for  the  most  part,  the  names  of  mixed 
 modes  are  got  beforg  the  ideas  they  stand  for  are  perfectly  known.  Because 
 thesfe  being  no  species  of  tliese  ordinarily  taken  notice  of,  but  what  have 
 •  naines ;  and  those  species,  or  rather  their  essences,  being  abstract  complex 
 ideas  made  arbitrarily  by  the  mind ;  it  is  convenient,  if  not  necessary,  to  know 
 tjie  names,  before  one  endeavour  to  frame  these  complex  ideas :  unless  a  man 
 will  fill  his  head  with  a  company  of  abstract  complex  ideas,  which  others 
 having  no  names  for,  he  has  nothing  to  do  with,  but  to  lay  by,  and  forget 
 again.  I  coiifess,  that  in  the  beginning  of  languages  it  was  necessary  to 
 have  the  idea,  before  one  gave  it  the  name:  and  so  it  is  still,  where  making 
 a  new  complex  idea,  one  also,  by  giving  it  a  new  name,  makes  a  new  word. 
 But  this  concerns  not  languages  made,  which  have  generally  pretty  well  pro- 
 vided for  ideas,  which  men  have  frequent  occasion  to  have  and  communicate : 
 and  in  such,  I  ask,  whether  it  be  not  the  ordinary  method,  that  children  learn 
 the  names  of  mixed  modes,  before  they  have  their  ideas  ]  What  one  of  a 
 thousand  ever  frames  the  abstract  ideas  of  glory  and  ambition,  before  he  has 
 heard  the  names  of  them  ?  In  simple  ideas  and  substances  I  grant  it  is  other- 
 wise ;  which  being  such  ideas  as  have  a  real  existence  and  union  in  nature, 
 the  ideas  and  names  are  got  one  before  the  other,  as  it  happens. 
 ,  Sect.  16.  Reason  of  my  being  so  large  on  this  subject. — What  has  been 
 said  here  of  mixed  modes  is,  with  very  little  difference,  applicable  also  to  re- 
 lations ;  which,  since  every  man  himself  may  observe,  I  may  spare  myself 
 the  pains  to  enlarge  on  :  especially,  since  what  I  have  here  said  concerning 
 words  in  this  third  book,  will  possibly  be  thought  by  some  to  be  much  more 
 than  what  so  slight  a  subject  required.  I  allow  it  might  be  brought  into  a 
 narrower  compass ;  but  I  was  willing  to  stay  my  reader  on  an  argument  that 
 appears  to  me  new,  and  a  little  out  of  the  way  (I  am  sure  it  is  one  I  thought 
 not  of  when  I  began  to  write),  that  by  searching  it  to  the  bottom,  and  turn- 
 ing it  on  every  side,  some  jjart  or  other  might  meet  with  every  one's  thoughts, 
 and  give  occasion  to  the  most  averse  or  negligent  to  reflect  on  a  general 
 miscarriage,  which,  though  of  great  consequence,  is  little  taken  notice  of. 
 When  it  is  considered  what  a  pudder  is  made  about  essences,  and  how  much 
 all  sorts  of  knowledge,  discourse,  and  conversation  are  pestered  and  disor- 
 dered by  the  careless  and  confused  use  and  appli^'ation  of  words,  it  will  per- 
 
Ch.  5.  NAMES  OF  MIXED  MODES.  289 
 
 haps  be  tliought  worth  while  thoroughly  to  lay  it  open.  And  I  shall  be  par- 
 doned if  I  have  dwelt  long  on  an  argument  which,  I  think,  therefore  needs  to 
 be  inculcated;  because  the  faults  men  are  usually  guilty  of  in  this  kind,  are 
 not  only  the  greatest  hinderances  of  true  knowledge,  but  are  so  well  thouoht 
 of  as  to  pass  for  it.  Men  would  often  see  what  a  small  pittance  of  reason 
 and  truth,  or  possibly  none  at  all,  is  mixed  with  those  huffing  opinions  thev 
 are  swelled  with,  if  thej' would  but  look  beyond  fashionable  sounds,  and  observe 
 what  ideas  are,  or  are  not  comprehended  under  those  words  with  which  they 
 are  so  armed  at  all  points,  and  with  which  they  so  confidently  lay  about 
 them.  I  shall  imagine  I  have  done  some  service  to  truth,  peace,  and  learn- 
 ing, if,  by  any  enlargement  on  this  subject,  I  can  make  men  reflect  on  their 
 own  use  of  language;  and  give  them  reason  to  suspect,  that  since  it  is  fre- 
 quent for  others,  it  may  also  be  possible  for  them  to  have  sometimes  very 
 good  and  approved  words  in  their  mouths  and  writings,  with  very  uncertain, 
 little,  or  no  signitication.  And  therefore  it  is  not  unreasonable  for  them  to 
 be  v>ary  herein  themselves,  and  not  to  be  unwilling  to  have  them  examined 
 by  others.  With  this  design,  therefore,  I  shall  go  on  with  what  I  have  far- 
 ther to  say  concerning  this  matter. 
 
 CHAPTER  VI. 
 
 OF  THE  NAMES  OF  SUBSTA^XES. 
 
 SecTv  1.  The  common  names  of  substances  stand  for  sorts. — The  com- 
 mon names  of  substances,  as  well  as  other  general  terms,  stand  for  sorts; 
 which  is  nothing  else  but  the  being  made  signs  of  such  complex  ideas, 
 wherein  several  particular  substances  do,  or  might  agree,  by  virtue  of  wnich 
 they  are  capable  of  being  comprehended  in  one  common  conception,  and  sig- 
 nified by  one  name.  I  sa}',  do  or  might  agree :  for  though  there  be  but  one 
 sun  existing  in  the  world,  yet  the  idea  of  its  being  abstracted,  so  that  more 
 substances  (if  there  v\-ere  several)  might  each  agree  in  it ;  it  is  as  much  a 
 sort,  as  if  there  were  as  many  suns  as  there  are  stars.  They  want  not  their 
 reasons  who  think  there  are,  and  that  each  fixed  star  would  answer  the  idea 
 the  name  sun  stands  for,  to  one  who  was  placed  in  a  due  distance  ;  which, 
 by  the  way,  may  show  us  how  much  the  sorts,  or,  if  you  please,  genera  and 
 species  of  things  (for  those  Latin  terms  signify  to  me  no  more  than  the  En- 
 glish word  sort)  depend  on  such  collections  of  ideas  as  men  have  made,  and 
 not  on  the  real  nature  of  tilings  ;  since  it  is  not  impossible  but  that,  in  pro- 
 priety of  speech,  that  might  be  a  sun  to  one,  which  is  a  star  to  another. 
 
 Sect.  2.  The  essence  of  each  sort  is  the  abstract  idea. — The  measure  and 
 boundary  of  each  sort,  or  species,  whereby  it  is  constituted  that  particular 
 sort,  and  distinguished  from  others,  is  that  we  call  its  essence,  which  is  no- 
 thing but  that  abstract  idea  to  which  the  name  is  annexed  ;  so  that  every 
 thing  contained  in  that  idea  is  essential  to  that  sort.  This,  though  it  be  all 
 the  essence  of  natural  substances  that  we  know,  or  by  which  we  distinguish 
 them  into  sorts ;  yet  I  call  it  by  a  peculiar  name,  the  nominal  essence,  to  dis- 
 tinguish it  from  the  real  constitution  of  substances,  upon  which  depends  this 
 nominal  essence,  and  all  the  properties  of  that  sort ;  which,  therefore,  as  has 
 been  said,  may  be  called  the  real  essence  :  v.  g.  the  nominal  essence  of  gold 
 is  that  complex  idea  the  word  gold  stands  for,  let  it  be,  for  instance,  a  body 
 yellow,  of  a  certain  weight,  malleable,  fusible,  and  fixed.  But  the  real  es- 
 sence is  the  constitution  of  the  insensible  parts  of  that  body,  on  which  those 
 qualities  and  all  the  other  properties  of  gold  depend.  How  far  these  two  are 
 different,  though  they  are  both  called  essence,  is  obvious  at  first  sight  to 
 discover. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Tlie  nominal  and  real  essence  different. — For  though  perhaps 
 voluntarj'  motion,  with  sense  and  reason,  joined  to  a  body  of  a  certain  shape, 
 
290  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 be  the  complex  idea  to  which  I,  and  otiicrs,  annex  tlie  name  man,  and  so  be 
 the  nominal  essence  of  the  species  so  called;  yet  nobody  will  say  that  that  com- 
 plex idea  is  the  real  essence  and  sonrce  of  all  those  operations,  wiiich  are  to 
 be  found  in  any  individual  of  that  sort.  The  foundation  of  all  those  qualities, 
 which  arc  the  ingredients  of  our  complex  idea,  is  something  quite  different: 
 and  had  we  such  a  knowledge  of  tiiat  constitution  of  man,  from  which  his 
 faculties  of  moving,  sensation,  and  reasoning,  and  other  powers  flow,  and  on 
 whicli  liis  so  regular  shape  dej)ends,  as  it  is  possible  angels  have,  and  it  is 
 certain  his  Maker  has  ;  we  should  have  a  quite  other  idea  of  his  essence  than 
 what  now  is  contained  in  our  definition  of  that  species,  be  it  what  it  will :  and 
 our  idea  of  any  individual  man  would  be  as  far  difl^erent  from  what  it  is  now, 
 as  is  his  who  knows  all  the  springs  and  wheels  and  other  contrivances  within 
 of  the  famous  clock  at  Strasburg,  from  that  which  a  gazing  countryman  has 
 for  it,  who  barely  sees  the  motion  of  the  hand,  and  hears  the  clock  strike, 
 and  observes  only  some  of  the  outward  appearances. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Nothing  essential  to  individuals. — That  essence,  in  the  ordinary 
 use  of  the  word,  relates  to  sorts;  and  that  it  is  considered  in  particular  be- 
 ings no  farther  than  as  they  are  ranked  into  sorts ;  appears  from  hence  :  that 
 take  but  away  the  abstract  ideas,  by  which  we  sort  individuals,  and  rank  them 
 under  common  names,  and  then  the  thought  of  any  thing  essential  to  any  of 
 them  instantly  vanishes  ;  we  have  no  notion  of  the  one  without  the  other; 
 which  plainly  shows  their  relation.  It  is  necessary  for  me  to  be  as  I  am ; 
 God  and  nature  has  made  me  so :  but  there  is  nothing  I  have  so  essential 
 to  me.  An  accident,  or  disease,  may  very  much  alter  my  colour,  or  shape  ; 
 a  fever,  or  fall,  may  take  away  my  reason  or  memory,  or  both,  and  an  apo- 
 plexy leave  neither  sense  nor  understanding,  no,  nor  life.  Other  creatures 
 of  my  shape  may  be  made  with  more  and  better,  or  fewer  and  worse  facul- 
 ties than  I  have ;  and  others  may  have  reason  and  sense  in  a  shape  and  body 
 very  different  from  mine.  None  of  these  are  essential  to  the  one,  or  the 
 other,  or  to  any  individual  whatever,  till  the  mind  refers  it  to  some  sort  or 
 species  of  things ;  and  then  presently,  according  to  the  abstract  idea  of  that 
 sort,  something  is  found  essential.  Let  any  one  examine  his  own  thoughts, 
 and  he  will  find  that  as  soon  as  he  supposes  or  speaks  of  essential,  the  con- 
 sideration of  some  species,  or  the  complex  idea,  signified  by  some  general 
 name,  comes  into  his  mind ;  and  it  is  in  reference  to  that,  that  this  or  that 
 quality  is  said  to  be  essential.  So  that  if  it  be  asked,  whether  it  be  essential 
 to  me  or  any  other  particular  corporeal  being  to  have  reason  ?  I  say  no  ;  no 
 more  than  it  is  essential  to  this  white  thing  I  write  on  to  have  words  in  it. 
 Eut  if  that  particular  being  be  to  be  counted  of  the  sort  man,  and  to  have  the 
 name  man  given  it,  then  reason  is  essential  to  it,  supposing  reason  to  be  a 
 part  of  the  complex  idea  the  name  man  stands  for  ;  as  it  is  essential  to  this 
 thing  I  write  on  to  contain  words,  if  I  will  give  it  the  name  treatise,  and 
 rank  it  under  that  species.  So  that  essential,  and  not  essential,  relate  only 
 to  our  abstract  ideas,  and  the  names  annexed  to  them  :  which  amounts  to  no 
 more  but  this,  that  whatever  particular  thing  has  not  in  it  those  qualities, 
 which  are  contained  in  the  abstract  idea,  which  any  general  term  stands  for, 
 cannot  be  ranked  under  that  species,  nor  be  called  by  that  name,  since  that 
 abstract  idea  is  the  very  essence  of  that  species. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Thus  if  the  idea  of  body,  with  some  people,  be  bare  extension  or 
 space,  then  solidity  is  not  essential  to  body  :  if  others  make  the  idea,  to  which 
 they  give  the  name  body,  to  be  solidity  and  extension,  then  solidity  is  essen- 
 tial to  body.  That,  therefore,  and  that  alone,  is  considered  as  essential, 
 which  makes  a  part  of  the  comj)lex  idea  the  name  of  a  sort  stands  for,  with- 
 out which  no  particular  thing  can  be  reckoned  of  that  sort,  nor  be  entitled  to 
 that  name.  Should  there  be  found  a  parcel  of  matter  that  had  all  the  other 
 qualities  that  are  in  iron,  but  wanted  obedience  to  the  loadstone  ;  and  would 
 neither  be  drawn  by  it,  nor  receive  direction  from  it  ;  would  any  one  question 
 whether  it  wanted  any  thing  essential  ?  It  would  be  absurd  to  ask,  whether 
 a  thing  really  existing  wanted  any  thing  essential  to  it.      Or  could  it  be  dc- 
 
Ch.  6.  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  291 
 
 manded,  whether  this  made  an  essential  or  specific  difference  or  no  ;  since 
 we  have  no  other  measure  essential  or  specific,  but  our  abstract  ideas  ]  And 
 to  talk  of  specific  differences  in  nature,  without  reference  to  general  ideas 
 and  names,  is  to  talk  unintelligibly.  For  I  would  ask  any  one,  what  is  suf- 
 ficient to  make  an  essential  difference  in  nature,  between  any  two  particular 
 beings,  without  any  regard  had  to  some  abstract  idea,  which  is  loolved  upon 
 as  the  essence  and  standard  of  a  species  1  All  such  patterns  and  standards 
 being  quite  laid  aside,  particular  beings,  considered  barely  in  themselves,  will 
 be  found  to  have  all  their  qualities  equally  essential ;  and  every  thing,  in  each 
 individual,  will  be  essential  to  it,  or,  which  is  more,  nothing  at  all.  For 
 though  it  may  be  reasonable  to  ask,  whether  obeying  the  magnet  be  essen- 
 tial to  iron  '!  yet,  I  think,  it  is  very  improper  and  insignificant  to  ask,  whe- 
 tlier  it  be  essential  to  the  particular  parcel  of  matter  I  cut  my  pen  with,  with- 
 out considering  it  under  the  name  iron,  or  as  being  of  a  certain  species  1 
 And  if,  as  has  been  said,  our  abstract  ideas,  which  have  names  annexed  to 
 them,  are  the  boundaries  of  species,  nothing  can  be  essential  but  what  is  con- 
 tained in  those  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  6.  It  is  true,  I  have  often  mentioned  a  real  essence,  distinct  in  sub- 
 stances from  those  abstract  ideas  of  them,  which  I  call  their  nominal  essence. 
 By_ilii§,r_eal  essence  I, mean  that  real  constitution  of  any  thing,  which  is  the 
 foundation  of  all  those  properties  that  are  combined  in,  and  are  constantly 
 found  to  co-exist  with  the  nominal  essence;  and  that  particular  constitution 
 which  every  thing  has  within  itself,  without  any  relation  to  any  thing  with- 
 out it.  But  essence,  even  in  this  sense,  relates  to  a  sort,  and  supposes  a  spe- 
 cies :  for  being  that  real  constitution,  on  which  the  properties  depend,  it  ne- 
 cessarily supposes  a  sort  of  things,  properties  belonging  only  to  species,  and 
 not  to  individuals;  v.  g.  supposing  the  nominal  essence  of  gold  to  be  a  body 
 of  such  a  peculiar  colour  and  weight,  with  malleability  and  fusibility,  the  real 
 essence  is  that  constitution  of  the  parts  of  matter,  on  which  these  qualities 
 and  their  union  depend ;  and  is  also  the  foundation  of  its  solubility  in  aqua 
 regia  and  other  properties  accompanying  that  complex  idea.  Here  are  essen- 
 ces and  properties,  but  all  upon  supposition  of  a  sort,  or  general  abstract 
 idea,  which  is  considered  as  immutable :  but  there  is  no  individual  parcel  of 
 matter,  to  which  any  of  these  qualities  are  so  annexed,  as  to  be  essential  to 
 it,  or  inseparable  from  it.  That  which  is  essential  belongs  to  it  as  a  con- 
 dition, whereby  it  is  of  this  or  that  sort:  but  take  away  the  consideration  of 
 its  being  ranked  under  the  name  of  some  abstract  idea;  and  then  there  is  no- 
 thing necessary  to  it,  nothing  inseparable  from  it.  Indeed,  as  to  the  real  es- 
 sences of  substances,  we  only  suppose  their  being,  without  precisely  knowing 
 what  they  are :  but  that  which  annexes  them  still  to  the  species,  is  the  no- 
 minal essence,  of  which  they  are  the  supposed  foundation  and  cause. 
 
 Sect.  7.  The  nominal  essence  bounds  the  species. — The  next  thing  to  be 
 considered  is,  by  which  of  those  essences  it  is  that  substances  are  determined 
 into  sorts,  or  species ;  and  that,  it  is  evident,  is  by  the  nominal  essence.  For 
 it  is  that  alone  that  the  name,  which  is  the  mark  of  the  sort,  signifies.  It  is 
 impossible,  therefore,  that  any  thing  should  determine  the  sorts  of  things 
 which  we  rank  under  general  names,  but  that  idea  which  that  name  is  de- 
 signed as  a  mark  for ;  which  is  that,  as  has  been  shown,  which  we  call  no- 
 minal essence.  Why  do  we  say,  this  is  a  horse,  and  that  a  mule  ;  this  is  an 
 animal,  that  an  herb?  How  comes  any  particular  thing  to  be  of  this  or  that 
 sort,  but  because  it  has  that  nominal  essence,  or,  which  is  all  one,  agrees  to 
 that  abstract  idea  that  name  is  annexed  tol  And  I  desire  any  one  but  to  re- 
 flect on  his  own  thoughts,  when  he  hears  or  speaks  any  of  those,  or  other 
 names  of  substances,  to  know  what  sort  of  essences  they  stand  for. 
 
 Sect.  8.  And  that  the  species  of  things  to  us  are  notliing  but  the  ranking 
 them  under  distinct  names,  according  to  the  complex  ideas  in  us,  and  not  ac- 
 cording to  precise,  distinct,  real  essences  in  them,  is  plain  from  hence,  that 
 v/e  find  many  of  the  individuals  that  are  ranked  into  one  sort,  called  by  one 
 common  name,  and  so  received  as  being  of  one  species,  have  yet  qualities 
 
293  OF  IlUivIAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 (lepcndingf  on  their  real  conslitutions,  as  far  diiTercnt  one  from  another,  as 
 from  otliere,  from  which  tiiey  are  accounted  to  dilfer  specifically.  This,  as 
 it  is  easy  to  he  observed  by  all  who  have  to  do  witii  natural  bodies ;  so  che- 
 mists especially  are  often,  by  sad  experience,  convinced  of  it,  when  they, 
 sometimes  in  vain,  seek  for  liie  same  qualities  in  one  ])arcc;l  of  sulphur,  anti- 
 mony, or  vitriol,  which  they  have  found  in  others.  For  though  they  are  bo- 
 dies of  the  same  species,  having  the  same  nominal  essence,  under  the  same 
 name ;  yet  do  they  often,  upon  severe  ways  of  examination,  betray  quali- 
 ties so  different  one  from  anotiier,  as  to  frustrate  the  exj)ectation  and  labo-ar 
 of  very  wary  chemists,  liut  if  things  were  distniguished  into  species,  ac- 
 cording to  their  real  essences,  it  would  be  as  impossible  to  find  different  pro- 
 perties in  any  two  individual  substances  of  the  saii^e  species,  as  it  is  to  find 
 dilferent  properties  in  two  circles,  or  two  equilateral  triangles.  That  is  pro- 
 perly the  essence  to  us,  which  determines  every  particular  to  this  or  that 
 classis ;  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  to  this  or  that  general  name:  and  what 
 can  that  be  else,  but  that  abstract  idea,  to  which  that  name  is  annexed !  and 
 so  has,  in  truth,  a  reference,  not  so  much  to  the  being  of  particular  things,  as 
 to  their  general  denominations. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Not  the  real  essence,  which  we  know  not. — Nor  indeed  can  we 
 rank  and  sort  things,  and  consequently  (which  is  the  end  of  sorting)  deno- 
 minate them  by  tiieir  real  essences,  because  we  know  them  not.  Our  facul-  / 
 ties  carry  us  no  farther  toward  the  knowledge  and  distinction  of  substances,  | 
 than  a  collection  of  those  sensible  ideas  which  we  observe  in  them  ;  which, 
 however  made  with  the  greatest  diligence  and  exactness  we  are  capable  of, 
 yet  it  is  more  remote  from  the  true  internal  constitution  from  which  those 
 qualities  flow,  than,  as  I  said,  a  countryman's  idea  is  from  the  inward  con- 
 trivance of  that  famous  clock  at  Sti'asburgh,  whereof  he  only  sees  the  out- 
 ward figure  and  motions.  There  is  not  so  contemptible  a  plant  or  animal, 
 that  does  not  confound  the  most  enlarged  understanding.  Though  the  fami- 
 liar use  of  things  about  us  take  off"  our  wonder,  yet  it  cures  not  our  igno- 
 rance. When  we  come  to  examine  the  stones  w^e  tread  on,  or  the  iron  we 
 daily  handle,  we  presently  find  we  know  not  their  make,  and  can  give  no  rea- 
 son of  the  different  qualities  we  find  in  them.  It  is  evident  the  internal  con- 
 stitution, whereon  their  properties  depend,  is  unknown  to  us.  For  to  go  no 
 farther  than  the  grossest  and  most  obvious  we  can  imagine  among  them,  what 
 is  that  texture  of  parts,  tliat  real  essence,  that  makes  lead  and  airtimony  fu- 
 sible; wood  and  stones  not!  What  makes  lead  and  iron  malleable ;  anti- 
 mony and  stones  not  J  And  yet  how  infinitely  these  come  short  of  the 
 fine  contrivances,  and  unconceivable  real  essences  of  plants  or  animals,  every 
 one  knows.  Tiie  workmanship  of  the  all-wise  and  powerful  God,  in  the  great 
 fabric  of  the  universe,  and  every  part  thereof,  farther  exceeds  the  capacity 
 and  comprehension  of  the  most  inquisitive  and  intelligent  man,  than  the  best 
 contrivance  of  the  most  ingenious  man  doth  the  conceptions  of  the  most  ig- 
 norant of  rational  creatures.  Therefore  we  in  vain  pretend  to  range  things 
 into  sorts,  and  dispose  them  into  certain  classes,  under  names,  by  tlieir 
 real  essences,  that  are  so  far  from  our  discovery  or  comprehension.  A  blind 
 man  may  as  soon  sort  things  by  their  colours,  and  he  that  has  lost  his  smell 
 as  well  distinguish  a  lily  and  a  rose  by  their  odours,  as  by  those  internal  con- 
 stitutions which  he  knows  not.  He  that  thinks  lie  can  distinguish  sheep  and 
 goats  by  their  real  essences,  that  are  unknown  to  him,  may  be  pleased  to  try 
 his  skill  in  those  species,  called  cassiowary  and  querechinchio  ;  and  by  their 
 internal  real  essences  determine  the  boundaries  of  those  species,  without 
 knowing  the  complex  idea  of  sensible  qualities,  that  each  of  those  names 
 stand  for,  in  the  countries  where  those  animals  are  to  be  found. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Not  substantial  forms,  which  ice  know  less. — Those,  therefore, 
 who  have  been  taught,  tliat  the  several  species  of  substances  had  their  dis- 
 tinct, internal,  substantial  forms  ;  and  that  it  was  those  forms  which  made  the 
 distinction  of  substances  into  their  true  species  and  genera  ;  were  led  yet  far- 
 ther out  of  the  way,  by  having  their  minds  set  upon  fruitless  inquiries  after 
 
Ch.  6.  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  293 
 
 substantia]  forms,  wholly  uniiitellioible,  and  whereof  we  have  scarce  somncii 
 as  any  obscure  or  confused  conception  in  general. 
 
 Sect.  11.  That  the  nominal  essence  is  that  tvhereby  we  distinguish  spe- 
 cies, farther  evident  from  sjnrits. — Tliat  our  ranking  and  distinguishing  na- 
 tural substances  into  species,  consists  in  the  nominal  essences  the  mind  makes, 
 and  not  in  the  real  essences  to  be  found  in  the  things  themselves,  is  fartlier 
 evident  from  our  ideas  of  spirits.  For  the  mind  getting,  only  by  roliectiiig 
 on  its  own  operations,  those  simple  ideas  which  it  attributes  to  spirits,  it 
 hath,  or  can  have  no  other  notion  of  spirit,  but  by  attributing  all  those  opera- 
 tions, it  finds  in  itself,  to  a  sort  of  beings,  without  consideration  of  matter. 
 And  even  the  most  advanced  notion  we  liave  of  God  is  but  attributing  the 
 same  simple  ideas,  which  we  have  got  from  reflection  on  what  we  find  in  our- 
 selves, and  which  we  conceive  to  have  more  perfection  in  them,  than  would 
 be  in  their  absence  ;  attributing,  I  say,  those  simple  ideas  to  him  in  an  un- 
 limited degree.  Thus  having  got,  from  reflecting  on  ourselves,  the  idea  of 
 existence,  knowledge,  power,  and  pleasure,  each  of  which  we  find  it  better 
 to  have  than  to  want ;  and  the  more  we  have  of  each  the  better  ;  joining  all 
 these  together,  with  infinity  to  each  of  them,  we  have  the  complex  idea  of 
 an  eternal,  omniscient,  omnipotent,  infinitely  wise  and  happy  Being.  And 
 though  we  are  told,  that  there  are  different  species  of  angels  ;  yet  we  know 
 not  how  to  frame  distinct  specific  ideas  of  them  :  not  out  of  any  conceit  that 
 the  existence  of  more  species  than  one  of  spirits  is  impossible,  but  because, 
 having  no  more  simple  ideas  (nor  being  able  to  frame  more)  applicable  to 
 such  beings,  but  only  those  few  taken  from  ourselves,  and  from  the  actions 
 of  our  own  minds  in  thinking,  and  being  delighted,  and  moving  several  parts 
 of  our  bodies,  we  can  no  otherwise  distinguish  in  our  conceptions  the  several 
 species  of  spirits  one  from  another,  but  by  attributing  those  operations  and 
 powers,  we  find  in  ourselves,  to  them  in  a  higher  or  lower  degree  ;  and  so 
 have  no  very  distinct  specific  ideas  of  spirits,  except  only  of  God,  to  whom 
 we  attribute  both  duration,  and  all  those  other  ideas  with  infinity ;  to  the  other 
 spirits,  with  limitation.  Nor  as  I  humbly  conceive  do  we,  between  God  and 
 them  in  our  ideas,  put  any  difference  by  any  number  of  simple  ideas,  which 
 we  have  of  one  and  not  of  the  other;  but  only  that  of  infinity.  All  the  par- 
 ticular ideas  of  existence,  knowledge,  will,  power,  and  motion,  &c.  being 
 ideas  derived  from  the  operations  of  our  minds,  we  attribute  all  of  them  to 
 all  sorts  of  spirits,  with  the  difference  only  of  degrees  to  the  utmost  we  can 
 imagine,  even  infinity,  when  we  would  frame,  as  well  as  we  can,  an  idea  of 
 the  first  being ;  who  yet,  it  is  certain,  is  infinitely  more  remote,  in  the  real 
 excellency  of  his  nature,  from  the  highest  and  most  perfect  of  all  created  beings, 
 than  the  greatest  man,  nay  purest  seraph,  is  from  the  most  contemptible  part 
 of  matter  ;  and  consequently  nmst  infinitely  exceed  what  our  narrow  under- 
 standings can  conceive  of  him. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Whereof  there  are  probably  numberless  species. — It  is  not  im- 
 possible to  conceive,  nor  repugnant  to  reason,  that  there  may  be  many  spe- 
 cies of  spirits,  as  much  separated  and  diversified  one  from  another  by  distinct 
 pi'operties  whereof  we  have  no  ideas,  as  the  species  of  sensible  things  are 
 distinguished  one  fi-om  another  by  qualities  which  we  know  and  observe  in 
 them.  That  there  should  be  more  species  of  intelligent  creatures  above  us, 
 than  there  are  of  sensible  and  material  below  us,  is  probable  to  me  from  hence; 
 that  in  all  the  visible  corporeal  world,  we  see  no  chasms  or  gaps.  All  quite 
 down  from  us  the  descent  is  by  easy  steps,  and  a  continued  series  of  things, 
 that  in  each  remove  differ  very  little  one  from  the  other.  There  aVe  fishes 
 that  have  wings,  and  are  not  strangers  to  the  airy  region ;  and  there  are  some 
 birds  that  are  inhabitants  of  the  water,  whose  blood  is  cold  as  fishes,  and  their 
 flesh  so  like  in  taste,  that  the  scrupulous  are  allowed  them  on  fish-days. 
 Tlicre  are  animals  so  near  of  kin  both  to  birds  and  beasts,  that  they  are  in 
 the  middle  between  both  :  amphibious  animals  link  the  terrestrial  and  aquatic 
 together ;  seals  live  at  land  and  sea,  and  porpoises  have  the  warm  blood  and 
 entrails  of  a  hog,  not  to  mention  what  is  confidently  reported  of  mermaids 
 
294  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 or  sea-men.  There  are  some  brutes,  tl)at  seem  to  liavc  as  much  knowledge 
 and  reason  as  sonic  that  arc  called  men ;  and  the  animal  and  vegetable  king- 
 doms are  so  nearly  joined,  that  if  yt)n  will  take  the  lowest  of  one,  and  the 
 highest  of  tlie  other,  there  will  scarce  be  perceived  any  great  dilTerence  be- 
 tween them  ;  and  so  on,  till  we  come  to  the  lowest  and  the  most  inorganical 
 parts  of  matter,  we  shall  find  every  where,  that  the  several  species  are  hnked 
 together,  and  differ  but  in  almost  insensible  degrees.  And  when  we  consider 
 the  infinite  power  and  wisdom  of  the  INIaker,  we  have  reason  to  think,  that  it 
 is  suitable  to  the  magnificent  harmony  of  tlie  universe,  and  the  great  design 
 and  infinite  goodness  of  the  Architect,  that  the  species  of  creatures  should 
 also,  by  gentle  degrees,  ascend  u]iward  from  us  toward  his  infinite  perfection, 
 as  we  see  they  gradually  descend  from  us  downward  :  which,  if  it  be  proba- 
 ble, we  have  reason  then  to  be  persuaded,  that  there  are  far  more  species  of 
 creatures  above  us  than  there  are  beneath  :  we  being,  in  degrees  of  perfec- 
 tion, mucli  more  remote  from  tlie  infinite  being  of  God,  than  we  are  from  the 
 lowest  state  of  being,  and  that  which  approaches  nearest  to  nothing.  And 
 yet  of  all  those  distinct  species,  for  the  reasons  above  said,  we  have  no  clear 
 distinct  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  13.  The  nominal  essence  that  of  the  species,  proved  from  water 
 and  ice. — But  to  return  to  the  species  of  corporeal  substances.  If  I  should 
 ask  any  one,  whether  ice  and  water  were  two  distinct  species  of  things,  I 
 doubt  not  but  I  should  be  answered  in  the  affirmative  :  and  it  cannot  be  denied, 
 but  he  that  says  they  are  two  distinct  species  is  in  the  right.  But  if  an  Eng- 
 lishman, bred  in  Jamaica,  who  perhaps  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  ice,  com- 
 ing into  England  in  the  winter,  find  the  water  he  put  in  his  basin  at  night,  in  a 
 great  part  frozen  in  the  morning,  and  not  knowing  any  pecidiar  name  it  had, 
 should  call  it  hardened  water  ;  I  ask,  whether  this  would  not  be  a  new  species 
 to  him  different  from  water  ?  And,  I  think,  it  would  be  answered  here,  it 
 would  not  be  to  him  a  new  species,  no  more  than  congealed  jelly,  when  it  is 
 cold,  is  a  distinct  species  from  the  same  jelly  fluid  and  warm  ;  or  than  liquid 
 gold  in  the  furhSce  is  a  distinct  species  from  hard  gold  in  the  hands  of  a  work- 
 man. And  if  this  be  so,  it  is  plain,  that  our  distinct  species,  are  nothing  but 
 distinct  complex  ideas,  with  distinct  names  annexed  to  them.  It  is  true, 
 every  substance  that  exists,  has  its  peculiar  constitution,  wliereon  depend 
 those  sensible  qualities  and  powers  we  observe  in  it ;  but  the  ranking  of  things 
 into  species,  which  is  nothing  but  sorting  tliem  under  several  titles,  is  done 
 by  us  according  to  the  ideas  we  have  of  them  :  which,  though  sufficient  to  dis- 
 tinguish them  by  names,  so  that  we  may  be  able  to  discourse  of  them,  when 
 we  have  them  not  present  before  us ;  yet  if  we  suppose  it  to  be  done  by  their 
 real  internal  constitutions,  and  that  things  existing  are  distinguished  by  na- 
 ture into  species,  by  real  essences,  according  as  we  distinguish  them  into  spe- 
 cies by  names,  we  shall  be  liable  to  great  mistakes. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Difficulties  against  a  certain  number  of  real  essences. — To 
 distinguish  substantial  beings  into  species,  according  to  the  usual  supposition, 
 that  there  are  certain  precise  essences  or  forms  of  things,  whereby  all  the  in- 
 dividuals existing  are  by  nature  distinguished  into  species,  these  things  are 
 necessary. 
 
 Sect.  15.  First,  To  be  assured  that  nature,  in  the  production  of  tilings, 
 always  designs  them  to  partake  of  certain  regulated  established  essences, 
 which  are  to  be  the  models  of  all  things  to  be  produced.  I'his,  in  that  crude 
 sense  it  is  usually  proposed,  would  need  some  better  explication,  before  it  can 
 be  wholly  assented  to. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Secondly,  It  would  be  necessary  to  know  whether  nature  always 
 attains  that  essence  it  designs  in  the  production  of  things.  The  irregular  and 
 monstrous  births,  that  in  divers  sorts  of  animals  have  been  observed,  will 
 always  give  us  reason  to  doubt  of  one  or  both  of  these. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Thirdly,  It  ought  to  be  determined,  whether  those  we  call  mon- 
 sters be  really  a  distinct  species,  according  to  the  scholastic  notion  of  the 
 word  species  ;  since  it  ia  certain  that  every  thing  tlmt  exists  has  its  particular 
 
Ch.  6.  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  295 
 
 constitution :  and  yet  we  find  that  some  of  these  monstrous  productions  have 
 few  or  none  of  those  qualities,  wiiich  are  supposed  to  result  from,  and  accom- 
 pany the  essence  of  that  species,  from  whence  they  derive  their  originals,  and 
 to  which,  by  their  descent,  they  seem  to  belong. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Our  nominal  essences  of  substances  not  perfect  collections  of 
 properties. — Fourtlily,  The  real  essences  of  those  things,  which  we  distin- 
 guish into  species,  and  as  so  distinguished  we  name,  ought  to  be  known;  i.  e. 
 we  ought  to  have  ideas  of  them.  But  since  we  are  ignorant  in  these  four 
 points,  the  supposed  real  essences  of  things  stand  us  not  in  stead  for  the  dis- 
 tinguishing substances  into  species. 
 
 Sect.  19.  Fifthly,  The  only  imaginable  help  in  this  case  would  be,  that 
 having  framed  perfect  complex  ideas  of  the  properties  of  things,  flowing  from 
 their  different  real  essences,  we  should  thereby  distinguish  them  into  species. 
 But  neither  can  this  be  done  ;  for  being  ignorant  of  the  real  essence  itself,  it 
 is  impossible  to  know  all  those  properties  that  flow  from  it,  and  are  so  an- 
 nexed to  it,  that  any  one  of  them  being  away,  we  may  certainly  conclude, 
 that  that  essence  is  not  there,  and  so  the  thing  is  not  of  that  species.  We 
 can  never  know  what  are  the  precise  number  of  properties  depending  on  the 
 real  essence  of  gold,  any  one  of  which  failing,  the  real  essence  of  gold,  and 
 consequently  gold,  would  not  be  there,  unless  we  knew  the  real  essence  of 
 gold  itself,  and  by  that  detennined  that  species.  By  the  word  gold  here,  I  must 
 be  understood  to  design  a  particular  piece  of  matter ;  v.  g.  the  last  guinea 
 that  was  coined.  For  if  it  should  stand  here  in  its  ordinary  signification  for 
 that  complex  idea,  which  I  or  any  one  else  calls  gold  ;  i,  e.  for  the  nominal 
 essence  of  gold,  it  would  be  jargon :  so  hard  is  it  to  show  the  various  mean- 
 ing and  imperfection  of  words,  when  we  have  nothing  else  but  words  to  do 
 
 Sect.  20.  By  all  which  it  is  clear,  that  our  distinguishing  substances  into 
 species  by  names,  is  not  at  all  founded  on  their  real  essences  ;  nor  can  we 
 pretend  to  range  and  determine  them  exactly  into  species,  according  to  the 
 internal  essential  differences.  v 
 
 Sect.  21.  But  such  a  collection  as  ourname  stands  for. — But  since,  as  has 
 been  remarked,  we  have  need  of  general  words,  though  we  know  not  the  real 
 essences  of  things ;  all  we  can  do  is  to  collect  such  a  number  of  simple  ideas, 
 as  by  examination  we  find  to  be  united  together  in  things  existing,  and  thpreof 
 to  make  one  complex  idea:  whicli,  though  it  be  not  the  real  essence  o;-  any 
 substance  that  exists,  is  yet  the  specific  essence  to  which  our  name  belongs, 
 and  is  convertible  vdth  it ;  by  which  we  may  at  least  try  the  truth  of  these 
 nominal  essences.  For  example,  there  be  that  say,  that  the  essence  of  body 
 is  extension  :  if  it  be  so,  we  can  never  mistake  in  putting  the  essence  of  any 
 thing  for  the  thing  itself.  Let  us  then  in  discourse  put  extension  for  body ; 
 and  when  we  would  say  that  body  moves,  let  us  say  that  extension  moves, 
 and  see  how  ill  it  will  look.  He  that  should  say  that  one  extension  by  im- 
 pulse moves  another  extension,  would,  by  the  bare  expression,  sufficiently 
 show  the  absurdity  of  such  a  notion.  The  essence  of  any  thing,  in  respect 
 of  us,  is  the  whole  complex  idea,  comprehended  and  marked  by  that  name  ; 
 and  in  substances,  besides  the  several  distinct  simple  ideas  that  make  them 
 up,  the  confused  one  of  substance,  or  of  an  unknown  support  and  cause  of 
 their  union,  is  always  a  part :  and  therefore  the  essence  of  body  is  not  bare 
 extension,  but  an  extended  solid  thing  ;  and  so  to  say  an  extended  solid  thing 
 moves,  or  impels  another,  is  all  one,  and  as  intelligible  as  to  say,  body  moves 
 or  impels.  Likewise  to  say,  that  a  rational  animal  is  capable  of  conversa- 
 tion, is  all  one  as  to  say  a  man.  But  no  one  will  say,  that  rationality  is  ca- 
 pable of  conversation,  because  it  makes  not  the  whole  essence  to  which  we 
 give  the  name  man. 
 
 Sect.  22.  Our  abstract  ideas  are  to  us  the  measures  of  species  ;  instance 
 in  that  of  man- — There  are  creatures  in  the  world  that  have  shapes  hke  ours, 
 but  are  hairy,  and  v/ant  language  and  reason.  There  are  naturals  among  us 
 that  have  perfectly  our  shape,  but  want  reason,  and  some  of  them  language 
 
296  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 loo.  There  are  creatures,  it,  is  said  ("  sit  fides  penes  auctorem,"  but  there 
 appears  no  contradiction  tliat  there  should  he  such)  tliat,  with  lanjTuagc  and 
 reason,  and  a  shape  in  other  thinnfs  agreeinpf  with  ours,  have  liairy  tails  ; 
 others  wliere  the  males  have  no  beards,  and  others  where  the  females  have. 
 If  it  be  asked  whether  these  be  all  men  or  no,  all  of  human  species  ?  it  is 
 plain,  the  (juestion  refers  only  to  the  nominal  essence  :  for  those  of  them  to 
 whom  the  definition  of  the  word  man,  or  the  complex  idea  signified  by  that 
 name,  agrees,  are  men,  and  the  other  not.  But  if  the  inquiry  be  made  con- 
 cerning the  supposed  real  essence,  and  whether  the  internal  constitution  and 
 frame  of  these  several  creatures  be  specifically  diflerent,  it  is  wholly  impossi- 
 ble for  us  to  answer,  no  part  of  that  going  into  our  specific  idea  ;  only  we 
 have  reason  to  think,  tiiat  where  the  faculties  or  outward  frame  so  much  dif- 
 fers, the  internal  constitution  is  not  exactly  the  same.  But  what  difference 
 in  the  internal  real  constitution  makes  a  specific  difference,  it  is  in  vain  to 
 inquire  ;  whilst  our  measures  of  species  be,  as  they  are,  only  our  abstract 
 ideas,  which  we  know  ;  and  not  that  internal  constitution,  which  makes  no 
 part  of  them.  Shall  the  difference  of  hair  only  on  the  skin,  bo  a  mark  of  a 
 different  internal  specific  constitution  between  a  changeling  and  a  drill,  when 
 they  agree  in  shape,  and  want  of  reason  and  speech  ?  And  shall  not  the  want 
 of  reason  and  speech  be  a  sign  to  us  of  different  real  constitutions  and  spe- 
 cies between  a  changeling  and  a  reasonable  man  1  And  so  of  the  rest,  if  we 
 pretend  that  the  distinction  of  species  or  sorts  is  fixedly  established  by  the 
 real  frame  and  secret  constitutions  of  things. 
 
 Sect.  2.S.  Species  not  distinguished  by  generation. — Nor  let  any  one  say, 
 that  the  power  of  propagation  in  animals  by  the  mixture  of  male  and  female, 
 and  in  plants  by  seeds,  keeps  the  supposed  real  species  distinct  and  entire. 
 For  granting  this  to  be  true,  it  would  help  us  in  the  distinction  of  the  species 
 of  things  no  fartlier  than  the  tribes  of  animals  and  vegetables.  What  must 
 we  do  for  the  rest  ]  But  in  those  too  it  is  not  sufficient :  for  if  history  lie 
 not,  women  have  conceived  by  drills  ;  and  what  real  species,  by  that  measure, 
 such  a  production  will  be  in  nature,  will  be  a  new  question  :  and  we  have 
 reason  to  think  this  is  not  impossible,  since  mules  and  jumarts,  the  one  from 
 the  mixture  of  an  ass  and  a  mare,  and  the  other  from  the  mixture  of  a  bull 
 and  a  mare,  are  so  frequent  in  the  world.  I  once  saw  a  creature  that  was 
 the  iaiue  of  a  cat  and  a  rat,  and  had  the  plain  marks  of  both  about  it ;  wherein 
 nature  ?.ppoarcd  to  have  followed  the  pattern  of  neither  sort  alone,  but  to  have 
 jumbled  ihem  both  together.  To  which,  he  that  shall  add  the  monstrous  pro- 
 ductions V.'s.t  are  so  frequently  to  be  met  with  in  nature,  will  find  it  hard  even 
 in  the  race  of  animals,  to  determine  by  the  pedigree  of  what  species  every 
 animal's  issue  is  :  and  be  at  a  loss  about  the  real  essence,  which  he  thinks  cer- 
 tainly conveyed  by  generation,  and  has  alone  a  riglit  to  the  specific  name. 
 But  fartlier,  if  the  sj)ecies  of  animals  and  plants  are  to  be  distinguished  only 
 by  propagation,  must  I  go  to  the  Indies  to  see  the  sire  and  dam  of  the  one, 
 and  the  plant  fiom  which  the  seed  was  gathered  that  produced  the  other,  to 
 know  whether  this  be  a  tiger  or  that  tea  ? 
 
 Sect.  24.  Not  bij  substantial  forms. — Upon  the  whole  matter,  it  is  evident, 
 that  it  is  their  own  collections  of  sensible  qualities,  that  men  make  the  essen- 
 ces of  their  several  sorts  of  substances  ;  and  that  their  real  internal  structures 
 are  not  considered  by  the  greatest  part  of  men,  in  the  sorting  of  them.  Much 
 less  were  any  substantial  forms  ever  thouglit  on  by  any,  biit  those  who  have 
 In  this  one  part  of  the  world  learned  the  language  of  the  schools :  and  yet 
 those  ignorant  men,  who  pretend  not  any  insight  into  the  real  essences,  nor 
 trouble  themselves  about  substantial  forms,  but  are  content  with  knowing 
 tilings  one  from  another  by  their  sensible  qualities,  are  oflen  better  acquainted 
 with  their  differences,  can  more  nicely  distinguish  them  from  their  uses,  and 
 better  know  what  they  may  expect  from  each,  than  those  learned  quick-sighted 
 .nen,  who  look  so  deep  into  them,  and  talk  so  confidently  of  something  more 
 hidden  and  essential. 
 
 Scot.  25.   The  spec'Jic  essences  are  made  hy  the  mind. — But  supposing 
 
Ch.  6.  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  297 
 
 that  the  real  essences  of  substances  were  discoverable  by  those  that  would 
 severely  apply  themselves  to  that  inquiry,  yet  we  could  not  reasonably  think, 
 that  the  rankizig  of  things  under  general  names  was  regulated  by  those  inter- 
 nal real  constitutions,  or  anything  else  but  their  obvious  appearances :  since  lan- 
 guages, in  all  countries,  have  been  established  long  before  sciences.  So  that  they 
 have  not  been  philosophers,  or  logicians,  or  such  who  have  troubled  them- 
 selves about  forms  and  essences,  tliat  have  made  the  general  names  that  are 
 in  use  among  the  several  nations  of  men :  but  those  more  or  less  comprehen- 
 sive terms  have  for  the  most  part,  in  all  languages,  received  their  birth  and 
 signification  trom  ignorant  and  illiterate  people,  who  sorted  and  denominated 
 things  by  those  sensible  qualities  they  found  in  them;  tliereby  to  signify  them, 
 when  absent,  to  others,  whether  they  had  an  occasion  to  mention  a  sort  or  a 
 particular  thing. 
 
 Sect.  26.  Tlierefore  very  various  and  uncertain. — Since  then  it  is  evident, 
 that  we  sort  and  name  substances  by  their  nominal,  and  not  by  tlieir  real  es- 
 sences ;  the  next  thing  to  be  considered  is,  how  and  by  whom  these  essences 
 come  to  be  made.  As  to  the  latter,  it  is  evident  they  are  made  by  tlie  mind, 
 and  not  by  nature :  for  were  they  nature's  workmanship,  they  could  not  be 
 so  various  and  different  in  several  men,  as  experience  tells  us  they  are.  For 
 if  we  will  examine  it,  we  shall  not  find  the  nominal  essence  of  any  one  spe- 
 cies of  substances  in  all  men  the  same:  no,  not  of  tliat,  which  of  all  others 
 we  are  the  most  intimately  acquainted  with.  It  could  not  possible  be,  that 
 the  abstract  idea  to  which  the  name  man  is  given,  should  be  different  in  se- 
 veral men,  if  it  were  of  nature's  making;  and  that  to  one  it  should  be  "ani- 
 mal rationale,"  and  to  another  "  animal  implume  bipes  latis  unguibus."  He 
 tliat  annexes  tiio  name  man  to  a  complex  idea  made  up  of  sense  and  sponta- 
 neous motion,  jonied  to  a  body  of  such  a  shape,  has  thereby  one  essence  of 
 the  species  man;  and  he  that,  upon  further  examination,  adds  rationality,  has 
 another  essence  of  the  species  he  calls  man:  by  which  means  the  same  indi- 
 vidual will  be  a  true  man  to  the  one,  which  is  not  so  to  the  other.  I  thin!:, 
 there  is  scarce  any  one  will  allow  this  upright  figure,  so  well  known,  to  be 
 the  essential  difference  of  the  species  man;  and  yet  how  for  men  determino 
 of  the  sorts  of  animals  rather  by  their  shape  than  descent,  is  very  visible : 
 since  it  has  been  more  than  once  debated,  whether  several  human  foetuses 
 should  be  preserved  or  received  to  baptism  or  no,  only  because  of  the  differ- 
 ence of  their  outward  configuration  from  the  ordinary  make  of  children,  witl;- 
 out  knowing  whether  they  were  not  as  capable  of  reason  as  infants  cast  in 
 another  mould  :  some  whereof,  thougli  of  an  approved  sliape,  are  never  capa- 
 ble of  as  much  appearance  of  reason  all  their  lives  as  is  to  be  found  in  an  a::e 
 or  an  elephant,  and  never  give  any  signs  of  being  actuated  by  a  rational  soul. 
 Whereby  it  is  evident,  that  the  outward  figure,  which  only  was  foand  want- 
 ing, and  not  the  faculty  of  reason,  which  nobody  could  know  would  be  v/ant- 
 ing  in  its  due  season,  was  made  essential  to  tlie  human  species.  The  learned 
 divine  or  lawyer  must,  on  such  occasions,  renounce  his  sacred  definition  of 
 "  animal  rationale,"  and  substitute  some  other  essence  of  the  human  apecies. 
 Monsieur  Menage  furnishes  us  with  an  example  worth  the  taking  notice  of  on 
 this  occasion  :  "  When  the  abbot  of  St  Martin  (says  he)  was  born,  he  had  so 
 little  of  the  figure  of  a  man,  that  it  bespake  him  rather  a  monster.  It  was 
 for  some  time  under  deliberation,  whether  he  should  be  baptised  or  no.  How- 
 ever, he  was  baptised  and  declared  a  man  provisionally  [till  time  should  shov/ 
 what  he  would  prove.]  Nature  had  moulded  him  so  untowardly,  that  he  was 
 called  all  his  life  tlie  Abbot  Malotru,  i.  e.  ill-shaped.  He  was  of  Caen." 
 Menngiana,  -ZI-.  This  child,  we  see,  was  very  near  being  excluded  out  of 
 the  sj">ecies  of  man,  barely  by  his  shape.  He  escaped  very  narrowly  as  lie 
 was,  and  it  is  certain  a  figure  a  little  more  oddly  turned  had  cast  him,  and  he 
 had  been  executed  as  a  thing  not  to  be  allowed  to  pass  for  a  man.  And  yet 
 there  can  be  no  reason  given,  v.'hy,  if  the  lineaments  of  his  face  had  been  a 
 little  altei-ed,  a  rational  soul  could  not  have  been  lodged  in  him  ;  why  a  visap-e 
 pomewhat  lon'"j-er,  or  a  nose  llutter,  or  a  wider  mouth,  could  not  have  eonsist- 
 2N 
 
898  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 ed,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  liis  ill  figure,  with  such  a  soul,  such  parts,  as  made 
 him,  disfigured  as  he  was,  capable  to  be  a  dignitary  in  the  church. 
 
 Sect.  27.  Wherein,  tlien,  would  I  gladly  know,  consist  the  precise  and 
 unmovable  boundaries  of  that  species?  It  is  plain,  if  we  examine,  there  is 
 no  such  thing  made  by  nature,  and  established  by  her  among  men.  The  real 
 essence  of  that,  or  any  other  sort  of  substances,  it  is  evident  Ave  know  not ; 
 and  therefore  are  so  undetermined  in  our  nominal  essences,  which  we  make 
 ourselves,  that  if  several  men  were  to  be  asked  concerning  some  oddly-shaped 
 tetus,  as  soon  as  born,  whether  it  were  a  man  or  no,  it  is  past  doubt,  one 
 should  meet  with  different  answers  :  which  coidd  not  liappen,  if  the  nominal 
 essences,  whereby  we  limit  and  distinguish  the  species  of  substances,  were 
 not  made  by  man  with  some  liberty,  but  were  e.xactly  copied  from  precise 
 boundaries  set  by  nature,  whereby  it  distinguished  all  substances  into  certain 
 species.  Who  would  undertake  to  resolve  what  species  that  monster  was  of, 
 which  is  mentioned  by  Licetus,  lib.  i.  c.  3,  with  a  man's  head  and  hog's  body  1 
 or  those  other,  which  to  the  bodies  of  men  had  the  heads  of  beasts,  as  dogs, 
 horses,  Sic.]  If  any  of  these  creatures  had  lived,  and  could  have  spoke,  it 
 Vv'ould  have  increased  the  difficulty.  Had  the  upper  part  to  the  middle  been 
 of  human  shape,  and  all  below  swine ;  had  it  been  murder  to  destroy  it  ]  Or 
 must  the  bishop  have  been  consulted,  whether  it  were  man  enough  to  be  ad- 
 mitted to  the  font  or  no  ?  as,  I  have  been  told,  it  happened  in  France  some 
 years  since,  in  somewhat  a  like  case.  So  uncertain  are  the  boundaries  of 
 species  of  animals  to  us,  who  have  no  other  measures  than  the  complex  ideas 
 of  our  own  collecting  :  and  so  far  are  we  from  certainly  knowing  what  a  man 
 is  ;  though,  perhaps,  it  will  be  judged  great  ignorance  to  make  any  doubt 
 about  it.  And  yet,  I  think,  I  may  say,  that  the  certain  boundaries  of  that 
 species  are  so  far  from  being  determined,  and  the  precise  number  of  simple 
 ideas,  which  make  the  nominal  essence,  so  far  from  being  settled  and  per- 
 fectly known,  tliat  verj'  material  doubts  may  still  arise  about  it.  And  I  ima- 
 gine none  of  the  definitions  of  the  word  man,  which  we  yet  have,  nor  de- 
 scriptions of  that  sort  of  animal,  are  so  perfect  and  exact,  as  to  satisfy  a  con- 
 siderate inquisitive  person ;  much  less  to  obtain  a  general  consent,  and  to 
 be  that  which  men  would  every  where  stick  by,  in  the  decision  of  cases,  and 
 determining  of  life  and  death,  baptism  or  no  baptism,  in  productions  that 
 might  happen. 
 
 Sect.  28.  But  not  so  arbitrary  as  mixed  modes. — But  though  these  nomi- 
 nal  essences  of  substances  are  made  by  the  mind,  they  are  not  yet  made  so 
 arbitrarily  as  those  of  mixed  modes.  To  tlie  making  of  any  nominal  essence, 
 it  is  necessary,  first,  that  the  ideas  whereof  it  consists  have  such  a  union  as  to 
 make  but  one  idea,  how  compounded  soever  ;  secondly,  that  the  particular  idea 
 so  united  be  exactly  the  same,  neither  more  nor  less.  For  if  two  abstract 
 complex  ideas  differ  either  in  number  or  sorts  of  their  component  parts,  they 
 make  two  different,  and  not  one  and  the  same  essence.  In  the  first  of  these, 
 the  mind,  in  making  its  complex  ideas  of  substances,  only  follows  nature,  and 
 puts  none  together  which  are  not  supposed  to  have  a  union  in  nature.  No- 
 body joins  the  voice  of  a  sheep  with  the  shape  of  a  horse,  nor  the  colour  of 
 lead  with  the  weight  and  fixedness  of  gold,  to  be  the  complex  ideas  of  any 
 real  substances  ;  unless  he  has  a  mind  to  fill  his  head  with  chimeras,  and  his 
 discourse  with  unintelligible  words.  ]Men  observing  certain  qualities  always 
 joined  and  existing  together,  therein  copied  nature ;  and  of  ideas  so  united, 
 made  their  complex  ones  of  substances.  For  though  men  may  make  what 
 complex  ideas  they  please,  and  give  what  names  to  them  they  will  ;  yet  if 
 they  will  be  understood,  when  they  speak  of  tilings  really  existing,  they  must 
 in  some  degree  conform  their  ideas  to  the  things  they  would  speak  of;  or  else 
 men's  language  will  be  like  that  of  Babel ;  and  every  man's  words  being  in- 
 telligible only  to  himself,  would  no  longer  serve  to  conversation,  and  the  or- 
 dinary affairs  of  life,  if  tlie  ideas  they  stand  for  be  not  sonii^  way  answering 
 the  common  appearances  and  agreement  of  substances,  as  they  roally  exist. 
 
 Sect.  2!).   Though  very  imperfect. — Secondly,  though  the  mind  of  man. 
 
Ch.  6.  NAAtES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  299 
 
 in  making'  its  complex  ideas  of  substances,  never  puts  any  together  that  do 
 not  really  or  are  not  supposed  to  coexist ;  and  so  it  truly  borrows  that  union 
 from  nature — yet  the  number  it  combines  depends  upon  the  various  care,  iu- 
 dustr}',  or  fancy  of  him  that  makes  it.  Men  generally  content  themselves 
 with  some  few  sensible  obnous  qualities  ;  and  ot^en,  if  not  always,  leave  out 
 others  as  material,  and  as  firmly  united,  as  those  that  they  take.  Of  sensi- 
 ble substances  there  are  two  sorts  ;  one  of  organized  bodies,  which  are  propa- 
 gated by  seed ;  and  in  these,  the  shape  is  that  which  to  us  is  the  leading' 
 quality  and  most  characteristical  part  that  determines  the  species :  and  there- 
 fore in  vegetables  and  animals,  an  extended  solid  substance  of  such  a  certain 
 figure  usually  serves  the  turn.  For  however  some  men  seem  to  prize  their 
 definition  of  "  animal  rationale,"  yet  should  there  a  creature  be  found,  that 
 had  language  and  reason,  but  partook  not  of  the  usual  shape  of  a  man,  I  be- 
 lieve it  would  hardly  pass  for  a  man,  how  much  soever  it  were  "  animal  ra- 
 tionale." And  if  Balaam's  ass  had,  all  his  Ufe,  discoursed  as  rationally  as  he 
 did  once  with  liis  master,  I  doubt  yet  whether  any  one  would  have  thought 
 him  worthy  the  name  man,  or  allowed  lum  to  be  of  the  same  species  with 
 himself.  As  in  vegetables  and  animals  it  is  the  shape,  so  in  most  other  bodies, 
 not  propagated  by  seed,  it  is  the  colour  we  most  fix  on,  and  are  most  led  by. 
 Thus,  where  we  find  the  colour  of  gold,  we  are  apt  to  imagine  all  the  other 
 qualities,  comprehended  in  our  complex  idea,  to  be  there  also  :  and  we  com- 
 monly take  these  two  obvious  qualities,  viz.  shape  and  colour,  for  so  presump- 
 tive ideas  of  several  species,  that  in  a  good  picture  we  readily  say  this  is  a 
 Hon  and  that  a  rose  ;  this  is  a  gold,  and  that  a  silver  goblet,  only  by  the  dif- 
 ferent figures  and  colours  represented  to  the  eye  by  the  pencil. 
 
 Sect.  30.  Which  yet  serve  for  common  converse. — But  though  this  serves 
 well  enough  for  gross  and  confused  conceptions,  and  inaccurate  ways  of  talk- 
 ing and  thinking  ;  yet  men  are  far  enough  from  ha\ing  agreed  on  the  precise 
 number  of  simple  ideas,  or  qualities,  belonging  to  any  sort  of  things,  signified 
 by  its  name.  Nor  is  it  a  wonder,  since  it  requires  much  time,  pains,  and 
 skill,  strict  inquiry,  and  long  examination,  to  find  out  what  and  how  niany 
 those  simple  ideas  are,  which  are  constantly  and  inseparably  united  in  nature, 
 and  are  always  to  be  found  together  in  the  same  subject.  Most  men,  wanting 
 either  time,  inclination,  or  industry  enough  for  this,  even  to  some  tolerable 
 degree,  content  themselves  with  some  few  obvious  and  outward  appearances 
 of  things,  thereby  readily  to  distinguish  and  sort  them  for  the  common  atfairs 
 of  life  ;  and  so,  without  farther  examination,  give  them  names,  or  take  up  the 
 names  already  in  use ;  which,  though  in  common  conversation  they  pass  well 
 enough  for  the  signs  of  some  few  ob\-ious  qualities  coexisting,  are  yet  far 
 enough  from  comprehending,  in  a  settled  signification,  a  precise  number  of 
 simple  ideas  ;  much  less  all  those  wliich  are  united  in  nature.  He  that  shall 
 consider,  afler  so  much  stir  about  genus  and  species,  and  such  a  deal  of  talk 
 of  specific  difierences,  how  few  words  we  have  yet  settled  definitions  of,  may 
 with  reason  imagine  that  those  forms,  wliich  there  hath  been  so  much  noise 
 made  about,  are  only  chimeras,  which  give  us  no  light  into  the  specific  natures 
 of  things.  And  he  that  shall  consider  how  far  the  names  of  substances  are 
 from  having  significations,  wherein  aU  who  use  them  do  agree,  will  have  rea- 
 son to  conclude,  that  though  the  nominal  essences  of  substances  are  all  sup- 
 posed to  be  copied  from  nature,  yet  they  are  all,  or  most  of  them  very  im- 
 perfect; since  the  composition  of  those  complex  ideas  are,  in  several  men, 
 very  different;  and  therefore  that  these  boundaries  of  species  are  as  men,  and 
 not  as  nature  makes  them,  if  at  least  there  are  in  nature  any  such  prefixed 
 bounds.  It  is  true  that  many  particular  substances  are  so  made  by  nature, 
 that  they  have  agreement  and  likeness  one  with  another,  and  so  afford  a  foun- 
 dation of  being  ranked  into  sorts.  But  the  sorting  of  things  by  us,  or  the 
 making  of  determinate  species,  being  in  order  to  naming  and  comprehending 
 them  under  general  terms ;  I  cannot  see  how  it  can  be  properly  said,  that  na- 
 ture sets  the  boundaries  of  the  species  of  things:  or  if  it  be  sc,  our  bounda- 
 ries of  species  are  not  exactly  conformable  to  tho.se  in  nature.     For  we  hav- 
 
300  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 ing  nend  of  general  names  for  present  use,  stay  not  for  a  perfect  discovery  of 
 all  tliose  qualities  which  would  best  show  us  Ihoir  most  material  differences 
 and  agreements  ;  but  we  ourselves  divide  them,  by  certain  obvious  appear- 
 ances, into  species,  that  we  may  the  easier  under  general  names  communi- 
 cate our  thoughts  about  them.  For  liaving  no  otlier  knowledge  of  any  sub- 
 stance, but  of  the  simple  ideas  that  are  united  in  it ;  and  observing  several 
 particular  things  to  agree  with  others  in  several  of  those  simple  ideas  ;  we 
 make  that  collection  our  specific  idea,  and  give  it  a  general  name  ;  that  in  re- 
 cording our  own  thouglits,  and  in  our  discourse  with  others,  we  may  in  one 
 short  word  design  all  the  individuals  that  agree  in  that  complex  idea,  without 
 enumerating  the  simple  ideas  that  make  it  up  ;  and  so  not  waste  our  time  and 
 breath  in  tedious  descriptions;  which  we  see  they  are  fain  to  do,  who  would 
 discourse  of  any  new  sort  of  things  they  have  not  yet  a  name  for. 
 
 Sect.  31.  Essences  of  species  under  the  same  name  very  different. — But 
 however  these  species  of  substances  pass  well  enough  in  ordinary  conversa- 
 tion, it  is  plain  that  this  complex  idea,  wherein  they  observe  several  indi- 
 viduals to  agree,  is  by  different  men  made  very  differently ;  by  some  more, 
 and  others  less  accurately.  In  some,  this  complex  idea  contains  a  greater, 
 and  in  others  a  smaller  number  of  qualities ;  and  so  is  apparently  such  as  the 
 mind  makes  it.  The  yellow  shining  colour  makes  gold  to  children ;  others 
 add  weight,  malleablencss,  and  fusibility ;  and  others  yet  other  qualities, 
 v/hich  they  find  joined  with  that  yeilow  colour,  as  constantly  as  its  weight 
 and  fusibility  ;  for  in  all  these  and  the  like  qualities,  one  has  as  good  a  right 
 to  be  put  into  the  complex  idea  of  that  substance  wherein  they  are  all  joined, 
 as  another.  And  therefore  different  men  leaving  out  or  putting  in  several 
 simple  ideas,  which  others  do  not,  according  to  their  various  examination, 
 skill,  or  observation  of  that  subject,  have  different  essences  of  gold ;  which 
 must  therefore  be  of  their  own,  and  not  of  nature's  making. 
 
 Sect.  32.  The  more  general  our  ideas  are,  the  more  incomplete  and  par- 
 tial they  are.-^—\?  the  number  of  simple  ideas,  tliat  made  the  nominal  essence 
 of  the  lowest  species,  or  first  sorting  of  individuals,  depends  on  the  mind  of 
 man  variously  collecting  them,  it  is  much  more  evident  that  they  do  so  in  the 
 more  comprehensive  classes,  which  by  the  masters  of  logic  are  called  genera. 
 These  are  complex  ideas  designedly  imperfect:  and  it  is  visible  at  first  sight, 
 that  several  of  those  qualities  that  are  to  be  found  in  the  things  themselves 
 are  purposely  left  out  of  generical  ideas.  For  as  the  mind,  to  make  general 
 ideas  comprehending  several  particulars,  leaves  out  those  of  time,  and  place, 
 and  such  other,  that  make  them  incommunicable  to  more  than  one  individual ; 
 so  to  make  otlier  yet  more  general  ideas,  that  may  comprehend  different  sorts, 
 it  leaves  out  those  qualities  that  distinguish  them,  and  puts  into  its  new  col- 
 lection only  such  ideas  as  are  common  to  several  soils.  The  same  conveni- 
 ence  that  made  men  express  several  parcels  of  yellow  matter  coming  from 
 Guinea  and  Peru  under  one  name,  sets  them  also  upon  making  of  one  name 
 that  may  comprehend  both  gold  and  silver,  and  some  other  bodies  of  different 
 sorts.  This  is  done  by  leaving  out  tliose  qualities  which  are  peculiar  to  each 
 sort,  and  retaining  a  complex  idea  made  up  of  those  that  are  common  to  them 
 all;  to  which  the  name  metal  being  annexed,  there  is  a  genus  constituted;  the 
 essence  whereof,  being  that  abciract  idea  containing  only  malleableness  and 
 fusibility,  with  certain  degrees  of  weight  and  fixedness,  wherein  some  bodies 
 of  several  kinds  agree,  leaves  out  the  colour,  and  other  qualities  peculiar  to 
 gold  and  silver,  and  the  other  sorts  comprehended  under  the  name  metal. 
 Whereby  it  is  plain,  that  men  follow  not  exactly  the  patterns  set  them  by  na- 
 ture, when  they  make  their  general  ideas  of  substances;  since  there  is  nobody 
 to  be  foundj  which  has  barely  malleableness  and  fusibility  in  it,  without  other 
 qualities  as  inseparable  as  those.  But  men  in  making  their  general  ideas, 
 seeing  more  the  convenience  of  language  and  quick  despatch,  by  short  and 
 comprcliensive  signs,  than  the  true  and  precise  nature  of  things  as  they  exist, 
 have,  in  the  framing  their  abstract  ideas,  chiefly  pursued  tliat  end  which  was 
 to  be  furnished  with  store  of  general  and  variously  comprehenf-Mve  names.    So 
 
Cli.  6.  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  301 
 
 that  in  this  whole  business  of  genera  and  species,  the  genus,  or  more  com- 
 pi'ehensive,  is  but  a  partial  conception  of  wliat  is  in  the  species,  and  the 
 species  but  a  partial  idea  of  what  is  to  be  found  in  each  individual.  If  there- 
 fore any  one  will  think  that  a  man,  and  a  horse,  and  an  animal,  and  a  plant, 
 &c.  are  distinguished  by  real  essences  made  by  nature,  he  must  think  nature 
 to  be  very  liberal  of  these  real  essences,  making  one  for  body,  another  for  an 
 animal,  and  another  for  a  horse ;  and  all  these  essences  liberally  bestowed 
 upon  Bucephalus.  But  if  we  would  rightly  consider  what  is  done,  in  all  these 
 genera  and  species,  or  sorts,  we  should  find  that  there  is  no  new  thing  made,  but 
 only  more  or  less  comprehensive  signs,  whereby  we  may  be  enabled  to  ex- 
 press, in  a  few  syllables,  great  numbers  of  particular  things,  as  they  agree  in 
 more  or  less  general  conceptions,  which  we  have  framed  to  that  purpose.  In 
 all  which  we  may  observe,  that  the  more  general  term  is  always  the  name  of 
 a  less  complex  idea  ;  and  that  each  genus  is  but  a  partial  conception  of  the 
 species  comprehended  under  it.  So  that  if  these  abstract  general  ideas  be 
 thought  to  be  complete,  it  can  only  be  in  respect  of  a  certain  established  re- 
 lation between  them  and  certain  names,  which  are  made  use  of  to  signify 
 them  ;  and  not  in  respect  of  any  thing  existing,  as  made  by  nature. 
 
 Sect.  33.  This  all  accommodated  to  the  end  of  speech. — This  is  adjusted 
 to  the  true  end  of  speech,  which  is  to  be  the  easiest  and  shortest  way  of  com- 
 nnmicating  our  notions.  For  thus  he,  that  would  discourse  of  things  as  they 
 agreed  in  the  complex  ideas  of  extension  and  solidity,  needed  but  use  the  word 
 body  to  denote  all  such.  He  that  to  these  would  join  others,  signified  by  the  words 
 life,  sense,  and  spontaneous  motion,  needed  but  use  the  word  animal,  to  signify 
 all  which  partook  of  those  ideas :  and  he  that  had  made  a  complex  idea  of  a 
 body,  with  life,  sense,  and  motion,  with  the  faculty  of  reasoning,  and  a  cer- 
 tain shape  joined  to  it,  needed  but  use  the  short  monosyllable  man  to  express 
 all  particulars  that  correspond  to  that  complex  idea.  This  is  the  proper  busi- 
 ness of  genus  and  species ;  and  this  men  do,  without  any  consideration  of 
 real  essences,  or  substantial  forms,  which  come  not  within  the  reach  of  our 
 Ivnowledge,  when  we  think  of  those  things ;  nor  within  the  signification  of  our 
 words,  when  we  discourse  with  others. 
 
 Sect.  34.  Instance  in  casuaries. — Were  I  to  talk  with  any  one  of  a  sort 
 of  birds  I  lately  saw  in  St  James's  Park,  about  three  or  four  feet  high,  with 
 a  covering  of  something  between  feathers  and  hair,  of  a  dark  brown  colour, 
 without  wings,  but  in  the  place  thereof  two  or  three  little  branches  coming 
 down  like  sprigs  of  Spanish  broom,  long  great  legs,  with  feet  only  of  three 
 claws,  and  without  a  tail ;  I  must  make  this  description  of  it,  and  so  may  make 
 others  understand  me :  but  when  I  am  told  that  the  name  of  it  is  cassowary, 
 I  may  then  use  that  word  to  stand  in  discourse  for  all  my  complex  idea  men- 
 tioned in  that  description ;  though  by  that  word,  which  is  now  become  a  spe- 
 cific name,  I  know  no  more  of  the  real  essence  or  constitution  of  that  sort 
 of  animals  than  I  did  before :  and  knew  probably  as  much  of  the  nature  of 
 that  species  of  birds,  before  I  learned  the  name,  as  many  Englishmen  do  of 
 swans,  or  herons,  which  are  specific  names,  very  well  known,  of  sorts  of  birds 
 common  ni  England. 
 
 Sect.  35.  Men  determine  the  sorts, — From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  evi- 
 dent that  men  make  sorts  of  things.  For  it  being  different  essences  alone 
 tliat  make  different  species,  it  is  plain  that  they  who  make  those  abstract 
 ideas,  which  are  the  nominal  essences,  do  tliereby  make  the  species,  or  sort» 
 Siiould  there  be  a  body  found,  having  all  the  other  qualities  of  gold,  except 
 malleableness,  it  would  no  doubt  be  made  a  question  whether  it  were  gold  or 
 no,  i.  e.  whether  it  were  of  that  species.  This  could  be  determined  only  by 
 that  abstract  idea  to  which  every  one  annexed  the  name  gold  ;  so  that  it  would 
 be  true  gold  to  him,  and  belong  to  that  species,  who  included  not  malleable- 
 ness in  his  nominal  essence,  signified  by  the  sound  gold  ;  and  on  the  other 
 side  it  would  not  be  true  gold,  or  of  that  species,  to  him  who  included  mal- 
 leableness in  his  specific  idea.  And  who,  I  pray,  is  it  that  makes  these  di- 
 verse species  even  under  one  and  the  same  name,  but  men  that  make  two 
 
Wa  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 different  abstract  ideas,  consisting  not  exactly  of  the  same  collection  of 
 qualities  !  Nor  is  it  a  mere  supposition  to  imag-iiie  that  a  body  may  exist, 
 wherein  the  other  obvious  qualities  of  gold  may  be  without  malleableness  ; 
 since  it  is  certain,  that  gold  itself  will  be  sometimes  so  eager  (as  artists  call 
 it)  that  it  will  as  little  endure  the  hannner  as  glass  itself.  What  we  have 
 said  of  the  putting  in  or  leaving  malleableness  out  of  the  complex  idea  the 
 name  gold  is  by  any  one  annexed  to,  may  be  said  of  its  peculiar  weight,  fixed- 
 ness, and  several  other  the  like  qualities:  for  whatsoever  is  letl  out,  or  put  in, 
 it  is  still  the  complex  idea,  to  which  that  name  is  annexed,  that  makes  the 
 species ;  and  as  any  particular  parcel  of  matter  answers  that  idea,  so  the  name 
 of  the  sort  belongs  truly  to  it ;  and  it  is  of  that  species.  And  thus  any  thing 
 is  true  gold,  perfect  metal.  All  which  determination  of  the  species,  it  is 
 plain,  depends  on  the  understanding  of  man,  making  this  or  that  complex  idea. 
 
 Sect.  36.  Nature  makes  the  similitude. — This  then,  in  short,  is  the  case: 
 nature  makes  many  particular  things  which  do  agree  one  with  another,  in 
 many  sensible  qualities,  and  probably  too  in  their  internal  frame  and  constitu- 
 tion :  but  it  is  not  this  real  essence  that  distinguishes  them  into  species ;  it  is 
 men,  who,  taking  occasion  from  the  qualities  they  find  united  in  them,  and 
 vv' herein  they  observe  often  several  individuals  to  agree,  range  them  into  sorts, 
 in  order  to  their  naming,  for  the  convenience  of  comprehensive  signs  ;  under 
 which  individuals,  according  to  their  conformity  to  this  or  that  abstract  idea, 
 come  to  be  ranked  as  under  ensigns  ;  so  that  this  is  of  the  blue,  that  of  the  red 
 regiment ;  this  a  man,  that  a  drill :  and  in  this,  I  think,  consists  the  whole 
 business  of  genus  and  species. 
 
 Sect.  37.  I  do  not  deny  but  nature,  in  the  constant  production  of  particu- 
 lar beings,  makes  them  not  always  new  and  various,  but  very  much  alike  and 
 of  kin  one  to  another:  but  I  think  it  nevertheless  true,  that  the  boundaries 
 of  the  species,  whereby  men  sort  them,  are  made  by  men;  since  the  essences 
 of  the  species,  distinguished  by  different  names,  are,  as  has  been  proved,  of 
 man's  making,  and  seldom  adequate  to  the  internal  nature  of  the  things  they 
 are  taken  from.  So  that  we  may  tndy  say,  such  a  manner  of  sorting  of 
 things  is  the  workmanship  of  men. 
 
 Sect.  38.  Each  abstract  idea  is  an  essence. — One  thing  I  doubt  not  but  vvili 
 seem  very  strange  in  this  doctrine ;  which  is,  that  from  what  has  been  said  it 
 will  follow,  that  each  abstract  idea,  with  a  name  to  it,  makes  a  distinct  species. 
 But  who  can  help  it,  if  truth  will  have  it  so  ?  For  so  it  must  remain  till  some- 
 body can  show  us  the  species  of  things  limited  and  distinguished  by  some- 
 thing else,  and  let  us  see,  that  general  terms  signify  not  our  abstract  ideas, 
 but  something  different  from  them.  I  would  fain  know  why  a  shock  and  a 
 hound  are  not  as  distinct  species  as  a  spaniel  and  an  elephant.  We  have  no 
 otlier  idea  of  the  different  essence  of  an  elephant  and  a  spaniel,  than  we 
 have  of  the  different  essence  of  a  shock  and  a  hound ;  all  the  essential  difference, 
 whereby  we  know  and  distinguish  them  one  from  another,  consisting  only  in 
 the  different  collection  of  simple  ideas,  to  which  we  have  given  those  differ- 
 ent names. 
 
 Sect.  39.  Genera  and  species  are  in  order  to  naming. — How  much  the 
 making  of  species  and  genera  is  in  order  to  general  names,  and  how  much 
 general  names  are  necessary,  if  not  to  the  being,  yet  at  least  to  the  complet- 
 ing of  a  species,  and  making  it  pass  for  such,  will  appear,  besides  what  has 
 been  said  above  concerning  ice  and  water,  in  a  very  familiar  example.  A 
 silent  and  a  striking  watch  are  but  one  species  to  those  who  have  but  one 
 name  for  them :  but  he  that  has  the  name  watch  for  one,  and  clock  for  the 
 other,  and  distinct  complex  ideas  to  which  those  names  belong,  to  him  they 
 are  different  species.  It  will  be  said,  perhaps,  that  the  inward  contrivance 
 and  constitution  is  different  between  these  two,  which  the  watchmaker  has  a 
 clear  idea  of.  And  yet  it  is  plain,  they  are  but  one  species  to  him,  when  he 
 has  but  one  name  for  them.  For  what  is  sufficient  in  the  inward  contrivance 
 to  make  a  new  species'*  There  are  some  watclies  that  are  made  with  four 
 wheels,  others  with  five:  is  this  a  specific  difference  to  the  workman?    Some 
 
Cli.  G.  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  303 
 
 have  strings  and  physics,  and  others  none ;  some  liave  the  balnnce  loose,  and 
 olliers  regulated  by  a  spiral  spring,  and  others  by  hog's  bristles  :  are  any  or 
 all  of  these  enough  to  make  a  specific  difference  to  the  workman,  that  knows 
 each  of  these,  and  several  other  different  contrivances,  in  the  internal  con- 
 stitutions of  watches]  It  is  certain  each  of  these  hath  a  real  difference  from 
 the  rest ;  but  whether  it  be  an  essential,  a  specific  difference  or  no,  relates 
 only  to  the  complex  idea  to  which  the  name  loatch  is  given  :  as  long  as  they 
 all  agree  in  the  idea  which  that  name  stands  for,  and  that  name  does  not  as  a 
 generical  name  comprehend  different  species  under  it,  they  ai"e  not  essentially 
 nor  specifically  different.  But  if  any  one  will  make  minuter  divisions  from 
 differences  that  he  knows  in  the  internal  frame  of  watches,  and  to  such  pre- 
 cise complex  ideas,  give  names  that  shall  prevaU,  they  will  then  be  new  species 
 to  them,  who  have  those  ideas  with  names  to  them  ;  and  can  by  those  differ- 
 ences distinguish  watches  into  these  several  sorts,  and  then  watch  will  be 
 a  generical  name.  But  yet  they  would  be  no  distinct  species  to  men  ignorant 
 of  clock-work  and  the  inward  contrivances  of  watches,  who  had  no  other 
 idea  but  the  outward  shape  and  bulk,  with  the  marking  of  the  hours  by  the 
 hand.  For  to  them  all  those  other  names  would  be  but  synonymous  terms 
 for  the  same  idea,  and  signify  no  more,  nor  no  other  thing  but  a  loatch.  Just 
 thus,  I  think,  it  is  in  natural  things.  Nobody  will  doubt  that  the  wheels  or 
 springs  (if  I  may  so  say)  within,  are  different  in  a  rational  man  and  a  change- 
 ling, no  more  than  that  there  is  a  difference  in  the  frame  between  a  drill  and 
 a  changeling.  But  whether  one  or  both  these  differences  be  essential  or 
 specifical,  is  only  to  be  known  to  us,  by  tlieir  agreement  or  disagreement  with 
 the  complex  idea  that  the  name  man  stands  for :  for  by  that  alone  can  it  be 
 determined,  whether  one,  or  both,  or  neither  of  those  be  a  man  or  no. 
 
 Sect.  40.  Species  of  artificial  things  less  confused  than  natural. — From 
 what  has  been  before  said,  we  may  see  the  reason  why  in  the  species  of  arti- 
 licial  things,  there  is  generally  less  confusion  and  uncertainty,  than  in  natu- 
 ral. Because  an  artificial  thing  being  a  production  of  man,  which  the  artifi- 
 cer designed,  and  therefore  well  knows  the  idea  of,  the  name  of  it  is  supposed 
 to  stand  for  no  other  idea,  nor  to  import  any  other  essence  than  what  is  cer- 
 tainly to  be  known,  and  easy  enough  to  be  apprehended.  For  the  idea  or 
 essence  of  the  several  sorts  of  artificial  things,  consisting,  for  the  most  part, 
 in  nothing  but  the  determinate  figure  of  sensible  parts  ;  and  sometimes  motion 
 depending  thereon,  whicli  the  artificer  fashions  in  matter,  such  as  he  finds  for 
 J'.is  turn ;  it  is  not  beyond  the  reach  of  our  faculties  to  attain  a  certain  idea 
 thereof,  and  to  settle  the  signification  of  the  names,  whereby  the  species  of 
 artificial  things  are  distinguished  with  less  doubt,  obscurity,  and  equivocation, 
 than  we  can  in  things  natural,  whose  differences  and  operations  depend  upon 
 contrivances  beyond  the  reach  of  our  discoveries. 
 
 Sect.  41.  Artificial  things  of  distinct  species. — I  must  be  excused  here 
 if  I  think  artificial  things  are  of  distinct  species,  as  well  as  natural :  since  I 
 find  they  are  as  plainly  and  orderly  ranked  into  sorts,  by  different  abstract 
 ideas,  with  general  names  annexed  to  them,  as  distinct  one  from  another  as 
 those  of  natural  substances.  For  why  should  we  think  a  watch  and  pistol 
 as  distinct  species  one  from  another,  as  a  horse  and  a  dog,  they  being  ex- 
 pressed in  our  minds  by  distinct  ideas,  and  to  others  by  distinct  appellations'! 
 
 Sect.  42.  Substances  alone  have  proper  names. — This  is  farther  to  be  ob- 
 served concerning-  substances,  that  they  alone  of  all  our  several  sorts  of  ideas 
 have  particular  or  proper  names,  whereby  the  only  particular  thing  is  signi- 
 fied. Because  in  simple  ideas,  modes,  and  relations,  it  seldom  happens  that 
 men  have  occasion  to  mention  often  this  or  that  particular  when  it  is  ab- 
 sent. Besides,  the  greatest  part  of  mixed  modes,  being  actions  which  perish 
 in  their  birth,  are  not  capable  of  a  lasting  duration  as  substances,  which  are 
 the  actors :  and  wherein  the  simple  ideas  that  make  up  the  complex  ideas  de- 
 signed by  the  name,  have  a  lasting  union. 
 
 Sect.  43.  Difficulty  to  treat  of  words. — I  must  beg  pardon  of  my  reader, 
 for  having  dv/elt  so  long  upon  this  subject,  and  perhaps  with  some  obscurity. 
 
304  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 But  I  desire  it  may  be  considered  how  difficult  it  is  to  lead  another  by  words 
 into  the  thouglits  of  tilings  stripped  of  those  specific  differences  we  give  them : 
 which  tilings,  if  I  name  not,  I  say  nothing ;  and  if  I  do  name  them,  I  thereby 
 rank  them  into  some  sort  or  other,  and  suggest  to  tlie  mind  the  usual  abstract 
 idea  of  tliat  sj)ecies,  and  so  cross  my  purpose.  For  to  talk  of  a  man,  and  to 
 lay  by,  at  the  same  time,  the  Ordinary  signification  of  the  name  man,  which 
 is  our  complex  idea  usually  annexed  to  it;  and  bid  the  reader  consider  man  as 
 he  is  in  liiuisclf,  and  as  he  is  really  distinguished  from  others  in  his  internal 
 constitution,  or  real  essence,  that  is,  by  something,  he  knows  not  what,  looks 
 like  trifling:  and  yet  thus  one  must  do  who  woidd  speak  of  the  supposed  real 
 essences  and  species  of  things,  as  thought  to  be  made  by  nature,  if  it  be  but 
 only  to  make  it  understood,  that  there  is  no  such  thing  signified  by  the  gene- 
 ral names,  which  substances  are  called  by,  but  because  it  is  difficult  by  known 
 familiar  names  to  do  this,  give  me  leave  to  endeavour  by  an  example,  to  make 
 tJie  different  consideration  the  mind  has  of  specific  names  and  ideas  a  little 
 more  clear;  and  to  show  how  the  complex  ideas  of  modes  are  referred  some- 
 times to  archetypes  in  tlie  minds  of  other  intelligent  beings ;  or,  which  is  the 
 same,  to  the  signification  annexed  by  others  to  their  received  names  ;  and 
 sometimes  to  no  archetypes  at  all.  Give  me  leave  also  to  show  how  the 
 mind  always  refers  its  ideas  of  substances,  either  to  the  substances  them- 
 selves, or  to  the  signification  of  their  names  as  to  the  archet3'pes ;  and  also 
 to  make  plain  the  nature  of  species,  or  sorting  of  things,  as  apprehended, 
 and  made  use  of  by  us;  and  of  the  essences  belonging  to  those  species,  which 
 is  perhaps  of  more  moment,  to  discover  the  extent  and  certainty  of  our  know- 
 ledge than  we  at  first  imagine. 
 
 Sect.  44.  Instances  of  mixed  modes  in  kinneah  and  niouph. — Let  us  sup- 
 pose Adam  in  the  state  of  a  grown  man,  with  a  good  understanding,  but  in  a 
 strange  country,  with  all  things  new  and  unknown  about  him;  and  no  other 
 faculties  to  attain  tlie  knowledge  of  them,  but  what  one  of  this  age  has  now. 
 He  observes  Lamech  more  melancholy  than  usual,  and  imagines  it  to  be  from 
 a  suspicion  he  has  of  his  wife  Adah  (whom  he  most  ardently  loved)  that  she 
 had  too  much  kindness  for  another  man.  Adam  discourses  these  his  thoughts 
 to  Eve,  and  desires  her  to  take  care  that  Adah  commit  not  folly  :  and  in  these 
 discourses  with  Eve  he  makes  use  of  these  two  new  words,  kinneah  and 
 niouph.  In  time  Adam's  mistake  appears,  for  he  finds  Lamech's  trouble  pro- 
 ceeded from  having  killed  a  man ;  but  yet  the  two  names,  kinneah  and  niouph ; 
 tJie  one  standing  for  suspicion,  in  a  husband,  of  his  wife's  disloyalty  to  him, 
 and  the  other  for  the  act  of  committing  disloyalty,  lost  not  their  distinct  sig- 
 nifications. It  is  plain  then  that  here  were  two  distinct  complex  ideas  of 
 mixed  modes,  with  names  to  them,  tv/o  distinct  species  of  action  essentially 
 different ;  I  ask  wherein  consisted  the  essences  of  these  two  distinct  species 
 of  action'!  And  it  is  plain  it  consisted  in  a  precise  combination  of  simple 
 ideas,  different  in  one  from  the  other.  I  ask,  whether  the  complex  idea  in 
 Adam's  mind,  which  he  called  kinneah,  were  adequate  or  no  1  And  it  is  plain 
 it  was,  for  it  being  a  combination  of  simple  ideas,  which  he,  without  any  re- 
 gard to  any  archetype,  without  respect  to  any  thing  as  a  pattern,  voluntarily 
 put  together,  abstracted,  and  gave  the  name  kinneah  to,  to  express  in  short 
 to  others,  by  that  one  sound,  all  the  simple  ideas  contained  and  united  in  that 
 complex  one  ;  it  must  necessarily  follow,  that  it  was  an  adequate  idea.  His 
 own  choice  having  made  that  combination,  it  had  all  in  it  he  intended  it  should, 
 and  so  could  not  but  be  perfect,  could  not  but  be  adequate,  it  being  referred  to  no 
 other  archetype,  which  it  was  supposed  to  represent. 
 
 Sect.  4.5.  These  words,  kinneah  and  niouph,  by  degrees  grew  into  com- 
 mon use  ;  and  then  the  case  was  somewhat  altered.  Adam's  children  had  the 
 same  faculties,  and  thereby  the  same  power  tliat  he  had  to  make  what  com- 
 plex ideas  of  mixed  modes  they  pleased  in  their  own  minds  :  to  abstract  them, 
 ajul  make  what  sounds  they  pleased  the  signs  of  them  :  but  the  use  of  names 
 being  to  make  our  ideas  within  us  known  to  others,  that  cannot  be  done,  but 
 when  the  same  sisrn  stands  for  the  same  idea  in  two  who  would  communicate 
 
Ch.  6.  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  305 
 
 Liieir  thoughts,  and  discourse  together.  Those  therefore  of  Adam's  children 
 that  found  these  two  words,  kinneah  and  niouph,  in  familiar  use,  could  not 
 take  tliem  for  insignificant  sounds  ;  but  must  needs  conclude,  they  stood  for 
 something,  for  certain  ideas,  abstract  ideas,  they  being  general  names,  which 
 abstract  ideas  were  the  essences  of  the  species  distinguished  by  those  names. 
 If,  therefore,  they  would  use  these  words,  as  names  of  species  already  es- 
 tablished and  agreed  on,  they  were  obliged  to  conform  the  ideas,  in  their 
 minds,  signified  b}^  these  names,  to  the  ideas  that  they  stood  for  in  other  men's 
 minds,  as  to  their  patterns  and  archetypes  ;  and  then  indeed  their  ideas  of 
 these  complex  modes  were  liable  to  be  inadequate,  as  being  very  apt  (especi- 
 ally those  that  consisted  of  combinations  of  many  simple  ideas)  not  to  be  ex- 
 actly conformable  to  the  ideas  in  other  men's  minds,  using  the  same  names ; 
 though  for  this  there  be  usually  a  remedy  at  hand,  which  is  to  ask  the  meaning 
 of  any  word  we  understand  not,  of  him  that  uses  it:  it  being  as  impossible  to 
 know  certainly  what  the  words  jealousy  and  adultery  (which  I  think  answer 
 jiiOp  and  "]).<:)  stand  for  in  another  man's  mind,  with  whom  I  would  discourse 
 about  them;  as  it  was  impossible,  in  the  beginning  of  language,  to  know 
 what  kinneah  and  niouph  stood  for  in  another  man's  mind,  without  explica- 
 tion, they  being  voluntar}'  signs  in  every  one. 
 
 Sect.  46.  Instances  of  substances  in  zahah. — Let  us  now  also  consider, 
 after  tlie  same  manner,  the  names  of  substances  in  their  first  application. 
 One  of  Adam's  children,  roving  in  the  mountains,  lights  on  a  glittering  sub- 
 stance which  pleases  his  eye ;  home  he  carries  it  to  Adam,  who,  upon  con- 
 sideration of  it,  finds  it  to  be  hard,  to  have  a  bright  yellow  colour,  and  an  ex- 
 ceeding great  weight.  These,  perhaps,  at  first,  are  all  the  qualities  he  takes 
 notice  of  in  it :  and  abstracting  this  complex  idea,  consisting  of  a  substance 
 having  that  peculiar  bright  yellowness,  and  a  weight  very  great  in  proportion 
 to  its  bulk,  he  gives  it  the  name  zahab,  to  denote  and  mark  all  substances 
 that  have  these  sensible  qualities  in  them.  It  is  evident  now  that,  in  this 
 case,  Adam  acts  quite  differently  from  what  he  did  before  in  forming  those 
 ideas  of  mixed  modes,  to  which  he  gave  the  names  kinneah  and  niouph. 
 For  there  he  puts  ideas  together,  only  by  his  own  imagination,  not  taken 
 from  the  existence  of  any  thing;  and  to  them  he  gave  names  to  denominate 
 all  things  that  should  happen  to  agree  to  those  his  abstract  ideas,  without 
 considering  whether  any  such  thing  did  exist  or  no :  the  standard  there  was 
 of  his  own  making.  But  in  the  forming  his  idea  of  tliis  new  substance,  he 
 takes  the  quite  contrary  course  ;  here  he  has  a  standard  made  by  nature  ;  and 
 therefore  being  to  represent  that  to  himself,  by  the  idea  he  has  of  it,  even 
 when  it  is  absent,  he  puts  in  no  simple  idea  into  his  complex  one,  but  what 
 he  has  the  perception  of  from  the  thing  itself.  He  takes  care  that  his  idea 
 be  conformable  to  this  archetype,  and  intends  the  name  should  stand  for  an 
 idea  so  conformable. 
 
 Sect.  47.  This  piece  of  matter,  thus  denominated  zahab,  by  Adam,  being 
 quite  different  from  any  he  had  seen  before,  nobody,  I  think,  will  deny  to  be 
 a  distinct  species,  and  to  have  its  peculiar  essence  ;  and  that  the  name  zahab 
 is  the  mark  of  the  species,  and  a  name  belonging  to  all  things  partaking  in 
 that  essence.  But  here  it  is  plain,  the  essence  Adam  made  the  name  zahab 
 stand  for,  was  nothing  but  a  body  hard,  shining,  yellow,  and  very  heavy. 
 But  the  inquisitive  mind  of  man,  not  content  with  the  knowledge  of  these, 
 as  1  may  say,  superficial  qualities,  puts  Adam  on  farther  examination  of  this 
 matter.  He  therefore  knocks  and  beats  it  with  flints,  to  see  what  was  dis- 
 coverable in  the  inside  :  he  finds  it  yield  to  blows,  but  not  easily  separate  into 
 pieces  :  he  finds  it  will  bend  without  breaking.  Is  not  now  ductihty  to  be 
 added  to  his  former  idea,  and  made  part  of  the  essence  of  the  species  that 
 name  zahab  stands  for'?  Farther  trials  discover  fusibility  and  fixedness.  Are 
 not  they  also,  by  the  same  reason  that  any  of  the  others  were,  to  be  put  into 
 the  complex  idea  signified  by  the  name  zahab?  If  not,  what  reason  Vv'ill  there 
 be  shown  more  for  the  one  than  the  other?  If  these  must,  then  all  the  other 
 properties,  which  any  farther  trials  shall  discover  in  this  matter,  ought,  by  the 
 2  O 
 
306  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 »  • 
 
 same  reason  to  make  a  part  of  the  ingredients  of  the  complex  idea,  whicli 
 the  name  zahab  stands  for,  and  so  be  the  essence  of  the  species  marked  by 
 that  name.  Which  properties,  because  they  are  endless,  it  is  j)lain,  that  the 
 idea  piade  after  this  fashion  by  this  archetype,  will  be  always  inadequate. 
 
 S£cT  43.  Their  ideas  imperfect,  and  therefore  various. — But  this  is  not 
 all;  it  would  also  follow,  that  the  names  of  substances  would  not  only  have 
 (as  in  truth  they  have)  but  would  also  be  supposed  to  have  different  significa- 
 tions, as  used  by  different  men,  whicli  would  very  much  cumber  the  use  of 
 language.  For  if  every  distinct  quality,  that  were  discovered  in  any  matter 
 by  any  one,  were  supposed  to  make  a  necessary  part  of  the  complex  idea,  signi- 
 fied by  the  common  name  given  it,  it  must  follow,  that  men  must  suppose  the 
 same  word  to  signify  different  things  in  different  men ;  since  they  cannot 
 doubt  but  different  men  may  have  discovered  several  qualities  in  substances 
 of  the  same  denomination,  which  others  know  nothing  of. 
 
 Sect.  49.  Therefore  to  fix  their  species,  a  real  essence  is  supposed. — To 
 avoid  this,  therefore,  they  have  supposed  a  real  essence  belonging  to  every 
 species,  from  which  these  properties  all  flow,  and  would  have  their  name  of 
 the  species  stand  for  that.  But  they  not  having  any  idea  of  that  real  essence 
 in  substance,  and  their  words  signifying  nothing  but  the  ideas  they  have,  that 
 which  is  done  by  this  attempt,  is  only  to  put  tlie  name  or  sound  in  the  place 
 and  stead  of  the  thing  having  that  real  essence,  without  knowing  what  the 
 real  essence  is  ;  and  this  is  that  which  men  do,  when  they  speak  of  species 
 of  things,  as  supposing  them  made  by  nature,  and  distinguished  by  real 
 essences. 
 
 Sect.  50.  Which  supposition  is  of  no  use. — For  let  us  consider,  when 
 we  affirm  that  all  gold  is  fixed,  either  it  means  that  fixedness  is  a  part  of  the 
 definition,  part  of  the  nominal  essence  the  word  gold  stands  for ;  and  so  this 
 affirmation,  all  gold  is  fixed,  contains  nothing  but  the  signification  of  the 
 term  gold.  Or  else  it  means,  that  fixedness  not  being  a  part  of  the  defini- 
 tion of  the  word  gold,  is  a  property  of  that  substance  itself;  in  which  case, 
 it  is  plain,  that  the  word  gold  stands  in  the  place  of  a  substance,  having  the 
 real  essence  of  a  species  of  things  made  by  nature.  In  which  way  of  sub- 
 stitution it  has  so  confused  and  uncertain  a  signification,  that  though  this 
 proposition,  gold  is  fixed,  be  in  that  sense  an  affirmation  of  something  real, 
 yet  it  is  a  truth  will  always  fail  us  in  its  particular  application,  and  so  is  of 
 no  real  use  nor  certainty.  For  let  it  be  ever  so  true,  that  all  gold,  i.  e.  all 
 that  has  the  real  essence  of  gold,  is  fixed,  what  serves  this  for,  whilst  we 
 know  not,  in  this  sense,  what  is  or  is  not  gold?  for  if  we  know  not  the  real 
 essence  of  gold,  it  is  impossible  we  should  know  what  parcel  of  matter  has 
 that  essence,  and  so  whether  it  be  true  gold  or  no. 
 
 Sect.  51.  Conclusion. — To  conclude:  what  liberty  Adam  had  at  first  to 
 make  any  complex  ideas  of  mixed  modes,  by  no  other  patterns  but  by  his 
 own  thoughts,  the  same  have  all  men  ever  since  had.  And  the  same  necessity 
 of  conforming  his  ideas  of  substances  to  things  without  him,  as  to  arche- 
 types made  by  nature,  that  Adam  was  under,  if  he  would  not  wilfully  impose 
 upon  himself;  the  same  are  all  men  ever  since  under  too.  The  same  liberty 
 also  that  Adam  had  of  affixing  any  new  name  to  any  idea,  the  same  has  any 
 one  still  (especially  the  beginners  of  languages,  if  we  can  imagine  any  such) 
 but  only  with  this  difference,  that  in  places  where  men  in  society  have  al- 
 ready established  a  language  among  them,  the  significations  of  words  are  very 
 warily  and  sparingly  to  be  altered:  because  men  being  furnished  already  with 
 names  for  their  ideas,  and  common  use  having  appropriated  known  names  to 
 certain  ideas,  an  affected  misapplication  of  them  cannot  but  be  very  ridicu- 
 lous. He  that  hath  new  notions  will  perhaps  venture  sometimes  on  the  coin- 
 ing of  new  terms  to  express  them:  but  men  think  it aboldne-ss,  and  it  is  uncer- 
 tain whether  common  use  will  ever  make  them  pass  for  current.  But  in  com- 
 munication with  others,  it  is  necessary  that  we  conform  the  ideas  we  make 
 the  \'ulgar  words  of  any  language  stand  for,  to  their  known  proper  significa- 
 tions (which  I  have  explained  at  large  already)  or  else  to  make  known  that 
 new  signification  we  apply  them  to. 
 
Ch.  7.  OF  PARTICLES.  1,07 
 
 CHAPTER  VII. 
 
 OF  PARTICLES. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Particles  connect  parts,  or  loJiole  sentences  together. — Besides 
 words  which  are  names  of  ideas  in  the  mind,  there  are  a  great  many  others 
 that  are  made  use  of  to  signify  the  coimexion  that  the  mind  gives  to  ideas, 
 or  propositions,  one  with  another.  The  mind,  in  communicating  its  thought 
 to  others,  does  not  only  need  signs  of  the  ideas  it  has  then  before  it,  but  others 
 also,  to  show  or  intimate  some  particular  action  of  its  own  at  that  time  re- 
 lating to  those  ideas.  This  it  does  several  ways  ;  as  is,  and  is  not,  are  the 
 general  marks  of  the  mind,  affirming  or  denying.  But  besides  affirmation  or 
 negation,  without  which  there  is  in  words  no  truth  or  falsehood,  the  mind 
 does,  in  declaring  its  sentiments  to  others,  connect  not  only  the  parts  of  pro- 
 positions, but  whole  sentences  one  to  another,  with  their  several  relations 
 and  dependencies,  to  make  a  coherent  disc^^urse. 
 
 Sect.  2.  In  them  consists  the  art  of  well  speaking. — The  words,  where- 
 by it  signifies  what  connexion  it  gives  to  the  several  affirmations  and  nega- 
 tions, that  it  unites  in  one  continued  reasoning  or  narration,  are  generally 
 called  particles  ;  and  it  is  in  the  right  use  of  these  that  more  particularly  con- 
 sists the  clearness  and  beauty  of  a  good  styie.  To  think  well,  it  is  not  enough 
 that  a  man  has  ideas  clear  and  distinct  in  his  thoughts,  nor  that  he  observes 
 the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  some  of  them  ;  but  he  must  think  in  trainj 
 and  observe  the  dependence  of  his  thoughts  and  reasonings  upon  one  another. 
 And  to  express  well  such  methodical  and  rational  thoughts,  he  must  have 
 words  to  show  what  connexion,  restriction,  distinction,  opposition,  emphasis, 
 &c.  he  gives  to  each  respective  part  of  his  discourse.  To  mistake  in  any  of 
 these,  is  to  puzzle,  instead  of  informing,  his  hearer  ;  and  therefore  it  is  that 
 those  words  which  are  not  truly  by  themselves  the  names  of  any  ideas,  are 
 of  such  constant  and  indispensable  use  in  language,  and  do  much  contribute 
 to  men's  well  expressing  themselves. 
 
 Sect.  3.  They  show  what  relation  the  mind  gives  to  its  own  thoughts. — 
 This  part  of  grammar  has  been  perhaps  as  much  neglected  as  some  others 
 over-diligently  cultivated.  It  is  easy  for  men  to  write,  one  after  another,  of 
 cases  and  genders,  moods  and  tenses,  gerunds  and  supines  :  in  these,  and  the 
 like,  there  has  been  great  diligence  used  ;  and  particles  themselves,  in  some 
 languages,  have  been,  with  great  show  of  exactness,  ranked  into  their  several 
 orders.  But  though  prepositions  and  conjunctions,  &c.  are  names  well  known 
 in  grammar,  and  the  particles  contained  under  them  carefully  ranked  into  their 
 distinct  subdivisions  ;  yet  he  who  would  show  the  right  use  of  particles,  and 
 what  significancy  and  force  they  have,  must  take  a  little  more  pains,  en- 
 ter into  his  own  thoughts,  and  observe  nicely  the  several  postures  of  his  mind 
 in  discoursing. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Neither  is  it  enough,  for  the  explaining  of  these  words,  to  render 
 them,  as  is  usual  in  dictionaries,  by  words  of  another  tongue  which  come 
 nearest  to  their  signification  :  for  what  is  meant  by  them  is  commonly  as  hard 
 to  be  understood  in  one  as  another  language.  They  are  all  marks  of  some 
 action,  or  intimation  of  the  mind  ;  and  therefore  to  understand  them  rightly, 
 the  several  views,  postures,  stands,  turns,  limitations,  and  exceptions,  and 
 several  other  thoughts  of  the  mind,  for  which  we  have  either  none,  or  very 
 deficient  names,  are  diligently  to  be  studied.  Of  these  there  is  a  great  variety, 
 much  exceeding  the  number  of  particles  that  most  languages  have  to  express 
 them  by ;  and  therefore  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  that  most  of  these  particles 
 have  divers,  and  sometimes  almost  opposite  significations.  In  the  Hebrew 
 tongue  there  is  a  particle,  consisting  but  of  one  single  letter,  of  which  there 
 are  reckoned  up,  as  I  remember,  seventy,  I  am  sure  above  fifty,  several  signifi 
 cations. 
 
308  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Instance  in  but. — But  is  a  particle,  none  more  familiar  in  our 
 language ;  and  he  that  says  it  is  a  discretive  conjunction,  ai.d  that  it  answers 
 sed  in  Latin,  or  7nais  in  French,  thinks  he  has  siifRcicntly  explained  it.  But 
 it  seems  to  nie  to  intimate  several  relations  the  mind  gives  to  the  several 
 propositions  or  parts  of  them,  which  it  joins  by  this  nionosyljable. 
 
 First,  "  but  to  say  no  more ;"  here  it  intimates  the  stop  of  the  mind  in  the 
 course  it  was  going-,  before  it  came  quite  to  the  end  of  it. 
 
 Secondly,  "  I  saw  but  two  plants :"  here  it  shows,  that  the  mind  limits  the 
 sense  to  what  is  expressed,  with  a  negation  of  all  other. 
 
 Thirdly,  "  you  pray;  but  it  is  not  that  God  would  bring  you  to  the  true  re- 
 ligion." 
 
 Fourtlily,  "  but  that  he  would  confirm  you  in  your  own."  The  first  of  these  buts 
 intimates  a  supposition  in  the  mind  of  something  otherwise  than  it  should  be  ; 
 the  latter  shows,  that  the  mind  makes  a  direct  opposition  between  that,  and 
 what  goes  before  it. 
 
 Fifthly,  "  all  animals  have  sense ;  but  a  dog  is  an  animal ;"  here  it  signifies 
 little  more  but  that  the  latter  proposition  is  joined  to  the  former,  as  the  minor 
 of  a  syllogism. 
 
 Sect.  6.  This  matter  hut  lightly  touched  here. — To  these,  I  doubt  not, 
 might  be  added  a  great  many  other  significations  of  this  particle,  if  it  were 
 my  business  to  examine  it  in  its  full  latitude,  and  consider  it  in  all  the  places 
 it  is  to  be  found:  which  if  one  should  do,  1  doubt  whether  in  all  those  man- 
 ners it  is  made  use  of,  it  would  deserve  the  title  of  discretive  which  gramma- 
 rians give  to  it.  But  1  intend  not  here  a  full  explication  of  this  sort  of  signs. 
 The  instances  I  have  given  in  this  one,  may  give  occasion  to  reflect  on  their 
 use  and  force  in  language,  and  lead  us  into  the  contemplation  of  several  ac- 
 tions of  our  minds  in  discoursing,  which  it  has  found  a  way  to  intimate  to 
 others  by  these  particles ;  some  whereof  constantly,  and  others  in  certain 
 constructions,  have  the  sense  of  a  whole  sentence  contained  in  them. 
 
 CHAPTER  VIII. 
 
 OP  ABSTRACT  AND  CONCRETE  TERMS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Abstract  terms  not  predicable  one  of  another,  and  why. — The 
 ordinary  words  of  language,  and  our  common  use  of  them,  would  have  given 
 us  light  into  the  nature  of  our  ideas,  if  they  had  been  but  considered  with  at- 
 tention. The  mind,  as  has  been  shown,  has  a  power  to  abstract  its  ideas,  and 
 so  they  become  essences,  general  essences,  whereby  the  sorts  of  things  are 
 distinguished.  Now  each  abstract  idea  being  distinct,  so  that  of  any  two 
 the  one  can  never  be  the  other,  the  mind  will,  by  its  intuitive  knowledge,  perceive 
 their  diflfercnce  ;  and  therefore  in  propositions  no  two  whole  ideas  can  ever 
 be  affirmed  one  of  another.  This  we  see  in  the  common  use  of  language, 
 which  permits  not  any  two  abstract  words,  or  names  of  abstract  ideas,  to  be 
 affirmed  one  of  another.  For  how  near  of  kin  soever  they  may  seem  to  be, 
 and  how  certain  soever  it  is,  that  man  is  an  animal,  or  rational,  or  white,  yet 
 every  one  at  first  hearing  perceives  the  falsehood  of  these  propositions  ;  hu- 
 manity is  animality,  or  rationality,  or  whiteness  :  and  this  is  as  evident  as  any 
 of  the  most  allowed  maxims.  All  our  affirmations  then  are  only  inconcrete, 
 which  is  the  affirming,  not  one  abstract  idea  to  be  another,  but  one  abstract 
 idea  to  be  joined  to  another  ;  which  abstract  ideas,  in  substances,  may  be  of 
 any  sort;  in  all  the  rest,  are  little  else  but  of  relations;  and  in  substances, 
 the  most  frequent  are  of  powers  ;  v.  g.  "  a  man  is  white,"  signifies,  that  the 
 thing  that  has  the  essence  of  a  man,  has  also  in  it  the  essence  of  whiteness, 
 which  is  nothing  but  a  power  to  produce  the  idea  of  whiteness  in  one,  whose 
 eyes  can  discover  ordinary  objects ;  or,  "  a  man  is  rational,"  signifies  that 
 
Ch.  8.  ABSTRACT  AND  CONCRETE  TERMS.  309 
 
 the  same  thing  that  hath  tlie  essence  of  a  man,  ]mth  also  in  it  the  essence  of 
 rationality,  i.  e.  a  power  of  reasoning. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Thexj  show  the  difference  of  our  ideas. — This  distinction  of 
 names  shows  us  also  the  dilTerence  of  our  ideas  :  for  if  we  observe  them,  we 
 shall  find  that  our  simple  ideas  have  all  abstract  as  well  as  concrete  names ; 
 the  one  whereof  is  (to  speak  the  language  of  grammarians)  a  substantive,  tiie 
 other  an  abjective;  as  whiteness,  white;  sweetness,  sweet.  The  like  also 
 holds  in  our  ideas  of  modes  and  relations,  as  justice,  just ;  equality,  equal ; 
 only  with  this  ditierence,  tiiat  some  of  the  concrete  names  of  relations,  among 
 men,  chiefly  are  substantives ;  as  paternitas,  pater ;  whereof  it  were  easy  to 
 render  a  reason.  But  as  to  our  ideas  of  substances,  we  have  very  few  or  no 
 abstract  names  at  all.  For  though  the  schools  have  introduced  animalitas, 
 humanitas,  corporietas,  and  some  others ;  yet  they  hold  no  proportion  with 
 that  infinite  number  of  names  of  substances,  to  which  they  never  were  ridicu- 
 lous enough  to  attempt  the  coining  of  abstract  ones;  and  those  few  that  the 
 schools  forged,  and  put  into  the  mouths  of  their  scholars,  could  never  yet  get 
 admittance  into  common  use,  or  obtain  the  license  of  public  approbation. 
 Which  seems  to  me  at  least  to  intimate  the  confession  of  all  mankind,  tiiat 
 they  have  no  ideas  of  the  real  essences  of  substances,  since  they  have  not 
 names  for  such  ideas  ;  which  no  doubt  tliey  would  have  had,  had  not  their 
 consciousness  to  themselves  of  their  ignorance  of  them  kept  them  from  so 
 idle  an  attempt.  And  therefore,  though  they  had  ideas  enough  to  distinguish 
 gold  from  a  stone,  and  metal  from  weed, ;  yet  they  but  timorously  ventured  on 
 such  terms,  as  aurietas  and  saxietas,  metallietas  and  lignietas,  or  the  like 
 names,  which  should  pretend  to  signify  the  real  essences  of  those  substances, 
 whereof  they  knew  they  had  no  ideas.  And  indeed  it  was  only  the  doctrine  of 
 substantial  forms,  and  the  confidence  of  mistaken  pretenders  to  a  knowledge 
 that  they  had  not,  which  first  coined,  and  then  introduced  animalitas,  and 
 humanitas,  and  the  like ;  which  yet  went  very  little  farther  than  their  own 
 schools,  and  could  never  get  to  be  current  among  understanding  men.  In- 
 deed, humanitas  was  a  word  familiar  among  the  Romans,  but  in  a  far  different 
 sense,  and  stood  not  for  the  abstract  essence  of  any  substance ;  but  was  the 
 abstracted  name  of  a  mode,  and  its  concrete,  humanus,  not  homo. 
 
 CHAPTER  IX. 
 
 OF  THE  IMPERFECTION  OF  WORDS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Words  are  used  for  recording  and  communicating  our  thoughts. 
 — From  what  has  been  said  in  the  foregoing  chapters,  it  is  easy  to  perceive 
 w"hat  imperfection  there  is  in  language,  and  how  the  very  nature  of  words 
 makes  it  almost  unavoidable  for  many  of  them  to  be  doubtful  and  uncertain 
 in  their  significations.  To  examine  the  perfection  or  imperfection  of  words, 
 it  is  necessary  first  to  consider  their  use  and  end :  for  as  they  are  more  or  less 
 fitted  to  attain  that,  so  are  they  more  or  less  perfect.  We  have,  in  the  former 
 part  of  this  discourse,  often  upon  occasion  mentioned  a  doublgjise  of  words. 
 
 First,  one  for  the  recording  of  our  own  thoughts. 
 
 Secondly,  the  other  for  the  communicating  of  our  thoughts  to  others. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Any  words  will  serve  for  recording. — As  to  the  first  of  these, 
 for  the  recording  our  own  thoughts  for  the  help  of  our  own  memories,  whereby, 
 as  it  were,  we  talk  to  ourselves,  any  words  will  serve  the  turn.  For  since 
 sounds  are  voluntary  and  indifferent  signs  of  any  ideas,  a  man  may  use  what 
 v>'ords  he  pleases,  to  signify  his  own  ideas  to  himself;  and  there  will  be  no 
 imperfection  in  them,  if  he  constantly  use  the  same  sign  for  the  same  idea, 
 for  then  he  cannot  fail  of  having  his  meaning  understood,  wherein  consists 
 the  right  use  and  perfection  of  language. 
 
810  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Communication  hy  words  civil  or  philosophical. — As  to  com- 
 munication of  words,  that  too  has  a  double  use. 
 
 I.  CivU. 
 
 II.  Philosophical. 
 
 First,  by  tlieir  civil  use,  I  mean  such  a  communication  of  thoughts  and 
 ideas  by  words,  as  may  serve  for  the  upholding  common  conversation  and 
 commerce,  about  the  ordinary  affairs  and  conveniences  of  civil  life,  in  the 
 societies  of  men  one  among  another. 
 
 Secondly,  by  tlie  philosophical  use  of  words,  I  mean  such  a  use  of  them  as  . 
 may  serve  to  convey  the  precise  notions  of  things,  and  to  express,  in  general 
 propositions,  certain  and  undoubted  truths,  which  the  mind  may  rest  upon, 
 and  be  satisfied  with,  in  its  search  after  true  knowledge.  These  two  uses  are 
 very  distinct ;  and  a  great  deal  less  exactness  will  serve  in  the  one  than  in  the 
 other,  as  we  shall  see  in  what  follows. 
 
 Sect.  4.'  The  imperfectio?i  of  words  in  the  doubtfulness  of  their  signifi- 
 cation.— The  chief  end  of  language  in  communication  being  to  be  understood, 
 words  serve  not  well  for  that  end,  neither  in  civil  nor  philosophical  discourse, 
 when  any  word  does  not  excite  in  the  hearer  the  same  idea  wliich  it  stands 
 for  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker.  Now  since  sounds  have  no  natural  connexion 
 with  our  ideas,  but  have  all  their  signification  from  the  arbitrary  imposition 
 of  men,  the  doubtfulness  and  uncertainty  of  their  signification,  which  is  the 
 imperfection  we  here  are  speaking  of,  has  its  cause  more  in  the  ideas  they 
 stand  for,  than  in  any  incapacity  there  is  in  one  sound  more  than  in  another, 
 to  signify  any  idea :  for  in  that  regard  they  are  all  equally  perfect. 
 
 That  then  which  makes  doubtfulness  and  uncertainty  in  the  signification 
 of  some  more  than  other  words,  is  the  difference  of  ideas  they  stand  for. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Causes  of  their  imperfection. — Words  having  naturally  no  sig- 
 nification, the  idea  which  each  stands  for  must  be  learned  and  retained  by 
 those  who  would  exchange  thoughts,  ar\d  hold  intelligible  discourse  with 
 others  in  any  language.     But  this  is  hardest  to  be  done  where. 
 
 First,  the  ideas  they  stand  for  are  very  complex,  and  made  up  of  a  great 
 number  of  ideas  put  together. 
 
 Secondly,  where  the  ideas  they  stand  for  have  no  certain  connexion  in  na- 
 ture ;  and  so  no  settled  standard,  any  where  in  nature  existing,  to  rectify  and  ' 
 adjust  them  by. 
 
 Thirdly,  when  the  signification  of  the  word  is  referred  to  a  standard,  which  j 
 standard  is  not  easy  to  be  known. 
 
 Fourthly,  where  the  signification  of  the  word,  and  the  real  essence  of  the    Lr 
 thing,  are  not  exactly  the  same. 
 
 These  are  difficulties  that  attend  the  signification  of  several  words  that  are 
 intelligible.  Those  which  are  not  intelligible  at  all,  such  as  names  standing 
 for  any  simple  ideas,  which  another  has  not  organs  or  faculties  to  attain, — as 
 the  names  of  colours  to  a  blind  man,  or  sounds  to  a  deaf  man, — need  not 
 here  be  mentioned. 
 
 In  all  these  cases  we  shall  find  an  imperfection  in  words,  which  I  shall 
 more  at  large  explain,  in  their  particular  application  to  our  several  sorts  of 
 ideas ;  for  if  we  examine  them,  we  shall  find  that  the  names  of  mixed  modes 
 are  most  liable  to  doubtfulness  and  imperfection,  for  the  two  first  of  these 
 reasons ;  and  the  names  of  substances  chiefly  for  the  two  latter. 
 
 Sect.  6.  The  names  of  mixed  modes  doubtful. — First,  the  names  of  mixed 
 modes  are  many  of  them  liable  to  great  uncertainty  and  obscurity  in  their 
 signification. 
 
 First,  because  the  ideas  they  stand  for  are  so  complex. — I.  Because  of 
 that  great  composition  these  complex  ideas  are  often  made  up  of  To  make 
 words  serviceable  to  the  end  of  communication,  it  is  necessary  (as  has  been 
 said)  that  they  excite  in  the  liearer  exactly  the  same  idea  thej"^  stand  for  in 
 the  mind  of  the  speaker.  Without  this,  men  fill  one  anotlier's  heads  witli 
 noise  and  sounds;  but  convey  not  thereby  their  thoughts,  and  lay  not  before 
 
Ch.  9.  IMPERFECTION  OF  WORDS.  311 
 
 one  another  tlieir  ideas,  which  is  the  end  of  discourse  and  language.  But 
 when  a  word  stands  for  a  very  complex  idea  that  is  compounded  a,nd  decom- 
 pounded, it  is  not  easy  for  men  to  form  and  retain  that  idea  so  exactly  as  to 
 make  the  name  in  common  use  stand  for  the  same  precise  idea,  without  any 
 the  least  variation.  Hence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  men's  names  of  very  com- 
 pound ideas,  such  as  for  the  most  part  are  moral  words,  have  seldom,  in  two 
 different  men,  the  same  precise  signification;  since  one  man's  complex  idea 
 seldom  agrees  with  another's,  and  often  differs  from  his  own,  from  that  whicli 
 he  had  yesterday,  or  will  have  to-morrow. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Secondly,  because  they  have  no  standards. — II.  Because  the 
 names  of  mixed  modes,  for  the  most  part,  WAUt  standards  in  nature,  whereby 
 men  may  rectify  and  adjust  their  significations ;  therefore  they  are  very  various 
 and  doubtful.  They  are  assemblages  of  ideas  put  together  at  the  pleasure  of 
 the  mind,  pursuing  its  own  ends  of  discourse,  and  suited  to  its  own  notions ; 
 whereby  it  designs  not  to  copy  any  thing  really  existing,  but  to  denominate 
 and  rank  things,  as  they  come  to  agree  with  those  archetypes  or  forms  it  has 
 made.  He  that  first  brought  the  word  sham,  or  wheedle,  or  banter,  in  use, 
 put  together,  as  he  thought  fit,  those  ideas  he  made  it  stand  for ;  and  as  it  is 
 with  any  new  names  of  modes,  that  are  now  brought  into  any  language,  so  it 
 was  with  the  old  ones,  when  they  were  first  made  use  of  Names  therefoi-e 
 that  stand  for  collections  of  ideas  which  the  mind  makes  at  pleasure,  must 
 needs  be  of  doubtful  signification,  when  such  collections  are  nowhere  to  be 
 found  constantly  united  in  nature,  nor  any  patterns  to  be  shown  whereby  men 
 may  adjust  them.  What  the  word  murder,  or  sacrilege,  &c.  signifies,  can 
 never  be  known  from  things  themselves :  there  be  many  of  the  parts  of  those 
 complex  ideas  which  are  not  visible  in  the  action  itself;  the  intention  of  the 
 mind,  or  the  relation  of  holy  things,  which  make  a  part  of  murder  or  sacrilege, 
 have  no  necessary  connexion  with  the  outward  and  visible  action  of  l)im  that 
 commits  either :  and  the  pulling  the  trigger  of  the  gun,  with  which  the  murder 
 is  committed,  and  is  all  the  action  that  perhaps  is  visible,  has  no  natural  con- 
 nexion with  those  other  ideas  that  make  up  the  complex  one,  named  murder. 
 They  have  their  union  and  combination  only  from  the  understanding,  which 
 unites  them  under  one  name :  but  uniting  them  without  any  rule  or  pattern, 
 it  cannot  be  but  that  the  signification  of  the  name  that  stands  for  such  volun- 
 tary collections  should  be  often  various  in  the  minds  of  different  men,  who 
 have  scarce  any  standing  rule  to  regulate  themselves  and  their  notions  by,  in 
 euch  arbitrary  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Propriety  not  a  sufficient  remedy. — It  is  true,  common  use,  that 
 is  the  rule  of  propriety,  may  be  supposed  here  to  afford  some  aid,  to  settle  the 
 signification  of  language ;  and  it  cannot  be  denied  but  that  in  some  measure 
 it  does.  Common  use  regulates  tiie  meaning  of  words  pretty  well  for  com- 
 mon conversation ;  but  nobody  having  an  authority  to  establish  the  precise 
 signification  of  words,  nor  determine  to  what  ideas  any  one  shall  annex  them, 
 common  use  is  not  sufficient  to  adjust  them  to  philosopliical  discourses ;  there 
 being  scarce  any  name  of  any  very  complex  idea  (to  say  nothing  of  others) 
 which  in  common  use  has  not  a  great  latitude,  and  which,  keeping  within 
 the  bounds  of  propriety,  may  not  be  made  the  sign  of  far  different  ideas.  Be- 
 sides, the  rule  and  measure  of  propriety  itself  being  nowhere  established,  it 
 is  often  matter  of  dispute  whether  this  or  that  way  of  using  a  word  be  pro- 
 priety of  speech  or  no.  From  all  which  it  is  evident,  that  the  names  of  such 
 kind  of  very  complex  ideas  are  naturally  liable  to  this  imperfection,  to  be  of 
 doubtful  and  uncertain  signification ;  and  even  in  men  that  have  a  mind  to  un- 
 derstand one  another,  do  not  always  stand  for  the  same  idea  in  speaker  and 
 hearer.  Though  the  names  glory  and  gratitude  be  tlie  same  in  every  man's 
 mouch  through  a  whole  country,  yet  the  complex  collective  idea,  which  every 
 one  thinks  on,  or  intends  by  that  name,  is  apparently  very  different  in  men 
 using  the  same  language.  ~ 
 
 Sect.  9.  The  way  of  leariiing  these  names  contributes  also  to  their  doubt- 
 fulness.— The  way  also  wherein  the  names  of  mixed  modes  are  ordinarily 
 learned,  does  not  a  little  contribute  to  the  doubtfulness  of  their  signification. 
 
312  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book.  3. 
 
 For  if  we  will  observe  how  children  learn  languages,  we  sliall  find  that  to 
 inalic  them  undcrstaml  wliat  the  names  of  simple  ideas,  or  substances,  ttand 
 for,  people  ordinarily  show  them  tlie  thing  whereof  they  would  have  them 
 have  the  idea ;  and  then  repeat  to  them  the  name  that  stands  for  it,  as  white, 
 sweet,  milk,  sugar,  cat,  dog.  But  as  for  mixed  modes,  especially  the  most 
 material  of  them,  moral  words,  the  sounds  are  usually  learned  first;  and  then 
 toToiow  what  complex  ideas  they  stand  for,  they  are  either  beholden  to  the 
 explication  of  others,  or  (which  happens  for  the  most  part)  are  left  to  their 
 own  observation  and  industry;  which  being  little  laid  out  in  the  search  of  the 
 true  and  precise  meaning  of  names,  these  moral  words  are  in  most  mgn's 
 mouths  little  more  tlian  bare  sounds;  or  when  they  have  any,  it  is  for  the 
 most  part  but  a  very  loose  and  undetermined,  and  consequently  obscure 
 and  confused  signification.  And  even  those  themselves,  who  have  with 
 more  attention  settled  their  notions,  do  yet  hardly  avoid  the  inconveni- 
 ence, to  have  them  stand  for  complex  ideas,  different  from  those 
 which  other,  even  intelligent  and  studious  men,  make  them  the  signs  of. 
 Where  shall  one  find  any,  either  controversial  debate,  or  familiar  discourse, 
 concerning  honour,  faith,  grace,  religion,  church,  &c.  wherein  it  is  not  easy  to 
 observe  the  different  notions  men  have  of  them  !  which  is  nothing  but  this,  that 
 they  are  not  agreed  in  the  signification  of  tliose  words,  nor  have  in  their  minds 
 the  same  complex  ideas  wh.cli  they  make  them  stand  for:  and  so  all  the  con- 
 tests that  follow  thereupon  are  only  about  the  meaning  of  a  sound.  And 
 hence  we  see,  that  in  the  interpretation  of  laws,  whether  divine  or  human, 
 there  is  no  end ;  comments  beget  comments,  and  explications  make  new  mat- 
 ter for  explications  ;  and  of  limiting,  distinguishing,  varying  the  signification 
 of  these  moral  words,  there  is  no  end.  These  ideas  of  men's  making  are,  by 
 men  still  having  the  same  power,  multiplied  in  infinitum.  Many  a  man  who 
 was  pretty  well  satisfied  of  the  meaning  of  a  text  of  scripture,  or  clause  in  the 
 code,  at  first  reading,  has  by  consulting  commentators  quite  lost  the  sense  of 
 it,  and  by  those  elucidations  given  rise  or  increase  to  his  doubts,  and  drawn 
 obscurity  upon  the  place.  I  say  not  this,  that  I  think  commentaries  needless ; 
 but  to  show  how  uncertain  the  names  of  mixed  modes  naturally  are,  even  in 
 the  mouths  of  those  who  had  both  the  intention  and  the  faculty  of  speaking  as 
 ■clearly  as  language  was  capable  to  express  their  thoughts. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Hence  vnavoidahle  obscurity  in  ancient  authors. — What  ob- 
 scurity this  has  unavoidably  brought  upon  the  writings  of  men,  who  have  lived 
 in  remote  ages  and  in  different  countries,  it  will  be  needless  to  take  notice; 
 since  the  numerous  volumes  of  learned  men,  employing  their  thoughts  that 
 way,  are  proofs  more  than  enough  to  show  what  cattention,  study,  sagacity,  and 
 reasoning  are  required,  to  find  out  the  true  meaning  of  ancient  authors.  But 
 there  being  no  writings  we  have  any  great  concernment  to  be  very  solicitous 
 about  the  meaning  of,  but  those  that  contain  either  truths  we  are  required  to 
 believe,  or  laws  we  are  to  obey,  and  draw  inconveniences  on  us  when  we  mis- 
 take or  transgress ;  we  may  be  less  anxious  about  the  sense  of  other  authors, 
 who  writing  but  their  own  opinions,  we  are  under  no  greater  necessity  to  know 
 chem,  than  they  to  know  ours.  Our  good  or  evil  depending  not  on  their  decrees, 
 we  may  safely  be  ignorant  of  their  notions:  and  therefore,  in  the  reading  of 
 them,  if  they  do  not  use  their  words  with  a  due  clearness  and  perspicuity,  we 
 may  hy  them  aside,  and,  without  any  injury  done  them,  resolve  thus  w'ith  our- 
 selves : 
 
 '  Si  non  vis  i.ntelligi,  debes  negligi." 
 
 Sect.  11.  Names  of  substances  of  doubtful  signification. — If  the  signifi- 
 cation of  the  names  of  mixed  modes  are  uncertain,  because  there  be  no  real 
 standards  existing  in  nature  to  which  those  ideas  are  referred,  and  by  which 
 they  may  be  adjusted,  the  names  of  substances  are  of  a  doublfid  signification, 
 for  a  contrary  reason,  viz.  because  the  ideas  they  stand  for  are  sHpposed  con- 
 formable to  the  reality  of  things,  and  are  referred  to  standards  made  by  nature. 
 In  our  ideas  of  substances,  v.'e  have  not  the  liberty,  as  in  mixed  modes,  to  frame 
 what  combinations  we  think  fit,  to  be  the  chavactcristical  notes  to  rank  and  de- 
 
Ch.  9.  IMPERFECTION  OF  WORDS.  313 
 
 nominate  things  by.  In  these  \ve  must  follow  nature,  suit  our  complex  ideas 
 to  real  existences,  and  regulate  the  signification  of  their  names  by  the  things 
 themselves,  if  we  will  have  our  names  to  be  the  signs  of  them,  and  stand  for 
 them.  Here,  it  is  true,  we  have  patterns  to  follow,  but  patterns  that  will 
 make  the  signification  of  tiieir  names  very  uncertain;  for  names  must  be  of  a 
 very  unsteady  and  various  meaning,  if  the  ideas  they  stand  for  be  referred  to 
 standards  without  us,  that  either  cannot  be  known  at  all,  or  can  be  known  but 
 imperfectly  and  uncertainly. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Names  of  substances  referred,  first,  to  real  essences  that  cannot 
 he  known. — The  names  of  substances  have,  as  has  been  shown,  a  double  re- 
 ference in  their  ordinary  use. 
 
 First,  sometimes  they  are  made  to  stand  for,  and  so  their  signification  is 
 supposed  to  agree  to,  the  real  constitution  of  things,  from  which  all  their 
 properties  flow,  and  in  which  they  all  centre.  But  this  real  constitution,  (or 
 as  it  is  apt  to  be  called)  essence,  being  utterly  unknown  to  us,  any  sound  that 
 is  put  to  stand  for  it  must  be  very  uncertain  in  its  application ;  and  it  will  be 
 impossible  to  know  what  things  ar*^,  or  ought  to  be,  called  a  horse,  or  anatomy, 
 when  those  words  are  put  for  real  essences  that  we  have  no  ideas  of  at  all. 
 And  therefore,  in  this  supposition,  the  names  of  substances  being  referi'ed  to 
 standards  that  cannot  be  know,  their  significations  can  never  be  adjusted  and 
 established  by  those  standards. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Secondly,  to  coexisHng  qualities,  which  are  known  hut  imper- 
 fectly.— The  simple  ideas  that  are  found  to  coexist  in  substances  being 
 that  which  their  names  immediately  signify,  these,  as  united  in  the  several 
 sorts  of  things,  are  the  proper  standards  to  which  their  names  are  referred, 
 and  by  which  their  significations  may  be  best  rectified.  But  neither  will  these 
 archetypes  so  well  serve  this  purpose,  as  to  leave  these  names  without  very 
 various  and  uncertain  significations :  because  these  simple  ideas  that  coexist, 
 and  are  united  in  the  same  subject,  being  very  numerous,  and  having  all  an 
 equal  riglit  to  go  into  the  complex  specific  idea,  which  the  specific  name  is  to 
 stand  for;  men,  though  they  propose  to  themselves  the  veiy  same  subject  to 
 consider,  yet  frame  very  different  ideas  about  it ;  and  so  the  name  they  use 
 for  it  unavoidably  comes  to  have,  in  several  men,  very  different  significations. 
 The  simple  qualities  which  make  up  the  complex  ideas,  being  most  of  them 
 powers,  in  relation  to  changes,  which  they  are  apt  to  make  in,  or  receive 
 from  other  bodies,  are  almost  infinite.  He  that  siiall  but  observe  what  a  great 
 variety  of  alterations  any  one  of  the  baser  metals  is  apt  to  receive  from  the 
 different  application  only  of  fire  ;  and  how  much  a  greater  number  of  changes 
 any  of  them  will  receive  in  the  hands  of  a  chemist,  by  the  application  of 
 other  bodies ;  will  not  think  it  strange  that  I  count  the  properties  of  any  sort 
 of  bodies  not  easy  to  be  collected,  and  completely  known  by  the  ways  of  in- 
 quiry, which  our  faculties  are  capable  of  They  being  therefore  at  least  so 
 many  that  no  man  can  know  the  precise  and  definite  number,  tiiey  are  differ- 
 ently discovered  by  different  men,  according  to  their  various  skill,  attention, 
 and  ways  of  iiandling ;  who  therefore  cannot  choose  but  have  different  ideai 
 of  the  same  substance,  and  therefore  make  the  signification  of  its  common 
 name  very  various  and  uncertain.  For  the  complex  ideas  of  substances  be- 
 ing made  up  of  such  simple  ones  as  are  supposed  to  coexist  in  nature,  everv 
 one  has  a  right  to  put  into  his  complex  ideas  those  qualities  he  ha=5  found  to  be 
 united  together.  For  though  in  the  substance  of  gold  one  satisfied  liimself 
 with  colour  and  weight,  yet  another  thinks  solubihty  in  aq.  regia  as  neces- 
 sary to  be  joined  with  that  colour  in  his  idea  of  gold  as  any  one  does  its  fusi- 
 bility; solubility  in  aq.  regia  being  a  quality  as  constantly  joined  with  its 
 colour  and  weight,  as  fusibility,  or  any  other;  others  put  into  it  ductility  or 
 fixedness,  &lc.  as  they  have  been  taught  by  tradition  or  experience.  Who  of 
 all  these  has  established  the  right  signification  of  the  word  gold?  or  who  shall 
 he  the  judge  to  determine  !  Each  lias  its  standa.rd  in  nature,  wliich  he  appeals 
 to ;  and  with  reason  thinks  he  has  the  same  right  to  put  into  his  complex  idea, 
 2  P 
 
314  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3 
 
 signified  by  tlie  word  gold,  those  qualities  which  upon  trial  he  has  found 
 united,  as  anotlier,  who  lias  not  so  well  examined,  has  to  leave  them  out ;  or 
 a  third,  who  has  made  other  trials,  has  to  put  in  others.  For  the  union  in  na- 
 ture of  tiiese  qualities  being  the  true  ground  of  their  union  in  one  complex 
 idea,  who  can  say  one  of  them  has  more  reason  to  be  put  in,  or  left  out,  than 
 another]  From  hence  it  will  always  unavoidably  follow,  that  the  complex 
 ideas  of  substances,  in  men  using  the  same  name  for  tiiem,  will  be  very  vari- 
 ous ;  and  so  the  significations  of  those  names  very  uncertain. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Thirdly,  tocoexisting  qualities  which  are  known  but  imperfectly. 
 Besides,  there  is  scarce  any  particular  thing  existing,  which,  in  some  of  its 
 simple  ideas,  does  not  communicate  with  a  greater,  and  in  others  a  less  num- 
 ber of  particular  beings:  who  shall  determine,  in  this  case,  which  are  those 
 that  are  to  make  up  tiie  precise  collection  that  is  to  be  signified  by  the  specific 
 name;  or  can,  with  any  just  authority,  prescribe  which  obvious  or  common 
 qualities  are  to  be  left  out ;  or  which  more  secret,  or  more  particular  are  to  be 
 put  into  the  signification  of  the  name  of  any  substance]  All  which  together 
 seldom  or  never  fail  to  produce  that  various  and  doubtful  signification  in  the 
 names  of  substances,  which  causes  such  uncertainty,  disputes,  or  mistakes, 
 when  we  come  to  a  pliilosophical  use  of  them. 
 
 Sect.  15.  With  this  imperfection,  they  may  serve  for  civil,  but  not  well 
 for  philosophical  use. — It  is  true,  as  to  civil  and  common  conversation, 
 the  general  names  of  substances,  regulated  in  their  ordinary  signification  by/ 
 «ome  obvious  qualities,  (as  by  the  shape  and  figure  in  things  of  known  semi- 
 nal propagation,  and  in  other  substances,  for  the  most  part,  by  colour,  joined 
 with  some  other  sensible  qualities)  do  well  enough  to  design  the  things  men 
 would  be  understood  to  speak  of;  and  so  they  usually  conceive  well  enough 
 the  substances  meant  by  the  word  gold,  or  apple,  to  distinguish  the  one  from 
 the  other.  But  in  philosophical  inquiries  and  debates,  where  general  truths 
 are  to  be  established,  and  consequences  drawn  from  positions  laid  down — 
 there  the  precise  signification  of  the  names  of  substances  will  be  found,  not 
 only  not  to  be  well  established,  but  also  very  hard  to  be  so.  For  example,  he 
 that  shall  make  malleableness,  or  a  certain  degree  of  fixedness,  a  part  of  his 
 complex  idea  of  gold,  may  make  propositions  concerning  gold,  and  draw 
 consequences  from  them,  that  will  truly  and  clearly  follow  from  gold,  taken 
 in  such  a  signification ;  but  yet  such  as  another  man  can  never  be  forced  to 
 admit,  nor  be  convinced  of  their  truth,  who  makes  not  malleableness,  or  the 
 same  degree  of  fixedness,  part  of  that  complex  idea,  that  the  name  gold,  in  his 
 use  of  it,  stands  for. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Instance  liquor. — This  is  a  natural,  and  almost  unavoidable  im- 
 perfection in  almost  all  the  names  of  substances,  in  all  languages  whatsoever, 
 which  men  will  easily  find,  when  once  passing  from  confused  or  loose  notions, 
 they  come  to  more  strict  and  close  inquiries  :  for  then  they  wiii  be  convinced 
 how  doubtful  and  obscure  those  words  are  in  their  signification,  which  in  or- 
 dinary use  appeared  very  clear  and  determined.  I  was  once  in  a  meeting  of 
 very  learned  and  ingenious  physicians,  where  by  chance  there  arose  a  ques- 
 tion, whether  any  liquor  passed  througli  the  filaments  of  the  nerves.  The 
 debate  having  been  managed  a  good  while,  by  variety  of  arguments  on  both 
 sides,  I  (who  had  been  used  to  suspect  that  the  greatest  parts  of  disputes 
 were  more  about  the  signification  of  words  than  a  real  difference  in  the  con- 
 ception of  things)  desired,  that  before  they  went  any  farther  on  in  this  dis- 
 pute, they  would  first  examine,  and  establish  among  them,  what  the  word 
 liquor  signified.  They  at  first  were  a  little  surprised  at  the  proposal;  and 
 had  they  been  persons  less  ingenious,  they  might  perhaps  have  taken  it  for  a 
 very  frivolous  or  extravagant  one ;  since  there  was  no  one  there  tiiat  thought 
 not  himself  to  understand  very  perfectly  what  the  word  liquor  stood  for ; 
 which  I  think,  too,  none  of  the  most  perplexed  names  of  substances.  How- 
 ever, they  were  pleased  to  comply  with  my  motion;  and,  upon  examination, 
 found  that  the  signification  of  that  word  was  not  so  settled  and  certain  as 
 they  had  all   imagined,  but  that  each  of  them   made  it  a  sign  of  a  different 
 
Ch.  9.  IMPERFECTION  OF  WORDS.  315 
 
 complex  idea.  Tliis  made  them  believe  that  the  main  of  their  dispute  was 
 about  the  signification  of  that  term  ;  and  that  they  differed  very  little  in  their 
 opinions  concerning  some  fluid  and  subtle  matter  pkssing  through  the  con- 
 duits of  the  nerves,  though  it  was  not  so  easy  to  agree  whether  it  was  to  be 
 called  liquor  or  no — a  thing  which,  when  considered,  they  thought  it  not  worth 
 the  contending  about. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Instance  Gold. — How  much  this  is  the  case  in  the  greatest  part 
 of  disputes  that  men  are  engaged  so  hotly  in,  I  shall  perhaps  have  an  occa- 
 sion in  another  place  to  take  notice.  Let  us  only  here  consider  a  little  more 
 exactly  the  fore-mentioned  instance  of  the  word  gold,  and  we  shall  see  how 
 hard  it  is  precisely  to  determine  its  signification.  I  think  all  agree  to  make 
 it  stand  for  a  body  of  a  certain  yellow  shining  colour  ;  which  being  the  idea 
 to  which  children  have  annexed  that  name,  the  shining  yellow  part  of  a  pea- 
 cock's tail  is  properly  to  them  gold.  Others  finding  fusibility,  joined  with 
 that  yellow  colour  in  certain  parcels  of  matter,  make  of  that  combination  a 
 complex  idea,  to  which  they  give  the  name  gold,  to  denote  a  sort  of  sub- 
 stances ;  and  so  exclude  from  being  gold  all  such  yellow  shining  bodies  as 
 by  fire  will  be  reduced  to  ashes  ;  and  admit  to  be  of  that  species,  or  to  be 
 comprehended  under  that  name  gold,  only  such  substances,  as  having  that 
 shining  yellow  colour,  will  by  fire  be  reduced  to  fusion,  and  not  to  ashes. 
 Another,  by  the  same  reason,  adds  the  weight ;  which  being  a  quality  as 
 straightly  joined  with  that  colour  as  its  fusibility,  he  thinks  has  the  same  reason 
 to  be  joined  in  its  idea,  and  to  be  signified  by  its  name  ;  and  therefore  the  other 
 made  up  of  body,  of  such  a  colour  and  fusibility,  to  be  imperfect ;  and  so  on 
 of  all  the  rest :  wherein  no  one  can  show  a  reason  why  some  of  the  insepara- 
 ble qualities,  that  are  always  united  in  nature,  should  be  put  into  the  nominal 
 essence,  and  others  left  out ;  or  why  the  word  gold,  signifying  that  sort  of 
 body  the  ring  on  his  finger  is  made  of,  should  determine  that  sort,  rather  by 
 its  colour,  weight,  and  fusibility,  than  by  its  colour,  weight  and  solubility  in 
 aq.  regia :  since  the  dissolving  of  it  by  that  liquor  is  as  inseparable  from  it 
 as  the  fusion  by  fire  ;  and  they  are  both  of  tliem  nothing  but  the  relation  which 
 that  substance  has  to  two  other  bodies,  which  have  a  power  to  operate  differ- 
 ently upon  it.  For  by  what  right  is  it  that  fusibility  comes  to  be  a  part  of 
 the  essence  signified  by  the  word  gold,  and  solubility  but  a  property  of  it ;  or 
 why  is  its  colour  part  of  the  essence,  and  its  malleableness  but  a  property  ? 
 That  which  I  mean  is  this  :  that  these  being  all  but  properties  depending  on 
 its  real  constitution,  and  nothing  but  powers,  either  active  or  passive,  in  re- 
 ference to  other  bodies;  no  one  has  authority  to  determine  the  signification  of 
 the  word  gold  (as  referred  to  such  a  body  existing  in  nature)  more  to  one 
 collection  of  ideas  to  be  found  in  that  body  than  to  another  :  whereby  the  sig- 
 nification of  that  name  must  unavoidably  be  very  uncertain  ;  since,  as  has  been 
 said,  several  people  observe  several  properties  in  the  same  substance  ;  and,  I 
 think,  I  may  say  nobody  at  all.  And  therefore  we  have  but  very  imperfect  de- 
 scriptions of  things,  and  words  have  very  uncertain  significations. 
 
 Sect.  18.  The  names  of  simple  ideas  the  least  doubtful. — From  what  has 
 been  said,  it  is  easy  to  observe  what  has  been  before  remarked,  viz.  That 
 the  names  of  simple  ideas  are,  of  all  others,  the  least  liable  to  mistakes,  and 
 that  for  these  reasons.  First,  because  the  ideas  they  stand  for,  being  each 
 but  one  single  perception,  are  much  easier  got,  and  more  clearly  retained, 
 than  the  more  complex  ones  ;  and  therefore  are  not  liable  to  the  uncertainty 
 which  usually  attends  those  compounded  ones  of  substances  and  mixed  modes, 
 in  which  the  precise  number  of  simple  ideas,  that  make  them  up,  are  not 
 easily  agreed,  and  so  readily  kept  in  the  mind  :  and  secondly,  because  they 
 are  never  referred  to  any  other  essence,  but  barely  that  perception  they  im- 
 mediately signify  ;  which  reference  is  that  which  renders  the  signification  of 
 the  names  of  substances  naturally  so  perplexed,  and  gives  occasion  to  so  many 
 disputes.  Men  that  do  not  perversely  use  tlieir  words,  or  on  purpose  set 
 themselves  to  cavil,  seldom  mistake,  in  any  language  which  they  are  acquain- 
 ted with,  the  use  and  signification  of  the  nam?3  of  simple  ideas  :  white  and 
 
318  OF  HUAIAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 sweet,  yellow  and  bitter,  carry  a  very  obvious  meaning  with  them,  which  ev- 
 ery one  precisely  comprehends,  or  easily  perceives  lie  is  ignorant  of,  and  seeks 
 to  be  informed.  But  what  precise  collection  of  simple  ideas  modesty  or  fru- 
 gality stand  for  in  another's  use,  is  not  so  certainly  known.  And  however 
 we  are  apt  to  think  we  well  enough  know  what  is  meant  by  gold  or  iron  ;  yet 
 the  precise  complex  idea  others  make  them  the  signs  of,  is  not  so  certain  ; 
 and  I  believe  it  is  very  seldom  that,  in  speaker  and  hearer,  they  stand  for  ex- 
 actly the  same  collection  :  which  must  needs  produce  mistakes  and  disputes, 
 when  they  are  made  use  of  in  discourses,  wherein  men  have  to  do  with  uni- 
 versal propositions,  and  would  settle  in  their  minds  universal  truths,  and  con- 
 sider the  consequences  that  follow  from  them. 
 
 Sect.  19.  And  next  to  them,  simple  modes. — By  the  same  rule,  the  names 
 of  simjjle  modes  are,  next  to  those  of  simple  ideas,  least  liable  to  doubt  and 
 uncertainty,  especially  those  of  figure  and  number,  of  which  men  have  so 
 clear  and  distinct  ideas.  Who  ever,  that  had  a  mind  to  understand  them, 
 mistook  the  ordinary  meaning  of  se\-en,  or  a  triangle]  And  in  general  the 
 least  compounded  ideas  in  every  kind  have  tiie  least  dubious  names. 
 
 Sect.  20.  The  7nost  doubtful  are  the  names  of  very  compounded  mixed 
 modes  and  substances. — Mixed  modes,  therefore,  that  are  made  up  but  of  a 
 few  and  obvious  simple  ideas,  have  usually  names  of  no  very  uncertain  sig- 
 nification ;  but  the  same  names  of  mixed  modes,  which  comprehend  a  great 
 number  of  simple  ideas,  are  commonly  of  a  very  doubtful  and  undetermined 
 meaning,  as  has  been  shown.  The  names  of  substances,  being  annexed  to 
 ideas  that  are  neither  the  real  essences  nor  exact  representations  of  the  pat- 
 terns they  are  referred  to,  are  liable  yet  to  greater  imperfection  and  uncer- 
 tainty, especially  when  we  come  to  a  philosophical  use  of  them. 
 
 Sect.  21.  Why  this  imperfection  charged  upon  words. — The  great  dis- 
 order that  happens  in  our  names  of  substances,  proceeding  for  the  most  part 
 from  our  want  of  knowledge,  and  inability  to  penetrate  into  their  real  consti- 
 tutions, it  may  probably  be  wondered,  why  I  charge  this  as  an  imperfection 
 rather  upon  our  words  than  understandings.  This  exception  has  so  much 
 appearance  of  justice,  that  I  think  myself  obliged  to  give  a  reason  why  I  have 
 followed  this  method.  I  must  confess,  then,  that  when  I  first  began  this  dis- 
 course of  the  understanding,  and  a  good  while  after,  I  had  not  the  least 
 thought  that  any  consideration  of  words  was  at  all  necessary  to  it.  But  when, 
 having  passed  over  the  original  and  composition  of  our  ideas,  I  began  to  ex- 
 amine the  extent  and  certainty  of  our  knowledge,  I  found  it  had  so  near  a 
 connexion  with  words,  that,  unless  their  force  and  manner  of  signification 
 were  first  well  observed,  there  could  be  very  little  said  clearly  and  pertinently 
 concerning  knowledge  ;  which  being  conversant  about  truth,  had  constantly 
 to  do  with  propositions  ;  and  though  it  terminated  in  things,  yet  it  was  for 
 the  most  part  so  much  by  the  intervention  of  words,  that  they  seemed  scarce 
 separable  from  our  general  knowledge.  At  least,  they  interpose  themselves 
 so  much  between  our  understandings  and  the  truth,  which  it  would  contem- 
 plate and  apprehend,  that,  like  the  medium  through  which  visible  objects  pass, 
 their  obscurity  and  disorder  do  not  seldom  cast  a  mist  before  our  eyes,  and 
 impose  upon  our  understandings.  If  we  consider,  in  the  fallacies  men  put 
 upon  themselves  as  well  as  others,  and  the  mistakes  in  men's  disputes  and 
 notions,  how  great  a  part  is  owing  to  words,  and  their  uncertain  or  mistaken 
 significations — we  shall  have  reason  to  think  this  no  small  obstacle  in  the 
 way  to  knowledge  ;  which,  I  conclude,  we  are  the  more  carefully  to  be  warned 
 of,  because  it  has  been  so  far  from  being  taken  notice  of  as  an  inconvenience, 
 that  the  arts  of  improving  it  have  been  made  the  business  of  men's  study,  and 
 obtained  the  reputation  of  learning  and  subtility,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  fol- 
 lowing chapter.  But  I  am  apt  to  imagine,  that  were  the  imperfections  or 
 language,  as  the  instruments  of  knowledge,  more  thoroughly  weighed,  a  great 
 many  of  the  controversies  that  make  such  a  noise  in  the  world,  would  of  them- 
 selves cease  ;  and  the  way  to  knowledge,  and  perhaps  peace,  too,  lie  a  great 
 deal  opener  than  it  does. 
 
Cb.  9.  IMPERFECTION  OF  WORDS.  317 
 
 Sect.  22.  This  should  teach  vs  moderation,  in  imposing  our  own  sense 
 of  old  authors. — Sure  lam,  that  the  signification  of  words,  in  all  languages, 
 depending  vcn^  much  on  the  thouglits,  notions,  and  ideas  of  him  that  uses 
 them,  must  unavnidahly  be  of  great  uncertainty  to  men  of  the  same  language 
 and  country.  This  is  so  evident  in  the  Greek  authors,  that  he  that  shall 
 peruse  their  writings,  v\ill  find  in  almost  every  one  of  them  a  distinct  lan- 
 guage, though  tlie  same  words.  But  wlien  to  this  natural  difiiculty  in  every 
 country  there  sliall  be  added  different  countries  and  remote  ages,  wherein  the 
 speakers  and  writers  had  ver\-  difierent  notions,  tempers,  customs,  ornaments, 
 and  figures  of  speech,  &c.  every  one  of  which  influenced  the  signification  of 
 their  words  then,  though  to  us  now  they  are  lost  and  unknown  ;  it  would  be- 
 come us  to  be  charitable  one  to  another  in  our  interpretations  or  misunder- 
 standing of  those  ancient  writings;  which,  though  of  great  concernment  to 
 be  understood,  are  liable  to  the  unavoidable  difficulties  of  speech,  which  (if 
 we  except  the  names  of  simple  ideas,  and  some  ver}-  obvious  things)  is  not 
 capable,  without  a  constant  defining  the  terms,  of  conveying  the  sense  ana 
 intention  of  the  speaker,  without  any  manner  of  doubt  and  uncertainty  to  the 
 hearer.  And  in  discourses  of  religion,  law,  ai;d  morality,  as  they  are  matters 
 of  the  highest  concernment,  so  there  will  be  the  greatest  difficulty. 
 
 Sect.  23.  The  volumes  of  interpreters  and  commentators  on  the  old  and 
 new  Testaments  are  but  too  manifest  proofs  of  this.  Though  every  thing  said 
 in  the  text  be  infallibly  true,  yet  the  reader  may  be,  nay  cannot  choose  but  be, 
 very  fallible  in  the  understanding  of  it.  Nor  is  it  to  be  wondered,  that  the 
 will  of  God,  when  clothed  in  words,  should  be  liable  to  that  doubt  and  uncer- 
 tainty which  unavoidably  attends  that  sort  of  conveyance  ;  when  even  liis 
 Son,  whilst  clothed  in  flesh,  was  subject  to  all  the  frailties  and  inconveniences 
 of  human  nature,  sin  excepted  :  and  we  ought  to  magnify  his  goodness,  that 
 he  hath  spread  before  all  the  world  such  legible  characters  of  his  works  and 
 providence,  and  given  all  mankind  so  sufficient  a  light  of  reason,  that  they  to 
 whom  this  written  word  never  came,  could  not  (whenever  they  set  themselves 
 to  search)  either  doubt  of  the  being  of  a  God,  or  of  the  obedience  due  to  him. 
 Since  then  the  precepts  of  natural  religion  are  plain,  and  very  intelligible  to 
 all  mankind,  and  seldom  come  to  be  controverted  ;  and  other  revealed  truths, 
 which  are  conveyed  to  us  by  books  and  languages,  are  liable  to  the  common 
 and  natural  obscurities  and  difficulties  incident  to  words  ;  methinks  it  would 
 become  us  to  be  more  careful  and  diligent  in  obser\"ing  the  former,  and  less 
 magisterial,  positive,  and  imperious  in  imposing  our  own  sense  and  interpre- 
 tations of  the  latter. 
 
 CHAPTER  X. 
 
 OF  THE  ABUSE  OF  WORDS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Abuse  of  words. — Besides  the  imperfection  that  is  naturally  in 
 language,  and  the  obscurity  and  confusion  that  is  so  hard  to  be  avoided  in  the 
 use  of  words,  there  are  several  wilful  faults  and  neglects  which  men  are  guilty 
 of  in  this  way  of  communication,  whereby  thev  render  these  signs  less  clear 
 and  distinct  in  their  signification  than  naturally  they  need  to  be. 
 
 Sect.  2.  First,  words  without  any,  or  without  clear  ideas. — First,  in  this 
 kind,  the  first  and  most  palpable  abuse  is,  the  using  of  words  without  clear 
 and  distinct  ideas  ;  or,  which  is  worse,  signs  without  any  thing  signified.  Of 
 these  there  are  two  sorts. 
 
 I.  One  may  observe,  in  all  languages,  certain  words,  that,  if  they  be  ex- 
 amined, will  be  found,  in  their  first  original  and  their  appropriate  use,  not  to 
 stand  for  any  clear  and  distinct  ideas.  These,  for  the  most  part,  the  several 
 sects  of  philosophy  and  religion  have  introduced.     For  their  authors  or  pro- 
 
318  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 meters,  either  aflccting  sonietliing  singular  and  out  of  tlie  way  of  common 
 apprehension,  or  to  support  some  strange  opinions,  or  cover  some  weakness 
 of  their  hypothesis,  seldom  fail  to  coin  new  words,  and  such  as,  when  they 
 come  to  be  examined,  may  justly  be  called  insignificant  terms.  For  having 
 cither  had  no  determinate  collection  of  ideas  annexed  to  them,  when  they 
 were  first  invented,  or  at  least,  such  as,  if  well  examined,  will  be  found  incon- 
 sistent ;  it  is  no  wonder  if  afterwards,  in  the  vulgar  use  of  the  same  party, 
 they  remain  empty  sounds,  with  little  or  no  signification,  among  those  who 
 think  it  enough  to  have  them  often  in  their  mouths,  as  the  distinguishmg 
 characters  of  their  church,  or  school,  without  much  troubling  their  heads  to 
 examine  what  are  the  precise  ideas  they  stand  for.  1  shall  not  need  here  to 
 heap  up  instances  ;  every  man's  reading  and  conversation  will  sufficiently 
 furnish  him:  or  if  he  wants  to  be  better  stored,  the  great  mint-masters  of  this 
 Icind  of  terms,  I  mean  the  schoolmen  and  metaphysicians,  (under  which,  I 
 think,  the  disputing  natural  and  moral  philosophers  of  these  latter  ages  may 
 be  comprehended)  have  wherewithal  abundantly  to  content  him. 
 
 Sect.  3. — II.  Others  there  be  who  extend  this  abuse  yet  farther  ;  who 
 take  so  little  care  to  lay  by  words,  which,  in  their  primary  notation,  have 
 scarce  any  clear  and  distinct  ideas  which  they  are  annexed  to;  that,  by  an 
 unpardonable  negligence,  they  familiarly  use  words,  which  the  propriety  of 
 language  has  affixed  to  very  important  ideas,  without  any  distinct  meaning  at 
 all.  Wisdom,  glory,  grace,  tfcc.  are  words  frequent  enough  in  every  man's 
 mouth  ;  but  if  a  great  many  of  those  who  use  them  should  be  asked  what  they 
 mean  by  them,  they  would  be  at  a  stand,  and  not  know  what  to  answer :  a 
 l^lain  proof,  that  though  they  have  learned  those  sounds,  and  have  them  ready 
 at  their  tongue's  end,  yet  there  are  no  determined  ideas  laid  up  in  their  minds, 
 which  are  to  be  expressed  to  others  by  them. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Occasioned  by  learning  names  before  the  ideas  they  belong  to. 
 — Men  having  been  accustomed  from  their  cradles  to  learn  words,  which  are 
 easily  got  and  retained,  before  they  knew  or  had  framed  the  complex  ideas  to 
 which  they  were  annexed,  or  which  were  to  be  found  in  the  things  they  were 
 thought  to  stand  for  ;  they  usually  continue  to  do  so  all  their  lives  ;  and,  with- 
 out taking  the  pains  necessary  to  settle  in  their  minds  determined  ideas,  they 
 use  their  words  for  such  unsteady  and  confused  notions  as  they  have,  contenting 
 themselves  with  the  same  words  other  people  use  :  as  if  their  very  sound  neces- 
 sarily carried  with  it  constantly  the  same  meaning.  This,  though  men  make  a 
 shift;  with,  in  the  ordinary  occurrences  of  life,  where  tliey  find  it  necessary  to  be 
 understood,  and  therefore  they  make  signs  till  they  are  so ;  yet  this  insignificancy 
 in  their  words,  when  they  come  to  reason  concerning  either  their  tenets  or 
 interest,  manifestly  fills  their  discourse  with  abundance  of  empty,  unintelli- 
 gible noise  and  jargon  ;  especially  in  moral  matters,  where  the  words  for  the 
 most  part  standing  for  arbitrary  and  numerous  collections  of  ideas  not 
 regularly  and  permanently  united  in  nature,  their  bare  sounds  are  often  only 
 thought  on,  or  at  least  very  obscure  and  uncertain  notions  annexed  to  them. 
 Men  take  the  words  they  find  in  use  among  their  neighbours  ;  and  that  they 
 may  not  seem  ignorant  what  they  stand  for.  use  them  confidently,  without 
 much  troubling  their  heads  about  a  certain  fixed  meaning  :  whereby,  besides 
 the  ease  of  it,  they  obtain  this  advantage,  that  as  in  such  discourses  they  seldom 
 are  in  the  right,  so  they  are  seldom  to  be  convinced  that  they  are  in  the 
 wrong  ;  it  being  all  one  to  go  about  to  draw  those  men  out  of  their  mistakes, 
 who  have  no  settled  notions,  as  to  dispossess  a  vagrant  of  his  habitation,  who 
 has  no  settled  abode.  This  I  guess  to  be  so;  and  every  one  may  observe  in 
 himself  and  others  whether  it  be  or  no. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Unsteady  application  of  them. — Secondly,  another  great  abuse 
 of  words  is  inconsistency  in  the  use  of  them.  It  is  hard  to  find  a  discourse 
 written  upon  any  subject,  especially  of  controversy,  wherein  one  shall  not  ob- 
 ser\'e,  if  he  read  with  attention,  the  same  words  (and  those  commonly  the  most 
 material  in  the  discourse,  and  upon  which  the  argument  turns)  used  some- 
 times for  one  collection  of  simple  ideas,  and  sometimes  for  anotlier,  which  is 
 
Ch.  10.  ABUSE  OF  WORDS.  319 
 
 a  perfect  abuse  of  language.  Words  being  intended  for  signs  of  my  ideas,  to 
 make  them  known  to  others,  not  by  any  natural  signification,  but  by  a  voluntary 
 imposition — it  is  plain  cheat  and  abuse,  when  I  make  them  stand  sometimes  for 
 one  thing  and  sometimes  for  another ;  the  wilful  doing  whereof  can  be  imputed 
 to  nothing  but  great  folly,  or  greater  dishonesty  :  and  a  man,  in  his  accounts 
 with  another,  may,  with  as  much  fairness,  make  the  characters  of  numbers 
 stand  sometimes  for  one  and  sometimes  for  another  collection  of  units,  {v.  g. 
 this  character  3  stands  sometimes  for  three,  sometimes  for  four,  and  some- 
 times for  eight)  as  in  his  discourse,  or  reasoning,  make  the  same  words  stand  for 
 different  collections  of  simple  ideas.  If  men  should  do  so  in  their  reckonings, 
 I  wonder  who  would  have  to  do  with  them  ]  One  who  would  speak  thus,  in 
 the  affairs  and  business  of  the  world,  and  call  eight  sometimes  seven,  and 
 sometimes  nine,  as  best  served  his  advantage,  will  presently  have  clapped 
 upon  him  one  of  the  two  names  men  are  commonly  disgusted  with :  and  yet 
 in  arguings  and  learned  contests,  the  same  sort  of  proceedings  passes  com- 
 monly for  wit  and  learning:  but  to  me  it  appears  a  greater  dishonesty  than 
 the  misplacing  of  counters  in  the  casting  up  a  debt ;  and  the  cheat  the  greater, 
 by  how  much  trutli  is  of  greater  concernment  and  value  than  money. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Affected  obscurity  by  wrong  application. — Thirdly,  another 
 abuse  of  language  is  an  affected  obscurity,  by  either  applying  old  words  to 
 new  and  unusual  significations,  or  introducing  new  and  ambiguous  terms, 
 without  defining  either ;  or  else  putting  them  so  together,  as  may  confound 
 their  ordinary  meaning.  Thougli  the  peripatetic  philosophy  has  been  most 
 eminent  in  this  way,  yet  other  sects  have  not  been  wholly  clear  of  it.  There 
 are  scarce  any  of  them  that  are  not  cumbered  with  some  difficulties  (such  is 
 the  imperfection  of  human  knowledge)  which  they  have  been  fain  to  cover 
 with  obscurity  of  terms,  and  to  confound  the  signification  of  words,  which, 
 like  a  mist  before  people's  eyes,  might  hinder  their  weak  parts  from  being 
 discovered.  That  body  and  extension,  in  common  use,  stand  for  two  distinct 
 ideas,  is  plain  to  any  one  that  will  but  reflect  a  little  :  for  were  their  signifi- 
 cation precisely  the  same,  it  would  be  proper,  and  as  intelligible,  to  say  the 
 body  of  an  extension,  as  the  extension  of  a  body :  and  yet  there  are  those  who 
 find  it  necessary  to  confound  their  signification.  To  this  abuse,  and  the  mis- 
 chiefs of  confounding  the  signification  of  words,  logic  and  the  liberal  sciences, 
 as  they  have  been  handled  in  the  schools,  have  given  reputation ;  and  the 
 admired  art  of  disputing  hath  added  much  to  the  natural  imperfection  of  lan- 
 guages, whilst  it  has  been  made  use  of  and  fitted  to  perplex  the  signification 
 of  words,  more  than  to  discover  the  knowledge  and  truth  of  things  :  and  he 
 that  will  look  into  that  sort  of  learned  writings,  will  find  the  words  there 
 much  more  obscure,  uncertain,  and  undeterminable  in  their  meaning  than  they 
 are  in  ordinary  conversation. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Logic  and  dispute  have  much  contributed  to  this. — This  is  un- 
 avoidably to  be  so,  where  men's  parts  and  learning  are  estimated  by  their  skill 
 in  disputing.  And  if  reputation  and  reward  shall  attend  these  conquests, 
 which  depend  mostly  on  the  fineness  and  niceties  of  words,  it  is  no  wonder 
 if  the  wit  of  man,  so  employed,  should  perplex,  involve,  and  subtilize  the 
 signification  of  sounds,  so  as  never  to  want  something  to  say,  in  opposing  or 
 defending  any  question :  the  victory  being  adjudged  not  to  him  who  had  truth 
 on  his  side,  but  the  last  word  in  the  dispute. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Calling  it  suhtility. — This,  though  a  very  useless  skill,  and  that 
 which  I  think  the  direct  opposite  to  the  ways  of  knowledge,  hath  yet  passed 
 hitherto  under  the  laudable  and  esteemed  names  of  subtility  and  acuteness ; 
 and  has  had  the  applause  of  the  schools,  and  encouragement  of  one  part  of  the 
 learned  men  of  the  world.  And  no  wonder,  since  the  philosophers  of  old 
 (the  disputing  and  wrangling  philosophers  I  mean,  such  as  Lucian  wittingly 
 and  with  reason  taxes)  and  the  schoolmen  since,  aiming  at  glory  and  esteem 
 for  their  great  and  universal  knowledge,  (easier  a  great  deal  to  be  pretended 
 to  than  really  acquired)  found  this  a  good  expedient  to  cover  their  ignorance 
 with  a  curious,  and  inexplicable  web  of  perplexed  words,  and  procure  to  them- 
 
320  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 selves  tlie  admiration  of  otliers  by  utiiiitelligible  terms,  tlie  apter  to  produce 
 wonder,  because  they  could  not  be  understood  :  wliiJst  it  appears  in  all  his- 
 tory, that  these  profound  doctors  were  no  wiser,  nor  more  useful,  tlian  their 
 neighbours ;  and  brought  but  small  advantage  to  human  life,  or  the  societies 
 wherein  they  lived  ;  unless  the  coining  of  new  words,  where  they  produced 
 no  new  things  to  apply  them  to,  or  the  perplexing  or  obscunng  the  signilica- 
 tion  of  old  ones,  and  so  bringing  all  things  into  question  and  dispute,  were 
 a  thing  profitable  to  the  life  of  man,  or  worthy  commendation  and  reward. 
 
 Sect.  9.  This  learning  very  little  benefits  society. — For  notwithstanding 
 these  learned  disputants,  these  all-knowing  doctors,  it  was  to  the  unscholas- 
 tic  statesman  that  the  governments  of  the  world  owed  their  peace,  defence, 
 and  liberties  ;  and  from  the  illiterate  and  condenmed  mechanic  (a  name  of 
 disgrace)  that  they  received  the  improvements  of  useful  arts.  Nevertheless, 
 this  artificial  ignorance  and  learned  gibberish  prevailed  mightily  in  these  last 
 ages,  by  the  interest  and  artifice  of  those  who  found  no  easier  way  to  that 
 pitch  of  authority  and  dominion  they  have  attained,  than  by  amusing  the  men 
 of  business  and  ignorant,  with  hard  words,  or  employing  the  ingenious  and 
 idle  in  intricate  disputes  about  unintelligible  terms,  and  holding  them  perpetu- 
 ally entangled  in  that  endless  labyrinth.  Besides,  there  is  no  such  way  to 
 gain  admittance,  or  give  defence  to  strange  and  absurd  doctrines,  as  to  guard 
 them  round  about  with  legions  of  obscure,  doubtful,  and  undefined  words : 
 which  yet  make  these  retreats  more  like  the  dens  of  robbers,  or  holes  of  foxes, 
 than  the  fortresses  of  fair  warriors ;  which,  if  it  be  hard  to  get  them  out  of, 
 it  is  not  for  tiie  strength  that  is  in  them,  but  the  briers  and  thorns,  and  the 
 obscurity  of  the  thickets  they  are  beset  with.  For  untruth  being  unacceptable 
 to  the  mind  of  man,  there  is  no  other  defence  left  for  absurdity  but  obscurity. 
 Sect.  10.  But  destroys  the  instruments  of  knowledge  and  communication. 
 — Thus  learned  ignorance,  and  this  art  of  keeping,  even  inquisitive  men,  from 
 true  knowledge,  hath  been  propagated  in  the  world,  and  hath  much  perplexed, 
 whilst  it  pretended  to  inform,  the  understanding.  For  we  see  that  other  well- 
 meaning  and  wise  men,  whose  education  and  parts  had  not  acquired  that  acute- 
 ness,  could  intelligibly  express  themselves  to  one  another;  and  in  its  plain 
 use  make  a  benefit  of  language.  But  though  unlearned  men  well  enough  un- 
 derstood the  words  wiiite  and  black,  &c.  and  had  constant  notions  of  the  ideas 
 signified  by  those  words ;  yet  tliere  were  philosophers  found,  who  had  learn- 
 ing and  subtilty  enough  to  prove,  that  snow  was  black ;  i.  e.  to  prove  that 
 white  was  black.  Whereby  they  had  the  advantage  to  destroy  the  instru- 
 ments and  means  of  discourse,  conversation,  instruction,  and  society;  whilst 
 with  great  art  and  subtilty  they  did  no  more  but  perplex  and  confound  the 
 signification  of  words;  and  thereby  render  language  less  useful  than  the  real 
 defeC'S  of  it  had  made  it;  a  gift,  which  the  illiterate  had  not  attained  to. 
 
 Sect.  11.  As  useful  as  to  confound  the  sound  of  the  letters. — These 
 learned  men  did  equally  instruct  men's  understandings,  and  profit  their  lives, 
 as  he  who  should  alter  the  signification  of  known  characters,  and  by  a  subtle 
 device  of  learning,  far  surpassing  the  capacity  of  the  illiterate,  dull,  and  vul- 
 gar, sliould,  in  his  writings,  show  that  he  could  put  A  for  B,  and  D  for  E,  &c. 
 to  the  no  small  admiration  and  benefit  of  his  reader:  it  being  as  senseless  to 
 put  black,  which  is  a  word  agreed  on  to  stand  for  one  sensible  idea,  to  put  it, 
 I  say,  for  another,  or  the  contrary  idea,  i.  e.  to  call  snow  black,  as  to  put  this 
 mark  A,  which  is  a  character  agreed  on  to  stand  for  one  modification  of  sound, 
 made  by  a  certain  motion  of  the  organs  of  speech,  for  B,  which  is  agreed  on 
 to  stand  for  another  modification  of  sound,  made  by  another  certain  motion  of 
 the  organs  of  speech. 
 
 Sect.  12.  This  art  has  perplexed  religion  and  justice. — Nor  hatb  this 
 mischief  stopped  in  logical  niceties,  or  curious  empty  speculations ;  it  hath 
 invaded  the  great  concernments  of  human  life  and  society,  obscured  and  per- 
 plexed the  material  truths  of  law  and  divinity ;  brought  confusion,  disorder, 
 and  uncertainty  into  the  affairs  of  mankind  ;  and  if  not  destroyed,  yet  in  a 
 great  measure  rendered  useless,  these  two  great  rules,  religion  and  justice. 
 
Ch.  10.  ABUSE  OF  WOREG.  321 
 
 What  have  the  greatest  part  of  the  comments  and  disputes  upon  the  lav^^s  of 
 God  and  man  sen-ed  for,  but  to  make  the  meaning  more  doubtful,  and  per- 
 plex the  sense  ?  What  have  been  the  effects  of  those  multiphed  cnrioas 
 distinctions  and  acute  niceties,  but  obscurity  and  uncertainty,  leanng  the 
 words  more  unintelligible,  and  the  reader  more  at  a  loss !  How  else  comes 
 it  to  pass  that  princes,  speaking  or  writing  to  their  sen'ants,  in  their  ordinary 
 commands,  are  easily  understood;  speaking  to  their  people,  in  their  laws,  are 
 not  so  ?  And,  as  I  remarked  before,  doth  it  not  often  happen,  that  a  man  of 
 an  ordinary  capacity  very  well  understands  a  text,  or  a  law,  that  he  reads,  till 
 he  consults  an  expositor,  or  goes  to  coxmsel ;  who,  by  that  time  he  hath  done 
 explaining  them,  makes  the  words  signify  either  notliing  at  all,  or  what  he 
 pleases. 
 
 Sect.  13.  And  ought  not  to  pass  for  learning. — Whether  any  by-interests 
 of  these  professions  have  occasioned  this,  I  will  not  here  examine ;  but  I  leave 
 it  to  be  considered,  whether  it  would  not  be  well  for  mankind,  whose  concern- 
 ment it  is  to  know  tilings  as  Ihey  are,  and  to  do  what  they  ought,  and  not  to 
 spend  their  Uves  in  talking  about  them,  or  tossing  words  to  and  fro ;  whether 
 it  would  not  be  well,  I  say,  that  the  use  of  words  were  made  plain  and  direct, 
 and  that  language,  which  was  given  us  for  the  improvement  oflcnowledgeand 
 bond  of  society,  should  not  be  employed  to  darken  truth,  and  imsettle  people's 
 rights;  to  raise  mists,  and  render  unintelligible  both  morality  and  religion? 
 Or  that,  at  least,  if  this  will  happen,  it  should  not  be  thought  learning  or 
 knowledge  to  do  so ! 
 
 Sect.  14.  Taking  them  for  things. — Fourthly,  another  great  abuse  of 
 words,  is  the  taking  them  for  things.  This,  though  it  in  some  degree  con- 
 cerns all  names  in  general,  yet  more  particularly  affects  those  of  substances. 
 To  this  abuse  those  men  are  most  subject  who  most  confine  their  thouo-hts  to 
 any  one  system,  and  give  themselves  up  into  a  firm  belief  of  the  perfection 
 of  any  received  hypothesis;  whereby  they  come  to  be  persuaded,  that  the 
 terms  of  that  sect  are  so  suited  to  the  nature  of  things,  that  they  perfectly 
 correspond  with  their  real  existence.  Who  is  there,  that  has  been  bred  up 
 in  the  peripatetic  philosophy,  who  does  not  think  the  ten  names,  under  wliich 
 are  ranked  the  ten  predicaments,  to  be  exactly  conformable  to  the  nature  of 
 things  ]  Who  is  there  of  that  school  that  is  not  persuaded,  that  substantial 
 forms,  vegetative  soids,  abhorrence  of  a  vacuum,  intentional  species,  <SiSc.  are 
 something  real  1  These  words  men  have  learned  from  their  very  entrance 
 upon  knowledge,  and  have  found  their  masters  and  systems  lay  great  stress 
 upon  them  ;  and  therefore  they  cannot  quit  the  opinion,  that  they  are  con- 
 formable to  nature,  and  are  the  representations  of  something  that  really  ex- 
 ists. The  Platonists  have  their  soul  of  the  world,  and  the  Epicureans  their 
 endeavour  towards  motion  in  their  atoms,  when  at  rest.  There  is  scarce  any 
 sect  in  philosophy  has  not  a  distinct  set  of  terms,  that  others  understand  not; 
 but  yet  this  gibberish,  which,  in  the  weakness  of  human  understanding,  serves 
 so  well  to  palliate  men's  ignorance,  and  cover  their  errors,  comes,  by  familiar 
 use  among  those  of  the  same  tribe,  to  seem  the  most  important  part  of  lan- 
 guage, and  of  all  other  the  terms  the  most  significant.  And  should  aerial 
 and  setherial  vehicles  come  once,  by  the  prevalency  of  that  doctrine,  to  be 
 generally  received  any  where,  no  doubt  those  terms  would  make  impressions 
 on  men's  minds,  so  as  to  establish  them  in  the  persuasion  of  the  reality  of 
 such  things,  as  much  as  peripatetic  forms  and  intentional  species  have  here- 
 tofore done. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Instance,  in  matter. — How  much  names  taken  for  things  are 
 apt  to  mislead  the  understanding,  the. attentive  reading  of  philosophical  wri- 
 ters would  abundantly  discover ;  and  that,  perhaps,  in  words  little  suspected 
 of  anv  such  misuse.  I  shall  instance  in  one  only,  and  that  a  ver}'  familiar 
 one  :  how  many  intricate  disputes  have  there  been  about  matter,  as  if  there 
 were  some  such  thing  really  in  natiu^e,  distinct  from  body ;  as  it  is  evident 
 the  word  matter  stands  for  an  idea  distinct  from  the  idea  of  body  I  For  if  the 
 ideas  these  two  terms  stood  for  were  precisely  the  same,  thev  rai?ht  indiffer- 
 2Q 
 
322  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 ently,  in  all  places,  be  put  one  for  another.  '  But  we  see,  that  though  it  be 
 proper  to  say,  there  is  one  matter  of  all  bodies,  one  cannot  say  there  is  one 
 body  of  all  matters  :  we  familiarly  say,  one  body  is  bigger  than  another;  but 
 it  sounds  harsh  (and  I  think  is  never  used)  to  say,  one  matter  is  bigger  than 
 another.  Whence  comes  this,  then  !  viz.  from  hence,  that  though  matter  and 
 body  be  not  really  distinct,  but  wherever  there  is  the  one  there  is  the  other ; 
 yet  matter  and  body  stand  lor  two  ditlercut  conceptions,  whereof  the  one  is 
 incomplete,  and  but  a  part  of  the  other.  For  body  stands  for  a  solid  extended 
 figured  substance,  whereof  matter  is  but  a  partial  and  more  confused  concep- 
 tion, it  seeming  to  me  to  be  used  for  the  substance  and  solidity  of  body, 
 without  taking  in  its  extension  and  figure  :  and  therefore  it  is  that,  speaking 
 of  matter,  we  .speak  of  it  always  as  one,  because  in  truth  it  expressly  contains 
 nothing  but  the  idea  of  a  solid  substance,  which  is  every  where  the  same,  every 
 where  uniform.  This  being  our  idea  of  matter,  we  no  more  conceive  or 
 speak  of  different  matters  in  the  world,  than  we  do  of  different  solidities  ; 
 though  we  both  conceive  and  speak  of  different  bodies,  because  extension  and 
 figure  are  capable  of  variation.  But  since  solidity  cannot  exist  without  exten- 
 sion and  figure,  the  taking  matter  to  be  the  name  of  something  really  existing 
 under  that  precision,  has  no  doubt  produced  those  obscure  and  unintelligible 
 discourses  and  disputes,  which  have  filled  the  heads  and  books  of  philosophers, 
 concerning  materia  prima  ;  which  imperfection  or  abuse,  how  far  it  may  con- 
 cern a  great  many  other  general  terms,  1  leave  to  be  considered.  This,  I 
 think,  I  may  at  least  say,  that  we  should  have  a  great  many  fewer  disputes 
 in  the  world,  if  words  were  taken  for  what  they  are,  the  signs  of  our  ideas 
 only,  and  not  for  things  themselves.  For  when  we  argue  about  matter,  or  any 
 the  like  term,  we  truly  argue  only  about  the  idea  we  express  by  that  sound, 
 whether  that  precise  idea  agree  to  any  thing  really  existing  in  nature  or  no. 
 And  if  men  would  tell  what  ideas  they  make  their  words  stand  for,  there  could 
 not  be  half  that  obscurity  or  wrangling,  in  the  search  or  support  of  truth,  that 
 there  is. 
 
 Sect.  16.  This  makes  errors  lasting. — But  whatever  inconvenience  fol- 
 lows from  this  mistake  of  words,  this  I  am  sure,  that  by  constant  and  familiar 
 use,  they  charm  men  into  notions  far  remote  from  the  truth  of  things.  It 
 would  be  a  hard  matter  to  persuade  any  one  that  the  words  which  his  father 
 or  schoolmaster,  the  parson  of  the  parish,  or  such  a  reverend  doctor  used,  sig- 
 nified nothing  that  really  existed  in  nature  ;  which,  perhaps,  is  none  of  the 
 least  causes  that  men  are  so  hardly  drawn  toquit  their  mistakes,  even  in  opin- 
 ions purely  philosophical,  and  wliere  they  have  no  other  interest  but  truth. 
 For  the  words  they  have  a  long  time  been  used  to,  remaining  firm  in  their 
 minds,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  wrong  notions  annexed  to  them  should  not 
 be  removed. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Setting  them,  for  what  they  cannot  signify. — JEifilily*  another 
 abuse  of  words,  is  the  setting  them  in  the  place  of  things  which  they  do  or 
 can  by  no  means  signify.  We  may  observe,  that  in  the  general  names  of  sub- 
 stances, whereof  the  nominal  essences  are  only  known  to  us,  when  we  put 
 them  into  propositions,  and  affirm  or  deny  any  thing  about  them,  we  do  most 
 commonly  tacitly  suppose,  or  intend  they  should  stand  for,  the  real  essence  of 
 a  certain  sort  of  substances.  For  when  a  man  says  gold  is  malleable,  he 
 means  and  would  insinuate  something  more  than  this,  that  what  I  call  gold  is 
 malleable,  (though  truly  it  amounts  to  no  more)  but  would  have  this  under- 
 stood, viz.  that  gold,  i.  e.  what  has  the  real  essence  of  gold,  is  malleable  ; 
 which  amounts  to  thus  much,  that  malleableness  depends  on,  and  is  insepara- 
 ble from,  the  real  essence  of  gold.  But  a  man  not  knowing  wherein  that  real 
 essence  consists,  the  connexion  in  his  mind  of  malleableness  is  not  truly  with 
 an  essence  he  knows  not,  but  only  with  the  sound  gold  he  puts  for  it.  Thus 
 when  we  say,  that  animal  rationale  is,  and  animal  implume  hipes  latis  un- 
 guibus  is  not  a  good  definition  of  a  man  ;  it  is  plain  we  suppose  the  name  man 
 in  this  case  to  stand  for  the  real  essence  of  a  species,  and  would  signify,  that 
 a  rational  animal  better  described  that  real  essence,  than  a  two-legg^ii  animal 
 
Ch.  10.  ABUSE  OF  WORDS.  323 
 
 with  broad  nails,  and  without  feathers.  For  else,  why  might  not  Plato  as 
 properly  make  the  word  avfl^m^oc,  or  man,  stand  for  his  complex  idea,  made 
 up  of  the  idea  of  a  body,  distinguished  from  others  by  a  certain  shape  and 
 other  outward  appearances,  as  Aristotle  make  the  complex  idea,  to  which  he 
 gave  the  name  avfi^aTcc,  or  man,  of  body  and  the  faculty  of  reasoning  joined 
 together,  unless  the  name  avfl^aTroc,  or  man,  were  supposed  to  stand  for  some- 
 thing else  than  what  it  signifies  ;  and  to  be  put  in  the  place  of  some'other 
 thing  than  the  idea  a  man  professess  he  would  express  by  it  ? 
 
 Sect.  18.  v.  g.  Putting  them  for  the  real  essences  of  substances. — It  is 
 true,  the  names  of  substances  Avould  be  much  more  useful,  and  propositions 
 made  in  them  much  more  certain,  were  the  real  essences  of  substances  the  ideas 
 in  our  minds,  which  those  words  signified.  And  it  is  for  want  of  those  real  es- 
 sences that  our  words  convey  so  little  knowledge  or  certainty  in  our  dis- 
 courses about  them  :  and  therefore  the  mind,  to  remove  that  imperfection  as 
 much  as  it  can,  makes  them,  by  a  secret  supposition,  to  stand  for  a  thing, 
 having  that  real  essence,  as  if  thereby  it  made  some  nearer  approaches  to  it. 
 For  though  the  word  man  or  gold  signifying  nothing  truly  but  a  complex 
 idea  of  properties  united  together  in  one  sort  of  substances  ;  yet  there  is 
 scarce  any  body  in  the  use  of  these  words,  but  often  supposes  each  of  those 
 names  to  stand  for  a  thing  having  the  real  essence,  on  which  these  properties 
 depend.  Which  is  so  far  from  diminishing  the  imperfections  of  our  words, 
 that  by  a  plain  abuse  it  adds  to  it,  when  we  would  make  them  stand  for  some- 
 thing, which,  not  being  in  our  complex  idea,  the  name  we  use  can  no  ways 
 be  the  sign  of 
 
 Sect.  19.  Hence  we  think  every  change  of  our  idea  in  substances  not  to 
 change  the  species. — This  shows  us  the  reason  why  in  mixed  modes  any  of 
 the  ideas  that  make  the  composition  of  the  complex  one,  being  left  out  or 
 changed,  it  is  allowed  to  be  another  thing,  i.  e.  to  be  of  another  species  :  as 
 is  plain  in  chance-medley,  man-slaughter,  murder,  parricide,  &c.  The  reason 
 whereof  is,  because  the  complex  idea  signified  by  that  name  is  the  real  as 
 well  as  nominal  essence  ;  and  there  is  no  secret  reference  of  that  name  to 
 any  other  essence  but  that.  But  in  substances  it  is  not  so.  For  though  in 
 that  called  gold  one  puts  into  his  complex  idea  what  another  leaves  out,  and 
 vice  versa  ;  yet  men  do  not  usually  think  that  therefore  the  species  is  changed  : 
 because  they  secretly  in  their  minds  refer  that  name,  and  suppose  it  an- 
 nexed to  a  real  immutable  essence  of  a  thing  existing,  on  which  those  pro- 
 perties depend.  He  that  adds  to  his  complex  idea  of  gold  that  of  fixedness  and 
 solubility  in  aq.  regia,  which  he  put  not  in  it  before,  is  not  thought  to  have 
 changed  the  species ;  but  only  to  have  a  more  perfect  idea,  by  adding  another 
 simple  idea,  which  is  always  in  fact  joined  with  those  other,  of  which  his 
 former  complex  idea  consisted.  But  this  reference  of  the  name  to  a  thing, 
 whereof  we  had  not  the  idea,  is  so  far  from  helping  at  all,  that  it  only  serves 
 the  more  to  involve  us  in  difficulties.  For  by  this  tacit  reference  to  the  real 
 essence  of  that  species  of  bodies,  the  word  gold  (which,  by  standing  for  a 
 more  or  less  perfect  collection  of  simple  ideas,  serves  to  design  that  sort  of 
 body  well  enough  in  civil  discourse)  comes  to  have  no  signification  at  all, 
 being  put  for  somewhat,  whereof  we  have  no  idea  at  all,  and  so  can  signify 
 nothing  at  all,  when  the  body  itself  is  away.  For  however  it  may  be  thought 
 all  one,  yet,  if  well  considered,  it  will  be  found  quite  a  different  thing  to  ar- 
 gue about  gold  in  name,  and  about  a  parcel  in  the  body  itself,  v.  g.  a  piece 
 of  leaf-gold  laid  before  us  ;  though  in  discourse  we  are  fain  to  substitute 
 the  name  for  the  thing. 
 
 Sect.  20.  The  cause  of  the  abuse,  a  sujiposition  of  nature's  working 
 always  regularly. — That  which  I  think  very  much  disposes  men  to  substitute 
 their  names  for  the  real  essences  of  species,  is  the  supposition  before  men- 
 tioned, that  nature  works  regularly  in  tlie  production  of  things,  and  sets  the 
 boundaries  to  each  of  those  species,  by  giving  exactly  the  same  real  internal 
 constitution  to  each  individual,  which  we  rank  under  one  general  name. 
 Whereas  any  one  who  observes  their  different  qualities  can  hardly  doubt,  that 
 
324  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 many  of  the  individuals  culled  by  the  same  name,  are,  in  their  internal  consti- 
 tutinn,  as  different  one  from  another  as  several  of  those  Vrhich  are  ranked 
 under  different  spcoiffc  names.  This  snppoaitioii,  liovvcver,  that  the  samu 
 precise  and  internal  constitution  goes  always  with  the  same  t-pccific  name, 
 ma!;cs  men  forward  to  take  those  names  for  the  representatives  of  those  real 
 essences,  though  indeed  they  sig'nify  nothing  but  the  com|jlex  ideas  they  have 
 in  thftr  minds  when  they  use  iliem.  So  that,  if  I  may  so  say,  signifying  one 
 tiling,  and  being  supposed  for,  or  put  in  the  place  of  another,  they  cannot  but, 
 in  such  a  kind  of  use,  cause  a  great  deal  of  uncertainty  in  men's  discourses ; 
 especially  in  those  who  have  thoroughly  imbibed  the  doct-ine  of  substantial 
 forms,  whereby  they  firmly  imagine  the  several  species  of  things  to  be  deter- 
 mined and  distinguished. 
 
 Sect.  21.  This  ahuse  contains  two  false  suppositions. — But  however  pre- 
 posterous and  absurd  it  be  to  make  our  names  stand  for  ideas  we  have  not, 
 or  (which  is  all  one)  essences  that  we  know  not,  it  being  in  effect  to  make 
 our  words  the  signs  of  nothing  ;  yet  it  is  evident  to  any  one,  who  ever  so  lit- 
 tle reflects  on  the  use  men  make  of  their  words,  that  there  is  nothing  more 
 familiar.  When  a  man  asks  whether  this  or  that  thing  he  sees,  let  it  be  a 
 drill,  or  a  monstrous  fcetus,  be  a  man  or  no  ;  it  is  evident,  the  question  is  not, 
 whether  that  particular  thing  agree  to  his  comple.x  idea,  expressed  by  the 
 name  man  ;  but  whether  it  has  in  it  the  real  essence  of  a  species  of  things, 
 which  he  supposes  his  name  man  to  stand  for.  In  which  way  of  using  the 
 names  of  substances  there  are  these  false  suppositions  contained. 
 
 First,  there  are  certain  precise  essences,  according  to  which  nature  makes : 
 all  particular  things,  and  by  which  they  are  distinguished  into  species.  That 
 every  thing  has  a  real  constitution,  whereby  it  is  what  it  is,  and  on  which  its 
 sensible  qualities  depend,  is  past  doubt ;  but  I  thmk  it  has  been  proved,  that 
 this  makes  not  the  distinction  of  species,  as  we  rank  them,  nor  the  bounda- 
 ries of  their  names. 
 
 Secondly,  this  tacitly  also  insinuates,  as  if  we  had  ideas  of  these  proposed  \' 
 essences.  For  to  what  purpose  else  is  it  to  inquire  whether  this  or  that  thing 
 have  the  real  essence  of  the  species  man,  if  we  did  not  suppose  that  there  were 
 such  a  specific  essence  known  ?  which  yet  is  utterly  false  :  and  therefore  such 
 application  of  names,  as  would  make  them  stand  for  ideas  which  we  have  not, 
 must  needs  cause  great  disorder  in  discourses  and  reasonings  about  them,  and 
 be  a  great  inconvenience  in  our  communication  by  words. 
 
 Sect.  22.  A  supposition  that  words  have  a  certain  and  evident  signijica- 
 tion. — Sixtlily,  there  remains  yet  another  more  general,  though  perhaps  less 
 observed,  abuse  of  words  ;  and  that  is,  that  men  having  by  a  long  and  familiar 
 use  annexed  to  them  certain  ideas,  they  are  apt  to  imagine  so  near  and  neces- 
 sary a  connexion  between  the  names  and  the  signification  they  use  tliem  in, 
 that  they  forwardly  suppose  one  cannot  but  understand  what  their  meaning 
 is  ;  and  therefore  one  ought  to  acquiesce  in  the  words  delivered,  as  if  it  were 
 past  doubt,  that,  in  the  use  of  those  common  received  somids,  the  speaker  and 
 hearer  had  necessarily  the  same  precise  ideas.  Whence  presuming,  that  when 
 they  have  in  discourse  used  any  term,  they  have  thereby,  as  it  were,  set  be- 
 fore others  tiie  very  thing  they  talk  of;  and  so  likewise  taking  the  words  of 
 others  as  naturally  standing  for  just  what  they  themselves  have  been  accus- 
 tomed to  apply  them  to,  they  never  trouble  themselves  to  explain  their  own, 
 or  understand  clearly  others'  meaning.  From  whence  commonly  proceed 
 noise  and  wrangling,  without  improvement  or  information  ;  whilst  men  take 
 words  to  be  the  constant  regular  marks  of  agreed  notions,  which  in  truth  are 
 no  more  but  the  voluntary  and  unsteady  signs  of  their  own  ideas.  And  yet  men 
 think  it  strange,  if,  in  discourse,  or  (where  it  is  often  absolutely  necessary)  in 
 dispute,  one  sometimes  asks  the  meaning  of  their  terms  :  though  the  arguings 
 one  may  every  day  observe  in  conversation  mal:e  it  evident,  that  there  are  few 
 names  of  complex  ideas  which  any  two  men  use  for  the  same  just  precise  col- 
 lection. It  is  hard  to  name  a  word  which  will  not  be  a  clear  instance  of  this. 
 Life  is  a  term,  none  more  familiar.     Any  one  almost  would  take   it  for  an  af- 
 
Ch.  10.  ABUSE  OF  WORDS.  335 
 
 front  to  be  asked  what  he  meant  by  it.  And  yet  if  it  comes  in  question, 
 whether  a  plant,  that  lies  ready  formed  in  tlie  seed,  have  life  ;  whether  the 
 embryo  in  an  egg  before  incubation,  or  a  man  in  a  swoon  without  sense  or 
 motion,  be  alive  or  no  ;  it  is  easy  to  perceive  that  a  clear,  distinct,  settled 
 idea  does  not  always  accompany  the  use  of  so  known  a  word  as  that  of  life  is. 
 Some  gross  and  confused  conceptions  men  indeed  ordinarily  have,  to  which 
 they  apply  the  common  words  of  their  language  ;  and  such  a  loose  use  of  tlieir 
 words  serves  them  well  enough  in  their  ordinary  discourses  or  affairs.  But 
 this  is  not  sufficient  for  philosophical  inquiries.  Knowledge  and  reasoning 
 require  precise  determinate  ideas.  And  though  men  will  not  be  so  impor- 
 tunately dull,  as  not  to  understand  what  others  say  without  demanding  an  ex- 
 plication of  their  terms  ;  nor  so  troublesomely  critical,  as  to  correct  others  in  the 
 use  of  the  words  they  receive  from  them  :  yet  where  truth  and  knowledge  are 
 concerned  in  the  case,  I  know  not  what  fault  it  can  be  to  desire  the  explica- 
 tion of  words  whose  sense  seems  dubious ;  or  why  a  man  should  be  ashamed 
 to  own  his  ignorance  in  what  sense  another  man  uses  his  words,  since  he  has 
 no  other  way  of  certainly  knowing  it  but  by  being  informed.  This  abuse  of 
 taking  words  upon  trust  has  nowhere  spread  so  far,  nor  with  so  ill  effects,  as 
 among  men  of  letters.  The  multiphcation  and  obstinacy  of  disputes,  which 
 have  so  laid  waste  the  intellectual  world,  is  owing  to  nothing  more  than  to 
 this  ill  use  of  words.  For  thougli  it  be  generally  believed  that  there  is  great 
 diversity  of  opinions  in  the  volumes  and  variety  of  controversies  the  world  is 
 distracted  with,  yet  the  most  I  can  find  tliat  the  contending  learned  men  of 
 different  parties  do,  in  their  arguings  one  with  another,  is,  that  they  speak 
 different  languages.  For  I  am  apt  to  imagine,  that  when  any  of  them,  quit- 
 ting terms,  think  upon  things,  and  know  what  they  think,  they  think  all  the 
 same  ;  though  perhaps  what  they  would  have,  be  different. 
 
 Sect.  23.  The  ends  of  language :  JL  to  convey  our  ideas. — To  conclude 
 this  consideration  of  the  imperfection  and  abuse  of  language ;  the  ends  of 
 language  in  our  discourse  with  others  being  chiefly  these  three  :  first,  to  make 
 known  one  man's  thoughts  or  ideas  to  another ;  secondly,  to  do  it  with  as 
 much  ease  and  quickness  as  possible ;  and,  thirdly,  thereby  to  convey  the 
 knowledge  of  things :  language  is  either  abused  or  deficient  when  it  fails  of 
 any  of  these  three. 
 
 First,  words  fail  in  the  first  of  these  ends,  and  lay  not  open  one  man's  ideas 
 to  another's  view :  1.  When  men  have  names  in  their  mouths,  without  any 
 determinate  ideas  in  their  minds,  whereof  they  are  the  signs  ;  or,  2.  When 
 they  apply  the  common  received  names  of  any  language  to  ideas,  to  which 
 the  common  use  of  that  language  does  not  apply  them  :  or,  3.  When  they 
 apply  them  very  unsteadily,  making  them  stand  now  for  one,  and  by  and  by 
 for  another  idea. 
 
 Sect.  24.  To  do  it  with  quickness. — Secondly,  men  fail  of  conveying 
 their  thoughts  with  all  the  quickness  and  ease  that  may  be,  wlien  they  have 
 complex  ideas,  without  having  any  distinct  names  for  them.  This  is  some- 
 times the  fault  of  the  language  itself,  which  has  not  in  it  a  sound  yet  applied 
 to  such  a  signification ;  and  sometimes  the  fault  of  the  man  who  has  not  yet 
 learned  the  name  for  that  idea  he  would  show  another. 
 
 Sect.  25.  Therewith  to  convey  the  knowledge  of  things. — Thirdly, 
 there  is  no  knowledge  of  things  conveyed  by  men's  words,  when  their  ideas 
 agree  not  to  the  reality  of  things.  Though  it  be  a  defect,  that  has  its  original 
 in  our  ideas,  which  are  not  so  conformable  to  the  nature  of  things,  as  atten- 
 tion, study,  and  application  might  make  them  ;  yet  it  fails  not  to  extend  it- 
 self to  our  words  too,  when  we  use  them  as  signs  of  real  beings,  which  yet 
 never  had  any  reality  or  existence. 
 
 Sect.  26.  Hoxo  men^s  words  fail  in  all  these. — First,  he  that  hath  words 
 of  any  language,  without  distinct  ideas  in  his  mind  to  which  he  applies  them, 
 does,  so  fiir  as  he  uses  them  in  discourse,  only  make  a  noise  without  any  sense 
 or  signification  ;  and  how  learned  soever  he  may  seem  by  the  use  of  hard 
 words,  or  learned  terms,  is  not  much  more  advanced  thereby  in  knowledge 
 
326  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3 
 
 than  he  would  be  in  learning,  who  had  nothinof  in  his  study  but  the  bare  ti- 
 tles of  books,  witliont  posscssinf^  the  contents  oftliem.  For  all  such  word:?, 
 Iiowever  put  into  discourse,  accordin<r  to  the  right  construction  of  grammati- 
 cal rules,  or  tlic  harmony  of  well  turned  periods,  do  yet  amount  to  nothing 
 but  bare  sounds,  and  nothing  else. 
 
 Sect.  27.  Secondly,  he  that  has  complex  ideas,  without  particular  names 
 for  them,  would  be  in  no  better  case  than  a  bookseller,  who  had  in  his  ware- 
 house volumes  that  lay  there  unbound,  and  without  titles  ;  which  he  could 
 therefore  make  known  to  others  only  by  showing  the  loose  sheets,  and  commu- 
 nicating them  only  by  tale.  This  man  is  hindered  in  his  discourse  for  want  of 
 words  to  communicate  Iiis  complex  ideas,  which  he  is  therefore  forced  to  make 
 known  by  an  enumeration  of  the  simple  ones  that  compose  them;  and  so  is  fain 
 often  to  use  twenty  words  to  express  what  another  man  signifies  in  one. 
 
 Sect.  28.  Thirdly,  he  that  puts  not  constantly  the  same  sign  for  the  same 
 idea,  but  uses  the  same  words  sometimes  in  one,  and  sometimes  in  another 
 signification,  ought  to  pass  in  the  schools  and  conversation  for  as  fair  a  man 
 as  he  does  in  the  market  and  exchange,  who  sells  several  things  under  the 
 same  name. 
 
 Sect.  29.  Fourthly,  he  that  applies  the  words  of  any  language  to  ideas 
 diiTerent  from  those  to  which  the  common  use  of  that  country  applies  them, 
 however  his  own  understanding  may  be  filled  with  truth  and  light,  will  not  by 
 .such  words  be  able  to  convey  much  of  it  to  others,  without  defining  his  terms. 
 For  however  the  sounds  are  such  as  are  familiarly  known,  and  easily  enter 
 the  ears  of  those  who  are  accustomed  to  them  ;  yet  standing  for  other  ideas 
 than  those  they  usually  are  annexed  to,  and  arc  wont  to  excite  in  the  mind  of 
 the  hearers,  they  cannot  make  known  the  thoughts  of  him  who  thus  uses  them. 
 
 Sect.  30.  Fiillily,  he  that  imagined  to  himself  substances  such  as  never 
 have  been,  and  filled  his  head  with  ideas  which  have  not  any  correspondence 
 with  the  real  nature  of  things,  to  which  yet  he  gives  settled  and  defined  names, 
 may  fill  his  discourse,  and  perhaps  another  man's  head,  with  the  fantastical 
 imaginations  of  his  own  brain,  but  will  be  very  far  from  advancing  thereby 
 one  jot  in  real  and  true  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  31.  He  that  hath  names  without  ideas,  wants  meaning  in  his  words, 
 and  speaks  only  empty  sounds.  He  thai  hath  coni])lex  ideas  without  name.* 
 for  them,  wants  liberty  and  despatch  in  his  expressions,  and  is  necessitated 
 to  use  periphrases.  He  that  uses  his  words  loosely  and  unsteadily,  will  either 
 be  not  minded,  or  not  understood.  He  that  applies  his  names  to  ideas  differ- 
 ent from  their  common  use,  wants  propriety  in  his  language,  and  speaks  gib- 
 berish. And  he  that  hath  the  ideas  of  substances  disagreeing  with  the  real 
 existence  of  things,  so  far  wants  the  materials  of  true  knowledge  in  his  under- 
 standing, and  hath  instead  thereof  chimeras. 
 
 vSect.  32.  How  in  substances. — In  our  notions  concerning  substances,  we 
 are  liable  lo  all  tjie  former  inconveniences  :  v.  g.  1.  He  that  uses  the  word  taran- 
 tula, without  having  any  imagination  or  idea  what  it  stands  for,  pronounces  a 
 good  word  ;  but  so  long  means  nothing  at  all  by  it.  2.  He  that  in  a  new  dis- 
 covered country  shall  see  several  sorts  of  animals  and  vegetables,  unknown  to 
 him  before,  may  have  as  true  ideas  of  them  as  of  a  horse  or  a  stag ;  but  can 
 speak  of  them  only  by  a  description,  till  he  shall  either  take  the  names  the 
 natives  call  them  by,  or  give  them  names  himself  3.  He  that  uses  the  word 
 body  sometimes  for  pure  extension,  and  sometimes  for  extension  and  solidity 
 together,  will  talk  very  fallaciously.  4.  He  that  gives  the  name  horse  to  that 
 idea  which  common  usage  calls  mule,  talks  improperly,  and  will  not  be  un- 
 derstood. 5.  He  tliat  thinks  the  name  centaur  stands  for  some  real  being, 
 imposes  on  himself,  and  mistakes  words  for  things. 
 
 Sect.  33.  How  in  modes  and  relations. — In  modes  and  relations  generally 
 we  are  liable  only  to  the  four  first  of  these  inconveniences  ;  viz.  1.  I  may  have 
 in  my  memory  the  names  of  modes,  as  gratitude  or  charity,  and  yet  not  have 
 any  i>recise  icleas  annexed  in  my  thoughts  to  those  names.  2.  I  may  have 
 ideas,  and  not  know  the  names  that  belong  lo  them  ;  v.  g.  I  may  have  the 
 
Ch.  10.  ABUSE  OF  WORDS.  327 
 
 idea  of  a  man's  drinking  till  his  colour  and  humour  be  altered,  till  liis  tongue 
 trips,  and  his  eyes  look  red,  and  his  feet  fail  him  ;  and  yet  not  know  that  it 
 is  to  be  called  drunkenness.  3.  I  may  have  the  ideas  of  virtues  or  vices,  and 
 names  also,  but  apply  them  amiss  :  v.  g.  when  I  apply  the  name  frugality  to 
 that  idea  which  others  call  and  signify  by  this  somid,  covetousness.  4.  I  may 
 use  any  of  those  names  with  inconstancy.  5.  But,  in  modes  and  relations, 
 I  cannot  have  ideas  disagi'eeing  to  the  existence  of  things  :  for  modes  being 
 complex  ideas  made  by  the  mind  at  pleasure  ;  and  relation  being  but  by  way 
 of  considering  or  comparing  two  things  together,  and  so  also  an  idea  of  my 
 own  making  ;  these  ideas  can  scarce  be  found  to  disagree  with  any  thing  ex- 
 isting, since  they  are  not  in  the  mind  as  the  copies  of  things  regularly  made  by 
 nature,  nor  as  properties  inseparably  flowing  from  the  internal  constitution  or 
 essence  of  any  substance  ;  but  as  it  were  patterns  lodged  in  my  memor}',  with 
 names  annexed  to  them,  to  denominate  actions  and  relations  by,  as  they  come 
 to  exist.  But  the  mistake  is  commonly  in  my  giving  a  wrong  name  to  my 
 conceptions  ;  and  so  using  words  in  a  diflerent  sense  from  other  people,  I  am 
 not  understood,  but  am  thought  to  have  wrong  ideas  of  them,  when  I  give 
 wrong  names  to  them.  Only  if  I  put  in  my  ideas  of  mixed  modes  or  relations 
 any  inconsistent  ideas  together,  I  fill  my  head  also  with  chimeras  ;  since 
 Buch  ideas,  if  well  examined,  cannot  so  much  exist  in  the  mind,  much  less 
 any  real  being  ever  be  denomuiated  from  them. 
 
 Sect.  34.  Figtiratiie  speech  also  an  abuse  of  language. — Sixthlj,  since  wit 
 and  fancy  find  easier  entertainment  in  the  world  than  dry  truth  and  real  know- 
 ledge, figurative  speeches  and  allusion  in  language  will  hardly  be  admitted  as 
 an  imperfection  or  abuse  of  it.  I  confess,  in  discourses  where  we  seek  rather 
 pleasure  and  delight  than  information  and  improvement,  such  ornaments  as 
 are  borrowed  from  them  can  scarce  pass  for  faults.  But  yet  if  we  would 
 speak  of  things  as  they  are,  we  must  allow  that  all  the  art  of  rhetoric,  besides 
 order  and  clearness,  all  the  artificial  and  figurative  application  of  words  elo- 
 quence hath  invented,  are  for  nothing  else  but  to  insinuate  wrong  ideas,  move 
 the  passions,  and  thereby  mislead  the  judgment,  and  so  indeed  are  perfect 
 cheats ;  and,  therefore,  however  laudable  or  allowable  oratory  may  render  them 
 in  harangues  and  popular  addresses,  they  are  certainly,  in  all  discourses  that 
 pretend  to  inform  or  instruct,  wholly  to  be  avoided  ;  and  where  truth  and 
 knowledge  are  concerned,  cannot  but  be  thought  a  great  fault,  either  of  the 
 language  or  person  that  makes  use  of  them.  What,  and  how  various  they 
 are,  will  be  superfluous  here  to  take  notice  ;  the  books  of  rhetoric  whicn 
 abound  in  the  world  will  instruct  those  who  want  to  be  informed  :  only  I  can- 
 not but  observe  how  httle  the  preservation  and  improvement  of  truth  and 
 knowledge  is  the  care  and  concern  of  mankind  ;  since  the  arts  of  fallacy  are 
 endowed  and  preferred.  It  is  evident  how  much  men  love  to  deceive  and  be 
 deceived,  since  rJietoric,  that  powerful  instriunent  of  error  and  deceit,  has  its 
 established  professors,  is  publicly  taught,  and  has  always  been  had  in  great  re- 
 putation :  and,  I  doubt  not,  but  it  will  be  thougiit  great  boldness,  if  not  brutality 
 in  me,  to  have  said  thus  much  against  it.  Eloquence,  like  the  fair  sex,  has 
 too  prevailing  beauties  in  it  to  suffer  itself  ever  to  be  spoken  against.  And 
 it  is  in  vain  to  find  fault  with  those  arts  of  deceiving  wherein  men  find  pleasure 
 to  be  deceived. 
 
 CHAPTER  XL 
 
 OF    THE   REMEDIES    OF    THE    FOREGOING   IMPERFECTIONS    AND 
 
 ABUSES. 
 
 Sect.  1.  They  are  worth  seeking. — The  natural  and  improved  imperfec- 
 tions of  languages  we  have  seen  above  at  large;  and  speech  being  the  great 
 Dond  that  holds  society  together,  and  the  common  conduit  whereby  the  im- 
 
323  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 provements  of  knowledge  are  conveyed  from  one  man,  and  one  generation, 
 to  another;  it  would  wcJl  deserve  our  most  serious  thoughts  to  consider  wiiat 
 remedies  are  to  be  found  for  tlie  inconveniences  above  mentioned. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Arc  noL  easy. — I  am  not  so  vain  to  thinl;,  that  any  one  can  pre- 
 tend to  attemj)t  tlic  perfect  reforming  tlie  languages  of  the  world,  no,  not  so 
 much  as  of  iiis  own  country,  witiiout  renderuig  himself  ridiculous.  To  n^- 
 <juire  that  men  should  use  their  words  constantly  in  the  same  sense,  and  for 
 none  but  dcLenuined  and  uniform  ideas,  would  be  to  think  that  ail  men  should 
 have  the  same  notions,  and  should  talk  of  nothing  but  what  they  have  clear 
 and  distinct  idcai;  of;  v.hicli  is  not  to  be  expected  by  any  one  who  hath  not 
 vanity  enough  to  imagine  he  can  prevail  with  men  to  be  very  knowing  or 
 very  silent.  And  lie  must  be  very"  little  sicilled  in  the  world,  who  thinks  that 
 a  voluble  tongue  shall  accompany  only  a  good  understanding ;  or  that  men's 
 talking  much  or  little  should  hold  proportion  only  to  their  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  3.  But  yet  necessary  to  philosophy. — But  though  the  market  and 
 exchange  must  be  left  to  their  own  ways  of  talking,  and  gossipings  not  be 
 robbed  of  their  ancient  privilege  ;  though  the  schools  and  men  of  argument 
 would  perhaps  take  it  amiss  to  have  any  tiling  offered  to  abate  the  length,  or 
 lessen  the  number,  of  their  disputes  ;  yet  methinks  those  who  pretend  seriously 
 to  search  after  or  maintain  truth,  should  think  themselves  obliged  to  study  how 
 they  might  deliver  themselves  without  obscurity,  doubtfulness,  or  equivocation, 
 to  which  men's  w6rds  are  naturally  liable,  if  care  be  not  taken. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Misuse  of  words  the  great  cause  of  errors. — For  he  that  shall 
 well  consider  the  errors  and  obscurity,  the  mistakes  and  confusion,  that  are 
 spread  in  the  world  by  an  ill  use  of  words,  will  find  some  reason  to  doubt 
 whether  language,  as  it  has  been  employed,  has  contributed  more  to  the  im- 
 provement or  hinderance  of  knowledge  among  mankind.  How  many  are 
 there  that,  when  they  would  think  on  tilings,  fix  their  thoughts  only  on  words, 
 especially  when  they  would  apj)ly  their  minds  to  moral  matters  !  And  who 
 then  can  wonder,  if  the  result  of  such  contemplations  and  reasonings,  about 
 little  more  than  sounds,  whilst  the  ideas  they  annexed  to  them  are  very  con- 
 fused and  very  unsteady,  or  perhaps  none  at  all  ;  wlio  can  wonder,  I  say, 
 that  such  thoughts  and  reasonings  end  in  nothing  but  obscurity  and  mistake, 
 without  any  clear  judgment  or  knowledge  ] 
 
 Sect.  5.  Obstinacy. — This  inconvenience,  in  an  ill  use  of  words,  men  suf- 
 fer in  their  own  private  meditations :  but  much  more  manifest  are  the  disor- 
 ders which  follow  from  it,  in  conversation,  discourse,  and  arguings  with  oth- 
 ers. For  language  being  the  great  conduit  whereby  men  convey  their  dis- 
 coveries, reasonings,  and  knowledge,  from  one  to  another  ;  be  that  makes  an 
 ill  use  of  it,  though  he  does  not  corrupt  the  fountains  of  knowledge,  which  are 
 in  things  themselves  ;  yet  he  does,  as  much  as  in  him  lies,  break  or  stop  the 
 pipes  whereby  it  is  distributed  to  the  jiublic  use  and  advantage  of  mankind. 
 He  that  uses  words  without  any  clear  and  steady  meaning,  what  does  he  but 
 lead  himself  and  others  into  errors  ?  And  he  that  designedly  does  it,  ought 
 to  be  looked  on  as  an  enemy  to  truth  and  knowledge.  And  yet  who  can 
 wonder  that  all  the  sciences  and  parts  of  knowledge  have  been  so  overcharged 
 witli  obscure  and  equivocal  terms,  and  insignificant  and  doubtful  expressions, 
 capable  to  make  the  most  attentive  or  quick-sighted  very  little  or  not  at  all  the 
 more  knowing  or  orthodox  ;  since  subtilty,  in  those  who  make  profession  to 
 teach  or  defend  truth,  hath  passed  so  much  for  a  virtue  :  a  virtue,  indeed, 
 which,  consisting  for  the  most  part  in  nothing  but  the  fallacious  and  illusory 
 use  of  obscure  or  deceitful  terms,  is  only  fit  to  make  men  more  conceited  in 
 tiioir  ignorance,  and  more  obstinate  in  their  errors. 
 
 Sect.  6.  And  wrangling. — Let  us  look  into  the  books  of  controversy  of 
 any  kind ;  there  we  shall  see,  that  the  effect  of  obscure,  unsteady,  or  equivo- 
 cal terms,  is  nothing  but  noise  and  wrangling  about  sounds,  without  convincing 
 or  bettering  a  man's  understanding.  For  if  the  idea  be  not  agreed  on  betwixt 
 the  speaker  and  hearer,  for  which  the  words  stand,  the  argument  is  not  about-' 
 things,  but  names.     As  often  as  such  a  word,  whose  signification  is  not  as- 
 
Ch.  11.  REMEDIES   OF  THE  ABUSE  OF  WORDS.  329 
 
 certained  betwixt  them,  comes  in  use,  their  understandings  have  no  other  ob- 
 ject wherein  they  agree,  but  barely  the  sound  ;  the  things  that  they  think  on 
 at  that  time,  as  expressed  by  that  word,  being  quite  dilFerent. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Instance,  bat  and  bird. — Whether  a  bat  be  a  bird  or  no,  is  not  a 
 question  ;  whether  a  bat  be  another  thing  than  indeed  it  is,  or  have  other 
 quahties  than  indeed  it  has,  for  that  would  be  extremely  absurd  to  doubt  of: 
 but  the  question  is,  1.  Either  between  those  that  acknowledge  themselves  to 
 have  but  imperfect  ideas  of  one  or  both  of  this  sort  of  things,  for  which  these 
 names  are  supposed  to  stand  ;  and  then  it  is  a  real  inquiry  concerning  the 
 name  of  a  bird  or  a  bat,  to  make  their  yet  imperfect  ideas  of  it  more  complete, 
 by  examining  whether  all  the  simple  ideas,  to  which,  combined  together,  they 
 both  give  the  name  bird,  be  all  to  be  found  in  a  bat :  but  this  is  a  question  only 
 of  inquirers  (not  disputers,)  who  neither  afBrm  nor  deny,  but  examine.  Or, 
 2.  It  is  a  question  between  disputants,  whereof  the  one  affirms,  and  the  other 
 denies,  that  a  bat  is  a  bird.  And  then  the  question  is  barely  about  the  signi- 
 fication of  one  or  both  these  words  ;  in  that  they  not  having  both  the  same 
 complex  ideas,  to  which  they  give  these  two  names,  one  holds,  and  the  other 
 denies,  that  these  two  names  may  be  affirmed  one  of  another.  Were  they 
 agreed  in  the  signification  of  these  two  names,  it  were  impossible  they  sliould 
 dispute  about  them  :  for  they  would  presently  and  clearly  see  (were  that  ad- 
 justed between  them)  whether  all  the  simple  ideas,  of  the  more  general  name 
 bird,  were  found  in  the  complex  idea  of  a  bat,  or  no  ;  and  so  there  could  be  no 
 doubt  whether  a  bat  were  a  bird  or  no.  And  here  I  desire  it  may  be  consid- 
 ered, and  carefully  examined,  whether  the  greatest  part  of  the  disputes  in  the 
 world  are  not  merely  verbal,  and  about  the  signification  of  words  ;  and  whether, 
 if  the  terms  they  are  made  in  were  defined,  and  reduced  in  their  signification 
 (as  they  must  be  where  they  signify  any  thing)  to  determined  collections  of  the 
 simple  ideas  they  do  or  should  stand  for,  those  disputes  would  not  end  of  them- 
 selves and  immediately  vanish.  I  leave  it  then  to  be  considered,  what  the 
 learning  of  disputation  is,  and  how  well  they  are  employed  for  the  advantage 
 of  themselves  or  others,  whose  business  is  only  the  vain  ostentation  of  sounds ; 
 i.  e.  those  who  spend  their  lives  in  disputes  and  controversies.  When  I  shall 
 see  any  of  those  combatants  strip  all  his  terms  of  ambiguity  and  obscurity 
 (which  every  one  may  do  in  the  words  he  uses  himself)  I  shall  think  him  a 
 champion  for  knowledge,  truth,  and  peace,  and  not  the  slave  of  vainglorj^, 
 ambition,  or  a  party. 
 
 Sect.  8.  To  remedy  the  defects  of  speech  before  mentioned  to  some  de- 
 gree, and  to  prevent  the  inconveniences  that  follow  from  them,  I  imagine  the 
 observation  of  these  following  rules  may  be  of  use,  till  somebody  better  able 
 shall  judge  it  worth  his  while  to  think  more  maturely  on  this  matter,  and 
 oblige  the  world  with  his  thoughts  on  it. 
 
 1.  Remedy,  to  use  no  word  without  an  idea. — First,  a  man  should  take  care 
 to  use  no  word  without  a  signification,  no  name  without  an  idea  for  which  he 
 makes  it  stand.  This  rule  will  not  seem  altogether  needless  to  any  one  who 
 shall  take  the  pains  to  recollect  how  often  he  has  met  with  such  words,  as  in- 
 stinct, sympathy,  and  antipathy,  &c.  in  the  discourse  of  others,  so  made  uue 
 of,  as  he  might  easily  conclude,  that  those  that  used  them  had  no  ideas  in  tlieir 
 minds  to  which  they  applied  them ;  but  spoke  them  only  as  sounds,  whicii 
 usually  served  instead  of  reasons  on  the  like  occasions.  Not  but  that  these 
 words,  and  the  like,  have  very  proper  significations  in  which  they  may  be 
 used ;  but  there  being  no  natural  connexion  between  any  words  and  any  ideas, 
 these,  and  any  other,  may  be  learned  by  rote,  and  pronounced  or  writ  by  men, 
 who  have  no  ideas  in  their  minds  to  which  they  have  annexed  them,  and  for 
 which  they  make  them  stand ;  v.'hich  is  necessary  they  should,  if  men  would 
 speak  intelligibly  even  to  themselves  alone. 
 
 Sect.  9.  2.  To  have  distinct  ideas  annexed  to  them  in  modes. — Secondly, 
 it  is  not  enough  a  man  uses  his  words  as  signs  of  some  ideas  :  those  he  an- 
 nexes them  to,  if  they  be  simple,  must  be  clear  and  distinct;  if  complex,  must 
 be  determinate,  i.  e.  the  oi-ecise  collection  of  simple  ideas  settled  in  the  mind 
 2  R 
 
330  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 with  that  sound  annexed  to  it,  as  tlie  sign  of  that  precise  determined  collection, 
 and  no  other.  This  is  very  necessary  in  names  of  modes,  and  especially  moral 
 words;  which  having  no  settled  objects  in  nature,  from  whence  their  ideas  are 
 taken,  as  from  their  original,  are  apt  to  be  very  confused.  Justice  is  a  word 
 in  every  man's  mouth,  but  most  commonly  with  a  very  undetermined  loose  sig- 
 nification :  which  will  always  be  so,  unless  a  man  iuis  in  his  mind  a  distinct 
 comprehension  of  the  component  parts  that  complex  idea  consists  of:  and  if 
 it  be  decompounded,  must  be  able  to  resolve  it  still  on,  till  he  at  last  comes  to 
 the  simple  ideas  that  make  it  up:  and  unless  this  be  done,  a  man  makes  an  ill 
 use  of  the  word,  let  it  be  justice,  for  example,  or  any  other.  I  do  not  say,  a 
 man  need  stand  to  recollect,  and  make  this  analysis  at  large,  every  time  the 
 ^vord  justice  comes  in  his  way:  but  this  at  least -is  necessary,  that  he  have 
 so  e.xamined  the  signification  of  that  name,  and  settled  the  idea  of  all  its 
 parts  in  his  mind,  that  he  can  do  it  when  he  pleases.  If  one,  who  makes  his 
 complex  idea  of  justice  to  be  such  a  treatment  of  the  person  or  goods  of  another 
 as  is  according  to  law,  hath  not  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  what  law  is,  which 
 makes  a  part  of  his  complex  idea  of  justice,  it  is  plain  his  idea  of  justice  it- 
 self will  be  confused  and  imperfect.  This  exactness  will,  perhaps,  be  judged 
 very  troublesome ;  and  therefore  most  men  will  think  they  may  be  excused 
 from  settling  the  complex  ideas  of  mixed  modes  so  precisely  in  their  minds. 
 But  yet  I  must  say,  till  this  be  done,  it  must  not  be  wondered  that  they  have  a 
 great  deal  of  obscurity  and  confusion  in  their  own  minds,  and  a  great  deal  of 
 wrangling  in  their  discourse  with  others. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Distinct  and  conformable  in  substances. — In  the  names  of 
 substances,  for  a  right  use  of  them,  something  more  is  required  than  barely 
 determined  ideas.  In  these  the  names  must  also  be  conformable  to  things  as 
 they  exist :  but  of  this  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  more  largely  by  and  by. 
 This  exactness  is  absolutely  necessary  in  inquiries  after  philosophical  know- 
 ledge, and  in  controversies  about  truth.  And  though  it  would  be  well,  too,  if 
 it  extended  itself  to  common  conversation,  and  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life  ; 
 yet  I  think  that  is  scarce  to  be  expected.  Vulgar  notions  suit  vulgar  dis- 
 courses ;  and  both,  though  confused  enough,  yet  serve  pretty  well  the  market 
 and  the  wake.  Merchants  and  lovers,  cooks  and  tailors,  have  words  where- 
 withal to  despatch  their  ordinary  affairs  ;  and  so,  I  think,  might  philosophers  and 
 disputants  too,  if  they  had  a  mind  to  understand,  and  to  be  clearly  understood. 
 
 Sect.  11.  3.  Propriety. — Thirdly,  it  is  not  enough  that  men  have  ideas,  de- 
 termined ideas,  for  which  they  make  these  signs  stand :  but  they  must  also  take 
 care  to  apply  their  v.'ords,  as  near  as  may  be,  to  such  ideas  as  common  use 
 has  annexed  them  to.  For  words,  especially  of  languages  already  framed, 
 being  no  man's  private  possession,  but  the  common  measure  of  commerce  and 
 communication,  it  is  not  for  any  one,  at  pleasure,  to  change  the  stamp  they 
 are  current  in,  nor  alter  the  ideas  they  are  afBxed  to  ;  or,  at  least,  when  there 
 is  a  necessity  to  do  so,  he  is  bound  to  give  notice  of  it.  Men's  intentions  in 
 speaking  are,  or  at  least  should  be,  to  be  understood  ;  which  cannot  be  with- 
 out frequent  explanations,  demands,  and  other  the  like  incommodious  inter- 
 ruptions, where  men  do  not  follow  common  use.  Propriety  of  speech  is  that 
 vi'hich  gives  our  thoughts  entrance  into  other  men's  minds  with  the  greatest 
 case  and  advantage  ;  and  therefore  deserves  some  part  of  our  care  and  study, 
 especially  in  the  names  of  moral  words.  The  proper  signification  and  use  of 
 terms  is  best  to  be  learned  from  those  who  in  their  writings  and  discourses 
 appear  to  have  had  the  clearest  notions,  and  applied  to  them  their  terms  with 
 the  exactest  choice  and  fitness.  This  way  of  using  a  man's  words,  accord- 
 ing to  the  propriety  of  the  language,  though  it  have  not  always  the  good  for- 
 tune to  be  understood,  yet  most  commonly  leaves  the  blame  of  it  on  him 
 who  is  so  unskilful  in  the  language  he  speaks,  as  not  to  understand  it,  when 
 made  use  of  as  it  ought  to  be. 
 
 SEf;T.  12.  4.  To  make  known  their  meanin'jr. — Fourthly,  but  because  com- 
 mon use  has  not  so  visibly  annexed  any  signification  to  words,  as  to  make 
 men  know  always  certainly  what  they  precisely  stand  for  ;  and  because  men, 
 
Ch.  11.  REMEDIES  OF  THE  ABUSE  OP  WORDS.  331 
 
 in  the  improvement  of  their  knowledge,  come  to  have  ideas  different  from  the 
 vulgar  and  ordinary  received  ones,  for  which  thej'  must  either  make  new 
 words  (which  men  seldom  venture  to  do,  for  fear  of  being  thought  guilty  of 
 affectation  or  novelty)  or  else  must  use  old  ones  in  a  new  signification : 
 therefore,  after  the  observation  of  the  foregoing  rules,  it  is  sometimes  neces- 
 sary, for  the  ascertaining  the  signification  of  words,  to  declare  their  meaning ; 
 where  either  common  use  has  left  it  uncertain  and  loose  (as  it  has  in  most 
 names  of  very  complex  ideas)  or  where  the  term,  being  very  material  in  the 
 discourse,  and  that  upon  which  it  chiefly  turns,  is  liable  to  any  doubtfiilness 
 or  mistake. 
 
 Sect.  13.  And  that  three  ways. — As  the  ideas  men's  words  stand  for  are 
 of  different  sorts  ;  so  the  way  of  making  known  the  ideas  they  stand  for, 
 when  there  is  occasion,  is  also  different.  For  though  defining  be  thought  the 
 proper  way  to  make  known  the  proper  signification  of  words,  yet  there  are 
 some  words  that  will  not  be  defined,  as  there  are  others,  whose  precise  mean- 
 ing cannot  be  made  known  but  by  definition  ;  and  perhaps  a  third,  which  par- 
 take somewhat  of  both  the  other,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  names  of  simple  ideas, 
 modes,  and  substances. 
 
 Sect.  14.  1.  In  simple  ideas,  by  synonymous  terms,  or  showing. — First, 
 when  a  man  makes  use  of  the  name  of  any  simple  idea,  which  he  perceives  is 
 not  understood,  or  is  in  danger  to  be  mistaken,  he  is  obliged  by  the  laws  of 
 ingenuity,  and  the  end  of  speech,  to  declare  his  meaning,  and  make  known 
 what  idea  he  makes  it  stand  for.  This,  as  has  been  shown,  cannot  be  done 
 by  definition  ;  and  therefore,  when  a  synonymous  word  fails  to  do  it,  there  is 
 but  one  of  these  ways  left.  First,  sometimes  the  naming  the  subject,  where- 
 in that  simple  idea  is  to  be  found,  will  make  its  name  to  be  understood  by 
 those  who  are  acquainted  with  that  subject,  and  know  it  by  that  name.  So 
 to  make  a  countryman  understand  what  "  feuille-morte"  colour  signifies,  it 
 may  suffice  to  tell  him,  it  is  the  colour  of  withered  leaves  falling  in  autumn. 
 Secondly,  but  the  only  sure  way  of  making  known  the  signification  of  the  name 
 of  any  simple  idea,  is  by  presenting  to  his  senses  that  subject  which  may  pro- 
 duce it  in  his  mind,  and  make  him  actually  have  the  idea  that  word  stands  for. 
 
 Sect.  15.  2.  In  mixed  modes,  by  definition. — Secondly,  mixed  modes,  es- 
 pecially those  belonging  to  morality,  being  most  of  them  such  combinations 
 of  ideas  as  the  mind  puts  together  of  its  own  choice,  and  whereof  there  are 
 not  always  standing  patterns  to  be  found  existing ;  the  signification  of  their 
 names  cannot  be  made  known,  as  those  of  simple  ideas,  by  any  showing; 
 but,  in  recompense  thereof,  may  be  perfectly  and  exactly  defined.  For  they 
 being  combinations  of  several  ideas,  that  the  mind  of  man  has  arbitrarily  put 
 together,  without  reference  to  any  archetypes,  men  may,  if  they  please,  ex- 
 actly know  the  ideas  that  go  to  each  composition,  and  so  both  use  these  words 
 in  a  certain  and  undoubted  signification,  and  perfectly  declare,  when  there  is 
 occasion,  what  they  stand  for.  This,  if  well  considered,  would  lay  great 
 blame  on  those  who  make  not  their  discourses,  about  moral  things  very  clear 
 and  distinct.  For  since  the  precise  signification  of  the  names  of  mixed 
 modes,  or,  which  is  all  one,  the  real  essence  of  each  species  is  to  be  known, 
 they  being  not  of  nature's,  but  man's  making,  it  is  a  great  negligence  and  per- 
 verseness  to  discourse  of  moral  things  witli  uncertainty  and  obscurity  ;  which 
 is  more  pardonable  in  treating  of  natural  substances,  where  doubtful  terms  are 
 hardly  to  be  avoided,  for  a  quite  contrary  reason,  as  we  shall  see  by  and  by. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Morality  capable  of  demonstration. — Upon  this  ground  it  is, 
 that  I  am  bold  to  think  that  morality  is  capable  of  demonstration,  as  well  as 
 mathematics  ;  since  the  precise  real  essence  of  the  things  moral  words  stand 
 for  may  be  perfectly  known  ;  and  so  the  congruity  or  incongruity  of  thu 
 things  themselves  be  certainly  discovered  ;  in  which  consists  perfect  know- 
 ledge. Nor  let  any  one  object,  that  the  names  of  substances  are  often  to  be 
 made  use  of  in  morality,  as  well  as  those  of  modes,  from  which  will  arise 
 obscurity.  For  as  to  substances,  when  concerned  in  moral  discourses,  their 
 divers  natures  arc  not  so  much  inquired  into  as  supposed  ;  v.  g.  when  we  say 
 
33-2  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3. 
 
 that  man  is  subject  to  law,  we  mean  nothing  by  man  but  a  corporeal  rational 
 creature  :  what  the  real  essence  or  other  qualities  of  that  creature  are,  in  this 
 case,  is  noway  considered.  And  therefore,  whether  a  child  or  chancreiing  be  a 
 man  in  a  physical  sense,  may  among  the  naturalists  be  as  disputable  as  it  will, 
 it  concerns  not  at  all  the  moral  man,  as  I  may  call  him,  whicli  is  this  immova- 
 ble, unchangeable  idea,  a  corporeal  rational  being.  For  where  there  a  mon- 
 key, or  any  other  creature,  to  be  found,  that  has  the  use  of  reason  to  such  a 
 degree  as  to  be  able  to  understand  general  signs,  and  to  deduce  consequences 
 about  general  ideas,  he  would  no  doubt  be  subject  to  law,  and  in  that  sense 
 be  a  man,  how  much  soever  he  dilfered  in  shape  from  others  of  that  name. 
 The  names  of  substances,  if  they  be  used  in  them  as  they  should,  can  no 
 more  disturb  moral  than  they  do  mathematical  discourses  :  where,  if  the 
 mathematician  speaks  of  a  cube  or  globe  of  gold,  or  any  other  body,  he  has 
 his  clear  settled  idea,  which  varies  not,  though  it  may  by  mistake  be  ap- 
 plied to  a  particular  body  to  which  it  belongs  not. 
 
 Sect.  17.  DeJi)iitions  can  make  moral  discourses  clear. — This  I  have  here 
 mentioned  by  the  by,  to  show  of  what  consequence  it  is  for  men,  in  their 
 names  of  mixed  modes,  and  consequently  in  all  their  moral  discourses,  to  de- 
 fine their  words  when  there  is  occasion  :  since  thereby  moral  knowledge  may 
 be  brought  to  so  great  claarness  and  certainty.  And  it  must  be  great  want 
 of  ingenuity  (to  say  no  worse  of  it)  to  refuse  to  do  it :  since  a  definition  is 
 the  only  way  whereby  the  precise  meaning  of  moral  words  can  be  known  ; 
 and  yet  a  way  whereby  their  meaning  may  be  known  certainly,  and  without 
 leaving  any  room  for  any  contest  about  it.  And  therefore  the  negligence  or 
 perverseness  of  mankind  cannot  be  excused,  if  their  discourses  in  morality  be 
 not  much  more  clear  than  those  in  natural  philosophy ;  since  they  are  about 
 ideas  in  the  mind,  which  are  none  of  them  false  or  disproportionate  :  they 
 having  no  external  beings  for  the  archetypes  which  they  are  referred  to,  and 
 must  correspond  with.  It  is  far  easier  for  men  to  frame  in  their  minds  an 
 idea  which  shall  be  the  standard  to  which  they  will  give  the  name  justice, 
 with  which  pattern,  so  made,  all  actions  that  agree  shall  pass  under  that  de- 
 nomination ;  than,  having  seen  Aristides,  to  frame  an  idea  that  shall  in  all 
 things  be  exactly  like  him  :  who  is  as  he  is,  let  men  make  what  idea  they 
 jilease  of  him.  For  the  one,  they  need  but  know  the  combination  of  ideas 
 that  arc  put  together  in  their  own  minds  ;  for  the  other,  they  must  inquire 
 into  the  whole  nature,  and  abstruse  hidden  constitution,  and  various  qualities 
 of  a  thing  e.xisting  without  them. 
 
 Sect.  18.  And  is  the  only  waij. — Another  reason  that  makes  the  defining 
 of  mixed  modes  so  necessary,  especially  of  moral  words,  is  what  I  mentioned 
 a  little  before,  viz.  that  it  is  the  only  way  whereby  the  signification  of  the 
 most  of  them  can  be  known  with  certainty.  For  the  ideas  they  stand  for  being 
 lor  the  most  part  such  whose  component  parts  nowhere  exist  together,  but 
 scattered  and  mingled  with  others,  it  is  the  mind  alone  that  collects  them,  and 
 gives  them  the  union  of  or.o  idea  :  and  it  is  only  by  words,  enumerating  the 
 several  simple  ideas  which  the  mind  has  united,  that  we  can  make  known  to 
 others  what  their  names  stand  for  ;  the  assistance  of  the  senses  in  this  case 
 not  helj)ing  us,  by  the  pioposal  of  sensible  objects,  to  show  the  ideas  which 
 our  names  of  this  kind  stand  for,  as  it  docs  often  in  the  names  of  sensible 
 simple  ideas,  and  also  to  some  degree  in  those  of  substances. 
 
 Sect.  19.  3.  In  substances,  bij  showing  and  defining. — Thirdly,  for  the 
 explaining  the  signification  of  the  names  of  substances,  as  they  stand  for  the 
 ideas  we  have  of  their  distinct  species,  both  the  before-mentioned  ways,  viz. 
 of  showing  and  defining,  are  requisite  in  many  cases  to  be  made  use  of.  For 
 there  being  ordinarily  in  each  sort  some  leading  qualities,  to  which  we  sup- 
 pose the  other  ideas,  which  make  up  our  complex  idea  of  that  species,  an- 
 nexed ;  we  forwardly  give  the  specific  name  to  that  thing,  wherein  that  cha- 
 ractcristical  mark  is  found,  which  we  take  to  be  the  most  distinguishing  idea 
 of  that  species.  These  leading  or  characteristical  (as  I  may  call  them)  ideas, 
 in  the  sorts  of  animals  and  vegetables,  are  (a.<?  has  been  before  remarked,  eh. 
 
Ch.  11.  REMEDIES  OF  THE  ABUSE  OF  WORDS.  333 
 
 vi.   sect.  29.  and  ch.  ix.  sect.  15.)  mostly  figure,  and  in  inanimate  bodies 
 colour,  and  in  some  both  together.     Now, 
 
 Sect.  20.  Ideas  of  the  leading  qualities  of  substances  are  best  got  by 
 showing. — These  leading  sensible  qualities  are  those  which  make  the  chief 
 ingredients  of  our  specific  ideas,  and  consequently  the  most  obsen-able  and 
 invariable  part  in  the  definitions  of  our  specific  names,  as  attributed  to  sorts 
 of  substances  coming  under  our  knowledge.  For  though  the  sound  man,  in 
 its  own  nature,  be  as  apt  to  signify  a  complex  idea,  made  up  of  animality  and 
 rationality,  united  in  the  same  subject,  as  to  signify  any  other  combination ; 
 yet  used  as  a  mark  to  stand  for  a  sort  of  creatures  we  count  of  our  own  kind, 
 perhaps,  the  outward  shape  is  as  necessary  to  be  taken  into  our  complex  idea, 
 signified  by  the  word  man,  as  any  other  we  find  in  it:  and  therefore  why  Pla- 
 to's "animal  implutne  bipes  latis  ungtiibus"  should  not  be  a  good  definition 
 of  the  name  man,  standing  lor  that  sort  of  creatures,  will  not  be  easy  to  show : 
 for  it  is  the  shape,  as  the  leading  quality,  that  seems  more  to  determine  that 
 species  than  a  faculty  of  reasoning,  which  appears  not  at  first,  and  in  some 
 never.  And  if  this  be  not  allowed  to  be  so,  I  do  not  know  how  they  can  be 
 excused  from  murder  who  kill  monstrous  births  (as  we  call  them),  because  of 
 an  unordinary  shape,  without  knowing  whether  they  liave  a  rational  soul  or 
 no  ;  which  can  be  no  more  discerned  in  a  well-formed  than  ill-shaped  infant, 
 as  soon  as  born.  And  who  is  it  has  informed  us,  that  a  rational  soul  can  inhabit 
 no  tenement,  unless  it  has  just  such  a  sort  of  fiontispiece  ;  or  can  join  itself  to, 
 and  inform  no  sort  of  body  but  one  that  is  just  of  such  an  outward  structure  ? 
 
 Sect.  21.  Now  these  leading  qualities  are  best  made  known  by  showing, 
 and  can  hardly  be  made  known  otherwise.  For  the  shape  of  a  horse,  or 
 cassiowaiy,  will  be  but  rudely  and  imperfectly  imprinted  on  the  mind  by 
 words ;  the  sight  of  the  animals  doth  it  a  thousand  times  better  :  and  the  idea 
 of  the  particular  colour  of  gold  is  not  to  be  got  by  any  description  of  it,  but 
 onfy  by  the  frequent  exercise  of  the  eyes  about  it,  as  is  evident  in  those  who 
 are  used  to  this  metal,  who  will  frequently  distinguish  true  from  counterfeit, 
 pure  from  adulterate,  by  the  sight;  where  others  (who  have  as  good  eyes,  but 
 yet  by  use  have  not  got  the  precise  nice  idea  of  that  peculiar  yellow)  shall 
 not  perceive  any  difference.  The  like  may  be  said  of  those  other  simple 
 ideas,  peculiar  in  their  kind  to  any  substance,  for  which  precise  ideas  there 
 are  no  peculiar  names.  The  particular  ringing  sound  there  is  in  gold,  dis- 
 tinct fi-om  the  sound  of  other  bodies,  has  no  particular  name  annexed  to  it, 
 no  more  than  the  particular  yellow  that  belongs  to  that  metal. 
 
 Sect.  22.  The  ideas  of  their  powers  best  by  definition. — But  because 
 many  of  the  simple  ideas  that  make  up  our  specific  ideas  of  substances  are 
 powers  which  lie  not  obvious  to  our  senses  in  the  things  as  they  ordinarily  ap- 
 pear ;  therefore  in  the  signification  of  our  names  of  substances,  some  part  of 
 the  signification  will  be  better  made  known  by  enumerating  those  simple  ideas 
 than  by  showing  the  substance  itself.  For  he  that  to  the  yellow  shining 
 colour  of  gold  got  by  sight,  shall,  from  my  enumerating  them,  have  the  ideas 
 of  great  ductility,  fusibility,  fixedness,  and  solubility  in  aq.  regia,  will  liave  a 
 perfecter  idea  of  gold  than  he  can  have  by  seeing  a  piece  of  gold,  and  thereby 
 imprinting  in  his  mind  only  its  obvious  qualities.  But  if  the  formal  constitu- 
 tion of  this  shining,  heavy,  ductUe  thing  (from  whence  all  these  its  properties 
 flow)  lay  open  to  our  senses,  as  the  formal  constitution  or  essence  of  a  tri- 
 angle does,  the  signification  of  the  word  gold  might  as  easily  be  ascertained 
 as  that  of  triangle. 
 
 Sect.  23.  A  reflection  on  the  knowledge  of  spirits. — Hence  we  may  take 
 notice  how  much  the  foundation  of  all  our  knowledge  of  corporeal  things  lies 
 in  our  senses.  For  how  spirits,  separate  from  bodies  (whose  knowledge  ■ 
 and  ideas  of  these  things  are  certainly  much  more  perfect  than  ours)  know 
 them,  v/e  have  no  notion,  no  idea  at  all.  The  whole  extent  of  our  know- 
 ledge or  imagination  reaches  not  beyond  our  own  ideas,  limited  to  our  ways 
 of  perception.  Though  yet  it  be  not  to  be  doubted  that  spirits  of  a  higher 
 rank  than  those  immersed  in  flesh  may  have  as  clear  ideas  of  the  radical 
 
334  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  3, 
 
 constitution  of  substances,  as  we  liave  of  a  triangle,  and  so  perceive  how  all 
 their  properties  and  operations  flow  from  tlience :  but  the  manner  how  they 
 come  by  that  knowledge  exceeds  our  conceptions. 
 
 Sect.  24.  4.  Ideas  also  of  substances  must  be  conformable  to  things. — 
 But  though  definitions  will  serve  to  explain  the  names  of  substances  as 
 they  stand  for  our  ideas ;  yet  they  leave  them  not  without  great  imperfection 
 as  they  stand  for  things.  For  our  names  of  substances  being  not  put  barely 
 for  our  ideas,  but  being  made  use  of  ultimately  to  represent  things,  and  so 
 are  put  in  their  place  ;  their  signification  must  agree  with  the  truth  of  things 
 as  well  as  with  men's  ideas.  And  therefore  in  substances  we  are  not  always 
 to  rest  in  the  ordinary  complex  idea,  conmionly  received  as  the  signification 
 of  that  word,  but  must  go  a  little  farther,  and  inquire  into  the  nature  and 
 properties  of  the  things  themselves,  and  thereby  perfect,  as  much  as  we  can, 
 our  ideas  of  their  distinct  species  ;  or  else  learn  them  from  such  as  are  used  to 
 that  sort  of  things,  and  are  experienced  in  them.  For  since  it  is  intended  their 
 names  should  stand  for  such  collections  of  simple  ideas  as  do  really  exist  in 
 things  themselves,  as  well  as  for  the  complex  idea  in  other  men's  minds, 
 which  in  their  ordinary  acceptation  they  stand  for :  therefore  to  define  their 
 names  right,  natural  history  is  to  be  inquired  into ;  and  their  properties  are, 
 with  care  and  examination,  to  be  found  out.  For  it  is  not  enough,  for  the 
 avoiding  inconveniences  in  discourse  and  arguings  about  natural  bodies  and 
 substantial  things,  to  have  learned,  from  the  propriety  of  the  language,  the 
 common,  but  confused,  or  very  imperfect  idea,  to  which  each  word  is  applied, 
 and  to  keep  them  to  that  idea  in  our  use  of  them ;  but  we  must,  by  acquainting 
 ourselves  with  the  history  of  that  sort  of  things,  rectify  and  settle  our  com- 
 plex idea  belonging  to  each  specific  name  ;  and  in  discourse  with  others 
 (if  we  find  them  mistake  us)  we  ought  to  tell  what  the  complex  idea  is,  that 
 we  make  such  a  name  stand  for.  This  is  the  more  necessary  to  be  done  by 
 all  those  who  search  after  knowledge  and  philosophical  verity,  in  that  children, 
 being  taught  words  whilst  they  have  but  imperfect  notions  of  thing-s,  apply 
 them  at  random,  and  without  much  thinking,  and  seldom  frame  determined 
 ideas  to  be  signified  by  them.  Which  custom  (it  being  easy,  and  serving 
 well  enough  for  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life  and  conversation)  they  are  apt  to 
 continue  when  they  are  men  :  and  so  begin  at  the  wrong  end,  learning  words 
 first  and  perfectly,  but  make  the  notions  to  which  they  apply  those  words  after- 
 ward very  overtly.  By  this  mcanS  it  comes  to  pass,  that  men  speaking  the 
 proper  language  of  their  country,  i.  e.  according  to  grammar  rules  of  that 
 language,  do  yet  speak  very  improperly  of  things  themselves ;  and  by  their 
 arguing  one  with  another,  make  but  small  progress  in  the  discoveries  of  use- 
 ful truths,  and  the  knowledge  of  things  as  they  are  to  be  found  in  themselves, 
 and  not  in  our  imaginations  ;  and  it  matters  not  much,  for  the  improvement  of 
 our  knowledge,  how  they  are  called. 
 
 Sect.  25.  Not  easy  to  be  made  so. — It  were  therefore  to  be  wished,  that 
 men,  versed  in  physical  inquiries,  and  acquainted  with  the  several  sorts  of  na- 
 tural bodies,  would  set  down  tliosc  simple  ideas,  wherein  they  observe  the  indi- 
 viduals of  each  sort  constantly  to  agree.  This  would  remedy  a  great  deal  of 
 that  confusion  which  comes  from  several  persons  applying  the  same  name  to 
 a  collection  of  a  smaller  or  greater  number  of  sensible  qualities,  proportionably 
 as  they  have  been  more  or  less  acquainted  with,  or  accurate  in  examining  the 
 qualities  of  any  sort  of  things  which  come  under  one  demomination.  But  a 
 dictionary  of  this  sort,  containing,  as  it  were,  a  natural  history,  requires  too 
 many  hands,  as  well  as  too  much  time,  cost,  pains,  and  sagacity,  ever  to  be 
 hoped  for ;  and  till  that  be  done,  we  must  content  ourselves  with  such  defini- 
 tions of  the  names  of  substances  as  explain  the  sense  men  use  them  in.  And 
 it  would  be  well,  where  there  is  occasion,  if  they  would  afford  us  so  much. 
 This  yet  is  not  usually  done ;  but  men  talk  to  one  another,  and  dispute  in 
 words,  whose  meaning  is  not  agreed  between  them,  out  of  a  mistake  that  the 
 significations  of  common  words  are  certainly  established,  and  the  precise  ideas 
 they  stand  for  perfectly  known  ;  and  that  it  is  a  shame  to  be  ignorant  of  them. 
 
Ch.  11.  REMEDIES  OF  THE  ABUSE  OF  WORDS.  335 
 
 Both  which  suppositions  are  false  :  no  names  of  common  complex  ideas  hav- 
 ing so  settled  determined  significations,  that  they  are  constantly  used  for  the 
 same  precise  ideas.  Nor  is  it  a  shame  for  a  man  not  to  have  a  certain  know- 
 ledge of  any  thing,  but  by  the  necessary  ways  of  attaining  it ;  and  so  it  is  no 
 discredit  not  to  know  what  precise  idea  any  sound  stands  for  in  another  man's 
 mind,  without  he  declare  it  to  me  by  some  other  way  than  barely  using  that 
 sound ;  there  being  no  other  way,  without  such  a  declaration,  certainly  to 
 know  it.  Indeed,  the  necessity  of  communication  by  language  brings  men  to 
 an  agreement  in  the  signification  of  common  words,  within  some  tolerable 
 latitude,  that  may  serve  for  ordinary  conversation :  and  so  a  man  cannot  be 
 supposed  wholly  ignorant  of  the  ideas  which  are  annexed  to  words  by  common 
 use,  in  a  language  familiar  to  him.  But  common  use,  being  but  a  very  uncer- 
 tain rule,  which  reduces  itself  at  last  to  the  ideas  of  particular  men,  proves 
 often  but  a  very  variable  standard.  But  though  such  a  dictionary,  as  I  have 
 above  mentioned,  will  require  too  much  time,  cost,  and  pains,  to  be  hoped 
 for  in  this  age  ;  yet  methinks  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  propose,  that  words 
 standing  for  things,  which  are  known  and  distinguished  by  their  outward 
 shapes,  should  be  expressed  by  little  draughts  and  prints  made  of  them.  A 
 vocabulary  made  after  this  fashion  would,  perhaps,  with  more  ease,  and  in  less 
 time,  teach  the  true  signification  of  many  terms,  especially  in  languages  of 
 remote  countries  or  ages,  and  settle  truer  ideas  in  men's  minds  of  several 
 things,  whereof  we  read  the  names  in  ancient  authors,  than  all  the  large  and 
 laborious  comments  of  learned  critics.  Naturalists,  that  treat  of  plants  and 
 animals,  have  found  the  benefit  of  this  way :  and  he  that  has  had  occasion  to 
 consult  them,  will  have  reason  to  confess,  that  he  has  a  clearer  idea  of  apium 
 or  ibex,  from  a  little  print  of  that  herb  or  beast,  than  he  could  have  from  a 
 long  definition  of  the  names  of  either  of  them.  And  so  no  doubt  he  would 
 have  of  strigil  and  sistrum,  if  instead  of  currycomb  and  cymbal,  which  are 
 the  English  names  dictionaries  render  them  by,  he  could  see  stamped  in  the 
 margin  small  pictures  of  these  instruments,  as  they  were  in  use  among  the 
 ancients.  "Toga,  tunica,  pallium,"  are  words  easily  translated  by  gown, 
 coat,  and  cloak  ;  but  we  have  thereby  no  more  true  ideas  of  the  fashion  of 
 those  habits  among  the  Romans  that  we  have  of  the  faces  of  the  tailors  who 
 made  them.  Such  things  as  these,  which  the  eye  distinguishes  by  their 
 shapes,  would  be  best  let  into  the  mind  by  draughts  made  of  them,  and  more 
 determine  the  signification  of  such  words  than  any  other  words  set  for  them, 
 or  made  use  of  to  define  them.     But  this  only  by  the  by. 
 
 Sect.  2G.  5.  By  constancy  in  their  signification. — Fifthly,  if  men  will  not 
 be  at  the  pains  to  declare  the  meaning  of  their  words,  and  definitions  of  their 
 terms  are  not  to  be  had ;  yet  this  is  tlie  least  that  can  be  expected,  that  in  all 
 discourses,  wherein  one  man  pretends  to  instruct  or  convince  another,  he 
 should  use  the  same  word  constantly  in  the  same  sense :  if  this  were  done 
 (which  nobody  can  refuse  without  great  disingenuity,)  many  of  the  books  ex- 
 tant might  be  spared ;  many  of  the  controversies  in  dispute  would  be  at  an 
 end  ;  several  of  those  great  volumes,  swoln  with  ambiguous  words,  now  used 
 in  one  sense,  and  by  and  by  in  another,  would  shrink  into  a  very  narrow  com- 
 pass ;  and  many  of  the  philosophers  (to  mention  no  other)  as  well  as  poet's 
 works,  might  be  contained  in  a  nut-shell. 
 
 Sect.  27.  When  the  variation  is  to  he  explained. — But  after  all,  the  pro- 
 vision of  words  is  so  scanty  in  respect  of  that  infinite  variety  of  thoughts, 
 that  men,  wanting  terms  to  suit  their  precise  notions,  will,  notwithstanding 
 their  utmost  caution,  be  forced  often  to  use  the  same  word  in  somewhat  dif- 
 ferent senses.  And  though  in  the  continuation  of  a  discourse,  or  the  pur- 
 suit of  an  argument,  there  can  be  hardly  room  to  digress  into  a  particular  de- 
 finition, as  often  as  a  man  varies  the  signification  of  any  term ;  yet  the  import 
 of  the  discourse  will,  for  the  most  part,  if  there  be  no  designed  fallacy,  suf- 
 ficiently lead  candid  and  intelligent  readers  into  the  true  meaning  of  it :  but 
 where  that  is  not  sufficient  to  guide  the  reader,  there  it  concerns  the  writer 
 to  explain  his  meaning,  and  show  in  what  sense  he  there  uses  that  torm. 
 
y33  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4 
 
 BOOK  IV. 
 
 OF  KNOWLEDGE  AND  OPINION. 
 CHAPTER  I. 
 
 OF  KNOWLEDGE  IN  GENERAL. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Our  knowledge  conversant  ahout  our  ideas. — Since  the  mind,  in 
 all  its  thoughts  and  reasonings,  hath  no  other  immediate  object  but  its  own 
 ideas,  which  it  alone  does,  or  can  contemplate,  it  is  evident,  that  our  know- 
 ledge is  only  conversant  about  them. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Knowledge  is  the  perceftion  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement 
 of  two  ideas. — Knowledge  then  seems  to  me  to  be  nothing  but  the  perception  i 
 of  the  connexion  or  agreement,  or  disagreement  and  repugnany  of  any  of  our 
 ideas.  In  this  alone  it  consists.  Where  this  perception  is,  there  is  know- 
 ledge :  and  where  it  is  not,  there,  thougli  we  may  fancy,  guess,  or  believe,  yet 
 we  always  come  short  of  knowledge.  For  when  we  know  that  white  is  not 
 black,  what  do  we  else  but  perceive  that  these  two  ideas  do  not  agree'!  when 
 we  possess  ourselves  of  the  utmost  security  of  the  demonstration,  that  the 
 three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  ones,  what  do  we  more  but 
 perceive,  that  equality  to  two  right  ones,  does  necessarily  agree  to,  and  is 
 inseparable  from,  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle ](1) 
 
 (1)  The  placing  of  certainty,  as  Mr  Locke  does,  in  the  perception  of  the  agree- 
 ment or  disagreement  of  our  ideas,  the  bishop  of  Worcester  suspects  may  be  of 
 dangerous  consequence  to  that  article  of  faith  which  he  has  endeavoured  to  defend; 
 to  which  Mr  Locke  answers*,  since  your  lordship  hath  not,  as  I  remember,  shown, 
 or  gone  about  to  show,  how  this  proposition,  viz.  that  certainty  consists  in  the  per- 
 ception of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  ideas,  is  opposite  or  inconsistent 
 with  that  article  of  faith  wliicli  your  lordship  has  endeavoured  to  defend^  it  is  plain, 
 it  is  but  your  lordship's  fear,  that  it  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  it,  which, 
 as  I  humbly  conceive,  is  no  proof  that  it  is  any  way  inconsistent  with  that  article. 
 
 Nobody,  I  think,  can  blame  your  lordship,  or  any  one  else,  for  being  concerned 
 for  any  article  of  the  Christian  faith;  but  if  that  concern  (as  it  may,  and  as  we  know 
 it  has  done)  makes  any^  one  apprehend  danger,  where  no  danger  is,  are  we,  there- 
 fore, to  give  up  and  condemn  any  proposition,  because  any  one,  though  of  the  first 
 rank  and  magnitude,  fears  it  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  any  truth  of  reli- 
 gion, without  sliowing  that  it  is  so?  If  such  fears  be  the  measures  whereby  to 
 judge  of  truth  and  falsehood,  the  affirming  that  thei-e  are  antipodes  would  be  still  a 
 heresy;  and  the  doctrine  of  the  motion  of  the  earth  must  be  rejected,  as  overthrow- 
 ing the  truth  of  the  Scripture;  for  of  that  dangerous  consequence  it  has  been  appre- 
 hended to  be,  b)'  many  learned  and  pious  divines,  out  of  their  great  concern  for 
 religion.  And  ytt,  notwithstanding  those  great  apprehensions  of  what  dangerous 
 consequence  it  might  be,  it  is  now  universally  received  by  learned  men,  as  an 
 undoubted  truth;  and  writ  for  by  some,  whose  belief  of  the  Scripture  is  not  at  all 
 questioned;  and  particularly,  very  lately,  by  a  divine  of  the  church  of  England, 
 with  great  strength  of  reason,  in  his  wonderfully  ingenious  New  Theory  of  the 
 Earth. 
 
 The  reason  your  lordship  gives  of  your  fears,  that  it  may  be  of  such  dangerons 
 consequence  to  that  article  of  faitli  which  your  lordship  endeavours  to  defend, 
 though  it  occur  in  more  places  tlian  one,  is  only  this,  viz.   that  it  is  made  use  of 
 
 *  In  his  second  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Worcester. 
 
Ch  1.  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  337 
 
 Sect.  3.  This  agreement  fourfold. — But  to  understand  a  little  more  dis- 
 tinctly, wherein  this  agreement  or  disagreement  consists,  1  tliink  we  may  re- 
 duce it  all  to  these  four  sorts  : 
 
 by  ill  men  to  do  mischief,  i.  e.  to  oppose  that  article  of  faith  which  your  lordship 
 hath  endeavoured  to  defend.  But,  my  lord,  if  it  be  a  reason  to  lay  by  any  thing 
 as  bad,  because  it  is,  or  may  be,  used  to  an  ill  purpose,  I  know  not  what  will  be 
 innocent  enough  to  be  kept.  Arms,  which  were  made  for  our  defence,  are  some- 
 times made  use  of  to  do  mischief;  and  yet  they  are  not  Uiought  of  dangerous  con- 
 sequence for  all  that.  Nobody  lays  by  his  sword  and  pistols,  or  thinks  them  of 
 such  dangerous  consequence  as  to  be  neglected,  or  thrown  away,  because  robbers, 
 and  the  worst  of  men,  sometimes  make  use  of  them  to  take  away  honest  men's 
 lives  or  goods.  And  the  reason  is,  because  they  were  designed,  and  will  serve  to 
 preserve  them.  And  who  knows  but  this  may  be  the  present  case?  If  your  lord- 
 ship thinks,  that  placing  of  certainty  in  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or  dis- 
 agreement of  ideas  be  to  be  rejected  as  false,  because  you  apprehend  it  may  be  of 
 dangerous  consequence  to  that  article  of  faith:  on  the  other  side,  perhaps  others, 
 with  me,  may  think  it  a  defence  against  error,  and  so  (as  being  of  good  use)  to  be 
 received  and  adhered  to. 
 
 I  would  not,  my  lord,  be  hereby  thought  to  set  up  my  own,  or  any  one's  judg- 
 ment against  your  lordship's.  But  I  have  said  this  only  to  show,  whilst  the  argu- 
 ment lies  for  or  against  the  truth  of  any  proposition,  barely  in  an  imagination  that 
 it  may  be  of  consequence  to  the  supporting  or  overthrowing  of  any  remote  trutli; 
 it  will  be  impossible,  that  way,  to  determine  of  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  that  pro- 
 position. For  imagination  will  be  set  up  against  imagination,  and  the  stronger 
 probably  will  be  against  your  lordship;  the  strongest  imaginations  being  usually 
 in  the  weakest  heads.  The  only  way,  in  this  case,  to  put  it  past  doubt,  is  to  show 
 the  inconsistency  of  the  two  propositions;  and  tlien  it  will  be  seen,  that  one  over- 
 throws the  other;  the  true,  the  false  one. 
 
 Your  lordship  says,  indeed,  this  is  a  new  method  of  certainty.  T  will  not  say 
 so  myself,  for  fear  of  deserving  a  second  reproof  from  your  lordship,  for  being  too 
 forward  to  assume  to  myself  the  honour  of  being  an  original.  But  this,  I  think, 
 gives  me  occasion,  and  will  excuse  me  from  being  thought  impertinent,  if  I  ask 
 your  lordship,  whether  there  be  any  other,  or  older,  method  of  certainty  ?  and  what 
 it  is?  For,  if  there  be  no  other,  nor  older  than  this,  either  this  was  always  the 
 method  of  certaint)',  and  so  mine  is  no  new  one;  or  else  the  world  is  obliged  to 
 me  for  this  new  one,  after  having  been  so  long  in  the  want  of  so  necessary  a  thing 
 as  a  method  of  certainty.  If  there  be  an  oldei-,  I  am  sure  your  lordship  cannot  but 
 know  it;  your  condemning  mine  as  new,  as  well  as  your  thorough  insight  into  an- 
 tiquity, cannot  but  satisfy  every  bodj'  that  you  do.  And  therefore  to  set  the  world 
 right  in  a  thing  of  that  great  concernment,  and  to  overthrow  mine,  and  thereby 
 prevent  the  dangerous  consequence  there  is  in  my  having  unreasonably  started  it, 
 will  not,  I  humbly  conceive,  misbecome  your  lordship's  care  of  that  article  you 
 have  endeavoured  to  defend,  nor  the  good-will  you  bear  to  truth  in  general.  For 
 I  will  be  answerable  for  myself,  that  I  shall;  and  I  think  I  may  be  for  all  others, 
 that  they  all  will  give  off  the  placing  of  certainty  in  the  perception  of  the  agree- 
 ment or  disagreement  of  ideas,  if  your  lordship  will  be  pleased  to  show  that  it  lies 
 in  any  thing  else. 
 
 But  truly,  not  to  ascribe  to  myself  an  invention  of  what  has  been  as  old  as  know- 
 ledge is  in  the  world,  I  must  own,  I  am  not  guilty  of  what  your  lordship  is  pleased 
 to  call  starting  new  methods  of  certainty.  Knowledge,  ever  since  there  has  been 
 any  in  the  world,  has  consisted  in  one  particular  action  in  the  mind;  and  so,  I  con- 
 ceive, will  continue  to  do  to  the  end  of  it.  And  to  start  new  methods  of  know- 
 ledge, or  certainty  (for  they  are  to  me  tlie  same  thing),  i.  e.  to  find  out  and  pro- 
 pose new  methods  of  attaining  knowledge,  either  with  more  ease  and  quickness,  or 
 iti  things  yet  unknown,  is  what  I  think  nobody  could  blame:  but  this  is  not  that 
 which  your  lordship  here  means  by  new  methods  of  certainty.  Your  lordship,  I 
 think,  means  by  it,  the  placing  of  certainty  in  something,  wherein  either  it  does 
 not  consist,  or  else  wherein  it  was  not  placed  before  now;  if  this  be  to  be  called  a 
 new  method  of  certainty.  As  to  tiie  latter  of  these,  I  shall  know  whether  I  am 
 guilty  or  no,  when  your  lordslup  will  do  me  the  favour  to  tell  me  wherein  it  was 
 
 2S 
 
338  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 1.  Identity,  or  diversity. 
 
 2.  Relation.  -     /       v     v 
 
 3.  Coexistence,  or  necessary  connexion. 
 
 4.  Real  existence. 
 
 placed  before:  which  your  lordsliip  knows  I  professed  myself  ip^norant  of,  when  I 
 writ  my  book,  and  so  1  am  still.  Hut  if  stalling;  view  methods  of  certainty  be  the 
 placing  of  certainty  in  something  wlierein  it  does  not  consist;  whether  1  have  done 
 that  or  no,  I  must  appeal  to  tiie  experience  of  mankin<l. 
 
 There  are  several  actions  of  men's  minds,  that  they  are  conscious  to  themselves 
 of  performing,  as  willing,  believing,  knowing,  &c.  which  they  have  so  particular  a 
 sense  of,  that  they  can  distinguish  them  one  from  another;  or  else  they  could  not 
 say,  when  they  willed,  Mhen  they  believed,  and  when  they  knew  any  thing.  But 
 though  these  actions  were  difterent  enough  from  one  another,  not  to  be  confounded 
 by  those  who  s[>oko  of  tlicm,  yet  nobody,  that  I  had  met  with,  had,  in  their  writings, 
 particularly  sr-t  down  wherein  the  act  of  knowing  precisely  consisted. 
 
 To  tliis  reflection  upon  the  actions  of  my  own  mind  the  subject  of  my  Essay 
 concerning  Human  Understanding  naturally  led  me;  wherein  if  I  have  done  any 
 thing  new,  it  has  been  to  describe  to  others,  more  particularly  than  had  been  done 
 before,  what  it  is  their  minds  do  when  they  perform  that  action  which  they  call 
 knowing;  and  if,  upon  examination,  they  observe  I  have  given  a  true  account  of 
 that  action  of  tlieir  minds  in  all  the  parts  of  it,  I  suppose  it  will  be  in  vain  to  dis- 
 pute against  what  they  find  and  feel  in  themselves.  And  if  I  have  not  told  them 
 right  and  exactly  what  they  find  and  feel  in  themselves,  when  their  minds  perform 
 tiie  act  of  knowing,  what  1  have  said  will  be  all  in  vain;  men  will  not  be  persuaded 
 against  their  senses.  Knowledge  is  an  internal  perception  of  their  minde;  and  if, 
 when  they  reflect  on  it,  they  find  it  is  not  what  1  have  said  it  is,  my  groundless  con- 
 ceit will  not  be  hearkened  to,  but  be  exploded  by  every  body,  and  die  of  itself:  and 
 nobody  need  to  be  at  any  pains  to  drive  it  out  of  the  world.  So  impossible  is  it 
 to  find  out,  or  start  new  methods  of  certainty,  or  to  have  them  received,  if  anj'  one 
 places  it  in  any  thing  but  in  that  wherein  it  really  consists:  much  less  can  any  one 
 be  in  danger  to  be  misled  into  error,  by  any  such  new,  and  to  every  one  visibly 
 senseless  project.  Can  it  be  supposed,  that  any  one  could  start  a  new  method  of 
 seeing,  and  persuade  men  thereby  that  they  do  not  see  what  they  do  see?  It  is  to 
 be  feared,  that  any  one  can  cast  such  a  mist  over  their  eyes,  that  they  should  not 
 know  when  they  see,  and  so  be  led  out  of  the  way  by  it? 
 
 Knowledge,  I  find  in  myself,  and  I  conceive  in  others,  consists  in  tlie  perception 
 of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  immediate  objects  of  the  mind  in  think- 
 ing, which  I  call  ideas:  but  whether  it  does  so  in  others  or  no,  must  be  determined 
 by  their  own  experience,  reflecting  upon  tlie  action  of  their  mind  in  knowing;  for 
 that  I  cannot  alter,  nor,  I  think,  they  themselves.  But  whether  they  will  call 
 those  immediate  objects  of  their  minds  in  thinking  ideas  or  no,  is  perfectly  ii>  their 
 own  choice.  If  they  dislike  that  name,  they  may  call  them  notions  or  conceptions, 
 or  how  they  please;  it  matters  not,  if  they  use  them  so  as  to  avoid  obscuritj'  and 
 confusion.  If  they  are  constantly  used  in  the  same  and  a  known  sense,  every  one 
 has  the  liberty  to  please  himself  in  his  terms;  there  lies  neither  truth,  nor  error, 
 nor  science,  in  that;  though  tliose  that  take  them  for  things,  and  not  for  what  they 
 are,  bare  arbitrarr  signs  of  our  ideas,  make  a  great  deal  ado  often  about  them;  as 
 if  some  great  matter  lay  in  the  use  of  this  or  that  sound.  All  that  I  know  or  can 
 imagine  of  difference  about  them  is,  that  those  words  are  always  best,  whose  signi- 
 fications are  best  known  in  the  sense  they  arc  used;  and  so  are  least  apt  to  breed 
 confusion. 
 
 My  lord,  your  lordship  hath  been  pleased  to  find  fault  with  my  use  of  the  new 
 term,  ideas,  without  telling  me  a  better  name  for  the  immediate  objects  of  the  mind 
 in  thinking.  Your  lordship  also  has  been  pleased  to  find  fault  with  my  definition 
 of  knowledge,  without  doing  me  the  favour  to  give  me  a  better.  For  it  is  only 
 about  my  definition  of  knowledge  that  all  this  stir  concerning  certainty  is  made. 
 For,  with  me,  to  know  and  to  be  certain  is  the  same  thing;  what  I  know,  that  I  am 
 certain  of;  and  what  I  am  certain  of,  that  I  know.  What  reaches  to  knowledge,  I 
 think  may  be  called  certainty;  and  what  comes  short  of  certainty,  I  think  cannot  be 
 
Ch.  1.        ■■^^y*^  ^  or  KNOWLEDGE.  /  339 
 
 Sect.  4.  1.  Of  identity  or  diversity. — First,  as  to  the  first  sort  of  agreement 
 or  disagreement,  viz.  identity  or  diversity.  It  is  the  tirst  act  of  the  mind, 
 when  it  has  any  sentiments  or  ideas  at  all,  to  perceive  its  ideas  ;  and  so  far 
 as  it  perceives  them,  to  know  each  what  it  is,  and  thereby  also  to  perceive 
 their  dilference,  and  that  one  is  not  another.  This  is  so  absolutely  neces- 
 sary, that  without  it  there  could  be  no  knowledge,  no  reasoning,  no  iniagina- 
 
 c-illed  kno\vle<li;e;  as  your  lordship  could  not  but  observe  in  the  ISth  section  of 
 clin)).  iv.  of  my  4th  book,  wliicli  you  have  quoted. 
 
 My  definition  of  knowledge  stands  thusj  "  knowledge  seems  to  me  to  be  nothing; 
 but  the  perception  of  the  connexion  and  agreement,  or  disagreement  and  repug- 
 n:mcy  of  any  of  our  ideas."  This  definition  your  lordship  dislikes,  and  appre- 
 hends it  ma}'  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  that  article  of  Christian  faitii  which 
 your  lordship  h.ith  endeavoured  to  defend.  For  tliis  there  is  a  very  easy  remedy: 
 it  is  but  for  your  lordship  to  set  aside  this  definition  of  knowledge  by  giving  us  a 
 better,  and  this  danger  is  over.  But  your  lordship  cliooses  rather  to  have  a  con- 
 troversy with  my  book  for  having  it  in  it,  and  to  put  me  upon  the  defence  of  it:  for 
 which  I  must  acknowledge  myself  obliged  to  your  loi-fiship  for  affording  me  so 
 mucli  of  your  time,  and  for  allowing  me  the  honour  of  conversing  so  much  with 
 one  so  far  above  me  in  all  respects. 
 
 Your  lordship  says,  it  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  that  article  of  Chris- 
 tian fuilh  wliich  you  have  endeavoured  to  defend.  Tiiough  the  laws  of  disputing 
 allow  bare  denial  as  a  sufiicient  answer  to  sayings,  without  any  offer  of  a  proof:  yet, 
 my  lord,  to  show  how  willing  I  am  to  give  your  lordship  all  satisfaction,  in  what 
 you  apprehend  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  in  my  book,  as  to  that  article,  I 
 shall  not  stand  still  sullenl}',  and  put  your  lordship  upon  the  difficulty  of  showing 
 wherein  that  danger  lies;  but  shall,  on  the  other  side,  endeavour  to  show  your  lord- 
 ship that  that  definition  of  mine,  whether  true  or  false,  right  or  wrong,  can  be  of 
 n.o  dangerous  consequence  to  that  article  of  faith.  The  reason  which  1  shall  offer 
 for  it  is  this:  because  it  can  be  of  no  consequence  to  it  at  all. 
 
 That  which  your  lordsliip  is  afraid  it  may  be  dangerous  to,  is  an  article  of  faitli- 
 that  which  your  lordsliip  labours  and  is  concerned  for,  is  the  certainty  of  faith. 
 Now,  my  lord,  I  humbly  conceive  the  certainty  of  faith,  if  your  lordsliip  tliinks  fit 
 to  call  it  so,  has  notliing  to  do  with  the  certainty  of  knowledge.  As  to  talk  of  the 
 certainty  of  faith,  seems  all  one  to  me  as  to  talk  of  the  knowledge  of  believing,  a 
 wa)'  of  speaking  not  easy  to  me  to  understand. 
 
 Place  knowledge  in  what  you  will;  start  what  new  methods  of  certainty  you 
 please,  that  are  apt  to  leave  men's  minds  more  doubtful  than  before;  place  cer- 
 tainty on  such  ground  as  will  leave  little  or  no  knowledge  in  the  world  (for  these 
 are  the  arguments  your  lordsliip  uses  against  m\'  definition  of  knowledge):  this 
 shakes  not  at  all,  nor  in  the  least  concerns  the  assurance  of  faith;  that  is  quite  dis- 
 tinct from  it,  neither  stands  nor  falls  with  knowledge. 
 
 Faith  stands  by  itself,  and  upon  grounds  of  its  own;  nor  can  be  removed  froni 
 them,  and  placed  on  those  of  knowledge.  Their  grounds  are  so  far  from  being 
 the  same,  or  having  any  thing  common,  that  when  it  is  brought  to  certainty,  faith 
 is  destroyed;  it  is  knowledge  then,  and  faith  no  longer. 
 
 AVith  what  assurance  soever  of  believing  I  assent  to  any  article  of  faith,  so  that 
 I  steadfastly  venture  my  all  upon  it,  it  is  still  but  believing.  Bring  it  to  certainty, 
 and  it  ceases  to  be  faith.  I  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  was  crucified,  dead,  and  buried, 
 rose  again  the  third  day  from  the  dead,  and  ascended  into  heaven:  let  now  such 
 methods  of  knowledge  or  certainty  be  started,  as  leave  men's  minds  more  doubtful 
 than  before;  let  the  grounds  of  knowledge  be  resolved  into  what  any  one  pleases, 
 it  touches  not  my  faith;  the  foundation  of  that  stands  as  sure  as  before,  and  cannot 
 be  at  all  shaken  by  it;  and  one  may  as  well  say,  that  any  thing  that  weakens  ihe 
 sight,  or  casts  a  mist  before  the  eyes,  endangers  the  hearing,  as  that  any  thing 
 "which  alters  the  nature  of  knowdedge  (if  that  could  be  done)  should  be  of  dangerous 
 consequence  to  an  article  of  faith. 
 
 Whether  then  I  am  or  am  not  mistaken  in  the  placing  certainty  in  the  percep- 
 tion of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas, — whether  this  account  of  know- 
 ledge be  true  or  false,  enlarges  or  straitens  the  bounds  of  it  more  than  it  should, — • 
 
340  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 tion,  no  distinct  thouglits  at  all.  By  this  tlie  mind  clearly  and  infallibly  per- 
 ceives each  idea  to  a^rcc  with  itself,  and  to  be  wliat  it  is  :  and  all  distinct 
 ideas  to  disagree,  i.  e.  the  one  not  to  be  the  ot!ier;  and  this  it  does  without 
 pains,  labour,  or  deduction  ;  but  at  iirst  view,  by  its  natural  power  of  percep- 
 tion and  distinction.  And  tiiough  men  of  art  iiave  reduced  this  into  those 
 general  rules,  what  is,  is  ;  and,  it  is  impossible  tor  the  same  thing  to  be,  and 
 not  to  be  ;  for  ready  application  in  all  cases,  wherein  there  may  be  occasion 
 to  reflect  on  it ;  yet  it  is  certain,  that  the  Iirst  e.\ercise  of  this  faculty  is  about 
 particular  ideas.  A  man  infallibly  knows,  as  soon  as  ever  he  has  them  in  his 
 mind,  that  the  ideas  he  calls  white  and  round,  are  the  very  ideas  they  are, 
 and  that  they  are  not  other  ideas  which  he  calls  red  or  square.  Nor  can  any 
 ma.xim  or  proposition  in  the  world  make  him  know  it  clearer  or  surer  than  he 
 did  before,  and  without  any  such  general  rule.  This  then  is  the  first  agree- 
 ment or  disagreement,  which  the  mind  perceives  in  its  ideas  ;  which  it  always 
 perceives  at  first  sight :  and  if  there  ever  happen  any  doubt  about  it,  it  will 
 always  be  found  to  be  about  the  names,  and  not  the  ideas  themselves,  whose 
 identity  and  diversity  will  always  be  perceived,  as  soon  and  as  clearly  as  the 
 ideas  themselves  are,  nor  can  it  possibly  be  otherwise. 
 
 Sect.  5.  2.  Relative. — Secondly,  the  next  sort  of  agreement  or  disagree- 
 ment the  mind  perceives  in  any  of  its  ideas,  may,  I  tliiidc,  be  called  relative, 
 and  is  nothing  but  the  perception  of  the  relation  between  any  two  ideas,  of 
 what  kind  soever,  whether  substances,  modes,  or  any  other.  For  since  all 
 distinct  ideas  must  eternally  be  known  not  to  be  the  same,  and  so  be  univer- 
 sally and  constantly  denied  one  of  another,  there  could  be  no  room  for  any 
 positive  knowledge  at  all,  if  we  could  not  perceive  any  relation  between  our 
 ideas,  and  find  out  the  agreement  or  disagreement  they  have  one  with  anoth- 
 er, in  several  ways  the  mind  takes  of  comparing  them. 
 
 Sect.  6.  3.  Of  coexistence. — Thirdly,  The  third  sort  of  agreement,  or  dis- 
 agreement, to  be  found  in  our  ideas,  which  the  perception  of  the  mind  is  em- 
 ployed about,  is  coexistence  or  non-coexistence  in  the  same  subject ;  and  this 
 belongs  particularly  to  substances.  Thus,  when  we  ])ronounce  concerning 
 gold  that  is  fixed,  our  knowledge  of  this  truth  amounts  to  no  more  but  this, 
 that  fixedness,  or  a  power  to  remain  in  the  fire  unconsumed,  is  an  idea  that 
 always  accompanies  and  is  joined  with  that  particular  sort  of  yellowness, 
 weight,  fusibility,  malleableness,  and  solubility  in  aqua  regia,  which  make  our 
 complex  idea,  signified  by  the  word  gold. 
 
 Sect.  7.  4.  Of  real  existence. — Fourtlily,  the  fourth  and  last  sort  is  that 
 of  actual,  real  existence  agreeing  to  any  idea.  Within  these  four  sorts  of 
 agreement  or  disagreement  is,  I  suppose,  contained  all  the  knowledge  we 
 liave,  or  are  capable  of:  for  all  the  inquiries  that  we  can  make  concerning 
 any  of  our  ideas,  all  that  we  know  or  can  affirm  concerning  them,  is,  that  it  is, 
 or  is  not,  the  same  with  some  other  ;  that  it  does,  or  does  not,  always  coexist 
 with  some  other  idea  in  the  same  subject,  that  it  has  this  or  that  relation  to 
 some  other  idea  ;  or  that  it  has  a  real  existence  without  the  mind.  Thus 
 blue  is  not  yellow,  is  of  identity  :  two  tiiangles  upon  equal  bases  between  two 
 parallels  are  equal,  is  of  relation  :  iron  is  susceptible  of  magnetical  impres- 
 sions, is  of  coexistence  :  God  is,  is  of  real  existence.  Though  identity  and 
 coexistence  are  truly  nothing  but  relations,  yet  they  are  so  peculiar  ways  of 
 agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  ideas,  that  they  deserve  well  to  be  consid- 
 
 faith  still  stands  upon  its  own  basis,  which  is  not  at  all  altered  by  it;  and  every 
 article  of  that  has  just  the  same  unmoved  foundation,  and  tlic  very  same  credibility, 
 that  it  had  before.  So  that,  my  lord,  whatever  I  huve  said  about  certainty,  and 
 how  much  soever  I  may  be  out  in  it,  if  I  am  mistaken,  your  lordship  has  no  reason 
 to  apprehend  any  danger  to  any  article  of  faith  from  tlience;  every  one  of  them 
 stands  tipon  the  same  bottom  it  did  before,  out  of  the  reach  of  what  belongs  to 
 knowledge  and  certainty.  And  thus  much  of  my  way  of  certainty  by  ideas;  which, 
 1  hope,  will  satisfy  your  lordship  how  far  it  is  fronx  being  dangerous  to  any  articl>> 
 of  the  Christian  faith  whatsoev  ;i'. 
 
Ch.  1.  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  341 
 
 ered  as  distinct  heads,  and  not  under  relation  in  geiTeral ;  since  they  are  so 
 different  grounds  of  affirmation  and  negation,  as  will  easily  appear  to  any  one, 
 who  will  but  reflect  on  wjiat  is  said  in  several  places  of  tliis  essay.  I  should 
 now  proceed  to  examine  the  several  degrees  of  our  knowledge,  but  that  it  is 
 necessary  first  to  consider  the  different  acceptations  of  the  word  knowledge. 
 Sect.  8.  Knowledge  actual  or  habitual. — There  are  several  ways  wherein 
 the  mind  is  possessed  of  truth,  each  of  which  is  called  knowledge. 
 
 1.  There  is  actual  knowledge,  which  is  the  present  view  the  mind  has  of 
 the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  of  its  ideas,  or  of  the  relation  they  have 
 one  to  another. 
 
 2.  A  man  is  said  to  know  any  proposition,  which  having  been  once  laid 
 before  his  thoughts,  he  endently  perceived  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of 
 the  ideas  whereof  it  consists  ;  and  so  lodged  it  in  his  memory,  that  when- 
 ever that  proposition  comes  again  to  be  reflected  on,  he,  without  doubt  or  hesi- 
 tation, embraces  the  right  side,  assents  to,  and  is  certain  of  the  truth  of  it. 
 This,  I  think,  one  may  call  habitual  knowledge  :  and  thus  a  man  may  be  said 
 to  know  all  those  truths  which  are  lodged  in  his  memorj-,  by  a  foregoing 
 clear  and  full  perception,  whereof  the  mind  is  assured  past  doubt,  as  often  as 
 it  has  occasion  to  reflect  on  them.  For  our  finite  understandings  being  able 
 to  think  clearly  and  distinctly  but  on  one  thing  at  once,  if  men  had  no  know- 
 ledge of  any  more  than  what  they  actually  thought  on,  they  would  all  be  very 
 ignorant ;  and  he  that  knew  most  would  know  but  one  truth,  that  being  all 
 he  was  able  to  think  on  at  one  time. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Habitual  knowledge  twofold. — Of  habitual  knowledge,  there  are 
 also,  vulgarly  speaking,  two  degrees  : 
 
 First,  the  one  is  of  such  truths  laid  up  in  the  memory,  as,  whenever  they 
 occur  to  the  mind,  it  actually  perceives  the  relation  is  between  those  ideas. 
 And  this  is  all  those  truths  whereof  we  have  an  intuitive  knowledge,  where 
 the  ideas  themselves,  by  an  immediate  view,  discover  their  agreement  or  dis- 
 a^eement  one  with  another. 
 
 Secondly,  the  other  is  of  such  truths,  whereof  the  mind  having  been  con- 
 vinced, it  retains  the  memory  of  the  con\-iction  without  the  proofs.  Thus  a 
 man  that  remembers  certainly  that  he  once  perceived  the  demonstration,  that 
 the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  ones,  is  certain  that  he 
 knows  it.  because  he  cannot  doubt  the  truth  of  it.  In  his  adherence  to  a  tnith, 
 where  the  demonstration  by  which  it  was  at  first  known  is  forgot,  though  a 
 man  may  be  thought  rather  to  beheve  his  memory  than  really  to  know,  and 
 this  way  of  entertaining  a  truth  seemed  formerly  to  me  like  something  be- 
 tween opinion  and  knowledge  ;  a  sort  of  assurance  which  exceeds  bare  belief, 
 for  that  relies  on  the  testimony  of  onother  :  yet  upon  a  due  examination  I 
 find  it  comes  not  short  of  perfect  certainty,  and  is  in  effect  true  knowledge. 
 That  which  is  apt  to  mislead  our  first  thoughts  into  a  mistake  in  this  matter 
 is,  that  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas  in  this  case  is  not  per- 
 ceived, as  it  was  at  first,  by  an  actual  view  of  all  the  intermediate  ideas, 
 whereby  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  those  in  the  proposition  was  at 
 first  perceived  ;  but  by  other  intermediate  ideas,  that  show  the  agreement  or 
 disagreement  of  the  ideas  contained  in  the  proposition  whose  certainty  we 
 remember.  For  example,  in  this  proposition,  that  the  three  angles  of  a  tri- 
 angle are  equal  to  two  right  ones,  one  who  has  seen  and  clearly  perceived  the 
 demonstration  of  this  truth  knows  it  to  be  true,  when  that  demonstration  is 
 gone  out  of  his  mind ;  so  that  at  present  it  is  not  actually  in  \iew,  and  pos- 
 sibly cannot  be  recollected  :  but  he  knows  it  in  a  different  way  from  what  he 
 did  before.  The  agreement  of  the  two  ideas  joined  in  that  proposition  is  per- 
 ceived, but  it  is  by  the  intervention  of  other  ideas  than  those  which  at  first 
 produced  that  perception.  He  remembers,  i.  e.  he  knows  (for  remembrance 
 is  but  the  reviving  of  some  past  knowledge)  that  he  was  once  certain  of  the 
 truth  of  this  proposition,  that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two 
 right  ones.  The  immutability  of  the  same  relations  between  the  same  ini 
 mutable  things,  is  now  the  idea  that  shows  him  that  if  the  three  angles  of  * 
 
342  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 triangle  were  once  equal  to  two  right  ones,  thoy  will  always  be  equal  to  two 
 fio-ht  ones.  And  hence  he  comes  to  he  certain,  thnt  what  was  once  true  in 
 the  case,  is  always  true;  what  ideas  ouce  agreed,  will  always  agree  ;  and  con- 
 sequently what  he  once  knew  to  be  true,  he  will  always  know  to  be  true,  as 
 long  as  he  can  remember  that  he  once  knew  it.  Upon  this  ground  it  is,  that 
 particular  demonstrations  in  mathematics  afford  general  knowledge.  If  then 
 the  perception  that  the  same  ideas  will  eternally  have  the  same  habitudes  and 
 relations,  be  not  a  sufficient  ground  of  knowledge,  there  could  be  no  know- 
 ledge of  general  propositions  in  mathematics  ;  for  no  mathematical  demon- 
 stration  would  be  any  other  than  particular  :  and  when  a  man  had  demonstra- 
 ted any  proposition  concerning  one  triangle  or  circle,  his  knowledge  would 
 not  reach  beyond  that  particular  diagram.  If  he  would  e.xtend  it  further,  he 
 must  renew  his  demonstration  in  another  instance,  before  he  could  know  it 
 to  be  true  in  another  like  triangle,  and  so  on  :  by  which  means  one  could  nev- 
 er come  to  the  knowledge  of  any  general  propositions.  Nobody,  I  think,  can 
 deny  that  Mr.  Newton  certainly  knows  any  proposition,  that  he  now  at  any 
 time  reads  in  his  book,  to  be  true ;  though  he  has  not  in  actual  view  that  ad- 
 mirable chain  of  intermediate  ideas,  whereby  he  at  first  discovered  it  to  be 
 true.  Such  a  memory  as  that,  able  to  retain  such  a  train  of  particulars,  may 
 be  well  thought  beyond  the  reach  of  human  faculties  ;  when  the  ver}'  discov- 
 ery, perception,  and  laying  together  that  wonderful  connexion  of  ideas,  is 
 found  to  surpass  most  readers'  comprehension.  But  yet  it  is  evident,  the 
 author  himself  knows  the  proposition  to  be  true,  remembering  he  once  saw 
 the  connexion  of  those  ideas,  as  certainly  as  he  knows  such  a  man  wounded 
 another,  remembering  that  he  saw  him  run  him  through.  But  because  the 
 memory  is  not  always  so  clear  as  actual  perception,  and  does  in  all  men  more 
 or  less  decay  in  length  of  time,  this  among  other  differences  is  one,  which 
 shows  that  demonstrative  knowledge  is  much  more  imperfect  than  intuitive, 
 as  we  shall  see  in  the  following  chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER  II. 
 
 OF  THE  DEGREES  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Intuitive. — All  our  knowledge  consisting,  as  I  have  said,  in  the 
 view  the  mind  has  of  its  own.  ideas,  which  is  the  utmost  light  and  greatest 
 certainty  we,  with  our  faculties,  and  in  our  way  of  knowledge,  are  capable  of; 
 it  may  not  be  amiss  to  consider  a  little  the  degrees  of  its  evidence.  The  dif- 
 ferent clearness  of  our  knowledge  seems  to  me  to  lie  in  the  different  way  of, 
 perception  the  mind  has  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  of  its  ideas. 
 For  if  we  will  reflect  on  our  own  ways  of  thinking,  we  shall  find  that  some- 
 times the  mind  perceives  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  ideas  immcdi-/ 
 ately  by  themselves,  without  the  intervention  of  any  other :  and  this,  I  think, , 
 we  may  call  intuitive  knowledge.  For  in  this  the  mind  is  at  no  pains  of 
 proving  or  examining,  but  perceives  the  truth,  as  the  eye  doth  liglit,  only  by 
 being  directed  towards  it.  Thus  the  mind  perceives  that  white  is  not  black, 
 that  a  circle  is  not  a  triangle,  that  three  are  more  than  two,  and  equal  to  one 
 and  two.  Such  kind  of  truths  the  mind  perceives  at  the  first  sight  of  the  ideas 
 together,  by  bare  intuition,  without  the  intervention  of  any  other  idea  ;  and 
 this  kind  of  knowledge  is  the  clearest  and  most  certain  that  human  frailty  is 
 capable  of  This  part  of  knowledge  is  irresistible,  and  like  bright  sunshine, 
 Ibrces  itself  immediately  to  be  perceived,  as  soon  as  ever  the  mind  turns  its 
 view  that  way ;  and  leaves  no  room  for  hesitation,  doubt,  or  examination, 
 out  the  mind  is  presently  filled  with  the  clear  light  of  it.  It  is  on  this  intui- 
 tion that  depends  all  the  certainty  and  evidence  of  all  our  knowledge  ;  wliicli 
 certainty  every  one  finds  to  be  so  great,  that  he  cannot  imagine,  and  there- 
 
Ch.  2.  DEGREES  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  343 
 
 fore  not  require  a  greater :  for  a  man  cannot  conceive  himself  capable  of  a 
 greater  certainty,  than  to  know  that  any  idea  in  his  mind  is  such  as  he  per- 
 ceives it  to  be;  and  that  two  ideas,  wlierein  ho  perceives  a  difference,  are  dif- 
 ferent, and  not  precisely  the  same.  He  that  demands  a  greater  certainty  than 
 this,  demands  he  knows  not  what,  and  shows  only  tliat  he  has  a  mind  to  be  a 
 sceptic,  without  being  able  to  be  so.  Certainty  depends  so  wholly  on  this  in- 
 tuition, that  in  the  next  degree  of  knowledge,  which  I  call  demonstrative,  this 
 intuition  is  necessary  in  all  the  connexions  of  the  intermediate  ideas,  with- 
 out which  we  cannot  attain  knowledge  and  certainty. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Demonstr alive. — The  next  degree  of  knowledge  is,  where  the 
 mind  perceives  the  agreement  or  disagi-eement  of  any  ideas,  but  not  immedi- 
 ately. Though  wherever  the  mind  perceives  the  agi'eement  or  disagTeement 
 of  any  of  its  ideas,  there  be  certain  knowledge;  yet  it  does  not  always  hap- 
 pen that  the  mind  sees  that  agreement  or  disagreement  which  there  is  between 
 them,  even  where  it  is  discoverable  :  and  in  that  case  remains  in  ignorance, 
 and  at  most  gets  no  farther  than  a  probable  conjecture.  The  reason  why  the 
 mind  cannot  always  perceive  presently  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two 
 ideas  is,  because  those  ideas,  concerning  whose  agreement  or  disagreement 
 the  inquiry  is  made,  cannot  by  the  mind  be  so  put  together  as  to  show  it. 
 In  this  case,  then,  when  the  mind  cannot  so  bring  its  ideas  together,  as  by  their 
 immediate  comparison,  and  as  it  were  juxta-position,  or  application  one  to 
 another,  to  perceive  their  agreement  or  disagreement,  it  is  fain,  by  the  inter- 
 vention of  other  ideas,  (one  or  more,  as  it  happens)  to  discover  the  agreement 
 or  disagreement  which  it  searches  ;  and  this  is  that  which  we  call  reasoning.  \_ 
 Thus  the  mind  being  willing  to  know  the  agreement  or  disagreement  in  big-  ' 
 ness  between  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  and  two  right  ones,  cannot  by  an 
 immediate  view  and  comparing  them  do  it :  because  the  three  angles  of  a  tri- 
 angle cannot  be  brought  at  once,  and  be  compared  with  any  one  or  two  an- 
 gles :  and  so  of  this  the  mind  has  no  immediate,  no  intuitive  knowledge. 
 In  this  case  the  mind  is  fain  to  find  out  some  other  angles,  to  which  the  three 
 angles  of  a  triangle  have  an  equality  ;  and,  finding  those  equal  to  two  right 
 ones,  comes  to  know  their  equality  to  two  right  ones. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Depends  on  proofs. — Those  intervening  ideas  which  serve  to 
 show  the  agreement  of  any  two  others,  are  called  proofs  ;  and  where  the 
 agreement  and  disagreement  is  by  this  means  plainly  and  clearly  perceived, 
 it  is  called  demonstration,  it  being  shown  to  the  understanding,  and  the  mind 
 made  to  see  that  it  is  so.  A  quickness  in  the  mind  to  find  out  these  interme- 
 diate ideas  (that  shall  discover  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  other) 
 and  to  apply  them  right  is,  I  suppose,  that  which  is  called  sagacity. 
 
 Sect.  4.  But  not  so  easy. — This  knowledge  by  intervening  proofs,  though 
 it  be  certain,  yet  the  evidence  of  it  is  not  altogether  so  clear  and  bright,  nor 
 the  assent  so  ready,  as  in  intuitive  knowledge.  For  though,  in  demonstra- 
 tion, the  mind  does  at  last  perceive  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the 
 ideas  it  considers  ;  yet  it  is  not  without  pains  and  attention  :  there  must  be 
 more  than  one  transient  view  to  find  it.  A  steady  application  and  pursuit 
 are  required  to  this  discovery  :  and  there  must  be  a  progression  by  steps  and 
 degrees,  before  the  mind  can  in  this  way  arrive  at  certainty,  and  come  to  per- 
 ceive the  agreement  or  repugnancy  between  two  ideas  that  need  proofs,  and 
 the  use  of  reason  to  show  it. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Not  without  precedent  doubt. — Another  difference  between  in- 
 tuitive  and  demonstrative  knowledge  is,  that  though  in  the  latter  all  doubt  be 
 removed,  when  by  the  intervention  of  the  intermediate  ideas  the  agreement 
 or  disagreement  is  perceived ;  yet  before  the  demonstration  there  was  a  doubt, 
 which  in  intuitive  knowledge  cannot  happen  to  the  inind,  that  has  its  faculty 
 of  perception  left  to  a  degree  capable  of  distinct  ideas,  no  moi-e  than  it  can  be 
 a  doubt  to  the  eye  (that  can  distinctly  see  white  and  black)  whether  this  ink 
 and  this  paper  be  all  of  a  colour.  If  there  be  sight  in  the  eyes,  it  will  at 
 first  glimpse,  without  hesitation,  perceive  the  words  printed  on  this  paper  dif- 
 ferent from  the  colour  of  the  paper :  a.nd  so  if  the  mind  have  the  faculty  of 
 
344  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 distinct  perceptions,  it  will  perceive  the  ajn-cement  or  disafrreemont  of  tliosc 
 ideas  tliat  produce  intuitive  knowledge.  If  the  eyes  have  lost  tlie  faculty  of 
 seeing,  or  the  mind  of  perceivnig,  we  in  vain  inquire  after  the  quickness  of 
 sight  ia  one>  or  clearness  of  perception  in  the  other. 
 
 Sect.  G.  Aot  so  clear. — It  is  true,  tlio  perce])tion  produced  hy  demonstra- 
 tion is  also  very  clear,  yet  it  is  otlen  with  a  great  abatement  of  tliat  evident 
 lustre  and  full  assurance  that  always  accompany  that  which  I  call  intuitive  ; 
 like  a  face  reflected  by  several  mirrors  one  to  anoliier,  where,  as  long  as  it 
 retains  the  similitude  and  agreement  with  the  object,  it  produces  a  knowledge  ; 
 but  it  is  still  in  every  successive  reflection,  with  a  les.'euing  of  that  perfect 
 clearness  and  distinclr.oss  which  is  in  the  first;  till  at  last,  after  many  reujoves, 
 it  has  a  great  mixtiuo  of  dimness,  and  is  not  at  first  sight  so  knowable,  es- 
 pecially to  weak  eyes.  Thus  it  is  with  knowledge  made  out  by  a  long  train 
 of  proof. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Each  step  must  have  intuitive  evidence. — Now  in  every  step 
 reason  makes  in  demonstrative  knowledge,  there  is  an  intuitive  knowledge 
 of  that  agreement  or  disagreement  it  seeks  with  the  next  intermediate  idea, 
 which  it  uses  as  a  proof:  tor  if  it  were  not  so,  that  yet  would  need  a  proof; 
 since  without  the  j)erception  of  such  agreement  or  disagreement,  there  is  no 
 knowledge  produced.  If  it  be  perceived  by  itself,  it  is  intuitive  knowledge : 
 if  it  cannot  be  perceived  by  itself,  there  is  need  of  some  intervening  idea,  as  a 
 common  measure  to  show  their  agreem.ent  or  disagreement.  By  which  it  is 
 plain,  that  every  step  in  reasoning  that  produces  knowledge  has  intuitive  cer- 
 tainty ;  which  when  the  mind  perceives,  there  is  no  more  required,  but  to  re- 
 member it,  to  make  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas,  concerning 
 which  we  inquire,  visible  and  certain.  So  that  to  make  any  thing  a  demon- 
 stration, it  is  necessary  to  perceive  the  immediate  agreement  of  the  inter- 
 vening ideas,  wliereby  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  two  ideas  under 
 examination  (whereof  the  one  is  always  the  first,  and  the  other  the  last  in  the 
 account)  is  found.  This  intuitive  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
 ment of  the  intermediate  ideas,  in  eacli  step  and  progression  of  the  demon- 
 stration, must  also  be  carried  exactly  in  the  mind,  and  a  man  must  be  sure 
 that  no  part  is  left  out ;  which,  because  in  long  deductions,  and  the  use  of 
 many  proofs,  the  memory  does  not  always  so  readily  and  exactly  retain ; 
 therefore  it  comes  to  pass,  that  this  is  more  imperfect  than  intuitive  know- 
 ledge, and  men  embrace  often  falsehood  for  demonstrations. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Hence  the  mistake  ^'  ex  pra;cog7iitis  et  prcBconcessis." — The  ne- 
 cessity of  this  intuitive  knowledge,  in  each  step  of  scientifical  or  demonstra- 
 tive reasoning,  gave  occasion,  I  imagine,  to  that  mistaken  axiom,  that  all 
 reasoning  was  "  ex  prccognitis  et  prajconcessis  ;"  which  how  far  it  is  mis- 
 ta!:en,  I  shall  have  occasion  to  show  more  at  large,  when  I  come  to  consider 
 propositions,  and  particularly  those  propositions  which  are  called  maxims ; 
 and  to  show  that  it  is  by  a  mistake  that  they  are  supposed  to  be  the  founda- 
 tions of  all  our  knowledge  and  reasonings. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Demonstration  not  limited  to  quantity. — It  has  been  generally 
 taken  for  granted,  that  mathematics  alone  are  capable  of  demonstrative  cer- 
 tainty :  but  to  have  such  an  agreement  or  disagreement,  as  may  intuitively 
 be  perceived,  being,  as  I  imagine,  not  the  privilege  of  the  ideas  of  number, 
 extension,  and  figure  alone,  it  may  possibly  be  the  want  of  due  method  and 
 application  in  us,  and  not  of  sufficient  evidence  in  things,  thai  demonstration 
 has  been  thouglit  to  have  so  little  to  do  in  other  parts  of  knowledge,  and 
 been  scarce  so  much  as  aimed  at  by  any  but  mathematicians.  For  whatever 
 ideas  we  have,  wherein  the  mind  can  perceive  the  immediate  agreement  or 
 disagreement  that  is  between  them,  tliere  the  mind  is  caj)able  of  intuitive 
 knowledge;  and  wliere  it  can  perceive  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any 
 two  ideas,  by  an  intuitive  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  they 
 liave  with  any  intermediate  ideas,  there  the  mind  is  capable  of  demon.stration, 
 which  is  not  limited  to  ideas  of  extension,  figiire,  number,  and  their  modes. 
 
 Sect.  10.    Why  it  has  been  so  thought. — The  reason  why  it  has  been  go 
 
Ch.  2.  DEGREES  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  345 
 
 nerally  sought  for,  and  supposed  to  be  only  in  those,  I  imagine  has  been  not 
 only  the  general  usefulness  of  those  sciences  ;  but  because,  in  comparing  their 
 equality  or  excess,  the  modes  of  numbers  have  every  the  least  difference  very 
 clear  and  perceivable  :  and  though  in  extension  every  the  least  excess  is  not 
 so  perceptible,  yet  the  mind  has  found  out  ways  to  examine  and  discover  de- 
 monstratively, the  just  equality  of  two  angles,  or  extensions,  or  figures  :  and 
 both  these,  i.  e.  numbers  and  figures,  can  be  set  down  by  visible  and  lasting 
 marks,  wherein  the  ideas  under  consideration  are  perfectly  determined ;  which 
 for  the  most  part  they  are  not,  where  they  are  marked  only  by  names  and 
 words. 
 
 Sect.  11.  But  in  other  simple  ideas,  whose  modes  and  differences  are  made 
 and  counted  by  degrees,  and  not  quantity,  we  have  not  so  nice  and  accurate 
 a  distinction  of  their  differences,  as  to  perceive  and  find  ways  to  measure  their 
 just  equality,  or  the  least  differences.  For  those  other  simple  ideas,  being 
 appearances  or  sensations,  produced  in  us  by  the  size,  figure,  number,  and 
 motion  of  minute  corpuscles  smgly  insensible ;  their  different  degrees  also 
 depend  upon  the  variation  of  some  or  all  of  those  causes  :  which  since  it  ^ 
 cannot  be  observed  by  us  in  particles  of  matter,  whereof  each  is  too  subtile 
 to  be  perceived,  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  have  any  exact  measures  of  the 
 different  degrees  of  these  simple  ideas.  For  supposing  the  sensation  or  idea 
 we  name  whiteness,  be  produced  in  us  by  a  certain  number  of  globules,  which, 
 having  a  verticity  about  their  own  centres,  strike  upon  the  retina  of  the  eye 
 with  a  certain  degi-ee  of  rotation,  as  well  as  progressive  swiflness  ;  it  will 
 hence  easily  follow,  that  the  more  the  superficial  parts  of  any  body  are  so 
 ordered,  as  to  reflect  the  greater  number  of  globules  of  light,  and  to  give  them 
 the  proper  rotation,  which  is  fit  to  produce  this  sensation  of  white  in  us,  the 
 more  white  will  that  body  appear,  that  from  an  eqiial  space  sends  to  the  retina 
 the  greater  number  of  such  corpuscles,  with  that  peculiar  sort  of  motion.  I 
 do  not  say,  that  the  nature  of  light  consists  in  very  small  round  globules,  nor 
 of  whiteness  m  such  a  texture  of  parts  as  gives  a  certain  rotation  to  these 
 globules,  when  it  reflects  them ;  for  I  am  not  now  treating  physically  of  light 
 or  colours  :  but  this,  I  think,  I  may  say,  that  I  cannot  (and  I  would  be  glad 
 any  one  would  make  intelligible  that  he  did)  conceive  how  bodies  without  us 
 can  any  ways  affect  our  senses,  but  by  the  immediate  contact  of  the  sensible 
 bodies  themselves,  as  in  tasting  and  feeling,  or  the  impulse  of  some  insensi- 
 ble particles  coming  from  them,  as  in  seeing,  hearing,  and  smelling ;  by  the 
 different  impulse  of  which  parts,  caused  by  their  different  size,  figure,  and 
 motion,  the  variety  of  sensations  is  produced  in  us. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Whether  then  they  be  globules,  or  no, — or  whether  they  have  a 
 verticity  about  their  own  centres  that  produces  the  idea  of  whiteness  in  us, — 
 this  is  certain,  that  the  more  particles  of  light  are  reflected  from  a  body,  fitted 
 to  give  them  that  peculiar  motion,  which  produces  the  sensation  of  whiteness 
 in  us, — and  possibly,  too,  the  quicker  that  peculiar  motion  is, — the  whiter 
 does  the  body  appear  from  which  the  greater  number  are  reflected,  as  is  evi- 
 dent in  the  same  piece  of  paper  put  in  the  sunbeams;  in  the  shade,  and  in  a 
 dark  hole  ;  in  each  of  which  it  will  produce  in  us  the  idea  of  whiteness  in  far 
 different  degrees. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Not  knowing,  therefore,  what  number  of  particles,  nor  what 
 motion  of  them  is  fit  to  produce  any  precise  degree  of  whiteness,  we  cannot 
 demonstrate  the  certain  equality  of  any  two  degrees  of  whiteness,  because  we 
 have  no  certain  standard  to  measure  them  by,  nor  means  to  distinguish  every 
 the  least  real  difference,  the  only  help  we  have  being  from  our  senses,  which 
 in  this  point  fiil  us.  But  where  the  difference  is  so  great  as  to  produce  in  the 
 mind  clearly  distinct  ideas,  whose  differences  can  be  perfectly  retained,  there 
 these  ideas  or  colours,  as  we  see  in  different  kinds,  as  blue  and  red,  are  as 
 capable  of  demonstration  as  ideas  of  number  and  extension.  What  I  have 
 here  said  of  whiteness  and  colours,  I  think,  holds  true  in  all  secondary  quali- 
 ties, and  their  modes. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Sensitive  knowledge  of  particular  existence. — These  two,  viz. 
 
M6  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 intuition  and  demonstration,  are  the  degrees  of  our  knowledge ;  whatever 
 comes  short  of  one  of  tliese,  with  wliat  assurance  soever  embraced,  is  but 
 /kith,  or  opmion,  but  not  knowledge,  at  least  in  all  general  truths.  There 
 is,  indeed,  anotlier  perception  of  the  mind,  employed  aboutithe  particular^ 
 existence  of  finite  beings  without  us ;  wliicli  going  beyond  bare  probability, 
 and  yet  not  reaching  perfectly  to  either  of  the  foregoing  degrees  of  certainty, 
 passes  under  tlie  name  of  knowledge.  There  can  be  nothing  more  certain 
 than  tliat  the  idea  we  receive  from  an  external  object  is  in  our  minds  ;  this  is 
 intuitive  knowledge.  But  whether  there  be  any  thing  more  than  barely  that 
 idea  in  our  minds,  whether  we  can  thence  certainly  inter  the  existence  of  any  , 
 thing  without  us,  which  corresponds  to  that  idea,  is  that  whereof  some  men 
 think  there  "may  be  a  question  made;  because  men  may  have  such  ideas  in 
 their  minds,  when  no  such  thing  exists,  no  such  object  affects  their  senses. 
 But  yet  here,  I  think,  we  are  provided  with  an  evidence,  that  puts  us  past 
 doubting:  for  I  ask  any  one,  whether  he  be  not  invincibly  conscious  to  him- 
 self of  a  different  perception,  when  he  looks  on  the  sun  by  day,  and  thinks 
 on  it  by  night ;  when  he  actually  tastes  wormwood,  or  smells  a  rose,  or  only 
 thinks  on  that  savour  or  odour "?  We  as  piaiidy  find  tlie  difference  there  is 
 between  an  idea  revived  in  our  minds  by  our  own  memory,  and  actually  coming  , 
 in  our  minds  by  our  senses,  as  we  do  between  any  two  distinct  ideas.  If 
 any  one  say,  a  dream  may  do  the  same  thing,  and  all  these  ideas  may  be 
 produced  in  us.  without  any  external  objects  ;  he  may  please  to  dream  that 
 I  make  him  tliis  answer;  1.  That  it  is  no  great  matter,  whether  I  remove 
 this  scruple  or  no  :  wliere  all  is  but  dream,  reasoning  and  arguments  are  of  no 
 use,  truth  and  knowledge  nothing.  2.  That  I  believe  he  will  allow  a  very 
 manifest  difference  between  dreaming  of  being  in  the  fire;  and  being  actually 
 in  it.  But  yet,  if  he  be  resolved  to  appear  so  sceptical  as  to  maintain,  that 
 what  I  call  being  actually  in  the  fire  is  nothing  but  a  dream,  and  we  cannot 
 thereby  certainly  know  that  any  such  tiling  as  fire  actually  exists  without 
 '.IS  ;  I  answer,  tliat  we  certainly  finding  that  pleasure  or  pain  follows  upon  the 
 application  of  certain  objects  to  us,  whose  existence  we  perceive,  or  dream 
 tliat  we  perceive,  by  our  senses  ;  this  certainty  is  as  great  as  our  happiness 
 or  misery,  beyond  which  we  have  no  concernment  to  know,  or  to  be.  So 
 that,  I  think,  we  may  add  to  the  two  former  sorts  of  knowledge,  this  also, 
 of  the  existence  of  particular  external  objects,  by  that  perception  and  con- 
 sciousness we  have  of  the  actual  entrance  of  ideas  from  them,  and  allow 
 these  three  degrees  of  knowledge,  viz.  intuitive,  demonstrative,  and  sensi- 
 tive :  in  each  of  which  there  are  different  degrees  and  ways  of  evidence  and 
 certainty. 
 
 Sect.  1-5.  Knowledge  not  always  clear,  where  the  ideas  are  so.  But  since 
 our  knowledge  is  founded  on,  and  employed  about,  our  ideas  only,  will  it  not 
 follow  from  thence,  that  it  is  conformable  to  our  ideas  ;  and  that  where  our 
 ideas  are  clear  and  distinct,  or  obscure  and  confused,  our  knowledge  will  be 
 so  too  i  To  which  I  answer,  no  :  for  oui-  knowledge  consisting  in  the  per- 
 ception of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  two  ideas,  its  clearness  or 
 obscurity  consists  in  the  clearness  or  obscurity  of  that  perception,  and  not  in 
 the  clearness  or  obscurity  of  the  ideas  themselves  ;  v.  g.  a  man  that  has  as 
 <lear  ideas  of  the  angles  of  a  triangle,  and  of  equality  to  two  right  ones,  as 
 any  mathematician  in  the  world,  may  yet  have  but  a  very  obscure  perception  of 
 'heir  agreement,  and  so  have  but  a  very  obscure  knowledge  of  it.  But  ideas, 
 which  by  reason  of  their  obscurity  or  otherwise  are  confused,  cannot  produce 
 any  clear  or  distinct  knowledge  ;  because  as  far  as  any  ideas  are  confused, 
 so  far  the  mind  cannot  perceive  clearly,  Vliether  they-  agree  or  disagree. 
 Or  to  express  the  same  thing  in  a  way  le.«s  apt  to  be  misunderstood ;  he  that 
 i-ath  not  determined  ideas  to  the  words  he  uses,  cannot  make  proposition* 
 of  them,  of  whose  truth  he  can  be  certain. 
 
Ch.  3.  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  347 
 
 CHAPTER  III. 
 
 OF  THE  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Knowledge,  as  has  been  said,  lying  in  the  perception  of  agree- 
 ment or  disagreement  of  any  of  our  ideas,  it  follows  from  hence,  that, 
 
 1.  No  farther  than  we  have  ideas. — First,  we  can  have  knowledge  no  far- 
 ther than  we  have  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  2.  2.  No  farther  than  we  can  perceive  their  agreement  or  dis- 
 agreement.— Secondly,  that  we  can  have  no  knowledge  farther  than  we  can 
 have  perception  of  their  agreement  or  disagreement.  Which  perception  be- 
 ing, 1.  Either  by  intuition,  or  the  immediate  comparing  any  tvv'o  ideas ;  or, 
 2.  By  reason,  examining  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  ideas,  by  the 
 intervention  of  some  others  ;  or,  3.  By  sensation,  perceiving  the  existence 
 of  particular  tilings  :  lience  it  also  follows. 
 
 Sect.  3.  3.  Intuitive  knowledge  extends  itself  not  to  all  the  relations  of 
 all  our  ideas. — Thirdly,  that  we  cannot  have  an  intuitive '  knowledge  that 
 shall  extend  itself  to  all  our  ideas,  and  all  that  we  would  know  about  tliem  ; 
 because  we  cannot  examine  and  perceive  all  the  relations  they  have  one  to 
 another,  by  juxta-position,  or  an  immediate  comparison  one  with  another.  Thus 
 having  the  ideas  of  an  obtuse  and  an  acute  angled  triangle,  both  drawn  from 
 equal  bases,  and  between  parallels,  I  can,  by  intuitive  knowledge,  perceive 
 the  one  not  to  be  the  other,  but  cannot  that  way  know  whether  they  be  equal 
 or  no  :  because  their  agreement  or  disagreement  in  equality  call  ne\  er  be 
 perceived  by  an  immediate  comparing  them :  the  difference  uf  ngure  makes 
 their  parts  incapable  of  an  exact  immediate  application  ;  and  therefore  there 
 is  need  of  some  intervening  qualities  to  measure  them  by,  which  is  demon- 
 stration, or  rational  knovdedge. 
 
 Sect.  4.  4.  Nor  demonstrative  knowledge. — Fourthly,  it  also  follows,  from 
 what  is  above  observed,  that  our  rational  knowledge  cannot  reach  to  the 
 whole  extent  of  our  ideas  ;  because  between  two  different  ideas  we  would  ex- 
 amine, we  cannot  always  find  such  mediums,  as  we  can  connect  one  to  an- 
 other with  an  intuitive  knowledge,  in  all  the  parts  of  the  deduction ;  and 
 wherever  that  fails,  we  come  short  of  knowledge  and  demonstration. 
 
 Sect.  5.  5.  Sensitive  knowledge  narroroer  than  either. — Fifthly,  sensitive 
 knowledge  reaching  no  farther  than  the  existence  of  things  actually  present 
 to  our  senses,  is  yet  much  narrower  than  either  of  the  former. 
 
 Sect.  6.  6.  Our  knoicledge  therefore  narrower  than  our  ideas. — From  all 
 which  it  is  e\adent,  that  the  extent  of  our  knowledge  comes  not  only  short  of 
 the  reality  of  things,  but  even  of  the  extent  of  our  own  ideas.  Though  our 
 knowledge  be  limited  to  our  ideas,  and  cannot  exceed  them  either  in  extent 
 or  perfection  ;  and  though  these  be  very  narrow  bounds,  in  respect  of  the 
 extent  of  all  being,  and  far  short  of  what  we  may  justly  imagine  to  be  in 
 some  even  created  understandings,  not  tied  down  to  the  dull  and  narrow  in- 
 formation which  is  to  be  received  from  some  few,  and  not  very  acute  ways  of 
 perception,  such  as  are  our  senses  ;  yet  it  would  be  well  with  us  if  our  know- 
 ledge were  but  as  large  as  our  ideas,  and  tliere  were  not  many  doubts  and 
 inquiries  concerning  the  ideas  we  have,  whereof  we  are  not,  nor  I  believe 
 ever  .shall  be,  in  this  world,  rek)lved.  Nevertheless,  I  do  not  question  but 
 that  human  knowledge,  under  the  present  circumstances  of  our  beings  and 
 constitutions,  may  be  carried  much  farther  than  it  hitherto  has  been,  if  men 
 would  sincerely,  and  with  freedom  of  mind,  employ  all  that  industry  and  la- 
 bour of  thought,  in  improving  the  means  of  discovering  truth,  which  they  do 
 for  the  colouring  or  support  of  falsehood,  to  maintain  a  system,  interest,  or 
 party,  they  are  once  engaged  in.  But  yet,  after  all,  I  thinlv  I  may  without 
 injury  to  human  perfection,  be  confident,  that  our  knovv'ledge  would  never 
 
348  OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 veacli  to  all  we  might  desire  to  know  concerning  those  ideas  we  have;  nor  be 
 able  to  surmonnt  all  tlie  ditHculties,  and  resolve  all  the  questions  that  might 
 arise  concerning  any  of  them.  We  have  the  ideas  of  a  square,  a  circle,  and 
 ('quality  ;  and  yet,  ]Jorhaps,  shall  never  be  able  to  find  a  circle  equal  to  a 
 Hquare,  and  certainly  know  that  it  is  so.  We  have  the  ideas  of  matter  and 
 thinking,(2)  but  possibly  shall  never  be  able  to  know,  whether  any  mere  ma- 
 
 (2)  Agahist  that  assertion  of  Mr  Locke,  that  possibly  wc  sliall  never  be  able  to 
 know  wiiether  any  mere  material  being  thinks  or  no,  kc.  the  bishop  of  Worcester 
 ar;^ues  tluis  :  If  this  be  true,  then,  for  all  tliat  we  can  know  by  our  ideas  of  matter 
 :in(l  liiinking;,  matter  may  have  a  power  of  tiiinking  :  and,  if  tliis  hold,  then  it  is 
 impossible  to  prove  a  spiritual  substance  in  us  from  the  idea  of  thinking:  for  how 
 can  we  be  assured  by  our  ideas,  that  God  halli  not  given  such  a  power  of  thinking  to 
 matter  so  disposed  as  our  bodies  are?  especially  since  it  is  said*,  "  that,  in  respect 
 to  our  notions,  it  is  not  much  more  i-emote  from  our  comprehension  to  conceive 
 that  God  can,  if  he  pleases,  superadd  to  our  idea  of  matter  a  faculty  of  thinking, 
 than  that  he  should  sui)eradd  to  it  another  substance,  with  a  faculty  of  thinking." 
 Whoever  asserts  tliis  can  never  prove  a  spiritual  substance  in  us  from  a  faculty  of 
 thinking,  because  he  cannot  know,  from  the  idea  of  matter  and  thinking,  that  mat- 
 ter so  disposed  cannot  think:  and  he  cannot  be  certain,  that  God  hath  not  framed 
 the  matter  of  our  bodies  so  as  to  be  capable  of  it. 
 
 To  which  Mr  Locke  answers  thusf:  Here  your  lordship  argues,  that  upon  my 
 principles  it  cannot  be  proved  that  there  is  a  spiritual  substance  in  us.  To  which 
 give  me  leave,  with  submission,  to  say,  that  I  think  it  may  be  proved  from  my 
 principles,  and  I  think  I  have  doTie  it;  and  the  proof  in  my  book  stands  thus  :  first, 
 we  experiment  in  ourselves  thinking.  The  idea  of  this  action  or  mode  of  thinking 
 is  inconsistent  with  the  idea  of  self-subsistence,  and  therefore  has  a  necessary  con- 
 nexion with  a  support  or  subject  of  inhesion:  the  idea  of  that  support  is  what  we 
 call  substance;  and  so  from  thinking  experimented  in  us,  we  have  a  proof  of  a 
 tiiinking  sulistance  in  us,  which  in  my  sense  is  a  spirit.  Against  this  your  lord- 
 ship will  argue,  tiiat  by  what  I  have  said  of  the  possibility  that  God  may,  if  he 
 pleases,  superaild  to  matter  a  faculty  of  thinking,  it  can  never  be  proved  that  there 
 IS  a  spiritual  substance  in  us,  because,  upon  that  supposition,  it  is  possible  it  may 
 Ue  a  material  substance  tiiat  thinks  in  us.  I  grant  it;  but  add,  that  the  general  idea 
 of  substance  being  the  same  every  where,  the  modification  of  tiiinking,  or  the  power 
 of  thinking,  joined  to  it,  makes  it  a  spirit,  without  considering  what  other  modi- 
 fications it  has,  as,  whether  it  lias  tlie  modification  of  solidity,  or  no.  As,  on  the 
 other  side,  substance,  that  has  the  modification  of  solidity,  is  matter,  whether  it 
 lias  the  modification  of  thinking  or  no.  And  tlicrefore,  if  your  lordship  means  by 
 A  spiritual,  an  immaterial  substance,  I  grant  1  have  not  proved,  nor  upon  my  prin- 
 ciples can  it  be  proved  (your  lordship  meaning,  as  I  think  you  do,  demonstratively 
 proved),  that  there  is  an  immaterial  substance  in  us  that  thinks.  Though  I  pre- 
 sume, from  what  I  have  said  about  this  sup])Osition  of  a  system  of  matter,  think- 
 ingl  (wbich  there  demonstrates  that  God  is  immaterial)  will  prove  it  in  the  highest 
 degree  probable,  that  the  thinking  substance  in  us  is  immaterial.  But  your  lord- 
 -liil)  tliinks  not  probably  enough,  and  by  charging  the  want  of  demonstration  upon 
 i:iy  principle,  that  the  thinking  thing  in  us  is  immaterial,  your  lorilship  seems  to 
 concUiile  it  demonstrable  from  principles  of  philosophy.  That  demonstration  I 
 should  with  joy  receive  from  your  lordship,  or  any  one.  For  though  all  the  great 
 (lids  of  morality  and  religion  are  well  enough  secured  without  it,  as  I  have  shown§, 
 yet  it  would  be  a  great  atlvance  of  our  knowledge  in  nature  and  philosophy. 
 
 To  what  I  have  said  in  my  book,  to  show  that  all  the  great  ends  of  religion  and 
 morality  are  secured  barely  by  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  without  a  necessary 
 supiiosltion  that  the  soul  is  immaterial,  I  crave  leave  to  add,  that  immortality  may 
 and  shall  be  annexed  to  that,  which  in  its  own  nature  is  neither  immaterial  nor 
 immortal,  as  the  apostle  expressly  declares  in  these  words]].  For  this  corruptible 
 lausl  put  on  incorruption,  and  this  mortal  must  put  on  immortality. 
 
 *  Essay  of  Human  Understanding,  b.  4.  c.  .3.  sect.  6. 
 
 t  In  his  first  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Worcester.  i  B.  4.  c.  10.   sect.  16. 
 
 §  B.  4.  c.  3.  sect.  G.  j]  1  Cor.  xv.  53. 
 
Ch.  3.  EXTENT  OP  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  349 
 
 terial  being  thinks,  or  no ;  it  being  impossible  for  us,  by  the  contemplation  of 
 our  own  ideas  without  revelation,  to  discover,  whether  omnipotency  has  not 
 given  to  some  systems  of  matter,  fitly  disposed,  a  power  to  perceive  and 
 think,  or  else  joined  and  fixed  to  matter  so  disposed,  a  thinking  immaterial 
 
 Perhaps  my  using  the  word   spirit  for  a  thinking  substance,  without  excluding 
 materiality  out  of  it,  will  be  thonght  too  great  a  liberty,  and  such  as  deserves  cen- 
 sure, because  I  leave  immateriality  out  of  the  idea  I  make  it  a  sign  of.      I  readily 
 own,  that  words  should  be  sparingly  ventured  on   in  a  sense  wholly  new,  and  no- 
 thing but  absolute  necessity  can  excuse  the  boldness  of  using  any  term  in  a  sense 
 whereof  we  can  produce  no  example.      But,  in  the  present  case,  I  tliink  I  have 
 great  authorities  to  justify  me.      The  soul  is  agreed,  on  all  hands,  to  be  that  in  us 
 which  thinks.      And  he  that  will  look  into  the  first  book  of  Cicero's  Tusculaa 
 Questions,  and  into  the   sixth  book  of  Virgil's  ^neid,  will  find,  that  these  two 
 great  men,  who  of  all  the  Romans  best  understood  philosophy,  thought,  or  at  least 
 did  not  deny,  the  soul  to  be  a  subtile  matter,  which  might  come  under  the  name  of 
 aura,  or  ignis,  or  tether,  and  this  soul  they  both  of  them  called  spiritus:   in  the  no- 
 tion of  which,  it  is  plain,  they  included  only  thought  and  active  motion,  without 
 the  total  exclusion  of  matter.      Whether  they  thought  right  in  this,  I  do  not  say; 
 that  is  not  the  question;  but  whether  they  spoke  properly,  when  they  called  an 
 active,  thinking,  subtile  substance,  out  of  which  they  excluded  only  gross  and  pal- 
 pable matter,  spiritus,  spirit.     I  think  that  nobody  will  deny,  that  if  any  among  the 
 Romans  can  be  allowed  to  speak  properly,  TuUy  and  Virgil  are  the  two  who  may 
 most  securely  be  depended  on  for  it:  and  one  of  tliem,  speaking  of  the  soul,  says, 
 Dum  spiritus  hos  reget  artus;  and  the  other,  Vita  continetur  corpore  et  spiritu. 
 Where  it  is  plain,    by  corpus,  he  means  (as  generally   every  where)  only  gross 
 matter  that  may  be  felt  and  handled,  as  appears  by  these  words,  si  cor,  aut  san- 
 guis, aut  cerebrum  est  animus;  certe,  quonlam  est  corpus,  interibit  cum  reliquo 
 corpore;   si  anima  est,  forte  dissipabitur;  si  ignis,  extinguetur,  Tusc.  Qusest.  1.  I. 
 c.  11.      Here   Cicero  opposes  corpus  to  ignis  and  anima,   i.    e.    aura,   or  breath. 
 And  the  foundation  of  that  his  distinction  of  the  soul,  from  that  which  he  calls 
 corpus,  or  body,  he  gives  a  little  lower  in  these  words,  tanta  ejus  tenuitas  ut  fugiat 
 aciem,  ib.  c.  22.      Nor  was  it  the  heathen  world  alone  that  had  this  notion  of  spirit; 
 the  niost  enlightened  of  all  the  ancient  people  of  God,  Solomon  himself,  speaks 
 after  the  same  manner* :  That  which  befalleth  the  sons  of  men,  befalleth  beasts,  even 
 one  thing  befalleth  them;   as  the  one  dieth,  so  dieth  the  other,  yea,  they  have  all 
 one  spirit.      So  I  translate  the  Hebrew  word  HIT  here,  for  so  I  find  it  translated  the 
 very  next  verse  but  onef:  who  knoweth  the  spirit  of  man  that  goeth  upward,  and 
 the  spirit  of  the  beast  that  goeth  downwards  to  the  earth i"     In  which  places  it  is 
 plain  that  Solomon  applies  the  word  m   and  our  translators  of  him  the  word 
 spirit,  to  a  substance,  out  of  which  materiality  was  not  wholly  excluded,  unless  the 
 spirit  of  a  beast  that  goeth  downwards  to  the  earth  be  immaterial.      Nor  did  the 
 way  of  speaking  in  our  Saviour's  time  vary  from  this:  St  Luke  tells  us|,  that  when 
 our  Saviour,  after  his  resurrection,  stood  in  the  midst  of  them,  they  were  affrighted, 
 and  supposed  they  had  seen  ts-vivy-di,  the  Greek  word   which  always  answers  to 
 spirit  in  English;  and  so  the  translators  of  the  Bible  render  it  here,  they  supposed 
 that  they  had  seen  a  spirit.      But  our  Saviour  says  to  them.  Behold  my  hands  and 
 my  feet,  that  it  is  I  myself;  handle  me  and  see;  for  a  spirit  hath  not  flesh  and  bones 
 as  you  see  me  have.     Which  words  of  our  Saviour  put  the  same  distinction  be- 
 tween body  and  spirit,  that  Cicero  did  in  the  place  above  cited,  viz.  That  the  one 
 was  a  gross  compages  that  could  be  felt  and  handled;  and  the  other,  such  as  Vii'gil 
 describes  the  ghost  or  soul  of  Anchises: 
 
 Ter  conatus  ibi  colic  dare  brachia  circum, 
 Ter  frustra  comprensa  manus  effugit  imago, 
 Par  levibus  ventis  volucrique  simillima  somno§. 
 
 I  would  not  be  thought  hereby  to  say,  that  spirit  never  does  signify  a  purely 
 immaterial  substance.  In  that  sense  the  Scripture,  I  take  it,  speaks,  when  it  says 
 God  is  a  spirit;  and  in  that  sense  I  have  used  it;  and  in  that  sense  I  have  proved 
 
 *  Eccl.  ili.  19.  t  Eccl.  iii.  21.  \  Chap.  xxiv.  S7.  §.  Lib.  vi. 
 
350  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 subalanco:  it  being,  in  respect  of  our  notions,  not  much  more  remote  from 
 our  comprehension  to  conceive,  that  God  can,  if  lie  pleases,  superadd  to 
 matter  a  faculty  of  thinking,  than  that  he  should  superadd  to  it  another  sub- 
 stance, with  a  faculty  of  thinking;  since  we  know  not  wherein  thinking  con- 
 
 from  my  priiu-i])les  that  there  is  a  spii-itual  substance;  and  am  certain  that  there  is 
 a  spiritual  immaterial  substance:  whicli  is,  1  humbly  conceive,  a  direct  answer  to 
 your  lordship's  question  in  the  beginniivj;  of  this  argument,  viz.  How  we  come  to 
 be  certain  tiiat  tiiere  are  spiritual  substances,  supposing  this  principle  to  be  true, 
 that  the  simple  ideas  by  sensation  and  reflection  are  the  sole  matter  and  foundation 
 of  all  our  reasoning?  But  this  hinders  not,  but  that  if  God,  tiiat  infinite,  omni- 
 potent, and  perfectly  immaterial  Spirit,  should  please  to  give  to  a  system  of  very 
 subtile  matter,  sense  and  motion,  it  miglit  v.ith  propriety  of  speech  be  called  spirit, 
 though  materiality  were  not  excluded  out  of  its  complex  idea.  Your  lordsliip 
 proceeds,  it  is  said  indeed  elsewhere*,  that  it  is  repugnant  to  tlie  idea  of  senseless 
 matter,  that  it  should  put  into  itself  sense,  perception,  and  knowledge.  But  this 
 doth  not  reach  the  present  case;  which  is  not  what  matter  can  do  of  itself,  but  what 
 matter  prepared  by  an  omnipotent  hand  can  do.  And  what  certainty  can  we  have 
 that  he  hath  not  done  it?  We  can  have  none  from  the  ideas,  for  those  are  given 
 up  in  this  case,  and  consequently  we  can  have  no  certainty,  upon  these  principles, 
 whether  we  have  any  spiritual  substance  within  us  or  not. 
 
 Your  lordship  in  this  paragraph  proves,  that,  from  what  I  say,  we  can  have  no 
 certainty  whether  we  have  any  spiritual  substance  in  us  or  not.  If  by  si)iritual 
 substance  your  lordship  means  an  immaterial  substance  in  us,  as  you  speak,  I  grant 
 what  your  lordship  says  is  true,  that  it  cannot  upon  these  principles  be  demon- 
 strated. But  I  must  crave  leave  to  say  at  the  same  time,  that  upon  these  principles 
 it  can  be  proved,  to  the  highest  degree  of  probability.  If  by  spiritual  substance 
 your  lordship  means  a  thinking  substance,  I  must  dissent  from  your  lordship,  and 
 say,  that  we  can  have  a  certainty,  upon  my  principles,  that  there  is  a  spiritual  sub- 
 stance in  us.  In  short,  my  lord,  upon  my  principles,  i.  e.  from  the  idea  of  think- 
 ing, we  can  have  a  certainty  that  there  is  a  thinking  substance  in  us;  from  hence 
 we  have  a  certainty  tluit  there  is  an  etei-nal  thinking  substance.  This  liiinking 
 substance,  whicli  has  been  from  eternity,  I  have  proved  to  be  immaterial.  This 
 eternal,  immaterial,  thinking  substance,  has  put  into  us  a  thinking  substance,  whicli, 
 whether  it  be  a  material  or  immaterial  substance,  cannot  be  infallibly  demonstrated 
 from  our  ideas:  though  from  them  it  may  be  proved,  that  it  is  to  the  highest  degree 
 probable  that  it  is  immaterial. 
 
 Again,  the   bishop  of  Worcester  undertakes  to  prove  from  Mr  Locke's  princi- 
 ples, that  we  may  be  certain,  "  Thattlic  first  eternal  thinking  being,  or  omnipotent><=^  o 
 Spirit,  cannot,  if  he  would,  give  to  certain  systems  of  created  sciisible  matter,  put '^4,^2^^— 
 together  as  he  sees  fit,  some  degrees  of  sense,  perception,  ami  thought." 
 
 To  which  Mr  Locke  has  made  the  following  answer  in  his  third  letter. 
 
 Your  first  argument  I  take  to  be  this;  that  according  to  me,  the  knowledge  we 
 have  being  by  our  ideas,  and  our  idea  of  matter  in  general  being  a  solid  substance, 
 and  our  idea  of  body,  a  solid  extended  figured  substance;  if  I  admit  matter  to  be 
 capable  of  thinking,  I  confound  the  idea  of  matter  with  the  idea  of  a  spirit;  to 
 which  I  answer.  No,  no  more  than  I  confound  the  idea  of  matter  with  the  idea  of 
 a  horse,  when  I  say  that  matter  in  general  is  a  solid  extended  substance;  and  that  a 
 horse  is  a  material  animal,  or  an  extended  solid  substance,  with  sense  and  spon- 
 taneous motion. 
 
 The  idea  of  matter  is  an  extended  solid  substance;  wherever  there  is  such  a  sub- 
 stance, there  is  matter,  and  the  essence  of  matter,  whatever  other  qualities,  not  con- 
 tained in  that  essence,  it  shall  please  God  to  superadd  to  it.  For  example,  God 
 creates  an  extended  solid  substance,  without  the  superadding  any  thing  else  to  it,  and 
 so  we  may  consider  it  at  rest:  to  some  parts  of  it  he  superadds  motion,  but  it  has 
 still  the  essence  of  matter:  other  parts  of  it  he  frames  into  plants,  with  all  the  ex- 
 cellencies of  vegetation,  life  and  beauty,  which  is  to  be  found  in  a  rose  or  peach-tree, 
 &c.  above  the  essence  of  matter,  in  general,  but  it  is  still  but  matter:  to  other 
 parts  he  adds  sense  and  spontaneous  motion,  and  those  other  properties  that  are  to 
 
 •  R.  4.  c.  10.  sect.  5. 
 
Chap.  a.  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  851 
 
 sists,  nor  to  what  sort  of  substances  tlie  Almighty  has  been  pleased  to  give 
 that  power,  which  cannot  be  in  any  created  being,  but  merely  by  the  good 
 pleasure  and  bounty  of  the  Creator.  For  I  see  no  contradiction  in  it,  that 
 the  first  eternal  thinking  being  should,  if  he  pleased,  give  to  certain  systems 
 
 be  found  in  an  elephant.  Hitherto  it  is  not  doubted  but  the  power  of  God  may  go, 
 and  that  the  properties  ofA  rose,  a  peach,  or  an  ele7)hant,  superadded  to  matter, 
 change  not  the  properties  of  matter;  but  matter  is  in  these  things  matter  still.  But 
 if  one  venture  to  go  one  step  farther,  and  say,  God  may  give  to  matter  thought, 
 reason,  and  volition,  as  well  as  sense  and  spontaneous  motion,  there  are  men  ready 
 presently  to  limit  the  power  of  the  omnipotent  Creator,  and  tell  us  he  cannot  do 
 it;  because  it  destroys  the  essence,  or  changes  the  essential  properties  of  matter. 
 To  make  good  which  assertion,  they  have  no  more  to  say,  but  that  thought  and 
 reason  are  not  included  in  the  essence  of  matter.  I  grant  it;  but  whatever  excel- 
 lency, not  contained  in  its  essence,  be  superadded  to  matter,  it  does  not  destroy 
 the  essence  of  matter,  if  it  leaves  it  an  extended  solid  substance;  wherever  that  is, 
 there  is  the  essence  of  matter:  and  if  every  thing  of  greater  perfection  superadded 
 to  such  a  substance,  destroys  the  essence  of  matter,  what  will  become  of  the  essence 
 of  matter  in  a  plant  or  an  animal,  whose  properties  far  exceed  those  of  a  mere  ex- 
 tended solid  substance? 
 
 But  it  is  farther  urged,  that  we  cannot  conceive  how  matter  can  think.  I  g^ant 
 it;  but  to  argue  from  thence,  that  God  therefore  cannot  give  to  matter  a  faculty  of 
 thinking,  is  to  say  God's  omnipotency  is  limited  to  a  narrow  compass,  because 
 man's  understanding  is  so;  and  brings  down  God's  infinite  power  to  the  size  of  our 
 capacities.  If  God  can  give  no  power  to  any  parts  of  matter,  but  what  men  can 
 account  for  from  the  essence  of  matter  in  general;  if  all  such  qualities  and  proper- 
 ties must  destroy  the  essence,  or  change  the  essential  properties  of  matter,  which 
 are  to  our  conceptions  above  it,  and  we  cannot  conceive  to  be  the  natural  conse- 
 quence of  that  essence;  it  is  plain  that  the  essence  of  matter  is  destroyed,  and  its 
 essential  properties  changed,  in  most  of  the  sensible  parts  of  this  our  system.  For 
 it  is  visible,  that  all  the  planets  have  revolutions  about  certain  remote  centres,  which 
 I  would  have  any  one  explain,  or  make  conceivable  by  the  bare  essence,  or  natural 
 powers  depending  on  the  essence  of  matter  in  general,  without  something  added  to 
 that  essence,  which  we  cannot  conceive;  for  the  moving  of  matter  in  a  crooked 
 line,  or  the  attraction  of  matter  bj'  matter;  is  all  that  can  be  said  in  the  case;  eitlier 
 of  which  it  is  above  our  reach  to  derive  from  the  essence  of  matter  or  body  in 
 general;  though  one  of  these  two  must  unavoidably  be  allowed  to  be  superadded  in 
 this  instance  to  the  essence  of  matter  in  general.  •  The  omnipotent  Creator  advised 
 not  with  us  in  tiie  making  of  the  world,  and  his  ways  are  not  the  less  excellent  be- 
 cause they  are  past  finding  out. 
 
 In  the  next  place,  the  vegetable  part  of  the  creation  is  not  doubted  to  be  wholly 
 material;  and  yet  he  that  will  look  into  it  will  observe  excellencies  and  operations  in 
 this  part  of  matter  which  he  will  not  find  contained  in  the  essence  of  matter  in 
 general,  nor  be  able  to  conceive  how  they  can  be  produced  by  it.  And  will  he 
 therefore  say,  that  the  essence  of  matter  is  destroyed  in  them  because  they  have 
 properties  and  operations  not  contained  in  the  essential  properties  of  matter  as 
 matter,  nor  explicable  by  the  essence  of  matter  in  general  ? 
 
 Let  us  advance  one  step  farther,  and  we  shall  in  the  animal  world  meet  with  yet 
 greater  perfections  and  properties,  no  ways  explicable  by  the  essence  of  matter  in 
 general.  If  the  omnipotent  Creator  had  not  superadded  to  the  earth,  which  pro- 
 duced the  irrational  animals,  qualities  far  surpassing  those  of  the  dull  dead  earth, 
 out  of  which  they  were  made  life,  sense,  and  spontaneous  motion,  nobler  qualities 
 than  were  before  in  it,  it  had  still  remained  rude  senseless  matter;  and  if  to  the 
 individuals  of  each  species  he  had  not  superadded  a  power  of  propagation,  the  spe- 
 cies had  perished  witii  those  individuals:  but  by  these  essences  or  properties  of 
 each  species,  superadded  to  the  matter  wliich  they  were  made  of,  the  essences  or 
 properties  of  matter  in  general  were  not  destroyed  or  changed,  any  more  than  any 
 thing  that  was  in  the  individuals  before  was  destroyed  or  changed  by  the  power  of 
 generation,  superadded  to  tliem  by  the  first  benediction  of  the  Almighty. 
 
 In  all  such  cases,  the  superinducement  of  greater  perfections  and  nobler  quali- 
 ties destroys  nothing  of  the  essence  or  perfections  that  were  there  before;  unlfis* 
 
352  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 of  created  senseless  matlcr,  put  together,  as  he  tliinks  fit,  some  degrees  of 
 sense,  perception,  and  thonnrht:  thongh,  as  I  tliink,  I  have  prove<l,  Hook  4.  cli. 
 10.  Sect.  14.  it  is  no  less  tlian  a  contradiction  to  suppose  matter  (whicli  is 
 evidently  in  its  own  nature  void  of  sense  and  thought)  should  be  that  eternal 
 
 there  can  ue  showed  a  manifest  repugnancy  between  them:  but  all  the  proof  offer- 
 ed for  that,  is  onlj',  that  we  cannot  conceive  how  matter,  williout  such  superadded 
 perfections,  can  produce  such  effects;  whicli  is,  in  trull^o  more  than  to  say,  mat- 
 ter in  general,  or  every  part  of  matter,  as  matter,  has  them  not;  but  is  no  reason  to 
 prove,  that  God,  if  he  pleases,  cannot  superadd  tliem  to  some  parts  of  matter,  unless 
 it  can  be  proved  to  be  a  contradiction,  that  God  should  give  to  some  parts  of  mat- 
 ter qualities  and  perfections,  wliich  matter  in  general  has  not;  though  we  cannot 
 conceive  how  matter  is  invested  ^^nth  them,  or  how  it  operates  by  virtue  of  those 
 new  endowments;  nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  that  we  cannot,  whilst  we  limit  all  its 
 operations  to  those  qualities  it  had  before,  and  would  explain  them  by  the  known 
 properties  of  matter  in  general,  without  any  such  induced  perfections.  For,  if  this 
 be  the  right  rule  of  reasoning,  to  deny  a  thing  to  be,  because  v/e  cannot  conceive 
 the  manner  how  it  comes  to  be;  I  shall  desire  them  who  use  it,  to  stick  to  this 
 rule,  and  see  what  work  it  will  make  both  in  divinity  as  well  as  philosophy:  and 
 whether  they  can  advance  any  thing  more  in  favour  of  scepticism. 
 
 For  to  keep  witiiin  the  present  subject  of  the  power  of  thinking  and  self-mo- 
 tion, bestowed  by  omnipotent  power  in  some  parts  of  matter:  the  objection  to  this 
 is,  I  cannot  conceive  how  matter  should  tliink.  What  is  the  consequence?  Ergo, 
 God  cannot  give  it  a  power  to  think.  Let  this  stand  for  a  good  reason,  and  then 
 proceed  in  olher  cases  by  the  same.  You  cannot  conceive  how  matter  can  attract 
 matter  at  any  distance,  much  less  at  the  distance  of  1,000,000  miles;  ergo,  God 
 cannot  give  it  such  a  power:  you  cannot  conceive  how  matter  should  feel,  or  move 
 itself,  or  aff'ect  an  immaterial  being,  or  be  moved  by  it;  ergo,  God  cannot  give  it 
 such  powers:  which  is  in  effect  to  deny  g^-avity,  and  the  revolution  of  tlie  planets 
 about  the  sun;  to  make  brutes  mere  machines,  without  sense  or  spontaneous  mo- 
 tion; and  to  allow  man  neither  sense  nor  voluntary  motion. 
 
 Let  us  apply  this  rule  one  degree  fai'ther.  You  cannot  conceive  how  an  ex- 
 tended solid  substance  should  think,  therefore  God  cannot  make  it  think:  can  you 
 conceive  how  your  own  soul,  or  any  substance,  thinks?  You  find  indeed  that  you 
 do  think,  and  so  do  I:  but  I  want  to  be  told  how  the  action  of  thinking  is  per- 
 formed: this,  I  confess,  is  beyond  my  conception;  and  I  would  be  glad  any  one, 
 who  conceives  it,  would  explain  it  to  me.  God,  1  find,  lias  given  mc  tliis  faculty; 
 and  since  I  cannot  but  lie  convinced  of  his  power  in  this  instance,  which  though 
 I  every  moment  experiment  in  myself,  yet  I  cannot  conceive  the  manner  of;  what 
 would  it  be  less  than  an  insolent  absurdity,  to  deny  his  power  in  other  like  cases 
 only  for  tliis  reason,  because  I  cannot  conceive  the  manner  how? 
 
 To  explain  this  matter  a  little  farther:  God  has  created  a  substance;  let  it  be, 
 for  example,  a  solid  extended  substance.  Is  God  bound  to  give  it,  besides  being, 
 a  power  of  action?  tiiat,  I  think,  nobody  Avill  say:  he  tlierefore  may  leave  it  in  a 
 slate  of  inactivity,  and  it  will  be  nevertheless  a  substance;  for  action  is  not  neces- 
 sary to  tlie  being  of  any  substance  tliat  God  does  create.  God  has  likewise  created 
 an(l  made  to  exist,  de  novo,  an  immaterial  substance,  which  will  not  lose  its  being 
 of  a  substance,  though  God  should  bestow  on  it  nothing  more  but  this  bare  being, 
 without  giving  it  any  activity  at  all.  Here  are  now  two  distinct  substances,  the 
 one  material,  the  olher  immaterial,  both  in  a  state  of  perfect  inactivity.  Now  1 
 ask,  what  power  God  can  give  to  one  of  these  substances  (supposing  them  to  retain 
 the  same  distinct  natures  that  they  had  as  substances  in  their  state  of  inactivity) 
 which  he  cannot  give  to  the  other?  In  that  state,  it  is  plain,  neither  of  them  thinks; 
 for  thinking  being  an  action,  it  cannot  be  denied,  that  God  can  put  an  end  to  any 
 action  of  any  created  substance,  without  anniiiilating  of  the  substance  whereof  it  is 
 an  action;  and  if  it  be  so,  he  can  also  create  or  give  existence  to  such  a  substance, 
 without  giving  that  substance  any  action  at  all.  By  the  same  reason  it  is  plain, 
 that  neither  of  them  can  move  itself:  now,  I  would  ask,  why  Omnipotency  cannot 
 give  to  either  of  these  substances,  which  are  equally  in  a  state  of  perfect  inactivity, 
 the  same  power  that  il  can  give  to  the  other?     Let  it  be,  for  example,  that  of  spon- 
 
Ch.  3.  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  353 
 
 first  thinking  Being.  What  certainty  of  knowledge  can  any  one  have  that 
 some  perceptions,  such  as,  v.  g.  pleasure  and  pain,  should  not  be  in  some 
 bodies  tliemselves,  after  a  certain  manner,  modified  and  moved,  as  well  as 
 that  they  should  be  in  an  immaterial  substance,  upon  the  motions  of  the  parts 
 
 tidieous  or  selt'-niotion,  which  is  a  power  that  it  is  supposed  God  can  give  to  an 
 unsolid  substance,  but  denied  that  he  can  give  to  solid  substance. 
 
 If  it  be  asked,  wby  they  limit  the  omnipotency  of  God,  in  reference  to  the  one 
 rather  than  the  other  of  these  substances'  all  that  can  be  said  to  it  is,  that  they 
 cannot  conceive,  how  the  solid  substance  should  ever  be  able  to  move  itself.  And 
 as  little,  say  I,  are  they  able  to  conceive,  how  a  created  unsolid  substance  should 
 move  itself.  But  there  may  be  something  in  an  immaterial  substance  that  you  do 
 not  know.  I  grant  it;  and  in  a  material  one  too:  for  example,  gravitation  of  matter 
 towards  matter,  and  in  the  several  proportions  observable,  inevitably  shows  that 
 there  is  something  in  matter  that  we  do  not  understand,  unless  we  can  conceive 
 self-motion  in  matter;  or  an  inexplicable  and  inconceivable  attraction  in  matter,  at 
 immense,  almost  incomprehensible  distances;  it  must  therefore  be  confessed,  that 
 there  is  something  in  solid,  as  well  as  in  unsolid  substances,  that  we  do  not  under- 
 stand. But  this  we  know,  that  they  may  each  of  them  have  their  distinct  beings, 
 ■without  any  activity  superadded  to  them,  unless  you  v  ill  deny,  that  God  can  take 
 from  any  being  its  power  of  acting,  whicii  it  is  probable  will  be  thougbt  too  pre- 
 sumptuous for  any  one  to  do;  aTul  I  say,  it  is  as  hard  to  conceive  self-motion  in  a 
 created  immaterial,  as  in  a  material  being,  consider  it  how  you  will:  and  therefore 
 this  is  no  reason  to  deny  Omnipotency  to  be  able  to  give  a  power  of  self-molion  to 
 a  material  substance  if  he  pleases,  as  well  as  to  an  immaterial;  since  neither  of 
 them  can  have  it  from  themselves,  nor  can  we  conceive  how  it  can  be  in  either  of 
 them. 
 
 The  same  is  visible  in  the  other  operation  of  thinking;  both  these  substances 
 may  be  made,  and  exist  without  thought;  neither  of  them  has,  or  can  have,  the  power 
 of  thinking  from  itself:  God  may  give  it  to  either  of  them,  according  to  the  good 
 pleasure  of  his  omnipotency;  and  in  whichever  of  them  it  is,  it  is  equally  beyond 
 our  capacitj'  to  conceive  how  either  of  these  substances  thinks.  But  for  that  reason 
 to  deny  that  God,  who  had  power  enough  to  give  them  both  a  being  out  of  nothing, 
 can,  by  the  same  omnipotency,  give  them  what  other  powers  and  perfections  he 
 pleases,  has  no  better  foundation  than  to  deny  his  power  of  creation,  because  we 
 cannot  conceive  how  it  is  performed:  and  there,  at  last,  this  way  of  reasoning  must 
 terminate. 
 
 That  Omnipotency  cannot  make  a  substance  to  be  solid  and  not  solid  at  the  same 
 time,  I  think  with  due  reverence  we  may  say;  but  that  a  solid  substance  may  not 
 have  qualities,  perfections,  and  powers,  which  have  no  natural  or  visibly  necessary 
 connexion  with  solidity  and  extension,  is  too  much  for  us  (who  are  but  of  yester- 
 day, and  know  nothing)  to  be  positive  in.  If  God  cannot  join  things  together  by 
 connexions  inconceivable  to  us,  we  must  deny  even  the  consistency  and  being  of 
 matter  itself;  since  every  particle  of  it  having  some  bulk,  has  its  parts  connected 
 by  ways  inconceivable  to  us.  So  that  all  the  difficulties  that  are  raised  against  the 
 thinking  of  matter,  from  our  ignorance,  or  narrow  conceptions,  stand  not  at  all  in 
 the  way  of  the  power  of  God,  if  he  pleases  to  ordain  it  so;  nor  prove  any  thing 
 against  his  having  endued  some  parcels  of  matter,  so  disposed  as  he  thinks  fit, 
 with  a  faculty  of  thinking,  till  it  can  be  shown  that  it  contains  a  contradiction  to 
 suppose  it. 
 
 Though  to  me  sensation  be  comprehended  under  thinking  in  general,  yet,  in  the 
 foregoing  discourse,  I  have  spoke><of  sense  in  brutes,  as  distinct  from  thinking; 
 because  your  lordship,  as  I  remember,  speaks  of  sense  in  brutes.  But  here  I  take 
 liberty  to  observe,  tliat  if  your  lordship  allows  brutes  to  have  sensation,  it  will 
 follow  either  that  God  can  and  doth  give  to  some  parcels  of  matter  a  power  of 
 perception  and  thinking;  or  that  all  animals  have  immaterial,  and  consequently, 
 according  to  your  lordship,  immortal  souls  as  well  as  men;  and  to  say  that  fleas 
 and  mites,  &c.  have  immortal  souls  as  well  as  men,  will  possibly  be  looked  on  as 
 going  a  great  way  to  serve  an  hypothesis. 
 
 I  have  been  pretty  large  in  making  this  matter  plain,  that  they  who  are  so  for- 
 2U 
 
354  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 of  body  1  Body,  as  far  as  we  can  conceive,  being  able  only  to  strike  and 
 affect  body ;  and  motion,  according  to  tbe  utmost  rcacb  of  our  ideas,  being 
 able  to  produce  nutiiing  but  motion :  so  that  when  we  allow  it  to  produce 
 pleasure  or  pain,  or  the  idea  of  a  colour  or  sound,  we  are  fain  to  quit  our 
 
 ward  to  bestow  hard  censures  or  names  on  the  opinions  of  those  wlio  differ  from 
 them,  may  consider  wlietlier  sonielimes  tlit-y  are  not  more  due  to  tlicir  own;  and 
 that  they  may  be  persuaded  a  little  to  temper  that  heal,  which,  supposinp;  ihe  truth 
 in  their  current  opinions,  gives  them  (as  they  think)  a  riglit  to  lay  wiiat  imputations 
 they  please  on  those  who  would  fairly  examine  the  grounds  tliey  stand  upon.  For 
 talking  with  a  supposition  and  insinuations,  that  truth  and  knowledge,  nay,  and 
 religion  too,  stand  and  fall  with  their  systems,  is  at  best  but  an  imperious  way  of 
 begging  the  question,  and  assuming  to  themselves,  under  the  pretence  of  zeal  for 
 the  cause  of  God,  a  title  to  iutallibility.  It  is  very  becoming  that  men's  zeal  for 
 truth  should  go  as  far  as  their  proofs,  but  not  go  for  proofs  themselves,  lie  that 
 attacks  received  opinions  with  any  thing  but  fair  arguments,  may,  1  own,  be  justly 
 suspected  not  to  mean  well,  nor  to  be  led  by  the  love  of  truth;  but  the  same  may 
 be  said  of  him,  too,  who  so  defends  them.  An  error  is  not  the  better  for  being 
 common,  nor  truth  the  worse  for  having  lain  neglected:  and  if  it  were  put  to  the 
 vote  any  wliere  in  the  world,  I  doubt,  as  things  are  managed,  whether  truth  would 
 have  the  majority,  at  least  whilst  tlie  authority  of  men,  and  not  the  examination  of 
 things,  must  be  its  measure.  The  imputation  of  scejjticism,  and  those  broad  in- 
 sinuations to  render  what  I  have  writ  suspected,  so  frec|uei;t,  as  if  liiat  were  the 
 gieat  business  of  all  this  pains  you  have  been  at  about  me,  has  made  me  say  thus 
 much,  my  lord,  rather  as  my  sense  of  the  way  to  establish  truth  in  its  full  force 
 and  beauty,  than  that  I  think  the  world  will  need  to  have  any  thing  said  to  it,  to 
 make  it  distinguish  between  your  lordship's  and  my  design  in  writing,  which  there- 
 fore I  securely  leave  to  the  judgment  of  the  reader,  and  return  to  the  argument  in 
 hand. 
 
 What  I  have  above  said,  I  take  to  be  a  full  answer  to  all  that  your  lordship 
 would  infer  from  my  idea  of  matter,  of  liberty,  of  identity,  and  from  the  power 
 of  abstracting.  You  ask*.  How  can  my  idea  of  liberty  agree  with  the  idea  that 
 bodies  can  operate  only  by  motion  and  impulse?  Ans.  By  tlie  omnipotency  of 
 God,  who  can  make  all  things  agree,  that  involve  not  a  contradiction.  It  is  true, 
 I  sayt,  "that  bodies  operate  by  impulse,  and  nothing  else. "  And  so  I  thought 
 when  I  writ  it,  and  can  yet  conceive  no  other  way  of  their  operation.  But  I  am 
 since  convinced  by  the  judicious  Mr  Newton's  incomparable  book,  that  it  is  too 
 bold  a  ])resumption  to  limit  God's  power  in  this  point  by  my  nari'ow  conceptions. 
 The  gravitation  of  matter  towards  matter,  by  ways  inconceivable  to  me,  is  not  only 
 a  demonstration  that  God  can,  if  he  ])leases,  put  into  bodies  powers,  and  ways  of 
 operation,  above  what  can  be  derived  from  our  idea  of  bodv,  or  can  be  explained 
 by  what  we  know  of  matter;  but  also  an  unquestionable,  and  every  where  visible 
 instance,  tliat  he  has  done  so.  And  therefore  in  the  next  edition  of  my  book,  1 
 will  take  care  to  have  that  pas^sage  rectified. 
 
 As  to  self-consciousness,  your  lordship  asks|:,  What  is  tliere  like  self-conscious- 
 ness in  matter?  Nothing  at  all  in  matter  as  matter.  But  that  God  cannot  bestow 
 on  some  parcels  of  matter  the  ])0wer  of  thinking,  and  with  it  seli'-consciousness, 
 will  never  be  proved  by  asking^.  How  is  it  possible  to  apprehend  that  mere  body 
 should  perceive  that  it  doth  perceive?  The  weakness  of  our  apprehension  I  grant 
 in  tlie  case:  I  confess  as  much  as  you  please,  that  we  cannot  conceive  how  a  solid,  no, 
 nor  how  an  unsolid  created  substance  thinks;  but  this  weakness  of  our  api)rehension 
 reaches  not  the  power  of  (iod,  whose  weakness  is  stronger  than  any  thing  in  men. 
 
 Your  argument  from  abstraction  we  have  in  this  question||.  If  it  may  be  in  the 
 power  of  matter  to  think,  how  comes  it  to  be  so  impossible  for  such  organized 
 bodies  as  the  brutes  have,  to  enlarge  their  ideas  by  abstraction?  Ans.  This  seems 
 to  suppose,  that  I  place  thinking  witliin  the  natural  power  of  matter.  If  that  be 
 your  meaning,  my  lord,  1  never  say,  nor  suppose,  that  all  matter  has  naturally  in 
 it  a  faculty  of  thinking,  but  the  direct  contrary.      But  if  you  mean   that  certain 
 
 1st  Answer.  +  Essay,  b.  2.  ch.  S.  sect.  11.  ^  1st  Answer. 
 
 §  1st  Answer.  [|  1st  Answer. 
 
Ch.  3.  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  355 
 
 reason,  go  beyond  our  ideas,  and  attribute  it  wholly  to  the  good  pleasure  of 
 our  Maker.  For  since  we  must  allow  he  has  annexed  effects  to  motion, 
 which  we  can  no  way  conceive  motion  able  to  produce,  what  reason  have  we 
 to  conclude,  that  he  could  not  order  them  as  weil  to  be  produced  in  a  subject 
 
 parcels  of  matter,  oi-dered  by  the  Divine  power,  as  seems  fit  to  him,  may  be  made 
 capable  of  receiving  from  his  omnipotency  the  faculty  of  thinking;  that,  indeed, 
 I  say;  and  that  being  granted,  the  answer  to  your  question  is  easy;  since  if  Omni- 
 potency can  give  tiiought  to  any  solid  substance,  it  is  not  hard  to  conceive,  that 
 God  may  give  that  faculty  In  a  higher  or  lower  degree,  as  it  pleases  him,  who 
 knows  what  disposition  of  the  subject  is  suited  to  such  a  particular  way  or  degree 
 of  thinking. 
 
 Another  argument,  to  prove  that  God  cannot  endue  any  parcel  of  matter  with 
 the  faculty  of  thinking,  is  taken  from  those  words  of  mine*,  where  I  show,  by  what 
 connexion  of  ideas  we  may  come  to  know  that  God  is  an  immaterial  substance, 
 the)'  are  these,  "the  idea  of  an  eternal  actual  knowing  being,  with  the  idea  of  im- 
 materiality, by  the  intervention  of  the  idea  of  matter,  and  of  its  actual  division, 
 divisibilit)',  and  want  of  perception,"  &c.  From  whence  your  lordship  thus 
 arguesf,  here  the  want  of  perception  is  owned  to  be  so  essential  to  matter,  that 
 God  is  therefore  concluded  to  be  immaterial.  Ans.  Perception  and  knowledge  in 
 that  one  eternal  Being,  where  it  has  its  source,  it  is  visible  must  be  essentially 
 inseparable  from  it;  therefore  the  actual  want  of  perception  in  so  great  a  part  of 
 the  particular  parcels  of  matter,  is  a  demonstration,  that  the  first  Being,  from 
 whom  perception  and  knowledge  are  inseparable,  is  not  matter:  how  far  this  makes 
 the  want  of  perception  an  essential  property  of  matter,  I  will  not  dispute;  it  suffices 
 that  it  shows,  that  perception  is  not  an  essential  property  of  matter;  and  therefore 
 matter  cannot  be  that  eternal  original  Being  to  which  perception  and  knowledge 
 are  essential.  Matter,  I  say,  naturally  is  without  perception;  ergo,  says  your 
 lordship,  want  of  perception  is  an  essential  property  of  matter,  and  God  does  not 
 change  the  essential  properties  of  things,  their  nature  remaining.  From  whence 
 you  infer,  that  God  cannot  bestow  on  any  parcel  of  matter  (the  nature  of  matter 
 remaining)  a  faculty  of  thinking.  If  the  rules  of  logic,  since  my  days,  be  not 
 changed,  I  may  safely  deny  this  consequence.  For  an  argument  that  runs  thus, 
 God  does  not;  ergo,  he  cannot,  I  was  taught  when  I  fii'st  came  to  the  university, 
 would  not  hold.  For  I  never  said  God  did;  but:):,  "that  I  see  no  contradiction  in 
 it,  that  he  should,  if  he  pleased,  give  to  some  systems  of  senseless  matter  a  faculty 
 of  thinking;"  and  I  know  nobody  before  Des  Cartes,  that  ever  pretended  to  show 
 that  there  was  any  contradiction  in  it.  So  that  at  worst,  my  not  being  able  to  see 
 in  matter  any  such  incapacity,  as  makes  it  impossible  for  Omnipotency  to  bestow 
 on  it  a  faculty  of  thinking,  makes  me  opposite  only  to  the  Cartesians.  For,  as  far 
 as  I  have  seen  or  lieard,  the  fathers  of  the  Christian  church  never  pretended  to  de- 
 monstrate that  matter  v/as  incapable  to  receive  a  power  of  sensation,  perception, 
 and  thinking,  from  the  hand  of  the  omnipotent  Creator.  Let  us,  therefore,  if  you 
 please,  suppose  the  form  of  your  argumentation  right,  and  that  your  lordship 
 means,  God  cannot:  and  then,  if  your  argument  be  good,  it  proves,  that  God  could 
 not  give  to  Balaam's  ass  a  power  to  speak  to  his  master  as  he  did;  for  the  want  of 
 rational  discourse  being  natural  to  that  species,  it  is  but  for  your  lordship  to  call  it 
 an  essential  property,  and  tlien  God  cannot  change  the  essential  properties  of  things, 
 their  nature  remaining:  whereby  it  is  proved,  that  God  cannot,  with  all  his  omni- 
 potency, give  to  an  ass  a  power  to  speak  as  Balaam's  did. 
 
 You  say§,  my  lord,  you  do  not  set  bounds  to  God's  omnipotency:  for  he  may,  if 
 he  please,  cliange  a  body  into  an  immaterial  substance,  i.  e.  take  away  from  a  sub- 
 stance the  solidity  wliich  it  had  before,  and  which  made  it  matter,  and  then  give  it 
 a  faculty  of  thinking  wjiich  it  had  not  before,  and  which  makes  it  a  spirit,  the  same 
 substance  remaining.  For  if  the  substance  remains  not,  body  is  not  changed  into 
 an  immaterial  substance,  but  the  solid  substance,  and  all  belonging  to  it,  is  anni- 
 hilated, and  an  immaterial  substance^  created,  which  is  not  a  ciiange  of  one  thing 
 into  another,  but  the   destroying  of  one,  and  making  another   de  novo.      In  this 
 
 *  1st  Letter.  t  1st  Answer.  |  B.  4.  c.  3.  sect.  6.  §  1st  Answer. 
 
856  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 we  cannot  conceive  capable  of  them,  as  well  as  in  a  subject  we  cannot  con- 
 ceive the  motion  of  matter  can  any  way  operate  upon  1  I  eay  not  this,  that 
 I  would  any  way  lessen  the  belief  of  the  soul's  immateriality  :  I  am  not  here 
 speaking  of  probability,  but  knowledge  ;  and  I  think  not  only,  that  it  be- 
 
 change  therefore  of  a  body  or  material  substance  into  an  immaterial,  let  us  observe 
 these  distinct  considerations. 
 
 First,  you  s;iy,  God  may,  if  he  pleases,  take  away  from  a  solid  substance  soli- 
 dity, wliieii  is  itiat  wliicli  makes  it  a  material  substance  or  body;  and  may  make  it 
 an  immaterial  substance,  i.  e.  a  substance  without  solidity.  But  this  privation  of 
 one  quality  givvs  it  not  another;  the  bare  taking  away  a  lower  or  less  noble  quality 
 does  not  give  it  a  higher  or  nobler;  that  must  be  the  gift  of  God.  For  the  bare 
 privation  of  one,  and  a  meanei  ([uality,  cannot  be  the  position  of  a  higher  and 
 better;  unless  any  one  will  say,  that  cogitation,  or  the  power  of  thinking,  results 
 from  the  nature  of  substance  itself;  which  if  it  do,  then  wherever  there  is  substance, 
 there  must  be  cogitation,  or  a  power  of  thinking.  Here,  then,  upon  your  lordship's 
 own  principles,  is  au  immaterial  substance  witliout  the  faculty  of  thinking. 
 
 In  the  next  place,  you  will  not  deny,  but  God  may  give  to  this  substance,  thus 
 deprived  of  solidity,  a  faculty  of  thinking;  for  you  suppose  it  made  capable  of  that, 
 by  being  made  immaterial;  whereby  you  allow,  that  the  same  numerical  substance 
 may  be  sometimes  wholly  incogitative,  or  without  a  power  of  thinking,  and  at  other 
 times  perfectly  cogitative,  or  endued  with  a  power  of  thinking. 
 
 Further,  you  will  not  deny,  but  God  can  give  it  solidity  and  make  it  material 
 again.  For,  I  conclude,  it  will  not  be  denied,  that  God  can  make  it  again  what  it 
 was  before.  Now  I  crave  leave  to  ask  your  lordship,  why  God,  having  given  to 
 tliis  substance  the  facult)'  of  thinking  after  solidity  was  taken  from  it,  cannot  re- 
 store to  it  solidity  again  without  taking  away  the  faculty  of  thinking?  When  you 
 have  resolved  this,  my  lord,  you  will  have  proved  it  impossible  for  God's  omnipo- 
 tence to  give  a  solid  substance  a  faculty  of  thinking;  but  till  then,  not  having  proved 
 it  impossible,  and  yet  denying  that  God  can  do  it,  is  to  deny  that  he  can  do  what 
 is  in  itself  possible;  which,  as  I  humbly  conceive,  is  visibly  to  set  bounds  to  God's 
 omnipotency,  though  you  say  here*  you  do  not  set  bounds  to  God's  omnipotence. 
 
 If  I  should  imitate  your  lordship's  way  of  writing,  I  should  not  omit  to  bring 
 in  Epicurus  here,  and  take  notice  that  this  was  his  way,  Deum  verbis  ponere,  re 
 tollere:  and  then  add,  that  I  am  certain  j'ou  do  not  think  he  promoted  the  great 
 ends  of  religion  and  morality.  For  it  is  with  such  candid  and  kind  iiisiimations  as 
 these,  that  you  bring  in  both  Hobbesf  and  Spinosa:):  into  your  discourse  here  about 
 God's  being  able,  if  he  please,  to  give  to  some  parcels  of  matter,  ordered  as  he 
 thinks  fit,  a  faculty  of  thinking:  neither  of  those  authors  having,  as  appears  by  any 
 passages  you  bring  out  of  them,  said  any  thing  to  this  question,  nor  having,  as  it 
 seems,  any  other  business  here,  but  by  their  names  skilfully  to  give  that  character 
 to  my  book,  with  which  you  would  recommend  it  to  the  world. 
 
 I  pretend  not  to  inquire  what  measure  of  zeal,  nor  for  what,  guides  your  lord- 
 ship's pen  in  such  a  way  of  writing,  as  yours  has  all  along  been  with  me:  only  I 
 cannot  but  consider,  what  reputation  it  would  give  to  the  writings  of  the  fathers 
 of  the  church,  if  they  should  think  truth  required,  or  religion  allowed  them  to 
 imitate  such  patterns.  But  God  be  thanked,  there  be  those  among  them  who  do 
 not  admire  such  ways  of  managing  the  cause  of  truth  or  religion;  they  being  sensible 
 that  if  every  one,  who  believes  or  can  pretend  he  hath  truth  on  his  side,  is  thereby 
 authorized,  without  proof,  to  insinuate  whatever  may  serve  to  prejudice  men's  minds 
 against  the  other  side,  there  will  be  great  ravage  made  on  charity  and  practice, 
 without  any  gain  to  truth  or  knowledge:  and  that  the  liberties  frequently  taken  by 
 disputants  to  do  so,  may  have  been  the  cause  that  the  world  in  all  ages  has  received 
 so  much  harm,  and  so  little  advantage  from  controversies  in  religion. 
 
 These  are  the  arguments  which  your  lordship  has  brought  to  confute  one  saying 
 in  my  book,  by  other  passages  in  it;  which  therefore  being  all  but  argumenta  ad 
 hominem,  if  they  did  prove  what  they  do  not,  are  of  no  other  use,  than  to  gain  a 
 victoiy  over  me:  a  tiling,  methinks,  so  much  beneath  your  lordship,  that  it  does 
 
 *  1st  Answer.  f  Ibid.  t  Ibid. 
 
Ch.  3.  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  357 
 
 comes  the  modesty  of  philosophy  not  to  pronounce  magisterially,  where  we 
 want  that  evidence  that  can  produce  knowledge  ;  but  also  that  it  is  of  use 
 to  us  to  discern  liow  far  our  knowledge  does  reach,  for  the  state  we  are  at 
 present  in,  not  being  that  of  vision,  we  must,  in  many  things,  content  our- 
 
 not  deserve  one  of  your  pages.  The  question  is,  whether  God  can,  if  he  pleases, 
 bestow  on  any  parcel  of  matter,  ordered  as  he  thinks  fit,  a  faculty  of  perception 
 and  thinking.  You  say*,  you  look  upon  a  mistake  herein  to  be  of  dangerous  con- 
 sequence as  to  the  great  ends  of  religion  and  morality.  If  this  be  so,  my  lord,  I 
 think  one  may  well  wonder,  why  your  lordship  has  brought  no  arguments  to 
 establish  the  truth  itself,  which  you  look  on  to  be  of  such  dangerous  consequence 
 to  be  mistaken  in;  but  have  spent  so  many  pages  only  in  a  personal  matter,  in 
 endeavouring  to  show,  that  I  had  inconsistencies  in  my  book;  which  if  any  such 
 thing  had  been  shown,  the  question  would  be  still  as  far  from  being  decided,  and 
 the  danger  of  mistaking  about  it  as  little  prevented,  as  if  nothing  of  all  this  had 
 been  said.  If  therefore  your  lordship's  care  of  the  great  ends  of  religion  and  mo- 
 rality have  made  you  think  it  necessary  to  «lear  this  question,  the  world  has  reason 
 to  conclude  there  is  little  to  be  said  against  that  proposition  vhich  is  to  be  found 
 in  my  book,  concerning  the  possibility,  that  some  parcels  of  matter  might  be  so 
 ordered  by  Omnipotence,  as  to  be  endued  with  a  faculty  of  thinking,  if  God  so 
 pleased;  since  your  lordship's  concern  for  the  promoting  the  great  ends  of  religion 
 and  morality  has  not  enabled  you  to  produce  one  argument  against  a  proposition 
 that  you  think  of  such  dangerous  consequence  to  them. 
 
 And  here  I  crave  leave  to  observe,  that  though  in  your  title  page  you  promise 
 to  prove  that  my  notion  of  ideas  is  inconsistent  with  itself  (which  if  it  were,  it 
 could  hardly  be  proved  to  be  inconsistent  with  anj'  thing  else)  and  with  the  articles 
 of  the  Christian  faith:  yet  your  attempts  all  along  have  been  to  prove  me,  in  some 
 passages  of  my  book,  inconsistent  with  myself,  without  having  shown  any  proposi- 
 tion in  my  book  inconsistent  with  any  article  of  the  Christian  faith. 
 
 I  think  your  lordship  has  indeed  made  use  of  one  argument  of  your  own;  but 
 it  is  such  an  one,  that  I  confess  I  do  not  see  how  it  is  apt  much  to  promote  religion, 
 especially  the  Christian  religion,  founded  on  revelation.  I  shall  set  down  your 
 lordship's  words,  that  they  may  be  considered:  you  sayt,  that  you  are  of  opinion, 
 that  the  great  ends  of  religion  and  morality  are  best  secured  by  the  proofs  of  the 
 immortality  of  the  soul  from  its  nature  and  properties;  and  which  you  think  prove 
 it  immaterial.  Your  lordship  does  not  question  whether  God  can  give  immortality 
 to  a  material  substance;  but  you  say  it  takes  off  very  much  from  the  evidence  of 
 immortality,  if  it  depend  wholly  upon  God's  giving  that,  which  of  its  own  nature  it 
 is  not  capable  of,  kc.  So  likewise  you  say]:,  if  a  man  cannot  be  certain,  but  that 
 matter  may  tliink  (as  I  affirm),  then  wliat  becomes  of  the  soul's  immateriality  (and 
 consequently  immortality)  from  its  operations?  But  for  all  this,  say  I,  his  assu- 
 rance of  faitl\  remains  on  its  own  basis.  Now  you  appeal  to  any  man  of  sense, 
 whether  the  finding  the  uncertainty  of  his  own  principles,  which  he  went  upon,  in 
 point  of  reason,  doth  not  weaken  the  credibility  of  these  fundamental  articles  when 
 they  are  considered  purely  as  matters  of  faith?  For  before,  there  was  a  natural 
 credibilitj'  in  them  on  account  of  reason;  but  bj'  going  on  wrong  grounds  of  cer- 
 tainty, all  tliat  is  lost,  and  instead  of  being  certain,  he  is  more  doubtful  than  ever. 
 And  if  the  evidence  of  faith  fall  so  much  short  of  that  of  reason,  it  must  needs 
 have  less  effect  upon  men's  minds,  when  the  subserviency  of  reason  is  taken  away; 
 as  it  must  be  when  the  grounds  of  certainty  by  reason  are  vanished.  Is  it  at  all 
 probable,  that  he  wlio  finds  his  reason  deceive  him  in  such  fundamental  points, 
 shall  have  his  faith  stand  firm  and  unmovable  on  the  account  of  revelation?  For 
 in  matters  of  revelation  there  must  be  some  antecedent  principles  supposed,  before 
 we  can  believe  any  thing  on  the  account  of  it. 
 
 More  to  the  same  purpose  we  have  some  pages  farther,  where,  from  some  of  my 
 words  your  lordship  says§,  you  cannot  but  observe,  that  we  have  no  certainty  upon 
 my  grounds,  tiiat  self-consciousness  depends  upon  an  individual  immaterial  sub- 
 stance, and  consequently  that  a  material  substance  may,  according  to  my  princi- 
 ples, have  self-consciousness  in  it;  at  least,  that  I  am  not  certain  of  the  contrary. 
 
 *  Ist  Answer.  t  Ibid.  ^  2d  Answer.  §  Ibid. 
 
358  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 selves  with  faith  and  probability;  and  in  the  present  question,  about  the  im- 
 materiality of  the  soul,  if  our  faculties  cannot  arrive  at  demonstrative  cer- 
 tainty, we  need  not  think  it  strange.  All  the  great  ends  of  morality  and 
 religion  are  well  enough  secured,  without  philosophical  proofs  of  the  soul's 
 
 AVhcreupnn  your  lordsliip  bids  me  consider,  -wlictlipr  this  dolh  not  a  little  siTect  the 
 uliolc  article  of  the  resurrection.  Wliat  does  all  tliis  tend  to,  but  to  ma';e  the 
 vn!-I<l  believe  that  I  have  lessened  tlie  credil)ility  of  liie  ininiortality  of  the  soul, 
 and  the  resurrection,  by  saying,  tliat  thou;j;h  it  he  most  hi|;bly  ])rol)ahle,  that  the 
 soul  is  immaterial,  yet  upon  my  principles  it  cannot  he  demonstrated;  because  il 
 is  not  impossible  to  <!i)d's  omni\)Otency,  if  he  jdeases,  to  bestow  upon  some  par- 
 cels of  matter,  disposed  as  he  sees  fit,  a  faculty  of  thinking' 
 
 This  your  accusation  of  my  lessening  the  credibility  of  these  articles  of  faith  is 
 founded  on  this,  that  the  article  of  tlie  immortality  of  the  soul  abates  of  its  credi- 
 bility, if  it  be  allowed,  that  its  imniateriality  (which  is  the  supposed  proof  from 
 reason  and  pliilosophy  of  its  immortality)  cannot  be  demonsti-ated  from  natural 
 reason:  wliich  argument  of  your  lordsliip's  bottoms,  as  I  liumbiy  conceive,  on 
 tliis,  that  divine  revelation  abates  of  its  credibility  in  all  those  articles  it  proposes, 
 jiroportionably  as  human  reason  fails  to  support  the  testimony  of  God.  And  all 
 that  your  lordship  in  those  passages  has  said,  when  examined,  will,  I  suppose,  be 
 foun(l  to  import  thus  much,  viz.  Does  God  jiropose  any  thing  to  mankind  to  be 
 believed?  It  is  very  fit  and  credible  to  be  believed,  if  reason  can  demonstrate  it 
 to  be  true.  But  if  human  reason  come  short  in  the  case,  and  cannot  make  it  out, 
 its  credibility  is  thereby  lessened;  which  is  in  effect  to  say,  that  the  veracity  of 
 God  is  not  a  firm  and  sure  foundation  of  faith  to  rely  upon,  without  the  concurrent 
 testimony  of  reason;  i.  e.  with  reverence  be  it  spoken,  God  is  not  to  be  believed  on 
 his  own  word,  unless  what  he  reveals  be  in  itself  credible,  and  might  be  believed 
 without  him. 
 
 If  this  be  a  way  to  promote  religion,  the  Christian  religion,  in  all  its  articles,  I 
 am  not  sorry  that  it  is  not  a  way  to  be  found  in  any  of  my  writings;  for  I  imagine 
 any  thing  like  this  would  (and  I  should  think  deserved  to)  have  other  titles  than 
 bare  scepticism  bestowed  upon  it,  and  would  have  raised  no  small  outcry  against 
 any  one,  who  is  not  to  be  su|)posed  to  be  in  the  riglit  in  all  that  he  says,  and  so 
 may  securely  say  what  he  pleases.  Such  as  1,  tiie  profanum  vulgus,  who  take 
 loo  much  upon  us,  if  we  would  examine,  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  hearken  and 
 balieve,  though  what  he  said  should  subvert  the  very  foundations  of  the  Christian 
 faith. 
 
 What  I  have  above  observed  is  so  visibly  contained  in  your  lordship's  argument, 
 that  when  I  met  with  in  your  answer  to  my  first  letter,  it  seemed  so  strange  for  a 
 man  of  your  lordship's  character,  and  in  a  dispute  in  defence  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
 Trinity,  that  I  could  hardly  jjersuade  myself,  but  it  was  a  slip  of  your  i)en;  but 
 when  1  found  it  in  your  second  letter*  made  use  of  again,  and  seriously  enlarged 
 as  an  ai-gument  of  weight  to  be  insisted  upon,  1  was  convinced  that  it  was  a  princi- 
 jile  that  you  hearlil)'  embraced,  how  little  favourable  soever  it  was  to  the  articles 
 of  the  Christian  religion,  an<l  particularly  those  which  you  undertook  to  defend. 
 
 I  desire  my  reader  to  iieruse  the  |>assages  as  they  stand  in  your  letters  them- 
 stlves,  and  see  whetlier  what  you  say  in  tiiem  does  not  amount  to  this:  that  a  reve- 
 lation from  God  is  more  or  less  credible,  according  as  it  has  a  stronger  or  weaker 
 confirmation  from  human  reason.      For, 
 
 1.  Your  lordship  saysf,  you  do  not  question  whether  God  can  give  immortality 
 to  a  material  substance;  but  you  say  it  takes  off  very  much  from  the  evidence  of 
 immortality,  if  it  depends  wholly  upon  God's  giving  that,  which  of  its  own  nature 
 it  is  not  capable  of. 
 
 To  which  I  reply,  any  one's  not  being  able  to  demonstrate  the  soul  to  be  imma- 
 terial takes  off  not  very  much,  nor  at  all,  from  the  evidence  of  its  immortality, 
 if  God  has  revealed  that  it  shall  be  immortal:  because  the  veracity  of  God  is  a 
 di-monstration  of  the  trutli  of  wliat  he  has  revealed,  and  the  want  of  another  de- 
 iiionslration  of  a  proposition,  that  is  demonstratively  true,  takes  not  off  from  the 
 evidence  of  it.     For  wiicre  there  is  a  clear  demonstration,  there  is  as  much  evi- 
 
 *  2d  Answer.  t  1st  Answer. 
 
Ch.  3.  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  359 
 
 immateriality;  since  it  is  evident,  that  he  who  made  us  at  the  beginning  to 
 subsist  here,  sensible  intelligent  beings,  and  for  several  years  continued  us  in 
 such  a  state,  can  and  will  restore  us  to  the  like  state  of  sensibility  in  another 
 world,  and  make  us  capable  there  to  receive  the  retribution  he  has  designed 
 
 dence  as  any  truth  can  have,  that  is  not  self-evident.  God  has  revealed  that  the 
 souls  of  men  should  live  for  ever.  But,  says  your  lordship,  from  this  evidence  it 
 takes  off  very  much,  if  it  depends  wholly  upon  God's  giving  that  which  of  its  own 
 nature  it  is  not  capable  of,  i.  e.  The  revelation  and  testimony  of  God  loses  much 
 of  its  evidence,  if  this  depends  wholly  upon  the  good  pleasure  of  God,  and  cannot 
 be  demonstratively  made  out  by  natural  reason,  that  the  soul  is  immaterial,  and 
 consequently  in  its  own  nature  immortal.  For  that  is  all  that  here  is  or  can  be 
 meant  by  these  words,  '  which  of  its  own  nature  it  is  not  capable  of,'  to  make  them 
 to  the  purpose.  For  the  whole  of  your  lordship's  discourse  here  is  to  prove, 
 that  the  soul  cannot  be  material,  because  then  the  evidence  of  its  being  immortal 
 would  be  very  much  lessened.  Which  is  to  say,  that  it  is  not  as  credible  upon 
 divine  revelation,  that  a  material  substance  should  be  immortal,  as  an  immaterial; 
 or,  which  is  all  one,  that  God  is  not  equally  to  be  believed,  when  he  declares,  that 
 -a  material  substance  sliall  be  immortal,  as  when  he  declares,  that  an  immaterial 
 shall  be  so;  because  the  immortality  of  a  material  substance  cannot  be  demonstrated 
 from  natural  reason. 
 
 Let  us  try  tliis  rule  of  your  lordship's  a  little  further.  God  hath  revealed,  that 
 the  bodies  men  shall  have  after  the  resurrection,  as  well  as  their  souls,  shall  live 
 to  eternity.  Does  your  lordship  believe  the  eternal  life  of  the  one  of  these  more 
 than  of  the  other,  because  you  think  you  can  prove  it  of  one  of  them  by  natural 
 reason,  and  of  tlie  other  not?  Or  can  any  one,  who  admits  of  divine  revelation  in 
 the  case,  doubt  of  one  of  them  more  than  the  other?  or  think  this  proposition  less 
 credible,  that  the  bodies  of  men,  after  the  resurrection,  shall  live  for  ever;  than 
 this,  that  the  souls  of  men  shall,  after  the  resurrection,  live  for  ever?  For  that 
 he  must  do,  if  he  thinks  either  of  them  is  less  credible  than  the  other.  If  tliis 
 be  so,  reason  is  to  be  consulted  how  far  God  is  to  be  believed,  and  the  credit  of 
 divine  testimony  must  receive  its  force  from  the  evidence  of  reason;  which  is  evi- 
 dently to  take  away  the  credibility  of  divine  revelation  in  all  supernatural  truths, 
 wherein  the  evidence  of  reason  fails.  And  how  much  such  a  principle  as  this 
 tends  to  the  support  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  or  the  promoting  of  the  Chris- 
 tian religion,  I  shall  leave  it  to  your  lordship  to  consider. 
 
 I  am  not  so  well  read  in  Hobbes  or  Spinosa  as  to  be  able  to  say,' what  were 
 their  opinions  in  this  matter.  But  possibly  there  be  those,  who  will  think  your 
 lordsliip's  authority  of  more  use  to  them  in  tlie  case,  than  those  justly  decried 
 names;  and  be  glad  to  find  your  lordship  a  patron  of  the  oracles  of  reason,  so  little 
 to  the  advantage  of  the  oracles  of  divine  revelation.  This,  at  least,  I  tliink,  may 
 be  subjoined  to  the  words  at  the  bottom  of  the  next  page*,  that  tliose  who  have 
 gone  about  to  lessen  the  credibility  of  the  articles  of  faith,  which  evidently  they 
 do,  who  say  they  are  less  credible,  because  they  cannot  be  made  out  demonstra- 
 tively by  natural  reason,  have  not  been  thougiit  to  secure  several  of  the  articles  of 
 the  Christian  faith,  especially  those  of  tlie  Trinity,  incarnation,  and  resurrection  of 
 the  body, which  are  those  upon  the  account  of  which  I  am  brought  by  your  lordship 
 into  this  dispute. 
 
 I  shall  not  trouble  the  reader  with  your  lordship's  endeavours,  in  the  following 
 words,  to  prove,  that  if  the  soul  be  not  an  immaterial  substance,  it  can  be  nothing 
 but  life;  your  very  first  words  visibly  confuting  all  that  you  allege  to  that  purpose; 
 they  aref.  If  the  soul  be  a  material  substance,  it  is  really  nothing  but  life;  which 
 is  to  say,  that  if  the  soul  be  really  a  substance,  it  is  not  really  a  substance,  but 
 really  nothing  else  but  an  affection  of  a  substance;  for  the  life,  whether  of  a  mate- 
 rial or  immaterial  substance,  is  not  the  substance  itself,  but  an  affection  of  it. 
 
 2.  You  say:):.  Although  we  think  the  separate  state  of  the  soul  after  death  is 
 sufficiently  revealed  in  the  Scripture;  yet  it  creates  a  great  difficulty  in  understai  d- 
 ing  it,  if  the  soul  be  nothing  but  life,  or  a  material  substance,  which  must  be  dis- 
 solved when  life  is  ended.     For,  if  the  soul  be  a  material  substance,  it  must  be 
 
 *  1st  Answer.  +  Ibid.  %  Ibid. 
 
360  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 to  men,  according  to  their  doings  in  this  life.  And  tlierefore  it  is  not  of  sucli 
 mighty  necessity  to  determine  one  way  or  the  other,  as  some,  over  zealous  fur 
 or  against  the  immateriality  of  the  kouI,  have  been  forward  to  make  tlie  world 
 believe.     Who,  either  on  the  one  side,  indulging  too  much  their  thoughts  im- 
 
 made  up,  as  others  are,  of  the  cohesion  of  solid  and  separate  part?,  how  minute 
 and  invisible  soever  tlicy  be.  And  what  is  it  wbicb  sbould  keep  lben»  together, 
 when  lite  is  gone.^  So  that  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  give  an  account  bow  the  soul 
 should  be  capable  of  immortality,  unless  it  be  an  immaterial  substance;  and  then 
 we  know  the  solution  and  texture  of  bodies  cannot  reach  the  soul,  being  of  a  dif- 
 ferent nature. 
 
 Let  it  be  as  hard  a  matter  as  it  will,  to  give  an  account  what  it  is  that  should 
 keep  the  parts  of  a  material  soul  together,  after  it  is  separated  from  the  body;  yet 
 it  will  be  always  as  easy  to  give  an  account  of  it,  as  to  give  an  account  what  it  is 
 which  sliall  keep  together  a  material  and  immaterial  substance.  And  yet  the  diffi- 
 culty that  there  is  to  give  an  account  of  tiiat,  1  hnpe  does  not,  with  your  lordship, 
 weaken  tjie  credibility  of  the  inseparable  union  of  soul  and  body  to  etei-nity:  and  I 
 persuade  myself,  that  the  men  of  sense,  to  whom  your  lordship  appeals  in  the  case, 
 do  not  find  their  belief  of  this  fundamental  point  much  weakened  by  that  difficult)'. 
 I  thought  heretofore  (and  by  your  lordship's  permission  would  think  so  still)  that 
 the  union  of  the  parts  of  matter,  one  with  another,  is  as  much  in  the  hands  of 
 God,  as  the  union  of  a  materia!  and  immaterial  substance;  and  that  it  does  not  take 
 oft"  very  mucli,  or  at  all,  from  the  evidence  of  immortality,  which  de])ends  on  that 
 union,  that  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  give  an  account  what  it  is  that  should  keep  them 
 together:  though  its  depenfiing  wholly  upon  the  gift  and  good  pleasure  of  God,  where 
 the  manner  creates  great  difficulty  in  the  understanding,  and  our  reason  cannot 
 discover  in  the  nature  of  things  how  it  is,  be  that  which  your  lordship  so  positively 
 says,  lessens  the  credibility  of  the  fundamental  articles  of  the  resurrection  and 
 immortality. 
 
 But,  my  lord,  to  remove  this  objection  a  little,  and  to  show  of  how  small  a  force 
 it  is  even  with  yourself;  give  me  leave  to  presume,  that  your  lordship  as  firmly 
 believes  the  immortality  of  the  body  al"ter  the  resurrection,  as  anj-  other  article  of 
 faith;  if  so,  tiien  it  being  no  easy  matter  to  give  an  account  what  it  is  that  shall 
 keep  together  the  parts  of  a  material  soul,  to  one  that  believes  it  is  material,  can 
 no  more  weaken  ilie  credil)ility  of  its  immortalil)',  than  the  like  difficulty  weakens 
 tlie  credibility  of  tlie  immoi-talily  of  the  body.  For,  when  your  lordship  shall  find 
 it  an  easy  matter  to  give  an  account  what  it  is,  besides  the  good  pleasure  of  God, 
 wiiich  siiall  keep  together  the  parts  of  our  material  i)odies  to  eternity,  or  even  soul 
 and  body,  I  doubt  not  but  any  one,  who  sliall  tbiiik  the  soul  material,  will  aUo  find 
 it  as  easy  to  give  an  account  what  it  is  that  shall  keep  those  parts  of  matter  also 
 together  to  eternity. 
 
 Were  it  not  tliat  the  warmth  of  controversj-  is  apt  to  make  men  so  far  forget,  as 
 to  take  up  those  principles  themselves  (when  the)'  will  serve  their  turn)  which 
 they  have  highly  condemned  in  others,  1  should  wonder  to  find  your  lordship  to 
 argue,  that  because  it  is  a  difficulty  to  understand  what  shall  keep  together  the 
 minute  parts  of  a  material  soul,  when  life  is  gone  ;  and  because  it  is  not  an  easy 
 matter  to  give  an  account  how  the  soul  shoulil  be  capable  of  immortality,  unless  ii 
 be  an  immaterial  substance  ;  therefore  it  is  not  so  credible,  as  if  it  were  easy  to  give 
 an  account,  by  natural  reason,  how  it  could  be.  For  to  this  it  is  that  all  this  your 
 discourse  lends,  as  is  evident  by  what  is  already  set  down  ;  and  will  be  more  fully 
 made  out  by  what  your  lordship  says  in  other  places,  though  there  needs  no  such 
 proof,  since  it  would  all  be  nothing  against  me  in  anj'  other  sense. 
 
 I  thought  your  lordship  had  in  other  places  asserted,  and  insisted  on  this  truth, 
 that  no  ])art  of  divine  revelation  was  the  less  to  be  believed,  because  the  thing  it- 
 self created  great  difficulty  in  the  understanding,  and  the  manner  of  it  was  hard  to 
 l)e  explained,  and  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  give  an  account  how  it  was.  This,  as  I 
 l:ike  it,  your  lordshij)  condemned  in  others  as  a  very  unreasonable  principle,  and 
 such  as  would  subver-t  all  the  articles  of  the  Christian  religion,  that  were  mere 
 matters  of  faith,  as  I  think  it  will  :  and  is  it  possible  that  you  should  make  use  of 
 it  here  yourself,  against  the  article  of  life  and  immortality,  that  Christ  hath  brought 
 to  light  ihroMgh  the  gospi-1,  and  neither  was  nor  could  be  made  out  by  natural  rea- 
 
Ch.  3.  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  361 
 
 mersed  altogether  in  matter,  can  allow  no  existence  to  what  is  not  material : 
 or  who,  on  the  other  side,  finding  not  cogitation  within  the  natural  powers  of 
 matter,  examined  over  and  over  again  by  the  utmost  intention  of  mind,  have 
 the  confidence  to  conclude,  that  Omnipotency  itself  cannot  give  perception 
 
 son  without  revelation?  But  you  -will  say,  you  speak  only  of  the  soul ;  and  your 
 •words  are,  That  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  give  an  account  how  the  soul  should  be 
 capable  of  immortality,  unless  it  be  an  immaterial  substance.  I  grant  it ;  but  crave 
 leave  to  say,  that  there  is  not  any  one  of  those  difficulties,  that  are  or  can  be  raised 
 about  the  manner  how  a  material  soul  can  be  immortal,  which  do  not  as  well  reach 
 the  immortality  of  the  body. 
 
 But,  if  it  were  not  so,  1  am  sure  this  principle  of  your  lordship's  would  reach 
 other  articles  of  faith,  wherein  our  natural  reason  finds  it  not  so  easy  to  give  an  ac- 
 count how  those  mysteries  are  ;  and  which,  therefore,  according  to  your  principles, 
 must  be  less  credible  than  other  articles,  that  create  less  difficulty  to  the  under- 
 standing. For  your  lordsliip  says,*  that  you  appeal  to  any  man  of  sense  whether  a 
 man  who  thought  by  his  principles  he  could  from  natural  grounds  demonstrate  the 
 immortality  of  the  soul,  the  finding  the  uncertainty  of  those  principles  he  went  upon 
 in  point  of  reason,  i.  e.  the  finding  he  could  not  certainly  prove  it  by  natural  reason, 
 doth  not  weaken  the  credibilit}'  of  that  fundamental  article,  when  it  is  considered 
 purely  as  a  matter  of  faith  ?  which,  in  effiict,  I  liumbly  conceive,  amounts  to  this, 
 that  a  proposition  divinely  revealed,  that  cannot  be  proved  by  natural  reason,  is  less 
 credible  llian  one  that  can  :  which  seems  to  me  to  come  very  little  short  of  this, 
 with  due  reverence  be  it  spoken,  that  God  is  less  to  be  believed  when  he  affirms  a 
 proposition  that  cannot  be  proved  by  natural  reason,  than  when  he  proposes  what 
 can  be  proved  by  it.  The  direct  contrary  to  which  is  my  opinion,  though  you  en- 
 deavour to  make  it  good  by  these  following  words  :+  If  the  evidence  of  faith  falls 
 so  much  sliort  of  tliat  of  reason,  it  must  needs  have  less  effect  upon  men's  minds, 
 when  the  subserviency  of  reason  is  taken  away  :  as  it  must  be  when  the  grounds  of 
 certainty  by  reason  are  vanished.  Is  it  at  all  probable,  that  he  who  finds  liis  reason 
 deceive  him  in  such  fundamental  points,  should  have  his  faith  stand  firm  and  un- 
 movable  on  the  account  of  revelation  ?  Than  which  I  think  there  are  hardly 
 plainer  words  to  be  found  out  to  declare,  that  the  credibility  of  God's  testimony  de- 
 pends on  the  natural  evidence  or  probability  of  the  things  we  receive  from  revela- 
 tion, and  rises  and  falls  with  it,  and  that  the  truths  of  God,  or  the  articles  of  mere 
 faith,  lose  so  much  of  their  credibility,  as  they  want  proof  from  reason  :  which,  if 
 true,  revelation  may  come  to  have  no  credibility  at  all.  For  if,  in  this  present  case, 
 the  credibility  of  this  proposition,  the  souls  of  men  shall  live  for  ever,  revealed  in 
 the  Scripture,  be  lessened  by  confessing  it  cannot  be  demonstratively  proved  from 
 reason  ;  though  it  be  asserted  to  be  most  highly  probable  :  must  not,  by  the  same 
 rule,  its  credibility  dwindle  away  to  nothing,  if  natural  reason  should  not  be  able  to 
 make  it  out  to  be  so  much  as  probable,  or  should  place  the  probability  from  natural 
 principles  on  the  other  side  ?  For,  if  mere  want  of  demonstration  lessens  the 
 credibility  of  any  proposition  divinely  revealed,  must  not  want  of  probability,  or 
 contrary  probability  from  natural  reason,  quite  take  away  its  credibilitj'  ?  Here  at 
 last  il  must  end,  if  in  any  one  case  the  veracity  of  God,  and  the  credibility  of  the 
 truths  we  receive  from  him  by  revelation,  be  subjected  to  the  verdicts  of  human 
 reason,  and  be  allowed  to  receive  any  accession  or  diminution  from  other  proofs, 
 or  want  of  other  proofs,  of  its  certainty  or  probability. 
 
 If  this  be  your  lordship's  way  to  promote  religion,  or  defend  its  articles,  T  know 
 not  what  argument  the  greatest  enemies  of  it  could  use  more  effectual  for  the  sub- 
 version of  those  you  have  undertaken  to  defend  ;  this  being  to  resolve  all  revelation 
 perfectly  and  purely  into  natural  reason,  to  bound  its  credibility  by  that,  and  leave 
 no  room  for  faith  in  other  things,  than  what  can  be  accounted  for  by  natural  reason 
 without  revelation. 
 
 Your  lordsiiii)|  insists  much  upon  it,  as  if  I  had  contradicted  what  I  have  said  in 
 my  essay,  by  saying^  tliat  upon  my  principles  it  cannot  be  demonstratively  proved, 
 that  it  is  an  immaterial  substance  iu  us  that  thinks,  however  probable  it  be.  He 
 that  will  be  at  the  pains  to  read  that  chapter  of  mine,  and  consider  it,  will  find, 
 
 *  2d  Answer.  f  Ibid.  |  1st  Answer.  §  Book  2.  ch.  23. 
 
 2  V 
 
3G:3  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 and  thought  to  a  substance  which  has  the  modification  of  solidity.  He  that 
 considers  how  liardly  sensation  is,  in  our  thoughts,  reconcileable  to  extended 
 matter  ;  or  existence  to  any  tiling  tliat  hatii  no  extension  at  all ;  will  confess 
 that  he  is  very  far  from  certainly  knowing  what  his  soul  is.     It  is  a  point  which 
 
 that  my  business  was  there  to  show,  tliat  it  was  no  liarderto  conceive  an  immaterial 
 than  a  matt'rial  substance  ;  and  that  from  the  ideas  of  thou);ht,and  a  power  of  moving 
 of  nirtttcr,  whicli  we  exi)erienced  in  ourselves  (ideas  originallj'  not  belonging  to  the 
 tiiatler  as  matter),  there  was  no  more  difficulty  to  conclude  tliere  was  an  immaterial 
 substance  in  us,  than  that  we  had  material  parts.  These  ideas  of  thinking,  and  power 
 of  moving  of  matter,  I  in  another  place  showed,  did  demonstratively  lead  us  to  llie 
 certain  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  an  immaterial  thinking  being,  in  wiiom  we  have 
 the  idea  of  spirit  in  the  strictest  sense  ;  in  wiiich  sense  1  also  applied  it  to  the  soul, 
 in  the  S.'Bd  cli.  of  my  essay  ;  the  easily  conceivable  possibility,  nay,  great  probability, 
 that  the  tliiiiking  substance  in  us  is  immaterial,  giving  me  sufficient  ground  for  it  : 
 in  whicli  sense  1  shall  lliink  1  may  safely  attribute  it  to  the  thinking  substance  in  us, 
 till  your  lordship  shall  have  better  proved  from  my  words,  that  it  is  impossible  it 
 should  be  imniatei-ial.  For  1  only  say,  that  it  is  possible,  i.  e.  involves  no  con- 
 tradiction, that  God,  the  omnipotent  immaterial  spirit,  should,  if  he  pleases,  give 
 to  some  parcels  of  matter,  disposed  as  he  thinks  fit,  a  power  of  thinking  and  mov- 
 ing; which  parcels  of  matter,  so  endued  witli  a  power  of  thinking  and  motion, 
 might  properly  be  called  spirits,  in  contradistinction  to  unthinking  matter,  in  all 
 wliich,  I  pi-esume,  there  is  no  manner  of  contradiction. 
 
 1  justified  my  use  of  the  word  spirit,  in  that  sense,  from  the  authorities  of  Cicero 
 and  A'irgil,  a\)idying  the  Latin  word  spiritus,  from  whence  spirit  is  derived,  to  the 
 soul  as  a  thinking  thing,  without  excluding  materiality  out  of  it.  To  which  your 
 lordship  replies,*  That  Cicero,  in  his  Tusculan  Questions,  supposes  the  soul   not 
 
 to  be  a  finer  sort  of  body,  but  of  a  different  nature  from  the  body That  he  calls 
 
 the  body  the  prison  of  the  soul and  says,  that  a  wise  man's  business  is  to  draw 
 
 off  his  soul  from  his  body.  And  then  your  lordship  concludes,  as  is  usual,  with  a 
 question,  Is  it  possible  now  to  think  so  great  a  man  looked  on  the  soul  but  as  a  mo- 
 dification of  the  body,  which  must  be  at  an  end  with  life.  Ans.  No  ;  it  is  impossible 
 that  a  man  of  so  good  sense  as  TuUy,  when  he  uses  the  word  corpus  or  body  for 
 the  gross  and  visible  jiarts  of  a  man,  which  he  acknowledges  to  be  moital,  should 
 look  on  the  soul  to  be  a  modification  of  that  body,  in  a  discourse  whei-ein  he  was 
 endeavouring  to  persuade  another  that  it  was  immortal.  It  is  to  be  acknowledged 
 that  truly  great  men,  such  as  he  was,  are  not  wont  so  manifestly  to  contradict  them- 
 selves. He  had  therefore  no  thought  concerning  the  modification  of  the  body  of  a 
 man  in  the  case  :  he  was  not  such  a  trifleras  to  examine,  whether  the  modification 
 of  the  body  of  a  man  \ias  immoi-tal,  wiien  that  body  itself  was  mortal  :  and  there- 
 fore, tiiat  which  he  reports  as  Dictearchus's  opinion,  he  dismisses  in  the  begirming 
 without  any  more  ado,  c.  II.  Bui  Cicero's  was  a  direct,  ])lain,  and  sensible  in- 
 quiry, viz.  What  the  soul  was  '  to  see  whether  from  thence  he  could  discover  its 
 immortality.  But  in  all  that  discourse  in  his  first  book  of  Tusculan  Questions, 
 where  he  lays  out  so  much  of  his  reading  and  reason,  there  is  not  one  syllable 
 showing  the  least  thought  that  the  soul  was  an  immaterial  substance  ;  but  many 
 things  directly  to  the  contrary. 
 
 Indeed,  1.  He  shuts  out  the  body,  taken  in  the  sense  he  uses  corpus  all  along,t 
 for  the  sensible  organical  \)arts  of  a  man  ;  and  is  positive  that  is  not  the  soul  :  and 
 body  in  this  sense,  taken  for  tiie  human  bodv,  lie  calls  the  prison  of  the  soul  :  and 
 says  a  wise  man,  instancing  in  Socrates  and  Cato,  is  glad  of  a  fair  opportunity  to 
 get  out  of  it.  Blithe  nowhere  says  any  sucli  thing  of  matter  :  he  calls  not  matter 
 in  general  the  prison  of  the  soul,  nor  talks  a  word  of  being  separate  from  it. 
 
 2.  Fie  concludes  that  the  soul  is  not,  like  other  things  here  below,  made  up  of  a 
 composition  of  the  elements,  c.  27. 
 
 3.  He  excludes  the  two  gross  elements, earth  and  water,  from  being  the  soul,  c.  2G. 
 So  far  he  is  clear  and  positive  :  but  beyond  this  he  is  uncertain  ;  beyond  this  he 
 
 could  not  gel  ;  for  in  some  places  he  speaks  doubtfully,  whether  the  soul  be  not  air 
 or  fire.  Anima  sit  animus,  ignisve,  nescio,  c.  25.  And  therefore  he  agrees  with 
 Panietius,  that  if  it  be  at   all  elementary,  it  is,  as  he  calls  it,  inflamraata  anima,  in- 
 
 '  1st  Answer.  t  Ch.  19,  22,  .30,  31,  &c. 
 
Ch.  :5,  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  363 
 
 seems  to  me  to  be  put  out  of  the  reach  of  oor  knowledge  :  and  he  who  will 
 give  himself  leave  to  consider  freeh',  and  look  into  the  dark  and  mtricate  part 
 of  each  hypothesis,  will  scarce  find  his  reason  able  to  determine  him  fixedly 
 for  or  against  the  soul's  materiality.     Since  on  which  side  soever  he  views 
 
 flamed  air  ;  and  for  this  he  gives  several  reasons,  c.  18,  19.  And  though  bethinks 
 it  to  be  of  a  peculiar  nature  of  its  own,  yet  he  is  so  far  from  thinking  it  immaterial, 
 that  he  says,  c.  19,  that  the  admitting  it  to  be  of  an  aerial  or  igneous  nature  will  not 
 be  inconsistent  with  any  thing  he  had  said. 
 
 That  which  he  seems  most  to  incline  to  is,  that  the  soul  w-as  not  at  all  elementary, 
 but  was  of  the  same  substance  with  the  heavens  ;  which  Aristotle,  to  distinguish 
 from  tlie  four  elements,  and  the  changeable  bodies  here  below,  wiiich  he  supposed 
 made  up  of  them,  called  quinta  essentia.  That  this  was  Tully's  opinion  is  jilain 
 from  these  words.  Ergo  animus  (qui,  ut  ego  dice,  divinus)  est,  ut  Euripides  audet 
 dicere,  Deus  ;  et  quidem,  si  Deus  aut  anima  aut  ignis  est,  idem  est  animus  hominis. 
 Nam  ut  ilia  natur.i  ccelestis  et  terra  vacat  et  bumore  ;  sic  utriusque  barum  rerum 
 humanus  animus  est  expers.  Sin  autem  est  quinta  quaedam  natura  ab  Aristotele 
 tnducta  ;  primum  bac  et  decorum  est  et  aniraorum.  Hanc  nos  sententiam  seculi, 
 his  ipsis  verbis  in  consolatione  hsec  expressimus,  ch.  29.  And  then  he  goes  on,  c.  27. 
 to  repeat  those  his  own  words,  which  your  lordship  has  quoted  out  of  him,  where- 
 in he  bad  affirmed,  in  his  treatise  De  Consolatione,  the  soul  not  to  have  its  original 
 from  the  earth,  or  to  be  mixed  or  made  of  any  thing  eartlily  ;  but  had  said  singularis 
 est  igitur  quaedam  natura  et  vis  animi,  sejuncta  ab  his  usitatis  nolisque  naturis  : 
 ■whereby  he  tells  us,  he  meant  nothing  but  Aristotle's  quinta  essentia  :  wliicb  being 
 unmixed,  being  that  of  which  the  gods  and  souls  consisted,  be  calls  it  divinum 
 coeleste,  and  concludes  it  eternal  ;  it  being,  as  he  speaks,  sejuncta  ab  omni  raortali 
 concretione.  From  which  it  is  clear,  that  in  all  his  inquiry  about  the  substance  of 
 the  soul,  his  thoughts  went  not  beyond  the  four  elements,  or  Aristotle's  quinta  es- 
 sentia, to  look  for  it.  In  all  which  there  is  nothing  of  immateriality,  but  quite  the 
 contrary. 
 
 He  was  willing  to  believe  (as  good  and  wise  men  have  always  been)  that  the  soul 
 was  inimortal  ;  but  for  that,  it  is  plain,  he  never  thought  of  its  immateriality  but  as 
 the  eastern  people  do,  who  believe  the  soul  to  be  immortal,  but  have  nevertheless 
 no  thought,  no  conception  of  its  immateriality.  It  is  remarkable  what  a  very  con- 
 siderable and  judicious  author  says  in  the  case.*  No  opinion,  says  he,  has  been  so 
 universally  received  as  that  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  ;  but  its  immateriality  is 
 a  truth,  the  knowledge  whereof  has  not  spread  so  far.  And  indeed  it  is  extremely 
 difficult  to  let  into  the  mind  of  a  Siamiie  the  idea  of  a  pure  spirit.  This  tiie  mis- 
 sionaries who  have  been  longest  among  them  are  positive  in.  AH  the  pagans  of  the 
 east  do  truly  believe,  that  there  remains  something  of  a  man  after  bis  death,  whicli 
 subsists  independently  and  separately  fi'om  his  body.  But  they  give  extension  and 
 figure  to  that  which  remains,  and  attribute  to  it  all  the  same  members,  all  the  same 
 substances,  both  solid  and  liquid,  which  our  bodies  are  composed  of.  They  only 
 suppose  that  the  souls  are  of  a  matter  subtile  enough  to  escape  being  seen  or  band- 
 led.  Such  were  the  shades  and  manes  of  the  Greeks  and  the  Romans.  And  it  is  by 
 these  figures  of  the  souls,  answerable  to  those  of  the  bodies,  that  Virgil  supposed 
 ^neas  knew  Palinurus,  Uido,  and  Anchises,  in  the  other  world. 
 
 This  gentleman  was  not  a  man  that  travelled  into  those  parts  for  his  pleasure, 
 and  to  have  the  opportunity  to  tell  strange  stories,  collected  by  chance,  when  be 
 returned:  but  one  chosen  on  purpose  (and  he  seems  well  chosen  for  the  purpose) 
 to  inquire  into  the  singularities  of  Siam.  And  he  has  so  well  acquitted  himself  of 
 the  commission,  which  his  epistle  dedicatory  tells  us  he  had,  to  inform  himself 
 exactly  of  what  was  most  remarkable  there,  that  had  we  but  such  an  account  of 
 other  countries  of  the  east  as  he  has  given  us  of  this  kingdom,  which  he  was  an  envoy 
 to,  we  should  be  much  better  acquainted  than  we  are  with  the  manners,  notions, 
 and  religions  of  that  part  of  the  world  inhabited  by  civilized  nations,  who  want 
 neither  good  sense  nor  acuteness  of  reason,  though  not  cast  into  the  mould  of  the 
 logic  and  philosophy  nf  our  schools. 
 
 But,  to  return  to  Cicero:   it  is  pl;\in,  that   in   his  inquiries  about  the   soul,  bis 
 
 *  Loubere  du  Royaume  de  Siam,  T.  I.e.  19,  §  4. 
 
364  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4 
 
 it,  either  as  an  unextended  siibstaiico,  or  as  a  tliinking  extended  matter;  the 
 difficulty  to  conceal  cither  will,  whilst  either  alone  is  in  his  thoughts,  still 
 drive  liini  to  the  contrary  side  ;  an  unfair  way  which  some  ^nen  take  witli 
 themselves,  who,  because  of  the  inconccivableness  of  sometliing  they  find  in 
 
 thoughts  went  not  at  all  beyond  matter.  Tliis,  the  expressions  that  drop  from  him 
 in  several  places  oF  tliis  book  evidently  show.  For  example,  that  the  souls  of 
 excellent  men  and  women  ascended  into  heaven;  of  others,  tiiat  tiiey  remained 
 here  on  earth,  c.  12.  That  the  soul  is  hot,  and  warms  tiie  body:  that,  at  its  leav- 
 ing the  body,  it  penetrates,  and  divides,  and  breaks  through  our  thick,  cloudy, 
 moist  air:  that  it  stops  in  the  region  of  fire,  and  ascends  no  farther;  the  equality 
 of  warmth  and  weight  making  that  its  proper  place,  where  it  is  nourished  and 
 sustained,  witli  tiie  same  things  wherewitii  tiie  stars  are  nourished  and  sustained: 
 and  tliat  by  the  convenience  of  its  neighbourhood,  it  shall  there  have  a  clearer 
 view  and  fuller  knowledge  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  c.  19.  That  the  soul  also  from 
 this  height  shall  have  a  pleasant  and  fairer  prospect  of  the  globe  of  the  earth,  the 
 disposition  of  wiiose  parts  will  then  lie  l)efore  it  in  one  view,  c.  20.  That  it  is 
 hard  to  determine  what  conformation,  size,  and  place,  the  soul  has  in  the  body: 
 tiiat  it  is  too  subtile  to  be  seen:  tiiat  it  is  in  the  human  body  as  in  a  house,  or  a 
 vessel,  or  a  receptacle,  c.  22.  All  which  are  expressions  that  sufficiently  evidence 
 that  he  who  used  them  had  not  in  his  mind  separated  materiality  from  the  idea  of 
 the  soul. 
 
 It  may  perhaps  be  replied,  that  a  great  part  of  this  which  we  find  in  chap.  19, 
 is  said  upon  the  same  principles  of  those  who  would  have  the  soul  to  be  anima  in- 
 flammata,  inflamed  air.  I  grant  it.  liut  it  is  also  to  be  observed,  that  in  this  19th, 
 and  the  two  following  cliapters,  he  does  not  only  not  deny,  but  even  admits,  that 
 so  material  a  lhin<i  as  inflamed  air  may  think. 
 
 The  truth  of  the  case  in  short  is  this:  Cicero  was  willing  to  believe  the  soul  im- 
 mortal; but  when  he  sought  in  the  nature  of  the  soul  itself  something  to  establish 
 this  his  belief  in  a  certainty  of  it,  he  found  liimself  at  a  loss.  He  confessed  lie 
 knew  not  what  tiie  soul  was;  but  the  not  knowing  what  it  was,  he  argues,  c.  22, 
 was  no  reason  to  conclude  it  was  not.  And  thereupon  he  proceeds  to  the  repeti 
 lion  of  what  he  had  said  in  his  6lli  book,  De  Repub.  concerning  the  soul.  The  ar 
 gument,  which,  borrowed  fi-om  Plato,  he  tliere  makes  use  of,  if  it  have  any  force  iit 
 it,  not  only  proves  the  soul  to  be  immortal,  but  more  tiian,  I  think,  your  lordship 
 will  allow  to  1)6  true;  for  it  proves  it  to  be  eternal  and  without  beginning,  as  well 
 as  without  end:  Neque  nafa  certe  est,  et  seterna  est,  says  he. 
 
 Indeed,  from  the  faculties  of  the  soul  he  concludes  right,  that  it  is  of  divine 
 original:  but  as  to  the  substance  of  the  soul,  he  at  the  end  of  this  discourse  con- 
 cerning its  faculties,  c.  25,  as  well  as  at  this  beginning  of  it,  c.  22,  is  not  ashamed 
 to  own  his  ignorance  of  what  it  is;  Anima  sit  animus,  ignisve,  nescio  ;  nee  me 
 ptidet,  ut  istos,  fateri  nescire  quod  nesciam.  Ulud  si  ulla  alia  de  re  obscura 
 aftirinare  pnssem,  sive  anima,  sive  ignis  sit  animus,  eura  jurarem  esse  divinum,  c. 
 25.  So  that  all  the  certainty  he  could  attain  to  about  the  soul  was  tliat  he  was 
 confident  there  was  something  divine  in  it,  i.  e.  there  were  faculties  in  the  soul  that 
 could  not  result  from  the  nature  of  matter,  but  must  have  their  original  from  a 
 divine  power;  but  yet  tiiose  qualities,  as  divine  as  they  were,  he  acknowledged 
 miglit  be  placed  in  breath  or  fire,  wliicli,  I  think,  your  lordship  will  not  deny  to  be 
 material  substances.  So  that  all  those  divine  qualities  ,  which  he  so  much  and 
 so  justlv  extols  in  the  soul,  led  him  not,  as  appears,  so  much  as  to  any  the  least 
 thought  of  immateriality.  This  is  demonstration,  that  he  built  them  not  upon  an 
 exclusion  of  materiality  out  of  the  soul;  for  he  avowedly  jirofesses  he  does  not 
 know  but  breath  or  fire  might  be  this  thinking  thing  in  us:  and  in  all  his  considera- 
 tions about  tiie  suiistance  of  the  soul  itself,  he  stuck  in  air  or  fire,  or  Aristotle's 
 (juinta  essentia;  for  beyond  those  it  is  evident  he  went  not. 
 
 But  wiiii  all  his  proofs  out  of  I'lato,  to  whose  authority  he  defers  so  much, 
 with  all  the  arguments  his  vast  reading  and  great  paits  could  furnish  him  with  for 
 tlie  immortality  of  tlie  soul,  he  was  so  little  satisfied,  so  far  from  being  certain,  so 
 far  from  any  thouglil  that  he  had,  or  could  prove  it,  that  be  over  and  over  again 
 professes  his  ignorance  and  doubt  of  it.  In  the  beginning  be  enumerates  the  several 
 opinions  of  the  philosophers,  which  he  had  well  studied,  about  it:  and  then,  full  of 
 
Ch.  3.  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  365 
 
 one,  throw  themselves  violently  into  the  contrary  hypothesis,  though  alto- 
 gether as  unintelligible  to  an  unbiassed  understanding.  This  serves  not  only  to 
 show  the  weakness  and  the  scantiness  of  our  knowledge,  but  the  insignificant 
 triumph  of  such  sort  of  arguments,  which,  drawn  from  our  own  views,  may 
 
 uncertainty,  says  Hai-um  sententlarum  quae  vera  sit,  Deus  aliquis  viderit;  quae 
 verisimillima,  magna  quxslio,  c.  11.  And  towards  the  latter  end,  having  g^one  them 
 all  over  again,  and  one  after  another  examined  them,  he  professes  himself  still  at  a 
 loss,  not  knowing  on  which  to  pitch,  nor  what  to  determine.  Mentis  acies,  says 
 he,  seipsam,  intuens,  nonnunquam  hebescit,  ob  emaqiic  causam  contemplandi  dili- 
 gentiam  amittimus.  Itaque  dubitans,  circumspectans,  htesitans,  multa  adversa  re- 
 vertens,  tanquam  in  rate  in  mari  immenso,  nostra  vehitur  oratio,  c.  30.  And  to 
 conclude  this  argument,  when  the  person  he  introduces  as  discoursing  with  him 
 tells  him  he  is  resolved  to  keep  firm  to  the  belief  of  immortality;  Tully  answers, 
 c.  32,  Laudo  id  quidem,  et  si  niliil  animis  oportet  considere:  moveraur  enira  sape 
 aliquo  acute  concluso;  labamiis,  mutamusque  sententiam  clarioribus  etiam  in  re- 
 bus; in  his  est  enim  aliqua  obscuritas. 
 
 So  immovable  is  that  truth  delivered  by  the  spirit  of  truth,  that  though  the  light 
 of  nature  gave  some  obscure  glimmering,  some  uncertain  hopes  of  a  future  state;  yet 
 human  reason  could  attain  to  no  clearness,  no  certainty  about  it,  but  that  it  was 
 Jesus  Christ  alone  wlio  had  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light  through  the 
 gospel*.  Though  we  are  now  told,  that  to  own  the  inability  of  natural  reason, 
 to  bring  immortality  to  light,  or,  which  passes  for  the  same,  to  own  principles 
 upon  which  the  immateriality  of  the  soul  (and,  as  it  is  urged,  consequently  its 
 immortality)  cannot  be  demonstratively  proved,  does  lessen  the  belief  of  tliis 
 article  of  revelation,  which  Jesus  Christ  alone  has  brought  to  light,  and 
 whieh  consequently  the  Scripture  assures  us  is  established  and  made  certain  only 
 by  revelation.  This  would  not  perhaps  have  seemed  strange,  from  those  who  are 
 justly  complained  of  for  sligliting  the  revelation  of  the  gospel,  and  therefore  would 
 not  be  much  regarded,  if  they  should  contradict  so  plain  a  text  of  Scripture,  in 
 favour  of  their  all  sufficient  reason:  but  what  use  the  promoters  of  scepticism  and 
 infidelity,  in  an  age  so  much  respected  by  your  lordship,  may  make  of  what  comes 
 from  one  of  your  great  authority  and  learning,  may  deserve  your  consideration. 
 
 And  thus,  my  lord,  I  hope,  I  have  satisfied  you  concerning  Cicero's  opinion  about 
 the  soul,  in  his  first  book  of  Tusculan  Questions:  which,  though  I  easily  believe, 
 as  your  lordship  says,  you  are  no  stranger  to,  yet  I  humbly  conceive  you  have  not 
 shown  (and,  upon  a  careful  perusal  of  tiiat  treatise  again,  I  think  I  may  boldy  say 
 you  cannot  show)  one  word  in  it,  that  expresses  any  thing  like  a  notion  in  Tully  of 
 tlie  soul's  immateriality^  or  its  being  an  immaterial  substance. 
 
 From  what  you  bring  out  of  Virgil,  your  lordship  concludes!,  that  he,  no  more 
 than  Cicero,  does  me  any  kindness  in  this  matter,  being  both  asserters  of  the  soul's 
 immortality.  My  lord,  were  not  the  question  of  the  soul's  immateriality,  according 
 to  custom,  changed  here  into  that  of  its  immortality,  which  I  am  no  less  an  asser- 
 torof  than  either  of  them,  Cicero  and  Virgil  do  me  all  the  kindness  I  desired  of 
 them  in  this  matter:  and  that  was  to  show,  that  they  attributed  the  word  spiritus 
 to  the  soul  of  man  without  any  thought  of  its  immateriality;  and  this  the  verses  you 
 yourself  bring  out  of  Virgil, 
 
 Et  cum  frigida  mors  anima  seduxerit  artus, 
 Omnibus  umbra  locis  adero,  dabis,  improbe,  pcenas; 
 
 confirm,  as  well  as  those  I  quoted  out  of  his  6th  book;  and  for  this,  Monsieur  de 
 la  Loubere  shall  be  ray  witness  in  the  words  above  set  down  out  of  him;  where 
 he  shows  that  there  be  those  among  the  heathens  of  our  days,  as  well  as  Virgil  and 
 others  among  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans,  who  thought  the  souls  or  ghosts  of 
 men  departed  did  not  die  with  the  body,  without  thinking  them  to  be  perfectly 
 immaterial  ;  the  latter  being  much  more  incomprehensible  to  them  than  the 
 former.  And  what  Virgil's  notion  of  the  soul  is,  and  that  corpus,  when  put  in 
 contradistinction  to  the  soul,  signifies  nothing  but  the  gross  tenement  of  flesh  and 
 
 *  Tim.  i.  10.  t  1st  Answer.  |  .ffineid,  vi.  385. 
 
366  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 satisfy  us  that  we  can  find  no  certainty  on  one  side  of  tlie  question  ;  but  do 
 not  at  all  thereby  help  us  to  truth  by  running  into  tlie  opposite  opinion,  wiiich, 
 on  examination,  will  be  found  dogged  with  equal  dithculties.  For  what 
 safety,  what  advantage  to  any  one  is  it,  for  the  avoiding  the  seeming  absur- 
 
 bones,  is  evident  from  this  verse  of  his  ^neid,  vi.  where  he  calls  the  souls  which 
 yet  were  visible, 
 
 Tenues  sine  corpore  viias. 
 
 Your  lordship's*  answer  concerning  what  is  said  ia  Eccles.  xii.  turns  wholly 
 upon  Solomon's  taking  the  soul  to  be  immortal,  which  was  not  what  I  questioned: 
 all  that  I  quoted  that  place  for,  was  to  show,  that  spirit  in  English  might  properly 
 be  applied  to  the  soul,  without  any  notion  of  its  immateriality,  as  nn  was  by 
 Solomon,  which,  whether  he  thought  the  souls  of  men  to  be  immaterial,  does  little 
 appear  in  that  passage,  where  he  speaks  of  the  souls  of  men  and  beasts  together, 
 as  he  does.  But  faither,  what  I  contended  for  is  evident  from  that  place,  in  that 
 the  word  spirit  is  there  applied  by  our  translators  to  the  souls  of  beasts,  which 
 your  lordship,  I  think,  does  not  rank  among  the  immaterial,  and  consequently  im- 
 mortal spirits,  though  they  have  sense  and  spontaneous  motion. 
 
 But  you  sayt,  if  the  soul  be  not  of  itself  a  free  thinking  substance,  you  do  not 
 see  what  foundation  there  is  in  nature  for  a  day  of  judgment.  Answer,  Though 
 the  heathen  world  did  not  of  old,  nor  do  to  this  day,  see  a  foundation  in  nature  for 
 a  day  of  judgment;  yet  in  revelation,  if  that  will  salisfj-  your  lordship,  every  one 
 may  see  a  foundation  for  a  day  of  judgment,  because  God  has  positively  declared 
 it;  though  God  has  not  by  that  revelation  taught  us  what  the  substance  of  the 
 soul  is;  nor  has  any  where  said,  that  the  soul  of  itself  is  a  free  agent.  Wiialso- 
 ever  any  created  substance  is,  it  is  not  of  itself,  but  is  by  tlie  good  pleasure  of  its 
 Creator:  whatever  degrees  of  perfection  it  has,  it  has  from  the  bountiful  hand  of  its 
 Maker.  For  it  is  true  in  a  natural,  as  well  as  a  spiritual  sense,  what  St  Paul  says:f. 
 Not  that  we  are  sufficient  of  ourselves  to  think  any  thing,  as  of  ourselves,  but  our 
 sufficiency  is  of  God. 
 
 But  your  lordship,  as  I  guess  by  your  following  -words,  \rould  argue,  that  a 
 material  substance  cannot  be  a  free  agent:  whereby  1  suppose  you  only  mean, 
 that  you  cannot  see  or  conceive  how  a  solid  substance  should  begin,  stop,  or 
 change  its  own  motion.  To  which,  give  me  leave  to  answer,  that  when  you 
 can  make  it  conceivable,  how  any  created,  finite,  dependent  substance  can  move 
 itself,  or  alter  or  stop  its  own  motion,  which  it  must  to  be  a  free  agent;  1  suppose 
 you  will  find  it  no  harder  for  God  to  bestow  this  power  on  a  solid  than  an  unsolid 
 created  substance.  Tully,  in  the  place  above  quoted§,  could  not  conceive  this 
 power  to  be  in  any  thing  but  what  was  from  eternity;  Cum  pateat  igitur  seter- 
 num  id  esse  quod  seipsum  moveat,  quisest  qui  banc  naturam  animis  esse  tributam 
 neget?  But  though  you  cannot  see  how  any  created  substance,  soliii  or  not  solid, 
 can  be  a  free  agent,  (pardon  me,  my  lord,  if  1  put  in  both,  till  your  lordship  please 
 to  explain  it  of  either,  and  show  the  manner  how  either  of  them  can,  of  itself, 
 move  itself  or  any  thing  else)  yet  I  do  not  think  you  will  so  far  deny  men  to  be  free 
 agents,  from  tlie  difficulty  there  is  to  see  how  they  are  free  agents,  as  to  doubt  whe- 
 ther there  be  foundation  enough  for  a  day  of  judgment. 
 
 It  is  not  for  me  to  judge  how  far  your  lordship's  speculations  reach:  but  finding 
 in  myself  notiiing  to  be  truer  than  what  wise  Solomon  tells  meU,  As  thou  knowest 
 not  what  is  the  wav  of  the  spirit,  nor  how  the  bones  do  grow  in  the  womb  of 
 her  that  is  with  child;  even  so  thou  knowest  not  the  works  of  God,  who  maketh 
 all  things;  I  gratefully  receive  and  rejoice  in  the  light  of  revelation,  which  sets 
 me  at  rest  in  many  things,  the  manner  whereof  my  poor  reason  can  by  no  means 
 make  out  to  me:  Omnipotency,  I  know,  can  do  any  thing  that  contains  in  it  no 
 contradiction  :  so  that  1  readily  believe  whatever  God  has  declared,  though  my 
 reason  find  difficulties  in  it  which  it  cannot  master.  As  in  the  present  case,  God 
 having  revealed  that  there  shall  be  a  day  of  judgment,  I  think  that  foundation 
 ciiough  to  conclude  men  are  free  enough  to  be  made  answerable  for  their  actions, 
 
 •  1st  Answer.  +  Ibid.  t  2  Cor.  iii.  5. 
 
 §  Tusculan  Quxst  1.  1.  c.  2.S.  |  Eccles.  xi.  5. 
 
Ch.  3.  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  367 
 
 dities,  and  to  him  insurmountable  rubs  he  meets  with  in  one  opinion,  tp  take 
 refuge  in  the  contrarj'^,  which  is  built  on  something  altogether  as  inexphcable, 
 and  as  far  remote  from  his  comprehension  ?  It  is  past  controversy,  that  we 
 have  in  us  something  that  thinks  ;  our  very  doubts  about  what  it  is,  confirm 
 the  certainty  of  its  being,  though  we  must  content  ourselves  in  the  ignorance 
 of  what  kind  of  being  it  is  :  and  it  is  in  vain  to  go  about  to  be  sceptical  in 
 tliis,  as  it  is  unreasonable  in  most  other  cases  to  be  positive  against  the  being 
 of  any  thing,  because  we  cannot  comprehend  its  nature.  For  I  would  fain 
 know  what  substance  exists,  that  has  not  sometliing  in  it  which  manifestly 
 baffles  our  understandings.  Other  spirits,  who  see  and  know  the  nature  and 
 inward  constitution  of  things,  how  much  must  they  exceed  us  in  knowledge? 
 To  which  if  we  add  larger  comprehension,  which  enables  them  at  one  glance 
 to  see  the  connexion  and  agreement  of  very  many  ideas,  and  readily  supphes 
 to  them  the  intermediate  proofs,  which  we,  by  single  and  slow  steps,  and 
 long  poring  in  the  dark,  hardly  at  last  find  out,  and  are  often  ready  to  forget 
 one  before  we  have  hunted  out  another ;  we  may  guess  at  some  part  of  the 
 happiness  of  superior  ranks  of  spirits,  who  have  a  quicker  and  more  penetrat- 
 ing sigiit,  as  well  as  a  larger  field  of  knowledge.  But  to  return  to  the  argu- 
 ment in  hand ;  our  knowledge,  I  say,  is  not  only  limited  to  the  paucity  and 
 /imperfections  of  the  ideas  we  have,  and  which  we  employ  it  about,  but  even 
 comes  short  of  that  too.     But  how  far  it  reaches,  let  us  now  inquire. 
 
 Sect.  7.  How  far  our  knowledge,  reaches. — The  affirmations  or  negations 
 we  make  concerning  the  ideas  we  have,  may,  as  I  have  before  intimated  in 
 general,  be  reduced  to  these  four  sorts,  viz.  identity,  coexistence,  relation, 
 and  real  existence.  I  shall  examine  how  far  our  knowledge  extends  in  each 
 of  these. 
 
 Sect.  8.  1.  Our  knowledge  of  identity  and  diversity,  as  far  as  our  ideas. 
 — First,  as  to  identity  and  diversity,  in  this  way  of  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
 ment of  our  ideas,  our  intuitive  knowledge  is  as  far  extended  as  our  ideas 
 themselves  :  and  there  can  be  no  idea  in  the  mind,  which  it  does  not  pre- 
 sently, by  an  intuitive  knowledge,  perceive  to  be  what  it  is,  and  to  be  difier- 
 ent  from  any  other. 
 
 Sect.  9.  2.  Of  coexistence,  a  very  little  way. — Secondly,  as  to  the  second 
 sort,  which  is  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  ideas  in  coexistence ;  in 
 this  our  knowledge  is  very  short,  though  in  this  consists  the  greatest  and 
 most  material  part  of  our  knowledge  concerning  substances.  For  our  ideas 
 of  the  species  of  substances  being,  as  I  have  shown,  nothing  but  certain  col- 
 
 and  to  receive  according  to  what  they  have  done;  though  how  man  is  a  free  agent, 
 surpasses  my  explication  or  comprehension. 
 
 In  answer  to  tlie  place  I  brought  out  of  St  Luke,*  your  lordship  asks,f 
 Whether  from  these  words  of  our  Saviour  it  follows,  that  a  spirit  is  only  an  ap- 
 pearance? I  answer.  No;  nor  do  I  know  who  drew  such  an  inference  from  them: 
 but  it  follows,  fliat  in  apparitions  there  is  something  that  appears,  and  that  which 
 appears  is  not  wliolly  immaterial;  and  yet  tliis  was  properly  called  Trvvjfjix,  and 
 was  often  looked  upon  by  those  who  called  it  -Trvivy.^  in  Greek,  and  now  call  it  spi- 
 rit in  English,  to  be  the  ghost  or  soul  of  one  departed;  which  I  humbly  conceive 
 justifies  my  use  of  the  word  spirit,  for  a  thinking  voluntary  agent,  whether  mate- 
 rial or  immaterial. 
 
 Your  lordsliip  says,:j:  that  I  grant,  that  it  cannot  upon  these  principles  be  de- 
 monstrated, that  the  spiritual  substance  in  us  is  immaterial:  from  whence  you  con- 
 clude, that  then  my  grounds  of  certainty  from  ideas  are  plainly  given  up.  This 
 being  a  way  of  arguing  which  you  often  make  use  of,  I  have  often  had  occasion  to 
 consider  it,  and  cannot  after  all  see  the  force  of  this  argument.  I  acknowledge 
 that  this  or  that  proposition  cannot  upon  my  principles  be  demonstrated;  ergo,  I 
 grant  this  proposition  to  be  false,  that  certainty  consists  in  the  perception  of  the 
 agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas.  For  that  is  ray  ground  of  certainty,  and  till 
 that  be  given  up,  my  grounds  of  certainty  are  not  given  up. 
 
 *  Chj  xsiv.  V.  32.  f  1st  Answer  %  Ibid. 
 
368  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4, 
 
 Icctiona  of  simple  ideas  united  in  one  subject,  and  so  coexisting' together ; 
 V.  g.  OOT  idea  of  flame  is  a  body  hot,  luminous,  and  nioviiiif  upward  ;  of  gold, 
 a  body  heavy  to  a  certain  de<rree,  yellow,  malleable,  ami  fusible :  these,  or 
 some  such  complex  ideas  as  these  in  men's  minds,  do  those  two  names  of  the 
 different  substances,  flame  and  gold,  stand  for.  When  we  would  know  any 
 thing  farther  concerning  these,  or  any  other  sort  of  substances,  what  do  we  in- 
 quire, but  what  other  qualities  or  powers  these  substances  have  or  have  not'? 
 Which  is  nothing  else  but  to  know  what  other  simple  ideas  do  or  do  not 
 coexist  with  those  that  make  up  that  complex  idea. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Because  the  connexion  between  most  simple  ideas  is  unknown, 
 — This,  how  weighty  and  considerable  a  part  soever  of  human  science,  is  yet 
 very  narrow,  and  scarce  any  at  all.  The  reason  whereof  is,  that  the  simple 
 ideas,  whereof  our  complex  ideas  of  substances  are  made  up,  are,  for  the  most 
 part,  such  as  carry  with  them,  in  their  own  nature,  no  visible  necessary  con- 
 nexion or  inconsistency  with  any  other  simple  ideas,  whose  coexistence  with 
 them  we  would  inform  ourselves  about. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Especially  of  secondary  qualities. — The  ideas  that  our  complex 
 ones  of  substances  are  made  up  of,  and  about  which  our  knowledge  concern- 
 ing substances  is  most  employed,  are  those  of  their  secondary  qualities  ; 
 which  depending  all  (as  has  been  shown)  upon  the  primary  qualities  of  their 
 minute  and  insensible  parts, — or  if  not  upon  them,  upon  something  yet  more 
 remote  from  our  comprehension, — it  is  impossible  we  should  know  which 
 have  a  necessary  union  or  inconsistency  one  with  another:  for  not  knowing 
 the  root  they  spring  from,  not  knowing  what  size,  figure,  and  texture  of  parts 
 they  are,  on  which  depend,  and  from  which  result,  those  qualities  which  make 
 our  complex  idea  of  gold  ;  it  is  impossible  we  should  know  what  other  quali- 
 ties result  from,  or  are  incompatible  with,  the  same  constitution  of  the  insen- 
 sible parts  of  gold,  and  so  consequently  must  always  coe.xist  with  that  com- 
 plex idea  we  have  of  it,  or  else  are  inconsistent  with  it. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Because  all  connexion  between  any  secondary  and  primary 
 qualities  is  undiscoverable. — Besides  this  ignorance  of  the  primary  qualities 
 of  the  insensible  parts  of  bodies,  on  which  depend  all  their  secondary  quali- 
 ties, there  is  yet  another  and  more  incurable  part  of  ignorance,  which  sets 
 us  more  remote  from  a  certain  knowledge  of  the  coexistence  or  incoexistence 
 (if  I  may  so  say)  of  different  ideas  in  the  same  subject  ;  and  that  is,  that 
 there  is  no  discoverable  connexion  between  any  secondary  quality  and  those 
 primary  qualities  which  it  depends  on. 
 
 Sect.  13.  That  the  size,  figure,  and  motion  of  one  body  should  cause  a 
 change  in  the  size,  figure,  and  motion  of  another  body,  is  not  beyond  our 
 conception  :  the  separation  of  the  parts  of  one  body  upon  the  intrusion  of 
 another,  and  the  change  from  rest  to  motion  upon  impulse, — these  and  the 
 like  seem  to  us  to  have  some  connexion  one  with  another.  And  if  we  knew 
 these  primary  qualities  of  bodies,  we  might  have  reason  to  hope  we  might  be 
 able  to  know  a  great  deal  more  of  these  operations  of  them  one  upon  another  : 
 but  our  minds  not  being  able  to  discover  any  connexion  betwixt  those  primary 
 qualities  of  bodies  and  the  sensations  that  are  produced  in  us  by  them,  we  can 
 never  be  able  to  establish  certain  and  undoubted  rules  of  the  consequences  or 
 coexistence  of  any  secondary  qualities,  though  we  could  discover  the  size, 
 figure,  or  motion  of  those  invisible  parts  which  immediately  produce  them. 
 We  are  so  far  from  knowing  what  figure,  size,  or  motion  of  parts  produce  a 
 yellow  colour,  a  sweet  taste,  or  a  sharp  sound,  that  we  can  by  no  means  con- 
 ceive how  any  size,  figure,  or  motion  of  any  particles,  can  possibly  produce 
 in  us  the  idea  of  any  colour,  taste,  or  sound  whatsoever;  there  is  no  con- 
 ceivable connexion  between  the  one  and  the  other. 
 
 Sect.  14.  In  vain,  therefore,  shall  we  endeavour  to  discover  by  our  ideas 
 (the  only  true  way  of  certain  and  universal  knowledge)  what  other  ideas  are 
 to  be  found  constantly  joined  with  tliat  of  our  complex  idea  of  any  substance : 
 since  wc  neither  know  the  real  constitution  of  the  mimite  parts  on  which  their 
 qualities  do  depend,  nor,  did  we  know  them,  could  we  discover  any  neces- 
 
CI:.  3.  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  369 
 
 eary  connexion. between  them  and  any  of  the  secondary  qualities  :  which  is 
 necessary  to  be  done  before  we  can  certainly  know  their  necessary  coexis- 
 tence. tSo  that,  let  our  complex  idea  of  any  species  of  substances  be  what  it 
 will,  we  can  hardly,  from  the  simple  ideas  contained  in  it,  certainly  deter- 
 mine the  necessary  coexistence  of  any  other  quality  whatsoever.  Our  know- 
 ledge in  all  these  inquiries  reaches  very  little  farther  than  our  experience. 
 Indeed,  some  few  of  the  primary  qualities  have  a  necessary  dependence  and 
 visible  connexion  one  with  another,  as  figure  necessarily  supposes  extension  ; 
 receiving  or  communicating  motion  by  impulse,  supposes  solidity.  But 
 though  tliese  and  perhaps  some  other  of  our  ideas  have,  yet  there  are  so  few 
 of  them  that  have  a  visible  connexion  one  with  another,  that  we  can  by  intu- 
 ition or  demonstration  discover  the  coexistence  of  very  few  of  the  qualities  that 
 are  to  be  found  united  in  substances  :  and  we  are  left  only  to  the  assistance 
 of  our  senses,  to  make  known  to  us  what  qualities  they  contain.  For  of  all 
 the  qualities  that  are  coexistent  in  any  subject,  without  this  dependence  and 
 evident  connexion  of  tlieir  ideas  one  with  another,  we  cannot  know  certainly 
 any  two  to  coexist  any  farther  than  experience,  by  our  senses,  informs  up. 
 Thus,  though  we  see  the  yellow  colour,  and  upon  trial  find  the  weight,  mal- 
 leableness,  fusibility,  and  fixedness,  that  are  united  in  a  piece  of  gold ;  yet 
 because  no  one  of  these  ideas  has  any  evident  dependence,  or  necessary  con- 
 nexion with  the  other,  we  cannot  certainly  know,  that  where  any  four  of 
 tliese  are,  the  fifth  will  be  there  also,  how  highly  probable  soever  it  may  be  ; 
 because  the  highest  probability  amounts  not  to  certainty,  without  which  there 
 can  be  no  true  knowledge.  For  this  coexistence  can  be  no  farther  known 
 than  it  is  perceived  ;  and  it  cannot  be  perceived  but  either  in  particular  sub- 
 jects, by  the  observation  of  our  senses,  or  in  general,  by  the  necessary  con- 
 nexion of  the  ideas  themselves. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Of  repugnancy  to  coexist,  larger. — As  to  the  incompatibility 
 or  repugnancy  to  coexistence ;  we  may  know  that  any  subject  may  have 
 of  each  sort  of  primary  qualities  but  one  particular  at  once  ;  v.  g.  each  par- 
 ticular extension,  figure,  number  of  parts,  motion,  excludes  all  other  of  each 
 kind.  The  like  also  is  certain  of  all  sensible  ideas  peculiar  to  each  sense ;  for 
 whatever  of  each  kind  is  present  in  any  subject,  excludes  all  other  of  that  sort ; 
 V.  g.  no  one  subject  can  have  two  smells  or  two  colours  at  the  same  time. 
 To  this  perhaps  will  be  said,  has  not  an  opal,  or  the  infusion  of  lignum  ne- 
 phriticum,  two  colours  at  the  same  tima  ?  To  which  I  answer,  that  these 
 bodies,  to  eyes  differently  placed,  may,  at  the  same  time,  alford  different  co- 
 lours ;  but  I  take  liberty  also  to  say,  that  to  eyes  differently  placed,  it  is  dif- 
 ferent parts  of  the  object  that  reflect  the  particles  of  light ;  and  therefore  it  is 
 not  the  same  part  of  the  object,  and  so  not  the  very  same  subject,  which  at 
 the  same  time  appears  both  yellow  and  azure.  For  it  is  as  impossible  that 
 the  very  same  particle  of  any  body  should  at  the  same  time  diff'erently  modify 
 or  reflect  the  rays  of  light,  as  that  it  should  have  two  different  figures  and 
 textures  at  the  same  time. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Of  the  coexistence  of  powers,  a  very  little  way. — But  as  to  the 
 powers  of  substances  to  change  the  sensible  qualities  of  other  bodies,  which 
 make  a  great  part  of  our  inquiries  about  them,  and  is  no  inconsiderable  branch 
 of  our  knowledge  ;  I  doubt,  as  to  these,  whether  our  knowledge  reaches  much 
 farther  than  our  experience  ;  or  whether  we  can  come  to  the  discovery  of 
 most  of  these  powers,  and  be  certain  that  they  are  in  any  subject,  by  the  con- 
 nexion of  any  of  those  ideas  which  to  us  make  its  essence.  Because  the  ac- 
 tive and  passive  powers  of  bodies,  and  their  ways  of  operating,  consisting  in 
 a  texture  and  motion  of  parts,  which  we  cannot  by  any  means  come  to  dis- 
 cover ;  it  is  but  in  very  few  cases  we  can  be  able  to  perceive  their  dependence 
 on,  or  repugnance  to,  any  of  those  ideas,  which  make  our  complex  one  of  that 
 sort  of  things.  I  have  liere  instanced  in  the  corpuscularian  hypothesis,  as 
 that  which  is  thought  to  go  farthest  in  an  intelligible  explication  of  those 
 qualities  of  bodies  ;  and  I  fl-ar  the  weakness  of  human  understandnig  is  scarce 
 able  to  substitute  another,  which  will  afibrd  us  a  fuller  and  clearer  discovery 
 2  W 
 
870  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 of  the  necessary  connexion  and  coexistence  of  the  powers  ^vhich  are  to  be 
 observed  united  in  several  sorts  of  them.  This  at  least  is  certain,  that  which- 
 ever hypothesis  be  clearest  and  truest,  (for  of  that  it  is  not  my  business  to  de- 
 termine) our  knowledge  concerning  corporeal  substances  will  be  very  little 
 advanced  by  any  of  them,  till  we  are  made  to  see  what  qualities  and  powers 
 of  bodies  have  a  necessary  connexion  and  repugnancy  one  with  another  ; 
 which  in  the  present  state  of  philosophy,  1  think  we  know  but  to  a  very  small 
 degree :  and  1  doubt  whether,  with  those  faculties  we  have,  we  shall  ever  be 
 able  to  carry  our  general  knowledge  (I  say  not  particular  experience)  in 
 this  part  much  farther.  Experience  is  that  which  in  this  part  we  must 
 depend  on.  And  it  were  to  be  wished  that  it  were  more  improved.  We 
 find  the  advantages  some  men's  generous  pains  have  this  way  brought  to  the 
 stock  of  natural  knowledge.  And  if  others,  especially  the  philosophers  by  fire, 
 who  pretend  to  it,  had  been  so  wary  in  their  observations,  and  sincere  in  their 
 reports,  as  those  who  call  themselves  philosophers  ought  to  have  been,  our 
 acquaintance  with  the  bodies  here  about  us,  and  our  insight  into  their  powers 
 and  operations,  had  been  yet  much  greater. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Of  spirits,  yet  narrower. — If  we  are  at  a  loss  in  respect  of  the 
 powers  and  operations  of  bodies,  I  think  it  is  easy  to  conclude,  we  are  njuch 
 more  in  the  dark  in  reference  to  the  spirits  ;  whereof  we  naturally  have  no 
 ideas  but  what  we  draw  from  that  of  our  own,  by  reflecting  on  the  operations 
 of  our  own  souls  within  us,  as  far  as  they  can  come  within  our  observation. 
 But  how  inconsiderable  a  rank  the  spirits  that  inhabit  our  bodies  hold  among 
 those  various  and  possibly  innumerable  kinds  of  nobler  beings  ;  and  how  far 
 short  they  come  of  the  endowments  and  perfections  of  cherubnn  and  seraphim, 
 and  infinite  sorts  of  spirits  above  us  ;  is  what  by  a  transient  hint  in  another 
 place,  I  have  offered  to  my  reader's  consideration. 
 
 Sect.  18.  3.  Of  other  relatiotis,  it  is  not  easy  to  say  how  far. — As  to  the 
 third  sort  of  our  knowledge,  viz.  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  of 
 our  ideas  in  any  other  relation  :  this,  as  it  is  the  largest  field  of  our  know- 
 ledge, so  it  is  hard  to  determine  how  far  it  may  extend  ;  because  the  ad- 
 vances that  are  made  in  this  part  of  knowledge,  depending  on  our  sagacity 
 in  finding  intermediate  ideas,  that  may  show  the  relations  and  habitudes  of 
 ideas,  whose  coexistence  is  not  considered,  it  is  a  hard  matter  to  tell 
 when  we  are  at  an  end  of  such  discoveries ;  and  when  reason  has  all  the 
 helps  it  is  capable  of,  for  the  finding  of  proofs,  or  examining  the  agreement 
 or  disagreement  of  remote  ideas.  They  that  are  i/rnorant  of  algebra  cannot 
 imagine  the  wonders  in  this  kind  are  to  be  done  by  it :  and  what  farther  im- 
 provements and  helps,  advantageous  to  other  parts  of  knowledge  the  saga- 
 cious mind  of  man  may  yet  find  out,  it  is  not  easy  to  determine.  This  at 
 least  I  believe,  that  the  ideas  of  quantity  are  not  those  alone  that  are  capa- 
 ble of  demonstration  and  knowledge  ;  and  that  other,  and  perhaps  more  useful 
 parts  of  contemplation,  would  afford  us  certainty,  if  vices,  passions,  and  dom- 
 ineering interest  did  not  oppose  or  menace  such  endeavours. 
 
 Morality  capable  of  demonstration. — The  idea  of  a  Supreme  Being,  infi- 
 nite in  power,  goodness,  and  wisdom,  whose  workmanship  we  are,  and  on 
 whom  we  depend  ;  and  the  idea  of  ourselves,  as  understanding  rational  beings, 
 being  such  as  are  clear  in  us,  would,  I  suppose,  if  duly  considered  and  pur- 
 sued, afford  such  foundations  of  our  duty  and  rules  of  action,  as  mijght  place 
 morality  among  the  sciences  capable  of  demonstration  :  wherein  I  doubt  not 
 but  from  self-evident  propositions,  by  necessary  consequences,  as  incontesti- 
 ble  as  those  in  mathematics,  the  measures  of  right  and  wrong  might  be  made 
 out  to  any  one  that  will  apply  himself  with  the  same  indiiferency  and  atten- 
 tion to  the  one,  as  he  does  to  the  other  of  these  sciences.  The  relation  of 
 other  modes  may  certainly  be  perceived,  as  well  as  those  of  number  and  ex- 
 tension ;  and  I  cannot  see  why  they  should  not  also  be  capable  of  demonstra- 
 tion, if  due  methods  were  thought  on  to  examine  or  pursue  their  agreement 
 or  disagreement.  Where  there  is  no  property,  there  is  no  injustice,  is  a  pro- 
 jjosition  as  certain  as  any  demonstration  in  Euclid :  for  the  idea  of  property 
 being  a  right  to  any  thing  ;  and  the  idea  to  which  the  name  injustice  is  given 
 
Ch.  3  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  .    371 
 
 being  the  invasion  or  violation  of  that  right ;  it  is  evident  that  these  ideas 
 being  thus  established,  and  these  names  annexed  to  them,  I  can  as  certainly 
 know  this  proposition  to  be  true,  as  that  a  triangle  has  three  angles  equal  to 
 two  right  ones.  Again,  "  no  government  allows  absolute  liberty  :"  the  idea 
 of  government  being  the  establishment  of  society  upon  certain  rules  or  laws 
 wluch  require  conformity  to  them  ;  and  the  idea  of  absolute  liberty  being  for 
 any  one  to  do  whatever  he  pleases  ;  I  am  as  capable  of  being  certain  of  the 
 truth  of  this  proposition,  as  of  any  in  the  mathematics. 
 
 Sect.  19.  Two  things  have  made  moral  ideas  thought  incapable  of  de- 
 monstration: their  complexedness,  and  want  of  sensible  representations. — 
 That  which  in  this  respect  has  given  the  advantage  to  the  ideas  of  quantity, 
 and  made  them  thought  more  capable  of  certainty  and  demonstration,  is, 
 
 First,  That  they  can  be  set  down  and  represented  by  sensible  marlis,  wliich 
 have  a  greater  and  nearer  correspondence  with  them  than  any  v.jrds  or 
 sounds  whatsoever.  Diagrams  drawn  on  paper  are  copies  of  the  ideas  in 
 the  mind,  and  not  liable  to  the  uncertainty  that  words  carry  in  their  significa- 
 tion. An  angle,  circle,  or  square,  drawn  in  lines,  lies  open  to  the  view,  and 
 cannot  be  mistaken  ;  it  remains  unchangeable,  and  may  at  leisure  be  consid- 
 ered and  examined,  and  the  demonstration  be  revised,  and  all  the  parts  of  it 
 may  be  gone  over  more  than  once  without  any  danger  of  the  least  change  in 
 the  ideas.  This  cannot  be  thus  done  in  moral  ideas  ;  we  have  no  sensible 
 marks  that  resemble  them,  whereby  we  can  set  them  down  ;  we  have  nothing 
 but  words  to  express  them  by  :  which  though,  when  \\Titten,  they  remain 
 the  same,  yet  the  ideas  they  stand  for  may  change  in  the  same  man ;  and  it 
 is  very  seldom  that  they  are  not  ditferent  in  different  persons. 
 
 Secondly,  Another  thing  that  makes  the  greater  difficulty  in  ethics  is,  that 
 moral  ideas  are  commonly  more  complex  than  those  of  the  figures  ordinarily 
 considered  in  mathematics.  From  whence  these  two  inconveniences  fol- 
 low :  first,  that  their  names  are  of  more  uncertain  signification,  the  precise 
 collection  of  simple  ideas  they  stand  for  not  being  so  easily  agreed  on,  and 
 so  the  sign  that  is  used  for  them  in  commmiication  always,  and  in  thinking 
 often,  does  not  steadily  carry  with  it  the  same  idea.  Upon  which  the  same 
 disorder,  confusion,  and  error  follow,  as  would  if  a  man,  going  to  demon- 
 strate something  of  an  heptagon,  should,  in  the  diagram  he  took  to  do  it, 
 leave  out  one  of  the  angles,  or  by  oversight  make  the  figure  with  one  angle 
 more  than  the  name  ordinarily  imported,  or  he  intended  it  should,  when  at 
 first  he  thought  of  his  demonstration.  This  often  happens,  and  is  hardly 
 avoidable  in  very  complex  moral  ideas,  where  the  same  name  being  retained, 
 one  angle,  i.  e.  one  simple  idea  is  left  out  or  put  in  the  complex  one  (still 
 called  by  the  same  name)  more  at  one  time  than  another.  Secondly,  from 
 the  complexedness  of  the  moral  ideas,  there  follows  another  inconvenience, 
 \'iz.  that  the  mind  cannot  easily  retain  those  precise  combinations,  so  exactly 
 and  perfectly  as  is  necessary  in  the  examination  of  the  habitudes  and  corres- 
 pondences, agreements  or  disagreements,  of  several  of  them  one  with  an- 
 other ;  especially  where  it  is  to  be  judged  of  by  long  productions,  and  the 
 inter\'ention  of  several  other  complex  ideas,  to  show  the  agreement  or  dis- 
 agreement of  two  remote  ones. 
 
 The  great  help  against  this  which  mathematicians  find  in  diagrams  and 
 figures,  which  remain  unalterable  in  their  draughts,  is  very  apparent,  and  the 
 memory  would  often  have  great  difficulty  otherwise  to  retain  them  so  exactly, 
 whilst  the  mind  went  over  the  parts  of  them,  step  by  step,  to  examine  their 
 several  correspondences.  And  though  in  casting  up  a  long  sum  either  in  ad- 
 dition, multiplication,  or  division,  every  part  be  only  a  progression  of  the 
 mind,  taking  a  view  of  its  ovm  ideas,  and  considering  the  agreement  or  dis- 
 agreement ;  and  the  resolution  of  the  question  be  nothing  but  the  result  of 
 the  whole,  made  up  of  such  particulars,  whereof  the  mind  has  a  clear  per- 
 ception :  yet  without  setting  down  the  several  parts  by  marks,  whose  pre- 
 cise significations  are  known,  and  by  marks  that  last  and  remain  in  view 
 when  the  memory  had  let  them  go,  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  carry  so 
 
372  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 many  difTerent  ideas  in  the  mind,  without  confounding  or  letting  slip  some 
 parts  of  the  reckoning-,  and  thereby  making  all  our  reasonings  about  it  useless. 
 In  which  case,  the  ciphers  or  marks  help  not  the  mind  at  all  to  perceive  the 
 agreement  of  any  two  or  more  numbers,  their  equalities  or  proportions :  that 
 the  mind  has  only  by  intuition  of  its  own  ideas  of  the  numbers  themselves. 
 But  the  numerical  characters  are  helps  to  the  memory,  to  record  and  retain 
 the  several  ideas  about  which  the  demonstration  is  made,  whereby  a  man 
 may  know  how  far  his  intuitive  knowledge,  in  surveying  several  of  the  par- 
 ticulars, has  proceeded;  that  so  he  may  without  confusion  go  on  to  what  is 
 yet  unknown,  and  at  last  have  in  one  view  before  him  the  result  of  alLhis 
 perceptions  and  reasonings. 
 
 Sect.  20.  Remedies  of  those  difficulties. — One  part  of  these  disadvan- 
 tages in  moral  ideas,  whicii  has  made  them  be  thought  not  capable  of  de- 
 monstration, may  in  a  good  measure  be  remedied  by  definitioiB,  setting  down 
 that  collection  of  simple  ideas,  which  every  term  shall  stand  for,  and  then 
 using  the  terms  steadily  and  constantly  for  that  precise  collection.  And 
 what  methods  algebra,  or  somethinsf  of  that  kind,  may  hereafler  suggrcst,  to 
 remove  the  other  difficulties,  it  is  not  easy  to  foretell.  Confident  I  am,  that 
 if  men  would  in  the  same  method,  and  with  tlie  same  indifferency,  search 
 after  moral,  as  they  do  mathematical  truths,  they  would  iind  them  have  a 
 stronger  connexion  one  with  another,  and  a  more  necessary  consequence  from 
 our  clear  and  distinct  ideas,  and  to  come  nearer  perfect  demonstration  than 
 is  commonly  imagined.  But  much  of  this  is  not  to  be  expected,  whilst  the 
 desire  of  esteem,  riches,  or  power,  makes  men  espouse  the  well-endowed 
 opinions  in  fashion,  and  then  seek  arguments  either  to  make  good  their 
 beauty,  or  varnish  over  and  cover  their  deformity  :  nothing  being  so  beautiful 
 to  the  eye  as  truth  is  to  the  mind  ;  nothing  so  deformed  and  irreconcileable 
 to  the  understanding  as  a  lie.  For  though  many  a  man  can  with  satisfaction 
 en<)ugh  own  a  no  very  handsome  wife  in  his  bosom ;  yet  who  is  bold  enough 
 openly  to  avow,  that  he  has  espoused  a  falsehood,  and  received  into  his 
 breast  so  ugly  a  thing  as  a  lie?  Whilst  the  parties  of  men  cram  their  tenets 
 down  all  men's  throats,  whom  they  can  get  into  their  power,  witliout  permit- 
 ting them  to  examine  their  truth  or  falsehood,  and  will  not  let  truth  have  fair 
 play  in  the  world,  nor  men  the  liberty  to  search  after  it,  what  improvements 
 can  be  expected  of  this  kind  ?  What  greater  light  can  be  hoped  for  in  the 
 moral  sciences  ?  The  subject  part  of  mankind,  in  most  places  might,  instead 
 thereof,  with  Egyptian  bondage  expect  Egyptian  darkness,  were  not  tiie  can- 
 dle of  the  Lord  set  up  by  himself  in  men's  minds,  which  it  is  impossible  for 
 the  breath  or  power  of  man  wholly  to  extinguish. 
 
 Sect.  21.  4.  Of  real  existence  ;  we  have  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  our 
 own;  demonstrative,  of  God's  ;  sensitive,  of  some  few  other  things. — As  to 
 the  fourth  sort  of  our  knowledge,  viz.  of  the  real  actual  existence  of  things, 
 we  have  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  our  own  existence  ;  and  a  demonstrative 
 knowledge  of  the  existence  of  a  God  ;  of  the  existence  of  any  thing  else,  we 
 have  no  other  but  a  sensitive  knowledge,  which  extends  not  beyond  the  ob- 
 jects present  to  our  senses. 
 
 Sect.  22.  Our  ignorance  great. — Our  knowledge  being  so  narrow,  as  I 
 have  showed,  it  will  perliaps  give  us  some  light  into  the  present  state  of  our 
 minds,  if  we  look  a  little  into  the  dark  side,  and  take  a  view  of  our  ignorance  ; 
 which,  being  infinitely  larger  than  our  knowledge,  may  serve  much  to  the 
 quieting  of  disputes,  and  improvement  of  useful  knowledge;  if  discovering 
 how  far  we  have  clear  and  distinct  ideas,  we  confine  our  thoughts  within  the 
 contemplation  of  those  things  that  are  within  the  reach  of  our  understandings, 
 and  launch  not  out  into  that  abyss  of  darkness  (where  we  have  riot  eyes  to 
 see,  nor  faculties  to  perceive  any  thing)  out  of  a  presumption  that  nothing  is 
 beyond  our  comprehension.  But  to  be  satisfied  of  the  folly  of  such  a  con- 
 ceit we  need  not  go  far.  He  that  knows  any  thing,  know  this  in  the  first 
 place,  that  he  need  not  seek  long  for  instances  of  his  ignorance.  The  mean- 
 est and  most  obvious  things  that  come  in  our  way  have  dark  eidts,  that  the 
 
Ch.  3.  EXTENT  OF  HflMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  373 
 
 quickest  sight  cannot  penetrate  into.  The  clearest  and  most  enlarged  un- 
 derstandings of  thinking  men  find  themselves  puzzled,  and  at  a  loss,  in  every 
 particle  of  matter.  We  shall  the  less  wonder  to  find  it  so,  when  we  consid- 
 er the  causes_o£  our.ignoxance  ;  which,  from  what  has  been  said,  I  suppose, 
 will  be  found  to  be  these  three  : 
 First,  Want  of  ideas. 
 
 Secondly,  Want  of  a  discoverable  connexion  between  the  ideas  we  have.  • 
 Thirdly.  Want  of  tracing  and  examining  our  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  23.  First,  one  cause  of  it,  want  of  ideas,  either  such  as  we  have  no 
 conception  of,  or  such  as  particularly  we  have  not. — First,  There  are  some 
 things,  and  those  not  a  few,  that  we  are  ignorant  of,  for  want  of  ideas. 
 
 First ;  all  the  simple  ideas  we  have  are  confined  (as  I  have  shown)  to  those 
 we  receive  from  corporeal  objects  by  sensation,  and  from  the  operations  of 
 our  own  minds  as  the  objects  of  reflection.  But  how  much  these  few  and 
 narrow  inlets  are  disproportionate  to  the  vast  whole  extent  of  all  beings,  will 
 not  be  hard  to  persuade  those,  who  are  not  so  foolish  as  to  think  their  span 
 the  measure  of  all  things.  What  other  simple  ideas  it  is  possible  the  crea- 
 tures in  other  parts  of  the  universe  may  have,  by  the  assistance  of  senses  and 
 faculties  more,  or  perfecter,  than  we  have,  or  different  from  ours,  it  is  not  for 
 us  to  determine.  But  to  say  or  think  there  are  no  such,  because  we  conceive 
 nothing  of  them,  is  no  better  an  argument,  than  if  a  blind  man  should 
 be  positive  in  it,  that  there  was  no  such  thing  as  sight  and  colours,  because 
 he  had  no  manner  of  idea  of  any  such  thing,  nor  could  by  any  means  frame  to 
 himself  any  notions  about  seeing.  The  ignorance  and  darkness  that^s  in  us, 
 no  more  hinders  nor  confines  the  knowledge  that  is  in  others,  than  the  blind- 
 ness of  a  mole  is  an  argument  against  the  quick-sightedness  of  an  eagle.  He 
 that  will  consider  the  infinite  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness  of  tfie  Creator  of 
 all  things,  will  find  reason  to  think  it  was  not  all  laid  out^opon  so  incon- 
 siderable, mean,  and  impotent  a  creature,  as  he  will  find  man'  to  be  ;  who,  in 
 all  probability,  is  one  of  the  lowest  of  all  intellectual  beings,  i  What  faculties 
 therefore  other  species  of  creatures  have,  to  penetrate  intp  the  nature  and 
 mmost  constitution  of  things  ;  what  ideas  they  may  receiv^  from  them,  far 
 different  from  ours ;  we  know  not.  This  we  know,  and  certainly  find,  that 
 we  want  several  other  views  of  them,  besides  those  we  ha/e,  to  make  discov- 
 eries of  them  more  perfect.  And  we  may  be  convinced  mat  the  ideas  we  can 
 attain  to  by  our  faculties,  are  very  disproportionate  to  things  themselves, 
 when  a  positive,  clear,  distinct  one  of  substance  itself,  which  is  the  founda- 
 tion of  all  the  rest,  is  concealed  from  us.  But  want  of  ideas  of  this  kind 
 being  a  part,  as  well  as  cause  of  our  ignorance,  cannot  be  described.  Only 
 this,  1  think,  I  may  confidently  say  of  it,  that  the  intellectual  and  sensible 
 world  are  in  this  perfectly  alike  ;  that  that  part  which  we  see  of  either  of 
 them,  holds  no  proportion  with  what  we  see  not ;  and  whatsoever  we  can 
 reach  with  our  eyes,  or  our  thoughts,  of  either  of  them,  is  but  a  point,  almost 
 nothing  in  comparison  of  the  rest. 
 
 Sect.  24.  Because  of  their  remoteness;  or,  Secondly,  another  great  cause 
 of  ignorance  is  the  want  of  ideas  we  are  capable  of.  As  the  want  of  ideas, 
 which  our  faculties  are  not  able  to  give  us,  shuts  us  wholly  from  those  views 
 of  things  which  it  is  reasonable  to  think  other  beings,  perfecter  than  we, 
 have,  of  which  we  know  nothing,  so  the  want  of  ideas  I  now  speak  of  keeps 
 us  in  ignorance  of  things  we  conceive  capable  of  being  known  to  us.  Bulk, 
 figure,  and  motion,  we  have  ideas  uf.  But  though  we  are  not  without  ideas 
 of  these  primary  qualities  of  bodies  in  general,  yet  not  knowing  what  is  the 
 particular  bulk,  figure,  and  motion,  of  the  greatest  part  of  the  bodies  of  the 
 universe,  we  are  ignorant  of  the  several  powers,  efficacies,  and  ways  of  ope- 
 ration, whereby  the  effects,  which  we  daily  see,  are  produced.  These  are 
 hid  from  us  in  some  things,  by  being  too  remote ;  and  in  others,  by  being  too 
 minute.  When  we  consider  the  vast  distance  of  the  known  and  visible  parts 
 of  the  world,  and  the  reasons  we  have  to  think  that  what  lies  within  our  ken 
 is  but  a  small  part  of  the  universe,  we  shall  then  discover  a  huge  abyss  of  ig- 
 
374  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 norance.  What  are  the  particular  fabrics  of  the  great  masses  of  matter, 
 wliich  make  up  the  whole  stupendous  frame  of  corj)oroal  beings,  how  f;ir 
 they  are  extended,  what  is  their  motion,  and  how  continued  or  communi- 
 cated, and  what  influence  they  have  one  upon  another,  are  contemplations 
 that  at  first  glimpse  our  thoughts  lose  themselves  in.  If  we  narrow  our  con- 
 templations, and  confine  our  thoughts  to  this  little  canton,  I  mean  this  sys- 
 tem of  our  sun,  and  the  grosser  masses  of  matter  that  visibly  move  about  it; 
 wliat  several  sorts  of  vegetables,  animals,  and  intellectual  corporeal  beings, 
 infinitely  different  from  those  of  our  little  spot  of  earth,  may  there  probably 
 be  in  the  other  planets,  to  the  knowledge  of  which,  even  of  their  outward 
 figures  and  parts,  we  can  no  way  attain,  whilst  we  are  confined  to  this  earth; 
 there  being  no  natural  means,  either  by  sensation  or  reflection,  to  convey 
 their  certain  ideas  in  our  minds  !  They  are  out  of  the  reach  of  those  inlets 
 of  all  our  knowledge:  and  what  sorts  of  furniture  and  inhabitants  those  man- 
 sions contain  in  them  we  cannot  so  much  as  guess,  much  less  have  clear  and 
 distinct  ideas  of  them. 
 
 Sect.  25.  Or,  because  of  their  minuteness. — If  a  great,  nay,  far  the  great- 
 est part  of  the  several  ranks  of  bodies  in  the  universe,  escape  our  notice  by  their 
 remoteness,  there  are  others  that  are  no  less  concealed  from  us  by  their  mi- 
 nuteness. These  insensible  corpuscles  being  the  active  parts  of  matter,  and 
 the  great  instruments  of  nature,  on  which  depend  not  only  all  their  second- 
 ary qualities,  but  also  most  of  their  natural  operations  ;  our  want  of  precise 
 distinct  ideas  of  their  primary  qualities  keeps  us  in  an  incurable  ignorance  of 
 what  we  desire  to  know  about  them.  I  doubt  not  but  if  we  could  discover 
 the  figure,  size,  texture,  and  motion  of  the  minute  constituent  parts  of  any 
 two  bodies,  we  should  know  without  trial  several  of  their  operations  one 
 upon  another,  as  we  do  now  the  properties  of  a  square  or  a  triangle.  Did  we 
 know  the  mechanical  affections  of  the  particles  of  rhubarb,  hemlock,  opium, 
 and  a  man;  as  a  watchmaker  does  those  of  a  watch,  whereby  it  performs  its 
 operations,  and  of  a  file,  which,  by  rubbing  on  them  will  alter  the  figure  of 
 any  of  the  wheels ;  we  should  be  able  to  tell  beforehand,  that  rhubarb  will 
 purge,  hemlock  kill,  and  opium  make  a  man  sleep ;  as  well  as  a  watchmaker 
 can,  that  a  little  piece  of  paper  laid  on  the  balance  will  keep  the  watch  from 
 going,  till  it  be  removed  ;  or  that,  some  small  part  of  it  being  rubbed  by  a 
 file,  the  machine  would  quite  lose  its  motion,  and  the  watch  go  no  more. 
 The  dissolving  of  silver  in  aqua  fortis,  and  gold  in  aqua  regia,  and  not  vice 
 versa,  would  be  then  perhaps  no  more  difficult  to  know,  than  it  is  to  a  smith 
 to  understand  why  the  turning  of  one  key  will  open  a  lock,  and  not  the  turn- 
 ing of  another.  But  whilst  we  are  destitute  of  senses  acute  enough  to  discover 
 the  minute  particles  of  bodies,  and  to  give  us  ideas  of  their  mechanical  affec- 
 tions, we  must  be  content  to  be  ignorant  of  their  properties  and  ways  of  ope- 
 ration ;  nor  can  we  be  assured  about  them  any  farther  than  some  few  trials 
 we  make  are  able  to  reach.  But  whether  they  will  succeed  again  anotlier 
 time  we  cannot  be  certain.  This  hinders  our  certain  knowledge  of  universal 
 truths  concerning  natural  bodies  ;  and  our  reason  carries  us  herein  very  little 
 beyond  particular  matter  of  fact. 
 
 Sect.  26.  Hence  no  science  of  bodies. — And  therefore  I  am  apt  to  doubt, 
 that  how  far  soever  human  industry  may  advance  useful  and  experimental 
 philosophy  in  physical  things,  scientifical  will  still  be  out  of  our  reach ;  be- 
 cause we  want  perfect  and  adequate  ideas  of  those  very  bodies  which  are 
 nearest  to  us,  and  most  under  our  command.  Those  which  we  have  ranked 
 into  classes  under  names,  and  we  think  ourselves  best  acquainted  with,  we 
 have  but  very  imperfect  and  incomplete  ideas  of.  Distinct  ide9,s  of  the  seve- 
 ral sorts  of  bodies  that  fall  under  the  examination  of  our  senses  perhaps  we 
 may  have ;  but  adequate  ideas,  I  suspect,  we  have  not  of  any  one  among 
 tiicm.  And  though  the  former  of  these  will  serve  us  for  common  use  and 
 discourse,  yet  whilst  we  want  the  latter,  we  are  not  capable  of  scientifical 
 knowledge  ;  nor  shall  ever  be  able  to  discover  general,  instructive,  unques- 
 tionable truths  concerning  them.     Certainty  and  demonstration  are  things 
 
Ch.  3.  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  S7o 
 
 we  must  not,  in  these  matters,  pretend  to.  By  the  colour,  figure,  taste,  and 
 smell,  and  other  sensible  qualities,  we  have  as  clear  and  distinct  ideas  of 
 sage  and  hemlock,  as  we  have  of  a  circle  and  a  triangle  :  but  having  no  ideas 
 of  the  particular  priniarj-  qualities  of  the  minute  parts  of  either  of  these 
 plants,  nor  of  other  bodies  which  we  would  apply  them  to,  we  cannot  tell 
 what  effects  they  will  produce ;  nor  when  we  see  those  effects  can  we  so 
 much  as  guess,  much  less  know,  their  manner  of  production.  Thus  ha\'ing 
 no  ideas  of  the  particular  mechanical  affections  of  the  minute  parts  of  bodies  - 
 that  are  witliin  our  view  and  reach,  we  are  ignorant  of  their  constitutions, 
 powers,  and  operations :  and  of  bodies  more  remote  we  are  yet  more  ignor- 
 ant, not  knowing  so  much  as  their  verj^  outward  shapes,  or  the  sensible  and 
 grosser  parts  of  their  constitutions. 
 
 Sect.  27.  Much  less  of  spirits. — This,  at  first,  will  show  us  how  dispro- 
 portionate our  knowledge  is  to  the  whole  extent  even  of  material  beings  ;  to 
 which,  if  we  add  the  consideration  of  that  infinite  number  of  spirits  that  may 
 be,  and  probably  are,  which  are  yet  more  remote  from  our  knowledge, 
 whereof  we  have  no  cognizance,  nor  can  frame  to  ourselves  any  distinct  ideas 
 of  their  several  ranks  and  sorts,  we  shall  find  this  cause  of  ignorance  conceal 
 from  us,  in  an  impenetrable  obscurity,  almost  the  whole  intellectual  world ;  a 
 greater  certainty,  and  more  beautiful  world  than  the  material.  For  bating 
 some  ver\'  fev^',  and  those,  if  I  may  so  call  them,  superficial  ideas  of  spirit, 
 which  by  reflection  we  get  of  our  own,  and  from  thence  the  best  we  can  col- 
 lect of  the  Father  of  all  spirits,  the  eternal  independent  Author  of  them,  and 
 us,  and  all  things ;  we  have  no  certain  information,  so  much  as  of  the  exist- 
 ence of  other  spirits,  but  by  revelation.  Angels  of  all  sorts  are  naturally  be- 
 yond our  discovery:  and  all  those  intelligences  whereof  it  is  likely  there  are 
 more  orders  than  corporeal  substances,  are  things  whereof  our  natural  facul- 
 ties give  us  no  certain  account  at  all.  That  there  are  minds  and  thinking 
 beings  in  other  men  as  well  as  himself,  every  man  has  a  reason,  from  their 
 words  and  actions,  to  be  satisfied :  and  the  knowledge  of  his  own  mind  can- 
 not suffer  a  man,  that  considers,  to  be  ignorant  that  there  is  a  God.  But  that 
 there  are  degrees  of  spiritual  beings  between  us  and  the  great  God,  who  is 
 there  that  by  his  own  search  and  ability  can  come  to  know  ]  Much  less  have 
 we  distinct  ideas  of  their  different  natures,  conditions,  states,  powers,  and 
 several  constitutions,  wherein  they  agree  or  differ  from  one  another,  and  from 
 us.  And  therefore  in  what  concerns  their  different  species  and  properties, 
 we  are  under  an  absolute  ignorance. 
 
 Sect.  28.  Secondly,  want  of  a  discoverable  connexion  beticeen  ideas  we 
 have. — Secondly,  what  a  small  part  of  the  substantial  beings  that  are  in  the 
 universe,  the  want  of  ideas  leaves  open  to  our  knowledge,  we  have  seen.  In 
 the  next  place,  another  cause  of  ignorance,  of  no  loss  moment,  is  a  want  of  a 
 discoverable  connexion  between  those  ideas  we  have.  For  wherever  we  want 
 that,  we  are  utterly  incapable  of  universal  and  certain  knowledge ;  and  are, 
 in  the  former  case,  left  only  to  obser^-ation  and  experiment:  which,  how  nar-/ 
 row  and  confined  it  is,  how  far  from  general  knowledge,  we  need  not  be  told. 
 I  shall  give  some  few  instances  of  this  cause  of  our  ignorance,  and  so  leave 
 it.  It  is  evident  that  the  bulk,  figure,  and  motion  of  several  bodies  about  us, 
 produce  in  us  several  sensations,  as  of  colours,  sounds,  tastes,  smells,  plea- 
 sure and  pain,  &c.  These  mechanical  affections  of  bodies  having  no  affinity  at 
 all  with  those  ideas  they  produce  in  us  (there  being  no  conceivable  connexion 
 between  any  impulse  of  any  sort  of  body  and  any  perception  of  a  colour  or 
 smell,  which  we  find  in  our  minds)  we  can  have  no  distinct  knowledge  of 
 such  operations  beyond  our  experience  ;  and  can  reason  no  otherwise  about 
 them  than  as  effects  produced  by  the  appointment  of  an  infinitely  wise  agent, 
 which  perfectly  surpass  our  comprehensions.  As  the  ideas  of  sensible  se- 
 condar}"  qualities  which  we  have  in  our  minds,  can  by  us  be  no  ways  deduced 
 from  bodily  causes,  nor  any  correspondence  or  connexion  be  found  between 
 them  and  those  primary  qualities  which  (experience  shows  us)  produce  them 
 in  us ;  so,  on  the  other  side,  the  operation  of  our  minds  unon  our  bodies  is  as 
 
370  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 inconceivable.  IIow  any  tlioiiglit  should  produce  a  motion  in  body  is  as  re-/  , 
 mote  from  tiie  nature  oi"  our  ideas,  as  how  any  body  should  produce  any/  ' 
 thought  in  the  mind.  That  it  is  so,  if  experience  did  not  convince  us,  the 
 consideration  of  the  things  themselves  would  never  be  able  in  the  least  to  dis- 
 cover to  u«.  These,  and  the  like,  though  they  have  a  constant  and  regular 
 connexion,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things  ;  yet  that  connexion  being  not  dis- 
 coverable in  the  ideas  themselves,  which  appearing  to  liave  no  necessary  de- 
 pendence one  on  another,  we  can  attribute  their  connexion  to  nothing  else 
 but  the  arbitrary  determination  of  that  all-wise  agent,  who  has  made  them  to 
 bo,  and  to  operate  as  tiiey  do,  in  a  way  wholly  above  our  weak  understand- 
 ings to  conceive. 
 
 Sect.  29.  Instances. — In  some  of  our  ideas  there  are  certain  relations,  i*  V^ 
 habitudes,  and  connexions,  so  visibly  included  in  the  nature  of  the  ideas  them- 1  "^^  ( 
 selves,  that  we  cannot  conceive  them  separable  from  them  by  any  power'' 
 whatsoever.  And  in  these  only  we  are  capable  of  certain  and  universal  know- 
 ledge. Thus  the  idea  of  a  right-lined  triangle  necessarily  carries  with  it  an 
 equality  of  its  angles  to  two  right  ones.  Nor  can  we  conceive  this  relation, 
 this  connexion,  or  these  two  ideas,  to  be  possibly  mutable,  or  to  depend  on  any 
 arbitrary  power,  which  of  choice  made  it  thus,  or  could  make  it  otherwise. 
 Uat  the  coherence  and  continuity  of  the  parts  of  matter  ;  the  production  of  sen- 
 sation in  us  of  colours  and  sounds,  &c.  by  impulse  and  motion;  nay,  the  origi- 
 nal rules  and  conmiunication  of  motion  being  such,  wherein  we  can  discover 
 no  natural  connexion  with  any  ideas  we  have;  we  cannot  but  ascribe  them 
 to  the  arbitrary  will  and  good  pleasure  of  the  wise  architect.  I  need  not,  1 
 think,  here  mention  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  the  future  state  of  this  globe 
 ■of  eartli,  and  such  other  things,  which  are  by  every  one  acknowledged  to  de- 
 pend wholly  on  the  determination  of  a  free  agent.  The  things  that,  as  farj 
 as  our  observation  reaches,  we  constantly  find  to  proceed  regularly,  we  may' 
 conclude  do  act  by  a  law  set  them;  but  yet  by  a  law  that  we  know  not:  where-  v 
 by,  though  causes  v/ork  steadily,  and  etTects  constantly  flow  from  them,  yet 
 their  connexion  and  dependences  being  not  discoverable  in  our  ideas,  we  can 
 Jiave  but  an  experimental  Jcnowledge  of  them.  From  all  which  it  is  easy  to 
 perceive  what  a  darlmess  we  are  involved  in,  how  little  it  is  of  being, 
 and  the  things  that  are,  that  we  are  capable  to  know.  And  therefore 
 we  shall  do  no  injury  to  our  knowledge,  when  we  modestly  think  with  our- 
 selves, that  we  are  so  far  from  being  able  to  comprehend  the  whole  nature  of 
 tiie  universe,  and  all  the  things  contained  in  it,  that  we  are  not  capable  of  a 
 philosophical  knowledge  of  the  bodies  that  are  about  us,  and  make  a  part  of 
 us:  concerning  their  secondaiy  qualities,  powers,  and  operations,  we  can  have 
 no  universal  certainty.  Several  efiects  come  every  day  within  the  notice  of 
 our  senses,  of  which  we  have  so  tar  sensitive  knowledge;  but  the  causes, 
 manner  and  certainty  of  their  production,  for  the  two  foregoing  reasons,  we 
 must  be  content  to  be  very  ignorant  of.  In  these  we  can  go  no  f  irther  than 
 particular  experience  informs  us  of  matter  of  fact,  and  by  analogy  to  guess 
 what  effects  the  like  bodies  are,  upon  other  trials,  like  to  produce.  But  as 
 to  a  perfect  science  of  natural  bodies  (not  to  mention  spiritual  beings)  we 
 aro,  I  think,  so  far  from  being  capable  of  any  such  thing,  that  I  conclude  it 
 lost  labour  to  seek  after  it. 
 
 Sect.  30.  Thirdly,  want  of  tracing  our  ideas. — Thirdly,  where  we  have 
 adequate  ideas,  and  where  there  is  a  certain  and  discoverable  connexion  be- 
 tween them,  yet  we  are  oflen  ignorant,  for  want  of  tracing  those  ideas  which 
 v.'o  have,  or  may  have,  and  for  want  of  finding  out  those  intermediate  ideas, 
 which  may  show  us  what  habitude  of  agreement  or  disagreement  they  have 
 one  with  another.  And  thus  many  are  ignoi-aiit  of  mathematical  truths,  not 
 out  of  any  imperfection  of  their  faculties,  or  uncertainty  in  the  things  them- 
 selves, but  for  want  of  application  in  acquiring,  examining,  and  by  due  ways 
 comparing  those  ideas.  That  which  has  most  contributed  to  hinder  the  dup 
 tracing  of  our  ideas,  and  finding  out  their  relations,  and  agreements  or  disa- 
 greements one  with  another,  has  been,  I  suppose,  the  ill  use  of  words.     It  is 
 
Ch.  3.  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  377 
 
 impossible  that  men  should  ever  truly  seek,  or  certainly  discover  the  agree- 
 ment or  disagreement  of  ideas  themselves,  whilst  their  t'loughts  flutter  about 
 or  stick  only  in  sounds  of  doubtful  and  uncertain  significations.  Mathema- 
 ticians abstracting  their  thouglits  from  names,  and  accustoming  themselves  to 
 set  before  their  minds  the  ideas  themselves  that  they  would  consider,  and  not 
 sounds  instead  of  them,  have  avoided  thereby  a  great  part  of  that  perplexity, 
 puddering,  and  confusion,  which  have  so  much  hindered  men's  progress  in 
 other  parts  of  knowledge.  For  whilst  they  stick  in  words  of  undetermined 
 and  uncertain  signification,  they  are  unable  to  distinguish  true  from  false, 
 certain  from  probable,  consistent  from  inconsistent,  in  their  own  opinions. 
 This  having  been  the  fate  or  misfortune  of  a  great  part  of  men  of  letters,  the 
 increase  brought  into  the  stock  of  real  knowledge  has  been  very  little,  in  pro- 
 portion to  the  schools,  disputes,  and  writings,  the  world  has  been  filled  with  ; 
 whilst  students,  being  lost  in  the  great  wood  of  words,  knew  not  whereabout 
 they  were,  how  tar  their  discoveries  were  advanced,  or  what  was  wanting 
 in  their  own  or  the  general  stock  of  knowledge.  Had  men,  in  the  discove- 
 ries of  the  material,  done  as  they  have  in  those  of  the  intellectual  world,  in- 
 volved in  all  the  obscurity  of  uncertain  and  doubtiid  ways  of  talking,  volumes 
 writ  of  navigation  and  voyages,  theories  and  stories  of  zones  and  tides,  mul- 
 tiplied and  disputed  ;  nay,  ships  built,  and  fleets  sent  out,  would  never  have 
 taught  us  the  v/ay  beyond  the  line  ;  and  the  antipodes  would  be  still  as  much 
 unknown  as  when  it  was  declared  heresy  to  hold  there  were  any.  But  hav- 
 ing spoken  sufliciently  of  words,  and  the  ill  or  careless  use  that  is  commonly 
 made  of  them,  I  shall  not  say  any  thing  more  of  it  here. 
 
 Sect.  31.  Extent  in  respect  to  universality. — Hitherto  we  have  examined 
 the  extent  of  our  knowledge,  in  respect  of  the  several  sorts  of  beings  that 
 are.  There  is  another  extent  of  it,  in  respect  of  universality,  which  will  also 
 deserve  to  be  considered ;  and  in  this  regard,  our  knowledge  follows  the  na- 
 ture of  our  ideas.  If  the  ideas  are  abstract,  whose  agreement  or  disagreement 
 we  perceive,  our  knowledge  is  universal.  For  what  is  known  of  such  gene- 
 ral ideas,  will  be  true  of  every  particular  thing,  in  whom  that  essence,  i.  e.  that 
 abstract  idea,  is  to  be  found  ;  and  what  is  once  known  of  such  ideas  will  be 
 perpetually  and  forever  true.  So  that  as  to  all  general  knowledge,  we  must 
 search  and  find  it  only  in  our  minds,  and  it  is  only  the  examining  of  our  own 
 ideas  that  furnisheth  us  with  that.  Truths  belonging  to  essences  of  things, 
 (that  is,  to  abstract  ideas)  are  eternal,  and  are  to  be  found  out  by  the  contem- 
 plation only  of  those  essences:  as  the  existences  of  things  are  to  be  known 
 only  from  experience.  But  having  more  to  say  of  this  in  the  chapters  where 
 I  shall  speak  of  general  and  real  knowledge,  this  may  here  suffice  as  to  the 
 universality  of  our  knowledge  in  general. 
 
 CHAPTER  IV. 
 
 OF  THE   REALITY   OF  KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Object  inn.  Knoioledge  placed  in  ideas,  may  be  all  hare  vision. — 
 I  doubt  not  but  my  reader  by  this  time  may  be  apt  to  tiiink,  that  I  have  been 
 all  this  while  only  building  a  castle  in  the  air ;  and  be  ready  to  say  toime,  "  to 
 what  purpose  all  this  stir?  Knowledge,  say  you,  is  only  the  perc^Son  of 
 the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  own  ideas:  but  who  knows  what  those 
 ideas  may  be  !  Is  therte  any  thing  so  extravagant  as  the  imaginations  of 
 men's  brains'!  Where  is  the  head  that  has  no  chimeras  in  it?  Or,  if  there 
 be  a  sober  and  a  wise  man,  what  difference  will  there  be,  by  your  rules,  be- 
 tween his  knowledge  and  that  of  the  most  extravagant  fancy  in  the  world  ■? 
 They  both  have  their  ideas,  and  perceive  their  agreement  and  disagreement 
 one  with  another.  If  there  be  any  difference  between  them,  tlie  advantage 
 will  be  oi\  the  warm-headed  man's  side,  as  liaving  the  mors  ideas,  and  th^; 
 2X 
 
378  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 more  lively :  and  so,  by  your  rules,  he  will  be  the  more  knowing.  If  it  be 
 true  that  all  knowlodg-e  lies  only  in  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disa- 
 greement of  our  own  ideas,  tiie  visions  of  an  enthusiast,  and  the  reasonings 
 of  a  sober  man,  will  be  equally  certain.  It  is  no  matter  how  things  are;  so 
 a  man  observe  but  the  agreement  of  his  own  imaginations,  and  talk  confor- 
 mably, it  is  all  truth,  all  certainty.  Such  castles  in  the  air  will  be  as  strong 
 holds  oftrutli,  as  tlie  demonstrations  of  Euchd.  That  a  harpy  is  not  a  cen- 
 taur is  by  this  way  as  certain  knowledge,  and  as  much  a  truth,  as  that  a 
 square  is  not  a  circle. 
 
 "  But  of  what  use  is  all  this  fine  knowledge  of  men's  own  imaginations  to 
 a  man  that  inquires  after  the  reality  of  things  ?  It  matter's  not  what  men's 
 fancies  are;  it  is  tlie  knowledge  of  tilings  tliat  is  only  to  be  prized  :  it  is  this 
 alone  gives  a  value  to  our  reasonings,  and  preference  to  one  man's  knowledge 
 over  another's  ;  that  it  is  of  things  as  they  really  are,  and  not  of  dreams  and 
 fancies." 
 
 Sect.  2.  Ansioer,  Not  so,  where  ideas  agree  with  things. — To  which  I 
 answer,  that  if  our  knowledge  of  our  ideas  terminate  in  them,  and  reach  no. 
 farther,  whore  there  is  something  farther  intended,  our  most  serious  thoughts 
 will  be  of  little  more  use  than  the  reveries  of  a  crazy  brain ;  and  the  truths 
 built  thereon  of  no  more  weight  than  the  discourses  of  a  man,  who  sees  tilings 
 clearly  in  a  dream,  and  with  great  assurance  utters  them.  But  I  hope,  before 
 I  have  done,  to  make  it  evident,  that  this  way  of  certainty,  by  the  knowledge 
 of  our  own  ideas,  goes  a  little  farther  than  bare  imagination:  and  I  believe  it 
 will  appear  that  all  the  certainty  of  general  truths  a  man  has,  lies  in  nothing 
 else. 
 
 Sect.  3. — It  is  evident  the  mind  knows  not  things  immediately,  but  only 
 by  the  intervention  of  the  ideas  it  has  of  them.  Our  knowledge  therefore  is 
 real,  only  so  far  as  there  is  a  conformity  between  our  ideas  and  the  reality  ' 
 of  things.  But  what  shall  be  here  the  criterion  1  How  shall  the  mind,  when 
 it  perceives  nothing  but  its  own  ideas,  know  that  they  agree  with  things 
 themselves  1  This,  though  it  seems  not  to  want  difficulty,  yet  I  think, 
 there  be  two  sorts  of  ideas,  that,  we  may  be  assured,  agree  with  things. 
 
 Sect.  4.  As  1.  All  simple  ideas  do. — First,  the  first  are  simple  ideas, 
 which,  since  the  mi^id,  as  has  been  shown,  can  by  no  means  make  to  itself' 
 must  necessarily  be  the  product  of  things  operating  on  the  mind  in  a  naturalV 
 way,  and  producing  therein  those  perceptions  which  by  the  wisdom  and  will ' 
 of  our  Maker  they  are  ordained  and  adapted  to.  From  whence  it  follow;--, 
 that  simple  ideas  are  no  fictions  of  our  fancies,  but  the  natural  and  regular 
 productions  of  things  without  us,  really  operating  upon  us,  and  so  carry  with 
 them  all  the  conformity  which  is  intended,  or  which  our  state  requires;  for 
 they  represent  to  us  things,  under  those  appearances  which  they  are  fitted  to 
 produce  in  us,  whereby  we  are  enabled  to  distinguish  the  sorts  of  particular 
 substances,  to  discern  the  states  they  are  in,  and  so  to  take  them  for  our  ne- 
 cessities, and  to  apply  them  to  our  uses.  Thus  the  idea  of  whiteness,  or 
 bitterness,  as  it  is  in  the  mind,  exactly  answering  that  power  which  is  in  any 
 body  to  produce  it  there,  has  all  the  real  conformity  it  can,  or  ought  to  have 
 with  things  without  us.  And  this  conformity  between  our  simple  ideas,  and 
 the  existence  of  things,  is  sufficient  for  real  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  5.  2.  All  complex  ideas,  except  of  substances. — Secondly,  all  our 
 comply  ideas,  except  those  of  substances,  being  archetypes  of  the  mind's 
 own  JpKving,  not  intended  to  be  the  copies  of  any  thing,  nor  referred  to  the 
 existence  of  any  thing,  as  to  their  originals,  cannot  want  any  conformity 
 necessary  to  real  knowledge.  For  that  which  is  not  designed  to  represent 
 any  thing  but  itself,  can  never  be  capable  of  a  wrong  representation,  nor 
 mislead  us  from  the  true  apprehension  of  any  thing,  by  its  dislikeness  to  it; 
 and  such,  excepting  those  of  substances,  are  all  our  complex  ideas;  whicli,  as 
 1  have  shown  in  another  place,  are  combinations  of  ideas,  which  the  mind, 
 by  its  free  choice,  puts  together,  witliout  considering  any  connexion  they 
 have  in  nature.     And  hence  it  is,  that  in  all  these  sorts  the  ideas  themselves 
 
Ch.  4,  REALITY  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  379 
 
 are  considered  as  the  archetypes,  and  things  no  otherwise  regarded,  but  as 
 they  are  conformable  to  them.  So  that  we  cannot  but  be  infalUbly  certain, 
 that  all  the  knowledge  we  attain  concerning  these  ideas  is  real,  and  reaches 
 things  themselves  ;  because  in  all  our  thoughts,  reasonings,  and  discourses 
 of  this  kind,  we  intend  things  no  farther  than  as  they  are  conformable  to  our 
 ideas.     So  that  in  these  we  cannot  miss  of  a  certain  and  undoubted  reality. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Hence  the  reality  of  mathematical  knowledge. — I  doubt  not  but 
 it  will  be  easily  granted,  that  the  knowledge  we  have  of  mathematical  truths 
 is  not  only  certain,  but  real  knowledge  ;  and  not  the  bare  empty  vision'  of  vain 
 insignificant  chimeras  of  the  brain  :  and  yet,  if  we  will  consider,  we  shall  find 
 that  it  is  only  of  our  own  ideas.  The  mathematician  considers  the  truth  and 
 properties  belonging  to  a  rectangle,  or  circle,  only  as  they  are  in  idea  in  his 
 own  mind.  For  it  is  possible  he  never  found  either  of  them  existing  mathema- 
 tically, i.  e.  precisely  true,  in  his  life.  But  yet  the  knowledge  he  has  of  any 
 truths  or  properties  belonging  to  a  circle,  or  any  other  mathematical  figure,  are 
 nevertheless  true  and  certain,  even  of  real  things  existing;  because  real  things 
 are  no  farther  concerned,  nor  intended  to  be  meant  by  any  such  propositions, 
 than  as  things  really  agree  to  those  archetypes  in  his  mind.  Is  it  true  of  the 
 idea  of  a  triangle,  that  its  three  angles  are  equal  to  two  right  ones  ?  It  is  true 
 also  of  a  triangle,  wherever  it  really  exists.  Whatever  other  figure  exists, 
 that  is  not  exactly  answerable  to  the  idea  of  a  triangle  in  his  mind,  is  not  at 
 all  concerned  in  that  proposition :  and  therefore  he  is  certain  all  his  know- 
 ledge concerning  such  ideas  is  real  knowledge  ;  because  intending  things 
 no  farther  than  they  agree  with  those  his  ideas,  he  is  sure  what  he  knows 
 concerning  those  figures,  when  they  have  barely  an  ideal  existence  in  his 
 mind,  will  hold  true  of  them  also,  when  they  have  a  real  existence  in  matter ; 
 his  consideration  being  barely  of  those  figures,  which  are  the  same,  where- 
 ever  or  however  they  exist. 
 
 Sect.  7.  And  of  moral. — And  hence  it  follows,  that  moral  knowledge  is 
 as  capable  of  real  certainty  as  mathematics.  For  certainty  being  but  the  per- 
 ception of  the  agTeement  or  disagreement  of  our  ideas  ;  and  demonstration 
 nothing  but  the  perception  of  such  agreement,  by  the  intervention  of  other 
 ideas,  or  mediums ;  our  moral  ideas,  as  well  as  mathematical,  being  arche- 
 types themselves,  and  so  adequate  and  complete  ideas  ;  all  the  agreement  or 
 disagreement  which  we  shall  find  in  them  will  produce  real  knowledge,  as 
 well  as  in  mathematical  figures. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Existence  not  required  to  make  it  real. — For  the  attaining  of 
 knowledge  and  certainty,  it  is  requisite  that  we  have  determined  ideas  ;  and, 
 to  make  our  knowledge  real,  it  is  requisite  that  the  ideas  answer  their  arche- 
 iypes.  Nor  let  it  be  wondered,  that  I  place  the  certainty  of  our  knowledge 
 m  the  consideration  of  our  ideas,  with  so  little  care  and  regard  (as  it  may 
 seem)  to  the  real  existence  of  things  ;  since  most  of  those  discourses,  which 
 take  up  the  thoughts,  and  engage  the  disputes  of  those  who  pretend  to  make 
 it  their  business  to  inquire  after  truth  and  certainty,  will,  I  presume,  upon  ex- 
 amination, be  found  to  be  general  propositions,  and  notions  in  which  exist- 
 ence is  not  at  all  concerned.  All  the  discourses  of  the  mathematicians  about 
 the  squaring  of  a  circle,  conic  sections,  or  any  other  part  of  mathematics,  con- 
 cern not  the  existence  of  any  of  those  figures ;  but  their  demonstrations, 
 which  depend  on  their  ideas,  are  the  same,  whether  there  be  any  square  or 
 circle  existing  in  the  world  or  no.  In  the  same  manner  the  truth  and  cer- 
 tainty of  moral  discourses  abstracts  from  the  lives  of  men,  and  the  existence 
 of  those  virtues  in  the  world  whereof  they  treat.  Nor  are  Tully's  Offices 
 less  true,  because  there  is  nobody  in  the  world  that  exactly  practices  his 
 rules,  and  lives  up  to  that  pattern  of  a  virtuous  man  which  he  has  given  us, 
 and  which  existed  nowhere,  when  he  writ,  but  in  idea.  If  it  be  true  in 
 speculation,  i.  e.  in  idea,  that  murder  deserves  death,  it  will  also  be  true  in 
 reality  of  any  action  that  exists  conformable  to  that  idea  of  murder.  As  for 
 other  actions,  tiie  trutli  of  that  proposition  concerns  them  not.  And  thus  it 
 is  of  all  other  species  of  things,  which  have  no  other  essences  but  those  ideas 
 which  are  in  the  minds  of  men. 
 
3?0  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 Sect.  9.  \or  will  it  be  less  true  or  certain,  because  moral  ideas  are  of 
 our  own  making  and  naming. — But  it  will  here  be  said,  tliat  if  moral  know- 
 ledge be  placed  in  the  contemplation  of  our  own  moral  ideas,  and  tliose,  as 
 other  modes,  be  of  our  own  making,  what  strange  notions  wiU  there  be  of  jus- 
 tice  and  temperance!     What  confusion  of  virtues  and  vices,  if  everyone 
 may  make  what  ideas  of  them  he  pleases  ?     No  confusion  nor  disorder  in  the 
 things  themselves,  nor  in  the  reasonings  about  them  :   no  more  than  (in  mathe- 
 matics) there  would  be  a  disturbance  in  the  demonstration,  or  a  change 'in 
 the  properties  of  figures,  and  their  relations  one  to  another,  if  a  man  should 
 make  a  triangle  with  four  corners,  or  a  trapezium  with  four  right  angles  ;  that 
 is,  in  plain  English,  change  the  names  of  the  figures,  and  call  that  by  one 
 name  which  mathematicians  call  ordinarily  by  another.     For  let  a  man  make 
 to  himself  the  idea  of  a  figure  with  three  angle?   whereof  one  is  a  riglit  one, 
 and  call  it,  if  he  please,  equilaterum,  or  trapezium,  or  any  thing  else,  the  pro- 
 perties of  and  demonstrations  about  that  idea  will  be  the  same,  as  if  he  called 
 it  a  rectangular  triangle.     I  confess  the  change  of  the  name,  by  the  impro- 
 priety of  speech,  will  at  first  disturb  him,  who  knows  not  what  idea  it  stands 
 for ;  but  as  soon  as  the  figure  is  drawn,  the  consequences  and  demonstration 
 are  olain  and  clear.     Just  the  same  is  it  in  moral  knowledge  ;  let  a  man  have 
 the  idea  of  taking  from  others,  without  their  consent,  what  their  honest  in-  ; 
 dustry  has  possessed  them  of,  and  call  this  justice  if  he   please.     He  that 
 takes  the  name  here  without  the  idea  put  to  it,  will  be  mistaken,  by  joining 
 another  idea  of  his  own  to  that  name  :  but  strip  the  idea  of  that  name,  or  take 
 it,  such  as  it  is,  in  the  speaker's  mind,  and  the  same  things  will  agree  to  it,  as 
 if  you  had  called  it  injustice.    Indeed,  wrong  names  in  moral  discourses  breed 
 usually  more  disorder,  because  they  are  not  so  easily  rectified  as  in  mathe- 
 matics, where  the  figure,  once  drawn  and  seen,  makes  the  name  useless  ana 
 of  no  force.     For  what  need  of  a  sign,  when  the  thing  signified  is  present 
 and  in  \aew  ]     But  in  moral  names  that  cannot  be  so  easily  and  shortly  done, 
 because  of  the  many  decompositions  that  go  to  the  making  up  the  complex 
 ideas  of  those  modes.     But  yet  for  all  this,  miscalling  of  any  of  those  ideas, 
 contrary  to  the  usual  signification  of  the  words  of  that  language,  hinders  not 
 but  that  we  may  have  certain  and  demonstrative  knowledge  of  their  several 
 agreements  and  disagreements,  if  we  will  carefully,  as  in  mathematics,  keep 
 to  the  same  precise  ideas,  and  trace  them  in  their  several  relations  one  to 
 another,  without  being  led  away  by  their  names.     If  we  but  separate  the  idea 
 under  consideration  from  the  sign  that  stands  for  it,  our  knowledge  goes 
 equally  on  in  the  discovery  of  real  truth  and  certainty,  whatever  sounds  we 
 make  use  of. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Misnaming  disturbs  not  the  certainty  of  the  knowledge. — One 
 thing  more  we  are  to  take  notice  of,  that  where  God,  or  any  other  lawmaker,  / 
 hath  defined  any  moral  names,  there  they  have  made  the  essence  of  that  spe-  ^ 
 cies  to  which  that  name  belongs  ;  and  there  it  is  not  safe  to  apply  or  use 
 them  otherwise  :  but  in  other  cases  it  is  bare  impropriety  of  speech  to  apply 
 them  contrary  to  the  common  usage  of  the  country.  But  yet  even  this  too 
 flisturbs  not  the  certainty  of  that  knowledge,  which  is  still  to  be  had  by  a  due 
 contemplation  and  comparing  of  those  even  nicknamed  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  II.  Ideas  of  substances  have  their  archetypes  witTiout  us. — Thirdly, 
 there  is  another  sort  of  complex  ideas,  which,  being  referred  to  archetypes 
 without  us,  may  differ  from  them,  and  so  our  knowledge  about  them  may 
 come  short  of  being  real.  Such  are  our  ideas  of  substances,  which  consist- 
 ing of  a  collection  of  simple  ideas,  supposed  taken  from  the  works  of  nature, 
 may  yet  vary  from  them,  by  having  more  or  different  ideas  united  in  them, 
 than  are  to  be  found  united  in  the  things  themselves.  From  whence  it  comes 
 to  pass,  that  they  may,  and  often  do,  fail  of  being  exactly  conformable  to  things 
 themselves. 
 
 Sect.  12.  So  far  as  they  agree  loith  those,  so  far  our  knowledge  concern- 
 ing them  is  real. — I  say,  then,  that,  to  have  ideas  of  substances,  which,  by 
 being  conformable  to  things,  may  afford  us  real  knowledge,  it  is  not  enough, 
 
Cli.  4.  REALITY  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  381     . 
 
 as  in  modesrlaput  together  such  ideas  as  have  no  inconsistence,  though  they 
 did  never  before  so  exist :  v.  g.  the  ideas  of  sacrilege  or  perjury,  &c.  were  as 
 real  and  true  ideas  before  as  after  the  existence  of  any  sucli  fact.  But  our 
 ideas  of  substances  being  supposed  copies,  and  referred  to  archetypes  with-^' 
 out  us,  must  still  be  taken  fi'om  something  that  does  or  has  existed;  they 
 must  not  consist  of  ideas  put  together  at  the  pleasure  of  our  thoughts,  with- 
 out any  real  pattern  they  were  taken  from,  though  we  can  perceive  no  incon- 
 sistence in  such  a  combination.  The  reason  whereof  is,  because  we  know- 
 ing not  what  real  constitution  it  is  of  substances,  whereon  our  simple  ideas 
 depend,  and  which  really  is  the  cause  of  the  strict  union  of  some  of  them  one 
 with  another,  and  the  exclusion  of  others  ;  there  are  very  few  of  them  that 
 we  can  be  sure  are,  or  are  not,  inconsistent  in  nature,  any  farther  than  ex- 
 perience and  sensible  observation  reach.  Herein,  therefore,  is  founded  the 
 reality  of  our  knowledge  concerning  substances,  that  all  our  complex  ideas 
 of  them  must  be  such,  and  such  only,  as  are  made,  up  oF'such  simple  ones  as  \ 
 have  ^een  discovered  to  coexist  in  nature.  And  our  ideas  being  thus  true, 
 though  not,  perhaps,  very  exact  copies,  are  yet  the  subjects  of  real  (as  far  as 
 we  have  any)  knowledge  of  them.  Which  (as  has  been  already  shown)  will 
 not  be  found  to  reach  very  far :  but  so  far  as  it  does,  it  will  still  be  real  know- 
 ledge. Whatever  ideas  we  have,  the  agreement  we  find  they  have  with 
 others  will  still  be  knowledge.  If  those  ideas  be  abstract,  it  will  be  general 
 knowledge.  But  to  make  it  real  concerning  substances,  the  ideas  must  be 
 taken  from  the  real  existence  of  things.  Whatever  simple  ideas  have  been 
 found  to  coexist  in  any  substance,  these  we  may  with  confidence  join  toge- 
 ther again,  and  so  make  abstract  ideas  of  substances.  For  whatever  have 
 once  had  a  union,  in  nature,  may  be  united  again. 
 
 Sect.  1.3.  In  our  inquiries  about  substances,  we  must  consider  ideas,  and 
 not  confiyie  our  thoughts  to  names,  or  species  supposed  set  out  by  names. — 
 This,  if  we  rightly  consider,  and  confine  not  our  thoughts  and  abstract  ideas 
 to  names,  as  if  there  were  or  could  be  no  other  sort  of  things  than  what 
 known  names  had  already  determined,  and  as  it  were  set  out;  we  should  think 
 of  things  with  greater  freedom  and  less  confusion  than  perhaps  we  do.  It 
 would  possibly  be  thought  a  bold  paradox,  if  not  a  very  dangerous  falsehood, 
 if  I  should  say,  that  some  changelings,  who  have  lived  forty  years  together 
 without  any  appearance  of  reason,  are  something  between  a  man  and  a  beast: 
 which  prejudice  is  founded  upon  nothing  else  but  a  false  supposition,  that 
 these  two  names,  man  and  beast,  stand  for  distinct  species  so  set  out  by  real 
 essences,  that  there  can  come  no  other  species  between  them :  whereas,  if 
 we  will  abstract  from  those  names,  and  the  supposition  of  such  specific  es- 
 sences made  by  nature,  wherein  all  things  of  the  same  denominations  did 
 exactly  and  equally  partake  ;  if  we  would  not  fancy  that  there  were  a  cer- 
 tain number  of  these  essences,  wherein  all  things,  as  in  moulds,  were  cast 
 and  formed,  we  should  find  that  the  idea  of  the  shape,  motion,  and  life  of  a 
 man  without  reason,  is  as  much  a  distinct  idea,  and  makes  as  much  a  distinct 
 sort  of  things  from  man  and  beast,  as  the  idea  of  the  shape  of  an  ass  with 
 reason  would  be  different  from  either  that  of  man  or  beast,  and  be  a  species 
 of  animal  between  or  distinct  from  both. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Objection  against  a  changeling  being  something  between  a 
 man  and  beast,  answered. — Here  every  body  will  be  ready  to  ask,  if  change- 
 lings may  be  supposed  something  between  man  and  beast,  pray  what  are 
 they  ■?  I  answer  changelings,  which  is  as  good  a  word  to  signify  something 
 different  from  the  signification  of  man  or  beast,  as  the  names  man  and  beast 
 are  to  have  significations  different  one  from  the  other.  This,  well  consid- 
 ered, would  resolve  this  matter,  and  show  my  meaning  without  any  more 
 ado.  But  I  am  not  so  unacquainted  with  the  zeal  of  some  men,  which  en- 
 ables them  to  spin  consequences,  and  to  see  religion  threatened  whenever 
 any  one  ventures  to  quit  their  forms  of  speaking,  as  not  to  foresee  what  names 
 such  a  proposition  as  this  is  like  to  be  charged  with :  and  without  doubt  it 
 will  be  asked,  if  changelings  are  something  between  man  and  beast,  what  will 
 
382  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 become  of  them  in  the  other  \voiI<,'  '  To  which  answer,  first,  it  concerns 
 me  not  to  know  or  inquire.  To  their  own  Master  tncy  stand  or  fall.  It  will 
 make  their  state  neither  better  nor  worse,  whetlier  we  determine  any  thing 
 of  it  or  no.  They  are  in  the  hands  of  a  faithful  Creator  and  a  bountiful 
 Father,  who  disposes  not  of  his  creatures  according  to  our  narrow  thoughts 
 or  opinions,  nor  distinguishes  them  according  to  names  and  species  of  our 
 contrivance.  And  we,  that  know  so  little  of  this  present  world  we  are  in, 
 may,  I  think,  content  ourselves  without  being  peremptory  in  defining  the  differ- 
 ent states  which  creatures  shall  come  into  when  tliey  go  oflf  this  stage.  It 
 may  suffice  us,  that  he  hath  made  known  to  all  those  who  are  capable  of 
 instruction,  discoursing,  and  reasoning,  that  they  shall  come  to  an  account, 
 and  receive  according  to  what  they  have  done  in  this  body. 
 
 Sect.  15.  But,  secondly,  I  answer,  the  force  of  these  men's  questions  (viz. 
 will  you  deprive  changelings  of  a  future  state?)  is  founded  on  one  of  these 
 two  suppositions,  which  are  both  false.  The  first  is,  that  all  things  that 
 have  the  outward  shape  and  appearance  of  a  man,  must  necessarily  be  de- 
 signed to  an  immortal  future  being  after  this  life  :  or,  secondly,  that  whatever 
 is  of  human  birth  must  be  so.  Take  away  these  imaginations,  and  such 
 questions  will  be  groundless  and  ridiculous.  I  desire  then  tliose  who  think 
 tliere  is  no  more  but  an  accidental  difference  between  themselves  and  change- 
 lings, the  essence  in  both  being  exactly  the  same,  to  consider  whether  they 
 can  imagine  immortality  annexed  to  any  outward  shape  of  the  body  1  The 
 very  proposing  of  it  is,  I  suppose,  enougli  to  make  them  disown  it.  No  one 
 yet,  that  ever  I  heard  of,  how  much  soever  immersed  in  matter,  allowed  that 
 excellency  to  any  figure  of  the  gross  sensible  outward  parts,  as  to  affirm  eter- 
 nal life  due  to  it,  or  a  necessary  consequence  of  it ;  or  that  any  mass  of  mat- 
 ter should,  after  its  dissolution  here,  be  again  restored  hereafter  to  an  ever- 
 lasting state  of  sense,  perception,  and  knowledge,  only  because  it  was 
 moulded  into  this  or  that  figure,  and  had  such  a  particular  frame  of  its  visible 
 parts.  Such  an  opinion  as  this,  placing  immortality  in  a  certain  superficial 
 figure,  turns  out  of  doors  all  consideration  of  soul  or  spirit,  upon  whose  ac- 
 count alone  some  corporeal  beings  have  hitherto  been  concluded  immortal, 
 and  others  not.  This  is  to  attribute  more  to  the  outside  than  inside  of  things ; 
 and  to  place  the  excellency  of  a  man  more  in  the  external  shape  of  his  body, 
 than  internal  perfections  of  his  soul :  whicli  is  but  little  better  than  to  annex 
 the  great  and  inestimable  advantage  of  immortality  and  life  everlasting,  which 
 he  has  above  other  material  beings, — to  annex  it,  I  say,  to  the  cut  of  his 
 beard,  or  the  fashion  of  his  coat.  For  this  or  that  outward  mark  of  our  bo- 
 dies no  more  carries  with  it  the  hope  of  an  eternal  duration,  than  the  fashion 
 of  a  man's  suit  gives  him  reasonable  grounds  to  imagine  it  will  never  wear 
 out,  or  that  it  will  make  him  immortal.  It  will  perhaps  be  said,  that  nobody 
 thinks  that  the  shape  makes  any  thing  immortal,  but  it  is  the  shape  is  the 
 sign  of  a  rational  soul  within,  which  is  iimnortal.  I  wonder  who  made  it  the 
 sign  of  any  such  thing:  for  barely  saying  it  will  not  make  it  so.  It  would 
 require  some  proofs  to  persuade  one  of  it.  No  figure  that  I  know  speaks 
 any  such  language.  For  it  may  as  rationally  be  concluded,  that  the  dead 
 body  of  a  man,  wherein  there  is  to  be  found  no  more  appearance  or  action  of 
 life  than  there  is  in  a  statue,  has  yet  nevertheless  a  living  soul  in  it,  because 
 of  its  shape,  as  tliat  there  is  a  rational  soul  in  a  changeling,  because  he  has 
 the  outside  of  a  rational  creature ;  when  his  actions  carry  far  less  marks  of 
 reason  with  them,  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  than  what  are  to  be  found 
 in  many  a  beast. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Monsters. — But  it  is  the  issue  of  rational  parents,  and  must 
 therefore  be  concluded  to  have  a  rational  soul.  I  know  not  by  what  logic 
 you  must  so  conclude.  I  am  sure  this  is  a  conclusion  that  men  nowhere  allow 
 of  For  if  they  did,  they  would  not  make  bold,  as  every  where  they  do,  to  de- 
 stroy ill-formed  and  misshaped  productions.  Ay,  but  these  arc  monsters.  Let 
 them  bo  so  ;  what  will  your  drivelling,  unintelligent,  intractable  changeling 
 be  ?  Shall  a  defect  in  the  body  make  a  monster  ;  a  defect  in  the  mind  (the 
 
Ch.  4.  REALITY  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  383 
 
 far  more  noble,  and,  in  the  common  phrase,  the  far  more  essential  part),  not] 
 Shall  the  want  of  a  nose,  or  a  neck,  make  a  monster,  and  put  such  issue  out 
 of  the  rank  of  men  ;  the  want  of  reason  and  understanding,  not?  This  is  to 
 bring  all  back  again  to  what  was  exploded  just  now  :  this  is  to  place  all  in 
 the  shape,  and  to  take  the  measure  of  a  man  only  by  his  outside.  To  show 
 that,  according  to  the  ordinary  way  of  reasoning  in  this  matter,  people  do 
 lay  the  whole  stress  on  the  figure,  and  resolve  the  whole  essence  of  the  spe- 
 cies of  man  (as  they  make  it)  into  the  outward  shape,  how  unreasonable 
 soever  it  be,  and  how  much  soever  they  disown  it,  we  need  but  trace  their 
 thoughts  and  practice  a  little  farther,  and  then  it  will  plainly  appear.  The 
 well-shaped  changling  is  a  man,  has  a  rational  soul,  though  it  appear  not ; 
 this  is  past  doubt,  say  you.  Make  the  ears  alittlelonger,  and  more  pointed, 
 and  the  nose  a  little  flatter  than  ordinary,  and  then  you  begin  to  boggle :  make 
 the  face  yet  narrower,  flatter,  and  longer,  and  then  you  are  at  a  stand  :  add 
 still  more  and  more  of  the  likeness  of  a  brute  to  it,  and  let  the  head  be  per- 
 fectly that  of  some  other  animal,  then  presently  it  is  a  monster  ;  and  it  is  de- 
 monstration with  you  that  it  hath  no  rational  soul,  and  must  be  destroyed. 
 Where  now,  I  ask,  shall  be  the  just  measure  of  the  utmost  bounds  of  that 
 shape,  that  carries  with  it  a  rational  soul  ?  For  since  there  have  been  human 
 foetuses  produced,  half  beast,  and  half  man;  and  others  three  parts  one,  and 
 one  part  the  other  ;  and  so  it  is  possible  they  may  be  in  all  the  variety  of  ap- 
 proaches to  the  one  or  the  other  shape,  and  may  have  several  degrees  of  mixture 
 of  the  likeness  of  a  man  or  a  brute  ;  I  would  gladly  know  what  are  those  precise 
 lineaments,  which,  according  to  this  hypothesis,  are,  or  are  not  capable  of  a 
 rational  soul  to  be  joined  to  them.  What  sort  of  outside  is  the  certain  sign 
 that  there  is,  or  is  not  such  an  inhabitant  within  ]  For  till  that  be  done,  we 
 talk  at  random  of  man  :  and  shall  always,  I  fear,  do  so,  as  long  as  we  give 
 ourselves  up  to  certain  sounds,  and  the  imaginations  of  settled  and  fixed  spe- 
 cies in  nature,  we  know  not  what.  But  after  all,  I  desire  it  may  be  consid- 
 ered, that  those  who  think  they  have  answered  the  difficulty  by  telling  us, 
 that  a  misshaped  foetus  is  a  monster,  run  into  the  same  fault  they  are  arguing 
 against,  by  constituting  a  species  between  man  and  beast.  For  what  else, 
 I  pray,  is  their  monster  in  the  case  (if  the  word  monster  signifies  any  thing 
 at  all)  but  something  neither  man  nor  beast,  but  partaking  somewhat  of 
 either  ]  And  just  so  is  the  changeling  before-mentioned.  So  necessary  is  it 
 to  quit  the  common  notion  of  species  and  essences,  if  we  will  truly  look  into 
 the  nature  of  things,  and  examine  them,  by  what  our  faculties  can  discover 
 in  them  as  they  exist,  and  not  by  groundless  fancies,  that  have  been  taken  up 
 about  them. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Words  and  species. — I  have  mentioned  this  here,  because  I 
 think  we  cannot  be  too  cautious  that  words  and  species,  in  the  ordinary  no- 
 tions which  we  have  been  used  to  of  them,  impose  not  on  us.  For  I  am  apt 
 to  think,  therein  lies  one  great  obstacle  to  our  clear  and  distinct  knowledge, 
 especially  in  reference  to  substances  ;  and  from  thence  has  risen  a  great  part 
 of  the  difficulties  about  truth  and  certainty.  Would  we  accustom  ourselves 
 to  separate  our  contemplations  and  reasonings  from  words,  we  might,  in  a 
 great  measure,  remedy  this  inconvenience  within  our  own  thoughts  ;  but  yet 
 it  would  still  disturb  us  in  our  discourse  with  others,  as  long  as  we  retained 
 the  opinion,  that  species  and  their  essences  were  any  thing  else  but  our  ab- 
 stract ideas  (such  as  they  are)  with  names  annexed  to  them,  to  be  the  signs  of 
 them. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Recapitulation. — Wherever  we  perceive  the  agreement  or  dis- 
 agreement of  any  of  our  ideas,  there  is  certain  knowledge  :  and  wherever  we 
 are  sure  those  ideas  agree  with  the  reality  of  things,  there  is  certain  real.' 
 knowledge.  Of  which  agreement  of  our  ideas,  with  the  reality  of  things, 
 having  here  given  the  marks,  I  think  I  have  shown  wherein  it  is,  that  cer- 
 tamtv,  -ea.  certainty,  consists  :  which,  whatever  it  was  to  others,  was,  I  con- 
 fess, to  me,  neretofore,  one  of  those  desiderata  which  I  found  gTeat  want  of. 
 
364  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 CHAPTER  Y. 
 
 OF  TRUTH  IN  GENERAL. 
 
 Sect.  1.  What  truth  is. — What  is  truth'?  was  an  inquiry  many  ages  since; 
 and  it  being  that  which  all  mankind  either  do,  or  pretend  to  search  after,  it 
 cannot  but  be  worth  our  while  carefully  to  examine  wherein  it  consists,  and 
 so  acquaint  ourselves  with  the  nature  of  it,  as  to  observe  liow  the  mind  dis- 
 tinguishes it  from  falsehood. 
 
 Sect.  2.  A  right  joining  or  separating  of  signs,  i.  e.  ideas  or  words.— 
 Truth,  then,  seems  to  me,  in  the  proper  import  of  the  word,  to  signify  no- 
 thing but  the  joining  or  separating  of  signs,  as  the  things  signified  by  them 
 do  agree  or  disagree  one  with  another.  The  joining  or  separating  of  si  mis, 
 here  meant,  is  what  by  another  name  we  call  proposition.  So  that  truth 
 properly  beloug-s  only  to  propositions;  whereof  there  are  two  sorts,  viz.  men- 
 tal and  verbal ;  as  there  are  two  sorts  of  signs  commonly  made  use  of,  viz. 
 ideas  and  words. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Which  make  mental  or  verbal  propositions. — To  form  a  clear 
 notion  of  truth,  it  is  very  necessary  to  consider  truth  of  thought  and  truth  of 
 words,  distinctly  one  from  another:  but  yet  it  is  very  difficult  to  treat  of  them 
 asunder;  because  it  is  unavoidable,  in  treating  of  mental  propositions,  to 
 make  use  of  words ;  and  then  the  instances  given  of  mental  propositions 
 cease  immediately  to  be  barely  mental,  and  become  verbal.  For  a  mental 
 proposition  being  nothing  but  a  bare  consideration  of  the  ideas,  as  they  are 
 in  our  minds,  stripped  of  names,  they  lose  the  nature  of  purely  mental  pro- 
 positions, as  soon  as  they  are  put  into  words. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Mental  propositions  are  very  hard  to  be  treated  of. — And  that 
 which  makes  it  yet  harder  to  treat  of  mental  and  verbal  propositions  sepa- 
 rately is,  that  most  men,  if  not  all,  in  their  thinking  and  reasonings  within 
 themselves,  make  use  of  words  instead  of  ideas ;  at  least  when  the  subject 
 of  their  meditations  contains  in  it  complex  ideas.  Which  is  a  great  evidence 
 of  the  imperfection  and  uncertainty  of  our  ideas  of  that  kind,  and  may,  if 
 attentively  made  use  of,  serve  for  a  mark  to  show  us  what  are  those  things 
 we  have  clear  and  perfect  established  ideas  of,  and  what  not.  For  if  we  will 
 curiously  observe  the  way  our  mind  takes  in  thinking  and  reasoning,  we  shall 
 find,  I  suppose,  that  when  we  make  any  propositions  within  our  own  thouglits 
 about  white  or  black,  sweet  or  bitter,  a  triangle  or  a  circle,  we  can  and  often 
 do  frame  in  our  minds  the  ideas  themselves,  without  reflecting  on  the  names. 
 But  when  we  would  consider,  or  make  propositions  about  the  more  complex 
 ideas,  as  of  a  man,  vitriol,  fortitude,  glory,  we  usually  put  the  name  for  the 
 idea :  because  the  ideas  these  names  stand  for,  being  for  the  most  part  imper- 
 fect, confused,  and  undetermined,  we  reflect  on  the  names  themselves,  be- 
 cause they  are  more  clear,  certain,  and  distinct,  and  readier  occur  to  our 
 thoughts  than  the  pure  ideas ;  and  so  we  make  use  of  these  words  instead  of 
 the  ideas  themselves,  even  when  we  would  meditate  and  reason  within  our- 
 selves, and  make  tacit  mental  propositions.  In  substances,  as  has  been 
 already  noticed,  this  is  occasioned  by  the  imperfection  of  our  ideas;  we 
 making  the  name  stand  for  the  real  essence,  of  which  wo  have  no  idea  at  all. 
 In  modes,  it  is  occasioned  by  the  great  number  of  simple  ideas  that  go  to  the 
 making  them  up.  For  many  of  them  being  compounded,  the  name  occurs 
 much  easier  than  the  complex  idea  itself,  which  requires  time  and  attention 
 to  be  recollected,  and  exactly  represented  to  the  mind,  even  in  those  men 
 who  have  formerly  been  at  the  pains  to  do  it ;  and  is  utterly  impossible  to  be 
 done  by  those,  who,  though  they  have  ready  in  their  memory  the  greatest 
 part  of  the  common  words  of  that  language,  yet  perhaps  never  troubled 
 themselves  in  all  tlieir  lives  to  consider  what  precise  ideas  the  most  of  them 
 
Ch.  5.  TRUTH  IN  GENERAL.  385 
 
 stood  for.  Some  confused  or  obscure  notions  have  served  their  turns,  and 
 many  who  talk  very  much  of  religion  and  conscience,  of  church  and  faith, 
 of  power  and  right,  of  obstructions  and  humours,  melancholy  and  choler, 
 would  perhaps  have  little  left  in  their  thouglits  and  meditations,  if  one  should 
 desire  them  to  think  only  of  the  things  themselves,  and  lay  by  those  words, 
 with  which  they  so  often  confound  others,  and  not  seldom  themselves  also. 
 
 Sect.  5. — Being  nothing  but  the  joining  or  separating  ideas  without 
 words. — But  to  return  to  the  consideration  of  truth:  we  must,  I  say,  observe 
 two  sorts  of  propositions  that  we  are  capable  of  making. 
 
 First,  mentalj  wherein  the  ideas  in  our  understandings  are  without  the  use  j 
 of  words  put  together,  or  separated  by  the  mind,  perceiving  or  judging  of 
 their  agreement  or  disagreement. 
 
 Secondly,  verbal,  propositions,  which  are  words,  the  signs  of  our  ideas, 
 put  together,  or  separated  in  affirmative  or  negative  sentences.  By  which 
 way  of  affirming  or  denying,  these  signs,  made  by  sounds,  are,  as  it  were,  put 
 together,  or  separated  one  from  another.  So  that  proposition  consists  in 
 joining  or  separating  signs,  and  truth  consists  in  the  putting  together,  or 
 separating  those  signs,  according  as  the  things  which  they  stand  for  agree/ 
 or  disagree. 
 
 Sect.  6.  When  mental  propositions  contain  real  truth,  and  when  verbal. 
 — Every  one's  experience  will  satisfy  him,  that  the  mind,  either  by  perceiv- 
 ing or  supposing  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  of  its  ideas,  does 
 tacitly  within  itself  put  them  into  a  kind  of  proposition  affirmative  or  negative, 
 which  I  have  endeavoured  to  express  by  the  terms  putting  together  and  sepa- 
 rating. But  this  action  of  the  mind,  which  is  so  familiar  to  every  tliinking 
 and  reasoning  man,  is  easy  to  be  conceived  by  reflecting  on  what  passes  in  us, 
 when  we  affirm  or  deny,  than  to  be  explained  by  words.  When  a  man  has 
 in  his  head  the  idea  of  two  lines,  viz.  the  side  and  diagonal  of  a  square, 
 whereof  the  diagonal  is  an  inch  long,  he  may  have  the  idea  also  of  the  divis- 
 ion of  that  line  into  a  certain  number  of  equal  parts  ;  v.  g.  into  five,  ten,  a 
 hundred,  a  thousand,  or  any  other  number,  and  may  have  the  idea  of  that 
 inch  line  being  divisible,  or  not  divisible,  into  such  equal  parts,  as  a  certain 
 number  of  them  will  be  equal  to  the  side-line.  Now,  whenever  he  perceives, 
 believes  or  supposes  such  a  kind  of  divisibility  to  agree  or  disagree  to  his 
 idea  of  that  line,  he,  as  it  were,  joins  or  separates  those  two  ideas,  viz.  the 
 idea  of  that  line,  and  the  idea  of  that  kind  of  divisibility  ;  and  so  makes  a  men- 
 tal proposition,  which  is  true  or  false,  according  as  such  a  kind  of  divisibility, 
 a  divisibility  into  such  aliquot  parts,  does  really  agree  to  that  line  or  no. 
 When  ideas  are  so  put  together,  or  separated  in  the  mind,  as  they,  or  the  y' 
 things  they  stand  for,  do  agree  or  not,  that  is,  as  I  may  call  it,  mental  truth.  But 
 truth  of  words  is  something  more  ;  and  that  is  the  affirming  or  denying  of  ' 
 words  one  of  another,  as  the  idea  they  stand  for  agree  or  disagree  :  and  this 
 again  is  twofold ;  either  purely  verbal  and  trifling,  which  I  shall  speak  of, 
 chap.  viii.  or  real  and  instructive,  which  is  the  object  of  that  real  knowledge 
 which  we  have  spoken  of  already. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Objection  against  verbal  truth,  that  thus  it  may  all  be  chimeri- 
 cal.— But  here  again  will  be  apt  to  occur  the  same  doubt  about  truth,  that  did 
 about  knowledge  :  and  it  will  be  objected,  that  if  truth  be  nothingbut  the  join- 
 ingand  separating  of  words  in  propositions,  as  the  idea  they  stand  for  agree  or 
 disagree  in  men's  minds,  the  knowledge  of  truth  is  not  so  valuable  a  thing  as 
 it  is  taken  to  be,  nor  worth  the  pains  and  time  men  employ  in  the  search  of 
 it ;  since  by  this  account  it  amounts  to  no  more  than  the  conformity  of  words 
 to  the  chimeras  of  men's  brains.  Who  knows  not  what  odd  notions  many 
 men's  heads  are  filled  with,  and  what  strange  ideas  all  men's  brains  are  capable 
 of?  But  if  we  rest  here,  we  know  the  truth  of  nothing  by  this  rule,  but  of 
 the  visionary  words  in  our  own  imaginations  ;  nor  have  other  truth,  but 
 what  as  much  concerns  harpies  and  centaurs  as  men  and  horses.  For 
 those,  and  the  like,  may  be  ideas  in  our  heads,  and  have  their  agreement 
 and  disagreement  there,  as  well  as  the  ideas  of  real  beings,  and  so  have  as 
 2  Y 
 
366  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 true  propositions  made  about  them.  And  it  will  be  altogether  as  true  a  pro- 
 position to  say  all  centaurs  are  animals, as  that  all  men  are  animals;  and  the 
 certainty  of  one  as  great  as  the  other.  For  in  both  the  propositions,  the 
 words  are  put  together  according  to  the  agreement  of  the  ideas  in  our  minds  ; 
 and  the  agreement  of  the  idea  of  animal  with  that  of  centaur,  is  as  clear  and 
 visible  to  the  mind,  as  the  agreement  of  the  idea  of  animal  with  that  of  man  : 
 and  so  these  two  propositions  are  equally  true,  equally  certain.  But  of  what 
 use  is  all  such  truth  to  us  ! 
 
 Sect.  8.  Answered,  real  truth  is  about  ideas  agreeing  of  things. — Though 
 what  has  been  said  in  the  foregoing  chapter,  to  distinguish  real  from  imagi- 
 nary knowledge,  might  suffice  here,  in  answer  to  this  doubt,  to  distinguish 
 real  truth  from  chimerical,  or,  if  you  please,  barely  nominal,  they  depending 
 both  on  the  same  foundation  ;  yet  it  may  not  be  amiss  here  again  to  consider, 
 that  though  our  words  signify  nothing  but  our  ideas,  yet  being  designed  by 
 them  to  signify  things,  the  truth  they  contain,  when  put  into  propositions, 
 will  be  only  verbal,  when  they  stand  for  ideas  in  the  mind,  that  have  not  an 
 agreement  with  the  reality  of  things.  And  therefore  truth,  as  well  as  know- 
 ledge, may  well  come  under  the  distinction  of  verbal  and  real ;  that  being  only 
 verbal  truth,  wherein  terms  are  joined  according  to  the  agreement  or  disa- 
 greement of  the  ideas  they  stand  for,  without  regarding  whether  our  ideas 
 are  such  as  really  have,  or  are  capable  of  having,  an  existence  in  nature.  But 
 then  it  is  they  contain  real  truth,  when  these  signs  are  joined,  as  our  ideas 
 agree  ;  and  when  our  ideas  are  such  as  we  know  are  capable  of  having  an 
 e.xistence  in  nature  :  which  in  substances  we  cannot  know,  but  by  knowing 
 that  such  have  existed. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Falsehood  is  the  joining  of  names  otherwise  than  their  ideas 
 agree. — Truth  is  the  marking  down  in  words  the  agreement  or  disagreement 
 of  ideas  as  it  is.  Falsehood  is  the  marking  down  in  words  the  agreement  or 
 disagreement  of  ideas  otherwise  than  it  is.  And  so  far  as  these  ideas,  thus 
 marked  by  sounds,  agree  to  their  archetypes,  so  far  only  is  the  truth  real.  The 
 knowledge  of  this  truth  consists  in  knowing  what  ideas  the  words  stand  for, 
 and  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  those  ideas,  ac- 
 cording as  it  is  marked  by  those  words. 
 
 Sect.  10.  General  propositions  to  be  treated  of  more  at  large. — But  be- 
 cause words  are  looked  on  as  the  great  conduits  of  truth  and  knowledge,  and 
 that  in  conveying  and  receiving  of  truth,  and  commonly  in  reasoning  about 
 it,  we  make  use  of  words  and  propositions  ;  I  shall  more  at  large  inquire, 
 wherein  the  certainty  of  real  truths,  contained  in  propositions,  consists,  and 
 where  it  is  to  be  had ;  and  endeavour  to  show  in  what  sort  of  universal  pro- 
 positions we  are  capable  of  being  certain  of  their  real  truth  or  falsehood. 
 
 I  shall  begin  with  general  propositions,  as  those  which  most  employ  our 
 thoughts,  and  exercise  our  contemplation.  General  truths  are  most  looked 
 after  by  the  mind,  as  those  that  most  enlarge  our  knowledge  ;  and  by  their 
 comprehensiveness  satisfying  us  at  once  of  many  particulars,  enlarge  our 
 view,  and  shorten  our  way  to  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Moral  and  metaphysical  truth. — Besides  truth,  taken  in  the 
 strict  sense  before  mentioned,  there  are  other  sorts  of  truth  ;  as,  1.  Moral 
 truth,  which  is  speaking  of  things  according  to  the  persuasion  of  our  own 
 minds,  though  the  proposition  we  speak  agree  not  to  the  reality  of  things. 
 2.  Metaphysical  truth,  which  is  nothing  but  the  real  existence  of  things,  con- 
 formable to  the  ideas  to  which  we  have  annexed  their  names.  This,  though 
 it  seems  to  consist  in  the  very  beings  of  things,  yet,  when  considered  a  little 
 nearly,  will  appear  to  include  a  tacit  proposition,  whereby  the  mind  joins  that 
 particular  thing  to  the  idea  it  had  before  settled  with  a  name  to  it.  But  these 
 considerations  of  truth,  either  having  been  before  taken  notice  of,  or  not  be- 
 ing umch  to  our  present  purpose,  it  may  suffice  here  only  to  have  mentioned 
 them. 
 
Ch.  6.  UNIVERSAL  PROPOSITIONS.  a87 
 
 CHAPTER  VI. 
 
 OF  UNIVERSAL  PROPOSITIONS,  THEIR    TRUTH  AND  CERTAINTY. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Treating  of  words  necessary  to  knowledge. — Though  the  ex- 
 amining and  judging  of  ideas  by  themselves,  their  names  being  quite  laid 
 aside,  be  the  best  and  surest  way  to  clear  and  distinct  knowledge  ;  yet,  through 
 the  prevailing  custom  of  using  sounds  for  ideas,  T  think  it  is  very  seldom 
 practised.  Every  one  may  observe  how  common  it  is  for  names  to  be 
 made  use  of,  instead  of  the  ideas  themselves,  even  when  men  think  and 
 reason  within  their  own  breasts;  especially  if  the  ideas  be  very  complex,  and 
 made  up  of  a  great  collection  of  simple  ones.  This  makes  the  consideration 
 of  words  and  propositions  so  necessary  a  part  of  the  treatise  of  knowledge, 
 that  it  is  very  hard  to  speak  intelligibly  of  the  one  without  explaining  the 
 other. 
 
 Sect.  2.  General  truths  hardly  to  be  understood,  but  in  verbal  propo- 
 sitions.— All  the  knowledge  we  have,  being  only  of  particular  or  general 
 truths,  it  is  evident  that  whatever  may  be  done  in  the  former  of  these,  the 
 latter,  which  is  that  which  with  reason  is  most  sought  after,  can  never  be 
 well  made  known,  and  is  very  seldom  apprehended,  but  as  conceived  and 
 expressed  in  words.  It  is  not  therefore  out  of  our  way,  in  the  examination 
 of  our  knowledge,  to  inquire  into  the  truth  and  certamty  of  universal  pro- 
 positions. 
 
 Sect.  3.   Certainty  twofold,  of  truth  and  of  knowledge. — But  that  we 
 may  not  be  misled  in  this  case,  by  that  which  is  the  danger  everywhere,  I 
 mean  by  the  doubtfulness  of  terms,  it  is  fit  to  observe,  that  certainty  is  two- 
 fold ;  certainty  of  truth,  and  certainty  of  knowledge.     Certainty  of  truth  is,  ^ 
 when  words  are  so  put  together  in  propositions,  as  exactly  to  express  the 
 agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas  they  stand  for,  as  really  it  is.     Cer-  , 
 tainty  of  knowledge  is  to  perceive  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas, ' 
 as  expressed  in  any  proposition.     This  we  usually  call  knowing,  or  being 
 certain  of  the  truth  of  any  proposition. 
 
 Sect.  4.  No  proposition  can  be  known  to  be  true,  where  the  essence  of 
 each  species  mentioned  is  not  knoion. — Now  because  we  cannot  be  certain 
 of  the  truth  of  any  general  proposition,  unless  we  know  the  precise  bounds 
 and  extent  of  the  species  its  terms  stand  for,  it  is  necessary  we  should  know 
 the  essence  of  each  species,  which  is  that  which  constitutes  and  bounds  it. 
 This,  in  all  simple  ideas  and  modes,  is  not  hard  to  do.  For  in  these,  the 
 real  and  nominal  essence  being  the  same  ;  or,  which  is  all  one,  the  abstract; 
 idea  which  the  general  term  stands  for  being  the  sole  essence  and  boundaryl 
 that  is  or  can  be  supposed  of  the  species ;  there  can  be  no  doubt  how  far 
 the  species  extends,  or  what  things  are  comprehended  under  each  term  : 
 which,  it  is  evident,  are  all  that  have  an  exact  conformity  with  the  idea  it 
 stands  for,  and  no  other.  But  in  substances,  wherein  a  real  essence  distinct 
 from  the  nominal  is  supposed  to  constitute,  determine,  and  bound  the  spe- 
 cies, the  extent  of  the  general  word  is  very  uncertain :  because  not  know- 
 ing this  real  essence,  we  cannot  know  what  is,  or  what  is  not  of  that  species, 
 and  consequently  what  may,  or  may  not  with  certainty  be  affirmed  of  it. 
 And  thus  speaking  of  a  man,  or  gold,  or  any  other  species  of  natural  sub- 
 stances, as  supposed  constituted  by  a  precise  and  real  essence,  which  nature 
 regularly  imparts  to  every  individual  of  that  kind,  whereby  it  is  made  to  be 
 of  that  species,  we  cannot  be  certain  of  the  truth  of  any  affirmation  or  nega- 
 tion made  of  it.  For  man,  or  gold,  taken  in  this  sense,  and  used  for  spe- 
 cies of  things  constituted  by  real  essences,  different  from  the  complex  idea 
 in  the  mind  of  the  speaker,  stand  for  we  know  not  what ;  and  the  extent  of 
 these  species,  with  such  boundaries,  are  so  unknown  and  undetermined,  that 
 
388  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 it  is  impossible  with  any  certainty  to  affirm,  that  all  men  are  rational,  or  that 
 all  gold  is  yellow.  But  where  the  nominal  essence  is  kept  to,  as  the  boun- 
 dary of  each  species,  and  men  extend  tlie  application  of  any  general  term 
 no  farther  tlian  to  the  particular  things  in  which  the  complex  idea  it  stands 
 for  is  to  be  found,  there  they  are  in  no  danger  to  mistake  the  bounds  of  each 
 species,  nor  can  be  in  doubt,  on  tliis  account,  whether  any  propositions  be 
 true  or  no.  I  have  ciioscn  to  explain  this  uncertainty  of  propositions  in  this 
 scholastic  way,  and  have  made  use  of  the  terms'of  essences  and  species,  on 
 purpose  to  show  the  absurdity  and  inconvenience  there  is  to  think  of  them 
 as  of  any  other  sort  of  realities  than  barely  abstract  ideas  with  names  to 
 them.  To  suppose  that  the  species  of  things  are  any  thing  but  the  sorting 
 of  them  under  general  names,  according  as  they  agree  to  several  abstract 
 ideas,  of  which  we  make  those  names  the  signs,  is  to  confound  truth,  and 
 introduce  uncertainty  into  all  general  propositions  that  can  be  made  about 
 them.  Though  therefore  thebe  things  might,  to  people  not  possessed  with 
 scholastic  learning,  be  treated  of  in  a  better  and  clearer  way;  yet  those 
 wrong  notions  of  essences  or  species,  having  got  root  in  most  people's  minds, 
 who  have  received  any  tincture  from  the  learning  which  has  prevailed  in  this 
 part  of  the  world,  are  to  be  discovered  and  removed,  to  make  way  for  that 
 use  of  words  which  should  convey  certainty  with  it. 
 
 Sect.  5.  This  more  particularly  concerns  substances. — The  names  of 
 substances,  then,  whenever  made  to  stand  for  species,  which  are  supposed  to 
 be  constituted  by  real  essences,  which  we  know  not,  are  not  capable  to  con- 
 vey certainty  to  the  understanding  :  of  the  truth  of  general  propositions  made 
 up  of  such  terms,  we  cannot  be  sure.  The  reason  whereof  is  plain  :  for  how 
 can  we  be  sure  that  this  or  that  quality  is  in  gold,  when  we  know  not  what 
 is  or  is  not  gold  ?  Since  in  this  way  of  speaking  nothing  is  gold  but  what 
 partakes  of  an  essence,  which  we  not  knowing,  cannot  know  where  it  is  or 
 is  not,  and  so  cannot  be  sure  that  any  parcel  of  matter  in  the  world  is,  or  is 
 not  in  this  sense  gold  ;  being  incurably  ignorant,  whether  it  has  or  has  not 
 that  which  makes  any  thing  to  be  called  gold,  i.  e.  that  real  essence  of  gold 
 whereof  we  have  no  idea  at  all :  this  being  as  impossible  for  us  to  know,  as 
 it  is  for  a  blind  man  to  tell  in  what  flower  the  colour  of  a  pansy  is  or  is  not 
 to  be  found,  whilst  he  has  no  idea  of  the  colour  of  a  pansy  at  all.  Or  if  we 
 could  (which  is  impossible)  certainly  know  where  a  real  essence,  which  we 
 know  not,  is ;  v.  g.  in  what  parcels  of  matter  the  real  essence  of  gold  is  ; 
 yet  could  we  not  be  sure,  that  this  or  that  quality  could  with  truth  be  affirmed 
 of  gold  ;  since  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  know,  that  this  or  that  quality  or 
 idea  has  a  necessary  connexion  with  a  real  essence,  of  which  we  have  no 
 idea  at  all,  whatever  species  that  supposed  real  essence  may  be  imagined  to 
 constitute. 
 
 Sect.  6.  The  truth  of  few  universal  propositions  concerning  substances 
 is  to  be  known. — On  the  other  side,  the  names  of  substances,  when  made 
 use  of  as  they  should  be,  for  the  ideas  men  have  in  their  minds,  though  they 
 carry  a  clear  and  determinate  signification  with  them,  will  not  yet  serve  us 
 to  make  many  universal  propositions,  of  whose  truth  we  can  be  certain.  Not 
 because  in  this  use  of  them  we  are  uncertain  what  things  are  signified  by 
 them,  but  because  the  complex  ideas  they  stand  for  are  such  combinations  of 
 simple  ones,  as  carry  not  with  them  any  discoverable  connexion  or  repug- 
 nancy, but  with  a  very  few  other  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Because  coexistence  of  ideas  in  few  cases  is  to  be  known. — 
 The  complex  ideas,  that  our  names  of  the  species  of  substances  properly 
 stand  for,  are  collections  of  such  qualities  as  have  been  observed  to  coexist 
 in  an  unknown  substratum,  which  we  call  substance  ;  but  what  other  qualities 
 necessarily  coexist  with  such  combinations  we  cannot  certainly  know,  unless  ' 
 we  can  discover  their  natural  dependence  ;  which,  in  their  primary  qualities, 
 we  can  go  but  a  very  little  way  in  ;  and  in  all  their  secondary  qualities  we  can 
 discover  no  connexion  at  all,  for  the  reasons  mentioned,  chap.  iii.  ;  •  viz.  1. 
 Because  we  know  not  the  real  constitutions  of  substances,  on  which  each 
 
Ch.  6.  UNIVERSAL  PROPOSITIONS.  389 
 
 secondary  quality  particularly  depends.  2.  Did  we  know  that,  it  would  een'e 
 us  only  for  experimental  (not  universal)  knowledge  ;  and  reach  with  certainty 
 no  farther  than  that  bare  instance  :  because  our  understandings  can  discover 
 no  conceivable  connexion  between  any  secondary  quality  and  any  modification 
 whatsoever  of  any  of  the  primary  ones.  And  therefore  there  are  very  few 
 general  propositions  to  be  made  concerning  substances,  which  can  carry 
 with  them  undoubted  certainty. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Instance  in  gold. — All  gold  is  fixed,  is  a  proposition  whose  truth 
 we  cannot  be  certain  of,  how  universally  soever  it  be  believed.  For  if,  ac- 
 cording to  the  useless  imagination  of  the  schools,  any  one  supposes  the  term 
 gold  to  stand  for  a  species  of  things,  set  out  by  nature,  by  a  real  essence 
 belonging  to  it,  it  is  evident  he  knows  not  what  particular  substances  are  of 
 that  species  ;  and  so  cannot,  with  certainty,  affirm  any  thing  universally  of 
 gold.  But  if  he  makes  gold  stand  for  a  species  determined  by  its  nominal 
 essence,  let  the  nominal  essence,  for  example,  be  the  complex  idea  of  a  body, 
 of  a  certain  yellow  colour,  malleable,  fusible,  and  heavier  than  any  other 
 known  ;  in  this  proper  use  of  the  word  gold,  there  is  no  difficulty  to  know 
 what  is  or  is  not  gold.  But  yet  no  other  quality  can  with  certainty  be  uni- 
 versally affirmed  or  denied  of  gold,  but  what  hath  a  discoverable  connexion 
 or  inconsistency  with  that  nominal  essence.  Fixedness,  for  example,  having 
 no  necessary  connexion,  that  we  can  discover,  with  the  colour,  weight,  or 
 any  other  simple  idea  of  our  complex  one,  or  with  the  whole  combination 
 together  ;  it  is  impossible  that  we  should  certainly  know  the  truth  of  this 
 proposition,  that  all  gold  is  fixed. 
 
 Sect.  9.  As  there  is  no  discoverable  connexion  between  fixedness  and 
 the  colour,  weight,  and  other  simple  ideas  of  that  nominal  essence  of  gold  ; 
 so  if  we  make  our  complex  idea  of  gold  a  body  yellow,  fusible,  ductile, 
 weighty,  and  fixed,  we  shall  be  at  the  same  uncertainty  concerning  solubility 
 in  aqua  regia,  and  for  the  same  reason  :  since  we  can  never,  from  considera- 
 tion of  the  ideas  themselves,  with  certainty  affirm  or  deny  of  a  body,  whose 
 complex  idea  is  made  up  of  yellow,  very  weighty,  ductile,  fusible,  and  fixed, 
 that  it  is  soluble  in  aqua  regia ;  and  so  on,  of  the  rest  of  its  qualities.  I  would 
 gladly  meet  with  one  general  affirmation  concerning  any  quality  of  gold,  that 
 any  one  can  certainly  know  is  true.  It  will,  no  doubt,  be  presently  objected, 
 is  not  this  a  universal  proposition,  "  all  gold  is  malleable?"  To  which  I  an- 
 swer, it  is  a  very  certain  proposition,  if  malleableness  be  apart  of  the  complex 
 idea  the  word  gold  stands  for.  But  then  here  is  nothing  affirmed  of  gold,  but 
 that  that  sound  stands  for  an  idea  in  which  malleableness  is  contained  :  and 
 such  a  sort  of  truth  and  certainty  as  this,  it  is  to  say  a  centaur  is  four-footed. 
 But  if  malleableness  maizes  not  a  part  of  the  specific  essence  the  name  of 
 gold  stands  for,  it  is  plain,  "  all  gold  is  malleable"  is  not  a  certain  proposi- 
 tion. Because  let  the  complex  idea  of  gold  be  made  up  of  whichsover  of  its 
 other  qualities  you  please,  malleableness  will  not  appear  to  depend  on  that 
 complex  idea,  nor  follow  from  any  simple  one  contained  in  it:  the  connexion 
 that  malleableness  has  (if  it  has  any)  with  those  other  qualities,  being  only, 
 by  the  intervention  of  the  real  constitution  of  its  insensible  parts,  which, 
 since  we  know  not,  it  is  impossible  we  should  perceive  that  connexion,  im- 
 less  we  could  discover  that  which  ties  them  together. 
 
 Sect.  10.  As  far  as  any  such  coexistence  can  be  known,  so  far  universal 
 propositions  man  be  certain.  But  this  will  go  but  a  little  way,  because — 
 The  more,  indeed,  of  these  coexisting  qualities  we  unite  into  one  complex 
 idea,  under  one  name,  the  more  precise  and  determinate  we  make  the  sig- 
 nification  of  that  word ;  but  never  yet  make  it  thereby  more  capable  of  uni- 
 versal certainty,  in  respect  of  other  qualities,  not  contained  in  our  complex 
 idea ;  since  we  perceive  not  their  connexion  or  dependence  on  one  another, 
 being  ignorant  both  of  that  real  constitution  in  which  they  are  all  founded, 
 nnd  also  how  they  flow  from  it.  For  the  chief  part  of  our  knowledge  con- 
 cerning substances  is  not,  as  in  other  things,  barely  of  the  relation  of  two 
 ideas  that  may  exist  separately ;  but  is  of  the  necessary  connexion  and  coex-  -^ 
 
390  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 istence  of  several  distinct  ideas  in  the  same  subject,  or  of  their  repugnancy 
 so  to  coexist.  Could  we  begin  at  the  other  end,  and  discover  what  it  was, 
 wherein  that  colour  consisted,  what  made  a  body  lighter  or  heavier,  wliat 
 texture  of  parts  made  it  malleable,  fusible,  and  fixed,  and  fit  to  be  dissolved 
 in  this  sort  of  liquor,  and  not  in  another  ;  if,  I  say,  we  had  such  an  idea  as 
 this  of  bodies,  and  could  perceive  wherein  all  sensible  qualities  originally  con- 
 sist, and  how  they  are  produced ;  we  might  frame  such  ideas  of  them  as 
 would  furnish  us  with  matter  of  more  general  knowledge,  and  enable  us  to 
 make  universal  propositions,  that  shoidd  carry  general  truth  and  certainty 
 with  them.  But  whilst  our  complex  ideas  of  the  sorts  of  substances  are  so 
 remote  from  that  inlernal  real  constitution,  on  which  their  sensible  qualities, 
 depend,  and  are  mov.r  up  of  nothing  but  an  imperfect  collection  of  those  ap- 
 parent qualities  our  senses  can  discover  ;  there  can  be  few  general  proposi- 
 tions concerning  substances,  of  whose  real  truth  we  can  be  certainly  assured; 
 since  there  are  but  few  simple  ideas,  of  whose  connexion  and  necessary 
 coexistence  we  can  have  certain  and  undoubted  knowledge.  I  imagine, 
 among  all  the  secondary  qualities  of  substances,  and  the  powers  relating  to 
 them,  there  cannot  any  two  be  named,  whose  necessary  coexistence,  or  re- 
 pugnance to  coexist,  can  certainly  be  known,  unless  in  those  of  the  same 
 sense,  which  necessarily  exclude  one  another,  as  I  have  elsewhere  shown. 
 No  one,  I  think,  by  the  colour  that  is  in  any  body,  can  certainly  know  what 
 smell,  taste,  sound,  or  tangible  qualities  it  has,  nor  what  alterations  it  is  ca- 
 pable to  make  or  receive,  on  or  from  other  bodies.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
 the  sound  or  taste,  &c.  Our  specific  names  of  substances  standing  for  any 
 collections  of  such  ideas,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered,  that  we  can  with  them 
 make  very  few  general  propositions  of  undoubted  real  certainty.  But  yet,  so 
 far  as  any  complex  idea,  of  any  sort  of  substances,  contains  in  it  any  simple 
 idea,  whose  necessary  coexistence  with  any  other  may  be  discovered,  so  far 
 universal  propositions  may  with  certainty  be  made  concerning  it :  v.  g.  could 
 any  one  discover  a  necessary  connexion  between  malleableness,  and  the  co- 
 lour or  weight  of  gold,  or  any  other  part  of  the  complex  idea  signified  by  that 
 name,  he  might  make  a  certain  universal  proposition  concerning  gold  in  this 
 respect;  and  the  real  truth  of  this  proposition,  "that  all  gold  is  malleable," 
 would  be  as  certain  as  of  this,  "the  three  angles  of  all  right-lined  triangles 
 are  equal  to  two  right  ones." 
 
 Sect.  11.  The  qualities  which  make  our  complex  ideas  of  substances, 
 depend  mostly  on  external,  remote,  and  unperceived  causes. — Had  we  such 
 ideas  of  substances,  as  to  know  what  real  constitutions  produce  those  sensible 
 qualities  we  find  in  them,  and  how  those  qualities  flowed  from  thence,  we  could, 
 by  the  specific  ideas  of  their  real  essences  in  our  own  minds,  more  certainly 
 find  out  their  properties,  and  discover  what  qualities  they  had  or  had  not,  than 
 we  can  now  by  our  senses :  and  to  know  the  properties  of  gold,  it  would  be 
 no  more  necessary  that  gold  should  exist,  and  that  we  should  make  experi- 
 ments upon  it,  than  it  is  necessary  for  the  knowing  the  properties  of  a  trian- 
 gle, that  a  triangle  should  exist  in  any  matter  ;  the  idea  in  our  minds  would 
 serve  for  the  one  as  well  as  the  other.  But  we  are  so  far  from  being  admitted 
 into  the  secrets  of  nature,  that  we  scarce  so  much  as  ever  approach  tiie  first 
 entrance  toward  them.  For  we  are  wont  to  consider  the  substances  we  meet 
 with,  each  of  them  as  an  entire  thing  by  itself,  having  all  its  qualities  in  it- 
 self, and  independent  of  other  things  ;  overlooking,  for  the  most  part,  the 
 operations  of  those  invisible  fluids  they  are  encompassed  with,  and  upon 
 whose  motions  and  operations  depend  the  greatest  part  of  those  qualities 
 which  are  taken  notice  of  in  them,  and  are  made  by  us  the  inherent  marks  of 
 distinction,  whereby  we  know  and  denominate  them.  Put  a  piece  of  gold 
 any  whore  by  itself,  separate  from  the  reach  and  influence  of  all  other  bodies, 
 it  will  immediately,  lose  all  its  colour  and  weight,  and  perhaps  malleableness 
 too  ;  which,  for  aught  I  know,  would  be  changed  into  a  perfect  friability. 
 Water,  in  which  to  us  fluidity  is  an  essential  quality,  left;  to  itself,  would 
 cease  to  be  fluid.     But  if  inanimate  bodies  owe  so  much  of  their  present  state 
 
Ch.6.  UNIVERSAL  PROPOSITIONS.  891 
 
 to  other  bodies  without  them,  that  they  would  not  be  what  they  appear  to  us, 
 were  those  bodies  that  environ  them  removed ;  it  is  yet  more  so  in  vegeta- 
 bles, which  are  nourished,  grow,  and  produce  leaves,  flowers,  and  seeds  in  a 
 constant  succession.  And  if  we  look  a  little  nearer  into  the  state  of  animals, 
 we  shall  find  that  their  dependence,  as  to  life,  motion,  and  the  most  con- 
 siderable qualities  to  be  observed  in  them,  is  so  wholly  on  extrinsical  causes 
 and  qualities  of  other  bodies  that  make  no  part  of  them,  that  tliey  cannot 
 subsist  a  moment  without  them  :  thougli  yet  those  bodies  on  which  they  de- 
 pend are  little  taken  notice  of,  and  make  no  part  of  tlie  complex  ideas  we 
 frame  of  those  animals.  Take  the  air  but  for  a  minute  from  the  greatest 
 part  of  living  creatures,  and  they  presently  lose  sense,  lite,  and  motion.  This 
 the  necessity  of  breathing  has  forced  into  our  knowledge.  But  how  many 
 other  extrinsical,  and  possibly  very  remote  bodies,  do  the  springs  of  these  ad- 
 mirable machines  depend  on,  which  are  not  vulgarly  observed,  or  so  much  as 
 thought  on ;  and  how  many  are  there,  which  the  severest  inquiry  can  never 
 discover!  The  inhabitants  of  this  spot  of  the  universe,  though  removed  so 
 many  millions  of  miles  from  the  sun,  yet  depend  so  much  on  the  duly  tem- 
 pered  motion  of  particles  coming  from,  or  agitated  by  it,  that  were  this  earth 
 removed  but  a  small  part  of  that  distance  out  of  its  present  situation,  and 
 placed  a  little  farther  or  nearer  that  source  of  heat,  it  is  more  than  probable 
 that  the  greatest  part  of  the  animals  in  it  would  immediately  perish :  since 
 we  find  them  so  often  destroyed  by  an  excess  or  defect  of  the  sun's  warmth, 
 which  an  accidental  position,  in  some  parts  of  this  our  little  globe  exposes 
 them  to.  The  qualities  observed  in  a  loadstone  must  needs  have  their  source 
 far  beyond  the  confines  of  that  body ;  and  the  ravage  made  often  on  several 
 sorts  of  animals  by  invisible  causes,  the  certain  death  (as  we  are  told)  of 
 some  of  them,  by  barely  passing  the  line,  or,  as  it  is  certain  of  others,  by  be- 
 ing removed  into  a  neighbouring  country ;  evidently  show  that  the  concur- 
 rence and  operations  of  several  bodies,  with  which  they  are  seldom  thought  to 
 have  any  thing  to  do,  is  absolutely  necessary  to  make  them  be  what  they  ap- 
 pear to  us,  and  to  preserve  those  qualities  by  which  we  know  and  distinguish 
 them.  We  are  then  quite  out  of  the  way,  when  we  think  that  things  con- 
 tain within  themselves  the  qualities  that  appear  to  us  in  them;  and  we  in 
 vain  search  for  that  constitution  within  the  body  of  a  fly,  or  an  elephant,  upon 
 which  depend  those  qualities  and  powers  we  observe  in  them.  For  which, 
 perhaps,  to  understand  them  aright,  we  ought  to  look  not  only  beyond  this 
 our  earth  and  atmosphere,  but  even  beyond  the  sun,  or  remotest  star  our 
 eyes  have  yet  discovered.  For  how  much  the  being  and  operation  of  par- 
 ticular substances  in  this  our  globe  depends  on  causes  utterly  beyond  our 
 view,  is  impossible  for  us  to  determine.  We  see  and  perceive  some  of  the 
 motions  and  grosser  operations  of  things  here  about  us  ;  but  whence  the 
 streams  come  that  keep  all  these  curious  machines  in  motion  and  repair,  how 
 conveyed  and  modified,  is  beyond  our  notice  and  apprehension :  and  the 
 great  parts  and  wheels,  as  I  may  so  say,  of  this  stupendous  structure  of  the 
 universe,  may,  for  aught  we  know,  have  such  a  connexion  and  dependence  in 
 their  influence  and  operations  one  upon  another,  that  perhaps  tilings  in  this 
 our  mansion  would  put  on  quite  another  face,  and  cease  to  be  what  they  are, 
 if  some  one  of  the  stars  or  great  bodies,  incomprehensibly  remote  from  us, 
 should  cease  to  be  or  move  as  it  does.  This  is  certain,  things,  however  ab- 
 solute and  entire  they  seem  in  themselves,  are  but  retainers  to  other  parts  of 
 nature,  for  that  which  they  are  most  taken  notice  of  by  us.  Their  observable 
 qualities,  actions,  and  powers,  are  owing  to  something  without  them  ;  and 
 there  is  not  so  complete  and  perfect  a  part  that  we  know  of  nature,  which  i 
 does  not  owe  the  being  it  has,  and  the  excellencies  of  it,  to  its  neighbours  ;  ) 
 and  we  must  not  confine  our  thoughts  within  the  surface  of  any  body,  but  look 
 a  great  deal  farther,  to  comprehend  perfectly  those  qualities  that  are  in  it. 
 
 Sect.  12.  If  this  be  so,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered,  that  we  have  very  imper- 
 fect ideas  of  substances ;  and  that  the  real  essences,  on  which  depend  their 
 properties  and  operations,  are  unknown  to  us.    We  cannot  discover  so  much 
 
392  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4 
 
 us  that  size,  figure,  and  texture  of  their  minute  and  active  parts,  which  if. 
 really  in  them  ;  much  loss  the  different  motions  and  impulses  made  in  and 
 upon  them  by  bodies  from  without,  upon  wiiich  depends,  aiid  by  which  is 
 formed,  tlie  greatest  and  most  remarkable  part  of  those  qualities  we  observe  in 
 them,  and  of  which  our  complex  ideas  of  them  are  made  up.  This  considera- 
 lion  alone  is  enough  to  put  an  end  to  all  our  hopes  of  ever  having  the  ideas  of 
 tlieir  real  essences ;  which,  whilst  we  want,  the  nominal  essences  we  ma'<o 
 use  of  instead  of  them  will  be  able  to  furnish  us  but  very  sparingly  witli  any 
 goneral  knowledge,  or  universal  propositions  capable  of  real  certainty 
 
 Sect.  13.  Judgment  may  reach  farther,  but  that  is  not  knowledge. — We 
 are  not  'Jicrcfore  to  wonder,  if  certainty  be  to  be  found  in  very  few  general 
 propositions  made  concerning  substances :  our  knowledge  of  their  qualities 
 and  properties  goes  very  seldom  farther  than  our  senses  reach  and  inform  us. 
 Possibly  inquisitive  and  observing  men  may,  by  strength  of  judgment,  pene- 
 trate flirther,  and  on  probabilities  taken  from  wary  observation,  and  hints  well 
 laid  together,  oflen  guess  right  at  what  experience  has  not  yet  discovered  to 
 them.  But  this  is  but  guessing  still ;  it  amounts  only  to  opinion,  and  has  not 
 that  certainty  which  is  requisite  to  knowledge.  For  all  general  knowledge 
 lies  only  in  our  own  thoughts,  and  consists  barely  in  the  contemplation  of  our 
 own  abstract  ideas.  Wherever  we  perceive  any  agreement  or  disagreement 
 among  them,  there  we  have  general  knowledge;  and,  by  putting  the  names 
 of  those  ideas  together  accordingly  in  propositions,  can  with  certainty  pro- 
 nounce general  truths.  But  because  the  abstract  ideas  of  substances,  for 
 which  their  specific  names  stand,  whenever  they  have  any  distinct  and  deter- 
 minate signification,  have  a  discoverable  connexion  or  inconsistency  with  but 
 a  very  few  other  ideas ;  the  certainty  of  universal  propositions  concerning 
 substances  is  very  narrow  and  scanty  in  that  part,  which  is  our  principal  in- 
 quiry concerning  thorn;  and  there  are  scarce  any  of  the  names  of  substances, 
 let  the  idea  it  is  applied  to  be  what  it  will,  of  which  we  can  generally  and 
 with  certainty  pronounce,  that  it  has  or  has  not  this  or  that  other  quality  be- 
 longing to  it,  and  constantly  coexisting  or  inconsistent  with  that  idea,  where- 
 ever  it  is  to  be  found. 
 
 Sect.  14.  What  is  requisite  for  our  knowledge  of  substances. — Before 
 we  can  have  any  tolerable  knowledge  of  this  kind,  we  must  first  know  what 
 changes  the  primary  qualities  of  one  body  do  regularly  produce  ni  the  primary 
 qualities  of  another,  and  how.  Secondly,  we  must  know  what  primary  quali- 
 ties of  any  body  produce  certain  sensations  or  ideas  in  us.  This  is  in  truth 
 no  less  than  to  know  all  the  effects  of  matter,  under  its  divers  modifications 
 of  bulk,  figure,  cohesion  of  parts,  motion,  and  rest.  Which,  I  think,  every 
 body  will  allow,  is  utterly  impossible  to  be  known  by  us  without  revelation. 
 Nor  if  it  were  revealed  to  us,  what  sort  of  figure,  bulk,  and  motion  of  corpus- 
 cles, would  produce  in  us  the  sensation  of  a  yellow  colour,  and  what  sort  of 
 figure,  bulk,  and  texture  of  parts,  in  the  superficies  of  any  body,  were  fit  to 
 give  such  corpuscles  their  due  motion  to  produce  that  colour ;  would  that  be 
 enough  to  make  universal  propositions  with  certainty,  concerning  the  several 
 f:orts  of  them,  unless  we  had  faculties  acute  enough  to  perceive  the  precise 
 bulk,  figure,  texture  and  motion  of  bodies  in  those  minute  parts,  by  which 
 they  operate  on  our  senses,  so  that  Vv^e  might  by  those  frame  our  abstract 
 ideas  of  them.  I  have  mentioned  here  only  corporeal  substances,  whose 
 operations  seem  to  lie  more  level  to  our  understandings  :  for  as  to  the  opera- 
 tions of  spirits,  both  their  thinkinpj  and  moving  of  bodies,  we  at  first  sight  find 
 ourselves  at  a  loss  ;  though,  perhaps,  when  we  have  applied  our  thoughts  a 
 little  nearer  to  the  consideration  of  bodies  and  their  operations,  and  examined 
 how  far  our  notions,  even  in  these,  reach,  with  any  clearness,  beyond  sensible 
 matter  of  fact,  we  shall  be  bound  to  confess,  that  even  in  these  too  our  dis- 
 coveries  amoimt  to  very  little  beyond  perfect  ignorance  and  incapacity. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Whilst  our  ideas  of  substances  contain  not  their  real  consti- 
 t'Utions,  we  can  make  but  few  general  certain  propositions  concerning  them. 
 — This  is  evident,  the  abstract  complex  ideas   of  substances,  for  which  their 
 
Ch.  6.  UNIVERSAL  PROPOSITIONS.  303 
 
 p-eneral  names  stand,  not  comprehending'  their  real  constitutions,  can  afford 
 us  very  little  universal  certainty.  Because  our  ideas  of  them  are  not  made 
 up  of  that,  on  which  those  qualities  we  observe  in  them,  and  would  inform 
 ourselves  about,  do  depend,  or  with  which  they  have  any  certain  connexion : 
 V.  g.  let  the  ideas  to  which  we  give  the  name  man  be,  as  it  commonly  is,  a 
 body  of  the  ordinary  shape,  with  sense,  voluntary  motion,  and  reason  joined 
 to  it.  This  being  the  abstract  idea,  and  consequently  the  essence  of  our 
 species  man,  we  can  make  but  very  few  general  certain  propositions  concern- 
 ing man,  standing  for  such  an  idea.  Because  not  knowing  the  real  consti- 
 tution on  which  sensation,  power  of  motion,  and  reasoning,  with  that  peculiar 
 shape,  depend,  and  whereby  they  are  united  together  in  the  same  subject, 
 there  are  very  few  other  qualities  with  which  we  can  perceive  them  to  have 
 a  necessary  connexion :  and  therefore  we  cannot  with  certainty  affirm,  that 
 all  men  sleep  by  intervals ;  that  no  man  can  be  nourished  by  wood  or  stones ; 
 that  all  men  will  be  poisoned  by  hemlock ;  because  these  ideas  have  no  con- 
 nexion or  repugnancy  with  this  our  nominal  essence  of  man,  with  this  abstract 
 idea  that  name  stands  for.  We  must  in  these  and  the  like  appeal  to  trial  in 
 particular  subjects,  which  can  reach  but  a  little  way.  We  must  content 
 ourselves  with  probability  in  the  rest;  but  can  have  no  general  certainty, 
 whilst  our  specitic  idea  of  man  contains  that  real  constitution,  which  is  the 
 root,  wherein  all  his  inseparable  qualities  are  united,  and  from  whence  they 
 flow.  Whilst  our  idea,  the  word  man  stands  for,  is  only  an  imperfect  col- 
 lection of  some  sensible  qualities  and  powers  in  him,  there  is  no  discernible 
 connexion  or  repugnance  between  our  specitic  idea  and  the  operation  of 
 either  the  parts  of  hemlock  or  stones  upon  his  constitution.  There  are  ani- 
 mals that  safely  eat  hemlock,  and  others  that  are  nourished  by  wood  and 
 stones  :  but  as  long  as  we  want  ideas  of  those  real  constitutions  of  different 
 sorts  of  animals,  whereon  these  and  the  like  qualities  and  powers  depend, 
 we  must  not  hope  to  reach  certainty  in  universal  propositions  concerning 
 them.  Those  few  ideas  only,  which  have  a  discernible  connexion  with  our 
 nominal  essence,  or  any  part  of  it,  can  afford  us  such  propositions.  But 
 these  are  so  few,  and  of  so  little  moment,  that  we  may  justly  look  on  our 
 certain  general  knowledge  of  substances  as  almost  none  at  all. 
 
 Sect.  16.   Wherein  lies  the  general  certainty  of  propositions. — To  con- 
 clude ;  general  propositions,  of  what  kind  soever,  are  then  only  capable  of 
 certainty,  when  the  terms  used  in  them  stand  for  such  ideas,  whose  agree- 1 
 ment  or  disagreement,  as  there  expressed,  is  capable  to  be  discovered  by  us,  \ 
 And  we  are  then  certain  of  their  truth  or  falsehood,  when  we  perceive  the 
 ideas  the  terms  stand  for  to  agree  or  not  agree,  according  as  they  are  affirmed 
 or  denied  one  of  another.     Whence  we  may  take  notice,  that  general  cer- '^ 
 tainty  is  never  to  be  found  but  in  our  ideas.     Whenever  we  go  to  seek  it 
 elsevvhere  in  experiment,  or  observations  without  us,  our  knowledge  goes  not 
 beyond  particulars.     It  is  the  contemplation  of  our  own  abstract  ideas  that 
 alone  is  able  to  afford  us  general  knowledge. 
 
 CHAPTER  VII. 
 
 OF  MAXIMS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  They  are  self-evident. — There  are  a  sort  of  propositions,  which 
 under  the  name  of  maxims  and  axioms  have  passed  for  principles  of  science; 
 and  because  they  are  self-evident,  have  been  supposed  innate,  although 
 Tiobody  (that  I  know)  ever  went  about  to  show  the  rea.«on  and  foundation  of 
 their  clearness  or  cogency.  It  may,  however,  be  worth  while  to  inquire  into 
 the  reason  of  their  evidence,  and  see  whether  it  be  peculiar  to  them  alone, 
 and  also  examine  how  far  they  influence  and  govern  our  other  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Wherein  that  self-evidence  consists. — Knowledo-p,  as  has  been 
 2Z 
 
3y  1  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 shown,  consists  in  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas : 
 now  wliere  that  agreement  or  disagreement  is  perceived  immediately  by  itself, 
 without  the  intervention  or  help  of  any  other,  there  our  knowledge  is  self- 
 evident.  This  will  appear  to  be  so  to  any  one,  who  will  but  consider  any  of 
 those  propositions,  which,  without  any  proof,  he  assents  to  at  first  sight :  for 
 in  all  of  tiiom  he  will  find,  that  the  reason  of  his  assent  is  from  that  agree- 
 ment or  disagreement,  which  the  mind,  by  an  immediate  comparing  them, 
 finds  in  ihose  ideas  answering  the  affirmation  or  negation  in  the  proposition. 
 
 iSect.  3.  Self-evidence  not  peculiar  to  received  axioms. — Tiiis  being  so, 
 in  the  next  place  let  us  consider,  whether  this  self-evidence  be  peculiar  only 
 to  those  propositions  which  commonly  pass  under  the  name  of  maxims, 
 and  have  the  d  gnity  of  axioms  allowed  them.  And  here  it  is  plain,  that 
 several  other  truths,  not  allowed  to  be  axioms,  partake  equally  with  them  in 
 this  self-evidence.  This  we  shall  see,  if  we  go  over  these  several  sorts  of 
 agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas,  which  1  have  above  mentioned,  viz. 
 identity,  relation,  coexistence,  and  real  existence ;  which  will  discover  to  us, 
 that  not  only  those  few  propositions,  which  have  had  the  credit  of  maxims, 
 are  self-evident,  but  a  great  many,  even  almost  an  infinite  number  of  other 
 propositions  are  such. 
 
 JSect.  4.  1.  As  to  identity  and  diversity,  all  propositions  arc  equally 
 self-evident. — For,  first,  the  immediate  perception  of  the  agreement  or  dis- 
 agreement of  identity,  being  founded  in  the  mind's  having  distinct  ideas,  this 
 aifords  us  as  many  self-evident  propositions  as  we  have  distinct  ideas. 
 Every  one,  that  has  any  knowledge  at  all,  has,  as  the  foundation  of  it,  various 
 and  distinct  ideas :  and  it  is  the  first  act  of  the  mind  (without  which  it  can 
 never  be  capable  of  any  knowledge)  to  know  every  one  of  its  ideas  by  itself, 
 and  distinguish  it  from  others.  Every  one  finds  in  himself,  that  he  knows 
 the  ideas  he  has;  that  he  knows  also  when  any  one  is  in  his  understanding, 
 and  what  it  is ;  and  that  when  more  than  one  are  there,  he  knows  them  dis- 
 tinctly and  unconfusedly  one  from  another.  Which  always  being  so  (it  being 
 impossible  but  that  he  should  perceive  what  he  perceives)  he  can  never  be  in 
 doubt  when  any  idea  is  in  his  mind,  that  it  is  there,  and  is  that  idea  it  is  ; 
 and  that  two  distinct  ideas,  when  they  are  in  his  mind,  are  there,  and  are 
 not  one  and  the  same  idea.  So  that  all  such  affirmations  and  negations  are 
 made  without  any  possibility  of  doubt,  uncertainty,  or  hesitation,  and  must 
 necessarily  be  assented  to  as  soon  as  understood;  that  is,  as  soon  as  we  have 
 in  our  minds  determined  ideas,  which  the  terms  in  the  proposition  stand  for. 
 And  therefore  whenever  the  mind  with  attention  considers  any  proposition, 
 so  as  to  perceive  the  two  ideas  signified  by  the  terms,  and  affirmed  or  denied 
 one  of  the  other,  to  be  the  same  or  different ;  it  is  presently  and  infallibly 
 certain  of  the  truth  of  such  a  proposition  ;  and  this  equally,  whether  these 
 propositions  be  in  terms  standing  for  more  general  ideas,  or  such  as  are  less 
 so,  v.  g.  whether  the  general  idea  of  being  be  affirmed  of  itself,  as  in  this 
 proposition,  whatsoever  is,  is  ;  or  a  more  particular  idea  be  affirmed  of  itself, 
 as  a  man  is  a  man  ;  or,  whatsoever  is  white  is  white ;  or  whether  the  idea  of 
 being  in  general  be  denied  of  not  being,  which  is  the  only,  (if  I  may  so  call 
 it)  idea  different  from  it,  as  in  this  other  proposition,  it  is  impossible  for  the 
 same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be ;  or  any  idea  of  any  particular  being  be  denied 
 of  another  different  from  it,  as,  a  man  is  not  a  horse  ;  red  is  not  blue.  The 
 difference  of  the  ideas,  as  soon  as  the  terms  are  understood,  rpakes  the  truth 
 of  the  proposition  presently  visible,  and  that  with  an  equal  certainty  and 
 easiness  in  the  less  as  well  as  the  more  general  propositions,  and  all  for  the 
 same  reason,  viz.  because  the  mind  perceives,  in  any  ideas  that  it  has,  the 
 same  ideas  to  be  the  same  with  itself;  and  two  diflcrent  ideas  to  be  different, 
 and  not  the  same.  And  this  it  is  efpially  certain  of,  whether  these  ideas  be 
 more  or  less  general,  abstract,  and  comprehensive.  It  is  not  therefore  alone 
 to  these  two  general  propositions,  whatsoever  is,  is  ;  and  it  is  impossible  for 
 the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be  ;  that  this  sort  of  self-evidence  belongs 
 by  any  peculiar  right.     The  perception  of  being,  or  not  being,  belongs  no 
 
Ch.  7.  MAXIMS.  395 
 
 more  to  these  vague  ideas,  signified  by  the  terms  whatsoever  and  thing,  than 
 it  does  to  any  other  ideas.  These  two  general  maxims,  amounting  to  no 
 more  in  short  but  this,  that  the  same  is  the  same,  and  same  is  not  different, 
 are  truths  known  in  more  particular  instances,  as  well  as  in  these  general 
 maxims,  and  known  also  in  particular  instances,  before  these  general  maxims 
 are  ever  thought  on,  and  draw  all  their  force  from  the  discernment  of  the 
 mind  employed  about  particular  ideas.  There  is  nothing  more  visible  than 
 that  the  mind,  without  the  help  of  any  proof,  or  reflection  on  either  of  these 
 general  propositions,  perceives  so  clearly,  and  knows  so  certainly,  that  the 
 idea  of  white  is  the  idea  of  white,  and  not  the  idea  of  blue;  and  that  the  idea 
 of  white,  when  it  is  in  the  mind,  is  there,  and  is  not  absent;  that  the  consi- 
 deration of  these  axioms  can  add  nothing  to  the  evidence  or  certainty  of  its 
 knowledge.  Just  so  it  is  (as  every  one  may  experiment  in  himself)  in  all 
 the  ideas  a  man  has  in  his  mind :  he  knows  each  to  be  itself,  and  not  to 
 be  another ;  and  to  be  in  his  mind,  and  not  away  when  it  is  there,  with  a 
 certainty  that  cannot  be  greater ;  and  therefore  the  truth  of  no  general  pro- 
 position can  be  known  with  a  greater  certainty,  nor  add  any  thing  to  this. 
 So  that  in  respect  of  identity,  our  intuitive  knowledge  reaches  as  far  as  our 
 ideas  ;  and  we  are  capable  t)f  making  as  many  self-evident  propositions  as 
 we  have  names  for  distinct  ideas.  And  I  appeal  to  every  one's  own  mind, 
 whether  this  proposition,  a  circle  is  a  circle,  be  not  as  self-evident  a  propo- 
 sition, as  that  consisting  of  more  general  terms,  whatsoever  is,  is?  and  again, 
 whether  this  proposition,  blue  is  not  red,  be  not  a  proposition  that  the  mind 
 can  no  more  doubt  of,  as  soon  as  it  understands  the  words,  than  it  does  of 
 that  axiom,  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be  1  and  so 
 of  all  the  like. 
 
 Sect.  5.  2.  Li  coexistence  we  have  few  self-evident  propositions. — Se- 
 .condly,  as  to  coexistence,  or  such  necessary  connexion  between  two  ideas,^ 
 that,  in  the  subject  where  one  of  them  is  supposed,  there  the  other  must  ne-< 
 cessarily  be  also  :  of  such  agreement  or  disagreement  as  this  the  mind  has  an 
 immediate  perception  but  in  very  few  of  them.  And  therefore  in  this  sort  we 
 have  but  very  little  intuitive  knowledge  ;  nor  are  there  to  be  found  very  many 
 propositions  that  are  self-evident,  though  some  there  are ;  v.g.  the  idea  of 
 filling  a  place  equal  to  the  contents  of  its  superficies,  being  annexed  to  our 
 idea  of  body,  I  think  it  is  a  self-evident  proposition,  that  two  bodies  cannot  be 
 in  the  same  place. 
 
 Sect.  6.  3.  In  other  relations  we  may  have. — Thirdly,  as  to  the  relation 
 of  modes,  mathematicians  have  framed  many  axioms  concerning  that  one  re- 
 lation of  equality.  As,  equals  taken  from  equals,  the  remainder  will  be  equal ; 
 which,  with  the  rest  of  that  kind,  however  they  are  received  for  maxims  by 
 the  mathematicians,  and  are  unquestionable  truths  ;  yet,  I  think,  that  any  one 
 who  considers  them,  will  not  find  that  they  have  a  clearer  self-evidence  than 
 these,  that  one  and  one  are  equal  to  two,  that  if  you  take  from  the  five  fingers 
 of  one  hand  two,  and  from  the  five  fingers  of  the  other  hand  two,  the  remain- 
 ing numbers  will  be  equal.  These  and  a  thousand  other  such  propositions 
 may  be  found  in  numbers,  which,  at  the  very  first  hearing,  force  the  assent, 
 and  carry  with  them  an  equal,  if  not  greater  clearness,  than  those  mathema- 
 tical axioms. 
 
 Sect.  7.  4.  Concerning  real  existence  we  have  none. — Fourthly,  as  to 
 real  existence,  since  that  has  no  connexion  with  any  other  of  our  ideas,  but 
 that  of  ourselves,  and  of  a  first  being,  we  have  in  that,  concerning  the  real 
 existence  of  all  other  beings,  not  so  much  as  demonstrative,  much  less  a  self- 
 evident  knowledge;  and  therefore  concerning  those  there  are  no  maxims. 
 Sect.  8.  These  axioms  do  not  much  influence  our  other  knowledge. — In 
 the  next  place  let  us  consider  what  influence  these  received  maxims  have  upon 
 the  other  parts  of  our  knowledge.  The  rules  established  in  the  schools,  that 
 all  reasonings  are  ex  frcecognitis  et  prteconcessis,  seem  to  lay  the  foundation 
 of  all  other  knowledge  in  these  maxims,  and  to  suppose  them  to  be  pracog- 
 uita  ;  whereby,  I  thinlc,  are  meant  these  two  things:  first,  that  these  axioms 
 
 v/ 
 
396  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 are  those  truths  tliat  are  first  known  to  tlie  mind.  And,  secondly,  that  upon 
 them  the  other  parts  of  our  knowledge  depend. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Because  they  are  not  the  truths  we  first  knew. — First,  that  they 
 are  not  the  truths  first  known  to  the  mind,  is  evident  to  experience,  as  we 
 have  shown  in  another  place,  book  i.  chap.  ii.  Who  perceives  not  lliat  a 
 child  certainly  knows  that  a  stranger  is  not  its  mother,  that  its  sucking-bottle 
 i.^  not  tiie  rod,  long  before  he  knows  th.at  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing 
 to  bo  and  not  to  be  !  And  how  many  truths  are  there  about  numbers,  which  it 
 is  obvious  to  observe  tiiat  the  mind  is  perfectly  acquainted  with,  and  fully  con- 
 vinced of,  before  it  ever  thought  on  these  general  maxims,  to  which  mathema- 
 ticians, in  their  arguings,  do  sometimes  refer  them  !  Whereof  the  reason  is 
 very  plain;  for  that  winch  makes  the  mind  assent  to  such  propositions  being 
 nothing  else  but  the  perception  it  has  of  the  agi'eement  or  disagreement  of  its 
 ideas,  according  as  it  finds  them  affirmed  or  denied  one  of  another,  in  words 
 it  understands;  and  every  idea  being  known  to  be  what  it  is,  and  every  two 
 distinct  ideas  being  known  not  to  be  the  same;  it  must  necessarily  follow,  that 
 such  self-evident  truths  must  be  first  known,  which  consist  of  ideas  that  are 
 first  in  the  mind:  and  the  ideas  first  in  the  mind,  it  is  evident,  are  those  of 
 particular  things,  from  whence,  ty  slow  degrees^  the  understanding  proceeds 
 to  some  few  general  ones ;  whicli  being  taken  from  the  ordinary  and  familiar 
 objects  of  sense,  are  settled  in  the  mind,  with  general  names  to  them.  Thus 
 particular  ideas  are  first  received  and  distinguished,  and  so  knowledge  got 
 about  them ;  and  next  to  them,  the  less  general  or  specific,  which  are  next  to 
 particular :  for  abstract  ideas  are  not  so  obvious  or  easy  to  children,  or  the 
 yet  unexercised  mind,  as  particular  ones.  If  they  seem  so  to  grown  men,  it 
 is  only  because  by  constant  and  flimiliar  use  they  are  made  so.  For  when  we 
 nicely  reflect  upon  them,  we  shall  find,  that  general  ideas  are  fictions  and  con- 
 trivances of  the  mind,  that  carry  difficulty  with  them,  and  do  not  so  easily  offer 
 themselves  as  we  are  apt  to  imagine.  For  example,  does  it  not  require  some 
 pains  and  skill  to  form  the  general  idea  of  a  triangle  (wliich  is  yet  none  of  the 
 most  abstract,  comprehensive,  and  difficult)]  for  it  must  be  neither  oblique 
 nor  rectangle,  neither  equilateral,  equicrural,  nor  scalenon;  but  all  and  none 
 of  these  at  once.  In  efiect,  it  is  something  imperfect,  that  cannot  exist;  an 
 idea  wherein  some  parts  of  several  different  and  inconsistent  ideas  are  put 
 together.  It  is  true,  the  mind,  in  this  imperfect  state,  has  need  of  sucli  ideas, 
 and  makes  all  the  haste  to  them  it  can,  for  the  conveniency  of  communication 
 and  enlargement  of  knowledge;  to  both  which  it  is  naturally  very  much  in- 
 clined. But  yet  one  has  reasnn  to  suspect  such  ideas  are  marks  of  our  im- 
 perfection ;  at  least  this  is  enough  to  show,  that  the  most  abstract  and  general 
 ideas  are  not  those  that  the  mind  is  first  and  most  easily  acquainted  with,  not 
 such  as  its  earliest  knowledge  is  conversant  about. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Because  on  them  the  other  parts  of  our  knowledge  do  not  de- 
 pend.— Secondly,  from  what  has  been  said,  it  plainly  follows,  that  these  mag- 
 nified maxims  are  not  the  principles  and  foundations  of  all  our  other  know- 
 ledge. For,  if  there  be  a  great  many  other  truths,  which  have  as  much  self- 
 evidence  as  they,  and  a  great  many  tliat  we  know  before  them,  it  is  impossible 
 they  should  be  the  principles  from  which  we  deduce  all  other  truths.  Is  it  im- 
 possible to  know  that  one  and  two  are  equal  to  three,  but  by  virtue  of  this  or 
 some  such  axiom,  viz.  the  whole  is  equal  to  all  its  parts  taken  together?  Many 
 a  one  knows  that  one  and  two  are  equal  to  three,  without  having  heard  or 
 thought  on  that,  or  any  other  axiom,  by  which  it  might  be  proved:  and  knows 
 it  as  certainly  as  any  other  man  knows  that  the  whole  is  equal  to  all  its  parts, 
 or  any  other  maxim,  and  all  from  the  same  reason  of  self-evidence ;  the 
 equality  of  those  ideas  being  as  vi.^ible  and  certain  to  him  without  that,  or 
 any  other  axiom,  as  with  it,  it  needing  no  proof  to  make  it  perceived.  Nor 
 after  the  knowledge,  tliat  the  wh(de  is  equal  to  all  its  parts,  does  he  know 
 that  one  and  two  are  equal  to  three,  better  or  more  certainly  than  he  did  be- 
 fore. For  if  there  be  any  odds  in  those  ideas,  the  whole  and  parts  are  more 
 obscure,  or  at  least  more  difficult  to  be  settled  in  the  mind,  than  those  of  one, 
 
 / 
 
Ch.  7.  MAXIMS.  397 
 
 two,  and  three.  And  indeed,  I  think,  I  may  ask  these  men,  who  will  needs 
 have  all  knowledge,  besides  those  general  principles  themselves,  to  depend 
 on  general,  innate,  and  self-evident  principles,  wiiat  principle  is  requisite  to 
 prove,  that  one  and  one  are  two,  that  two  and  two  arc  four,  that  three  tiniesj 
 two  are  six?  Which  being  known  without  any  proof  do  evince,  that  cither 
 all  knowledge  does  not  depend  on  certain  pracognila,  or  general  maxims 
 called  principles,  or  else  that  these  are  pruiciples;  that  if  these  are  to  be 
 counted  principles,  a  great  part  of  numeration  will  be  so.  To  which  if  we 
 add  all  the  self-evident  propositions,  which  may  be  made  about  all  our  distinct 
 ideas,  principles  will  be  almost  infinite,  at  least,  innumerable,  which  men  ar- 
 rive to  the  knowledge  of  at  different  ages :  and  a  great  many  of  these  innate 
 principles  they  never  come  to  know  all  their  lives.  But  whether  they  come 
 in  view  of  the  mind  earlier  or  later,  this  is  true  of  them,  that  they  are  all  known 
 by  their  native  evidence,  are  wholly  independent,  receive  no  light,  nor  are 
 capable  of  any  proof  one  from  another ;  much  less  the  more  particular  from 
 the  more  general;  or  the  more  simple  from  the  more  compounded:  the  more 
 simple  and  less  abstract  being  the  most  familiar,  and  the  easier  and  earlier  ap- 
 prehended. But  which  ever  be  the  clearest  ideas,  the  evidence  and  certainty 
 of  all  such  propositions  is  in  this,  that  a  man  sees  the  same  idea  to  be  the 
 same  idea,  and  infallibly  perceives  two  different  ideas  to  be  different  ideas. 
 For  when  a  man  has  in  his  understanding  the  ideas  of  one  and  of  two,  the 
 idea  of  yellow,  and  the  idea  of  blue,  he  cannot  but  certainly  know,  that  the 
 idea  of  one  is  the  idea  of  one,  and  not  the  idea  of  two  ;  and  that  the  idea  of 
 yellow  is  the  idea  of  yellow,  and  not  the  idea  of  blue.  For  a  man  cannot  con- 
 found the  ideas  in  his  mind,  which  he  has  distinct :  that  would  be  to  have  them 
 confused  and  distinct  at  the  same  time,  which  is  a  contradiction :  and  to  have 
 none  distinct  is  to  have  no  use  of  our  faculties,  to  have  no  knowledge  at  all. 
 And  therefore  what  idea  soever  is  affirmed  of  itself,  or  whatsoever  two  entire 
 distinct  ideas  are  denied  one  of  another,  the  mind  cannot  but  assent  to  such  a 
 proposition,  as  infallibly  true,  as  soon  as  it  understands  the  terms,  without 
 hesitation  or  need  of  proof,  or  regarding  those  made  in  more  general  terms, 
 and  called  maxims. 
 
 Sect.  11.  What  use  these  general  maxims  have. — What  shall  we  then 
 say]  Are  these  general  maxims  of  no  use?  By  no  means,  though  perhaps 
 their  use  is  not  that  which  it  is  commonly  taken  to  be.  But  since  doubting 
 in  the  least  of  what  hath  been  by  some  men  ascribed  to  these  maxims  may  be 
 apt  to  be  cried  out  against,  as  overturning  the  foundations  of  all  the  sciences ; 
 it  may  be  worth  while  to  consider  them,  with  respect  to  other  parts  of  our 
 knowledge,  and  examine  more  particularly  to  what  purposes  they  serve,  and 
 to  what  not. 
 
 1.  It  is  evident  from  what  has  been  already  said,  that  they  are  of  no  use  to 
 prove  or  confirm  less  general  self-evident  propositions. 
 
 2.  It  is  as  plain  that  they  are  not,  nor  have  been,  the  foundations  whereon 
 any  science  hath  been  built.    There  is,  I  know,  a  great  deal  of  talk,  propa-j 
 gated  from  scholastic  men,  of  sciences  and  the  maxims  on  which  they  are! 
 built :  but  it  has  been  my  ill  luck  never  to  meet  with  any  such  sciences ;  i 
 much  less  any  one  built  upon  these  two  maxims,  what  is,  is  ;  and  it  is  im-  \ 
 possible  for  the  same  thing  to  be  and  not  to  be.     And  I  would  be  glad  to  be  ' 
 shown  where  any  such  science,  erected  upon  these  or  any  other  general 
 axioms,  is  to  be  found :  and  should  be  obliged  to  any  one  who  would  lay  be, 
 fore  me  the  frame  and  system  of  any  science  so  built  on  these  or  any  such 
 like  maxims,  that  could  not  be  shown  to  stand  as  firm  without  any  considera- 
 tion of  them.     I  ask,  whether  these  general  maxims  have  not  the  same  use  in 
 the  study  of  divinity,  and  in  theological  questions,  that  they  have  in  other 
 sciences  ?  They  serve  here  too  to  silence  wranglers,  and  put  an  end  to  dispute. 
 But  I  think  that  nobody  will  therefore  say,  that  the  Christian  religion  is  built 
 upon  these  maxims,  or  that  the  knowledge  we  have  of  it  is  derived  from  these  prin- 
 ciples.    It  is  from  revelation  we  have  received  it,  and  without  revelation  these 
 maxims  had  never  been  f  ble  to  help  us  to  it.     When  we  find  out  an  idea,  bv 
 
398  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 whose  inten-ention  we  discover  the  connexion  of  two  others,  this  is  a  revelation 
 from  God  to  us,  by  the  voice  of  reason.  For  we  then  come  to  know  a  trutli 
 that  we  did  not  know  before.  When  God  declares  any  truth  to  us,  this  is  a 
 revelation  to  us  by  the  voice  of  his  Spirit,  and  we  are  advanced  in  our  know- 
 ledge. But  in  neither  of  these  do  we  receive  our  light  or  knowledge  from  ' 
 maxims.  But  in  the  one,  the  things  themselves  afford  it,  and  we  see  the  truth 
 in  them  by  perceiving  their  agreement  or  disagreement:  in  the  other,  God 
 himself  artbrds  it  immediately  to  us,  and  we  see  the  truth  of  what  he  says  in 
 his  unerring  veracity. 
 
 3.  They  are  not  of  use  to  help  men  forward  in  the  advancement  of  sciences, 
 or  new  discoveries  of  yet  unknown  truths.  Mr  Newton,  in  his  never  enough 
 to  be  admired  book,  has  demonstrated  several  propositions,  which  are  so  many 
 new  truths,  before  unknown  to  the  world,  and  are  farther  advances  in  mathe- 
 matical knowledge;  but,  for  the  discovery  of  these,  it  was  not  the  general 
 maxims,  what  is,  is ;  or,  the  whole  is  bigger  than  a  part ;  or  the  like,  that  helped 
 him.  These  were  not  the  clues  that  led  him  into  the  discovery  of  the  truth 
 and  certainty  of  those  propositions.  Nor  was  it  by  them  that  he  got  the  know- 
 ledge of  those  demonstrations  ;  but  by  finding  out  intermediate  ideas,  that 
 showed  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas,  as  expressed  in  the  pro- 
 positions he  demonstrated.  This  is  the  greatest  exercise  and  improvement 
 of  human  understanding  in  the  enlarging  of  knowledge,  and  advancing  the 
 sciences;  wherein  they  are  far  enough  from  receiving  any  help  from  the  con- 
 templation of  these,  or  the  like  magnified  maxims.  Would  those  who  have 
 this  traditional  admiration  of  these  propositions,  that  they  think  no  step  can 
 be  made  in  knowledge  without  the  support  of  an  axiom,  no  stone  laid  in  the 
 building  of  the  sciences  without  a  general  maxim,  but  distinguish  between 
 the  method  of  acquiring  knowledge,  and  of  communicating;  between  the 
 method  of  raising  any  science,  and  that  of  teaching  it  to  others  as  far  as  it  is 
 advanced :  they  would  see  that  those  general  maxims  were  not  the  foundations 
 on  which  the  first  discoverers  raised  their  admirable  structures,  nor  the  keys 
 that  unlocked  and  opened  those  secrets  of  knowledge.  Though  afterward, 
 when  schools  were  erected,  and  sciences  had  their  professors  to  teach  what 
 others  had  found  out,  they  often  made  use  of  maxims,  i.  e.  laid  down  certain 
 propositions  which  were  self-evident,  or  to  be  received  for  true ;  which  being 
 settled  in  the  minds  of  their  scholars,  as  unquestionable  verities,  they  on  oc- 
 casion made  use  of,  to  convince  them  of  truths  in  particular  instances,  that 
 were  not  so  familiar  to  their  minds  as  those  general  axioms  which  had  before 
 been  inculcated  to  them,  and  carefiilly  settled  in  their  minds.  Though  these 
 particular  instances,  when  well  reflected  on,  are  no  less  self-evident  to  the 
 understanding  than  the  general  maxims  brought  to  confirm  them;  and  it  was 
 in  those  particular  instances  that  the  first  discoverer  found  the  truth,  without 
 the  help  of  the  general  maxims :  and  so  may  any  one  else  do,  who  with  atten- 
 tion considers  them. 
 
 To  come  therefore  to  the  use  that  is  made  of  maxims. 
 
 1.  They  are  of  use,  as  has  been  observed,  in  the  ordinaiy  methods  of  teach-  |^ 
 ing  sciences  as  far  as  they  are  advanced ;  but  of  little  or  none  in  advancing 
 them  farther. 
 
 2.  They  are  of  use  in  disputes,  for  the  silencing  of  obstinate  wranglers,  and  "> 
 bringing  those  contests  to  some  conclusion.  Whether  a  need  of  them  to  that 
 end  came  not  in,  in  the  manner  following,  I  crave  leave  to  inquire.  The 
 schools  having  made  disputation  the  touchstone  of  men's  abilities,  and  the 
 criterion  of  knowledge,  adjudged  victory  to  him  that  kept  the  field :  and  he 
 that  had  the  last  word  was  concluded  to  have  the  better  of  the  argument,  if 
 not  of  the  cause.  But  because  by  this  means  there  was  like  to  be  no  decision 
 between  skilful  combatants,  whilst  one  never  failed  of  a  medius  terminus  to 
 prove  any  proposition;  and  the  other  could  as  constantly,  without  or  with  a 
 distinction,  deny  the  major  or  minor  ;  to  prevent,  as  much  as  could  be,  run- 
 ning out  of  disputes  into  an  endless  train  of  syllogisms,  certain  general  pro- 
 positions, mostof  thi;m  indeed  self-evident,  were  introduced  into  the  schools; 
 
Ch.  7.  MAXIMS.  399 
 
 which  being  such,  as  all  men  allowed  and  agreed  in,  were  looked  on  as  general 
 measures  of  truth,  and  served  instead  of  principles  (where  the  disputants  had 
 not  laid  down  any  other  between  them)  beyond  which  there  was  no  going,  and 
 which  must  not  be  receded  from  by  either  side.  And  thus  these  maxims  get-, 
 ting  the  name  of  principles,  beyond  which  men  in  dispute  could  not  retreat,  sy 
 were  by  mistake  taken  to  be  originals  and  sources,  from  whence  all  know-1 
 ledge  began,  and  the  foundation  whereon  the  sciences  were  built.  Because 
 when  in  their  disputes  tliey  came  to  any  of  these,  they  stopped  thei'e,  and 
 went  no  farther ;  the  matter  was  determined.  But  how  much  this  is  a  mistake 
 hath  been  already  shown. 
 
 This  method  of  the  schools,  which  have  been  thouglit  the  fountains  of  know- 
 ledge, introduced,  as  I  suppose,  the  like  use  of  these  maxims  into  a  great  part 
 of  conversation  out  of  the  schools,  to  stop  the  mouths  of  cavillers,  whom  any 
 one  is  excused  from  arguing  any  longer  with,  when  they  deny  these  general 
 self-evident  principles  received  .by  all  reasonable  men,  who  have  once  thought 
 of  them  :  but  yet  their  use  herein  is  but  to  put  an  end  to  wrangling.  Tliey, 
 in  truth,  when  urged  in  such  cases,  teach  nothing :  that  is  already  done  by 
 the  intermediate  ideas  made  use  of  in  the  debate,  whose  connexion  may  be 
 seen  without  the  help  of  those  maxims,  and  so  the  truth  known  before  the 
 maxim  is  produced,  and  the  argument  brought  to  a  first  principle.  Men  would 
 give  off  a  wrong  argument  before  it  came  to  that,  if  in  their  disputes  tiiey 
 proposed  to  themselves  the  finding  and  embracing  of  truth,  and  not  a  contest 
 for  victory.  And  thus  maxims  have  their  use  to  put  a  stop  to  their  perverse- 
 ness,  whose  ingenuity  should  have  yielded  sooner.  But  the  method  of  the 
 schools  having  allowed  and  encouraged  men  to  oppose  and  resist  evident  truth 
 till  they  are  baffled,  i.  e.  till  they  are  reduced  to  contradict  themselves  or  some 
 established  principle ;  it  is  no  wonder  that  they  should  not  in  civil  conversa- 
 tion be  ashamed  of  that,  which  in  the  schools  is  counted  a  virtue  and  a  glory  ; 
 obstinately  to  maintain  that  side  of  the  question  they  have  chosen,  whether 
 true  or  false,  to  the  last  extremity,  even  after  conviction  :  a  strange  way  to 
 attain  truth  and  knowledge,  and  that  which  I  think  the  rational  part  of  man- 
 kind, not  corrupted  by  education,  could  scarce  believe  should  ever  be  admitted 
 among  the  lovers  of  truth,  and  the  students  of  religion  or  nature,  or  intro- 
 duced into  the  seminaries  of  those  who  are  to  propagate  the  truths  of  religion 
 or  philosophy  among  the  ignorant  and  unconvinced.  How  much  such  a  way 
 of  learning  is  like  to  return  young  men's  minds  from  the  sincere  search  and 
 love  of  truth,  nay,  and  to  make  them  doubt  whether  there  is  any  such  thing, 
 or  at  least  worth  the  adhering  to,  I  shall  not  now  inquire.  This  I  think,  that 
 bating  those  places  which  brought  the  peripatetic  philosophy  into  their  schools, 
 where  it  continued  many  ages,  without  teaching  the  world  any  thing  but  the 
 art  of  wrangling;  these  maxims  were  nowhere  thought  the  foundations  on 
 which  the  sciences  were  built,  nor  the  great  helps  to  the  advancement  of 
 knowledge. 
 
 As  to  these  general  maxims,  therefore,  they  are,  as  I  have  said,  of  great  use 
 in  disputes,  to  stop  the  mouths  of  wranglers :  but  not  of  much  use  to  the  dis- 
 covery of  unknown  truths,  or  to  help  the  mind  forward  in  its  search  after 
 knowledge.  For  who  ever  began  to  build  his  knowledge  on  this  general  pro- 
 position, what  is,  is;  or,  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be  and  not  to 
 be  :  and  from  either  of  these,  as  from  a  principle  of  science,  deduced  a  system 
 of  useful  knowledge  1  Wrong  opinions  often  involving  contradictions,  one 
 of  these  maxims,  as  a  touchstone,  may  serve  well  to  show  whither  they  lead. 
 But  yet,  however  fit  to  lay  open  the  absurdity  or  mistake  of  a  man's  reason- 
 ing or  opinion,  they  are  of  very  little  use  for  enlightening  the  understanding: 
 and  it  will  not  be  found,  that  the  mind  receives  much  help  from  them  in  its  pro- 
 gress in  knowledge;  which  would  be  neither  loss,  nor  less  certain,  were  these 
 two  general  propositions  never  thought  on.  It  is  true,  as  I  have  said,  they 
 sometimes  serve  in  argumentation  to  stop  a  wrangler's  moutli,  by  showing 
 the  absurdity  of  what  he  saith,  and  by  exposing  him  to  the  shame  of  contradict- 
 ing what  all  the  world  knows,  and   he  himself  cannot  but  own  to  be  true. 
 
400  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 But  it  is  one  tiling  to  sliow  a  man  that  he  is  in  an  error,  and  another  to  puV' 
 liim  in  possession  of  truth ;  and  I  would  fain  know  wliat  truths  tliese  two 
 propositions  arc  able  to  teach,  and  by  their  influence  make  us  know,  which  we 
 did  not  know  before,  or  could  not  know  without  them.  Let  us  reason  from 
 them  as  well  as  we  can,  they  are  only  about  identical  predications ;  and  in- 
 fluence, if  any  at  all,  none  but  such.  Each  particular  proposition  concerning- 
 identity  or  diversity  is  as  clearly  and  certainly  known  in  itself,  if  attended 
 to,  as  either  of  these  general  ones  :  only  these  general  ones,  as  serving  in  all 
 cases,  are  therefore  more  inculcated  and  insisted  on.  As  to  other  less  general 
 maxims,  many  of  them  are  no  more  than  bare  verbal  propositions,  and  teach 
 us  nothing  but  the  respect  and  import  of  names  one  to  another.  "  The  whole 
 is  equal  to  all  its  parts ;"  what  real  truth,  I  beseech  you,  does  it  teach  us  ? 
 What  more  is  contained  in  that  maxim  than  what  the  signification  of  the 
 word  totum,  or  the  whole,  does  of  itself  import?  And  he  that  knows  that  the 
 word  whole  stands  for  what  is  made  up  of  all  its  parts,  knows  very  little  less 
 than  that  the  whole  is  equal  to  all  its  parts.  And  upon  the  same  ground,  I 
 think  that  this  proposition,  a  hill  is  higher  than  a  valley,  and  several  the  like, 
 may  also  pass  for  maxims.  But  yet  masters  of  mathematics,  when  they 
 would,  as  teachers  of  what  they  know,  initiate  others  in  that  science,  do  not 
 without  reason  place  this,  and  some  other  such  maxims,  at  the  entrance  of 
 their  systems  ;  that  their  scholars,  having  in  the  beginning  perfectly  acquaint- 
 ed their  thoughts  with  these  propositions  made  in  such  general  terms,  may  be 
 used  to  make  such  reflections,  and  have  these  more  general  propositions,  as 
 formed  rules  and  sayings,  ready  to  apply  to  all  particular  cases.  Not  that,  if 
 they  be  equally  weighed,  they  are  more  clear  and  evident  than  the  particular 
 instances  they  are  brought  to  confirm  :  but  that,  being  more  familiar  to  the 
 mind,  the  very  naming  them  is  enough  to  satisfy  the  understanding.  But  this, 
 I  say,  is  more  from  our  custom  of  using  them,  and  the  establishment  they 
 have  got  in  our  minds,  by  our  often  thinking  of  them,  than  from  the  different 
 evidence  of  the  things.  But  before  custom  has  settled  methods  of  think- 
 ing and  reasoning  in  our  minds,  I  am  apt  to  imagine  it  is  quite  otherwise ;  and 
 that  the  child,  when  a  part  of  his  apple  is  taken  away,  knows  it  better  in  that 
 particular  instance  than  by  this  general  proposition,  the  whole  is  equal  to  all 
 its  parts ;  and  that  if  one  of  these  have  need  to  be  confirmed  to  him  by  the 
 other,  the  general  has  more  need  to  be  let  into  his  mind  by  the  particular, 
 than  the  particular  by  the  general.  For  in  particulars  our  knowledge  begins, 
 and  so  spreads  itself  by  degrees  to  generals.  Though  afterward  the  mind 
 takes  the  quite  contrary  course,  and  having  drawn  its  knowledge  into  as  ge- 
 neral propositions  as  it  can,  makes  those  familiar  to  its  thoughts,  and  accus- 
 toms itself  to  have  recourse  to  them,  as  to  the  standards  of  truth  and  falsehood. 
 By  which  familiar  use  of  them,  as  rules  to  measure  the  truth  of  other  propo- 
 sitions, it  comes  in  time  to  be  thought,  that  more  particular  propositions  have 
 their  truth  and  evidence  from  their  conformity  to  these  more  general  ones, 
 which  in  discourse  and  argumentation  are  so  frequently  urged,  and  constantly 
 admitted.  And  this  I  think  to  be  the  reason  why,  among  so  many  self-evident 
 propositions,  the  most  general  only  have  had  the  title  of  maxims. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Maxims,  if  care  be  not  taken  in  the  use  of  words,  may  prove 
 contradictions. — One  thing  farther,  I  think,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  observe 
 concerning  these  general  maxims*  that  they  are  so  far  from  improving  or 
 establishing  our  minds  in  true  knowledge,  that  if  our  notions  be  wrong,  loose, 
 and  unsteady,  and  we  resign  up  our  thoughts  to  the  sounds  of  words,  rather 
 than  fix  them  on  settled  determinate  ideas  of  things ;  I  say,  these  general 
 maxims  will  serve  to  conform  us  in  mistakes ;  and  in  such  a  way  of  use  of 
 words,  which  is  most  common,  will  serve  to  prove  contradictions ;  v.  g.  he 
 that,  with  Des  Cartes,  shall  frame  in  his  mind  an  idea  of  what  he  calls  body 
 to  be  nothing  but  extension,  may  easily  demonstrate  that  there  is  no  vacuum, 
 *.  e.  no  space  void  of  body,  by  this  maxim,  what  is,  is.  For  the  idea  to  which 
 he  annexes  tho  name  body  being  bare  extension,  his  knowledge,  that  space  - 
 cannot  be  witliout  body,  is  certain.     For  he  knows  his  own  idea  of  extension 
 
Ch.  7.  MAXIMS.  401 
 
 clearly  and  distinctly,  and  knows  that  it  is  what  it  is,  and  not  another  idea, 
 though  it  be  called  by  these  three  names,  extension,  body,  space.  Which 
 three  words,  standing  for  one  and  the  same  idea,  may  no  doubt,  with  the  same 
 evidence  and  certainty,  be  affirmed  one  of  another,  as  each  of  itself:  and  it  is 
 as  certain,  that  whilst  I  use  them  all  to  stand  for  one  and  the  same  idea,  this 
 predication  is  as  true  and  identical  in  its  signification,  that  space  is  body,  as 
 this  predication  is  true  and  identical,  that  body  is  body,  both  in  signification 
 and  sound. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Instance  in  vacuum. — But  if  another  should  come,  and  make  to 
 himself  another  idea,  different  from  Des  Cartes's,  of  the  thing,  which  yet, 
 with  Des  Cartes,  he  calls  by  the  same  name  body  ;  and  make  his  idea,  which 
 he  expresses  by  the  word  body,  to  be  of  a  thing  that  hath  both  extension  and 
 solidity  together;  he  will  as  easily  demonstrate  that  there  may  be  a  vacuum 
 or  space  without  a  body,  as  Des  Cartes  demonstrated  the  contrary.  Because 
 the  idea  to  which  he  gives  the  name  space  being  barely  the  simple  one  of  ex- 
 tension ;  and  the  idea  to  which  he  gives  the  name  body  being  the  complex  idea 
 of  extension  and  resistibility,  or  solidity,  together  in  the  same  subject ;  these 
 two  ideas  are  not  exactly  one  and  the  same,  but  in  the  understanding  as  dis- 
 tinct as  the  ideas  of  one  and  two,  white  and  black,  or  as  of  corporiety  and 
 humanity,  if  I  may  use  those  barbarous  terms :  and  therefore  the  predication 
 of  them  in  our  minds,  or  in  words  standing  for  them,  is  not  identical,  but  the 
 negation  of  them  one  of  another,  viz.  this  proposition,  extension  or  space  is 
 not  body,  is  as  true  and  evidently  certain,  as  this  maxim,  it  is  impossible  for 
 the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be,  can  make  any  proposition. 
 
 Sect.  14.  They  prove  not  the  existence  of  things  without  us. — But  yet, 
 though  both  these  propositions  (as  you  see)  may  be  equally  demonstrated,  viz. 
 that  there  may  be  a  vacuum,  and  that  there  cannot  be  a  vacuum,  by  these  two 
 certain  principles,  viz.  what  is,  is ;  and  the  same  thing  cannot  be,  and  not  be ; 
 yet  neither  of  these  principles  will  serve  to  prove  to  us,  that  any,  or  what  bo- 
 dies do  exist ;  for  what  we  are  left  to  our  senses,  to  discover  to  us  as  far  as 
 they  can.  Those  universal  and  self-evident  principles,  being  only  our  con- 
 stant, clear,  and  distinct  knowledge  of  our  own  ideas,  more  general  or  com- 
 prehensive, can  assure  us  of  nothing  that  passes  without  the  mind  ;  their  cer- 
 tainty is  founded  only  upon  the  knowledge  we  have  of  each  idea  by  itself,  and  of 
 its  distinction  from  others  ;  about  which  we  cannot  be  mistaken  whilst  they  are 
 in  our  minds,  though  we  may  be,  and  often  are  mistaken  when  we  retain  the 
 names  without  the  ideas ;  or  use  them  confusedly,  sometimes  for  one,  and 
 sometimes  for  another  idea.  In  which  cases  the  force  of  these  axioms  reach- 
 ing only  to  the  sound,  and  not  the  signification  of  the  words,  serves  only  to 
 lead  us  into  confusion,  mistake,  and  error.  It  is  to  show  men  that  these 
 maxims,  however  cried  up  for  the  great  guards  of  truth,  will  not  secure  them 
 from  error  in  a  careless  loose  use  of  their  words,  that  I  have  made  this  re- 
 mark. In  all  that  is  here  suggested  concerning  their  little  use  for  the  improve- 
 ment of  knowledge,  or  dangerous  use  in  undetermined  ideas,  I  have  been  far 
 enough  from  saying  or  intending  they  should  be  laid  aside,  as  some  have  been 
 too  forward  to  charge  me.  I  affirm  them  to  be  truths,  self-evident  truths ; 
 and  so  cannot  be  laid  aside.  As  far  as  their  influence  will  reach,  it  is  in  vain 
 to  endeavour,  nor  will  I  attempt  to  abridge  it.  But  yet,  without  any  injury 
 to  truth  or  knowledge,  I  may  have  reason  to  think  their  use  is  not  answerable 
 to  the  great  stress  which  seems  to  be  laid  on  them ;  and  I  may  warn  men  not 
 to  make  an  ill  use  of  them,  for  the  confirming  themselves  in  errors. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Their  application  dangerous  about  complex  ideas. — But  let 
 them  be  of  what  use  they  will  in  verbal  propositions  they  cannot  discover  or 
 prove  to  us  the  least  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  substances,  as  they  are  found 
 and  exist  without  us,  any  farther  than  grounded  on  experience.  And  though 
 the  consequence  of  these  two  propositions,  called  principles,  be  very  clear, 
 and  their  use  not  dangerous  or  hurtful,  in  the  probation  of  such  things  where- 
 in there  is  no  need  at  all  of  thera  for  proof,  but  such  as  are  clear  by  them- 
 selves without  them,  viz.  where  our  ideas  are  deterinined,  and  known  by  the 
 3  A 
 
402  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 names  that  stand  for  them :  yet  when  these  principles,  viz.  what  is,  is  ;  and 
 it  is  impossible  for  tlie  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be ;  are  made  use  of  in 
 the  probation  of  propositions,  wherein  are  words  standing  for  complex  ideas ; 
 V.  g.  man,  horse,  gold,  virtue;  there  they  are  of  infinite  danger,  and  most 
 commonly  make  men  receive  and  retain  falsehood  for  manifest  truth,  and  un- 
 certainty for  demonstration :  upon  which  follow  error,  obstinacy,  and  all  the 
 mischiefs  that  can  happen  from  wrong  reasoning.  The  reason  whereof  is 
 not  that  these  principles  are  less  true,  or  of  less  force  in  proving  propositions 
 made  of  terms  standing  for  complex  ideas  ;  than  where  the  propositions  are 
 about  simple  ideas ;  but  because  men  mistake  generally,  tliinking  that  where 
 the  same  terms  are  preserved,  the  propositions  are  about  the  same  things, 
 though  the  ideas  they  stand  for  are  in  truth  different :  therefore  these  maxims 
 are  made  use  of  to  support  those,  which  in  sound  and  appearance  are  contra- 
 dictory propositions ;  as  is  clear  in  the  demonstrations  above  mentioned  about 
 a  vacuum.  So  that  whilst  men  take  words  for  things,  as  usually  they  do, 
 these  maxims  may  and  do  commonly  serve  to  prove  contradictory  proposi- 
 tions :  as  shall  yet  be  farther  made  manifest. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Instance  in  man. — For  instance,  let  man  be  that  concerning 
 which  you  would  by  these  first  principles  demonstrate  any  thing,  and  we  shall 
 see,  that  so  far  as  demonstration  is  by  these  principles,  it  is  only  verbal,  and 
 gives  us  no  certain  universal  true  proposition  or  knowledge  of  any  being 
 existing  without  us.  First,  a  child  having  framed  the  idea  of  a  man,  it  is 
 probable  that  his  idea  is  just  like  that  picture,  which  the  painter  makes  of  the 
 visible  appearances  joined  together ;  and  such  a  complication  of  ideas  to- 
 gether in  his  understanding  makes  up  the  simple  complex  idea  which  he  calls 
 man,  whereof  white  or  flesh-colour  in  England  being  one,  the  child  can  de- 
 monstrate to  you  that  a  negro  is  not  a  man,  because  white  colour  was  one  of 
 the  constant  simple  ideas  of  the  complex  idea  he  calls  man  :  and  therefore  he 
 can  demonstrate  by  the  principle,  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be, 
 and  not  to  be,  that  a  negro  is  not  a  man ;  the  foundation  of  his  certainty  be- 
 ing not  that  universal  proposition,  which  perhaps  he  never  heard  nor  thought 
 of,  but  the  clear  distinct  perception  he  hath  of  his  own  simple  ideas  of  black 
 and  white,  which  he  cannot  be  persuaded  to  take,  nor  can  ever  mistake  one 
 for  another,  whether  he  knows  that  maxim  or  no :  and  to  this  child,  or  any 
 one  who  hath  such  an  idea,  which  he  calls  man,  can  you  never  demonstrate 
 that  a  man  hath  a  soul,  because  his  idea  of  man  includes  no  such  notion  or  ■• 
 idea  in  it.  And  therefore,  to  him,  the  principle  of  what  is,  is,  proves  not 
 this  matter;  but  it  depends  upon  collection  and  observation,  by  which  he  is 
 to  make  his  complex  idea  called  man. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Secondly,  another  that  hath  gone  farther  in  framing  and  col- 
 lecting the  idea  he  calls  man,  and  to  the  outward  shape  adds  laughter  and 
 rational  discourse,  may  demonstrate  that  infants  and  changelings  are  no  men, 
 by  this  maxim,  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be  and  not  to  be ;  and  1 
 have  discoursed  with  very  rational  men,  who  have  actually  denied  that  they 
 are  men. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Thirdly,  perhaps  another  makes  up  the  complex  idea  which  he 
 calls  man  only  out  of  the  ideas  of  body  in  general,  and  the  powers  of  lan- 
 guage and  reason,  and  leaves  out  the  shape  wholly :  this  man  is  able  to  de- 
 monstrate, that  a  man  may  have  no  hands,  but  be  quadrupeds,  neither  ot 
 those  being  included  in  his  idea  of  man  ;  and  in  whatever  body  or  shape  he 
 found  speech  and  reason  joined,  that  was  a  man :  because  having  a  clear 
 knowledge  of  such  a  complex  idea,  it  is  certain  that  what  is,  is. 
 
 Sect.  19.  Little  use  of  these  maxims  in  proofs  where  we  have  deaf  and 
 distinct  ideas. — So  that,  if  rightly  considered,  I  think  we  may  say,  that  where 
 our  ideas  are  determined  in  our  minds,  and  have  annexed  to  them  by  us 
 known  and  steady  names  under  those  settled  determinations,  there  is  little 
 need  or  no  use  at  all  of  these  maxims,  to  prove  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
 ment of  any  of  them.  He  that  cannot  discern  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  such 
 propositions,  without  the  help  of  these  and  the  like  maxims,  will  not  be  helped 
 
Ch.  7.  MAXIMS.  403 
 
 by  these  maxims  to  do  it ;  since  he  cannot  be  supposed  to  know  the  truth  of 
 these  maxims  themselves  without  proof,  if  he  cannot  know  the  trutli  of  others 
 without  proof,  which  are  as  self-evident  as  these.  Upon  this  ground  it  is,  that 
 intuitive  knowledge  neither  requires  nor  admits  any  proof,  one  pari  of  it  more 
 than  another.  He  that  will  suppose  it  does,  takes  away  the  foundation  of  all 
 knowledge  and  certainty :  and  he  that  needs  any  proof  to  make  him  certain, 
 and  give  his  assent  to  this  proposition,  that  two  are  equal  to  two,  will  also 
 have  need  of  a  proof  to  make  him  admit,  that  what  is,  is.  He  that  needs  a 
 probation  to  convince  him,  that  two  are  not  three,  that  white  is  not  black, 
 that  a  triangle  is  not  a  circle,  &c.  or  any  other  two  determined  distinct  ideas 
 are  not  one  and  the  same,  will  need  also  a  demonstration  to  convince  him, 
 that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be. 
 
 Sect.  20.  Their  use  dangerous  where  our  ideas  are  confused. — And 
 as  these  maxims  are  of  little  use  where  we  have  determined  ideas,  so  they 
 are,  as  I  have  shown,  of  dangerous  use  where  our  ideas  are  not  determined  ; 
 and  where  we  use  words  that  are  not  annexed  to  determined  ideas,  but  such 
 as  are  of  a  loose  and  wandering  signification,  sometimes  standing  for  one,  and 
 sometimes  for  another  idea;  from  which  follow  mistake  and  error,  which  these 
 maxims  (brought  as  proofs  to  establish  propositions,  wherein  the  terms  stand 
 for  undetermined  ideas)  do  by  their  authority  confirm  and  rivet. 
 
 CHAPTER  VIII. 
 
 OF  TRIFLING  PROPOSITIONS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Some  propositions  bring  no  increase  to  our  knowledge. — 
 Whether  the  maxims  treated  of  in  the  foregoing  chapter  be  of  that  use  to  real 
 knowledge  as  is  generally  supposed,  I  leave  to  be  considered.  This,  I  think, 
 may  confidently  be  affirmed,  that  there  are  universal  propositions,  which 
 though  they  be  certainly  true,  yet  they  add  no  light  to  our  understandings, 
 bring  no  increase  to  our  knowledge.     Such  are. 
 
 Sect.  2.  As,  first,  identical  propositions. — First,  all  purely  identical  pro- 
 positions. These  obviously,  and  at  first  blush,  appear  to  contain  no  instruc- 
 tion in  them.  For  when  we  affirm  the  said  term  of  itself,  whether  it  be  barely 
 verbal,  or  whether  it  contains  any  clear  and  real  idea,  it  shows  us  nothing  but 
 what  we  must  certainly  know  before,  whether  such  a  proposition  be  either 
 made  by  or  proposed  to  us.  Indeed,  that  most  general  one,  what  is,  is,  may 
 serve  sometimes  to  show  a  man  the  absurdity  he  is  guilty  of,  when  by  circum- 
 locution, or  equivocal  terms,  he  would,  in  particular  instances,  deny  the  same 
 thing  of  itself;  because  nobody  will  so  openly  bid  defiance  to  common  sense, 
 as  to  affirm  visible  and  direct  contradictions  in  plain  words ;  or  if  he  does,  a 
 man  is  excused  if  he  breaks  off  any  farther  discourse  with  him.  But  yet,  I 
 think  I  may  say,  that  neither  that  received  maxim,  nor  any  other  identical 
 proposition  teaches  us  any  thing:  and  though  in  such  kind  of  propositions 
 this  great  and  magnified  maxim,  boasted  to  be  the  foundation  of  demonstra- 
 tion, may  be  and  often  is  made  use  of  to  confirm  them;  yet  all  it  proves 
 amounts  to  no  more  than  this,  that  the  same  word  may  with  great  certainty 
 be  affirmed  of  itself,  without  any  doubt  of  the  truth  of  any  such  proposition ; 
 and  let  me  add  also,  without  any  real  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  3.  For  at  this  rate,  any  very  ignorant  person,  who  can  but  make  a 
 proposition,  and  knows  what  he  means  when  he-says  aye  or  no,  may  make  a 
 million  of  propositions,  of  whose  truths  he  may  be  infallibly  certain,  and  yet 
 not  know  one  thing  in  the  world  thereby;  v.  g.  what  is  a  soul,  is  a  soul;  or 
 a  soul  is  a  soul ;  a  spirit  is  a  spirit ;  a  fetiche  is  a  fetiche,  t&c.  These  all 
 being  equivalent  to  this  proposition,  viz.  what  is,  is,  i.  e.  what  hath  existence, 
 hath  existence;  or  who  hath  a  soul,  hath  a  soul.  What  is  this  more  than 
 trifling  with  words  1     It  is  but  like  a  monkey  shifting  his  oyster  from  one 
 
404  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 liand  to  the  other ;  and  had  he  but  words,  might,  no  doubt,  liave  said,  "  oyster 
 in  riofht  hand  is  subject,  and  oyster  in  letl  hand  is  predicate :"  and  so  miglit 
 have  made  a  self-evident  proposition  of  oyster,  i.  e.  oyster  is  oyster ;  and  yet, 
 with  all  this,  not  have  been  one  whit  the  wiser  or  more  knowing:  and  that 
 way  of  handhng  the  matter  would  much  at  once  have  satisfied  the  monkey's 
 hunger,  or  a  man's  understanding ;  and  they  would  have  improved  in  know- 
 ledge and  bulk  together. 
 
 I  know  there  are  some  who,  because  identical  propositions  are  self-evident, 
 show  a  great  concern  for  them,  and  think  they  do  great  service  to  philosophy 
 by  crying  them  up,  as  if  in  them  was  contained  all  knowledge,  and  the 
 understanding  were  led  into  all  truth  by  them  only.  I  grant  as  forwardly  as 
 any  one,  that  they  are  all  true  and  self-evident.  I  grant  farther,  that  the 
 foundation  of  all  our  knowledge  lies  in  the  faculty  we  have  of  perceiving  the 
 same  idea  to  be  the  same,  and  of  discerning  it  from  those  that  are  different, 
 as  I  have  shown  in  the  foregoing  chapter.  But  how  that  vindicates  the 
 making  use  of  identical  propositions,  for  the  improvement  of  knowledge,  from 
 the  imputation  of  trifling,  I  do  not  see.  Let  any  one  repeat,  as  often  as  he 
 pleases,  that  the  will  is  the  will,  or  lay  what  stress  on  it  he  thinks  lit;  of 
 what  use  is  this,  and  an  infinite  the  like  propositions,  for  the  enlarging  our 
 knowledge]  Let  a  man  abound,  as  much  as  the  plenty  of  words  which  he 
 has  will  permit,  in  such  propositions  as  these  ;  a  law  is  a  law,  and  obligation 
 is  obligation ;  right  is  risrht,  and  wronor  is  wrong :  will  these  and  the  like  ever 
 help  him  to  an  acquaintance  with  ethics  ]  or  instruct  him  or  others  m  the 
 knowledge  of  morality]  Those  who  know  not,  nor  perhaps  ever  will  know, 
 what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong,  nor  the  measures  of  them,  can  with  as  much 
 assurance  make,  and  infallibly  know  the  truth  of  these  and  all  such  proposi- 
 tions, as  he  that  is  best  instructed  in  morality  can  do.  But  what  advance  do 
 such  propositions  give  in  the  knowledge  of  any  thing  necessary  or  useful  for 
 their  conduct] 
 
 He  would  be  thought  to  do  little  less  than  trifle,  who,  for  the  enlightening 
 the  understanding  in  any  part  of  knowledge,  should  be  busy  with  identical 
 propositions,  and  insist  on  such  maxims  as  these:  substance  is  substance,  and 
 body  is  body ;  a  vacuum  is  a  vacuum,  and  a  vortex  is  a  vortex ;  a  centaur  is  a 
 centaur,  and  a  chimera  is  a  chimera,  &c.  For  these,  and  all  such  are  equally 
 true,  equally  certain,  and  equally  self-evident.  But  yet  they  cannot  but  be 
 counted  trilling,  when  made  use  of  as  principles  of  instruction,  and  stress  laid 
 on  them,  as  helps  to  knowledge:  since  they  teach  nothing  but  what  every 
 one,  who  is  capable  of  discourse,  knows,  without  being  told ;  viz.  that  the 
 same  term  is  the  same  term,  and  the  same  idea  the  same  idea.  And  upon 
 this  account  it  was  that  I  formerly  did,  and  do  still  think,  the  offering  and  in- 
 culcating such  propositions,  in  order  to  give  the  understanding  any  new  light 
 or  inlet  into  the  knowledge  of  things,  no  better  than  trifling. 
 
 Instruction  lies  in  something  very  different ;  and  he  that  would  enlarge  his 
 own,  or  another's  mind,  to  truth  he  does  not  yet  know,  must  find  out  inter- 
 mediate ideas,  and  then  lay  them  in  such  order  one  by  another,  that  the 
 understanding  may  see  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  those  in  question. 
 Propositions  that  do  this  are  instructive ;  but  they  are  far  from  such  as  affirm 
 the  same  term  of  itself:  which  is  noway  to  advance  one's  self  or  others  in  any 
 sort  of  knowledge.  It  no  more  helps  to  that,  than  it  would  help  any  one  in 
 his  learning  to  read,  to  have  such  propositions  as  these  inculcated  to  him. 
 An  A  is  an  A,  and  a  B  is  a  B,  which  a  man  may  know  as  well  as  any  school- 
 master, and  yet  never  be  able  to  read  a  word  as  long  as  he  lives.  Nor  do 
 these,  or  any  such  identical  propositions,  help  him  one  jot  forward  in  the  skill 
 of  reading,  let  him  make  what  use  of  them  he  can. 
 
 If  those  who  blame  my  calling  them  trifling  propositions  had  but  read,  and 
 been  at  the  pains  to  understand,  what  I  had  above  writ  in  very  plain  English, 
 they  could  not  but  have  seen  that  by  identical  propositions  I  mean  only  such, 
 wherein  the  same  term,  importing  the  same  idea,  is  affirmed  of  itself:  which 
 I  take  to  be  the  proper  signification  of  identical  propositions:  and  concerning 
 
Ch.  8.  TRIFLING  PROPOSITIONS.  405 
 
 all  such,  I  think  I  may  continue  safely  to  say,  that  to  propose  them  as  instruc- 
 tive is  no  better  than  trifling.  For  no  one  who  has  the  use  of  reason  can 
 miss  them,  where  it  is  necessary  they  should  be  taken  notice  of:  nor  doubt  of 
 their  truth,  when  he  does  take  notice  of  them. 
 
 But  if  men  will  call  propositions  identical,  wherein  the  same  term  is  not 
 affirmed  of  itself,  whether  they  speak  more  properly  than  I,  others  must  judge ; 
 this  IS  certain,  all  that  they  say  of  propositions  that  are  not  identical  in  my 
 sense,  concerns  not  me,  nor  what  I  have  said ;  all  that  I  liave  said  relating  to 
 those  propositions  wherein  the  same  term  is  affirmed  of  itself  And  I  would 
 fain  see  an  instance,  wherein  any  such  can  be  made  use  of,  to  the  advantage 
 and  improvement  of  any  one's  knowledge.  Instances  of  other  kinds,  what- 
 ever use  may  be  made  of  them,  concern  not  me,  as  not  being  such  as  I  call 
 identical. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Secondly,  when  a  part  of  any  complex  idea  is  predicated  of  the 
 whole. — Secondly,  another  sort  of  trifling  propositions  is,  when  a  part  of  the 
 complex  idea  is  predicated  of  the  name  of  the  whole  ;  a  part  of  the  definition 
 of  the  word  defined.  Such  are  all  propositions  wherein  the  genus  is  predi- 
 cated of  the  species,  or  more  comprehensive  of  less  comprehensive  terms  :  for 
 what  information,  what  knowledge  carries  this  proposition  in  it,  viz.  lead  is 
 a  metal,  to  a  man  who  knows  tlie  complex  idea  the  name  lead  stands  for?  all 
 the  simple  ideas  that  go  to  the  complex  one  signified  by  the  term  metal,  being 
 nothing  but  what  he  before  comprehended,  and  signified  by  the  name  lead. 
 Indeed,  to  a  man  that  knows  the  signification  of  the  word  metal,  and  not  of 
 the  word  lead,  it  is  a  shorter  way  to  explain  the  signification  of  the  word  lead, 
 by  saying  it  is  a  metal,  which  at  once  expresses  'several  of  its  simple  ideas, 
 than  to  enumerate  them  one  by  one,  telling  him  it  is  a  body  very  heavy,  fusi- 
 ble, and  malleable. 
 
 Sect.  5.  As  part  of  the  definition  of  the  term  defined. — Alike  trifling  it  . 
 is,  to  predicate  any  other  part  of  the  definition  of  the  term  defined,  or  to  affirm' 
 any  one  of  the  simple  ideas  of  a  complex  one  of  the  name  of  the  whole  com- 
 plex idea;  as,  all  gold  is  fusible.  For  fusibility  being  one  of  the  simple  ideas 
 that  goes  to  the  making  up  the  complex  one  the  sound  gold  stands  for,  what 
 can  it  be  but  playing  with  sounds,  to  affirm  that  of  the  name  gold,  which  is 
 comprehended  in  its  received  signification  1  It  would  be  thought  little  better 
 than  ridiculous,  to  affirm  gravely  as  a  truth  of  moment,  that  gold  is  yellow ; 
 and  I  see  not  how  it  is  any  jot  more  material  to  say,  it  is  fusible,  unless  that 
 quality  be  left  out  of  the  complex  idea,  of  which  the  sound  gold  is  the  mark 
 in  ordinary  speech.  What  instruction  can  it  carry  with  it  to  tell  one  that 
 which  he  hath  been  told  already,  or  he  is  supposed  to  know  before?  For  I 
 am  supposed  to  know  the  signification  of  the  word  another  uses  to  me,  or  else 
 he  is  to  tell  me.  And  if  I  know  that  the  name  gold  stands  for  this  complex 
 idea  of  body,  yellow,  heavy,  fusible,  malleable,  it  will  not  much  instruct  me  to 
 put  it  solemnly  afterward  in  a  proposition,  and  gravely  say,  all  gold  is  fusible. 
 Such  propositions  can  only  serve  to  show  the  disingenuity  of  one,  who  will  go 
 from  the  definition  of  his  own  terms,  by  reminding  him  sometimes  of  it;  but 
 carry  no  knowledge  with  them,  but  of  the  signification  of  words,  however 
 certain  they  be. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Instance,  man  and  palfrey. — Every  man  is  an  animal,  or  living 
 body,  is  as  certain  a  proposition  as  can  be  ;  but  no  more  conducing  to  the 
 knowledge  of  things,  than  to  say,  a  palfrey  is  an  ambling  horse,  or  a  neighing 
 ambling  animal,  both  being  only  about  the  signification  of  words,  and  make 
 me  know  but  this ;  that  body,  sense,  and  motion,  or  power  of  sensation  and 
 moving,  are  three  of  those  ideas  that  I  always  comprehend  and  signify  by  the 
 word  man :  and  where  they  are  not  to  be  found  together,  the  name  man  be- 
 longs not  to  that  thing:  and  so  of  the  other,  that  body,  sense,  and  a  certain 
 way  of  going,  with  a  certain  kind  of  voice,  are  some  of  those  ideas  which  I 
 always  comprehend  and  signify  by  the  word  palfrey;  and  when  they  are  not 
 to  be  found  together,  the  name  palfrey  belongs  not  to  that  thing.  It  is  just 
 the  same,  and  to  the  same  purpose,  when  any  term  standing  for  any  one  or 
 
406  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 more  of  the  simple  ideas,  that  all  together  make  up  that  complex  idea  which 
 is  called  man,  is  affirmed  of  the  term  man:  v.  g.  suppose  a  Roman  signified 
 by  the  word  homo  all  tliese  distinct  ideas  united  in  one  subject,  "  corporietas, 
 sensibiljlas,  potrntia  se  movendi,  rationalilas,  visihililas;"  he  might,  no 
 doubt,  with  great  certainty,  universally  affirm,  one,  more,  or  all  of  these  to- 
 gether of  the  word  homo,  but  did  no  more  than  say  that  the  word  homo,  in 
 liis  country,  comprehended  in  its  signification  all  these  ideas.  Much  like  a 
 romance  knight,  who  by  the  word  palfrey  signified  these  ideas;  body  of  a 
 certain  figure,  four-legged,  with  sense,  motion,  ambling,  neighing,  white,  used 
 to  have  a  woman  on  his  back:  might  with  the  same  certainty  universally 
 affirm  also  any  or  all  of  these  of  the  word  palfrey;  but  did  thereby  teach  no 
 more,  but  that  the  word  palfrey,  in  his  or  romance  language,  stood  for  all 
 these,  and  was  not  to  bo  applied  to  any  thing  where  any  of  these  were  want- 
 ing. But  he  that  shall  tell  me,  that  in  whatever  thing  sense,  motion,  reason, 
 and  laughter,  were  united,  that  thing  had  actually  a  notion  of  God,  or  would 
 be  cast  into  a  sleep  by  opium,  made  indeed  an  instructive  proposition  ;  be- 
 cause neither  having  the  notion  of  God,  nor  being  cast  into  sleep  by  opium, 
 being  contained  in  the  idea  signified  by  the  word  man,  we  are  by  such  propo- 
 sitions taught  something  more  than  barely  what  the  word  man  stands  for ; 
 and  therefore  the  knowledge  contained  in  it  is  more  than  verbal. 
 
 Sect.  7.  For  this  teaches  but  the  signification  of  words. — Before  a  man 
 makes  any  proposition,  he  is  supposed  to  understand  the  terms  he  uses  in  it,  ^ 
 or  else  he  talks  like  a  parrot,  only  making  a  noise  by  imitation,  and  framing 
 certain  sounds,  which  he  has  learnt  of  others ;  but  not  as  a  rational  creature, 
 using  them  for  signs  of  ideas  which  he  has  in  his  mind.  The  hearer  also  is 
 supposed  to  understand  the  terms  as  the  speaker  uses  them,  or  else  he  talks 
 jargon,  and  makes  an  unintelligible  noise.  And  therefore  he  trifles  with  words 
 who  makes  such  a  proposition,  which,  when  it  is  made,  contains  no  more 
 than  one  of  the  terms  does,  and  which  a  man  was  supposed  to  know  before; 
 V.  g.  a  triangle  hath  three  sides,  or  saffron  is  yellow.  And  this  is  no  farther 
 tolerable,  than  where  a  man  goes  to  explain  his  terms  to  one  who  is  supposed 
 or  declares  himself  not  to  understand  him :  and  then  it  teaches  only  the  sig- 
 nification of  that  word,  and  the  use  of  that  sign. 
 
 Sect.  8.  But  no  real  knowledge. — We  can  know  then  the  truth  of  two 
 sorts  of  propositions  with  perfect  certainty ;  the  one  is,  of  those  trifling  pro- 
 positions which  have  a  certainty  in  them,  but  it  is  only  a  verbal  certainty,  but 
 not  instructive.  And,  secondly,  we  can  know  the  truth,  and  so  may  be  cer- 
 tain in  propositions,  which  affirm  something  of  another,  which  is  a  necessary 
 consequence  of  its  precise  complex  idea,  but  not  contained  in  it ;  as  that  the 
 external  angle  of  all  triangles  is  bigger  than  either  of  the  opposite  internal 
 angles  ;  which  relation  of  the  outward  angle  to  either  of  the  opposite  internal 
 angles  making  no  part  of  the  complex  idea  signified  by  the  name  triangle,  this 
 is  a  real  truth,  and  conveys  with  it  instructive  real  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  9.  General  propositions  concerning  substances  are  often  trifling. 
 — We  have  little  or  no  knowledge  of  what  combinations  there  be  of  simple 
 ideas  existing  together  in  substances,  but  by  our  senses,  we  cannot  make  any 
 universal  certain  propositions  concerning  them,  any  farther  than  our  nominal 
 essences  lead  us  :  which  being  to  a  very  few  and  inconsiderable  truths,  in 
 respect  of  those  which  depend  on  their  real  constitutions,  the  general  pro- 
 positions that  are  made  about  substances,  if  they  are  certain,  are  for  the  most 
 part  but  trifling;  and  if  they  are  instructive,  are  uncertain,  and  such  as 
 we  can  have  no  knowledge  of  their  real  truth,  how  much  soever  constant 
 observation  and  analogy  may  assist  our  judgment  in  guessing.  Hence  it 
 comes  to  pass,  that  one  may  often  meet  with  very  clear  and  coherent  dis- 
 courses, that  amount  yet  to  nothing.  For  it  is  plain,  that  names  of  substan- 
 tial beings,  as  well  as  others,  as  far  as  they  have  relative  significations  affixed 
 to  them,  may,  with  great  truth,  be  joined  negatively  and  affirmatively  in  pro- 
 positions, as  their  relative  definitions  make  them  fit  to  be  so  joined  ;  and 
 propositions  consisting  of  such  terms,  may,  with  the  same  clearness,  be  de- 
 
Ch.  6.  TRIFLING  PROPOSITIONS.  407 
 
 duced  one  from  another,  as  those  that  convey  the  most  real  truths  :  and  all 
 this  without  any  knowledge  of  the  nature  or  reality  of  things  existing  with- 
 out us.  By  this  method  one  may  make  demonstrations  and  undoubted  pro- 
 positions in  words,  and  yet  thereby  advance  not  one  jot  in  the  knowledge  of 
 the  truth  of  things  ;  v.  g.  he  that  having  learnt  these  followmg  words,  with 
 their  ordinary  mutually  relative  acceptations  annexed  to  them :  v.  g.  sub- 
 stance, man,  animal,  form,  soul,  vegetative,  sensitive,  rational,  may  make 
 several  undoubted  propositions  about  the  soul,  without  knowing  at  all  what 
 the  soul  really  is ;  and  of  this  sort,  a  man  may  find  an  infinite  number  of 
 propositions,  reasonings,  and  conclusions,  in  books  of  metaphysics,  school 
 divinity,  and  some  sort  of  natural  philosophy  ;  and,  after  all,  know  as  little 
 of  God,  spirits,  or  bodies,  as  he  did  before  he  set  out. 
 
 Sect.  10.  And  why. — He  that  hath  liberty  to  define,  i.  e.  to  determine 
 the  signification  of  his  names  of  substances  (as  certainly  every  one  does  in 
 efl^ect,  who  makes  them  stand  for  his  own  ideas)  and  makes  their  significa- 
 tions at  a  venture,  taking  them  for  his  own  or  other  men's  fancies,  and  not 
 from  an  examination  or  inquiry  into  the  nature  of  things  themselves  ;  may, 
 with  little  trouble,  demonstrate  them  one  of  another,  according  to  those  sev- 
 eral respects  and  mutual  relations  he  has  given  them  one  to  another ;  wherein, 
 however  things  agree  or  disagree  in  their  own  nature,  he  needs  mind  nothing 
 but  his  own  notions,  with  the  names  he  hath  bestowed  upon  them  :  but  thereby 
 no  more  increases  his  own  knowledge,  than  he  does  his  riches,  who,  taking 
 a  bag  of  counters,  calls  one  in  a  certain  place  a  pound,  another  in  another 
 place  a  shilling,  and  a  third  in  a  third  place  a  penny  ;  and  so  proceeding, 
 may  undoubtedly  reckon  right,  and  cast  up  a  great  sum,  according  to  his 
 counters  so  placed,  and  standing  for  more  or  less  as  he  pleases,  without  being 
 one  jot  the  richer,  or  without  even  knowing  how  much  a  pound,  shilling, 
 or  penny  is,  but  only  that  one  is  contained  in  the  other  twenty  times,  and 
 contains  the  other  twelve :  which  a  man  may  also  do  in  the  signification  of 
 words,  by  making  them,  in  respect  of  one  another,  more,  or  less,  or  equally 
 comprehensive. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Thirdly,  using  words  variously  is  trifling  with  them. — Though 
 yet  concerning  most  words  used  in  discourses,  equally  argumentative  and 
 controversial,  there  is  this  more  to  be  complained  of,  which  is  the  worst  sort 
 of  trifling,  and  which  sets  us  yet  farther  from  the  certainty  of  knowledge  we 
 hope  to  attain  by  them,  or  find  in  them  ;  viz.  that  most  writers  are  so  far 
 from  instructing  us  in  the  nature  and  knowledge  of  things,  that  they  use 
 their  words  loosely  and  uncertainly,  and  do  not,  by  using  them  constantly 
 and  steadily  in  the  same  significations,  make  plain  and  clear  deductions  of 
 words  one  from  another,  and  make  their  discourses  coherent  and  clear  (how 
 little  soever  they  were  instructive);  which  were  not  difficult  to  do,  did  they 
 not  find  it  convenient  to  shelter  their  ignorance  or  obstinacy  under  the  ob- 
 scurity and  complexedness  of  their  terms  :  to  which,  perhaps,  inadvertency 
 and  ill  custom  do  in  many  men  much  contribute. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Marks  of  verbal  propositions. — To  conclude  ;  barely  verbal 
 propositions  may  be  known  by  these  following  marks : 
 
 1.  Predication  in  abstract. — First,  all  propositions,  wherein  two  abstract^ 
 terms  are  affirmed  one  of  another,  are  barely  about  the  signification  of  sounds.} 
 For  since  no  abstract  idea  can  be  the  same  with  any  other  but  itself,  when 
 its  abstract  name  is  affirmed  of  any  other  term,  it  can  signify  no  more  but 
 this,  that  it  may  or  ought  to  be  called  by  that  name,  or  that  these  two  names 
 signify  the  same  idea.  Thus,  should  any  one  say,  that  parsimony  is  frugality, 
 that  gratitude  is  justice,  that  this  or  that  action  is  or  is  not  temperate  ;  how- 
 ever specious  these  and  the  like  propositions  may  at  first  sight  seem,  yet 
 when  we  come  to  press  them,  and  examine  nicely  what  they  contain,  we 
 shall  find  that  it  all  amounts  to  nothing  but  the  signification  of  those  terms. 
 
 Sect.  13.     2.   A  fart  of  the  definition  -predicated  of  any  term. — Sec- 
 ondly, all  propositions,  wherein  a  part  of  the  complex  idea  which  any  term  j 
 stands  for  is  predicated  of  that  term,  are  only  verbal :  v.  g.  to  say  that  gold 
 
408  CF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 18  a  metal,  or  heavy.  And  thus  all  propositions,  wherein  more  comprehen- 
 sive words  called  genera  are  affirmed  of  subordinate  or  less  comprehensive, 
 called  species,  or  individuals,  are  barely  verbal. 
 
 When  by  these  two  rules  we  have  examined  the  propositions  that  make 
 up  the  discourses  we  ordinarily  meet  with,  both  in  and  out  of  books,  we  shall, 
 perhaps,  find  tiiat  a  greater  part  of  them,  than  is  usually  suspected,  are  purclv 
 about  the  signification  of  words,  and  contain  nothing  in  them  but  the  use  and 
 application  of  these  signs. 
 
 This,  I  tliink,  I  may  lay  down  for  an  infallible  rule,  that  wherever  the  dis- 
 tinct idea  any  word  stands  for  is  not  known  and  considered,  and  something 
 not  contained  in  the  idea  is  not  affirmed  or  denied  of  it ;  there  our  thoughts 
 stick  wholly  in  sounds,  and  are  able  to  attain  no  real  truth  or  falsehood. 
 This,  perhaps,  if  well  heeded,  might  save  us  a  great  deal  of  useless  amuse- 
 ment and  dispute,  and  very  much  shorten  our  trouble  and  wandering,  in  the 
 search  of  real  and  true  knowledge. 
 
 CHAPTER  IX. 
 
 OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE  OF  EXISTENCE. 
 
 Sect.  1.  General  certain  propositions  concern  not  existence. — Hitherto 
 we  have  only  considered  the  essences  of  things,  which  being  only  abstract 
 i.ieas,  and  thereby  removed  in  our  thoughts  from  particular  existence  (that 
 being  the  proper  operation  of  the  mind,  in  abstraction,  to  consider  an  idea 
 under  no  other  existence,  but  what  it  has  in  the  understanding)  gives  us  no 
 knowledge  of  real  existence  at  all.  Where  by  the  way  we  may  take  notice, 
 that  universal  propositions,  of  whose  truth  or  falsehood  we  can  have  certain 
 knowledge,  concern  not  existence ;  and  farther,  that  all  particular  affirma- 
 tions or  negations,  that  Vv'ould  not  be  certain  if  they  were  made  general,  are 
 only  concerning  existence  ;  they  declaring  only  the  accidental  union  or  sepa- 
 ration of  ideas  in  tilings  existing,  which,  in  their  abstract  natures,  have  no 
 known  necessary  union  or  repugnancy. 
 
 Sect.  2.  A  threefold  knowledge  of  existence. — But,  leaving  the  nature  of 
 ])ropositions  and  different  ways  of  predication  to  be  considered  more  at  large 
 in  another  place,  let  us  now  proceed  to  inquire  concerning  our  knowledge  of 
 the  existence  of  things,  and  how  we  come  by  it.  I  say  then,  that  we  have 
 the  knowledge  of  our  own  existence  by  intuition  ;  of  the  existence  of  God. 
 by  demonstration  ;  and  of  other  things  by  sensation. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Our  knowledge  of  our  own  existence  is  intuitive. — As  for  our 
 own  existence,  we  perceive  it  so  plainly,  and  so  certainly,  that  it  neither 
 needs  nor  is  capable  of  any  proof  For  nothing  can  be  more  evident  to  us 
 tliaii  our  own  existence ;  I  think,  I  reason,  I  feel  pleasure  and  pain  :  can  any 
 of  these  be  more  evident  to  me  than  my  own  existence]  If  I  doubt  of  ail 
 other  things,  that  very  doubt  makes  me  perceive  my  own  existence,  and  will 
 not  suffer  me  to  doubt  of  that.  For  if  I  know  I  feel  pain,  it  is  evident  I  have 
 as  certain  perception  of  my  own  existence,  as  of  the  existence  of  the  pain  I 
 feel :  or  if  I  know  I  doubt,  I  have  as  certain  perception  of  the  existence  of 
 the  thing  doubting,  as  of  that  thought  which  I  call  doubt.  Experience  then 
 convinces  us  that  we  have  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  our  own  existence,  and 
 an  internal  infallible  perception  that  we  are.  In  every  act  of  sensation,  rea- 
 soning, or  thinking,  we  are  conscious  to  ourselves  of  our  own  being  ;  and,  in 
 this  matter,  come  not  short  of  the  highest  degree  of  certainty. 
 
Ch.  10.  EXISTENCE  OF  A  GOD.  409 
 
 CHAPTER  X. 
 
 OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  A  GOD. 
 
 Sect.  1.  We  are  capable  of  knowing  certainly  that  there  is  a  God. — 
 Though  God  has  given  us  no  innate  ideas  of  himself ;  though  he  has  stamped 
 no  original  characters  on  our  minds,  wherein  we  may  read  his  being ;  yet 
 liaving  furnished  us  with  those  faculties  our  minds  are  endowed  with,  he  hath 
 not  left  himself  without  witness  :  since  we  have  sense,  perception,  and  rea- 
 son, and  cannot  want  a  clear  proof  of  him,  as  long  as  we  carry  ourselves 
 about  us.  Nor  can  we  justly  complain  of  our  ignorance  in  this  great  point, 
 since  he  has  so  plentifully  provided  us  with  the  means  to  discover  and  know 
 him,  so  far  as  is  necessary  to  the  end  of  our  being,  and  the  great  concernment 
 of  our  happiness.  But  though  this  be  the  most  obvious  truth  that  reason  dis- 
 covers ;  and  though  its  evidence  be  (if  I  mistake  not)  equal  to  mathematical 
 certainty  ;  yet  it  requires  thought  and  attention,  and  the  mind  must  apply 
 itself  to  a  regular  deduction  of  it  from  some  part  of  our  intuitive  knowledge, 
 or  else  we  shall  be  as  uncertain  and  ignorant  of  this  as  of  other  propositions, 
 which  are  in  themselves  capable  of  clear  demonstration.  To  show  therefore 
 that  we  are  capable  of  knowing,  i.  e.  being  certain  that  there  is  a  God,  and 
 how  we  may  come  by  this  certainty,  I  think  we  need  go  no  farther  than  our- 
 selves, and  that  undoubted  knowledge  we  have  of  our  own  existence. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Man  knows  that  he  himself  is. — I  think  it  beyond  question,  that 
 man  has  a  clear  idea  of  his  own  being  ;  he  knows  certainly  that  he  exists, 
 and  that  he  is  something.  He  that  can  doubt,  whether  he  be  any  thing  or 
 no,  I  speak  not  to,  no  more  than  I  would  argue  with  pure  nothing,  or  endeav- 
 our to  convince  nonentity  that  it  were  something.  If  any  one  pretends  to 
 be  so  sceptical  as  to  deny  his  own  existence  (for  really  to  doubt  of  it  is  mani- 
 festly impossible),  let  him  for  me  enjoy  his  beloved  happiness  of  being  i 
 nothing,  until  hunger,  or  some  other  pain,  convince  him  of  the  contrary,  j 
 This  then,  I  think,  I  may  take  for  a  truth,  which  every  one's  certain  know- 
 ledge assures  him  of,  beyond  the  liberty  of  doubting,  viz.  that  he  is  something 
 that  actually  exists. 
 
 Sect.  3.  He  knows  also  that  nothing  cannot  produce  a  being,  therefore 
 something  eternal. — In  the  next  place,  man  knows  by  an  intuitive  certainty, 
 that  bare  nothing  can  no  more  produce  any  real  being  than  it  ^a,n  be  equal 
 to  two  right  angles.  If  a  man  knows  not  that  nonentity,  or  the  absence  of  all 
 being,  cannot  be  equal  to  two  right  angles,  it  is  impossible  he  should  know 
 any  demonstration  in  Euclid.  If  therefore  we  know  there  is  some  real  being, 
 and  that  nonentity  cannot  produce  any  real  being,  it  is  an  evident  demonstra- 
 tion, that  from  eternity  there  has  been  something  ;  since  what  was  not  from 
 eternity  had  a  beginning ;  and  what  had  a  beginning  must  be  produced  by 
 something  else. 
 
 Sect.  4.  That  eternal  being  must  be  most  powerful. — Next,  it  is  evident, 
 that  what  had  its  being  and  beginning  from  another,  must  also  have  all  that  , 
 which  is  in,  and  belongs  to  its  being,  from  another  too.  All  the  powers  it 
 has  must  be  owing  to,  and  received  from,  the  same  source.  This  eternal 
 source  then  of  all  being  must  also  be  the  source  and  original  of  all  power ; 
 and  so  this  eternal  being  must  be  also  the  most  powerful. 
 
 Sect.  5.  And  most  knowing. — Again,  a  man  finds  in  himself  perception 
 and  knowledge.  We  have  then  got  one  step  farther  ;  and  we  are  certain 
 now,  that  there  is  not  only  some  being,  but  some  knowing  intelligent  being  in 
 the  world. 
 
 There  was   a  time,  then,  when  there  was   no  knowing  being,  and  when 
 knowledge  began  to  be ;  or  else  there  has  been  also  a  knowing  being  from 
 eternity.     If  it  be  said,  there  was  a  time  wlif>n  no  beincr  had  any  knowled^'e, 
 3  13  •  «  .  o 
 
410  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 /when  that  eternal  being  was  void  of  all  understanding ;  I  reply,  that  then  it 
 /  was  impossible  there  should  ever  have  been  any  knowledge  :  it  being  as  im- 
 /  possible  that  things  wliolly  void  of  knowledge,  and  operating  blindly,  and 
 /  without  any  i)ercei)tion,  sliould  produce  a  knowing  being,  as  it  is  impossible 
 I  that  a  triangle  should  make  itself  three  angles  bigg^  than  two  right  ones. 
 \  For  it  is  as  repugnant  to  the  idea  of  senseless  matter,  that  it  should  put  into 
 \  itself  sense,  perception  and  knowledge,  as  it  is  repugnant  to  the  idea  of  a 
 \  triangle,  that  it  should  put  into  itself  greater  angles  than  two  right  ones. 
 
 Sect.  6.  And  therefore  God. — Thus  from  the  consideration  of  ourselves, 
 and  what  we  infallibly  find  in  our  own  constitutions,  our  reason  leads  us  to  the 
 knowledge  of  this  certain  and  evident  truth,  that  there  is  an  eternal,  most 
 powerful,  and  most  knowing  being  ;  which  whether  any  one  will  please  to  call 
 God,  it  matters  not.  The  thing  is  evident;  and  from  this  idea,  duly  consid- 
 ered, will  easily  be  deduced  all  those  other  attributes  which  we  ought  to  as- 
 cribe to  this  eternal  being.  If  nevertheless  any  one  should  be  found  so 
 senselessly  arrogant  as  to  suppose  man  alone  knowing  and  wise,  but  yet  the 
 product  of  mere  ignorance  and  chance  ;  and  that  all  the  rest  of  the  universe 
 acted  only  by  that  blind  hap-hazard  : — I  shall  leave  with  him  that  very  ra- 
 tional and  emphatical  rebuke  of  Tully,  1.  ii.  De  Leg.  to  be  considered  at  his 
 leisure :  "  What  can  be  more  sillily  arrogant  and  misbecoming  than  for  a  man 
 to  think  that  he  has  a  mind  and  understanding  in  him,  but  yet  in  all  the  uni- 
 verse beside  there  is  no  such  thing!  Or  that  those  things,  which  with  the 
 utmost  stretch  of  his  reason  he  can  scarce  comprehend,  should  be  moved  and 
 managed  without  any  reason  at  all  !"  "  Quid  est  enim  verius,  quam  neminem 
 esse  oportere  tarn  stulte  arrogantem,  ut  in  se  mentem  et  rationem  putet 
 messe,  in  coelo  mundoque  non  putet  1  Aut  ea  quae  vix  summa  ingenii  ratione 
 comprehendat,  nulla  ratione  moveri  putet  ]" 
 
 From  what  has  been  said  it  is  plain  to  me,  we  have  a  more  certain  know- 
 ledge of  the  existence  of  a  God,  than  of  any  thing  our  senses  have  not  im- 
 mediately discovered  to  us.  Nay,  I  presume  I  may  say,  that  we  more  cer- 
 taitdy  know  that  there  is  a  God,  than  that  there  is  any  thing  else  without  us. 
 When  I  say  we  know,  I  mean  there  is  such  a  knowledge  witliin  our  reach, 
 which  we  cannot  miss,  if  we  will  but  apply  our  minds  to  that,  as  we  do  to 
 several  other  inquiries. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Our  idea  of  a  most  perfect  being  not  the  sole  proof  of  a  God. — 
 How  far  the  idea  of  a  most  perfect  being,  which  a  man  may  frame  in  his 
 mind,  does  or  does  not  prove  the  existence  of  a  God,  I  will  not  here  ex- 
 amine. For  in  tlie  different  make  of  men's  tempers  and  application  of  their 
 thoughts,  some  arguments  prevail  more  on  one,  and  some  on  another,  for 
 [the  confirmation  of  the  same  truth.  But  yet,  I  think,  this  I  may  say,  that  it 
 I  is  an  ill  way  of  establishing  this  truth,  and  silencing  atheists,  to  lay  the 
 /  whole  stress  of  so  important  a  point  as  this  upon  thai  sole  foundation  ;  and 
 /  take  some  mon's  having  that  idea  of  God  in  their  minds  (for  it  is  evident 
 some  men  have  none,  and  some  worse  than  none,  and  the  most  very  differ- 
 ent) for  the  only  proof  of  a  deity  :  and  out  of  an  over-fondness  of  that  darling 
 invention  cashier,  or  at  least  endeavour  to  invalidate  all  other  arguments, 
 and  forbid  us  to  hearken  to  those  proofs,  as  being  weak  or  fallacious,  which 
 our  own  existence  and  the  sensible  parts  of  the  universe  offer  so  clearly  and 
 so  cogently  to  our  thoughts,  that  I  deem  it  impossible  for  a  considering  man 
 to  withstand  them.  For  I  judge  it  as  certain  and  clear  a  truth,  as  can  any 
 where  be  delivered,  that  the  invisible  things  of  God  are  clearly  seen  from  the 
 creation  of  the  world,  being  understood  by  the  things  that  are  made,  even 
 his  eternal  power  and  Godhead.  Though  our  own  being  furnishes  us,  as  I 
 have  shown,  with  an  evident  and  incontestible  proof  of  a  deity, — and  I  be- 
 lieve nobody  can  avoid  the  cogency  of  it,  who  will  but  as  carefully  attend  to 
 it,  as  to  any  other  demonstration  or  so  many  parts  ; — yet  this  being  so  funda- 
 mental a  truth,  and  of  that  consequence,  that  all  religion  and  genuine  moral- 
 ity depend  thereon,  I  doubt  not  but  I  shall  be  forgiven  by  my  reader,  if  I  go 
 over  some  parts  of  this  argument  again,  and  enlarge  a  little  more  upon  them. 
 Sect.  8.   Something  from  eternity. — There  is  no  truth  more  evident,  than 
 
Ch.  10.  EXISTENCE  OF  A  GOD.  411      , 
 
 that  something  must  be  from  eternity.  I  never  yet  heard  of  any  one  so  un^.  \ 
 reasonable,  or  that  could  suppose  so  manifest  a  contradiction,  as  a  time  where-  j 
 in  there  was  perfectly  nothing  :  this  being  of  all  absurdities  the  greatest,  to  V  ,' 
 imagine  that  pure  nothing,  the  perfect  negation  and  absence  of  all  beings,  *  / 
 should  ever  produce  any  real  existence. 
 
 It  being  then  unavoidable  for  all  rational  creatures  to  conclude,  that  some- 
 thing has  existed  from  eternity ;  let  us  next  see  what  kind  of  thing  that  must  be. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Two  sorts  of  beings,  cogitative  and  incogitative. — There  are  but 
 two  sorts  of  beings  in  the  world,  that  man  knows  or  conceives. 
 
 First,  such  as  are  purely  material,  without  sense,  perception,  or  thought,  as 
 the  clippings  of  our  beards,  and  parings  of  our  nails. 
 
 Secondly,  sensible,  thinking,  perceiving  beings,  such  as  we  find  ourselvea 
 to  be,  which,  if  you  please,  we  will  hereafter  call  cogitative  and  incogitative 
 beings;  which  to  our  present  purpose,  if  for  nothing  else,  are,  perhaps  better 
 terms  than  material  and  immaterial. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Incogitative  beings  cannot  produce  a  cogitative. — If  then  there 
 must  be  something  eternal,  let  us  see  what  sort  of  being  it  must  be.  And  to 
 that,  it  is  very  obvious  to  reason,  that  it  must  necessarily  be  a  cogitative  being. 
 For  it  is  as  impossible  to  conceive,  that  ever  bare  incogitative  matter  should 
 produce  a  thinking  intelligent  being,  as  that  nothing  should  of  itself  produce 
 matter.  Let  us  suppose  any  parcel  of  matter  eternal,  great  or  small,  we  shall 
 find  it,  in  itself,  able  to  produce  nothing.  For  example,  let  us  suppose  the 
 matter  of  the  next  pebble  we  meet  with  eternal,  closely  united,  and 
 the  parts  firmly  at  rest  together;  if  there  were  no  other  being  in  the  world, 
 must  it  not  eternally  remain  so,  a  dead  inactive  lump  ?  Is  it  possible  to  con- 
 ceive it  can  add  motion  to  itself,  being  purely  matter,  or  produce  any  thing!  , 
 Matter,  then,  by  its  own  strength,  cannot  produce  in  itself  so  much  as  mo-' 
 tion :  the  motion  it  has  must  also  be  from  eternity,  or  else  be  produced  and 
 added  to  matter  by  some  other  being  more  powerful  than  matter ;  matter,  as 
 is  evident,  having  not  power  to  produce  motion  in  itself.  But  let  us  suppose 
 motion  eternal  too ;  yet  matter,  incogitative  matter  and  motion,  whatever 
 changes  it  might  produce  of  figure  and  bulk,  could  never  produce  thought: 
 knowledge  will  still  be  as  far  beyond  the  power  of  motion  and  matter  to  pro- 
 duce, as  matter  is  beyond  the  power  of  nothing  or  nonentity  to  produce. 
 And  I  appeal  to  every  one's  own  thoughts,  whether  he  cannot  as  easily  con- 
 ceive matter,  produced  by  nothing,  as  thought  to  be  produced  by  pure  matter, 
 when  before  there  was  no  such  thing  as  thought,  or  an  intelligent  being  ex- 
 isting] Divide  matter  into  as  minute  parts  as  you  will  (which  we  are  apt  to 
 imagine  a  sort  of  spiritualizing,  or  making  a  thinking  thing  of  it) ;  vary  the 
 figure  and  motion  of  it  as  much  as  you  please;  a  globe,  cube,  cone,  prism, 
 cylinder,  &c.  whose  diameters  are  about  1000000th  part  of  a  gry(a),  will  ope- 
 rate no  otherwise  upon  other  bodies  of  proportionable  bulk  than  those  of  an 
 inch  or  foot  diameter ;  and  you  may  as  rationally  expect  to  produce  sense, 
 thought,  and  knowledge,  by  putting  together,  in  a  certain  figure  and  motion,  \ 
 
 gross  particles  of  matter,  as  by  those  that  are  the  very  minutest  that  do  any  J 
 
 where  e.\ist.  They  knock,  impel,  and  resist  one  another,  just  as  the  greater  do,  ^ 
 and  that  is  all  they  can  do.  So  that  if  we  will  suppose  nothing  first,  or  eter- 
 nal, matter  can  never  begin  to  be :  if  we  suppose  bare  matter,  without  motion, 
 eternal  motion  can  never  begin  to  be :  we  suppose  only  matter  and  motion 
 first,  or  eternal ;  thought  can  never  begin  to  be.  For  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
 ceive that  matter,  either  with  or  without  motion,  could  have  originally  in 
 and  from  itself  sense,  perception,  and  knowledge ;  as  is  evident  from  hence, 
 
 (rt)  A  gry  isl-lOth  of  a  line,  a  line  1-lOth  ofaninchjan  inch  1-lOth  of  a  philosophical 
 foot,  a  philosophical  foot  l-3d  of  a  pendulum,  whose  diadroms,  in  the  latitude  of  45 
 de2;rees,  are  each  equal  to  one  second  of  time  or  l-60thof  a  minute.  I  have  aflFect- 
 eilly  made  use  of  this  measure  here,  and  tiie  parts  of  it,  under  a  decimal  division, 
 with  names  to  them  ;  because,  I  think,  it  would  be  of  general  convenience  that  this 
 sliould  be  the  common  measure,  in  the  commonwealth  of  letters. 
 
r. 
 
 412  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 that  then  sense,  perception,  and  knowledge  must  be  a  property  eternally  in- 
 \      separable  from  matter  and  every  particle  of  it.     Not  to  add  that  though  our 
 general  or  specific  conception  of  matter  makes  us   speak  of  it  as   one  thing, 
 yet  really  all  matter  is  not  one   individual   thing,   neither  is   there  any  such 
 thing  existing  as  one  material  being,  or  one  single  body  that  we  know  or  can 
 conceive.    And  therefore  if  matter  were  the  eternal  first  cogitative  being,  there 
 would  not  be  one  eternal  infinite  cogitative  being,   but   an  infinite  number  of 
 eternal   finite  cogitative  beings,  independent  one  of  another,  of  limited  force 
 '■        and  distinct  thoughts,  which  could  never  produce  that  order,    harmony,  and 
 Jr      beauty  which  are  to  be  found  in  nature.     Since  therefore  whatsoever  is  the 
 first  eternal  being  must  necessarily  be  cogitative ;  and  whatsoever  is  first  of  all 
 things  must  necessarily  contain  in  it  and  actually  have,  at  least,  all  the  per- 
 fections that  can  ever  after  exist;  nor  can  it  ever  give  to  another  any  perfec- 
 .         tion  that  it  hath  not,  either  actually  in  itself,  or  at  least,  in  a  higher  degree; 
 X.^.  it  necessarily  follows,  that  the  first  eternal  being  cannot  be  matter. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Therefore  there  has  been  an  eternal  loisdom. — If  therefore  it  be 
 evident,  that  something  necessarily  must  exist  from  eternity,  it  is  also  as  evi- 
 dent, that  that  something  must  necessarily  be  a  cogitative  being :  for  it  is  as 
 impossible  that  incogitative  matter  should  produce  a  cogitative  being,  as  that 
 nothing,  or  the  negation  of  all  being,  should  produce  a  positive  being  or 
 matter. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Though  this  discovery  of  the  necessary  existence  of  an  eternal 
 mind  does  sufficiently  lead  us  into  the  knowledge  of  God ;  since  it  will  hence 
 follow,  that  all  other  knowing  beings  that  have  a  beginning  must  depend  on 
 him,  and  have  no  other  ways  of  knowledge,  or  extent  of  power,  than  what  he 
 gives  them ;  and  therefore  if  he  made  those,  he  made  also  the  less  excellent 
 pieces  of  this  universe,  all  inanimate  beings,  whereby  his  omniscience,  power, 
 and  providence  will  be  established,  and  all  his  other  attributes  necessarily  fol- 
 low :  yet  to  clear  up  this  a  little  farther,  we  will  see  what  doubts  can  be  raised 
 against  it. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Whether  material  or  no. — First,  perhaps  it  will  be  said,  that 
 though  it  be  as  clear  as  demonstration  can  make  it,  that  there  must  be  an 
 eternal  being,  and  that  being  must  also  be  knowing ;  yet  it  does  not  follow, 
 but  that  thinking  being  may  also  be  material.  Let  it  be  so  ;  it  equally  still 
 follows,  that  there  is  a  God.  For  if  there  be  an  eternal,  omniscient,  onmipo- 
 tent  being,  it  is  certain  that  there  is  a  God,  whether  yoa  imagine  that  being 
 to  be  material  or  no.  But  herein,  I  suppose,  lies  the  danger  and  deceit  of 
 that  supposition  :  there  being  no  way  to  avoid  the  demonstration,  that  there 
 is  an  eternal  knowing  being,  men,  devoted  to  matter,  would  willingly  have  it 
 granted,  that  this  knowing  being  is  material ;  and  then  letting  slide  out  of 
 their  minds,  or  the  discourse,  the  demonstration  whereby  an  eternal  knowing 
 being  was  proved  necessarily  to  exist,  would  argue  all  to  be  matter,  and  so 
 deny  a  God,  that  is,  an  eternal  cogitative  being  ;  whereby  they  are  so  far  from 
 establishing,  that  tliey  destroy  their  own  hypothesis.  For  if  there  can  be,  in 
 their  opinion,  eternal  matter,  without  any  eternal  cogitative  being,  they  mani- 
 festly separate  matter  and  thinking,  and  suppose  no  necessary  connexion  of 
 the  one  with  the  other,  and  so  establish  the  necessity  of  an  eternal  spirit,  but 
 not  of  matter,  since  it  has  been  proved  already,  that  an  eternal  cogitative 
 leing  is  unavoidably  to  be  granted.  No'w  if  thinking  and  matter  may  be 
 separated,  the  eternal  existence  of  matter  will  not  follow  from  the  eternal 
 existence  of  a  cogitative  being,  and  they  suppose  it  to  no  purpose. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Not  material,  1.  Because  every  particle  of  matter  is  not  cogi- 
 tative.— But  now  let  us  suppose  they  can  satisfy  themselves  or  others,  that 
 ihis  eternal  thinking  being  is  material. 
 
 First,  -I  would  aslc  them,  whether  they  imagine,  that  all  matter,  every 
 pirticle  of  matter,  thinks?  This,  I  suppose,  they  will  scarce  say  ;  since  then 
 there  would  be  as  many  eternal  thinking  beings  as  there  are  particles  of  mat- 
 ter, and  so  an  infinity  of  gods.  And  yet  if  they  will  not  allow  matter  as  mat- 
 ter, that  is,  every  particle  of  matter,  to  be  as  well  cogitative  as  extended,  thev 
 
Ch.  10.  EXISTENCE  OF  A  GOD.  413 
 
 will  have  as  hard  a  task  to  make  out  to  their  own  reasons  a  cogitative  being 
 out  of  incogitative  particles,  as  an  extended  being  out  of  unextended  parts,  if 
 I  may  so  speak. 
 
 Sect.  15.  2.  One  particle  alone  of  matter  cannot  be  cogitative. — Second- 
 ly, if  all  matter  does  not  think,  I  next  ask,  "  Whether  it  be  only  one  atom 
 that  does  so  ?"  This  has  as  many  absurdities  as  the  other  ;  for  then  this  atom 
 of  matter  must  be  alone  eternal  or  not.  If  this  alone  be  eternal,  then  this 
 alone,  by  its  powerful  thought  or  will,  made  all  the  rest  of  matter.  And  so 
 we  have  the  creation  of  matter  by  a  pov/erful  thought,  which  is  that  the  ma- 
 terialists stick  at.  For  if  they  suppose  one  single  thinking  atom  to  have 
 produced  all  the  rest  of  matter,  they  cannot  ascribe  that  pre-eminency  to  it 
 upon  any  other  account  than  that  of  its  thinking,  the  only  supposed  difference. 
 But  allow  it  to  be  by  some  other  way,  which  is  above  our  conception,  it  must 
 still  be  creation,  and  these  men  must  give  up  their  great  maxim,  ex  nihilo  nil 
 fit.  If  it  be  said,  that  all  the  rest  of  matter  is  equally  eternal,  as  that  thinking 
 atom,  it  will  be  to  say  any  thing  at  pleasure,  though  ever  so  absurd  :  for  to 
 suppose  all  matter  eternal,  and  yet  one  small  particle  in  knowledge  and  power 
 infinitely  above  all  the  rest,  is  without  any  the  least  appearance  of  reason  to 
 frame  an  hypothesis.  Every  particle  of  matter,  as  matter,  is  capable  of  all 
 the  same  figures  and  motions  of  any  other;  and  I  challenge  any  one,  in  his 
 thoughts,  to  add  any  thing  else  to  one  above  another. 
 
 Sect.  16.  3.  A  system  of  incogitative  matter  cannot  he  cogitative. — If 
 then  neither  one  peculiar  atom  alone  can  be  this  eternal  thinking  being ;  nor 
 all  matter  as  matter,  i.  e.  every  particle  of  matter,  can  be  it ;  it  only  remains, 
 that  it  is  some  certain  system  of  matter  duly  put  together,  that  is  this  thinking 
 eternal  being.  This  is  that  which,  I  imagine,  is  that  notion  which  men  are 
 aptest  to  have  of  God,  who  would  have  him  a  material  being,  as  most  readily 
 suggested  to  them,  by  the  ordinary  conceit  they  have  of  themselves,  and  other 
 men,  which  they  take  to  be  material  thinking  beings.  But  this  imagination, 
 however  more  natural,  is  no  less  absurd  than  the  other ;  for  to  suppose  the 
 eternal  thinking  being  to  be  nothing  else  but  a  composition  of  particles  of 
 matter,  each  whereof  is  incogitative,  is  to  ascribe  all  the  wisdom  and  know- 
 ledge of  that  eternal  being  only  to  the  juxta-position  of  parts ;  than  which 
 nothing  can  be  more  absurd.  For  unthinking  particles  of  matter,  however  put 
 together,  can  have  nothing  thereby  added  to  them,  but  a  new  relation  of  posi- 
 tion, which  it  is  impossible  should  give  thought  and  knowledge  to  them. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Whether  in  motion  or  at  rest. — But  farther,  this  corporeal  sys- 
 tem either  has  all  its  parts  at  rest,  or  it  is  a  certain  motion  of  the  parts  wherein 
 its  thinking  consists.  If  it  be  perfectly  at  rest,  it  is  but  one  lump,  and  so  can 
 have  no  privileges  above  one  atom. 
 
 If  it  be  the  motion  of  its  parts  on  which  its  thinking  depends,  all  the 
 thoughts  there  must  be  unavoidably  accidental  and  limited  ;  since  all  the  par- 
 ticles that  by  motion  cause  thought,  being  each  of  them  in  itself  without  any 
 thought,  cannot  regulate  its  own  motions,  much  less  be  regulated  by  the 
 thought  of  the  whole ;  since  that  thought  is  not  the  cause  of  motion  (for  then 
 it  must  be  antecedent  to  it,  and  so  without  it)  but  the  consequence  of  it, 
 whereby  freedom,  power,  choice,  and  all  rational  and  wise  thinking  or  acting, 
 will  be  quite  taken  away  :  so  that  such  a  thinking  being  will  he  no  better  nor 
 wiser  than  pure  blind  matter  ;  since  to  resolve  all  into  the  accidental  unguided 
 motions  of  blind  matter,  or  into  thought  depending  on  unguided  motions  of 
 blind  matter,  is  the  same  thing;  not  to  mention  the  narrowness  of  such 
 thoughts  and  knowledge  that  must  depend  on  the  motion  of  such  parts.  But 
 there  needs  no  enumeration  of  any  more  absurdities  and  impossibilities  in  this 
 hypothesis  (however  fuU  of  them  it  be)  than  that  before-mentioned;  since  let 
 this  thinking  system  be  all,  or  a  part  of  the  matter  of  the  universe,  it  is  im- 
 possible that  any  one  particle  should  either  know  its  own  or  the  motion  of 
 any  other  particle,  or  the  whole  know  the  motion  of  every  particle ;  and  so 
 regulate  its  own  thoughts  or  motions,  or  indeed  have  any  thought  resulting 
 from  such  motion. 
 
/ 
 
 / 
 
 V 
 
 414  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Matter  not  coeternal  with  an  eternal  mind. — Others  would  have 
 matter  to  be  eternal,  notwithstanding  that  they  allow  an  eternal,  cogitative, 
 immaterial  being.  This,  thoiigli  it  take  not  away  the  being  of  a  (iod,  yet 
 since  it  denies  one  and  the  tirst  great  piece  of  his  workmanship,  the  creation, 
 let  us  consider  it  a  little.  Matter  must  be  allowed  eternal.  VVhyl  because 
 you  cannot  conceive  how  it  can  be  made  out  of  notliing.  Why  do  you  not 
 also  think  yourself  eternal]  You  will  answer,  perhaps,  because  about  twenty 
 or  forty  years  since  you  began  to  be.  But  if  I  ask  you  what  tliat  you  is, 
 which  began  then  to  be,  you  can  scarce  tell  me.  The  matter,  whereof  you 
 are  made,  began  not  then  to  be  ;  for  if  it  did,  then  it  is  not  eternal:  but  it  be- 
 gan to  be  put  together  in  such  a  fashion  and  frame  as  makes  up  your  body  ; 
 but  yet  that  frame  of  particles  is  not  you,  it  makes  not  that  thinking  thing 
 you  are;  (for  I  have  now  to  do  with  one  who  allows  an  eternal,  immaterial, 
 thinking  being,  but  would  have  unthinking  matter  eternal  too)  therefore  when 
 did  that  thinking  thing  begin  to  be  1  If  it  did  never  begin  to  be,  then  have 
 you  always  been  a  thinking  thing  from  eternity ;  the  absurdity  whereof  I  need 
 not  confute,  till  I  meet  with  one  who  is  so  void  of  understanding  as  to  own  it. 
 If  therefore  you  can  allow  a  thinking  thing  to  be  made  out  of  nothing  (as  all 
 things  that  are  not  eternal  must  be)  why  also  can  you  not  allow  it  possible 
 for  a  material  being  to  be  made  out  of  nothing,  by  an  equal  power,  but  that 
 you  have  the  experience  of  the  one  in  view,  and  not  of  the  other  1  though, 
 when  well  considered,  creation  of  a  spirit  will  be  found  to  require  no  less 
 power  than  the  creation  of  matter.  Nay,  possibly,  if  we  would  emancipate 
 ourselves  from  vulgar  notions,  and  raise  our  thoughts  as  far  as  they  would 
 reach,  to  a  closer  contemplation  of  things,  we  might  be  able  to  aim  at  some 
 dim  and  seeming  conception  how  matter  might  at  first  be  made,  and  begin  to 
 exist  by  the  power  of  that  eternal  first  being :  but  to  give  beginning  and  being 
 to  a  spirit,  would  be  found  a  more  inconceivable  effect  of  omnipotent  power. 
 But  this  being  what  would  perhaps  lekd  us  too  far  from  the  notions  on  which 
 the  philosophy  now  in  the  world  is  built,  it  would  not  be  pardonable  to  deviate 
 so  far  from  them ;  or  to  inquire,  so  far  as  grammar  itself  would  authorize,  if 
 the  common  settled  opinion  opposes  it:  especially  in  this  place,  where  the 
 received  doctrine  serves  well  enough  to  our  present  purpose,  and  leaves  this 
 past  doubt,  that  the  creation  or  beginning  of  any  one  substance  out  of  nothing 
 being  once  admitted,  the  creation  of  all  other,  but  the  Creator  himself,  may, 
 with  the  same  ease,  be  supposed. 
 
 Sect.  19. — But  you  will  say,  is  it  not  impossible  to  admit  of  the  making 
 any  thing  out  of  nothing,  since  we  cannot  possibly  conceive  it?  I  answer, 
 No:  1.  Because  it  is  not  reasonable  to  deny  the  power  of  an  infinite  being, 
 ^because  we  cannot  comprehend  its  operations.  We  do  not  deny  other  effects 
 upon  this  ground,  because  we  cannot  possibly  conceive  the  manner  of  their 
 production.  We  cannot  conceive  how  any  thing  but  impulse  of  body  can 
 move  body ;  and  yet  that  is  not  a  reason  sufficient  to  make  us  deny  it  impos- 
 sible, against  the  constant  experience  we  have  of  it  in  ourselves,  in  all  our 
 voluntary  motions,  wliich  are  produced  in  us  only  by  the  free  action  or 
 thought  of  our  own  minds ;  and  are  not,  nor  can  be  the  effects  of  the  impulse 
 or  determination  of  the  motion  of  blind  matter  in  or  upon  our  own  bodies ; 
 for  then  it  could  not  be  in  our  power  or  choice  to  alter  it.  For  example :  my 
 right  hand  writes,  whilst  my  left  hand  is  still.  What  causes  rest  in  one,  and 
 motion  in  the  other]  Nothing  but  my  will,  a  thought  of  my  mind;  my 
 thought  only  changing,  the  right  hand  rests,  and  the  left  hand  moves.  This 
 is  matter  of  fiict,  which  cannot  be  denied.  Explain  this,  and  make  it  intelli- 
 gible, and  then  the  next  step  will  be  to  understand  creation.  For  the  giving 
 a  new  determination  to  the  motion  of  the  animal  spirits  (which  some  make 
 use  of  to  explain  voluntary  motion)  clears  not  the  difficulty  one  jot:  to  alter 
 the  determination  of  motion  being  in  this  case  no  easier  nor  less  than  to  give 
 motion  itself;  since  the  new  determination  given  to  the  animal  spirits  must 
 be  either  immediately  by  thought,  or  by  some  other  body  put  in  their  way  by 
 thought,  which  was  not  in  their  way  before,  and  so  must  owe  its  motion  to 
 
Ch.  10.  EXISTENCE  OF  A  GOD.  415 
 
 thought :  either  of  which  leaves  voluntary  motion  as  unintelligible  as  it  was 
 before.  In  the  mean  time  it  is  an  overvaluing  ourselves  to  reduce  all  to  the 
 narrow  measure  of  our  capacities,  and  to  conclude  all  things  impossible  to 
 be  done,  whose  manner  of  doing  exceeds  our  comprehension.  Tiiis  is  to 
 make  our  comprehension  infinite,  or  God  finite,  when  what  he  can  do  is 
 limited  to  what  we  can  conceive  of  it.  If  you  do  not  understand  the  opera- 
 tions of  your  own  finite  mind,  that  thinking  thing  within  you,  do  not  deem  it 
 strange  that  you  cannot  comprehend  the  operations  of  that  eternal  infinite 
 mind,  who  made  and  governs  all  things,  and  whom  the  heaven  of  heavens 
 cannot  contain. 
 
 CHAPTER  XL 
 
 OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  OTHER  THINGS. 
 
 Sect.  1.  It  is  to  he  had  only  by  sensation. — The  knowledge  of  our  own 
 being  we  have  by  intuition.  The  existence  of  a  God  reason  clearly  makes 
 known  us,  as  has  been  shown. 
 
 The  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  any  other  thing  we  can  have  only  by 
 sensation :  for  there  being  no  necessary  connexion  of  real  existence  with  any 
 idea  a  man  hath  in  his  memory,  nor  of  any  other  existence  but  that  of  God, 
 with  the  existence  of  any  particular  man ;  no  particular  man  can  know  the 
 existence  of  any  other  being,  but  only  when  by  actual  operating  upon  him  it 
 makes  itself  perceived  by  him.  For  the  having  the  idea  of  any  thing  in  our 
 mind  no  more  proves  the  existence  of  that  thing,  than  the  picture  of  a  man 
 evidences  his  being  in  the  world,  or  the  visions  of  a  dream  make  thereby  a 
 true  history. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Instance,  whiteness  of  this  paper. — It  is  therefore  the  actual 
 receiving  of  ideas  from  without,  that  gives  us  notice  of  the  existence  of  other 
 things,  and  makes  us  know  that  something  doth  exist  at  that  time  without 
 us,  which  causes  that  idea  in  us,  though  perhaps  we  neither  know  nor  con- 
 sider how  it  does  it :  for  it  takes  not  from  the  certainty  of  our  senses,  and 
 the  ideas  we  receive  by  them,  that  we  know  not  the  manner  wherein  they 
 are  produced,  v.  g.  whilst  I  write  this  I  have,  by  the  paper  affecting  my 
 eyes,  that  idea  produced  in  my  mind  which,  whatever  object  causes,  I  call 
 white;  by  which  I  know  that  that  quality  or  accident  (i.  e.  whose  appearance 
 before  my  eyes  always  causes  that  idea)  doth  really  exist,  and  hath  a  being 
 without  me.  And  of  this,  the  greatest  assurance  I  can  possibly  have,  and  to 
 which  my  faculties  can  attain,  is  the  testimony  of  my  eyes,  which  are  the 
 proper  and  sole  judges  of  this  thing,  whose  testimony  I  have  reason  to  rely 
 on  as  so  certain,  that  I  can  no  more  doubt,  whilst  I  write  this,  that  I  see 
 white  and  black,  and  that  something  really  exists,  that  causes  that  sensation 
 in  me,  than  that  I  write  or  move  my  hand:  which  is  a  certainty  as  great  as 
 human  nature  is  capable  of,  concerning  the  existence  of  any  thing  but  a 
 man's  self  alone,  and  of  God. 
 
 Sect.  3.  This,  though  not  so  certain  as  demonstration,  yet  may  be  called 
 knowledge,  and  proves  the  existence  of  things  without  us. — The  notice  we 
 have  by  our  senses  of  the  existing  of  things  without  us,  tliough  it  be  not 
 altogether  so  certain  as  our  intuitive  knowledge,  or  the  deductions  of  our 
 reason,  employed  about  the  clear  abstract  ideas  of  our  own  minds;  yet  it  is 
 an  assurance  that  deserves  the  name  of  knowledge.  If  we  persuade  our- 
 selves that  our  faculties  act  and  inform  us  right,  concerning  the  existence  of 
 those  objects  that  affect  them,  it  cannot  pass  for  an  ill-grounded  confidence : 
 for  I  think  nobody  can,  in  earnest,  be  so  sceptical  as  to  be  uncertain  of  the 
 existence  of  those  things  which  he  sees  and  feels.  At  least,  he  that  can 
 doubt  so  far  (whatever  he  may  have  with  his  own  thoughts)  wiU  never  hava 
 
416  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDINU.  Book  4. 
 
 » 
 
 any  controversy  with  me ;  since  lie  can  nevpr  be  sure  I  *say  any  thing  con- 
 trary to  his  oj\^n  opinion.  As  to  myself,  I  think  Q'od  has  given  me  assurance 
 enough  of  the  existence  of  things  without  me;  since  by  their  ditferent  appli- 
 cation I  can  produce  in  myself  both  pleasure  and  pain,  which  is  one  great 
 concernment  of  my  present  state.  This  is  certain,  the  confidence  that  our 
 faculties  do  not  herein  deceive  us  is  the  greatest  assurance  we  are  capable 
 of,  concerning  the  existence  of  material  beings.  For  we  cannot  act  any 
 thing  but  by  our  faculties;  nor  talk  of  knowledge  itself,  but  by  the  helps  of 
 those  faculties  which  are  fitted  to  apprehend  even  what  knowledge  is.  But 
 besides  the  assurance  we  have  from  our  senses  themselves,  that  they  do  not 
 err  in  the  information  they  give  us,  of  the  existence  of  things  without  us, 
 when  they  are  affected  by  them,  we  are  farther  confirmed  in  tliis  assurance 
 by  other  concurrent  reasons. 
 
 Sect.  4.  1.  Because  we  cannot  have  them  but  by  the  inlet  of  the  senses — 
 First,  it  is  plain  those  perceptions  are  produced  in  us  by  exterior  causes 
 affecting  our  senses :  because  those  that  want  the  organs  of  any  sense  never 
 can  have  the  ideas  belonging  to  that  sense  produced  in  their  minds.  This  is 
 too  evident  to  be  doubted :  and  therefore  we  cannot  but  be  assured  that  they 
 come  in  by  the  organs  of  that  sense,  and  no  other  way.  The  organs  them- 
 selves, it  is  plain,  do  not  produce  them ;  for  then  the  eyes  of  a  man  in  the 
 dark  would  produce  colours,  and  his  nose  smell  roses  in  the  winter  :  but  we 
 see  nobody  gets  the  relish  of  a  pine-apple  till  he  goes  to  the  Indies,  where  it 
 is,  and  tastes  it. 
 
 Sect.  5.  2.  Because  an  idea  from  actual  sensation,  and  another  from 
 memory,  are  very  distinct  perceptions. — Secondly,  because  sometimes  I  find 
 that  I  cannot  avoid  the  having  those  ideas  produced  in  my  mind.  For  though 
 when  my  eyes  are  shut,  or  windows  fast,  I  can  at  pleasure  recall  to  my  mind 
 the  ideas  of  light,  or  the  sun,  which  former  sensations  had  lodged  in  my 
 memory ;  so  I  can  at  pleasure  lay  by  that  idea,  and  take  into  my  view  that 
 of  the  smell  of  a  rose,  or  taste  of  sugar.  But  if  I  turn  my  eyes  at  noon 
 towards  the  sun,  I  cannot  avoid  the  ideas  which  the  light,  or  sun,  then  pro- 
 duces in  me.  So  that  there  is  a  rnanifest  difference  between  the  ideas  laid 
 up  in  my  memory  (over  which,  if  they  were  there  only,  T  should  have  con- 
 stantly the  same  power  to  dispose  of  them,  and  lay  them  by  at  pleasure)  and 
 those  which  force  themselves  upon  me,  and  I  cannot  avoid  having.  And 
 therefore  it  must  needs  be  some  exterior  cause,  and  the  brisk  acting  of  some 
 objects  without  me,  whose  efficacy  I  cannot  resist,  that  p'-oduces  those  ideas 
 in  my  mind,  whether  I  will  or  no.  Besides,  there  is  nobody  who  doth  not 
 perceive  the  diflference  in  himself  between  contemplating  the  sun,  as  he  hath 
 the  idea  of  it  in  his  memory,  and  actually  looking  upon  it ;  of  which  two  his 
 perception  is  so  distinct,  that  few  of  his  ideas  are  more  distinguishable  one 
 from  another.  And  therefore  he  hath  certain  knowledge,  that  they  are  not 
 both  memory,  or  the  actions  of  his  mind,  and  fancies  only  within  him ;  but 
 that  actual  seeing  hath  a  cause  witliout. 
 
 Sect.  6.  3.  Pleasure  or  pain  which  accompanies  actual  sensation,  ac- 
 companies not  the  returning  of  those  ideas  without  the  external  objects. — 
 Thirdly,  add  to  this,  that  many  of  those  ideas  are  produced  in  us  with  pain, 
 which  "afterward  we  remember  without  the  least  offence.  Thus  the  pain  of 
 heat  or  cold,  when  the  idea  of  it  is  revived  in  our  minds,  gives  lis  no  disturb- 
 ance ;  which,  when  flilt,  was  very  troublesome,  and  is  again,  when  actually 
 repeated;  which  is  occasioned  by  the  disorder  the  external  object  causes  in 
 our  bodies  when  applied  to  it.  And  we  remember  the  pains  of  hunger,  thirst, 
 or  the  headach,  without  any  pain  at  all ;  which  would  either  never  disturb  us,  or 
 else  constantly  do  it,  as  offen  as  we  thought  of  it,  were  there  nothing  more  but 
 ideas  floating  in  our  minds,  and  appearances  entertaining  our  fancies,  without 
 the  real  existence  of  things  affecting  us  from  abroad.  The  same  may  be 
 said  of  pleasure  accompanying  several  actual  sensations,  and  though  mathe- 
 matical demonstrations  depend  not  upon  sense,  yet  the  examining  them  by 
 diagrams  gives  great  credit  to  the  evidence  of  our  sight,  and  seems  to  give  it 
 
Oh.  11.  EXISTENCE  OF  OTHER  THINGS.  417 
 
 a  cer'ainty  approaching-  to  that,  of  demonstration  itself.  For  it  would  be  very 
 stranii-e  that  a  man  should  allow  it  for  an  undeniable  truth,  that  two  angles  of 
 a  fio-/re,  which  lie  measures  by  lines  and  angles  of  a  diagram,  should  be  bigger 
 one  than  the  other;  and  yet  doubt  of  the  existence  of  those  lines  and  angles, 
 which  by  looking  on  he  makes  use  of  to  measure  that  by. 
 
 Sect.  7.  4.  Our  senses  assist  one  another^s  testimony  of  the  existence 
 of  outward  things. — Fourthly,  our  senses  in  many  cases  bear  witness  to  the 
 truth  of  each  other's  report,  concerning'  the  existence  of  sensible  things 
 without  us.  He  that  sees  a  fire  may,  if  he  doubt  whether  it  be  any  thing 
 more  tlian  a  bare  fancy,  feel  it  too  ;  and  be  convinced  by  putting  his  hand 
 in  it :  which  certainly  could  never  be  put  into  such  exquisite  pain  by  a  bare 
 idea  or  phantom,  unless  that  the  pain  be  a  fancy  too,  which  yet  he  cannot, 
 when  the  burn  is  well,  by  raising  the  idea  of  it,  bring  upon  himself  again. 
 
 Thus  I  see,  whilst  I  write  this,  I  can  change  the  appearance  of  the  paper : 
 and  by  designing  the  letters  tell  beforehand  what  new  idea  it  shall  exhibit  the 
 very  next  moment,  by  barely  drawing  my  pen  over  it :  which  will  neither 
 appear  (let  me  fancy  as  much  as  I  will)  if  my  hands  stand  still ;  or  though 
 I  move  my  pen,  if  my  eyes  be  shut :  nor,  when  those  characters  are  once 
 made  on  the  paper,  can  I  choose  afterward  but  see  them  as  they  are :  that  is, 
 have  the  ideas  of  such  letters  as  I  have  made.  Whence  it  is  manifest,  that 
 they  are  not  barely  the  sport  and  pi  ay  of  my  own  imagination,  when  I  find 
 that  the  characters  that  were  made  at  the  pleasure  of  my  own  thought,  do 
 not  obey  them  ;  nor  yet  cease  to  be,  whenever  I  shall  fancy  it ;  but  continue 
 to  affect  the  senses  constantly  and  regularly,  according  to  the  figures  I  made 
 them.  To  which  if  we  will  add,  that  the  sight  of  those  shall,  from  another 
 man,  draw  such  sounds  as  I  beforehand  design  they  shall  stand  for ;  there 
 will  be  little  reason  left  to  doubt  that  those  words  I  write  do  really  exist 
 without  me,  when  they  cause  a  long  series  of  regular  sounds  to  affect  my 
 ears,  which  could  not  be  the  effect  of  my  imagination,  nor  could  my  memory 
 retain  them  in  that  order. 
 
 Sect.  8.  This  certainty  is  as  great  as  our  condition  needs. — But  yet,  if 
 afler  all  this  any  one  will  be  so  sceptical  as  to  distrust  his  senses,  and  to  affirm 
 that  all  we  see  and  hear,  feel  and  taste,  think  and  do,  during  our  whole  being, 
 is  but  the  series  and  deluding  appearanc^es  of  a  long  dream,  whereof  there  is 
 no  reality ;  and  therefore  will  question  the  existence  of  all  things,  or  our 
 knowledge  of  any  thing ;  I  must  desire  him  to  consider,  that,  if  all  be  a  drearn, 
 then  he  doth  but  dream  that  he  makes  the  question  ;  and  so  it  is  not  much 
 matter  that  a  waking  man  should  answer  him.  But  yet,  if  he  pleases,  he 
 may  dream  that  I  make  him  this  answer,  that  the  certainty  of  things  existing 
 in  rerum  natura,  when  we  have  the  testimony  of  our  senses  for  it,  is  not  only 
 as  great  as  our  frame  can  attain  to,  but  as  our  condition  needs.  For  our 
 faculties  being  suited  not  to  the  full  extent  of  being,  nor  to  a  perfect,  clear, 
 comprehensive  knowledge  of  things,  free  from  all  doubt  and  scruple ;  but  to 
 the  preservation  of  us,  in  whom  they  are,  and  accommodated  to  the  use  of 
 life  ;  they  serve  to  our  purpose  well  enough,  if  they  will  but  give  us  certain 
 notice  of  those  things  which  are  convenient  or  inconvenient  to  us.  For  he 
 that  sees  a  candle  burning,  and  hath  experimented  the  force  of  its  flame,  by 
 putting  his  finger  in  it,  will  little  doubt  that  this  is  something  existing  without 
 him,  which  does  him  harm,  and  puts  him  to  great  pain  :  which  is  assurance 
 enough,  when  no  man  requires  greater  certainty  to  govern  his  actions  by  than 
 what  is  as  certain  as  his  actions  themselves.  And  if  our  dreamer  pleases  to 
 try  whether  the  glowing  heat  of  a  glass  furnace  be  barely  a  wandering  ima- 
 gination in  a  drowsy  man's  fancy  ;  by  putting  his  hand  into  it  he  may  perhaps 
 be  wakened  into  a  certainty  greater  than  he  could  wish,  that  it  is  something 
 more  than  bare  imagination.  So  that  this  evidence  is  as  great  as  we  can 
 desire,  being  as  certain  to  us  as  our  pleasure  or  pain,  i.  e.  happiness  or 
 misery  ;  beyond  which  we  have  no  concernment,  either  of  knowing  or  being. 
 Such  an  assurance  of  the  existence  of  things  without  us  is  sufficient  to  direct 
 us  in  the  attaining  the  good,  and  avoiding  the  evil,  which  is  caused  by  them; 
 3C 
 
418  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 which  is  the  important  conccrmiient  we  have  of  being  made  acquainted  with 
 them. 
 
 Sect.  9.  But  reaches  no  farther  than  actual  sensation. — In  fine,  tlien, 
 when  our  senses  do  actually  convey  into  our  understandings  any  idea,  we 
 cannot  but  bo  satistied  that  there  doth  soniotliinfj  at  that  time  really  e.\ist 
 without  us,  wliich  doth  affect  our  senses,  and  by  them  give  notice  of  itself  to 
 our  apprehensive  faculties,  and  actually  produce  that  idea  which  we  then 
 perceive  :  and  we  cannot  so  far  distrust  tlieir  testimony  as  to  doubt,  that  such 
 collections  of  simple  ideas,  as  we  have  observed  by  our  senses  to  be  united 
 together,  do  really  exist  together.  But  this  laiowlcdge  extends  as  far  as  the 
 present  testimony  of  our  senses,  employed  about  particular  objects  that  do  then 
 aftect  them,  and  no  farther.  For  if  I  saw  such  a  collection  of  simple  ideas, 
 as  is  wont  to  be  called  man,  existing  together  one  minute  since,  and  am  now 
 alone,  I  cannot  be  certain  that  the  same  man  exists  now,  since  there  is  no 
 necessary  connexion  of  his  existence  a  minute  since  with  his  existence  now : 
 by  a  thousand  ways  he  may  cease  to  be,  since  T  had  the  testimony  of  my 
 senses  for  his  existence.  And  if  I  cannot  be  certain  that  the  man  I  saw  last 
 to-day  is  now  in  being,  I  can  less  be  certain  that  he  is  so,  who  hath  been 
 longer  removed  from  my  senses,  and  I  have  not  seen  since  yesterday,  or  since 
 the  last  year :  and  much  less  can  I  be  certain  of  the  existence  of  men  that  1 
 never  saw.  And  therefore,  though  it  be  highly  probable  that  millions  of  men 
 do  now  exist,  yet,  whilst  I  am  alone  w'riting  this,  I  have  not  that  certainty  of 
 it  which  we  strictly  call  knowledge  :  though  the  great  likelihood  of  it  puts 
 me  past  doubt,  and  it  be  reason;ible  tor  nie  to  do  several  things  upon  the  con- 
 fidence that  there  are  men  (and  men  also  of  my  acquaintance,  with  whom  I 
 have  to  do)  now  in  the  world :  but  this  is  but  probability,  not  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Folly  to  expect  demonstration  in  every  thing. — Whereby  yet 
 we  may  observe,  how  foolish  and  vain  a  thing  it  is  for  a  man  of  a  narrow 
 knowledge,  who  having  reason  given  him  to  judge  of  the  different  evidence 
 and  probability  of  things,  and  to  be  swayed  accordingly ;  how  vain,  I  say,  it 
 is  to  expect  demonstration  and  certainty  in  things  not  capable  of  it,  and  refuse 
 assent  to  very  rational  proj)ositions,  and  act  contrary  to  very  plain  and  clear 
 truths,  because  they  cannot  be  made  out  so  evident  as  to  surmount  every  (1 
 will  not  say  reason  but)  pretence  of  doubting.  He  that  in  the  ordinary 
 affairs  of  life  would  admit  of  nothing  but  direct  plain  demonstration,  would 
 be  sure  of  nothing  in  tliis  world,  but  of  perishing  quickly.  The  wholesome- 
 ness  of  his  meat  or  drink  would  not  give  hiin  reason  to  venture  on  it:  and  1 
 would  fain  know,  what  it  is  he  could  do  upon  such  grounds  as  are  capable  of 
 no  doubt,  no  objection. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Past  existence  is  known  by  memory. — As  when  our  senses  are 
 actually  employed  about  any  object,  we  do  know  that  it  does  exist ;  so  by  our 
 memory  we  may  be  assured,  that  heretofore  things  that  affected  our  senses 
 have  existed.  And  thus  we  have  knowledge  of  the  past  existence  of  several 
 things,  whereof  our  senses  having  informed  us,  our  memories  still  retain  the 
 ideas  ;  and  of  this  we  are  past  all  doubt,  so  long  as  we  remember  well.  But 
 this  knowledge  also  reaches  no  fartlier  than  our  senses  have  formerly  assured 
 us.  Thus  seeing  water  at  this  instant,  it  is  an  unquestionable  truth  to  me 
 that  water  doth  exist :  and  remembering  that  I  saw  it  yesterday,  it  will  also 
 be  always  true,  and,  as  long  as  my  memory  retains  it,  always  an  undoubted 
 proposition  to  me,  that  water  did  exist  on  the  10th  of  July  1688,  as  it  will  also 
 be  equally  true,  that  a  certain  number  of  very  fine  colours  did  exist,  wliich  at 
 the  same  time  I  saw  upon  a  bubble  of  that  water:  but,  being  now  quite  out 
 of  the  sight  both  of  the  water  and  bubbles  too,  it  is  no  more  certainly  known 
 to  me  that  the  water  doth  now  exist,  than  that  the  bubbles  or  colours  therein 
 do  so  ;  it  being  no  more  necessary  that  water  should  exist  to-day,  because  it 
 existed  yesterday,  than  that  the  colours  or  bubbles  exist  to-day  because  they 
 existed  yesterday ;  though  it  be  exceedingly  much  more  probable,  because 
 water  hath  been  observed  to  continue  long  in  existence,  but  bubbles  and  tiie 
 colours  on  them  quickly  cease  to  be. 
 
Ch.  11.  EXISTENCE  OP  OTHER  THINGS.  419 
 
 Sect.  12.  The  existence  of  spirits  not  knowable. — What  ideas  we  have 
 of  spirits,  and  liow  we  come  by  them,  I  have  already  shown.  But  though 
 we  have  those  ideas  in  our  minds,  and  know  we  have  them  there,  the  having 
 the  ideas  of  spirits  does  not  make  us  know  tliat  any  such  things  do  exist 
 without  us,  or  that  there  are  any  finite  spirits,  or  any  other  spiritual  beings 
 but  the  eternal  God.  We  have  ground  from  revelation,  and  several  other 
 reasons,  to  believe  with  assurance  that  there  are  such  creatures :  but,  our 
 senses  not  being  able  to  discover  them,  we  want  the  means  of  knowing  their 
 particular  existences.  For  we  can  no  more  know,  that  there  are  finite  spirits 
 really  existing,  by  the  idea  we  have  of  such  beings  in  our  minds,  than  by  the 
 ideas  any  one  has  of  fairies,  or  centaurs,  he  can  come  to  know  that  things 
 answering  those  ideas  do  really  exist. 
 
 And  therefore  concerning  the  existence  of  finite  spirits,  as  well  as  several 
 other  things,  we  must  content  ourselves  with  the  evidence  of  faith;  but  uni- 
 versal certain  propositions  concerning  this  matter  are  beyond  our  reach.  For 
 however  true  it  may  be,  v.  g.  that  all  the  intelligent  spirits  that  God  ever 
 created  do  still  exist ;  yet  it  can  never  make  a  part  of  our  certain  knowledge. 
 These  and  the  like  propositions  we  may  assent  to  as  highly  probable,  but  are 
 not,  I  fear,  in  this  state  capable  of  knowing.  We  are  not  then  to  put  others 
 upon  demonstrating,  nor  ourselves  upon  search  of  universal  certainty,  in  all 
 those  matters,  wherein  we  are  not  capable  of  any  other  knowledge,  but  what 
 our  senses  give  us  in  this  or  that  particular. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Particular  propositions  concerning  existence  are  knoioable. — 
 By  which  it  appears,  that  there  are  two  sorts  of  propositions,  1.  There  is 
 one  sort  of  propositions  concerning  the  existence  of  any  thing  answerable  . 
 to  such  an  idea:  as  having  the  idea  of  an  elephant,  phoenix,  motion,  or  an 
 angel,  in  my  mind,  the  first  and  natural  inquiry  is,  whether  such  a  thing 
 does  any  where  exist  ?  And  this  knowledge  is  only  of  particulars.  No  exist- 
 ence of  any  thing  without  us,  but  only  of  God,  can  certainly  be  known  farther 
 than  our  senses  inform  us.  2.  There  is  another  sort  of  propositions,  wherein 
 is  expressed  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  abstract  ideas,  and  their  ;i) 
 dependence  on  one  another.  Such  propositions  may  be  universal  and  certain.*^ 
 So  having  the  idea  of  God  and  myself,  of  fear  and  obedience,  I  cannot  but 
 be  sure  that  God  is  to  be  feared  and  obeyed  By"me  ;  and  this  proposition  will 
 be  certain,  concerning  man  in  general,  if  I  have  made  an  abstract  idea  of 
 such  a  species,  whereof  I  am  one  particular.  But  yet  this  proposition,  how 
 certain  soever,  that  men  ouglit  to  fear  and  obey  God,  proves  not  to  me  the 
 existence  of  men  in  the  world,  but  will  be  true  of  all  such  creatures,  when- 
 ever they  do  exist :  whicli  certainty  of  such  general  propositions,  depends  on 
 the  agreement  or  disagreoriient  to  be  discovered  in  those  abstract  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  14.  And  general  propositions  concerning  abstract  ideas. — In  the 
 former  case,  our  knowledge  is  the  consequence  of  tlie  existence  of  things 
 producing  ideas  in  our  minds  by  our  senses:  in  the  latter  knowledge  is  the 
 consequence  of  tlic  ideas  (be  they  what  they  will)  that  are  in  our  minds, 
 producing  there  general  certain  propositions.  Many  of  these  are  called 
 (Bternee  veritates,  and  all  of  them  indeed  are  so  ;  not  from  being  written  all 
 or  any  of  them  in  the  minds  of  all  men,  or  that  they  were  any  of  them  pro- 
 positions in  one's  mind  till  he,  having  got  the  abstract  ideas,  joined  or  sepa- 
 rated them  by  affirmation  or  negation.  But  wheresoever  we  can  suppose 
 such  a  creature  as  man  is,  endowed  with  such  faculties,  and  thereby  furnished 
 with  such  ideas  as  we  have,  we  must  conclude,  he  must  needs,  when  he  ap- 
 plies his  thoughts  to  the  consideration  of  his  ideas,  know  the  truth  of  certain 
 propositions,  that  will  arise  from  the  agreement  or  disagreement  which  he 
 will  perceive  in  his  own  ideas.  Such  propositions  are  therefore  called  eternal 
 truths,  not  because  they  are  eternal  propositions  actually  formed,  and  ante- 
 cedent to  the  understanding,  that  at  any  time  makes  them  ;  nor  because  they 
 are  imprinted  on  the  mind  from  any  patterns,  that  are  anywhere  out  of  the 
 mind,  and  existed  before :  but  because  being  once  made  about  abstract  ideas, 
 so  as  to  be  true,  they  will,  whenever  they  can  be  supposed  to  be  made  again 
 
4iJ0  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 at  any  time  past  or  to  come,  by  a  mind  having  those  ideas,  always  actual  Iv 
 be  true.  For  names  being  supposed  to  stand  pcr|)ctualiy  tor  tlie  same  ideas, 
 »nd  the  same  ideas  having  inmiutably  the  same  habitudes  one  to  another,  pro- 
 positions concerning  any  abstract  ideas,  tiiat  are  once  true,  must  needs  be 
 eternal  verities. 
 
 CHAPTER  XII. 
 
 OF  THE  IMPROVEMENT  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Knowledge  is  not  from  maxims. — It  having  been  the  common 
 received  opinion  among  men  of  letters,  that  maxims  were  the  foundation  of 
 all  knowledge  ;  and  that  the  sciences  were  each  of  them  built  upon  certain 
 prcRcognita,  from  whence  the  understanding  was  to  take  its  rise,  and  by 
 which  it  was  to  conduct  itself,  in  its  inquiries  into  the  matters  belonging  to 
 that  science ;  the  beaten  road  of  the  schools  has  been,  to  lay  down  in  the 
 beginning  one  or  more  general  propositions,  as  foundations  whereon  to  build 
 the  knowledge  that  was  to  be  had  of  that  subject.  These  doctrines,  thus 
 laid  down  for  foundations  of  any  science,  were  called  principles,  as  the  be- 
 ginnings from  which  we  must  set  out,  and  look  no  farther  backwards  in  our 
 mquiries,  as  we  have  already  observed. 
 
 Sect.  2.  {The  occasion  of  that  opinion.) — One  thing  which  might  proba- 
 bly give  an  occasion  in  this  way  of  proceeding  in  other  sciences,  was  (as  I 
 suppose)  the  good  success  it  seemed  to  have  in  mathematics,  wherein  men 
 being  observed  to  attain  a  great  certainty  of  knowledge,  these  sciences  came 
 by  pre-eminence  to  be  called  M^^rifxnTa.,  and  .vufi^ij-/?,  learning,  or  things 
 learned,  thorouglily  learned,  as  having  of  all  others  the  greatest  certainty, 
 clearness,  and  evidence  in  them. 
 
 Sect.  3.  But  from  the  comparing  clear  and  distinct  ideas. — But  if  any 
 one  will  consider,  he  will  (Lguess)  find,  that  the  great  advancement  and  cer- 
 tainty of  real  knowledge,  wliich  men  arrived  to  in  these  sciences,  was  not 
 owing  to  the  influence  of  these  principles,  nor  derived  from  any  peculiar  ad- 
 vantage they  received  from  two  or  three  general  maxims,  laid  down  in  the 
 beginning  ;  but  from  the  clear,  distinct,  complete  ideas  their  thoughts  were 
 employed  about,  and  the  relation  of  equality  and  excess  so  clear  between 
 some  of  them,  that  they  had  an  intuitive  knowledge,  and  by  that  a  way  to  .«/)  ; 
 discover  it  in  others,  and  this  without  the  help  of  those  maxims.  For  I  ask,  'y^^*** 
 is  it  not  possible  for  a  young  lad  to  know,  that  his  whole  body  is  bigger  than  \1^  lAui 
 his  little  finger,  but  by  virtue  of  this  axiom,  tliat  the  whole  is  bigger  than  a 
 part;  nor  be  assured  of  it,  till  he  has  learned  that  maxim  ]  Or  cannot  a 
 country  wench  know,  that  having  received  a  shilling  from  one  that  owes  her 
 three,  and  a  shilling  also  from  another  that  owes  her  three,  the  remainiiig 
 debts  in  each  of  their  hands  are  equal  ]  Cannot  she  know  this,  I  say,  unless 
 she  fetch  the  certainty  of  it  from  this  maxim,  that  if  you  take  equals  from 
 equals,  the  remainder  will  be  equals,  a  maxim  which  possibly  she  never  heard 
 or  thought  of}  I  desire  any  one  to  consider,  from  what  has  been  elsewhere 
 said,  which  is  known  first  and  clearest  by  most  people,  the  particular  instance, 
 or  the  general  rule  ;  and  which  it  is  that  gives  life  and  birth  to  the  other  ? 
 These  general  rules  are  but  the  comparing  our  more  general  and  abstract 
 ideas,  which  are  the  workmanship  of  the  mind  made,  and  names  given  to 
 them,  for  the  easier  despatch  in  its  reasonings,  and  drawing  into  comprehen- 
 sive terms,  and  short  rules,  its  various  and  multiplied  observations.  But 
 knowledge  began  in  the  mind,  and  was  founded  on  particulars;  though  after- 
 ward, perhaps  no  notice  be  taken  thereof:  it  being  natural  for  the  mind  (for- 
 ward still  to  enlarge  its  knowledge)  most  attentively  to  lay  up  those  general 
 notions,  and  make  the  proper  use  of  them,  which  is  to  disburden  the  memory 
 
Ch.  12. 
 
 IMPROVEMENT  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 4-->l 
 
 of  the  cumbersome  load  of  particulars.     For  I  desire  it  may  be  considered 
 what  more  certainty  there  is  tu  a  child,  or  any  one,  that  his  body,  little  finger 
 and  all,  is  bigger  than  his  little  finger  alone,  after  you  have  given  to  his  body 
 the  name  w^hole,  and  to  his  little  finger  the  name  part,  than  he  could  have  had 
 before  ;  or  what  new  knowledge  concerning  his  body  can  these  two  relative 
 terms  give  him,  which  he  could  not  have  without  them  ?     Could  he  not  kno 
 that  his  body  was  bigger  than  his  little  finger,  if  his  language  were  yet  so^ 
 imperfect,  that  he  had  no  such   relative  terms  as  whole  and  part  I     I  ask 
 farther,  when  he  lias  got  these  names,  how  is  he  more  certain  that  his  body 
 is  a  whole,  and  liis  little  finger  a  part,  than  he  was  or  might  be  certain,  before 
 he  learnt  tliose  terms,  that  his  body  was  bigger  than  his  little  finger  .'     Any^^ 
 one  may  as  reasonably  doubt  or  deny  that  his  little  finger  is  a  part  of  his     >> 
 body,  as  that  it  is  less  than  his  body.     And  he  that  can  doubt  whether  it  be  Ji 
 less,  will  as  certainly  doubt  wliether  it  be  a  part.     So  that  the  maxim,  the  iv^^* 
 whole  is  bigger  than  a  part,  can  never  be  made  use  of  to  prove  the  little  finger  Vv 
 less  than  the  body,  but  when  it  is  useless,  by  being  brought  to  convince  one      \ 
 of  a  truth  whicli  he  knows  ah-eady.     For  he  that  does  not  certainly  know   \\k 
 that  any  parcel  of  matter  with  another  parcel  of  matter  joined  to  it,  is  bigger   t^ 
 than  either  of  them  alone,  will  never  be  able  to  know  it  by  the  help  of  these   * 
 two  relative  terms  whole  and  part,  make  of  them  what  maxim  you  please.        J  - 
 
 Sect.  4.  Dangerous  to  build  upon  precarious  principles. — But  be  it  in -^ 
 the  mathematics  as  it  will,  whetlier  it  be  clearer,  that  taking  an  inch  from  a 
 black  line  of  two  inches,  and  an  inch  from  a  red  line  of  two  inches,  the  re-\, 
 maining  parts  of  the  two  lines  will  be  equal,  or  that  if  you  take  equals  from    k 
 equals,  the  remainder  will  bo  equals  :  which,  I  say,  of  these  two  is  the  clearer    f  \ 
 and  first  known,  I  leave  it  to  any  one  to  determine,  it  not  being  material  to    ^ 
 my  present  occasion.     That  which  I  have  here  to  do,  is  to  inquire,  whether   |  ^ 
 if  it  be  the  readiest  way  to  knowledge  to  begin  with  general   maxims,  and 
 build  upon  them,  it  be  yet  a  safe  way  to  take  the  principles  which  are  laid 
 down  in  any  other  science  as  unquestionable  truths  ;  and  so  receive  them 
 without  examination,   and   adhere  to  them,  without  suffering  them   to  be 
 doubted  of,  because  mathematicians  have  been  so  happy,  or  so  fair,  to  use 
 none  but  self-evident  and  undeniable.     If  this  be  so,  I  know  not  what  may 
 not  pass  for  truth  in  morality,  what  may  not  be  introduced  and  proved  in 
 natural  philosophy. 
 
 Let  that  principle  of  some  of  the  philosophers,  that  all  is  matter,  and  that        ^ 
 there  is  nothing  else,  be  received  for  certain  and  indubitable,  and  it  will  be        „ 
 easy  to  be  seen,  by  the  writings  of  some  that  have  revived  it  again  in  our        tw^ 
 days,  what  consequences  it  will  lead  us  into.     Let  any  one,  with  Polemo,        ^ 
 take  the  world ;  or  with  the  stoics,  the  sether,  or  the  sun  ;  or  with  Anaximenes,        Vc^ 
 the  air,  to  be  God  ;  and  what  a  divinity,  religion,  and  worship  must  we  needs         IN 
 have  !  Nothing  can  be  so  dangerous  as  principles  thus  taken  up  without  ques-         ^ 
 tioning  or  examination ;  especially  if  they  be  such  as  concern  morality,  which         8^ 
 influence  men's  lives,  and  give  a  bias  to  all  their  actions.     Who  might  not        Wv 
 justly  expect  another  kind  of  life  in  Aristippus,  who  placed   happiness  in         ^ 
 bodily  pleasure ;  and  in  Antisthenes,  who  made  virtue  sufficient  to  felicity  ?         y  l 
 And  he  who,  with  Plato,  shall  place  beatitude  in  the  knowledge  of  God,  will         vv 
 have  his  thoughts  raised  to  other  contemplations  than  those  who  look  not  be-         ^1 
 yond  this  spot  of  earth,  and  those  perishing  things  which  are  to  be  had  in  it.         i 
 He  that,  with  Archelaus,  shall  lay  it   down  as  a  principle,  that  right  and         ^v 
 wrong,  honest  and  dishonest,  are  defined  only  hj  laws,  and  not  by  nature,  will         n 
 have  other  measures  of  moral  rectitude  and  pravity  than  those  who  take  it  for   •^\ 
 gjWJited,  that  we  are  under  obligations  antecedent  to  all  human  constitutions.     ^~  A 
 
 SfecT.  5.   This  is  no  certain  way  to  truth. — If  therefore  those  that  pass         *^ 
 for  principles  are  not  certain  (which  we  must  have  some  way  to  know,  that   7    ^ 
 we  may  be  able  to  distinguish  them  from  those  that  are  doubtful)  but  are  only 
 made  so  to  us  by  our  blind  assent,  we  are  liable  to  be  misled  by  them  ;  and        '^ 
 instead  of  being  guided  into  truth,  we  shall,  by  principles,  be  only  confirmed 
 in  mistake  and  error. 
 
422  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 Sect.  6.  But  to  compare  clear  complete  ideas  under  steady  names. — But 
 since  the  knowlodfrc  of  tlio  cerlainty  of  principles,  as  well  as  of  all  other 
 truths,  depends  only  upon  the  perception  wo  have  of  the  agreement  or  ihs- 
 agrcement  of  our  ideas,  the  way  to  improve  our  knowledge  is  not,  I  am  sure, 
 blindly,  and  with  an  implicit  fliith,  to  receive  and  swallow  princijdes  ;  but  is, 
 I  think,  to  get  and  fix  in  our  minds  clear,  distinct,  and  complete  ideas,  as  far 
 as  they  are  to  be  had,  and  annex  to  them  proper  and  constant  names.  And 
 thus,  perhaps,  without  any  other  principles  but  barely  considering  those  ideas, 
 and  by  comparing  them  one  with  another,  finding  their  agreement  and  disa- 
 greement, and  their  several  relations  and  habitudes  ;  we  shall  get  more  true 
 and  clear  knowledge,  by  the  conduct  of  this  one  rule,  than  by  taking  up  prin- 
 ciples, and  thereby  putting  our  minds  into  the  disposal  of  others. 
 
 Sect.  7.  The  true  method  of  advancing  in  knowledge  is  by  considering 
 our  abstract  ideas. — We  must,  therefore,  if  we  will  proceed  as  reason 
 advises,  adapt  our  methods  of  inquiry  to  the  nature  of  the  ideas  we  examine, 
 and  the  truth  we  search  afler.  General  and  certain  truths  are  only  founded 
 in  the  habitudes  and  relations  of  abstract  ideas.  A  sagacious  and  methodical 
 application  of  our  thoughts,  for  the  finding  out  these  relations,  is  the  only  way 
 to  discover  all  that  can  be  put  with  truth  and  certainty  concerning  them  into 
 general  propositions.  By  what  steps  we  are  to  proceed  in  these  is  to  be 
 learned  in  the  schools  of  the  mathematicians,  who  from  very  plain  and  easy 
 beginnings,  by  gentle  degrees,  and  a  continued  chain  of  reasonings,  proceed 
 to  the  discovery  and  demonstration  of  truths,  that  appear  at  first  sight  beyond 
 •  /  human  capacity.  Tlie  art  of  finding  proofs,  and  the  admirable  methods  they 
 ^  /  have  invented  for  the  singling  out,  and  laying  in  order,  those  intermediate 
 ideas  that  demonstratively  show  the  equality  or  inequality  of  inapplicable 
 quantities,  is  that  which  has  carried  them  so  far,  and  produced  such  wonderful 
 and  unexpected  discoveries :  but  whether  something  like  this,  in  respect  of 
 other  ideas,  as  well  as  those  of  magnitude,  may  not  in  time  be  found  out,  I 
 will  not  determine.  This,  I  think,  I  may  say,  that  if  other  ideas,  that  are 
 the  real  as  well  as  nominal  essences  of  their  species  were  pursued  in  the  way 
 familiar  to  mathematicians,  they  would  carry  our  thoughts  farther,  and  with 
 greater  evidence  and  clearness,  than  possibly  we  arc  apt  to  imagine. 
 
 Sect.  8.  By  which  morality  also  may  be  made  clearer. — This  gave  mc 
 
 the  confidence  to  advance  that  conjecture,  which  I  suggest,  chap.  iii.  viz.  that 
 
 morality  is  capable  of  demonstration  as  well  as  mathematics.     For  the  ideas 
 
 j^that  ethics  are  conversant  about  being  all  real  essences,  and  such  as  I  imagine 
 
 .  N>  have  a  discoverable  connexion  and  agreement  one  with  another :  so  far  as 
 
 ■rAiwe  can  find  their  liabitiides  and  relations,  so  far  we  sliall  be  possessed  of  ccr- 
 
 f  /  tain  real  and  general  truths  ;  and  I  doubt  not,  but,  if  a  right  method  were 
 
 taken,  a  great  part  of  morality  might  be  made  out  with  that  clearness,  that 
 
 could  leave,  to  a  considering  man,  no  more  reason  to  doubt,  than  he  could 
 
 iiave  to  doubt  of  tlie  truth  of  j)ro])03itions  in  matlieraatics,  which  have  beeu 
 
 demonstrated  to  him. 
 
 Sect.  9.  But  knowledge  of  bodies  is  to  be  improved  only  by  experience. — 
 In  our  search  after  the  knowledge  of  substances,  our  want  of  ideas,  that  are 
 .suitable  to  such  a  way  of  proceeding,  obliges  us  to  a  quite  different  method. 
 We  advance  not  here,  as  in  the  other  (where  our  abstract  ideas  are  real  as 
 well  as  nominal  essences)  by  contemplating  our  ideas,  and  considering  their 
 relations  and  correspondences  ;  that  helps  us  very  little,  for  the  reasons  that, 
 in  another  place,  we  have  at  large  set  down.  By  which  I  tiiink  it  is  evident, 
 that  substances  afford  matter  of  very  little  general  knowledge ;  and  tlie  bare 
 contemplation  of  their  abstract  ideas  will  carry  us  but  a  very  little  way  in 
 the  search  of  truth  and  certainty.  What  then  are  we  to  do  for  the  improve- 
 ment of  our  knowledge  in  substantial  beings  1  Here  we  are  to  take  quite  a 
 contrary  course  ;  the  want  of  ideas  of  their  real  essences  sends  us  from  our 
 own  thoughts  to  the  things  themselves  as  they  exist.  Experience  here  mustrf' 
 teach  me  what  reason  cannot :  and  it  is  by  trying  alone  that  I  can  certainly 
 know  what  other  qualities  coexist  with  those  of  my  complex   idea,  v.  g. 
 
Ch.  12.  IMPROVEMENT  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE.  423 
 
 whether  that  yellow,  heavy,  fusible  body  I  call  gold,  be  malleable  or  no  ; 
 which  experience  (which  way  ever  it  prove  in  that  particular  body  I  examine) 
 makes  me  not  certain  that  it  is  so  in  all,  or  any  other  yellow,  heavy,  fusible 
 bodies,  but  that  which  I  have  tried.  Because  it  is  no  consequence  one  way 
 or  the  other  from  my  complex  idea;  the  necessity  or  inconsistence  of  mallea- 
 bility hath  no  visible  connexion  with  the  combination  of  that  colour,  weight, 
 and  fusibility  in  any  body.  What  I  have  here  said  of  the  nominal  essence 
 of  gold,  supposed  to  consist  of  a  body  of  such  a  determinate  colour,  weight, 
 and  fusibility,  will  hold  true,  if  malleableness,  fixedness,  and  solubility  in 
 aqua  regia  be  added  to  it.  Our  reasonings  from  these  ideas  will  carry  us  but 
 a  little  way  in  the  certain  discovery  of  the  other  properties  in  those  masses 
 of  matter  wherein  all  these  are  to  be  found.  Because  the  other  properties 
 of  such  bodies  depending  not  on  these,  but  on  that  unknown  real  essence  on 
 which  these  also  depend,  we  cannot  by  them  discover  the  rest ;  we  can  go  no 
 farther  than  the  simple  ideas  of  our  nominal  essence  will  carry  us,  which  is 
 very  little  beyond  themselves  ;  and  so  afford  us  but  very  sparingly  any  certain, 
 universal,  and  useful  truths.  For  upon  trial  having  found  that  particular 
 piece  (and  all  others  of  that  colour,  weight,  and  fusibility  that  I  ever  tried) 
 malleable,  that  also  makes  now  perhaps  a  part  of  my  complex  idea,  part  of 
 my  nominal  essence  of  gold  :  whereby  though  I  make  my  complex  idea,  to 
 which  I  affix  the  name  gold,  to  consis-t  of  more  simple  ideas  than  before,  yet 
 still,  it  not  containing  the  real  essence  of  any  species  of  bodies,  it  helps  me 
 not,  certainly,  to  know  (I  say,  to  know,  perhaps  it  may  to  conjecture)  the 
 other  remaining  properties  of  that  body,  farther  than  they  have  a  visible  con- 
 nexion with  some  or  all  of  the  simple  ideas  that  make  up  my  nominal  essence. 
 For  example,  I  cannot  be  certain  from  this  complex  idea  whether  gold  be 
 fixed  or  no ;  because,  as  before,  there  is  no  necessary  connexion  or  incon- 
 sistence to  be  discovered  betwixt  a  complex  idea  of  a  body  yellow,  heavy, 
 fusible,  malleable — betwixt  these,  I  say,  and  fixedness  ;  so  that  I  may  cer- 
 tainly know,  that  in  whatsoever  body  these  are  found,  there  fixedness  is  sure 
 to  be.  Here  again  for  assurance  1  must  apply  myself  to  experience  ;  as  far 
 as  that  reaches  I  may  have  certain  knowledge,  but  no  farther. 
 
 Sect.  10.  This  may  procure  us  convenience,  not  science. — I  deny  not  but 
 a  man,  accustomed  to  rational  and  regular  experiments,  shall  be  able  to  see 
 farther  into  the  nature  of  bodies,  and  guess  righter  at  their  yet  unknown  pro- 
 perties, than  one  that  is  a  stranger  to  them  :  but  yet,  as  I  have  said,  this  is 
 but  judgment  and  opinion,  not  knowledge  and  certainty.  This  way  of  getting 
 and  improving  our  knowledge  in  substances  only  by  experience  and  history, 
 which  is  all  that  the  weakness  of  our  faculties  in  this  state  of  mediocrity  we 
 are  in  in  this  world  can  attain  to,  makes  me  suspect  that  natural  philosophy 
 is  not  capable  of  being  made  a  science.  We  are  able,  I  imagine,  to  reach 
 very  little  general  knowledge  concerning  the  species  of  bodies,  and  their 
 several  properties.  Experiments  and  historical  observations  we  may  have, 
 from  which  we  may  draw  advantages  of  ease  and  health,  and  thereby  increase 
 our  stock  of  conveniencics  for  this  life ;  but  beyond  this,  I  fear,  our  talents 
 reach  not,  nor  are  our  faculties,  as  I  guess,  able  to  advance. 
 
 Sect.  11.  We  are  fitted  for  moral  knowledge  and  natural  improvements. — 
 From  whence  it  is  obvious  to  conclude  that  since  our  faculties  are  not  fitted 
 to  penetrate  into  the  internal  fabric  and  real  essences  of  bodies ;  but  yet 
 plainly  discover  to  us  the  being  of  a  God,  and  the  knowledge  of  ourselves, 
 enough  to  lead  us  into  a  full  and  clear  discovery  of  our  duty  and  great  con- 
 cernment :  it  will  become  us,  as  rational  creatures,  to  employ  those  faculties 
 we  have  about  what  they  are  adapted  to,  and  follow  the  direction  of  nature, 
 where  it  seems  to  point  us  out  the  way.  For  it  is  rational  to  conclude  that 
 our  employment  lies  in  those  inquiries,  and  in  that  sort  of  knowledge,  which 
 is  most  suited  to  our  natural  capacities,  and  carries  in  it  our  greatest  interest, 
 t.  e.  the  condition  of  our  eternal  estate.  Hence  I  think  I  may  conclude,  that 
 morality  is  the  proper  science  and  business  of  mankind  in  general  (who  are 
 both  concerned  and  fitted  to  search  out  their  summum  bonum),  as  several  arts. 
 
434  OF  HUMAN  UIn^DERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 conversant  about  several  parts  of  nature,  are  the  lot  and  private  talent  of 
 particular  men,  for  the  coujinon  use  of  liu:nan  life,  and  their  own  particular 
 Kubsistence  in  tiiis  world.  Of  what  consequence  the  discovery  of  one  natural 
 body,  and  its  ])roj)erties,  may  be  to  luunan  life,  the  whole  great  continent  of 
 America  is  a  convincing  instance  ;  whose  ignorance  in  useful  arts,  and  want 
 of  the  greatest  [/art  of  the  conveniences  of  life,  in  a  country  that  abounded 
 with  all  sorts  of  natural  plenty,  I  tiiink  may  be  attributed  to  their  ignorance 
 of  what  was  to  be  found  in  a  very  ordinary  despicable  stone,  I  mean  the 
 mineral  of  iron.  And  whatever  we  tliink  of  our  parts  or  improvements  in 
 this  part  of  the  world,  where  knowledge  and  plenty  seem  to  vie  with  each 
 other  ;  yet  to  any  one  that  will  seriously  reflect  on  it,  I  suppose  it  will  appear 
 past  doubt,  that  were  the  use  of  iron  lost  among  us,  we  should  in  a  few  ages 
 be  unavoidably  reduced  to  the  wants  and  ignorance  of  the  ancient  savage 
 Americans,  whose  natural  endowments  and  provisions  come  no  way  short  of 
 those  of  the  most  flourishing  and  polite  nations.  So  that  he  who  first  made 
 known  the  use  of  that  one  contemptible  mineral  may  be  truly  styled  the 
 father  of  arts,  and  author  of  plenty. 
 
 Sect.  12.  But  must  beware  of  hypothesis  and  wrong  principles. — ^I 
 would  not  therefore  be  thought  to  disesteem  or  dissuade  the  study  of  nature. 
 1  readily  agree  the  contemplation  of  his  works  gives  us  occasion  to  admire, 
 revere,  and  glorify  their  Author  :  and,  if  rightly  directed,  may  be  of  greater 
 benefit  to  mankind  than  the  monuments  of  exemplary  charity,  that  have  at 
 so  great  charge  been  raised  by  the  founders  of  hospitals  and  almshouses. 
 He  that  first  invented  printing,  discovered  the  use  of  the  compass,  or  made 
 public  the  virtue  and  right  use  of  km  kina,  did  more  for  the  propagation  of 
 knowledge,  for  the  supply  and  increase  of  useful  commodities,  and  saved 
 more  from  the  grave,  than  those  who  built  colleges,  workhouses,  and  hos- 
 pitals. All  that  I  would  say  is,  that  we  should  not  be  too  forwardly  possessed 
 with  the  opinion  or  expectation  of  knowledge,  where  it  is  not  to  be  had,  or 
 by  ways  that  will  not  attain  to  it ;  that  we  should  not  take  doubtful  systems 
 for  complete  sciences,  nor  unintelligible  notions  for  scientifical  demonstra- 
 tions. In  the  knowledge  of  bodies,  we  must  be  content  to  glean  what  we 
 can  from  particular  experiments;  since  we  cannot,  from  a  discovery  of  their 
 real  essences,  grasp  at  a  time  whole  sheaves,  and  in  bundles  comprehend  the 
 nature  and  properties  of  whole  species  together.  Where  our  inquiry  is  con- 
 cerning coexistence,  or  repugnancy  to  coexist,  which  by  contemplation  of  our 
 ideas  we  cannot  discover  ;  there  experience,  observation,  and  natural  history 
 must  give  us  by  our  senses,  and  by  retail,  an  insight  into  corporeal  substances. 
 The  knowledge  of  bodies  we  must  get  by  our  senses,  warily  employed  in 
 taking  notice  of  their  qualities  and  operations  on  one  another  :  and  what  we 
 hope  to  know  of  separate  spirits  in  this  world  we  must,  I  think,  expect  only 
 from  revelation.  He  that  shall  consider  how  little  general  maxims,  precarious 
 principles,  and  hypotheses  laid  down  at  pleasure,  have  promoted  true  know- 
 ledge, or  helped  to  satisfy  the  inquiries  of  rational  men  after  real  improve- 
 ments ;  how  little,  I  say,  the  setting  out  at  the  end  has,  for  many  ages 
 tofether,  advanced  men's  progress  towards  the  knowledge  of  natural  philo- 
 sophy ;  will  think  we  have  reason  to  thank  those,  who  in  this  latter  age 
 have  taken  another  course,  and  have  trod  out  to  us,  though  not  an  easier 
 way  to  learned  ignorance,  yet  a  surer  way  to  profitable  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  13.  The  true  use  of  hypotheses. — Not  that  we  may  not,  to  explain 
 any  plienomena  of  nature,  make  use  of  any  probable  hypothesis  whatsoever : 
 hypotiieses,  if  they  are  well  made,  are  at  least  great  helps  to  the  memory, 
 and  often  direct  us  to  new  discoveries.  But  my  meaning  is,  that  we  should 
 not  take  up  any  one  too  hastily  (which  the  mind  that  would  always  penetrate 
 into  the  causes  of  things,  and  have  principles  to  rest  on,  is  very  apt  to  do) 
 till  we  have  very  well  examined  particulars,  and  made  several  experiments  in 
 that  thing  which  we  would  explain  by  our  hypothesis,  and  see  whether  it  will 
 agree  to  them  all ;  whether  our  principles  will  carry  us  quite  through,  and 
 not  be  as  inconsistent  with  one  phenomenon  of  nature  as  they  seem  to  ac- 
 
C!i.  1-2.  IMPROVEMENT  OF  OUR  KNOV#iEDGE.  425 
 
 commodate  and  explain  another.  And  at  leabt  that  we  take  care,  that 
 the  name  of  principles  deceive  us  not,  nor  impose  on  us,  by  making  us 
 receive  that  for  an  unquestionable  truth  which  is  really  at  best  but  a  very 
 doubtful  conjecture,  such  as  are  most  (I  had  almost  said  all)  of  the  hypotheses 
 in  natural  pJiilosophy. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Clear  and  distinct  ideas  with  settled  names,  and  the  finding 
 of  those  which  show  their  agreement  or  disagreement  are  the  ways  to  en- 
 large our  knowledge. — But  whether  natural  philosophy  be  capable  of  cer- 
 tainty or  no,  the  ways  to  enlarge  our  knowledge,  as  far  as  we  are  capable, 
 seem  to  me,  in  short,  to  be  these  two  : 
 
 First,  Tlie  first  is  to  get  and  settle  in  our  minds  determined -ideas  of  those 
 things,  whereof  we  have  general  or  specific  names  ;  at  least,  of  so  many  of 
 them  as  we  would  consider  and  improve  our  knowledge  in,  or  reason  about. 
 And  if  they  be  specific  ideas  of  substances,  we  should  endeavour  also  to 
 make  them  as  complete  as  we  can,  whereby  I  mean  that  we  should  put 
 together  as  many  simple  ideas  as,  being  constantly  observed  to  coexist,  may 
 perfectly  determine  the  species :  and  each  of  those  simple  ideas,  which  are 
 the  ingredients  of  our  complex  ones,  sliould  be  clear  and  distinct  in  our 
 minds.  For  it  being  evident  that  our  knowledge  cannot  exceed  our  ideas, 
 as  far  as  they  are  either  imperfect,  confused,  or  obscure,  we  cannot  expect 
 to  have  certain,  perfect,  or  clear  knowledge. 
 
 Secondly,  The  other  is  the  art  of  finding  out  those  intermediate  ideas,  which 
 may  show  us  the  agreement  or  repugnancy  of  other  ideas,  which  cannot  be 
 immediately  compared. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Mathematics  an  instance  of  it. — That  these  two  (and  not  the 
 relying  on  these  maxims,  and  drawing  consequences  from  some  general  pro- 
 positions) are  the  right  methods  of  improving  our  knowledge  in  the  ideas  of 
 other  modes  besides  those  of  quantity,  the  consideration  of  mathematical 
 knowledge  will  easily  inform  us.  Where  first  we  sliall  find  that  he,  that  has 
 not  a  perfect  knowledge  and  clear  idea  of  those  angles  or  figures  of  which 
 he  desires  to  know  any  thing,  is  utterly  incapable  of  any  knowledge  about 
 them.  Suppose  but  a  man  not  to  have  a  perfect  exact  idea  of  a  right  angle, 
 a  scalenum,  or  trapezium  ;  and  there  is  nothing  more  certain  than  that  he 
 will  in  vain  seek  any  demonstration  about  them.  Farther,  it  is  evident,  that 
 it  was  not  the  influence  of  those  maxims,  which  are  taken  from  principles  in 
 mathematics,  that  have  led  the  masters  of  that  science  into  those  wonderful 
 discoveries  they  have  made.  Let  a  man  of  good  parts  know  all  the  maxims 
 generally  made  use  of  in  mathematics  ever  so  perfectly,  and  contemplate 
 their  extent  and  consequences  as  much  as  he  pleases,  he  will,  by  their  assist- 
 ance, I  suppose,  scarce  ever  come  to  know  that  the  square  of  the  hypothenuse 
 in  a  right-angled  triangle  is  equal  to  the  squares  of  the  two  other  sides.  The 
 knowledge  that  the  whole  is  equal  to  all  its  parts,  and  if  you  take  equals  from 
 equals,  the  remainder  will  be  equal,  &c.  helped  him  not,  I  presume,  to  this 
 demonstration :  and  a  man  may,  I  think,  pore  long  enough  on  those  axioms, 
 without  ever  seeing  one  jot  the  more  of  mathematical  truths.  They  have 
 been  discovered  by  the  thoughts  otherwise  applied  :  the  mind  had  other 
 objects,  other  views  before  it,  far  different  from  those  maxims,  when  it  first 
 got  the  knowledge  of  such  truths  in  mathematics,  which  men  well  enough 
 acquainted  with  those  received  axioms,  but  ignorant  of  their  method  who 
 first  made  these  demonstrations,  can  never  sufficiently  admire.  And  who 
 knows  what  methods,  to  enlarge  our  knowledge  in  other  parts  of  science, 
 may  hereafter  be  invented,  answering  that  of  algebra  in  mathematics,  which 
 80  readily  finds  out  the  ideas  of  quantities  to  measure  others  by ;  whose 
 equality  or  proportion  we  could  otherwise  very  hardly  or  perhaps  never  coma 
 to  know  1 
 
 3D 
 
426  QP%UMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 CHAPTER  XIII. 
 
 SOME  FARTHER  CONSIDERATIONS  CONCERNING  OUR  KNOW- 
 LEDGE. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Our  knowledge  partly  necessary,  partly  voluntary. — Our  know- 
 ledge, as  in  otiier  things,  so  in  tins,  has  so  great  a  conformity  with  our  sight, 
 that  it  is  neitlier  wliolly  necessary,  nor  wiioily  voluntary.  If  our  knowledge 
 were  altogetlicr  necessary,  all  men's  knowledge  would  not  only  be  alike,  but 
 every  man  would  know  all  that  is  knowable  :  and  if  it  were  wholly  voluntary, 
 some  men  so  little  regard  or  value  it,  that  they  would  have  extreme  little,  or 
 none  at  all.  Men  that  have  senses  cannot  choose  but  receive  some  ideas  by 
 them  ;  and  if  they  have  memory,  they  cannot  but  retain  some  of  them  ;  and 
 if  tiiey  have  any  distinguishing  faculty,  cannot  but  perceive  the  agreement  or 
 disagreement  of  some  of  them  one  with  another :  as  he  that  has  eyes,  if  he 
 will  open  them  by  day,  cannot  but  see  some  objects,  and  perceive  a  difference 
 in  them.  But  though  a  man  with  his  eyes  open  in  the  light,  cannot  but  see, 
 yet  there  be  certain  objects,  which  he  may  choose  whether  he  will  turn  his 
 eyes  to  ;  there  may  be  in  his  reach  a  book  containing  pictures  and  discourses, 
 capable  to  delight  or  instruct  him,  which  yet  he  may  never  have  the  will  to 
 open,  never  take  the  pains  to  look  into. 
 
 Sect.  2.  The  application  voluntary ;  but  we  know  as  things  are,  not  as 
 we  please. — There  is  also  another  thing  in  a  man's  power,  and  that  is,  though 
 he  turns  his  eyes  sometimes  toward  an  object,  yet  he  may  choose  whether  he 
 will  curiously  survey  it,  and  with  an  intent  application  endeavour  to  observe 
 accurately  all  that  is  visible  in  it.  But  yet  what  he  does  see,  he  cannot  see 
 otherwise  than  he  does.  It  depends  not  on  his  will  to  see  that  black  which 
 appears  yellow ;  nor  to  persuade  himself,  that  what  actually  scalds  him  feels 
 cold.  The  earth  will  not  appear  painted  with  flowers,  nor  the  fields  covered 
 with  verdure,  whenever  he  has  a  mind  to  it :  in  the  cold  winter  he  cannot 
 help  seeing  it  white  and  hoary,  if  he  will  look  abroad.  Just  thus  is  it  with 
 our  understanding  ;  all  that  is  voluntary  in  our  knowledge  is  the  employing 
 or  withholding  any  of  our  faculties  from  this  or  that  sort  of  objects,  and  a 
 more  or  less  accurate  snrvey  of  them  :  but,  they  being  employed,  our  will 
 hath  no  power  to  determine  the  knowledge  of  the  mind  one  way  or  other; 
 that  is  done  only  by  the  objects  themselves,  as  far  as  they  are  clearly  disco- 
 vered. And  therefore,  as  far  as  men's  senses  are  conversant  about  external 
 objects,  the  mind  cannot  but  receive  those  ideas  which  are  presented  by  them, 
 and  be  informed  of  the  existence  of  things  without :  and  so  far  as  men's 
 thoughts  converse  with  their  own  determined  ideas,  they  cannot  but,  in  some 
 measure,  observe  the  agreement  or  disagreement  that  is  to  be  found  among 
 some  of  them,  which  is  so  far  knowledge  :  and  if  they  have  names  for  those 
 ideas  which  they  have  thus  considered,  they  must  needs  be  assured  of  the 
 truth  of  those  propositions  which  express  that  agreement  or  disagreement 
 they  perceive  in  them,  and  be  undoubtedly  convinced  of  those  truths.  For 
 what  a  man  sees,  he  cannot  but  see  ;  and  what  he  perceives,  he  cannot  but 
 know  that  he  perceives. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Instance,  in  numbers. — Thus  he  that  has  got  the  ideas  of  num- 
 bers, and  hath  taken  the  pains  to  compare  one,  two,  and  three  to  six,  cannot 
 choose  but  know  that  they  are  equal :  he  that  hath  got  the  idea  of  a  triangle, 
 and  found  the  ways  to  measure  its  angles,  and  their  magnitudes,  is  certain 
 that  its  three  angles  are  equal  to  two  right  ones  ;  and  can  as  little  doubt  of 
 that  as  of  thi.=;  truth,  "that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not 
 to  be." 
 
 In  natural  religion. — He  also  that  hath  the  idea  of  an  intelligent,  but 
 frail  and  weak  being,  made  by,  and  depending  on,  another,  who  is  eternal, 
 
Ch.  13.  FARTHER  CONSIDERATION.  497 
 
 omnipotent,  perfectly  wise  and  good,  will  as  certainly  laiovv  that  man  is  to 
 honour,  fear,  and  obey  God,  as  that  the  sun  shines  when  he  sees  it.  For  if 
 he  hath  but  the  ideas  of  two  such  beings  in  his  mind,  and  will  turn  his 
 thoughts  that  way,  and  consider  them,  he  will  as  certaiidy  find  that  the  infe- 
 rior, finite,  and  dependent,  is  under  an  obligation  to  obey  the  supreme  and 
 infinite,  as  lie  is  certain  to  find  that  three,  four,  and  seven  are  less  than 
 fifteen,  if  he  will  consider  and  compute  those  numbers  ;  nor  can  he  be  surer 
 in  a  clear  morning  that  the  sun  is  risen,  if  he  will  but  open  his  eyes,  and  turn 
 them  that  way.  But  yet  these  truths,  being  ever  so  certain,  ever  so  clear, 
 he  may  be  ignorant  of  either,  or  of  all  of  them,  who  will  never  take  the  pains 
 to  employ  liis  faculties,  as  he  should,  to  inform  himself  about  them. 
 
 CHAPTER  XIV. 
 
 OF  JUDGMENT. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Our  knowledge  being  short,  we  want  something  else. — The  un- 
 derstanding faculties  being  given  to  man,  not  barely  for  speculation,  but  also 
 for  the  conduct  of  his  life,  man  woujd  be  at  a  great  loss  if  he  had  nothing  to 
 direct  him  but  what  has  the  certainty  of  true  knowledge.  For  that  being 
 very  short  and  scanty,  as  we  have  seen,  he  would  be  often  utterly  in  the  dark, 
 and,  in  most  of  the  actions  of  his  life,  perfectly  at  a  stand,  had  he  nothing 
 to  guide  him  in  the  absence  of  clear  and  certain  knowledge.  He  that  will 
 not  eat  till  he  has  demonstration  that  it  will  nourish  him;  he  that  will  not 
 stir  till  he  infallibly  knows  the  business  he  goes  about  will  succeed  ;  will  have 
 little  else  to  do  but  to  sit  still  and  perish. 
 
 Sect.  2.  What  use  to  he  made  of  this  twilight  state. — Therefore  as  God 
 has  set  some  things  in  broad  day-light ;  as  he  has  given  us  some  certain 
 knowledge,  though  limited  to  a  few  things  in  comparison,  probably,  as  a  taste 
 of  what  intellectual  creatures  are  capable  of,  to  excite  in  us  a  desire  and  en- 
 deavour after  a  better  state  ;  so  in  the  greatest  part  of  our  concernments  he 
 has  afforded  us  only  the  twilight,  as  I  may  so  say,  of  probability;  suitable,  I 
 presume,  to  that  state  of  mediocrity  and  probationership  he  has  been  pleased 
 to  place  us  in  here  ;  wherein,  to  check  our  over-confidence  and  presumption, 
 we  might  by  every  day's  experience  be  made  sensible  of  our  short-sightedness, 
 and  liableness  to  error ;  the  sense  whereof  might  be  a  constant  admonition 
 to  us,  to  spend  the  days  of  this  our  pilgrimage  with  industry  and  care,  in  the 
 Bearch  and  following  of  that  way,  which  might  lead  us  to  a  state  of  greater 
 perfection:  it  being  highly  rational  to  think,  even  were  revelation  silent  in 
 the  case,  that  as  men  employ  those  talents  God  has  given  them  here,  they 
 shall  accordingly  receive  their  rewards  at  the  close  of  the  day,  when  their 
 Bun  shall  set,  and  night  shall  put  an  end  to  their  labours. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Judgment  supplies  the  want  of  knowledge. — The  faculty  which 
 God  has  given  man  to  supply  the  want  of  clear  and  certain  knowledge,  in 
 cases  where  that  cannot  be  had,  is  judgment;  whereby  the  mind  takes  its 
 ideas  to  agree  or  disagree  ;  or,  which  is  the  same,  any  proposition  to  be  true 
 or  false,  without  perceiving  a  demonstrative  evidence  in  the  proofs.  The 
 mind  sometimes  exercises  this  judgment  out  of  necessity,  where  demonstrative 
 proofs  and  certain  knowledge  are  not  to  be  had;  and  sometimes  out  of  lazi- 
 ness, unskilfulness,  or  haste,  even  where  demonstrative  and  certain  proofs 
 are  to  be  had.  Men  often  stay  not  warily  to  examine  the  agreement  or  dis- 
 agreement of  two  ideas,  which  they  are  desirous  or  concerned  to  know  ;  but, 
 either  incapable  of  such  attention  as  is  requisite  in  a  long  train  of  gradations, 
 or  impatient  of  delay,  lightly  cast  their  eyes  on,  or  wholly  pass  by,  the  proofs  ; 
 and  so  without  making  out  the  demonstration,  determine  of  the  agreement 
 or  disagreement  of  two  ideas  as  it  were  by  a  view  of  them  as  they  are  at  a 
 
423  OHiHUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  1. 
 
 distance,  and  take  it  to  be  tlie  one  or  tlio  other,  as  seems  most  likely  to  them 
 upon  such  a  loose  survey.  This  facilty  of  the  mind,  when  it  is  exercised 
 immediately  about  things,  is  called  judgment ;  when  about  truths  delivered  in 
 words,  is  most  commonly  called  asseat  or  dissent:  whicli  being  the  most 
 usual  way  wherein  the  mind  lias  occasion  to  em,)loy  this  faculty,  I  shall  under 
 these  terms  treat  of  it,  as  least  liable  in  our  langiuijo  to  equivocation. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Judgment  is  the  presuming  things  to  be  so,  without  perceiving 
 it. — Tims  the  mind  has  t;vo  faculties,  conversant  about  truth  .and  falseliooJ. 
 
 First,  Knowledge,  whereby  it  cectajaly  perceives,  and  is  undoubtedly  satis- 
 fied of,  the  a^i^'reenient  or  disagreement  of  any  ideas. 
 
 Secondly,  Judgment,  which  is  the  putting  ideas  together,  or  separating 
 them  from  o:io  another  in  the  mind,  when  tholr  certain  agreement  or  disa- 
 greement is  not  perceived,  but  presumed  to  be  so ;  which  is,  as  the  word  im- 
 ports, taken  to  be  so  before  it  certainly  appears.  And  if  it  so  unites,  or 
 separates  them,  as  in  reality  things  are,  it  is  right  judgment. 
 
 CHAPTER  XV. 
 
 OF  PROBABILITY. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Probability  is  the  appearance  of  agreement  upon  fallible 
 proofs. — As  demonstration  is  the  showing  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of 
 two  ideas,  by  the  intervention  of  one  or  more  proofs,  which  have  a  constant, 
 immutable,  and  visible  connexion  one  with  another;  so  probability  is  nothing, 
 but  the  appearance  of  such  an  agreement  or  disagreement,  by  the  interven- 
 tion of  proofs,  whose  connexion  is  not  constant  and  immutable,  or  at  least  is 
 not  perceived  to  be  so,  but  is  or  appears  for  the  most  part  to  be  so,  and  is 
 enough  to  induce  the  mind  to  judge  the  proposition  to  be  true  or  false,  rather 
 than  the  contrary.  For  example  :  in  the  dsmonstration  of  it  a  man  per- 
 ceives the  certain  immutable  connexion  there  is  of  equality  between  the 
 three  angles  of  a  triangle,  and  those  intermBdiate  ones  wiiich  are  made  use 
 of  to  show  their  equality  to  two  right  ones  ;  and  so  by  an  intuitive  knowledge 
 of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  intermediate  ideas  in  each  step  of 
 the  progress,  the  whole  series  is  continued  with  an  evidence  which  clearly 
 phows  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  those  three  angles  in  equality  to 
 two  right  ones  :  and  thus  he  has  certain  knowledge  that  it  is  so.  But  another 
 man,  who  never  took  the  pains  to  observe  the  demonstration,  hearing  a 
 mathematician,  a  man  of  credit,  affirm  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  to  be 
 equal  to  two  right  ones,  assents  to  it,  i.  e.  receives  it  for  true.  In  which  case 
 the  foundation  of  his  assent  is  the  probability  of  the  thing,  the  proof  being 
 such  as  for  the  most  part  carries  truth  with  t :  the  man  on  whose  testimony 
 he  receives  it  not  being  wont  to  affirm  any  thing  contrary  to,  or  besides  his 
 knowledge,  especially  in  matters  of  this  kind.  So  that  that  which  causes 
 his  assent  to  this  proposition,  that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to 
 two  right  ones,  that  whicli  makes  liim  take  these  ideas  to  agree,  without 
 knowing  them  to  do  so,  is  the  wonted  veracity  of  the  speaker  in  other  cases, 
 or  his  supposed  veracity  in  this. 
 
 Sect.  2.  It  is  to  supply  the  want,  of  knoioledge. — Our  knowledge,  as  has 
 been  shown,  being  very  narrow,  and  we  not  happy  enough  to  find  certain 
 truth  in  every  thing  which  we  have  occasion  to  consider ;  most  of  the  pro- 
 positions we  think,  reason,  discourse,  nay  act  upon,  are  such,  as  wo  cannot 
 have  undoubted  knowledge  of  their  truth  :  yet  some  of  them  border  so  near 
 upon  certainty,  that  we  make  no  doubt  at  all  about  them  ;  but  assent  to  them 
 as  firmly,  and  act,  according  to  that  assent,  as  resolutely,  as  if  they  were 
 infallibly  demonstrated,  and  that  our  knowledge  of  them  was  perfect  and  cer- 
 tain.    But  there  being  degrees  herein  from  the  very  neighbourhood  of  cer- 
 
Ch.  13.  PROBABILITY.  pflO  H  A  B/Ll  F^ 
 
 tainty  and  demonstration,  quite  down  to  improbability  and  unlikeness,  even 
 to  the  confines  of  impossibility ;  and  also  degrees  of  assent  from  full  assurance 
 and  confidence,  quite  down  to  conjecture,  doubt,  nnd  distrust :  I  shall  come 
 now  (having,  as  1  think,  fiund  out  the  bounds  of  human  knowledge  and  cer- 
 tainty), in  the  next  place,  to  consider  the  several  degrees  and  grounds  of  pro- 
 bability, and  assent  or  faith. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Being  that  which  makes  us  presume  things  to  he  true  before  toe 
 know  them  to  be  so. — Probability  is  likeliness  to  be  true,  the  very  notation 
 of  the  word  signifying  such  a  proposition,  for  which  there  be  argum.ents  or 
 proofs  to  make  it  pass  or  be  received  for  true.  The  entertainment  the  mind 
 gives  to  this  sort  of  propositions  is  called  belief,  assent,  or  opinion,  which  is 
 the  admitting  or  receiving  any  proposition  for  true,  upon  arguments  or  proofs 
 that  are  found  to  persuade  us  to  receive  it  as  true,  without  certam  knowledge 
 that  it  is  so.  And  herein  lies  the  difference  between  probability  and  certainty, 
 faith  and  knowledge,  that  in  all  the  parts  of  knowledge  there  is  intuition  ; 
 each  immediate  idea,  each  step  has  its  visible  and  certain  connexion  ;  in 
 belief,  not  so.  That  which  makes  me  believe  something  extraneous  to  the 
 thing  I  believe;  something  not  evidently  joined  on  both  sides  to,  and  so  not 
 manifestly  s!iowiag  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  those  ideas  that  are 
 under  con3id3ration. 
 
 Sect.  4.  The  grounds  of  probability  are  two :  conformitij  with  our  own 
 experience,  or  the  testimony  of  others^  experience. — Probability,  then,  being 
 to  supply  the  defect  of  oar  knowledge,  and  to  guide  us  where  that  fails,  is 
 always  conversant  about  propositions,  whereof  we  have  no  certainty,  but  only 
 some  inducements  to  receive  them  for  true.  The  grounds  of  it  are,  in  short, 
 these  two  following : 
 
 First,  The  conformity  of  any  thing  with  our  own  knowledge,  observation, 
 and  experience. 
 
 Secondly,  The  testimony  of  others,  vouching  their  observation  and  expe- 
 rience.  In  the  testimony  of  others  is  to  be  considered,  1.  The  number. 
 2.  The  integrity.  3.  The  skill  of  the  witnesses.  4.  The  design  of  the 
 author,  where  it  is  a  testimony  out  of  a  book  cited.  5.  The  consistency  of 
 the  parts  and  circumstances  of  the  relation.    6.  Contrary  testimonies. 
 
 Sect.  .5.  In  this  all  the  argiunents  pro  and  con.  ought  to  be  examined 
 before  we  come  to  a  judgment. — Probability  wanting  that  intuitive  evidence, 
 which  infallibly  determines  the  understanding,  and  produces  certain  know- 
 ledge, the  mind,  if  it  would  proceed  rationally,  ought  to  examine  all  the 
 grounds  of  probability,  and  see  how  they  make  more  or  less  for  or  against 
 any  proposition,  before  it  assents  to,  or  dissents  from  it;  and  upon  a  due 
 balancing  the  whole,  reject  or  receive  it  with  a  more  or  less  firm  assent,  pro- 
 portionably  to  the  preponderancy  of  the  greater  grounds  of  probability  on 
 one  side  or  the  other.     For  example  : 
 
 If  I  myself  see  a  man  walk  on  the  ice,  it  is  past  probability,  it  is  know- 
 ledge ;  but  if  another  tells  me  he  saw  a  man  in  England,  in  the  midst  of  a 
 sharp  winter,  walk  upon  water  hardened  with  cold  ;  this  has  so  great  con- 
 formity with  what  is  usually  observed  to  happen,  that  I  am  disposed  by  the 
 nature  of  the  thing  itself  to  assent  to  it,  unless  some  manifest  suspicion 
 attend  the  relation  of  that  matter  of  fact.  But  if  the  same  thing  be  told  to 
 one  born  between  the  tropics,  who  never  saw  nor  heard  of  any  such  thing 
 before,  there  the  whole  probability  relies  on  testimony :  and  as  the  relators 
 are  more  in  number,  and  of  more  credit,  and  have  no  interest  to  speak  con- 
 trary to  the  truth ;  so  that  matter  of  fact  is  like  to  find  more  or  less  belief. 
 Though  to  a  man,  whose  experience  has  been  always  quite  contrary,  and  who 
 has  never  heard  of  any  thing  like  it,  the  most  untainted  credit  of  a  witness 
 will  scarce  be  able  to  find  belief  As  it  happened  to  a  Dutch  ambassador, 
 who  entertaining  the  king  of  Siam  with  the  particularities  of  Holland,  which 
 he  was  inquisitive  after,  among  other  tilings  told  him,  that  the  water  in  his 
 country  would  sometimes,  in  cold  weather,  be  so  hard,  that  men  walked  upon 
 it,  and  tliat  it  would  bear  an  elephant  if  he  were  there.     To  which  the  king 
 
430  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 replied,  "  Hitherto  I  have  believed  the  strange  things  you  have  told  me,  be- 
 cause I  looked  upon  you  as  a  sober,  fair  man  ;  but  now  I  am  sure  you  lie." 
 
 Sect.  6.  They  being  capable  of  great  variety. — Upon  these  grounds  de- 
 pends the  probability  of  any  proposition  :  and  as  the  conformity  of  our  know- 
 ledge, as  the  certainty  of  observations,  as  the  frequency  and  constancy  of 
 experience,  and  the  number  and  credibility  of  testimonies,  do  more  or  less 
 agree  or  disagree  with  it,  so  is  any  proposition  in  itself  more  or  less  probable. 
 There  is  another,  I  confess,  whicli,  tliough  by  itself  it  be  no  true  ground  of 
 probability,  yet  is  often  made  use  of  for  one,  by  which  men  most  commonly 
 regulate  their  assent,  and  upon  which  they  pin  their  faitli  more  than  any 
 thing  else,  and  that  is  the  opinion  of  others  :  though  there  cannot  be  a  more 
 dangerous  thing  to  rely  on,  nor  more  likely  to  mislead  one  ;  since  there  is 
 muc'i  more  falsehood  and  error  among  men  than  truth  and  knowledge.  And 
 if  the  opinions  and  persuasions  of  others,  whom  we  know  and  think  well  of, 
 be  a  ground  of  assent,  men  have  reason  to  be  Heathens  in  Japan,  Maho- 
 metans in  Turkey,  Papists  in  Spain,  Protestants  in  England,  and  Lutherans 
 in  Sweden.  But  of  this  wrong  ground  of  assent  I  shall  have  occasion  to 
 speak  more  at  large  in  another  place. 
 
 CHAPTER  XVI. 
 
 OF  THE  DEGREES   OF  ASSENT. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Our  assent  ought  to  be  regulated  by  the  grounds  of  probability. 
 — The  grounds  of  probability  W3  have  laid  down  in  the  foregoing  chapter ; 
 as  they  are  the  foundations  on  which  our  assent  is  built,  so  they  are  also  the 
 measure  whereby  its  several  degrees  are  or  ought  to  be  regulated :  only  we 
 are  to  take  notice,  that  whatever  grounds  of  probability  there  may  be,  tliey 
 yet  operate  no  farther  on  the  mind,  which  searches  after  truth,  and  endeavours 
 to  judge  right,  than  they  appear  :  at  least  in  tlie  first  judgment  or  search  that 
 the  mind  makes.  I  confess,  in  the  opinions  men  have,  and  firmly  stick  to,  in 
 the  world,  their  assent  is  not  always  from  an  actual  view  of  the  reasons  that 
 at  first  prevailed  with  them ;  it  being  in  many  cases  almost  impossible,  and 
 in  most  very  hard,  even  for  those  who  have  very  admirable  memories,  to  retain 
 all  the  proofs  which  upon  a  due  examination,  made  them  embrace  that  side  of 
 the  question.  It  suffices  that  they  have  once  with  care  and  fairness  sifted  the 
 matter  as  far  tliey  could,  and  that  they  have  searched  into  all  the  particulars 
 that  they  could  imagine  to  give  any  light  to  the  question,  and  with  the  best 
 of  their  skill  cast  up  the  account  upon  the  whole  evidence ;  and  thus,  having 
 once  found  on  which  side  the  probability  appeared  to  them,  after  as  full  and 
 exact  an  inquiry  as  they  can  make,  they  lay  up  the  conclusion  in  their  memo- 
 ries as  a  truth  they  have  discovered  ;  and  for  the  future  thev  remain  satisfied 
 with  the  testimony  of  their  memories,  that  this  is  the  opinion  that,  by  the 
 proofs  they  have  once  seen  of  it,  deserves  such  a  degree  of  their  assent  as 
 they  afford  it. 
 
 Sect.  2.  These  cannot  always  be  actually  in  view,  and  then  we  must  con- 
 tent ourselves  with  the  remembrance  that  we  once  saw  ground  for  such  a 
 degree  of  assent. — This  is  all  that  the  greatest  part  of  men  are  capable  of 
 doing,  in  regulating  their  opinions  and  judgments  ;  unless  a  man  will  exact 
 of  them  either  to  retain  distinctly  in  their  memories  all  the  proofs  concerning 
 any  probable  truth,  and  that  too  in  the  same  order  and  regular  deduction  of 
 consequences  in  whicli  they  have  formerly  placed  or  seen  them,  which  some- 
 times is  enough  to  fill  a  large  volume  on  one  single  question  ;  or  else  they 
 must  require  a  man,  for  every  opinion  that  he  embraces,  every  day  to  examine 
 the  proofs  ;  both  which  are  impossible.  It  is  unavoidable  therefore  that  the 
 menaory  be  relied  on  in  the  case,  and  that  men  be  persuaded  of  several 
 
Ch.  16.  DEGREES  OF  ASSENT.  431 
 
 opinions,  whereof  the  proofs  are  not  actually  in  their  thoughts  ;  nay,  which 
 perhaps  they  are  not  able  actually  to  recall.  Without  this  the  greatest  part 
 of  men  must  be  either  verj'  sceptics,  or  change  ever\'  moment,  and  yield 
 themselves  up  to  whoever,  having  lately  studied  the  question,  offers  them 
 arguments,  which,  for  want  of  memory,  they  are  not  able  presently  to  answer. 
 
 Sect.  3.  The  ill  consequence  of  this,  if  our  former  judgments  were  not 
 rightly  made. — I  cannot  but  own,  that  men's  sticking  to  their  past  judgment, 
 and  adhering  firmly  to  conclusions  formerly  made,  is  oflen  the  cause  of  great 
 obstinacy  in  error  and  mistake.  But  the  fault  is  not  that  they  rely  on  their 
 memories  for  what  they  have  before  well  judged,  but  because  they  judged  be- 
 fore they  had  well  examined.  May  we  not  tind  a  great  number  (not  to  say 
 the  greatest  part)  of  men  that  thank  they  have  formed  right  judgments  of 
 several  matters,  and  that  for  no  other  reason  but  because  they  never  thought 
 otherwise  !  who  imagine  themselves  to  have  judged  right  only  because  they 
 never  questioned,  never  examined  their  own  opinions  ]  Which  is  indeed  to 
 think  they  judged  right  because  they  never  judged  at  all :  and  yet  these  of 
 all  men  hold  their  opinions  with  the  greatest  stiffness  ;  those  being  generally 
 the  most  fierce  and  firm  in  their  tenets  who  have  least  examined  them.  What 
 we  once  know,  we  are  certain  is  so  ;  and  we  may  be  secure  that  there  are 
 no  latent  proofs  undiscovered,  which  may  overturn  our  knowledge  or  bring  it 
 in  doubt.  But,  in  matters  of  probability,  it  is  not  in  every  case  we  can  be 
 sure  that  we  have  all  the  particulars  before  us  that  any  way  concern  the 
 question ;  and  that  there  is  no  evidence  behind,  and  yet  unseen,  which  may 
 cast  the  probability  on  the  other  side,  and  outweigh  all  that  at  present  seems 
 to  preponderate  with  us.  Who  almost  is  there  that  hath  the  leisure,  patience, 
 and  means,  to  collect  together  all  the  proofs  concerning  most  of  the  opinions 
 he  has,  so  as  safely  to  conclude  that  he  hath  a  clear  and  full  view,  and  that 
 there  is  no  more  to  be  alleged  for  his  better  information  ?  And  yet  we  are 
 forced  to  determine  ourselves  on  the  one  side  or  other.  The  conduct  of  our 
 lives,  and  the  management  of  our  great  concerns,  will  not  bear  delay :  for 
 those  depend,  for  the  most  part,  on  the  determination  of  our  judgment  in 
 points  wherein  we  are  not  capable  of  certain  and  demonstrative  knowledge, 
 and  wherein  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  embrace  the  one  side  or  the  other. 
 
 Sect.  4.  The  right  use  of  it,  is  mutual  charity  and  forbearance. — Since 
 therefore  it  is  unavoidable  to  the  greatest  part  of  men,  if  not  all,  to  have 
 several  opinions  without  certain  and  indubitable  proofs  of  their  truth,  and  it 
 carries  too  great  an  imputation  of  ignorance,  lightness,  or  folly,  for  men  to 
 quit  and  renounce  their  former  tenets  presently  upon  the  offer  of  an  argument 
 which  they  cannot  immediately  answer,  and  show  the  insufficiency  of;  it 
 would  methinks  become  all  men  to  maintain  peace,  and  the  comnron  offices 
 of  humanity  and  friendsiiip,  in  the  diversity  of  opinions ;  since  we  cannot 
 reasonably  expect  that  any  one  should  readily  and  obsequiously  quit  his  own 
 opinion,  and  embrace  ours  with  a  blind  resignation  to  an  authority  which  the 
 understanding  of  man  acknowledges  not.  For  however  it  may  often  mistake, 
 it  can  own  no  other  guide  but  reason,  nor  blindly  submit  to  the  will  and  dic- 
 tates of  another.  If  he,  you  would  bring  over  to  your  sentiments,  be  one  that 
 examines  before  he  assents,  you  must  give  him  leave  at  his  leisure  to  go  over 
 the  account  again,  and,  recalling  what  is  out  of  his  mind,  examine  all  the 
 particulars,  to  see  on  which  side  the  advantage  lies  :  and  if  he  will  not  think 
 our  arguments  of  weight  enough  to  engage  him  anew  in  so  much  pains,  it  is 
 but  what  we  often  do  ourselves  in  the  like  case  ;  and  we  should  take  it  amiss 
 if  others  should  prescribe  to  us  what  points  we  shoidd  study.  And  if  he  be 
 one  who  takes  his  opinions  upon  trust,  how  can  we  imagine  that  he  should 
 renounce  those  tenets  which  time  and  custom  have  so  settled  in  his  mind, 
 that  he  thinks  them  self-evident,  and  of  an  unquestionable  certainty  ;  or 
 which  he  takes  to  be  impressions  he  has  received  from  God  himself,  or  from 
 men  sent  by  him  !  How  can  we  expect,  I  say,  that  opinions  thus  settled 
 should  be  given  up  to  the  arguments  or  authority  of  a  stranger  or  adversary ; 
 especially  if  there  be  any  suspicion  of  interest  or  design,  as  there  never  faila 
 
4n2  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 to  be  \vhere  men  find  themselves  ill  treated?  We  should  do  well  to  comi- 
 miserate  our  mutual  iofnorauce,  and  endeavour  to  remove  it  \r\  all  the  gentle 
 and  fair  ways  of  information  ;  and  not  instantly  treat  others  ill,  as  obstinate 
 and  perverse,  because  thej'  will  not  renounce  their  own,  and  receive  our 
 opinions,  or  at  least  those  wo  would  force  upon  them,  when  it  is  mor.;  than 
 probable  that  we  are  no  less  obstinate  in  not  embracing'  some  of  theirs.  For 
 where  is  the  man  that  has  incontestable  evidence  of  the  truth  of  all  that  lie 
 holds,  or  of  the  falsehood  of  all  he  condemns ;  or  can  say,  that  he  has  ex- 
 amined to  the  bottom  of  his  ovvn  or  other  men's  opinions!  The  necessity 
 of  believing  witbont  knowledge,  nay,  often  upon  very  sligiit  grounds,  in  this 
 fleeting  state  of  action  and  blindness  we  are  in,  should  make  us  more  busy 
 and  careful  to  inform  ourselves  than  constrain  others.  At  least  those  Vvho 
 have  not  thoroughly  examined  to  the  bottom  all  their  own  tenets,  must  con- 
 fess they  are  unlit  to  prescribe  to  others ;  and  are  unreasonable  in  imposing 
 that  as  truth  on  other  men's  belief  which  they  themselves  have  not  searched 
 into,  nor  weighed  the  arguments  of  probability  on  which  they  should  receive 
 or  reject  it.  Those  vvho  have  fairly  and  truly  examined,  and  are  thereby  got 
 past  doubt  in  all  the  doctrines  they  profess  and  govern  themselves  by,  would 
 have  a  juster  pretence  to  require  others  to  follow  them :  but  these  are  so  few 
 in  number,  and  find  so  little  reason  to  be  magisterial  in  their  opinions,  that 
 nothing  insolent  and  imperious  is  to  be  expected  from  them  :  and  there  is 
 reason  to  think  that,  if  men  were  better  instructed  themselves,  they  would 
 be  less  imposing  on  others. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Probalility  is  either  of  matter  of  fact  or  speculation. — But  to 
 return  to  the  grounds  of  assent,  and  the  several  degrees  of  it;  we  are  to 
 take  notice,  that  the  propositions  we  receive  upon  inducements  of  probability 
 are  of  two  sorts ;  either  concerning  some  particular  existence,  or,  as  it  is 
 usually  termed,  matter  of  fact,  which  falling  under  observation,  is  capable  of 
 human  testimony ;  or  else  concerning  things  winch,  being  beyond  the  disco- 
 very of  our  senses,  are  not  capable  of  any  such  testimony. 
 
 Sect.  6.  The  concurrent  experience  of  all  other  men  with  ours  produces 
 assurance  approachins^  to  knowledge. — Concerning  the  first  of  these,  viz. 
 particular  matter  of  fact. 
 
 Fij'st,  Where  any  particular  thing,  consonant  to  the  constant  observation  of 
 ourselves  and  others  in  the  like  case,  comes  attested  by  the  concurrent  reports 
 of  all  that  mention  it,  we  receive  it  as  easily,  and  build  as  firmly  upon  it,  as 
 if  it  were  certain  knowle-l-^rc  ;  and  we  reason  and  act  thereupon  Vv-itii  as  little 
 doubt  as  if  it  were  perfect  demonstration.  Thus,  if  all  Englishmen  who 
 have  occasion  to  mention  it,  should  affirm  that  it  froze  in  England  the  last 
 winter,  or  that  there  were  swallows  seen  there  in  the  summer ;  I  think  a  man 
 could  almost  as  liltle  doubt  of  it  as  that  seven  and  four  are  eleven.  The  first, 
 therefore,  and  highest  degree  of  probability  is,  when  the  general  consent  of  a!l 
 men,  in  all  ages,  as  far  as  it  can  be  known,  concurs  with  a  man's  constant 
 and  never-failing  experience  in  like  cases,  to  confirm  the  truth  of  any  par- 
 ticular matter  of  fact  attested  by  fair  witnesses:  such  are  all  the  stated  con- 
 stitutions and  properties  of  bodies,  and  the  regular  proceedings  of  causes  and 
 effects  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature.  This  we  call  an  argument  from  the 
 nature  of  things  themselves.  For  what  our  own  and  other  men's  constant 
 observalion  has  found  always  to  be  af\.er  the  same  manner,  that  we  with 
 reason  conclude  to  bo  the  efl^ect  of  steady  and  regular  causes,  though  tliey 
 come  not  within  the  reach  of  our  knowledge.  Thus,  that  fire  warmed  a  man, 
 made  lead  fluid,  and  changed  the  colour  or  consistency  in  wood  or  charcoal ; 
 that  iron  sunk  in  water,  and  swam  in  quicksilver:  these  and  the  li!;e  propo- 
 sitions about  particular  facts,  being  agreeable  to  our  constant  experience,  as 
 often  as  we  have  to  do  with  these  matters;  and  being  generally  spoke  of 
 (when  mentioned  by  others)  as  things  f  lund  constantly  to  be  so,  and  therefore 
 not  so  much  as  controverted  by  any  body  ;  we  are  put  past  doubt,  tliat  a 
 relation  affirming  any  such  thing  to  have  been,  or  any  predication  that  it  w.il 
 happen  again  in  the  same  manner,  is  very  true.     These  probabilities  rise  so 
 
Ch.  16.  DEGREES  OP  ASSENF.  4^3 
 
 near  to  a  certainty,  that  they  govern  our  thoughts  as  absolutely,  and  influence 
 all  our  actions  as  fully,  as  the  most  evident  demonstration  ;  and,  in  what  con- 
 ceriis  us,  we  ma.':e  little  or  no  diiference  between  them  and  certain  know- 
 ledge.    Our  belief,  thus  grounded,  rises  to  assurance. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Unquestionable  testimony  and  experience  for  the  most  part  pro- 
 duce confidence. — Secondly,  The  ne.xt  degree  of  probability  is,  when  I  find 
 by  my  own  experience,  and  tlie  agreement  of  all  others  that  mention  it,  a 
 thing  to  be,  for  the  most  part,  so ;  and  tJiat  the  particular  instance  of  it  is 
 attested  by  many  and  undoubted  witnesses,  v.  g.  history  giving  us  such  an 
 account  of  men  in  all  ages,  and  my  own  experience,  as  far  as  I  had  an  oppor- 
 tunity to  observe,  confirming  it,  that  most  men  prefer  their  private  advantage 
 to  the  public  ;  if  all  historians  that  write  of  Tiberius  say  that  Tiberius  did 
 so,  it  is  extremely  probable.  And  in  this  case  our  assent  has  a  sufficient 
 foundation  to  raise  itself  to  a  degree  which  we  may  call  confidence. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Fair  testimony,  and  the  nature  of  the  thing  indifferent,  produce 
 also  confident  belief. — Thirdly,  in  things  that  happen  indifferently,  as  that  a 
 bird  should  fly  this  or  that  way ;  that  it  should  thunder  on  a  man's  right  or 
 lefc  hand,  &c.  when  any  particular  matter  of  fact  is  vouched  by  the  concur- 
 rent testimony  of  unsuspected  witnesses,  there  our  assent  is  also  unavoidable. 
 Thus,  that  there  is  such  a  city  in  Italy  as  Rome ;  that,  about  one  thousand  seven 
 hundred  years  ago,  there  lived  in  it  a  man  called  Julius  Caesar  ;  that  he  was 
 a  general,  and  that  he  won  a  battle  against  another,  called  Pompey :  this, 
 though  in  the  nature  of  the  thing  there  be  nothing  for  nor  against  it,  yet  being 
 related  by  historians  of  credit,  and  contradicted  by  no  one  writer,  a  man  can- 
 not avoid  believing  it,  and  can  as  little  doubt  of  it  as  he  does  of  the  being 
 and  actions  of  his  own  acquaintance,  whereof  he  himself  is  a  witness. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Experiences  and  testimonies  clashing,  infinitely  vary  the  de- 
 grees of  probability. — Thus  far  the  matter  goes  easy  enough.  Probability 
 upon  such  grounds  carries  so  much  evidence  with  it,  that  it  naturally  deter- 
 mines the  judgment,  and  leaves  us  as  little  liberty  to  believe  or  disbelieve,  as  a 
 demonstration  does  \\~hether  we  will  know  or  be  ignorant.  The  difficulty  is, 
 when  testimonies  contradict  common  experience,  and  the  reports  of  history 
 and  witnesses  clash  with  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  or  with  one  another; 
 there  it  is  where  diligence,  attention,  and  exactness  are  required,  to  form  a 
 right  judgment,  and  to  proportion  the  assent  to  the  different  evidence  and 
 probability  of  the  thing;  which  rises  and  falls  according  as  those  two  foun- 
 dations of  credibility,  viz.  common  observation  in  like  cases,  and  particular 
 testimonies  in  that  particular  instance,  favour  or  contradict  it.  These  are 
 liable  to  so  great  a  variety  of  contrary  observations,  circumstances,  reports, 
 different  qualifications,  tempers,  designs,  oversights,  &c.  of  the  reporters, 
 that  it  is  impossible  to  reduce  to  precise  rules  the  various  degrees  wherein 
 men  give  their  assent.  This  only  may  be  said  in  general,  that  as  the  argu- 
 ments and  proofs  pro  and  con.,  upon  due  examination,  nicely  weighing  every 
 particular  circumstance,  shall  to  any  one  appear  upon  the  whole  matter,  in  a 
 greater  or  less  degree  to  preponderate  on  either  side  ;  so  they  are  fitted  to 
 produce  in  the  mind  such  different  entertainment  as  we  call  belief,  conjecture, 
 guess,  doubt,  wavering,  distrust,  disbelief,  &c. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Traditional  testimonies,  the  farther  removed,  the  less  their 
 proofs. — This  is  what  concerns  assent  in  matters  wherein  testimony  is  made 
 use  of:  concerning  which,  I  think,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  take  notice  of  a 
 rule  observed  in  the  law  of  England  ;  which  is,  that  though  the  attested  copy 
 of  a  record  be  good  proof,  yet  the  copy  of  a  copy,  ever  so  well  attested,  and 
 by  ever  so  credible  witnesses,  will  not  be  admitted  as  a  proof  in  judicature. 
 This  is  so  generally  approved  as  reasonable,  and  suited  to  the  wisdom  and 
 caution  to  be  used  in  our  inquiry  after  material  truths,  that  I  never  yet  heard 
 of  any  one  that  blamed  it.  This  practice,  if  it  be  allowable  in  the  decisions 
 of  right  and  wrong,  carries  this  observation  along  with  it,  viz.  that  any  testi- 
 mony, the  farther  off  it  is  from  the  original  truth,  the  less  force  and  proof  it 
 has.  The  being  and  existence  of  the  thing  itself  is  what  I  call  the  original 
 3E 
 
434  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 truth.  A  crotlible  man  vouching  liis  knowledge  of  it  is  a  good  proof:  but  if 
 another  equally  credible  do  witness  it  from  his  report,  tiic  testimony  is 
 weaker;  and  a  third  that  attests  the  liearsay  of  an  hearsay,  is  yet  less  con- 
 siderable. So  that,  in  traditional  truths,  each  remove  weakens  the  force  oi 
 the  proof:  and  the  more  liands  the  tradition  has  successively  passed  through, 
 the  less  strength  and  evidence  does  it  receive  from  them.  This  I  thought 
 necessary  to  be  taken  notice  of,  because  I  find  among  some  men  the  quite 
 contrary  commonly  practised,  who  look  on  opinions  to  gain  force  by  growing 
 older ;  and  what  a  thousand  years  since  would  not,  to  a  rational  man,  con- 
 temporarj'  with  the  first  voucher,  have  appeared  at  all  probable,  is  now  urged 
 as  certain  beyond  all  question,  only  because  several  have  since,  from  liini, 
 said  it  one  after  another.  Upon  this  ground,  propositions,  evidently  false,  or 
 doubtful  enough  in  their  first  beginning,  come  by  an  inverted  rule  of  proba- 
 bility, to  pass  for  authentic  truths  ;  and  those  which  found  or  deserved  little 
 credit  from  the  mouths  of  their  first  authors,  are  thought  to  grow  venerable 
 by  age,  and  are  urired  as  undeniable. 
 
 Sect.  11. —  Yet  history  is  of  great  use. — I  would  not  be  thought  here  to 
 lessen  the  credit  and  use  of  history ;  it  is  all  the  light  we  have  in  many  cases, 
 and  we  receive  from  it  a  great  part  of  the  useful  truths  we  have,  with  a  con- 
 vincing evidence.  1  thuik  notliing  more  valuable  than  the  records  of  an- 
 tiquity ;  I  wish  we  had  more  of  them,  and  more  uncorrupted.  But  this  truth 
 itself  forces  me  to  say,  that  no  probability  can  arise  higher  than  its  first 
 original.  What  has  no  other  evidence  than  the  single  testimony  of  one  only 
 witness,  must  stand  or  fall  by  his  only  testimony,  whether  good,  bad,  or  indif- 
 ferent ;  and  though  cited  afterward  by  hundreds  of  others,  one  after  another, 
 is  so  far  from  receiving  any  strength  thereby,  that  it  is  only  the  weaker. 
 Passion,  interest,  inadvertency,  mistake  of  his  meaning,  and  a  thousand  odd 
 reasons,  or  capricios,  men's  minds  are  acted  by  (impossible  to  be  discovered) 
 may  make  one  man  quote  another  man's  words  or  meaning  wrong.  He  that 
 has  but  ever  so  little  examined  the  citations  of  writers  cannot  doubt  how  little 
 credit  the  quotations  deserve,  where  the  originals  are  wanting ;  and  conse- 
 quently how  much  less  quotations  of  quotations  can  be  relied  on.  This  is 
 certain,  that  what  in  one  age  was  affirmed  upon  slight  grounds,  can  never 
 after  come  to  be  more  valid  in  future  ages  by  being  often  repeated.  But  the 
 farther  still  it  is  from  the  original,  the  less  valid  it  is,  and  has  always  less 
 force  in  the  mouth  or  writing  of  him  that  last  made  use  of  it,  than  in  his  from 
 whom  he  received  it.  <'.« 
 
 Sect.  12.  In  things  rchich  sense  cannot  discover,  analogy  is  the  great 
 rule  of  probability. — The  probabilities  wp  have  hitherto  mentioned  are  only' 
 such  as  concern  matter  of  fact,  and  such  things  as  are  capable  of  observation 
 and  testimony.  There  remains  that  other  sort,  concerning  which  men  enter- 
 tain opinions  with  variety  of  assent,  though  the  things  be  such  that,  failing 
 not  under  the  reach  of  our  senses,  they  are  not  capable  of  testimony.  Such 
 are,  1.  The  existence,  nature,  and  operations  of  finite  immaterial  beings 
 without  us  ;  as  spirits,  angels,  devils,  &c.  or  the  existence  of  material  beings, 
 which,  either  for  their  smallness  in  themselves,  or  remoteness  from  us,  our 
 senses  cannot  take  notice  of;  as  whether  there  be  any  plants,  animals,  and 
 intelligent  inhabitants  in  the  planets,  and  other  mansions  of  the  vast  universe. 
 2.  Concerning  the  manner  of  operation  in  most  parts  of  the  works  of  nature  : 
 wherein,  though  we  see  the  sensible  effects,  yet  their  causes  are  unknown, 
 and  we  perceive  not  the  ways  and  manner  how  they  are  produced.  We  see 
 animals  are  generated,  nourished,  and  move  ;  the  loadstone  draws  iron  ;  and 
 the  parts  of  a  candle,  successively  melting,  turn  into  flame,  and  give  us  both 
 light  and  heat.  These  and  the  like  effects  we  see  and  know  ;  but  the  causes 
 that  operate,  and  the  manner  they  are  produced  in,  we  can  only  guess,  and 
 •  probably  conjecture.  For  these  and  the  like,  coming  not  within  the  scrutiny 
 of  human  senses,  cannot  be  examined  by  them,  or  be  attested  by  any  body; 
 and  therefore  can  appear  more  or  less  probable,  only  as  they  more  or  less 
 agree  to  truths  that  are  established  in  our  minds,  and  as  they  hold  proportion 
 
Ch.  16.  DEGREES  OF  ASSENT.  435 
 
 to  other  parts  of  our  knowledge  and  obsen'ation.  Analogy  in  these  matters 
 is  the  only  help  we  have,  and  it  is  from  that  ahme  we  draw  all  our  grounds 
 of  probability.  Thus  observing  that  the  bare  rubbing  of  two  bodies  violently 
 one  upon  another  produces  heat,  and  very  often  tire  itself,  we  have  reason  to 
 think  that  what  we  call  heat  and  fire  consists  in  a  violent  agitation  of  the 
 imperceptible  minute  parts  of  the  burning  matter :  observing  likewise  that 
 the  different  refractions  of  pellucid  bodies  produce  in  our  eyes  the  different 
 appearances  of  several  colours,  and  also  that  the  different  ranging  and  laying 
 the  superficial  parts  of  several  bodies,  as  of  velvet,  watered  silk,  &c.  does 
 the  like,  we  think  it  probable  that  the  colour  and  shining  of  bodies  is  in  them 
 nothing  but  tlie  different  arrangement  and  refraction  of  their  minute  and 
 insensible  parts.  Thus  finding  in  all  parts  of  the  creation,  that  fall  under; 
 human  observation,  that  there  is  a  gradual  connexion  of  one  with  another,P 
 without  any  great  or  discernible  gaps  between,  in  all  that  great  variety  of 
 things  we  see  in  the  world,  whicli  are  so  closely  linked  together,  that  in  the 
 several  ranks  of  beings  it  is  not  easy  to  discover  the  bounds  betwixt  them  : 
 we  have  reason  to  be  persuaded,  that  by  such  gentle  steps  things  ascend  up- 
 wards in  degrees  of  perfection.  It  is  a  hard  matter  to  say  where  sensible 
 and  rational  begin,  and  where  insensible  and  irrational  end  :  and  who  is  there 
 quick-sighted  enough  to  determine  precisely  which  is  the  lowest  species  of 
 living  things,  and  which  is  the  first  of  those  which  have  no  life  1  Tilings, 
 as  far  as  we  can  observe,  lessen  and  augment  as  the  quantity  does  in  a  regular 
 cone  ;  where,  though  there  be  a  manifest  odds  betwbct  the  bigness  of  the 
 diameter  at  a  remote  distance,  yet  the  difference  between  the  upper  and 
 imder,  where  tliey  touch  one  another,  is  hardly  discernible.  The  difference 
 is  exceeding  great  between  some  men  and  some  animals  ;  but  if  we  will 
 compare  the  understanding  and  abilities  of  some  men  and  some  brutes,  we 
 shall  find  so  little  difference,  that  it  will  be  hard  to  say,  that  that  of  the  man 
 is  either  clearer  or  larger.  Observing,  I  say,  such  gradual  and  gentle  de- 
 scents downwards  in  those  parts  of  the  creation  that  are  beneath  man,  the 
 rule  of  analogy  may  make  it  probable,  that  it  is  so  also  in  things  above  us 
 and  our  observation  ;  and  that  there  are  several  ranks  of  intelligent  beings, 
 excelling  us  in  several  degrees  of  perfection,  ascending  upwards  towards  the 
 infinite  perfection  of  the  Creator,  by  gentle  steps  and  differences,  that  are 
 every  one  at  no  great  distance  from  the  next  to  it.  This  sort  of  probability, 
 which  is  the  best  conduct  of  rational  experiments,  and  the  rise  of  hypothesis, 
 has  also  its  use  and  influence  :  and  a  wary  reasoning  from  analogy  leads  us 
 ot\en  into  the  discovery  of  truths  and  useful  productions  which  would  other- 
 wise lie  concealed. 
 
 Sect.  13.  One  case  where  contrary  experience  lessens  not  the  testi- 
 Tnony. — Though  the  common  experience  and  the  ordinary  course  of  things 
 have  justly  a  mighty  influence  on  the  minds  of  men,  to  make  them  give  or 
 refuse  credit  to  any  thing  proposed  to  their  belief;  yet  there  is  one  case, 
 wherein  the  strangeness  of  the  fact  lessens  not  the  assent  to  a  fair  testimony 
 given  of  it.  For  where  such  supernatural  events  are  suitable  to  ends  aimed 
 at  by  him,  who  has  the  power  to  change  the  course  of  nature,  there,  under  ' 
 such  circumstances,  they  may  be  fitter  to  procure  belief,  by  how  much  the 
 more  they  are  beyond  or  contrary  to  ordinary  observation.  This  is  the 
 proper  case  of  miracles,  which  well  attested  do  not  only  find  credit  them- 
 selves, but  give  it  also  to  other  truths,  which  need  such  confirmation. 
 
 Sect.  14.  The  bare  testimony  of  revelation  is  the  highest  certainty.— 
 Besides  those  we  have  hitherto  mentioned,  there  is  one  sort  of  propositions 
 that  challenge  the  highest  degree  of  our  assent  upon  bare  testimony,  whether 
 the  thing  proposed  agree  or  disagree  with  common  experience,  and  the  ordi- 
 nary course  of  things,  or  no.  The  reason  whereof  is,  because  the  testimony 
 is  of  such  an  one  as  cannot  deceive,  nor  be  deceived,  and  that  is  of  God 
 himself.  This  carries  with  it  an  assurance  beyond  doubt,  evidence  beyond 
 exception.  This  is  called  by  a  peculiar  name,  revelation  ;  and  our  assent  to 
 it,  faith ;  which  as  absolutely  determines  our  minds,  and  as  perfectly  excludes 
 
436  OF  HUIVIAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 all  wavering,  as  our  knowledge  itself;  and  wc  may  as  well  doubt  of  our  own 
 being,  as  wc  can  wlioLlicr  any  revelation  from  God  be  true.  So  that  faith  is 
 a  settled  and  sure  principle  of  assent  and  assurance,  and  leaves  no  manner 
 of  room  for  doubt  or  hesitation.  Only  we  must  be  sure  that  it  be  a  divine 
 revelation,  and  that  we  understand  it  right :  else  we  shall  expose  ourselves 
 to  all  the  extravagancy  of  enthusiasm,  and  all  the  error  of  wrong  principles, 
 if  we  have  faith  and  assurance  in  what  is  not  divine  revelation.  And  there- 
 fore in  those  cases,  our  assent  can  be  rationally  no  higher  than  the  evidence 
 of  its  being  a  revelation,  and  that  this  is  tlie  meaning  of  the  expressions  it 
 is  delivered  in.  If  the  evidence  of  its  being  a  revelation,  or  that  this  is  its 
 true  sense,  be  only  on  probable  proofs  ;  our  assent  can  reach  no  higher  than 
 a:i  assurance  or  diffidence,  arising  from  tlie  more  or  less  apparent  probability 
 of  the  proofs.  But  of  f.iith,  and  tiie  precedency  it  ougiit  to  have  before  other 
 arguments  of  persuasion,  I  shall  speak  more  hereafter,  where  I  treat  of  it  as 
 it  is  ordinarily  placed,  in  contradistinction  to  reason  ;  though  in  truth  it  be 
 nothing  else  but  an  assent  founded  on  the  highest  reason. 
 
 CHAPTER  XVII. 
 
 OF  REASON. 
 
 Sect.  1.   Various  significations  of  the  word  reason. — The  word  reason 
 
 in  the  English  language  has  different  significations :  sometimes  it  is  taken 
 for  true  and  clear  principles  ;  sometimes  for  clear  and  fair  deductions  from 
 those  principles  ;  and  sometimes  fir  the  cause,  and  particularly  the  final 
 cause.  But  the  consideration  I  shall  have  of  it  here  is  in  signification  dif- 
 ferent from  all  these  ;  and  that  is,  as  it  stands  for  a  faculty  in  man,  that 
 faculty  whereby  man  is  supposed  to  be  distinguished  from  beasts,  and  wherein 
 it  is  evident  lie  much  surpasses  them. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Wherein  reasoning  consists. — If  general  knowledge,  as  has 
 been  shown,  consists  in  a  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of 
 our  own  ideas ;  and  the  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  all  tilings  without  us 
 (except  only  of  a  God,  whose  existence  every  man  may  certainly  know  and 
 demonstrate  to  himself  from  his  own  existence)  be  had  only  by  our  senses  : 
 what  room  is  there  for  the  exercise  of  any  other  faculty,  but  outward  sense 
 and  inward  perception  ?  What  need  is  there  of  reason  !  Very  much  ;  botii 
 for  the  enlargt-'ment  of  our  knowledge,  and  regulating  our  assent :  for  it  hatii 
 to  do  both  in  knowledge  and  opinion,  and  is  necessary  and  assisting  to  all 
 our  otiier  intellectual  faculties,  and  indeed  contains  two  of  them,  viz.  sj^Lgagi^ .-' 
 and  illation.  By  the  one,  it  find.-  out ;  and  by  tlie  other,  it  so  orders  tlie  in- 
 termediate ideas,  as  to  discover  what  connexion  there  is  in  each  link  of  the 
 chain,  whereby  the  extremes  are  held  together  ;  and  thereby,  as  it  were,  to 
 draw  into  view  the  truth  sought  for,  which  is  that  which  we  call  jllation.or  . 
 inference,  and  consists  in  nothing  but  the  perception  of  the  connexion  there 
 is'Belween  the  ideas,  in  each  step  of  the  deduction,  whereby  the  mind  comes 
 to  see  either  the  certain  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  two  idea.s,  as  in 
 demonstration,  in  w'lich  it  arrives  at  knowledge;  or  their  probable  connexion, 
 on  vvhich  it  gives  or  withholds  its  assent,  as  in  opinion.  Sense  and  intuition 
 reach  but  a  very  little  way.  The  greatest  part  of  our  knowledge  depends  ' 
 iipen  deductions  and  intermediate  ideas  :  and  in  those  cases,  where  we  are 
 fain  to  substitute  assent  instead  of  knowledge,  and  take  propositions  for  true, 
 v/ithoiit  being  certain  that  they  are  so,  we  have  need  to  find  out,  examine, 
 and  compare  the  grounds  of  their  probability.  In  both  these  cases,  the  fa-i 
 culty  which  finds  out  the  means,  and  rightly  applies  them  to  discover  certainty 
 in  the  one,  and  probability  in  the  other,  is  that  which  we  call  reason.  For 
 as  reason  perceives  the  necessary  and  indubitable  connexion  of  all  the  ideaa 
 
Ch.  17.  REASON.  437 
 
 or  proofs  one  to  another,  in  each  step  of  any  demonstration  that  produces 
 knowledge;  so  it  likewise  perceives  the  probable  connexion  of  all  the  ideas 
 or  proofs  one  to  another,  in  every  step  of  a  discourse,  to  which  it  will  think 
 assent  due.  This  is  the  lowest  degree  of  that  which  can  be  truly  called  rea- 
 son. For  where  the  mind  does  not  perceive  this  probable  connexion  ;  where 
 it  does  not  discern  whether  there  be  any  such  connexion  or  no ;  there  men's 
 opinions  are  not  tlie  product  of  judgment,  or  the  consequence  of  reason,  but 
 the  effects  of  chance  and  hazard,  of  a  mind  floating  at  all  adventures,  with- 
 out choice  and  without  direction. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Its  four  parts. — So  that  we  may  in  reason  consider  these  four 
 degrees  ;  the  first  and  highest  is  the  d!gcov;eri3g  and  landing  oat  of  truths  ;  /. 
 the  second,  the  regular  and  methodical  disposition  of  them,  aud  laying  them  ^, 
 in  a  clear  and  fit  order,  to  make  their  connexion  and  force  be  plainly  and 
 easily  perceived  ;  the  third  is_the  perceiving  tliaLr-Conrex^ion  ;  and  the  fourth,  5 
 a  making  a  right  concTusioh.    T'hese  several  degrees  mayTie  observed  iri  any  "4 
 mathematical  demonstration ;  it  being  oiie  thing  to  perceive  tlic  connexion 
 of  each  part,  as  the  demonstration  is  made  by  another;  another,  to  perceive 
 the  dependence  of  the  conclusion  on  all  the  parts;  a  third,  to  make  out  a 
 demonstration  clearly  and  neatly  one's  self;  and  something  dilTcrent  from  all 
 these,  to  have  first  found  out  these  intermediate  ideas  or  proofs  by  which  it 
 is  made. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Syllogism  not  the  great  instrument  of  reason. — There  is  one 
 thing  more,  which  I  shall  desire  to  be  considered  concerning  reason  ;  aud 
 that  is,  whether  syllogism,  as  is  generally  thought,  be  the  proper  instrument 
 of  it,  and  the  most  useful  way  of  exercising  this  faculty.  The  causes  1  have 
 to  doubt  are  these  : 
 
 First,  Because  syllogism  serves  our  reason  but  in  one  only  of  the  foremen-  | 
 tioned  parts  of  it ;  and  that  is,  to  show  the  connexion  of  the  proofs  in  any 
 one  instance,  and  no  more :  but  in  this  it  is  of  no  great  use,  since  the  mind 
 can  conceive  such  connexion  where  it  really  is,  as  easily,  nay,  perhaps  better, 
 without  it. 
 
 If  we  will  observe  the  actings  of  our  own  minds,  we  shall  find  that  we 
 reason  best  and  clearest  when  we  only  observe  the  connexion  of  the  proof, 
 without  reducing  our  thoughts  to  any  rule  of  syllogism.  And  therefore  we 
 may  take  notice,  that  there  are  many  men  that  reason  exceeding  clear  and 
 rightly,  who  know  not  how  to  make  a  syllogism.  He  that  will  look  into 
 many  parts  of  Asia  and  America,  will  find  men  reason  there  perhaps  as 
 acutely  as  himself,  who  yet  never  heard  of  a  syllogism,  nor  can  reduce  any 
 one  argument  to  those  forms  :  and  I  believe  scarce  any  one  makes  syllogisms 
 in  reasoning  within  himself.  Indeed,  syllogism  is  made  use  of  on  occasion, 
 to  discover  a  fallacy  hid  in  a  rhetorical  fl(jurish,  or  cunningly  wrapt  up  in  a 
 smooth  period  ;  and,  stripping  an  absurdity  of  the  cover  of  wit  and  good 
 language,  show  it  in  its  naked  deformity.  But  the  weakness  or  fallacy  of 
 such  a  loose  discourse  it  shows,  by  the  artificial  form  it  is  put  into,  only  to 
 those  who  have  thoroughly  studied  mode  and  figure,  and  have  so  examined 
 the  many  ways  that  three  propositions  may  be  put  together,  as  to  know 
 which  of  them  does  certainly  conclude  right,  and  which  not,  and  upon  what 
 grounds  it  is  that  they  do  so.  All  who  have  so  fiir  considered  syllogism,  as 
 to  see  the  reason  why  in  three  propositions  laid  together  in  one  form  the 
 conclusion  will  be  certainly  right,  but  in  another,  not  certainly  so ;  I  grant 
 are  certain  of  the  conclusion  they  draw  from  the  premises  in  the  allowed 
 modes  and  figures.  But  they  who  have  not  so  far  looked  into  those  forms, 
 are  not  sure,  by  virtue  of  syllogism,  that  the  conclusion  certainly  follows  • 
 from  the  premises  ;  they  only  take  it  to  be  so  by  an  implicit  faith  in  their 
 teachers,  and  a  confidence  in  those  forms  of  argumentation  ;  but  this  is  still 
 but  believing,  not  being  certain.  Now  if,  of  all  mankind,  those  who  can 
 make  syllogisms  are  extremely  few  in  comparison  of  those  who  cannot ;  and 
 if,  of  those,  few  who  have  been  taught  logic,  there  is  but  a  very  small  number 
 who  do  any  more  than  believe  that  syllogisms  in  the  allowed  modes  and 
 
438  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 figiires  do  concliulo  right,  without  knowing  certainly  that  they  do  so  ;  if  syl- 
 logisms must  he  taken  tor  tlic  only  proper  histrumcnt  of  reason  and  means 
 of  knowledge;  it  will  follow,  that  before  Aristotle  there  was  not  one  man 
 that  did  or  could  know  any  thing  by  reason  ;  and  that  since  the  invention  of 
 syllogisms,  there  is  not  one  of  ten  thousand  that  doth. 
 
 But  God  has  not  been  so  sparing  to  men  to  make  them  barely  two-legged 
 creatures,  and  lefl  it  to  Aristotle  to  make  them  rational,  i.  e.  those  few  of 
 them  that  he  could  get  so  to  examine  the  grounds  of  syllogisms,  as  to  see, 
 that  in  above  threescore  ways,  that  three  j)ropositions  may  be  laid  together, 
 there  are  but  about  fourteen  wherein  one  may  be  sure  tliat  the  conclusion  is 
 riglit ;  and  upon  what  grounds  it  is,  that  in  tiiese  lew  the  conclusion  is  cer- 
 tain, and  in  the  other  not.  God  has  been  more  bountiful  to  mankind  than 
 60.  He  has  given  t]u>m  a  mind  that  can  reason,  without  being  instructed  in 
 methods  of  syllogizing:  the  understanding  is  not  taught  to  reason  by  these 
 rules  ;  it  has  a  native  faculty  to  perceive  the  coherence  or  incoherence  of  its 
 ideas,  and  can  range  them  right,  without  any  such  perplexing  repetitions.  I 
 say  not  this  any  way  to  lessen  Aristotle,  whom  I  look  on  as  one  of  the 
 greatest  men  among  the  ancients  ;  whose  large  views,  acuteness,  and  pene- 
 tration of  thought,  and  strength  of  judgment,  few  have  equalled  :  and  who 
 in  this  very  invention  of  forms  of  argumentation,  wherein  tlie  conclusion 
 may  be  shown  to  be  rightly  inferred,  did  great  service  against  those  who 
 were  not  ashamed  to  deny  any  thing.  And  I  readily  own,  that  all  right 
 reasoning  maybe  reduced  to  his  forms  of  syllogism.  But  yet  I  think,  without 
 any  diminution  to  him,  I  may  trulv  say,  that  they  are  not  the  only,  nor  the 
 best  way  of  reasoning,  for  the  leading  of  those  into  truth  who  are  willing  to 
 find  it,  and  desire  to  make  the  best  use  they  may  of  their  reason,  for  the 
 attainment  of  knowledge.  And  he  himself,  it  is  plain,  found  out  some  forms 
 to  be  conclusive,  and  others  not,  not  by  the  forms  themselves,  but  by  the 
 original  way  of  knowledge,  i.  e.  by  the  visible  agreement  of  ideas.  Tell  a 
 country  gentlewoman  that  the  wind  is  southwest,  and  the  weather  lowering, 
 and  like  to  rain,  and  she  will  easily  understand  it  is  not  safe  for  her  to  go 
 abroad  thin  clad,  in  such  a  day,  after  a  fever  :  she  clearly  sees  the  probable 
 connexion  of  all  these,  viz.  southwest  wind,  and  clouds,  rain,  wetting,  taking 
 cold,  relapse,  and  danger  of  death,  without  tying  them  together  in  those  arti- 
 ficial and  cumbersome  fetters  of  several  syllogisms,  that  clog  and  hinder  the 
 mind,  which  proceeds  from  one  ])art  to  another  quicker  and  clearer  without 
 them  ;  and  the  probability  which  she  easily  perceives  in  things  thus  in  their 
 native  state  would  bo  quite  lost,  if  this  argument  were  managed  learnedly, 
 and  proposed  in  mode  and  figure.  For  it  very  often  confounds  the  con- 
 nexion :  and,  I  think,  every  one  will  perceive  in  mathematical  demonstra- 
 tions, that  the  knowledge  gained  thereby  comes  shortest  and  clearest  without 
 syllogisms. 
 
 Inference  is  looked  on  as  the  great  act  of  the  rational  faculty,  and  so  it  is 
 when  it  is  rightly  made ;  but  the  mind,  either  very  desirous  to  enlarge  its 
 knowledge,  or  very  apt  to  favour  the  sentiments  it  has  once  imbibed,  is  very 
 forward  to  make  inferences,  and  therefore  often  makes  too  much  haste,  be- 
 fore it  perceives  the  connexion  of  the  ideas  that  must  hold  the  extremes 
 together. 
 
 To  infer  is  nothing  but,  by  virtue  of  one  proposition  laid  down  as  true,  to  draw 
 in  another  as  true,  i.  e.  to  see  or  suppose  such  a  connexion  of  the  two  ideas 
 of  the  inferred  proposition,  v.  ff.  let  this  be  the  proposition  laid  down, 
 "  men  shall  be  punished  in  another  world,"  and  from  thence  be  inferred  this 
 other,  "  then  men  can  determine  themselves."  The  question  now  is  to  know 
 whether  the  mind  has  made  this  inference  right  or  no;  if  it  has  made  it  by 
 finding  out  the  intermediate  i,dcaii<  and  taken  a  view  of  the  connexion  of 
 them,  placed  in  a  due  order,  it  has  proceeded  rationally,  and  made  a  right 
 inference.  If  it  has  done  it  without  such  a  view,  it  has  not  so  much  made 
 a,n  inference  that  will  hold,  or  an  inference  of  right  reason,  as  shown  a  wil- 
 lingness to  have  it  be,  or  be  taken  for  such.     But  in  neither  case  is  it  syllo- 
 
Ch.  17.  REASON.  439 
 
 gism  that  discovered  those  ideas,  or  showed  the  connexion  of  them,  for  they 
 must  be  both  found  out,  and  the  connexion  every  where  perceived,  before 
 tlicy  can  rationally  be  made  use  of  in  syllogism ;  unless  it  can  be  said,  that 
 any  idea,  without  considering  what  connexion  it  hath  with  the  two  other, 
 whose  agreement  should  be  shown  by  it,  will  do  well  enough  in  a  syllogism, 
 and  may  be  taken  at  a  venture  for  the  medius  terminus,  to  prove  any  con- 
 clusion. But  this  nobody  will  say,  because  it  is  by  virtue  of  the  perceived 
 agreement  of  the  intermediate  idea  with  the  extremes,  that  the  extremes  are 
 concluded  to  agree ;  and  therefore  each  intermediate  idea  must  be  such  as  in 
 the  whole  chain  hath  a  visible  connexion  with  those  two  it  has  been  placed 
 between,  or  else  thereby  the  conclusion  cannot  be  inferred  or  drawn  in  :  for 
 wherever  any  link  of  the  chain  is  loose,  and  without  connexion,  there  the 
 whole  strength  of  it  is  lost,  and  it  hath  no  force  to  infer  or  draw  in  any 
 thing.  In  the  instance  above  mentioned,  what  is  it  shows  the  force  of  the 
 inference,  and  consequently  the  reasonableness  of  it,  but  a  view  of  the  con- 
 nexion of  all  the  intermediate  ideas  that  draw  in  the  conclusion  or  proposi- 
 tion inferred?   v.  g.  men  shall  be  punished God  the  punisher just   I-.^jj_j 
 
 punishment the  punislied  guilty could  have  done  otherwise ■    ^^^.t 
 
 jiijl^^  freedom self-determination :  by  which  chain  of  ideas  thus  visibly  linked    "    f 
 
 >      together  in  train,  i.  e.  each  intermediate   idea  agreeing  on  each  side  with    tK*^ 
 S*  ^''^  those  two  it  is  immediately  placed  between,  the  ideas  of  men  and  self-deter-    ,,v^ 
 
 ,  mination  appear  to  be  connected,  i.  e.  this  proposition,  men  can  determine 
 ■*-"^  themselves,  is  drawn  in,  or  inferred  from  this,  that  they  shall  be  punished  in 
 a1.^jj  the  other  world.  For  here  the  mind,  seeing  the  connexion  there  is  between 
 cJ  the  idea  of  men's  punishment  in  the  other  world  and  the  idea  of  God's  pun- 
 1-  ,  "^  ishing  ;  between  God  punishing  and  the  justice  of  the  punislunent ;  between 
 ^<-*%  ■  justice  of  the  punishment  and  guilt ;  between  guilt  and  the  power  to  do  othei'-  ^ 
 
 ^,^^     wise  ;  between  a  power  to  do  otherwise  and  freedom  ;('and  between  freedom  '  Ou<^ 
 ,t    and  self-determination ;/ sees  the  connexion  between  men  and  self-deter- ^^f -< 
 »-*Y<*^  /  mination.  "^  ■■  i>tJt^ 
 
 ^    '      Now  I  ask  whether  the  connexion  of  the  extremes  be  not  mor^  clearly  it.x   < 
 
 seen  in  this  simple  and  natural  disposition,  than  in  the  perplexed  repetitions 
 •^  "-'1    and  jumble  of  five  or  six  syllogisms  ]    I  must  beg  pardon  for  calling  it  jumble, 
 till  somebody  shall  put  these  ideas  into  so  many  syllogisms,  and  then  say, 
 that  they  are  less  jumbled,  and  their  connexion  more  visible,  when  they  are 
 rWi/',  transposed  and  repeated,  and  spun  out  to  a  greater  length  in  artificial  forms 
 J      than  in  that  short  and  natural  plain  order  they  are  laid  down  in  here,  wherein 
 ^T'        every  one  may  see  it;  and  wherein  they  must  be  seen  before  they  can  be  put 
 n^       into  a  train  of  syllogisms.     For  the  natural  order  of  the  connecting  ideas 
 "        must  direct  the  order  of  the  syllogisms;  and  a  man  must  see  the  connexion 
 of  each  intermediate  idea  with  those  that  it  connects,  before  he  can  with  rea- 
 son make  use  of  it  in  a  syllogism.     And  when  all  those  syllogisms  are  made, 
 neither  those  that  are,  nor  those  that  are  not  logicians  will  see  the  force  of 
 the  argumentation,  i.  e.  the  connexion  of  the  extremes,  one  jot  the   better. 
 [For  those  that  are  not  men  of  art,  not  knowing  the  true  forms  of  syllogism, 
 nor  the  reasons  of  them,  cannot  know  whether  they  are  made  in  right  and 
 conclusive  modes  and  figures  or  no,  and  so  are  not  at  all  helped  by  the  forms 
 they  are  put  into  ;  thougli  by  them  the  natural  order,  wherein  the  mind  could 
 judge  of  their  respective  connexion,  being  disturbed,  renders  the  illatation 
 much  more  uncertain  than  without  them.]    And  as  for  the  logicians  themselves, 
 they  see  the  connexion  of  each  intermediate  idea  with  those  it  stands  be- 
 tween (on  wiiich  the  force  of  tlie  inference  depends)  as  well  before  as  after 
 the  syllogism  is  made,  or  else  they  do  not  see  it  at  all.     For  a  syllogism 
 neither  shows  nor  strengthens  the  connexion  of  any  two  ideas  immediately 
 put  together,  but  only  by  the  connexion  seen  in  them  shows  what  connexion 
 the  extremes  have  one  with  another.     But  what  connexion  the  intermediate 
 has  with  either  of  the  extremes  in  that  syllogism,  that  no  syllogism  does  or 
 can  show.     That  the  mind  only  doth  or  can  perceive  as  they  stand  there  in 
 that  juxta-posilion  only  by  its  own  view,  to  which  the  syllogistical  form  it 
 
 ^•■^i 
 
440  OF  HUMAN  Ux\DERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 happens  to  be  in  gives  no  lielp  or  Yight  at  all;  it  only  eliows  that  if  the  inter- 
 mediate idea  agrees  witli  those  it  is  on  both  sides  immediately  applied  to, 
 tlien  tho.se  two  remote  ones,  or  as  they  are  called  extremes,  do  certainly 
 agree,  and  therefore  the  imaiediate  connexion  of  each  idea  to  that  which  it 
 is  applied  to  on  each  side,  on  which  the  force  of  the  reasoning  depends,  is  as 
 well  seen  before  as  after  the  syllogism  is  made,  or  else  lie  that  makes  the 
 syllogism  could  never  see  it  at  all.  This,  as  has  been  already  observed,  is 
 seen  only  by  the  eye,  or  the  perceptive  faculty  of  the  mind,  taking  a  view  ot 
 them  laid  together  in  a  juxta-position ;  which  view  of  any  two  it  has  equally, 
 whenever  they  are  laid  together  in  any  jjropot^ition,  whether  that  proposition 
 be  placed  as  a  major,  or  a  minor  in  a  syllogism  or  no. 
 
 Of  what  use  then  are  syllogisms  ?  I  answer,  their  chief  and  main  «so  is  in 
 the  schools,  where  men  are  allowed  without  shame  to  deny  the  agreement  of 
 ideas  that  do  manifostly  agree;  or. out  of  the  scliools,  to  those  who  from 
 thence  have  learned  without  shame  to  deny  the  connexion  of  ideas,  whichy 
 even  to  themselves  is  visible.  But  to  an  ingenious  searcher  after  truth,  who 
 has  no  other  aim  but  to  find  it,  there  is  no  need  of  any  sucli  form  to  force  the 
 allowing  of  the  inference  :  the  truth  and  reasonableness  of  it  is  better  seen  in 
 ranging  of  the  ideas  in  a  simple  and  plain  order :  and  hence  it  is,  that  men, 
 in  their  own  inquiries  after  truth,  never  use  syllogisms  to  convince  them- 
 selves, [or  in  teaching  others  to  instruct  willing  learners.]  Because,  before 
 they  can  put  them  into  a  syllogism,  they  must  see  the  connexion  that  is  be- 
 tween the  intermediate  idea  and  the  two  other  ideas  it  is  set  between  and 
 applied  to,  to  show  their  agreement ;  and  when  they  see  that,  they  see  whe- 
 ther the  inference  be  good  or  no,  and  so  syllogism  comes  too  late  to  settle 
 it.  For  to  make  use  again  of  the  former- instance,  I  ask  wheUier  the  mind, 
 considering  the  idea  of  justice,  placed  as  an  intermediate  idea  between  the 
 punishment  of  men  and  the  guilt  of  the  punished,  (and,  till  it  does  so  con- 
 sider it,  the  mind  cannot  make  use  of  it  as  a  medius  terminus)  does  not  as 
 plainly  see  the  force  and  strength  of  the  inference  as  when  it  is  formed  into 
 a  syllogism "!  To  show  it  in  a  very  plain  and  easy  example ;  let  animal  be 
 the  intermediate  idea  of  medius  terminus  that  the  mind  makes  use  of  to  show 
 the  connexion  of  homo  and  vivens :  I  ask,  whether  the  mind  does  not  more 
 readily  and  plainly  see  that  connexion  in  the  simple  and  proper  position  of 
 the  connecting  idea  in  the  middle  ;  thus. 
 
 Homo Animal Vivens. 
 
 than  in  this  perplexed  one, 
 
 Animal Vivens Homo Animal : 
 
 which  is  the  position  these  ideas  have  in  a  syllogism,  to  show  the  connexion 
 between  homo  und  vivens  by  the  intervention  of  animal. 
 
 Indeed,  syllogism  is  thought  to  be  of  necessary  use,  even  to  the  lovers  of 
 truth,  to  show  them  the  fallacies  that  are  often  concealed  in  florid,  witty,  or 
 invoived  discourses.  B'jt  that  this  is  a  mistake  will  appear  if  we  consider, 
 that  t.'ie  reason  why  sometimes  men,  who  sincerely  aim  at  truth,  are  imposed 
 upon  by  such  loose,  and  as  they  are  called,  rhetorical  discourses,  is,  that 
 their  fancies  being  struck  with  some  lively  metaphorical  representations,  they 
 neglect  fo  observe,  or  do  not  easily  perceive,  what  are  the  true  ideas  upon 
 which  the  inference  depends.  Now  to  show  such  men  the  weakness  of  such 
 an  argumentation,  there  needs  no  more  but  to  strip  it  of  the  superfluous  ideas,  J 
 which,  blended  and  confounded  with  those  on  which  tlie  inference  depends, 
 seems  to  show  a  connexion  where  there  is  none ;  or  at  least  to  hinder  the 
 discovery  of  the  want  of  it ;  and  then  to  lay  the  naked  ideas,  on  which  the 
 force  of  the  argumentation  depends,  in  their  due  ord'^r,  in  which  position  the 
 nnnd,  taking  a  view  of  them,  sees  what  connexion  they  have,  and  so  is  able 
 to  judge  of  the  inference  without  any  need  of  a  syllogism  at  all. 
 
 i  grant  that  mode  and  figure  is  commonly  made  use  of  in  such  cases,  as  if 
 the  detection  of  the  incoherence  of  such  loose  discourses  were  wholly  owing 
 to  the  syllogiiUical  form;  and  so  I  myself  formerly  thought,  till  upon  a  stricter 
 examination  I  now  find,  that  laying  the  intermediate  ideas  naked  in  their 
 
Ch.  17.  REASON.  441 
 
 duo  order  shows  tlie  incoherence  of  tJie  argumentation  better  than  syllogism  ; 
 )\ot  only  as  subjecting  each  link  of  the  chain  to  the  immediate  view  of  the 
 mind  in  its  proper  place,  whereby  its  connexion  is  best  observed  ;  but  also 
 because  syllogism  shows  the  incoherence  only  to  tliose  (who  are  not  one  of 
 ten  thousand)  who  perfectly  understand  mode  and  figure,  and  the  reason 
 upon  which  those  forms  are  established :  whereas  a  due  and  orderly  placing 
 of  the  ideas  upon  which  the  inference  is  made  makes  every  one,  whether 
 logician  or  not  logician,  who  understands  the  terms,  and  hath  the  faculty  to 
 perceive  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  such  ideas  (without  which,  in  or 
 out  of  syllogism,  he  cannot  perceive  the  strength  or  weakness,  coherence  or 
 incoherence,  of  the  discourse)  see  the  want  of  connexion  in  the  argumenta- 
 tion, and  the  absurdity  of  the  inference. 
 
 And  thus  I  have  known  a  man  unskilful  in  syllogism,  who  at  first  hearing  i 
 could  perceive  the  weakness  and  inconclusiveness  of  a  long,  artificial,  and ; 
 plausible  discourse,  wherewith  others  better  skilled  in  syllogism  have  been 
 misled.  And  I  believe  there  are  few  of  my  readers  who  do  not  know  such. 
 And  indeed  if  it  were  not  so,  the  debates  of  most  princes'  counsels,  and  the 
 business  of  assemblies,  would  be  in  danger  to  be  mismanaged,  since  those 
 who  are  relied  upon,  and  have  usually  a  great  stroke  in  them,  are  not  always 
 such  who  have  the  good  luck  to  be  perfectly  knowing  in  the  forms  of  syllo- 
 gism, or  expert  in  mode  and  figure.  And  if  syllogism  were  the  only  or  so 
 much  as  the  surest  way  to  detect  the  fallacies  of  artificial  discourses,  I  do 
 not  think  that  all  mankind,  even  princes,  in  matters  that  concern  their 
 crowns  and  dignities,  are  so  much  in  love  with  falsehood  and  mistake, 
 that  they  would  every  where  have  neglected  to  bring  syllogism  into  the 
 debates  of  moment,  or  thought  it  ridiculous  so  much  as  to  oflfer  them  in  aifairs 
 of  consequence;  a  plain  evidence  to  nie,  that  men  of  parts  and  penetration, 
 who  were  not  idly  to  dispute  at  their  ease,  but  were  to  act  according  to  the 
 result  of  their  debates,  and  ofl;en  pay  for  their  mistakes  with  their  heads 
 or  fortunes,  found  those  scholastic  forms  were  of  little  use  to  discover  truth 
 or  fallacy,  whilst  both  the  one  and  the  other  might  be  shown,  and  better 
 shown,  without  them,  to  those  who  would  not  refuse  to  see  what  was  visibly 
 shown  them.  , , — _ — -     M^-f-^^^J^' 
 
 Secondly,  Another  reason  that  makes  me  doubt  whether  syllogism  be  the  ^ 
 only  proper  instnmient  of  reason  in  the  discovery  of  truth  is,  that  of  what- 
 ever use  mode  and  figure  is  pretended  to  be  in  the  laying  open  of  fallacy 
 (which  has  been  above  considered)  those  scholastic  forms  of  discourse  are 
 not  less  liable  to  fallacies  than  the  plainer  ways  of  argumentation ;  and  for 
 this  r  appeal  to  common  ol)servation,  which  has  always  found  these  artificial 
 methods  of  reasoning  more  adapted  to  catch  and  entangle  the  mind,  than  to 
 instruct  and  inform  the  understanding.  And  hence  it  is  that  men,  even  when 
 they  are  baffled  and  silenced  in  this  scholastic  way,  are  seldom  or  never  con- 
 vinced, and  so  brought  over  to  the  conquering  side  ;  they  perhaps  acknow- 
 ledge their  adversary  to  be  the  more  skilful  disputant,  but  rest  nevertheless 
 persuaded  of  the  truth  on  their  side  ;  and  go  away,  worsted  as  they  are,  with 
 the  same  opinion  they  brought  with  them,  which  they  could  not  do  if  this 
 way  of  argumentation  carried  light  and  conviction  with  it,  and  made  men 
 see  where  the  truth  lay.  And  therefore  syllogism  has  been  thought  more 
 proper  for  the  attaining  victory  in  dispute,  than  for  the  discovery  or  confirma-  ' 
 tion  of  truth  in  fair  inquiries.  And  if  it  be  certain  that  fallacies  can  be 
 couched  in  syllogism,  as  it  cannot  be  denied,  it  must  be  something  else,  and 
 not  syllogism,  that  must  discover  them. 
 
 I  have  had  experience  how  ready  some  men  are,  when  all  the  use  which 
 they  have  been  wont  to  ascribe  to  any  thing  is  not  allowed,  to  cry  out,  that 
 I  am  for  laying  it  wholly  aside.  But,  to  prevent  such  unjust  and  groundless 
 imputations,  I  tell  them,  that  I  am  not  for  taking  away  any  helps  to  the  un- 
 derstanding, in  the  attainment  of  knowledge.  And  if  men  skilled  in,  and 
 used  to  syllogisms,  find  them  assisting  to  their  reason  in  the  discovery  of 
 truth,  I  think  they  ought  to  make  use  of  them.  All  that  I  aim  at  is,  that 
 3F 
 
442  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 they  should  not  ascribe  more  to  those  forms  than  belongs  to  tliem  ;  and  think 
 that  men  have  no  use,  or  not  so  full  an  use  of  their  reasoning  faculty  without 
 them.  Some  eyes  want  spectacles  to  see  things  clearly  and  distinctly ;  but 
 let  not  those  that  use  them  therefore  say,  nobody  can  see  clearly  without 
 them  :  tliose  who  do  so  will  be  thought  in  favour  of  art  (which  perliaps  they 
 are  beholden  to)  a  little  too  much  to  depress  and  discredit  nature.  Reason, 
 by  its  own  penetration,  where  it  is  strong  and  exercised,  usually  sees  quicker 
 and  clearer  without  syllogism.  If  use  of  those  spectacles  has  so  dimmed 
 its  sight  that  it  cannot  without  them  see  consequences  or  inconsequences  in 
 argumentation,  I  am  not  so  unreasonable  as  to  be  against  using  them.  Every 
 one  knows  what  best  fits  his  own  sight.  But  let  him  not  thence  conclude  all 
 in  the  dark,  who  use  not  just  the  same  hel])s  that  he  finds  a  need  of 
 
 Sect.  5.  Helps  little  in  demonstration,  less  in  probability. — But  however 
 it  be  in  kn^'wlodge,  I  think  I  may  truly  say,  it  is  of  far  less,  or  no  use  at  all 
 in  probabilities.  For,  the  assent  there  being  to  be  determined  by  the  prepon- 
 derancy,  after  due  weighing  of  all  the  proofs,  with  all  circumstances  on  both 
 sides,  nothing  is  so  unfit  to  assist  the  mind  in  that  as  syllogism  ;  which  run- 
 ning away  with  one  assumed  probability,  or  one  topical  argument,  pursues 
 that  till  it  has  led  the  mind  quite  out  of  sight  of  the  thing  under  considera- 
 tion ;  and  forcing  it  upon  some  remote  difficulty,  holds  it  fast  there,  entangled 
 perhaps,  and  as  it  were  manacled  in  the  chain  of  syllogisms,  without  allow- 
 ing it  tlie  liberty,  much  less  affording  it  the  helps,  requisite  to  show  oh  which 
 side,  all  things  considered,  is  the  greater  probability. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Serves  not  to  increase  our  knowledge,  but  fence  with  it. — But 
 let  it  help  us  (as  perhaps  may  be  said)  in  convincing  men  of  their  errors  and 
 mistakes :  (and  yet  I  would  fain  see  the  man  that  was  forced  out  of  his 
 opinion  by  dint  of  syllogism)  yet  still  it  fails  our  reason  in  that  part,  which, 
 if  not  its  highest  perfection,  is  yet  certainly  its  hardest  task,  and  that  which 
 we  most  need  its  help  in  ;  and  that  is  the  finding  out  of  proofs,  and  making 
 new  discoveries.  The  rules  of  syllogism  serve  not  to  furnish  the  mind  with 
 those  intermediate  ideas  that  may  show  the  connexion  of  remote  ones.  This] 
 way  of  reasoning  discovers  no  new  proofs,  but  is  the  art  of  marshalling  andi' 
 ranging  the  old  ones  we  have  already.  The  forty-seventh  proposition  of  the 
 first  book  of  Euclid  is  very  true  ;  but  the  discovery  of  it,  I  think,  not  owing 
 to  any  rules  of  common  logic.  A  man  knows  first,  and  then  he  is  able  to 
 prove  syllogistically.  So  that  syllogism  comes  after  knowledge,  and  then  a, 
 man  has  little  or  no  need  of  it.  But  it  is  chiefly  by  the  finding  out  tiiose  ideas 
 that  show  the  connexion  of  distant  ones,  that  our  stock  of  knowledge  is  in- 
 creased, and  that  useful  arts  and  sciences  are  advanced.  Syllogism  at  best 
 is  but  the  art  of  fencing  with  the  little  knowledge  we  have,  without  making 
 any  addition  to  it.  And  if  a  man  should  employ  his  reason  all  this  way,  he 
 will  not  do  much  otherwise  than  he,  who  having  got  some  iron  out  of  the 
 bowels  of  the  earth,  should  have  it  beaten  up  all  into  swords,  and  put  into 
 his  servants'  hands  to  fence  with,  and  bang  one  another.  Had  the  king  of 
 Spain  employed  the  hands  of  his  people,  and  his  Spanish  iron  so,  he  had 
 brought  to  light  but  little  of  that  treasure  that  lay  so  long  hid  in  the  entrails 
 of  America.  And  I  am  apt  to  think,  that  he  who  shall  employ  all  the  force 
 of  his  reason  only  in  brandishing  of  syllogisms,  will  discover  very  little  of 
 that  mass  of  knowledge  which  lies  yet  concealed  in  the  secret  recesses  of 
 nature  ;  and  which,  I  am  apt  to  think,  native  rustic  reason  (as  it  formerly  has 
 done)  is  likelier  to  open  a  way  to,  and  add  to  the  common  stock  of  mankind, 
 rather  than  any  scholastic  proceeding  by  the  strict  rules  of  mode  and  figure. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Other  helps  should  be  sought. — I  doubt  not,  nevertheless,  but 
 there  are  ways  to  be  found  out  to  assist  our  reason  in  this  most  useful  part ; 
 and  this  the  judicious  Hooker  encourages  mo  to  say,  who  in  his  Eccl.  Pol. 
 1.  i.  \  6,  speaks  thus  :  "  If  there  might  be  added  the  right  helps  of  true  art 
 and  learning  (which  helps,  I  must  plainly  confess,  tliis  age  of  the  world,  car- 
 rying the  name  of  a  learned  age,  doth  neither  much  know,  nor  generally 
 regard)  there  would  undoubtedly  be  almost  as  much  difference  in  maturity 
 
Ch.  17.  REASON.  443 
 
 of  judgment  between  men  therewith  inured,  and  that  which  men  now  are,  as 
 between  men  that  are  now  and  innocents."  I  do  not  pretend  to  have  found, 
 or  discovered  here  any  of  tliose  right  helps  of  art  this  great  man  of  deep 
 thought  mentions;  but  this  is  plain,  that  syllogism,  and  the  logic  now  in  use, 
 which  were  as  well  known  in  his  days,  can  be  none  of  those  he  means.  It 
 is  sufficient  for  me,  if  by  a  discourse,  perhaps  something  out  of  the  way,  I 
 am  sure  as  to  me  wholly  new  and  unborrowed,  I  shall  have  given  occasion 
 to  others  to  cast  about  for  new  discoveries,  and  to  seek  in  their  own  thoughts 
 for  those  right  helps  of  art,  which  will  scarce  be  found,  I  fear,  by  those  who 
 servilely  confine  themselves  to  the  rules  and  dictates  of  others.  For  beaten 
 tracks  lead  this  sort  of  cattle  (as  an  observing  Roman  calls  them)  whose 
 thoughts  reach  only  to  imitation,  non  quo  eundiim  est,  sed  quo  itur.  But  I 
 can  be  bold  to  say,  that  this  age  is  adorned  with  some  men  of  that  strength 
 of  judgment,  and  largeness  of  comprehension,  that  if  they  would  employ 
 their  thoughts  on  this  subject,  could  open  new  and  undiscovered  ways  to  the 
 advancement  of  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  8.  We  reason  about  particulars. — Having  here  had  an  occasion  to 
 speak  of  syllogism  in  general,  and  the  use  of  it  in  reasoning,  and  the  improve- 
 ment of  our  knowledge,  it  is  fit,  before  I  leave  this  subject,  to  take  notice  of 
 one  manifest  mistake  in  the  rules  of  syllogism,  viz.  that  no  syllogistical  rea- 
 soning can  be  right  and  conclusive,  but  what  has  at  least  one  general  propo.* 
 sition  in  it.  As  if  we  could  not  reason,  and  have  knowledge  about  particu- 
 lars :  whereas,  in  truth,  the  matter  rightly  considered,  the  immediate  object  i 
 of  all  our  reasoning  and  knowledge  is  nothing  but  particulars.  Every  ——  / 
 man's  reasoning  and  knowledge  is  only  about  the  ideas  existing  in  his  own  .//  ■/ 
 mind,  which  are  truly,  every  one  of  them,  pcLrtic.ulaj?-  existences ;  and  our  * 
 knowledge  and  reason  about  other  things  is  only  as  they  correspond  with 
 those  of  our  particular  ideas.  So  that  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or 
 disagreement  of  our  ])articular  ideas  is  the  whole  and  utmost  of  all  our  know- 
 ledge. Universality  is  but  accidental  to  it,  and  consists  only  in  this,  that  the 
 particular  ideas  about  which  it  is  are  such,  as  more  than  one  particular  thing 
 can  correspond  with,  and  be  represented  by.  But  the  perception  of  the 
 agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  two  ideas,  consequently  our  own  know- 
 ledge is  equally  clear  and  certain,  whether  either,  or  both,  or  neither  of  those 
 ideas  be  capable  of  representing  more  real  beings  than  one,  or  no.  One  thing 
 more  I  crave  leave  to  offer  about  syllogism,  before  I  leave  it,  viz.  may  one 
 not  upon  just  ground  inquire,  whether  the  form  syllogism  now  has  is  that 
 which  in  reason  it  ought  to  have  ?  For  the  medius  terminus  being  to  join  the 
 extremes,  i.  e.  the  intermediate  idea  by  its  intervention,  to  show  the  agree- 
 ment or  disagreement  of  the  two  in  question  :  would  not  the  position  of  the 
 medius  terminus  be  more  natural,  and  show  the  agreement  and  disagreement 
 of  the  extremes  clearer  and  better,  if  it  were  placed  in  the  middle  between 
 them?  which  might  be  easily  done  by  transposing  the  propositions,  and 
 making  the  medius  terminus  the  predicate  of  the  first,  and  the  subject  of  the 
 second.     As  thus, 
 
 "  Omnis  homo  est  animal, 
 Omne  animal  est  vivens, 
 Ergo  omnis  homo  est  vivens. 
 
 "  Omne  corpus  est  extensum  et  solidum. 
 Nullum  extensum  et  solidum  est  pura  extensio, 
 Ergo  corpus  non  est  pura  extensio." 
 
 I  need  not  trouble  my  reader  with  instances  in  syllogisms,  whose  conclusions 
 are  particular.  The  same  reason  holds  for  the  same  form  in  them,  as  well 
 as  in  the  general. 
 
 Sect.  9.     1.  Reason  fails  us  for  want  of  ideas. — Reason,  though  it  pene- 
 trates into  the  depths  of  the  sea  and  earth,  elevates  our  thoughts  as  high  as 
 
414  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 llie  stars,  and  leads  us  through  the  vast  spaces  and  large  rooms  of  this  miglity 
 fabric,  yet  it  comes  far  short  of  the  real  extent  of  even  corporeal  being,  and 
 tiiere  are  many  instances  wherein  it  fails  us  :  as, 
 
 First,  It  perfectly  fails  us  wiiere  our  ideas  fail.  It  neither  does  nor  can  ex- 
 tend itself  farther  than  they  do.  And  therefore  wherever  we  have  no  ideas, 
 our  reasoning  stops,  and  we  are  at  an  end  of  .our  reckoning;  and  if  at  any 
 time  we  reason  about  words,  wliich  do  not  stand  for  any  ideas,  it  is  oidy 
 about  those  somids,  and  nothing  else. 
 
 Sect.  10.  2.  Because  of  obscure  and  imperfect  ideas. — Secondly,  Our 
 reason  is  ollen  puzzled  and  at  a  loss,  because  of  the  obscurity,  confusion,  or 
 imperfection  of  the  ideas  it  is  employed  about  ;  and  there  we  are  involved  in 
 difficulties  and  contradictions.  Thus,  not  having  any  perfect  idea  of  the 
 least  extension  of  matter  nor  of  infinity,  we  are  at  a  loss  about  the  divisibility 
 of  matter  ;  but  having  perfect,  clear,  and  distinct  ideas  of  number,  our  reason 
 meets  with  none  of  those  inextricable  difficulties  in  numbers,  nor  finds  itself 
 involved  in  any  contradictions  about  them.  Thus,  we,  having  but  imperfect 
 ideas  of  the  operations  of  our  minds,  and  of  the  beginning  of  motion  or 
 thouglit  how  the  mind  produces  either  of  them  in  us,  and  much  more  imperfect 
 yet  of  the  operation  of  God;  run  into  great  difficulties  about  free  created 
 agents,  which  reason  cannot  well  extricate  itself  out  of.  ^ 
 
 Sect.  11.  3.  For  want  of  intermediate  ideas. — Thirdly,  Our  reason- is 
 often  at  a  stand,  because  it  perceives  not  those  ideas  which  could  serve  to 
 show  the  certain  or  probable  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  other  two 
 ideas  ;  and  in  this  some  men's  faculties  far  outgo  others.  Till  algebra,  that 
 great  instrument  and  instance  of  human  sagacity  was  discovered,  men  witii 
 amazement  looked  on  several  of  the  demonstrations  of  ancient  mathemati- 
 cians, and  could  scarce  forbear  to  think  the  finding  several  of  those  proofs  to 
 be  something  more  than  human. 
 
 Sect.  12.  4.  Because  of  wrong  principles. — Fourthly,  The  mind,  by 
 proceeding  upon  false  principles,  is  often  engaged  in  absurdities  and  difficul- 
 ties, brought  into  straits  and  contradictions,  without  knowing  how  to  free 
 itself;  and  in  that  case  it  is  in  vain  to  implore  the  help  of  reason,  unless  it 
 be  to  discover  the  falsehood  and  reject  the  influence  of  those  wrong  prini 
 ciples.  Reason  is  so  far  from  clearing  the  difficulties  which  tlie  building 
 u])on  false  foundations  brings  a  man  into,  that  if  he  will  pursue  it,  it  entangles 
 him  the  more,  and  engages  him  deeper  in  perplexities. 
 
 Sect.  3.  5.  Because  of  doubtful  terms. — Fifthly,  As  obscure  and  imper- 
 fect ideas  often  involve  our  reason,  so,  upon  the  same  ground,  do  dubious 
 words,  and  uncertain  signs,  often  in  discourses  and  arguings,  when  not 
 warily  attended  to,  puzzle  men's  reason,  and  bring  them  to  a  nonplus.  But 
 tliese  two  latter  are  our  fault,  and  not  the  fault  of  reason.  But  yet  the  con- 
 sequences of  them  are  nevertheless  obvious;  and  the  perplexities  or  errors 
 they  fill  men's  minds  with  are  every  where  observable. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Our  highest  degree  of  knowledge  is  intuitive,  without  reason- 
 ing.— Some  of  the  ideas  that  are  in  the  mind  are  so  there,  that  they  cau  bA  > 
 \^y  themselves  immediately  compared  one  with  another  :  and  in  these  the  mindi'' 
 is  able  to  perceive  that  they  agree  or  disagree  as  clearly  as  that  it  has  thein.i 
 Thus  the  mind  perceives  that  an  arch  of  a  circle  is  less  than  the  whole  circle, 
 as  clearly  as  it  does  the  idea  of  a  circle  ;  and  this,  therefore,  as  hss  been 
 said,  I  call  intuitive  knowledge,  which  is  certain,  beyond  all  doubt,  and  necd>i 
 no  probation,  nor  can  have  any ;  this  being  the  highest  of  all  human  cer- 
 tainty. In  this  consists  the  evidence  of  all  those  maxims,  which  nobody  h.as 
 any  doubt  about,  but  every  man  (does  not,  as  is  said,  only  assent  to,  but) 
 knows  to  be  true  as  soon  as  ever  they  are  proposed  to  his  understanding.  In 
 tlie  discovery  of,  and  assent  to  these  truths,  there  is  no  use  of  the  discursive 
 faculty,  no  need  of  reasoning,  but  they  are  known  by  a  superior  and  higher 
 degree  of  evidence.  And  such,  if  I  may  guess  at  tilings  unknown,  I  am  apt 
 to  tiiinic  that  angcl.s  have  now,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect  siiall 
 
Ch.  17.  REASON.  •.  445 
 
 have,  in  a  future  state,  of  tliousands  of  things,  which  now  either  wholly- 
 escape  oui"  apprehensions,  or  which,  our  short  sighted  reason  having  got 
 some  faint  glimpse  of,  we  in  the  dark  grope  after. 
 
 Sect.  15.  The  next  is  demonstration  by  reasoning. — But  though  we  have, 
 here  and  there,  a  httle  of  this  clear  light,  some  sparks  of  bright  knowledge ; 
 yet  the  greatest  part  of  our  ideas  are  such,  that  we  cannot  discern  their 
 agreement  or  disagreement  by  an  immediate  comparing  them.  And  in  all 
 these  we  have  need  of  reasoning,  and  must,  by  discourse  and  inference, 
 make  our  discoveries.  Now  of  these  there  are  two  sorts,  which  I  shall  take 
 the  liberty  to  mention  here  again. 
 
 I]irst,  Those  whose  agreement  or  disagreement,  though  it  cannot  be  seen 
 by  ah'immediate  putting  them  together,  yet  may  be  examined  by  the  inter- 
 vention of  other  ideas  which  can  be  compared  with  them.  In  this  case,  when 
 the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  intermediate  idea,  on  both  sides  with 
 those  which  we  would  compare,  is  plainly  discerned,  there  it  amounts  to  a 
 demonstration,  whereby  knowledge  is  produced ;  which,  though  it  be  certain, 
 yet  it  is  not  so  easy  nor  altogether  so  clear  as  intuitive  knowledge.  Be- 
 cause in  that  tliere  is  barely  one  simple  intuition,  wherein  there  is  no  room 
 for  any  the  least  mistake  or  doubt ;  the  truth  is  seen  all  perfectly  at  once.  In 
 demonstration,  it  is  true,  there  is  intuition  too,  but  nOt  altogether  at  once;  for 
 there  must  be  a  remembrance  of  the  intuition  of  the  agreement  of  the  me- 
 dium, or  intermediate  idea,  with  that  we  compared  it  with  before,  when  we 
 compare  it  with  the  other ;  and  where  there  may  be  many  mediums,  there 
 the  danger  of  the  mistake  is  the  greater.  For  each  agreement  or  disagree- 
 ment of  the  ideas  must  be  observed  and  seen  in  each  step  of  the  whole  train, 
 and  retained  in  the  memory  just  as  it  is ;  and  the  mind  must  be  sure  that  no 
 part  of  what  is  necessary  to  make  up  the  demonstration  is  omitted  or  over- 
 looked. This  makes  some  demonstrations  long  and  perplexed,  and  too  hard 
 for  those  who  have  not  strength  of  parts  distinctly  to  perceive,  and  exactly 
 carry,  so  many  particulars' orderly  in  their  heads.  And  even  those  who  are 
 able  to  master  such  intricate  speculations  are  fain  sometimes  to  go  over  them 
 again,  and  there  is  need  of  more  than  one  review  before  they  can  arrive  at 
 certainty.  But  yet  where  the  mind  clearly  retains  the  intuition  it  had  of  the 
 agreement  of  any  idea  with  another,  and  that  with  a  third,  and  that  with  a 
 fourth,  &c.  there  the  agreement  of  the  first  and  the  fourth  is  a  demonstra- 
 tion, and  produces  certain  knowledge,  which  may  be  called  rational  know- 
 ledge, as  the  other  is  intuitive. 
 
 Sect.  16.  To  supply  the  narrowness  of  this,  we  have  nothing  hut  judg- 
 ment -upon  probable  reasoning. — Secondly,  There  are  other  ideas,  whose 
 agreement  or  disagreement  can  no  otherwise  be  judged  of  but  by  the  inter- 
 vention of  others,  which  have  not  a  certain  agreement  with  the  extremes,  but  . 
 an  usual  or  likely  one ;  and  in  these  it  is  that  the  judgment  is  properly  exer-'/ 
 cised,  which  is  the  acquiescing  of  the  mind,  that  any  ideas  do  agree,  by  com- 
 paring them  with  such  probable  mediums.  This,  though  it  never  amounts  to 
 knowledge,  no  not  to  that  which  is  the  lowest  degree  of  it ;  yet  sometimes 
 the  intermediate  ideas  tie  the  extremes  so  firmly  together,  and  the  probability 
 is  so  clear  and  strong,  that  assent  as  necessarily  follows  it  as  knowledge 
 does  demonstration.  The  great  excellency  and  use  of  the  judgment  is  to 
 obsen-e  riglit,  and  take  a  true  estimate  of  the  force  and  weight  of  each  pro- 
 bability ;  and  then,  casting  them  up  all  right  together,  choose  the  side  which 
 has  the  overbalance. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Intuition,  demonstration,  judgment. — Intuitive  knowledge  i.s 
 the  perception  of  the  certain  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  ideas  imme- 
 diately compared  together. 
 
 Rational  knowledge  is  the  perception  of  the  certain  agreement  or  disagree- 
 ment of  any  two  ideas,  by  the  intervention  of  one  or  more  other  ideas. 
 
 Judgment  is  the  thinking  or  taking  two  ideas  to  agree  or  disagree,  by  the 
 mtervention  of  one  or  more  ideas,  whose  certain  agreement  or  disagreement 
 with  them  it  does  not  perceive,  but  hath  observed  to  be  frequent  and  usual. 
 
415  ^F  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Consequences  of  words,  and  consequences  of  ideas. — Thoun-h 
 the  deducing  one  proposition  from  another,  or  making  inferences  in  wor^, 
 be  a  great  part  of  reason,  and  that  wliich  it  is  usuaUv  employed  about ;  vet 
 the  principal  act  of  ratiocination  is  the  finding  the  agreement  or  disagree-i^ 
 raent  of  two  ideas  one  with  another,  by  the  intenention  of  a  third.  As 
 a  man,  by  a  yard,  finds  two  houses  to  be  of  the  same  length,  which  could  not 
 be  brought  together  to  measure  their  equality  by  juxta-position.  Words  have 
 their  consequences,  as  the  signs  of  such  ideas :  and  things  agree  or  disagree, 
 as  really  they  are :  but  we  obsene  it  only  by  our  ideas. 
 
 Sect.  19.  Four  sorts  of  arguments. — Before  we  quit  this  subject,  it  may 
 be  worth  our  whUe  a  little  to  reflect  on  four  sorts  of  arguments  that  men,  in 
 their  reasonings  with  others,  do  ordinarily  make  use  of  to  prevail  on  their 
 assent:  or  at  least  so  to  awe  them,  as  to  silence  their  opposition. 
 
 1.  Ad  rerecundiam. — First,  the  first  is  to  allege  the  opinions  of  men, 
 whose  parts,  learaing,  eminency,  power,  or  some  other  cause  has  gained  a 
 name,  and  settled  a  reputation  in  the  common  esteem  with  some  kind  of 
 authority.  When  men  are  established  in  any  kind  of  dignity,  it  is  thought  a 
 breach  of  modesty  for  others  to  derogate  any  way  from  it,  and  question  the 
 authority  of  men  who  are  in  possession  of  it.  This  is  apt  to  be  censured,  as 
 carrying  with  it  too  much  of  pride,  when  a  man  does  not  readily  yield  to  the 
 determination  of  approved  authors,  which  is  wont  to  be  received  with  respect 
 and  submission  by  others :  and  it  is  looked  upon  as  insolence  for  a  man  to  set 
 up  and  adhere  to  his  own  opinion  against  the  current  stream  of  antiquity  ;  or 
 to  put  it  in  the  balance  against  that  of  some  learned  doctor,  or  otherwnse  ap- 
 proved writer.  Whoever  backs  his  tenets  with  such  authorities,  thinks  he  ought 
 thereby  to  carry  the  cause,  and  is  ready  to  style  it  impudence  in  any  one  who 
 shall  stand  out  against  them.  This,  I  think,  may  be  called  argumentum  ad 
 verecundiam. 
 
 Sect.  '20  2.  Ad  ignorantiam. — Secondly,  Another  way  that  men  ordi- 
 narily use  to  drive  others,  and  force  them  to  submit  to  their  judgments,  and 
 receive  the  opinion  in  debate,  is  to  require  the  adversary  to  admit  what  they 
 aUege  as  a  proof,  or  to  assign  a  better.  And  this  I  call  argumentum  ad  ig- 
 norantiam. 
 
 Sect.  21.  3.  Ad  hominem. — Thirdly,  A  third  way  is  to  press  a  man  with 
 consequences  drawn  from  his  own  principles  or  concessions.  This  is  already 
 known  under  the  name  of  argumentum  ad  hominem. 
 
 Sect.  22.  4.  Ad  judicium. — Fourthly,  The  fourth  is  the  using  of  proofs 
 drawn  from  any  of  the  foundations  of  knowledge  or  probability.  This  I  call 
 argumentum  ad  judicium.  This  alone,  of  all  the  four,  brings  true  instruc- 
 tion^ with  it,  and  advances  us  in  our  way  to  knowledge.  For,  1.  It  argues 
 not  another  man's  opinions  to  be  right,  because  I.  out  of  respect,  or  any  other 
 consideration  but  that  of  conviction,  will  contradict  him.  2.  It  proves  not 
 another  man  to  be  in  the  right  way,  nor  that  I  ought  to  take  the  same  with 
 him,  because  I  know  not  a  better.  .3.  Nor  does  it  follow  that  another  man 
 is  in  the  right  way,  because  he  has  shown  me  that  I  am  in  the  wrong.  I 
 may  be  modest,  and  therefore  not  oppose  another  man's  persuasion :  I  may 
 be  ignorant,  and  not  be  able  to  produce  a  better  :  I  may  be  in  an  error,  and  an- 
 other may  show  me  that  I  am  so.  This  may  dispose  me,  perhaps,  for  the 
 reception  of  truth,  but  helps  me  not  to  it;  that  must  come  from  proofs  and 
 arguments,  and  light  arising  from  the  nature  of  things  themselves,  and  not 
 from  my  shamefacedness,  ignorance,  or  error. 
 
 Sect.  23.  Above,  contrary,  and  according  to  reason. — By  what  has  been 
 before  said  of  reason,  we  may  be  able  to  make  some  guess  at  the  distinction 
 of  tilings  into  those  that  are  according  to,  above,  and  contrary  to  reason.  1. 
 According  to  reason  are  such  propositions,  whose  truth  we  can  discover  by 
 cxdmining  and  tracing  those  ideas  we  have  from  sensation  and  reflection,  and 
 ly  natural  deduction  find  to  be  true  or  probable.  2.  Above  reason  are  such 
 propositions,  whose  truth  or  probability  we  cannot  by  reason  derive  from 
 Uiosc  principles.     3.  Contrary  to  reason  are  such  propositions  as  are  incon- 
 
Ch.  17.  REASON.  447 
 
 sistent  with,  or  irreconcileable  to,  our  clear  and  distinct  ideas.  Thus  the 
 existence  of  one  God  is  according  to  reason :  the  existence  of  more  than  one 
 God  contrary  to  reason;  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  above  reason.  Farther, 
 above  reason  may  be  taten  in  a  double  sense,  \"iz.  either  as  signifying  above 
 probability,  or  above  certainty ;  so  in  that  large  sense  also,  contrary  to  reason 
 is,  I  suppose,  sometimes  taken. 
 
 Sect.  24.  Reason  and  faith  not  opposite. — There  is  another  use  of  the 
 word  reason,  wherein  it  is  opposed  to  faith ;  which,  though  it  be  in  itself  a 
 very  improper  way  of  speaking,  yet  common  use  has  so  authorized  it,  that  it 
 would  be  folly  either  to  oppose  or  hope  to  remedy  it :  only  I  think  it  may  not 
 be  amiss  to  take  notice,  that  however  faith  be  opposed  to  reason,  faith  ia 
 nothing  but  a  firm  assent  of  the  mind :  which,  if  it  be  regulated,  as  is  our 
 duty,  cannot  be  afforded  to  any  thing  but  upon  good  reason ;  and  so  cannot 
 be  opposite  to  it.  He  that  believes,  without  having  any  reason  for  beheving, 
 may  be  in  love  with  his  own  fancies ;  but  neither  seeks  truth  as  he  ought, 
 nor  pays  the  obedience  due  to  his  Maker,  who  would  have  him  use  those  dis- 
 cerning faculties  he  has  given  him,  to  keep  him  out  of  mistake  and  error. 
 He  that  does  not  this  to  the  best  of  his  power,  however  he  sometimes  hghts 
 on  truth,  is  in  the  right  but  by  chance ;  and  I  know  not  whether  the  lucki- 
 ness of  the  accident  will  excuse  the  irregularity  of  his  proceeding.  This  at 
 least  is  certain,  that  he  must  be  accountable  for  whatever  mistakes  he  runs 
 into :  whereas  he  that  makes  use  of  the  light  and  faculties  God  has  given 
 him,  and  seeks  sincerely  to  discover  truth  by  those  helps  and  abilities  he  has, 
 may  have  this  satisfaction  in  doing  his  duty  as  a  rational  creature,  that, 
 though  he  should  miss  truth,  he  wUl  not  miss  the  reward  of  it.  For  he 
 governs  his  assent  right,  and  places  it  as  he  should,  who,  in  any  case  or  mat- 
 ter whatsoever,  believes  or  disbelieves,  according  as  reason  directs  him.  He 
 that  doth  otherwise,  transgresses  a^inst  his  own  light,  and  misuses  those 
 faculties  which  were  given  him  to  no  other  end  but  to  search  and  follow 
 the  clearer  evidence  and  greater  probability.  But  since  reason  and  faith  are 
 by  some  men  opposed,  we  will  so  consider  them  in  the  following  chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER  XVIII. 
 
 OF  FAITH  AXD  REASON',  AND  THEIR  DISTES"CT  PR0\1XCES. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Necessary  to  know  their  boundaries. — It  has  been  above  shown, 
 1.  That  we  are  of  necessity  ignorant,  and  want  knowledge  of  all  sorts,  where 
 we  want  ideas.  2.  That  we  are  ignorant,  and  want  rational  knowledge, 
 where  we  want  proofs.  3.  That  we  want  general  knowledge  and  certaintv, 
 as  far  as  we  want  clear  and  determined  specific  ideas.  4.  That  we  want 
 probability  to  direct  our  assent  in  matters  where  we  have  neither  knowledge 
 of  our  own,  nor  testimony  of  other  men,  to  bottom  our  reason  upon. 
 
 From  these  things  thus  premised,  I  think  we  may  come  to  lay  down  the 
 measures  and  boundaries  between  faith  and  reason ;  the  want  whereof  may 
 possibly  have  been  the  cause,  if  not  of  great  disorders,  yet  at  least  of  great 
 disputes,  and  perhaps  mistakes  in  the  world.  For  till  it  be  resolved  how  far 
 we  are  to  be  guided  by  reason,  and  how  far  by  faith,  we  shall  in  vain  dispute 
 and  endeavour  to  convince  one  another  in  matters  of  religion. 
 
 Sect.  2.  Faith  and  reason  what,  as  contradistinguished. — I  find  everv 
 sect,  as  far  as  reason  will  help  them,  make  use  of  it  gladlv :  and  where  it 
 fails  them  they  cry  out,  it  is  matter  of  faith,  and  above  reason.  And  I  do  not 
 see  how  they  can  argue  with  any  one,  or  ever  convince  a  gainsayer  who 
 makes  use  of  the  same  plea,  wnthout  setting  down  strict  boundaries  between 
 faith  and  reason ;  wliich  ought  to  be  the  first  point  established  in  all  ques- 
 tions, where  faith  has  any  thing  to  do. 
 
 Reason  therefore  here,  as  contradistinguished  to  faith,  I  take  to  be  the 
 
448  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 discover}'  of  tlie  certainty  or  probaoility  of  such  proposition  or  truths,  which 
 the  mind  arrives  at  by  deduction  from  such  ideas  which  it  has  got  by  the  use 
 of  its  natural  faculties,  viz.  by  sensation  or  reflection. 
 
 Faith,  on  the  other  side,  is  the  assent  to  any  proposition,  not  thus  made 
 out  by  the  deductions  of  reason  ;  but  upon  tlie  credit  of  the  proposer,  as 
 coming  from  God,  in  some  extraordinary  way  of  communication.  This  way 
 of  discovering  truths  to  men  we  call  revelation. 
 
 Sect.  3.  No  new  simple  idea  can  he  conveyed  by  traditional  revelation. — 
 First  tlien  I  say,  that  no  man  inspired  by  God  can  by  any  revelation  commu- 
 nicate to  others  any  new  sirajjle  ideas,  wJiich  tliey  had  not  before  from  sen- 
 sation or  reflection.  For  whatsoever  impressions  he  himself  may  have  from 
 the  immediate  hand  of  God,  this  revelation,  if  it  be  of  new  simple  ideas, 
 cannot  be  conveyed  to  another  either  by  words  or  any  other  signs.  Because 
 words,  by  ti^eir  immediate  operation  on  us,  cause  no  other  ideas  but  of  their 
 natural  sounds  :  and  it  is  by  the  custom  of  using  them  for  signs,  that  they 
 excite  and  revive  in  our  minds  latent  ideas ;  but  yet  only  such  ideas  as  were 
 there  before.  For  words  seen  or  heard  recall  to  our  thoughts  those  ideas 
 only  which  to  us  they  have  been  wont  to  be  signs  of;  but  cannot  introduce 
 any  perfectly  new,  and  formerly  unknown  simple  ideas.  The  sairre  holds  in 
 all  other  signs,  which  cannot  signify  to  us  things  of  which  we  have  before 
 never  had  any  idea  at  all. 
 
 Thus  whatever  things  were  discovered  to  St  Paul,  when  he  was  rapt  up 
 into  the  third  heaven,  whatever  new  ideas  his  mind  there  received,  all  the 
 description  he  can  make  to  others  of  that  place  is  only  this,  that  there  are 
 such  things,  "  as  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neitlier  hatli  it  entered 
 into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive."  And  supposing  God  should  discover  to 
 any  one  supernaturally,  a  species  of  creatures  inhabiting,  for  example,  Jupiter 
 or  Saturn,  (for  tliat  it  is  possible  there  may  be  such  nobody  can  deny)  which 
 had  six  senses  ;  and  imprint  on  his  mind  the  ideas  conveyed  to  theirs  by  that 
 sixth  sense ;  he  could  no  more  by  words,  produce  in  the  minds  of  other  men 
 those  ideas,  imprinted  by  that  sixth  sense,  than  one  of  us  could  convey  the 
 idea  of  any  colour  by  the  sounds  of  words  into  a  man,  who,  having  the  other 
 four  senses  perfect,  had  always  totaily  wanted  the  fifth  of  seeing.  For  our 
 simple  ideas  then,  which  arc  the  foundation  and  sole  matter  of  all  our  notions 
 and  knowledge,  we  must  depend  wholly  on  our  reason,  I  mean  our  natural 
 faculties  ;  and  can  by  no  means  receive  them,  or  any  of  them,  from  traditional 
 revelation;  I  say  traditional  revelation,  in  distinction  to  original  revelation. 
 By  the  one,  I  mean  that  first  impression,  which  is  made  immediately  by  God, 
 on  the  mind  of  any  man,  to  which  we  cannot  set  any  bounds  ;  and  by  the 
 other,  those  impi-essions  delivered  over  to  others  in  words,  and  the  ordinary 
 ways  of  conveying  our  conceptions  one  to  another. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Traditional  revelation  may  make  us  know  propositions  know- 
 able  also  by  reason,  but  not  with  the  same  certainty  that  reason  doth. — 
 Secondly,  I  say  that  the  same  truths  may  be  discovered,  and  conveyed 
 down  from  revelation,  which  are  discoverable  to  us  by  reason,  and  by  those 
 ideas  we  naturally  may  have.  So  God  might,  by  revelation,  discover  the 
 truth  of  any  proposition  in  Euclid  ;  as  well  as  men,  by  the  natural  use  of 
 tlieir  faculties,  come  to  make  the  discovery  themselves.  In  all  things  of 
 this  kind,  there  is  little  need  or  use  of  revelation,  God  having  furnished  us 
 with  natural  and  surer  means  to  arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  them.  For 
 whatsoever  truth  we  come  to  the  clear  discovery  of,  from  the  knowledge  and 
 contemplation  of  our  own  ideas,  will  always  be  more  certain  to  us  than  those 
 which  are  conveyed  to  us  by  traditional  revelation.  Fo^r.-the  knowledge  we 
 have,  that  this  revelation  came  at  first  from  God,  can  never  be  so  sure,  as  the  i 
 knowledge  we  have  from  the  clear  and  distinct  perception  of  the  agreement  y 
 or  disagreement  of  our  own  ideas ;  v.  g.  if  it  were  revealed  some  ages  since, 
 that  the  three  aiigles  of  a  triangle  were  equal  to  two  right  ones,  I  might  assent 
 to  the  trutli  of  that  proposition,  upon  the  credit  of  tiie  tradition,  that  it  was 
 revealed;  but  that  it  would  never  amount  to  so  great  a  certainty  as  the  know- 
 
Ch.  18.  FAITH  AND  REASON.  449 
 
 ledge  of  it,  upon  the  comparing  and  measuring  my  own  ideas  of  two  right 
 angles,  and  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle.  The  like  holds  in  matter  of  fact, 
 knowable  by  our  senses;  v.  g.  the  history  of  the  deluge  is  conveyed  to  us  by 
 writings  which  had  their  original  from  revelation  :  and  yet  nobody,  I  think, 
 will  say  he  has  as  certain  and  clear  knowledge  of  the  tlood  as  Noah  that  saw 
 it ;  or  that  he  himself  would  have  had,  had  he  then  been  aUve  and  seen  it. 
 For  he  has  no  greater  assurance  than  that  of  his  senses  that  it  is  writ  in  the 
 book  supposed  writ  by  Moses  inspired  :  but  he  has  not  so  great  an  assurance 
 that  Moses  writ  that  book,  as  if  he  had  seen  Moses  write  it.  So  that  the 
 assurance  of  its  being  a  revelation  is  less  still  than  the  assurance  of  his  senses. 
 Sect.  5.  Revelation  cayinot  he  admitted  against  the  clear  evidence  of 
 reason. — In  propositions  then,  whose  certainty  is  built  upon  the  clear  per- 
 ception of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  ideas,  attained  either  by 
 immediate  intuition,  as  in  self-evident  propositions,  or  by  evident  deductions, 
 of  reason  in  demonstrations,  we  need  not  the  assistance  of  revelation,  as- 
 necessary  to  gain  our  assent,  and  introduce  them  into  our  minds.  Because 
 the  natural  ways  of  knowledge  could  settle  them  there,  or  had  done  it 
 already ;  which  is  the  greatest  assurance  we  can  possibly  have  of  any  thing, 
 unless  where  God  immediately  reveals  it  to  us ;  and  there  too  our  assurance 
 can  be  no  greater  than  our  knowledge  is,  that  it  is  a  revelation  from  God., 
 But  yet  notTiing,  I  think,  can,  under  that  title,  shake  or  overrule  plain  know- 
 ledge; or  rationally  prevail  with  any  man  to  admit  it  for  true,  in  a  direct  con- 
 tradiction to  the  clear  evidence  of  his  own  understanding.  For  since  no- 
 evidence  of  our  faculties,  by  which  we  receive  such  revelations,  can  exceed, 
 if  equal,  the  certainty  of  our  intuitive  knowledge,  we  can  never  receive  for 
 a  truth  any  thing  that  is  directly  contrary  to  our  clear  and  distinct  know- 
 ledge :  V.  g.  the  ideas  of  one  body  and  one  place  do  so  clearly  agree,  and  the 
 mind  has  so  evident  a  perception  of  their  agreement,  that  we  can  never 
 assent  to  a  proposition,  that  affirms  the  same  body  to  be  in  two  distant  places 
 at  once,  however  it  should  pretend  to  the  authority  of  a  divine  revelation : 
 since  the  evidence,  first,  that  we  deceive  not  ourselves,  in  ascribing  it  to 
 God ;  secondly,  that  we  understand  it  right ;  can  never  be  so  great  as  the 
 evidence  of  our  own  intuitive  knowledge,  whereby  we  discern  it  impossible 
 for  the  same  body  to  bo  in  two  places  at  once.  And  therefore  no  proposition 
 can  be  received  for  divine  revelation,  or  obtain  the  assent  due  to  all  such,  if 
 it  be  contradictory  to  our  clear  intuitive  knowledge.  Because  this  would  be 
 to  subvert  the  principles  and  foundations  of  all  knowledge,  evidence,  and 
 assent  whatsoever ;  and  there  would  be  left  no  difference  between  truth  and 
 falsehood,  no  measures  of  credible  and  incredible  in  the  world,  if  doubtful 
 propositions  shall  take  place  before  self-evident,  and  what  we  certainly  know 
 give  way  to  what  we  may  possibly  be  mistaken  in.  In  propositions,  therefore, 
 contrary  to  the  clear  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  of 
 our  ideas,  it  will  be  in  vain  to  urge  them  as  matters  of  faith.  They  cannot 
 move  our  assent  under  that  or  any  other  title  whatsoever.  For  faith  can 
 never  convince  us  of  any  thing  that  contradicts  our  knowledge.  Because 
 though  faith  be  founded  on  the  testimony  of  God  (who  cannot  lie)  revealing 
 any  proposition  to  us ;  yet  we  cannot  have  an  assurance  of  the  truth  of  its 
 being  a  divine  revelation  greater  than  our  own  knowledge ;  since  the  whole 
 strength  of  the  certainty  depends  upon  our  own  knowledge  that  God  revealed 
 it;  which  in  this  case,  where  the  proposition  supposed  revealed  contradicts 
 our  knowledge  or  reason,  will  always  have  this  objection  hanging  to  it,  viz. 
 that  we  cannot  teU  how  to  conceive  that  to  come  from  God,  the  bountiful 
 Author  of  our  being,  which,  if  received  for  true,  must  overturn  all  the  prin- 
 ciples and  foundations  of  knowledge  he  has  given  us  ;  render  all  our  faculties 
 useless  ;  wholly  destroy  the  most  excellent  part  of  his  workmanship,  our 
 understandings ;  and  put  a  man  in  a  condition,  wherein  he  will  have  less 
 light,  less  conduct,  than  the  beast  that  perisheth.  For  if  the  mind  of  man 
 can  never  have  a  clearer  (and  perhaps  not  so  clear)  evidence  of  any  thing 
 to  be  a  divine  revelation,  as  it  has  of  the  principles  of  its  own  reason,  it  can 
 3G 
 
450  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 never  have  a  ground  to  quit  tlie  clear  evidence  of  its  reason,  to  give  a  place 
 to  a  proposition,  whose  revelation  has  not  a  greater  evidence  than  those 
 princi[)les  iiave. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Traditional  revelation  much  less. — Thus  far  a  man  baa  use  of 
 reason,  and  ought  to  hearken  to  it,  even  in  immediate  and  original  revelation, 
 where  it  is  supposed  to  be  made  to  himself:  but  to  all  those  who  pretend  not 
 to  immediate  revelation,  but  are  required  to  pay  obedience,  and  to  receive  the 
 trutiis  revealed  to  others,  which  by  the  tradition  of  writings,  or  word  of 
 mouth,  are  conveyed  down  to  them ;  reason  has  a  great  deal  more  to  do,  and 
 is  that  only  which  can  induce  us  to  receive  them.  For  matter  of  faith  being 
 only  divine  revelation,  and  nothing  else  ;  faith,  as  we  use  the  word  (called 
 commonly  divine  faith),  has  to  do  with  no  propositions  but  those  which  are 
 supposed  to  be  divinely  revealed.  So  that  I  do  not  see  how  those,  who  make 
 revelation  alone  the  sole  object  of  faith,  can  say,  that  it  is  a  matter  of  faith, 
 and  not  of  reason,  to  believe  that  such  or  such  a  proposition  to  be  found  in 
 such  or  such  a  book  is  of  divine  inspiration  ;  unless  it  be  revealed,  that  that 
 proposition,  or  all  in  that  book,  was  communicated  by  divine  inspiration. 
 Without  such  a  revelation,  the  believing  or  not  believing  that  proposition  or 
 book  to  be  of  divine  authority  can  never  be  matter  of  faith,  but  matter  of 
 reason  ;  and  such  as  I  must  come  to  an  assent  to  only  by  the  use  of  my  reason, 
 which  can  never  require  or  enable  me  to  believe  that  which  is  contrary  to 
 itself:  it  being  impossible  for  reason  ever  to  procure  any  assent  to  that, 
 which  to  itself  appears  unreasonable. 
 
 In  all  things,  tliorefore,  where  we  have  clear  evidence  from  our  ideas,  and , 
 those  principles  of  knowledge  I  have  above  mentioned,  reason  is  the  proper 
 judge ;  and  revelation,  though  it  may  in  consenting  with  it  confirm  its  dic- 
 tates, yet  cannot  in  such  cases  invalidate  its  decrees:  nor  can  we  be  obliged, 
 where  we  have  the  clear  and  evident  sentence  of  reason,  to  quit  it  for  the 
 contrary  opinion,  under  a  pretence  that  it  is  matter  of  faith  ;  which  can  have 
 no  authority  against  the  plain  and  clear  dictates  of  reason. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Things  above  reason. — But  thirdly,  there  being  many  things, 
 wherein  we  have  very  imperfect  notions,  or  none  at  all ;  and  other  things, 
 of  whose  past,  present,  or  future  existence,  by  the  natural  use  of  our  facul- 
 ties, we  can  have  no  knowledge  at  all ;  these,  as  being  beyond  the  discovery 
 of  our  natural  faculties,  and  above  reason,  are,  when  revealed,  the  progex. 
 matter  of  faith.  Thus,  that  part  of  the  angels  rebelled  against  God,  and 
 thereby  lost  their  first  happy  state ;  and  that  the  dead  shall  rise,  and  live 
 again  :  these,  and  the  like,  being  beyond  the  discovery  of  reason,  are  purely 
 matters  of  faith,  with  which  reason  has  directly  notliiiig  to  do. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Or  not  contrary  to  reason,  if  revealed,  are  matter  of  faith. — 
 But  since  God  in  giving  us  the  light  of  reason  lias  not  thereby  tied  up  his 
 own  hands  from  affording  us,  when  he  thinks  fit,  the  light  of  revelation  in 
 any  of  those  matters  wherein  our  natural  faculties  are  able  to  give  a  probable 
 determination  ;  revelation,  where  God  has  been  pleased  to  give  it,  must  carry 
 it  against  the  probable  conjectures  of  reason.  Because  the  mind  not  being 
 certain  of  the  truth  of  that  it  does  not  evidently  know,  but  only  yielding  to 
 the  probability  that  appears  in  it,  is  bound  to  give  up  its  assent  to  such  testi- 
 mony ;  which,  it  is  satisfied,  comes  from  one  who  cannot  err,  and  will  not 
 deceive.  But  yet  it  still  belongs  to  reason  to  judge  of  the  truth  of  its  being 
 a  revelation,  and  of  the  signification  of  the  words  wherein  it  is  delivered. 
 Indeed,  if  any  thing  shall  ^e  thought  revelation,  wliich  is  contrary  to  the 
 plain  principles  of  reason,  and  the  evident  knowledge  the  mind  has  of  its 
 own  clear  and  distinct  ideas ;  there  reason  must  be  hearkened  to,  as  to  a 
 matter  within  its  province  :  since  a  man  can  never  have  so  certain  a  know- 
 ledge, that  a  proposition,  which  contradicts  the  clear  principles  and  evidence 
 of  his  own  knowledge,  was  divinely  revealed,  or  that  he  understands  the 
 words  rightly  wherein  it  is  delivered  ;  as  he  has,  that  the  contrary  is  tnie : 
 and  so  is  bound  to  consider  and  judge  of  it  as  a  matter  of  reason,  and  not 
 ewallovv  it,  without  examination,  as  a  matter  of  faith 
 
Ch.  18.  FAITH  AND  REASON.  451 
 
 Sect.  9.  Revelation,  in  matters  where  reason  cannot  judge,  or  but  proba- 
 bly, ought  to  be  hearkened  to. — First,  Whafever  proposition  is  revealed,  of 
 whose  truth  our  mind,  by  its  natural  faculties  and  notions,  cannot  judge  ; 
 that  is  purely  matter  of  faith,  and  above  reason. 
 
 Secondly,  All  propositions,  whereof  the  mind,  by  the  use  of  its  natural 
 faculties,  can  come  to  determine  and  judge  from  naturally  acquired  ideas,  are 
 matter  of  reason  ;  with  this  difference  still,  that  in  those  concerning  which 
 it  has  but  an  uncertain  evidence,  and  so  is  persuaded  of  their  truth  only  upon 
 probable  grounds,  which  still  admit  a  possibility  of  the  contrary  to  be  true, 
 without  doing  violence  to  the  certain  evidence  of  its  own  knowledge,  and 
 overturning  the  principles  of  its  own  reason  ;  in  such  probable  propositions, 
 I  say,  an  evident  revelation  ought  to  determine  our  assent  even  against  pro- 
 bability. For  where  the  principles  of  reason  have  not  evidenced  a  propo- 
 sition to  be  certainly  true  or  false,  there  clear  revelation,  as  another  principle 
 of  truth,  and  ground  of  assent,  may  determine  ;  and  so  it  may  be  matter  of 
 faith,  and  be  also  above  reason.  Because  reason,  in  that  particular  matter, 
 being  able  to  reach  no  higher  than  probability,  faith  gave  the  determination, 
 where  reason  came  short ;  and  revelation  discovered  on  which  side  the 
 truth  lay. 
 
 Sect.  10.  In  matters  where  reason  can  afford  certain  knowledge,  that  is 
 to  be  hearkeiied  to. — Thus  far  the  dominion  of  faith  reaches,  and  that  with- 
 out any  violence  or  hinderance  to  reason  ;  which  is  not  injured  or  disturbed, 
 but  assisted  and  improved,  by  new  discoveries  of  truth  coming  from  the 
 eternal  fountain  of  all  knowledge.  Whatever  God  hath  revealed,  is  certainly 
 true  ;  no  doubt  can  be  made  of  it.  This  is  the  proper  object  of  faith  :  but 
 whether  it  be  a  divine  revelation  or  no,  reason  must  judge  ;  which  can  never 
 permit  the  mind  to  reject  a  greater  evidence,  to  embrace  what  is  less  evident, 
 nor  allow  it  to  entertain  probability  in  opposition  to  knowledge  and  certainty. 
 There  can  be  no  evidence  that  any  traditional  revelation  is  of  divine  original, 
 in  the  words  we  receive  it,  and  in  the  sense  we  understand  it,  so  clear  and 
 so  certain  as  that  of  the  principles  of  reason  :  and  therefore  nothing  that  is 
 contrary  to,  and  inconsistent  with,  the  clear  and  self-evident  dictates  of  rea- 
 son, has  a  right  to  be  urged  or  assented  to  as  a  matter  of  faith,  wherein 
 reason  hath  nothing  to  do.  Whatsoever  is  divine  revelation  ought  to  over- 
 rule all  our  opmions,  prejudices,  and  interest,  and  hath  a  right  to  be  received 
 with  full  assent.  Such  a  submission  as  this,  of  our  reason  to  faith,  takes 
 not  away  the  landmarks  of  knowledge  :  this  shakes  not  the  foundations  of 
 reason,  but  leaves  us  that  use  of  our  faculties  for  which  they  were  given  us.. 
 Sect.  11.  If  the  boundaries  be  not  set  between  faith  and  reason,  no  en- 
 thusiasm or  extravagancy  in  religion  can  be  contradicted. — If  the  pro- 
 vinces of  faith  and  reason  are  not  kept  distinct  by  these  boundaries,  there 
 will,  in  matters  of  religion,  be  no  room  for  reason  at  all ;  and  those  extrava- 
 gant opinions  and  ceremonies  that  are  to  be  found  in  the  several  religions  of 
 the  world  will  not  deserve  to  be  blamed.  For  to  this  crying  up  of  faith,  in 
 opposition  to  reason,  we  may,  I  think,  in  good  measure,  ascribe  those  ab- 
 surdities that  fill  almost  all  the  religions  which  possess  and  divide  mankind. 
 For  men  having  been  principled  with  an  opinion,  that  they  must  not  consult 
 reason  in  the  things  of  religion,  however  apparently  contradictory  to  common 
 sense,  and  the  very  principles  of  all  their  knowledge,  have  let  loose  their 
 fancies  and  natural  superstition ;  and  have  been  by  them  led  into  so  strange 
 opinions,  and  extravagant  practices  in  religion,  tliat  a  considerate  man  cannot 
 but  stand  amazed  at  their  follies,  and  judge  them  so  far  from  being  acceptable 
 to  the  great  and  wise  Goo,  that  he  cannot  avoid  thinking  them  ridiculous, 
 and  offensive  to  a  sober  good  man.  So  that,  in  effect,  religion,  which  should 
 most  distinguish  us  from  beasts,  and  ought  most  peculiarly  to  elevate  us,  as 
 rational  creatures,  above  brutes,  is  that  wherein  men  oflen  appear  most  irra- 
 tional and  more  senseless  than  beasts  themselves.  "  Credo,  quia  impossibile 
 est ;"  I  believe,  because  it  is  impossible,  might  in  a  good  man  pass  for  &  sally 
 of  zeal ;  but  would  prove  a  very  ill  rule  for  men  to  choose  their  opinions  <» 
 reli prion  by. 
 
452  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 CHAPTER  XIX. 
 
 OF  ENTHUSIASM. 
 
 Sec  .  1.  L'lve  of  truth  necessary. — He  that  would  seriously  set  upon  the 
 search  of  trutn,  ought,  in  the  first  place,  to  prepare  his  mind  with  a  love  of 
 it.  For  he  that  loves  it  not  will  not  take  much  pains  to  get  it,  nor  be  mucli 
 concerned  when  he  misses  it.  There  is  nobody  in  the  commonwealth  of 
 learning  wlio  does  not  profess  himself  a  lover  of  truth ;  and  there  is  not  a 
 rational  creature  that  would  take  it  amiss  to  be  thought  otherwise  of.  And 
 yet,  for  all  this,  one  may  truly  say,  that  there  are  very  few  lovers  of  truth 
 for  truth-sake,  even  among  those  who  persuade  themselves  that  they  are  so. 
 How  a  man  may  know  whether  he  be  so  in  earnest,  is  worth  inquiry  :  and  1 
 think  there  is  one  unerring  mark  of  it,  viz.  the  not  entertaining  any  proposi- 
 tion with  greater  assurance  than  the  proofs  it  is  built  upon  will  warrant. 
 Whoever  goes  beyond  this  measure  of  assent,  it  is  plain,  receives  not  truth 
 in  the  love  of  it ;  loves  not  truth  for  truth-sake,  but  for  some  other  by-end. 
 For  the  evidence  that  any  proposition  is  true  (except  such  as  are  self- 
 evident)  lying  only  in  the  proofs  a  man  has  of  it,  whatsoever  degrees  of  as- 
 sent he  affords  it  beyond  the  degrees  of  that  evidence,  it  is  plain  that  all  the 
 surplusage  of  assurance  is  owing  to  some  other  affection,  and  not  to  the  love  of 
 truth :  it  being  as  impossible  that  the  love  of  truth  should  carry  my  assent 
 above  the  evidence  there  is  to  me  that  it  is  true,  as  that  the  love  of  truth 
 should  make  me  assent  to  any  proposition  for  the  sake  of  that  evidence, 
 which  it  has  not,  that  it  is  true  ;  which  is,  in  effect,  to  love  it  as  a  truth  be- 
 cause it  is  possible  or  probable  that  it  may  not  be  true.  In  any  truth  that 
 gets  not  possession  of  our  minds  by  the  irresistible  light  of  self-evidence,  or 
 by  the  force  of  demonstration,  the  arguments  that  gain  it  assent  are  the 
 vouchers  and  gage  of  its  probability  to  us ;  and  we  can  receive  it  for  no  other 
 than  such  as  they  deliver  it  to  our  understandings.  Whatsoever  credit  or 
 authority  we  give  to  any  proposition,  more  than  it  receives  from  the  prin- 
 ciples and  proofs  it  supports  itself  upon,  is  owing  to  our  inclinations  that 
 way,  and  is  so  far  a  derogation  from  the  love  of  truth  as  such;  which, 
 as  it  can  receive  no  evidence  from  our  passions  or  interests,  so  it  should  re- 
 ceive no  tincture  from  them. 
 
 Skct.  2.  A  forwardness  to  dictate,  from  whence. — The  assuming  an 
 authority  of  dictating  to  others,  and  a  forwardness  to  prescribe  to  their  opi- 
 nions, is  a  constant  concomitant  of  this  bias  and  corruption  of  our  judg- 
 ments. For  how  almost  can  it  be  otherwise,  but  that  he  should  be  ready  to 
 impose  on  another's  belief,  who  has  already  imposed  on  his  own  1  Who  can 
 reasonably  expect  arguments  and  conviction  from  him,  in  dealing  with  others, ' 
 whose  understanding  is  not  accustomed  to  them  in  his  dealing  with  himself? 
 Who  does  violence  to  his  own  faculties,  tyrannizes  over  his  own  mind,  and 
 usurps  the  prerogative  that  belongs  to  truth  alone,  which  is  to  command 
 assent  by  only  its  own  authority,  i.  e.  by  and  in  proportion  to  that  evidence 
 which  it  carries  with  it. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Force  of  enthusiasm. — Upon  this  occasion  I  shall  take  the 
 liberty  to  consider  a  third  ground  of  assent,  which  witli  some  men  has  the 
 same  authority,  and  is  as  confidently  relied  on  as  either  faith  or  reason ;  I 
 mean  enthusiasm:  which,  laying  by  reason,  would  let  up  revelation  without 
 it.  Whereby,  in  effect,  it  takes  away  both  reason  and  revelation,  and  sub- 
 stitutes in  the  room  of  it  the  ungrounded  fancies  of  a  man's  own  brain,  and 
 assumes  them  for  a  foundation  both  of  opinion  and  conduct. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Reason  and  revelation. — Reason  is  natural  revelation,  whereby 
 the  eternal  Father  of  light,  and  fountain  of  all  knowledge,  communicates  to 
 mankind  that  portion  of  truth  which  he  has  laid  within  the  reach  of  their  na- 
 
Ch.  19.  ENTHUSIASM.  453 
 
 tural  faculties  :  revelation  is  natural  reason  enlarged  by  a  new  set  of  dis- 
 coveries communicated  by  God  immediately,  which  reason  vouches  the  truth 
 of,  by  the  testimony  and  proofs  it  gives  that  they  come  from  God.  So  that 
 he  that  takes  away  reason,  to  make  way  for  revelation,  puts  out  the  light  of 
 both,  and  does  muchwhat  the  same  as  if  he  would  persuade  a  man  to  put  out 
 his  eyes,  the  better  to  receive  the  remote  light  of  an  invisible  star  by  a 
 telescope. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Rise  of  enthusiasm. — Immediate  revelation  being  a  much  easier 
 way  for  men  to  establish  their  opinions,  and  regulate  their  conduct,  than  the 
 tedious  and  not  always  successful  labour  of  strict  reasoning,  it  is  no  wonder 
 that  some  have  been  very  apt  to  pretend  to  revelation,  and  to  persuade  them- 
 selves that  they  are  under  the  peculiar  guidance  of  heaven  in  their  actions 
 and  opinions,  especially  in  those  of  them  which  they  cannot  account  for  by 
 the  ordinary  methods  of  knowledge,  and  principles  of  reason.  Hence  we 
 see  that  in  all  ages  men,  in  whom  melancholy  has  mixed  with  devotion,  oi 
 whose  conceit  of  themselves  has  raised  them  into  an  opinion  of  a  greater 
 familiarity  with  God,  and  a  nearer  admittance  to  his  favour  than  is  afforded 
 to  others,  have  .often  flattered  themsehes  with  the  persuasion  of  an  imme- 
 diate intercourse  with  the  Deity,  and  frequent  communications  from  the  Di- 
 vine Spirit.  God,  I  own,  cannot  be  denied  to  be  able  to  enlighten  the 
 understanding  by  a  ray  darted  into  the  mind  immediately  from  the  fountain 
 of  light;  this  they  understand  he  has  promised  to  do,  and  who  then  has  so 
 good  a  title  to  expect  it  as  those  who  are  his  peculiar  people,  chosen  by  him, 
 and  depending  on  him"? 
 
 Sect.  6.  Enthusiasm. — Their  minds  being  thus  prepared,  whatever 
 groundless  opinion  comes  to  settle  itself  strongly  upon  their  fancies,  is  an' 
 illumination  from  the  spirit  of  God,  and  presently  of  divine  authority:  and 
 whatsoever  odd  action  they  find  in  themselves  a  strong  inclination  to  do,  that 
 impulse  is  concluded  to  be  a  call  or  direction  from  heaven,  and  must  be 
 obeyed;  it  is  a  commission  from  above,  and  they  cannot  err  in  executing  it. 
 
 Sect.  7.  This  I  take  to  be  properly  enthusiasm,  which,  though  founded 
 neither  on  reason  nor  divine  revelation,  but  rising  from  the  conceits 
 of  a  warmed  or  overweening  brain,  works  yet,  where  it  once  gets  footing, 
 more  powerfully  on  the  persuasions  and  actions  of  men,  than  either  of 
 those  two,  or  both  together  :  men  being  most  forwardly  obedient  to  the  im- 
 pulses they  receive  from  tliemselves ;  and  the  whole  man  is  sure  to  act  more 
 vigorously,  where  the  whole  man  is  carried  by  a  natural  motion.  For  strong 
 conceit,  like  a  new  principle,  carries  all  easily  with  it,  when  got  above  com- 
 mon sense,  and  freed  from  all  restraint  of  reason,  and  check  of  reflection,  it 
 is  heightened  into  a  divine  authority,  in  concurrence  with  our  own  temper 
 and  inclination. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Enthusiasm  mistaken  for  seeing  and  feeling. — Though  the  odd 
 opinions  and  extravagant  actions  enthusiasm  has  run  men  into  were  enougli 
 to  warn  them  against  this  wrong  principle,  so  apt  to  misguide  them  both  in 
 their  belief  and  conduct ;  yet  the  love  of  something  extraordinary,  the  ease 
 and  glory  it  is  to  be  inspired,  and  be  above  the  common  and  natural  ways  of 
 knowledge,  so  flatters  many  men's  laziness,  ignorance,  and  vanity,  that  when 
 once  they  are  got  in  this  way  of  immediate  revelation,  of  illumination  with- 
 out search,  and  of  certainty  without  proof,  and  without  examination,  it  is  a 
 hard  matter  to  get  them  out  of  it.  Reason  is  lost  upon  them  ;  they  are  above 
 it :  thev  see  the  light  infused  into  their  understandings,  and  cannot  be  mis- 
 taken ;  it  is  clear  and  ^nsible  there,  like  the  light  of  bright  sunshine  ;  shows 
 itself,  and  needs  no  other  proof  but  its  o\\'n  evidence :  they  feel  the  hand  of 
 God  moving  them  within,  and  the  impulses  of  the  Spirit,  and  cannot  be  mis- 
 taken in  what  they  feel.  Thus. they  support  themselves,  and  are  sure  reason 
 hath  nothing  to  do  with  what  they  see  and  feel  in  themselves :  what  they  have 
 a  sensible  experience  of  admits  no  doubt,  needs  no  probation.  Would  he 
 not  be  ridiculous,  who  should  require  to  have  it  proved  to  him  that  the  light 
 shines,  and  that  he  sees  it?    It  is  its  own  proof,  and  can  have  no  other.     Whea 
 
454  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 the  Spirit  brings  liorht  into  our  minds,  it  dispels  darkness.  We  see  it,  as 
 we  do  that  of  tlie  sun  at  noon,  and  need  not  the  twiliglit  of  reason  to  sliow 
 it  us.  This  liglit  from  heaven  is  strong,  clear,  and  pure,  carries  its  own  de- 
 monstration with  it ;  and  we  may  as  rationally  take  a  glow-worm  to  assist  U9 
 to  discover  tlie  snn,  as  to  examine  the  celestial  ray  by  our  dim  candle,  reason. 
 
 Skct.  9.  Enthuniasm  how  to  he  discovered. — This  is  the  way  of  talking 
 ■of  these  men :  they  are  sure  because  they  are  sure:  and  their  persuasions  are 
 riglit,  because  they  are  strong  in  tiiem.  For,  when  what  they  say  is  stripped 
 of  the  metaphor  of  seeing  and  feeling,  this  is  all  it  amounts  to :  and  yet  these 
 £^imile^  so  impose  on  them,  that  they  serve  them  for  certainty  in  themselves, 
 -and  demonstration  to  others. 
 
 Sect.  10.  But  to  examine  a  little  soberly  this  internal  light,  and  this 
 feeling  on  which  they  build  so  much.  These  men  have,  they  say,  clear 
 light,  and  they  see;  they  have  awakened  sense,  and  they  feel;  this  can- 
 not, they  are  sure,  be  disputed  them.  For  when  a  man  says  he  sees  or  feels, 
 nobody  can  deny  it  him  that  he  does  so.  But  here  let  me  ask  :  this  seeing,' 
 is  it  the  perception  of  the  truth  of  the  proposition,  or  of  this,  that  it  is  a  re- 
 velation from  God  J  This  feeling,  is  it  a  perception  of  an  inclination  or;  / 
 fancy  to  do  something,  or  of  the  Spirit  of  God  moving  that  inclination  y 
 These  are  two  very  different  perceptions,  and  must  be  carefully  distinguished, 
 if  we  would  not  impose  upon  ourselves.  I  may  perceive  the  truth  of  a  pro- 
 position, and  yet  not  perceive  that  it  is  an  immediate  revelation  from  God. 
 I  may  perceive  the  truth  of  a  proposition  in  Euclid,  without  its  being,  or  my 
 perceiving  it  to  be  a  revelation :  nay,  I  may  perceive  I  came  not  by  this  know- 
 ledge in  a  natural  way,  and  so  may  conclude  it  revealed,  without  perceiving 
 that  it  is  a  revelation  from  God ;  because  there  be  spirits,  which,  without 
 being  divinely  commissioned,  may  excite  those  ideas  in  me,  and  lay  them  in 
 such  order  before  my  mind,  that  I  may  perceive  their  connexion.  So  that 
 the  knowledge  of  any  proposition  coming  into  my  mind,  I  know  not  how,  isV 
 not  a  perception  that  it  is  from  God.  fllucli  less  is  a  strong  persuasion 
 that  it  is  true,  a  perception  that  it  is  from  God,  or  so  much  as  true.  But 
 however  it  be  called  light  and  seeing,  I  suppose  it  is  at  most  but  belief  and 
 assurance ;  and  the  proposition  taken  for  a  revelation  is  not  such  as  they 
 luiow  to  be  true,  but  take  to  be  true.  For  where  a  proposition  is  known  to 
 be  true,  revelation  is  needless:  and  it  is  hard  to  conceive  how  there  can  be  a 
 revelation  to  any  one  of  what  lie  knows  already.  If,  therefore,  it  be  a  pro- 
 position which  they  are  persuaded,  but  do  not  know,  to  be  true,  whatever 
 they  may  call  it,  it  is  not  seeing,  but  believing.  For  these  are  two  ways, 
 vv'iereby  truth  comes  into  the  mind,  wholly  distinct,  so  that  one  is  not  the 
 other.  What  I  see,  I  know  to  be  so  by  the  evidence  of  the  thing  itself: — — 
 what  I  believe,  \  take  to  be  so  upon  the  testimony  of  another;  but  this  testi- 
 mony I  must  know  to  be  given,  or  else  what  ground  have  I  of  believing?  I 
 must  see  that  it  is  God  that  reveals  this  to  me,  or  else  Fsee  nothing.  The 
 question  then  here  is,  how  do  I  know  that  God  is  the  revealer  of  this  to  me ; 
 that  this  impression  is  made  upon  my  mind  by  his  Holy  Spirit,  and  that 
 therefore  I  ought  to  obey  itl  If  I  know  not  this,  how  great  soever  the  as- 
 surance is  that  I  am  possessed  with,  it  is  groundless;  whatever  light  I  pre- 
 tend to,  it  is  but  enthusiasm.  For  whether  the  proposition  supposed  to  be 
 revealed  be  in  itself  evidently  true,  or  visibly  j^robable,  or  by  tlie  natural  ways 
 of  knowledge  uncertain,  the  proposition  that  must  be  well  grounded,  and  mani- 
 fested to  be  true,  is  this,  that  God  is  the  revealer  of  it,  and  that  what  I  take  to 
 be  a  revelation  is  certainly  put  into  my  mind  by  him,  and  is  not  an  illusion 
 dropped  in  by  some  other  spirit,  or  raised  by  my  own  fancy.  For  if  I  mistake 
 not,  these  men  receive  it  for  true,  because  they  presume  God  revealed  it. 
 Does  it  not  then  stand  them  upon,  to  examine  on  what  grounds  they  pre- 
 sume it  to  be  a  revelation  from  God?  or  else  all  their  confidence  is  mere  pre- 
 sumption: and  this  light  they  are  so  dazzled  with  is  nothing  but  an  ign's 
 fatuus,  that  leads  them  constantly  round  in  this  circle:  it  is  a  revelation,  be- 
 cause tiiey  firmly  believe  it,  and  they  believe  it  because  it  is  a  revelation. 
 
Ch.  19.  ENTHUSIASM.  455 
 
 Sect.  11.  Enthusiasm  fails  of  evidence  that  the  proposition  is  from 
 God. — In  all  that  is  of  divine  revelation,  there  is  need  of  no  other  proof  but 
 that  it  is  an  inspiration  from  God  :  for  he  can  neither  deceive  nor  be  deceived. 
 But  how  shall  it  be  known  that  any  proposition  in  our  minds  is  a  truth  infused' 
 by  God,  a  truth  that  is  revealed  to  us  by  him,  which  he  declares  to  us,  and 
 therefore  we  ought  to  believe !  Here  it  is  that  enthusiasm  fails  of  the  evi- 
 dence it  pretends  to.  For  men  thus  possessed  boast  of  a  light  whereby  they 
 say  they  are  enlightened,  and  brought  into  the  knowledge  of  this  or  that 
 truth.  But  if  they  know  it  to  be  a  truth,  they  must  know  it  to  be  so,  either 
 by  its  own  self-evidence  to  natural  reason,  or  by  the  rational  proofs  that  make 
 it  out  to  be  so.  If  they  see  and  know  it  to  be  a  truth,  either  of  these  two 
 ways,  they  in  vain  suppose  it  to  be  a  revelation.  For  they  know  it  to  be 
 true  the  same  way  that  any  other  man  naturally  may  know  that  it  is  so  with- 
 out the  help  of  revelation.  For  thus  all  the  truths,  of  what  kind  soever, 
 that  men  uninspired  are  enlightened  with,  came  into  their  minds,  and  are 
 established  there.  If  they  say  they  know  it  to  be  true,  because  it  is  a  reve- 
 lation from  God,  the  reason  is  good :  but  then  it  will  be  demanded  how  they 
 know  it  to  be  a  revelation  from  God.  If  they  say,  by  the  light  it  brings  with 
 it,  which  shines  bright  in  their  minds,  and  they  cannot  resist:  I  beseech  them 
 to  consider  whether  this  be  any  more  than  what  we  have  taken  notice  of 
 already,  viz.  that  it  is  a  revelation,  because  they  strongly  believe  it  to  be  true. 
 For  all  the  light  they  speak  of  is  but  a  strong,  though  ungrounded,  persuasion 
 of  their  own  minds,  that  it  is  a  truth.  For  rational  grounds  from  proofs  that  it 
 is  a  truth,  they  must  acknowledge  to  have  none  ;  for  then  it  is  not  received 
 as  a  revelation,  but  upon  the  ordinary  grounds  that  other  truths  are  received  : 
 and  if  they  believe  it  to  be  true,  because  it  is  a  revelation,  and  have  no  other 
 reason  for  its  being  a  revelation,  but  because  they  are  fully  persuaded,  with- 
 out any  other  reason,  that  it  is  true  ;  they  believe  it  to  be  a  revelation  only 
 because  they  strongly  believe  it  to  be  a  revelation ;  which  is  a  very  unsafe 
 ground  to  proceed  on,  either  in  our  tenets  or  actions.  And  what  readier  way 
 can  there  be  to  run  ourselves  into  the  most  extravagant  errors  and  miscar- 
 riages, than  thus  to  set  up  fancy  for  our  supreme  and  sole  guide,  and  to  be- 
 lieve any  proposition  to  be  true,  any  action  to  be  right,  only  because  we  , 
 believe  it  to  be  so  ?  The  strength  of  our  persuasions  is  no  evidence  at  all '/ 
 of  their  own  rectitude :  crooked  things  may  be  as  stiff  and  inflexible  as 
 straight :  and  men  may  be  as  positive  and  peremptory  in  error  as  in  truth. 
 How  come  else  the  untractable  zealots  in  different  and  opposite  parties  I  For 
 if  the  light,  which  every  one  thinks  he  has  in  his  mind,  which  in  this  case  is 
 nothing  but  the  strength  of  his  own  persuasion,  be  an  evidence  that  it  is  from 
 God,  contrary  opinions  have  the  same  title  to  inspirations  ;  and  God  will  be 
 not  only  the  father  of  lights,  but  of  opposite  and  contradictory  lights,  leading 
 men  contraiy  ways;  and  contradictory  propositions  will  be  divine  truths,  if 
 an  ungrounded  strength  of  assurance  be  an  evidence  that  any  proposition  is 
 a  divine  revelation. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Firjnness  of  persuasion  no  proof  that  any  proposition  is  from 
 God. — This  cannot  be  otherwise,  whilst  firmness  of  persuasion  is  made  the 
 cause  of  believing,  and  confidence  of  being  in  the  right  is  made  an  argument 
 of  truth.  St  Paul  himself  believed  he  did  well,  and  that  he  had  a  call  to  it 
 when  he  persecuted  the  Christians,  whom  he  confidently  thought  in  the 
 wrong:  but  yet  it  was  he,  and  not  they,  who  were  mistaken.  Good  men  are 
 men  still  liable  to  mistakes ;  and  are  sometimes  warmly  engaged  in  errors 
 which  they  take  for  divine  truths,  shining  in  their  minds  with  the  clearest 
 light. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Light  in  the  mind,  what. — Light,  true  light,  in  the  mind  is  or 
 can  be  nothing  else  but  the  evidence  of  the  truth  of  any  proposition  ;  and  if 
 it  be  not  a  self-evident  proposition,  all  the  light  it  has,  or  can  have,  is  from 
 the  clearness  and  validity  of  those  proofs  upon  which  it  is  received.  To  talk 
 of  any  other  light  in  the  understanding,  is  to  put  ourselves  in  the  dark,  or  in 
 the  power  of  the  Prince  of  darkness,  and  by  our  own  consent  to  give  our- 
 
45G  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 selves  up  to  delusion,  to  believe  a  lie.  For  if  strentrth  of  persuasion  be  tbe 
 light  wliich  must  guide  us  ;  I  ask  how  shall  any  one  distinguish  between  the 
 delusions  of  Satan  and  tlic  inspirations  of  the  Holy  Gliost !  Ho  can  trans- 
 form himself  into  an  angel  of  light.  And  they  who  are  led  by  this  son  of 
 the  morning  are  as  fully  satisfied  of  the  illumination,  i.  e.  are  as  strongly 
 persuaded  that  they  are  enlightened  by  the  S|)irit  of  God,  as  an\'  one  who  is 
 so ;  they  acquiesce  and  rejoice  in  it,  are  acted  by  it :  and  nobody  can  be 
 more  sure,  nor  more  in  the  right  (if  their  own  strong  belief  may  be  judge) 
 than  they. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Revelation  must  he  judged  of  hy  reason. — He,  therefore,  that 
 will  not  give  Iiimself  up  to  all  the  extravagancies  of  delusion  and  error,  must 
 bring  this  guide  of  his  light  within  to  the  trial.  God,  when  lie  makes  tlic 
 prophet,  does  not  unmake  the  man.  He  leaves  all  his  faculties  in  the  natural 
 state,  to  enable  him  to  judge  of  his  inspirations,  whether  tliey  be  of  divine 
 original  or  no.  When  he  illuminates  the  mind  with  supernatural  liglit,  he 
 does  not  extinguish  that  which  is  natural.  If  he  would  have  us  assent  to 
 the  truth  of  any  proposition,  he  either  evidences  tliat  truth  by  the  usual 
 methods  of  natural  reason,  or  else  makes  it  known  to  be  a  truth  whicii  he 
 would  have  us  assent  to,  by  his  authority ;  and  convinces  us  that  it  is  from 
 him,  by  some  marks  which  reason  cannot  be  mistaken  in.  Reason  must  be 
 our  last  judge  and  guide  in  every  thing.  I  do  not  mean  that  we  must  consult 
 reason,  and  examine  whether  a  proposition  revealed  from  God  can  be  made 
 out  by  natural  principles,  and  if  it  cannot,  that  then  we  may  reject  it :  but 
 consult  it  we  must,  and  by  it  examine  whether  it  be  a  revelation  from  God  or 
 no.  And  if  reason  finds  it  to  be  revealed  from  God,  reason  then  declares  for 
 it  as  much  as  for  any  other  truth,  and  makes  it  one  of  her  dictates.  Every 
 conceit  that  thoroughly  warms  our  fancies  must  pass  for  an  inspiration,  if 
 there  be  nothing  but  the  strength  of  our  persuasions,  whereby  to  judge  of 
 our  persuasions  :  if  reason  must  not  examine  their  truth  by  something  ex- 
 trinsical to  the  persuasions  themselves,  inspirations  and  delusions,  truth  and 
 falsehood,  will  have  the  same  measure,  and  will  not  be  possible  to  be  dis- 
 tinguished. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Belief  no  proof  of  revelation. — If  this  internal  light,  or  any 
 proposition  which  under  that  title  we  take  for  inspired,  be  conformable  to  the 
 principles  of  reason,  or  to  the  word  of  God,  which  is  attested  revelation, 
 reason  warrants  it,  and  we  may  safely  receive  it  for  true,  and  bo  guided  by  it 
 in  our  belief  and  actions  :  if  it  receive  no  testimony  nor  evidence  from  eitlior 
 of  these  rules,  we  cannot  take  it  for  a  revelation,  or  so  much  as  for  true,  till 
 we  have  some  other  mark  that  it  is  a  revelation  besides  our  believing  that  it 
 is  so.  Thus  we  see  the  holy  men  of  old,  who  had  revelations  from  God,  had 
 something  else  besides  that  internal  light  of  assurance  in  their  own  minds,  to 
 testify  to  them  that  it  was  from  God.  They  were  not  left  to  their  own  per- 
 suasions alone,  that  those  persuasions  were  from  God;  but  had  outward  signs 
 to  convince  them  of  the  author  of  those  revelations.  And  when  they  were 
 to  convince  others,  they  had  a  power  given  them  to  justify  the  truth  of  their 
 commission  from  heaven,  and  by  visible  signs  to  assert  the  divine  authority 
 of  a  message  they  were  sent  with.  Moses  saw  the  bush  burn  without  being 
 consumed,  and  heard  a  voice  out  of  it.  This  was  sometliing  besides  findmg 
 an  impulse  upon  his  mind  to  go  to  Pharoah,  that  he  might  bring  his  brethren 
 out  of  Egypt:  and  yet  he  thought  not  this  enough  to  authorize  him  to  go 
 with  that  message,  till  God,  by  another  miracle  of  his  rod  turned  into  a  ser- 
 pent, had  assured  him  of  a  power  to  testify  his  mission,  by  the  same  miracle 
 repeated  before  thom,  whom  he  was  sent  to.  Gideon  was  sent  by  an  angel 
 to  deliver  Israel  from  the  Midianites,  and  yet  he  desired  a  sign  to  convince 
 him  that  this  commission  was  from  God.  These,  and  several  the  like  in- 
 stances to  be  found  among  the  prophets  of  old,  are  enough  to  show  that  they 
 thought  not  an  inward  seeing  or  persuasion  of  their  own  minds,  without  any 
 other  proof,  a  sufficient  evidence  that  it  was  from  God  ;  though  the  Scripture 
 does  not  every  where  mention  their  demanding  or  having  such  proofs. 
 
Ch.  19. '^^^..^A'^-^*'..  ENTHUSIABM.  ■  457 
 
 *    {    'Sect.  16.  In  what  I  have  said  I  am  far  from  denying  that  God  can  or  dotli 
 
 i^'.'^  sometimes  enlighten  men's  minds  in  the  apprehending  of  certain  truths,  or 
 excite  them  to  good  actions  by  the  immediate  influence  and  assistance  of  the 
 Holy  Spirit,  without  any  extraordinary  signs  accompanying  it.  But  in  such 
 cases,  too,  we  have  reason  and  Scripture,  unerring  rules  to  know  whether  it 
 be  from  Clod  or  no.  Where  the  truth  embraced  is  consonant  to  the  revela- 
 tion in  the  written  word  of  God,  or  the  action  conformable  to  the  dictates  of 
 
 \  right  reason  or  holy  writ,  we  may  be  assured  that  we  run  no  risk  in  enter- 
 taining it  as  such ;  because,  though  perhaps  it  be  not  an  immediate  revelation 
 from  God,  extraordinarily  operating  on  our  minds,  yet  we  are  sure  it  is  war- 
 
 '  ranted  by  that  revelation  which  he  has  given  us  of  truth.  But  it  is  not  the 
 strength  of  our  private  persuasion  within  ourselves  that  can  warrant  it  to  be 
 a  light  or  motion  from  heaven  ;  nothing  can  do  that  but  the  written  word  of 
 God  without  us,  or  that  standard  of  reason  which  is  common  to  us  with  all 
 men.  Where  reason  or  scripture  is  express  for  any  opinion  or  action,  we 
 may  receive  it  as  of  divine  authority ;  but  it  is  not  the  strength  of  our  per- 
 suasions which  can  by  itself  give  it  that  stamp.  The  bent  of  our  own  minds 
 may  favour  it  as  much  as  we  please  ;  that  may  show  it  to  be  a  fondling  of 
 our  own,  but  will  by  no  means  prove  it  to  be  an  offspring  of  heaven,  and  of 
 divine  original. 
 
 CHAPTER  XX. 
 
 OP  WRONG  ASSENT,  OR  ERROR. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Causes  of  error. — Knowledge  being  to  be  had  only  of  visible 
 and  certain  truth,  error  is  not  a  fault  of  our  knowledge,  but  a  mistake  of  our 
 judgment,  giving  assent  to  that  which  is  not  true. 
 
 But  if  assent  be  grounded  on  likelihood,  if  the  proper  object  and  motive 
 of  our  assent  be  probability,  and  that  probability  consists  in  what  is  laid  down 
 in  the  foregoing  chapters,  it  will  be  demanded  how  men  come  to  give  their 
 assents  contrary  to  probability.  For  there  is  nothing  more  common  than 
 contrariety  of  opinions  ;  nothing  more  obvious  than  that  one  man  wholly  dis- 
 believes what  another  only  doubts  of,  and  a  third  steadfastly  believes  and 
 firmly  adheres  to.  The  reasons  whereof,  though  they  may  be  very  various, 
 yet  I  suppose  may  all  be  reduced  to  these  four  : 
 
 1.  Want  of  proofs. 
 
 2.  Want  of  ability  to  use  them.         ^/^ 
 
 3.  Want  of  will  to  use  them. 
 
 4.  Wrong  measures  of  probability. 
 
 Sect.  2.  1.  Want  of  proofs. — First,  By  want  of  proofs,  I  do  not  mean 
 only  the  want  of  those  proofs  which  are  nowhere  extant,  and  so  are  nowhere 
 to  be  had  ;  but  the  want  even  of  those  proofs  wliich  are  in  being,  or  might 
 be  procured.  And  thus  men  want  proofs  who  have  not  the  convenience  or 
 opportunity  to  make  experiments  and  observations  themselves  tending  to  the 
 proof  of  any  proposition  ;  nor  likewise  the  convenience  to  inquire  into  and 
 collect  the  testimonies  of  others:  and  in  this  state  are  the  greatest  part  of 
 mankind,  who  given  up  to  labour,  and  enslaved  to  the  necessity  of  their 
 mean  condition,  whose  lives  are  worn  out  only  in  the  provisions  for  living. 
 These  men's  opportunities  of  knowledge  and  inquiry  are  commonly  as  narrow 
 as  their  fortunes  ;  and  their  understandings  are  but  little  instructed,  when  all 
 their  whole  time  and  pains  are  laid  out  to  still  thecroakings  of  their  own  bellies, 
 or  the  cries  of  their  children.  It  is  not  to  be  expected  that  a  man,  who 
 drudges  on  all  his  life  in  a  laborious  trade,  should  be  more  knowing  in  the 
 variety  of  things  done  in  the  world  than  a  pack-horse,  who  is  driven  con- 
 stantly forward  and  backward  in  a  narrow  lane  and  dirty  road  only  to  market, 
 3H 
 
458  OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 should  be  skilled  in  the  geo^aphy  of  the  country.  Nor  is  it  at  all  more  pos- 
 sible, that  he  who  wants  leisure,  books,  and  languages,  and  the  opportunity  of 
 conversing  with  variety  of  men,  should  be  in  a  condition  to  collect  tliose  testi- 
 monies and  observations  which  are  in  being,  and  are  necessary  to  make  out  many, 
 nay  most  of  tiie  propositions  that,  in  the  societies  of  men,  are  judged  of  the 
 greatest  moment ;  or  to  find  out  grounds  of  assurance  so  great  as  the  belief  of 
 the  points  he  would  build  on  tiiem  is  thought  necessary.  So  that  a  great  part  of 
 mankind  are,  by  the  natural  and  unalterable  state  of  things  in  this  world,  and 
 the  constitution  of  human  affairs,  unavoidably  given  over  to  invincible  igno- 
 rance of  those  proofs  on  which  others  build,  and  which  are  necessary  to  es- 
 tablish those  opinions :  the  greatest  part  of  men,  having  nmch  to  do  to  get 
 the  means  of  living,  are  not  in  a  condition  to  look  after  tliose  of  learned  and 
 laborious  inquiries. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Obj.  What  shall  become  of  those  who  want  them,  answered. — 
 What  shall  we  say  then  !  Are  the  greatest  part  of  mankind  by  the  necessity 
 of  their  condition,  subjected  to  unavoidable  ignorance  in  those  things  which 
 are  of  greatest  importance  to  them  !  (for  of  these  it  is  obvious  to  inquire.) 
 Have  the  bulk  of  mankind  no  other  guide  but  accident  and  blind  chance  to 
 conduct  them  to  their  happiness  or  misery  .'  Are  the  current  opinions  and 
 licensed  guides  of  every  country  sufficient  evidence  and  security  to  every 
 man  to  venture  his  great  concernments  on,  nay,  his  everlasting  happiness  or 
 misery!  Or  can  those  be  the  certain  and  infallible  oracles  and  standards  of 
 truth,  which  teach  one  thing  in  Christendom  and  another  in  Turkey"!  Or 
 shall  a  poor  countryman  be  eternally  liappy  for  having  the  chance  to  be  born 
 in  Italy ;  or  a  day-labourer  be  unavoidably  lost  because  he  had  the  ill  luck  to 
 be  born  in  England!  How  ready  some  men  may  be  to  say  some  of  these 
 things  I  will  not  here  examine  :  but  this  I  am  sure,  that  men  must  allow  one 
 or  other  of  these  to  be  true  (let  them  choose  which  they  please),  or  else 
 grant  that  God  has  furnished  men  with  faculties  sufficient  to  direct  them  in 
 the  way  they  should  take,  if  they  will  but  seriously  employ  them  that  way, 
 when  their  ordinary  vocations  allow  them  the  leisure.  No  man  is  so  wholly^ 
 taken  up  with  the  attendance  on  the  means  of  living,  as  to  have  no  spare*' . 
 time  at  all  to  think  of  his  soul,  and  inform  himself  in  matters  of  religion.^ 
 Were  men  as  intent  upon  this  as  they  are  on  things  of  lower  concernment, 
 there  are  none  so  enslaved  to  the  necessities  of  life  who  might  not  find  many 
 vacancies  that  might  be  husbanded  to  this  advantage  of  their  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  4.  People  hindered  from  inquiry. — Besides  tliose  whose  improve- 
 ments and  informations  are  straitened  by  tlie  narrowness  of  tiieir  fortunes, 
 there  are  others  whose  largeness  of  fortune  would  plentifully  enough  sui)ply 
 books  and  other  requisites  for  clearing  of  doubts  and  discovering  of  truth:  but 
 they  are  cooped  in  close  by  the  laws  of  their  countries,  and  the  strict  guards 
 of  those  whose  interest  it  is  to  keep  them  ignorant,  lest,  knowing  more,  they 
 should  believe. the  less  in  them.  Tliese  are  as  far,  nay  farther  from  the 
 liberty  and  opportunities  of  a  fair  inquiry,  than  those  poor  and  wretched  labour- 
 ers we  before  spoke  of.  And,  however  they  may  seem  high  and  great,  are 
 confined  to  narrowness  of  thought,  and  enslaved  in  that  which  should  be  the 
 Treest  part  of  man,  their  understandings.  This  is  generally  the  case  of  all 
 those  who  live  in  places  where  care  is  taken  to  propagate  truth  without  know- 
 ledge; where  men  are  forced,  at  a  venture,  to  be  of  the  religion  of  the  coun- 
 try; and  must  therefore  swallow  down  opinions,  as  silly  people  do  empirics' 
 pills,  witiiout  knowing  what  they  are  made  of,  or  how  they  will  work,  and  hav- 
 ing nothing  to  do  but  believe  that  they  will  do  the  cure :  but  in  this  are  much 
 more  miserable  than  they,  in  that  they  are  not  at  liberty  to  refuse  swallowing 
 what  perliaps  they  had  rather  let  alone ;  or  to  choose  the  physician  to  whose 
 conduct  they  would  trust  themselves. 
 
 Sect.  5.     2.   Want  of  skill  to  use  them. — Secondly,  those  who  want  skill 
 to  use  those  evidences  they  have  of  probabilities,  who  cannot  carry  a  train  of;  y 
 consequences  in  their  heads,  nor  weigh  exactly  the   preponderancy  of  con-/'' 
 trary  proofs  and  testimonies,  making  every  circumstance  its  due  allowance, 
 
Ck.  20.  WRONG  ASSENT,  OR  ERROR.  459 
 
 may  be  easily  misled  to  assent  to  positions  that  are  not  probable.  There  are 
 «ome  men  of  one,  some  but  of  two  syllogisms,  and  no  more ;  and  others  that 
 can  but  advance  one  step  farther.  These  cannot  always  discern  that  side  on 
 which  the  strongest  proofs  lie ;  cannot  constantly  follow  that  which  in  itself 
 is  the  more  probable  opinion.  Now  that  there  is  such  a  difference  between 
 men,  ia  respect  of  their  understandings,  I  think  nobody,  who  has  had 
 any  conversation  with  his  neighbours,  will  question ;  though  he  never  was  at 
 Westminster  hall  or  the  exchange,  on  the  one  hand ;  or  at  alms-houses  or 
 bedlam  on  the  other :  which  great  difference  in  men's  intellectuals,  whether 
 it  rises  from  any  defect  in  the  organs  of  the  body,  particularly  adapted  to 
 thinking ;  or,  in  the  dulness  or  untractableness  of  those  faculties  for  want  of 
 use  ;  or,  as  some  think,  in  the  natural  differences  of  men's  souls  themselves  ; 
 or  some  or  all  of  these  together,  it  matters  not  here  to  examine:  only  this  is 
 evident,  that  there  is  a  difference  of  degrees  in  men's  understandings,  appre- 
 hensions, and  reasonings,  to  so  great  a  latitude,  that  one  may,  without  doing 
 injury  to  mankind,  affirm,  that  there  is  a  greater  distance  between  some 
 men  and  others,  in  this  respect,  than  between  some  men  and  some  beasts. 
 But  how  this  comes  about  is  a  speculation,  though  of  great  consequence,  yet 
 not  necessary  to  our  present  purpose. 
 
 Sect.  6.  3.  Want  of  will  to  use  them. — Thirdly,  there  are  another  sort 
 of  people  that  want  proofs,  not  because  they  are  out  of  their  reach,  but  be- 
 cause they  will  not  use  them  ;  who,  though  they  have  riches  and  leisure 
 enough,  and  want  neither  parts  nor  other  helps,  are  yet  never  the  better  for 
 them.  Their  hot  pursuit  of  leisure,  or  constant  drudgery  in  business,  engages 
 some  men's  thoughts  elsewhere  :  laziness  and  oscitancy  in  general,  or  a  par- 
 ticular aversion  for  books,  study,  and  meditation,  keep  others  from  any  seri- 
 ous thoughts  at  all :  and  some  out  of  fear  that  an  impartial  inquiry  would  not 
 favour  those  opinions  which  best  suit  their  prejudices,  lives,  and  designs,  con- 
 tent themselves,  without  examination,  to  take  upon  trust  what  they  find  con- 
 venient and  in  fashion.  Thus  most  men,  even  of  those  that  might  do  otherwise, 
 pass  their  lives  without  an  acquaintance  with,  much  less  a  rational  assent  to, 
 probabilities  they  are  concerned  to  know,  though  they  lie  so  much  within 
 their  view,  that  to  be  convinced  of  them  they  need  but  turn  their  eyes  that 
 way.  We  know  some  men  will  not  read  a  letter  which  is  supposed  to  bring 
 ill  news ;  and  many  men  forbear  to  cast  up  their  accounts,  or  so  much  as 
 think  upon  their  estates,  who  have  reason  to  fear  their  affairs  are  in  no  very 
 good  posture.  How  men,  whose  plentiful  foi-tunes  allow  them  leisure  to  im- 
 prove their  understandings,  can  satisfy  themselves  with  a  lazy  ignorance,  I 
 cannot  tell :  but  methinks  they  have  a  low  opinion  of  their  souls,  who  lay  out 
 all  their  incomes  in  provisions  for  the  body,  and  employ  none  of  it  to  procure 
 the  means  and  helps  of  knowledge ;  who  take  great  care  to  appear  always  in 
 a  neat  and  splendid  outside,  and  would  think  themselves  miserable  in  coarse 
 clothes,  or  a  patched  coat,  and  yet  contentedly  suffer  their  minds  to  appear 
 abroad  in  a  pie-bald  livery  of  coarse  patches  and  borrowed  shreds,  such  as  it 
 has  pleased  chance  or  their  country  tailor  (I  mean  the  common  opinion  of 
 those  they  have  conversed  with)  to  clothe  them  in.  I  will  not  here  mention 
 how  unreasonable  this  is  for  men  that  ever  think  of  a  future  state,  and  their 
 concernment  in  it,  which  no  rational  man  can  avoid  to  do  sometimes ;  nor 
 shall  I  take  notice  what  a  shame  and  confusion  it  is,  to  the  greatest  con- 
 temners of  knowledge,  to  be  found  ignorant  in  things  they  are  concerned  to 
 know.  But  this  at  least  is  worth  the  consideration  of  those  who  call  them- 
 fi(!lves  gentlemen,  that  however  they  may  think  credit,  respect,  power,  and 
 anthority,  the  concomitants  of  their  birth  and  fortune,  yet  they  will  find  all 
 these  still  carried  away  from  them  by  men  of  lower  condition,  who  surpass 
 them  in  knowledge.  They  who  are  blind  will  always  be  led  by  those  that 
 see,  or  else  fall  into  the  ditch :  and  he  is  certainly  the  most  subjected,  the 
 most  enslaved,  who  is  so  in  his  understanding.  In  the  foregoing  instances, 
 some  of  the  causes  have  been  shown  of  wrong  assent,  and  how  it  comes  to 
 pass,  that  probable  doctrines  are  not  always  received  with  an  assent  propo 
 
460  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 tionable  to  tlie  reasons  which  are  to  be  had  for  their  probability :  but  hitherto 
 we  have  considered  only  such  probabilities  whose  proofs  do  exist,  but  do  not 
 appear  to  him  who  embraces  the  error. 
 
 (Sect.  7.  4.  Wrong  measures  of  probability;  whereof, — Fourthly,  There 
 remains  yet  the  last  sort,  who,  even  where  the  real  probabilities  appear,  and 
 are  plainly  laid  before  them,  do  not  admit  of  the  conviction,  nor  yield  unto 
 manifest  reasons,  but  do  either  s'nr«_;t£/v,  suspend  their  assent,  or  give  it  to 
 the  less  probable  opinion  :  and  to  this  danger  are  those  exposed  who  have 
 taken  up  wrong  measures  of  probability  ;  which  are, 
 
 1.  Propositions  that  are  not  in  themselves  certain  and  evident,  but  doubtful 
 and  false,  taken  up  for  principles. 
 
 2.  Received  hypotheses. 
 
 3.  Predominant  passions  or  inclinations. 
 
 4.  Authority. 
 
 Sect.  8.  1.  Doubtful  propositions  taken  for  principles. — First,  The  first 
 and  firmest  ground  of  probability  is  the  conformity  any  thing  has  to  our 
 knowledge,  especially  that  part  of  our  knowledge  which  we  have  embraced, 
 and  continue  to  look  on  as  principles.  These  have  so  great  an  influence 
 upon  our  opinions,  that  it  is  usually  by  them  we  judge  of  truth,  and  measure 
 probability  to  that  degree,  that  what  is  inconsistent  with  our  principles  is  so 
 far  from  passing  for  probable  with  us,  that  it  will  not  be  allowed  possible. 
 The  reverence  borne  to  these  principles  is  so  great,  and  their  authority  so 
 paramount  to  all  other,  that  the  testimony  not  only  of  other  men,  but  the  evi- 
 dence of  our  own  senses  are  often  rejected,  when  they  offer  to  vouch  any 
 thing  contrary  to  these  established  rules.  How  much  the  doctrine  of  innate 
 principles,  and  that  principles  are  not  to  be  proved  or  questioned,  has  con- 
 tributed to  this,  I  will  not  here  examine.  This  I  readily  grant,  that  one  truth 
 cannot  contradict  another:  but  withal  I  take  leave  also  to  say,  that  every  one 
 ought  very  carefully  to  beware  what  he  admits  for  a  principle,  to  examine  it 
 strictly,  and  see  whether  he  certainly  knows  it  to  be  true  of  itself  by  its  own 
 evidence,  or  whether  he  does  only  with  assurance  believe  it  to  be  so  upon  the 
 authority  of  others.  For  he  hath  a  strong  bias  put  into  his  understanding, 
 which  will  unavoidably  misguide  his  assent  who  hath  imbibed  wrong  prin- 
 ciples, and  has  blindly  given  himself  up  to  the  authority  of  any  opinion  in 
 itself  not  evidently  true. 
 
 Sect.  9.  There  is  nothing  more  ordinary  than  children's  receiving  into 
 their  minds  propositions  (especially  about  matters  of  religion)  from  their 
 parents,  nurses,  or  tliose  about  them :  which  being  insinuated  into  their  un- 
 wary, as  well  as  unbiassed  understandings,  and  fastened  by  degrees,  are  at 
 last  (equally  whether  true  or  false)  riveted  there  by  long  custom  and  educa- 
 tion, beyond  all  possibility  of  being  pulled  out  again.  For  men,  when  they 
 are  grown  up,  reflecting  upon  their  opinions,  and  finding  those  of  this  sort  to 
 be  as  ancient  in  their  minds  as  their  very  memories,  not  having  observed 
 their  early  insinuation,  nor  by  what  means  they  got  them,  they  are  apt  to  re- 
 verence them  as  sacred  things,  and  not  to  suffer  them  to  be  profaned,  touched, 
 or  questioned ;  they  look  on  them  as  the  Urim  and  Thummim  set  up  in  their 
 f.iinds  immediately  by  God  himself,  to  bo  the  great  and  unerring  deciders  of 
 trutli  and  falsehood,  and  the  judges  to  which  they  are  to  appeal  in  all  man- 
 ner of  controversies. 
 
 Sect.  10.  This  opinion  of  his  principles  (let  them  be  what  they  will)  being 
 once  established  in  any  one's  mind,  it  is  easy  to  be  imagined  what  reception 
 any  proposition  shall  find,  how  clearly  soever  proved,  that  shall  invalidate 
 their  authority,  or  at  all  thwart  witli  these  internal  oracles;  whereas  the 
 grossest  absurdities  and  improbabilities,  being  but  agreeable  to  such  prin- 
 ciples, go  down  glibly,  and  are  easily  digested.  The  great  obstinacy  that  is 
 to  be  found  in  men  firmly  believing  quite  contrary  opinions,  though  many  times 
 equally  absurd,  in  the  various  religions  of  mankind,  are  as  evident  a  proof, 
 as  they  are  an  unavoidable  consequence,  of  tliis  way  of  reasoning  from  re- 
 ceived traditional  principles.     So  that  men  will  disbelieve  their  own  eyes, 
 
Ch.  20.  WRONG  ASSENT,  OR  ERROR.  .  461 
 
 renounce  the  evidence  of  their  senses,  and  give  their  own  experience  the  lie, 
 rather  than  admit  of  any  things  disagreeing  with  tliese  sacred  tenets.  Take 
 an  intelligent  Romanist,  that  from  the  first  dawning  of  any  notions  in  his 
 understanding,  hath  had  this  principle  constantly  inculcated,  viz.  that  he 
 must  believe  as  the  church  (i.  e.  those  of  his  communion)  believes,  or  that 
 the  pope  is  infallible ;  and  this  he  never  so  much  as  heard  questioned,  till  at 
 forty  or  fifty  years  old  he  met  with  one  of  other  principles :  how  is  he  pre- 
 pared easily  to  swallow,  not  only  against  all  probability,  but  even  the  clear 
 evidence  of  his  senses,  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation !  This  principle 
 has  such  an  influence  on  his  mind,  that  he  will  believe  that  to  be  flesh  which 
 he  sees  to  be  bread.  And  what  way  will  you  take  to  convince  a  man  of  any 
 improbable  opinion  he  holds,  who,  with  some  philosophers,  hath  laid  down 
 this  as  a  foundation  of  reasoning,  that  he  must  believe  his  reason  (for  so  men 
 improperly  call  arguments  drawn  from  their  principles)  against  his  senses  I 
 Let  an  enthusiast  be  principled,  that  he  or  his  teacher  is  inspired,  and  acted 
 by  an  immediate  communication  of  the  divine  Spirit,  and  yoii  in  vain  bring 
 the  evidence  of  clear  reasons  against  his  doctrine.  Whoever,  therefore,  have 
 imbibed  wrong  principles,  are  not,  in  things  inconsistent  with  these  prin- 
 ciples, to  be  moved  by  the  most  apparent  and  convincing  probabilities,  till 
 they  are  so  candid  and  ingenuous  to  themselves  as  to  be  persuaded  to  ex- 
 amine even  those  very  principles,  which  many  never  suffer  themselves  to  do. 
 
 Sect.  11.  2.  Received  hypotheses. — Secondly,  next  to  these  are  men 
 whose  understandings  are  cast  into  a  mould,  and  fashioned  just  to  the  size  of 
 a  received  hypothesis.  The  difference  between  these  and  the  former  is,  that 
 they  will  admit  of  matter  of  fact,  and  agree  with  dissenters  in  that ;  but  differ 
 only  in  assigning  of  reasons,  and  explaining  the  manner  of  operation.  These 
 are  not  at  that  open  defiance  with  their  senses  with  the  former :  they  can 
 endure  to  hearken  to  their  information  a  little  more  patiently  ;  but  will  by  no 
 means  admit  of  their  reports  in  the  explanation  of  things  ;  nor  be  prevailed 
 on  by  probabilities,  which  would  convince  them  that  things  are  not  brought 
 about  just  after  the  same  manner  that  they  have  decreed  within  themselves 
 that  they  are.  Would  it  not  be  an  insufferable  thing  for  a  learned  professor, 
 and  that  which  his  scarlet  would  blush  at,  to  have  his  authority  of  forty  years 
 standing,  wrought  out  of  hard  rock  Greek  and  Latin,  with  no  small  expense 
 of  time  and  candle,  and  confirmed  by  general  tradition  and  a  reverend  beard, 
 in  an  instant  overturned  by  an  upstart  novelist  ]  Can  any  one  expect  that  he 
 should  be  made  to  confess,  that  what  he  taught  his  scholars  thirty  years  ago 
 was  all  error  and  mistake  ;  and  that  he  sold  them  hard  words  and  ignorance 
 at  a  very  dear  rate  1  What  probabilities,  I  say,  are  sufficient  to  prevail  in 
 such  a  case]  And  who  ever,  by  the  most  cogent  arguments,  will  be  prevailed 
 with  to  disrobe  himself  at  once  of  all  his  old  opinions,  and  pretences  to  know- 
 ledge and  learning,  which  with  hard  study  he  hath  all  his  time  been  labouring- 
 for;  and  turn  himself  out  stark  naked,  in  quest  afresh  of  new  notions'!  All 
 the  arguments  that  can  be  used  will  be  as  little  able  to  prevail,  as  the  wind  did 
 with  the  traveller  to  part  with  his  cloak,  which  he  held  only  the  faster.  To 
 this  of  wrong  hypothesis  may  be  reduced  the  errors  that  may  be  occasioned 
 by  a  true  hypothesis,  or  right  principles,  but  not  rightly  understood.  There 
 is  nothing  more  familiar  than  this.  The  instances  of  men  contending  for 
 different  opinions,  which  they  all  derive  from  the  infallible  truth  of  the  scrip- 
 ture, are  an  undeniable  proof  of  it.  All  that  call  themselves  Christians  allow 
 the  text,  that  says,  /miTavouTi,  to  carry  in  it  the  obligation  to  a  very  weighty 
 duty.  But  yet  how  very  erroneous  will  one  of  their  practices  be,  who,  un- 
 derstanding nothing  but  the  French,  take  this  rule  with  one  translation  to  be 
 repentez  vous,  repent ;  or  with  the  other,  faites  penitence,  do  penance  ! 
 
 Sect.  12.  3.  Predominant  passions. — Tliirdly,  Probabilities,  which  cross 
 men's  appetites  and  prevailing  passions,  run  the  same  fate.  Let  ever  so  much 
 probablity  hang  on  one  side  of  a  covetous  man's  reasoning,  and  money  on  the 
 other  ;  it  is  easy  to  foresee  which  will  outweigh.  Earthly  minds,  like  mud- 
 walls,  resist  the  strongest  batteries  :  and  though  perhaps  sometimes  the  force 
 
 M 
 
4G2  OF  THE  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4, 
 
 of  a  clear  argument  may  make  some  impression,  yet  they  nevertheless  stand 
 firm,  and  keep  out  the  enemy,  truth,  that  would  captivate  or  disturb  them. 
 Tell  a  man,  passionately  in  love,  that  he  is  jilted;  bring  a  score  of  witnesses 
 of  the  falsehood  of  his  mistress,  it  is  ten  to  one  but  three  kind  words  of  her's 
 shall  invalidate  all  tlieir  testimonies.  Quod  volumus,  facile  credimus  ;  what 
 suits  our  wishes  is  forvvardly  believed  ;  is,  I  suppose,  what  every  one  hath 
 more  than  once  experimented :  and  though  men  cannot  always  openly  gainsay 
 or  resist  the  force  of  manifest  probabilities  that  make  against  them,  yet  yield 
 they  not  to  the  argument.  Not  but  that  it  is  the  nature  of  the  understanding 
 constantly  to  close  with  the  more  probable  side  ;  but  yet  a  man  hath  a  power 
 to  suspend  and  restrain  its  inquiries,  and  not  permit  a  full  and  satisfactory 
 examination,  as  far  as  the  matter  in  question  is  capable,  and  will  bear  it  to 
 be  made.  Until  that  be  done,  there  will  be  always  these  two  ways  left  of 
 evading  the  most  apparent  probabilities. 
 
 Sect.  1.3.  The  means  of  evading  probabilities:  1.  Supposed  fallacy. — 
 First,  Tiiat  the  arguments  being  (as  for  the  most  part  they  are)  brought  in 
 words,  there  may  he  a  fallacy  latent  in  them  :  and  the  consequences  being, 
 perhaps,  many  in  train,  they  may  be  some  of  them  incoherent.  There  are 
 very  few  discourses  so  short,  clear,  and  consistent,  to  which  most  men  may 
 not,  with  satisfaction  enough  to  themselves,  raise  this  doubt ;  and  from  whose 
 conviction  they  may  not  without  reproach  of  disingenuity  or  unreasonableness, 
 bet  themselves  free  with  the  old  reply,  non  persiiadebis,  etiamsi  persuaseris  ; 
 though  I  cannot  answer,  I  will  not  yield. 
 
 Sect.  14.  2.  Supposed  arguments  for  the  contrary. — Secondly,  Manliest 
 probabilities  may  be  evaded,  and  the  assent  withheld  upon  this  suggestion, 
 that  I  know  not  yet  all  that  may  be  said  on  the  contrary  side.  And  therefore, 
 though  I  be  beaten,  it  is  not  necessary  I  should  yield,  not  knowing  what 
 forces  there  are  in  reserve  behind.  This  is  a  refuge  against  conviction  so 
 open  and  so  wide,  that  it  is  hard  to  determine  when  a  man  is  quite  out  of  the 
 verge  of  it. 
 
 Sect.  15.  What  probabilities  determine  the  assent. — But  yet  there  is 
 some  end  of  it ;  and  a  man  having  carefully  inquired  into  all  the  grounds  of 
 probability  and  unlikeliness,  does  his  utmost  to  inform  himself  in  all  particu- 
 lars fairly,  and  cast  up  the  sum  total  on  both  sides,  may  in  most  cases  come 
 to  acknowledge,  upon  the  whole  matter,  on  which  side  the  probability  rests  ; 
 wherein  some  proofs  in  matter  of  reason,  being  suppositions  upon  universal 
 experience,  are  so  cogent  and  clear,  and  some  testimonies  in  matter  of  fact 
 so  universal,  that  he  cannot  refuse  his  assent.  So  that,  I  think,  we  may 
 conclude,  that  in  propositions,  where,  though  the  proofs  in  view  are  of  most 
 moment,  yet  there  are  sufficient  grounds  to  suspect  that  there  is  either  fallacy 
 in  words,  or  certain  proofs  as  considerable  to  be  produced  on  the  contrary 
 side  ;  their  assent,  suspense,  or  dissent,  are  often  voluntary  actions  :  but 
 where  the  proofs  arc  such  as  make  it  highlv  probable,  and  there  is  not  suffi- 
 cient ground  to  suspect  that  there  is  either  fallacy  of  words  (which  sober  and 
 serious  consideration  may  discover)  nor  equally  valid  proofs,  yet  undiscovered 
 latent  on  the  other  side  (which  also  the  nature  of  the  thing  may,  in  some 
 cases,  make  plain  to  a  considerate  man) ;  there,  I  think,  a  man  who  has 
 weighed  them,  can  scarce  refuse  his  assent  to  the  side  on  which  the  greater 
 probability  appears.  Whether  it  be  probable  that  a  promiscuous  jumble  of 
 printing  letters  should  often  fall  into  a  method  and  order,  which  should  stamp 
 on  paper  a  coherent  discourse  ;  or  that  a  blind  fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms, 
 not  guided  by  an  understanding  agent,  should  frequently  constitute  the  bodies 
 of  any  species  of  animals :  in  these,  and  the  like  cases,  I  think  nobody 
 that  considers  them  can  be  one  jot  at  a  stand  which  side  to  take,  nor  at  all 
 waver  in  his  assent.  I^astly,  when  there  can  be  no  supposition  (the  thmg  in 
 its  own  nature  indifferent,  and  wholly  depending  upon  the  testimony  of  wit- 
 nesses) that  there  is  as  fair  testimony  against  as  for  the  matter  of  fact  attest- 
 ed ;  wliich  by  inquiry  is  to  be  learned,  v.  g.  whether  there  was  one  thousand 
 seven  iiundrcd  years  ago  such  a  man  at  Rome  as  Julius  Caisar :  in  all  such 
 
Ch.  20.  WRONG  ASSENT,  OR  ERROR.  463 
 
 cases?,  I  say,  I  think  it  is  not  in  any  rational  man's  power  to  refuse  his  assent ; 
 but  that  it  necessarily  follows,  and  closes  with  such  probabilities.  In  other 
 less  clear  cases,  I  think  it  is  in  a  man's  power  to  suspend  his  assent :  and  per- 
 haps content  himself  with  the  proofs  he  has,  if  they  favour  the  opinion  that 
 suits  with  his  inclination  or  interest,  and  so  stop  from  farther  search.  But 
 that  a  man  should  afford  his  assent  to  that  side  on  which  the  less  probability 
 appears  to  him  seems  to  me  utterly  impracticable,  and  as  impossible  as  it  is 
 to  believe  the  same  thing  probable  and  improbable  at  the  same  time. 
 
 Sect.  16.  Whei-e  it  is  in  our  power  to  suspend  it. — As  knowledge  is  no 
 more  arbitrary  than  perception ;  so,  I  think,  assent  is  no  more  in  our  power 
 than  knowledge.  When  the  agreement  of  any  two  ideas  appears  to  our 
 minds,  whether  immediately,  or  by  the  assistance  of  reason,  I  can  no  more 
 refuse  to  perceive,  no  more  avoid  knowing  it,  than  I  can  avoid  seeing  those 
 objects  wliich  I  turn  my  eyes  to,  and  look  on  in  daylight :  and  what  upon  full 
 examination  I  find  the  most  probable,  I  cannot  deny  my  assent  to.  But 
 though  we  cannot  hinder  our  knowledge,  where  the  agreement  is  once  per- 
 ceived, nor  our  assent,  where  the  probability  manifestly  appears  upon  due 
 consideration  of  all  the  measures  of  it ;  yet  we  can  hinder  both  knowledge 
 and  assent,  by  stopping  our  inquiry,  and  not  employing  our  faculties  in  the 
 search  of  any  ti'uth.  If  it  were  not  so,  ignorance,  error,  or  infidelity  could 
 not  in  any  case  be  a  fault.  Thus  in  some  cases  we  can  prevent  or  suspend 
 our  assent :  but  can  a  man,  versed  in  modern  or  ancient  history,  doubt 
 whether  there  is  such  a  place  as  Rome,  or  whether  there  was  such  a  man 
 as  Julius  CfBsar  1  Indeed,  there  are  millions  of  truths,  that  a  man  is  not,  or 
 may  not  think  himself  concerned  to  know  ;  as  whether  our  king  Richard  the 
 Third  was  crooked,  or  no  ;  or  whether  Roger  Bacon  was  a  mathematician, 
 or  a  magician.  In  these  and  such  like  cases,  where  the  assent  one  way  or 
 other  is  of  no  importance  to  the  interest  of  any  one  ;  no  action,  no  concern- 
 ment of  his,  following  or  depending  thereon ;  there  it  is  not  strange  that  the 
 mind  should  give  itself  up  to  the  common  opinion,  or  render  itself  to  the  first 
 comer.  These  and  the  like  opinions,  are  of  so  little  weight  and  moment, 
 that,  like  motes  in  the  sun,  their  tendencies  are  very  rarely  taken  notice  of. 
 They  are  there,  as  it  were,  by  chance,  and  the  mind  lets  them  float  at  liberty. 
 But  where  the  mind  judges  that  the  proposition  has  concernment  in  it ;  where 
 the  assent  or  not  assenting  is  thought  to  draw  consequences  of  moment  after 
 it,  and  good  and  evil  to  depend  on  choosing  or  refusing  the  right  side ;  and 
 the  mind  sets  itself  seriously  to  inquire  and  examine  the  probability  ;  there, 
 I  think,  it  is  not  in  our  choice  to  take  which  side  we  please,  if  manifest  odds 
 appear  on  either.  The  greater  probability,  I  think,  in  that  case  will  determine 
 the  assent :  and  a  man  can  no  more  avoid  assenting,  or  taking  it  to  be  true, 
 where  he  perceives  the  greater  probability,  than  he  can  avoid  knowing  it  to 
 be  true,  where  he  perceives  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  two  ideas. 
 
 If  this  be  so,  the  foundation  of  error  will  lie  in  wrong  measures  of  proba- 
 bility ;  as  the  foundation  of  vice  in  wrong  measures  of  good. 
 
 Sect.  17.  4.  Authority. — Fourthly,  The  fourth  and  last  wrong  measure 
 of  probability  I  shall  take  notice  of,  and  which  keeps  in  ignorance  or  error 
 more  people  than  all  the  other  together,  is  that  which  I  mentioned  in  the 
 foregoing  chapter;  I  mean,  the  giving  up  our  assent  to  the  common  received 
 opinions,  either  of  our  friends  or  party,  neighbourhood  or  country.  How 
 many  men  have  no  other  ground  for  their  tenets  than  the  supposed  honesty, 
 or  learning,  or  number,  of  those  of  the  same  profession  !  As  if  honest  or 
 bookish  men  could  not  err,  or  truth  were  to  be  established  by  the  vote  of  the 
 multitude  :  yet  this,  with  most  men,  serves  the  turn.  The  tenet  has  had  the 
 attestation  of  reverend  antiquity,  it  comes  to  me  with  the  passport  of  former 
 ages,  and  therefore  I  am  secure  in  the  reception  I  give  it:  other  men  have 
 been  and  are  of  tlie  same  opinion  (for  that  is  all  is  said),  and  therefore  it  is 
 reasonable  for  me  to  embrace  it.  A  man  may  more  justifiably  throw  up 
 cross  and  pile  for  his  opinions,  than  take  tliem  up  by  such  measures.  All 
 men  are  liable  to  error,  and  most  men  are  in  many  points,  by  passion,  or 
 
464  OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  Book  4. 
 
 interest  under  tcnij)tation  to  it.  If  we  could  but  see  tlie  secret  motiv-es  that 
 influenced  the  men  of  name  and  learning  in  the  world,  and  tiie  leaders  of 
 l)arties,  we  should  not  always  find  tiiat  it  was  the  embracing  of  truth  for  its 
 own  sake  that  made  them  espouse  the  doctrines  they  owned  and  maintained. 
 This  at  least  is  certain,  there  is  not  an  opinion  so  absurd,  wliich  a  man  may 
 not  receive  upon  this  ground.  There  is  no  error  to  be  named,  which  has  not 
 had  its  professors  :  and  a  man  shall  never  want  crooked  paths  to  walk  in,  if 
 he  thinks  that  he  is  in  the  right  way,  wherever  he  has  the  footsteps  of  others 
 to  follow. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Men  not  in  so  many  errors  as  imagined. — But  notwithstanding 
 the  great  noise  made  in  the  world  about  errors  and  opinions,  I  must  do 
 mankind  that  right  as  to  say  there  are  not  so  many  men  in  errors  and  wrong 
 opinions  as  is  commonly  supposed.  Not  that  I  think  they  embrace  the  truth; 
 but,  indeed,  because  concerning  those  doctrines  they  keep  such  a  stir  about, 
 they  have  no  thought,  no  opinion  at  all.  For  if  any  one  should  a  little  cate- 
 cliise  the  greatest  part  of  the  partizans  of  most  of  the  sects  in  the  world,  he 
 would  not  find,  concerning  those  matters  they  are  so  zealous  for,  that  they 
 have  any  opinions  of  their  own:  much  less  would  he  have  reason  to  think, 
 that  they  took  them  upon  the  examination  of  argmnents,  and  appearance  of 
 probability.  They  are  resolved  to  stick  to  a  party,  that  education  or  interest 
 has  engaged  them  in ;  and  there,  like  the  common  soldiers  of  an  army,  show 
 their  courage  and  warmth  as  their  leaders  direct,  without  ever  examining,  or 
 so  much  as  knowing  the  cause  they  contend  for.  If  a  man's  life  shows  that 
 he  has  no  serious  regard  for  religion,  for  what  reason  should  we  think  that 
 he  beats  his  head  about  the  opinions  of  his  church,  and  troubles  himself  to 
 examine  the  grounds  of  this  or  that  doctrine  1  It  is  enough  for  him  to  obey 
 his  leaders,  to  have  his  hand  and  his  tongue  ready  for  the  support  of  the 
 common  cause,  and  thereby  approve  himself  to  those  who  can  give  him 
 credit,  preferment,  or  protection  in  that  society.  Thus  men  become  profes- 
 sors of,  and  combatants  for,  those  opinions  they  were  never  convinced  of, 
 nor  proselytes  to;  no,  nor  ever  had  so  much  as  floating  in  their  heads:  and 
 though  one  cannot  say,  there  are  fewer  improbable  or  erroneous  opinions  in 
 the  world  than  there  are ;  yet  it  is  certain,  there  are  fewer  that  actually  assent 
 to  them,  and  mistake  them  for  truth,  than  is  imagined. 
 
 CHAPTER  XXI. 
 
 OF  THE  DIVISION  OF  THE  SCIENCES. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Three  sorts. — All  that  can  fall  within  the  compass  of  Ijuman  un- 
 derstanding being  either,  first,  the  nature  of  things,  as  they  are  in  themselves, 
 their  relations,  and  their  manner  of  operation:  or,  secondly,  that  which  man 
 himself  ought  to  do,  as  a  rational  and  voluntary  agent,  for  the  attainment  of 
 any  end,  especially  happiness  :  or,  thirdly,  the  ways  and  means  whereby  the 
 knowledge  of  both  the  one  and  the  other  of  these  is  attained  and  communi- 
 cated :  I  think  science  may  be  divided  properly  into  these  three  sorts. 
 
 Sect.  2.  1.  Physica. — First,  the  knowledge  of  things,  as  they  are  in  their 
 own  proper  beings,  their  constitution,  properties,  and  operations ;  whereby  I 
 mean  not  only  matter  and  body,  but  spirits  also,  which  have  their  proper  na- 
 tures, constitutions,  and  operations,  as  well  as  bodies.  This,  in  a  little  more 
 enlarged  sense  of  the  word,  I  call  ^va-mit,  or  natural  philosophy.  The  end  of 
 this  is  bare  speculative  truth ;  and  whatsoever  can  aflx)rd  the  mind  of  man 
 any  such,  falls  under  this  branch,  whether  it  be  God  himself,  angels,  spirits, 
 Dodies,  or  any  of  their  affections,  as  number  and  figure,  etc. 
 
 Sect.  .3.  2.  Prnctica.— Secondly,  ir^«xT/x»,  The  skill  of  right  applying 
 Ur  own  i)owcrs  and  actions  for  the  attainment  of  things  good  and  useful. 
 
Ch.  21.  DIVISION  OF  THE  SCIENCES.  465 
 
 The  most  considerable  under  this  head  is  ethics,  which  is  the  seeking  out 
 those  rules  and  measures  of  human  actions  which  lead  to  happiness,  and  the 
 means  to  practise  them.  The  end  of  this  is  not  bare  speculation,  and  the 
 knowledge  of  truth ;  but  right,  and  a  conduct  suitable  to  it. 
 
 Sect.  4.  3.  lny.iia"TiK.yt. — Thirdly,  the  third  branch  may  be  called  iHjuumriKu, 
 or  the  doctrine  of  signs,  the  most  usual  whereof  being  words,  it  is  aptly 
 enough  termed  also  AcymM,  logic;  the  business  whereof  is  to  consider  the 
 nature  of  signs  the  mind  makes  use  of  for  the  understanding  of  things,  or 
 conveying  its  knowledge  to  others.  For  since  the  things  the  mind  contem- 
 plates are  none  of  them,  besides  itself,  present  to  the  understanding,  it  is  ne- 
 cessary that  something  else,  as  a  sign  or  representation  of  the  thing  it  con- 
 siders, should  be  present  to  it :  and  these  are  ideas.  And  because  the  scene 
 of  ideas  that  makes  one  man's  thoughts,  cannot  be  laid  open  to  the  imme- 
 diate view  of  another,  nor  laid  up  any  where  but  in  the  memory,  a  no  very 
 sure  repository ;  therefore  to  communicate  our  thoughts  to  one  another,  as 
 v/ell  as  record  them  for  our  own  use,  signs  of  our  ideas  are  also  necessary. 
 Those  which  men  have  found  most  convenient,  and  therefore  generally  make 
 use  of,  are  articulate  sounds.  The  consideration  then  of  ideas  and  words,  as 
 the  great  instruments  of  knowledge,  makes  no  despicable  part  of  their  con- 
 templation who  would  take  a  view  of  human  knowledge  in  the  whole  extent 
 of  it.  And  perhaps  if  it  were  distinctly  weighed,  and  duly  considered,  they 
 would  afford  us  another  sort  of  logic  and  critic  than  whgit  we  have  been 
 hitherto  acquainted  with. 
 
 Sect.  5.  This  is  the  first  division  of  the  objects  of  knowledge. — This 
 seems  to  me  the  first  and  most  general,  as  well  as  natural  division  of  the  objects 
 of  our  understanding.  For  a  man  can  employ  his  thoughts  about  nothing, 
 but  either  the  contemplation  of  things  themselves  for  the  discovery  of  truth  ; 
 or  about  the  things  in  his  power,  which  are  his  own  actions,  for  the  attainment 
 of  his  own  ends ;  or  the  signs  the  mind  makes  use  of  both  in  the  one  and  the 
 other,  and  the  right  ordering  of  them  for  its  clearer  information:  All  which 
 three,  viz.  things  as  they  are  in  themselves  knowable  ;  actions  as  they  depend 
 on  us,  in  order  to  happiness  ;  and  the  right  use  of  signs,  in  o'rder  to  know- 
 ledge, being  toto  coelo  different,  they  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  three  great  pro- 
 vinces of  the  intellectual  world,  wholly  separate  and  distinct  one  from 
 another. 
 
 31 
 
INDEX 
 
 TO 
 
 ESSAY  CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 Abbot  of  St  Martin,  p.  297,  §  26. 
 Abstraction,  107,  §  9. 
 
 Puts  a  perfect  distance  betwixt  men 
 
 and  Ijiutes,  108,  §  10. 
 What,  107,  §  9. 
 How,  110,  §  1. 
 Abstract  ideas,   why  made,  255,  256,  § 
 6,  7,  8. 
 
 terms  cannot  be  affirmed  one  of 
 
 another,  308,  §  1. 
 Accident,  185,  §  2. 
 
 Actions,  the  best  evidence  of  men's  prin- 
 ciples, 5.3,  §  7. 
 But  two  sorts  of  actions,   151,    §    4; 
 
 182,  §  11. 
 Unpleasant  may  be  made  pleasant,  and 
 
 how,  174,  §  69. 
 Cannot  be  the  same  in  different  places, 
 
 207,  §  2. 
 Considered  as  modes,  or  as  moral,  240, 
 §  15. 
 Adequate  ideas,  249,  §  1,  2. 
 
 We  have  not  of  any  species  of  sub- 
 stances, 374,  §  26. 
 Affirmations  are  only  in  concrete,  308, 
 
 §1- 
 Agreement    and    disagreements  of    our 
 ideas  fourfold,  337-340,  §  3,  4,  5,  6,  7. 
 Algebra,  425,  §  15. 
 Alteration,  204,  §  2. 
 Analogy,   useful  in  natural  philosophy, 
 
 434,  §  12. 
 Anger,  149,  §  12,  14. 
 Antipathy  and  sympathy,  whence,  262, 
 
 §7. 
 Arguments  of  four  sorts, 
 
 1.  Ad  verecundiam,  446,  §  19. 
 
 2.  Ad  ignorantiam,  ib.  §  20. 
 S.  Ad  hominem,  ib.  §  21. 
 
 4.  Ad  judicium,  ib.  §  22,    This  alone 
 right,  ib.  §  22. 
 Arithmetic:  the  use  of  ciphers  in  arith- 
 metic, 371,  §  19. 
 Artificial  things  are  most  of  them  collec- 
 tive ideas,  202,  §  3. 
 Why  we  are  less  liable  to  confusion, 
 about  artificial   tilings,  than    about 
 natural,  303,  §  40. 
 466 
 
 Have  distinct  species,  303,  §  41. 
 Assent  to  maxims,  43,  §  10. 
 
 Upon  hearing  and  understanding  the 
 
 terms,  46,  §  17,  18. 
 Assent,  a  mark  of  self-evidence,  46,  § 
 
 18. 
 Not  of  innate,  46,  §  18:  47,  §  19,  20: 
 70,  4  19. 
 Assent  to  probability,  429,  §  3. 
 
 Ought  to  be  proportioned  to  the  proofs, 
 457,  §  1. 
 Association  of  ideas,  260,  §  1,  &c. 
 This  association  how  made,  261,  §  6. 
 Ill  effects  of  it,  as  to  antipathies,  262, 
 4  7,  8:  263,  §  15. 
 '     And-  this  in   sects  of  philosophy  and 
 religion,  264,  §  18. 
 Its  ill  influences  as  to  intellectual  ha- 
 bits, 263,  §  17. 
 Assurance,  432,  §  6. 
 Atheism  in  the  world,  64,  §  8. 
 Atom,  what,  207,  §  3. 
 Authority;  relying  on  others'  opinions, 
 
 one  great  cause  of  error,  463,  §  17. 
 Beings,  but  two  sorts,  411,  §  9. 
 
 The  eternal  Being  must  be  cogitative, 
 ib.  §  10. 
 Belief,  what,  429,  §  3. 
 
 To  believe  without  reason,  is  against 
 our  duty,  446,  §  24. 
 Best  in  our  opinion,  not  a  rule  of  God's 
 
 actions,  67,  §  12. 
 Blind   man,   if  made  to  see,  would  not 
 know  which  a  globe,  which  a  cube,  by 
 his  sight,  though  he  knew  them  by  his 
 touch,  100,  §  8. 
 Blood,  how  it  appears  in  a  microscope, 
 
 191,  §  11. 
 Brutes  have  no  universal  ideas,  108,  § 
 10,  11. 
 
 Abstract  not,  ib.  §  10. 
 Body.     We  have  no  more  primary  ideas 
 of  body  than  of  spirit,  194,  §  16. 
 The  primary  ideas  of  body,  ib.  §  17. 
 The  extension  or  cohesion  of  body,  as 
 hard  to  be  understood,  as  the  tliink- 
 ing  of  spirit,  195,  196,  §  23,  24,  25, 
 26,  27. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 467 
 
 Moving  of  body  by  body,  as  hard  to  be 
 
 conceived  as  by  spirit,  196,  §  28. 
 Operates  only  by  impulse,  94,  §  11. 
 What,  114,  §  11. 
 
 The  author's  notion  of  his  body,  2  Cor. 
 ver.  10,  220,  and  of  his  own  body,  1 
 Cor.  XV.  35,  8cc.  222.  The  meaning 
 of  the  same  body,  218.  Whether  the 
 ■word  body  be  a  simple  or  complex 
 term,  221.  This  only  a  controversy 
 about  the  sense  of  a  word,  228. 
 But,  its  several  significations,  308,  §  5. 
 Capacity,  112,  §  3. 
 
 Capacities,  to  know  their  extent,  useful, 
 34,  §  4. 
 To  cure  scepticism  and  idleness,35,  §  6. 
 Are  suited  to  our  present  state,  35,  §  5. 
 Cause,  204,  §  1, 
 And  effect,  ib. 
 Certainty  depends  on  intuition,  342,  §  1. 
 Wherein  it  consists,  383,  §  18. 
 Of  truth,  384. 
 
 To  be  had  in  very  few  general  proposi- 
 tions concerning  substances,  392,-  § 
 13. 
 Where  to  be  had,  393,  §  16. 
 Verbal,  386,  §  8. 
 Real,  ib. 
 
 Sensible  knowledge,  the  utmost  cer- 
 tainty we  have  of  existence,  415,  §  2. 
 The  author's  notion  of  it  not  danger- 
 ous, 336,  &c. 
 How  it  differs  from  assurance,  432,  §  6. 
 Changelings,  whether  men  or  no,  381,  § 
 
 13,  14. 
 Clearness   alone    hinders    confusion    of 
 
 ideas,  106,  §  3. 
 Clear  and  obscure  ideas,  242,  §  2. 
 Colours,  modes  of  colours,  145,  §  4. 
 Comments  upon  law,  why  infinite,  S12, 
 
 §9. 
 Complex  ideas  how  made,  107,  §  6:  110, 
 §1. 
 In  these  the  mind  is  more  than  pas- 
 sive, ib.  §  2. 
 Ideas  reducible  to  modes,  substances, 
 and  relations,  ib.  §  3. 
 Comparing  ideas,  106,  §  4. 
 
 Herein  men  excel  brutes,  ib.  §  5. 
 Compounding  ideas,  107,  §  6. 
 In  this  is  a  great  difference  between 
 men  and  brutes,  ib.  §  7. 
 Compulsion,  154,  §  13. 
 Confidence,  435,  §  7. 
 Confusion  of  ideas,  wherein  it  consists, 
 243,  §  5,  6,  7. 
 Causes  of  confusion  in  ideas,  243,  244, 
 
 §  7,  8,  9:  245,  §  12. 
 Of  ideas,  grounded  on  a  reference  to 
 
 names,  244,  245,  §  10,  11,  12. 
 Its  remedj-,  245,  §  12. 
 Confused  ideas,  243,  ^  4. 
 
 Conscience  is  our  own  opinion  of  our  own 
 
 actions,  53,  §  8. 
 Consciousness   makes  the   same  person, 
 
 211,  §  10:  213,  §  16. 
 
 Probably  annexed  to  the  same  indi- 
 vidual, immaterial  substance,  216, 
 §  25. 
 
 Necessary  to  thinking,  77,  §  10,  11; 
 81,  §  19. 
 
 What,  ib.  §  19. 
 Contemplation,  102,  §  1. 
 Creation,  204,  §  2. 
 
 Not  to  be  denied,  because  we  cannot 
 conceive  the  manner  how,  414,  §  19. 
 Definition,  why  the  genus  is  used  in  de- 
 finitions, 271,  §  10. 
 Defining  of  terms  would  cut  off  a  great 
 
 part  of  disputes,  322,  §  15. 
 Demonstration,  343,  §  3. 
 
 Not  so  clear  as  intuitive  knowledge, 
 343,  §  4:  344,  §  6,  7. 
 
 Intuitive  knowledge  necessary  in  each 
 step  of  a  demonstration,  344,  §  7. 
 
 Not  limited  to  quantity,  344,  §  9. 
 
 Why  that  has  been  supposed,  ib.  §  10. 
 
 Not  to  be  expected  in  all  cases,  418, 
 §  10. 
 
 What,  428,  §  1:  445,  §  15. 
 Desire,  149,  §  6. 
 
 Is  a  state  of  uneasiness,  159,  16.0,  § 
 31,  32. 
 
 Is  moved  only  by  happiness,  163,  §  K\^ 
 
 How  far,  164,  §  43. 
 
 How  to  be  raised,  165,  §  46. 
 
 Misled  by  wrong  judgment,  171,  §  60. 
 Dictionaries,  how  to  be  made,  334,  335, 
 
 §  25. 
 Discerning,  105,  §  1. 
 
 The  foundation  of  some  general  max- 
 ims, ib.  §  1. 
 Discourse  cannot  be  between  two  men, 
 
 ■who  have  different  names  for  the  same 
 
 idea,  or  different  ideas  for  the  same 
 
 name,  89,  §  5. 
 Despair,  149,  §  11. 
 Disposition,  181,  §  10. 
 Disputing.   The  art  of  disputing  prejudi- 
 cial to  knowledge,  319,  320,  §  6,7,  8,  9. 
 
 Destroys  the  use  of  language,  320,  §  10. 
 Disputes,  whence,  127,  §  28. 
 Disputes,  multiplicity  of  them  owing  to 
 
 the  abuse  of  words,  324,  §  22. 
 
 Are   most   about  the    signification   of 
 Avords,  329,  §  7. 
 Distance.  112,  §  3. 
 Distinct  ideas,  243,  §  4. 
 Divisibility  of  matter  incomprehensible, 
 
 198,  §  31. 
 Dreaming,  146,  §  1. 
 
 Seldom  in  some  men,  79,  §  14. 
 Dreams  for  the  most  part  irrational,  80, 
 h  16, 
 
468 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 In  dreams  no  ideas  but  of  sensation,  or 
 reflection,  SO,  §  17. 
 Duration,  120,  §  1,  2. 
 
 Whence  we  get  tlie  idea  of  duration, 
 
 120,  121,  §  3,  4,  5. 
 Not  from  motion,  123,  §  16. 
 Its  measure,  ib.  §  17,  18 
 Any    regular   periodical   appearance, 
 
 124,  §  19,  20. 
 None  of  its  measures  known  to  be  ex- 
 act, 125,  §  21. 
 We  only  guess  them  equal  by  the  train 
 
 of  our  ideas,  ib.  §  21. 
 Minutes,    days,  years,  &c.  not  neces- 
 sary to  duration,  126,  §  23. 
 Cliange  of  the  measures   of  duration, 
 change  not  the  notion  of  it,  ib.  §  23. 
 The  measures  of  duration,  as  the  revo- 
 lutions of  the  sun,  may  be  applied 
 to  dunUlou  before  the   sun  existed, 
 126,  127,  §  24,  25.  28. 
 Duration   without   beginning,    126,    § 
 
 26. 
 How  we  measure  duration,  127,  §  27, 
 
 28,  29. 
 Recapitulation,  concerning  our    ideas 
 of  duration,  time,  and  eternity,  128, 
 §  31. 
 Duration  and  expansion  compared,  129, 
 §  1. 
 They  mutually  embrace  each   other, 
 
 133,  §  12. 
 Considered  as  a  line,  ib.  §  11. 
 Duration  not  conceivable  by  us  with- 
 out succession,  133,  §  12. 
 Educati m,  partly  the  cause  of  unreason- 
 ableness, 2C1,  §  3. 
 Effect,  204,  §  I. 
 Enthusiasm,  452. 
 
 Described,  453,  §  6,  7. 
 Its  rise,  ib.  §  5. 
 
 Ground  of  persuasion  must  be  exam- 
 ined, and  how,  454,  §  10. 
 Firmness  of  it,  no  sufficient  proof,  455, 
 
 §  12,  13. 
 Fails  of  the  evidence  it  pretends  to, 
 ill.  §  11. 
 Envy,  149,  §  13,  14. 
 Error,  what,  457,  §  1. 
 Causes  of  error,  ib. 
 
 1.  Want  of  proofs,  ib.  §  2. 
 
 2.  Want  of  skill  to  use  them,  458,  §5. 
 
 3.  Want   of  will   to   use    them,    459, 
 §  6. 
 
 4.  Wrong    measures    of    probability, 
 460,  §  7. 
 
 Fewer  men   assent  to   errors   than  is 
 supposed,  464,  §  18. 
 Essence,  real  and  nominal,  277,  §  15. 
 Supposition  of  unintelligible,  real  es- 
 sences of    species,   of  no  use,  ib. 
 *17. 
 
 Real  and  nominal  essences,  in  simple 
 ideas  and  modes  alw.aystbc  same,  in 
 substances  always   different,  378,  § 
 18. 
 Essences,    how   ingenerable   and    incor- 
 ruptible, ib.  §   19. 
 Specific  essences  of  mixed  modes  are 
 of  men's  making,  and  how,  284,  §  3. 
 Though  arbitrary,  yet  not  at  random, 
 
 285,  §  7. 
 Of  mixed  modes,  why  called  notions, 
 
 287,  §  12. 
 What,  289,  §  2. 
 
 Relate  only  to  species,  290,  §  4. 
 Real  essences,  what,  291,  §  6. 
 We  know  them  not,  292,  §  9. 
 Our  specific  essences  of  substances  are 
 nothing  but  collections  of  sensible 
 ideas,  295,  §  21. 
 Nominal  are  made  by  the  mind,  297. 
 
 §26. 
 But    not   altogether   arbitrarily,    298, 
 
 §  28. 
 Nominal  essences  of  substances,  how 
 
 made,  ib.  §  28,  29. 
 Are  very  various,  299,  §30:  300,  §  31. 
 Of  species,  are   the  abstract  ideas  the 
 names   stand   for,   273,    §    12,    278, 
 §  19. 
 Are  of  man's  making,  273,  §  12. 
 But   founded    in    the    agreement    of 
 
 things,  276,  §  13. 
 Real  essences  determine  not  our  spe- 
 cies, 276,  §  13. 
 Every  distinct,    abstract   idea,  with   a 
 name,  is  a  distinct  essence  of  a  dis- 
 tinct species,  276,  §  14. 
 Real  essences  of  substances,  not  to  be 
 known,  391,  §  12. , ' 
 Essential,  what,  289,  §  2;  290,  §  5. 
 Nothing  essential  to  individuals,  290, 
 
 §  4. 
 But  to  species,  291,  §  6. 
 Essential  difference,  what,  290,  §  5. 
 Eternal  verities,  4l9,  §  14. 
 Eternity,  in  our  disputes  and  reasonings 
 about  it,  why  we  are  apt  to  blunder, 
 £46,  §  15. 
 AVhence  we  get  its  idea,  127,  §  27. 
 Evil,  what,  163,  §  42. 
 Existence,  an  idea  of  sensation  and  re- 
 flection, 91,  §  7. 
 Our  own  existence  we  know  intuitive- 
 ly, 408,  §  3. 
 And  cannot  doubt  of  it,  ib. 
 Of  created  things,  knowable  only  by 
 
 our  senses,  415,  §  1. 
 Past  existence  known  only  by  memt  ry, 
 418,  §  11. 
 Expansion,  boundless,  129,  §  2. 
 
 Should  be  applied  to  space  in  general, 
 119,  §  27. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 469 
 
 Experience    often  lielps  ua,    where   we 
 
 think  not  that  it  does,  100,  §  8. 
 Extasy,  146,  §  1. 
 
 Extension:    we  have  no  distinct  ideas  of 
 very  great,  or  very  little  extension, 
 246,  §  16. 
 Of  body,  incomprehensible,  195,  §  23, 
 
 &c. 
 Denominations,  from  place  and  exten- 
 sion, are   many   of  ihem   relatives, 
 206,  §  5. 
 And   body  not  the    same    thing,  114, 
 
 §  11. 
 
 Its  definition  insignificant,  ll.";,  §  15. 
 Of  body  and  of  space  how  distinguish- 
 ed, 89,  §  5:  196,  §  27. 
 Faculties   of    the  mind    first   exercised, 
 109,  §  14. 
 Are  but  powers,  155,  §  17. 
 Operate  not,  155,  156,  §  18,  20. 
 Faith  and  opinion,  as  dislinguisiied  from 
 knowledge,  what,  4'2S,  429,  §  2,  3. 
 And  knowledge,  their  difference,  429, 
 
 §3. 
 What,  435,  §  14. 
 Not  opposite  to  reason,  447,  §  24. 
 As    contra-distinguished     to    reason, 
 
 what,  447,  §  2. 
 Cannot  convince  us  of  any  thing  con- 
 trary to  our  reason,  449,  §  5,  6.  8. 
 Matter  of  faith   is  only  divine  revela- 
 tion, 451,  §  9. 
 Things  above  reason  are  only  proper 
 matters  of  faith,  550,  §  7.  9. 
 Falsehood,  what  it  is,  386,  §  9. 
 Fancy,  104,  §  8. 
 Fantastical  id^as,  249,  §  1. 
 Fear,  149,  §  10. 
 Figure,  112,  §  5,  6. 
 Figurative  speech,  an  abuse  of  language, 
 
 327,  §  34. 
 Finite,  and    infiuite,  modes    of  quantity, 
 137,  §   1. 
 All    positive    ideas  of  quantity,  finite, 
 139,  §  8. 
 Forms,  su';)stantial  forms  distinguish  not 
 
 species,  292,  §  10. 
 Free,  liow  far  a  man  is  so,  156,  §  21. 
 A  man  not  free  to  will,  or  not  to  will, 
 157,  §  22,23,  24. 
 Freedom   belongs   only  to   agents,    155, 
 
 §  19. 
 AVhei-ein  it  consists,  158,  §  27. 
 Free  will,  liberty  belongs  not  to  the  will, 
 154,  §  14. 
 Wherein  consists  that  which  is  called 
 free  will,  157,  §  24:  165,  §  47. 
 General  ideas,  how  made,  107,  §  9. 
 Knowledge,  what,  377,  §  31. 
 Propositions  cannot  be   known  to  be 
 true,  without  knowing  the  essence 
 of  tlie  species,  387,  §  4. 
 
 Words,  how  made,  268,  §  G,  7,  8. 
 Belongs  only  to  signs,  271,  §  11. 
 Gentlemen  should  not  be  ignorant,  459, 
 
 §6. 
 Genus  and  species,  what,  271,  §  10. 
 
 Are   but  Latin   names   for   sorts,  286, 
 
 Is  but  a  partial  conception  of  what  is 
 
 in  the  species,  300,  §  32. 
 And   species  adjusted   to  the  end   of 
 
 speech,  301,  §  33. 
 And   species  are  made  in  order  to  ge- 
 neral names,  302,  §  39. 
 Generation,  204,  §  2. 
 God  immovable,    because   infinite,   194, 
 §21. 
 Fills  immensity,  as  well   as  eternity, 
 
 129,  §  3. 
 His  duration,  not  like  that  of  the  crea- 
 tures, 133,  134,  §  12. 
 An  idea  of  God  not  innate,  64,  §  8. 
 The  existence  of  a  God  evident,  and 
 
 obvious  to  reason,  65,  §  9. 
 The  notion  of  a  God  once  got  is  the 
 
 likeliest  to  spread  and  be  continued, 
 
 66,  §  9,  10. 
 Idea  of  God   late  and  imperfect,  68, 
 
 §  13. 
 Contrary,  68,  69,  §  15,  16. 
 Inconsistent,  68,  §  15. 
 The  best  notions  of  God  got  by  thought 
 
 and  application,  69,  §  15. 
 Notions  of  God  frequently  not  worthy 
 
 of  him,  69,  §  16. 
 The     being    of    a    God    certain,    ib. 
 
 proved,  409. 
 As  evident  as  that  the  three  angles  of 
 
 a  triangle  are   equal   to   two    right 
 
 ones,  72,  §  22, 
 Yea,  as  that  two  opposite  angles  are 
 
 equal,  69,  §  16. 
 More  certain  than  an_v  other  existence 
 
 without  us,  410,  §  6. 
 The  idea  of  God  not  the  only  proof  of 
 
 his  existence,  410,  §  7. 
 The  being  of  a  God  the  foundation  of 
 
 morality  and  divinity,  410,  §  7. 
 How  we  make  our  idea  of  God,  198, 
 
 199,  §  33,  34. 
 Gold   is  fixed;   the  various  significations 
 
 of  this  proposition,  306,  §  50. 
 
 Water  strained  through  it,  88,  §  4. 
 
 Good  and   evil,  what,    148,    §  2:    163,  § 
 
 42. 
 The  greater  good  determines   not   the 
 
 will,  160,  §   35:    162,   §  38:    164,  § 
 
 44. 
 Why,  164,  §  44:   165,  §  46:  170,  &c. 
 
 §  59,  60.  64,  65.  69. 
 Twofold,  171,  61. 
 Works  on  the  will  only  by  desire,  165 
 
 §  46. 
 
470 
 
 OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 Di'sire  of  good  liow  to  be  raised,  165, 
 §  46,  47. 
 Habit,  181,  §  10. 
 Habitual   actions  pass  often  without  our 
 
 notice,  100,  §  10. 
 Hair,  how  it  appears  in   a  microscope, 
 
 191,  §  11. 
 Happiness,  wliat,  163,  §  42. 
 
 What  happiness  men  pursue,   164,  § 
 
 43. 
 How  -we  come  to  rest  in  narrow  hap- 
 piness, 170,  171,  §  59,  60. 
 Hardiness,  what,  88,  §  4. 
 Hatred,  148,  §  5:   149,  §  14. 
 Heat  and  cold,  liow  the  sensation  of  them 
 both  is  produced  by  the  same  water 
 at  tlie  same  time,  96,  §  21. 
 Histnrv,  wliat  history  of  most  authority, 
 
 434,  §  11. 
 Hope,  149,  §  9. 
 Hypotheses,  their  use,  424,  §  13. 
 
 Are  to  be  built  on  matter  of  fact,   77, 
 §  10. 
 Ice  and  water,  whether  distinct  species, 
 
 294,  §  13. 
 Idea,  what,  93,  §  8. 
 
 Ideas,  their  original  in  children,  62,  §  2; 
 68,  §  13. 
 None  innate,  70,  §  17. 
 Because  not  remembered,  71,  §  20. 
 Are  what  the  mind  is  employed  about, 
 
 in  thinking,  75,  §  1. 
 All  from  sensation  or  reflection,  ibid, 
 
 §  2,  &c. 
 How  this  is  to  be  understood,  349. 
 Their   way  of  getting,    observable   in 
 
 children,  76,  §  6. 
 Why    some  liave   more,    some    fewer 
 
 ideas,  76,  §  7. 
 Of  reflection  got  late,  and  in  some  very 
 
 negligently,  77,  §  8. 
 Their  beginning  and   increase  in  chil- 
 dren, 82,  §  21,22,  23,  24. 
 Their  original  in  sensation  and  reflec- 
 tion, 82,  §  24. 
 Of  one  sense,  83,  §  1. 
 Want  names,  83,  §  2. 
 Of  more  than  one  sense,  128,  §  1. 
 Of  reflection,  86,  ^  I. 
 Of  sensation  and  reflection,  90,  §  1. 
 As  in  the  mind,   and   in  things,  must 
 
 be  distinguished,  93,  §  7. 
 Not  always  resemblances,  95,  §  15. 
 Which    are    first,    is    not   material  to 
 
 know,  99,  §  7. 
 Of  sensation  often  altered  by  the  judg- 
 ment, 100,  §  8. 
 Principally  tiiose  of  sight,  100,  §  9. 
 Of  reflection.  109,  §  14. 
 Simple  ideas  men  agree  in,  119,  §  28. 
 Moving  in  a  regular  train  in  our  minds, 
 122,  §  9. 
 
 Such  as  have  degrees  want  names,  145, 
 §6. 
 
 Wliv  some  have  names  and  others  not, 
 146,  §  7. 
 
 Original,  178,  §  73. 
 
 All  complex  ideas  resolvable  into 
 simple,  181,  §  9. 
 
 What  simple  ideas  have  been  most 
 modified,  181,  §  10. 
 
 Our  complex  idea  of  God,  and  other 
 spirits,  common  in  every  thing  but 
 infinity,  199,  §  36. 
 
 Clear  and  obscure,  242,  §  2. 
 
 Distinct  and  confused,  243,  §  4. 
 
 Maj'  be  clear  in  one  part  and  obscure 
 in  another,  245,  §  13. 
 
 Real  and  fantastical,  247,  §  1. 
 
 Simple  are  all  real,  248,  §  2. 
 
 And  adequate,  249,  §  2. 
 
 What  ideas  of  mixed  modes  are  fan- 
 tastical, 248,  §  4. 
 
 What  ideas  of  substances  are  fantasti- 
 cal, 249,  §  5. 
 
 Adequate  and  inadequate,  249,  §  1. 
 
 How  said  to  be  in  things,  249,  §  2. 
 
 Modes  are  all  adequate  ideas,  250, 
 §3. 
 
 Unless  as  referred  to  names,  250,  251, 
 §4,  5. 
 
 Of  substances  inadequate,  253,  §  11. 
 
 1.  As  referred  to  real  essences,  351, 
 352,  §  6,  7. 
 
 2.  As  referred  to  a  collection  of  simple 
 ideas,  352,  §  8. 
 
 Simple  ideas  are  perfect  eKTwra.,  254, 
 §  12. 
 
 Of  substances  are  perfect  «»Tt/!ri*,  254, 
 §  14. 
 
 Of  modes  are  perfect  archetypes,  254, 
 §  14. 
 
 True  or  false,  254,  §  14,  &c. 
 
 When  false,  259,  260,  §  21,  22,  23, 
 24,  25. 
 
 As  bare  appearances  in  the  mind,  nei- 
 ther true  nor  false,  255,  §  3. 
 
 As  referred  to  other  men's  ideas,  or 
 to  real  existence,  or  to  real  essen- 
 ces, may  be  true  or  false,  255,  § 
 4,  5. 
 
 Reason  of  such  reference,  256,  §  6, 
 7,  8. 
 
 Simple  ideas  referred  to  other  men's 
 ideas  least  apt  to  be  false,  256,  §  9. 
 
 Complex  ones,  in  this  respect,  more 
 apt  to  be  false,  especially  those  of 
 mixed  modes,  256,  §  10. 
 
 Simple  ideas  referred  to  existence  are 
 all  true,  257,  §  14:  258,  §  16. 
 
 Though  they  should  be  different  in 
 difi'erent  men,  258,  §  15. 
 
 Complex  ideas  of  modes  are  all  truo 
 258,  §  17. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 471 
 
 Of  substances   when  false,  259,   §  21, 
 
 &e. 
 When  right  or  wrong,  260,  §  26. 
 That  we  are  incapable  of,  373,  §  23. 
 That  we  cannot  attain,  because  of  their 
 
 remoteness,  373,  §  24. 
 Because  of  their  minuteness,  374,   § 
 
 25. 
 Simple    have    a    real    conformity    to 
 
 things,  378,  §  4. 
 And  all  others  but  of  substances,  378, 
 
 §5. 
 Simple    cannot  be   got  by  definitions 
 
 of  words,  281,  §  11. 
 But  only  by  experience,  282,  §  14. 
 Of  mixed  modes  why  most  compound- 
 ed, 287,  4  13. 
 Specific,  of  mixed  modes,  how  at  first 
 
 made  :     instance    in    kinneah    and 
 
 niouph,  304,  §  44,  45. 
 Of  substances:  instance  in  zahab,  305, 
 
 4  46,  47. 
 Simple  ideas  and  modes  have  all   ab- 
 stract as  well   as   concrete  names, 
 
 309,  §  2. 
 Of  substances,  have  scarce  any  abstract 
 
 names,  309. 
 Different  in  different  men,  313,  §  13. 
 Our    ideas,   almost   all   relative,   151, 
 
 Particular  are  first  in  the  mind,  311, 
 §9. 
 
 General  are  imperfect,  311,  §  9. 
 
 How  positive  ideas  may  be   from  pri- 
 vative causes,  93,  §  4. 
 
 The  use  of  this  term  not  dangerous, 
 36,  &c.  It  is  fitter  than  the  word 
 notion,  37.  Other  words  as  liable 
 to  be  abused  as  this,  38.  Yet  it  is 
 condemned,  both  as  new,  and  not 
 new.  39.  The  same  with  notion, 
 sense,  meaning,  &c.  338. 
 Identical  propositions  teach  nothing,  403, 
 
 §2. 
 Identity  not  an  innate  idea,  62,  63,  §  3, 
 4,  5. 
 
 And  diversity,  206,  §  1. 
 
 Of  a  plant,  wherein   it   consists,  208, 
 
 §4. 
 
 .Of  animals,  208,  §  5. 
 
 Of  a  man,  208,  §  6:  209,  §  8. 
 
 Unity  of   substance   does   not   always 
 make  the  same  identity,  209,  §  7. 
 
 Personal  identity,  210,  §  9. 
 
 Depends  on   the   same   consciousness, 
 211,  §  10. 
 
 Continued   existence    makes   identity, 
 218,  §  29. 
 
 And  diversity,  in  ideas  the  first  per- 
 ception of  tlie  mind,  339,  §  4. 
 Idiots  and  madmen,  108,  §  12,  13. 
 
 Ignorance,    our   ignorance   infinitely  ex- 
 ceeds our  knowledge,  372,  §  22. 
 Causes  of  ignorance,  373,  §  23. 
 
 1.  For  want  of  ideas,  373. 
 
 2.  For  want  of  a  discoverable  connex- 
 ion between  the  ideas  we  have,  375, 
 §  28. 
 
 3.  For  want  of  tracing  the  ideas  we 
 have,  376,  §  30.    , 
 
 Immensity,  112,  §  4. 
 
 How  this  idea  is  got,  137,  §  3. 
 Immoralities,  of  whole  nations,   54,  55, 
 
 §  9,  10. 
 Immortality  not  annexed  to  any  shape, 
 
 382,  §  15. 
 Impenetrability,  87,  §  1. 
 Imposition    of    opinions    unreasonable, 
 
 431,  §  4. 
 Impossible  est  idem   esse   et  non  esse, 
 not  the  first  thing  known,  49,  §  25. 
 Impossibility,   not  an   innate    idea,    62, 
 
 §3. 
 Impression  on  the  mind,  what,  42,  §  5. 
 Inadequate  ideas,  249,  §  1. 
 Incompatibility,  how  far  knowable,  369, 
 
 §  15. 
 Individuationis  principium,  is  existence, 
 
 207,  §  3. 
 Infallible   judge    of    controversies,    67, 
 
 §  12. 
 Inference,  what,  427,  428,  §  2,  3,  4, 
 Infinite,    why  the    idea  of   infinite   not 
 applicable  to  other  ideas  as  well   as 
 those   of    quantity,    since   they   can 
 be  as  often  repeated,  138,  §  6. 
 The  idea  of  infinity  of  space,  or  num- 
 ber, and  of  space,  or  number   infi- 
 nite, must  be  distinguished,  139,  §7. 
 Our  idea  of  infinite  very  obscure,  ib. 
 
 §8. 
 Number  furnishes  us  with  the  clearest 
 
 ideas  of  infinite,  140,  §  9. 
 The  idea  of  infinite,  a  growing   idea, 
 
 ib.  §  12. 
 Our   idea   of  infinite,  partly  positive, 
 partly  comparative,  partly  negative, 
 •141,  §  15. 
 Wlfy  some   men  think  they  have   an 
 idea  of  infinite  duration,  but  not  of 
 infinite  space,  143,  §  20. 
 Why  disputes  about  infinite  are  usual- 
 ly perplexed,  144,  §  21. 
 Our  idea  of  infinity  has  its  original  in 
 
 sensation  and  reflection,  ib.  §  22. 
 We  have  no  positive   idea  of  infinite, 
 141,  §  13,  14:  142,  §  16. 
 Infinity,    why   more   commonly   allowed 
 to  duration  than  to  expansion,  129, 
 §4. 
 How  applied  to  God  by  us,  137,  §  I. 
 How  we  get  this  idea,  ib.  §  8,  3. 
 
472 
 
 OP  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 The  infinity  of  number,  duration,  and 
 space,    different    ways    considered, 
 133,  §  10,  U. 
 Innate  truths  must  be   first  known,  49, 
 
 Principles  to  no  purpose,  if  men  can 
 be  ignorant  or  doubtful  of  them,  56, 
 §  13. 
 Principles  of  my  lord  Herbert  exam- 
 ined, 57,  5S,  §  15,  &c. 
 Moral  rules  to  no  purpose,  if  efface- 
 
 able,  or  alterable,  59,  §  20. 
 Propositions    must    be    distinguished 
 from  others  by  their   clearness  and 
 usefulness,  72,  §  21. 
 The  doctrine  of  innate   principles  of 
 ill  consequence,  73,  §  24. 
 Instant,  what,  122,  §  10. 
 
 And   continual  change,  123,  §  13,  14, 
 15. 
 Intuitive  knowledge,  342,  §  1. 
 
 Our  highest  certainty,  444,  445,  §  14. 
 Invention,  wherein  it  consists,  104,  §  8. 
 Joy,  149,  §  7. 
 Iron,  of  what  advantage  to  mankind,  423, 
 
 §11. 
 Judgment,   wrong  judgments,    in   refer- 
 ence to  good  and  evil,  170,  §  58. 
 Right  judgment,  318,  §  4. 
 One   cause   of  wrong  judgment,    431, 
 
 Wherein  it  consists,  427,  &c. 
 Knowleilge   has  a  great  connexion  with 
 
 words,  325,  §  25. 
 The  author's  definition  of  it  explained 
 
 and   defended,  339,    note.      How   it 
 
 differs  from  failii,  429,  §  2,  3:    339, 
 
 note. 
 What,  336,  §  2. 
 How  much  our  knowledge  depends  on 
 
 our  senses,  333,  §  23. 
 Actual,  341,  §  8. 
 Habitual,  ib. 
 
 Habitual,  twofold,  ib.  §  9. 
 Intuitive,  342,  §  1. 
 Intuitive,  the  clearest,  ib. 
 Intuitive,  irresistible,  ib.  _ 
 
 Demonstrative,  343,  <5  2.  ^    ^ 
 
 Of  general   truths,  is  all  either  intui- 
 tive or  demonstrative,  345,  §  14 
 Of  particular  existences,  is  sensitive, 
 
 ib. 
 Clear   ideas  do   not    always    produce 
 
 clear  knowledge,  346,  §  15. 
 Wiiat  kind  of  knowledge  we  have  of 
 
 nature,  191,  §  12. 
 Its  begimiiiig  and   progress,  109,  §  15, 
 
 16,  17:   4.5,  §  15,  16. 
 Given  us,  in  ilie  faculties  to  attain   it, 
 
 67,  68,  §  12. 
 Men's  knowledge    according    to    the 
 
 employment  of  their  faculties.   79, 
 §22. 
 
 To  be  got  only  by  the  application  of 
 our  own  ihouglit  to  the  contempla- 
 tion of  things,  73,  §  23. 
 
 Extent  of  human  knowledge,  347. 
 
 Our  knowledge  goes  not  beyond  our 
 ideas,  ib.  §  1. 
 
 Nor  beyond  the  perception  of  their 
 agreement  or  disagreement,  ib.  §  2. 
 
 Reaches  not  to  all  our  ideas,  ib.  §  3. 
 
 Much  less  to  the  reality  of  things,  ib. 
 §6. 
 
 Yet  very  improvable,  if  right  ways 
 were  taken,  ib.  §  6. 
 
 Of  coexistence  very  narrow,  367,  368, 
 §  9,  10,  11. 
 
 And  therefore  of  substances  very  nar- 
 row, 368,  &c.  §  14,  15,  16. 
 
 Of  otlier  relations  indeterminable,  369, 
 §  18. 
 
 Of  existence,  370,  §  21. 
 
 Certain  and  universal,  where  to  be 
 had,  376,  §  29. 
 
 Ill  use  of  words,  a  great  hinderance  of 
 knowledge,  ib.  §  30. 
 
 General,  where  to  be  got,  377,  §  31. 
 
 Lies  only  in  our  thoughts,  392,  §  13. 
 
 Reality  of  our  knowledge,  377. 
 
 Of  mathematical  truths,  how  real,  379, 
 §6. 
 
 Of  morality,  real,  ib.  §  7. 
 
 Of  substances,  how  far  real,  380,  §  12. 
 
 What  makes  our  knowledge  real,  378, 
 §  3:  379,  §  8. 
 
 Considering  tilings,  an<l  not  names,  the 
 way  to  knowledge,  381,  §13. 
 
 Of  sulistances,  wiierein  it  consists,  380, 
 §11. 
 
 What  required  to  any  tolerable  know- 
 ledge of  sidistances,  392,  §14. 
 
 Self-evident,  393,  §  2. 
 
 Of  identity  and  diversity,  as  large  as 
 our  ideas,  367,  §  8:  394,  §4. 
 
 Wherein  it  consists,  ib. 
 
 Of  coexistence,  very  scanty,  395,  §  5. 
 
 Of  relations  of  modes,  not  so  scantv, 
 ib.  §  6. 
 
 Of  real  existence,  none,  ib.  §  7. 
 
 Begins  in  particulars,  396,  §  9. 
 
 Intuitive  of  our  own  existence,  .108, 
 §3. 
 
 Demonstrative  of  a  God,  ib.  §  1. 
 
 Improvement  of  knowledge,  420. 
 
 Not  improved  by  maxims,  ib.  §  1 
 
 Why  so  thought,  ib.  §  2. 
 
 Knowledge  improved,  only  by  per- 
 fecting and  comparing  ideas,  422, 
 §  6:  425,  §  14. 
 
 And  finding  their  relations,  422,  §7. 
 
 By  intermediate  ideas,  425,  §  14. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 473 
 
 In   substances,   how  to  be  improved, 
 
 422,  §  9. 
 Partly    necessaiy,    partly    voluntaiy, 
 
 426,  §1,2. 
 Why  some,  and  so  little,  ib.  §  2. 
 How  increased,  432,  §  6. 
 Language,  why  it  changes,  180,  §  7. 
 Wherein  it  consists,  265,  §  1,  2,  3. 
 Its  use,  28.'),  ^  7. 
 Its  imperfections,  309,  §  1. 
 Double  use,  ibid. 
 
 The  use  of  language  destroyed  by  the 
 subtilty  of  disputing,  319,  §  6,  7,  8. 
 Ends  of  language,  325,  §  23. 
 Its  imperfections,  not  easy  to  be  cured, 
 
 328,  §2:  ib.  §  4,  5,  6. 
 The  cure  of  them  necessary  to  philo- 
 sophy, ib.  §  3. 
 To  use   no  word  without  a  clear   and 
 distinct   idea  annexed   to    it   is  one 
 remedy  of  the  imperfections  of  lan- 
 guage, 329,  §  8,  9. 
 Propriety  in  the  use  of  words,  another 
 remedy,  330,  §  11. 
 Law  of  nature  generally  allowed,  53,  §  6. 
 There  is,  though  not  innate,  56,  §  13. 
 Its  enforcement,  235,  §  6. 
 Learning,  the  ill  slate  of  learning  in  these 
 latter  ages,  309,  &c. 
 Of  the  scliools  lies  chiefly  in  the  abuse 
 
 of  words,  312,  Sec.  319. 
 Such  learning  of  ill  consequence,  320, 
 §  10,  he. 
 Liberty,  wliat,  153,  154,  §  8,    9,   10,    11, 
 12:    154,  §  15. 
 Belongs  not  to  the  will,  ib.  §  14. 
 To  be  determined  by  the  result  of  our 
 own  deliberation  is   no  restraint  of 
 liberty,  166, 167,  §  48,  49,  50. 
 Founded  in  a  power  of  suspending  our 
 particular  desires,  166,  §  47. 
 Light,  its  absurd  definitions,  280,  §  10. 
 Light  in  the  mind,  what,  455,  §  13. 
 Logic  has  introduced  obscurity  into  lan- 
 guages, 319,  §  6,  7. 
 And  hindered  knowledge,  319,  §  7. 
 Love,  148,  §4. 
 
 Madness,  108,  §  13.     Opposition  to  rea- 
 son deserves  that  name,  261,  §  4. 
 Magisterial,  the  most  knowing  are  least 
 
 magisterial,  432,  §  4. 
 Making,  2()4,  §  2. 
 
 Man   not  the  product   of  blind  chance, 
 410,  §  6. 
 The  essence  of  man  is  placed   in  his 
 
 shape,  382,  §  16. 
 We  know  not   his  real   essence,  289, 
 
 §  3:  295,  §  22:  298,  §  27. 
 The  boundaries  of  the  liuman  species 
 
 not  determined,  298,  §  27. 
 What  makes  the  same  individual  man, 
 215,  §  21:   213,  §  29. 
 3  K 
 
 The  same  man  may  be   different  per- 
 sons, 2(4,  §  19. 
 Mathematics,  their  methods,  422,  §  7. 
 
 Improvement,  425,  §  15. 
 Matter  incomprehensible,  both  in  its  co- 
 hesion  and    divisibility,    195,  §  23: 
 197,  198,  §  30,  31. 
 Wiiat,  321,  §  15. 
 Whether  it  may  think,  is  not  to  be 
 
 known,  348—358,  §  6:  354,  &c. 
 Cannot  produce  motion,  or  any  thing 
 
 else,  411,  §  10. 
 And  motion  cannot  produce  thought, 
 
 ib. 
 Not  eternal,  414,  §  18. 
 Maxims,  400,  401,  §  12,  13,  14,  15. 
 Not  alone  self-evident,  394,  §  3.  • 
 Are  not  the  truths  first  known,   396, 
 
 §9. 
 Not  the  foundation  of  our  knowledge, 
 
 ib.  §  10. 
 Wherein  their  evidence  consists,  ib. 
 Their  use,  397—400,  §  11,  12. 
 Why    the   most    general     self-evident 
 propositions  alone,  pass  for  maxims, 
 397,  §  11. 
 Are   commonly   proofs,     only    where 
 there  is  no  need  of  proofs,  401,  §  15. 
 Of  little  use,  with  clear  terms,  402, 
 
 §  19. 
 Of  dangerous  use,  -with  doubtful  terms, 
 
 400,  &c.  §  12:  403,  §  20. 
 When  first  known,  43,    &c.  §   9.  12, 
 
 13:  44,  §  14.  16. 
 How  they  gain  assent,  47,  48,  §  21,  22. 
 Made  for  particular  observations,  ib. 
 •     Not  in  the  understanding  before  they 
 are  actually  known,  48,  §  22. 
 Neither  their  terms  nor  ideas  innate, 
 
 ib.  §  23. 
 Least  known  to  children  and  illiterate 
 people,  50,  §  27. 
 Memory,  102,  §  2. 
 
 Attention,    pleas!ire,  and  pain,  settle 
 
 ideas  in  the  memory,  ib.  §  3. 
 And  rejietilion,  ib.  §  4:    103,  §  6. 
 Difference  of  memory,  ib.  §  4,  5. 
 In  remenibi'ance,  the  mind  sometimes 
 active,  sometimes  passive,  104,  §  7. 
 Its  necessity,  103,  §  5:    104,  §  8. 
 Defects,  104,  §  8,  9. 
 In  brutes,  105,  §  10. 
 Metaphysics  and    school    divinity   filled 
 with  uiiinstructive  propositions,  406, 
 §9. 
 Method  used  in  mathematics,  422,  §  7. 
 Mind,   tlie  quickness  of  its  actions,  100, 
 
 §  10. 
 Minutes,   hours,   days,   not  necessary  to 
 
 duration,  126,  ^  23. 
 Miracles,  the  ground  of  assent  to  mira- 
 cles, 435,  §  13. 
 
474 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 Miserj',  what,  16.3,  §  42. 
 Modes,  mixed,  179,  ^  I. 
 Made  by  tlie-miiid,  ib.  §  2. 
 Sometimes  got   by  the  explication  of 
 
 their  names,  ib.  §  3. 
 Whence  a  mixed  mode  has  its  unity, 
 
 ib.  §  4. 
 Occasion  of  mixed  modes,  180,  §  5. 
 Mixe<l  modes,  their  ideas,  how  got,  181, 
 
 §9. 
 Modes  simple  and  complex,  111,  §  5. 
 Simple  modes,  112,  §  1. 
 Of  motion,  145,  §2. 
 Moral  good  and  evil,  what,  235,  §  5. 
 Three   rules  wliereby    men   judge  of 
 
 moral  rectitude,  ib.  §  7. 
 Beings,   how  founded  on   simple  ideas 
 of  sensation  and  reflection,  239,  240, 
 §  14,  15. 
 Rules  not  self-evident,  52,  §  4. 
 Variety  of  opinions,  concerning  moral 
 
 rules,  whence,  53,  §  5,  6. 
 Rules,  if  innate,  cannot  with  public  al- 
 lowance be  transgressed,  55,  56,  &c. 
 §  11,  12,  13. 
 Morality,  capable  of  demonstration,  370, 
 §  18:   422,  §  8. 
 The  proper   study  of  mankind,   423, 
 
 §  11. 
 Of  actions,   in  their  conformity  to  a 
 rule,  240,  §  15. 
 Mistakes    in    moral    notions,    owing    to 
 names,  ib.  §  16. 
 Discourses  in  morality,  if  not  clear,  it 
 is  the  fault  of  the  speaker,  332,  §  17. 
 Hinderances  of  demonstrative  treating 
 of   morality.      1.    Want    of  marks. 
 2.    Complexediiess,   371,   §    19.      3. 
 Interest,  372,  §  20. 
 Change  of  names  in  morality,  changes 
 
 not  the  nature  of  things,  380,  §  9. 
 And  mechanism,  hard  to  be  reconciled, 
 
 57,  §  14. 
 Secured    amidst    men's    wrong  judg- 
 ments, 175,  §  70. 
 Motion,  slow  or  very  swift,  why  not  per- 
 ceived, 122,  §  7,  8,  9,  10,  11. 
 Voluntary,  inexplicable,  414,  §  19. 
 Its  absurd  definitions,  280,  §  8,  9. 
 Naming  of  ideas,  107,  §  8. 
 Names   moral,    established   by  law,   are 
 not  to  be  varied  from,  380,  §   10. 
 Of  substances,  standing  for  real  essen- 
 ces, are  not  capable  to  convey  cer- 
 tainty  to    the    understanding,    388, 
 
 Standing  for  nominal  essences,  will 
 make  some,  though  not  many,  cer- 
 tain propositions,  ib.  §  6. 
 
 Why  men  substitute  names  for  real 
 essences,  which  they  know  not,  323, 
 §19. 
 
 Two  false  suppositions,  in  such  an  use 
 of  names,  324,  §  21. 
 
 A  particular  name  to  every  particular 
 thing  imiiossible,  269,  §  2. 
 
 And  useless,  ib.  §  3. 
 
 Proper  names,  where  used,  ib.  §  4,  5. 
 
 Specific  names  are  affixed  to  the  no- 
 minal essence,  277,  §  16. 
 
 Of  simple  ideas  and  substances,  refer 
 to  things,  279,  §  2. 
 
 Wliat  names  stand  for  both  real  and 
 nominal  essence,  ib.  §  3. 
 
 Of  simple  ideas  not  capable  of  defini- 
 tions, ib.  §  4. 
 
 Why,  280,  §  7. 
 
 Of  least  doubtful  signification,  282, 
 §  15. 
 
 Have  few  ascents  "  in  linea  prsedica- 
 mentali,"  283,  §  16. 
 
 Of  complex  ideas,  may  be  defined, 
 282,  §  12. 
 
 Of  mixed  modes,  stand  for  arbitrary 
 ideas,  284,  §  2,  3:  304,  §  44. 
 
 Tie  together  the  parts  of  their  com- 
 plex ideas,  286,  §  10. 
 
 Stand  always  for  the  real  essence,  288, 
 §  14. 
 
 Why  got,  usually,  before  the  ideas  are 
 known,  ib.  §  15. 
 
 Of  relations  comprehended  under 
 those  of  mixed  modes,  ib.  §  16. 
 
 General  names  of  substances  stand  for 
 sorts,  289,  §  1. 
 
 Necessary  to  species,  302,  §  39. 
 
 Proper  names  belong  only  to  substan- 
 ces, 303,  §  42. 
 
 Of  modes  in  their  first  application,  304, 
 §  44,  45. 
 
 Of  substances  in  their  first  application, 
 305,  §  46,  47. 
 
 Specific  names  stand  for  different  things 
 in  different  men,  306,  §  48. 
 
 Are  put  in  the  place  of  the  thing  sup- 
 posed to  have  the  real  essence  of 
 the  species,  ib.  §  49. 
 
 Of  mixed  modes,  doubtful  often,  be- 
 cause of  the  great  composition  of 
 the  ideas  they  stand  for,  310,  §  6. 
 
 Because  they  want  standards  in  nature, 
 
 311,  §  7. 
 
 Of  substances,  doubtful,  because  re- 
 ferred to  patterns,  that  cannot  be 
 known,  or   known   but   imperfectly 
 
 312,  &c.  §  11,  12,  13,  14. 
 
 In    their    philosophical     use    hard    to 
 
 have  settled  significations,  314,  §  15. 
 Instance,    liquor,  ib.  §  16:   gold,   315, 
 
 §  17. 
 Of  simple   ideas,  why  least  doubtful, 
 
 ib.  §  18. 
 Least    compounded     ideas    have    the 
 
 least  dubious  names,  316,  §  19. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 475 
 
 Natural  philosophy,  not  capable  of  sci- 
 ence, 374,  §  26:  423,  §  10. 
 Yet  verj'  useful,  424,  §  12. 
 How  to  be  improved,  ib. 
 What  has  hindered  its  improvement, 
 ib. 
 Necessity,  154,  §  13. 
 Negative  terms,  265,  §  4. 
 Names   signify   the  absence  of   positive 
 
 ideas,  93,  §  5. 
 Newton  (Mr)  398,  §  11. 
 Nothing:    that  nothing'  cannot   produce 
 any  thing,  is  demonstration,  409,  §  3. 
 Notions,  179,  §  2. 
 Number,  134. 
 Modes  of  number   the  most  distinct 
 
 ideas,  ib.  §  3. 
 Demonstrations  in  numbers,  the  most 
 
 determinate,  ib.  §  4. 
 The  general  measure,  136,  §  8. 
 Affords  the  clearest  idea  of  infinity, 
 140,  §  9. 
 Numeration,  what,  135,  §  5. 
 
 Names  necessary  to  it,  ib.  §  5,  6. 
 And  order,  136,"  §  7. 
 Why   not   early   in    children,   and  in 
 some  never,  ib. 
 Obscurity,    unavoidable    in    ancient   au- 
 thors, 312,  §  10. 
 The  cause  of  it,  in  our  ideas,  242,  §  3. 
 Obstinate,  they  are  most,  who  have  least 
 
 examined,  431,  §  3. 
 Opinion,  what,  429,  §  3. 
 
 How  opinions  grow  up   to  principles, 
 
 60,  61,  &c.  §  22,  23,  24,  25,  26. 
 Of  others,   a  wrong  ground  of  assent, 
 430,  §  6:  463,  §  17. 
 Organs:  our  organs   suited  to  our  state, 
 
 191,  192,  &c.  §  12,  13. 
 Pain,  present,  works  presently,  172,  §  64. 
 
 Its  use,  208,  §  4. 
 Parrot,  mentioned  by  Sir  W.   T.  209, 
 §8. 
 Holds  a  rational  discourse,  ib. 
 Particles  join  parts,  or  whole  sentences 
 together,  307,  §  1. 
 In  them  lies  the  beauty  of  well-speak- 
 ing, ib.  §  2. 
 How  their  use  is  to  be  known,  ib.  §  3. 
 They  express  some  action,  or  posture 
 of  the  mind,  ib.  §  4. 
 Pascal,  his  great  memory,  104,  §  9. 
 Passion,  182,  §  11. 
 
 Passions,    how    they  lead  us  into  error, 
 434,  §  11. 
 Turn  on  pleasure  and  pain,  148,  §  3. 
 Passions  are  seldom  single,  160,  §  39. 
 Perception  threefold,  152,  §  5. 
 
 In   perception,  the  mind  for  the  most 
 
 part  passive,  98,  §  1. 
 Is  an   impression   made  on  the   mind, 
 99    §  3    4. 
 
 In  the  womb,  ib.  §  5. 
 
 Difference  between  it  and  innate  ideas, 
 ib.  §  6. 
 Puts  the  difference  between  the  animal 
 and  vegetable  kingdom,  101,  §  11. 
 
 The  several  degrees  of  it  show  the 
 ■wisdom  and  goodness  of  the  Maker, 
 ib.  §  12. 
 
 Belongs  to  all  animals,  ib.  §  12,  13, 
 14. 
 
 The  first  inlet  of  knowledge,  102,  §  15. 
 Person,  what,  210,  §  9. 
 
 A  forensic  term,  217,  §  26. 
 
 The  same  consciousness  alone  makes 
 the  same  person,  212,  §  13:  216, 
 §  23. 
 
 The  same  soul  without  the  same  con- 
 sciousness, makes  not  the  same  per- 
 son, 212,  §  14,  &c. 
 
 Reward  and  punishment  follow  per- 
 sonal identity,  214,  §  18. 
 Phantastical  ideas,  247,  §  1. 
 Place,  113,  §  7,  8. 
 
 Use  of  place,  114,  §  9. 
 
 Nothing  but  a  relative  position,  ib. 
 §  10. 
 
 Sometimes  taken  for  the  space  a  body 
 fills,  ib.  §  10. 
 
 Twofold,  130,  §  6:   130,  131,  §  6,  7. 
 Pleasure  and  pain,  148,  §    1:  150,  §  15, 
 16. 
 
 Join  themselves  to  most  of  our  ideas, 
 90,  §  2. 
 Pleasure,  why  joined  to  several  actions, 
 
 90,  §  3. 
 Power,   how   we   come  by  its  idea,  150, 
 
 Active  and  passive,  151,  §  2. 
 
 No  passive  power  in  God,  no  active 
 power  in  matter;  both  active  and 
 passive  in  spirits,  ib. 
 
 Our  idea  of  active  power  clearest  from 
 reflection,  ib.  §  4. 
 
 Powers  operate  not  on  powers,  155, 
 §  18. 
 
 Make  a  great  part  of  the  ideas  of  sub- 
 stances, 190,  §  7. 
 
 Why,  ib.  §  8. 
 
 An   idea  of    sensation  and  reflection, 
 93,  §  8. 
 Practical  principles  not  innate,  51,  §  1. 
 
 Not  universally  assented  to,  ib.  §  2. 
 
 Are  for  operation,  52,  §  3. 
 
 Not  agreed,  57,  §  14. 
 
 Different,  60,  §  21. 
 Princijiles,  not  to  be   received   without 
 strict  examination,    421,  §  4:  460, 
 §8. 
 
 The  ill  consequences  of  wrong  princi- 
 ples, ib.  §  9,  10. 
 
 None  innate,  41. 
 
476 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 None  universally  assented  to,  ib.  §  2, 
 
 3,  4. 
 How  ordinarily  p;ot,  fiO,  §  22,  &c. 
 Are  to  l>e  examined,  61,  f)2,  §  26,  27. 
 Not  innute,  if  tlie  ideas  tliey  are  made 
 
 up  of  are  not  innate,  62,  §  !• 
 Privative  terms,  265,  §  4. 
 Probability,  wbat,  428,  &e.  §  I.  3. 
 The  grounds  of  probability,  429,  §  4. 
 In  mailer  of  fact,  432,  §  6. 
 How  we  are  to  judge,  in  probabilities, 
 
 429,  ^  5. 
 Difficulties  in  probabilities,  433,  §  9. 
 Grounds  of  probability  in  speculation, 
 
 434,  §  12. 
 Wrong  measures  of  probability,  460, 
 
 HoMT    evaded    by   prejudiced    minds, 
 
 462,  §  13,  14. 
 Proofs,  343,  §  3. 
 Properties    of     specific     essences,    not 
 
 known,  295,  §  19. 
 Of  things  very  numerous,   253,  §  10: 
 
 259,  §  24. 
 Propositions,    identical,    teach    nothing, 
 
 403,  §  2. 
 Gencrical,   teach   nothing,   405,    §    4: 
 
 407,  §  13. 
 Wherein   a  part  of  the    definition   is 
 
 predicated     of    the     subject,    teach 
 
 nothing,  405,  §  5,  6. 
 But  the  signification  of  the  word,  406, 
 
 Concerning       substances       generally, 
 either  trifling  or  uncertain,  ib.  §  9. 
 I    Merely     verbal,    how    to    be    known, 
 407,  §  12. 
 
 Absti-act  terms,  predicated  one  of  an- 
 otiier,  produce  merely  verbal  propo- 
 sitions, ib. 
 
 Or  i)art  of  a  comjtlex  idea,  predicated 
 of  the  whdie,  405,  §  4:  407,  §  13. 
 
 More  propositions,  merely  verbal, 
 than  is  siis])ected,  ib. 
 
 Universal  prnjjositions  concern  not  ex- 
 istence, 408,  §  1. 
 
 What  propositions  concern  existence, 
 ib. 
 
 Certain  propositions,  concerning  ex- 
 istence, are  particular;  concerning 
 abstract  ideas,  may  be  general,  4l9, 
 §  13. 
 
 Mental,  384,  §  3:  385,  §  5. 
 
 Verbal,  ib. 
 
 Menial,  hard  to  be  treated,  384,  §  3,4. 
 PunisliT.ent,  what,  235,  §  5. 
 
 And  reward,  follow  consciousness, 
 214,  §  18:   217,  §  26. 
 
 An   unconscious  drunkard,   why  pun- 
 iMied,  215,  §  22. 
 Qjal'ties:   secondary  qualities,  theircon- 
 
 nexion,  or  inconsistence,  Unknown, 
 368,  §  11. 
 
 Of  substances,  scarce  knowable,  but 
 by  experience,  368,  369,  §  14    16. 
 
 Of  spiritual  substances,  Jess  than  of 
 corporeal,  370,  §  17. 
 
 Secondary,  have  no  conceivable  con- 
 nexion witli  the  primary,  that  pro- 
 duce them,  368,  §  12,  13:  375,  § 
 28. 
 
 Of  substances,  depend  on  remote 
 causes,  390,  §  11. 
 
 Not  to  be  known  by  descriptions,  333, 
 §  21. 
 
 Secondary,  how  far  capable  of  demon- 
 stration, 345,  ^  11,  12,  13. 
 
 What,  94,  §  10:  95,  ^  16. 
 
 How  said  to  be  in  things,  249,  §  2. 
 
 Secondary,  would  be  other,  if  we 
 could  discover  the  minute  parts  of 
 bodies,  191,  §  11. 
 
 Primai-y  qualities,  94,  §  9. 
 
 How  they  produce  ideas  in  us,  ib.  § 
 11,12. 
 
 Secondary  qualities,  94,  95,  §  13,  14, 
 15. 
 
 Primary  qualities  resemble  our  ideas, 
 secondary  not,  95,  §  15,  16,  &c. 
 
 Three  sorts  of  qualities  in  bodies,  97, 
 §  23. 
 
 i.  e.  primary,  secondary,  immediately 
 perceivable;  and  secondary,  medi- 
 ately perceivable,  98,  §  26. 
 
 Secondary  qualities,  are  bare  powers, 
 97,  §  23,  24,  25. 
 
 Secondary  qualities  have   no  discerni- 
 ble connexion  with  the  first,  ib.  §  25. 
 Quotations,   how  little  to  be  relied  on, 
 
 434,  §  11. 
 Real  ideas,  247,  248,  §  1,  2. 
 Reason,   its   various   significations,    436, 
 
 What,  ib.  §  2. 
 
 Reason  is  natural  revelation,  452,  §  4. 
 
 It  must  judge  of  revelation,  456,  §  14, 
 15. 
 
 It  must  be  our  last  guide  in  every 
 thing,  ib. 
 
 Four  parts  of  reason,  437,  §  3. 
 
 Where  reason  fails  us,  443,  §  9. 
 
 Necessary  in  all  but  intuition,  445, 
 §  15. 
 
 As  contra-distinguished  to  faith,  what, 
 447,  §  2. 
 
 Helps  us  not  to  the  knowledge  of  in- 
 nate truths,  53,  §  5,  6,  7,  8. 
 
 General  ideas,  general  terms,  and  rea- 
 son, usually  grow  together,  45,  §  15 
 
 Recollection,  146,  §  1. 
 
 Reflection,  79,  §  4. 
 
 Related,  201,  §  I. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 477 
 
 Relation,  201,  §  1. 
 
 Relation  proportional,  233,  §  1. 
 
 Naturul,  ib.  §  2. 
 
 Instituted,  234,  §  3. 
 
 Moral,  ib.   §  4. 
 
 Numerous,  240,  §  17. 
 
 Terminate  in  simple  ideas,  ib.  §  18. 
 
 Our  clear  idea  of  relation,  241,  §  19. 
 
 Names  of  relations  doubtful,  ib. 
 
 Without  correlative  terms,  not  so 
 commonly  observed,  201,  §  2. 
 
 Different  from  the  things  related,  202, 
 §4. 
 
 Changes  without  any  change  in  the 
 subject,  ib.  §  5. 
 
 Always  between  two,  ib.  §  6. 
 
 All  things  capable  of  relation,  ib.  §  7. 
 
 The  idea  of  the  relation  often  clearer 
 than  of  the  things  related,  203,  §  8. 
 
 All  terminate  in  simple   ideas  of  sen- 
 sation and  reflection,  ib.  §  9. 
 Relative,  201,  §  1. 
 
 Some  relative  terms  taken  for  external 
 denominations,  ib.  §  2. 
 
 Some  for  absolute,  ib.  §  3. 
 
 How  to  be  known,  203,  §  10. 
 
 Many    words,   though    seeming  abso- 
 lute, are  relatives,  202,  §  3,  4,  5. 
 Religion,  all   men  have  time  to  inquire 
 into,  458,  §  3. 
 
 But  in  many  places  are  hindered  from 
 inquiring,  ib.  §  4. 
 Remembrance,  of  great  moment,  in  com- 
 mon life,  104,  §  8. 
 
 What,  71,  §  20:   104,  §  7. 
 Reputation,  of  great  force,   in  common 
 
 life,  238,  §  12. 
 Restraint,  154,  §  13. 
 Resurrection,  the  author's  notioa  of  it, 
 230,  &C. 
 
 Not  necessarily  understood  of  the 
 same  body,  ib.  Sec.  The  meaning 
 of  his  body,  2  Cor.  v.  10,  220. 
 
 The  same  body  of  Christ  arose,  and 
 ■why,  221. 
 
 How  the  Scriptures  constantly  speaks 
 about  it,  226. 
 Revelation,  an  unquestionable  ground  of 
 assent,  435,  §  14. 
 
 Belief,  no  proof  it,  456,  §  15. 
 
 Traditional  revelation  cannot  convey 
 any  new  simple  ideas,  448,  §  3. 
 
 Not  so  sure  as  our  reason,  or  senses, 
 ib.  §  4. 
 
 In  things  of  reason,  no  need  of  revela- 
 tion, 449,  §  5. 
 
 Cannot  overrule  our  clear  knowledge, 
 ib.:  451,  §  10. 
 
 Must  overrule  probabilities  of  reason, 
 450,  451,  §  8,  9. 
 Reward,  what,  235,  §  5, 
 Rhetoric,  an  art  of  deceiving,  327,  §  34. 
 
 Sagacity,  343,  §  3. 
 
 Same,  ulicther  substance,   mode  or  con- 
 crete, 218,  §  28. 
 Sand,  v'liite  to  the  eye,  pellucid  in  a  mi- 
 croscope, 191,  §  11. 
 Schools,  wherein  faulty,  319,  §  6,  &c. 
 Science,  divided  into  a  consideration  of 
 nature,  of  operation,   and  of  signs, 
 464. 
 No  science  of  natural  bodies,  376,  §  29. 
 Scripture:   interpretations    of  Scripture 
 
 not  to  be  imposed,  317,  §  23. 
 Self,  what   makes   it,  215,   §  20:  216,  § 
 23,  24,  25. 
 Self-love,  261,  §  2. 
 
 Partly   cause   of  unreasonableness   in 
 us,  ib. 
 Self-evident  propositions,   where    to    be 
 had,  393,  &c. 
 Neither  needed  nor  admitted   proof, 
 402,  §  19. 
 Sensation,  75,  §  3. 
 
 Distinguishable    from    other    percep- 
 tions, 345,  §  14. 
 Explained,  96,  §  21. 
 What,  146,  §  1. 
 Senses,   why  we  cannot  conceive   other 
 qualities,   than   the  objects   of  our 
 senses,  85,  §  3. 
 Learn  to  discern  by  exercise,  333,  § 
 
 21. 
 Much  quicker  would  not  be  useful  to 
 
 us,  191,  §  12. 
 Our  organs  of  sense  suited  to  our  state, 
 191,  192,  §  12,  13. 
 Sensible  knowledge  is  as  certain  as  we 
 need,  417,  §  8. 
 Sensible  knowledge   goes  not  beyond 
 the  present  act,  418,  §  9. 
 Shame,  150,  §  17. 
 Simple  ideas,  83,  §  1. 
 
 Not  made  by  the  mind,  ib.  §  2. 
 Power  of  the  mind  over  them,  112,  §  1. 
 The  materials  of  all  our  knowledge, 
 
 92,  §  10. 
 
 All  positive,  ib.  §  I. 
 
 Very  different  from  their  causes,   92, 
 
 93,  §  2,  3. 
 
 Sin,  wilii  different  men,  stands  for  diffe- 
 rent actions,  59,  §  19. 
 Sceptical,  no  one  so  sceptical  as  to  doubt 
 
 his  own  existence,  409,  §  2. 
 Solidity,  87,  §  1. 
 
 Inseparable  from  body,  ib. 
 By  its  body  fills  space,  ib.  §  2. 
 This  idea  got  by  touch,  ib.  §  1. 
 How  distinguished,  from  space  ib.  §  9. 
 How  from  hardness,  88,  §  4. 
 Something  from  eternity  demonstrated, 
 
 409,  §  3:  410,  §  8. 
 Sorrow,  149,  §  8. 
 Soul  thinks  not  always,  77,  §  9,  Sec. 
 
478 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 Not  in  sound  sleep,  78,  §  11,  he. 
 
 Its  immateriality,  we  know  not,  348 — 
 
 36",  §  6:   355,  8cc. 
 Religion,  not  conceined   in  tlie  soul's 
 
 immateriality,  348 — 367,  §  6. 
 Our  ignorance  about  it,  217,  §  27. 
 The  immortality  of  it,   not  proved  by 
 
 reason,  358,  &c. 
 It  is  brought  to  light  by  revelation,  ib. 
 Sound,  its  modes,  145,  §  3. 
 Space,  its  idea  got  by  sight  and  touch, 
 112,  §  2. 
 Its  modifications,  ib.  §  4. 
 Not  body,  114,  115,  §  11,  12. 
 Its  parts  inseparable,  115,  §  13- 
 Immovable,  ib.  §  14. 
 Whether  body,  or  spirit,  117,  §  16. 
 Whether  substance,  or  accident,  ib.  § 
 
 17. 
 Infinite,  117,  §  21:   137,  §  4. 
 Ideas  of  space  and  body  distinct,  118, 
 
 §  24,  25. 
 Considered  as  a  solid,  133,  §  11. 
 Hard  to   conceive  any  real  being  void 
 
 of  space,  ib. 
 Species:  why  changing  one  simple  idea 
 of  the   complex    one  is    thought  to 
 change  the   species    in   modes,    but 
 not  in  substances,  323,  §  19. 
 Of  animals  and  vegetables,  mostly  dis- 
 tinguished by  figure,  298,  §  29. 
 Of  other  things,  by  colour,  299,  §  29. 
 Made  by  the  understanding,  for  com- 
 munication, 286,  §  9. 
 No  species  of  mixed  modes  without  a 
 
 name,  287,  §  11. 
 Of  substances,  are  determined  by  the 
 nominal    essence,    291,   &c.   §  7,  8. 
 11.  13. 
 Not  by  substantial  forms,  292,  §  10. 
 Nor  by  the   real   essence,   295,   §  18: 
 
 296,  §  25. 
 Ofspirits,  how  distinguished,  293,  §  11. 
 More  species  of  creatures  above  than 
 
 below  us,  ib.  §  12. 
 Of  creatures  very  gradual,  294,  §  12. 
 What  is  necessary  to  the  making  of 
 species,  by  real  essences,  ib.  §  14, 
 
 &CC. 
 
 Of  animals  and  plants,  cannot  be  dis- 
 tinguished by  propagation,  296,  §  23. 
 
 Of  animals  and  vegetables,  distinguish- 
 ed principally  by  the  shape  and  fi- 
 gure; of  other  things  by  the  colour, 
 298,  §  29. 
 
 Of  man,  likewise,  in  part,  297,  §  26. 
 
 Instance,  Abbot  of  St  Martin,  ib. 
 
 Is  but  a  partial  conception  of  what  is 
 in  the  individuals,  300,  §  32. 
 
 It  is  the  complex  idea,  which  the  name 
 staitdsfor,  that  makes  the  speaies, 
 301,  §  35. 
 
 M;in  makes  the  species,  or  soi'ts,  302, 
 §  36,  37. 
 
 Tiie  foundation  of  it  is  in  the  simili- 
 tude found  in  things,  ib. 
 
 Every  distinct,   abstract  idea  makes  a 
 different  species,  ib.  §  38. 
 Speech,  its  end,  265,  §1,2. 
 
 Proper  speech,  268,  §  8. 
 
 Intelligible,  ib. 
 
 Spirits,  the  existence  of  spirits  not 
 knowable,  419,  §  12. 
 
 How  it  is  proved,  ib. 
 
 Operation  of  spirits  on  bodies  not  con- 
 ceivable, 375,  §  28. 
 
 What  knowledge  they  have  of  bodies, 
 
 333,  §  23. 
 
 Separate,  how  their  knowledge  may 
 exceed  ours,  104,  §  9. 
 
 We  have  as  clear  a  notion  of  the  sub- 
 stance of  spirit  as  of  body,  189,  §  5. 
 
 A  conjecture  concerning  one  way  of 
 knowledge  wherein  spirits  excel 
 us,  192,  §  13. 
 
 Our  ideas  of  spirit,  193,  §  15. 
 
 As  clear  as  that  of  body,  ib.:   194, 
 §  22. 
 
 Primary  ideas  belonging  to  spirits,  ib. 
 §  18. 
 
 Move,  ib.  §  19,  20. 
 
 Ideas  of  spirit  and  body  compared, 
 ib.  §  22:   197,  §  30. 
 
 The  existence  of  spirits,  as  easy  to  be 
 admitted,  as  tliat  of  bodies,  196,  § 
 28. 
 
 We  have  no  idea  how  spirits  commu- 
 nicate tiieir  thoughts,  199,  §  36. 
 
 How  far  we  are  ignorant  of  the  being, 
 sj)ecies,  and  properties  of  spirits, 
 375,  §  27. 
 
 Tiie  worvl,  spirit,  does  not  necessarily 
 denote  immateriality,  348. 
 
 The  Scrii)ture  speaks  of  material  spi- 
 rits, 349. 
 Stupidity,  104,  §  8. 
 Substance,  1S.3,  §  1. 
 
 No  idea  of  it,  70,  §  18. 
 
 Not  very  knowable,  ib. 
 
 Our  certainty,  concerning  substances, 
 I'eaches  but  a  little  way,  368,  §  11, 
 12:   392,  §  15. 
 
 The  confused  idea  of  substance  in 
 general,  makes  always  a  part  of  the 
 essence  of  the  species  of  substances, 
 295,  §  21. 
 
 In  substances,  we  must  rectify  the  sig- 
 nification of  their  names,  by  the 
 things,    more    than    by    definitions, 
 
 334,  §  24. 
 
 Their  ideas  single  or   collective,  107, 
 
 §6. 
 We  have  no  distinct  idea  of  substance 
 
 116,  §  18,  19. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 479 
 
 We  have   no   idea  of  pure  substance, 
 
 184,  185,  §  2. 
 Our  ideas  of  the  sorts  of  substances, 
 
 186—189,  §  3,  4:   189,  §  6. 
 Observables,  in  our  ideas  of  substances, 
 
 200,  §  37. 
 Collective  ideas  of  substances,  ib.  8cc. 
 Thej-  are  single  ideas,  201,  §  2. 
 Three  sorts  of  substances,  207,  §  2. 
 The  ideas   of  substances  have  in  the 
 
 mind  a  double  reference,  251,  §  6. 
 The   properties   of  substances  nume- 
 rous, and  not  all  to  be  known,  253, 
 §  9,  10. 
 The    perfectest    ideas    of  substances, 
 
 190,  §  7. 
 Three  sorts  of  ideas  make  our  com- 
 plex one  of  substances,  ib.  §  9. 
 Substance,  not  discarded  by  the  essay, 
 
 185,  &c.  note. 
 The  author's  account  of  it  as  clear  as 
 that  of  noted  logicians,  186,  &c.  note. 
 "We   talk  like   children   about  it,  184, 
 
 §  2:   187,  note. 
 The  author  makes  not  the  being  of  it 
 depend  on  the  fancies  of  men,  183, 
 &c.  note. 
 Idea  of  it  obscure,  348,  &c.  note. 
 The  author's  principles   consist  with 
 the  certainty  of  its  existence,  183, 
 note. 
 Subtilty,  what,  319,  §  8. 
 Succession,  an  idea  got  chiefly  from  the 
 train  of  our  ideas,  92,  §  9:  121,  §  6. 
 Which  train  is  the  measure  of  it,  122, 
 §  12. 
 Summum  bonum,    wherein    it    consists, 
 
 168,  §  55. 
 Sun,  the  name  of  a  species,  though  but 
 
 one,  289,  §  1. 
 Syllogism,  no  help  to  reasoning,  437,  §  4. 
 The  use  of  syllogism,  ib. 
 Inconveniences  of  syllogism,  ib. 
 Of  no  use  in  probabilities,  442,  §  5. 
 Helps  not  to  new  discoveries,  ib.  §  6. 
 Or  the  improvement  of  our  knowledge, 
 
 ib.  §  7. 
 Whether,    in    syllogism,   the    middle 
 terms    may    not   be    better  placed, 
 443,  §  8. 
 May  be  about  particulars,  ib. 
 Taste  and  smells,  their  modes,  145,  §  5. 
 Testimon)',  how  it  lessens  its  force,  433, 
 
 434,  §  10. 
 Thinking,  146. 
 
 Modes  of  thinking,  ib.  §  1:   147,  §  2. 
 Men's  ordinary  way  of  thinking,  384, 
 
 §4. 
 An  operation  of  the  soul,  77,  ■§  10. 
 Without  memory,  useless,  79,  §  15. 
 Time,  what,  123,  §  17,  18. 
 
 Not  the  measure  of  motion,  125,  §  22. 
 
 And  place,  distinguishable  portions  of 
 infinite  duration  and  expansion,  130, 
 §  5,  6. 
 Twofold,  130,  131,  §  6,  7. 
 Denominations  from  time  are  relatives, 
 205,  §  3. 
 Toleration,    necessary    in    our    state   of 
 
 knowledge,  431,  §  4. 
 Tradition,  the  older,   the  less  credible, 
 
 433,  434,  §  10. 
 Trifling  propositions,  403. 
 
 Discourses,  406,  407,  §  9,  10,  11. 
 Truth,    what,    387,  §  2:   388,  §    5:  389, 
 §9. 
 Of  thought,  384,  §  3:  389,  §  9. 
 Of  words,  387,  §  3. 
 Verbal  and  real,  389,  §  8,  9. 
 Moral,  390,  §  11. 
 Metaphysical,  255,  §  2:  390,  §  11. 
 General,   seldom  apprehended,  but  in 
 
 words,  387,  §  2. 
 In  what  it  consists,  385,  §  5. 
 Love  of  it  necessary,  387,  §  1. 
 How  we  may  know  we  love  it,  ib. 
 Vacuum  possible,  117,  §  22. 
 
 Motion  proves  a  vacuum,  118,  §  23. 
 We  have  an  idea  of  it,  87,  §  3:  89,  §  5. 
 Variety  in  men's  pursuits  accounted  for, 
 
 168,  §  54,  &c. 
 Virtue,  what,  in  reality,  58,  §  18. 
 
 What  in  its  common  application,  55,  § 
 
 10,  11. 
 Is  preferable,  under  a  bare  possibility 
 
 of  a  future  state,  175,  176,  §  70. 
 How  taken,  58,  §  17,  18. 
 Vice   lies  in    wrong  measures  of  good, 
 
 463,  §  16. 
 Understanding,  what,  152,  §  5,  6. 
 Like  a  dark  room,  109,  §  17. 
 When  rightly  used,  34,  §  5. 
 Three  sorts  of  perception  in  the  under- 
 standing, 152,  §  5. 
 Wholly   passive  in    the    reception    of 
 simple  ideas,  83,  §  25. 
 Uneasiness  alone  determines  the  will  to 
 a  new  action,   158,  &c.  §  29.  31.  33, 
 
 &.C. 
 
 Why  it  determines  the  will,  161,  §  36, 
 
 37. 
 Causes  of  it,  170,  §  57,  &c. 
 Unity,  an  idea,  both  of  sensation  and  re- 
 flection, 91,  §  7. 
 Suggested  by  every  thing,  134,  §  1. 
 Universality,  is  only  in  signs,  271,  §  11. 
 Universals,  how  made,  107,  §  9. 
 Volition,  what,  152,  §  5:  154,  §  15:  158, 
 §  28. 
 Better  known  by  reflection  than  words, 
 159,  §  SO. 
 Voluntary,  what,    152,   §   5:   153,   §  11; 
 158,  §  27. 
 
430 
 
 OF  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 What  is,   Is,  is  not   uiiivuisully  iissenlcd 
 to,  42,  §  4. 
 
 Wliere  and  wlicn,  131,  §  8. 
 
 Whole  hi;j;s;er  than  its  parts,  its  use, 
 397,  §  11. 
 
 And  part  not  innate  ideas,  6.3,  §  6. 
 Will,  wliat,  1.52,  §  5,  6:    155,  §  16:   158, 
 §  29. 
 
 What  determines  the  will,  il).  §  29. 
 
 Often  confounded  with  desire,  159,  §  30. 
 
 Is  conversant  only  about  our  own  ac- 
 tions, ib. 
 
 Terminates  in  them,  163,  §  40. 
 
 Is  determined  bj-  the  greatest,  present 
 removable  uneasiness,  ib. 
 Wit   and   judgment,    wherein    different, 
 
 106,  §  2. 
 Words,   an   ill   use  of  words,  one  great 
 hinderance  of  knowledge,  376,  §  30. 
 
 Abuse  of  words,  317. 
 
 Sects  introduce  words  without  signifi- 
 cation, ib.   §  2. 
 
 The  schools  have  coined  multitudes  of 
 insignificant  words,  ib. 
 
 And  rendered  olbei-s  obscure,  319,  §  6. 
 
 Often  used  without  signification,  318, 
 §3. 
 
 And  why,  ib.  §  5. 
 
 Inconstancy  in  their  use,  an  abuse  of 
 words,  ib. 
 
 Obscurity,  an  abuse  of  words,  319,  §  6. 
 
 Taking  them  for  things,  an  abuse  of 
 words,  321,  §  14,  15. 
 
 Who  most  liable  to  this  abuse  of  words, 
 ib. 
 
 This  abuse  of  words  is  a  cause  of  ob- 
 stinacy in  error,  322,  §  16. 
 
 Making  them  stand  for  real  essences, 
 which  we  know  not,  is  an  abuse  of 
 words,  322,  32,3,  §  17,    18. 
 
 The  supposition  of  their  certain,  evi- 
 dent signification,  an  abuse  of  words, 
 324,  §  22. 
 
 Use  of  words,  is,  1.  To  communicate 
 ideas.  2.  With  quickness.  3.  To 
 convey  knowledge,  325,  §  23,  24,  25. 
 
 How  they  fail  in  all  these,  ib.  §  26,  &c. 
 
 How  in  substances,  326,  §  32. 
 
 How  in  modes  and  relations,  ib.  §  33. 
 
 Misuse  of  words,  a  great  cause  of  er- 
 ror, 328,  §  4. 
 
 Of  obstinacy,  ib.  §  5. 
 
 And  of  wrangling,  ib.  §  6. 
 
 Signify  one  thing,  in  inquiries;  and 
 aaolher  ia  disputes,  329,  §  7. 
 
 Tlie  meaning  of  words  is  made  known, 
 
 in    simple   ideas,  by    showing,    331, 
 
 §  14. 
 In  mixed  modes,  by  defining,  ib.  §  15. 
 In  substances,  by  showing  arid  defining 
 
 too,  332,  §  19.  21,  22. 
 The  ill  conse(iuence  of  learning  words 
 
 first,  and  their  meaning  afterward, 
 
 334,  §  24. 
 No   shame  to  ask  men  the  meaning  of 
 
 tlieir  words,   where  they  are  doubt- 
 ful, ib.  §  25. 
 Are  to  be  used  constantly  in  the  same 
 
 sense,  335,  §  26. 
 Or   else    to  be   explained,  where   tlie 
 
 context  determines  it  not,  ib.  §  27. 
 How  made  general,  265,  §  3. 
 Signifying   insensible   things,    derived 
 
 from  names  of  sensible  ideas,  ib.  §  5. 
 Have  no  natural  signification,  266,  §  1. 
 But  by  imposition,  268,  §  8. 
 Stand  immediately  for  the  ideas  of  the 
 
 speaker,  266,  267,  §  1,  2,  3. 
 Yet  wiih  a  double  reference. 
 
 1.  To  the  ideas,  in  tlie  hearer's  mind, 
 267,  §  4. 
 
 2.  To  the  reality  of  things,  ib.  §  5 
 Apt,   by  custom,  to  excite  ideas,  268, 
 
 §6. 
 
 Often  used  without  signification,  ib.  §7. 
 
 Most  general,  209,  §  1. 
 
 Why  some  words  of  one  language  can- 
 not be  translated  into  those  of  an- 
 other, 286,  §  8. 
 
 Why  I  have  been  so  large  on  words, 
 288,  §  16. 
 
 New  words,  or  in  new  significations, 
 are  cautiously  to  be  used,  306,  §  51. 
 
 Civil  use  of  words,  318,  §  3. 
 
 Pliilosophical  use  of  words,  321,  §  3, 
 
 These  very  different,  ib.  §  15. 
 
 Miss  their  end,  when  they  excite  not, 
 in  the  hearer,  the  same  idea  as  in 
 the  mind  of  the  speaker,  318,  §  4. 
 
 What  words  are  most  doubtful,  and 
 why,  319,  §  5,  &c. 
 
 What  unintelligible,  ib. 
 
 Are  fitted  to  the  use  of  common  life, 
 309,  §  2. 
 
 Not  translatable,  286,  §  8. 
 Worship  not  an  innate  idea,  63,  §  7. 
 Wrangle,  when  we  wrangle  about  words, 
 
 313,  §  13. 
 Writings  ancient,  why  hardly  to  be  pre- 
 cisely understood,  324,  §  22. 
 
A   TREATISE 
 
 THE  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDlNCx 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN   LOCKE     GENT, 
 
 Quid  tarn  temerariuin  tamque  indlgimm  sapientis  gravitate  atque  constantia, 
 quain  aut  falsum  seiilire,  aut  quod  iion  satis  explorate  perceptura  sit,  et  coguitum, 
 sine  ulla  dubitatione  defendere? — Cic.  de  JVatura  Deorum,  lib.  I. 
 
 3  L  481 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 ESSAY  OF  THE  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 Sbct.  1.  Introduction. 
 
 23. 
 
 Theology. 
 
 2.  Parts. 
 
 24. 
 
 Partiality. 
 
 3.    Reasoning. 
 
 25. 
 
 Haste. 
 
 4.  Of  practice  and  habits. 
 
 26. 
 
 Anticipation. 
 
 5.   Ideas. 
 
 27. 
 
 Resignation. 
 
 6.   Principles. 
 
 28. 
 
 Practice. 
 
 7.    Mathematics. 
 
 29, 
 
 Words. 
 
 8.   Religion. 
 
 30. 
 
 Wandering. 
 
 9.   Ideas. 
 
 31. 
 
 Distinction. 
 
 10.  Prejudice. 
 
 32. 
 
 Similes, 
 
 11.    IndiflTerency. 
 
 33. 
 
 Assent. 
 
 12.   Examine. 
 
 34, 
 
 ?ij.  Indifferency. 
 
 13.    Observations. 
 
 36. 
 
 Question. 
 
 14.   Bias. 
 
 Z7. 
 
 Perseverance. 
 
 15.  Arguments. 
 
 38. 
 
 Presumption. 
 
 16.  Haste. 
 
 39. 
 
 Despondency. 
 
 17.   Desultory. 
 
 40. 
 
 Analogy, 
 
 18.  Smattering. 
 
 41. 
 
 Association, 
 
 19.   Universality. 
 
 42. 
 
 Fallacies, 
 
 20.   Reading. 
 
 43. 
 
 Fundamental  verities. 
 
 21.   Intermediate  principle*. 
 
 44. 
 
 Bottoming. 
 
 22.   Partiality. 
 
 45. 
 
 Transferring  of  thoughts 
 
 483 
 
 Ir 
 
OF   THE    CONDUCT    OF    THE    UNDER- 
 STANDING. 
 
 Sect.  1.  Introduction. — The  last  resort  a  man  has  recourse  to,  in  the  con- 
 duct of  himself,  is  his  understanding :  for  though  we  distinguish  the  faculties 
 of  the  mind,  and  give  the  supreme  command  to  the  will,  as  to  an  agent;  yet 
 the  truth  is,  the  man  who  is  the  agent,  determines  himself  to  this  or  that 
 voluntary  action,  upon  some  precedent  knowledge,  or  appearance  of  know- 
 ledge, in  the  understanding.  No  man  ever  sets  himself  about  any  thing  but 
 upon  some  view  or  other,  which  serves  him  for  a  reason  for  what  he  does : 
 and  whatsoever  faculties  he  employs,  the  understanding,  with  such  light  as 
 it  has,  well  or  ill  informed,  constantly  leads ;  and  by  that  light,  true  or  false, 
 all  his  operative  powers  are  directed.  The  will  itself,  how  absolute  and  un- 
 controllable soever  it  may  be  thought,  never  fails  in  its  obedience  to  the  dic- 
 tates of  the  understanding.  Temples  have  their  sacred  images,  and  we  see 
 what  influence  they  have  always  had  over  a  great  part  of  mankind.  But,  in 
 truth,  the  ideas  and  images  in  men's  minds  are  the  invisible  powers  that  con- 
 stantly govern  them  ;  and  to  these  they  all  universally  pay  a  ready  submis- 
 sion. It  is,  therefore,  of  the  highest  concernment  that  great  care  should  be 
 taken  of  the  understanding,  to  conduct  it  right  in  the  search  of  knowledge, 
 and  in  the  judgments  it  makes. 
 
 The  logic,  now  in  use,  has  so  long  possessed  the  chair,  as  the  only  art 
 taught  in  the  schools,  for  the  direction  of  the  mind,  in  the  study  of  the  arts 
 and  sciences,  that  it  would  perhaps  be  thought  an  affectation  of  novelty  to 
 suspect,  that  rules,  that  have  served  the  learned  world  these  two  or  three 
 thousand  years,  and  which,  without  any  complaint  of  defects,  the  learned 
 have  rested  in,  are  not  sufficient  to  guide  the  understanding.  And  I  should 
 not  doubt  but  this  attempt  would  be  censured  as  vanity  or  presumption,  did 
 not  the  great  lord  Verulam's  authority  justify  it;  who,  not  servilely  thinking 
 learning  could  not  be  advanced  beyond  what  it  was,  because  for  many  ages 
 it  had  not  been,  did  not  rest  in  the  lazy  approbation  and  applause  of  what 
 was,  because  it  was  ;  but  enlarged  his  mind  to  what  it  might  be.  In  his  pre- 
 face to  his  Novum  Organum,  concerning  logic,  he  pronounces  thus  :  "  Qui 
 summas  dialecticse  partes  tribuerunt,  atque  inde  fidissima  scientiis  pra;sidia 
 comparari  putarunt,  verissime  et  optimfe  viderunt  intellectum  humanum,  sibi 
 perinissum,  merito  suspectum  esse  debere.  Verum  infirmior  omnino  est 
 malo  medicina;  nee  ipsa  mali  expers.  Siquidem  dialectica,  quae  recepta  est, 
 licet  ad  civilia  et  artes,  quae  in  sermone  et  opinione  positae  sunt,  rectissim^ 
 adhibeatur;  naturte  tamen  subtilitatem  longo  intervallo  non  attingit,  et  pren- 
 sando  quod  non  capit,  ad  errores  potius  stabiliendos  et  quasi  figendos,  quam 
 ad  viam  veritati  aperiendam  valuit." 
 
 "  They,"  says  he,  "  who  attributed  so  much  to  logic,  perceived  very  well 
 and  truly,  that  it  was  not  safe  to  trust  the  understanding  to  itself  without  the 
 guard  of  any  rules.  But  the  remedy  reached  not  the  evil,  but  became  a  part 
 of  it :  for  the  logic,  which  took  place,  though  it  might  do  well  enough  in  civil 
 
486  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  1. 
 
 affairs,  and  the  arts,  which  consisted  in  talk  and  opinion;  yet  comes  very 
 far  short  of  subtlety,  in  the  real  performances  of  nature;  and,  catcliing  at 
 what  it  cannot  roacli,  has  served  to  confirm  and  establish  errors,  rather  than 
 to  open  a  way  to  truth."  And  therefore  a  little  after  he  says,  "  That  it  is 
 absolutely  necessary  that  a  better  and  perfecter  use  and  employment  of  the 
 mind  and  understanding  should  be  introduced."  "  Necessari6  requiritur  ut 
 melior  et  perfectior  mentis  et  intellectus  humani  usus  et  adoperatio  intro- 
 ducatur." 
 
 Sect.  2.  Parts. — There  is,  it  is  visible,  great  variety  in  men's  understand- 
 ings,  and  their  natural  constitutions  put  so  wide  a  difference  between  some 
 men,  in  this  respect,  that  art  and  industry  would  never  be  able  to  master; 
 and  their  very  natures  seem  to  want  a  foundation  to  raise  on  it  that  which 
 other  men  easily  attain  unto.  Among  men  of  equal  education  there  is  great 
 inequality  of  parts.  And  the  woods  of  America,  as  well  as  the  schools  of 
 Athens,  produce  men  of  several  abilities  in  the  same  kind.  Though  this 
 be  so,  yet  I  imagine  most  men  come  very  short  of  what  they  might  at- 
 tain  unto,  in  tlieir  several  degrees,  by  a  neglect  of  their  understandings.  A 
 few  rules  of  logic  are  thought  sufficient,  in  this  case,  for  those  who  pretend 
 to  the  highest  improvement;  whereas  I  think  there  are  a  great  many  natural 
 defects  in  the  understanding,  capable  of  amendment ;  which  are  overlooked 
 and  wholly  neglected.  And  it  is  easy  to  perceive,  that  men  are  guilty  of  a 
 great  many  faults  in  the  e.xercise  and  improvement  of  this  faculty  of  the  mind, 
 which  hinder  them  in  their  progress,  and  keep  them  in  ignorance  and  error 
 all  their  lives.  Some  of  them  I  shall  take  notice  of,  and  endeavour  to  point 
 out  proper  remedies  for,  in  the  following  discourse. 
 
 Sect.  3.  Reaxnning. — Besides  the  want  of  determined  ideas,  and  of  saga- 
 city, and  exercise  in  finding  out,  and  laying  in  order,  intermediate  ideas ; 
 there  are  three  miscarriages  that  men  are  guilty  of,  in  reference  to  their  rea- 
 son, whereby  this  faculty  is  hindered  in  them  from  that  service  it  might  do, 
 and  was  designed  for.  And  he  that  reflects  upon  the  actions  and  discourses 
 of  mankind,  will  find  their  defects  in  this  kind  very  frequent,  and  very  ob- 
 servable. 
 
 1.  The  first  is  of  those  who  seldom  reason  at  all,  but  do  and  think  accord- 
 ing to  the  example  of  others,  whether  parents,  neighbours,  ministers,  or  who 
 else  they  are  pleased  to  make  choice  of  to  have  an  implicit  faith  in,  for  the 
 saving  of  themselves  the  pains  and  trouble  of  thinking  and  examining  for 
 themselves. 
 
 2.  The  second  is  of  those  who  put  passion  in  the  place  of  reason,  and,  being 
 resolved  that  shall  govern  their  actions  and  arguments,  neither  use  their  own, 
 nor  hearken  to  otlier  people's  reason,  any  farther  than  it  suits  their  humour, 
 interest,  or  party ;  and  these  one  may  observe  commonly  content  themselves 
 ■with  words  which  have  no  distinct  ideas  to  them,  though,  in  other  matters 
 that  they  come  with  an  unbiassed  indifferency  to,  they  want  not  abilities  to 
 talk  and  hear  reason,  where  they  have  no  secret  inclination  that  hinders 
 them  from  being  intractable  to  it. 
 
 3.  The  third  sort  is  of  those  who  readily  and  sincerely  follow  reason  ;  but, 
 for  want  of  having  that  v.'hich  one  may  call  large,  sound,  round-about  sense, 
 have  not  a  full  view  of  all  that  relates  to  the  question,  and  may  be  of  moment 
 to  decide  it.  We  are  all  short-sighted,  and  very  often  see  but  one  side  of 
 the  matter;  our  views  are  not  extended  to  all  that  has  a  connexion  with  it. 
 From  this  defect  I  think  no  man  is  free.  We  see  but  in  part,  and  we  know  but 
 in  part,  and  therefore  it  is  no  wonder  we  conclude  not  right  from  our  partial 
 views.  This  might  instruct  the  proudest  esteemer  of  his  own  parts,  how 
 useful  it  is  to  talk  and  considt  with  others,  even  such  as  come  short  of  him 
 in  capacity,  quickness,  and  penetration :  for,  since  no  one  sees  all,  and  we 
 generally  have  different  prospects  of  the  same  thing,  according  to  our  dif- 
 ferent, as  I  may  say,  positions  to  it ;  it  is  not  incongruous  to  think,  nor  be- 
 neath any  man  to  try,  whether  another  may  not  have  notions  of  things  whicii 
 have  escaped  him,  and  which  his  reason  would  make  use  of  if  they  came  into 
 
Sect.  8.  REASONING.  487 
 
 his  mind.  The  faculty  of  reasoning-  seldom  or  never  deceives  those  who 
 trust  to  it;  its  consequences,  from  what  it  builds  on,  are  evident  and  certain; 
 but  that  which  it  oftenest,  if  not  only,  misleads  us  in,  is,  that  the  principles 
 from  which  we  conclude  the  grounds  upon  which  we  bottom  our  reasoning,  are 
 but  a  part,  something  is  left  out,  which  should  go  into  the  reckoning,  to 
 make  it  just  and  exact.  Here  we  may  imagine  a  vast  and  almost  infinite 
 advantage  that  angels  and  separate  spirits  may  have  over  us ;  who,  in  their 
 several  degrees  of  elevation  above  us,  may  be  endowed  with  more  compre- 
 hensive faculties  :  and  some  of  them,  perhaps,  having  perfect  and  exact  views 
 of  all  finite  beings  that  come  mider  their  consideration,  can,  as  it  were,  in 
 the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  collect  together  all  their  scattered  and  almost  bound- 
 less relations.  A  mind  so  furnished,  what  reason  has  it  to  acquiesce  in  the 
 certainty  of  its  conclusions ! 
 
 In  tins  we  may  see  the  reason  why  some  men  of  study  and  thought,  that 
 reason  right,  and  are  lovers  of  truth,  do  make  no  great  advances  in  their  dis.,- 
 coveries  of  it.  Error  and  truth  are  uncertainly  blended  in  their  minds  ;  their 
 decisions  are  lame  and  defective,  and  they  are  very  often  mistaken  in  their  judgr 
 ments :  the  reason  whereof  is,  they  converse  but  with  one  sort  of  men,  they 
 read  but  one  sort  of  books,  they  will  not  come  in  the  hearing  but  of  one  sort 
 of  notions :  the  truth  is,  they  canton  out  to  themselves  a  little  Goshen,  in  the 
 intellectual  world,  where  light  shines,  and,  as  they  conclude,  day  blesses 
 them  ;  but  the  rest  of  that  vast  expansum  they  give  up  to  night  and  darkness, 
 and  so  avoid  coming  near  it.  They  have  a  pretty  traffic  with  known  corres- 
 pondents, in  some  little  creek ;  within  that  they  confine  themselves,  and  are 
 dexterous  managers  enough  of  the  wares  and  products  of  that  corner,  with 
 which  they  content  themselves,  but  will  not  venture  out  into  the  great  ocean 
 of  knowledge,  to  survey  the  riches  that  nature  hath  stored  other  parts  with, 
 no  less  genuine,  no  less  solid,  no  less  useful,  than  what  has  fallen  to  their 
 lot  in  the  admired  plenty  and  sufficiency  of  their  own  little  spot,  which  to 
 them  contains  whatsoever  is  good  in  the  universe.  Those  who  live  thus 
 mewed  up  within  their  own  contracted  territories,  and  will  not  look  abroad 
 beyond  the  boundaries  that  chance,  conceit,  or  laziness,  has  set  to  their  in- 
 quiries ;  but  live  separate  from  the  notions,  discourses,  and  attainments  of  the 
 rest  of  mankind ;  may  not  amiss  be  represented  by  the  inhabitants  of  the 
 Marian  islands,  who,  being  separated,  by  a  large  tract  of  sea,  from  all  com- 
 nmnion  with  the  habitable  parts  of  the  earth,  thought  themselves  the  only 
 people  of  the  world.  And  though  the  straitness  of  the  conveniences  of  lite 
 among  them  had  never  readied  so  far  as  to  the  use  of  fire  till  the  Spaniards, 
 not  many  years  since,  in  their  voyages  from  Acapulco  to  Manilla,  brought  it 
 among  them,  yet,  in  the  want  and  ignorance  of  almost  all  things,  they  looked 
 upon  themselves,  even  after  that  the  Spaniards  had  brought  among  them  the 
 notice  of  variety  of  nations,  abounding  in  sciences,  arts,  and  conveniences  of 
 life,  of  which  they  knew  nothing;  they  looked  upon  themselves,  I  say,  as  tiie 
 happiest  and  wisest  people  of  the  universe.  But,  for  all  that,  nobody,  I  think, 
 will  imagine  them  deep  naturalists,  or  solid  metaphysicians ;  nobody  will 
 deem  the  quickest-sighted  among  them  to  have  very  enlarged  views  in  ethics 
 or  politics  ;  nor  can  any  one  allow  the  most  capable  among  them  to  be  ad., 
 vanced  so  far  in  his  understanding  as  to  have  any  other  knowledge  but  of  the 
 few  little  things  of  his  and  the  neiglibouring  islands,  within  his  commerce ; 
 but  far  enough  from  that  comprehensive  enlargement  of  mind,  which  adorns  a 
 soul  devoted  to  truth,  assisted  with  letters,  and  a  free  generation  of  the  seve- 
 ral views  and  sentiments  of  thinking  men  of  all  sides.  Let  not  men,  there- 
 fore, that  would  have  a  siglit  of  what  every  one  pretends  to  be  desirous  to 
 have  a  sight  of,  truth  in  its  full  extent,  narrow  and  blind  their  own  prospect. 
 Let  not  men  think  there  is  no  truth  but  in  the  sciences  that  they  study,  or 
 books  that  they  read.  To  prejudge  other  men's  notions,  before  we  have 
 looked  into  them,  is  not  to  show  their  darkness,  but  to  put  out  our  own  eyes. 
 *'  Try  all  things,  hold  fast  to  that  which  is  good,"  is  a  divine  rule,  coming 
 from  the  Father  of  light  and  truth  ;  and  it  is  hard  to  know  what  other  way 
 
 y-' 
 
 -?»' 
 
488  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  3. 
 
 men  can  come  at  trutli,  to  lay  hold  of  it,  if  they  do  not  dig  and  search  for  it 
 as  for  gold  and  hid  treasure ;  but  lie  tiiat  docs  so  must  have  nuich  earth  and 
 rubbisli,  before  lie  gets  the  pure  metal :   sand,  and  pebbles,  and  dross  usually 
 lie  blended  with  it;  but  the  gold  is  nevertheless  gold,  and  will  enrich  the  man 
 that  employs  his  pains  to  seek  and  separate  it.     Neither  is  tliere  any  danger 
 he  should  be  deceived  by  the  mixture.     Every  man  carries  about  him  a  touch- 
 stone, if  he  will  make  use  of  it,  to  distinguish  substantial  gold  from  superfi- 
 cial glittering.s,  truth  from  appearances.     And,  indeed,  the  use  and  benefit  of 
 this  touchstone,  which  is  Uiatural  reason,  is  spoiled  and  lost  only  by  assumed 
 prejudices,  overweening  presumption,  and  narrowing  our  minds.     The  want 
 of  exercising  it,  in  the  full  extent  of  things  intelligible,  is  that  which  weakens 
 and  extinguishes  this  noble  faculty  in  us.     Trace   it,  and  see  whether  it  be 
 not  so.     The  day  labourer  in  a  country  village  has   commonly  but  a  small 
 pittance  of  knowledge,  because  his  ideas  and  notions  have  been  confined  to 
 the  narrow  bounds  of  a  poor  conversation  and  employment ;  the  low  mecha- 
 nic of  a  country  town  does  somewhat  outdo  him  ;   porters  and  cobblers  of 
 great  cities  surpass  him.    A  country  gentleman  who,  leaving  Latin  and  learn- 
 ing in  the  university,  removes  thence  to  his  mansion-house,  and  as.sociates 
 with  neiglibours  of  the  same  strain,  who  relish  nothing  but  hunting  and  a 
 ijottle ;  with  those  alone  he  spends  his  time,  with  those  alone  he  converses, 
 and  can  away  w"ith  no  company  whose  discourse  goes  beyond  what  claret  and 
 <lissoluteness  inspire  :   such  a  patriot,  formed  in  this  happy  way  of  improve- 
 ment, cannot   fail,  as  we  see,  to  give  notable  decisions  upon  the  bench,  at 
 quarter  sessions,  and  eminent  proofs  of  his  skill  in  politics,  when  the  strength 
 of  his  purse  and  party  have  advanced  him  to  a  more   conspicuous  station. 
 To  such  a  one,  truly,  an  ordinary  coffee-house  gleaner  of  the  city  is  an  arrant 
 statesman,  and  as  much  superior  to,  as  a  man  conversant  about  Whitehall 
 and  the  court  is  to  an  ordinary  shopkeeper.     To  carry  this  a  little   farther : 
 here  is  one  mutlled  up  in  the  zeal  and  infallibility  of  his  own  sect,  and  will 
 not  touch  a  book  or  enter  into  debate  with  a  person  that  will  question   any 
 of  those  things  which  to  him  are  sacred.     Another  surveys  our  differences  in 
 rohgion  with  an  equitable  and  fair  indifference,  and  so  finds,  probably,  that 
 none  of  them  are  in  every  thing  unexceptionable.     These  divisions  and  sys- 
 tems were  made  by  men,  and  carry  the  mark  of  fallible  on   them  ;   and  in 
 those  whom  ho  differs  from,  and,  till  he  opened  liis  eyes,  had  a  general  pre- 
 judice against,  he  meets  with  more  to  be  said  for  a  great  many  things  than 
 before  he  was  aware  of,  or  could  have  imagined.     Which  of  these  two,  now, 
 is  most  likely  to  judge  right  in  our  religious  controversies,  and  to  be  most 
 stored  witli  truth,  the  mark  all  pretend  to  aim  atl     All   these   men,  that   I 
 have  instanced   in,  thus  unequally  furnisiied  with  trutli,  and  advanced  in 
 knowledge,  I  su|)pose  of  equal  natural  parts ;  all  the  odds  between  them  has 
 been  the  dilfcront  scope  that  has  been  given  to  their   understandings  to 
 range  in,  for  the  gathering  up  of  information,  and  furnishing  their  heads  with 
 ideas  and  notions  and  observations,  whereon  to  employ  their  mind  and  form 
 their  understandings. 
 
 It  will  possibly  be  objected,  "  who  is  sufficient  for  all  this  1"  I  answer, 
 more  than  can  be  imagined.  Every  one  knows  what  Ins  proper  business  is, 
 and  what,  according  to  the  character  he  makes  of  himself,  the  world  may 
 justly  expect  of  him;  and,  to  answer  that,  he  will  find  he  will  have  time  and 
 opportunity  enough  to  furnish  himself,  if  he  will  not  deprive  himself,  by  a 
 narrowness  of  spirit,  of  those  helps  that  are  at  hand.  I  do  not  say  to  be  a 
 good  geogra|)her,  that  a  man  should  visit  every  mountain,  river,  promontory, 
 and  creek,  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  view  the  buildings,  and  survey  the 
 land  every  where,  as  if  he  were  going  to  make  a  purchase;  but  yet  every 
 one  must  allow  that  he  shall  know  a  country  better,  that  makes  often  sallies 
 into  it,  and  traverses  up  and  down,  than  he  that,  like  a  mill-horse,  goes  stil! 
 round  in  the  same  track,  or  keeps  within  the  narrow  bounds  of  a  field  or  two 
 mat  deliglit  him.  He  that  will  inquire  out  the  best  books  in  every  science, 
 and  inform  himself  of  the  most  material  authors  of  the  several  sects  of  philo- 
 
Sect.  3,  REASONING.  489 
 
 sophy  and  religion,  will  not  find  it  an  infinite  work  to  acquaint  himself  with 
 the  sentiments  of  mankind,  concerning  the  most  weighty  and  comprehensive 
 subjects.  Let  him  exercise  the  freedom  of  his  reason  and  understanding  in 
 such  a  latitude  as  this,  and  his  mind  will  be  strengthened,  his  capacity  en- 
 larged, his  faculties  improved ;  and  the  light,  which  the  remote  and  scattered 
 parts  of  truth  will  give  to  one  another,  will  so  assist  his  judgment,  that  he 
 will  seldom  be  widely  out,  or  miss  giving  proof  of  a  clear  head  and  a  com- 
 prehensive knowledge.  At  least,  this  is  the  only  way  I  know  to  give  the 
 understanding  its  due  improvement  to  Ihe  full  extent  of  its  capacity,  and  to 
 distinguish  the  two  most  different  things  I  know  in  the  world,  a  logical  chi- 
 caner from  a  man  of  reason.  Only  he,  that  would  thus  give  the  mmd  its 
 flight,  and  send  abroad  his  inquiries  into  all  parts  after  truth,  must  be  sure  to 
 settle  in  his  head  determined  ideas  of  all  that  he  employs  his  thoughts  about, 
 and  never  fail  to  judge  himself,  and  judge  unbiassedly,  of  all  that  he  receives 
 from  others,  either  in  their  writings  or  discourses.  Reverence  or  prejudice 
 must  not  be  suffered  to  give  beauty  or  deformity  to  any  of  their  opinions. 
 
 Sect.  4.  Of  practice  and  habits. — We  are  born  with  faculties  and 
 powers  capable  almost  of  any  thing,  such  at  least  as  would  carry  us  farther 
 than  can  easily  be  imagined :  but  it  is  only  the  exercise  of  those  powers 
 which  gives  us  ability  and  skill  in  any  thing,  and  leads  us  towards  perfection. 
 
 A  middle-aged  ploughman  will  scarce  ever  be  brought  to  the  carriage  and 
 language  of  a  gentleman,  though  his  body  be  as  well  proportioned,  and  his 
 joints  as  supple,  and  his  natural  parts  not  any  way  inferior.  The  legs  of  a 
 dancing-master,  and  the  fingers  of  a  musician,  fall  as  it  were  naturally,  with- 
 out thought  or  pains,  into  regular  and  admirable  motions.  Bid  them  change 
 their  parts,  and  they  will  in  vain  endeavour  to  produce  like  motions  in  the 
 members  not  used  to  them,  and  it  will  require  length  of  time  and  long  practice 
 to  attain  but  some  degrees  of  a  like  ability.  What  incredible  and  astonishing 
 actions  do  we  find  rope-dangers  and  tumblers  bring  their  bodies  to  !  Not  but 
 that  sundry,  in  almost  all  manual  arts,  are  as  wonderful ;  but  I  name  .those 
 which  the  world  takes  notice  of  for  such,  because  on  that  very  account  they 
 give  money  to  see  them.  All  these  admired  motions,  beyond  the  reach  and 
 almost  conception  of  unpractised  spectators,  are  nothing  but  the  mere  effects 
 of  use  and  industry  in  men,  whose  bodies  have  nothing  peculiar  in  them  from 
 those  of  the  amazed  lookers  on. 
 
 As  it  is  in  the  body,  so  it  is  in  the  mind  ;  practice  makes  it  what  it  is,  and 
 most  even  of  those  excellencies,  which  are  looked  on  as  natural  endowments, 
 will  be  found,  when  examined  into  more  narrowly,  to  be  the  product  of  exer- 
 cise, and  to  be  raised  to  that  pitch  only  by  repeated  actions.  Some  men  are 
 remarked  for  pleasantness  in  raillery;  others  for  apologues  and  apposite  di- 
 verting stories.  This  is  apt  to  be  taken  for  the  effect  of  pure  nature,  and  that 
 the  rather,  because  it  is  not  got  by  rules,  and  those  who  excel  in  either  of 
 them  never  purposely  set  themselves  to  the  study  of  it,  as  an  art  to  be  learnt. 
 But  yet  it  is  true  that  at  first  some  lucky  hit,  which  took  with  somebody,  and 
 gained  him  commendation,  encouraged  him  to  try  again,  inclined  his  thoughts 
 and  endeavours  that  way,  till  at  last  he  insensibly  got  a  facility  in  it,  without 
 perceiving  how  ;  and  that  is  attributed  wholly  to  nature,  which  was  much 
 more  the  effect  of  use  and  practice.  I  do  not  deny  that  natural  disposition 
 may  often  give  the  first  rise  to  it,  but  that  never  carries  a  man  far,  without 
 use  and  exercise;  and  it  is  practice  alone  that  brings  the  powers  of  the  mind, 
 as  well  as  those  of  the  body,  to  their  perfection.  Many  a  good  poetic  vein 
 is  buried  under  a  trade,  and  never  produces  any  thing  for  want  of  improve- 
 ment. We  see  the  ways  of  discourse  and  reasoning  are  very  different,  even 
 concerning  the  same  matter,  at  court  and  in  the  university.  And  he  that  will 
 go  but  from  Westminster-hall  to  the  Exchange,  will  find  a  different  genius 
 and  turn  in  their  ways  of  talking ;  and  yet  one  cannot  think  that  all  whose 
 lot  fell  in  the  city  were  born  with  different  parts  from  those  who  were  bred 
 at  the  university  or  inns  of  court. 
 
 To  what  purpose  all  this,  but  to  show  that  the  dilTerence,  so  observable  in 
 3M 
 
49U  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNE^RSTANDING.  Sect.  4. 
 
 men's  understandings  and  pWts,  does  not  arise  so  much  from  their  natural 
 faculties  as  acquired  liabitP.'  '^•3Ic  Vould  be  laughed  at,  that  should  go  about 
 to  make  a  fine  dancer  out  of  a" country  liedger,  at  past  fitly.  And  he  will  not 
 have  much  better  success,  who'-s'hall  endeavour,  at  that  age,  to  make  a  man 
 reason  well,  or  speak  handsomely,  who  has  never  been  used  to  it,  though  you 
 should  lay  before  him  a  collection  of  all  the  best  precepts  of  logic  or  oratory. 
 Nobody  is  made  any  thing  by  liearing  of  rules,  or  laying  them  up  in  his 
 memory ;  practice  must  settle  the  habit  of  doing,  without  reflecting  on  the 
 rule ;  and  you  may  as  well  hope  to  make  a  good  painter  or  musician  extem- 
 pore, by  a  lecture  and  instruction  in  the  arts  of  nuisic  and  painting,  as  a  co- 
 herent thinker,  or  a  strict  reasoner,  by  a  set  of  rules  showing  him  wherein 
 right  reasoning  consists. 
 
 This  being  so,  that  defects  and  weakness  in  men's  understandings,  as  well 
 as  other  faculties,  come  from  want  of  a  right  use  of  their  own  minds  ;  I  am  apt 
 to  think  the  fault  is  generally  mislaid  upon  nature,  and  there  is  often  a  com- 
 plaint of  want  of  parts,  when  the  fault  lies  in  want  of  a  due  improvement  of 
 them.  We  see  men  frequently  dexterous  and  sharp  enough  in  making  a  bargain, 
 who,  if  you  reason  with  them  about  matters  of  religion;  appear  perfectly  .stupid. 
 
 Sect.  5.  Ideas. — I  will  not  here,  in  what  relates  to  the  right  conduct  and 
 improvement  of  the  understanding,  repeat  again  the  getting  clear  and  deter- 
 mined ideas,  and  the  employing  our  thoughts  rather  about  them  than  about 
 sounds  put  for  them  ;  nor  of  settling  the  signification  of  words,  which  we 
 use  with  ourselves  in  the  search  of  truth,  or  with  others,  in  discoursing  about 
 it.  Those  hinderances  of  our  understandings  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  I 
 have  sufficiently  enlarged  upon  in  another  place  ;  so  that  nothing  more  needs 
 here  to  be  said  of  those  matters. 
 
 Sect.  6.  Principles. — There  is  another  fault  that  stops  or  mislead?  men 
 in  their  knowledge,  which  I  have  also  spoken  something  of,  but  yet  is  neces- 
 sary to  mention  here  again,  that  we  may  examine  it  to  the  bottom,  and  see 
 the  root  it  springs  from  ;  and  that  is  a  custom  of  taking  up  with  principles 
 that  are  not  self-evident,  and  very  often  not  so  much  as  true.  It  is  not  unu- 
 sual to  see  men  rest  their  opinions  upon  foundations  that  have  no  more  cer- 
 tainty and  solidity  than  the  propositions  built  on  them  and  embraced  for 
 their  sake.  Such  foundations  are  these  and  the  like,  viz. — the  founders  or 
 leaders  of  my  party  are  good  men,  and  therefore  their  tenets  are  true  ; — it  is 
 the  opinion  of  a  sect  that  is  erroneous,  therefore  it  is  false  : — it  hath  been  long 
 received  in  the  world,  therefore  it  is  true;  or — it  is  new,  and  therefore  false. 
 
 These  and  many  the  like,  which  are  by  no  means  the  measures  of  truth 
 and  falsehood,  the  generality  of  men  make  the  standards  by  w^hich  they  ac- 
 custom their  understanding  to  judge.  And  tlius,  they  fulling  into  a  habit  of 
 determining  of  truth  and  falsehood  by  such  wrong  measures,  it  is  no  wonder 
 they  should  embrace  error  for  certainty,  and  be  very  positive  in  things  they 
 have  no  ground  for. 
 
 There  is  not  any,  w"]io  pretends  to  the  least  reason,  but,  when  any  of  these 
 his  false  maxims  are  brought  to  the  test,  must  acknowledge  them  to  be  fallible, 
 and  such  as  he  will  not  allow  in  those  that  differ  from  him  ;  and  yet,  after  he 
 is  convinced  of  this,  you  shall  see  him  go  on  in  the  use  of  them,  and,  the 
 very  next  occasion  tliat  offers,  argue  again  upon  the  same  grounds.  Would 
 one  not  be  ready  to  think  that  men  are  willing  to  impose  uj)on  themselves 
 and  mislead  their  own  understandings,  who  conduct  them  by  such  wrong 
 measures,  even  after  they  see  they  cannot  be  relied  on  .'  But  yet  they  will 
 not  appear  so  blameable  as  may  be  thought  at  first  sight;  for  I  think  there 
 are  a  great  many  that  argue  thus  in  earnest,  and  do  it  not  to  impose  on  them- 
 selves or  others.  They  are  persuaded  of  what  they  say,  and  think  there  is 
 weight  in  it,  though  in  a  like  case  they  have  been  convinced  there  is  none ; 
 but  men  would  be  intolerable  to  tliemselves,  and  contemptible  to  otliers,  if 
 tliey  sliould  embrace  opinions  without  any  ground,  and  hold  what  they  could 
 give  no  manner  of  reason  for.  True  or  false,  solid  or  sandy,  the  mind  nmst 
 have  some  fouiulation  to  rest  itself  upon;  and,  as  I  have  remarked  in  another 
 
Sect.  6.  PRINCIPLES.  491 
 
 place,  it  no  sooner  entertains  any  proposition,  but  it  presently  hastens  to 
 some  hypothesis  to  bottom  it  on ;  till  then  it  is  unquiet  and  unsettled.  So 
 much  do  our  own  very  tempers  dispose  us  to  a  right  use  of  our  understand- 
 ings, if  we  would  follow,  as  we  should,  the  inclinations  of  our  nature. 
 
 In  some  matters  of  concernment,  especially  those  of  religion,  men  are 
 not  permitted  to  be  always  wavering  and  uncertain ;  they  must  embrace  and 
 profess  some  tenets  or  other ;  and  it  would  be  a  shame,  nay  a  contradiction  too 
 heavy  for  any  one's  mind  to  lie  constantly  under,  for  him  to  pretend  seriously 
 to  be  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  any  religion,  and  yet  not  to  be  able  to  give  any 
 reason  of  his  belief,  or  to  say  any  thing  for  his  preference  of  this  to  any  other 
 opinion :  and  therefore  they  must  make  use  of  some  principles  or  other,  and 
 those  can  be  no  other  than  such  as  they  have  and  can  manage ;  and  to  say 
 they  are  not  in  earnest  persuaded  by  them,  and  do  not  rest  upon  those  they 
 make  use  of,  is  contrary  to  experience,  and  to  allege  that  they  are  not  misled 
 when  we  complain  they  are. 
 
 If  this  be  so,  it  will  be  urged,  why  then  do  they  not  make  use  of  sure  and 
 unquestionable  principles,  rather  than  rest  on  such  grounds  as  may  deceive 
 them,  and  will,  as  is  visible,  serve  to  support  error  as  well  as  truth  1 
 
 To  this  I  answer,  the  reason  why  they  do  not  make  use  of  better  and  surer 
 principles  is  because  they  cannot :  but  this  inability  proceeds  not  from  want 
 of  natural  parts  (for  those  few,  whose  case  that  is,  are  to  be  excused),  but 
 for  want  of  use  and  exercise.  Few  men  are,  from  their  youth,  accustomed 
 to  strict  reasoning,  and  to  trace  the  dependence  of  any  truth,  in  a  long  train 
 of  consequences,  to  its  remotest  principles,  and  to  observe  its  connexion  ; 
 and  he  that  by  frequent  practice  has  not  been  used  to  this  employment  of  his 
 understanding,  it  is  no  more  wonder  that  he  should  not,  when  he  is  grown 
 into  years,  be  able  to  bring  his  mind  to  it,  than  that  he  should  not  be  on  a 
 sudden,  able  to  grave  or  design,  dance  on  the  ropes  or  write  a  good  hand, 
 who  has  never  practised  either  of  them. 
 
 Nay,  the  most  of  men  are  so  wholly  strangers  to  this,  that  they  do  not  so 
 much  as  perceive  their  want  of  it ;  they  despatch  the  ordinary  business  of 
 their  callings  by  rote,  as'  we  say,  as  they  have  learnt  it ;  and  if  at  any  time 
 they  miss  success,  they  impute  it  to  any  thing  rather  than  want  of  thought  or 
 skill ;  that  they  conclude  (because  they  know  no  better)  they  have  in  perfec- 
 tion :  or,  if  there  be  any  subject  that  interest  or  fancy  has  recommended  to 
 their  thoughts,  their  reasoning  about  it  is  still  after  their  own  fashion  ;  be  it 
 better  or  worse,  it  serves  their  turns,  and  is  the  best  they  are  acquainted 
 with ;  and,  therefore,  when  they  are  led  by  it  into  mistakes,  and  their  business 
 succeeds  accordingly,  they  impute  it  to  any  cross  accident  or  default  of  others, 
 rather  than  to  their  own  want  of  understanding  ;  that  is  what  nobody  disco- 
 vers or  complains  of  in  himself.  Whatsoever  made  his  business  to  miscarry, 
 it  was  not  want  of  right  thouglit  and  judgment  in  himself:  he  sees  no  such 
 defect  in  himself,  but  is  satisfied  that  he  carries  on  his  designs  well  enough 
 by  his  own  reasoning,  or  at  least  should  have  done,  had  it  not  been  for  un- 
 lucky traverses  not  in  his  power.  Thus,  being  content  with  this  short  and 
 very  imperfect  use  of  his  understanding,  he  never  troubles  himself  to  seek 
 out  methods  of  improving  his  mind,  and  lives  all  his  life  without  any  notion 
 of  close  reasoning,  in  a  continued  connexion  of  a  long  train  of  consequences 
 from  sure  foundations  ;  such  as  is  requisite  for  the  making  out  and  clearing 
 most  of  the  speculative  truths  most  men  own  to  believe,  and  are  most  con- 
 cerned in.  Not  to  mention  here,  what  I  shall  have  occasion  to  insist  on  by 
 and  by  more  fully,  viz.  that  in  many  cases  it  is  not  one  series  of  conse- 
 quences will  serve  the  turn,  but  many  different  and  opposite  deductions  must 
 be  examined  and  laid  together,  before  a  man  can  come  to  make  a  right  judg- 
 ment of  the  point  in  question.  What  then  can  be  expected  from  men  that 
 neither  see  the  want  of  any  such  kind  of  reasoning  as  this :  nor,  if  they  do, 
 know  how  to  set  about  it,  or  could  perform  it  1  You  may  as  well  set  a  coun- 
 tryman, who  scarce  knows  the  figures,  and  never  cast  up  a  sum  of  three  par- 
 ticulars, to  state  a  merchant's  long  account,  and  find  the  true  balance  of  it. 
 
49-2  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  G. 
 
 What  then  sliould  bo  done  in  the  case  7  I  answer,  we  should  always  re- 
 member what  I  said  above,  that  the  faculties  of  our  souls  are  improved  and 
 made  useful  to  us,  just  after  the  same  manner  as  our  bodies  are.  Would 
 you  have  a  man  write  or  paint,  dance  or  fence  well,  or  perform  any  other 
 manual  operation  dexterously  and  with  ease  ;  let  him  have  ever  so  much 
 vigour  and  activity,  suppleness  and  address  naturally,  yet  nobody  expects  this 
 from  him,  unless  he  has  been  used  to  it,  and  has  employed  time  and  pains  in 
 fashioning-  and  forming  his  hand,  or  outward  parts  to  these  motions.  Just  so 
 it  is  in  the  mind :  would  you  have  a  man  reason  well,  you  must  use  him  to  it 
 betimes,  exercise  his  mind  in  observing  the  connexion  of  ideas,  and  following 
 them  in  train.  Nothing  does  this  better  than  mathematics,  which,  therefore, 
 I  think  should  be  taught  all  those  who  have  the  time  and  opportunity  ;  not  so 
 much  to  make  them  mathematicians,  as  to  make  them  reasonable  creatures ; 
 for  though  we  all  call  ourselves  so,  because  we  are  born  to  it,  if  we  please ; 
 yet  we  may  truly  say,  nature  gives  us  but  the  seeds  of  it :  we  are  born  to  be, 
 if  we  please,  rational  creatures  ;  but  it  is  use  and  exercise  only  that  make  us 
 so,  and  we  are,  indeed,  so  no  farther  than  industry  and  application  have  car- 
 ried us.  And,  therefore,  in  ways  of  reasoning,  which  men  have  not  been 
 used  to,  he  that  will  observe  the  conclusions  they  take  up,  must  be  satisfied 
 they  are  not  all  rational. 
 
 This  has  been  the  less  taken  notice  of,  because  every  one,  in  his  private 
 affairs,  uses  some  sort  of  reasoning  or  other,  enough  to  denominate  him  rea- 
 sonable. But  the  mistake  is,  that  he  that  is  found  reasonable  in  one  thing  is 
 concluded  to  be  so  in  all,  and  to  think  or  to  say  otherwise  is  thought  so  unjust 
 an  affront,  and  so  senseless  a  censure,  that  nobody  ventures  to  do  it.  It  looks 
 like  the  degradation  of  a  man  below  the  dignity  of  his  nature.  It  is  true, 
 that  he  that  reasons  well  in  any  one  thing  has  a  mind  naturally  capable  of 
 reasoning  well  in  others,  and  to  the  same  degree  of  strength  and  clearness, 
 and  possibly  much  greater,  had  his  understanding  been  so  employed.  But  it 
 is  as  true  that  he  who  can  reason  well  to-day  about  one  sort  of  matters,  can- 
 not at  all  reason  to-day  about  others,  though  perhaps  a  year  hence  he  may. 
 But  wherever  a  man's  rational  faculty  fails  him,  and  will  not  serve  him  to 
 reason,  there  we  cannot  say  he  is  rational,  how  capable  soever  he  may  be,  by 
 time  and  exercise,  to  become  so. 
 
 Try  in  men  of  low  and  mean  education,  who  have  never  elevated  their 
 thoughts  above  the  spade  and  the  plough  nor  looked  beyond  the  ordinary 
 drudgery  of  a  day-labourer.  Take  the  thoughts  of  such  an  one,  used  for 
 many  years  to  one  track,  out  of  that  narrow  compass,  he  has  been  all  his  life 
 confined  to,  you  will  find  him  no  more  capable  of  reasoning  than  almost  a 
 perfect  natural.  Some  one  or  two  rules,  on  which  their  conclusions  imme- 
 diately depend,  you  will  find  in  most  men  have  governed  all  their  thoughts  ; 
 these,  true  or  false,  have  been  the  maxims  they  have  been  guided  by ;  take 
 these  from  them,  and  they  are  perfectly  at  a  loss,  their  compass  and  pole-star 
 then  are  gone,  and  their  understanding  is  perfectly  at  a  nonplus  ;  and  there- 
 fore they  either  immediately  return  to  their  old  maxims  again,  as  the  founda- 
 tions ofall  truth  to  them,  notwithstanding  all  that  can  be  said  to  show  their 
 w'eakness ;  or  if  they  give  them  up  to  their  reasons,  they,  with  them,  give 
 up  all  truth  and  farther  inquiry,  and  think  there  is  no  such  thing  as  certainty. 
 For  if  you  would  enlarge  their  thoughts,  and  settle  them  upon  more  remote 
 and  surer  principles,  they  either  cannot  easily  apprehend  them  ;  or,  if  they 
 3an,  know  not  what  use  to  make  of  them ;  for  long  deductions  from  remote 
 principles  are  what  they  have  not  been  used  to,  and  cannot  manage. 
 
 What  then,  can  grown  men  never  be  improved,  or  enlarged  in  their  under- 
 standings ■?  I  say  not  so  ;  but  this  I  think  I  may  say,  that  it  will  not  be  done 
 without  industry  and  application,  which  will  require  more  time  and  pains  than 
 grown  men,  settled  in  their  course  of  life,  will  allow  to  it,  and  therefore  very 
 seldom  is  done.  And  this  verv  capacity  of  attaining  it,  by  use  and  c.vcrcise 
 only,  brings  us  back  to  that  wliich  1  laid  down  before,  that  it  is  only  practice 
 
Sect.  6.  PRINCIPLES.  493 
 
 that  improves  our  minds  as  well  as  bodies,  and  we  must  expect  nothing  from 
 our  understandings,  any  farther  than  they  are  perfected  by  habits. 
 
 The  Americans  are  not  all  born  with  worse  understandings  than  the  Eu- 
 ropeans, though  we  see  none  of  them  have  such  reaches  in  the  arts  and 
 sciences.  And,  among  the  children  of  a  poor  countryman,  the  lucky  chance 
 of  education,  and  getting  into  the  world,  gives  one  infinitely  the  superiority 
 in  parts  over  the  rest,  who,  continuing  at  home,  had  continued  also  just  of 
 the  same  size  with  his  brethren. 
 
 He  that  has  to  do  with  young  scholars,  especially  in  mathematics,  may 
 perceive  how  their  minds  open  by  degrees,  and  how  it  is  exercise  alone  that 
 opens  them.  Sometimes  they  will  stick  a  long  time  at  a  part  of  demonstra- 
 tion, not  for  want  of  will  and  application,  but  really  for  want  of  perceiving 
 the  connexion  of  two  ideas,  that,  to  one  whose  understanding  is  more  exer- 
 cised, is  as  visible  as  any  thing  can  be.  The  same  would  be  with  a  grown 
 man  beginning  to  study  mathematics  ;  the  understanding,  for  want  of  use, 
 often  sticks  in  every  plain  way,  and  he  himself  that  is  so  puzzled,  when  he 
 comes  to  see  the  connexion,  wonders  what  it  was  he  stuck  at,  in  a  case  so 
 plain. 
 
 Sect.  7.  Mathematics. — I  have  mentioned  mathematics  as  a  way  to  settle 
 in  the  mind  a  habit  of  reasoning  closely  and  in  train  ;  not  that  I  think  it  ne- 
 cessary that  all  men  should  be  deep  mathematicians,  but  that,  having  got  the 
 way  of  reasoning,  which  that  study  necessarily  brings  the  mind  to,  they  might 
 be  able  to  transfer  it  to  other  parts  of  knowledge,  as  they  shall  have  occasion. 
 For,  in  all  sorts  of  reasoning,  every  single  argument  should  be  managed  as  a 
 mathematical  demonstration  :  the  connexion  and  dependence  of  ideas  should 
 be  followed,  till  the  mind  is  brought  to  the  source  on  which  it  bottoms,  and 
 observes  the  coherence  all  along,  though  in  proofs  of  probability  one  such 
 train  is  not  enough  to  settle  the  judgment,  as  in  demonstrative  knowledge. 
 
 Where  a  truth  is  made  out  by  one  demonstration,  there  needs  no  farther 
 inquiry  ;  but  in  probabilities,  where  there  wants  demonstration  to  establish 
 the  truth  beyond  doubt,  there  it  is  not  enough  to  trace  one  argument  to  its 
 source,  and  observe  its  strength  and  weakness,  but  all  the  arguments,  after 
 having  been  so  examined  on  both  sides,  must  be  laid  in  balance  one  against 
 another,  and,  upon  the  whole,  the  understanding  determine  its  assent. 
 
 This  is  a  way  of  reasoning  the  understanding  should  be  accustomed  to, 
 which  is  so  different  from  what  the  illiterate  are  used  to,  that  even  learned 
 men  oftentimes  seem  to  have  very  little  or  no  notion  of  it.  Nor  is  it  to  be 
 wondered,  since  the  way  of  disputing,  in  the  schools,  leads  them  quite  away 
 from  it,  by  insisting  on  one  topical  argument,  by  the  success  of  which  the 
 truth  or  falsehood  of  the  question  is  to  be  determined,  and  victory  adjudged 
 to  the  opponent  or  defendant ;  which  is  all  one  as  if  one  should  balance  an 
 account  by  one  sum,  charged  and  discharged,  when  there  are  an  hundred 
 others  to  be  taken  into  consideration. 
 
 This,  therefore,  it  would  be  well  if  men's  minds  were  accustomed  to,  and 
 that  early  ;  that  they  might  not  erect  their  opinions  upon  one  single  view, 
 when  so  many  other  are  requisite  to  make  up  the  account,  and  must  come- 
 into  the  reckoning,  before  a  man  can  form  a  right  judgment.  This  would 
 enlarge  their  minds,  and  give  a  due  freedom  to  their  understandings,  that  they 
 might  not  be  led  into  error  by  presumption,  laziness,  or  precipitancy;  for  I 
 think  nobody  can  approve  such  a  conduct  of  the  understanding  as  should 
 mislead  it  from  truth,  though  it  be  ever  so  much  in  fashion  to  make  use  of  it. 
 
 To  this  perhaps  it  will  be  objected,  that  to  manage  the  understanding  as  I 
 propose,  would  require  every  man  to  be  a  scholar,  and  to  be  furnished" with 
 all  the  materials  of  knowledge,  and  exercised  in  all  the  ways  of  reasoning. 
 To  which  I  answer,  that  it  is  a  shame  for  those  that  have  time,  and  the  means 
 to  attain  knowledge,  to  want  any  helps  or  assistance,  for  the  improvement 
 of  their  understandings,  that  are  to  be  got;  and  to  such  I  would  be  thought 
 here  chiefly  to  speak.  Those  methinks  who,  by  the  industry  and  parts  of 
 their  ancestors,  have  been  set  free  from  a  constant  drudgery  to  their  backs 
 
494  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  1. 
 
 and  their  bellies,  slioiild  bestow  some  of  their  spare  time  on  their  heads,  and 
 open  their  minds,  by  some  trials  and  essays,  in  all  the  sorts  and  matters  o'" 
 reasoning.  I  have  before  mentioned  mathematics,  wlierein  algebra  gives  new 
 helps  and  views  to  the  understanding.  If  I  propose  these,  it  is  not,  as  I  said, 
 to  make  every  man  a  thorough  mathematician,  or  a  deep  algebraist ;  but  yet 
 I  think  the  study  of  them  is  of  infinite  use,  even  to  grown  men  ;  first,  by  ex- 
 perimentally convincing  them,  that  to  make  any  one  reason  well,  it  is  not 
 enough  to  have  parts  wherewith  he  is  satisfied,  and  that  serve  him  well  enough 
 in  his  ordinary  course.  A  man  in  those  studies  will  see,  that  however  good  he 
 may  think  his  understanding,  yet  in  many  things,  and  those  very  visible,  it  may 
 fail  him.  This  would  take  off  that  presumption  that  most  men  have  of  them- 
 selves in  this  part ;  and  they  would  not  be  so  apt  to  think  their  minds  wanted 
 no  helps  to  enlarge  them,  that  there  could  be  nothing  added  to  the  acuteness 
 and  penetration  of  their  understandings. 
 
 Secondly,  The  study  of  mathematics  would  show  them  the  necessity  there 
 is  in  reasoning  to  separate  all  the  distinct  ideas,  and  see  the  habitudes  that 
 all  those  concerned  in  the  present  inquiry  have  to  one  another,  and  to  lay  by 
 those  which  relate  not  to  the  proposition  in  hand,  and  wholly  to  leave  them 
 out  of  the  reckoning.  This  is  that  which  in  other  subjects,  besides  quantity, 
 is  what  is  absolutely  requisite  to  just  reasoning,  though  in  them  it  is  not  so 
 easily  observed,  nor  so  carefully  practised.  In  those  parts  of  knowledge 
 where  it  is  thought  demonstration  has  nothing  to  do,  men  reason  as  it  were 
 in  the  lump  ;  and  if,  upon  a  summary  and  confused  view,  or  upon  a  partial 
 consideration,  they  can  raise  the  appearance  of  a  probability,  they  usually 
 rest  content  ;  especially  if  it  be  in  a  dispute  where  every  little  straw  is  laid 
 hold  on,  and  every  thing  that  can  but  be  drawn  in  any  way  to  give  colour  to 
 the  argument  is  advanced  with  ostentation.  But  that  mind  is  not  in  a  pos- 
 ture to  find  the  truth,  that  does  not  distinctly  take  all  the  parts  asunder,  and, 
 omitting  what  is  not  at  all  to  the  point,  draw  a  conclusion  from  the  result  of 
 all  the  particulars  which  any  way  influence  it.  There  is  another  no  less  use- 
 ful habit  to  be  got  by  an  application  to  mathematical  demonstrations,  and  that 
 is,  of  using  the  mind  to  a  long  train  of  consequences  ;  but  having  mentioned 
 that  already,  I  shall  not  again  here  repeat  it. 
 
 As  to  men  whose  fortunes  and  time  are  narrower,  what  may  suffice  them 
 is  not  of  that  vast  extent  as  may  be  imagined,  and  so  comes  not  within  the 
 objection. 
 
 Nobody  is  under  an  obligation  to  know  every  thing.  Knowledge  and 
 science  in  general  is  the  business -only  of  those  who  are  at  ease  and  lei- 
 sure. Those  who  have  particular  callings  ought  to  understand  them ;  and  it 
 is  no  unreasonable  proposal,  nor  impossible  to  be  compassed,  that  they  should 
 think  and  reason  right  about  what  is  their  daily  employment.  This  one  can- 
 not think  them  incapable  of,  without  levelling  tliem  with  the  brutes,  and 
 charging  them  with  a  stupidity  below  the  rank  of  rational  creatures. 
 
 Sect.  8.  Religion. — Besides  his  particular  calling  for  the  support  of  this 
 life,  every  one  lias  a  concern  in  a  future  life,  which  he  is  bound  to  look  after. 
 This  engages  his  tboughts  in  religion ;  and  here  it  miglitily  lies  upon  him  to 
 understand  and  reason  right.  Men,  therefore,  cannot  be  e.xcused  from  un- 
 derstanding the  words,  and  framing  the  general  notions  relating  to  religion, 
 right.  The  one  day  of  seven,  besides  other  days  of  rest,  allows  in  the  Chris- 
 tian world  time  enough  for  this  (had  they  no  other  idle  hours)  if  they  would 
 but  make  use  of  these  vacancies  from  their  daily  labour,  and  apply  themselves 
 to  an  improvement  of  knowledge  with  as  much  diligence  as  they  often  do  to 
 a  great  many  other  things  that  are  useless,  and  had  but  those  that  would  en- 
 ter them  according  to  their  several  capacities  in  a  right  way  to  this  know- 
 ledge. The  original  make  of  their  minds  is  like  that  of  other  men,  and  they 
 would  be  found  not  to  want  understanding  fit  to  receive  the  knowledge  of  re- 
 ligion, if  they  were  a  little  encouraged  and  helped  in  it,  as  they  should  be. 
 For  there  are  instances  of  very  mean  people,  who  have  raised  their  minds  to 
 a  great  sense  and  understanding  of  religion  :  and  though  these  have  not  been 
 
Sect.  8.  RELIGION.  495 
 
 so  frequent  as  could  be  wished,  yet  they  are  enough  to  clear  that  condition 
 of  life  from  a  necessity  of  gross  ignorance,  and  to  show  that  more  might  be 
 brought  to  be  rational  creatures  and  Christians  (for  they  can  hardly  be  thought 
 really  to  be  so,  who,  wearing  the  name,  know  not  so  much  as  the  very  prin- 
 ciples of  that  religion)  if  due  care  were  taken  of  them.  For,  if  I  mistake  not, 
 the  peasantry  lately  in  France  (a  rank  of  people  under  a  much  heavier  pres- 
 sure of  want  and  poverty  than  the  day-labourers  in  England)  of  the  reformed 
 religion  understood  it  much  better,  and  could  say  more  for  it  than  those  of  a 
 higher  condition  among  us. 
 
 But  if  it  shall  be  concluded  that  the  meaner  sort  of  people  must  give  them- 
 selves up  to  brutish  stupidity  in  things  of  their  nearest  concernment,  which  I 
 see  no  reason  for,  this  excuses  not  those  of  a  freer  fortune  and  education,  if 
 they  neglect  their  understandings,  and  take  no  care  to  employ  them  as  they 
 ought,  and  set  them  right  in  the  knowledge  of  those  things  for  which  prin- 
 cipally they  were  given  them.  At  least  those,  whose  plentiful  fortunes  allow 
 them  the  opportunities  and  helps  of  improvements,  are  not  so  few,  but  that 
 it  might  be  hoped  great  advancements  might  be  made  in  knowledge  of  all 
 kinds,  especially  in  that  of  the  greatest  concern  and  largest  views,  if  men 
 would  make  a  right  use  of  their  faculties,  and  study  their  own  understandings. 
 
 Sect.  9.  Ideas. — Outward  corporeal  objects,  that  constantly  importune 
 our  senses  and  captivate  our  appetites,  fail  not  to  fill  our  heads  with  lively 
 and  lasting  ideas  of  that  kind.  Here  the  mind  needs  not  to  be  set  up  upon 
 getting  greater  store  ;  they  offer  themselves  fast  enough,  and  are  usually  en- 
 tertained with  such  plenty,  and  lodged  so  carefully,  that  the  mind  wants  room  or 
 attention  for  others  that  it  has  more  use  and  need  of.  To  fit  the  understanding, 
 therefore,  for  such  reasoning  as  I  have  been  above  speaking  of,  care  should  be 
 taken  to  fill  it  with  moral  and  more  abstract  ideas ;  for  these  not  offering 
 themselves  to  the  senses,  but  being  to  be  framed  to  the  understanding,  people 
 are  generally  so  neglectful  of  a  faculty  they  are  apt  to  think  wants  nothing, 
 that  I  fear  most  men's  minds  are  more  unfiirnished  with  such  ideas  than  is 
 imagined.  They  oflen  use  the  words,  and  how  can  they  be  suspected  to 
 want  the  ideas  ]  What  I  have  said  in  the  third  book  of  my  Essay  will  ex- 
 cuse me  from  any  other  answer  to  this  question.  But  to  convince  people  of 
 what  moment  it  is  to  their  understandings  to  be  furnished  with  such  abstract 
 ideas,  steady  and  settled  in  them,  give  me  leave  to  ask,  how  any  one  shall  be 
 able  to  know  whether  he  be  obliged  to  be  just,  if  he  has  not  established  ideas 
 in  his  mind  of  obligation  and  of  justice ;  since  knowledge  consists  in  nothing 
 but  the  perceived  agreement  or  disagreement  of  those  ideas  ?  and  so  of  all 
 others  the  like,  which  concern  our  lives  and  manners.  And  if  men  do  find  a 
 difficulty  to  see  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  angles,  which  lie  be- 
 fore their  eyes  unalterable  in  a  diagram ;  how  utterly  impossible  will  it  be  to 
 perceive  it  in  ideas  that  have  no  other  sensible  object  to  represent  them  to 
 the  mind  but  sounds ,  with  which  they  have  no  manner  of  conformity,  and 
 therefore  had  need  to  be  clearl}'^  settled  in  the  mind  themselves,  if  we  would 
 make  any  clear  judgment  about  them.  This,  therefore,  is  one  of  the  first 
 things  the  mind  should  be  employed  about,  in  the  right  conduct  of  the  under- 
 standing, without  which  it  is  impossible  it  should  be  capable  of  reasoning- 
 right  about  those  matters.  But  in  these,  and  all  other  ideas,  care  must  be 
 taken  .that  they  harbour  no  inconsistencies,  and  that  they  have  a  real  exist- 
 ence where  real  existence  is  supposed ;  and  are  not  mere  chimeras  with  a 
 supposed  existence. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Prejudice. — Every  one  is  forward  to  complain  of  the  prejudices 
 that  mislead  other  men  or  parties,  as  if  he  were  free,  and  had  none  of  his 
 own.  This  being  objected  on  all  sides,  it  is  agreed  that  it  is  a  fault  and  an 
 hinderance  to  knowledge.  What  now  is  the  cure  ?  No  other  but  this,  that 
 every  man  should  let  alone  others'  prejudices,  and  examine  his  own.  Nobody 
 is  convinced  of  his  by  the  accusation  of  another :  he  recriminates  by  the  same 
 rule,  and  is  clear.  The  only  way  to  remove  this  great  cause  of  ignorance 
 and  error  out  of  the  world  is,  for  every  one  impartially  to  examine  himself. 
 
496  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  10. 
 
 If  others  will  not  deal  fairly  witli  tlicir  own  minds,  docs  that  make  my  errors 
 truths  !  or  ought  it  to  make  me  in  love  with  them,  and  willintf  to  impose  on 
 myself.'  If  others  love  cataracts  in  their  eyes,  should  that  hinder  me  from 
 couching-of  mine  as  soon  as  I  can]  Every  one  declares  against  hlindness, 
 and  yet  who  almost  is  not  fond  of  that  which  dims  his  sight,  and  keeps  the 
 clear  light  out  of  his  mind,  wiiich  should  lead  him  into  truth  and  knowledge  ? 
 False  or  doubtful  positions,  relied  upon  as  unquestionable  maxims,  keep  those 
 in  the  dark  from  truth  who  build  on  them.  Such  are  usually  the  prejudices 
 imbibed  from  education,  party,  reverence,  fashion,  interest,  &.c.  This  is  the 
 mote  which  every  one  sees  in  his  brotlier's  eye,  but  never  regards  the  beam 
 in  his  own.  For  who  is  there  almost  that  is  ever  brought  fairly  to  examine 
 his  own  principles,  and  see  whether  they  are  such  as  will  bear  the  trial  1 
 But  yet  this  should  be  one  of  the  first  things  every  one  should  set  about,  and 
 be  scrupulous  in,  who  would  rightly  conduct  his  understanding  in  the  search 
 of  truth  and  knowledge. 
 
 To  those  who  are  willing  to  get  rid  of  this  great  hinderance  of  knowledge 
 (for  to  such  only  I  write),  to  those  who  would  shake  off  this  great  and  danger- 
 ous impostor,  prejudice,  who  dresses  up  falsehood  in  the  likeness  of  truth, 
 and  so  dexterously  hoodwinks  men's  minds,  as  to  keep  them  in  the  dark, 
 with  a  belief  that  they  are  more  in  the  light  than  any  that  do  not  see  with 
 their  eyes, — I  shall  offer  this  one  mark  whereby  prejudice  may  be  known. 
 He  that  is  strongly  of  any  opinion  must  suppose  (unless  he  be  self-con- 
 demned) that  his  persuasion  is  built  upon  good  grounds ;  and  that  his  assent 
 is  no  greater  than  what  the  evidence  of  the  truth  he  holds  forces  him  to;  and 
 that  they  are  arguments,  and  not  inclination,  or  fancy,  that  make  him  so 
 confident  and  positive  in  his  tenets.  Now  if,  after  all  his  profession,  he  can- 
 not bear  any  opposition  to  his  opinion,  if  he  cannot  so  much  as  give  a  patient 
 hearing,  much  less  examine  and  weigh  the  arguments  on  the  other  side,  does 
 he  not  plainly  confess  it  is  prejudice  governs  him?  and  it  is  not  the  evidence 
 of  truth,  but  some  lazy  anticipation,  some  beloved  presumption,  that  he  de- 
 sires to  rest  undisturbed  in.  For,  if  what  he  holds  be,  as  he  gives  out,  well 
 fenced  with  evidence,  and  he  sees  it  to  be  true,  what  need  he  fear  to  put  it 
 to  the  proof?  If  his  opinion  be  settled  upon  a  firm  foundation,  if  the  argu- 
 ments that  support  it,  and  have  obtained  his  assent,  be  clear,  good,  and  con- 
 vincing, why  should  he  be  shy  to  have  it  tried  whether  they  be  proof  or  not  ? 
 He  whose  assent  goes  beyond  this  evidence,  owes  this  excess  of  his  adhe- 
 rence only  to  prejudice,  and  does  in  effect  own  it,  when  he  refuses  to  hear 
 what  is  offered  against  it ;  declaring  thereby  that  it  is  not  evidence  he  seeks, 
 but  the  quiet  enjoyment  of  the  opinion  he  is  fond  of,  with  a  forward  condem- 
 nation of  all  that  may  stand  in  opposition  to  it,  unheard  and  unexamined  ; 
 which,  what  is  it  but  ])rejudice  ?  qui  cequum  statuerit,  parte  inauditd  altera 
 etiamsi  aquum  statuerit,  hand  (Bquus  fuerit.  He  that  would  acquit  himself 
 in  this  case  as  a  lover  of  truth,  not  giving  way  to  any  pre-occupation  or  bias 
 that  may  mislead  him,  must  do  two  things  that  are  not  very  common  nor 
 very  easy. 
 
 Sect.  11.  Indifferency. — First,  He  must  not  be  in  love  with  any  opinion, 
 or  wish  it  to  be  true,  till  he  knows  it  to  be  so,  and  then  he  will  not  need  to 
 wish  it ;  for  nothing  that  is  false  can  deserve  our  good  wishes,  nor  a  desire 
 that  it  should  have  the  place  and  force  of  truth ;  and  yet  nothing  is  more  fre- 
 quent than  this.  Men  are  fond  of  certain  tenets  upon  no  other  evidence  but 
 respect  and  custom,  and  think  they  must  maintain  them,  or  all  is  gone  ; 
 though  they  have  never  examined  the  ground  they  stand  on,  nor  have  ever 
 made  them  out  to  themselves,  or  can  make  them  out  to  others  :  we  should 
 contend  earnestly  for  the  truth,  but  we  should  first  be  sure  that  it  is  truth,  or 
 else  we  fight  against  God,  who  is  the  God  of  truth,  and  do  the  work  of  the 
 devil,  who  is  the  father  and  propagator  of  lies;  and  our  zeal,  though  ever  so 
 warm,  will  not  excuse  us,  for  this  is  plainly  prejudice. 
 
 Sect.  12.  Examine. — Secondly,  He  must  do  that  which  he  will  find  him- 
 self very  averse  to,  us  judging  the  thing  uniieccssary,  or  himself  incapable  of 
 
Sect.  12.  EXAMINE.  497 
 
 doing  it.  He  must  try  whether  his  principles  be  certainly  true,  or  not,  and 
 how  far  he  may  safely  rely  upon  them.  This,  whether  fewer  have  the  heart 
 or  the  skill  to  do,  I  shall  not  determine  ;  but  this,  I  am  sure,  is  that  which  every 
 one  ought  to  do,  who  professes  to  love  truth,  and  would  not  im])ose  upon 
 himself;  which  is  a  surer  way  to  be  made  a  fool  of  than  by  being  exposed  to 
 the  sophistry  of  others.  The  disposition  to  put  any  cheat  upon  ourselves 
 works  constantly,  and  we  are  pleased  with  it,  but  are  impatient  of  being  ban- 
 tered or  misled  by  others.  The  inability  I  here  speak  of  is  not  any  natural 
 defect  that  makes  men  incapable  of  examining  their  own  principles.  To 
 such,  rules  of  conducting  their  understandings  are  useless;  and  that  is  the 
 case  of  very  few.  The  great  number  is  of  those  whom  the  ill  habit  of  never 
 exerting  their  thoughts  has  disabled;  the  powers  of  their  minds  are  starved 
 by  disuse,  and  have  lost  that  reach  and  strength  which  nature  fitted  them  to 
 receive  from  exercise.  Those  who  are  in  a  condition  to  learn  the  first  rules 
 of  plain  arithmetic,  and  could  be  brought  to  cast  up  an  ordinary  sum,  are 
 capable  of  this,  if  they  had  but  accustomed  their  minds  to  reasoning:  but  they 
 that  have  wholly  neglected  the  exercise  of  their  understandings  in  this  way, 
 will  be  very  far,  at  first,  from  being  able  to  do  it,  and  as  unfit  for  it  as  one 
 unpractised  in  figures  to  cast  up  a  shop-book,  and,  perhaps,  think  it  as  strange 
 to  be  set  about  it.  And  yet  it  must  nevertheless  be  confessed  to  be  a  wrong 
 use  of  our  understandings,  to  build  our  tenets  (in  things  where  we  are  con- 
 cerned to  hold  the  truth)  upon  principles  that  may  lead  us  into  error.  We 
 take  our  principles  at  hap-hazard,  upon  trust,  and  without  ever  having  ex- 
 amined them,  and  then  believe  a  whole  system,  upon  a  presumption  that  they 
 are  true  and  solid ;  and  what  is  all  this  but  childish,  shameful,  senseless  cre- 
 dulity ? 
 
 In  these  two  things,  viz.  an  equal  indiflferency  for  all  truth ;  I  mean  the  re- 
 ceiving it,  the  love  of  it,  as  truth,  but  not  loving  it  for  any  other  reason,  be- 
 fore we  know  it  to  be  true;  and  in  the  examination  of  our  principles,  and  not 
 receiving  any  for  such,  nor  building  on  them,  till  we  are  fully  convinced,  as 
 rational  creatures,  of  their  solidity,  truth,  and  certainty ;  consists  that  free- 
 dom of  the  understanding  which  is  necessary  to  a  rational  creature,  and  with- 
 out which  it  is  not  truly  an  understanding.  It  is  conceit,  fancy,  extravagance, 
 any  thing  rather  than  understanding,  if  it  must  be  under  the  constraint  of 
 receiving  and  holding  opinions  by  the  authority  of  any  thing  but  their  own, 
 not  fancied,  but  perceived,  evidence.  This  was  rightly  called  imposition, 
 and  is  of  all  other  the  worst  and  most  dangerous  sort  of  it.  For  we  impose 
 upon  ourselves,  which  is  the  strongest  imposition  of  all  others ;  and  we  im- 
 pose upon  ourselves  in  that  part  which  ought  with  the  greatest  care  to  be  kept 
 free  from  all  imposition.  The  world  is  apt  to  cast  great  blame  on  those  who 
 have  an  indifferency  of  opinions,  especially  in  religion.  I  fear  this  is  the 
 foundation  of  great  error  and  worse  consequences.  To  be  indifferent  which 
 of  two  opinions  is  true,  is  the  right  temper  of  the  mind  that  preserves  it  from 
 being  imposed  on,  and  disposes  it  to  examine  with  that  indiflferency,  till  it  has 
 done  its  best  to  find  the  truth,  and  this  is  the  only  direct  and  safe  way  to  it. 
 But  to  be  indifferent  whether  we  embrace  falsehood  or  truth,  is  the  great  road 
 to  error.  Those  who  are  not  indifferent  which  opinion  is  true,  are  guilty  of 
 this  ;  they  suppose,  without  examining,  that  what  they  hold  is  true,  and  they 
 think  they  ought  to  be  zealous  for  it.  Those,  it  is  plain  by  their  warmth  and 
 eagerness,  are  not  indifferent  for  their  own  opinions,  but  methinks  are  very 
 indifferent  whether  they  be  true  or  false ;  since  they  cannot  endure  to  have 
 any  doubts  raised,  or  objections  made  against  them ;  and  it  is  visible  they 
 never  have  made  any  themselves,  and  so,  never  having  examined  them,  know 
 not,  nor  are  concerned,  as  they  should  be,  to  know  whether  they  be  true  or 
 false. 
 
 These  are  the   common  and  most  general  miscarriages  which  I  think 
 
 men  should  avoid  or  rectify,  in  a  right  conduct  of  their  understandings,  and 
 
 should  be  particularly  taken  care  of  in  education.     The  business  whereof,  in 
 
 respect  of  knowledge,  is  not,  as  I  think,  to  perfect  a  learner  in  all  or  any  one 
 
 3N 
 
498  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  12. 
 
 of  the  sciences,  but  to  give  his  mind  that  freedom,  tliat  disposition,  and  those 
 habits,  that  may  enable  him  to  attain  any  part  of  knowledge  lie  shall  apply 
 himself  to,  or  stand  in  need  of  in  the  future  course  of  his  life. 
 
 This,  and  this  only,  is  well  principling,  and  not  the  instilling  a  reverence 
 and  veneration  for  certain  dogmas,  under  the  specious  title  of  principles, 
 which  are  otlen  so  remote  from  that  truth  and  evidence  which  belongs  to 
 princijjlcs,  that  they  ought  to  bo  rejected,  as  false  and  erroneous  ;  and  often 
 cause  men  so  educated,  when  they  come  abroad  into  the  world,  and  find  they 
 cannot  maintain  the  principles  so  taken  up  and  rested  in,  to  cast  off  all  prin- 
 ciples, and  turn  perfect  sceptics,  regardless  of  knowledge  and  virtue. 
 
 There  are  several  weaknesses  and  defects  in  the  understanding,  either 
 from  the  natural  temper  of  the  mind,  or  ill  habits  taken  up,  which  hinder  it 
 in  its  progress  to  knowledge.  Of  these,  there  are  as  many,  possibly,  to  be 
 found,  if  the  mind  were  thoroughly  studied,  as  there  are  diseases  of  the  body, 
 each  wher(3of  clogs  and  disables  the  understanding  to  some  degree,  and 
 therefore  deserves  to  be  looked  after  and  cured.  I  shall  set  down  some  few 
 to  excite  men,  especially  those  who  make  knowledge  their  business,  to  look 
 into  themselves,  and  observe  whether  they  do  not  indulge  some  weaknesses, 
 allow  some  miscarriages  in  the  management  of  their  intellectual  faculty,  which 
 is  prejudicial  to  them  in  the  search  of  truth. 
 
 Sect.  13.  Observations. — Particular  matters  of  fact  are  the  imdoubted 
 foundations  on  which  our  civil  and  natural  knowledge  is  built :  the  benefit  the 
 understanding  makes  of  them  is  to  draw  from  them  conclusions,  which  may 
 be  as  standing  rules  of  knowledge,  and  consequently  of  practice.  The  mind 
 often  makes  not  that  benefit  it  should  of  the  information  it  receives  from  the 
 accounts  of  civil  or  natural  historians,  by  being  too  forward  or  too  slow  in 
 making  observations  on  the  particular  facts  recorded  in  them. 
 
 There  are  those  who  are  very  assiduous  in  reading,  and  yet  do  not  much 
 advance  their  knowledge  by  it.  They  are  delighted  with  the  stories  that  are 
 told,  and  perhaps  can  tell  them  again,  for  they  make  all  they  read  nothing 
 but  history  to  themselves  :  but  not  reflecting  on  it,  not  making  to  themselves 
 observations  from  what  they  read,  they  are  very  little  improved  by  all  that 
 crowd  of  particulars,  that  either  pass  through,  or  lodge  themselves  in  their 
 understanding.  They  dream  on  in  a  constant  course  of  reading  and  cram- 
 ming themselves  ;  but  not  digesting  any  thing,  it  produces  nothing  but  a  heap 
 of  crudities. 
 
 If  their  memories  retain  well,  one  may  say,  they  have  the  materials  of 
 knowledge  ;  but,  like  those  for  building,  they  are  of  no  advantage,  if  there  be 
 no  other  use  made  of  them  but  to  let  them  lie  heaped  up  together.  Opposite 
 to  these,  there  are  others  who  lose  the  improvement  they  should  make  of 
 matters  of  fact  by  a  quite  contrary  conduct.  They  are  apt  to  draw  general 
 conclusions,  and  raise  axioms  from  every  particular  they  meet  with.  These 
 make  as  little  true  benefit  of  history  as  the  other ;  nay,  being  of  forward  and 
 active  spirits,  receive  more  harm  by  it ;  it  being  of  worse  consequence  to 
 steer  one's  thoughts  by  a  wrong  rule,  than  to  have  none  at  all ;  error  doing 
 to  busy  men  much  more  harm  than  ignorance  to  the  slow  and  sluggish.  Be- 
 tween these,  those  seem  to  do  best,  who  taking  material  and  usefid  hints, 
 sometimes  from  single  matters  of  fact,  carry  them  in  their  minds  to  be  judged 
 of,  by  what  they  shall  find  in  history,  to  confirm  or  reverse  these  imperfect 
 observations  ;  which  may  be  established  into  rules  fit  to  be  relied  on,  when 
 they  are  justified  by  a  sufficient  and  wary  induction  of  particulars.  He  that 
 makes  no  such  reflections  on  what  he  reads,  only  loads  his  mind  with  a  rhap- 
 sody of  tales,  fit,  in  winter-nights,  for  the  entertainment  of  others :  and  he 
 that  will  improve  every  matter  of  fact  into  a  maxim,  will  abound  in  contrary 
 observation,  that  can  be  of  no  other  use  but  to  perplex  and  pudder  him,  if  he 
 compares  them  ;  or  else  to  misguide  liim,  if  he  gives  himself  up  to  the 
 authority  of  that,  which  for  its  novelty,  or  for  some  other  fancy,  best  pleases 
 him. 
 
 Sect.  14.  Bias. — Next  to  these,  we  may  place  those  vyho  suflbr  their 
 
Sect.  U.  BIAS.  499 
 
 own  natural  tempers  and  passions  they  are  possessed  with  to  influence  their 
 judgments,  especially  of  men  and  things,  that  may  any  way  relate  to  their 
 present  circumstances  and  interest.  Trutli  is  all  simple,  all  pure,  will  bear 
 no  mixture  of  any  thing-  else  with  it.  It  is  rigid  and  intlcxible  to  any  by  in- 
 terest ;  and  so  should  tlie  understanding  be,  whose  use  and  excellency  lies 
 in  conforming  itself  to  it.  To  think  of  every  thing  just  as  it  is  in  itself  is 
 the  proper  business  of  the  understanding,  though  it  be  not  that  which  men 
 always  enijiloy  it  to.  Tliis  all  men,  at  tirst  hearing,  allow  is  the  right  use 
 every  one  should  make  of  his  understanding.  Nobody  will  be  at  such  an 
 open  defiance  with  common  sense  as  to  profess  that  we  should  not  endeavour 
 to  know  and  think  of  things  as  they  are  in  themselves  ;  and  yet  there  is 
 nothing  more  frequent  than  to  do  the  contrary ;  and  men  are  apt  to  excuse 
 themselves  ;  and  think  they  have  reason  to  do  so,  if  they  have  but  a  pretence 
 that  it  is  tor  God,  or  a  good  cause  ;  that  is,  in  effect,  for  themselves,  their 
 own  persuasion,  or  party  :  for  those  in  their  turns  the  several  sects  of  men, 
 especially  in  matters  of  religion,  entitle  God  and  a  good  cause.  But  God 
 requires  not  men  to  wrong  or  misuse  their  faculties  for  him,  nor  to  lie  to 
 others,  or  themselves,  for  his  sake  ;  which  they  purposely  do,  who  will  not 
 sutfer  their  understandings  to  liave  right  conceptions  of  the  things  proposed 
 to  them  and  designedly  restrain  themselves  from  having  just  thoughts  of  every 
 thing,  as  far  as  they  are  concerned  to  inquire.  And  as  for  a  good  cause, 
 that  needs  not  such  ill  helps  ;  if  it  be  good,  truth  will  support  it,  and  it  has  no 
 need  of  fallacy  or  falsehood. 
 
 Sect.  15.  Arguments. — Very  much  of  kin  to  this  is  the  hunting  after 
 arguments  to  make  good  one  side  of  a  question,  and  wholly  to  neglect  and 
 refuse  those  which  favour  the  other  side.  What  is  this  but  wilfully  to  mis- 
 guide tlie  understanding,  and  is  so  far  from  giving  truth  its  due  value,  that  it 
 wholly  debases  it :  espouse  opinions  that  best  comport  with  their  power,  pro- 
 iit,  or  credit,  and  then  seek  arguments  to  support  them  !  Truth  lit  upon  this 
 way  is  of  no  more  avail  to  us  than  error ;  for  what  is  so  taken  up  by  us  may 
 be  false  as  well  as  true,  and  he  has  not  done  his  duty  who  has  thus  stumbled 
 upon  truth  in  his  way  to  preferment. 
 
 There  is  another,  but  more  innocent  way  of  collecting  arguments,  very 
 familiar  among  bookish  men,  which  is  to  furnish  themselves  with  the  argu- 
 ments they  meet  with  pro  and  con.  in  the  questions  they  study.  This  helps 
 them  not  to  judge  right,  nor  argue  strongly,  but  only  to  talk  copiously  on 
 either  side,  without  being  steady  and  settled  in  their  own  judgments  :  for 
 Buch  arguments,  gathered  from  other  men's  thoughts,  floating  only  in  the 
 memory,  are  there  ready,  indeed,  to  supply  copious  talk  with  some  appear- 
 ance of  reason,  but  are  far  from  helping  us  to  judge  right.  Such  variety  of 
 arguments  only  distract  the  understanding  that  relies  on  them,  unless  it  has 
 gone  farther  than  such  a  superficial  way  of  examining ;  this  is  to  quit  truth 
 for  appearance,  only  to  serve  our  vanity.  The  sure  and  only  way  to  get 
 true  knowledge  is  to  form  in  our  minds  clear  settled  notions  of  things, 
 with  names  annexed  to  those  determined  ides.  These  we  are  to  consider, 
 with  their  several  relations  and  habitudes,  and  not  amuse  ourselves  with 
 floating  names  and  words  of  indetermined  signification,  which  we  can  use  in 
 several  senses  to  serve  a  turn.  It  is  in  the  perception  of  the  habitudes  and 
 respects  our  ideas  have  one  to  another  that  real  knowledge  consists  ;  and 
 when  a  man  once  perceives  how  far  they  agree  or  disagree  one  with  another, 
 he  will  be  able  to  judge  of  what  other  people  say,  and  will  not  need  to  be  led 
 by  the  arguments  of  others,  which  are  many  of  them  nothing  but  plausible 
 sophistry.  This  will  teach  him  to  state  the  question  right,  and  see  whereon 
 it  turns  ;  and  thus  he  will  stand  upon  his  own  legs,  and  know  by  his  own  un- 
 derstanding. Whereas  by  collecting  and  learning  arguments  by  heart,  he 
 will  be  but  a  retainer  to  others  :  and  when  any  one  questions  the  foundations 
 they  are  built  upon,  he  will  be  at  a  nonplus,  and  be  fain  to  give  up  his  implicit 
 knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  10.  Haste. — Labour  for  labours'  sake  is  against  nature.     The  an- 
 
500  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect,  16. 
 
 derstanding,  as  well  as  all  the  other  faculties,  chooses  always  the  sliortest  way 
 to  its  end,  would  presently  obtain  the  knowledge  it  is  about,  and  then  set 
 upon  some  new  inquiry.  But  this,  whether  laziness  or  haste,  often  misleads 
 it,  and  makes  it  content  itself  with  improper  ways  of  search,  and  such  as  will 
 not  serve  the  turn :  sometimes  it  rests  upon  testimony,  when  testimony  of 
 right  has  nothing  to  do,  because  it  is  easier  to  believe  tiian  to  be  scientifically 
 instructed  :  sometimes  it  contents  itself  with  one  argument,  and  rests  satis- 
 lied  with  that,  as  it  were  a  demonstration,  whereas  the  thing  under  proof 
 is  not  capable  of  demonstration,  and  therefore  must  be  submitted  to  the 
 trial  of  probabilities,  and  all  the  material  arguments  pro  and  con.  be  exa- 
 mined and  brought  to  a  balance.  In  some  cases  the  mind  is  determined  by 
 probable  topics  in  inquiries  where  demonstration  may  be  had.  All  these,  and 
 lieveral  others  which  laziness,  impatience,  custom,  and  want  of  use  and  at- 
 tention lead  men  into,  are  misapplications  of  the  understanding  in  the  search 
 of  truth.  In  every  question  the  nature  and  manner  of  the  proof  it  is  ca])able 
 of  should  be  considered,  to  make  our  inquiry  such  as  it  should  be.  This  would 
 save  a  great  deal  of  frequently  misemployed  pains,  and  lead  us  sooner  to  that 
 discovery  and  possession  of  truth  we  are  capable  of.  The  multiplying  variety 
 of  arguments,  especially  frivolous  ones,  such  as  are  all  that  are  merely  verbal, 
 is  not  only  lost  labour,  but  cumbers  the  memory  to  no  purpose,  and  serves 
 only  to  hinder  it  from  seizing  and  holding  of  the  truth  in  all  those  cases  which 
 are  capable  of  demonstration.  In  such  a  way  of  proof  the  truth  and  certainty 
 is  seen,  and  the  mind  fully  possesses  itself  of  it;  when  in  the  other  way  of 
 assent  it  only  hovers  about  it,  is  amused  with  uncertainties.  In  this  superfi- 
 cial way,  indeed,  the  mind  is  capable  of  more  variety  of  plausible  talk,  but  is 
 not  enlarged,  as  it  should  be,  in  its  knowledge.  It  is  to  this  same  haste  and 
 impatience  of  the  mind  also,  that  a  not  due  tracing  of  the  arguments  to  their 
 true  foundation  is  owing ;  men  see  a  little,  presume  a  great  deal,  and  so  jump 
 to  the  conclusion.  This  is  a  short  way  to  fancy  and  conceit,  and  (if  firmly 
 embraced)  to  opinionatry,  but  is  certainly  the  farthest  way  about  to  know- 
 ledge. For  he  that  will  know,  must  by  the  connexion  of  the  proofs  see  the 
 truth,  and  the  ground  it  stands  on  ;  and  therefore,  if  he  has  for  haste  skipped 
 over  what  he  should  have  examined,  he  must  begin  and  go  over  aU  again,  or 
 else  he  will  never  come  to  knowledge. 
 
 Sect.  17.  Desultory. — Another  fault  of  as  ill  consequence  as  this,  which 
 proceeds  also  from  laziness,  with  a  mixture  of  vanity,  is  the  skipping  from 
 one  sort  of  knowledge  to  another.  Some  men's  tem])ers  are  quickly  weary 
 of  any  one  thing.  Constancy  and  assiduity  is  what  they  cannot  bear:  the 
 same  study  long  continued  in  is  as  intolerable  to  them  as  the  appearing  long 
 in  the  same  clothes,  or  fashion,  is  to  a  court-lady. 
 
 Sect.  18.  Smattering. — Others,  that  they  may  seem  universally  knowing, 
 get  a  little  smattering  in  every  thing.  Both  these  may  fill  their  heads  with 
 euperficial  notions  of  things,  but  are  very  much  out  of  the  way  of  attaining 
 truth  or  knowledq'e. 
 
 Sect.  19.  Universality. — I  do  not  here  speak  against  the  taking  a  taste 
 of  every  sort  of  knowledge  ;  it  is  certainly  very  useful  and  necessary  to  form 
 the  mind  ;  but  then  it  must  be  done  in  a  different  way,  and  to  a  different  end. 
 Not  for  talk  and  vanity  to  fill  the  head  with  shreds  of  all  kinds,  that  he  who 
 is  possessed  of  such  a  frippery  may  be  able  to  matcli  the  discourses  of  all  he 
 shall  meet  with,  as  if  nothing  could  come  amiss  to  him ;  and  his  head  was  so 
 well  stored  a  magazine,  that  nothing  could  be  proposed  which  he  was  not 
 master  of,  and  was  readily  furnished  to  entertain  any  one  on.  This  is  an  ex- 
 cellency, indeed,  and  a  great  one  too,  to  have  a  real  and  true  knowledge  in 
 all,  or  most  of  the  objects  of  contemplation.  But  it  is  what  the  mind  of  one 
 and  the  same  man  can  hardly  attain  unto ;  and  the  instances  are  so  few  of 
 those  who  have,  in  any  measure,  approached  towards  it,  that  I  know  not 
 whether  they  are  to  be  proposed  as  examples  in  the  ordinary  conduct  of  the 
 understanding.  For  a  man  to  understand  fully  the  business  of  his  particular 
 calling  in  the  commonwealth,  and  of  religion,  wliich  is  liis  calling  as  he  is  a 
 
Sect.  19.  UNIVERSALITY.  501 
 
 man  in  the  world,  is  usually  enough  to  take  up  his  whole  time  ;  and  there  arc 
 few  that  inform  themselves  in  these,  which  is  every  man's  proper  and  peculiar 
 business,  so  to  the  bottom  as  they  should  do.  But  though  this  be  so,  and 
 there  are  very  few  men  that  extend  their  thoughts  toward  universal  know- 
 ledge ;  yet  I  do  not  doubt,  but  if  the  right  way  were  taken,  and  the  methods 
 of  inquiry  were  ordered  as  they  should  be,  men  of  little  business  and  great 
 leisure  might  go  a  great  deal  farther  in  it  than  is  usually  done.  To  turn  to 
 the  business  in  hand ;  the  end  and  use  of  a  little  insight  in  those  parts  of 
 knowledge,  which  are  not  a  man's  proper  business,  is  to  accustom  our 
 minds  to  all  sorts  of  ideas,  and  the  proper  ways  of  examining  their  habitudes 
 and  relations.  This  gives  the  mind  a  freedom,  and  the  exercising  the  under- 
 standing in  the  several  ways  of  inquiry  and  reasoning,  which  tiie  most  skill- 
 ful have  made  use  of,  teaches  the  mind  sagacity  and  wariness,  and  a  supple- 
 ness to  apply  itself  more  closely  and  dexterously  to  the  bents  and  turns  of  the 
 matter  in  all  its  researches.  Besides,  this  universal  taste  of  all  the  sciences, 
 with  an  indifferency  before  the  mind  is  possessed  witli  any  one  in  particular, 
 and  gi'own  into  love  and  admiration  of  what  is  made  its  darling,  will  prevent 
 another  evil,  very  commonly  to  be  observed  in  those  who  have  from  the  be- 
 ginning been  seasoned  only  by  one  part  of  knowledge.  Let  a  man  be  given 
 up  to  the  contemplation  of  one  sort  of  knowledge,  and  that  will  become  every 
 thing.  The  mind  will  take  such  a  tincture  from  a  familiarity  with  that  object, 
 that  every  thing  else,  how  remote  soever,  will  be  brought  under  the  same 
 view.  A  metaphysician  will  bring  ploughing  and  gardening  immediately  to 
 abstract  notions  :  the  history  of  nature  shall  signify  nothing  to  him.  An  al- 
 chymist,  on  the  contrary,  shall  reduce  divinity  to  the  maxims  of  his  labora- 
 tory;  explain  morality  by  sal,  sulphur,  and  mercury ;  and  allegorize  the  Scrip- 
 ture itself,  and  the  sacred  mysteries  thereof,  into  the  philosopher's  stone. 
 And  I  heard  once  a  man,  who  had  a  more  than  ordinary  excellency  in  music, 
 seriously  accommodate  Moses's  seven  days  of  the  first  week  to  the  notes  of 
 music,  as  if  from  thence  had  been  taken  the  measure  and  method  of  the  crea- 
 tion. It  is  of  no  small  consequence  to  keep  the  mind  from  such  a  possession, 
 which  I  think  is  best  done  by  giving  it  a  fair  and  equal  view  of  the  whole  in- 
 tellectual world,  wherein  it  may  see  the  order,  rank,  and  beauty  of  the  whole, 
 and  give  a  just  allowance  to  the  distinct  provinces  of  the  several  sciences  in 
 the  due  order  and  usefulness  of  each  of  them. 
 
 If  this  be  that  which  old  men  will  not  think  necessary,  nor  be  easily  brought 
 to  ;  it  is  fit,  at  least,  that  it  should  be  practised  in  the  breeding  of  the  young. 
 The  business  of  education,  as  I  have  already  observed,  is  not,  as  I  think,  to 
 make  them  perfect  in  any  one  of  tiie  sciences,  but  so  to  open  and  dispose 
 their  minds,  as  may  best  make  them  capable  of  any,  when  they  shall  apply 
 themselves  to  it.  If  men  are,  for  a  long  time,  accustomed  only  to  one  sort  or 
 method  of  thoughts,  their  minds  grow  stiff  in  it,  and  do  not  readily  turn  to 
 another.  It  is,  therefore,  to  give  them  this  freedom,  that  I  think  they  should 
 be  made  to  look  into  all  sorts  of  knowledge,  and  exercise  their  understand- 
 ings in  so  wide  a  variety  and  stock  of  knowledge.  But  1  do  not  propose  it  as 
 a  variety  and  stock  of  knowledge,  but  a  variety  and  freedom  of  thinking,  as 
 an  increase  of  the  powers  and  activity  of  the  mind,  not  as  an  enlargement  of 
 its  possessions. 
 
 Sect.  20.  Readins;. — This  is  that  which  I  think  great  readers  are  apt  to 
 be  mistaken  in.  Those  who  jjave  read  of  every  thing,  are  thought  to  under- 
 stand every  thing  too  ;  but  it  is  not  always  so.  Reading  furnishes  the  mind 
 only  with  materials  of  knowledge ;  it  is  thinking  makes  what  we  read  ours. 
 We  are  of  the  ruminating  kind,  and  it  is  not  enough  to  cram  ourselves  with 
 a  great  load  of  collections,  unless  we  chew  them  over  again,  they  will  not  give 
 us  strength  and  nourishment.  There  are,  indeed,  in  some  writers  visible  in- 
 stances of  deep  thoughts,  close  and  acute  reasoning,  and  ideas  well  pursued. 
 The  light  those  would  give  would  be  of  great  use,  if  their  reader  would  ob- 
 serve and  imitate  them  ;  all  the  rest  at  best  are  but  particulars  fit  to  be  turned 
 into  knowledge ;   but  that  can  be  done  only  by  our  own  meditation,  and  exa- 
 
502  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  20. 
 
 mining  tlie  roacli,  force,  and  coherence  of  wliat  is  said ;  and  then,  as  far  as 
 we  apprehend  and  see  the  connexion  of  ideas,  so  far  it  is  ours  ;  without  that, 
 it  is  but  so  nnich  loose  matter  Hoating  in  our  brain.  The  memory  may  be 
 stored,  but  the  judgment  is  little  better,  and  the  stock  of  knowledge  not  in- 
 creased, by  being  able  to  repeat  what  others  have  said,  or  produce  the  argu- 
 ments we  have  found  in  them.  Such  a  knowledge  as  this  is  but  knowledge 
 by  hearsay,  and  the  ostentation  of  it  is  at  best  but  talking  by  rote,  and  very 
 otlen  upon  weak  and  wrong  principles.  For  all  that  is  to  be  found  in  books  is 
 not  built  upon  true  foundations,  nor  always  rightly  deduced  from  the  ])rinci- 
 ples  it  is  pretended  to  be  built  on.  Such  an  examen  as  is  requisite  to  disco- 
 ver that,  every  reader's  mind  is  not  forward  to  make ;  especially  in  those  who 
 liave  given  themselves  up  to  a  party,  and  only  hunt  for  what  they  can  scrape 
 together,  that  they  may  favour  and  support  the  tenets  of  it.  Such  men  wil- 
 fully exclude  themselves  from  truth,  and  from  all  true  benefit  to  be  received  by 
 reading.  Others  of  more  indifferency  often  want  attention  and  industry. 
 The  mind  is  backward  in  itself  to  be  at  the  pains  to  trace  every  argument  to 
 its  original,  and  to  see  upon  what  basis  it  stands,  and  how  firmly ;  but  yet  it 
 is  this  that  gives  so  much  the  advantage  to  one  man  more  than  another  in 
 reading.  The  mind  should  by  severe  rules  be  tied  down  to  this,  at  first,  un- 
 easy task  ;  use  and  exercise  will  give  it  facility.  So  that  those  who  are  ac- 
 customed to  it  readily,  as  it  were  with  one  cast  of  the  eye,  take  a  view  of  the 
 argument,  and  presently,  in  most  cases,  see  where  it  bottoms.  Those  who 
 have  got  this  faculty,  one  may  say,  have  got  the  true  key  of  books,  and  the 
 clue  to  lead  them  through  the  mizmaze  of  variety  of  opinions  and  authors  to 
 truth  and  certainly.  This  young  beginners  should  be  entered  in,  and  showed 
 the  use  of,  that  they  might  profit  by  their  reading.  Those  who  are  strangers 
 to  it  will  be  apt  to  think  it  too  great  a  clog  in  the  way  of  men's  studies,  and 
 they  will  suspect  they  shall  make  but  small  progress,  if,  in  the  books  they  read, 
 tlioy  must  stand  to  examine  and  unravel  every  argument,  and  follow  it  step 
 by  step  up  to  its  original. 
 
 I  answer,  this  is  a  good  objection,  and  ought  to  weigh  with  those  whose 
 reading  is  designed  fi)r  much  talk  and  little  knowledge,  and  I  have  nothing  to 
 say  to  it.  But  I  am  here  inquiring  into  the  conduct  of  the  understanding  in 
 its  progress  towards  knowledge  ;  and  to  those  who  aim  at  that,  I  may  say,  that 
 lie  who  fair  and  softly  goes  steadily  forward  in  a  course  that  points  right,  will 
 sooner  be  at  his  journey's  end,  than  he  that  runs  after  every  one  he  meets, 
 though  he  gallop  all  day  full-speed. 
 
 To  which  let  me  add,  that  this  way  of  thinking  on,  and  profiting  by,  what 
 we  read,  will  be  a  clog  and  rub  to  any  one  only  in  the  beginning:  when  cus- 
 tom and  exercise  have  made  it  familiar,  it  will  be  dispatched,  on  most  occa- 
 sions, without  resting  or  interru])tion  in  the  course  of  our  reading.  The  mo- 
 tions and  views  of  a  mind  exercised  that  way  are  wonderfully  quick  ;  and  a 
 ni;in  used  to  such  sort  of  reflections  sees  as  m.uch  at  one  glimpse  as  would  re- 
 quire a  long  discourse  to  lay  before  another,  and  make  out  in  an  entire  and 
 gradual  deduction.  Besides  that,  when  the  first  difficulties  are  over,  the  de- 
 light and  sensible  advantage  it  brings  mightily  encourages  and  enlivens  the 
 mind  in  reading,  wliicli  without  this  is  very  improperly  called  study. 
 
 Skct.  21.  Intermediate  princijylea. — As  a  help  to  this,  I  think  it  may  be 
 proposed,  that  for  the  saving  the  long  ])rogression  of  the  thoughts  to  remote 
 and  first  i)rinci])los  in  every  case,  the  mind  should  provide  it  several  stages  ; 
 that  is  to  say,  intermediate  principles,  which  it  might  have  recourse  to  in  the 
 examining  those  positions  that  come  in  its  way.  These,  though  they  are  not 
 Sv'lf-evident  principles,  yet  if  they  have  been  made  out  from  thcin  by  a  wary 
 and  unquestionable  deduction,  may  be  depended  on  as  certain  and  infallible 
 tniths,  and  serve  as  unquestionable  truths  to  prove  other  points  depending  on 
 them  by  a  nearer  and  shorter  view  than  remote  and  general  maxims.  These 
 may  scjrve  as  land-marks  to  show  what  lies  in  the  direct  way  of  truth,  or  is 
 quite  besides  it.  And  thus  mathematicians  do,  who  do  not  in  every  new  pro- 
 blem run  it  back  to  the  first  axioms,  through  all  the  whole  train  of  intormo- 
 
Sect.  21.  INTERMEDIATE  PRINCIPLES.  503 
 
 diate  propositions.  Certain  theorems,  that  they  have  settled  to  themselves 
 upon  sure  demonstration,  serve  to  resolve  to  them  multitudes  of  propositions 
 which  depend  on  tliem,  and  arc  as  firmly  made  out  from  thence  as  if  the  mind 
 went  afresh  over  every  link  of  the  whole  chain  that  ties  them  to  first  self-evi- 
 dent principles.  Only  in  otiier  sciences  great  care  is  to  be  taken,  that  they 
 establish  those  intermediate  principles  with  as  much  caution,  exactness  and 
 mdifferency,  as  mathematicians  use  in  the  settling  any  of  their  great  theorems. 
 When  this  is  not  done,  but  men  take  up  the  principles  in  this  or  that  science 
 upon  credit,  inclination,  interest,  &c.  in  haste,  without  due  examination,  and 
 most  unquestionable  proof,  they  lay  a  trap  for  themselves,  and,  as  much  as  in 
 them  lies,  captivate  their  understandings  to  mistake,  falsehood  and  error. 
 
 Sect.  22.  Partiality. — As  there  is  a  partiality  to  opinions,  which,  as  we 
 have  already  observed,  is  apt  to  mislead  the  understanding ;  so  there  is  often 
 a  partiality  to  studies,  which  is  prejudicial  also  to  knowledge  and  improve- 
 ment. Those  sciences  which  men  are  particularly  versed  in  they  are  apt  to 
 value  and  extol,  as  if  that  part  of  knowledge  which  every  one  has  acquainted 
 himself  with  were  that  alone  which  was  worth  the  having,  and  all  the  rest 
 were  idle  and  empty  amusements,  comparatively  of  no  use  or  importance. 
 This  is  the  effect  of  ignorance,  and  not  knowledge  ;  the  being  vainly  puffed 
 up  with  a  flatulency  arising  from  a  weak  and  narrow  comprehension.  It  is 
 not  amiss  that  every  one  should  relish  the  science  that  he  has  made  his  pecu- 
 liar study  ;  a  view  of  its  beauties,  and  a  sense  of  its  usefulness,  carries  a  man 
 on  with  the  more  delight  and  warmth  in  the  pursuit  and  improvement  of  it. 
 But  the  contempt  of  all  other  knowlege,  as  if  it  were  nothing  in  comparison 
 of  law  or  physic,  of  astronomy  or  chemistry,  or  perhaps  some  yet  meaner 
 part  of  knowledge,  wherein  I  have  got  some  smattering,  or  am  somewhat  ad- 
 vanced, is  not  only  the  mark  of  a  vain  or  little  mind  ;  but  does  this  prejudice 
 in  the  conduct  of  the  understanding,  that  it  coops  it  up  within  narrow  bounds, 
 and  hinders  it  from  looking  abroad  into  other  provinces  of  the  intellectual 
 world,  more  beautiful  possibly  and  more  fruitful  than  that  which  it  had,  till 
 then,  laboured  in ;  wherein  it  might  find,  besides  new  knowledge,  ways  or 
 hints  whereby  it  might  be  enabled  the  better  to  cultivate  its  own. 
 
 Sect.  2;j.  Theology. — There  is,  indeed,  one  science  (as  they  are  now 
 distinguished)  incomparably  above  all  the  rest,  where  it  is  not  by  corruption 
 narrowed  into  a  trade  or  faction,  for  mean  or  ill  ends,  and  secular  interests ; 
 I  mean  theology,  which,  containing  the  knowledge  of  God  and  his  creatures, 
 our  duty  to  him  and  our  fellow-creatures,  and  a  view  of  our  present  and  future 
 state,  is  tlie  comprehension  of  all  other  knowledge  directed  to  its  true  end  ; 
 i.  e.  the  honour  and  veneration  of  the  Creator,  and  the  happiness  of  man- 
 kind. This  is  that  noble  .study  which  is  every  man's  duty,  and  every  one  that 
 can  be  called  a  rational  creature  is  capable  of.  Tlie  works  of  nature,  and  the 
 words  of  revelation,  display  it  to  mankind  in  characters  so  large  and  visible, 
 that  those  who  are  not  quite  blind  may  in  them  read  and  see  the  first  princi- 
 ples and  most  necessary  parts  of  it ;  and  from  thence,  as  they  have  time  and 
 industry,  may  be  enabled  to  go  on  to  the  more  abstruse  parts  of  it,  and  pene- 
 trate into  those  infinite  depths  filled  with  the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  know- 
 ledge. This  is  that  science  which  would  truly  enlarge  men's  minds,  were  it 
 studied,  or  jiermitted  to  be  studied,  every  where,  with  that  freedom,  love  of 
 truth,  and  charity  which  it  teaches,  and  were  not  made,  contrary  to  its  nature, 
 the  occasion  of  strife,  faction,  malignity,  and  narrow  impositions.  I  shall  say 
 no  more  here  of  this,  but  that  it  is  undoubtedly  a  wrong  use  of  my  under- 
 standing, to  make  it  the  rule  and  measure  of  another  man's  ;  a  use  which  it 
 is  neitlier  fit  for,  nor  capable  of. 
 
 Sect.  24.  Partiality. — This  partiality,  where  it  is  not  permitted  an  au- 
 tliority  to  render  all  pthcr  studies  insignificant  or  contemptible,  is  often  in- 
 dulged so  far  as  to  be  relied  upon,  and  made  use  of  in  other  parts  of  know- 
 ledge, to  winch  it  does  not  at  all  belong,  and  wherewith  it  has  no  manner  of 
 affinity.  Some  men  have  so  used  their  heads  to  mathematical  figures,  that, 
 giving  a  preference  to  the  methods  of  that  science,  they  introduce  lines  and 
 
504  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 diagrams  into  their  study  of  divinity,  or  politic  inquiries,  as  if  nothing  could 
 be  known  without  tiiom  ;  and  others,  accustomed  to  retired  speculations,  run 
 natural  philosopiiy  into  metapliysical  notions,  and  the  abstract  generalities  of 
 logic  ;  and  how  often  may  one  meet  with  religion  and  morality  treated  of  in 
 the  terms  of  the  laboratory,  and  thouglit  to  be  improved  by  the  metliods  and 
 notions  of  chemistry  .'  But  he  tliat  will  take  care  of  the  conduct  of  his  un- 
 derstanding, to  direct  it  right  to  the  knowledge  of  things,  must  avoid  those 
 undue  mixtures,  and  not,  by  a  fondness  for  what  he  has  found  useful  and  ne- 
 cessary in  one,  transfer  it  to  another  science,  where  it  serves  only  to  perplex 
 and  confound  the  understanding.  It  is  a  certain  truth,  that  res  nolunt  malk 
 administrari ;  it  is  no  less  certain  res  nolunt  malk  intelligi.  Things  them- 
 selves are  to  be  considered  as  they  are  in  themselves,  and  then  they  wdl  show 
 us  in  what  way  they  are  to  be  understood.  For  to  have  right  conceptions 
 about  them,  we  must  bring  our  understandings  to  the  inflexible  natures  and 
 unalterable  relations  of  things,  and  not  endeavour  to  bring  things  to  any  pre- 
 conceived notions  of  our  own. 
 
 There  is  another  partiality  very  commonly  observable  in  men  of  study,  no 
 less  prejudicial  nor  ridiculous  than  the  former;  and  that  is  a  fantastical  and 
 wild  attributing  all  knowledge  to  the  ancients  alone,  or  to  the  moderns.  This 
 raving  upon  antiquity  in  matter  of  poetry,  Horace  has  wittily  described  and 
 exposed  in  one  of  his  satires.  The  same  sort  of  madness  may  be  found  in 
 reference  to  all  the  other  sciences.  Some  will  not  admit  an  opinion  not  au- 
 thorized by  men  of  old,  who  were  then  all  giants  in  knowledge.  Nothing  is 
 to  be  put  into  the  treasury  of  truth  or  knowledge  which  has  not  the  stamp  of 
 Greece  or  Rome  upon  it;  and  since  their  days,  will  scarce  allow  that  men  have 
 been  able  to  see,  think,  or  write.  Others,  with  a  like  extravagancy,  contemn 
 all  that  the  ancients  have  left  us,  and,  being  taken  with  the  modern  inventions 
 and  discoveries,  lay  by  all  that  went  before,  as  if  whatever  is  called  old  nuist 
 have  the  decay  of  time  upon  it,  and  truth,  too,  were  liable  to  mould  and  rot- 
 tenness. Men,  1  think,  have  been  much  the  same  for  natural  endow'ments  in 
 all  times.  Fashion,  discipline,  and  education,  have  put  eminent  ditferences 
 in  the  ages  of  several  countries,  and  made  one  generation  much  differ  from 
 another  in  arts  and  sciences  :  but  truth  is  always  the  same  ;  time  alters  it  not, 
 nor  is  it  the  better  or  worse  for  being  of  ancient  or  modern  tradition.  Many 
 were  eminent  in  former  ages  of  the  world  for  their  discovery  and  delivery  of 
 it ;  but  tliough  the  knowledge  they  have  left  us  be  worth  our  study,  yet 
 they  exhausted  not  all  its  treasure ;  they  left  a  great  deal  for  the  industry  and 
 sagacity  of  after-ages,  and  so  shall  we.  That  was  once  new  to  them  which 
 any  one  now  receives  with  veneration  for  its  antiquity,  nor  was  it  the  worse 
 for  appearing  as  a  novelty  ;  and  that  which  is  now  embraced  for  its  newness 
 will  to  posterity  be  old,  but  not  thereby  be  less  true  or  less  genuine.  There  is 
 no  occasion,  on  this  account,  to  oppose  the  ancients  and  the  moderns  to  one 
 another,  or  to  be  squeamish  on  either  side.  He  that  wisely  conducts  his  mind 
 in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  will  gather  what  lights,  and  get  what  helps  he 
 can,  from  either  of  them,  from  whom  they  are  best  to  be  had,  without  adoring 
 the  errors,  or  rejecting  the  truths,  which  he  may  find  mingled  in  them. 
 
 Another  partiality  may  be  observed,  in  some  to  vulgar,  in  others  to  hetero- 
 dox tenets  :  some  are  apt  to  conclude  that  what  is  the  common  opinion  cannot 
 but  be  true  ;  so  many  men's  eyes  they  think  cannot  but  see  right ;  so  many 
 men's  understandings  of  all  sorts  cannot  be  deceived  ;  and,  therefore,  will  not 
 venture  to  look  beyond  the  received  notions  of  the  place  and  age,  nor  have  so 
 presumptuous  a  thought  as  to  be  wiser  than  their  neighbours.  They  are  con- 
 tent to  go  with  the  crowd,  and  so  go  easily,  which  they  think  is  going  right, 
 or  at  least  serves  them  as  well.  Bat,  however  vox  pojnili  vox  Dei  has  ])re- 
 vailed  as  a  maxim,  yet  I  do  not  remember  where  ever  God  delivered  his  ora- 
 cles by  the  multitude,  or  nature  truths  by  the  herd.  On  the  otiier  side,  some 
 fly  all  common  opinions  as  cither  false  or  frivolous.  The  title  of  many-headed 
 beast  is  a  sufficient  reason  for  them  to  conclude  that  no  truths  of  weiglit  or 
 consequence  can  be  lodged  there.     Vulgar  opinions  are  suited  to  vulgar  ca{)a- 
 
PARTIALITY.  505 
 
 cities,  and  adapted  to  the  ends  of  those  that  govern.  He  that  will  know  the 
 truth  of  things  must  leave  the  common  and  beaten  track,  which  none  but  weak 
 and  servile  minds  are  satisfied  to  trudge  along  continually  in.  Such  nice  pa- 
 lates relish  nothing  but  strange  notions  quite  out  of  the  way  :  whatever  is 
 commonly  received,  has  the  mark  of  the  beast  on  it ;  and  they  think  it  a  les- 
 sening to  them  to  hearken  to  it,  or  receive  it ;  their  mind  runs  only  after  para- 
 doxes ;  these  they  seek,  these  they  embrace,  these  alone  they  vent ;  and  so,  as 
 thev  think,  distinguish  themselves  from  the  vulgar.  But  common  or  uncom- 
 mon are  not  the  marks  to  distinguish  truth  or  falsehood,  and  therefore  should 
 not  be  any  bias  to  us  in  our  inquiries.  We  should  not  judge  of  things  by 
 men's  opinions,  but  of  opinions  by  things.  The  multitude  reason  but  ill,  and 
 therefore  may  be  well  suspected,  and  cannot  be  relied  on,  nor  should  be  fol- 
 lowed as  a  sure  guide  ;  but  philosophers,  who  have  quitted  the  orthodoxy  of 
 the  community,  and  the  popular  doctrines  of  their  countries,  have  fallen  into 
 as  extravagant  and  as  absurd  opinions  as  ever  common  reception  countenanced. 
 It  would  be  madness  to  refuse  to  breathe  the  common  air,  or  quench  one's 
 thirst  with  water,  because  the  rabble  use  them  to  these  purposes :  and  if  there 
 are  conveniences  of  life  which  common  use  reaches  not,  it  is  not  reason  to 
 reject  them  because  they  are  not  grown  into  the  ordinary  fashion  of  the  coun- 
 try, and  every  villager  doth  not  know  them.  Truth,  whether  in  or  out  of 
 fashion,  is  the  measure  of  knowledge,  and  the  business  of  the  understanding; 
 whatsoever  is  besides  that,  however  authorized  by  consent,  or  recommended 
 by  rarity,  is  nothing  but  ignorance,  or  something  worse. 
 
 Another  sort  of  partiality  there  is,  whereby  men  impose  upon  themselves, 
 and  by  it  make  their  reading  little  useful  to  themselves  :  I  mean  the  making 
 use  of  the  opinions  of  writers,  and  laying  stress  upon  their  authorities,  wher- 
 ever they  find  them  to  favour  their  own  opinions. 
 
 There  is  nothing  almost  has  done  more  harm  to  men  dedicated  to  letters 
 than  giving  the  name  of  study  to  reading,  and  making  a  man  of  great  read- 
 ing to  be  the  same  with  a  man  of  great  knowledge,  or  at  least  to  be  a  title  of 
 honour.      All  that  can  be  recorded  in  writing  are  only  facts  or  reasonings. 
 
 Facts  are  of  three  sorts ;  1.  Merely  of  natural  agents,  obser\'able  in  the 
 ordinary  operations  of  bodies  one  upon  another,  whether  in  the  visible  course 
 of  things  left  to  themselves,  or  in  experiments  made  by  them,  applying  agents 
 and  patients  to  one  another,  after  a  peculiar  and  artificial  manner.  2.  Of 
 voluntary  agents,  more  especially  the  actions  of  men  in  society,  which  makes 
 civil  and  moral  history.     3.  Of  opinions. 
 
 In  these  three  consists,  as  it  seems  to  me,  that  which  commonly  has  the 
 name  of  learning ;  to  which  perhaps  some  may  add  a  distinct  head  of  critical 
 writings,  which  indeed  at  bottom  is  nothing  but  matter  of  fact ;  and  resolves 
 itself  into  this,  that  such  a  man,  or  set  of  men,  used  such  a  word,  or  phrase, 
 in  such  a  sense  ;  i.  e.  that  they  made  such  sounds  the  marks  of  such  ideas. 
 
 Under  reasonings  I  comprehend  all  the  discoveries  of  general  truths  made 
 by  human  reason,  whether  found  by  intuition,  demonstration,  or  probable  de, 
 ductions.  And  this  is  that  which  is,  if  not  alone  knowledge,  (because  the  truth 
 or  probability  of  particular  propositions  may  be  known  too,)  yet  is,  as  may 
 be  supposed,  most  properly  the  business  of  those  who  pretend  to  improve 
 their  understandings,  and  make  themselves  knowing  by  reading. 
 
 Books  and  reading  are  looked  upon  to  be  the  great  helps  of  the  understand- 
 ing, and  instruments  of  knowledge,  as  it  must  be  allowed  that  they  are  ;  and 
 yet  I  beg  leave  to  question  whether  these  do  not  prove  a  hinderance  to  many, 
 and  keep  several  bookish  men  from  attaining  to  solid  and  true  knowledge. 
 This,  I  think,  I  may  be  permitted  to  say,  that  there  is  no  part  wherein  the  un- 
 derstanding needs  a  more  careful  and  wary  conduct  than  in  the  use  of  books  ; 
 without  which  they  will  prove  rather  innocent  amusements  than  profitable  em- 
 ployments of  our  time,  and  bring  but  small  additions  to  our  knowledge. 
 
 There  is  not  seldom  to  be  found,  even  among  those  who  aim  at  knowledge, 
 who  with  an  unwearied  industry  employ  their  whole  time  in  books,  who  scarce 
 allow  themselves  time  to  eat  or  sleep,  but  read,  and  read,  and  read  on,  yet 
 'SO 
 
503  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  24. 
 
 make  no  great  advances  in  real  knowledge,  tliough  there  be  no  defqct  in  their 
 intellectual  tiicnlties,  to  whicii  tiieir  little  progress  can  be  imputed.  The  mis- 
 take here  is,  tliat  it  is  usually  supj)osed  that  by  reading,  the  author's  know- 
 ledge is  transfused  into  the  reader's  understanding ;  and  so  it  is,  but  not  by 
 bare  reading,  but  by  reading  and  understanding  what  he  writ.  Whereby  I 
 mean,  not  barely  comj)rehending  what  is  affirmed  or  denied  in  each  proposi- 
 tion, (though  tliat  great  readers  do  not  always  think  themselves  concerned 
 precisely  to  do,)  but  to  see  and  follow  the  train  of  his  reasonings,  observe  the 
 strength  and  clearness  of  their  connexion,  and  examine  upon  what  they  bottom. 
 Without  this  a  man  may  read  the  discourses  of  a  very  rational  author,  writ 
 in  a  language,  and  in  propositions,  that  he  very  well  understands,  and  yet  ac- 
 quire not  one  jot  of  his  knowledge ;  which  consisting  only  in  the  perceived, 
 certain,  or  probable  connexion  of  the  ideas  made  use  of  in  his  reasonings, 
 the  reader's  knowledge  is  no  farther  increased  than  he  perceives  that ;  so  much 
 as  he  sees  of  this  coiniexion,  so  much  he  knows  of  the  truth  or  probability 
 of  that  author's  opinions. 
 
 All  that  he  relies  on,  without  this  perception,  he  takes  upon  trust,  upon  the 
 author's  credit,  witliout  any  knowledge  of  it  at  all.  This  makes  me  not  at 
 all  wonder  to  see  some  men  so  abound  in  citations,  and  build  so  much  upon 
 authorities,  it  being  the  sole  foundation  on  which  they  bottom  most  of  their 
 own  tenets ;  so  that,  in  effect,  they  have  but  a  second-hand,  or  implicit  know- 
 ledge ;  i.  e.  are  in  the  right,  if  such  an  one  from  whom  they  borrowed  it  were 
 in  the  right  in  that  opinion  which  they  took  from  him  ;  which  indeed  is  no 
 knowledge  at  all.  Writers  of  this  or  former  ages  may  be  good  witnesses  of 
 matters  of  fact  which  they  deliver,  which  we  may  do  well  to  take  upon  their 
 authority  ;  but  their  credit  can  go  no  farther  than  this  ;  it  cannot  at  all  affect 
 the  truth  and  falsehood  of  opinions  which  have  no  other  sort  of  trial  but  rea- 
 son and  proof,  which  they  themselves  made  use  of  to  make  themselves  know- 
 ing, and  so  must  others  too,  that  will  partake  in  their  knowledge.  Indeed,  it 
 is  an  advantage  that  they  have  been  at  the  pains  to  find  out  the  proofs,  and  lay 
 them  in  that  order  that  may  show  the  truth  or  probability  of  their  conclusions  ; 
 and  for  this  we  owe  them  great  acknowledgments  for  saving  us  the  pains  in 
 searching  out  those  proofs  which  they  have  collected  for  us,  and  whicli  possi- 
 bly, afier  all  our  pains,  we  might  not  have  found,  nor  b'^'en  able  to  have  set 
 them  in  so  good  a  light  as  that  which  they  left  them  us  in.  Upon  this  ac- 
 count we  are  mightily  beholden  to  judicious  writers  of  all  ages,  for  those  dis- 
 coveries and  discourses  tlicy  have  left  behind  them  for  our  instruction,  if  we 
 know  how  to  make  a  right  use  of  them  ;  which  is  not  to  run  them  over  in  a 
 hasty  perusal,  and  perhaps  lodge  their  opinions  or  some  remarkable  passages 
 in  our  memories  ;  but  to  enter  into  their  reasonings,  examine  their  proofs,  and 
 then  judge  of  the  truth  or  falsehood,  probability  or  improbability  of  what  they 
 advance,  not  by  any  opinion  we  have  entertained  of  the  author,  but  by  the 
 evidence  he  j)roduces,  and  the  conviction  he  affords  us,  drawn  from  things 
 themselves.  Knowing  is  seeing,  and  if  it  be  so,  it  is  madness  to  persuade 
 ourselves  that  we  do  so  by  another  man's  eyes,  let  him  use  ever  so  many  words 
 to  tell  us  that  what  he  asserts  is  very  visible.  Till  we  ourselves  see  it  with 
 our  own  eyes,  and  perceive  it  by  our  own  understandings,  we  are  as  much  in 
 t!ie  dark  and  as  void  of  knowledge  as  before,  let  us  believe  any  learned  author 
 as  much  as  we  will. 
 
 Euclid  and  Archimedes  are  allowed  to  be  knowing,  and  to  have  demon- 
 strated what  they  say  :  and  yet  whoever  shall  read  over  their  writings  with- 
 out perceiving  the  connexion  of  their  proofs,  and  seeing  what  they  show, 
 though  he  may  understand  all  their  words,  yet  he  is  not  the  more  knowing  : 
 he  may  believe,  indeed,  but  does  not  know  what  they  say  ;  and  so  is  not  ad- 
 vnnced  one  jot  in  mathematical  knowledge,  by  all  his  reading  of  those  ap- 
 ])roved  mathematicians. 
 
 Sect.  25.  Haste. — The  eagerness  and  strong  bent  of  the  mind  after  know- 
 ledge, if  not  warily  regulated,  is  often  an  hinderance  to  it.  It  still  presses 
 into  farther  di.scoveries  and  new  objects,  and  catches  at  the  variety  of  know- 
 
Sect.  25.  HASTE.  B07 
 
 ledge ;  and  therefore  often  stays  not  long  enough  on  what  is  before  it,  to  look 
 into  it  as  it  should,  for  haste  to  pursue  what  is  yet  out  of  sight.  He  that  rides 
 post  through  a  country  may  be  able,  from  the  transient  view,  to  tell  how  in 
 general  the  parts  lie,  and  may  be  able  to  give  some  loose  description  of  here 
 a  mountain,  and  there  a  plain ;  here  a  morass,  and  there  a  river ;  woodland  in 
 one  part,  and  savannahs  in  another.  Such  superficial  ideas  and  observations 
 as  these  he  may  collect  in  galloping  over  it :  but  the  more  useful  observations 
 of  the  soil,  plants,  animals,  and  inhabitants,  with  their  several  sorts  and  pro- 
 perties, must  necessarily  escape  him ;  and  it  is  seldom  men  ever  discover  the 
 rich  mines  without  some  digging.  Nature  commonly  lodges  her  treasure  and 
 jewels  in  rocky  ground.  If  the  matter  be  knotty,  and  the  sense  lies  deep,  the 
 mind  must  stop  and  buckle  to  it,  and  stick  upon  it  with  labour  and  thought, 
 and  close  contemplation ;  and  not  leave  it  till  it  has  mastered  the  difficulty, 
 and  got  possession  of  truth.  But  here  care  must  be  taken  to  avoid  the  other 
 extreme:  a  man  must  not  stick  at  every  useless  nicety,  and  expect  mysteries 
 of  science  in  every  trivial  question,  or  scruple,  that  he  may  raise.  He  that 
 will  stand  to  pick  up  and  examine  every  pebble  that  comes  in  his  way  is  as 
 unlikely  to  return  enriched  and  loaden  with  jewels,  as  the  other  that  travelled 
 full  speed.  Truths  are  not  the  better  nor"  the  worse  for  their  obviousness  or 
 difficulty,  but  their  value  is  to  be  measured  by  their  usefulness  and  tendency. 
 Insignificant  observations  should  not  take  up  any  of  our  minutes,  and  those 
 that  enlarge  our  view,  and  give  light  towards  farther  and  useful  discoveries, 
 should  not  be  neglected,  though  they  stop  our  course  and  spend  some  of  our 
 time  in  a  fixed  attention. 
 
 There  is  another  haste  that  does  often,  and  will  mislead  the  mind  if  it  be 
 left  to  itself,  and  its  own  conduct.  The  understanding  is  naturally  forward, 
 not  only  to  learn  its  knowledge  by  variety  (which  makes  it  skip  over  one  to 
 get  speedily  to  another  part  of  knowledge)  but  also  eager  to  enlarge  its  views, 
 by  running  too  fast  into  general  observations  and  conclusions,  without  a  due 
 examination  of  particulars  enough  whereon  to  found  those  general  axioms. 
 This  seems  to  enlarge  their  stock,  but  it  is  of  fancies,  not  realities ;  such 
 theories  built  upon  narrow  foundations  stand  but  weakly,  and,  if  they  fall  not 
 of  themselves,  are  at  least  very  hardly  to  be  supported  against  the  assaults  of 
 opposition.  And  thus  men  being  too  hasty  to  erect  to  themselves  general 
 notions  and  ill-grounded  theories,  find  themselves  deceived  in  their  stock  of 
 knowledge,  when  they  come  to  examine  their  hastily  assumed  maxims  them- 
 selves, or  to  have  them  attacked  by  others.  General  observations  drawn  from 
 particulars  are  the  jewels  of  knowledge,  comprehending  great  store  in  a  little 
 room ;  but  they  are  therefore  to  be  made  with  the  greater  care  and  caution, 
 lest,  if  we  take  counterfeit  for  true,  our  loss  and  shame  be  the  greater  when 
 our  stock  comes  to  a  severe  scrutiny.  One  or  two  particulars  may  suggest 
 hints  of  inquiry,  and  they  do  well  to  take  those  hints  ;  but  if  they  turn  them 
 into  conclusions,  and  make  them  presently  general  rules,  they  are  forward 
 indeed,  but  it  is  only  to  impose  on  themselves  by  propositions  assumed  for 
 truths  without  sufficient  warrant.  To  make  such  observations  is,  as  has  been 
 already  remarked,  to  make  the  head  a  magazine  of  materials,  which  can  hardly 
 be  called  knowledge ;  or  at  least  it  is  but  like  a  collection  of  lumber  not  re- 
 duced to  use  or  order ;  and  he  that  makes  every  thing  an  observation,  has  the 
 same  useless  plenty,  and  much  more  falsehood  mixed  with  it.  The  extremes 
 on  both  sides  are  to  be  avoided,  and  he  will  be  able  to  give  the  best  account 
 of  his  studies  who  keeps  his  understanding  in  the  right  mean  between  them. 
 
 Sect.  26.  Anticipation. — Whether  it  be  a  love  of  that  which  brings  the 
 first  light  and  information  to  their  minds,  and  want  of  vigour  and  industry  to 
 inquire ;  or  else  that  men  content  themselves  with  any  appearance  of  know- 
 ledge, right  or  wrong;  which,  when  they  have  once  got,  they  will  hold  fast: 
 this  is  visible,  that  many  men  give  themselves  up  to  the  first  anticipations  of 
 their  minds,  and  are  very  tenacious  of  the  opinions  that  first  possess  them  ; 
 they  are  often  as  fond  of  their  first  conceptions  as  of  their  first-born,  and  will 
 by  no  means  recede  from  the  judgment  they  have  once  made,  or  any  conjee- 
 
508  CONDUCT  OP  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  26. 
 
 ture  or  conceit  whicli  tlioy  liave  once  entertained.  This  is  a  fault  in  the  con- 
 duct of  the  understanding,  since  this  firmness  or  rather  stiffness  of  the  mind 
 is  not  from  an  adherence  to  truth,  but  a  submission  to  prejudice.  It  is  an 
 unreasonable  honuig-e  paid  to  prepossession,  whereby  we  show  a  reverence, 
 not  to  (what  we  pretend  to  seek)  truth,  but  wliat  by  hap-hazard  we  chance 
 to  light  on,  be  it  what  it  will.  This  is  visibly  a  preposterous  use  of  our  facul- 
 ties, and  is  a  downright  prostituting  of  the  mind  to  resign  it  thus,  and  put  it 
 under  the  power  of  the  first  comer.  This  can  never  be  allowed,  or  ought  to 
 be  followed,  as  a  right  way  to  knowledge,  till  the  understanding  (whose 
 business  it  is  to  conform  itself  to  what  it  finds  in  the  objects  without)  can,  by 
 its  own  opinionatry,  change  that,  and  make  the  unalterable  nature  of  things 
 comply  with  its  own  hasty  determinations,  which  will  never  be.  Whatever 
 we  fancy,  things  keep  their  course ;  and  the  habitudes,  correspondencies,  and 
 relations,  keep  the  same  to  one  another. 
 
 Sect.  27.  Resignation. — Contrary  to  these,  but  by  a  like  dangerous  ex- 
 cess, on  the  other  side,  are  those  who  always  resign  their  judgment  to  the 
 last  man  they  heard  or  read.  Truth  never  sinks  into  these  men's  minds,  nor 
 gives  any  tincture  to  them ;  but,  cameleon-like,  they  take  the  colour  of  what 
 is  laid  before  them,  and  as  soon  lose  and  resign  it  to  the  next  that  happens  to 
 come  in  their  way.  The  order  wherein  opinions  are  proposed,  or  received  by 
 us,  is  no  rule  of  their  rectitude,  nor  ought  to  be  a  cause  of  their  preference. 
 First  or  1  .st,  in  this  case,  is  the  effect  of  chance,  and  not  the  measure  of  truth 
 or  falsehood.  This  every  one  must  confess,  and  therefore  should  in  the  pur- 
 suit of  truth,  keep  his  mind  free  from  the  influence  of  any  such  accidents.  A 
 man  may  as  reasonably  draw  cuts  for  his  tenets,  regulate  his  persuasion  by 
 the  cast  of  a  die,  as  take  it  up  for  its  novelty,  or  retain  it  because  it  had  his 
 first  assent,  and  he  was  never  of  another  mind.  Well-weighed  reasons  are 
 to  determine  the  judgment;  those  the  mind  should  be  always  ready  to  hearken 
 and  submit  to,  and  by  their  testimony  and  suffrage  entertain  or  reject  any 
 tenet  indifferently,  whether  it  be  a  perfect  stranger,  or  an  old  acquaintance. 
 
 Sect.  28.  Practice. — Though  the  faculties  of  the  mind  are  improved  by 
 exercise,  yet  they  must  not  be  put  to  a  stress  beyond  their  strength.  Quid 
 valeant  humeri,  quid  ferre  recusent,  must  be  made  the  measure  of  every 
 one's  understanding,  wiio  has  a  desire  not  only  to  perform  well,  but  to  keep 
 up  the  vigour  of  his  faculties ;  and  not  to  baulk  his  understanding  by  wliat  is 
 too  hard  for  it.  The  mind,  by  being  engaged  in  a  task  beyond  its  strength, 
 like  the  body,  strained  by  lifting  at  a  weiglit  too  heavy,  has  oflen  its  force 
 broken,  and  thereby  gets  an  unaptness,  or  an  aversion,  to  any  vigorous  attempt 
 ever  after.  A  sinew  cracked  seldom  recovers  its  former  strength,  or  at  least 
 the  tenderness  of  the  sprain  remains  a  good  while  after,  and  the  memory  of 
 it  longer,  and  leaves  a  lasting  caution  in  the  man,  not  to  put  the  part  quickly 
 again  to  any  robust. employment.  So  it  fares  in  the  mind  once  jaded  by  an 
 attempt  above  its  power;  it  either  is  disabled  for  the  future,  or  else  checks  at 
 any  vigorous  undertaking  ever  after;  at  least  is  very  hardly  brought  to  exert 
 its  force  again  on  any  subject  that  requires  thought  and  meditation.  The 
 understanding  siiould  be  brought  to  the  difficult  and  knotty  parts  of  know- 
 ledge, that  try  the  strength  of  thought,  and  a  full  bent  of  the  mind,  by  insen- 
 sible degrees  ;  and  in  such  a  gradual  proceeding  nothing  is  too  hard  for  it. 
 Nor  let  it  be  objected,  that  such  a  slow  progress  will  never  reach  the  extent 
 of  some  sciences.  It  is  not  to  be  imagined  how  far  constancy  will  carry  a 
 man ;  however,  it  is  better  walking  slowly  in  a  rugged  way,  than  to  break  a 
 leg  and  be  a  cripple.  He  that  begins  with  the  calf  may  carry  the  ox;  but  he 
 that  will  at  first  go  to  take  up  an  ox,  may  so  disable  himself  as  not  to  be  able 
 to  lift  up  a  calf  after  that.  When  the  mind,  by  insensible  degrees,  has  brought 
 itself  to  attention  and  close  thinking,  it  will  be  able  to  cope  witli  difficidties,- 
 and  master  tliem  without  any  i)rojudice  to  itself,  and  then  it  may  go  on 
 roundly.  Every  abstruse  problem,  every  intricate  question,  will  not  baflle, 
 discourage,  or  break  it.  But  tiiougli  putting  the  mind  unprepared  Ujinn  an 
 lumsuai  stress,  tiiat  may  discourage  or  damp  it  for  the  future,  ought  to  be 
 
 / 
 
Sect.  28.  PRACTICE.  509 
 
 avoided ;  yet  this  must  not  run  it  by  an  over-great  sliyness  of  difficulties,  into 
 a  lazy  sauntering  about  ordinary  and  obvious  things,  that  demand  no  thought 
 or  application.  This  debases  and  enervates  the  understanding,  makes  it  weak 
 and  unfit  for  labour.  This  is  a  sort  of  hovering  about  the  surface  of  things, 
 without  any  insight  into  them  or  penetration ;  and  when  the  mind  has  been 
 once  habituated  to  this  lazy  recumbency  and  satisfaction  on  the  obvious  sur- 
 face of  things,  it  is  in  danger  to  rest  satisfied  there,  and  go  no  deeper;  since 
 it  cannot  do  it  without  pains  and  digging.  He  that  has  for  some  time  accus- 
 tomed himself  to  take  up  with  what  easily  offers  itself  at  first  view,  has  reason 
 to  fear  he  shall  never  reconcile  himself  to  tlie  fatigue  of  turning  and  tumbling 
 things  in  his  mind,  to  discover  their  more  retired  and  more  valuable  secrets. 
 Tt  is  not  strange  that  methods  of  learning  which  scholars  have  been  accus- 
 tomed to  in  their  beginning  and  entrance  upon  the  sciences,  should  influence 
 them  all  their  lives,  and  be  settled  in  their  minds  by  an  overruling  reverence ; 
 especially  if  they  be  such  as  universal  use  has  established.  Learners  must  at 
 first  be  believers,  and  their  masters'  rules  having  been  once  made  axioms  to 
 them,  it  is  no  wonder  they  should  keep  that  dignity,  and,  by  the  authority 
 they  have  once  got,  mislead  those  who  think  it  sufficient  to  excuse  them,  if 
 they  go  out  of  their  way  in  a  well-beaten  track. 
 
 Sect.  29.  Words. — I  have  copiously  enough  spoken  of  the  abuse  of  worda 
 in  another  place,  and  therefore  shall  upon  this  reflection,  that  the  sciences 
 are  full  of  them,  warn  those  that  would  conduct  their  understandings  right 
 not  to  take  any  term,  howsoever  authorized  by  the  language  of  the  schools,  to 
 stand  for  any  thing  till  they  have  an  idea  of  it.  A  word  may  be  of  frequent 
 use,  and  great  credit,  with  several  authors,  and  be  by  them  made  use  of  as  if 
 it  stood  for  some  real  being ;  but  yet,  if  he  that  reads  cannot  frame  any  dis- 
 tinct idea  of  that  being,  it  is  certainly  to  him  a  mere  empty  sound  without  a 
 meaning ;  and  he  learns  no  more  by  all  that  is  said  of  it,  or  attributed  to  it, 
 than  if  it  were  affirmed  only  of  that  bare  empty  sound.  They  who  would 
 advance  in  knowledge,  and  not  deceive  and  swell  themselves  with  a  little 
 articulated  air,  should  lay  down  this  as  a  fundamental  rule,  not  to  take  words 
 for  things,  nor  suppose  that  names  in  books  signify  real  entities  in  nature,  till 
 they  can  frame  clear  and  distinct  ideas  of  those  entities.  It  will  not  perhaps 
 be  allowed,  if  I  should  set  down  "  substantial  forms"  and  "  intentional  spe- 
 cies," as  such  that  may  justly  be  suspected  to  be  of  this  kind  of  insignificant 
 terms :  but  this  I  am  sure,  to  one  that  can  form  no  determined  ideas  of  what 
 they  stand  for,  they  signify  nothing  at  all ;  and  all  that  he  thinks  he  knows 
 about  them  is  to  him  so  much  knowledge  about  nothing,  and  amounts  at  most 
 but  to  be  a  learned  ignorance.  It  is  not  without  all  reason  supposed  that 
 there  are  many  such  empty  terms  to  be  found  in  some  learned  writers,  to 
 which  they  had  recourse  to  etch  out  their  systems,  where  their  understand- 
 ings could  not  furnish  them  with  conceptions  from  things.  But  yet  I  believe 
 the  supposing  of  some  realities  in  nature,  answering  those  and  the  like  words, 
 have  much  perplexed  some,  and  quite  misled  others  in  the  study  of  nature. 
 That  which  in  any  discourse  signifies,  "  I  know  not  what,"  should  be  consi- 
 dered "  I  know  not  when."  Where  men  have  any  conceptions,  they  can,  if 
 they  are  never  so  abstruse  or  abstracted,  explain  them,  and  the  terms  they 
 use  for  them.  For  our  conceptions  being  nothing  but  ideas,  which  are  alt 
 made  up  of  simple  ones  :  if  they  cannot  give  us  the  ideas  their  words  stand 
 for,  it  is  plain  they  have  none.  To  what  purpose  can  it  be  to  hunt  after  his 
 conceptions  who  has  none,  or  none  distinct  ?  He  that  knew  not  what  he 
 himself  meant  by  a  learned  term,  cannot  make  us  know  any  thing  by  his  use- 
 of  it,  let  us  beat  our  heads  about  it  never  so  long.  Whether  we  are  able  to 
 comprehend  all  the  operations  of  nature,  and  the  manners  of  them,  it  matters 
 not  to  inquire  ;  but  this  is  certain,  that  we  can  comprehend  no  more  of  them 
 than  we  can  distinctly  conceive ;  and  therefore  to  obtrude  terms  where  we 
 have  no  distinct  conceptions,  as  if  they  did  contain  or  rather  conceal  some- 
 thing, is  but  an  artifice  of  learned  vanity  to  cover  a  defect  in  a  hypothesis  or 
 our  understandings.     Words  are  not  made  to  conceal,  but  to  declare  and 
 
510  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  29. 
 
 sliow  something;  where  they  are  by  tho.'sc,  who  pretend  to  instruct,  otherwise 
 Uocd,  tlicy  conceal  indeed  something-;  but  that  tliat  they  conceal  is  nothing 
 but  tiie  ignorance,  error,  or  sophistry  of  the  talker;  for  there  is,  in  truth, 
 nothing  else  under  them. 
 
 Sect.  30.  Wariderinff. — That  there  is  a  constant  succession  and  flux  of 
 ideas  in  our  minds,  I  have  observed  in  the  former  part  of  this  Essay ;  and 
 every  one  may  take  notice  of  it  in  himself.  This,  I  suppose,  may  deserve 
 some  part  of  our  care  in  the  conduct  of  our  understandings ;  and  I  think  it 
 may  be  of  great  advantage,  if  we  can  by  use  get  that  power  over  our  minds, 
 as  to  be  able  to  direct  that  train  of  ideas,  that  so,  since  there  will  new  ones 
 perpetually  come  into  our  thoughts  by  a  constant  succession,  we  may  be  able 
 by  choice  so  to  direct  them,  that  none  may  come  in  view  but  such  as  are  per- 
 tinent to  our  present  inquiry-,  and  in  such  order  as  may  be  most  useful  to  the 
 discovery  we  are  upon ;  or  at  least,  if  some  foreign  and  unsought  ideas  will 
 offer  themselves,  that  yet  we  might  be  able  to  reject  them,  and  keep  them 
 from  takuig  otf  our  minds  from  its  present  pursuit,  and  hinder  them  from 
 running  away  with  our  thoughts  quite  from  the  subject  in  hand.  This  is  not, 
 I  suspect,  so  easy  to  be  done  as  perhaps  may  be  imagined;  and  yet,  for  aught 
 I  know,  this  may  be,  if  not  the  chief,  yet  one  of  the  great  differences  that 
 carry  some  men  in  their  reasoning  so  far  beyond  others,  where  they  seem  to 
 be  naturally  of  equal  parts.  A  proper  and  effectual  remedy  for  this  wandering 
 of  thoughts  I  would  be  glad  to  find.  He  that  shall  propose  such  an  one,  would 
 do  great  service  to  the  studious  and  contemplative  part  of  mankind,  and  per- 
 haps help  unthinking  men  to  become  thinking.  I  must  acknowledge  that 
 hitherto  I  have  discovered  no  other  way  to  keep  our  thoughts  close  to  their 
 business,  but  the  endeavouring  as  much  as  we  can,  and  by  frequent  attention 
 and  application,  getting  the  habit  of  attention  and  application.  He  that  will 
 observe  children  will  find,  that  even  when  they  endeavour  their  utmost,  they 
 cannot  keep  their  minds  from  straggling.  The  way  to  cure  it,  I  am  satisfied, 
 is  not  angry  chiding  or  beating,  for  that  presently  fills  their  heads  with  all  the 
 ideas  that  tear,  dread,  or  confusion  can  offer  to  them.  To  bring  back  gently 
 their  wandering  thoughts,  by  leading  them  into  the  path,  and  going  before 
 them  in  the  train  they  should  pursue,  without  any  rebuke,  or  so  much  as 
 taking  notice  (where  it  can  be  avoided)  of  their  roving,  I  suppose  would 
 sooner  reconcile  and  inure  them  to  attention  than  all  those  rougher  methods 
 which  more  distract  their  thouglit,  and,  hindering  the  application  they  would 
 promote,  introduce  a  contrary  habit. 
 
 Sect.  31.  Distinction. — Distinction  and  division  are  (if  I  mistake  not  the 
 import  of  the  words)  very  different  things  ;  tlie  one  being  tlie  perception  of  a 
 difference  that  nature  has  placed  in  things ;  the  other,  our  making  a  division 
 where  there  is  yet  none ;  at  least,  if  I  may  be  permitted  to  consider  them  in 
 this  sense,  I  think  I  may  say  of  them  that  one  of  them  is  the  most  necessary 
 and  conducive  to  true  knowledge  that  can  be;  the  other,  when  too  much 
 made  use  of,  serves  only  to  puzzle  and  confound  the  understanding.  To  ob- 
 serve every  the  least  difference  that  is  in  things  argues  a  quick  and  cle.ir 
 sight;  and  this  keeps  the  understanding  steady,  and  right  in  its  way  to  know- 
 ledge. But  though  it  be  usefid  to  discern  every  variety  that  is  to  be  found  in 
 nature,  yet  it  is  not  convenient  to  consider  every  difference  that  is  in  things, 
 and  divide  them  into  distinct  classes  under  every  such  difierence.  This  will 
 run  us,  if  followed,  into  particulars  (for  every  individual  has  something  that 
 differences  it  from  another,)  and  we  shall  be  able  to  establish  no  general 
 truths,  or  else  at  least  shall  be  apt  to  perplex  the  mind  about  them.  The 
 collection  of  several  things  into  several  classes  gives  the  mind  more  general 
 and  larger  views  ;  but  we  must  take  care  to  unite  them  only  in  that,  and  so 
 far  as  they  do  agree,  for  so  far  they  may  be  united  under  the  consideration  : 
 for  entity  itself,  that  comprehends  all  things,  as  general  as  it  is,  may  afford 
 us  clear  and  rational  conceptions.  If  we  would  weigh  and  keep  in  our  minds 
 what  it  is  we  aie  considering,  that  would  best  instruct  us  when  we  should  or 
 should  not  bruicli  into  tartlier  distinctions,  which  arc  to  be  taken  only  from 
 
Sect.  31.  DISTINCTION.  511 
 
 a  due  contemplation  of  things ;  to  which  there  is  nothing  more  opposite  tlian 
 the  art  of  verbal  distinctions,  made  at  pleasure  in  learned  and  arbitrarily  in- 
 vented terms,  to  be  applied  at  a  venture,  without  comprehending  or  convey- 
 ing any  distinct  notions  ;  and  so  altogetlier  fitted  to  artificial  tali<,  or  empty 
 noise  in  dispute,  without  any  clearing  of  difficulties,  or  advance  in  knowledge. 
 Whatsoever  subject  we  examine  and  would  get  knowledge  in,  we  should,  I 
 think,  make  as  general  and  as  large  as  it  will  bear ;  nor  can  there  be  any 
 danger  of  this,  if  the  idea  of  it  be  settled  and  determined  :  for  if  th^  be  so, 
 we  shall  easily  distinguish  it  from  any  other  idea,  though  comprehended  under 
 the  same  name.  For  it  is  to  fence  against  the  entanglements  of  equivocal 
 words,  and  the  great  art  of  sopliistry  which  lies  in  them,  that  distinctions 
 have  been  multiplied,  and  their  use  thought  so  necessary.  But  had  every 
 distinct  abstract  idea  a  distinct  known  name,  there  would  be  little  need  of 
 these  multiplied  scholastic  distinctions,  though  there  would  be  nevertheless 
 as  much  need  still  of  the  mind's  observing  the  differences  that  are  in  things, 
 and  discriminating  them  thereby  one  from  another.  It  is  not,  therefore,  the 
 right  way  to  knowledge,  to  hunt  afler  and  fill  the  head  with  abundance  of 
 artificial  and  scholastic  distinctions,  wherewith  learned  men's  writing-s  are 
 often  filled :  we  sometimes  find  what  they  treat  of  so  divided  and  subdivided, 
 that  the  mind  of  the  most  attentive  reader  loses  the  sight  of  it,  as  it  is  more 
 than  probable  the  writer  himself  did ;  for  in  things  crumbled  into  dust  it  is  in 
 vain  to  affect  or  pretend  order,  or  expect  clearness.  To  avoid  confusion,  by 
 too  few  or  too  many  divisions,  is  a  great  skill  in  thinking  as  well  as  writing, 
 which  is  but  the  copying  our  thoughts ;  but  what  are  the  boundaries  of  the 
 mean  between  the  two  vicious  excesses  on  both  hands,  I  think  is  hard  to  set 
 down  in  words  :  clear  and  distinct  ideas  is  all  that  I  yet  know  able  to  regiUate 
 it.  But  as  to  verbal  distinctions  received  and  applied  to  common  terms,  i.  e. 
 equivocal  words,  they  are  more  properly,  I  think,  the  business  of  criticisms 
 and  dictionaries  than  of  real  knowledge  and  philosophy ;  since  they,  for  the 
 most  part,  explain  the  meaning  of  words,  and  give  us  their  several  significa- 
 tions. The  dexterous  management  of  terms,  and  being  able  to  fend  and  prove 
 with  them,  I  know  has  and  does  pass  in  the  world  for  a  great  part  of  learning; 
 but  it  is  learning  distinct  from  knowledge  ;  for  knowledge  consists  only  in 
 perceiving  the  habitudes  and  relations  of  ideas  one  to  another,  which  is  done 
 without  words ;  the  intervention  of  a  sound  helps  nothing  to  it.  And  hence 
 we  see  that  there  is  at  least  use  of  distinctions  where  there  is  most  knowledge ; 
 I  mean  in  mathematics,  where  men  have  determined  ideas,  without  known 
 names  to  them  ;  and  so  there  being  no  room  for  equivocations,  there  is  no 
 need  of  distinctions.  In  arguing,  the  opponent  uses  as  comprehensive  and 
 equivocal  terms  as  he  can,  to  involve  his  adversary  in  the  doubtfulness  of  his 
 expressions :  this  is  expected,  and  therefore  the  answerer  on  his  side  makes 
 it  his  play  to  distinguish  as  much  as  he  can,  and  thinks  he  can  never  do  it 
 too  much;  nor  can  he  indeed  in  that  way  wherein  victory  may  be  had  without 
 truth  and  without  knowledge.  This  seems  to  me  to  be  the  art  of  disputing. 
 Use  your  words  as  captiously  as  you  can  in  your  arguing  on  one  side,  and 
 apply  distinctions  as  much  as  you  can  on  the  other  side  to  every  term,  to 
 nonplus  your  opponent ;  so  that  in  this  sort  of  scholarship,  there  being  no 
 bounds  set  to  distinguishing,  some  men  have  thought  all  acuteness  to  have 
 lain  in  it ;  and  therefore  in  all  they  have  read  or  thought  on,  their  great  busi- 
 ness has  been  to  amuse  themselves  with  distinctions,  and  multiply  to  them- 
 selves divisions  ;  at  least,  more  than  the  nature  of  the  thing  required.  There 
 seems  to  me,  as  I  said,  to  be  no  other  rule  for  this,  but  a  due  and  right  con- 
 sideration of  things  as  they  are  in  themselves.  He  that  has  settled  in  his 
 mind  determined  ideas,  with  names  affixed  to  them,  will  be  able  both  to  dis- 
 cern their  differences  one  from  another,  which  is  really  distinguishing;  and, 
 where  the  penury  of  words  affords  not  terms  answering  every  distinct  idea, 
 will  be  able  to  apply  proper  distinguishing  terms  to  the  comprehensive  and 
 equivocal  names  he  is  forced  to  make  use  of.  This  is  all  the  need  I  know  of 
 distinguishing  terms ;  and  in  such  verbal  distinctions,  each  term  of  the  dis- 
 
512  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  31. 
 
 tiiiction,  joined  to  tliiit  whose  signification  it  distinguishes,  is  but  a  distinct 
 name  for  a  distinct  idea.  Where  they  are  so,  and  men  iiave  clear  and  dis- 
 tinct conceptions  tliat  answer  their  verbal  distinctions,  they  arc  right,  and  are 
 pertinent  as  far  as  tlioy  serve  to  clear  any  thing  in  the  subject  under  consi- 
 deration. And  tills  is  that  which  seems  to  me  the  proper  and  only  measure 
 of  distinctions  and  divisions;  which  he  that  will  conduct  his  understanding 
 right  must  not  look  for  in  the  acuteness  of  invention,  nor  the  authority  of 
 writers,  but  will  tiiid  only  in  the  consideration  of  things  themselves,  whether 
 lie  is  led  into  it  by  his  own  meditations,  or  the  information  of  books. 
 
 An  aptness  to  jumble  things  together,  wherein  can  be  found  any  likeness, 
 is  a  fault  in  the  understanding  on  the  other  side,  which  will  not  fail  to  mislead 
 it,  and  by  thus  lumping  of  things  hinder  the  mind  from  distinct  and  accurate 
 conceptions  of  them. 
 
 Sect.  32.  Similes. — To  which  let  me  here  add  another  near  of  kin  to  this, 
 at  least  in  name,  and  tliat  is  letting  the  mind,  upon  the  suggestion  of  any  new 
 notion,  run  imuiediatoly  after  similes  to  make  it  the  clearer  to  itself,  which, 
 though  it  may  bo  a  good  way,  and  useful  in  the  explaining  our  thoughts  to 
 others ;  yet  it  is  by  no  means  a  right  method  to  settle  true  notions  of  any 
 thing  in  ourselves,  because  similes  always  fail  in  some  part,  and  come  short 
 of  that  exactness  which  our  concej)tions  should  have  to  things,  if  we  would 
 think  aright.  This  indeed  makes  men  plausible  talkers;  for  those  are 
 always  most  acceptable  in  discourse  who  have  the  way  to  let  their  thoughts 
 into  other  men's  minds  with  the  greatest  ease  and  facility;  whether  those 
 thoughts  are  well  formed  and  correspond  with  things,  matters  not ;  few  men 
 care  to  be  instructed  but  at  an  easy  rate.  They,  who  in  their  discourse  strike 
 the  fancy,  and  take  the  hearers'  conceptions  along  with  them  as  fast  as  their 
 words  flow,  are  the  applauded  talkers,  and  go  for  the  only  men  of  clear 
 thoughts.  Nothing  contributes  so  much  to  this  as  similes,  whereby  men 
 think  they  themselves  understand  better,  because  they  are  the  better  under- 
 stood. But  it  is  one  thing  to  think  right,  and  another  thing  to  know  the  right 
 way  to  lay  our  thoughts  before  others  with  advantage  and  clearness,  be  they 
 right  or  wrong.  Well-chosen  similes,  metaphors,  and  allegories,  with  method 
 and  order,  do  this  the  best  of  any  thing,  because  being  taken  from  objects 
 already  known,  and  familiar  to  the  understanding,  they  are  conceived  as  fast 
 as  spoken ;  and  the  correspondence  being  concluded,  the  thing  they  are 
 brought  to  explain  and  elucidate  is  thought  to  be  understood  too.  Thus  fancy 
 passes  for  knowledge,  and  what  is  prettily  said  is  mistaken  for  solid.  I  say 
 not  this  to  decry  metaphor,  or  with  design  to  take  away  that  ornament  of 
 speech ;  my  business  here  is  not  with  rhetoricians  and  orators,  but  with  phi- 
 losophers and  lovers  of  truth  ;  to  whom  I  would  beg  leave  to  give  this  one 
 rule  v/hercby  to  try  whether,  in  the  application  of  their  thoughts  to  anything 
 for  the  iin])rovement_  of  their  knowledge,  they  do  in  truth  comprehend  the 
 matter  before  them  really  such  as  it  is  in  itself.  The  way  to  discover  this  is 
 to  observe  whether,  in  the  laying  it  before  themselves  or  others,  they  make 
 use  only  of  borrowed  representations,  and  ideas  foreign  to  the  things  which 
 are  applied  to  it  by  way  of  accommodation,  as  bearing  some  proportion  or 
 imagined  likeness  to  the  subject  under  consideration.  Figured  and  meta- 
 phorical expressions  do  well  to  illustrate  more  abstruse  and  unfamiliar  ideas 
 which  the  mind  is  not  yet  thoroughly  accustomed  to  ;  but  then  they  must  be 
 made  use  of  to  illustrate  ideas  that  we  already  have,  not  to  paint  to  us  those 
 which  we  yet  have  not.  Such  borrowed  and  allusive  ideas  may  follow  real 
 and  solid  truth,  to  set  it  off  when  found:  but  must  by  no  means  be  set  in  its 
 place,  and  taken  for  it.  If  all  our  search  has  yet  reached  no  farther  than 
 simile  and  metaphor,  we  may  assure  ourselves  we  rather  fancy  than  know, 
 and  have  not  yet  |)cnetrated  into  the  inside  and  reality  of  the  thing,  be  it  what 
 it  will,  but  content  ourselves  with  what  our  imaginations,  not  thmgs  them- 
 Bclves,  furnish  us  with. 
 
 Sect.  ."^S.  Assent. — In  the  wliolc  conduct  of  the  understanding  there  is 
 nothing  of  more  moment  than  to  know  when  and  where,  and  how  far  to  give 
 
Sect.  32.  SIMILES.  513 
 
 assent ;  and  possibly  there  is  nothing  liarder.  It  is  very  easily  said,  and  no- 
 body questions  it,  that  giving  and  withholding  our  assent,  and  the  degrees  of 
 it,  should  be  regulated  by  tlie  evidence  which  things  carry  with  tiieni ;  and 
 yet  we  see  men  are  not  the  better  for  this  rule ;  some  firmly  embrace  doctrines 
 upon  slight  grounds,  some  upon  no  grounds,  and  some  contrary  to  appearance: 
 some  admit  of  certainty,  and  are  not  to  be  moved  in  what  they  hold :  others 
 waver  in  every  thing,  and  there  want  not  those  that  reject  all  as  uncertain. 
 What  then  shall  a  novice,  an  inquirer,  a  stranger  do  in  the  case  ]  I  answer, 
 use  his  eyes.  There  is  a  correspondence  in  things,  and  agreement  and  dis- 
 agreement in  ideas,  discernible  in  very  different  degrees,  and  there  are  eyes 
 in  men  to  see  them,  if  they  please  :  only  their  eyes  may  be  dimmed  or  dazzled, 
 and  the  discerning  sight  in  them  impaired  or  lost.  Interest  and  passion 
 dazzle ;  the  custom  of  arguing  on  any  side,  even  against  our  persuasions,  dims 
 the  understanding,  and  makes  it  by  degrees  lose  the  faculty  of  discerning 
 clearly  between  truth  and  falsehood,  and  so  of  adhering  to  the  right  side.  It 
 is  not  safe  to  play  with  error,  and  dress  it  up  to  ourselves  or  others  in  the 
 shape  of  truth.  The  mind  by  degrees  loses  its  natural  relish  of  real  solid 
 truth,  is  reconciled  insensibly  to  any  thing  that  can  be  dressed  up  into  any 
 faint  appearance  of  it;  and  if  the  fancy  be  allowed  the  place  of  judgment  at 
 first  in  sport,  it  afterward  comes  by  use  to  usurp  it ;  and  what  is  recommended 
 by  this  flatterer  (that  studies  but  to  please,)  is  received  for  good.  There  are 
 so  many  ways  of  fallacy,  such  arts  of  giving  colours,  appearances,  and  resem- 
 blances by  this  court-dresser,  the  fancy,  that  he  who  is  not  wary  to  admit 
 nothing  but  truth  itself,  very  careful  not  to  make  his  mind  subservient  to  any 
 thing  else,  cannot  but  be  caught.  He  that  has  a  mind  to  believe,  has  half 
 assented  already ;  and  he  that,  by  often  arguing  against  liis  own  sense,  im- 
 poses falsehood  on  others,  is  not  far  from  believing  himself.  This  takes  away 
 the  great  distance  there  is  betwixt  truth  and  falsehood ;  it  brings  them  almost 
 together,  and  makes  it  no  great  odds,  in  things  that  approach  so  near,  which 
 you  take;  and  when  things  are  brought  to  that  pass,  passion  or  interest,  &c. 
 easily  and  without  being  perceived,  determine  which  shall  be  the  right. 
 
 Sect.  34.  Indifferency. — I  have  said  above,  that  we  should  keep  a  perfect 
 indifferency  for  all  opinions,  not  wish  any  of  them  true,  or  try  to  make  them 
 appear  so :  but  being  indifferent,  receive  and  embrace  them  according  as  evi- 
 dence, and  that  alone,  gives  the  attestation  of  truth.  They  that  do  thus,  i.  e. 
 keep  their  minds  indifferent  to  opinions,  to  be  determined  only  by  evidence, 
 will  always  find  the  understanding  has  perception  enough  to  distinguish  be- 
 tween evidence  and  no  evidence,  betwixt  plain  and  doubtful ;  and  if  they  nei- 
 ther give  nor  refuse  their  assent  but  by  that  measure,  they  will  be  safe  in  the 
 opinions  they  have.  Which  being  perhaps  but  few,  this  caution  will  have 
 also  this  good  in  it,  that  it  will  put  them  upon  considering,  and  teach  them 
 the  necessity  of  examining  more  than  they  do  ;  without  which  the  mind  is  but 
 a  receptacle  of  inconsistencies,  not  the  store-house  of  truths.  They  that  do 
 not  keep  up  this  indifferency  in  themselves  for  all  but  truth,  not  supposed,  but 
 evidenced  in  themselves,  put  coloured  spectacles  before  their  eyes,  and  look 
 on  things  through  false  glasses,  and  then  think  themselves  excused  in  follow- 
 ing the  false  appearances  which  they  themselves  put  upon  them.  I  do  not 
 expect  that  by  this  way  the  assent  should  in  every  one  be  proportioned  to  the 
 grounds  and  clearness  wherewith  every  truth  is  capable  to  be  made  out;  or 
 that  men  should  be  perfectly  kept  from  error  :  that  is  more  than  human  nature 
 can  by  any  means  be  advanced  to ;  I  aim  at  no  such  unattainable  privilege ;  I 
 am  only  speaking  of  what  they  should  do,  who  would  deal  fairly  with  their 
 own  minds,  and  make  a  right  use  of  their  faculties  in  the  pursuit  of  truth ;  we 
 fail  them  a  great  deal  more  than  they  fail  us.  It  is  mismanagement  more 
 than  want  of  abilities  that  men  have  reason  to  complain  of,  and  which  they 
 actually  do  complain  of  in  those  that  differ  from  them.  He  that  by  indiffer- 
 ency for  all  but  tmth  suffers  not  his  assent  to  go  faster  than  his  evidence,  nor 
 beyond  it,  will  learn  to  examine,  and  examine  fairly  instead  of  presuming, 
 and  nobody  will  be  at  a  loss,  or  in  danger  for  want  of  embracing  those  truths 
 3P 
 
514  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING,         Sect.  34. 
 
 which  are  necessary  in  his  station  and  circumstancoR.  In  any  other  way  but 
 this,  all  the  world  arc  born  to  orthodoxy;  they  imbibe  at  liret  the  allowed 
 opinions  of  their  country  and  party,  and  so  never  questioning  their  truth,  not 
 one  of  an  hundred  ever  examines.  Tliey  are  applauded  for  presuming  they 
 are  in  the  right.  He  that  considers  is  a  foe  to  orthodoxy,  because  possibly 
 he  may  deviate  from  some  of  the  received  doctrines  there.  And  thus  men, 
 without  any  industry  or  acquisition  of  their  own,  inherit  local  truths  (for  it  is 
 not  the  same  every  where)  and  are  inured  to  assent  without  evidence.  This 
 influences  farther  than  is  thought;  for  what  one  of  an  hundred  of  the  zealous 
 bigots  in  all  parties  ever  examined  the  tenets  he  is  so  stiff  in,  or  ever  thought 
 it  his  business  or  duty  so  to  do?  It  is  suspected  of  lukewarmness  to  suppose 
 it  necessary,  and  a  tendency  to  apostacy  to  go  about  it.  And  if  a  man  can 
 bring  his  mind  once  to  be  positive  and  fierce  for  positions  whose  evidence  he 
 has  never  once  examined,  and  that  in  matters  of  greatest  concernment  to  him; 
 what  shall  keep  him  from  this  short  and  easy  way  of  being  in  the  right  in 
 cases  of  less  moment?  Thus  we  are  taught  to  clothe  our  minds  as  we  do  our 
 bodies,  afler  the  fashion  in  vogue,  and  it  is  accounted  fantasticalness,  or 
 something  worse,  not  to  do  so.  This  custom  (which  who  dares  oppose?) 
 makes  the  short-sighted  bigots,  and  the  warier  sceptics,  as  far  as  it  prevails: 
 and  those  that  break  from  it  are  in  danger  of  heresy :  for  taking  the  whole 
 world,  how  much  of  it  doth  truth  and  orthodoxy  possess  together?  Though 
 it  is  by  the  last  alone  (which  has  the  good  luck  to  be  every  where)  that  error 
 and  heresy  are  judged  of:  for  argument  and  evidence  signify  nothing  in  the 
 case,  and  excuse  nowhere,  but  are  sure  to  be  borne  down  in  all  societies  by 
 the  infallible  orthodoxy  of  the  place.  Whether  this  be  the  way  to  truth  and 
 right  assent,  let  the  opinions,  that  take  place  and  prescribe  in  the  several 
 habitable  parts  of  the  earth,  declare.  I  never  saw  any  reason  yet  why  truth 
 might  not  be  trusted  on  its  own  evidence :  I  am  sure  if  that  be  not  able  to 
 support  it,  there  is  no  fence  against  error;  and  then  truth  and  falsehood  are 
 but  names  that  stand  for  the  same  things.  Evidence  therefore  is  that  by 
 which  alone  every  man  is  (and  should  be)  taught  to  regulate  his  assent,  who 
 is  then,  and  then  only  in  the  right  way,  when  he  follows  it. 
 
 Men  deficient  in  knowledge  are  usually  in  one  of  these  three  states ;  either 
 wholly  ignorant,  or  as  doubting  of  some  proposition  they  have  either  embraced 
 formerly,  or  are  at  present  inclined  to;  or  lastly,  they  do  with  assurance 
 hold  and  profess  without  ever  having  examined,  and  being  convinced  by  well- 
 grounded  arguments.  The  first  of  these  are  in  the  best  state  of  the  three, 
 by  having  their  minds  yet  in  their  perfect  freedom  and  indifferency ;  the  like- 
 lier to  pursue  truth  the  better,  having  no  bias  yet  clapped  on  to  mislead  them. 
 Sect.  35. — For  ignorance,  with  an  indifferency  for  truth,  is  nearer  to  it 
 than  opinion  with  ungrounded  inclination,  which  is  the  great  source  of  error; 
 and  they  are  more  in  danger  to  go  out  of  the  way  who  are  marching  under 
 the  conduct  of  a  guide,  that  it  is  a  hundred  to  one  will  mislead  them,  than  he 
 that  has  not  yet  taken  a  step,  and  is  likelier  to  be  prevailed  on  to  inquire 
 afler  the  right  way.  The  last  of  the  three  sorts  are  in  the  worst  condition 
 of  all ;  for  if  a  man  can  be  persuaded  and  fully  assured  of  any  thing  for  a 
 truth,  without  having  examined,  what  is  there  that  he  may  not  embrace  for 
 truth  ?  and  if  he  has  given  himself  up  to  believe  a  lie,  what  means  is  there 
 letl  to  recover  one  who  can  be  assured  without  examining  ?  To  the  other 
 two  this  I  crave  leave  to  say,  that  as  he  that  is  ignorant  is  in  the  best  state 
 of  the  two,  so  he  should  persue  truth  in  a  method  suitable  to  that  state ;  i.  e. 
 by  inquiring  directly  into  the  nature  of  the  thing  itself,  without  minding  the 
 opinions  of  others,  or  troubling  himself  with  their  questions  or  disputes  about 
 it ;  but  to  see  what  he  himself  can,  sincerely  searching  afler  truth,  find  out. 
 He  that  proceeds  upon  other  principles  in  his  inquiry  into  any  sciences, 
 though  he  be  resolved  to  examine  them  and  judge  of  them  freely,  does  yet 
 at  least  put  himself  on  that  side,  and  post  himself  in  a  party  which  he  will 
 not  quit  till  he  be  beaten  out ;  by  which  the  mind  is  insensibly  engaged  to  make 
 what  defence  it  can,  and  so  is  unawares  biassed.     I  do  not  say  but  a  man 
 
Sect.  35.  INDIFFERENCY.  515 
 
 should  embrace  some  opinion  when  he  has  examined,  else  he  examines  to  no 
 purpose  ;  but  the  surest  and  safest  way  is  to  have  no  opinion  at  all  till  he  has 
 examined,  and  that  without  any  the  least  regard  to  the  opinions  or  systems 
 of  other  men  about  it.  For  example,  were  it  my  business  to  understand 
 physic,  would  not  the  safe  and  readier  way  be  to  consult  nature  herself,  and 
 inform  myself  in  the  history  of  diseases  and  their  cures  ;  than  espousing  the. 
 principles  of  the  dogmatists,  methodists,  or  chemists,  to  engage  in  all  the 
 disputes  concerning  either  of  those  systems,  and  suppose  it  to  be  true,  till  I 
 have  tried  what  they  can  say  to  beat  me  out  of  it ']  Or,  supposing  that  Hip- 
 pocrates, or  any  other  book,  infallibly  contains  the  whole  art  of  physic ; 
 would  not  the  direct  way  be  to  study,  read,  and  consider  that  book,  weigh 
 and  compare  the  parts  of  it  to  find  the  truth,  rather  than  espouse  the  doc- 
 trines of  any  party?  who,  though  they  acknowledge  his  autliority,  have 
 already  interpreted  and  wiredrawn  all  his  text  to  their  own  sense  ;  the  tinc- 
 ture whereof,  when  I  have  imbibed,  I  am  more  in  danger  to  misunderstand 
 his  true  meaning,  than  if  I  had  come  to  him  with  a  mind  impre;)ossessed  by 
 doctors  and  commentators  of  my  sect ;  whose  reasonings,  interpretation,  and 
 language,  which  I  have  been  used  to,  will  of  course  make  all  chime  that  way, 
 and  make  another,  and  perhaps  the  genuine  meaning  of  the  author  seem 
 harsh,  strained,  and  uncouth  to  me.  For  words  having  naturally  none  of 
 their  own,  carry  that  signification  to  the  hearer  that  he  is  used  to  put  upon 
 them,  whatever  be  the  sense  of  him  that  uses  them.  This,  I  think,  is  visibly 
 so  ;  and  if  it  be,  he  that  begins  to  have  any  doubt  of  any  of  his  tenets,  which 
 he  received  without  examination,  ought,  as  much  as  he  can,  to  put  himself 
 wholly  into  this  state  of  ignorance  in  reference  to  that  question;  and  throw- 
 ing wholly  by  all  his  former  notions,  and  the  opinions  of  others,  examine, 
 with  a  perfect  inditferency,  the  question  in  its  source  ;  without  any  inclinatioa 
 to  either  side,  or  any  regard  to  his  or  others'  unexamined  opinions.  This  I 
 own  is  no  easy  thing  to  do  ;  but  I  am  not  inquiring  the  easy  way  to  opinion, 
 but  the  right  way  to  truth  ;  which  they  must  follow  who  will  deal  fairly  with 
 their  own  understandings  and  their  own  souls. 
 
 Sect.  36.  Question. — The  indifferency  tliat  I  here  propose  will  also  enable 
 them  to  state  the  question  right,  which  they  are  in  doubt  about,  without  which 
 they  can  never  come  to  a  fair  and  clear  decision  of  it. 
 
 Sect.  37.  Perseverance. — Another  fruit  from  this  indifferency,  and  the 
 considering  things  in  themselves  abstract  from  our  own  opinions  and  other 
 men's  notions  and  discourses  on  them,  will  be,  that  each  man  will  pursue  his 
 thoughts  in  that  method  which  will  be  most  agreeable  to  the  nature  of  the 
 tiling,  and  to  his  apprehension  of  what  it  suggests  to  him  ;  in  which  he 
 ought  to  proceed  with  regularity  and  constancy,  until  he  come  to  a  well- 
 grounded  resolution  wherein  he  may  acquiesce.  Jf  it  be  objected  that  this 
 will  require  every  man  to  be  a  scholar,  and  quit  all  his  other  business,  and 
 betake  himself  wholly  to  study ;  I  answer,  I  propose  no  more  to  any  one 
 than  he  has  time  for.  Some  men's  state  and  condition  requires  no  great  ex- 
 tent of  knowledge ;  the  necessary  provision  for  life  swallows  the  greatest 
 part  of  their  time.  But  one  man's  want  of  leisure  is  no  excuse  for  the  osci- 
 tancy  and  ignorance  of  those  who  have  time  to  spare ;  and  every  one  has 
 enough  to  get  as  much  knowledge  as  is  required  and  expected  of  him,  and 
 he  that  does  not  that,  is  in  love  with  ignorance,  and  is  accountable  for  it. 
 
 Sect.  38.  Presumption. — The  variety  of  distempers  in  men's  minds  is  as 
 great  as  of  those  in  their  bodies  ;  some  are  epidemic,  few  escape  them  ;  and 
 evrry  one  too,  if  he  would  look  into  himself,  would  find  some  defect  of  his 
 particular  genius.  There  is  scarce  any  one  without  some  idiosyncrasy  that 
 he  suffers  by.  This  man  presumes  upon  his  parts,  that  they  will  not  fail 
 him  at  time  of  need  ;  and  so  thinks  it  superfluous  labour  to  make  any  pro- 
 vision before-hand.  His  understanding  is  to  him  like  Fortunatus's  purse, 
 which  is  always  to  furnish  him,  without  ever  putting  any  thing  into  it  before- 
 hand ;  and  so  he  sits  still  satisfied,  without  endeavouring  to  store  his  under- 
 standing with  knowledge.     It  is  the  spontaneous  product  of  the  country,  and 
 
516  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  38. 
 
 what  need  of  labour  in  tillage  1  Such  men  may  spread  their  native  riches 
 before  the  ignorant ;  but  tjiey  were  best  not  come  stress  and  trial  with 
 the  skilful.  We  are  born  ignorant  of  every  thing.  The  superficies  of  things 
 that  surround  them  make  impressions  on  the  negligent,  but  nobody  penetrates 
 into  the  inside  without  labour,  attention,  and  industry.  Stones  and  timber 
 grow  of  themselves,  but  yet  there  is  no  uniform  pile  with  symmetry  and  con- 
 venience to  lodge  in  without  toil  and  pains.  God  has  made  the  intellectual 
 world  harmonious  and  beautiful  without  us  ;  but  it  will  never  come  into  our 
 heads  all  at  once  ;  we  nnist  bring  it  liome  piecemeal,  and  there  set  it  up  by 
 our  own  industry,  or  else  we  shall  have  nothing  but  darkness  and  a  chaos 
 within,  whatever  order  and  light  there  be  in  things  without  us. 
 
 Sect.  89.  Despondency. — On  the  other  side,  tliere  are  otlicrs  that  depress 
 their  own  minds,  despond  at  the  first  difficulty,  and  conclude  that  the  getting 
 an  insight  in  any  of  tiie  sciences,  or  making  any  progress  in  knowledge 
 farther  than  serves  their  ordinary  business,  is  above  their  capacities.  These 
 sit  still,  because  they  think  they  have  not  legs  to  go ;  as  the  others  I  last 
 mentioned  do,  because  they  think  they  have  wings  to  fly,  and  can  soar  on 
 high  when  they  please.  To  these  latter  one  may  for  answer  apply  the  proverb, 
 "  Use  legs  and  have  legs."  Nobody  knows  what  strength  of  parts  he  has  till 
 he  has  tried  them.  And  of  the  understanding  one  may  most  truly  say,  that  its 
 force  is  greater  generally  than  it  thinks,  till  it  is  put  to  it.  Viresque  acquirit 
 eundo.  And  therefore  the  proper  remedy  here  is  but  to  set  the  mind  to  work, 
 and  apply  the  thoughts  vigorously  to  the  business ;  for  it  holds  in  the  struggles 
 of  the  mind  as  in  tiiose  of  war,  "  Dum  putant  se  vincere  vicere  ;"  a  persuasion 
 tliat  we  sliall  overcome  any  difficulties  that  we  meet  with  in  the  sciences,  sel- 
 dom fails  to  carry  us  through  them.  Nobody  knows  the  strength  of  his  mind, 
 and  the  force  of  steady  and  regular  application,  till  he  has  tried.  This  is  cer- 
 tain, he  that  sets  out  upon  weak  legs  will  not  only  go  farther,  but  grow  stronger 
 too,  than  one  who,  with  a  vigorous  constitution  and  firm  limbs,  only  sits  still. 
 
 Something  of  kin  to  this  men  may  observe  in  themselves,  when  the  mind 
 frights  itself  (as  it  often  does)  with  any  thing  reflected  on  in  gross,  and  tran- 
 siently viewed  confusedly,  and  at  a  distance.  Things  thus  ofl^ered  to  the 
 mind  carry  the  show  of  nothing  but  difficulty  in  them,  and  are  thought  to  be 
 wrapt  up  in  impenetrable  obscurity.  But  the  truth  is,  these  are  nothing  but 
 spectres  that  the  understanding  raises  to  itself  to  flatter  its  own  laziness.  It 
 sees  nothing  distinctly  in  things  remote,  and  in  a  huddle ;  and  therefore  con- 
 cludes too  faintly,  that  there  is  nothing  more  clear  to  be  discovered  in  them. 
 It  is  but  to  approach  nearer,  and  that  mist  of  our  own  raising  that  enveloped 
 them  will  remove;  and  those  that  in  that  mist  appeared  hideous  giants  not  to 
 be  grappled  with,  will  be  found  to  be  of  the  ordinary  and  natural  size  and  shape. 
 Tilings,  that  in  a  remote  and  confused  view  seem  very  obscure,  must  be  ap- 
 proached by  gentle  and  regular  steps  ;  and  what  is  most  visible,  easy,  and  obvi- 
 ous in  them  first  considered.  Reduce  them  into  their  distinct  parts ;  and  then  in 
 their  due  order  bring  all  that  should  be  known  concerning  every  one  of  those 
 parts  into  plain  and  simple  questions  ;  and  then  what  was  thought  obscure, 
 ])erplexGd,  and  too  hard  for  oin*  weak  parts,  will  lay  itself  open  to  the  under- 
 standing in  a  fair  view,  and  let  the  mind  into  that  which  before  it  was  awed 
 with,  and  kept  at  a  distance  from,  as  wholly  mysterious.  I  appeal  to  my 
 leader's  experience,  whether  this  has  never  happened  to  him,  especially  when, 
 busy  on  one  thing,  he  has  occasionally  reflected  on  another.  I  ask  him 
 whether  he  has  never  thus  been  scared  with  a  sudden  opinion  of  mighty  diffi- 
 fidtics,  which  yet  have  vanished,  when  he  has  seriously  and  mctliodically 
 ;!;iplied  himself  to  the  consideration  of  this  seeming  terrible  subject;  and 
 tlii'rn  has  been  no  other  matter  of  astonishment  left,  but  that  he  amused  him- 
 self with  so  discouraging  a  prospect,  of  his  own  raising,  about  a  matter  which 
 in  the  handling  was  found  to  have  nothing  in  it  more  strange  nor  intricate 
 tlian  several  other  things  which  he  had  long  since  and  with  ease  mastered  ! 
 Tliis  experience  woidd  teach  us  how  to  deal  with  such  bugbears  another  time, 
 whicii  should  rather  servo  to  excite  our  vigour  than  enervate  our  industry. 
 
Sect.  39.  DESPONDENCY.  517 
 
 The  surest  way  for  a  learner  in  this,  as  in  all  other  cases,  is  not  to  advance 
 by  jumps  and  large  strides ;  let  that  which  he  sets  himself  to  learn  next  be 
 indeed  the  next ;  i.  e.  as  nearly  conjoined  with  what  he  knows  already  as  is 
 possible ;  let  it  be  distinct  but  not  remote  from  it :  let  it  be  new,  and  what  he 
 did  not  know  before,  that  the  understanding  may  advance;  but  let  it  be  as 
 little  at  once  as  may  be,  that  its  advances  may  be  clear  and  sure.  All  the 
 ground  that  it  gets  this  way  it  will  hold.  This  distinct  gradual  growth  in 
 knowledge  is  firm  and  sure  ;  it  carries  its  own  light  with  it  in  every  step  of 
 its  progression  in  an  easy  and  orderly  train  ;  than  which  there  is  nothing  of 
 more  use  to  the  understanding.  And  though  this  perhaps  may  seem  a  very 
 clow  and  lingering  way  to  knowledge,  yet  I  dare  confidently  affirm,  that  who- 
 ever will  try  it  in  himself,  or  any  one  he  will  teach,  shall  find  the  advances 
 greater  in  this  method  than  they  would  in  the  same  space  of  time  have  been 
 in  any  other  he  could  have  taken.  The  greatest  part  of  true  knowledge  lies 
 in  a  distinct  perception  of  things  in  themselves  distinct.  And  some  men  give 
 more  clear  Hght  and  knowledge  by  the  bare  distinct  stating  of  a  question, 
 than  others  by  talking  of  it  in  gross  whole  hours  together.  In  this,  they  who 
 «o  state  a  question  do  no  more  but  separate  and  disentangle  the  parts  of  it  one 
 from  another,  and  lay  them,  when  so  disentangled,  in  tlieir  due  order.  This 
 often,  without  any  more  ado,  resolves  the  doubt,  and  shows  the  mind  where 
 the  truth  lies.  The  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas  in  question,  when 
 they  are  once  separated  and  distinctly  considered,  is,  in  many  cases,  presently 
 perceived,  and  thereby  clear  and  lasting  knowledge  gained;  whereas  things 
 in  gross  taken  up  together,  and  so  lying  togetlier  in  confusion,  can  produce  in 
 >  the  mind  but  a  confused,  which  in  effect  is  no,  knowledge ;  or  at  least,  when 
 it  comes  to  be  examined  and  made  use  of,  will  prove  little  better  than  none. 
 I  therefore  take  the  liberty  to  repeat  here  again  what  I  have  said  elsewhere, 
 that  in  learning  any  thing  as  little  should  be  proposed  to  the  mind  at'Once  as 
 is  possible ;  and,  that  being  understood  and  fully  mastered,  to  proceed  to  the 
 next  adjoining  part  yet  unknown,  simple,  unperplexed  proposition  belonging 
 to  the  matter  in  hand,  and  tending  to  the  clearing  what  is  principally  designed. 
 
 Sect.  40.  Analogy. — Analogy  is  of  great  use  to  the  mind  in  many  cases, 
 especially  in  natural  philosophy ;  and  that  part  of  it  chiefly  which  consists  in 
 happy  and  successful  experiments.  But  here  we  must  take  care  that  we 
 keep  ourselves  within  that  wherein  the  analogy  consists.  For  example,  the 
 acid  oil  of  vitriol  is  found  to  be  good  in  such  a  case,  therefore  the  spirit  of 
 nitre  or  vinegar  may  be  used  in  the  like  case.  If  the  good  effect  of  it  be 
 owing  wholly  to  the  acidity  of  it,  the  trial  may  be  justified  ;  but  if  there  be 
 something  else  besides  the  acidity  in  the  oil  of  vitriol  which  produces  the 
 good  we  desire  in  the  case,  we  mistake  that  for  analogy  wiiich  is  not,  and 
 suffer  our  understanding  to  be  misguided  by  a  wrong  supposition  of  analogy 
 where  there  is  none. 
 
 Skct.  41.  Association. — Though  I  have,  in  the  second  book  of  my  Essay 
 concerning  Human  Understanding,  treated  of  the  association  of  ideas  ;  yet 
 liaving  done  it  there  historically,  as  giving  a  view  of  the  understanding  in  this 
 as  well  as  its  several  other  ways  of  operating,  rather  than  designing  there  to 
 inquire  into  the  remedies  that  ought  to  be  applied  to  it;  it  will,  under  this 
 latter  consideration,  afl^ord  other  matter  of  thought  to  those  who  have  a  mind 
 to  instruct  themselves  thoroughly  in  the  right  way  of  conducting  their  under- 
 standings ;  and  that  the  rather,  because  this,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  as  frequent 
 a  cause  of  mistake  and  error  in  uS  as  perhaps  any  thing  else  that  can  be 
 named,  and  is  a  disease  of  the  mind  as  hard  to  be  cured  as  any ;  it  being  a 
 very  hard  thing  to  convince  any  one  that  things  are  not  so,  and  naturally  so, 
 as  they  constantly  appear  to  him. 
 
 By  this  one  easy  and  unheeded  miscarriage  of  the  understanding  sandy  and 
 loose  foundations  become  infallible  principles,  and  will  not  suffer  themselves 
 to  be  touched  or  questioned  :  such  unnatural  connexions  become  by  custom  as 
 natural  to  the  mind  as  sun  and  light,  fire  and  warmth  go  together,  and  so 
 seem  to  carry  with  them  a.-;  natural  an  evidence  as  self-evident  truths  them- 
 
518  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.         Sect.  41. 
 
 selves.  And  where  then  sliall  one  witli  hopes  of  success  begin  the  cure  1 
 Many  men  firmly  embrace  falfichood  fur  tnitli,  not  only  because  they  never 
 thought  otherwise,  but  also  because,  thus  blinded  as  they  have  been  from  the 
 beginning,  they  never  could  think  otherwise,  at  least  without  a  vigour  of  mind 
 able  to  contest  the  empire  of  habit,  and  look  into  its  own  principles  ;  a  free- 
 dom which  few  men  have  the  notion  of  in  themselves,  and  fewer  are  allowed 
 the  practice  of  by  others ;  it  being  the  great  art  and  business  of  the  teachers 
 and  guides  in  most  sects  to  suppress,  as  much  as  they  can,  this  fundamental 
 duty  which  every  man  owes  himself,  and  is  the  first  steady  step  towards  right 
 and  truth  in  the  whole  train  of  his  actions  and  opinions.  This  would  give 
 one  reason  to  suspect  that  such  teachers  are  conscious  to  themselves  of  the 
 falsehood  or  weakness  of  the  tenets  they  profess,  since  they  will  not  suffer 
 the  grounds  whereon  they  are  built  to  be  examined;  whereas  those  who  seek 
 truth  only,  and  desire  to  own  and  propagate  nothing  else,  freely  expose  their 
 principles  to  the  test:  are  pleased  to  have  them  examined;  give  men  leave  to 
 reject  them  if  they  can  ;  and  if  there  be  any  thing  weak  and  unsound  in  them, 
 are  willing  to  have  it  detected,  that  they  themselves,  as  well  as  others,  may 
 not  lay  any  stress  upon  any  received  proposition  beyond  what  the  evidence  of 
 its  truths  will  warrant  and  allow. 
 
 There  is,  I  know,  a  great  fault  among  all  sorts  of  people  of  principling 
 their  children  and  scholars,  which  at  last,  when  looked  into,  amounts  to  no 
 more  but  making  them  imbibe  their  teacher's  notions  and  tenets  by  an  implicit 
 faith,  and  firmly  to  adhere  to  them  whether  true  or  false.  What  colours  may 
 be  given  to  this,  or  of  what  use  it  may  be  when  practised  upon  the  vulgar, 
 destined  to  labour,  and  given  up  to  the  service  of  their  bellies,  I  will  not  here 
 inquire.  But  as  to  the  ingenuous  part  of  mankind,  whose  condition  allows 
 them  leisure,  and  letters,  and  inquiry  after  truth,  I  can  sec  no  other  right  way 
 of  principling  them  but  to  take  heed,  as  much  as  may  be,  that  in  their  tender 
 years  ideas  that  have  no  natural  cohesion  come  not  to  be  united  in  their  heads ; 
 and  that  this  rule  be  often  inculcated  to  them  to  be  their  guide  in  the  whole 
 course  of  their  lives  and  studies,  viz.  that  they  never  suffer  any  ideas  to  be  join- 
 ed in  their  understandings  in  any  other  or  stronger  combination  than  what  their 
 own  nature  and  correspondence  give  them,  and  tliat  they  often  examine  those 
 that  they  find  linked  together  in  their  minds,  whether  this  association  of  ideas 
 be  from  the  visible  agreement  that  is  in  the  ideas  themselves,  or  from  the  ha- 
 bitual and  prevailing  custom  of  the  mindjoining  them  thus  together  in  thinking. 
 
 This  IS  for  caution  against  this  evil,  before  it  bo  thoroughly  rivetted  by  cus- 
 tom in  the  understanding;  but  he  that  would  cure  it  when  habit  has  estab- 
 lished it,  must  nicely  observe  the  very  quick  and  almost  imperceptible  motions 
 of  the  mind  in  its  habitual  actions.  What  I  have  said  in  another  place  about 
 the  change  of  the  ideas  of  sense  into  those  of  judgment,  may  be  proof  of  this. 
 Let  any  one  not  skilled  in  painting  be  tokl,  when  he  sees  bottles,  and  tobacco- 
 ])ipes,  and  other  things  so  painted  as  they  are  in  some  places  shown,  that  he 
 does  not  see  protuberances,  and  you  will  not  convince  him  but  by  the  touch: 
 he  will  not  believe  tliat,  by  an  instantaneous  legerdemain  of  his  own  thoughts, 
 one  idea  is  substituted  for  another.  How  frequent  instances  may  one  meet 
 with  of  this  in  tlie  arguings  of  the  learned,  who  not  seldom,  in  two  ideas  that 
 they  have  been  accustomed  to  join  in  their  minds,  substitute  one  for  the  other  ; 
 and,  I  am  apt  to  think,  oilon  without  perceiving  it  themselves  !  This,  whilst 
 they  are  under  the  deceit  of  it,  makes  them  incapable  of  conviction,  and  they 
 applaud  themselves  as  zealous  champions  for  truth,  when,  indeed,  they  are 
 contending  for  error.  And  the  confusion  of  two  difix!rent  ideas,  which  a  cus- 
 tomary connexion  of  them  in  their  minds  hath  made  to  them  almost  one,  fills 
 their  head  with  false  views,  and  their  reasonings  with  false  consequences. 
 
 Sect.  42.  Fallacies. — Right  understanding  consists  in  the  discovery  and 
 adherence  to  truth,  and  that  in  the  perception  of  the  visible  or  probable  agree- 
 ment or  disagreement  of  ideas,  as  they  are  affirmed  and  denied  one  of  another. 
 J^'rom  whence  it  is  evident,  that  the  right  use  and  conduct  of  the  understand- 
 ing, whose  business  is  purely  truth  and  nothing  else,  is,  that  the  mind  should 
 
Sect.  4-i.  FALLACIES.  519 
 
 be  kept  in  a  perfect  indifferency,  not  inclining  to  eitlier  side,  any  farther  than 
 evidence  settles  it  by  knowledge,  or  the  over-balance  of  probability  gives  it 
 the  turn  of  assent  and  belief;  but  yet  it  is  very  hard  to  meet  with  any  discourse 
 wherein  one  may  not  perceive  the  author  not  only  maintain  (for  that  is  rea- 
 sonable and  fit)  but  inclined  and  biassed  to  one  side  of  the  question,  with 
 marks  of  a  desire  that  that  sliould  be  true.  If  it  be  asked  me,  how  authors 
 who  have  such  a  bias  and  lean  to  it  may  be  discovered !  I  answer,  by  ob- 
 serving how  in  their  writings  or  arguings  they  are  often  led  by  their  inclina- 
 tions to  change  the  ideas  of  the  question,  either  by  changing  the  terms,  or  by 
 adding  and  joining  others  to  them,  whereby  the  ideas  under  consideration  are 
 so  varied  as  to  be  more  serviceable  to  their  purpose,  and  to  be  thereby  brought 
 to  an  easier  and  nearer  agreement,  or  more  visible  and  remoter  disagreement 
 one  with  another.  This  is  plain  and  direct  sophistry ;  but  I  am  far  from 
 thinking  that  wherever  it  is  found  it  is  made  use  of  with  design  to  deceive 
 and  mislead  the  readers.  It  is  visible  that  men's  prejudices  and  inclinations 
 by  this  way  impose  often  upon  themselves;  and  their  affection  for  truth,  under 
 their  prepossession  in  favour  of  one  side,  is  the  very  thing  that  leads  them  from 
 it.  Inclination  suggests  and  slides  into  their  discourse  favourable  terms, 
 which  introduce  favourable  ideas  ;  till  at  last,  by  this  means,  that  is  concluded 
 clear  and  evident,  thus  dressed  up,  which,  taken  in  its  native  state,  by  making 
 use  of  none  but  the  precise  determined  ideas,  would  find  no  admittance  at  all. 
 The  putting  these  glosses  on  what  they  affirm ;  these,  as  they  are  thought, 
 handsome,  easy,  and  graceful  explications  of  what  they  are  discoursing  on,  is 
 BO  much  the  character  of  what  is  called  and  esteemed  writing  well,  that  it  is 
 very  hard  to  think  that  authors  will  ever  be  persuaded  to  leave  what  serves  so 
 well  to  propagate  their  opinions,  and  procure  themselves  credit  in  the  world, 
 for  a  more  jejune  and  dry  way  of  writing,  by  keeping  to  the  same  terms  pre- 
 cisely annexed  to  the  same  ideas ;  a  sour  and  blunt  stiffness,  tolerable  in 
 mathematicians  only,  who  force  their  way,  and  make  truth  prevail  by  irre- 
 sistible demonstration. 
 
 But  yet  if  authors  cannot  be  prevailed  with  to  quit  the  looser,  though  more 
 insinuating  ways  of  writing;  if  they  will  not  think  fit  to  keep  close  to  truth 
 and  instruction  by  unvaried  terms,  and  plain  unsophisticated  arguments ;  yet 
 it  concerns  readers  not  to  be  imposed  on  by  fallacies,  and  the  prevailing  ways 
 of  insinuation.  To  do  this,  the  surest  and  most  effectual  remedy  is  to  fix  in 
 the  mind  the  clear  and  distinct  ideas  of  the  question  stripped  of  words  ;  and 
 so  likewise  in  the  train  of  argumentation,  to  take  up  the  author's  ideas,  ne- 
 glecting his  words,  observing  how  they  connect  or  separate  those  in  the 
 question.  He  that  does  this  will  be  able  to  cast  off  all  that  is  superfluous  ;  he 
 will  see  what  is  pertinent,  what  coherent,  what  is  direct  to,  what  slides  by 
 the  question.  This  will  readily  show  him  all  the  foreign  ideas  in  the  discourse, 
 and  where  they  were  brought  in ;  and  though  they  perhaps  dazzled  the  writer, 
 yet  he  will  perceive  that  they  give  no  light  nor  strength  to  his  reasonings. 
 
 This  though  it  be  the  shortest  and  easiest  way  of  reading  books  with  profit, 
 and  keeping  one's  self  from  being  misled  by  great  names  or  plausible  dis- 
 courses ;  yet  it  being  hard  and  tedious  to  those  who  have  not  accustomed 
 themselves  to  it,  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  every  one  (among  those  few 
 who  really  pursue  truth)  shoidd  this  way  guard  his  understanding  from  being 
 imposed  on  by  the  wilful,  or  at  least  undesigned  sophistry,  which  creeps  into 
 most  of  the  books  of  argument.  Tliey,  that  write  against  their  conviction,  or 
 that,  next  to  them,  are  resolved  to  maintain  the  tenets  of  a  party  they  are 
 engaged  in,  cannot  be  supposed  to  reject  any  arms  that  may  help  to  defend 
 their  cause,  and  therefore  such  should  be  read  with  the  greatest  caution. 
 And  they  who  write  for  opinions  they  are  sincerely  persuaded  of,  and  believe 
 to  be  true,  think  they  may  so  far  allow  themselves  to  indulge  their  laudable 
 affection  to  truth,  as  to  permit  their  esteem  of  it  to  give  it  the  best  colours, 
 and  set  it  off  with  the  best  expressions  and  dress  they  can,  thereby  to  gain  it 
 the  easiest  entrance  into  the  minds  of  their  readers,  and  fix  it  deepest  there. 
 
 One  of  those  being  the  state  of  mind  we  may  justly  suppose  most  writers  to 
 be  in,  it  is  fit  their  readers,  who  apply  to  them  for  instruction,  should  not  lay 
 
520  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  42, 
 
 by  that  caution  wliicli  becomes  a  sincere  pursuit  of  truth,  and  sliould  make 
 them  always  watciiful  against  whatever  migiit  conceal  or  niisrci)rcsent  it.  It 
 they  have  not  the  skill  of  representing  to  themselves  the  author's  sense  by 
 pure  ideas  separated  from  sounds,  and  thereby  divested  of  the  false  lights  and 
 deceitful  ornaments  of  speech ;  this  yet  they  should  do,  they  should  keep  the 
 precise  question  steadily  in  their  minds,  carry  it  along  with  tiiem  through  the 
 whole  discourse,  and  suffer  not  the  least  alteration  in  the  terms,  either  by  ad- 
 dition, subtraction,  or  substituting  any  other.  This  every  one  can  do  who 
 has  a  mind  to  it ;  and  he  that  has  not  a  mind  to  it,  it  is  plain,  makes  his  under- 
 standing only  the  warehouse  of  other  men's  lumber;  I  mean  false  and  uncon- 
 cluding  reasonings,  rather  than  a  repository  of  truth  for  his  own  use ;  which 
 will  prove  substantial,  and  stand  him  in  stead,  when  he  has  occasion  for  it. 
 And  whether  such  an  one  deals  fairly  by  his  own  mmd,  and  conducts  his  own 
 understanding  right,  I  leave  to  his  own  understanding  to  judge. 
 
 Sect.  43.  Fundamental  verities. — The  mind  of  man  being  very  narrow, 
 and  so  slow  in  making  acquaintance  with  things,  and  taking  in  new  truths, 
 that  no  one  man  is  capable,  in  a  much  longer  life  than  ours,  to  know  all  truths ; 
 it  becomes  our  prudence,  in  our  search  after  knowledge,  to  employ  our 
 thoughts  about  fundamental  and  material  questions,  carefully  avoiding  those 
 that  are  trifling,  and  not  suffering  ourselves  to  be  diverted  from  our  main  even 
 purpose,  by  those  that  are  merely  incidental.  How  much  of  many  young 
 men's  time  is  thrown  away  in  purely  logical  inquiries,  I  need  not  mention. 
 This  is  no  better  than  if  a  man,  who  was  to  be  a  painter,  should  spend  all  his 
 time  in  examining  the  threads  of  the  several  cloths  he  is  to  paint  upon,  and 
 counting  the  hairs  of  each  pencil  and  brush  he  intends  to  use  in  the  laying  on 
 of  his  colours.  Nay,  it  is  much  worse  than  for  a  young  painter  to  spend  his 
 apprenticeship  in  such  useless  niceties;  for  he,  at  the  end  of  all  his  pains  to 
 no  purpose,  finds  that  it  is  not  painting,  nor  any  help  to  it,  and  so  is  really  to 
 no  purpose :  whereas  men  designed  for  scholars  have  often  their  heads  so  filled 
 and  warmed  with  disputes  on  logical  questions,  that  they  take  those  airy 
 useless  notions  for  real  and  substantial  knowledge,  and  think  their  under- 
 standings so  well  furnished  with  science,  that  they  need  not  look  any  farther 
 into  the  nature  of  things,  or  descend  to  the  mechanical  drudgery  of  experi- 
 ment and  inquiry.  This  is  so  obvious  a  mismanagement  of  the  understanding, 
 and  that  in  the  professed  way  to  knowledge,  that  it  could  not  be  passed  by ; 
 to  which  might  be  joined  abundance  of  questions,  and  the  way  of  handling  of 
 them  in  the  schools.  What  faults  in  particular  of  this  kind  every  man  is,  or 
 may  be  guilty  of,  would  be  infinite  to  enumerate ;  it  suffices  to  have  shown 
 that  superficial  and  slight  discoveries  and  observations  that  contain  nothing  of 
 moment  in  themselves,  nor  serve  as  clues  to  lead  us  into  farther  knowledge, 
 should  not  be  thought  worth  our  searching  after. 
 
 There  are  fundamental  truths  that  lie  at  the  bottom,  the  basis  upon  which 
 a  great  many  others  rest,  and  in  which  they  have  their  consistency.  These 
 are  teeming  truths,  rich  in  store,  with  which  they  furnish  the  mind,  and,  like 
 the  lights  of  heaven,  are  not  only  beautiful  and  entertaining  in  themselves, 
 but  give  light  and  evidence  to  other  things,  that  without  them  could  not  be 
 seen  or  known.  Such  is  that  admirable  discovery  of  Mr  Newton,  that  all 
 bodies  gravitate  to  one  another,  which  may  be  counted  as  the  basis  of  natural 
 philosophy ;  which  of  what  use  it  is  to  the  understanding  of  the  great  frame  of 
 our  solar  system,  he  has  to  the  astonishment  of  the  learned  world  shown ;  and 
 how  much  farther  it  would  guide  us  in  other  things  if  rightly  pursued,  is  not 
 yet  known.  Our  Saviour's  great  rule,  that  "  we  should  love  our  neighbour 
 as  ourselves,"  is  such  a  fundamental  truth  for  the  regulating  human  society, 
 that,  I  think,  by  that  alone,  one  might  without  difficulty  determine  all  the  cases 
 and  doubts  in  social  morality.  These  and  such  as  these  are  the  truths  we 
 should  endeavour  to  find  out,  and  store  our  minds  with.  Which  leads  me  to 
 another  thing  in  the  conduct  of  the  understanding  that  is  no  less  necessary,  viz. 
 
 Sect.  41.  Bottoining. — To  accustom  ourselves,  in  any  question  proposed, 
 to  examine  and  find  out  upon  what  it  bottoms.  Most  of  the  difficulties  that 
 come  in  our  way,  v.hen  well  considered  and  traced,  lead  us  to  some  proposi- 
 
Sect.  44.  BOTTOMING.  521 
 
 tion,  which,  known  to  be  true,  clears  the  doubt,  and  gives  an  easy  solution 
 of  the  question  ;  wliilst  topical  and  superficial  arguments,  of  which  there  is 
 store  to  be  found  on  both  sides,  filling  the  head  with  variety  of  thoughts,  and 
 the  mouth  with  copious  discourse,  serve  only  to  amuse  the  understanding, 
 and  entertain  company,  without  coming  to  the  bottom  of  the  question,  the 
 only  place  of  rest  and  stability  for  an  inquisitive  mind,  wliose  tendency  is 
 only  to  truth  and  knowledge.  For  example,  if  it  be  demanded,  whether  the 
 grand  seignor  can  lawfully  take  what  he  will  from  any  of  his  people }  This 
 question  cannot  be  resolved  without  coming  to  a  certainty,  whether  all  men 
 are  naturally  equal ;  for  upon  that  it  turns  ;  and  tliat  truth  well  settled  in  the 
 understanding,  and  carried  in  the  mind  through  the  various  debates  concern- 
 ing the  various  rights  of  men  in  society,  will  go  a  great  way  in  putting  an  end 
 to  them,  and  showing  on  which  side  the  truth  is. 
 
 Sect.  ^b.  Transfer  ring  of  thoughts. — There  is  scarce  any  thing  more  for 
 the  improvement  of  knowledge,  for  the  ease  of  life,  and  the  despatch  of  busi- 
 ness, than  for  a  man  to  be  able  to  dispose  of  his  own  thoughts ;  and  there  is 
 scarce  any  thing  harder  in  liie  whole  conduct  of  the  understanding  than  to 
 get  a  full  mastery  over  it.  The  mind,  in  a  waking  man,  has  always  some 
 object  that  it  applies  itself  to;  which,  wlien  we  are  lazy  or  unconcerned,  we 
 can  easily  change,  and  at  pleasure  transfer  our  thoughts  to  another,  and  from 
 thence  to  a  third,  which  has  no  relation  to  either  of  the  former.  Hence  men 
 forwardly  conclude,  and  frequently  say,  nothing  is  so  free  as  thought,  and  it 
 were  well  it  were  so ;  but  the  contrary  will  be  found  true  in  several  instances  ; 
 and  there  are  many  cases  wherein  there  is  nothing  more  resty  and  ungovern- 
 able than  our  thoughts :  they  will  not  be  directed  what  objects  to  pursue,  nor 
 be  taken  off  from  those  tliey  have  once  fixed  on  ;  but  run  away  with  a  man 
 in  pursuit  of  those  ideas  they  have  in  view,  let  him  do  what  he  can. 
 
 I  will  not  here  mention  again  what  I  have  above  taken  notice  of,  how  hard 
 it  is  to  get  the  mind,  narrowed  by  a  custom  of  thirty  or  forty  years'  standing 
 to  a  scanty  collection  of  obvious  and  common  ideas,  to  enlarge  itself  to  a 
 more  copious  stock,  and  grow  into  an  acquaintance  with  those  that  would 
 affbrd  more  abundant  matter  of  useful  contemplation;  it  is  not  of  this  I  am 
 here  speaking.  The  inconveniency  I  would  here  represent,  and  find  a  remedy 
 for,  is  the  difficulty  there  is  sometimes  to  transfer  our  minds  from  one  subject 
 to  another  in  cases  where  the  ideas  are  equally  familiar  to  us. 
 
 Matters,  that  are  recommended  to  our  thoughts  by  any  of  our  passions, 
 take  possession  of  our  minds  with  a  kind  of  authority,  and  will  not  be  kept 
 out  or  dislodged ;  but,  as  if  the  passion  that  rules  were,  for  the  time,  the  she- 
 riff of  the  place,  and  came  with  all  the  posse,  the  understanding  is  seized  and 
 taken  with  the  object  it  introduces,  as  if  it  had  a  legal  right  to  be  alone  con- 
 sidered there.  There  is  scarce  any  body,  I  think,  of  so  calm  a  temper  who 
 hath  not  some  time  found  this  tyranny  on  his  understanding,  and  suifered  un- 
 der the  inconvenience  of  it.  Who  is  there  almost,  whose  mind,  at  come  time 
 or  other,  love  or  anger,  fear  or  grief,  has  not  so  fastened  to  some  clog,  that  it 
 could  not  tiu'n  itself  to  any  other  object  ?  I  call  it  a  clog,  for  it  hangs  upon  the 
 mind  so  as  to  hinder  its  vigour  and  activity  in  the  pursuit  of  other  contempla- 
 tions; and  advances  itself  little  or  not  at  all  in  the  knowledge  of  the  thing  which 
 it  so  closely  hugs  and  constantly  pores  on.  Men  thus  possessed  are  sometimes 
 as  if  they  were  so  in  the  worst  sense,  and  lay  under  the  power  of  an  en- 
 chantment. They  see  not  what  passes  before  their  eyes ;  hear  not  the 
 audible  discourse  of  the  company ;  and  when  by  any  strong  application  to 
 them  they  are  roused  a  little,  they  are  like  men  brought  to  themselvfes  fi-om 
 some  remote  region ;  whereas  in  truth  they  come  no  farther  than  their  secret 
 cabinet  within,  where  they  have  been  wholly  taken  up  with  the  puppet,  which 
 is  for  that  time  appointed  for  their  entertainment.  The  shame  that  such 
 dumps  cause  to  well  bred  people,  when  it  carries  them  away  from  the  com- 
 pany, where  they  should  bear  a  part  in  the  conversation,  is  a  sufficient  argu- 
 ment that  it  is  a  fault  in  the  conduct  of  our  understanding^  not  to  have  that 
 power  over  it  as  to  make  use  of  it  to  those  purposes,  and  on  those  occasions, 
 3Q 
 
 { 
 
522  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  Sect.  45. 
 
 wherein  we  have  need  of  its  assistance.  The  mind  should  be  always  free 
 and  ready  to  turn  itself  to  the  variety  of  objects  that  occur,  and  allow  them  as 
 much  consideration  as  shall  for  that  time  be  thought  fit.  To  be  engrossed  go 
 by  one  object,  as  not  to  be  prevailed  on  to  leave  it  for  another  that  we  judge 
 fitter  for  our  contemplation,  is  to  make  it  of  no  use  to  us.  Did  this  state  of 
 mind  remain  always  so,  every  one  would,  without  scruple,  give  it  the  name 
 of  perfect  madness;  and  whilst  it  does  last,  at  whatever  intervals  it  returns, 
 Buch  a  rotation  of  thoughts  about  the  same  object  no  more  carries  us  forward 
 towards  the  attainment  of  knowledge,  than  getting  upon  a  mill  horse  whilst 
 he  jogs  on  in  his  circular  track  would  carry  a  man  a  journey. 
 
 I  grant  something  must  be  allowed  to  legitimate  passions,  and  to  natural 
 inclinations.  Every  man,  besides  occasional  affections,  has  beloved  studies, 
 and  those  the  mind  will  more  closely  stick  to;  but  yet  it  is  best  that  it  should 
 be  always  at  liberty,  and  under  the  free  disposal  of  the  man,  and  to  act  how 
 and  upon  what  he  directs.  This  we  should  endeavour  to  obtain,  unless  we 
 would  be  content  with  such  a  flaw  in  our  understanding,  that  sometimes  we 
 should  be  as  it  were  without  it ;  for  it  is  very  little  better  than  so  in  cases 
 where  we  cannot  make  use  of  it  to  those  purposes  we  would,  and  which  stand 
 in  present  need  of  it.  But  before  fit  remedies  can  be  thought  on  for  this  dis- 
 ease, we  must  know  the  several  causes  of  it,  and  thereby  regulate  the  cure, 
 if  we  will  hope  to  labour  with  success. 
 
 One  we  have  already  instanced  in,  whereof  all  men  that  reflect  have  so 
 general  a  knowledge,  and  so  often  an  experience  in  themselves,  that  nobody 
 doubts  of  it.  A  prevailing  passion  so  pins  down  our  thoughts  to  the  ob- 
 ject and  concern  of  it,  that  a  man  passionately  in  love  cannot  bring  himself 
 to  think  of  his  ordinary  affairs,  or  a  kind  mother  drooping  under  the  loss  of  a 
 child,  is  not  able  to  bear  a  part  as  she  was  wont  in  the  discourse  of  the  com- 
 pany, or  conversation  of  her  friends.  But  though  passion  be  the  most  obvious 
 and  general,  yet  it  is  not  the  only  cause  that  binds  up  the  understanding,  and 
 confines  it  for  the  time  to  one  object,  from  which  it  will  not  be  taken  off. 
 
 Besides  this,  we  may  often  find  that  the  understanding,  when  it  has  awhile 
 employed  itself  upon  a  subject  which  either  chance,  or  some  slight  accident, 
 offered  to  it,  without  the  interest  or  recommendation  of  any  passion,  works 
 itself  into  a  warmth,  and  by  degrees  gets  into  a  career,  wherein,  like  a  bowl 
 down  a  hill,  it  increases  its  motion  by  going,  and  will  not  be  stopped  or  diverted ; 
 though,  when  the  heat  is  over,  it  sees  all  this  earnest  application  was  about 
 a  trifle  not  worth  a  thought,  and  all  the  pains  employed  about  it  lost  labour. 
 
 There  is  a  third  sort,  if  I  mistake  not,  yet  lower  than  this  ;  it  is  a  sort  of 
 childishness,  if  I  may  so  say,  of  the  understanding,  wherein,  during  the  fit,  it 
 plays  with  and  dandles  some  insignificant  puppet  to  no  end,  nor  with  any  de- 
 sign at  all,  and  yet  cannot  be  easily  got  off"  from  it.  Thus  some  trivial  sen- 
 tence, or  a  scrap  of  poetry,  will  sometimes  get  into  men's  heads,  and  make 
 such  a  chiming  there,  that  there  is  no  stilling  of  it ;  no  peace  to  be  obtained, 
 nor  attention  to  any  thing  else,  but  this  impertinent  guest  will  take  up  the 
 mind  and  possess  the  thoughts  in  spite  of  all  endeavours  to  get  rid  of  it. 
 Whether  every  one  hath  experimented  in  themselves  this  troublesome  in- 
 trusion of  some  firisking  ideas  which  thus  importune  the  understanding,  and 
 hinder  it  from  being  better  employed,  I  know  not.  But  persons  of  very  good 
 parts,  and  those  more  than  one,  I  have  heard  speak  and  complain  of  it  them- 
 selves. The  reason  I  have  to  make  this  doubt,  is  from  what  I  have  known 
 in  a  case  something  of  kin  to  this,  though  much  odder,  and  that  is  of  a  sort 
 of  visions  that  some  people  have  lying  quiet,  but  perfectly  awake,  in  the  dark, 
 or  with  their  eyes  shut.  It  is  a  great  variety  of  faces,,  most  commonly  very 
 odd  ones,  that  appear  to  them  in  a  train  one  after  another;  so  that  having 
 had  just  the  sight  of  the  one,  it  immediately  passes  away  to  give  place  to  an- 
 other, that  the  same  instant  succeeds,  and  has  as  quick  an  exit  as  its  leader; 
 and  so  they  march  on  in  a  constant  succession  ;  nor  can  any  one  of  tliem  by. 
 any  endeavour  be  stopped  or  retained  beyond  the  instant  of  its  appearance, 
 but  is  thrust  out  by  its  follower,  which  will  have  its  turn.     Concerning  thia 
 
Sect.  45.  TRANSFERRING  OF  THOUGHTS.  523 
 
 fantastical  phenomenon  I  have  talked  with  several  people,  whereof  some  have 
 been  perfectly  acquainted  with  it,  and  others  have  been  so  wholly  strangers 
 to  it,  that  they  could  hardly  be  brought  to  conceive  or  believe  it.  I  knew  a 
 lady  of  excellent  parts,  who  had  got  past  thirty  without  having  ever  bad  the 
 least  notice  of  any  such  thing ;  she  was  so  great  a  stranger  to  it,  that  when  she 
 heard  me  and  another  talking  of  it,  could  scarce  forbear  thinking  we  bantered 
 her ;  but  some  time  after  drinking  a  large  dose  of  dilute  tea,  (as  she  was  or- 
 dered by  a  physician)  going  to  bed,  she  told  us  at  next  meeting,  that  she  had 
 now  experimented  what  our  discourse  had  much  ado  to  persuade  her  of.  She 
 had  seen  a  great  variety  of  faces  in  a  long  train,  succeeding  one  another,  as 
 we  had  described ;  they  were  all  strangers  and  intruders,  such  as  she  had  no 
 acquaintance  with  before,  nor  sought  after  then  ;  and  as  they  came  of  them- 
 selves they  went  too  ;  none  of  them  stayed  a  moment,  nor  could  be  detained  - 
 by  all  the  endeavours  she  could  „use,  but  went  on  in  their  solemn  procession, 
 just  appeared  and  then  vanished.  This  odd  phenomenon  seems  to  have  a 
 mechanical  cause,  and  to  depend  upon  the  matter  and  motion  of  the  blood  or 
 animal  spirits.  When  the  fancy  is  bound  by  passion,  I  know  no  way  to  set 
 the  mind  free,  and  at  liberty  to  prosecute  what  thoughts  the  man  would  make 
 choice  of,  but  to  allay  the  present  passion,  or  counterbalance  it  with  another ; 
 which  is  an  art  to  be  got  by  study,  and  acquaintance  with  the  passions. 
 
 Those  who  find  themselves  apt  to  be  carried  away  with  the  spontaneous 
 current  of  their  own  thoughts,  not  excited  by  any  passion  or  interest,  must 
 be  very  wary  and  careful  in  all  the  instances  of  it  to  stop  it,  and  never 
 humour  their  minds  in  being  thus  triflingly  busy.  Men  know  the  value  of 
 their  corporeal  Uberty,  and  therefore  suffer  not  willingly  fetters  and  chains  to 
 be  put  upon  them.  To  have  the  mind  captivated  is,  for  the  time,  certainly 
 the  greater  evil  of  the  two,  and  deserves  our  utmost  care  and  endeavours  to 
 preserve  the  freedom  of  our  better  part.  Iji  this  case  our  pains  will  not  be 
 lost ;  striving  and  struggling  will  prevail,  if  we  constantly,  on  all  such  occa- 
 sions, make  use  of  it.  We  must  never  indulge  these  trivial  attentions  of 
 thought ;  as  soon  as  we  find  the  mind  makes  itself  a  business  of  nothing,  we 
 should  immediately  disturb  and  check  it,  introduce  new  and  more  serious  con- 
 siderations, and  not  leave  till  we  have  beaten  it  off  from  the  pursuit  it  was 
 upon.  This,  at  first,  if  we  have  let  the  contrary  practice  grow  to  a  habit, 
 will  perhaps  be  difficult ;  but  constant  endeavours  will  by  degrees  prevail,  and 
 at  last  make  it  easy.  And  when  a  man  is  pretty  well  advanced,  and  can 
 command  his  mind  off  at  pleasure  from  incidental  and  luidesigned  pursuits,  it 
 may  not  be  amiss  for  him  to  go  on  farther,  and  make  attempts  upon  medita- 
 tions of  greater  moment,  that  at  the  last  he  may  have  the  full  power  over  hia 
 own  mind,  and  be  so  fully  master  of  his  own  thoughts,  as  to  be  able,  to  trans- 
 fer them  from  one  subject  to  another,  with  the  same  ease  that  he  can  lay  by 
 any  thing  he  has  in  his  hand,  and  take  something  else  that  he  has  a  mind  to  in 
 the  room  of  it.  This  liberty  of  mind  is  of  great  use  both  in  business  and 
 study,  and  he  that  has  got  it  will  have  no  small  advantage  of  ease  and  des- 
 patch in  all  that  is  the  chosen  and  useful  employment  of  his  understanding.  - 
 
 The  third  and  last  way  which  I  mentioned  the  mind  to  be  sometimes  taken 
 up  with,  I  mean  the  chiming  of  some  particular  words  or  sentence  in  the  me- 
 mory, and,  as  it  were,  making  a  noise  in  the  head,  and  the  like,  seldom  hap- 
 pens but  when  the  mind  is  lazy,  or  very  loosely  or  negligently  employed.  It 
 were  better  indeed  to  be  without  such  impertinent  and  useless  repetitions : 
 any  obvious  idea,  when  it  is  roving  carelessly  at  a  venture,  being  of  more 
 use,  and  apter  to  suggest  something  worth  consideration,  than  the  insignifi- 
 cant buzz  of  purely  empty  sounds.  But  since  the  rousing  of  the  mind,  and 
 setting  the  understanding  on  work  with  some  degrees  of  vigour,  does  for  the 
 most  part  presently  set  it  free  from  these  idle  companions ;  it  may  not  be 
 amiss,  whenever  we  find  ourselves  troubled  with  them,  to  make  use  of  so 
 profitable  a  remedy  that  is  always  at  hand. 
 
 { 
 
INDEX 
 
 ESSAY  ON  THE  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 Anticipation,  or  first  conceived  opinions, 
 hinder  knowledge,  507. 
 
 Assent,  how  it  may  be  rightly  given, 
 51 '2. 
 
 Association  of  ideas,  a  disease  of  the  un- 
 derstanding, 517,  &c. 
 
 — — how  to  prevent  and  cure  it,  ih. 
 
 Bottom  of  a  question  sliuuld  be  sought 
 for,  520. 
 
 Despondency  of  attaining  knowledge,  a 
 ■gi-eat  hinderance  to  the  mind,  516. 
 
 Desultoriness  often  misleads  tlie  under- 
 standing, 500. 
 
 Distinction,  how  it  differs  from  division, 
 510. 
 
 how  the  understanding  is  im- 
 proved by  a  right  use  of  it,  ib. 
 
 Fallacies,  Viow  tlie  understanding  is  mis- 
 guided by  them,  518. 
 
 Fundamental  truths,  the  .mind  should 
 chiefly  apply  itself  to  them,  520. 
 
 Haste,  when  too  great,  often  misleads 
 the  understanding,  499. 
 
 Ignorance,  not  so  bad  as  groundless  as- 
 surance, 514. 
 
 how  it  should  be  removed,  ib. 
 
 Indifferency  for  all  truth  should  be  che- 
 rished, 496. 
 
 — — the  ill  consequences  of  the 
 
 ■want  of  it,  513. 
 
 Mathematics,  the  usefulness  of  studying 
 them,  493. 
 
 Observation,  very  useful  to  improve 
 knowledge,  498. 
 
 Opinion,  no  one  should  be  wished  to  be 
 true,  495. 
 
 Partiality  in  studies,  503. 
 
 it  misleads  the  understanding,  ib. 
 
 Parts,  or  abilities,  their  difference,  486. 
 
 -—  may  be  improved  by  a  due  conduct 
 of  tlie  understanding,  ib. 
 
 Perseverance  in  study  necessary  to  know- 
 ledge, 515.. 
 
 Practice,  or  exercise  of  the  mind,  should 
 not  be  beyond  its  strength,  508. 
 
 rractice,  the  understanding  is  improved 
 by  it,  489. 
 
 Prejudices,  every  one  should  find  out, 
 and  get  rid  of  his  own,  495. 
 
 Presumption,  a  great  hinderance  to  the 
 un(lerstanding,  515. 
 
 Principles,  when  a\  rong,  are  very  pre- 
 judicial, 490,  kc. 
 
 we  should  carefully  examine 
 
 our  own,  496. 
 the  usefulness  of  intermediate 
 
 principles,  502. 
 
 Question,  should   be   rightly  stated,  be- 
 fore arguments  are  used,  515. 
 
 Reading,  how  the  mind  should  be  con- 
 ducted in,  501. 
 
 Reasoning,  several  defects  therein  men- 
 tioned, 486,  &c. 
 
 how  it  should  be  improved,  488. 
 
 Religion,  it  concerns  all  mankind  to  un- 
 derstand it  rightly,  494. 
 
 Resignation,   or    flexibleness,    often  ob- 
 structs knowledge,  508. 
 
 Theology,  should  be  studied  by  all  men, 
 503. 
 
 Transferring  of  thoughts  not  easily  at- 
 tained, 521. 
 
 causes   of  the   difficulty  of 
 
 doing  it,  522. 
 Transferring,  how  this  difficulty  may  be 
 
 overcome,  523. 
 Understanding,  how  it  may  be  improved, 
 
 489. 
 man's  last  resort  to  it  for 
 
 conduct,  485. 
 
 to  be  improved  by  practice 
 
 and  habit,  489. 
 
 wherein  the  last  judgment 
 
 of  it  consists,  499,_  he. 
 Universality  of  knowledge,  how  it  should 
 
 be  pursued,  500. 
 Wandering,    we    should    endeavour    to 
 
 keep  our  minds  from  it,  510. 
 Words,   should   not  be   used  without  a 
 
 fixed  sense,  509. 
 
 524 
 
 THE  END. 
 
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