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 THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 JOHN LOCKE. 
 
 
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 PRINTED BY S. AND K. liENTLKY, 
 
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THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 H N LOCKE, 
 
 WITH EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 HIS CORRESPONDENCE, JOURNALS, 
 
 AND 
 
 COMMON-PLACE BOOKS. 
 
 BY LOUD KING. 
 
 UTERIS INNUTRITUS, EOUSQUE TANTUM PROFECI UT VERITATI UNICE LITAREM. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET 
 
 1829. 
 
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PREFACE. 
 
 After the death of Locke, his papers, correspondence, and 
 manuscripts, came into the possession of Sir Peter King, his near 
 relation and sole executor. They consist of the originals of many 
 of his printed works, and of some which were never published ; 
 of his very extensive correspondence with his friends, both in 
 England and abroad ; of a journal which he kept during his travels 
 in France and Holland ; of his common-place books ; and of many 
 miscellaneous papers ; all of which have been preserved in the 
 same scrutoir in which they had been deposited by their author, 
 and which was probably removed to this place in 1710. 
 
 The works of Locke are universally known, but the individual 
 himself is much less so ; I have therefore thought that a more 
 detailed account of his life would contribute to increase, if possible, 
 the fame of that truly great and good man. The friends of free- 
 dom will excuse the attempt from the veneration they feel for the 
 man, and for the cause which he defended ; they will be anxious 
 to know more of one who so much promoted the general improve- 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 ment of mankind ; and they will learn with pleasure that his 
 character was as pure and as exalted as his talents were great and 
 useful. 
 
 There are, however, others who would fain keep mankind in 
 a state of perpetual pupilage, who, carrying their favourite doctrine 
 of passive obedience into all our spiritual as well as temporal 
 concerns, would willingly deliver us over in absolute subjection, for 
 the one to the rulers of the Church, and for the other to the rulers 
 of the State. These men cannot be expected to entertain any 
 admiration for the champion of reason and truth, nor from them 
 can I hope for any approbation or favour in the present under- 
 taking. 
 
 It is impossible, after the lapse of one hundred and thirty years, 
 to portray with accuracy those minute features of character which 
 make biography often so interesting when sketched by the hand 
 of contemporaries and friends. The most authentic account of 
 Locke, which has hitherto been published, is to be found in the 
 " Bibliotheque Choisie" of 1716, written by Le Clerc, about twelve 
 years after the death of his friend. In the present attempt, the 
 order of events, and in part also the narrative of Le Clerc, has 
 been followed ; and I have endeavoured from the letters and me- 
 morials which still remain, to make Mr. Locke, as far as possible, 
 his own biographer. 
 
 It is necessary to observe, respecting the arrangement of the 
 materials, that in general the letters are inserted according to their 
 dates, but keeping each correspondence separate ; the journal is 
 introduced at that period of the author's life when it was written ; 
 it exists in the form of small separate volumes for each year, from 
 
PREFACE. VIl 
 
 1675 to 1688, and appears to have served the double purpose of 
 a Journal and Common-place book, during his residence abroad ; 
 containing many dissertations evidently written at the moment 
 when the thoughts occurred. The reader will find the two first 
 of these in their original place in the Journal, but as the article 
 on Study was extended to a great length, broken into many parts, 
 and not brought to a conclusion without several interruptions, I 
 thought it better to collect the whole together, and to place that, 
 as well as all the remaining dissertations and opinions, at the 
 end of the Journal. 
 
 The extracts from the Common-place Books ; the Miscellaneous 
 Papers ; a small part, as a specimen, of an unpublished work in 
 defence of Nonconformity, and an epitome of his Essay on Human 
 Understanding, drawn up by Locke himself, will be found at the 
 end of the Life. Without presuming to express any opinion of 
 the merits of these writings, I may be excused for saying, that the 
 excellent and highly-finished article Error, in the Common-place 
 Book, and that on Study in the Journal, are both worthy of Mr. 
 Locke. 
 
 It appears from the character of the hand-writing in Mr, 
 Locke's original sketches, that after having well considered his 
 subject, he was able at once, without the least hesitation, to draw 
 upon his own ample resources, and striking out his work, as it were, 
 at a heat, to write down his thoughts, currente calamo, without 
 difficulty, hesitation, or impediment. Perhaps this decision of 
 the author, proceeding from his habit of previous reflection, and 
 from his devotion to the cause of truth, gives to his writings that 
 peculiar spirit which distinguishes them. His wojks, intended 
 
Viii PREFACE. 
 
 for publication, had of course the advantage of revision and cor- 
 rection ; but as many of the following were extemporaneous thoughts 
 committed hastily to paper and never afterwards corrected, the 
 reader will make allowance for any inaccuracies that he may find 
 in them. 
 
 Some persons may think that too many, and others that too 
 few of the letters have been published ; the great difficulty was 
 to make a selection, and to show, without fatiguing the reader, the 
 interest which was felt by Mr. Locke on so many different ques- 
 tions, the versatility of his genius, and the variety of his occupa- 
 tions. Of the letters from different correspondents found amongst 
 Mr. Locke's papers, the whole of those from Sir Isaac Newton, and 
 the greater part of those from Lord Shaftesbury and Lord Peter- 
 bough are now printed. Of the remainder nearly one hundred 
 are from Limborch ; perhaps double that number from Monsieur 
 Toinard, containing the scientific news of Paris from 1679 for 
 several years following ; many from Le Clerc ; from M. Gue- 
 nelon, of Amsterdam ; from Lord Ashley, afterwards the third 
 Earl of Shaftesbury ; from Mr. Tyrrel and Dr. Thomas, Mr. 
 Clark of Chipstead, to whom the Thoughts on Education were 
 addressed; and from A. Collins, &c. &c., amounting altogether to 
 some thousands in number. The desire of keeping this pub- 
 lication within reasonable bounds, has prevented the publication 
 of more than a very few of these letters. 
 
 Ockham, April 24th, ] 829. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 LIFE OF JOHN LOCKE . . . .1 
 
 Letter from Locke to his Father . . . 2 
 
 Letter from Locke to a Friend . . , .11 
 
 Correspondence with Mr. John Strachy, Sutton Court, Bristol . 13 
 
 Letters from Lord Shaftesbury to Locke . . . .33 
 
 Letters of Charles II. to Sir George Downing . . 38 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM THE JOURNAL OF LOCKE . . M 
 
 Obligation of Penal Laws . . .57 
 
 Knowledge, its Extent and Measure . . .84 
 
 Study . . . . . 90 
 
 England.--1679. . • . . ,133 
 
 Letter of Lord Shaftesbury . .138 
 
 Devon Session . . . .145 
 Correspondence between the Earl of Sunderland and the Bishop of Oxford 
 
 respecting Locke . . . .150 
 
 Letters of the Earl of Pembi-oke . . . . 158 
 
 Letters from Tyrrell to Locke . ... 169 
 
 Letter of Locke to Lord Mordaunt . . .173 
 
 Petition of Locke to his Majesty , . . 176 
 
 Letters of Lord Ashley to Mr. Locke . . . 183 
 
 Letter of John Wynne to Mr. Locke . . . 189 
 
 Mr. Locke's Answer . . . .191 
 
 b 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Mr. Tyrrell to Locke . . . .192 
 
 Mr. Locke to Mr. Tyrrell .... I97 
 A Demonstration that the Planets, by their Gravity towards the Sun, may move in 
 
 Ellipses ..... 209 
 
 Letters of Sir Isaac Newton . . . . ' 215 
 
 Locke to Newton ..... 224 
 
 Remarks on Sir Isaac Newton's Three Letters . . 227 
 
 Mr. Somers to Mr. Locke " . . . . 234 
 
 The Earl of Monmouth to Mr. Locke . . . 235 
 
 The Earl of Peterborough to Mr. Locke . , . 239 
 
 Lord Somers to Mr. Locke . . . . 241 
 
 Letter of Sir William Trumbull . . . , 243 
 
 Lord Keeper Somers to Mr. Locke . . , 245 
 
 Mr. Locke's Letters to Lord Somers . . . ih. 
 
 Letter to Mr. Cudworth .... 249 
 
 Letters of Mr. Locke to P. King, Esq. , . . 251 
 
 Character of Locke .... 267 
 
 Pacific Christians . . . .. . 273 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM LOCKE'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK. 
 Error ..... 281 
 
 Sacerdos . . . . . 285 
 
 Amor Patriae . . . . ^ 291 
 
 Scriptura Sacra ..... 293 
 
 Electio . . . . .295 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 Judging — Election — Resolution .... 296 
 
 On the Difference between Civil and Ecclesiastical Power . . 297 
 
 Civil Society, or the State .... 298 
 
CONTENTS. XI 
 
 Page 
 
 Religious Society, or the Church . . 298 
 
 The Parallel . . . . .299 
 
 Thus I think . . . .304 
 
 Of Ethics in General . ... .306 
 
 Supplement to the Mode of acquiring Truth . . 315 
 
 Letter of Mr. Leclerc to Locke . . . .318 
 
 Mr. Locke's Answer . . . . 319 
 
 Species . . . . .321 
 
 Understanding — Arguments positive and negative . . 322 
 
 An Essay concerning Recreation .... 323 
 Memory — Imagination — Madness . . . 326 
 
 Madness . . ' . . , . 328 
 
 Error ..... 329 
 
 Space— 1677 . . . . ib. 
 
 Relation — Space 1678 . . . .331 
 
 Adversaria Theologica . . . . 336 
 
 Non Trinitas . . . . . ib. 
 
 Christus non Deus supremus " . . . . 338 
 
 Defence of Nonconformity .... 341 
 
 Additions intended to have been added by the Author to the Essay on the Human 
 
 Understanding ..... 354 
 View of the Essay . . . . . 362 
 
PORTRAIT OF JOHN LOCKE To face the Title. 
 
 FAC SIMILES OF THE HAND-WRITING OF .JOHN LOCKE, EARL OF SHAFTESBURY, 
 
 AND SIR ISAAC NEWTON Page 1 
 
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THE LIFE 
 
 JOHN LOCKE. 
 
 John Locke was born at Wrington, in Somersetshire, a. d. 
 1632 ; his father, Mr. J. Locke, who was descended from the Lockes 
 of Charton Court, in Dorsetshire, possessed a moderate landed 
 property at Pensfold and Belluton, where he lived. He was a 
 Captain in the Parliamentary army during the Civil Wars, and 
 his fortune suffered so considerably in those times, that he left 
 a smaller estate to his son than he himself had inherited. 
 
 John Locke was the eldest of two sons, and was educated 
 with great care by his father, of whom he always spoke with the 
 greatest respect and affection. In the early part of his life, his 
 father exacted the utmost respect from his son, but gradually 
 treated him with less and less reserve, and when grown up, 
 lived with him on terms of the most entire friendship ; so much 
 so, that Locke mentioned the fact of his father having expressed 
 his regret for giving way to his anger, and striking him once in 
 his childhood, when he did not deserve it. In a letter to a friend, 
 written in the latter part of his life, Locke thus expresses himself 
 
 B 
 
2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 on the conduct of a father towards his son : " That which I have 
 often blamed as an indiscreet and dangerous practice in many 
 fathers, viz. to be very indulgent to their children whilst they 
 are little, and as they come to ripe years to lay great restraint 
 upon them, and live with greater reserve towards them, which 
 usually produces an ill understanding between father and son, 
 which cannot but be of bad consequences ; and I think fathers 
 would generally do better, as their sons grow up, to take them 
 into a nearer familiarity, and live with them with as much freedom 
 and friendship as their age and temper will allow." The following 
 letter from Locke to his father, which is without a date, but must 
 have been written before 1660, shows the feeling of tenderness 
 and affection which subsisted between them. It was probably 
 found by Locke amongst his father's papers, and thus came again 
 into his possession. 
 
 Dec. 20. 
 " MOST DEAR AND EVER-LOVING FATHER, 
 
 " I did not doubt but that the noise of a very dangerous sickness here 
 would reach you, but I am alarmed with a more dangerous disease from 
 Pensford, and were I as secure of your health as (I thank God) I am of my 
 own, I should not think myself in danger ; but I cannot be safe so long as 
 1 hear of your weakness, and that increase of your malady upon you, which 
 I beg that you would, by the timely application of remedies, endeavour to 
 remove. Dr. Meary has more than once put a stop to its encroachment ; 
 the same skill, the same means, the same God to bless you, is left still. Do 
 not, I beseech you, by that care you ought to have of yourself, by that ten- 
 derness I am sure you have of us, neglect your own, and our safety too ; 
 do not, by a too pressing care for your children, endanger the only comfort 
 they have left. I cannot distrust that Providence which hath conducted us 
 thus far, and if either your disappointments or necessities shall reduce us 
 to narrower conditions than you could wish, content shall enlarge it ; there- 
 fore, let not these thoughts distress you. There is nothing that I have which 
 can be so well employed as to his use, from whom I first received it ; and 
 if your convenience can leave me nothing else, I shall have a head, and 
 hands, and industry still left me, which alone have been able to raise suffi- 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 3 
 
 cient fortunes. Pray, Sir, therefore, make your life as comfortable and 
 lasting as you can ; let not any consideration of us cast you into the least 
 despondency. If I have any reflections on, or desires of free and com- 
 petent subsistence, it is more in reference to another (whom you may guess) 
 to whom I am very much obliged, than for myself ; but no thoughts, how 
 important soever, shall make me forget my duty ; and a father is more than 
 all other relations ; and the greatest satisfaction I can propose to myself in 
 the world, is my hopes that you may yet live to receive the return of some 
 comfort, for all that care and indulgence you have placed in, 
 
 " Sir, your most obedient son, 
 
 J. L. " 
 
 It would have been more in the order of time, to have stated 
 that Locke was sent to Westminster School, and from thence to 
 Christ Church, Oxford, in 1651. His friend, Mr. Tyrrell, the 
 grandson of the celebrated Usher, Archbishop of Armagh, relates 
 that Locke, in the earliest period of his residence at Oxford, was 
 distinguished for his talents and learning, amongst his fellow- 
 students. That he lost much time at Oxford is, however, certain, 
 from his own confession ; and if he derived little advantage from 
 the place of his education, it cannot be ascribed to the inaptitude 
 of his mind to make useful acquirements ; the fault is to be found 
 in his instructors, and in their system. It appears that he would 
 have thought the method of Des Cartes preferable (though no 
 admirer of his philosophy) to that of the established practice, either 
 because the study of that writer gave him the first taste for phi- 
 losophy, or because he admired the distinctness of his method ; or, 
 perhaps, he might consider any alteration to be an improvement, 
 and any change a change for the better. 
 
 Although he acquired this early reputation at the University, 
 yet he was often heard to express his regret that his father had 
 ever sent him to Oxford; aware, from his own experience, that 
 the method of instruction then pursued was ill calculated to open 
 the understanding, or prepare the way for any useful knowledge. 
 
 What, indeed, could the false philosophy of the schools, and 
 their vain disputation, profit the man who was afterwards to be 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE LIFE OF 
 
 distinguished above all other men, for his devoted love of truth, of 
 unshackled inquiry, and of philosophy. 
 
 In the different systems of education, there may be that which 
 is pernicious, that which is only useless, and that which is really 
 useful. Perhaps the antient method may, without injustice, be 
 classed under the first description ; and the modern method, as a 
 state of transition between the useless and the useful, far superior 
 to what it once was, but still capable of great improvement. 
 
 That Locke regretted his education at Oxford, is stated upon 
 the authority of his friend Le Clerc. Perhaps too much stress 
 has been laid upon some accidental expressions, or rather, that the 
 regrets expressed by Locke, ought to have been understood by 
 Le Clerc to apply to the plan of education then generally pur- 
 sued at English universities ; for to Oxford, even as Oxford was 
 in the days of Locke, he must have been considerably indebted. 
 The course of study and the philosophy, bad as it was, fortunately 
 did not attract much of his attention, and his mind escaped the 
 trammels of the schools, and their endless perplexities and sophistry. 
 If the system of education did not offer assistance, or afford those 
 directions so useful to the young student, the residence at Oxford 
 did, no doubt, confer ease, and leisure, and the opportunity of 
 other studies ; it afforded also the means of intercourse with per- 
 sons, from whose society and conversation, we know, that the idea 
 of his great work first arose. 
 
 It may be said, without offence to that antient University, that 
 Locke, though educated within her walls, was much more in- 
 debted to himself than to his instructors, and that he was in him- 
 self an instance of that self teaching, always the most efficient and 
 valuable, which he afterwards so strongly recommends. In answer 
 to a letter from the Earl of Peterborough, who had applied to him 
 to recommend a tutor for his son, he says : " I must beg leave to 
 own that I differ a little from your Lordship in what you propose ; 
 your Lordship would have a thorough scholar, and I think it not 
 much matter whether he be any great scholar or no ; if he but 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 5 
 
 understand Latin well, and have a general scheme of the sciences, 
 I think that enough : but I would have him well-bred, well-tem- 
 pered; a man that having been conversant with the world and 
 amongst men, would have great application in observing the humour 
 and genius of my Lord your son ; and omit nothing that might 
 help to form his mind, and dispose him to virtue, knowledge, and 
 industry. This I look upon as the great business of a tutor ; this 
 is putting life into his pupil, which when he has got, masters of 
 all kinds are easily to be had ; for when a young gentleman has 
 got a relish of knowledge, the love and credit of doing well spurs 
 him on ; he will with or without teachers, make great advances in 
 whatever he has a mind to. Mr. Newton learned his mathematics 
 only of himself; and another friend of mine, Greek (wherein 
 he is very well skilled) without a master ; though both these studies 
 seem more to require the help of a tutor than almost any other." 
 In a letter to the same person on the same subject, 1697, he says : 
 " When a man has got an entrance into any of the sciences, it will 
 be time then to depend on himself, and rely upon his own under- 
 standing, and exercise his own faculties, which is the only way to 
 improvement and mastery." After recommending the study of his- 
 tory, he farther says : " The great end of such histories as Livy, is 
 to give an account of the actions of man as embodied in society, and 
 so of the true foundation of politics ; but the fiourishings and decays 
 of commonwealths depending not barely on the present time for 
 what is done within themselves, but most commonly on remote and 
 precedent constitution and events, and a train of concurrent actions 
 amongst their neighbours as well as themselves ; the order of time 
 is absolutely necessary to a due knowledge and improvement of 
 history, as the order of sentences in an author is necessary to be 
 kept, to make any sense of what he says. With the reading of his- 
 tory, I think the study of morality should be joined ; I mean not 
 the ethics of the schools fitted to dispute, but such as Tully in his 
 Offices, PufFendorf de Officio Hominis et Civis, de Jure Naturali et 
 Gentium, and above all, what the New Testament teaches, wherein 
 
(^ THE LIFE OF 
 
 a man may learn to live, which is the business of ethics, and not 
 how to define and dispute about names of virtues and vices. True 
 politics I look on as a part of moral philosophy, which is nothing 
 but the art of conducting men right in society, and supporting a 
 community amongst its neighbours." 
 
 To return to Locke's habits and life at Oxford. Le Clerc men- 
 tions, that his very early friends and companions were selected from 
 amongst the lively and agreeable, rather than the learned of his 
 time ; and that the correspondence with which he frequently amused 
 himself with them, had a resemblance in style and expression to 
 the French of Voiture, although perhaps not so finished and refined 
 as that of the French author. His letters on Toleration, and his 
 replies to the Bishop of Worcester, show his force of argument, and 
 his powers of wit and irony, confined always within the bounds of 
 the most perfect civility and decorum. 
 
 The earliest of Locke's printed works is the Essay on Human 
 Understanding : the original copy, in his own handwriting, dated 
 1671, is still preserved, and I find the first sketch of that work in 
 his Common-place Book, beginning thus : — 
 
 " Sic cogitavit de intellectu humano Johannes Locke an. 1671. 
 Intellectus humanus cum cognitionis certitudine et assensus firmitate. 
 
 " First, I imagine that all knowledge is founded on, and ultimately 
 derives itself from sense, or something analogous to it, and may be 
 called sensation, which is done by our senses conversant about par- 
 ticular objects, which gives us the simple ideas or images of things, 
 and thus we come to have ideas of heat and light, hard and soft, 
 which are nothing but the reviving again in our minds these ima- 
 ginations, which those objects, when they affected our senses, caused 
 in us, — whether by motion or otherwise, it matters not here to con- 
 sider, — and thus we do, when we conceive heat or light, yellow or 
 blue, sweet or bitter, and therefore, I think that those things which 
 we call sensible qualities, are the simplest ideas we have, and the 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 7 
 
 first object of our understanding." The Essay must therefore have 
 remained in the author's possession above eighteen years before he 
 gave it to the world, and in that space of time considerable correc- 
 tions and alterations had been made. His earliest work, however, 
 was of a political nature, and of a date much anterior, and although 
 evidently intended for publication, was never printed. It was writ- 
 ten towards the end of 1660; the preface to the reader is curi- 
 ous, as the earliest specimen of his style and opinions, and strongly 
 shows the desire of reasonable men of all parties to remove the 
 difficulties which stood in the way of a final and peaceable set- 
 tlement of affairs in State and Church. One of the first and most 
 necessary measures after the Restoration, and one of the most diffi- 
 cult, was the settlement of the Church. The King, by his Declara- 
 tion, had promised that endeavours should be used to effect a com- 
 prehension, and that such alteration should be made in the Li- 
 turgy, as should make it totally unobjectionable. The tract which 
 Locke wrote, was intended to reconcile the low church party to an 
 obedience to the civil magistrate in all indifferent things in public 
 worship, not otherwise commanded by the word of God. It is an 
 answer to a writer who denied the right of the civil magistrate 
 (or supreme power) to interfere in matters of religion ; and in man- 
 ner and style it resembles his later controversy with Sir Robert 
 Filmer. It is an important fact in the history of toleration, that 
 Dr. Owen, the Independent, was Dean of Christ Church in 1651, 
 when Locke was admitted a member of that college " under a fana- 
 tical tutor," as A. Wood says in " Athenae Oxonienses." The charge 
 of fanaticism made against the tutor is either an unfounded asser- 
 tion of the learned but prejudiced antiquary of Oxford; or, if true, 
 the fanaticism of the tutor had not the slightest effect on the mind 
 of the pupil, as the bias in this treatise inclines, perhaps, too deci- 
 dedly towards the side of authority. Great concessions are made in 
 order to avoid the danger of civil discord, and for the sake of reli- 
 gious peace, which the author feared might be endangered by the 
 
3 THE LIFE OF 
 
 zealots of the Millennium, and, as he expresses himself, " that the 
 several bands of saints would not want Venners to lead them on 
 in the work of the Lord." The subject of the treatise was this : — 
 
 " Question : — Whether the civil magistrate may lawfully im- 
 pose and determine the use of indifferent things in reference to 
 Religious Worship ?" 
 
 In the preface, the author thus expresses himself, " As for myself, 
 there is no one can have a greater respect and veneration for autho- 
 rity than I. I no sooner perceived myself in the world, but I found 
 myself in a storm, which has lasted almost hitherto, and therefore 
 cannot but entertain the approaches of a calm with the greatest joy 
 and satisfaction ; and this, methinks, obliges me both in duty and 
 gratitude to endeavour the continuance of such a blessing by dis- 
 posing men's minds to obedience to that government, which has 
 brought with it the quiet settlement which even our giddy folly 
 had put beyond the reach not only of our contrivance but hopes ; 
 and I would, men would be persuaded to be so kind to their reli- 
 gion, their country and themselves, as not to hazard again, the sub- 
 stantial blessings of peace and settlement in an over zealous con- 
 tention about things which they themselves confess to be little, and 
 at most are but indifferent. 
 
 But since I find that a general freedom is but a general bondage, 
 that the popular assertors of public liberty are the greatest in- 
 grossers of it too, and not unfitly called its keepers, I know not 
 whether experience would not give us some reason to think, that 
 were the part of freedom contended for by our author generally 
 indulged in England, it would prove only a liberty for contention, 
 censure and persecution. 
 
 ******* 
 
 I have not therefore the same apprehension of liberty that some 
 have, or can think the benefits of it to consist in a liberty for men, 
 at pleasure, to adopt themselves children of God, and from thence 
 assume a title to inheritances here, and proclaim themselves heirs 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 9 
 
 of the world, nor a liberty for ambitious men to pull down well- 
 framed constitutions, that out of the ruins they may build themselves 
 fortunes; not a liberty to be Christians so as not to be subjects. All 
 the freedom I can wish my country or myself, is to enjoy the 
 protection of those laws which the prudence and providence of 
 our ancestors established, and the happy return of His Majesty 
 has restored." 
 
 It may, perhaps, be thought, that the author in his desire to avoid 
 the tyranny of the Saints, which he seems no less to have dreaded 
 than that of the men of the sword, had overlooked those other and 
 more lasting evils which have almost always attended the return 
 of exiled monarchs. 
 
 The circumstances of the times, and the altered policy of the 
 Government towards the Presbyterian party, prevented the pub- 
 lication of the tract to which the preface belonged, from which 
 the above extracts are taken. The high Church party felt their 
 strength in the new Parliament, and the attainment of religious 
 peace by the means of comprehension and concession, was no longer 
 the object of the dominant faction. The Church party now, in their 
 turn, determined to exert their power with far greater rigour than 
 had been shown towards them by the Presbyterians when in power, 
 and now resolved, in the fulness of victory, to exclude all those who 
 differed from them, whether in things essential, or in things in- 
 different, but at all events, to exclude, to punish, and to appropriate. 
 
 Whether Locke had, at any time, serious thoughts of engaging 
 in any profession is uncertain ; his inclinations led him strongly 
 to the study of medicine, which seems very much to have occupied 
 his thoughts to the end of his life, as appears from the frequent 
 memoranda of curious cases that are to be found in his diary ; and 
 from the correspondence of his friends, who occasionally consulted 
 him to a very late period, and from the number of medical books 
 he collected. The praise which Sydenham, the greatest authority 
 of his time, bestows on the medical skill of Locke, affords a brilliant 
 proof of the high estimation which his acquirements in the science 
 
 c 
 
10 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of medicine, his penetrating judgment, as well as his many private 
 virtues, procured from all who knew him. In the dedication pre- 
 fixed to Dr. Sydenham's Observations on the History and Cure of 
 Acute Diseases, 1676, he boasts of the approbation bestowed on his 
 method by Mr. J. Locke, who (to borrow Sydenham's own words) had 
 examined it to the bottom ; and who, if we consider his genius and 
 penetration, and exact judgment, has scarce any superior, and few 
 equals now living. " Nostri prseterea quam huic meae methodo 
 sufFragantem habeam, qui eam intimius per omnia perspexerat 
 utrique nostrum conjunctissimum dominum Joannem Locke ; quo 
 quidem viro, sive ingenio judicioque acri et subacto, sive etiam anti- 
 quis, hoc est, optimis moribus, vix superiorem quenquam, inter eos 
 qui nunc sunt homines repertum iri confido, paucissimos certe pares." 
 Mr. Dugald Stewart, in his admirable dissertation on the progress 
 of Philosophy since the revival of letters in Europe, observes : " The 
 merit of this method, therefore, which still continues to be regarded 
 as a model, by the most competent judges, may be presumed to have 
 belonged in part to Mr. Locke, — a circumstance which deserves to 
 be noticed, as an additional confirmation of what Bacon has so 
 sagaciously taught, concerning the dependence of all the sciences, 
 relating to the phenomena either of matter or of mind, on principles 
 and rules derived from the resources of a higher philosophy : on 
 the other hand, no science could have been chosen more happily 
 calculated than medicine to prepare such a mind as that of Locke 
 for the prosecution of those speculations which have immortalized 
 his name ; the complicated and fugitive, and often equivocal phe- 
 nomena of disease, requiring in the observer a far greater por- 
 tion of discriminating sagacity than those of physics, strictly so 
 called; resembling in this respect, much more nearly, the pheno- 
 mena about which metaphysics, ethics and politics, are conversant." 
 
 In 1665, Locke appears for the first time, to have engaged in 
 the practical business of life, when he accompanied, as secretary, Sir 
 Walter Vane, the King's envoy to the Elector of Brandenburgh, 
 during the first Dutch war. One of the following papers is a copy 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 11 
 
 of a letter partly defaced, dated Cleve, December, 1664; it will 
 show his observations on the politics and character of the Court 
 which he visited. The other is a long detailed letter written for 
 the amusement of a friend in England, and will give a better idea 
 of the social qualities of the writer, than any which have yet 
 appeared ; it will make us acquainted with him in his most familiar 
 intercourse, and show his willingness to contribute to the amuse- 
 ment of those he lived with ; and what is not unimportant, his 
 freedom from prejudices in an age of prejudice. 
 
 The writer had desired his friend to " throw the letter by, in a 
 corner of his study ; it will serve us to laugh at :" it was thrown 
 by in the studyj and so came again into possession of its author, 
 with some other letters written to the same friend, and in that way 
 preserved. 
 
 COPY OR DRAFT OF LETTER FROM LOCKE. 
 " TO MR. G. Cleve, Decemb. 1665. 
 
 " I HAVE, by the post, from time to time, constantly given you my 
 apprehension of things here ; but since Sir Walter thinks he has reason to 
 suspect that some of his dispatches have miscarried, and, therefore, has sent 
 an express, I shall by him send you again an account of all I can learn here. 
 I have hitherto been of the mind that their counsels here tend to the pre- 
 serving a neutrality, and the reasons I had to think so were, that I saw no 
 preparation for war, no levies made, but only talked of ; and besides, I was 
 informed that there is a great scarcity of money, that the expenses of the 
 court are great, the debts greater, and the revenue small ; and that the 
 revenues of March and Cleve, which were wont to pay the use of old debts, 
 are now employed in the expenses of the household during the Elector's 
 abode here, and the creditors are to be content now without either use or 
 principal. The business of 150,000 rix-doUars, which the Elector demands 
 of the estates of March and Cleve, moves slowly; and though at our first 
 coming hither it was told that it would be granted in two or three days, 
 y^t I cannot find that the Deputies are yet come to a resolution, or are hke 
 to grant it suddenly ; but should the same be presently granted and paid, 
 there are other ways to dispose of it beside armies, some of which I have 
 mentioned to you in my former. The strong party the French and Dutcli 
 
 c 2 
 
12 THE LIFE OF 
 
 have in the Court, (amongst which are two by whose advice the Elector 
 is much swayed,) will make it difficult to draw him to the Bishop's* side ; 
 and the consideration of religion may, perhaps, a little increase the diffi- 
 culty, since it is generally apprehended here that the war is upon that 
 score ; and, perhaps, the fear of having some of his scattered countries 
 molested by some of the Bishop's allies will make him a little cautious 
 of declaring for the Dutch. The use you will find in the dispatch they 
 make of late news from Ratisbon, I cannot think any other than a pretence, 
 since I am told that the Resolution that is taken at the meeting there of 
 assisting the Bishop is not so new that the Elector could be ignorant of it 
 till now. I believe there is yet a neutrality, and that at least they are not 
 forward, or hasty to appear for either side ; and perhaps, (since money 
 seems to me to be here as well as in other places, the great solder of pact 
 and agreements,) they delay the bargain to raise the price, and wait for the 
 best chapman. They treat with Holland ; they treat with France ; and in 
 what terms they stand with us, you will see by Sir Walter, but I must not 
 mention ; but by the whole, I believe you will find they dally with them 
 all. The Dutch have filled the Elector's towns upon the Rbein with their 
 French soldiers, and they fill them with outrages, which he resents and 
 complains of; but it still continues the same, and by this procedure the 
 Dutch seem either very confident of his friendship, or careless of his enmity. 
 It is said the Bishop's army are now marching ; if it be upon any feasible 
 design, he seems to have chosen a fit opportunity, whilst the States of 
 Holland are questioning their Generals for some miscarriages in the last 
 campaign, and things are out of order in Holland. The daughter of the 
 old Princess of Orange is to be married to the Prince of Swerin ; the ce- 
 lebration, which is designed here, at Cleve, before Easter, and at the Elector's 
 charge, and other expenses of the Court, will not leave much for the 
 raising of soldiers. The men of business, who are his counsellors, and 
 manage the Elector's affairs, are only three ; Baron Sw^erin, a man nobly 
 bom, a learned and experienced man, that well understands the state of 
 the empire, and has most power with the Elector. Next to him is Mr. 
 Jeana, a Doctor of Law, formerly professor at Heidelberg ; he hath been 
 about six years of the Elector's council, and is, as I am told, a knowing and 
 confident man : the other is Mr. Blaspell, a man of mean extraction, whose 
 great ability lies in the knowledge of the affairs of Holland ; he is now 
 there, and at his return, I hope to give you an account of his negotiation, 
 
 Munster. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 13 
 
 and will endeavour to get a more particular knowledge of his parts, 
 humours, and inclinations. He got into favour and counsel of the Court 
 by means of the Princess Dowager, Mother of the Electress, and I believe 
 is much at her devotion. The Baron De Goes, envoy of the Emperor, 
 returned hither last night from the Bishop of Munster ; and some of his 
 people, with whom I talk, told me that the Bishop's forces were about 
 16,000 ; that they aU wanted money, and the foot, clothes ; but none of 
 them courage, or victuals ; that they were aU old and experienced soldiers, 
 and they seemed all to prefer them much to the Dutch forces. They told 
 me that many of the French ran over to the Bishop, being unwilling to 
 fight against their own religion ; that the Bishop used them kindly, gave 
 them leave to depart, but entertained none of them in his service, being 
 sure of soldiers enough whenever he has money. The Bishop is now at 
 Cosfield, a strong place in his own dominions, where they saw some of the 
 chief of the prisoners, taken at the last rencontre, entertained at the Bishop's 
 table. His forces are now dispersed in several places, and there is like to 
 be no engagement this winter. They all spoke very highly of the Bishop, 
 and more affectionately than I think could be merely to comply with that 
 concernment they might think I had in his affairs. Whether hence any 
 thing may be guessed of the inclination of the Germans, of the Baron de 
 Goes, or of the Emperor, I am not able to make any judgment upon so 
 slight a conversation, but I shall endeavour to learn : only before his 
 return, I found the Monks of the Convent where he lodges wholly inclined 
 to the Bishop. How our affairs stand in the Court, and what progress is 
 made, you will better understand by Sir Walter's dispatches, in which, 
 whatever shall be found, I desire I may be considered only as transcriber." 
 
 TO ME.. JOHN STRACHY, SUTTON COURT, BRISTOL. 
 " DEAR SIR, Cleve, 1665. 
 
 " Are you at leisure for half an hour's trouble ? will you be content I 
 should keep up the custom of writing long letters with little in them? 
 'Tis a barren place, and the dull frozen part of the year, and therefore you 
 must not expect great matters. 'Tis enough, that at Christmas you have 
 empty Christmas tales fit for the chimney corner. To begin, therefore, 
 December 15th, (here 25th,) Christmas-day, about one in the morning, I 
 went a gossipping to our Lady ; think me not profane, for the name is a 
 great deal modester than the service I was at. I shall not describe all the 
 
14 THE LIFE OF 
 
 particulars I observed in that church, being the principal of the Catholics 
 inCleves; but only those that were particular to the occasion. Near the 
 high altar was a little altar for this day's solemnity ; the scene was a stable, 
 wherein was an ox, an ass, a cradle, the Virgin, the babe, Joseph, shepherds, 
 and angels, dramatis personae : had they but given them motion, it had 
 been a perfect puppet play, and might have deserved pence a-piece ; for 
 they were of the same size and make that our English puppets are ; and 
 I am confident, these shepherds and this Joseph are kin to that Judith and 
 Holophernes which I have seen at Bartholomew fair. A little without the 
 stable was a flock of sheep, cut out of cards ; and these, as they then stood 
 without their shepherds, appeared to me the best emblem I had seen a long 
 time, and methought represented these poor innocent people, who, whilst 
 their shepherds pretend so much to follow Christ, and pay their devotion 
 to him, are left unregarded in the barren wilderness. This was the show : 
 the music to it was all vocal in the quire adjoining, but such as I never 
 heard. They had strong voices, but so ill-tuned, so ill-managed, that it 
 was their misfortune, as well as ours, that they could be heard. He that 
 could not, though he had a cold, make better music with a chevy chace 
 over a pot of smooth ale, deserved well to pay the reckoning, and go away 
 athirst. However, I think they were the honestest singing men I have 
 ever seen, for they endeavoured to deserve their money, and earned it 
 certainly with pains enough ; for what they wanted in skill, they made up 
 in loudness and variety : every one had his own tune, and the result of all 
 was like the noise of choosing Parliament men, where every one endeavours 
 to cry loudest. Besides the men, there were a company of little choristers, 
 I thought when I saw them at first, they had danced to the other's music, 
 and that it had been your Gray's Inn revels ; for they were jumping up and 
 down, about a good charcoal fire that was in the middle of the quire (this 
 their devotion and their singing was enough, I think, to keep them warm, 
 though it were a very cold night) ; but it was not dancing, but singing they 
 served for ; when it came to their turns, away they ran to their places, and 
 there they made as good harmony as a concert of little pigs would, and they 
 were much about as cleanly. Their part being done, out they sallied again 
 to the fire, where they played till their cue called them, and then back to 
 their places they huddled. So negligent and slight are they in their service in 
 a place where the nearness of adversaries might teach them to be more careful; 
 but I suppose the natural tendency of these outside performances, and these 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 15 
 
 mummeries in religion, would bring it every where to this pass, did not 
 fear and the severity of the magistrate preserve it ; which being taken 
 away here, they very easily suffer themselves to slobber over their cere- 
 monies, which in other places are kept up with so much zeal and exactness ; 
 but methinks they are not to be blamed, since the one seems to me as much 
 religion as the other. In the afternoon, I went to the Carthusians' church ; 
 they had their little gentry too, but in finer clothes ; and their angels with 
 surplices on, and singing books in their hands ; for here is nothing to be 
 done without books. Hither were crowded a great throng of children to 
 see these pretty babies, and I amongst them, as wise and as devout as they, 
 and for my pains had a good sprinkle of holy water, and now I may defy 
 the devil : thus have I begun the holidays with Christmas gambols. But 
 had I understood the language, I believe, at the Reformed church, I had 
 found something more serious; for they have two sermons at their church, 
 for Christmas lasts no longer here. That which pleased me most was, that 
 at the same Catholic church the next day, I saw our Lady all in white 
 linen, dressed as one that is newly lain in, and on her lap something that, 
 perhaps twenty years since, was designed for a baby, but now it was grown 
 to have a beard ; and methought was not so well used as our country 
 fellows used to be, who, though they escape all the year, are usually trimmed 
 at Christmas. They must pardon me for being merry, for it is Christmas : 
 but, to be serious with you, the Catholic religion is a; different thing from 
 what we believe it in England. I have other thoughts of it than when I 
 was in a place that is filled with prejudices, and things are known only by 
 hearsay. I have not met with any so good-natured people, or so civil, as 
 the Catholic priests, and I have received many courtesies from them, which 
 I shall always gratefully acknowledge. But to leave the good-natured 
 Catholics, and to give you a little account of our brethren the Calvinists, 
 that differ very little from our English Presbyterians. I met lately, acci- 
 dentally, with a young sucking divine, that thought himself no small 
 champion ; who, as if he had been some knight-errant, bound by oath to 
 bid battle to all comers, first accosted me in courteous voice ; but the cus- 
 tomary salute being over, I found myself assaulted most furiously, and 
 heavy loads of arguments fell upon me. I, that expected no such thing, 
 was fain to guard myself under the trusty broad shield of ignorance, and 
 only now and then returned a blow by way of enquiry : and by this Par- 
 thian way of flying, defended myself till passion and want of breath had 
 
1(3 THE LIFE OF 
 
 made him weary, and so we came to an accommodation ; though, had he 
 had lungs enough, and I no other use of my ears, the combat might have 
 lasted (if that may be called a combat, ubi tu cades ego vapulo tantum) as 
 long as the wars of Troy, and the end of all had been like that, nothing but 
 some rubbish of divinity as useless and incoherent as the ruins the Greeks 
 left behind them. This was a probationer in theology, and, I believe, (to keep 
 still to my errantry) they are bound to show their prowess with some valiant 
 unknown, before they can be dubbed, and receive the dignity of the order. 
 I cannot imagine why else he should set upon me, a poor innocent wight, 
 who thought nothing of a combat, and desired to be peaceable, and was too 
 far from my own dunghill to be quarrelling ; but, it is no matter, there were 
 no wounds made but in Priscian's head, who suffers much in this country. 
 This provocation I have sufficiently revenged upon one . of their church, 
 our landlord, who is wont sometimes to germanize and to be a httle too 
 much of the creature. These frailties I threaten him to discover to his pas- 
 tor, who will be sure to rebuke him (but sparing his name) the next Sunday 
 from the pulpit, and severely chastise the liberty of his cups ; thus I sew up 
 the good man's mouth, because the other gaped too much, and made him as 
 much bear my tongue as I was punished with the other's. But for all this, 
 he wUl sometimes drink himself into a defiance of divines and discipUne, and 
 hearken only to Bacchus's inspirations. You must not expect any thing 
 remarkable from me aU the foUoAving week, for I have spent it in getting 
 a pair of gloves, and think too, I have had a quick despatch ; you will 
 perhaps wonder at it, and think I talk like a traveller ; but I will give 
 you the particulars of the business. Three days were spent in finding out 
 a glover, for though I can walk aU the town over in less than an hour, yet 
 their shops are so contrived, as if they were designed to conceal, not expose 
 their wares ; and though you may think it strange, yet, methinks, it is very 
 well done, and 'tis a becoming modesty to conceal that which they have 
 reason enough to be ashamed of. But to proceed ; the two next days were 
 spent in drawing them on, the right hand glove, (or as they call them here, 
 hand shoe) Thursday, and the left hand, Friday, and I'll promise you this 
 was two good days' work, and little enough to bring them to fit my hands 
 and to consent to be fellows, which, after all, they are so far from, 
 that when they are on, I am always afraid my hands should go to cuffs, 
 one with another, they so disagree : Saturday we concluded on the price, 
 computed, and changed our money, for it requires a great deal of arithmetic 
 
JOHN LOCKE. X7 
 
 and a great deal of brass to pay twenty-eight stivers, and seven doits ; but, 
 God be thanked, they are all well fitted with counters for reckoning ; for 
 their money is good for nothing else, and I am poor here with my pockets 
 full of it. I wondered at first why the market people brought their wares 
 in little carts, drawn by one horse, till I found it necessary to carry home 
 the price of them ; for a horse-load of turnips, would be two horse-load of 
 money. A pair of shoes cannot be got under half a year : I lately saw the 
 cow killed, out of whose hide I hope to have my next pair. The first thing 
 after they are married here is to bespeak the child's coat, and truly the 
 bridegroom must be a bungler that gets not the child before the mantle 
 be made ; for it is far easier here to have a man made than a suit. To be 
 serious with you, they are the slowest people, and fullest of delays that ever 
 I have met with, and their money as bad. December 2l2ind I saw the in- 
 scription that entitles the Elector's house here to so much antiquity ; it 
 stands at the upper end of a large room, which is the first entrance into the 
 house, and is as follows : — " Anno ab urbe Romana condita 698 Julius Cassar 
 Dictator hisce partibus in ditionem susceptis arcem banc Clivensem fund." 
 I know not how old the wall was that bore it, but the inscription was cer- 
 tainly much younger than I am, as appears by the characters and other 
 circumstances ; however, I believe the painter reverenced the antiquity, 
 and did homage to the memory of Caesar, and was not averse to a tradition 
 which the situation and antique mode of building made not improbable. 
 The same time, I had the favour to see the kitchen and the cellar, and 
 though in the middle of the first there was made on the floor a great fire 
 big enough to broil half a dozen St. Laurences, yet methought the cellar 
 was the better place, and so I made haste to leave it, and have little to say 
 of it, unless you think fit I should tell you how many rummers of Rhenish 
 I drank, and how many biscuits I ate, and that I had there almost learned to 
 speak High Dutch. December 24, — At the Lutherans' church, after a good 
 lusty, rattling High Dutch sermon, the sound whereof would have made 
 one think it had the design of reproof, I had an opportunity to observe the 
 administration of the Sacrament, which was thus : — the sermon being ended, 
 the minister that preached not (for they have two to a church) stood up at 
 a little desk which was upon the communion table, almost at the upper 
 end of the church, and then read a little while, part of which reading I 
 judged to be prayer, but observed no action that looked like consecration, 
 (I know not what the words were) ; when he had done, he placed himself 
 
 D -- - 
 
18 THE LIFE OF 
 
 at the north end of the table, and the other minister that preached, at the 
 south end, so that their backs were toward one another ; then there marched 
 up to him on the north side a communicant, who, when he came to the mi- 
 nister, made a low bow, and knelt down, and then the minister put water 
 into his mouth ; which done, he rose, made his obeisance, and went 
 to the other end, where he did the same, and had the wine poured into 
 his mouth, without taking the cup in his hand, and then came back to his 
 place by the south side of the church. Thus did four, one after another, 
 which were all that received that day, and amongst them was a boy, about 
 thirteen or fourteen years old. They have at this church a sacrament every 
 Sunday morning : in the afternoon, at the Calvinists', I saw a christening. 
 After sermon there came three men and three women (one whereof was the 
 midwife, with a child in her arms, the rest were godfathers and godmothers, 
 of which they allow a greater number than we do, and so wisely get 
 more spoons) — to the table which is just by the pulpit. They taking 
 their places, the minister in the pulpit read a little of the Institution, then 
 read a short prayer ; then another minister, that was below, took the child, 
 and with his hand poured water three times on its forehead, which done, 
 he in the pulpit read another short prayer, and so concluded. All this was 
 not much longer than the Lord's Prayer, Creed, and Ten Commandments ; 
 for all their service is very short, beside their preaching and singing, and 
 there they allow good measure." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " DEAE, SIK, 
 
 " The old opinion, that every man had his particular genius that ruled 
 and directed his course of life, hath made me sometimes laugh to think 
 what a pleasant thing it would be if we could see little sprights bestride 
 men, (as plainly as I see here women bestride horses,) ride them about, and 
 spur them on in that way which they ignorantly think they choose them- 
 selves. And would you not smile to observe that they make use of us as 
 we do of our palfreys, to trot up and down for their pleasure and not our 
 own ? To what purpose this from Cleves ? I will tell you : if there be any 
 such thing, (as I cannot vouch the contrary,) certainly mine is an academic 
 goblin. When I left Oxford, I thought for awhile to take leave of all 
 University affairs, and should have least expected to have found any thing 
 of that nature here at Cleves of any part of the world. But do what I 
 can, I am still kept in that tract. I no sooner was got here, but I was 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 19 
 
 welcomed with a divinity disputation, which I gave you an account of in 
 my last ; I was no sooner rid of that, but I found myself up to the ears in 
 poetry, and overwhelmed in Helicon. I had almost or rather have been 
 soused in the Reyne, as frozen as it was, for it could not have been more 
 cold and intolerable than the poetry I met with. The remembrance of it 
 puts me in a chill sweat, and were it not that I am obliged to recount all 
 particulars, being under the laws of an historian, I should find it very 
 difficult to recall to mind this part of my story : but having armed myself 
 with a good piece of bag pudding, which bears a mighty antipathy to 
 poetry, and having added thereto half a dozen glasses of daring wine, I 
 thus proceed : — My invisible master, therefore, having mounted me, rode me 
 out to a place, where I must needs meet a learned bard in a threadbare 
 coat, and a hat, that though in its younger days it had been black, yet it 
 was grown grey with the labour of its master's brains, and his hard study 
 or time had changed the colour of that as well as his master's hair. His 
 breeches had the marks of antiquity upon them, were borne, I believe, in the 
 heroic times, and retained still the gallantry of that age, and had an an- 
 tipathy to base pelf. Stockings I know not whether he had any, but I am 
 sure his two shoes had but one heel, which made his own foot go as uneven 
 as those of his verses. He was so poor, that he had not so much as a rich 
 face, nor the promise of a carbuncle in it, so that I must needs say that his 
 outside was poet enough. After a little discourse, wherein he sprinkled 
 some bays on our British Druid Owen, out he drew from under his coat 
 a foHo of verses ; and that you may be sure they were excellent, I must tell 
 you that they were acrostics upon the name and titles of the Elector of 
 Brandenburg. I could not escape reading of them : when I had done, I 
 endeavoured to play the poet a little in commending them, but in that he 
 outdid me clearly, praised faster than I could, preferred them to Lucan 
 and Virgil, showed me where his muse flew high, squeezed out all the 
 verjuice of all his conceits, and there was not a secret conundrum which he 
 laid not open to me ; and in that httle talk I had with him afterwards, he 
 quoted his own verses a dozen times, and gloried in his works. The Poem 
 Avas designed as a present to the Elector, but I being Owen's countryman 
 had the honour to see them before the Elector, which he made me under- 
 stand was a singular courtesy, though I believe one hundred others had 
 been equally favoured. I told him the I^ector must needs give him a 
 considerable reward ; he seemed angry at the mention of it, and told me 
 he had only a design to show his affection and parts, and spoke as if he 
 
 D 2 
 
20 THE LIFE OF 
 
 tlioiight himself fitter to give than to receive any thing from the Elector, 
 and that he was the greater person of the two ; and indeed, what need had 
 he of any gift, who had aU Tagus and Pactolus in his possession ? could 
 make himself a Tempe when he pleased, and create as many Elysiums as he 
 had a mind to. I applauded his generosity and great mind, thanked him 
 for the favour he had done me, and at last got out of his hands. But my 
 University gobhn left me not so ; for the next day, when I thought I had 
 been rode out only to airing, I was had to a foddering of chopped bay or 
 logic forsooth ! Poor materia prima was canvassed cruelly, stripped of all the 
 gay dress of her forms, and shown naked to us, though, I must confess, I 
 had not eyes good enough to see her ; however, the dispute was good sport, 
 and would have made a horse laugh, and truly I was like to have broke 
 my bridle. The young monks (which one would not guess by their looks) 
 are subtile people, and dispute as eagerly for materia prima, as if they were 
 to make their dinner on it, and, perhaps, sometimes it is all their meal, for 
 which other's charity is more to be blamed than their stomachs. The Pro- 
 fessor of philosophy and moderator of the disputation was more acute at 
 it than Father Hudibras ; he was top full of distinctions, which he pro- 
 duced with so much gravity, and applied with so good a grace, that igno- 
 rant I, began to admire logic again, and could not have thought that " sim- 
 pliciter et secundum quid materiahter et formaliter" had been such gallant 
 things, which, with the right stroking of his whiskers, the settling of his 
 hood, and his stately walk, made him seem to himself and me something 
 more than Aristotle and Democritus. But he was so hotly charged by one 
 of the seniors of the fraternity that I was afraid sometimes what it would 
 produce, and feared there would be no other way to decide the controversy 
 between them but by cuffs ; but a subtUe distinction divided the matter 
 between them, and so they parted good friends. The truth is, here hog- 
 shearing is much in its glory, and our disputing in Oxford comes as far 
 short of it as the rhetoric of Carfax does that of Bilingsgate. But it behoves 
 the monks to cherish this art of wranghng in its declining age, which they 
 first nursed, and sent abroad into the world, to give it a troublesome, idle 
 employment. I being a brute, that was rode there for another's pleasure, 
 profited little by all their reasonings, and was glad when they had done, 
 that I might get home again to my ordinary provender, and leave them 
 their sublime speculations, which certainly their spare diet and private cells 
 inspire abundantly, which such gross feeders as I am are not capable of." 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 21 
 
 " DEAR SIR, - Dec. 1664. 
 
 " This day our public entertainment upon the Elector's account ended, 
 much to my satisfaction ; for I had no great pleasure in a feast where, 
 amidst a great deal of meat and company, I had little to eat, and less to say. 
 The advantage was, the lusty Germans fed so heartily themselves, that they 
 regarded not much my idleness ; and I might have enjoyed a perfect quiet, 
 and slept out the meal, had not a glass of wine now and then jogged me ; 
 and indeed, therein lay the care of their entertainment, and the sincerity 
 too, for the wine was such as might be known, and was not ashamed of 
 itself. But for their meats, they were all so disguised, that I should have 
 guessed they had rather designed a mass than a meal, and had a mind 
 rather to pose than feed us. But the cook made their matamorphosis like 
 Ovid's, where the change is usually into the worse. I had, however, courage 
 to venture upon things unknown ; and I could not often tell whether I ate 
 flesh or fish, or good red herring, so much did they dissemble themselves ; 
 only now and then, a dish of good honest fresh water fish came in, so far 
 from all manner of deceit or cheat, as they hid not so much as their tails in 
 a drop of butter ; nor was there any sauce near to disguise them. What 
 think you of a hen and cabbage ? or a piece of powdered beef covered over 
 with preserved quinces ? These are no miracles here. One thing there is 
 that I like very well, which is, that they have good salads all the year, 
 and use them frequently. It is true, the Elector gave his victuals, but 
 the officers that attended us valued their services, and one of them had 
 ready in his pocket a list of those that expected rewards at such a rate, 
 that the attendance cost more than the meat was worth. 
 
 " Dec. 9. — I was invited and dined at a monastery with the Franciscan 
 friars, who had before brought a Latin epistle to us for relief; for they 
 live upon others' charity, or more truly, live idly upon others' labours. But 
 to my dinner, for my mouth waters to be at it, and no doubt you will 
 long for such another entertainment when you know this. After some- 
 thing instead of grace or music, choose you whether, for I could make 
 neither of it ; for though what was sung were Latin, yet the tune was 
 such, that I neither understood the Latin nor the harmony. The begin- 
 ning of the Lord's Prayer to the first petition, they repeated aloud, but 
 went on silently to " sed libera nos," &c. and then broke out into a loud 
 chorus, which continued to the end ; during their silence, they stooped 
 forwards, and held their heads as if they had been listening to one an- 
 
22 THE LIFE OF 
 
 other's whispers. After this preludium, down we sat : the chief of the 
 monks (I suppose the prior) in the inside of the table, just in the middle, 
 and all his brethren on each side of him ; I was placed just opposite to 
 him, as if I had designed to bid battle to them all. But we were all 
 very quiet, and after some silence, in marched a solemn procession of peas 
 porridge, every one his dish. I could not tell by the looks what it was, 
 tiU putting my spoon in for discovery, some few peas in the bottom peeped 
 up. I had pity on them, and was willing enough to spare them, but was 
 forced by good manners, though against my nature and appetite, to destroy 
 some of them, and so on I fell. All this while not a word; I could not 
 tell whether to impute the silence to the eagerness of their stomachs, 
 which allowed their mouths no other employment but to fiU them, or any 
 other reason : I was confident it was not in admiration of their late music. 
 At last, the oracle of the place spoke, and told them he gave them leave 
 to speak to entertain me. I returned my compliment, and then to discourse 
 we went, helter-skelter, as hard as our bad Latin, and worse pronunciation 
 on each side, would let us ; but no matter, we cared not for Priscian, 
 whose head suffered that day not a little. However, this saved me from 
 the peas-pottage, and the peas-pottage from me ; for now I had something 
 else to do. Our next course was, every one his act of fish, and butter to 
 boot ; but whether it were intended for fresh or salt fish I cannot tell, 
 and I believe it is a question as hard as any Thomas ever disputed : our 
 third service was cheese and butter, and the cheese had this peculiar in 
 it, which I never saw any where else, that it had carraway seeds in it. 
 The prior had upon the table by him a little beU, which he rang when 
 he wanted any thing, and those that waited never brought him any thing 
 or took away, but they bowed with much reverence, and kissed the table. 
 The prior was a good plump feUow, that had more belly than brains ; and 
 methought was very fit to be reverenced, and not much unlike some head 
 of a college, I liked him well for an entertainment ; for if we had had a 
 good dinner, he would not have disturbed me much with his discourse. 
 The first that kissed the table did it so leisurely, that I thought he had 
 held his head there that the prior, during our silence, might have wrote 
 something on his bald crown, and made it sink that way into his under- 
 standing. Their beer was pretty good, but their countenances bespoke 
 better : their bread brown, and their table-linen neat enough. After din- 
 ner, we had the second part of the same tune, and after that I departed. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 23 
 
 The truth is, they were very civil and courteous, and seemed good-natured : 
 it was their time of fast in order to Christmas : if I have another feast 
 there, you shall be my guest. You will perhaps have reason to think 
 that whatever becomes of the rest, I shall bring home my belly weU-im- 
 proved, since aU I tell you is of eating and drinking ; but you must 
 know that knight-errants do not choose their adventures, and those who 
 sometimes live pleasantly in brave castles, amidst feasting and ladies, are 
 at other times in battles and wildernesses, and you must take them as 
 they come. 
 
 " Dec. 10. — I went to the Lutheran church, and found them all 
 merrily singing with their hats on ; so that by the posture they were in, and 
 the fashion of the building, not altogether unlike a theatre, I was ready to 
 fear that I had mistook the place. I thought they had met only to exercise 
 their voices ; for after a long stay they still continued on their melody, and 
 I verily believe they sung the 119th Psalm, nothing else could be so long : 
 that that made it a little tolerable was, that they sung better than we do 
 in our churches, and are assisted by an organ. The music being done, up 
 went the preacher, and prayed ; and then they sung again ; and then, after a 
 little prayer at which they all stood up, (and, as I understand since, was the 
 Lord's Prayer) read some of the Bible ; and then, laying by his book, 
 preached to them memoriter. His sermon, I think, was in blank verse ; for 
 by the modulation of his voice, which was not very pleasant, his periods seemed 
 to be all nearly the same length ; but if his matter were no better than his 
 delivery, those that slept had no great loss, and might have snored as har- 
 moniously. After sermon a prayer, and the organ and voice again ; and to 
 conclude all, up stood another minister at a little desk, above the commu- 
 nion table, (for in the Lutheran and Calvinist churches here there are no 
 chancels), gave the benediction, which I was told was the " Ite in Nomine 
 Domini ;" crossed himself, and so dismissed them. In the church I ob- 
 served two pictures, one a crucifix, the other I could not well discern ; but 
 in the Calvinist church no picture at aU. Here are, besides Catholics, Cal- 
 vinists, and Lutherans (which thi'ee are allowed) Jews, Anabaptists, and 
 Quakers. The Quakers, who are about thirty families, and some of 
 them not of the meanest ; and they increase, for as much as I can learn, they 
 agree with ours in other things as well as name, and take no notice of the 
 Elector's prohibiting their meeting. 
 
 " Dec. 11. — I had formerly seen the size and arms of the Duke's guards. 
 
24 THE LIFE OF 
 
 but to-day I had a sample of their stomachs, (I mean to eat, not to fight ;) 
 for if they be able to do as much that way too, no question but under their 
 guard the Duke is as much in safety as I believe his victuals are in danger. 
 But to make you the better understand my story, and the decorum which 
 made me take notice of it, I must first describe the place to you. The 
 place where the Elector commonly eats is a large room, into which you enter 
 at the lower end by an ascent of some few steps ; just without this is a lobby : 
 as this evening I was passing through it into the court, I saw a company 
 of soldiers very close together, and a steam rising from the midst of them. 
 I, as strangers used to be, being a little curious, drew near to these men of 
 mettle, where I found three or four earthen fortifications, wherein were 
 intrenched peas-porridge, and stewed turnips or apples, most valiantly 
 stormed by those men of war : they stood just opposite to the Duke's 
 table, and within view of it ; and had the Duke been there at supper, as it 
 was very near his supper time, I should have thought they had been set 
 there to provoke his appetite by example, and serve as the cocks have done 
 in some countries before battle, to fight the soldiers into courage, and cer- 
 tainly these soldiers might eat others into stomachs. Here you might have 
 seen the court and camp drawn near together, there a supper preparing with 
 great ceremony, and just by it a hearty meal made without stool, trencher, 
 table-cloth, or napkins, and for ought I could see, without beer, bread, or 
 salt ; but I stayed not long, for methought 'twas a dangerous place, and so I left 
 them in the engagement. I doubt by that time you come to the end of 
 this course of entertainment, you will be as weary of reading as I am of 
 writing, and therefore I shall refer you for the rest of my adventures 
 (wherein you are not to expect any great matter) to the next chapter of my 
 history. The news here is, that the Dutch have taken Lochem from the 
 Bishop of Munster, and he, in thanks, has taken and killed five or six hun- 
 dred of their men. The French, they say, run away, some home, and some 
 to the Bishop, who has disposed his men into garrisons, which has given the 
 Dutch an opportunity to besiege another of his towns, but not very consi- 
 derable : all things here seem to threaten a great deal of stir next summer, 
 but as yet the Elector declares for neither side. I sent my uncle a letter 
 of attorney before I left England, to authorise him to dispose of my affairs 
 there, and order my estate as he should think most convenient : I hope he 
 received it. I think it best my tenants should not know that I am out of 
 England, for perhaps that may make them the more slack to pay their 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 25 
 
 rents. If he tells you any thing that concerns me, pray send word to your 
 faithful friend, 
 
 J. L." 
 
 " Throw by this in some corner of your study till I come, and then we will 
 laugh together, for it may serve to recall other things to my memory, for 
 'tis hke I may have no other journal." 
 
 Locke returned to England in February 1665, and was at that 
 time undecided whether or not to continue in the public employ- 
 ment, and accept an offer to go to Spain. In a letter to the same 
 friend, Mr. Strachy, after mentioning the latest news : — 
 
 " That the French fill their towns towards England and Holland with 
 soldiers ; but whatever we apprehend, I scarce believe with a design of land- 
 ing in England ;" he says, " what private observations I have made will be 
 fitter for our table at Sutton than a letter, and if I have the opportunity to 
 see you shortly, we may possibly laugh together at some German stories, but 
 of my coming into the country I write doubtfully to you, for I am now 
 offered a fair opportunity of going into Spain with the Ambassador ; if I 
 embrace it, I shall conclude this my wandering year ; if not, you will ere 
 long see me in Somersetshire. If I go I shall not have above ten days' stay 
 in England : I am puUed both ways by divers considerations, and do yet 
 waver. I intend to-morrow for Oxford, and shall there take my resolution. 
 This town affords little news, and though the return of the Court gives 
 confidence to the timorous that kept from it for fear of the infection, yet 
 I find the streets very thin, and methinks the town droops. 
 
 Yours most faithfully, 
 
 " London, Feb. 22, 65." JOHN LoCKE." 
 
 The resolution was taken soon after his arrival at Oxford not to 
 accept the offer of going to Spain. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I wrote to you from London as soon as I came thither, to let you 
 know you had a servant returned to England, but very likely to leave it 
 again before he saw you. But those fair offers I had to go to Spain have 
 not prevailed with me : whether fate or fondness kept me at home I know 
 not ; whether I have let slip the minute that they say every one has once 
 
 E 
 
26 THE LIFE OF 
 
 in his life to make himself, I cannot teU : this I am sure, I never trouble 
 myself for the loss of that which I never had ; and have the satisfaction 
 that I hope shortly to see you at Sutton Court, a greater rarity than my 
 travels have afforded me ; for, believe it, one may go a long way before one 
 meet a friend. Pray write by the post, and let me know how you do, and 
 what you can tell of the concernment of, 
 
 Your most affectionate friend, 
 " Oxford, Feb. 28, 65." " J LoCKE." 
 
 The following letter from Locke to his friend, Mr. Strachy, de- 
 scribing the disaster at Chatham, when the Dutch fleet sailed into 
 the Medway, may not be uninteresting; it was in all probability 
 written during his residence wdth Lord Shaftesbury in London. 
 
 " SIR, June 15, 67. 
 
 " I believe report hath increased the ill news we have here, therefore, 
 to abate what possibly fear may have rumoured, I send you what is vouched 
 here for nearest the truth. The Dutch have burned seven of our ships in 
 Chatham, viz. the Royal James, Royal Oak, London, Unity, St. Matthias, 
 Charles V., and the Royal Charles, which some say they have towed off, 
 others that they have burned. One man of war of theirs was blown up, 
 and three others they say are stuck in the sands ; the rest of their fleet is 
 fallen down out of the Medway into the Thames. It was neither excess of 
 courage on their part, nor want of courage in us, that brought this loss upon 
 us ; for when the English had powder and shot they fought like themselves, 
 and made the Dutch feel them ; but whether it were fortune, or fate, or any 
 thing else, let time and tongues tell you, for I profess I would not beheve 
 what every mouth speaks. It is said this morning the French fleet are seen 
 off the Isle of Wight. I have neither the gift nor heart to prophesy, and 
 since I remember you bought a new cloak in the hot weather, I know you 
 are apt enough to provide against a storm. Should I tell you that I beheve 
 but half what men of credit and eye witnesses report, you would think the 
 world very wicked and foolish, or me very credulous. Things and persons 
 are the same here, and go on at the same rate they did before, and I, among 
 the rest, design to continue, 
 
 Your faithful friend and servant, 
 
 J. L. " 
 
 " I think the hull of three or four of our great ships are saved, being 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 27 
 
 sunk to prevent their burning totally. We are all quiet here, but raising 
 of forces apace." 
 
 This and other letters to Mr. Strachy, were probably returned 
 again to Locke, after the death of the friend to whom they had 
 been written. 
 
 He had again an offer of an employment abroad in the following 
 August, and continued, as late as May 1666, to receive letters from 
 an agent in Germany, who appears to have been employed to send 
 intelligence for the information of some member of the Government 
 here. There exist several letters, dated Cleve, from this person to 
 Locke, then at Oxford ; but as they relate to events no longer of any 
 importance, it is unnecessary to give their contents, however amusing 
 the German description of the Coyness and Coquetry of a German 
 Elector and his Minister, on those truly national and interesting- 
 questions, soldier-selling and subsidies. 
 
 In 1666 an offer of a different nature was made through a friend 
 in Dublin, to procure a considerable preferment in the Church from 
 the Duke of Ormond, then Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, if Locke 
 should be inclined to engage in the clerical profession, and a draft 
 of his answer has been preserved, which will show his conscientious 
 scruples, and the objections which determined him to refuse the 
 advantageous offer then held out to him. 
 
 After expressing how much he felt indebted to the kindness of 
 his friend, he proceeds thus : — 
 
 " The proposals, no question, are very considerable ; but consider, a man's 
 affairs and whole course of his life are not to be changed in a moment, and 
 that one is not made fit for a calling, and that in a day. I beheve you think 
 me too proud to undertake any thing wherein I should acquit myself but un- 
 worthily. I am sure I cannot content myself with being undermost, possibly 
 the middlemost of my profession ; and you will allow, on consideration, 
 care is to be taken not to engage in a calling, wherein, if one chance to be a 
 bungler, there is no retreat. A person must needs be very quick or incon- 
 siderate, that can on a sudden resolve to transplant himself from a country, 
 affairs, and study, upon probability, which, though your interest there may 
 make you look on as certain, yet my want of fitness may probably disap- 
 
 E 9. 
 
28 THE LIFE OF 
 
 point : for certainly something is required on my side. It is not enough for 
 such places to be in orders, and I cannot think that preferment of that na- 
 ture should be thrown upon a man who has never given any proof of him- 
 self, nor ever tried the pulpit. Would you not think it a stranger question, 
 if I were to ask you whether I must be first in these places or in orders ; and 
 yet, if you will consider with me, it will not perhaps seem altogether irra- 
 tional : for should I put myself into orders, and, by the meanness of my 
 abilities, grow unworthy such expectations, (for you do not think that di- 
 vines are now made, as formerly, by inspiration and on a sudden, nor learn- 
 ing caused by laying on of hands,) I unavoidably lose all my former study, 
 and put myself into a calling that wiU not leave me. Were it a profession 
 from whence there were any return — and that, amongst all the occurrences of 
 life may be very convenient — you would find me with as great forwardness to 
 embrace your proposals, as I now acknowledge them with gratitude. The 
 same considerations have made me a long time reject very advantageous 
 offers of several very considerable friends in England. I cannot now be 
 forward to disgrace you, or any one else, by being lifted into a place which 
 perhaps I cannot fill, and from whence there is no descending without tum- 
 bhng. If any shame or misfortune attend me, it shall be only mine ; and if 
 I am covetous of any good fortune, 'tis that one I love may share it with 
 me. But your great obligation is not the less, because I am not in a con- 
 dition to receive the effect of it. I return all manner of acknowledgement 
 due to so great a favour, and shall watch all occasions to let you see how 
 sensible I am of it, and to assure you I am, &c. &c." 
 
 Had he accepted this offer of preferment ; had he risen beyond 
 that middlemost station in the Church, which his own modesty 
 made him assign to himself, and to which his virtues must have 
 condemned him ; had he even risen to the highest station in that 
 profession, he might have acquired all the reputation which belongs 
 to a divine of great talents and learning, or the still higher distinc- 
 tion of great moderation, candour, and christian charity, so rare in 
 a high churchman ; but most certainly he would never have at- 
 tained the name of a great philosopher, who has extended the 
 bounds of human knowledge. 
 
 There occurred in the course of Locke's life the choice of three 
 distinct roads to fortune, and perhaps to celebrity, either of which 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 29 
 
 was capable of influencing most powerfully, if not of totally changing 
 his future destiny. The temptation of considerable preferment in 
 the Church, already mentioned, the practice of physic as a profession, 
 or the opportunity of engaging in diplomatic employments, from 
 which last he seems, by his own account, to have had a narrow es- 
 cape. It would have been unfortunate for his own renown, had he 
 been swayed by the advantages which at different times were held 
 out to him ; it would also have been unfortunate for the progress 
 of knowledge in the world, if he had placed himself under the in- 
 fluence of circumstances so capable of diverting the current of his 
 thoughts, and changing his labours from their proper and most 
 useful destination ; namely, the lifting of the veil of error : because 
 an age might have elapsed before the appearance of so bold a 
 searcher after truth. 
 
 It appears, from Boyle's General History of the Air, that in 
 1666, Locke was engaged in experimental philosophy ; as he 
 began a register of the state of the air in the month of June of 
 that year, and continued it, with many interruptions, however, and 
 some of very long continuance, till his final departure from Ox- 
 ford in 1683. In a letter from Mr. Boyle, somewhat earlier than 
 the first printed observations, after praising the industry and cu- 
 riosity of his correspondent, he expresses a wish that he should 
 " search into the nature of minerals," and promises to send some 
 sheets of articles of enquiry into mines, and it seems that Locke 
 was at that time much engaged in chymical as well as physical 
 studies. 
 
 In the same year, 1666, he first became acquainted with Lord 
 Ashley, afterwards the celebrated Earl of Shaftesbury ; and as 
 accidents are frequently said to have the greatest influence in de- 
 termining the course of men's lives, so, in this instance, the merest 
 accident produced an acquaintance which was afterwards ripened 
 into the closest intimacy, and was the cause of turning his at- 
 tention to political subjects, and thus materially afl^ected the course 
 of his future life. 
 
 Lord Ashley, we are informed, was suffering from an abscess 
 
30 THE LIFE OF 
 
 in his breast, the consequence of a fall from his horse ; and came 
 to Oxford in order to drink the water of Astrop. He had written 
 to Dr. Thomas to procure the waters for him on his arrival at 
 Oxford, but this physician happening to be called away from that 
 place, desired Locke to execute the commission. By some accident, 
 the waters were not ready when Lord Ashley arrived ; and Locke 
 waited upon him to apologize for the disappointment occasioned 
 by the fault of the messenger sent to procure them. Lord Ashley 
 received him with great civility, and was not only satisfied with 
 his excuse, but was so much pleased with his conversation, that he 
 desired to improve an acquaintance thus begun by accident, and 
 which afterwards grew into a friendship that continued unchanged 
 to the end of his life. 
 
 Lord Ashley, better known as Lord Shaftesbury, was a man 
 of the greatest penetration and genius, to which he united the 
 most engaging manners and address. We may therefore readily 
 believe what Le Clerc tells us, that Locke, on his part, was no 
 less anxious to cultivate the acquaintance of so distinguished a 
 person. If the first services which Locke was enabled to render 
 Lord Ashley were derived from his medical science, his sagacity and 
 talent for business of every kind soon led to the most unreserved 
 confidence ; and he continued, during the whole course of his life, 
 through good report and evil report, steadily attached to his patron 
 and his friend ; nor will it be denied, that this steadiness of attach- 
 ment was alike honourable to both. Mr. Fox says, that Locke 
 " was probably caught by the splendid qualities of Shaftesbury ; 
 his courage, his openness, his party zeal, his eloquence, his fair- 
 dealing with his friends, and his superiority to vulgar corruption ; 
 and that his partiality might make him, on the other hand, blind 
 to the indifference with which he (Shaftesbury) espoused either 
 monarchical, arbitrary, or republican principles, as best suited his 
 ambition. The greatest blots in Shaftesbury's character are his 
 sitting on the Trials of the Regicides, and his persecution of the 
 Papists in the affair of the Popish Plot, merely, as it should seem, 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 31 
 
 because it suited the parties with which he was engaged." In 
 neither of these transactions could Locke have had the least part, 
 as he had resided for more than three years on the Continent, chiefly 
 in France, for the benefit of his health, and remained there during 
 the heat and fury excited by the discovery of the Popish Plot. He 
 had left England, December, 1675, and returned not again before 
 the 10th of May, 1679. It will be remembered, that Bedloe's Nar- 
 rative, and the trials, if they can so be called, of the Catholics charged 
 with the plot, had taken place in 1678, and were finished in the 
 early part of the following year. There cannot, therefore, be the 
 slightest reason to suspect that Locke could have assisted in the 
 remotest manner to excite the blind No Popery rage of those 
 disgraceful times. Even had he been within the atmosphere of the 
 raging epidemic, the love of truth, which at all times so nobly 
 distinguished him, would have preserved him from the national con- 
 tagion. Although it is impossible to give the same verdict of not 
 guilty in favour of Shaftesbury, yet, when we consider the temper 
 of the age, and the delusions under which men laboured, some 
 allowance must be made for that great party-leader who, with all 
 his faults, undoubtedly possessed many great qualities ; and before 
 passing our final sentence upon him, one thing must never be for- 
 gotten, that to Shaftesbury we owe the Habeas Corpus Act ; a poli- 
 tical merit of such magnitude, that, like the virtue of charity, it 
 may justly be said to cover a multitude of sins. 
 
 To return, however, to the early period of the connexion with 
 Lord Ashley, we learn that, from Oxford, Locke accompanied him 
 to Sunning-hill Wells, and afterwards resided for some time, to- 
 wards the end of the year, at Exeter-House, in the Strand. Lord 
 Ashley, also, by his advice, underwent an operation which saved his 
 life, the opening of an abscess on his breast. During this residence 
 with Lord Ashley in London, he had the opportunity of seeing 
 many of the most distinguished characters of those times, the Duke 
 of Buckingham, Lord Halifax, &c. who, we are told, enjoyed the style 
 of his conversation, which was a happy union of wit and good sense. 
 
32 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Le Clerc tells a story, that once, when three or four of these noble- 
 men had met at Lord Ashley's, and, without much prelude, sat down 
 to the card-table, Locke, taking out his pocket-book, and looking 
 at the company, began to write, with the appearance of great atten- 
 tion. One of the party observing him occupied in this manner, 
 enquired what he was writing ; to which Locke replied, that he was 
 extremely desirous of profiting by their Lordships' conversation, and 
 having waited impatiently for the opportunity of enjoying the 
 society of some of the greatest wits of the age, he thought he could 
 do no better than to take down verbatim what they said, and he 
 began to read the notes that he had made. Of course, it was not 
 necessary to proceed far ; the jest produced the effect, the card- 
 table was deserted, and the remainder of the evening was passed in 
 a more rational and agreeable manner. 
 
 We learn from Le Clerc, that Locke was consulted by Lord 
 Ashley in all his aifairs, even in the most interesting concerns of his 
 family. He resided partly at Exeter-House, and partly at Oxford ; 
 at which last place we know that, in 1670, his great work, the Essay 
 on Human Understanding, was first sketched out. It arose from 
 the meeting, as the author says, of five or six friends at his cham- 
 bers, who finding difficulties in the inquiry and discussion they 
 were engaged in, he was induced to examine what objects our 
 understandings were, or were not, fitted to deal with. The hasty 
 thoughts which he set down against the next meeting, gave the first 
 entrance to that discourse which, after long intervals, and many in- 
 terruptions, was at last, during a period of leisure and retirement, 
 brought into the order it assumed, when given to the world 
 eighteen years afterwards. It has been said before, that a copy of 
 the Essay exists with the date of 1671, and it may here be added, 
 that the names of two of the friends alluded to were Tyrrell and 
 Thomas, a part of whose correspondence, as connected with the 
 publication of the Essay, will appear when we come to that time. 
 
 In 1672, Lord Ashley, after filling the office of Chancellor of the 
 Exchequer, was created Earl of Shaftesbury, and declared Lord 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 33 
 
 Chancellor. He then appointed Locke his Secretary for the pre- 
 sentation of jbenefices, and also to some office in the Council of 
 Trade ; both of which he quitted in 1673, when Shaftesbury quar- 
 relled with the Court, and placed himself at the head of the Country 
 party in Parliament. 
 
 It was at the opening of the Parliament in 1673, that Shaftesbury 
 made use of that extraordinary expression, in reference to the war 
 with Holland, " delenda est Carthago ;" not, it must be observed, 
 in his speech as a peer, expressing his own individual opinion, but 
 in what may be called a supplemental speech made by the Lord 
 Chancellor (according to the practice of the time) to that delivered 
 by the King in person, and previously determined upon by the 
 King in Council. Shaftesbury expressed to Locke the vexation he 
 felt at being made the organ of such sentiments ; and practiced as 
 he was as a speaker and politician, and possessing as he did the 
 greatest presence of mind on all occasions, yet on this, he desired 
 Locke to stand near him with a copy of the speech in his hand, 
 that he might be ready to assist his memory, in case he should re- 
 quire it, in the painful task of delivering an official speech containing 
 opinions so contrary to his own. 
 
 During this administration, that unprincipled measure, the 
 shutting of the Exchequer, had been perpetrated. Cliffi)rd is now 
 known to have been the author and adviser, but as it has often been 
 attributed to Shaftesbury, it is due to him to give his own refutation 
 of that charge in a letter which he wrote to Locke. 
 
 A second letter from Shaftesbury, unconnected with the ques- 
 tion, and of a later date, has been added as a specimen of his light 
 and playful style of correspondence. 
 
 " THESE FOR HIS MUCH-ESTEEMED FRIEND, JOHN LOCKE, ESQ. 
 " Mr, Locke, St. Giles, Nov. 23, 1674. 
 
 " I write only to you, and not to Mr. Stringer, because you write me 
 word he is ill, for which I am exceedingly sorry, and pray heartily for his 
 recovery, as being very much concerned, both in friendship and interest. 
 
34 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " As for Captain Halstead's affair, I have this day received the inclosed 
 letter from him, which, when you have read, you will believe I have reason 
 to desire to be freed from his clamour ; therefore, pray speak with him again, 
 and tell him, that Mr. Stringer being sick, I have desired you to appear for 
 me before the referees ; and that whatever they shall award, I have given 
 orders to pay my proportion ; and that, according to his desire, I have writ- 
 ten as effectually as I can to the other Lords, that they would do the same. 
 Pray keep his letter, and let me have it again. I have herewith sent an 
 answer to the Lord Craven, and the rest of the Lords' letters, which I have 
 not sealed that you may read it ; when you have read it, you may seal it, if 
 you please. 
 
 " Pray speak to South, at the Custom-House, that he would buy me 
 one bushel of the best sort of chestnuts ; it is for planting, and send them 
 down by the carrier. 
 
 " You guess very right at the design of the pamphlet you sent me ; it is 
 certainly designed to throw dirt at me, but is like the great promoters of 
 it, foolish as well as false : it labours only to asperse the original author of 
 the Council, which it will have to be one person, and therefore seems to 
 know, and never considers that it is impossible that any statesman should be 
 so mad as to give a counsel of that consequence to a junto or number of 
 men, or to any but the King himself ; who, it is not to be imagined, will 
 ever become a witness against any man in such a case, especially when he 
 hath approved the Council so far as to continue the stop ever since by a new 
 great seal every year. Besides, I am very well armed to clear myself, for 
 it is not impossible for me to prove what my opinion was of it, when it was 
 first proposed to the Council. And if any man consider the circumstance 
 of time when it was done, that it was the prologue of making the Lord 
 Clifford Lord Treasurer ; he will not suspect me of the Council for that 
 business, unless he thinks me at the same time out of my wits. Besides, 
 if any of the bankers do enquire of the clerks of the Treasury, with whom 
 they are well acquainted, they will find that Sir John Duncome and I were 
 so little satisfied with that Vv^ay of proceeding, as, from the time of the stop, 
 we instantly quitted all paying and borrowing of money, and the whole 
 transaction of that part of the affair to the Lord Clifford, by whom from that 
 time forward, it was only managed. I shall not deny, but that I knew 
 earlier of the counsel, and foresaw what necessarily must produce it sooner 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 35 
 
 than other men, having the advantage of being more versed in the King's 
 secret affairs ; but I hope it will not be expected by any that do in the 
 least know me, that I should have discovered the King's secret, or betrayed 
 his business, whatever my thoughts were of it. This worthy scribbler, if 
 his law be true, or his quotation to the purpose, should have taken notice 
 of the combination of the bankers, who take the protection of the Court, 
 and do not take the remedy of the law against those upon whom they had 
 assignments, by which they might have been enabled to pay their creditors ; 
 for it is not to be thought that the King will put a stop to their legal 
 proceedings in a court of justice. Besides, if the writer had been really 
 concerned for the bankers, he would have spoken a little freelier against the 
 continuing of the stop in a time of peace, as well as against the first making 
 of it in a time of war ; for, as I remember, there were some reasons offered for 
 the first that had their weight, namely, that the bankers were grown destruc- 
 tive to the nation, especially to the country gentlemen and farmers, and their 
 interest : that under the pretence, and by the advantage of lending the 
 King money upon very great use, they got all the ready money of the 
 kingdom into their hands ; so that no gentleman, farmer, or merchant, could, 
 without great difficulty, compass money for their occasions, unless at almost 
 double the rate the law allowed to be taken. That, as to the King's affairs, 
 they were grown to that pass, that twelve in the hundred did not content 
 them ; but they bought up all the King's assignment at twenty or thirty per 
 cent, profit, so that the King was at a fifth part loss in all the issue of his 
 whole revenue. Besides, in support of the Council, I remember it was 
 alleged by them that favoured it without doors — for I speak only of them — 
 that the King might, without any damage to the subject, or unreasonable 
 oppression upon the bankers, pay them six in the hundred interest during 
 the war, and 300,000/, each year of their principal, as soon as there was 
 peace ; which, why it is not now done, the learned writer, I believe, hath 
 friends can best tell him. This I write, that you may show my friends 
 or any body else. The messenger staying for me, I have written it in haste, 
 and not kept a copy, therefore, I pray, lose not the letter. 
 
 " I am sorry you are like to fare so ill in your place, but you know 
 where your company is ever most desirable and acceptable. Pray let me 
 see you speedily, and I shall be ready to accommodate you in your annuity 
 at seven years' purchase, if you get not elsewhere a better bargain ; for I 
 
 F 2 
 
36 THE LIFE OF 
 
 would leave you free from care, and think of living long and at ease. 
 This from, 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Your truly affectionate friend and servant, 
 
 Shaftesbury." 
 
 " Mr. Locke, London, March 20, J| 
 
 " We long to see you here, and hope you have almost ended your travels. 
 Somersetshire, no doubt, will perfect your breeding ; after France and 
 Oxford, you could not go to a more proper place. My wife finds you profit 
 much there, for you have recovered your skill in Chedder cheese, and 
 for a demonstration have sent us one of the best we have seen. I thank 
 you for your care about my grandchild, but having wearied myself with 
 consideration every way, I resolve to have him in my house ; I long to 
 speak with you about it. For news we have little, only our Government 
 here are so truly zealous for the advancement of the Protestant religion, 
 as it is established in the Church of England, that they are sending the 
 common Prayer-book the second time into Scotland. No doubt but my 
 Lord Lauderdale knows it will agree with their present constitution ; but 
 surely he was much mistaken when he administered the Covenant to Eng- 
 land ; but we shall see how the tripodes and the holy altar will agree. My 
 Lord of Ormond is said to be dying, so that you have Irish and Scotch 
 news ; and for English, you make as much at Bristol as in any part of 
 the kingdom. Thus recommending you to the protection of the Bishop 
 of Bath and Wells, (whose strong beer is the only spiritual thing any 
 Somersetshire gentleman knows,) I rest. 
 
 Your very affectionate and assured friend, 
 
 Shaftesbury." 
 
 Anthony Collins gives the following account of that interesting 
 paper, which details the whole proceedings in the House of Lords 
 during the long- contested Bill for imposing what was called the 
 Bishops' test. It is published in Locke's works under the title of 
 A Letter from a Person of Quality to his Friend in the Country. 
 By that Bill, entitled " An Act to prevent the dangers which may 
 arise from persons disaffected to the Government," brought in by 
 the Court party in April and May 1675, all such as enjoyed any 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 37 
 
 beneficial office, or employment, civil or military, to which was 
 afterwards added Privy Counsellors, Justices of the Peace, and 
 Members of Parliament, were under a penalty to take the oath, 
 and make the declaration and abhorrence following : 
 
 "I, A. B. do declare that it is not lawful upon any pretence 
 whatever, to take up arms against the King ; and that I do abhor 
 the traitorous position of taking up arms by his authority, against 
 his person, or against those that are commissioned by him ; and I 
 do swear that I will not at any time endeavour the alteration of the 
 Government either in Church or State. So help me God." 
 
 Such of the Lords as had no dependance upon the Court, and 
 were distinguished by the name of the Country Lords, locked upon 
 this bill as a step the Court was making to introduce arbitrary 
 power, and they opposed it so vigorously, that the debate lasted five 
 several days before it was committed to a Committee of the whole 
 House, and afterwards it took up sixteen or seventeen whole days, 
 the house sitting many times till eight or nine of the clock at night, 
 and sometimes till midnight. However, after several alterations, 
 which they were forced to make, it passed the Committee, but a 
 contest arising between the two Houses concerning their privileges, 
 they were so inflamed against each other, that the King thought it 
 advisable to prorogue the Parliament, so the Bill was never reported 
 from the Committee to the House. 
 
 The debates occasioned by that bill failed not to make a great 
 noise throughout the whole kingdom ; and because there were very 
 few persons duly apprised thereof, and every body spoke of it as 
 they stood affected, my Lord Shaftesbury, who was at the head of 
 the Country party, thought it necessary to publish an account of 
 every thing that had passed upon that occasion, in order not only 
 to open the people's eyes upon the secret views of the Court, but to 
 do justice to the Country Lords, and thereby to secure to them the 
 continuance of the affection and attachment of such as were of the 
 same opinion with themselves, which was the most considerable part 
 of the nation. But though this Lord had all the faculties of an 
 
3§ THE LIFE OF 
 
 orator, yet not having time to exercise himself in the art of writing, 
 he desired Mr. Locke to draw up the relation, which he did under 
 his Lordship's inspection, and only committed to writing what my 
 Lord Shaftesbury did in a manner dictate to him : accordingly, you 
 will find in it a great many strokes which could proceed from no- 
 body but my Lord Shaftesbury himself ; and amongst others, the 
 characters and eulogiums of such Lords as had signalised themselves 
 in the cause of public liberty. 
 
 The letter was privately printed soon afterwards, and the Court 
 was so incensed at it, that at the next meeting of Parliament, 
 towards the end of the year 1675, the Court party, who still kept 
 the ascendant in the House of Lords, ordered it to be burned by 
 the common hangman. " The particular relation of the debate," 
 says the ingenious Mr. Marvel, " which lasted many days with great 
 eagerness on both sides, and the reasons but on one, was, in the 
 next sessions, burnt by order of the Lords, but the sparks of it will 
 eternally fly in their adversaries faces." 
 
 The following letter, in Locke's hand- writing, indorsed Charles 
 II. to Sir George Downing, was probably procured from Lord 
 Shaftesbury. 
 
 " SIR GEORGE DOWNING, White Hall, Jan. 16, O. S. 167|. 
 
 " I have seen aU the letters to my Lord Arlington since your arrival in 
 Holland, and because I find you sometimes divided in your opinion betwixt 
 what seems good to you for my affairs in the various emergencies and ap- 
 pearances there, and what my instructions direct you, that you may not 
 err in the future, I have thought fit to send you my last mind upon the 
 hinge of the whole negotiation, and in my own hand, that you may Hke- 
 wise know it is your part to obey punctually my orders, instead of putting 
 yourself to the trouble of finding reasons why you do not do so, as I find 
 in your last of the 121th current. And first you must know I am entirely 
 secure that France will join with me against Holland, and not separate from 
 me for any offers Holland can make to them ; next, I do allow of your 
 transmitting to me the States' answer to your Memorial concerning the 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 39 
 
 flags, and that you stay there expecting my last resolution upon it, de- 
 claring that you cannot proceed to any new matter till you receive it : but 
 upon the whole matter, you must always know my mind and resolution is, 
 not only to insist upon the having my flag saluted even on their very 
 shores, (as it was always practised,) but in having my dominion of the 
 seas asserted, and Van Guent exemplarily punished. Notwithstanding 
 all this, I would have you use your skill so to amuse them that they may 
 not finally despair of me, and thereby give me time to make myself more 
 ready, and leave them more remiss in their preparations. In the last place, 
 I must again enjoin you to spare no cost in informing yourself exactly 
 how ready their ships of war are in all their ports, how soon they are 
 like to put to sea, and to send what you learn of this kind hither with 
 all speed. 
 
 I am, your loving friend, 
 
 Charles R." 
 
 In 1675, Locke went to reside in France for the benefit of his 
 health, and, from the time of his landing at Calais, he kept a daily 
 Journal, from which the following extracts have been made. The ori- 
 ginal contains a description of the country, and of such things as were 
 best worth seeing in the different towns of France. It describes with 
 much minuteness and accuracy the cultivation of the vine and olive 
 country, the different processes of the fermentation of wine, and of 
 preparing the oils, and the different sorts of fruit there in highest es- 
 timation. It gives an account of mechanical and other contrivances, 
 and objects of use and convenience, then more common in France 
 than in England. There are also many medical observations, many 
 notes and references to books, which it has been thought proper for 
 the sake of brevity to omit. For the same reason, the first part 
 only of the Journal has been printed verbatim : it has afterwards 
 been much curtailed, and the notes and dissertations on different 
 subjects, interspersed in different parts, are collected together in a 
 connected form at the end of these extracts. In general, the par- 
 ticulars which have been selected from the Journal, are such as are 
 either curious and interesting, as records of former times, or as they 
 
40 THE LIFE OF 
 
 aiford a contrast between the present prosperous state of France 
 and its former condition ; where the extremes of splendour and 
 misery marked the nature of the old and despotic Government, the 
 paradise of monarchs and courtiers, but the purgatory of honest 
 and industrious citizens and peasants, whom French lawyers were 
 pleased to describe, and French nobles to treat, as " tailleable et cor- 
 veable" animals, who lived, and moved, and had their beings only 
 for the benefit of the privileged orders. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 41 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM THE JOURNAL. 
 
 The way from Boulogne is made up of hills and plains, covered 
 with corn or woods ; in the latter we looked out for our friends of 
 St. Omers, but the Dons were afraid of the French or of us, (I do 
 not imagine they had any aversion to our money,) and so we saw no 
 more whiskers. After this, those that had money thought it their 
 own, and believed their clothes might last them to Paris, where the 
 tailors lie in wait : and I know not whether they with their yards 
 and sheers, or the trooper, with his sword and pistol, be the more 
 dangerous creature. We marched on merrily the remainder of the 
 day to Montreuil ; supper was ready before our boots were off, and 
 being fish, as soon digested. 
 
 Dec. 1. — Early on a frosty morning we were, with all the train, 
 on our march to Abbeville, ten leagues : it is a large town on 
 the Amiens river : here his Excellency dismissed his St. Omer's 
 trumpeter. 
 
 2nd. The Ambassador resolving to go by Amiens, our go- 
 vernor, the messenger, resolved to take the ordinary road by Poy, 
 which we, who went to seek adventure beyond Paris, easily consented 
 to. We therefore plodded on nine leagues to Poy ; we were no 
 sooner got into our chambers, but we thought we were come there 
 too soon, as the highway seemed the cleaner and more desirable 
 place. It being decreed we must stay there all night, I called, en- 
 
 * The Journal begins 30th November, 1675. 
 
 G 
 
42 THE LIFE OF 
 
 treated, and swaggered a good while for a pair of slippers ; at last 
 they brought them, and I sat me down on the only seat we had in 
 our apartment, which at present was a form, but had formerly 
 been a wooden-horse : I thought to ease myself by standing, but 
 with no very good success, I assure you ; for the soles of my pan- 
 tofles being sturdy timber, had very little compliance for my feet, 
 and so made it somewhat uncomfortable to keep myself, as the 
 French call it, on one end. This small taste of sabot gave me a 
 surfeit of them, and I should not make choice of a country to pass 
 my pilgrimage in where they are in fashion : as we had but two 
 pair between three of us, there could not be a nicer case in breeding 
 than to know whether to take, offer, or refuse their use. Many 
 compliments, I assure you, passed on the occasion ; we shuffled fa- 
 vour, obligation, and honour, and many such words, (very useful in 
 travelling,) forward and backward until supper came ; here we 
 thought to divert our pain, but we quickly found a supper of ill meat, 
 and worse cooking : soup and ragout, and such other words of good 
 savour, lost here their relish quite, and out of five or six dishes, we 
 patched up a very uncomfortable supper. But be it as rascally as 
 it was, it must not fail to be fashionable ; we had the ceremony of 
 first and second course, and a desert at the close : whatever the 
 fare, the treat must be in all its formality, with some haws, if no 
 better, under the fine name of Pomet de Paradise. After supper, we 
 retreated to the place that usually gives relief to all moderate cala- 
 mities, but our beds were antidotes to sleep : I do not complain of 
 the hardness, but the tangible quality of what was next me, and the 
 savour of all about made me quite forget both slippers and supper. 
 As we had a long journey of twelve leagues to go next day, our 
 stay was fortunately short here : we were roused before day, and all 
 were glad to be released from the prison ; we willingly left it to 
 the miserable souls who were to succeed us. If Paris be heaven, 
 (for the French, with their usual justice, extol it above all things on 
 earth,) Poy certainly is purgatory in the way to it. 
 
 Dec. S. — We dined at Beauvais, where I saw nothing remarkable 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 43 
 
 except the quire of a church, very high and stately, built, as they 
 say, by the English, who, it seems, had not time to complete the 
 whole, and the French have never thought fit to finish it. If the 
 nave of the church were added, it would be a magnificent struc- 
 ture. As far as I have observed of the churches of both countries, 
 to make them in every way exact, we ought to build, and they to 
 adorn them. Hence, we went three leagues to Tilliard to bed. 
 Good mutton, and a good supper, clean linen of the country, and a 
 pretty girl to lay it, (who was an angel compared with the fiends at 
 Poy,) made us some amends for the past night's suffering. Do not 
 wonder that a man of my constitution and gravity mentions to you 
 a handsome face amongst his remarks, for I imagine that a traveller, 
 though he carry a cough with him, goes not out of his way when he 
 takes notice of strange and extraordinary things. 
 
 Dec 4. — We dined at Beaumont. This being the last assembly 
 we were like to have of our company, 'twas thought convenient 
 here to even some small account had happened upon the road : 
 one of the Frenchmen, who had disbursed for our troop, was, by 
 the natural quickness of his temper, carried beyond the mark, and 
 demanded for our shares more than we thought due. Whereupon, 
 one of the English desired an account of particulars, not that the 
 whole was so considerable, but to keep a certain custom we had in 
 England, not to pay money without knowing for what. Monsieur 
 answered briskly, he would give no account ; the other as briskly, 
 that he would have it : this produced a reckoning of the several 
 disbursements, and an abatement of one-fourth of the demand, and 
 a great demonstration of good nature. Monsieur steward showed 
 afterwards more civility and good nature, after the little contest, 
 
 than he had done all the journey before. 
 
 * # * #' . # * * 
 
 Thus, in seven days, we came from Paris to Lyons, 100 leagues ; 
 the passage to Chalons was troublesome ; from Chalons, by water, 
 was very easy and convenient, and the river quiet. 
 
 21st. Lyons. — We visited Mr. Charleton, who treated us extreme 
 
 G 2 
 
44 THE LIFE OF 
 
 civilly. They showed us, upon the top of the hill, a church, 
 now dedicated to the Virgin, which was formerly a Temple of 
 Venus : near it dwelt Thomas Becket, when banished from England. 
 
 22nd. We saw the Jesuits' College ; a large quadrangle, sur- 
 rounded by high buildings, having the walls covered with pretty 
 well-painted figures. The library is the best that ever I saw, except 
 Oxford, being one very high oblong square, with a gallery round to 
 come at the books : it is yet but moderately furnished with books, 
 being made, as they told us, not above a year. The College is plea- 
 santly situated on the banks of the Rhone, and hath a very excellent 
 prospect. Saw M. Servis's museum of pumps, clocks, and curiosities. 
 
 23rd. Saw St. John's Church, the cathedral, a very plain, ordi- 
 nary building, nothing very observable but the clock, which they 
 say cost 20,000 livres : at every hour, the image of an old man, 
 designed for the Father, shakes his hand ; this is what is most 
 looked at, but of least moment, there being other things far more 
 considerable ; as the place of the sun, dominical letter, Epact. 
 moveable feasts, and other things of an almanack, for almost a 
 hundred years to come. 
 
 24th. I saw a little Castle, called Pierre en Cise, upon the river 
 Soane, at the entrance into the town. It is a place used to keep 
 prisoners ; indeed, it is much better fitted to keep criminals in, than 
 enemies out. It is a little, irregular fortification on a rock, which 
 hath a precipice on all sides, and is high towards the river, and 
 two other sides, but commanded by hills much higher ; here Fou- 
 quet was once prisoner. Here the hill on the left-hand turns short 
 towards the Rhone, and leaves a long plain neck of land between 
 the two rivers, on which the greatest part of Lyons is built, in 
 narrow, irregular streets ; stone houses, flat-roofed, covered with 
 pantiles, and some turrets, and the angle of the roofs with tin. A 
 good part of the town lies also on the right-hand of the Soane ; and 
 the sides of the hills are covered with houses, gardens, and vine- 
 yards, so that it is a pleasant place. The town-house is a stately 
 building. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 45 
 
 25th. Saw a fine fair prospect of the town from the hills on 
 the north side. The Hotel Dieu, a fair large hospital, contain- 
 ing, as they told me, five hundred sick persons : they lie in a room 
 which is a large cross, and three rows of beds in each : two of the 
 arms of the cross have men, and two women ; in the centre is an 
 altar. 
 
 26th. I saw the Charite, consisting of nine square courts, and 
 there are in them 1500, as I am told, maintained and lodged here. 
 They receive bastards, and as soon as they are able, employ them in 
 winding silk, the manner whereof, it being holiday, we could not see. 
 The most considerable thing we saw was their granary, one hund- 
 red steps long, and thirty-six broad, windows open all round : there 
 are constantly in it 6000 asnees of wheat, one asnee is an ass load 
 of six bushels. They turn the corn every day, about which seven 
 men are employed ; when the boys are grown up, they bind them 
 out to traders. It is a noble foundation, and has a large revenue. 
 
 27th. By the old town of Vienne to St, Vallier, through a pleasant 
 valley of the Rhone, with mulberry and walnut trees set in exact 
 quincux at the distance of our apple trees in England. 
 
 28th. To Valence, seven leagues. Pretty large town, ill-built ; 
 the cathedral the plainest I had any where seen. The Scola Juris 
 et Medicinae here very mean. As we came along, we passed by the 
 Hermitage, the place so famous for wine ; it is on the side of a 
 hill open to the south, and a little west, about a mile long, begin- 
 ning just at Thuin. We also saw the citadel, which we got into 
 with some difficulty, and there was reason for the caution, we being 
 four, and there being a garrison in it of but one man and one 
 great gun, which was left behind (when the King lately took away 
 all the rest for his ships) for a fault very frequent in this country 
 viz. in the touch-hole. 
 
 29th. Montelimart. Streets broad and buildings better, though 
 not altogether so big as Valence. 
 
 30th. To Pont St. Esprit, five leagues. To this place we had the 
 Rhone on our right-hand, and the high barren hills of Dauphine 
 
46 THE LIFE OF 
 
 on the left. The valley is in some places a league or two broad ; 
 in some broader, and in some very narrow. In great part of the 
 journey from Lyons, the soil was covered with great round pebbles, 
 in some places so thick that no earth was seen, and yet all along 
 the corn was sown. In many places the mulberry trees and almonds, 
 set in quincux, covered the corn as thick as apple-trees in an or- 
 chard in England. We saw several digging the ground, and some 
 ploughing, with a very little light plough with one handle, drawn 
 by a pair of cows, steers, or asses. The soil very light and sandy ; 
 they turn it up not above two or three inches deep. In this valley 
 we crossed many rivers and rivulets ; one by ferry, some by bridges 
 and fords, and the channels of some quite dry ; but all appeared 
 to be sometimes great and swift torrents, when either rain or melted 
 snow is poured down into them from the high hills of Dauphine. 
 About half a league from St. Vallier, we saw a house, a little out of 
 the way, where they say Pilate lived in banishment. We met with 
 the owner, who seemed to doubt the truth of the story ; but told 
 us there was Mosaic work very ancient in one of the floors. At 
 Chateau Neuf, we got up a hill which runs directly to the Rhone, 
 and the Rhone through it, as the Avon at the Hot Wells. Much 
 box and lavender : a prospect of a large valley much broader than 
 any part between Vienne and Chateau Neuf. Three leagues to 
 Pallu, a little town belonging to the Pope. One league from hence, 
 we came to Pont St. Esprit, a bridge over the Rhone, on eighteen 
 great arches, 1100 of my steps ; the ascent to the top one hundred 
 and twenty steps, over six lesser arches on the east side : they reckon 
 twenty-seven arches in all, besides a little one between each of the 
 eighteen great arches. The bridge is very narrow, paved with 
 little square stones very regularly placed ; at the end of it, on the 
 west side, is the town of St. Esprit, and a citadel ; in it we saw 
 some soldiers, and a few unmounted small brass guns. The bridge 
 is not exactly straight, but about the middle makes an obtuse angle 
 towards the current of the river. 
 
 Three leagues from Pont St. Esprit, we came to Orange, a little 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 47 
 
 town within a square wall, less than Bath within the walls. The 
 half-moons at the entrance of the gate are demolished by the King 
 of France, and the castles, which were upon a rocky hill just over 
 it. Here we also saw Marius's triumphal arch, a piece of very 
 handsome building with trophies and Marius's old sybil on it. 
 There remains also a very stately piece of Roman building, very 
 high, and one hundred and seventy-six of my steps in front, on 
 seventeen arches : they call it an amphitheatre ; but the figure of 
 
 it seems not at all to favour that opinion, being thus [^ ] as 
 
 it now stands. There is also in the floor of a little house, mosaic 
 work very perfect ; there was but one figure, which was of a cat. 
 Here 1 also saw the way of winding silk by an engine, that turns 
 at once an hundred and thirty-four bobbins ; it is too intricate to 
 be described on so short a view ; but all these were turned by one 
 woman, and they both twisted and wound oif the silk at once. The 
 proportion of population of the towuj are twelve Protestants to nine 
 Papists ; two Protestant and two Papist consuls ; two Protestant 
 churches in the town : one we were in is a pretty sort of building, 
 one stone arch, like a bridge, running the whole length of the 
 church, and supporting the rafters, like the main beam of the build- 
 ing ; a new but not incommodious way for such a room. 
 
 31st. Avignon, four leagues, situated in a large valley on the 
 banks of the Rhone, which goes about half round it ; the walls are 
 all entire, and no house near them ; battlements and towers at little 
 distances, after the old way of fortification : the streets wider, and 
 the town better built than any between this and Lyons. The 
 Pope's palace, a large old building with high towers ; we saw, besides 
 the hall, three or four rooms hung with damask, and in another 
 part of the Palace a large handsome room, where the conclave for- 
 merly was kept when the Pope resided here. 
 
 January 1st, 1676. The quire of St. Peter's church very rich in 
 guilding and painting, as is the altar of the Celestins ; their convent, 
 a very large one, kept very clean. The Vice-Legate went to the 
 Jesuits' church with a guard of about twelve Swiss. The Jews have 
 
48 THE LIFE OF 
 
 a quarter to themselves, where they have a synagogue ; they wear 
 yellow hats for distinction. Here are some arches standing of a 
 bridge, much after the fashion of Pont St. Esprit ; it fell down some 
 years since, and to encourage the rebuilding of it, they have the 
 last year set up the statue of one St. Benedict, a shepherd, who built 
 the former bridge. The Rhone, in November 1674, rose fifteen 
 feet higher than the top of the water as it now is ; we saw marks of 
 the inundation far from the river. Avignon is governed by a Vice- 
 Legate ; the employment is worth about 5,000/. sterling. There is 
 no tax laid upon the country, which is long and broad ; the greatest 
 part of the trade is silk, and the people look comfortable and thriv- 
 ing. We paid one livre per meal for each of us, and one livre per 
 night per horse. 
 
 2nd. We passed the Rhone partly by the trill, a way of ferry 
 usual in these parts, and partly by the remains of the bridge. Our 
 portmanteaus were not searched as we expected ; our voiturin made 
 us pass for Swiss. Hence we went to Pont du Gard, an admirable 
 structure; some of the arches of the second row were thirty steps 
 wide. Saw them preparing their vines ; some pruned. 
 
 3rd. To Nismes. Here we saw the amphitheatre, an admirable 
 structure of very large stones, built apparently without mortar : at 
 the entrance, which is under an arch, the wall is seventeen paces 
 thick ; ascending the stairs, we come to a walk, in which there are 
 towards the outside sixty arches in the whole circumference, the 
 space of each arch being eleven of my paces, 660 of my steps in a 
 circle two or three yards inside the outmost bounds of it. In all 
 those arches, to support the walls over the passage where you go 
 round, there is a stone laid, about twenty inches or two feet square, 
 and about six times the length of my sword, which was near about 
 a philosophical yard long ; upon which were turned other arches 
 contrary to those by which the light entered ; most of these stones 
 I observed to be cracked, which I suppose might be the effect of the 
 fire which Deyron tells us, in his " Antiquites de Nismes," the Chris- 
 tians heretofore applied, with design to destroy this amphitheatre. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 49 
 
 It would hold 20,000 persons, and was built by Antoninus Pius, of 
 great squared stones, almost as hard as grey marble. Thus stands, 
 almost entire yet, this wonderful structure, in spite of the force of 
 1,500 years, and the attempts of the first Christians, who, both by 
 fire and with tools, endeavoured to ruin it. There are many other 
 antiquities in this town. For the use of Nismes, the Pont du Gard 
 was built over the river Gardon, on three rows of arches, one over 
 the other ; it carried the water of the fountain d'Aure to Nismes, 
 from whence it is three leagues; but the aqueduct, sometimes carried 
 on arches, sometimes cut through rocks, is four leagues long. 
 
 The Protestants at Nismes have now but one temple, the other 
 being pulled down by the King's order about four years since. 
 Two of their consuls are Papists, and two Protestants, but are not 
 permitted to receive the sacrament in their robes as formerly. The 
 Protestants had built themselves an hospital for their sick, but that 
 is taken from them ; a chamber in it is left for their sick, but never 
 used, because the Priests trouble them when there ; but notwith- 
 standing their discouragement, I do not find that many of them go 
 over : one of them told me, when I asked him the question, that 
 the Papists did nothing but by force or money. 
 
 4th. We arrived at Montpellier late in the night, having dined 
 at a Protestant inn, at Lunel, three leagues from Montpellier, where 
 we were well used. We paid our voiturin twelve crowns a piece 
 from Lyons hither ; when we went out of the way, we were to pay 
 for our own and the horses' meat, fifteen sous dinner, twenty-five 
 supper, (for all the company eat together,) and fifteen sous horse- 
 meat a night. 
 
 8th. I walked, and found them gathering of olives, a black fruit, 
 the bigness of an acorn, with which the trees were thick hung. 
 
 All the high-ways are filled with gamesters at mall, so that 
 walkers are in some danger of knocks. 
 
 9th. I walked to a fine garden, a little mile from the town ; the 
 walks were bays and some others, cypress-trees of great height and 
 some pine-trees : at the entrance there is a fair large pond, where 
 
 H 
 
50 THE LIFE OF 
 
 it is said the ladies bathe in summer, and if the weather of mid- 
 summer answer the warmth of this day, the ladies will certainly 
 need a cooler. Furniture of the kitchens, some pewter, some brass, 
 and abundance of pipkins. All the world at mall, and the moun- 
 tebank's tricks. 
 
 13th. Several asses and mules laden with green brushwood, of 
 evergreen oak and bays, brought to town for fuel ; most of their 
 labour done by mules and asses. Between Lyons and Vienne we 
 met people riding post on asses ; and on the road we met several 
 mules, some whereof we were told had 800 weight upon them, and 
 several women riding astride, some with caps and feathers : we met 
 more people travelling between Lyons and Montpellier by much, 
 than between Paris and Lyons, where were very few. 
 
 14th. The women carrying earth in little baskets on their heads, 
 running in their sabots as they returned for new burthens. Wages 
 for men twelve sous, for women five sous, at this time ; in summer, 
 about harvest, eighteen for men, and seven for women. 
 
 18th. About nine in the morning, I went to the town-house, where 
 the States of Languedoc, which were then assembled in the town, 
 used to sit every day. The room is a fair room ; at the upper end, in 
 the middle, is a seat, higher somewhat than the rest, where the Due de 
 Vernule, governor of the Province, sits, when he comes to the assem- 
 bly, which is but seldom, and only upon occasions of proposing some- 
 thing to them. At other times. Cardinal Bonzi, who is Archbishop 
 of Narbonne, takes that seat which is under the canopy ; on the right 
 hand sit the bishops, twenty-two, and the barons, twenty-five ; the de- 
 puties of the town about forty-four. About ten they began to drop 
 into the room, where the bishops put on their habits, richly laced ; 
 cardinal in scarlet : when he arrives, away they go to mass at Notre 
 Dame, a church just by, and so about eleven they return and begin 
 to sit, and rise again at twelve, seldom sitting in the afternoon, but 
 upon extraordinary occasions ; they are constantly assembled four 
 months in the year, beginning in October, and ending in February. 
 
 19. The Physic garden, well contrived for plants of all sorts, 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 5X 
 
 open and shady and boggy, set most in high beds, as it were in long 
 stone troughs, with walks between, and numbers in order engraved 
 on the stone, to direct the student to the plant. 
 
 Then follows a long description of the management of a vineyard 
 which is omitted ; description and process of making verdigrise omit- 
 ted ; description of olive harvest and oil pressing, all of which are 
 omitted. 
 
 Uzes a town in the province, not far from Nismes, was wont to 
 send every year a Protestant Deputy to the Assembly of the States 
 at Montpellier, the greatest part being Protestant ; but they were for- 
 bid to do it this year ; and this week the Protestants have an order 
 from the King to choose no more consuls of the town of their religion, 
 and their temple is ordered to be pulled down, the only one they 
 have left there, though three quarters of the town be Protestants. 
 The pretence given is, that their temple being too near the papist 
 church, their singing of psalms disturbed the service. 
 
 Feb. 1. Here was in the street a bustle ; the cause this, some 
 that were listing soldiers slid money into a countryman's pocket, 
 and then would force him to go with them, having, as they said, 
 received the King's money ; he refused to go, and the women, by 
 crowding and force, redeemed him. These artifices are employed 
 where pressing is not allowed ; it is a usual trick, if any one drink the 
 King's health, to give him press money, and force him to go a soldier, 
 pretending that having drank his health, he is bound to fight for him. 
 
 Interest by law here is 6^ per cent, but those who have good 
 credit may borrow at five. 
 
 The King has made an edict, that those who merchandize, but 
 do not use the yard, shall not lose their gentility. 
 
 Drums beat for soldiers, and five Luis d'or offered to any one 
 that would list himself. Their coin is thus : — 
 
 1 pistol Luis d'or. 11 livres. 
 
 1 ecu. S livres. 
 
 1 livre. 20 sous. 
 
 5th. Sunbeams rather troublesome. A little out of Montpellier, 
 
 H 2 
 
52 THE LIFE OF 
 
 westward, is a bed of oyster-shells, in a hollow way, in some places 
 two yards under the ground ; it appeared all along, for a good way ; 
 some of the shells perfectly fit one to the other, and dirt in the place 
 where the oysters lay ; the place where they lie, is much higher than 
 the present level of the sea. 
 
 Q.— -Have not these been left there by the sea, since retreated ? 
 
 The Protestants have here common justice generally, unless it 
 be against a new convert, whom they will favour ; they pay no more 
 taxes than their neighbours, but are incapable of public charges 
 and offices. They have had, within these ten years at least, 160 
 churches pulled down. They and the Papist laity live together 
 friendly enough in these parts ; they sometimes get, and sometimes 
 lose, proselytes. There is nothing done against those that come 
 over to the reformed religion, unless they be such as have before 
 turned Papists, and relapsed ; these sometimes they prosecute. 
 The number of Protestants in these latter years neither increases 
 nor decreases much ; those that go over to the Church of Rome, 
 are usually drawn away by fair promises, which most commonly 
 fail them : the Protestant live not better than the Papist. 
 
 Sent several sorts of vines to England, Muscat, Corinth, Ma- 
 rokin, St. John's, Claret. 
 
 They seldom make red wine without the mixture of some sorts 
 of white grapes, else it would be too thick and deep coloured. 
 
 The States every morning go to Notre Dame to prayers, where 
 mass is sung ; while the priest is at the altar saying the mass, 
 you cannot hear him a word ; indeed the music is the pleasanter 
 of the two. The Cardinal and the bishops are all on the right hand 
 of the quire, that is, standing at the altar and looking to the west 
 end of the church ; and all the lay barons to the left, or south side ; 
 the Cardinal sat nearest the altar, and had a velvet cushion richly 
 laced, the bishops had none ; the Cardinal repeated part of the 
 office with an unconcerned look, talking every now and then, and 
 laughing with the bishops next him. 
 
 8th. This day the Assembly of the State was dissolved : they 
 
JOHN LOCKE. ^3 
 
 have all the solemnity and outward appearance of a Parliament : 
 the King proposes, and they debate and resolve ; here is all the 
 difference, that they never do, and some say, dare not, refuse what- 
 ever the King demands ; they gave the King this year, 2,100,000 
 livres, and for their liberality are promised no soldiers shall 
 quarter in this country, which nevertheless sometimes happens. 
 When soldiers are sent to quarter in Montpellier, as some Switz did 
 here, that were going towards Catalonia ; the magistrates of the 
 town gave them billets, and take care according to the billet that 
 their landlords be paid eight sous per diem for each foot soldier, 
 which is paid by the town. Beside the 2,100,000 given the King 
 for this year, they gave him also for the canal 300,000 livres, and 
 besides all this, they maintain 11,000 men in Catalonia raised and 
 paid by this province. These taxes, and all public charges come 
 sometimes to eight, sometimes to twelve per cent, of the yearly 
 value of estates. 
 
 The State being to break up to-day, the ceremony was this : 
 Te Deum was sung in the State-house ; and that being done, the 
 Cardinal, with a very good grace, gave the benediction, first putting 
 on his cap ; and at the latter end of the benediction he pulled off 
 his cap, made a cross first towards the bishops, then towards the 
 nobility, then straight forward towards the people, who were on 
 their knees. 
 
 Mr. Herbert's man enticed into a shop, and there fallen upon 
 by three or four : a man shot dead by another in the street : the 
 same happened at Lyons when I was there. 
 
 11th. At the Carmes' church this day was an end of their octave 
 of open house, as one may say, upon the occasion of the canonization 
 of St. John de Croix, one of their Order lately canonized at Rome, 
 dead eighty years ago. During the eight days of the celebration, 
 there was plenary indulgence over the door, and a pavilion with 
 emblems, and his picture in the middle ; this, being the close of 
 the solemnity, there was a sermon, which was the recital of his 
 life, virtues, and miracles he did : as preserving his baptismal grace 
 
54 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and innocence to the end of his life, his driving out evil spirits of 
 the possessed, &c. Music at the vespers ; the Due de Vernules 
 present ; the Duchess and her guard of musketeers with her. 
 
 The usual rate of good oil here, is three to four livres a quartal 
 of eight pots. 
 
 12th. I visited Mr, Birto. The Protestants have not had a 
 general synod these ten years : a provincial synod of Languedoc 
 they have of course every year, but not without leave from the 
 King, wherein they make ecclesiastical laws for this province, but 
 suitable still to the laws made by the national synod. Their synod 
 consists of about fifty pastors, and as many deacons or elders ; they 
 have power to reprehend or wholly displace any scandalous pastor ; 
 they also admit people to ordination, and to be pastors in certain 
 churches, nobody being by them admitted into orders that hath 
 not a place. The manner is this : when any church wants a pastor, 
 as for example, at Montpellier, if any of their four pastors is dead 
 or gone, the candidates apply themselves to the consistory of that 
 church ; whom they like best, they appoint to preach before the 
 congregation ; if they approve, he presents himself at the next 
 synod, and they appoint four pastors to examine him in the tongues, 
 university learning, and divinity ; especially he is to produce the 
 testimonials of the university where he studied, of his life and 
 learning : he preaches a French and Latin sermon, and if all these 
 are passable, they appoint two pastors to ordain him, who, after a 
 sermon on the duties of a minister, come out of the pulpit and 
 read several chapters to him out of the Epistles, wherein the mi- 
 nister's duty is considered ; and then, after a prayer, they lay their 
 hands upon him and make a declaration, that by authority of the 
 synod, he has power to preach, to forgive sins, to bless marriages, 
 and to administer the sacrament ; after this, he is minister of the 
 place. His allowance depends on the consistory. 
 
 If any one hold tenets here contrary to their articles of faith, 
 the King punishes him ; so that you must here be either of the 
 Romish or of their church. For not long since, it happened to 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 55 
 
 one here, who was inclining to, and vented some Arian doctrines, 
 the Governor complained to the King ; he sent order that he should 
 be tried, and so was sent to Thoulose, where upon trial, he denying 
 it utterly, he was permitted to escape out of prison ; but had he 
 owned it, he had been burnt as an heretic. 
 
 The State have given 400,000 livres for each of the next four 
 years ; having given 300,000 for the last six years, in all 3,400,000 
 for carrying on the canal, besides other taxes, toward the war. Mont- 
 pellierhas 30,000 people in it, of whom there are 8000 communicants 
 of the Protestant church. They tell me the number of Protestants 
 within the last twenty or thirty years has manifestly increased here, 
 and do daily, notwithstanding their loss every day of some privilege 
 or other. Their consistories had power formerly to examine wit- 
 nesses upon oath, which within these ten years has been taken 
 from them. 
 
 Parasols, a pretty sort of cover for women riding in the sun, 
 made of straw, something like the fashion of tin covers for dishes. 
 
 The Deputies of the State are all paid by their respective towns 
 and countries, fifty ecus per month, but the Bishops and Barons re- 
 ceive it not : of the twenty-two Bishops, seventeen have revenues, 
 about 3,000/. sterling ; the other five much more. 
 
 15th. Bought of a Genoese twelve orange and citron trees, at 
 one livre a piece. 
 
 All the power of church discipline is in the Consistory ; that of 
 Montpellier consists of their four pastors, and twenty-four anciens ; 
 these, by a majority of votes, order all the church affairs, public 
 stock, censures, &c. the majority of votes determines the matter, 
 though there be no one of the pastors of that side. If there is any 
 controversy of law amongst them, they refer it to some of the sober 
 gentry of the town and lawyers that are Protestants ; they have still 
 six counsellors of their religion, and the advocates may be of what 
 religion they please. 
 
 The Church censures are managed thus : if any one live scan- 
 dalously, they first reprove him in private ; if he mends not, he is 
 
^Q THE LIFE OF 
 
 called before the Consistory, and admonished ; if that works not, 
 the same is done in the public congregation ; if after all he stands 
 incorrigible, he is excluded from the Eucharist. 
 
 18th. Shrove-day, the height and consummation of the Car- 
 nival : the town filled with masquerades for the last week ; dancing 
 in the streets in all manner of habits and disguises, to all sorts of 
 music, brass kettles and frying pans not excepted. 
 
 Grana kermes grow on a shrub of the size of the chene vert, 
 called ilex coccifera, are a sort of oak apples with little insects in 
 them. 
 
 Sent by Mr. Waldo seeds for England. 
 
 19th. Ash Wednesday. Public admonitions happen seldom : 
 the last instances were, one for striking a cuff on the ear in the 
 church, on a communion-day, for which he was hindered from re- 
 ceiving ; the other for marrying his daughter to a Papist, for which 
 he stood excommunicated six months. It reaches no farther than 
 exclusion from the Eucharist, not from church or sermons. 
 
 Here follow accurate notes of weights and measures. A detailed 
 account of the Church of France, Archbishops, Bishops, Abbes, &c. 
 their revenue is estimated in toto at twenty-four millions sterling. 
 
 21st. The King has made a law that persons of different religion 
 shall not marry, which often causes the change of religion, espe- 
 cially sequioris seoeus. 
 
 At church to-day abundance of coughing. 
 
 24th. The Province of Languedoc is thus governed : the Duke 
 of Vernule, the Governor, commands over the whole Province, and 
 has a power somewhat like the King's, though he be more properly 
 Lord Lieutenant. I do not hear that he meddles at all in judicial 
 causes, either civil or criminal : in his absence, the Province is divi- 
 ded into three districts, each having a Deputy-governor with the 
 same power ; every city also has its governor, whose power is much 
 like the governor of a garrison. Montpellier has six Consuls, who 
 have the government of the police of the town, look after weights 
 and measures, determine causes under five livres : they had for- 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 
 
 57 
 
 nierly a considerable authority, but now they are little more than ser- 
 vants of the governor of the town ; they were formerly three Protest- 
 ants and three Papists,but the Protestants are excluded the last year. 
 
 The civil causes are judged by the Court of Aides ; the premier 
 president, and eight presidents, and thirty counsellors ; the cause 
 determined by plurality of votes. 
 
 Then follows an account of the several criminal courts, and of 
 the taxes. 
 
 From these taxes are exempted all noble land, which is to pay 
 a year's value to the King every twenty years ; but as they order the 
 matter, they pay not above three-quarters of a year's value. All 
 ancient privileged land of the Church is also exempt, but if any is 
 given to the Church that hath been used to pay taxes, it pays it after 
 the donation : besides this, excise is paid on several commodities. 
 
 25th. Very high wind. 
 
 OBLIGATION OF PENAL LAWS. 
 
 There are virtues and vices antecedent to, and abstract from, 
 society, as love of God, unnatural lust : other virtues and vices 
 there are which suppose society and laws, as obedience to magis- 
 trates, or dispossessing a man of his heritage ; in both these the rule 
 and obligation is antecedent to human laws, though the matter 
 about which that rule is, may be consequent to them, as property in 
 land, distinction, and power of persons. All things not commanded, 
 or forbidden by the law of God, are indifferent, nor is it in the 
 power of man to alter their nature ; and so no human law can lay 
 any obligation on the conscience, and therefore all human laws are 
 purely penal, i. e. have no other obligation but to make the trans- 
 gressors liable to punishment in this life. All divine laws oblige the 
 conscience, i. e. render the transgressors liable to answer at God's 
 tribunal, and receive punishment at his hands ; but because very 
 frequently both these obligations concur, the same action comes to 
 be commanded or forbidden by both laws together, and so in these 
 cases men's consciences are obliged. Men have thought that civil 
 
 I 
 
58 THE LIFE OF 
 
 laws oblige their consciences to entire obedience ; whereas, in things, 
 in their own nature indifferent, the conscience is obliged only to 
 active or passive obedience, and that not by virtue of that human 
 law which the man either practises or is punished by, but by that 
 law of God which forbids disturbance or dissolution of governments. 
 The Gospel alters not in the least civil affairs, but leaves husband and 
 wife, master and servant, magistrate and subject, every one of them, 
 with the same power and privileges that it found them, neither more 
 nor less ; and, therefore, when the New Testament says, obey your 
 superiors in all things, it cannot be thought that it laid any new 
 obligation upon the Christians after their conversion, other than 
 what they were under before ; nor that the magistrate had any 
 other extent of jurisdiction over them than over his heathen sub- 
 jects : so that the magistrate has the same power still over his 
 Christian as he had over his heathen subjects ; so that, where he had 
 power to command, they had still, notwithstanding the liberty and 
 privileges of the gospel, obligations to obey. 
 
 Now, amongst heathen politics, (which cannot be supposed to be 
 instituted by God for the preservation and propagation of true reli- 
 gion,) there can be no other end assigned, but the preservation of 
 the members of that society in peace and safety together : this 
 being found to be the end, will give us the rule of civil obedience. 
 For if the end of civil society be civil peace, the immediate obliga- 
 tion of every subject must be to preserve that society or government 
 which was ordained to produce it ; and no member of any society 
 can possibly have any obligation of conscience beyond this. So that 
 he that obeys the magistrate to the degree, as not to endanger or 
 disturb the government, under what form of government soever 
 he live, fulfilling all the law of God concerning government, i. e. 
 obeys to the utmost that the magistrate or society can oblige his 
 conscience, which can be supposed to have no other rule set it by 
 God but this. The end of the institution being always the measure 
 of the obligation of conscience then upon every subject, being to 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 59 
 
 preserve the government, 'tis plain, that where any law is made with 
 a penalty, is submitted to, i. e. the penalty is quietly undergone, the 
 government cannot be disturbed or endangered ; for whilst the 
 magistrate has power to increase the penalty, even to the loss of 
 life, and the subject submits patiently to the penalty, which he is 
 in conscience obliged to do, the government can never be in dan- 
 ger, nor can the public want active obedience in any case where it 
 hath power to require it under pain of death ; for no man can be sup- 
 posed to refuse his active obedience in a lawful or indifferent thing, 
 when the refusal will cost him his life, and lose all his civil rights 
 at once, for want of performing one civil action ; for civil laws have 
 only to do with civil actions. 
 
 This, thus stated, clears a man from that infinite number of sins 
 that otherwise he must unavoidably be guilty of, if all penal laws 
 oblige the conscience farther than this. One thing farther is to be 
 considered, that all human laws are penal, for where the penalty 
 is not expressed, it is by the judge to be proportioned to the conse- 
 quence and circumstance of the fault. See the practice of the 
 King's Bench. Penalties are so necessary to civil laws, that God found 
 it necessary to annex them, even to the civil laws he gave the Jews. 
 
 29th. The goodness of Muscat wine to drink depends on two 
 causes, besides the pressing and ordering the fermentation ; one, is the 
 soil they plant in, on which very much depends the goodness of the 
 wine ; and it is a constant rule, setting aside all other qualities of 
 the soil, that the vineyard must have an opening towards the east 
 or south, or else no good is to be expected. The other is a ming- 
 ling of good sorts of vines in their vineyards. Then follow descrip- 
 tion of planting vineyards, manuring them : the same then' of olive. 
 
 Mar. 3d. At the physical school, a scholar answering the first 
 time, a professor moderating, six other professors oppose, with great 
 violence of Latin, French, grimace, and hand. 
 
 5th. To Frontignan, thence to port Cette. The mole at Cette is a 
 mighty work, and far advanced ; but the sand in the port now, and 
 the breach made in the mole last winter, show how hard one defends 
 
 I 2 
 
60 THE LIFE OF 
 
 a place against Neptune, which he attacks with great and small 
 shot too. To the hot-baths at Balaruc. Return to Montpellier 
 
 18th. The manner of making a doctor of physic was this : the 
 procession, in scarlet robes, and black caps ; the professor took his 
 seat, and after a company of fiddlers had played a certain time, he 
 made them a sign to hold, that he might have an opportunity to en- 
 tertain the company, which he did with a speech against innovation : 
 the musicians then took their turn. The inceptor then began his 
 speech, wherein I found little edification, being designed to com- 
 pliment the chancellor and professors who were present ; the doctor 
 then put on his head the cap, that had marched in on the beadle's 
 staff, in sign of his doctorship, put a ring on his finger, girt himself 
 about the loins with a gold chain, made him sit down by him ; that, 
 having taken pains, he might now take ease, and kissed and embraced 
 him, in token of the friendship that ought to be amongst them. 
 
 Monsieur Renaie, a gentleman of the town, in whose house 
 Sir J. Rushworth lay, about four years ago, sacrificed a child to the 
 devil — a child of a servant of his own, upon a design to get the 
 devil to be his friend, and help him to get some money. Several 
 murders committed here since I came, and more attempted ; one 
 by a brother on his sister, in the house where I lay. 
 
 22nd. The new philosophy of Des Cartes prohibited to be taught 
 in universities, schools, and academies. 
 
 24th, Dined at Lunel. To Aigues Mortes. The sea formerly 
 washed the walls, but is now removed a league from the town ; there 
 remains only a little etang navigable for very little boats. In the 
 walls on the south side the gates are walled up ; there are some 
 iron rings yet remaining, and the sign of others that were fastened 
 in the walls to secure the vessels to. The town, said to have been 
 built by St, Louis, laid out very regularly ; the Constance's Tower 
 more ancient. The country round, a great plain for many leagues 
 about, very much covered with water. Nigh the town, is the 
 Marquis de Yard's house, who is governor of the town and country 
 about half a league about, as far as the tower la Carbonier. Passing 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 
 
 61 
 
 between la Carbonier and the town, we saw abundance of par- 
 tridges, hares, and other game, preserved there by the strict order 
 and severity of the Marquis de Vard, who, not long since, clapped 
 a townsman up in a little hole in Constance Tower, where he had 
 just room to stand upright, but could not sit nor lie down, and 
 kept him there three days, for committing some small trespass on his 
 game. The hedges in this country are all tamerisk. 
 
 At Picais is made all the salt that is used in this part of France : 
 the manner is this ; a great square pond, divided into squares 
 by little banks, with channels between each to bring in the salt 
 water, which is raised from the etang by wheels, with wooden 
 buckets. They cover the squares or tables, as they call them, five 
 or six inches deep ; and when the sun has exhaled almost all the 
 moisture, they supply it with more salt-water, and so continue all 
 the heat of the year : at the latter end, they have a cake of salt 
 four or five inches thick, according to the heat and drought of the 
 year. They that are owners of the soil, are at the charge of making 
 the salt, and sell it to the farmers for five sous the minot ; a mea- 
 sure of seven inches deep, and twenty-three and a half diam. weighs 
 one hundred and twenty pounds. The salt which the owner sells 
 for five sous, the farmer sells again for sixteen livres. For this 
 favour, they say the farmers give two millions a year to the King, 
 and are at as much more charge in officers and guards employed, 
 keeping constantly in pay 18,000 men. The defrauding the duty 
 of the commodity is of such consequence, that if a man should be 
 taken with but an handful of salt not bought from the farmers, he 
 would be sent to the galleys. 
 
 26th. From Pont Lunel to Castries two long leagues. Here, on 
 the top of a hill, is the house of the Marquis de Castries ; it was 
 begun to be built about eighteen years ago by the late Marquis, 
 the governor of Montpellier. The house is two sides of a square, 
 about sixty steps long, the other side unfinished. At the entrance 
 into the house is the great stair, then the hall, and several other 
 ordinary rooms ; all this lower story is arched. Below the house, 
 
Q2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 lies a very spacious garden, with a very large basin in it, all im- 
 perfect, except an aqueduct, which is a mighty work, too big, one 
 would think, for a private house ; by this the water is brought a 
 league distant for the house and garden ; some part in a covered 
 channel, winding on the sides of the mountain ; some part on a wall 
 seven, eight, or ten feet high, as is occasion ; and some part of the 
 way over arches, some whereof are of a great height. To carry it 
 from the side of a mountain over a valley near the house, there are 
 eighty-five arches, most above thirty feet in the clear ; the pedestals 
 of the arches ten or twelve feet ; the arches are all turned with 
 stone, four feet ten inches, which is the thickness of the arch. They 
 say the house and aqueduct cost 400,000 livres. The descents to 
 the gardens are not by steps, but by gentle declivities very easy 
 and handsome ; the walls on the sides of squared stones, just as 
 high as the earth. 
 
 We met some travellers ; few with boots, many with cloaks, 
 especially purple ; none without pistols, even those that rode into 
 the fields to see their workmen. 
 
 27th. Rain. Imaginary space seems to me to be no more any 
 thing than an imaginary world ; for if a man and his soul remained, 
 and the whole world were annihilated, there is left him the power 
 of imagining either the world, or the extension it had, which is all 
 one with the space it filled ; but it proves not that the imaginary 
 space is any thing real or positive. For space or extension, sepa- 
 rated in our thoughts from matter or body, seems to have no more 
 real existence, than number has (sine renumeration) without any 
 thing to be numbered ; and one may as well say, the number of the 
 sea sand does really exist, and is something, the world being anni- 
 hilated, as that the space or extension of the sea does exist, or is 
 any thing after such annihilation. These are only affections of real 
 existences ; the one, of any being whatsoever ; the other, only of 
 material beings, which the mind has a power not only to conceive 
 abstractedly, but increase by repetition, or adding one to another, 
 and to enlarge which, it hath not any other ideas but those of 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 53 
 
 quantity, which amount at last but to the faculty of imagining and 
 repeating, adding units, or numbering. But if the world were an- 
 nihilated, one had no more reason to think space any thing, than 
 the darkness that will certainly be in it. 
 
 28th. The christenings of the religion at Montpellier are about 
 three hundred, and the funerals about two hundred and sixty. 
 
 31st. Many murders committed here. He that endeavoured to 
 kill his sister in our house, had before killed a man, and it had cost 
 his father five hundred ecus to get him off; by their secret distri- 
 bution, gaining the favour of the counsellors. 
 
 April 2nd. The Papists visit all the churches, or at least seven 
 or eight, and in each say four Paternosters, and five Ave Marias. 
 A crucifix is exposed on the rails of the altar, which they kiss with 
 great devotion, and give money ; there being persons set at all the 
 avenues of all the churches with basins to beg. 
 
 7th. To Aries. To Marseilles. 
 
 9th. A large valley, covered with country-houses, the finest view 
 I had ever seen. 
 
 10th. We went on board the Royal, the Admiral's galley ; the 
 slaves clad in the King's livery, blue, in the other galleys red. 
 This galley has twenty-nine oars of a side, two hundred and eighty 
 slaves, sixty seamen, five hundred soldiers. The slaves in good 
 plight. At the end of the quay are two docks to build galleys ; the 
 docks are covered, to work out of the rain and sunshine. Every 
 galley in this arsenal has its peculiar storehouse. Great bake- 
 houses ; storehouses for bread, biscuit, and meat. A great gallery 
 one hundred and twenty fathoms long, to make ropes and cables. 
 An armory well-furnished. A large hospital for sick slaves, all 
 very fit and magnificent. There go out this year twenty-six galleys. 
 
 The quay is handsome, and full of people walking, especially in 
 the evening, where the best company meet. Round about the town 
 is a valley encompassed with high hills, or rather rocks, and a vast 
 number of little country-houses, called bastiles, which stand within 
 a bow-shot one of another, some say near 20,000 in number. They 
 
64 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 have little plots of ground walled in about them, filled with vines 
 and fruit-trees, olive-trees, artichokes, and corn in most of them. 
 
 12th. Set out for Toulon. The mountains, though perfectly 
 rocky, are covered with pine, out of which they draw their turpen- 
 tine, by cutting the bark and sap of the tree seven or eight rings 
 deep, out of which the turpentine oozes and runs down into a hole 
 cut to receive it ; it is afterwards boiled to resin. When, after many 
 years, this treatment has killed the trees, they make charcoal of 
 them. 
 
 13th. The way between high mountains of rocks ; but where 
 the valleys open and there is any earth, they endeavour to preserve 
 it by walls one above the other, on the side of the hills ; it is full 
 of corn, vines, figs. Near Toulon, we saw gardens full of great 
 orange-trees, and myrtles on the sides of the road. In the fair 
 weather, the wind accompanies the sun, and blows east at morning, 
 south at noon, west at night ; and in summer, about noon, constantly 
 a sea-breeze from the south. 
 
 We saw the port. In the basin rode the Royal Louis, one 
 hundred and sixty-three feet long, forty-five wide, mightily adorned 
 with gilded figures ; cost of gilding 150,000 livres. She has portals 
 for one hundred and twenty guns. The Dauphin, of one hundred 
 guns lies near her : by them lay four other great vessels, and nine 
 vessels in the port. The port is very large, capable of holding the 
 biggest fleet in Europe, and in the basin itself there is room for a 
 great fleet. It is separated from the road by a mole, made within 
 these four or five years. The water in most places deep. — Memo- 
 randa: A pump with balls instead of windfalls. The crane with 
 the worm. 
 
 To Hyeres three leagues. Hyeres is situated on the south side 
 of a high mountain. Below the town, the side of the hill is covered 
 with orange gardens. Ripe China oranges in incredible plenty, 
 sometimes nine or ten in a bunch. These gardens form the most 
 delightful wood I had ever seen ; there are little rivulets of water 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 55 
 
 conveyed through it to water the trees in summer, without which 
 there would be little fruit. The piece of ground, which formerly 
 yielded thirty-six charges of corn, now yields the owner 30 or 40,000 
 livres, or rather 18,000, as he pays to the King four hundred escus 
 for tax. For the best China oranges here, we were asked thirty sous 
 per hundred. 
 
 Here we had for supper, amongst other things, a dish of green 
 beans, dressed with gravy, the best thing I ever eat. Above the 
 town is a nunnery, of the order of St. Bernard, of persons of quality ; 
 they all eat alone in their chambers apart, keep a maid-servant and 
 a lackey, and go out of the nunnery and walk about where they 
 please. The situation very pleasant, overlooking the town, the 
 valley, the orange-gardens, and the sea. 
 
 The journal is continued, and a description given of the country 
 and cultivation by St. Maximin to Aix ; thence to Vaucluse, the 
 famous fountain just at the foot of an exceeding high rock, the 
 basin is a stone's cast over ; the water runs out amongst the rocks, 
 and is the source of a great river in the valley below, and has all its 
 water from hence. The basin about Easter is usually a yard or two 
 higher, as one may see by the mark ; about August it sinks about 
 twenty-five cans below the height it was now ; they say they cannot 
 find any bottom. 
 
 Thence by Avignon ; crossed the Rhone to the Carthusian 
 Convent, where are sixty friars ; their chapel well-adorned with plate, 
 crosses, and relicks, very rich ; amongst the rest, a chalice of gold, 
 given by Rene, the last King of Naples of the Anjou race. I was 
 going to take it in my hand, but the Carthusian withdrew it till he 
 had put a cloth about the handle, and so gave it into my hand, 
 nobody being suffered to touch these holy things but a Priest. In 
 this chapel Pope Innocent VI. lies interred ; he died 1362. In a 
 little chapel in their convent stands a plain old chair, wherein he 
 was infallible : I sat too little a while in it to get that privilege. 
 In their devotions they use much prostration and kissing the ground; 
 
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QQ THE LIFE OF 
 
 they leave no more hair but one little circle growing round their 
 heads, which is cut as short as one's whiskers. They have each a 
 little habitation apart ; their chapel, hall, and refectory very clean. 
 A league from Avignon, we passed the Durance, and then left the 
 Pope's dominions ; the rest of the way to Tarascon was on the side 
 of a not unfruitful valley, but seemed not to be so well cultivated : 
 moderate taxes, and a freedom from quarter, give the Pope's subjects, 
 as it seems, more industry. Five companies of the regiment of 
 Champagne, poor weak tattered fellows, .... return to 
 
 Montpellier, May 1st. The rents of lands in France fallen one 
 half in these few years, by reason of the poverty of the people ; mer- 
 chants and handicraftsmen pay near half their gain. Noble land 
 pays nothing in Languedoc in whose hands soever : in some other 
 parts of France, lands in the hands of the nobles, of what sort soever, 
 pay nothing : these noble lands, which are exempted from taxes, sell 
 for one-half, and two-thirds more than others. The Protestants in 
 France are thought to be one sixteenth part ; in Languedoc 200,000. 
 
 For returns of money, Mr. Herbert found this train very good, 
 and the men very civil. Mr. Bouverie, in St. Mary Axe, to Madam 
 Herinx et son fils a Paris, they to Messrs. Covureur a Lyon ; they 
 to Sen Jacomo et Jo Morleves, at Livorne ; they to their correspon- 
 dent at Rome. 
 
 Rogation Procession, May 16th. Several orders of Friars, with 
 a great company of little children dressed up, carrying pictures and 
 banners : this is Rogation week for a blessing on the fruits of the 
 earth, which, though little children cannot pray for, yet the prayers 
 being made in their names, and offered up as from them by their 
 parents and friends, of those innocents, they think will be more 
 prevalent. 
 
 Description of silk-worms, of making soap, of bleaching wax, at 
 great length, all omitted. Several extracts from statistical works 
 on France, revenues of the Church of France, the same of Spain, 
 all likewise omitted. 
 
 Locke, during his residence at Montpellier, employed his leisure 
 
JOHN LOCKE. g7 
 
 in reading books of travels, of the best of which he was a great 
 admirer. At this time he read Bernier's Account of Hindostan, a 
 work of the greatest merit, and still held in high estimation ; Delia 
 Valle's Travels in the East. Of other books, the most frequent ex- 
 tracts are from Les Entretiens d'Ariste ; a few specimens are here 
 inserted. 
 
 " Le bon sens est gay, vif, plein de feu, come celuy qui paroist 
 dans les essays de Montaigne et dans le Testament de la Hoquette. 
 
 " Le Cavalier Marin n'est pas un bel esprit, car il ne s'est 
 jamais vu une imagination plus fertile, ni moins reglee que la 
 sienne ; s'il parle d'une rose, il en dit tout ce qu'on pent imaginer ; 
 bien loin de rejetter ce qui se presente, il va chercher ce qui ne se 
 presente pas ; il epuise toujours son sujet. 
 
 " Le Tasse n'est pas toujours le plus raisonnable du monde ; a 
 la verite on ne pent pas avoir plus de genie qu'il en a. Ses imagina- 
 tions sont nobles et agreables, ses sentimens sont forts ou delicats 
 selon ce que le sujet en demande ; ses passions sont bien touchees, et 
 bien conduites, toutes ses comparaisons sont justes, toutes ses de- 
 scriptions sont merveilleuses ; mais son genie I'emporte quelquefois 
 trop loin ; il est trop fleuri en quelques endroits. II badine dans les 
 endroits assez serieux ; il ne garde pas aussi exactement que Virgile 
 toutes les bienseances des moeurs. 
 
 " C'est un des grands talens de Voiture de choisir ce qu'il y a de 
 bon dans les livres, et le rendre meilleur par I'usage qu'il en fait. En 
 imitant les autres, il s'est rendu inimitable ; les traits qu'il en em- 
 prunte quelquefois de Terence, et d'Horace, semblent faits pour son 
 sujet, et sont bien plus beaux dans les endroits oil il les met, que 
 dans ceux d'oii il les a pris. 
 
 " Gracian est parmi les Espagnols modernes un de ces genies in-- 
 comprehensibles : il a beaucoup d'elevation, de sublimite, de force, et 
 meme de bon sens : mais on ne salt le plus souvent ce qu'il veut dire ; 
 et il ne spait pas peut-etre luy meme ; quelques-uns de ses ouvrages 
 ne semblent etre faits que pour n'etre point entendus. 
 
 " Ces diseurs eternels de beaux mots et de belles sentences : ces 
 
 K 2 
 
gQ THE LIFE OF 
 
 copistes et ces singes de Seneque, ces Mancini, ces Malvezze et ces 
 Loredans qui courent toujours apres les brillans ; et j'ay bien de la 
 peine de soufFrir Seneque luy meme avec ses points, et ses antitheses 
 perpetuelles." 
 
 In March 1677, Locke quitted Montpellier, where he had re- 
 sided fourteen months, and travelled by the way of Toulouse and 
 Bourdeaux towards Paris. 
 
 Extract, May 14, 1677. I rode out, and amongst other things, 
 I saw the President Pontae's vineyard at Hautbrion ; it is a little 
 rise of ground, open most to the west ; white sand mixed with a lit- 
 tle gravel, scarce fit to bear any thing. The vines are trained, some 
 to stakes, and some to laths ; not understanding Gascoin, I could 
 not learn the cause of the difference from the workmen. This 
 ground may be estimated to yield about twenty-five tun of wine ; 
 however, the owner makes a shift to make every vintage fifty, which 
 he sells for 105 ecus per tun : it was sold some years since for 
 sixty, but the English have raised the market on themselves. This, 
 however, they say, that the wine in the very next vineyard to it, 
 though seeming equal to me, is not so good. A tun of wine (124 
 hogsheads English, or perhaps four per cent, more) of the best qua- 
 lity at Bourdeaux, which is that of Medoc or Pontac, is worth, the 
 first penny, eighty or 100 crowns : for this, the English may thank 
 their own folly ; for whereas, some years since, the same wine was 
 sold for fifty or sixty crowns per tun. The fashionable, sending 
 over orders to have the best wine sent them at any rate, they have, 
 by striving who should get it, brought it up to that price ; but very 
 good wines may be had here for thirty-five, forty, and fifty crowns. 
 
 The journey is then continued by Poictiers and Tours. 
 
 26th. Tours stands upon a little rise, between the Loire and the 
 Cher, with very good meadows on the south side ; it is a long town, 
 well peopled, and thriving, which it owes to the great manufacture 
 of silk. 
 
 They gave the King this year 45,000 livres, to be excused from 
 winter quarters, which came to one tenth on the rent of their 
 
JOHN LOCKE. (59 
 
 houses. Wine and wood that enter the town pay tax to the King ; 
 besides, he sends to the several companies of the trades for so 
 much money as he thinks fit ; the officer of each corps de mestier 
 taxes every one according to his worth ; which, perhaps, amounts 
 to one ecu, or four livres, a man. But a bourgeois that lives in 
 the town, if he have land in the country, and lets it, pays nothing ; 
 but the paisant who rents it, if he be worth any thing, pays for what 
 he has, but he makes no defalcation of his rent. The manner of 
 taxing in the country is this ; the tax to be paid being laid upon 
 the parish, the collectors for the year assess every one of the inha- 
 bitants, according as they judge him worth, but consider not the 
 land in the parish belonging to any living out of it ; this is that 
 which so grinds the paisant in France. The collectors make their 
 rates usually with great inequality ; there lies an appeal for the 
 over-taxed, but I find not that the remedy is made much use of. 
 
 Arrived at Paris, June 2nd. At the King's Library, the MS. Livy; 
 Henry the Fourth's love letters in his own hand ; the first Bible ever 
 printed, 1462, upon vellum ; but what seemed of all the most curious, 
 was eighteen large folios of plants, drawn to the life, and six of birds, 
 so exactly well done, that whoever knew any of the plants or birds 
 before, would then know them at first sight ; they are done by one 
 Mr. Robert, who is still employed with the same work. M. Sil- 
 vester is employed in drawing the King's twelve houses. The 
 library keeper told us there were 14,000 MSS. 
 
 Aug. 7th. M. Colbert's son answered in philosophy at the Cordeliers, 
 his brother moderating over him, where were present three Cardi- 
 nals, Boullion, D'Estre, and Bontzi, the Premier President of the Par- 
 liament of Paris, a great number of bishops and clergy, and of the long 
 robe, a state being erected for the Dauphin, to whom his thesis 
 was dedicated. At Mr. Butterfield's, au roy d'Angleterre, I saw a 
 levelling instrument, made to hang and turn horizontally ; the sight 
 was taken by a perspective -glass of four glasses, about a foot long ; 
 between the first and second glass was placed a single filament of 
 silk stretched horizontally, by which the level was taken ; there was 
 
70 THE LIFE OF 
 
 a heavy weight of lead hung down perpendicular about a foot long, 
 to keep the telescope horizontal. 
 
 28th. The Jacobins in Paris fell into civil war one with another, 
 and went together by the ears, and the battle grew so fierce between 
 them, that the convent was not large enough to contain the com- 
 batants, but that several of them sallied out into the streets, and 
 there cuffed it out stoutly. The occasion, they say, was, that the 
 Prior endeavoured to reduce them into a stricter way of living than 
 they had for some time past observed, for which, in the fray, he was 
 soundly beaten. At the Observatory we saw the Moon in a twenty- 
 two foot glass, and Jupiter, with his satellites, in the same. The most 
 remote was on the east, and the other three on the west. We saw 
 also Saturn and his ring, in a twelve-foot glass, and one of his satel- 
 lites. Monsieur Cassini told me, that the declination of the needle 
 at Paris is about two and a half degrees to the west. 
 
 Monsieur Bernier told me that the heathens of Hindostan pre- 
 tend to great antiquity ; that they have books and histories in their 
 language ; that their nodus in their numbers is ten as ours, and 
 their circuit of days seven. That they are in number about ten 
 to one to the Mahomedans. That Aurengezebe had lately en- 
 gaged himself very inconveniently in wars with them upon account 
 of religion, endeavouring to bring them by force to Mahometanism. 
 And to discourage and bring over the Banians, or undo them, he 
 had given exemption of customs to the trading Mahometans, by 
 which means his revenue was much lessened ; the Banians making 
 use of the names of Mahometans to trade under, and so eluding 
 his partiality. 
 
 4th. Saw the Palais Mazarin ; a house very well furnished with 
 pictures and statues, and cabinets in great plenty, and very fine. 
 The roofs of the rooms extremely richly painted and gilded. 
 
 Garde meubles at the Louvre. We saw abundance of riches 
 both in agate, gold, and silver vessels. Two frames of looking- 
 glasses newly made, each weighed in silver 2400 marks, each mark 
 so wrought, costing the King fifty-two Hvres ; and beds exceedingly 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 71 
 
 rich in embroidery ; one of which was begun by Francis the First, 
 which Cardinal Richelieu had finished, and presented the King, 
 cost 200,000 ecus. 
 
 At the Gobelins we saw the hangings ; very rich and good figures. 
 In every piece, Louis le Grand was the hero, and the rest the marks 
 of some conquest. In one, his making a league with the Swiss, 
 where he lays his hand on the book to swear the articles, with his 
 hat on, and the Swiss ambassador, in a submissive posture, with his 
 hat off. 
 
 From Paris to Versailles four leagues. The chateau there a 
 fine house, and a much finer garden, situated on a little rise of 
 ground, having a morass on the east side of it, and though a place 
 naturally without water, has more jet d'eaux and water-works than 
 are elsewhere to be seen. Looking out from the King's apartments, 
 one sees almost nothing but water for a whole league forward ; 
 basins, jet d'eaux, a canal, in which is a man-of-war of thirty guns, 
 two yachts, and several lesser vessels. The cascades, basins, &c. in 
 the garden are so many, and so variously contrived, it would require 
 much time to describe them. We had the honour to see them with 
 the King, who walked about with Madame Montespan, from one 
 to another, after having driven her and two other ladies- in the 
 coach with him about a good part of the garden. The coach had 
 six horses. The rooms at the chateau are but little, and the stairs 
 seem very little in proportion to the greatness of the persons who 
 are to mount by them. 
 
 The great men's houses seem at first sight to stand irregularly, 
 scattered at a distance, like cottages in a country village, amongst 
 which the chateau, being higher and bigger than the rest, looks like 
 the manor-house. But when one takes a view of them from the 
 centre of the chateau, they appear to be ranged in good order, and 
 they make a pleasing prospect, considering they are in a place where 
 Nature seems to have conferred no favour. 
 
 We saw the house and lodgings ; the King and Queen's apart- 
 ments are very fine, but little rooms, near square. In the new 
 
72 THE LIFE OF 
 
 lodgings they are somewhat bigger ; there are six of them, one 
 within another, all vaulted roofs. The King's cupboard is without 
 the room, on the stair-head in the passage, and standing in the hollow 
 of a window, and so is the Dauphin's, on the other side the court 
 on the stairs that go up there : both the King and he eat in the 
 rooms next the stairs, and have no antichamber to them. The 
 water that is employed in the garden, is raised into a reservoir over 
 the grotto, out of a well, by ten horses that turn two spindles, and 
 keep two pumps continually going ; and into the well it is raised 
 out of an etang in the bottom by windmills : out of the works in 
 the garden it falls into the canal, and so to the etang again. One 
 hundred and twenty horses are employed night and day to supply 
 the etang. 
 
 Paris. At the Academy for Painting and Sculpture, one sees 
 in the great room several pieces done by the chief masters of that 
 academy. 
 
 They are about eighty in number ; out of them are chosen two 
 every two months to teach those who are admitted. The King 
 gives a prize by the hands of Monsieur Colbert, who is protector 
 of this academy ; the prizes three or four medals of gold, worth four 
 hundred livres. Those usually who get it are sent into Italy, and 
 maintained there at the King's cost to perfect them. 
 
 24th. From Paris to Fontainbleau. One passes through the 
 
 great forest for three or four miles, before one comes to the town, 
 
 situated in a little open plain, encompassed with rocky woody 
 
 hills. 
 
 At night we saw the opera of Alceste. The King and Queen 
 
 sat on chairs with arms ; on the right hand of the King, sat Madame 
 Montespan, and a little nearer the stage, on her right hand, Ma- 
 demoiselle, the King of England's niece : on the left hand of the 
 Queen sat Monsieur, and at his left hand, advancing towards the 
 stage, Madame, and so forward towards the stage, other ladies of the 
 Court, all on tabourets except the King and Queen. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 73 
 
 We saw the house at Fontainbleau, and at night a ball, where 
 the King and Queen, and the great persons of the Court danced, 
 and the King himself took pains to clear the room to make place 
 for the dancers. The Queen was very rich in jewels: the King and 
 Queen, &c. were placed as at the Opera. The Due d'Enghien sat 
 behind. 
 
 At Fontainbleau the King and Court went a stag-hunting in 
 the afternoon, and at night had an opera, at all which Madame 
 appeared in a peruke, and upper part dressed like a man. 
 
 Feb. 1st, 1678. I saw the review of the gardes du corps, the 
 musquetaires, and the grenadiers, in the plain de Duile, near St. 
 Germain. The garde du corps, eleven or twelve squadrons, and 
 might be 12 or 1,400 men, all lusty, well horsed, and well clad, all 
 in blue, new, and alike, even to their hats and gloves ; armed with 
 pistols, carabines, and long back swords, with well guarded hilts. 
 The musquetaires were four squadrons, about 400 men, clad all 
 alike in red coats, but their cloaks blue. Their hats and gloves all 
 the same even to the ribbons : they all wore great whiskers ; I think 
 all black, thinking perhaps to make themselves more terrible ; their 
 arms, pistols, carabine, and other things, fit for the manage of their 
 granados. The King came to take a view of these troops between 
 eleven and twelve o'clock, which he did so narrowly that he made 
 them, squadron after squadron, march in file, man after man, just 
 before him, and made the number in each squadron, as they passed, 
 be counted, taking in the mean time a strict survey of their horses. 
 The King, when he alighted out of his coach, had a hat laced about 
 the edge with gold lace, and a white feather ; after a while he had 
 been on horseback, it beginning to rain, he changed it for a plain 
 hat that had only a black ribbon about it ; and was I think by the 
 Audace a Cordebec. The Queen towards the latter end came in a 
 coach and eight horses : the King led her along the head of all these 
 squadrons, they being drawn up all in a line three deep, with little 
 intervals between each squadron. At going ofi" the field, which was 
 at three in the afternoon, the grenadiers were made to exercise 
 
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74 THE LIFE OF 
 
 before him, which was done very readily by wheeling every four men 
 of the same rank together, by which means they without any dis- 
 order faced about, and were immediately in rank again. When 
 this was done, the King went alone into his chariot, taking his 
 best hat again, and returned. There were at this muster two 
 Marshals of France, viz. Luxembourg and De Lorge, each of them 
 Captain of a company of gardes du corps, at the head of which each 
 of them took his place, and saluted the King as he returned, 
 having passed along all these squadrons. 
 
 May 26th, 1678. At the Garde Meubles no increase, that I 
 found, of silver vessels, but rather a diminution since I saw it last 
 in October. Sumptuary laws, when the age inclines to luxury, do 
 not restrain, but rather increase the evil, as one may observe in 
 Tacitus, An. L. 3. Perhaps the better way to set bounds to people's 
 expenses, and hinder them from spending beyond their income, 
 would be to enact that no landed men should be obliged to pay any 
 book-debt to tradesmen, whereby the interest of tradesmen would 
 make them very cautious of trusting those who usually are the 
 leaders of fashions, and thereby a great restraint would be brought 
 on the usual excess ; on the other hand, the credit of poor labouring 
 people would be preserved as before for the supply of their ne- 
 cessities. 
 
 June 5th. Invalides, a great hospital nearly finished. Abbeys, 
 priories, and monasteries, were formerly obliged to entertain, some 
 two, some five lay-brothers, which were maimed soldiers ; the main- 
 tenance came to be changed into a pension of 100 livres per ann. 
 for each person; this, some few years ago, was augmented to 150 
 livres per ann., and presently afterwards taken from the present 
 possessors, and applied to the invalids, beside which all the lands 
 and revenues belonging to Hospitals for lepers, are appropriated 
 to the Invalides. 
 
 Locke quitted Paris in July, returning to Montpellier by the 
 way of Tours, Orleans, and by the road leading towards Rochelle. 
 
 Many of the towns they called bourgs ; but considering how 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 75 
 
 poor and few the houses in most of them are, would in England 
 scarce amount to villages. The houses generally were but one story; 
 and though such low buildings cost not much to keep them up, yet 
 like groveling bodies without souls, they also sink lower when they 
 want inhabitants, of which sort of ruins we saw great numbers in 
 all these bourgs, whereby one would guess that the people of France 
 do not at present increase ; but yet the country is all tilled and 
 cultivated. The gentlemen's seats, of which we saw many, were 
 most of them rather bearing marks of decay than of thriving and 
 being well kept, except the great chateau de Richelieu, the most 
 complete piece of building in France, where on the outside is exact 
 symmetry, in the inside convenience, riches, and beauty, the richest 
 gilding, the finest statues ; the avenues on all sides exceeding hand- 
 some and magnificent ; the situation low and unhealthy : the town 
 is built with the same exactness, and though it has not the con- 
 venience of a town of great trade, yet the great privileges the Car- 
 dinal has got settled upon it, it being a free town, exempt from 
 taile and salt, will always keep it full of people, and the houses dear 
 in it. 
 
 August 10th. Vernet, the seat of the Abbe Defiat, son of the 
 Marshal D'Efiat : he has several church benefices, which makes him 
 a great revenue ; they talk of 90,000 livres. 
 
 Great Abbey of Normoutier, where the new buildings, not yet 
 finished, are very handsome ; the gardens large, but the cellars much 
 larger, being cut in under the sides of the hill into the rock : they 
 had the last year there 1380 pieces of wine ; we saw a great cave 
 which will hold 200 tuns of wine. 
 
 At Niort they complained of the oppression and grievance suf- 
 fered by the quartering of troops on the inhabitants ; here a poor 
 bookseller's wife, who by the largeness and furniture of her shop 
 seemed not to have either much stock or trade, told me that there 
 being last winter 1200 soldiers quartered in the town, two were ap- 
 pointed for their share, which, considering that they were to have 
 three meals a day of flesh, besides a collation in the afternoon, all 
 
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76 THE LIFE OF 
 
 which was better to give them, and a fifth meal too if they desired 
 it, rather than displease them.; these two soldiers, for three months 
 and. a half they were there, cost them at least forty ecus. 
 
 Sept, 15th, Bourdeaux. They usually have in a year for the 
 trade of this part of France 2,000 vessels ; the present prohibitions 
 in England trouble them : all wines low in price, except the best 
 Pontac and Medoc. 
 
 Saw the chateau Trompett, a strong fort on the river side of four 
 bastions ; one of the best streets and four churches have been pulled 
 down to set the citadel in a fair open space : a house was yet 
 pulling down when we were there that had cost lately the building 
 about 50,000 ecus. There are in the garrison 500 French soldiers 
 and 200 Swiss ; the French have two sous per diem, and bread, 
 which is worth about one more ; the Swiss have five sous per diem 
 and bread. 
 
 We rode abroad a league or two into the country westward, 
 which they call Grave, from whence comes the Grave wine ; all vine- 
 yard. Talking with a poor paisant, he told me he had three chil- 
 dren ; that he usually got seven sous a day, finding himself, which 
 was to maintain their family, five in number. His wife got three 
 sous when she could get work, which was but seldom ; other times 
 the spinning, which was for their cloth, yielded more money : out 
 of these seven sous they five were to be maintained, and house-rent 
 paid, and their taille, and Sundays, and holidays provided for : for 
 their house, which, God wot ! was a poor one-room, one story, open 
 to the tiles, without windows, and a little vineyard, which was as 
 bad as nothing, — (for though they made out of it four or five tiers 
 of wine, three tiers make two hogsheads, yet the labour and cost 
 about the vineyard, making the wine, and cost of the casks to put 
 it in, being cast up, the profit of it was very little,) — they paid twelve 
 ecus for rent, and for taille four livres, for which, not long since, the 
 collector had taken their frying pan and dishes, money not being 
 ready: their ordinary food rye-bread and water; flesh seldom sea- 
 sons their pots ; they can make no distinction between flesh and 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 77 
 
 fasting days, but when their money reaches to a more costly meal, 
 they buy the inwards of some beast in the market, and then they 
 feast themselves. In Xantonge, and several other parts of France, 
 the paisants are much more miserable : the paisants who live in 
 Grave they count to be flourishing. 
 
 Taxes : one-eighth of the purchase to be paid of all church or 
 corporation lands that have at any time been alienated ; if they be 
 decayed since the purchase, they pay one-eighth of the purchase ; if 
 meliorated, they pay according to the improved value. He that 
 refuses hath a garrison of soldiers presently sent to his house. 
 
 Saw the Carthusian convent a quarter of a mile without the 
 town ; the altar adorned with pillars of the finest marble that I 
 have seen ; the marble of so excellent a kind, (interlaced with veins, 
 as it were, of gold,) that the King hath been tempted to send for 
 them away. 
 
 Sept. 26th. From Bourdeaux to Cadillac. Saw the great chateau 
 built by the D. d'Espernon, built on three sides of a court, as all 
 the great houses in France are, four stories high, and much more 
 capacious than the chateau of Richelieu ; a broad long terrace wall 
 surrounds the building. 
 
 At Toulouse saw the charteraux, very large and fine ; saw the 
 reliques at St. Sernin, where they have the greatest store of them 
 that I have met with ; besides others, there are six apostles, and the 
 head of the seventh, viz. two Jameses, Philip, Simon, Jude, Barnabas, 
 and the head of Barthelmy. We were told of the wonders these 
 and other reliques had done being carried in procession, but more 
 especially the head of St. Edward, one of our Kings of England, 
 which carried in procession, delivered the town from a plague 
 some years since. 
 
 Locke arrived at Montpellier the middle of October, and after 
 a short residence of less than a fortnight, set out before the end of 
 the month on his return to Paris, by way of Lyons and Orleans, 
 having probably been recalled by Shaftesbury, who was then at the 
 head of the English Administration. The particulars of this journey 
 
78 THE LIFE OF 
 
 home are omitted. The mode of travelling at that time was ge- 
 nerally on horseback, hired from one great town to another ; the 
 day's journey seven, eight, and ten leagues ; the hire of horses for 
 a journey three livres a-day for three horses, and three livres for 
 their meat ; to the guide that rode one, ten sous a day for his hire, 
 and ten sous for his meat, and the same rate of seven livres a day 
 for the return. Twenty sous, dinner ; thirty sous, coucher. 
 
 He arrived at Paris the latter end of November, and remained 
 there about five months. 
 
 At this time are many notes of and comparison between French 
 and English measures; of length and capacity, of weight and fineness, 
 of the respective monies of the two countries, and of Holland, ascer- 
 tained by experiment and by information furnished by M. Briot, 
 M. Toynard, and Romer. 
 
 Dec. 20th. In the library of the Abbe of St. Germains, M. Covell 
 and I saw two very old manuscripts of the New Testament, the 
 newest of which was, as appeared by the date of it, at least 800 
 years old, in each of which 1 John c. v. v. 7. was quite wanting, and 
 the end of the eighth verse ran thus, " tres unum sunt ;" in an other 
 old copy the seventh verse was, but with interlining ; in another 
 much more modern copy, v. 7. was also, but differently from the old 
 copy ; and in two other old manuscripts, also, v. 7. was quite out, 
 but as I remember in all of them the end of the eighth verse 
 was " tres unum sunt." 
 
 The story of the nuns of Lodun possessed, was nothing but a 
 contrivance of Cardinal Richelieu to destroy Graudier, a man he 
 suspected to have wrote a book against him, who was condemned 
 for witchcraft in the case, and burnt for it. The scene was managed 
 by the capuchins, and the nuns played their tricks well, but all was 
 a cheat. 
 
 23rd. At the King's levee, which I saw this morning at St. 
 Germains, there is nothing so remarkable as his great devotion, 
 which is very exemplary ; for as soon as ever he is dressed, he goes 
 to his bed-side, where he kneels down to his prayers, several priests 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 79 
 
 kneeling by him, in which posture he continues for a pretty while, 
 not being disturbed by the noise and buzz of the rest of the cham- 
 ber, which is full of people standing and talking one to another. 
 
 The Marquis de Bordage, who married M. Turenne's niece, 
 being at Rome about the year 66 or 67, being at a mass where the 
 Pope was present, and not above a yard or two from him, a very 
 considerable Cardinal, who was just by him, asked him just after 
 
 the elevation : " che dice vostra Signioria di tutta questa fanfantaria." 
 
 # *. • # * * # 
 
 Amongst other things, M. Covell told me how the patriarchs of 
 Constantinople are made at present by the Grand Seignior : how 
 they buy out one another ; and how the non-conformist Protestants 
 were induced by him to take the sacrament kneeling. 
 
 1679 — January 4th. This day was the review of the infantry 
 of the Maison du Roi. There were thirty companies, if one may 
 reckon by their colours of French, and ten of Swiss, all new habited. 
 The officers of the French, gold embroidery on blue ; the Swiss, 
 gold embroidery on red, and much the richer. The French com- 
 mon soldiers all in new clothes : the coat and breeches of cloth 
 almost white ; red vests laced with counterfeit silver lace ; as much 
 as was seen, at least, was red cloth, though if one looked farther, one 
 should have found it grafted to linen ; shoulder-belts, and bande- 
 liers of buff leather, laced at their vests ; red stockings, a new hat 
 laced, adorned with a great white woollen feather — some were red ; 
 a new pair of white gloves with woollen fringe, and a new sword, 
 copper gilt hilt ; all which, I am told, with a coat of grey stuff to 
 wear over it, cost forty-four livres, which is abated out of their pay ; 
 of which, all defalcations made, there remains for their maintenance 
 five sous per diem. The soldiers, as I overtook them coming home 
 to Paris, had most of them oiled hat cases, a part I suppose of their 
 furniture, and coarse linen buskins, after the fashion of their coun- 
 try, to save their red stockings. The Swiss soldiers were habited 
 in red coats and blue breeches cut after their fashion, with their 
 points at their knees, and had no feathers. The pike-men of both 
 
80 THE LIFE OF 
 
 had back and breast-plates ; but the Swiss also had head-pieces, 
 which the French had not. For the Swiss, the King pays each 
 captain for himself, and all the men in his company, eighteen livres 
 per mensem ; the captain's profit lies in this, that he agrees with 
 his officers as he can, and so with the soldiers, who have some ten, 
 some fourteen livres per mensem as they can agree. 
 
 The King passed at the head of the line as they stood drawn up ; 
 the officers at the head of their companies and regiments in armour, 
 with pikes in their ^ands, saluting him with their pikes, then with 
 their hats. He vdfy courteously put off his hat to them again ; so 
 he did, when taking his stand, they marched before him. He passed 
 twice along the whole front forwards and backwards ; first by him- 
 self, the Dauphin, &c. accompanying him ; and then with the Queen, 
 he riding by her coach side. 
 
 The sergeants complaining that their pay would not reach to 
 make them so fine as was required, i. e. scarlet coats with true gold 
 galloon ; to make them amends for it, they were allowed to take 
 more on their quarters. The French for excusing from quarters 
 make them pay twenty-four, the Swiss but eighteen livres. 
 
 At Paris, the bills of mortality usually amount to 19 or 20,000 ; 
 and they count in the town about 500,000 souls, 50,000 more than 
 at London, where the bills are less. Quere, whether the Quakers, 
 Anabaptists, and Jews, that die in London, are reckoned in the 
 bills of mortality. 
 
 Exchange on London fifty-four pence five-eights d'Angleterre, 
 for one ecu of France ; so with commission, &c. I received 1,306 
 livres, two sous, for 100/. sterling. 
 
 M. Toinard showed me a new system of our tourbillion, wherein 
 the centre of the sun described a circle of the tourbillion, in which 
 it made its periodical circuit, and Mercury moved about the sun 
 as the moon does about the earth, 
 
 Pomey and Chanson were burnt at Paris about the year 64, 
 for keeping a bawdy-house of Catemites. M. Toinard. 
 
 February 13th. I saw the library of M. de Thou, a great col- 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 81 
 
 lection of choice, well-bound books, which are now to be sold; amongst 
 others, a Greek manuscript, written by one Angelot, by which 
 Stephens' Greek characters were first made. There was also a pic- 
 ture of a procession in the time of the League, wherein the monks 
 of the several orders are represented armed, as indeed they were. 
 Here also I had the honour to see the Prince of Conti, now in his 
 seventeenth year, a very comely young gentleman ; but the beauty 
 of his mind far excels that of his body, being for his age very learned. 
 He speaks Italian and German as a native, understands Latin well, 
 Spanish indifferently, and is, as I am told, going to learn English : 
 a great lover of justice and honour, very civil and obliging to all, 
 and desires the acquaintance of persons of merit of any kind ; and 
 though I can pretend to none that might recommend me to one of 
 the first princes of the blood of France, yet he did me the honour 
 to ask me several questions then, and to repeat his commands to me 
 to wait upon him at his house. 
 
 Friday. The observation of Lent at Paris is come almost to 
 nothing. Meat is openly to be had in the shambles, and a dispensa- 
 tion commonly to be had from the curate without difficulty. People 
 of sense laugh at it, and in Italy itself, for twenty sous, a dispensation 
 is certainly to be had. The best edition of the French Bible is that 
 in folio, in two vols. Elzevir, but the notes are not very good. The 
 best notes are those of Diodati, and his Italian Bible is very good, 
 Mr. Justel. 
 
 They tell here, that the Bishop of Bellay having writ against 
 the Capuchins, and they against him, Cardinal Richelieu undertook 
 their reconciliation, and they both promised peace ; but the Ca- 
 puchins writing again under another name, the Bishop replied ; so 
 that the Cardinal, seeing him some time after, told him, that had he 
 held his peace he would have canonized him. " That would do well," 
 replied the Bishop, " for then we should each of us have what we 
 desire ; i. e. one should be Pope, and the other a saint." Cardinal 
 Richelieu having given him the Prince of Balzac and the Minister 
 Silhon to read, (which he had caused to be writ, one as a character 
 
 M 
 
82 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of the King, and the other of himself,) demanded one day, before the 
 King, his opinion of them ; to which the Bishop replied, " Le Prince 
 n'est pas grand chose, et le Ministre ne vaut rien !" 
 
 A devout lady being sick, and besieged by the Carmes, made her 
 will, and gave them all : the Bishop of Bellay coming to see her 
 after it was done, asked whether she had made her will ; she an- 
 swered yes, and told him how : he convinced her it was not well, 
 and she desiring to alter it, found a difficulty how to do it, being so 
 beset by the friars. The Bishop bid her not trouble herself for it, 
 but presently took order that two notaries, habited as physicians, 
 should come to her, who being by her bed-side, the Bishop told 
 the company it was convenient all should withdraw ; and so the 
 former will was revoked, and a new one made and put into the 
 Bishop's hands. The lady dies, the Carmes produce their will, and 
 for some time the Bishop lets them enjoy the pleasure of their 
 inheritance ; but at last, taking out the other will, he says to them, 
 " Mes freres, you are the sons of Eliah, children of the Old Tes- 
 tament, and have no share in the New." This is that Bishop of 
 Bellay who has writ so much against monks and monkery. 
 
 II y a a Paris vingt-quatre belles maisons qu'on peut voir. 
 Luxembourg L'Hotel de M. Lambert 
 L'Hotel de Guise de Chaumont 
 
 de Soissons de Lesdiguiers 
 
 de la Basinierre de Conti 
 
 de la Ferte de Lamoignon 
 
 de Grammont de Jars 
 
 de M. Colbert de Turenne 
 
 de la Vrillierre de M. Amelot Bisicul 
 
 de Mazarin M. de Boisfranc 
 
 de Lyonne de Vendome 
 
 Bretonvilliers d'Espernon 
 
 Justin de Longueville. 
 
 The Memoires de Sully are full of falsities and self-flattery, so 
 concluded by the company chez Mr. Justel ; the same which Mr. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 
 
 83 
 
 Falayseau had before told me ; those of the Due de Guise, a ro- 
 mance ; but those of Modena, concerning Naples, good. 
 
 I saw the Pere Cherubin, the Capuchin so famous for optics, 
 at least the practical part in telescopes, at his convent in the Rue 
 St. Honore. 
 
 The Capuchins are the strictest and severest order in France, 
 so that to mortify those of their order, they command them the most 
 unreasonable things, irrational and ridiculous : as to plant cabbage- 
 plants the roots upwards, and then reprehend them, the planters, 
 because they do not grow. As soon as they find any one to have 
 any inclinations any way, as Pere Cherubin in optics and telescopes, 
 to take from him all that he has done, or may be useful to him in 
 that science, and employ him in something quite contrary ; but he 
 has now a particular lock and key to his cell, which the guardian's 
 key opens not. 
 
 This severity makes them not compassionate one to another, 
 whatever they would be to others. 
 
 Within this year past, were bills set up about Paris, with a 
 privilege for a receipt to kill lice, whereof the Duke of Bouillon had 
 the monopoly, and the bills were in his name. 
 
 " Par permission et privilege du Roy, accorde a perpetuite a 
 Monsieur le Due de Bouillon, Grand Chambellan de France, par 
 lettres patentes du 17 Sept. 1677, verifies en Parlement par arret du 
 13 Dec. au dit an, le publique sera averti que Ton vend a Paris 
 un petit sachet de la grandeur d'une piece de quinze sols, pour 
 garantir toute sorte de personnes de la vermine, et en retirer ceux 
 qui en sont incommodes sans mercure. 
 
 " II est fait defense a toutes personnes de le faire, ni 
 contrefaire, a peine de trois mille livres d'amende." Extrait de 
 I'affiche. 
 
 At the seminary of St. Sulpice, over the door opposite to the 
 gate, is the Virgin, a child crowning her, and under her feet this 
 inscription : Interveni pro clero. 
 
 The Protestants within these twenty years have had above 
 
 M 2 
 
84 ' THE LIFE OF 
 
 three hundred churches demolished, and within these two months 
 fifteen more condemned. 
 
 During his residence at Paris, Locke made acquaintance with 
 Mr. Justel, (whose house was then the resort of the literati of 
 France,) and with him he continued to correspond long after his 
 return to England. He also formed an acquaintance with Mr. 
 Guenelon, the celebrated physician of Amsterdam, whose friendship 
 was most useful some years afterwards, during his retreat in Hol- 
 land. He became also intimately acquainted with Monsieur Toi- 
 nard, the author of Harmonia Evangeliorum. 
 
 At the beginning of May, Locke left Paris, and arrived in the 
 Thames on the 8th ; he resided for some time at Thanet-House 
 in Aldersgate-street, Shaftesbury being then at the head of the 
 English administration. 
 
 Before proceeding farther, it will be proper here to insert the 
 notes and dissertations on different subjects scattered at intervals 
 through the Journal. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE, ITS EXTENT AND MEASURE. 
 
 Qaod volumus facile credimus. 
 
 Feb. 8, 1677. — Question. — How far^ and by what means, the 
 will works upon the understanding and assent ? 
 
 Our minds are not made as large as truth, nor suited to the 
 whole extent of things ; amongst those that come within its reach, 
 it meets with a great many too big for its grasp, and there are 
 not a few that it is fair to give up as incomprehensible. It 
 finds itself lost in the vast extent of space, and the least particle 
 of matter puzzles it with an inconceivable divisibility ; and those 
 who, out of a great care not to admit unintelligible things, deny 
 or question an eternal omniscient spirit, run themselves into a 
 greater difficulty by making an eternal and intelligent matter. 
 Nay, our minds, whilst they think and (-*****) our bodies find it 
 
JOHN LOCKE. ' g5 
 
 past their capacity to conceive how they do the one or the other. 
 This state of our minds, however remote from the perfection 
 whereof we ourselves have an idea, ought not, however, to dis- 
 courage our endeavours in the search of truth, or make us think we 
 are incapable of knowing any thing, because we cannot understand 
 all things. We shall find that we are sent out into the world 
 furnished with those faculties that are fit to obtain knowledge, and 
 knowledge sufficient, if we will but confine it within those purposes, 
 and direct it to those ends, which the constitution of our nature, 
 and the circumstance of our being, point out to us. If we consider 
 ourselves in the condition we are in the world, we cannot but 
 observe that we are in an estate, the necessities whereof call for a 
 constant supply of meat, drink, clothing, and defence from the 
 weather ; and our conveniences demand yet a great deal more. To 
 provide these things. Nature furnishes us only with the material, for 
 the most part rough, and unfitted to our use ; it requires labour, 
 art, and thought, to suit them to our occasions ; and if the know- 
 ledge of man had not found out ways to shorten the labour, and 
 improve several things which seem not, at first sight, to be of any 
 use to us, we should spend all our time to make a scanty provision 
 for a poor and miserable life : a sufficient instance, whereof, we have 
 in the inhabitants of that large and fertile part of the world, the 
 West Indies, who lived a poor uncomfortable life, scarce able to 
 subsist ; and that, perhaps, only for want of knowing the use of 
 that store out of which the inhabitants of the Old World had the 
 skill to draw iron, and thereof make themselves utensils necessary 
 for the carrying on and improvement of all other arts ; no one of 
 which can subsist well, if at all, without that one metal. Here, 
 then, is a large field for knowledge, proper for the use and advan- 
 tage of men in this world ; viz., to find out new inventions of 
 dispatch to shorten or ease our labour, or applying sagaciously to- 
 gether several agents and materials, to procure new and beneficial 
 productions fit for our use, whereby our &tock of riches (i. e. things 
 useful for the conveniences of our life,) may be increased, or better 
 
gQ THE LIFE OF 
 
 preserved: and for such discoveries as these the mind of man is 
 well fitted ; though, perhaps, the essence of things, their first original, 
 their secret way of working, and the whole extent of corporeal beings, 
 be as far beyond our capacity as it is beside our use ; and we have 
 no reason to complain that we do not know the nature of the sun 
 or stars, that the consideration of light itself leaves us in the dark, 
 and a thousand other speculations in Nature, since, if we knew them, 
 they would be of no solid advantage to us, nor help to make our 
 lives the happier, they being but the useless employment of idle 
 or over-curious brains, which amuse themselves about things out of 
 which they can by no means draw any real benefit. So that, if we 
 will consider man as in the world, and that his mind and faculties 
 were given him for any use, we must necessarily conclude it must 
 be to procure him the happiness which this world is capable of; 
 which certainly is nothing else but plenty of all sorts of those 
 things which can with most ease, pleasure, and variety, preserve 
 him longest in it : so that, had mankind no concernment but in the 
 world, no apprehensions of any being after this life, they need 
 trouble their heads with nothing but the history of nature, and an 
 enquiry into the qualities of the things in the mansion of the uni- 
 verse which hath fallen to their lot, and being well-skilled in the 
 knowledge of material causes and effect of things in their power, 
 directing their thoughts to the improvement of such arts and in- 
 ventions, engines, and utensils, as might best contribute to their con- 
 tinuation in it with conveniency and delight, they might well spare 
 themselves the trouble of looking any farther ; they need not per- 
 plex themselves about the original frame or constitution of the 
 universe, drawing the great machine into systems of their own con- 
 trivance, and building hypotheses, obscure, perplexed, and of no 
 other use but to raise dispute and continual wrangling : For what 
 need have we to complain of our ignorance in the more general and 
 foreign parts of nature, when all our business lies at home ? Why 
 should we bemoan our want of knowledge in the particular apart- 
 ments of the universe, when our portion here only lies in the little 
 
JOHN LOCKE. g7 
 
 spot of earth where we and all our concernments are shut up ? 
 Why should we think ourselves hardly dealt with, that we are not 
 furnished with compass nor plummet to sail and fathom that rest- 
 less, unnavigable ocean, of the universal matter, motion, and space ? 
 Since there be shores to bound our voyage and travels, there are at 
 least no commodities to be brought from thence serviceable to our 
 use, nor that will better our condition ; and we need not be dis- 
 pleased that we have not knowledge enough to discover whether we 
 have any neighbours or no in those large bulks of matter we see 
 floating in the abyss, or of what kind they are, since we can never 
 have any communication with them that might turn to our advan- 
 tage. So that, considering man barely as an animal of three or four- 
 score years duration, and then to end, his condition and state re- 
 quires no other knowledge than what may furnish him with those 
 things which may help him to pass out to the end of that time 
 with ease, safety, and delight, which is all the happiness he is capa- 
 ble of: and for the attainment of a correspondent measure man- 
 kind is sufficiently provided. He has faculties and organs well 
 adapted for the discovery, if he thinks fit to employ and use them. 
 Another use of his knowledge is to live in peace with his fellow- 
 men, and this also he is capable of Besides a plenty of the good 
 things of this world, with life, health, and peace to enjoy them, 
 we can think of no other concernment mankind hath that leads him 
 not out of it, and places him not beyond the confines of this earth ; 
 and it seems probable that there should be some better state some- 
 where else to which man might arise, since, when he hath all that 
 this world can afford, he is still unsatisfied, uneasy, and far from 
 happiness. It is certain, and that all men must consent to, that 
 there is a possibility of another state when this scene is over ; and 
 that the happiness and misery of that depends on the ordering of 
 ourselves in our actions in this time of our probation here. The 
 acknowledgment of a God will easily lead any one to this, and he 
 hath left so many footsteps of himself, so many proofs of his being 
 in every creature, as are sufficient to convince any who will but 
 
gg THE LIFE OF 
 
 make use of their faculties that way, — and I dare say nobody escapes 
 this conviction for want of sight ; but if any be so blind, it is only 
 because they will not open their eyes and see ; and those only doubt 
 of a Supreme Ruler and an universal law, who would willingly be 
 under no law, accountable to no judge ; those only question another 
 life hereafter, who intend to lead such a one here as they fear to 
 have examined, and would be loath to answer for when it is over. 
 This opinion I shall always be of, till I see that those who would 
 cast off all thoughts of God, heaven, and hell, lead such lives as would 
 become rational creatures, or observe that one unquestionable moral 
 rule, do as you would be done to. It being then possible, and at 
 least probable, that there is another life, wherein we shall give an 
 account of our past actions in this to the great God of heaven and 
 earth ; here comes in another, and that the main concernment of 
 mankind, to know what those actions are that he is to do, what those 
 are he is to avoid, what the law is, he is to live by here, and shall be 
 judged by hereafter ; and in the past too he is not left so in the 
 dark, but that he is furnished with principles of knowledge, and 
 faculties able to discover light enough to guide him ; his understand- 
 ing seldom fails him in this part, unless where his will would have 
 it so. If he take a wrong course, it is most commonly because he 
 goes wilfully out of the way, or, at least, chooses to be bewildered ; 
 and there are few, if any, who dreadfully mistake that are willing to 
 be in the right ; and I think one may safely say, that amidst the 
 great ignorance which is so justly complained of amongst mankind, 
 where any one endeavoured to know his duty sincerely, with a design 
 to do it, scarce ever any one miscarried for want of knowledge. The 
 business of men being to be happy in this world, by the enjoyment 
 of the things of nature subservient to life, health, ease, and pleasure, 
 and by the comfortable hopes of another life when this is ended ; 
 and in the other world, by an accumulation of higher degrees of bliss 
 in an everlasting security, we need no other knowledge for the at- 
 tainment of those ends but of the history and observation of the 
 effect and operation of natural bodies within our power, and of our 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 89. 
 
 duty in the management of our own actions, as far as they depend 
 on our will, i. e. as far also as they are in our power. One of those 
 is the proper enjoyment of our bodies, and the highest perfection of 
 that, and the other of our souls ; and to attain both these we are 
 fitted with faculties both of body and soul. Whilst then we have 
 ability to improve our knowledge in experimental natural philoso- 
 phy, whilst we want not principles whereon to establish moral rules, 
 nor light (if we please to make use of it) to distinguish good from bad 
 actions, we have no reason to complain if we meet with difficulties 
 in other things which put our reasons to a nonplus, confound our 
 understandings, and leave us perfectly in the dark under the sense 
 of our own weakness : for those relating not to our happiness any 
 way are no part of our business, and therefore it is not to be won- 
 dered if we have not abilities given us to deal with things that are 
 not to our purpose, nor conformable to our state or end. God having 
 made the great machine of the universe suitable to his infinite power 
 and wisdom, why should we think so proudly of ourselves whom he 
 hath put into a small canton, and perhaps the most inconsiderable 
 part of it, that he hath made us the surveyors of it, and that it is 
 not as it should be unless we can thoroughly comprehend it in all 
 the parts of it ? It is agreeable to his goodness, and to our condition, 
 that we should be able to apply them to our use, to understand so 
 far some parts of that we have to do with, as to be able to make 
 them subservient to the convenience of our life, as proper to fill our 
 hearts with praise of his bounty. But it is also agreeable to his 
 greatness, that it should exceed our capacity, and the highest flight 
 of our imagination, the better to fill us with admiration of his power 
 and wisdom ; — besides its serving to other ends, and being suited pro- 
 bably to the use of other more intelligent creatures which we know 
 not of. If it be not reasonable to expect that we should be able to 
 penetrate into all the depths of nature, and understand the whole 
 constitution of the universe, it is yet a higher insolence to doubt of 
 the existence of a God because we cannot comprehend him — to think 
 there is not an infinite Being because we are not so. If all things 
 
90 THE LIFE OF 
 
 must stand or fall by the measure of our understandings, and that 
 denied to be, wherein we find inextricable difficulties, there will very 
 little remain in the world, and we shall scarce leave ourselves so 
 much as understandings, souls, or bodies. It will become us better 
 to consider well our own weakness and exigencies, what we are made 
 for, and what we are capable of, and to apply the powers of our bodies 
 and faculties of our souls, which are well suited to our condition, in 
 the search of that natural and moral knowledge, which, as it is not 
 beyond our strength, so is not beside our purpose, but may be 
 attained by moderate industry, and improved to our infinite 
 advantage. 
 
 [This excellent article was begun in March, continued at intervals, 
 and finished in May, apparently during a journey.] 
 
 STUDY. 
 
 1677, March 6th. The end of study is knowledge, and the end 
 of knowledge practice or communication. This true delight is com- 
 monly joined with all improvements of knowledge ; but when we 
 study only for that end, it is to be considered rather as diversion 
 than business, and so is to be reckoned among our recreations. 
 
 The extent of knowledge or things knowable is so vast, our 
 duration here so short, and the entrance by which the knowledge of 
 things gets into our understanding so narrow, that the time of our 
 whole life would be found too short without the necessary allowances 
 for childhood and old age, (which are not capable of much improve- 
 ment,) for the refreshment of our bodies and unavoidable avocations, 
 and in most conditions for the ordinary employment of their call- 
 ings, which if they neglect, they cannot eat nor live. I say that the 
 whole time of our life, without these necessary defalcations, is not 
 enough to acquaint us with all those things, I will not say which 
 we are capable of knowing, but which it would not be only con- 
 venient but very advantageous to know. He that will consider how 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 9]^ 
 
 many doubts and difficulties have remained in the minds of the 
 most knowing men after long and studious inquiry ; how much in 
 those several provinces of knowledge they have surveyed, they have 
 left undiscovered ; how many other provinces of the " mundus in- 
 telligibilis," as I may call it, they never once travelled on, will easily 
 consent to the disproportionateness of our time and strength to this 
 greatness of business, of knowledge taken in its full latitude, and 
 which, if it be not our main business here, yet it is so necessary to 
 it, and so interwoven with it, that we can make little further pro- 
 gress in doing, than we do in knowing, — at least to little purpose ; — 
 acting without understanding being usually at best but lost labour. 
 It therefore much behoves us to improve the best we can our 
 time and talent in this respect, and since we have a long journey to 
 go, and the days are but short, to take the straightest and most 
 direct road we can. To this purpose, it may not perhaps be amiss to 
 decline some things that are likely to bewilder us, or at least lie out 
 of our way, — First, as all that maze of words and phrases which have 
 been invented and employed only to instruct and amuse people in 
 the art of disputing, and will be found perhaps, when looked into, to 
 have little or no meaning ; and with this kind of stuff the logics, 
 physics, ethics, metaphysics, and divinity of the schools are thought 
 by some to be too much filled. This I am sure, that where we 
 leave distinctions without finding a difference in things ; where we 
 make variety of phrases, or think we furnish ourselves with argu- 
 ments without a progress in the real knowledge of things, we only 
 fill our heads with empty sounds, which however thought to belong 
 to learning and knowledge, will no more improve our understandings 
 and strengthen our reason, than the noise of a jack will fill our bellies 
 or strengthen our bodies : and the art to fence with those which are 
 called subtleties, is of no more use than it would be to be dexterous 
 in tying and untying knots in cobwebs. Words are of no value 
 nor use, but as they are the signs of things ; when they stand for 
 nothing they are less than cyphers, for instead of augmenting the 
 
 N 2 
 
92 THE LIFE OF 
 
 value of those they are joined with, they lessen it, and make it 
 nothing ; and where they have not a clear distinct signification, 
 they are like unusual or ill-made figures that confound our meaning. 
 2nd. An aim and desire to know what hath been other men's 
 opinions. Truth needs no recommendation, and error is not mended 
 by it ; and in our inquiry after knowledge, it as little concerns us 
 what other men have thought, as it does one who is to go from 
 Oxford to London, to know what scholars walk quietly on foot, 
 inquiring the way and surveying the country as they went, who 
 rode post after their guide without minding the way he went, who 
 were carried along muffled up in a coach with their company, or 
 where one doctor lost or went out of his way, or where another 
 stuck in the mire. If a traveller gets a knowledge of the right way, 
 it is no matter whether he knows the infinite windings, byeways, 
 and turnings where others have been misled ; the knowledge of the 
 right secures him from the wrong, and that is his great business : 
 and so methinks it is in our pilgrimage through this world ; men's 
 fancies have been infinite even of the learned, and the history of 
 them endless : and some not knowing whither they would go, have 
 kept going, though they have only moved ; others have followed 
 only their own imaginations, though they meant right, which is an 
 errant, which with the wisest leads us through strange mazes. In- 
 terest has blinded some and prejudiced others, who have yet marched 
 confidently on ; and however out of the way, they have thought 
 themselves most in the right. I do not say this to undervalue 
 the light we receive from others, or to think there are not those 
 who assist us mightily in our endeavours after knowledge ; perhaps 
 without books we should be as ignorant as the Indians, whose minds 
 are as ill clad as their bodies ; but I think it is an idle and useless 
 thing to make it one's business to study what have been other men's 
 sentiments in things where reason is only to be judge, on purpose 
 to be furnished with them, and to be able to cite them on all occa- 
 sions. However it be esteemed a great part of learning, yet to a man 
 that considers how little time he has, and how much work to do, 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 93 
 
 how many things he is to learn, how many doubts to clear in reli- 
 gion, how many rules to establish to himself in morality, how much 
 pains to be taken with himself to master his unruly desires and 
 passions, how to provide himself against a thousand cases and acci- 
 dents that will happen, and an infinite deal more both in his 
 general and particular calling ; I say to a man that considers this 
 well, it will not seem much his business to acquaint himself design- 
 edly with the various conceits of men that are to be found in books 
 even upon subjects of moment. I deny not but the knowing of 
 these opinions in all their variety, contradiction, and extravagancy, 
 may serve to instruct us in the vanity and ignorance of mankind, 
 and both to humble and caution us upon that consideration ; but 
 this seems not reason enough to me to engage purposely in this 
 study, and in our inquiries after more material points, we shall meet 
 with enough of this medly to acquaint us with the weakness of 
 man's understanding. 
 
 Srd. Purity of language, a polished style, or exact criticism in 
 foreign languages — thus I think Greek and Latin may be called, 
 as well as French and Italian, — and to spend much time in these 
 may perhaps serve to set one off in the world, and give one the 
 reputation of a scholar. But if that be all, methinks it is labouring 
 for an outside ; it is at best but a handsome dress of truth or false- 
 hood that one busies one's-self about, and makes most of those who 
 lay out their time this way rather as fashionable gentlemen, than as 
 wise or useful men. 
 
 There are so many advantages of speaking one's own language 
 well, and being a master in it, that let a man's calling be what it 
 will, it cannot but be worth our taking some pains in it ; but it is by 
 no means to have the first place in our studies : but he that makes 
 good language subservient to a good life and an instrument of vir- 
 tue, is doubly enabled to do good to others. 
 
 When^v. I speak against the laying out our time and study on 
 criticisms, I mean such as may serve to make us great masters in 
 Pindar and Persius, Herodotus and Tacitus ; and I must always be 
 
94 THE LIFE OF 
 
 understood to except all study of languages and critical learning, 
 that may aid us in understanding the Scriptures ; for they being an 
 eternal foundation of truth as immediately coming from the foun- 
 tain of truth, whatever doth help us to understand their true sense, 
 doth well deserve our pains and study, 
 
 4th. Antiquity and history, as far as they are designed only to 
 furnish us with story and talk. For the stories of Alexander and 
 Ceesar, no farther than they instruct us in the art of living well, and 
 furnish us with observations of wisdom and prudence, are not one 
 jot to be preferred to the history of Robin Hood, or the Seven Wise 
 Masters. I do not deny but history is very useful, and very instruc- 
 tive of human life ; but if it be studied only for the reputation of 
 being an historian, it is a very empty thing ; and he that can tell all 
 the particulars of Herodotus and Plutarch, Curtius and Livy, with- 
 out making any other use of them, may be an ignorant man with a 
 good memory, and with all his pains hath only filled his head with 
 Christmas tales. And which is worse, the greatest part of history 
 being made up of wars and conquests, and their style, especially the 
 Romans, speaking of valour as the chief if not the only virtue, we 
 are in danger to be misled by the general current and business of 
 history, and looking on Alexander and Caesar, and such like heroes, 
 as the highest instances of human greatness, because they each of 
 them caused the death of several 100,000 men, and the ruin of a 
 much greater number, overrun a great part of the earth, and killed 
 the inhabitants to possess themselves of their countries — we are apt 
 to make butchery and rapine the chief marks and very essence of 
 human greatness. And if civil history be a great dealer of it, 
 and to many readers thus useless, curious and difficult inquirings 
 in antiquity are much more so ; and the exact dimensions of the 
 Colossus, or figure of the Capitol, the ceremonies of the Greek and 
 Roman marriages, or who it was that first coined money ; these, I 
 confess, set a man well off in the world, especially amongst the 
 learned, but set him very little on in his way. 
 
 5th. Nice questions and remote useless speculations, as where 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 95 
 
 the earthly Paradise was — or what fruit it was that was forbidden — 
 where Lazarus's soul was whilst his body lay dead — and what kind 
 of bodies we shall have at the Resurrection ? &c. &c. These things 
 well-regulated, will cut off at once a great deal of business from one 
 who is setting out into a course of study ; not that all these are to 
 be counted utterly useless, and lost time cast away on them. The 
 four last may be each of them the full and laudable employment of 
 several persons who may with great advantage make languages, 
 history, or antiquity, their study. For as for words without mean- 
 ing, which is the first head I mentioned, I cannot imagine them 
 any way worth hearing or reading, much less studying ; but there is 
 such an harmony in all sorts of truth and knowledge, they do all 
 support and give light so to one another, that one cannot deny, but 
 languages and criticisms, history and antiquity, strange opinions and 
 odd speculations, serve often to clear and confirm very material and 
 useful doctrines. My meaning therefore is, not that they are not 
 to be looked into by a studious man at any time ; all that I contend 
 is, that they are not to be made our chief aim, nor first business, 
 and that they are always to be handled with some caution : for 
 since having but a little time, we have need of much care in the 
 husbanding of it. These parts of knowledge ought not to have 
 either the first or greatest part of our studies, and we have the more 
 need of this caution, because they are much in vogue amongst men 
 of letters, and carry with them a great exterior of learning, and so 
 are a glittering temptation in a studious man's way, and such as is 
 very likely to mislead him. 
 
 But if it were fit for me to marshal the parts of knowledge, and 
 allot to any one its place and precedency, thereby to direct one's 
 studies, I should think it were natural to set them in this order. 
 
 1. Heaven being our great business and interest, the knowledge 
 which may direct us thither is certainly so too, so that this is with- 
 out per adventure the study that ought to take the first and chiefest 
 place in our thoughts ; but wherein it consists, its parts, method, and 
 application, will deserve a chapter by itself. 
 
96 THE LIFE OF 
 
 2. The next thing to happiness in the other world, is a quiet 
 prosperous passage through this, which requires a discreet conduct 
 and management of ourselves in the several occurrences of our lives. 
 The study of prudence then seems to me to deserve the second 
 place in our thoughts and studies. A man may be, perhaps, a good 
 man, (which lives in truth and sincerity of heart towards God,) with 
 a small portion of prudence, but he will never be very happy in 
 himself, nor useful to others without : these two are every man's 
 business. 
 
 3. If those who are left by their predecessors with a plentiful for- 
 tune are excused from having a particular calling, in order to their 
 subsistence in this life, it is yet certain that, by the law of God, they 
 are under an obligation of doing something ; which, having been 
 judiciously treated by an able pen, I shall not meddle with, but pass 
 to those who have made letters their business ; and in these I think 
 it is incumbent to make the proper business of their calling the third 
 place in their study. 
 
 This order being laid, it will be easy for every one to determine 
 with himself what tongues and histories are to be studied by him, 
 and how far in subserviency to his general or particular calling. 
 
 Our happiness being thus parcelled out, and being in every part 
 of it very large, it is certain we should set ourselves on work without 
 ceasing, did not both the parts we are made up of bid us hold. Our 
 bodies and our minds are neither of them capable of continual study, 
 and if we take not a just measure of our strength, in endeavouring 
 to do a great deal, we shall do nothing at all. 
 
 The knowledge we acquire in this world I am apt to think ex- 
 tends not beyond the limits of this life. The beatific vision of the 
 other life needs not the help of this dim twilight ; but be that as it 
 will, I am sure the principal end why we are to get knowledge here, 
 is to make use of it for the benefit of ourselves and others in this 
 world ; but if by gaining it we destroy our health, we labour for a 
 thing that will be useless in our hands ; and if by harassing our 
 bodies (though with a design to render ourselves more useful) we 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 97 
 
 deprive ourselves of the abilities and opportunities of doing that 
 good we might have done with a meaner talent, which God thought 
 sufficient for us by having denied us the strength to improve it to 
 that pitch which men of stronger constitutions can attain to, we rob 
 God of so much service, and our neighbour of all that help, which, 
 in a state of health, with moderate knowledge, we might have been 
 able to perform. He that sinks his vessel by overloading it, though 
 it be with gold and silver and precious stones, will give his owner 
 but an ill account of his voyage. 
 
 It being past doubt then, that allowance is to be made for the 
 temper and strength of our bodies, and that our health is to regulate 
 , the measure of our studies, the great secret is to find out the pro- 
 portion ; the difficulty whereof lies in this, that it must not only be 
 varied according to the constitution and strength of every individual 
 man, but it must also change with the temper, vigour, and circum- 
 stances and health of every particular man, in the different varieties 
 of health, or indisposition of body, which every thing our bodies have 
 any commerce with is able to alter : so that it is as hard to say how 
 many hours a day a man shall study constantly, as to say how much 
 meat he shall eat every day, wherein his own prudence, governed by 
 the present circumstances, can only judge The regular pro- 
 ceeding of our watch not being the fit measure of time, but the 
 secret motions of a much more curious engine, our bodies being 
 to limit out the portion of time in this occasion ; however, it may be 
 so contrived that all the time may not be lost, for the conversation 
 of an ingenious friend upon what one hath read in the morning, or 
 any other profitable subject, may perhaps let into the mind as much 
 improvement of knowledge, though with less prejudice to the health, 
 as settled solemn poring over books, which we generally call study ; 
 which, though no necessary part, yet I am sure is not the only, and 
 perhaps not the best way, of improving the understanding. 
 
 2. Great care is to be taken that our studies encroach not upon 
 our sleep : this I am sure, sleep is the great balsam of life and re- 
 storative of nature, and studious sedentary men have more need of 
 
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98 THE LIFE OF 
 
 it than the active and laborious, because those men's business and 
 their bodily labours, though they waste their spirits, help transpira- 
 tion, and carry away their excrements, which are the foundation of 
 diseases ; whereas the studious sedentary man, employing his spirits 
 within, equally or more wastes them than the other, but without the 
 benefit of transpiration, allowing the matter of disease insensibly to 
 accumulate. We are to lay by our books and meditations when we 
 find either our heads or stomachs indisposed upon any occasion ; 
 study at such time doing great harm to the body, and very little 
 good to the mind. 
 
 1st. As the body, so 'the mind also, gives laws to our studies; I 
 mean to the duration and continuance of them ; let it be never so 
 capacious, never so active, it is not capable of constant labour nor 
 total rest. The labour of the mind is study, or intention of thought, 
 and when we find it is weary, either in pursuing other men's thoughts ; 
 as in reading, or tumbling or tossing its own as in meditation, it is 
 time to give off and let it recover itself. Sometimes meditation 
 gives a refreshment to the weariness of reading, and vice versa; some- 
 times the change of ground, i. e. going from one subject or science 
 to another, rouses the mind, and fills it with fresh vigour ; often- 
 times discourse enlivens it when it flags, and puts an end to the 
 weariness without stopping it one jot, but rather forwarding it in its 
 journey ; and sometimes it is so tired, that nothing but a perfect re- 
 laxation will serve the turn. All these are to be made use of accord- 
 ing as every one finds most successful in himself to the best hus- 
 bandry of his time and thought. 
 
 2nd. The mind has sympathies and antipathies as well as the 
 body ; it has a natural preference often of one study before another. 
 It would be well if one had a perfect command of them, and some- 
 times one is to try for the mastery, to bring the mind into order 
 and a pliant obedience ; but generally it is better to follow the bent 
 and tendency of the mind itself, so long as it keeps within the 
 bounds of our proper business, wherein there is generally latitude 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 99 
 
 enough. By this means, we shall go not only a great deal faster, 
 and hold out a great deal longer, but the discovery we shall make 
 will be a great deal clearer, and make deeper impressions in our 
 minds. The inclination of the mind is as the palate to the stomach ; 
 that seldom digests well in the stomach, or adds much strength to 
 the body that nauseates the palate, and is not recommended by it. 
 
 There is a kind of restiveness in almost every one's mind ; some- 
 times without perceiving the cause, it will boggle and stand till, and 
 one cannot get it a step forward ; and at another time it will press 
 forward, and there is no holding it in. It is always good to take it 
 when it is willing, and keep on whilst it goes at ease, though it be 
 to the breach of some of the other rules concerning the body. But 
 one must take care of trespassing on that side too often, for one that 
 takes pleasure in study, flatters himself that a little now, and a little 
 to-morrow, does no harm, that he feels na ill effects of an hour's 
 sitting up, — insensibly undermines his health, and when the disease 
 breaks out, it is seldom charged to these past miscarriages that laid 
 in the provision for it. 
 
 The subject being chosen, the body and mind being both in a 
 temper fit for study, what remains but that a man betake himself to 
 it. These certainly are good preparatories, yet if there be not some- 
 thing else done, perhaps we shall not make all the profit we might. 
 
 1st. It is a duty we owe to God as the fountain and author of all 
 truth, who is truth itself; audit is a duty also we owe our own- 
 selves, if we will deal candidly and sincerely with our own souls, to 
 have our minds constantly disposed to entertain and receive truth 
 wheresoever we meet with it, or under whatsoever appearance of 
 plain or ordinary, strange, new, or perhaps displeasing, it may come 
 in our way. Truth is the proper object, the proper riches and 
 furniture of the mind, and according as his stock of this is, so is the 
 difference and value of one man above another. He that fills his 
 head with vain notions and false opinions, may have his mind per- 
 haps puffed up and seemingly much enlarged, but in truth it is 
 
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100 THE LIFE OF 
 
 narrow and empty ; for all that it comprehends, all that it contains, 
 amounts to nothing, or less than nothing ; for falsehood is below 
 ignorance, and a lie worse than nothing. 
 
 Our first and great duty then is, to bring to our studies and to 
 our inquiries after knowledge a mind covetous of truth ; that seeks 
 after nothing else, and after that impartially, and embraces it, how 
 poor, how contemptible, how unfashionable soever it may seem. 
 This is that which all studious men profess to do, and yet it is that 
 where I think very many miscarry. Who is there almost that has 
 not opinions planted in him by education time out of mind ; which 
 by that means come to be as the municipal laws of the country, which 
 must not be questioned, but are then looked on with reverence as 
 the standards of right and wrong, truth and falsehood ; when perhaps 
 these so sacred opinions were but the oracles of the nursery, or the 
 traditional grave talk of those who pretend to inform our childhood ; 
 who received them from hand to hand without ever examining 
 them. This is the fate of our tender age, which being thus sea- 
 soned early, it grows by continuation of time, as it were, into the 
 very constitution of the mind, which afterwards very difficultly re- 
 ceives a different tincture. When we are grown up, we find the 
 world divided into bands and companies ; not only as congregated 
 under several politics and governments, but united only upon account 
 of opinions, and in that respect, combined strictly one with another, 
 and distinguished from others, especially in matters of religion. 
 If birth or chance have not thrown a man young into any of 
 these, which yet seldom fails to happen, choice, when he is grown 
 up, certainly puts him into some or other of them ; often out of an 
 opinion that that party is in the right, and sometimes because he 
 finds it is not safe to stand alone, and therefore thinks it convenient 
 to herd somewhere. Now, in every one of these parties of men 
 there are a certain number of opinions which are received and 
 owned as the doctrines and tenets of that society, with the profession 
 and practice whereof all who are of their communion ought to give 
 up themselves, or else they will be scarce looked on as of that 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 101 
 
 society, or at best, be thought but lukewarm brothers, or in danger 
 to apostatize. 
 
 It is plain, in the great difference and contrariety of opinions 
 that are amongst these several parties, that there is much falsehood 
 and abundance of mistakes in most of them. Cunning in some, and 
 ignorance in others, first made them keep them up ; and yet how 
 seldom is it that implicit faith, fear of losing credit with the party 
 or interest, (for all these operate in their turns), suffers any one to 
 question the tenet of his party ; but altogether in a bundle he receives, 
 embraces, and without examining, he professes, and sticks to them, 
 and measures all other opinions by them. Worldly interest also 
 insinuates into several men's minds divers opinions, which suiting 
 with their temporal advantage, are kindly received, and in time so 
 riveted there, that it is not easy to remove them. By these, and 
 perhaps other means, opinions come to be settled and fixed in men's 
 minds, which, whether true or false, there they remain in reputation 
 as substantial material truths, and so are seldom questioned or 
 examined by those who entertain them ; and if they happen to be 
 false, as in most men the greatest part must necessarily be, they put 
 a man quite out of the way in the whole course of his studies ; and 
 though in his reading and inquiries he flatters himself that his de- 
 sign is to inform his understanding in the real knowledge of truth, 
 yet in effect it tends and reaches to nothing but the confirming of 
 his already received opinions, the things he meets with in other 
 men's writings and discoveries being received or neglected as they 
 hold proportion with those anticipations which before had taken 
 possession of his mind. This will plainly appear if we look but on 
 an instance or two of it. It is a principal doctrine of the Roman 
 party to believe that their Church is infallible ; this is received as 
 the mark of a good Catholic, and implicit faith, or fear, or interest, 
 keeps all men from questioning it. This being entertained as an 
 undoubted principle, see what work it makes with scripture and 
 reason ; neither of them will be heard. The speaking with never 
 so much clearness and demonstration, when they contradict any of 
 
102 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the doctrines or institutions ; and though it is not grown to that 
 height, barefaced to deny the scripture, yet interpretations and dis- 
 tinctions, evidently contrary to the plain sense and to the common 
 apprehensions of men, are made use of to elude its meaning, and 
 preserve entire the authority of this their principle, that the Church 
 is infallible. On the other side, make the light within our guide, 
 and see what will become of reason and scripture. An Hobbist, 
 with his principle of self-preservation, whereof himself is to be 
 judge, will not easily admit a great many plain duties of morality. 
 The same must necessarily be found in all men who have taken 
 up principles without examining the truth of them. It being 
 here, then, that men take up prejudice to truth without being 
 aware of it, and afterwards, like men of corrupted appetites, when 
 they think to nourish themselves, generally feed only on those 
 things that suit with and increase the vicious humour, — this part is 
 carefully to be looked after. These ancient pre-occupations of our 
 minds, these several and almost sacred opinions, are to be examined, 
 if we will make way for truth, and put our minds in that freedom 
 which belongs and is necessary to them. A mistake is not the less 
 so, and will never grow into a truth, because we have believed it a 
 long time, though perhaps it be the harder to part with ; and an 
 error is not the less dangerous, nor the less contrary to truth, be- 
 cause it is cried up and had in veneration by any party, though it is 
 likely we shall be the less disposed to think it so. Here, therefore, 
 we have need of all our force and all our sincerity ; and here it is 
 we have use of the assistance of a serious and sober friend, who may 
 help us sedately to examine these our received and beloved opi- 
 nions ; for the mind by itself being prepossessed with them cannot 
 so easily question, look round, and argue against them. They are 
 the darlings of our minds, and it is as hard to find fault with them, 
 as for a man in love to dislike his mistress ; there is need, therefore, 
 of the assistance of another, at least it is very useful impartially to 
 show us their defects, and help us to try them by the plain and 
 evident principle of reason or religion. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 103 
 
 2. This grand miscarriage in our study draws after it another 
 of less consequence, which yet is very natural for bookish men to run 
 into, and that is the reading of authors very intently and diligently 
 to mind the arguments pro and con they use, and endeavour to lodge 
 them safe in their memory, to serve them upon occasion. This, when 
 it succeeds to the purpose designed, (which it only does in very good 
 memories, and, indeed, is rather the business of the memory than 
 judgment,) sets a man oiF before the world as a very knowing learned 
 man, but upon trial will not be found to be so ; indeed, it may make 
 a man a ready talker and disputant, but not an able man. It teaches 
 a man to be a fencer ; but in the irreconcileable war between truth 
 and falsehood, it seldom or never enables him to choose the right 
 side, or to defend it well, being got of it. He that desires to be 
 knowing indeed, that covets rather the possession of truth than the 
 show of learning, that designs to improve himself in the solid sub- 
 stantial knowledge of things, ought, I think, to take another course ; 
 i. e. to endeavour to get a clear and true notion of things as they are 
 in themselves. This being fixed in the mind well, (without trusting 
 to or troubling the memory, which often fails us,) always naturally 
 suggests arguments upon all occasions, either to defend the truth or 
 confound error. This seems to me to be that which makes some 
 men's discourses to be so clear, evident, and demonstrative, even in a 
 few words ; for it is but laying before us the true nature of any thing 
 we would discourse of, and our faculty of reasoning is so natural to 
 us, that the clear inferences do, as it were, make themselves : we 
 have, as it were, an instinctive knowledge of the truth, which is 
 always most acceptable to the mind, and the mind embraces it in its 
 native and naked beauty. This way also of knowledge, as it is in 
 less danger to be lost, because it burdens not the memory, but is 
 placed in the judgment ; so it makes a man talk always coherently 
 and confidently to himself on which side soever he is attacked, or 
 with whatever arguments the same truth, by its natural light and 
 contrariety to falsehood, still shows, without much ado, or any great 
 and long deduction of words, the weakness and absurdity of the op- 
 
104 THE LIFE OF 
 
 position : whereas the topical man, with his great stock of borrowed 
 and collected arguments, will be found often to contradict himself ; 
 for the arguments of divers men being often founded upon different 
 notions, and deduced from contrary principles, though they may be 
 all directed to the support or confutation of some one opinion, do, 
 notwithstanding, often really clash one with another. 
 
 3. Another thing, which is of great use for the clear conception 
 of truth, is, if we can bring ourselves to it, to think upon things ab- 
 stracted and separate from words. Words, without doubt, are the 
 great and almost only way of conveyance of one man's thoughts to 
 another man's understanding ; but when a man thinks, reasons, and 
 discourses within himself, I see not what need he has of them. 
 I am sure it is better to lay them aside, and have an immediate 
 converse with the ideas of the things ; for words are, in their own 
 nature, so doubtful and obscure, their signification, for the most part, 
 so uncertain and undetermined, which men even designedly have in 
 their use of them increased, that if in our meditations, our thoughts 
 busy themselves about words, and stick at the names of things, it is 
 odds but they are misled or confounded. This, perhaps, at first 
 sight may seem but an useless nicety, and in the practice, perhaps, 
 it will be found more difficult than one would imagine ; but yet upon 
 trial I dare say any one's experience will tell him it was worth while 
 to endeavour it. He that would call to mind his absent friend, or 
 preserve his memory, does it best and most effectually by reviving in 
 his mind the idea of him, and contemplating that ; and it is but a 
 very faint imperfect way of thinking of one's friend barely to remem- 
 ber his name, and think upon the sound he is usually called by. 
 
 4. It is of great use in the pursuit of knowledge not to be too con- 
 fident, nor too distrustful of our own judgment, nor to believe we can 
 comprehend all things nor nothing. He that distrusts his own judg- 
 ment in every thing, and thinks his understanding not to be relied 
 on in the search of truthj cuts off his own legs that he may be carried 
 up and down by others, and makes himself a ridiculous dependant 
 upon the knowledge of others, which can possibly be of no use to 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 
 
 105 
 
 him ; for I can no more know any thing by another man's under- 
 standing, than I can see by another man's eyes. So much I know, 
 so much truth I have got; so far I am in the right, as I do really 
 know myself; whatever other men have it is in their possession, it 
 belongs not to me, nor can be communicated to me but by making 
 me alike knowing ; it is a treasure that cannot be lent or made over. 
 On the other side, he that thinks his understanding capable of all 
 things, mounts upon wings of his own fancy, though indeed Nature 
 never meant him any, and so venturing into the vast expanse of in- 
 comprehensible verities, only makes good the fable of Icarus, and 
 loses himself in the abyss. We are here in the state of mediocrity ; 
 finite creatures, furnished with powers and faculties very well fitted 
 to some purposes, but very disproportionate to the vast and un- 
 limited extent of things. 
 
 5. It would, therefore, be of great service to us to know how far 
 our faculties can reach, that so we might not go about to fathom 
 where our line is too short ; to know what things are the proper 
 objects of our inquiries and understanding, and where it is we ought 
 to stop, and launch out no farther for fear of losing ourselves or our 
 labour. This, perhaps, is an inquiry of as much difficulty as any we 
 shall find in our way of knowledge, and fit to be resolved by a man 
 when he is come to the end of his study, and not to be proposed to 
 one at his setting out ; it being properly the result to be expected 
 after a long and diligent research to determine what is knowable and 
 what not, and not a question to be resolved by the guesses of one 
 who has scarce yet acquainted himself with obvious truths. I shall 
 therefore, at present, suspend the thoughts I have had upon this 
 subject, which ought maturely to be considered of, always remem- 
 bering that things infinite are too large for our capacity ; we can 
 have no comprehensive knowledge of them, and our thoughts are at 
 a loss and confounded when they pry too curiously into them. The 
 essences also of substantial beings are beyond our ken ; the manner 
 also how Nature, in this great machine of the world, produces the 
 several phenomena, and continues the species of things in a succes- 
 
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106 THE LIFE OF 
 
 sive generation, &e., is what I think lies also out of the reach of our 
 understanding. That which seems to me to be suited to the end of 
 man, and lie level to his understanding, is the improvement of na- 
 tural experiments for the conveniences of this life, and the way of 
 ordering himself so as to attain happiness in the other — i. e, moral 
 philosophy, which, in my sense, comprehends religion too, or a man's 
 whole duty, [but vid. this alibi.] 
 
 6th, For the shortening of our pains, and keeping us from incu- 
 rable doubt and perplexity of mind, and an endless inquiry after 
 greater certainty than is to be had, it would be very convenient in 
 the several points that are to be known and studied, to consider 
 what proofs the matter in hand is capable of, and not to expect 
 other kind of evidence than the nature of the thing will bear. 
 Where it hath all the proofs that such a matter is capable of, there 
 we ought to acquiesce, and receive it as an established and demon- 
 strated truth ; for that which hath all the evidence it can have, all 
 that belongs to it, in the common state and order of things, and 
 that supposing it to be as true as any thing ever was, yet you can- 
 not possibly contrive nor imagine how to have better proofs of it 
 than you have without a miracle : whatsoever is so, though there 
 may be some doubts, some obscurity, yet is clear enough to deter- 
 mine our thoughts and fix our assent. The want of this caution, I 
 fear, has been the cause why some men have turned sceptics in 
 points of great importance, which yet have all the proofs that, consi- 
 dering the nature and circumstances of the things, any rational man 
 can demand, or the most cautious fancy. 
 
 7th. A great help to the memory, and means to avoid confusion 
 in our thoughts, is to draw out and have frequently before us a 
 scheme of those sciences we employ our studies in, a map, as it 
 were, of the mundus intelligibilis. This, perhaps, will be best 
 done by every one himself for his own use, as best agreeable to his 
 own notion, though the nearer it comes to the nature and order of 
 things it is still the better. However, it cannot be decent for me to 
 think my crude draught fit to regulate another's thoughts by, espe- 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 207 
 
 cially when, perhaps, our studies lie different ways ; though I can- 
 not but confess to have received this benefit by it, that though I 
 have changed often the subject I have been studying, read books by 
 patches and accidentally, as they have come in my way, and observed 
 no method nor order in my studies, yet making now and then some 
 little reflection upon the order of things as they are, or at least I 
 have fancied them to have in themselves, I have avoided confusion 
 in my thoughts. The scheme I had made serving like a regular 
 chest of drawers, to lodge those things orderly, and in the proper 
 places, which came to hand confusedly, and without any method 
 at all. 
 
 8th. It will be no hinderance at all to our study if we sometimes 
 study ourselves, i. e. own abilities and defects. There are peculiar en- 
 dowments and natural fitnesses, as well as defects and weaknesses, 
 almost in every man's mind ; when we have considered and made 
 ourselves acquainted with them, we shall not only be the better 
 enabled to find out remedies for the infirmities, but we shall know 
 the better how to turn ourselves to those things which we are best 
 fitted to deal with, and so to apply ourselves in the course of our 
 studies, as we may be able to make the greatest advantage. He 
 that has a bittle and wedges put into his hand, may easily con- 
 clude he is ordered to cleave knotty pieces, and a plane and carving 
 tools to design handsome figures. 
 
 It is too obvious a thing to mention the reading only the best 
 authors on those subjects we would inform ourselves in. The read- 
 ing of bad books is not only the loss of time and standing still, but 
 going backwards quite out of one's way ; and he that has his head 
 filled with wrong notions is much more at a distance from truth 
 than he that is perfectly ignorant. 
 
 I will only say this one thing concerning books, that however it 
 has got the name, yet converse with books is not, in my opinion, 
 the principal part of study ; there are two others that ought to 
 be joined with it, each whereof contributes their share to our im- 
 provement in knowledge ; and those are meditation and discourse. 
 
 p 2 
 
108 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Reading, methinks, is but collecting the rough materials, amongst 
 which a great deal must be laid aside as useless. Meditation is, as 
 it were, choosing and fitting the materials, framing the timbers, 
 squaring and laying the stones, and raising the building ; and 
 discourse with a friend (for wrangling in a dispute is of little use,) 
 is, as it were, surveying the structure, walking in the rooms, and ob- 
 serving the symmetry and agreement of the parts, taking notice of 
 the solidity or defects of the works, and the best way to find out 
 and correct what is amiss ; besides that it helps often to discover 
 truths, and fix them in our minds as much as either of the other 
 two. 
 
 It is time to make an end of this long and overgrown discourse. 
 I shall only add one word, and then conclude ; and that is, that 
 whereas in the beginning I cut off history from our study, as a 
 useless part, as certainly it is, where it is read only as a tale that is 
 told ; here, on the other side, I recommend it to one who hath 
 well settled in his mind the principles of morality, and knows how 
 to make a judgment on the actions of men as one of the most useful 
 studies he can apply himself to. There he shall see a picture of 
 the world and the nature of mankind, and so learn to think of men 
 as they are. There he shall see the rise of opinions, and find from 
 what slight, and sometimes shameful occasions, some of them have 
 taken their rise, which yet afterwards have had great authority, and 
 passed almost for sacred in the world, and borne down all before 
 them. There also one may learn great and useful instructions of 
 prudence, and be warned against the cheats and rogueries of the 
 world, with many more advantages, which I shall not here enu- 
 merate. 
 
 Monday, Dec. 12th, 1678. The principal spring from which the 
 actions of men take their rise, the rule they conduct them by, and 
 the end to which they direct them, seems to be credit and reputa- 
 tion, and that which at any rate they avoid, is in the greatest part 
 shame and disgrace ; this makes the Hurons and other people of 
 Canada with such constancy endure inexpressible torments : this 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 109 
 
 makes merchants in one country, and soldiers in another ; this puts 
 men upon school divinity in one country, and physics and mathe- 
 matics in another ; this cuts out the dresses for the women, and 
 makes the fashions for the men ; and makes them endure the incon- 
 veniences of all. This makes men drunkards and sober, thieves and 
 honest, and robbers themselves true to one and another. Religions 
 are upheld by this and factions maintained, and the shame of being 
 disesteemed by those with whom one hath lived, and to whom one 
 would recommend oneself, is the great source and director of most 
 of the actions of men. Where riches are in credit, knavery and 
 injustice that produce them, are not out of countenance, because 
 the state being got, esteem follows it, as in some countries the 
 crown ennobles the blood. Where power, and not the good exercise 
 of it gives reputation, all the injustice, falsehood, violence, and op- 
 pression that attains that, goes for wisdom and ability. Where love 
 of one's country is the thing in credit, there we shall see a race of 
 brave Romans ; and when being a favourite at court was the only 
 thing in fashion, one may observe the same race of Romans all 
 turned flatterers and informers. He therefore that would govern 
 the world well, had need consider rather what fashions he makes, 
 than what laws ; and to bring any thing into use he need only give 
 it reputation. 
 
 "SCRUPULOSITY,* 1678. 
 
 " Shall I not pass with you for a great empiric if I offer but one 
 remedy to the three maladies you complain of? Or at least will you not 
 think me to use less care and application than becomes the name of friend 
 you honour me with, if I think to make one answer serve the three papers 
 you have sent me in matters very different ? But yet if it be found, as I 
 imagine it will, that they all depend on the same causes, I believe you will 
 think they will not need different cures. 
 
 " I conceive then that the great difficulty, uncertainty, and perplexity of 
 thought you complain of in these particulars, arise in great measure from 
 
 * Probably a draft of a letter to Mr. Herbert. 
 
110 . THE LIFE OF 
 
 this ground, that you think that a man is obliged strictly and precisely at all 
 times to do that which is absolutely best ; and that there is always some 
 action so incumbent upon a man, so necessary to be done, preferable to all 
 others, that if that be omitted, one certainly fails in one's duty, and all other 
 actions whatsoever, otherwise good in themselves, yet coming in the place of 
 some more important arid better that at the time might be done, are tainted 
 with guilt, and can be no more an acceptable offering to God than a ble- 
 mished victim under the law. 
 
 " I confess sometimes our duty is so evident, and the rule and circum- 
 stance so determine it to the present performance, that there is no latitude 
 left ; nothing ought at that time to come in the room of it. But this I 
 think happens seldom, at least I may confidently say it does not in the 
 greatest part of the actions of our lives, wherein I think God, out of his 
 infinite goodness, considering our ignorance and frailty, hath left us a great 
 liberty. Love to God and charity to ourselves and neighbours are no 
 doubt at all times indispensably necessary : but whilst we keep these warm 
 in our hearts, and sincerely practise what they upon all occasions suggest to 
 us, I cannot but think that God allows us in the ordinary actions of our 
 lives a great latitude ; so that two or more things being proposed to be done, 
 neither of which crosses that fundamental law, but may very well consist 
 with the sincerity wherewith we love God and our neighbour, I think it is 
 at our choice to do either of them. 
 
 " The reasons that make me of this opinion are ; 1st. That I cannot 
 imagine that God, who has compassion upon our weakness and knows how 
 we are made, would put poor men, nay, the best of men, those that seek 
 him with sincerity and truth, under almost an absolute necessity of sinning 
 perpetually against him, which will almost inevitably follow if there be no 
 latitude at all allowed as in the occurrences of our lives, but that every 
 instant of our being in the world has always incumbent on it one certain 
 action exclusive of all others. For according to this supposition, the best 
 being always to be done, and that being but one, it is almost impossible to 
 know which is that one best, there being so many actions which may all 
 have some peculiar and considerable goodness, which we are at the same 
 time capable of doing, and so many nice circumstances and considerations 
 to be weighed one against another, before we can come to make any judg- 
 ment which is best, and after all are in great danger to be mistaken : the 
 comparison of those actions that stand in competition together, with all 
 
JOHN LOCKE, 111 
 
 their grounds, motives, and consequences as they lie before us, being very- 
 hard to be made ; and what makes the difficulty yet far greater is, that 
 a great many of those which are of moment, and should come into the 
 reckoning, always escape us ; our short sight never penetrating far enough 
 into any action to discover all that is comparatively good or bad in it, 
 or the extent of our thoughts to reach all the actions, which at any one 
 time we are capable of doing ; so that at last, when we come to choose 
 which is best, in making our judgment upon wrong and scanty measures, 
 we cannot secure ourselves from being in the wrong ; this is so evident 
 in all the consultations of mankind, that should you select any number 
 of the best and wisest men you could think of, to deliberate in almost 
 any case what were best to be done, you should find them make almost 
 all different propositions, wherein one (if one) only lighting on what is best, 
 all the rest acting by the best of their skill and caution would have been 
 sinners as missing of that one best. The apostles themselves were not 
 always of one mind. 
 
 " 2d. I cannot conceive it to be the design of God, nor to consist with 
 either his goodness or our business in the world, to clog the action of our lives, 
 even the minutest of them, (which will follow, if one thing that is best is 
 always to be done,) with infinite consideration before we begin it, and un- 
 avoidable perplexity and doubt when it is done. When I sat down to write 
 to you this hasty account, before I set pen to paper, I might have considered 
 whether it were best for me ever to meddle with the answering your ques- 
 tions ; my want of ability, it being, besides my business, the difficulty of 
 advising any body, and presumption of advising one so far above me, would 
 suggest doubts enough in the case. I might have debated with myself, 
 whether it were best to take time to answer your demands, or, as I do, set 
 to it presently. 
 
 " 3d. Whether there were not somewhat better that I could do at this 
 time. 
 
 " 4th. I might doubt whether it were best to read any books on this 
 subject before I gave you my opinion, or send you my own naked thoughts. 
 To those, a thousand other scruples, as considerable, might be added, which 
 would still beget others, in every one of which there would be, no doubt, 
 still a better and a worse ; which, if I should sit down, and with serious con- 
 sideration endeavour to find and determine clearly and precisely with myself 
 to the minutest difference, before I betake myself to give you an answer, 
 
112 THE LIFE OF 
 
 perhaps ray whole age might be spent in the deliberation about writing two 
 sides of paper to you, and I should perpetually blot out one word and put 
 in another, erase to-morrow what I write to-day ; whereas, having this 
 single consideration of complying with the desire of a friend whom I honour, 
 and whose desires I think ought to have weight with me, who persuades me 
 that I have an opportunity of giving him some pleasure in it, I cannot think 
 I ought to be scrupulous in the point, or neglect obeying your commands, 
 though I cannot be sure but that I might do better not to offer you my 
 opinion, which may be instable ; and probably I should do better to employ 
 my thoughts how to be able to cure you of a quartan ague, or to cure in myself 
 some other and more dangerous faults, which is more properly my business. 
 But my intention being respect and service to you, and all the design of my 
 writing consisting with the love I owe to God and my neighbour, I should 
 be very well satisfied with what I write, could I be as well assured it would 
 be useful as I am past doubt it is lawful, and that I have the liberty to do it, 
 and yet I cannot say, and I believe you will not think, it is the best thing I 
 could do. If we were never to do but what is absolutely the best, all our 
 lives would go away in deliberation and distraction, and we should never 
 come to action. 
 
 " 5th. I have often thought that our state here in this world is a state of 
 mediocrity, which is not capable of extremes, though on one side there may 
 be great excellency and perfection ; that we are not capable of continual rest, 
 nor continual exercise, though the latter has certainly much more of excel- 
 lence in it. We are not able to labour always with the body, nor always 
 with the mind ; and to come to our present purpose, we are not capable of 
 living altogether exactly by a rule, not altogether without it — not always 
 retired, not always in company ; but this being but an odd notion of mine, 
 it may suffice only to have mentioned it, my authority being no great argu- 
 ment in the case ; only give me leave to say, that if it holds true it will be 
 applicable in several cases, and be of use to us in the conduct of our lives 
 and actions ; but I have been too long already to enlarge on this fancy any 
 further at present. 
 
 " As to our actions in general things, this in short I think : 
 
 " 1st. That all negative precepts are always to be obeyed. 
 
 " 2nd. That positive commands only sometimes upon occasions ; but we 
 ought to be always furnished with the habits and dispositions to those posi- 
 tive duties against those occasions. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 113 
 
 " 3rd. That between these two ; i. e. between unla^vful, which are al- 
 ways, and necessary, quoad hie et nunc, which are but sometimes, there is a 
 great latitude, and therein we have our liberty, which we may use without 
 scrupulously thinking ourselves obliged to that, which in itself may be best. 
 
 " If this be so, as I question not that you will conclude with me it is, 
 the greatest cause of your scruples and doubts, I suppose, will be removed ; 
 and so the difficulties in the cases proposed will in a good measure be re- 
 moved too. When I know from you whether I have guessed right or no, 
 I may be encouraged to venture on two other causes, which I think may 
 be concerned also in all the cases you propose; but being of much less 
 moment than this I have mentioned here, may be deferred to another time, 
 and then considered, en passant, before we come to take up the particular 
 cases separately. 
 
 Memorandum. The two general causes that I suppose remaining, are : 
 " 1 St. Thinking things inconsistent that are not ; viz. worldly business 
 and devotion. 
 
 " 2nd. Natural inconstancy of temper ; where the cures are to be con- 
 sidered, at least, as far as this inconstancy is prejudicial, for no farther than 
 that ought it to be cured." 
 
 " SIR 1678. 
 
 "By yours of the 211st. Nov. you assure me that in my last, on this 
 occasion, I hit right on the principal and original cause of some disquiet 
 you had upon the matter under consideration. I should have been glad to 
 have known also, whether the cure I there offered were any way effectual ; 
 or wherein the reasons I gave came short of that satisfaction as to the 
 point, viz. that we are not obliged to do always that which is precisely best, 
 as was desired. For I think it most proper to the subduing those enemies 
 of our quiet — fear, doubts, and scruples, and for establishing a lasting peace, 
 to do as those who design the conquest of new territories, viz. clear the 
 country as we go, and leave behind us no enemies unmastered ; no lurking 
 holes unsearched, no garrisons unreduced, which may give occasions to 
 disorder and insurrection, and excite disturbances. If, therefore, in that, 
 or any other papers, any of my arguments and reasonings shall appear weak 
 and obscure ; if they reach not the bottom of the matter, are wide of the 
 particular case, or have not so cleared up the question in all the parts and 
 
 Q 
 
114 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 extent of it, as to settle the truth with evidence and certainty, I must beg 
 you to let me know what doubts stiU remain, and upon what reasons 
 grounded, that so in our progress we may look upon those propositions that 
 you are once thoroughly convinced of, to be settled and estabhshed truths, 
 of which you are not to doubt any more without new reasons that have not 
 yet been examined. Or, on the other side, by your answers to my reasons I 
 may be set right and recovered from an error. For as I write you nothing 
 but my own thoughts, (which is vanity enough — but you will have it so,) 
 yet I am not so vain as to imagine them infallible, and therefore expect 
 from you that mutual great office of friendship, to show me my mistakes, 
 and to reason me into a better understanding ; for it matters not on which 
 side the truth lies, so we do but find and embrace it. This way of proceed- 
 ing is necessary on both our accounts ; on mine, because in ray friendship 
 with you, as well as others, I design to gain by the bargain that which I 
 esteem the great benefit of friendship, the rectifying my mistakes and 
 errors, which makes me so willingly expose my crude extemporary 
 thoughts to your view, and lay them, such as they are, before you : and on 
 your account also I think it very necessary, for your mind having been 
 long accustomed to think it true, that the thing absolutely in itself best 
 ought always indispensably to be done, you ought, in order to the esta- 
 blishing your peace perfectly, examine and clear up that question, so as at 
 the end of the debate to retain it still for true, or perfectly reject it as a 
 mistaken or wrong measure ; and to settle it as a maxim in your mind, that 
 you are no more to govern yourself or thoughts by that false rule, but 
 wholly lay it aside as condemned, without putting yourself to the trouble, 
 every time you reflect on it, to weigh again all those reasons upon which 
 you made that conclusion ; and so also in any other opinions or principles, 
 when you once come to be convinced of their falsehood. If this be not 
 done, it will certainly happen, that this principle (and so of the rest) having 
 been for a long time settled in your mind, will, upon every occasion, recur ; 
 and the reasons upon which you rejected it not being so familiar to your 
 mind, nor so ready at hand to oppose it, the old acquaintance wiU be apt to 
 resume his former station and influence, and be apt to disturb that quiet 
 which had not its foundation perfectly established. For these reasons it 
 is, that I think we ought to clear all as we go, and come to a plenary re- 
 sult in all the propositions that come under debate, before we go any 
 farther. This has been usually my way with myself, to which, I think. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 115 
 
 I owe a great part of my quiet ; and, I believe, a few good principles, 
 well established, will reach farther, and resolve more doubts, than at first 
 sight, perhaps, one would imagine ; and the grounds and rules on which 
 the right and wrong of our actions turn, and which will generally serve 
 to conduct us in the cares and occurrences of our lives, in all states and 
 conditions, lie possibly in a narrower compass, and in a less number, than is 
 ordinarily supposed ; but to come to them one must go by sure and 
 well-grounded steps." 
 
 The argument is continued at great length, with the intent of 
 reconciling worldly business and devotion. 
 
 1678. Happiness. That the happiness of man consists in plea- 
 sure whether of body or mind, according to every one's relish. 
 The summum malum is pain, or dolor of body and mind ; that 
 this is so, I appeal not only to the experience of all mankind, and 
 the thoughts of every man's breast, but to the best rule of this the 
 Scripture, which tells that at the right-hand of God, the place of 
 bliss, are pleasures for evermore ; and that which men are condemned 
 for, is not for seeking pleasure, but for preferring the momentary 
 pleasures of this life to those joys which shall have no end. 
 
 Virtue. To make a man virtuous, three things are necessary : 
 1st. Natural parts and disposition. 2nd. Precepts and instruction. 
 Srd. Use and practice ; which is able better to correct the first, and 
 improve the latter. 
 
 May 17th, 1678. According to the right of inheritance, by the 
 law of Moses, the land of inheritance ought to have been divided 
 into thirteen parts for the twelve sons of Jacob : viz. a double por- 
 tion, i. e. two-thirteenths for Reuben the eldest, and one-thirteenth 
 to each of the rest. Reuben, by his incest, forfeited one-half of his 
 birthright, and was disinherited ; and Joseph, (who had saved the 
 family, and was the eldest son of Rachael, designed by Jacob for his 
 first wife) had this double portion shared br' --xt his two sons, 
 Ephraim and Manasses. Levi, in the mean time' ^^ lot its one-thir- 
 teenth of land, but one-tenth of all the product ,^ ,^j which account, 
 it follows, that the rest of the tribes paid but one-fortieth to the tribe 
 
 Q 2 
 
11(3 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of Levi by their tithes, as having the one-thirteenth part of the land 
 of inheritance belonging to the tribe of Levi, all except some few 
 towns allotted the Levites for habitation, divided amongst them the 
 lay tribes. 
 
 May 21st. 1678. — A civil law is nothing but the agreement of 
 a society of men either by themselves, or one or more authorised by 
 them : determining the rights, and appointing rewards and punish- 
 ments to certain actions of all within that society. 
 
 Fermentation. I saw by chance, an experiment which confirmed 
 me in an opinion I have long had, that in fermentation, a new air 
 is generated. 
 
 M. Toinard produced a large bottle of Muscat ; it was clear when 
 he set it on the table, but when he had drawn out the stopper, a 
 multitude of little bubbles arose, and swelled the wine above the 
 mouth of the bottle. It comes from this, that the air which was 
 included and disseminated in the liquor, had liberty to expand it- 
 self, and so to become visible, and being much lighter than the liquor, 
 to mount with great quickness. Q. Whether this be air new ge- 
 nerated, or whether the springy particles of air in the fruits out 
 of which these fermenting liquors are drawn, have by the artifice 
 of Nature been pressed close together, and thereby other particles 
 fastened and held so ; and whether fermentation does not loose 
 these bonds, and give them liberty to expand themselves again ? 
 Take a bottle of fermenting liquor, and tie a bladder on the mouth. 
 Q. How much new air will it produce ? whether this has the 
 quality of common air ? 
 
 Sept. 4th. 1678. — In the reading of books, methinks these are the 
 principal parts or heads of things to be taken notice of 1st. The 
 knowledge of things ; their essence and nature, properties, causes, 
 and consequences of each species, which I call philosophica, and must 
 be divided accordinn- to the several orders and species of things : and 
 of these, so far as q^-'^^^^ ^^^ ^^"^ notion ot thmgs as really they 
 are in their indistinct beings, so far we advance in real and true know- 
 ledge. This improvement of our understandings is to be got more 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 117 
 
 by meditation than reading, though that also is not to be neglected, 
 and the faculty chiefly exercised about this, the judgment. The 
 second head is history, wherein it being both impossible in itself, and 
 useless also to us to remember every particular, I think the most 
 useful, to observe the opinions we find amongst mankind concerning 
 God, religion, and morality, and the rules they have made to them- 
 selves, or practice has established in any of these matters, and here 
 the memory is principally employed. The third head is that which 
 is of most use ; that is, what things, we find amongst other people fit 
 for our imitation, whether politic or private wisdom ; any arts con- 
 ducing to the conveniences of life. The fourth, is any natural pro- 
 duction that may be transplanted into our country, or commodities 
 which may be an advantageous commerce ; and these concern prac- 
 tice or action. 
 
 The first, I call Adversaria Philosophica, which must be divided 
 into the several species of things as they come in one's way. The 
 second, Adversaria Historica, comprehending the opinions or tradi- 
 tions which are to be found amongst men, concerning God, Creation, 
 Revelation, Prophecies, Miracles. 
 
 2d. Their rules or institutes, concerning things that are duties, 
 sins, or indifferent in matters of religion, or things that are com- 
 manded, forbidden, or permitted by their municipal laws in order to 
 civil society, which I call Instituta, which contain — 
 
 Officia Religiosa ~\ 
 
 Peccata \ Lege divina et ad cultum divinum. 
 
 Indifferentia S 
 
 Officia Civilia '\ 
 
 Crimina \ Lege civili. 
 
 Licita \ 
 
 The ways they use to obtain blessings from the Divinity, or atone 
 for their sins, which I call Petitoria Expiatoria ; and last of all, any 
 supernatural things that are to be observed amongst them, magical 
 arts or real predictions. 
 
118 THE LIFE OF 
 
 The third I call Adversaria Immitanda, and that is whatever wise 
 practices are to be found either for governing of policies, or a man's 
 private conduct, or any beneficial arts employed on natural bodies 
 for their improvement to our use, which contains these heads — 
 
 Politica sive sapientia civilis. 
 
 Prudentia sive sapientia privata. 
 
 Physica sive artes circa. 
 
 Potum. 
 
 Cibum. 
 
 Medicinam. 
 
 Motus ubi mechanica. 
 
 Sensuum objecta. 
 The fourth I call Adversaria Acquirenda, which are the natural 
 products of the country, fit to be transplanted into ours, and there 
 propagated, or else brought thither for some useful quality they 
 have ; or else to mark the commodities of the country, whether 
 natural or artificial, which they send out, and are the proper business 
 of merchandise to get by their commerce, and these are the follow- 
 ing, Acquirenda and Merces. There is yet one more, which is the his- 
 tory of natural causes and effects, wherein it may be convenient in our 
 reading to observe these several properties of bodies, and the several 
 effects that several bodies or their qualities have one upon another ; 
 and principally to remark those that may contribute either to the 
 improvement of arts, or give light into the nature of things, which is 
 that which I called above Philosophica ; which I conceive to consist 
 in having a true, clear, and distinct idea of the nature of any thing, 
 which in natural things or real things, because we are ignorant of 
 their essence, takes in their causes properties and effects, or as much 
 of them as we can know, and in moral beings their essence and con- 
 sequences. This Natural History I call Historica Physica referenda 
 secundum Species. 
 
 December 28, 1680. Rushworth, an 1640. p. 1221. This note to 
 be added in the margin. This second coming in of the Scots was 
 occasioned and principally encouraged by a letter which the Lord 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 119 
 
 Saville, afterwards Earl of Sussex, writ with his own hand, and forged 
 the names of a dozen or fourteen of the chiefest of the English no- 
 bility, together with his own, which he sent into Scotland by the 
 hands of Mr. H. Darley, who remained there as agent from the said 
 English Lords until he had brought the Scots in. At the meeting 
 of the Grand Council, when the English and Scots Lords came toge- 
 ther, the letter caused great dispute amongst them ; till at last my 
 Lord Saville, being reconciled to the Court, confessed to the King 
 the whole matter. — A. E. S.* 
 
 The like marginal note to be added p. 1260. — This petition was 
 presented to the King at York by the hands of the Lord Mandevill 
 and the Lord Edward Howard. The King immediately called a 
 Cabinet Council, wherein it was concluded to cut oiF both the Lords' 
 heads the next day ; when the council was up, and the King gone, 
 Duke Hamilton, and tlie Earl of Strafford, General of the Army, re- 
 maining behind, when Duke Hamilton, asking the Earl of Strafford 
 whether the army would stand to them, the Earl of Strafford answered 
 he feared not, and protested he did not think of that before then. 
 Hamilton replied, if we are not sure of the army, it may be our 
 heads instead of theirs ; whereupon they both agreed to go to the 
 King and alter the council, which accordingly they did. 
 
 May 5th, 1681. — Coleman's Sermon on Job II. 20. 4to. London. 
 45. p. 35. 
 
 The 1st Cor. 5, and Matt. 18, are the common places on which 
 are erected Church Government. Padre Paolo writ many years 
 before, that when the English hierarchy shall fall into the hands of 
 busy and audacious men, or meet with a Prince tractable to Prelacy, 
 then much mischief is likely to ensue in that kingdom. lb. p. 33. — 
 Quaere. ^Whether there be any such thing ? 
 
 May 16th, 1681. — The three great things that govern mankind 
 are Reason, Passion, and Superstition ; the first governs a few, the two 
 last share the bulk of mankind, and possess them in their turns ; but 
 superstition is most powerful, and produces the greatest mischiefs. 
 
 * Does A. E. S. mean Anthony Earl of Shaftesbury? 
 
120 THE LIFE OF 
 
 : " June 24th. — There are two sorts of knowledge in the world, 
 general and particular, founded upon two different principles ; i. e. 
 true ideas, and matter of fact, or history. All general knowledge is 
 founded only upon true ideas ; and so far as we have these, we are 
 capable of demonstration, or certain knowledge : for he that has the 
 true idea of a triangle or circle, is capable of knowing any demon- 
 stration concerning these figures ; but if he have not the true idea 
 of a scalenon, he cannot know any thing concerning a scalenon, 
 though he may have some confused or imperfect opinion concerning 
 a scalenon, upon a confused or imperfect idea of it ; or when he be- 
 lieves what others say concerning a scalenon, he may have some 
 uncertain opinion concerning its properties ; but this is a belief, and 
 not knowledge. Upon the same reason, he that has a true idea of 
 God, of himself, as his creature, or the relation he stands in to God 
 and his fellow-creatures, and of justice, goodness, law, happiness, 
 &c. &c., is capable of knowing moral things, or have a demonstrative 
 certainty in them. But though, I say, a man that hath such ideas, 
 is capable of certain knowledge in them, yet I do not say that pre- 
 sently he hath thereby that certain knowledge, no more than that 
 he that hath a true idea of a triangle and a right angle, doth pre- 
 sently thereby know that three angles of a triangle are equal to two 
 right ones. He may believe others that tell him so, but know it 
 not till he himself hath employed his thoughts on and seen the con- 
 nection and agreement of their ideas, and so made to himself the 
 demonstration ; i. e. upon examination seen it to be so. The first 
 great step, therefore, to knowledge, is to get the mind furnished 
 with true ideas, which the mind being capable of knowing of moral 
 things as well as figures, I cannot but think morality, as well as ma- 
 thematics, capable of demonstration, if men would employ their 
 understandings to think more about it, and not give themselves up 
 to the lazy, traditional way of talking one after another. By the 
 knowledge of natural bodies, and their operation reaching little 
 farther than bare matter of fact, without having perfect ideas of the 
 ways and manners they are produced, nor the concurrent causes 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 121 
 
 they depend on ; and also the well management of public or private 
 aiFairs depending upon the various and unknown humours, interests, 
 and capacity of men we have to do with in the world, and not upon 
 any settled ideas of things. Physique, polity, and prudence, are not 
 capable of demonstration, but a man is principally helped in them 
 by the history of matter-of-fact, and a sagacity of enquiring into 
 probable causes, and finding out an analogy in their operations and 
 effects. Knowledge then depends upon right and true ideas ; opi- 
 nion upon history and matter-of-fact ; and hence it comes to pass, 
 that our knowledge of general things are eterncE ve^ntates, and 
 depend not upon the existence or accidents of things, for the truths 
 of mathematics and morality are certain, whether men make true 
 mathematical figures, or suit their actions to the rules of morality 
 or no. For that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two 
 right ones, is infallibly true, whether there be any such figure as a 
 triangle existing in the world or no. And it is true, thkt it is every 
 man's duty to be just, whether there be any such thing as a just 
 man in the world or no. But whether this course in public or 
 private, affairs will succeed well, — whether rhubarb will purge, or 
 quinquina cure an ague, is only known by experience ; and there is 
 but probability grounded upon experience or analogical reasoning, 
 but no certain knowledge or demonstration. 
 
 By having true and perfect ideas, we come to be in a capacity of 
 having perfect knowledge, which consists in two parts : 1st. The 
 knowing the properties of the thing itself ; thus he that hath the 
 true idea of a triangle, may know, if he will examine and follow the 
 conduct of his reason, that its three angles are equal to two right 
 ones, and the like. 2nd. The knowing how it stands related to any 
 other figure, of which' he has a perfect idea ; viz. that of a triangle. 
 But without the having these ideas true and perfect, he is not ca- 
 pable of knowing any of these properties in the thing itself, or rela- 
 tive to any other, though he may be able to say, after others when 
 he has affirmed it, that the three angles of a triangle are equal to 
 two right ones, and believe them to signify truth ; though he himself 
 
 E, 
 
122 THE LIFE OF 
 
 knows not what these words signify, if he have no true ideas of a 
 triangle or right angles, or knows them not to be true, if he have not 
 made out to himself that demonstration which is by comparing the 
 ideas and their parts together. 
 
 The best Algebra yet extant is Outred's, though to all Algebra 
 there needs but two theorems of Euclid, and five rules of Descartes, 
 but those who are not masters of it make use of more. 
 
 " Les esprits populaires s'offence de tout ce qui repugne a leurs 
 prejuges ;" one ought to take care, therefore, in all discourses, whe- 
 ther narrative or matter-of-fact, instructive to teach any doctrine, or 
 persuasive, to take care of shocking the received opinion of those 
 one has to deal with, whether true or false. 
 
 June 26th. — To choose, is to will one thing before another, and 
 to will is to bend our souls to the having or doing of that which 
 they see to be good ; (Hooker 55S, p. 78.) or rather, to will is, after 
 consideration, or upon knowledge and choice, to begin or continue 
 any thought of the mind, or motion of the body, in our power. 
 
 Sunday, August 7th, 1681. — Whatsoever carries any excellency 
 with it, and includes not imperfection, must needs make a part of 
 the idea we have of God. So that with being, and the continuation 
 of it, or perpetual duration, power and wisdom and goodness must 
 be ingredients of the perfect or super-excellent Being which we call 
 God, and that in the utmost or infinite degree. But yet that un- 
 limited power cannot be an excellency without it be regulated by 
 wisdom and goodness ; for since God is eternal and perfect in his 
 own being, he cannot make use of that power to change his own 
 being into a better or another state ; and therefore all the exercise 
 of that power must be in and upon his creatures, which cannot but 
 be employed for their good and benefit, as much as the order and 
 perfection of the whole can allow each individual in its particular 
 rank and station ; and therefore looking on God as a being infinite 
 in goodness as well as power, we cannot imagine he hath made any 
 thing with a design that it should be miserable, but that he hath 
 afforded it all the means of being happy that its nature and estate 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 123 
 
 is capable of: and though justice be also a perfection which we 
 must necessarily ascribe to the Supreme Being, yet we cannot sup- 
 pose the exercise of it should extend farther than his goodness has 
 need of it for the preservation of his creatures in the order and 
 beauty of the state that he has placed each of them in ; for since 
 our actions cannot reach unto him, or bring him any profit or da- 
 mage, the punishments he inflicts on any of his creatures, i. e. the 
 misery or destruction he brings upon them, can be nothing else but 
 to preserve the greater or more considerable part, and so being 
 only for preservation, his justice is nothing but a branch of his 
 goodness, which is fain by severity to restrain the irregular and 
 destructive parts from doing harm ; for to imagine God under a 
 necessity of punishing for any other reason but this, is to make his 
 justice a great imperfection, and to suppose a power over him that 
 necessitates him to operate contrary to the rules of his wisdom and 
 goodness, which cannot be supposed to make any thing so idly as 
 that it should be purposely destined or be put in a worse state than 
 destruction, (misery being as much a worse state than annihilation, 
 as pain is than insensibility, or the torments of a rack less eligible 
 than quiet sound sleeping :) the justice then of God can be supposed 
 to extend no farther than infinite goodness shall find it necessary 
 for the preservation of his works. 
 
 Sunday, Sept. 18th, 1681. — Religion being that homage and obe- 
 dience which man pays immediately to God, it supposes that man 
 is capable of knowing that there is a God, and what is required by, 
 and is acceptable to Him, thereby to avoid his anger and procure 
 his favjour. That there is a God, and what that God is, nothing can 
 discover to us, nor judge in us, but natural reason. For whatever 
 discovery we receive any other way, must come originally from in- 
 spiration, which is an opinion or persuasion in the mind whereof a 
 man knows not the rise nor reason, but is received there as a truth, 
 coming from an unknown, and therefore a supernatural cause, and 
 not founded upon those principles nor observations in the way of 
 reasoning which makes the understanding admit other things for 
 
 R 2 
 
124 THE LIFE OF 
 
 truths. But no such inspiration concerning God, or his worship, 
 can be admitted for truth by him that thinks himself thus inspired, 
 much less by any other whom he would persuade to believe him 
 inspired, any farther than it is conformable to reason ; not only 
 because where reason is not, I judge it is impossible for a man 
 himself to distinguish betwixt inspiration and fancy, truth and error ; 
 but also it is impossible to have such a notion of God, as to believe 
 that he should make a creature to whom the knowledge of himself 
 was necessary, and yet not to be discovered by that way which dis- 
 covers every thing else that concerns us, but was to come into the 
 minds of men only by such a way by which all manner of errors 
 come in, and is more likely to let in falsehoods than truths, since 
 nobody can doubt, from the contradiction and strangeness of opinions 
 concerning God and religion in this world, that men are likely to 
 have more frenzies than inspirations. Inspiration then, barely in 
 itself, cannot be a ground to receive any doctrine not conformable 
 to reason. In the next place, let us see how far inspiration can en- 
 force on the mind any opinion concerning God or his worship, when 
 accompanied with a power to do a miracle ; and here, too, I say, the 
 last determination must be that of reason. 
 
 1st. Because reason must be the judge what is a miracle and 
 M^hat not ; which, not knowing how far the power of natural causes 
 do extend themselves, and what strange effects they may produce, 
 is very hard to determine. 
 
 2nd. It will always be as great a miracle, that God should alter 
 the course of natural things to overturn the principles of knowledge 
 and understanding in a man, by setting up any thing to be received 
 by him as a truth, which his reason cannot assent to, as the miracle 
 itself ; and so at best, it will be but one miracle against another, and 
 the greater still on reason's side ; it being harder to believe that 
 God should alter, and put out of its ordinary course some pheno- 
 menon of the great world for once, and make things act contrary to 
 their ordinary rule, purposely that the mind of man might do so 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 125 
 
 always afterwards, than that this is some fallacy or natural effect of 
 which he knows not the cause, let it look never so strange. 
 
 3rd. Because man does not know whether there be not several 
 sorts of creatures above him, and between him and the Supreme, 
 amongst which there may be some that have the power to produce 
 in Nature such extraordinary effects as we call miracles, and may 
 have the will to do it, for other reasons than the confirmation of 
 truth ; for the magicians of Egypt turned their rods into serpents 
 as well as Moses ; and since so great a miracle as that was done in 
 opposition to the true God, and the revelation sent by him, what 
 miracle can have certainty and assurance greater than that of a 
 man's reason. 
 
 And if inspiration have so much the disadvantage of reason in 
 the man himself who is inspired, it has much more so in him who 
 receives the revelation only by tradition from another, and that too 
 very remote in time and place. 
 
 I do not hereby deny in the least that God can do, or hath 
 done, miracles for the confirmation of truth ; but I only say that 
 we cannot think he should do them to enforce doctrines or notions 
 of himself, or any worship of him not conformable to reason, or that 
 we can receive such for truth for the miracle's sake : and even in 
 those books which have the greatest proof of revelation from God, 
 and the attestation of miracles to confirm their being so, the miracles 
 are to be judged by the doctrine, and not the doctrine by the mi- 
 racles, V. Deut. xiii. i. Matt. xiv. 24. And St. Paul says, " If an angel 
 from Heaven should teach any other doctrine," &c. &c. 
 
 Sunday, Feb. 19th, 1682. — A strong and firm persuasion of any 
 proposition relating to religion, for which a man hath either no or 
 not sufficient proofs from reason, but receives them as truths wrought 
 in the mind extraordinarily by influence coming immediately from 
 God himself, seems to me to be enthusiasm, which can be no evidence 
 or ground of assurance at all, nor can by any means be taken for 
 knowledge. If such groundless thoughts as these, concerning ordi- 
 
126 THE LIFE OF 
 
 nary matters, and not religion^ possess the mind strongly, we call it 
 raving, and every one thinks it a degree of madness ; but in religion, 
 men, accustomed to the thoughts of revelation, make a greater allow- 
 ance to it, though indeed it be a more dangerous madness ; but 
 men are apt to think in religion they may, and ought, to quit their 
 reason. 
 
 I find that the Christians, Mahometans, and Brahmins, all pre- 
 tend to this immediate inspiration, but it is certain that contradic- 
 tions and falsehoods cannot come from God ; nor can any one that 
 is of the true religion, be assured of any thing by a way whereof 
 those of a false religion may be, and are equally confirmed in theirs. 
 For the Turkish dervishes pretend to revelations, ecstasies, visions, 
 raptures, to be transported with illumination of God. v. Ricaut. 
 The Jaugis, amongst the Hindoos, talk of being illuminated and 
 entirely united to God, v. Bernier, as well as the most spiritualized 
 Christians. 
 
 April 6th. — It is to be observed concerning these illuminations, 
 that how clear soever they may seem, they carry no knowledge nor cer- 
 tainty any farther than there are proofs of the truth of those things 
 that are discovered by them ; and so far they are parts of reason, and 
 have the same foundation with other persuasions in a man's mind, 
 whereof his reason judges. If there be no proofs of them, they pass 
 for nothing but mere imaginations of the fancy, how clearly soever 
 they appear, or acceptable they may be to the mind. For it is not 
 the clearness of the fancy, but the evidence of the truth of the thing, 
 which makes the certainty. He that should pretend to have a clear 
 sight of a Turkish paradise, and of an angel sent to direct him thither, 
 might, perhaps, have a very clear imagination of all this ; but it alto- 
 gether no more proved that either there were such a place, or that 
 an angel had the conduct of him thither, than if he saw all this in 
 colours well-drawn by a painter. These two pictures being no 
 more different as to the appearance of any thing resembled by them, 
 than that one is a fleeting draught in the imagination, the other a 
 lasting one on a sensible body. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 127 
 
 That which makes all the pretenders to supernatural illumina- 
 tion farther to be suspected to be merely the effect and operation of 
 the fancy, is, that all the preparations and ways used to dispose the 
 mind to those illuminations, and make it capable of them, are such 
 as are apt to disturb and depress the rational power of the mind, and 
 to advance and set on work the fancy ; such are fasting, solitude, 
 intense and long meditation on the same thing, opium, intoxicating 
 liquors, long and vehement turning round, all which are used by 
 some or other of those who would attain to those extraordinary dis- 
 courses, as fit preparations of the mind to receive them, all which do 
 really weaken and disturb the rational faculty, let loose the imagina- 
 tion, and thereby make the mind less steady in distinguishing be- 
 twixt truth and fancy. 
 
 I do not remember that I have read of any enthusiasts amongst 
 the Americans, or any who have not pretended to a revealed reli- 
 gion, as all those before mentioned do ; which if so, it naturally 
 suggests this inquiry. Whether those that found their religion upon 
 Revelation, do not from thence take occasion to imagine, that since 
 God has been pleased by Revelation to discover to them the general 
 precepts of their religion ; they that have a particular interest in his 
 favour have reason to expect that he will reveal Himself to them, if 
 they take the right way to seek it in those things that concern them 
 in particular, in reference to their conduct, state, or comfort ; but of 
 this I shall conclude nothing till I shall be more fully assured in 
 matter-of-fact. 
 
 Enthusiasm is a fault in the mind opposite to brutish sensuality; 
 as far in the other extreme exceeding the just measure of reason, as 
 thoughts grovelling only in matter, and things of sense, come short 
 of it. 
 
 April 20. — The usual physical proof (if I may so call it) of the 
 immortality of the soul is this : matter cannot think, er^o, the soul is 
 immaterial ; nothing can really destroy an immaterial thing, ergo^ 
 the soul is really immaterial. 
 
128 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Those who oppose these men, press them very hard with the souls 
 of beasts ; for, say they, beasts feel and think, and therefore their 
 souls are immaterial, and consequently immortal. This has by some 
 men been judged so urgent, that they have rather thought fit to 
 conclude all beasts perfect machines, rather than allow their souls 
 immortality or annihilation, both which seem harsh doctrines ; the 
 one being out of the reach of Nature, and so cannot be received as 
 the natural state of beasts after this life ; the other equalling them, 
 in a great measure, to the state of man, if they shall be immortal as 
 well as he. 
 
 But methinks, if I may be permitted to say so, neither of these 
 speak to the point in question, and perfectly mistake immortality ; 
 whereby is not meant a state of bare substantial existence and dura- 
 tion, but a state of sensibility; for that way that they use of proving the 
 soul to be immortal, will as well prove the body to be so too ; for since 
 nothing can really destroy a material substance more than imma- 
 terial, the body will naturally endure as well as the soul for ever ; 
 and therefore, in the body they distinguish betwixt duration, and life, 
 or sense, but not in the soul ; supposing it in the body to depend on 
 texture, and a certain union with the soul, but in the soul upon its 
 indivisible and immutable constitution and essence ; and so that it 
 can no more cease to think and perceive, than it can cease to be im- 
 material or something. But this is manifestly false, and there is 
 scarce a man that has not experience to the contrary every twenty- 
 four hours. For 1 ask what sense or thought the soul (which is cer- 
 tainly then in a man) has during two or three hours of sound sleep 
 without dreaming, whereby it is plain that the soul may exist or 
 have duration for some time without sense or perception ; and if it 
 may have for this hour, it may also have the same duration without 
 pain or pleasure, or any thing else, for the next hour, and so to eter- 
 nity ; so that to prove that immortality of the soul, simply because it 
 being naturally not to be destroyed by any thing, it will have an 
 eternal duration, which duration may be without any perception. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 129 
 
 which is to prove no other immortality of the soul than what belongs 
 to one of Epicurus's atoms, viz. that it perpetually exists, but has no 
 sense either of happiness or misery. 
 
 " If they say, as some do, that the soul during a sound quiet sleep 
 perceives and thinks, but remembers it not, one may, with as much 
 certainty and evidence, say that the bed-post thinks and perceives 
 too all the while, but remembers it not ; for I ask whether during 
 this profound sleep the soul has any sense of happiness or misery ; 
 and if the soul should continue in that state to eternity, (with all that 
 sense about it whereof it hath no consciousness nor memory,) whe- 
 ther there could be any such distinct state of heaven or hell, which 
 we suppose to belong to souls after this life, and for which only 
 we are concerned for and inquisitive after its immortality ; and 
 to this I leave every man to answer to his own self, viz. if 
 he should continue to eternity in the same sound sleep he has 
 sometimes been in, whether he would be ever a jot more happy 
 or miserable during that eternity than the bedstead he lay on. 
 Since, then, experience of what we find daily in sleep, and very fre- 
 quently in swooning and apoplexy, &c., put it past doubt that the 
 soul may subsist in a state of insensibility, without partaking in the 
 least degree of happiness, misery, or any perception whatsoever, 
 (and whether death, which the Scripture calls sleep, may not put 
 the souls of some men at least into such a condition, I leave 
 those who have well considered the story of Lazarus to conjecture,) 
 shall establish the existence of the soul, will not, therefore, prove its 
 being in a state of happiness or misery, since it is evident that 
 perception is no more necessary to its being than motion is to the 
 being of body. Let, therefore, spirit be in its own nature as 
 durable as matter, that no power can destroy it but that Omnipo- 
 tence that at first created it ; they may both lie dead and inactive, 
 the one without thought, the other without motion, a minute, an 
 hour, or to eternity, which wholly depends upon the will and good 
 pleasure of the first Author ; and he that will not live conformable 
 to such a future state, out of the undoubted certainty that God can, 
 
 s 
 
ISO THE LIFE OF 
 
 and the strong probability, amounting almost to certainty, that he will 
 put the souls of men into a state of life or perception after the dis- 
 solution of their bodies, will hardly be brought to do it upon the 
 force of positions, which are, by their own experience, daily contra- 
 dicted, and will, at best, if admitted for true, make the souls of 
 beasts immortal as well as theirs. 
 
 " April 26, 1682. — ' Neque ante Philosophian patefactam quae 
 nuper inventa est.' — Cicero. If Philosophy had been in Tully's 
 time not long in the world, it is likely the world is not older than 
 our account, since it is impossible to imagine that the world should 
 be so old as some would reckon, much more that the generation of 
 men should have been from eternity, and yet philosophy not be found 
 out by the inquisitive mind of man till a little before Tully's time. 
 
 " ' Natura futura praesentiunt aut aquarum fluxiones aut defla- 
 grationem futuram aliquando coeli atque terrarum,' an old opinion, 
 it seems, that the world should perish by fire. 
 
 " The loadstone itself, that we have reason to think is as old 
 as the world, and is to be found plentifully in several parts of 
 it, and very apt to make itself be taken notice of by so sen- 
 sible and so surprising an effect as is its attraction of iron, and 
 its steady adhesion to it ; and can one imagine the busy inquisi- 
 tive nature of man, in an infinite number of ages, should never 
 by chance, or out of curiosity, observe that working and pointing 
 to the north which that stone has in itself, and so readily com- 
 municates to iron ? Can we think it reasonable to suppose that 
 it required as long a duration as was from eternity to our great- 
 grandfathers' days, to discover this useful quality in that common 
 metal? in which it is so near natural, that almost every place has 
 the virtue of a loadstone to produce it ; our common utensils get 
 it only by standing in our chimney-corners. And yet the disco- 
 very, when once made, does, by its proper use, so unavoidably 
 spread itself over all the world, that nothing less than total ex- 
 tirpation of all mankind can ever possibly make it be forgotten. 
 
 " It is a matter of great admiration how the art of printing 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 131 
 
 should be so many ages undiscovered, and how the ancients, who 
 were skilled in graving on brass, should miss this great art of dis- 
 patch, when it was so natural to consider how easy it would be 
 to imprint, in a moment, on paper, all those graved characters, 
 which it would cost a great deal of time even first to write with 
 a pen ; though this thought never occurred in several ages ; so 
 fair a beginning was never improved into the art of printing till 
 about 200 years since ; yet eternity of the world could by no 
 means admit so late a discovery of it, and it is impossible to ima- 
 gine that men, in an infinite succession of generations, should not 
 infinitely sooner have perfected so useful and obvious an inven- 
 tion, which when once brought to light, must needs continue to 
 eternity, if the world should last so long." 
 
 Some of these last articles are selected from the journal subse- 
 quent to Locke's arrival in England, as may be observed from their 
 dates ; they have been arranged in their present order to prevent 
 confusion. For some years after that period the journal contains 
 very little except private memoranda, medical observations, extracts 
 from books, and dates of the change of residence. There are occa- 
 sionally notices of other things, such as the following : 
 
 " 1681, March 1st. This day I saw Alice George, a woman, as she 
 said, of 108 years old at AUhallow-tide last : she lived in St. Giles' 
 parish, Oxford, and has lived in and about Oxford since she was a 
 young woman ; she was born at Saltwych, in Worcestershire ; her 
 father lived to eighty-three, her mother to ninety-six, and her 
 mother's mother to 111. When she was young she was neither fat 
 nor lean, but very slender in the waist ; for her size she was to be 
 reckoned rather amongst the tall than the short women ; her con- 
 dition was but mean, and her maintenance her labour. She said she 
 was able to have reaped as much in a day as a man, and had as 
 much wages ; she was married at thirty, and had fifteen children, 
 viz. ten sons and five daughters, besides five miscarriages ; she has 
 three sons still alive, her eldest, John, living next door to her, se- 
 venty-seven years old the 25th of this month. She goes upright 
 
 s 2 
 
132 '^'HE LIFE OF 
 
 with a staff in one hand, but I saw her stoop twice without resting 
 upon any thing, taking up once a pot, and at another time her glove 
 from the ground ; her hearing is very good, and her smelling so 
 quick, that as soon as she came near me, she said I smelt very sweet, 
 I having a pair of new gloves on that were not strong scented ; her 
 eyes she complains of as failing her since her last sickness, which 
 was an ague that seized her about two years since, and held her 
 about a year ; and yet she made a shift to thread a needle before us, 
 though she seemed not to see the end of the thread very perfectly ; 
 she has as comely a face as ever I saw any old woman have, and age 
 has neither made her deformed nor decrepit. The greatest part of 
 her food now is bread and cheese, or bread and butter, and ale. 
 Sack revives her when she can get it ; for flesh she cannot now eat 
 unless it be roasting pig, which she loves. She had, she said, in her 
 years a good stomach, and ate what came in her way, oftener want- 
 ing victuals than a stomach. Her memory and understanding per- 
 fectly good and quick. Amongst a great deal of discourse we had 
 with her, and stories she told, she spoke not one idle or impertinent 
 word. Before this last ague she used to go to church constantly, 
 Sundays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays ; since that she walks not 
 beyond her little garden : she has been ever since her being married 
 troubled sometime with vapours, and so is still, but never took any 
 physic but once, about forty years since. She said she was sixteen 
 in 1588, and went then to Worcester to see Queen Elizabeth, but 
 came an hour too late, which agrees with her account of her age." 
 
 In this part of the journal there is at length an account of 
 Captain Wood's reasons for, and observations on, his attempt of the 
 North-west passage in 1676 ; it was grounded on the opinion of one 
 William Barants, a Hollander, who attempted the passage in 1605, 
 and it was then thought that an open sea would have been found 
 at the Pole. After giving the authority and information of several 
 Dutch captains, &c. " upon these considerations he set out in the 
 Speedwell with sixty-eight men and boys, and a pink, called the Pros- 
 perous, to attend her at the beginning of the voyage, May 28, 1676 
 
JOHN LOCKE. ' 133 
 
 from the buoy at the Nore ; and on the 29th of June following, their 
 ship split upon a ledge of rocks, at Nova Zembla, where they en- 
 dured great hardships ; being relieved and taken in by the Pros- 
 perous, they returned to the buoy at the Nore on the 2Srd of 
 
 August following." 
 
 * * * # # # # 
 
 " He (the Captain) conceives the Dutch relations are all false, 
 lying pamphlets, and so also the relations of our own countrymen. 
 He believes that if there be no land north of lat. 80, that the sea 
 there is all frozen, &c. &c. 
 
 I shall conclude these extracts with the following little incident, 
 belonging to an episcopal visitation in the century before the last. 
 
 " Monday, August 2nd, 1680. From Salisbury to Basingstoke, 
 thirty miles ; where being a visitation of the Bishops, Mr. Carter, 
 who found it a long time now to the next presentment, sat drinking 
 with his churchwardens next chamber to me, and after drink had 
 well warmed them, a case of doctrine or discipline engaged them in 
 a quarrel, which broke out into defiance and cuffs, and about mid- 
 night raised the house to keep the peace, but so fruitlessly, that 
 between skirmishing, parleys, and loud defiances, the whole night 
 was spent in noise and tumult, of which I had more than sleep. In 
 the morning when I rose all was quiet, and the parson a-bed, where 
 he was like to be kept past his ale and sleep, his gown having more 
 of the honour of a tattered colours than a divinity robe !" 
 
 The following directions appear to have been set down for some 
 foreigner about to visit England. They are curious, as affording a 
 comparison with the improvement of the present time. 
 
 " ENGLAND. 1679- 
 
 « '^i 
 
 The sports of England, which, perhaps, a curious stranger would 
 be glad to see, are horse-racing, hawking, and hunting. Bowling. — 
 
134 THE LIFE OF 
 
 At Marebone and Putney he may see several persons of quality 
 bowling two or three times a week all the summer ; wrestling, in 
 Lincoln's Inne Field every evening all the summer ; bear and bull- 
 baiting, and sometime prizes, at the Bear-Garden ; shooting in the 
 long-bow and stob-ball, in Tothill Fields ; cudgel-playing, in several 
 places in the country ; and hurling, in Cornwall. 
 
 " London : — See the East India House, and their magazines ; the 
 Custom House ; the Thames, by water, from London Bridge to 
 Deptford ; and the King's Yard at Deptford ; the sawing-windmill ; 
 Tradescant's garden and closet ; Sir James Morland's closet and 
 water-works ; the iron mills at Wandsworth, four miles above Lon- 
 don, upon the Thames ; or rather those in Sussex ; Paradise by 
 Hatton Garden ; the glass-house at the Savoy, and at Vauxhall. 
 Eat fish in Fish Street, especially lobsters, Colchester oysters, and a 
 fresh cod's-head. The veal and beef are excellent good in London ; 
 the mutton better in several counties in England. A venison pasty 
 and a chine of beef are good every where ; and so are crammed 
 capons and fat chickens. Railes and heath-polts, rufPs, and reeves, 
 are excellent meat wherever they can be met with. Puddings of 
 several sorts, and creams of several fashions, both excellent, but 
 they are seldom to be found, at least in their perfection, at common 
 eating-houses. Mango and saio are two sorts of sauces brought 
 from the East Indies. Bermuda oranges and potatoes, both ex- 
 ceeding good in their kind. Chedder and Cheshire cheese. 
 
 " Men excellent in their Arts. 
 
 " Mr. Cox, in Long Acre, for all sorts of dioptical glasses. 
 
 " Mr. Opheel, near the Savoy, for all sorts of machines. 
 
 « Mr. , for a new invention he has, and teaches to copy all 
 
 sorts of pictures, plans, or to take prospects of places. 
 
 " The King's gunsmith, at the Yard by Whitehall. 
 
 •' Mr. Not, in the Pall Mall, for binding of books. 
 
 " The Fire-eater. 
 
 " At an ironmonger's, near the May-pole, in the Strand, is to be 
 found a great variety of iron instruments, and utensils of all kinds. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. J 35 
 
 " At Bristol see the Hot-well ; St. George's Cave, where the 
 Bristol diamonds are found ; Ratcliff Church ; and at Kingwood 
 the coal-pits. Taste there Milford oysters, marrow-puddings, cock- 
 ale, metheglin, white and red muggets, elvers, sherry, sack, (which, 
 with sugar, is called Bristol milk ;) and some other wines, which, 
 perhaps, you will not drink so good at London. 
 
 " At Glocester observe the whispering place in the Cathedral. 
 
 " At Oxford see all the colleges, and their libraries ; the schools, 
 and public library ; and the physic-garden. Buy there knives and 
 gloves, especially white kid-skin ; and the cuts of all the colleges 
 graved by Loggins. 
 
 " If you go into the North, see the Peak in Derbyshire, described 
 by Hobbs, in a Latin poem, called " Mirabilia Pecci." 
 
 " Home-made drinks of England are beer and ale, strong and 
 small ; those of most note, that are to be sold, are Lambeth ale, 
 Margaret ale, and Derby ale ; Herefordshire cider, perry, mede. 
 There are also several sorts of compounded ales, as cock-ale, worm- 
 wood-ale, lemon-ale, scurvygrass-ale, college-ale, &c. These are to be 
 had at Hercules Pillars, near the Temple ; at the Trumpet, and 
 other houses in Sheer Lane, Bell Alley ; and, as I remember, at the 
 English Tavern, near Charing Cross. 
 
 " Foreign drinks to be found in England are all sorts of Spanish, 
 Greek, Italian, Rhenish, and other wines, which are to be got up 
 and down at several taverns. CofFe, the, and chocolate, at coffee- 
 houses. Mum at the mum houses, and other places ; and Molly, a 
 drink of Barbadoes, by chance at some Barbadoes merchants. 
 Punch, a compounded drink, on board some West India ships ; and 
 Turkish sherbet amongst the merchants, 
 
 " Manufactures of cloth, that will keep out rain ; flanel, knives, 
 locks and keys ; scabbards for swords ; several things wrought in 
 steel, as little boxes, heads for canes, boots, riding-whips, Rippon 
 spurs, saddles, &c. 
 
 " At Nottingham dwells a man who makes fans, hatbands, 
 
136 THE LIFE OF 
 
 necklaces, and other things of glass, drawn out into very small 
 threads." 
 
 Locke arrived in London from the Continent on the 8th of May, 
 as has been before mentioned. He had perhaps prolonged inten- 
 tionally his residence at Paris, to avoid witnessing the folly and fury 
 of his friends in England on the subject of the Popish Plot. It is 
 indeed very probable that the two following reflections in his Jour- 
 nal, which he wrote whilst at Paris, were suggested by the state, I 
 will not say of public opinion, but of public fury in England. His 
 words are " where power and not the good exercise of it give re- 
 putation, all the injustice, falsehood, violence, and oppression that 
 attains that, (power) goes for wisdom and ability ;" and again, " re- 
 ligions are upheld and factions maintained, and the shame of being 
 disesteemed by those with whom one hath lived, and to whom one 
 would recommend oneself, is the great source and direction of most 
 of the actions of men." 
 
 On his return to England, this observation is found in his 
 Journal. 
 
 " June 17th 1679. Opinion. A thinking and considerate man 
 cannot believe any thing with a firmer assent than is due to the 
 evidence and validity of those reasons on which it is founded ; yet 
 the greatest part of men not examining the probability of things in 
 their own nature, nor the testimony of those who are their vouchers, 
 take the common belief or opinion of those of their country, neigh- 
 bourhood, or party, to be proof enough, and so believe, as well as 
 live by fashion and example ; and these men are zealous Turks as 
 well as Christians." It is evident from these notes, that the writer 
 partook not of the popular phrensy which had so long prevailed in 
 England, and had not as yet entirely subsided. 
 
 The same asthmatic complaint which had induced him to leave 
 England in 1675, was now an obstacle to any long-continued resi- 
 dence in London, and obliged him to pass the winter season for the 
 most part, either at Oxford or in the West. This absence must 
 have been a subject of regret, since Shaftesbury, who had recalled 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 137 
 
 him from France, was now either in power, or deeply engaged in the 
 politics of that eventful period. 
 
 The events of Locke's life henceforward became so much con- 
 nected with the history of the time, that it will be necessary to give 
 a short outline of the political transactions which ended in the 
 triumph of the Court, and enabled Charles II. to trample on the 
 liberties of his country. 
 
 The Parliament which had originally been chosen in 1661, that 
 pensioned Parliament as it was called, that obedient and subservient 
 Parliament as it certainly was, beginning at last to manifest distrust 
 of the King, was after a long life dissolved in December 1678, and 
 the next Parliament, which met in March, 1679, proving equally 
 unmanageable, the King determined by the advice of Temple, to 
 call some of the popular leaders to his Council, of which Shaftesbury 
 was made President. It did not escape the penetration of that great 
 politician, that he never possessed more than the appearance of Court 
 favour. He resolved, therefore, although in the King's cabinet, to 
 adhere to the popular party by strongly supporting the Bills for the 
 exclusion of the Duke of York, or those for the limitation of his 
 power, which were frequently urged forward by the popular leaders 
 in Parliament. He was also mainly instrumental in passing the 
 Habeas Corpus Act, a measure particularly obnoxious to the Court. 
 
 A new Parliament having been chosen, the King, who with all 
 the Tory party, looked with great apprehension to the expected 
 meeting, determined by his own act without the concurrence of his 
 Council, proprio motu, to prevent its assembling by a prorogation. 
 He knew well, that he should be opposed by the popular leaders 
 whom he had admitted to his Council, and therefore decided with- 
 out their advice. Upon this. Lord Russell resigned in disgust, and 
 Shaftesbury quitted his office of President of the Council. 
 
 After dissolutions, and new Parliaments in rapid succession, the 
 Parliament which was summoned to meet at Oxford 1680, was the 
 last that was allowed to assemble in the reign of Charles II. The 
 country party had a decided majority in the election of the members 
 
;[38 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of that House of Commons ; and even in the county of Oxford it 
 seems that all the four candidates were on that side. The chief 
 difficulty therefore, for the leaders of the country party, was a proper 
 choice of friends, as appears by a letter from Shaftesbury to Locke 
 on the subject of the elections. 
 
 " MR. LOCKE, Feb. 19th, 1681. 
 
 " I AM extremely obliged to you, and so are aU the rest of the Lords, 
 for the trouble we have put you to. This bearer comes from us all, to 
 take possession of our allotments in Baliol College, and to provide things 
 necessary. He is ordered in the first place, to address himself to you. 
 
 " We are told here, that you have four very worthy men stand for 
 Knights of the county of Oxford. 'Tis unhappy that we should make 
 trouble and expense amongst ourselves ; the two last Knights were very 
 worthy men, and therefore 'tis much wished here, that you or some other 
 worthy person, would persuade Sir PhiUp Harcourt and Sir John Norris to 
 sit down. Those that deserved well in the last Parliament ought in right 
 to have the preference ; and at this rate of Parliaments, I wish all our friends 
 have not more than time enough to be weary. I shall trouble ypu no 
 further at present. 
 
 " I am your most affectionate friend and servant, 
 
 Shaftesbury." 
 
 If the only difficulty which the country party at that time had, 
 was to make the best selection of members most friendly to their 
 cause ; if the temper of the Commons was generally adverse to the 
 Court, and there is no reason to doubt that it was so, since the Ex- 
 clusion Bill, and all the other obnoxious measures were pressed on 
 in Parliament with much activity, — the triumph which the King 
 gained in the course of the next two years after the dissolution of 
 the Oxford Parliament is the more extraordinary. He had, we 
 know, the powerful assistance of the Church, acting in perfect union 
 zealously to enforce and firmly to establish in practice the slavish 
 principles contained in their famous manifesto of passive obedience 
 and non-resistance. Then began the campaign of judicial murders, 
 which continued without remorse or pity to the end of the reign of 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 139 
 
 Charles II. Argyle, Russell, and Sidney, fell martyrs to the vin- 
 dictive spirit of the Court. Shaftesbury was indicted of high trea- 
 son, but was saved by a verdict of ignoramus given by the Grand 
 Jury. He was indebted for his escape much more to the contrivance 
 of his friends than to the fairness of a Court of Justice. Hume, 
 who cannot be supposed to be favourable to him, says, " that as far 
 as swearing could go, the treason was clearly proved against Shaftes- 
 bury ; or rather so clearly as to merit no kind of credit or attention. 
 That veteran leader of a party, inured from his youth to faction and 
 intrigue, to cabals and conspiracies, was represented as opening 
 without reserve, his treasonable intentions to these obscure banditti, 
 and throwing out such violent and outrageous reproaches upon the 
 King, as none but men of low education like themselves could be 
 supposed to employ." 
 
 This was the last defeat which the Court sustained : the sheriffs, 
 after this time, were appointed by the Crown, the juries packed, and 
 writs of Quo Warranto issued against the corporations throughout 
 England. As it was evidently unsafe for any person, who had 
 incurred the displeasure of the court, to remain within its power, 
 Shaftesbury* made his retreat to Holland at the end of the year 
 1682. Locke, who had so long been connected with him, and had 
 been so much trusted by him, thought it more prudent to take 
 refuge also in Holland about the end of August 1683. 
 
 Lord Russell had already been executed, and as preparations 
 were at that very time making for the trial, or what is the same 
 thing, the execution of Sidney, it was evident that no person, who 
 had been connected with Shaftesbury and that party, however 
 innocent he might be, could consider himself safe, so long as he 
 remained within the reach of a vindictive Court, whose will was law, 
 and whose judges were often its degraded advocates, and always the 
 instruments of its vengeance. 
 
 Nothing perhaps can more clearly prove the unscrupulous atro- 
 
 * Shaftesbury died shortly after his arrival in Holland, and was buried at St, Giles's, in 
 Dorsetshire, Feb. 26, 1683, where Locke attended the funeral of his patron and his friend. 
 
 T 2 
 
140 THE LIFE OF 
 
 city and violence of those unhappy times, than the form of Prayer, 
 or rather of commination against the country party, ordered by the 
 King's proclamation to be read, together with his declaration, in all 
 the churches on the 9th of September, 1683. It is indeed lament- 
 able to observe that the Church of England then made herself the 
 willing handmaid of a bloody Government, exciting the passions of 
 the congregations, and through them inflaming the juries before 
 the trials of all the accused were finished.f The following compo- 
 sition may be presumed to be the pious production of the heads of 
 our Church at that time, though from its tone and spirit, it should 
 seem rather to have proceeded from the mouth of the Mufti and 
 the Ulema than from the Bishops and rulers of the Christian Church 
 of England. 
 
 The Prayer is taken from the authorised copy printed by the 
 King's printer. 
 
 " His Majestie's Declaration to all his loveing subjects concerning 
 the treasonable conspiracy against his sacred person and govern- 
 ment, appointed to be read in all churches. 
 
 " Charles Rex. — It has been our observation that for several 
 years last past a malevolent party has made it their business to pro- 
 mote sedition by libellous pamphlets, and other wicked arts, to ren- 
 der our government odious, &c. &c. 
 
 " But it pleased God to open the eyes of our good subjects, &c. &c. 
 
 And convince the common people of the villainous designs of their 
 factious leaders, &c." 
 
 t After the commitment of Lord Russell aud Algernon Sydney, Hampden, the grandson of 
 the great Hampden, was by the Council committed also to the Tower, charged with high 
 treason ; but as only one witness, Lord Howard, could be procured to appear against him, he 
 was arraigned on a charge of misdemeanor, on the 28th of November, 1684> and grievously 
 fined. He was afterwards tried for high treason, that is tried a second time for the same offence, 
 when the Court had procured the other witness Lord Grey. 
 
 Sir Thomas Armstrong was murdered by form of law in June, 1684. Lord Melven, Sir J. 
 Cochrane, Robert Ferguson, and thirteen or fourteen others were named in the King's Declara- 
 tion as having escaped from justice, all charged with the same treason as Russell and Sydney. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 141 
 
 Then, after reciting the preparations and design of shooting into 
 the coach where " our Royal Person and our dearest Brother were, 
 and that such was the abundant mercy of Almighty God, that a dis- 
 covery was made unto us on the 12th of July last, we have used the 
 best means we could for the detection and prevention of so hellish a 
 conspiracy : but it so happened that divers having notice of warrants 
 issued for their apprehension have fled from justice, Sir Thomas 
 Armstrong, &c. &c. ; others have been taken, some of whom, the 
 Lord William Russell, Thomas Walcot, William Hone, and John 
 Rouse, have, upon their trials, been convicted, attainted, and exe- 
 cuted, according to law. This we thought fit to make known to our 
 loving subjects, that they being sensible (as we are) of the mercy of 
 God in the great deliverance, may cheerfully and devoutly joyn with 
 us in returning solemn thanks to Almighty God for the same. We 
 do appoint the 9th day of September next to be observed as a day 
 of thanksgiving, &c., in a form of prayer, which we have commanded 
 to be prepared by our Bishops, and published for that purpose. — At 
 Court of Whitehall, 27th July, 1683. 
 
 " A Form of Prayer, &c. to be solemnly observed in all Churches, 
 in due acknowledgment of God's wonderful providence and mercy 
 in discovering and defeating the late treasonable conspiracy against 
 his Majesty's person and government," then after Exhortation, 
 Psalms, &c. 
 
 " Almighty God and Heavenly Father, who of thine unspeakable 
 goodness towards us hast, in a most extraordinary manner, discovered 
 the designs and disappointed the attempts of those traitorous, heady, 
 and high-minded men, who, under the pretence of religion, and thy 
 most holy name, had contrived and resolved our destruction ; as we 
 do this day most heartily and devoutly adore and magnify thy glori- 
 ous name for this thine infinite gracious goodness already vouch- 
 safed to us, so we most humbly implore the continuance of thy grace 
 and favour for the farther and clearer discovery of these depths of 
 Satan, this mystery of iniquity. Send forth thy light and thy truth, 
 and make known the hidden things of darkness ; infatuate and de- 
 
142 THE LIFE OF 
 
 feat all the secret counsels of the ungodly, abate their pride, assuage 
 their malice, and confound their devices : strengthen the hands of 
 our gracious King Charles, and all that are put in authority under 
 him, with judgment and justice to cut off all such workers of 
 iniquity, as turn religion into rebellion, and faith into faction, that 
 they may never prevail against us, or triumph in the ruin of thy 
 Church amongst us. To this end protect and defend our sovereign 
 Lord the King, and the whole Royal Family, from all treasons and 
 conspiracies. Bind up his soul in the bundle of life, and let no 
 weapon formed against him prosper : be unto him a helmet of salva- 
 tion, and a strong tower of defence, against the face of his enemies : 
 let his reign be prosperous, and his days many : make him glad now 
 according to the time wherein thou hast afflicted him, and for the 
 years wherein he has suffered adversity : as thou hast given him the 
 necks of his enemies, so give him also every day more and more the 
 hearts of his subjects. As for those that are implacable, clothe them 
 with shame ; but upon himself and his posterity let the crown for 
 ever flourish : so we that are thy people, and the sheep of thy pas- 
 ture, shall give thee thanks for ever, and will always be showing 
 forth thy praise from generation to generation, through Jesus Christ 
 our only Saviour and Redeemer. Amen." 
 
 " Almighty God, who hast in all ages showed forth thy power 
 and mercy in the miraculous and gracious deliverance of thy Church, 
 and in the protection of righteous and religious Kings, and States 
 professing thy holy and eternal truth, from the malicious conspira- 
 cies and wicked practices of all their enemies, we yield unto thee, 
 from the very bottom of our hearts, unfeigned thanks and praise for 
 the late signal and wonderful deliverance of our most gracious 
 Sovereign, his Royal Brother, and loyal subjects of all orders and 
 degrees, by the fanatic rage and treachery of wicked and ungodly 
 men appointed as sheep to the slaughter, in a most barbarous and 
 savage manner. From their unnatural and hellish conspiracy, not 
 our merit but thy mercy, not our foresight but thy providence, not 
 our own arm but thy right hand, and thine arm, and the light of 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 143 
 
 thy countenance, hath rescued and delivered us, even because thou 
 hast a favour unto us : and, therefore, not unto us, O Lord, not unto 
 us, but unto thy name, be ascribed all honour, glory, and praise, 
 with most humble and hearty thanks in all Churches of the Saints ; 
 even so, blessed be the Lord our God, who only doeth wondrous 
 things, and blessed be the name of his Majesty for ever, through 
 Jesus Christ our Lord and only Saviour. Amen." 
 
 " O God, whose providence neglects not the meanest of thy 
 creatures, but is most illustriously visible in watching over the per- 
 sons of Kings, the great instruments of thy goodness to mankind, 
 we give thee most hearty thanks and praises, as for the many won- 
 derful deliverances formerly vouchsafed to thy servant, our dread 
 sovereign, through the whole course of his life ; so especially for the 
 late miracle of thy mercy, whereby thou didst rescue him and us 
 all from those bloody designs, which nothing but thine infinite 
 wisdom and power could have discovered and defeated. For this 
 thy great goodness (notwithstanding our great unworthiness and 
 many provocations) so graciously continued to us, we praise thee, 
 we bless thee, we worship thee, we glorify thee, we give thanks to 
 thee for thy great glory : humbly beseeching thee that our present 
 sense of this thy favour, and the fervent aiFections now kindled in 
 our hearts thereby, may never cool, or sink down into forgetfulness 
 or ingratitude ; but may produce in every one of us firm resolutions 
 of future thankfulness and obedience, with a suitable constant per- 
 severance in the same. Let us never forget, how often, and how 
 wonderfully thou hast preserved thine anointed and his people : that 
 being all duly sensible of our absolute dependence upon thee, we 
 may endeavour to answer the blessed ends of this thy good pro- 
 vidence over us. Continue him a nursing father to this thy church, 
 and thy minister for good to all his people ; and let us and all his 
 subjects look upon him henceforth not only as the ordinance but as 
 the gift of God, promising and performing in thee and for thee, all 
 faithful duty and loyalty to him and his heirs after him : with a 
 religious obedience and thankfulness unto thee, for these and all 
 
144 THE LIFE OF 
 
 other thy mercies, through Jesus Christ thy son our Lord : to whom 
 with thee, O Father, and God the Holy Ghost, be all honour and 
 glory." 
 
 In the evening service, this additional prayer for our enemies : 
 " Father of mercies and lover of souls, who art kind to the 
 unthankful and to the evil, and hast commanded us also to extend 
 our charity even to those that hate us, and despitefully use us : we 
 beseech thee as to accept our prayers and praises, which we have 
 this day offered up unto thee in behalf of all that are faithful and 
 loyal in the land ; so also to enlarge thy mercy and pity, even to 
 those that are our enemies. O most wise and powerful Lord God, in 
 whose hands are the hearts of all men, as the rivers of water to turn 
 them whithersoever thou wilt ; work mightily upon the minds of 
 all parties amongst us. Turn the hearts of the children to the 
 fathers, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just ; and so 
 make them a ready people prepared for the Lord. Thou that sit- 
 teth between the cherubim be the earth never so unquiet, thou 
 that stilleth the raging of the sea, and the noise of his waves, and 
 the madness of the people : stir up thy strength and come and help 
 us ; let the wickedness of the wicked come to an end. Take away 
 his ungodliness and thou shalt find none : let the fierceness of man 
 turn to thy praise, and the remainder of wrath do thou restrain. 
 To this end take from them all their prejudices and all their passions ; 
 their confident mistakes, their carnal ends, and their secular inte- 
 rests. Open the blind eyes that they may see (at least in this their 
 day) the things which belong to their peace, and wisely considering 
 thy work, may say. This hath God done ; and so hear, and fear, and 
 do no more wickedly. Soften the most obdurate hearts into a meek 
 and humble, and docile temper, that they may no longer resist the 
 truth. Bow down the stiff neck and the iron sinew to the gentle and 
 easy yoke of thy most holy law ! take away the brass and the whore's 
 forehead, and make their faces ashamed, that they may seek thy 
 name. Redouble, O Lord, the joys of this day, that we may not 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 145 
 
 only triumph in the disappointment of their wicked imaginations, 
 but with thy holy angels rejoice in their conversion. -Amen ! ! !" 
 
 The following paper conceived in the same or even in a worse 
 spirit, may be considered to be the echo of the royal declaration. 
 
 DEVON SESSION. 
 
 " Ad General. Quarterial. Session. Pads Dom. Regis ten't. apud Castr. 
 Exon. in et pro Comitat preed. secundo die Octobris, Anno Regni Dom. 
 nostri Caroli Secundi Dei gratia Angliee, Scotise, Francise, et Hibernian 
 Regis, Fidei Defensor, &c. tricessimo quinto, Annoque Dom. 1 683. 
 
 " We have been so abundantly convinced of the seditious and rebellious 
 practices of the sectaries and fanatics, who through the course of above one 
 hundred years, since we were first infested with 'em, have scarce afforded 
 this unhappy kingdom any interval of rest from their horrid treasons, as 
 that we must esteem 'em, not only the open enemies of our established 
 Government, but to all the common principles of society and humanity 
 itself. Wherefore that we may prevent their horrid conspiracies for the 
 time to come, and secure (as much as in us hes) our most gracious King and 
 the Government from the fury and malice of 'em, we resolve to put the 
 severest of the laws (which we find too easie and gentle, unless enlivened 
 by a vigorous execution) in force against 'em. 
 
 " 1. We agree and resolve, in every division of this county, to require 
 sufficient sureties for the good bearing and peaceable behaviour of all such 
 as we may justly suspect, or that we can receive any credible information 
 against, that they have been at any conventicles and unlawful meetings, or 
 at any factious or seditious clubs ; or that have, by any discourses, disco- 
 vered themselves to be disaffected to the present established government, 
 either in church or state ; or that have been the authors or pubUshers of 
 any seditious Hbels ; or that shall not, in all things, duly conform them- 
 selves to the present estabhshed government. 
 
 " 2. Because we have a sort of false men, and more perfidious than pro- 
 fessed phanatiques, who either wanting courage to appear in their own 
 shape, or the better to bring about their treasonable designs, privately asso- 
 ciate with and encourage the seditious clubs of the sectaries, and Avith them 
 
 u 
 
146 THE LIFE OF 
 
 plot heartily against the Government ; and yet that they may pass unsus- 
 pected, sometimes appear in the church with a false show of conformity, 
 only to save their money, and the better to serve their faction : that we 
 may, if possible, distinguish and know all such dangerous enemies, we will 
 strictly require all the churchwardens and constables, at all our monthly 
 meetings, to give us a full account of all such as do not, every Sunday, 
 resort to their own parish churches, and are not at the beginning of divine 
 service, and do not behave themselves orderly and soberly there, observing 
 all such decent ceremonies as the laws enjoyn : and that they likewise pre- 
 sent unto us the names of all such as have not received the Holy Sacrament 
 of the Lord's Supper in their own parish churches thrice a year. 
 
 " 3. Being fully satisfied, as well by the clear evidence of the late horrid 
 plot as by our own long and sad experience, that the Nonconformist 
 preachers are the authors and fomenters of this pestilent faction, and the 
 implacable enemies of the established Government, and to whom the late 
 execrable treasons, which have had such dismal effects in this kingdom, are 
 principally to be imputed, and who by their present obstinate refusing to 
 take and subscribe an oath and declaration. That they do not hold it law- 
 ful to take up arms against the king, and that they will not endeavour 
 any alteration of government, either in church or state ; do necessarily 
 enforce us to conclude that they are still ready to engage themselves (if 
 not actually engaged) in some rebellious conspiracy against the King, and 
 to invade and subvert his government : wherefore we resolve, in every 
 parish of this county to leave strict warrants in the hands of all con- 
 stables for the seizing of such persons. And as an encouragement to all 
 officers and others that shall be instrumental in the apprehending of any 
 of them, so as they may be brought to justice, we will give and allow 
 forty shillings, as a reward, for every Nonconformist preacher that shall 
 be so secured. And we resolve to prosecute them, and all other such 
 dangerous enemies of the government, and common absenters from 
 church and frequenters of conventicles, according to the directions of a 
 law made in the five and thirtieth year of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, 
 intituled An Act for the Keeping her Majesties Subjects in due obedience.* 
 
 * By this act any person above the age of sixteen, who shall obstinately refuse to repair 
 to some church, or any person who shall persuade any other person to forbear or abstain from 
 coming to church , or be present at any conventicle, shall be committed to prison, and remain 
 there until they conform ; and unless they conform within three months, shall abjure the realm, 
 or be adjudged a felon. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. . 147 
 
 " Lastly, That we may never forget the infinite mercies of Almighty 
 God in the late wonderful deliverance of our gracious king and his 
 dearest brother, and all his loyal subjects, (who wiere designed for a mas- 
 sacre) from the horrid conspiracy of the phanatiques and then- accomplices ; 
 and that we may perpetuate as well our own thankfulness as their infamy, 
 that the generations to come may know their treachery, and avoid and 
 never trust men of such principles more ; and also that we ourselves may 
 perform our pubhck duty to Almighty God before we enter upon the 
 publick service of our country ; we order, resolve, and agree, with the advice 
 and concurrence of the Right Reverend Father in God, our much honoured 
 and worthy Lord Bishop, to give and bestow, for the beautifying of the 
 chappel in the castle of Exon, and for the erecting of decent seats there, 
 ten pounds. And we will likewise give and continue six pounds, to be paid 
 yearly to any one of the church of Exon, whom the said Lord Bishop shall 
 appoint to read the divine service, with the prayers lately appointed for the 
 day of Thanksgiving on the ninth of September last, and to preach a 
 sermon, exhorting to obedience in the said chappel, on the first day of every 
 general quarter sessions of the peace, held in the said castle, to begin pre- 
 cisely at eight of the clock in the morning. And may the mercies of 
 Heaven, which are infinite, always protect our religious and gracious king, 
 his dearest brother, and every branch of that royal family ; and may all 
 the treasonable conspiracies of those rebellious schismaticks be always thus 
 happily prevented. 
 
 " That the continued care of his Majesties justices of the peace for the 
 county of Devon, for the safety of his Majesties sacred person, the pre- 
 servation of the publick peace, and advancement of true religion, may be 
 fuller known and have a better effect, I do hereby order and require all 
 the clergy of my diocess within the county of Devon, deliberately to pub- 
 lish this order the next Sunday after it shall be tendred to them.* 
 
 Tho. Exon. 
 Hugo Vaughan, Cler. Pacis Com. Prsed." 
 
 In 1684, Locke was by an illegal order of the King deprived of 
 his studentship at Christ-church. The account given in Mr. Fox's 
 history is as follows : — 
 
 " Among the oppressions of this period, most of which were 
 
 * If such principles were generally prevalent, the Letters on Toleration were indeed necessary. 
 
 u 2 
 
]48 THE LIFE OF 
 
 attended with consequences so much more important to the several 
 objects of persecution, it may seem scarcely worth while to notice 
 the expulsion of J. Locke from Christ-church College, Oxford. But 
 besides the interest which every incident in the life of a person 
 so deservedly eminent naturally excites, there appears to have been 
 something in the transaction itself characteristic of the spirit of the 
 times, as well as of the general nature of absolute power. Mr. Locke 
 was known to have been intimately connected with Lord Shaftes- 
 bury, and had very prudently judged it advisable for hira to prolong 
 for some time his residence upon the Continent, to which he had 
 resorted originally on account of his health. A suspicion, as it has 
 been since proved unfounded, that he was the author of a pamphlet 
 which gave offence to the Government, induced the King to insist 
 upon his removal from his studentship at Christ-church. Sunder- 
 land writes, by the King's command, to Dr. Fell, Bishop of Oxford, 
 and Dean of Christ-church. The Reverend Prelate answers, that 
 he has long had an eye upon Mr. Locke's behaviour ; but though 
 frequent attempts had been made (attempts of which the Bishop 
 expresses no disapprobation) to draw him into imprudent conversa- 
 tion, by attacking in his company the reputation, and insulting the 
 memory, of his late patron and friend, and thus to make his grati- 
 tude, and all the best feelings of his heart, instrumental to his ruin, 
 these attempts all proved unsuccessful. Hence the Bishop infers 
 not the innocence of Mr. Locke, but that he was a great master of 
 concealment, both as to words and looks ; for looks, it is to be sup- 
 posed, would have furnished a pretext for his expulsion, more decent 
 than any which had yet been discovered. An expedient is then 
 suggested to drive Mr. Locke to a dilemma, by summoning him 
 to attend the College on the 1st of January ensuing. If he do not 
 appear, he shall be expelled for contumacy ; if he come, matter of 
 charge may be found against him, for what he shall have said at 
 London, or elsewhere, where he will have been less upon his guard 
 than at Oxford. Some have ascribed Fell's hesitation, if it can be so 
 called, in executing the King's order, to his unwillingness to injure 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 149 
 
 Locke, who was his friend ; others, with more reason, to the doubt 
 of the legahty of the order. However this may have been, neither 
 his scruples nor his reluctance was regarded by a Court which knew 
 its own power. A peremptory order was accordingly sent, and im- 
 mediate obedience ensued. Thus while, without the shadow of a 
 crime, Mr. Locke lost a situation attended with some emolument 
 and great convenience, was the University deprived of, or rather 
 thus, from the base principles of servility, did she cast away, the man, 
 the having produced whom is now her chiefest glory ; and thus to 
 those who are not determined to be blind, did the true nature of 
 absolute power discover itself, against which the middling station is 
 not more secure than the most exalted. Tyranny, when glutted 
 with the blood of the great, and the plunder of the rich, will conde- 
 scend to hunt humbler game, and make the peaceable and innocent 
 Fellow of a College the object of its persecution. In this instance, 
 one would almost imagine there was some instinctive sagacity in the 
 Government of that time, which pointed out to them, even before he 
 had made himself known to the world, the man who was destined to 
 be the most successful adversary of superstition and tyranny." 
 
 On a careful examination of the whole case, and with the light* 
 since thrown upon it, it appears that Locke was not expelled by the 
 University of Oxford; he was deprived of his studentship by the Dean 
 and Chapter of the College to which he belonged. If, however, we 
 acquit the University of any direct share in the transaction, we may 
 not unfairly conclude from the spirit and temper then prevalent at 
 Oxford, that the University was accessary to that disgraceful deed. 
 The famous Oxford decree, it must be remembered, had passed on the 
 very day of the execution of Lord Russell. The divine rights of 
 Kings, and the indiscriminate obedience of subjects, were the favou- 
 rite tenets of the University, which, by a solemn decree, condemned 
 as impious and heretical, the principles upon which the constitution 
 of this, and of every free country, maintains itself The deprivation 
 of Locke was, strictly speaking, the act of the Dean and Chapter of 
 
 * Oxford and Locke, by Lord Greuville. 
 
150 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Christ-church, courting, and almost anticipating, the illegal mandate 
 of the Crown, and is not to be described as an actual expulsion from 
 the University of Oxford. 
 
 It is true Lord Sunderland, in his letter to the Bishop of Oxford, 
 and Dean of Christ-church, signifies the King's commands for the 
 immediate expulsion of Mr. Locke, as one who had belonged to the 
 Earl of Shaftesbury, and had behaved himself very factiously and 
 undutifully towards the Government. The Bishop also, in his an- 
 swer, uses the word expulsion, incorrectly certainly, but what better 
 phrase could he have selected to flatter a despotic Court, which had 
 determined to punish all whom it chose to consider as its enemies ? 
 
 Correspondence between the Earl of Sunderland and the Bishop 
 of Oxford respecting Mr. Locke. 
 
 TO THE LORD BISHOP OF OXFORD. 
 " MY LORD, Whitehall, Nov. 6, 1684. 
 
 " The King being given to understand that one Mr. Locke, who be- 
 longed to the late Earl of Shaftesbury, and has upon several occasions 
 behaved himself very factiously and undutifuUy to the Government, is a 
 student of Christ-church ; his Majesty commands me to signify to your 
 Lordship, that he would have him removed from being a student, and that 
 in order thereunto, your Lordship would let me know the method of doing it. 
 
 I am, my Lord, &c. 
 
 Sunderland." 
 
 to the right hon. the earl of sunderland, principal 
 secretary of state. 
 
 " RIGHT HON. Nov. 8, 1684. 
 
 " I have received the honour of your Lordship's letter, wherein you are 
 pleased to enquire concerning Mr. Locke's being a student of this house, of 
 which I have this account to render; that he being, as your Lordship is 
 truly informed, a person who was Tnuch trusted by the late Earl of Shaftes- 
 bury, and who is suspected to be ill-affected to the Government, I have for 
 divers years had an eye upon him, but so close has his guard been on 
 himself, that after several strict enquiries, I may confidently affirm there is 
 not any one in the College, however famihar with him, who has heard him 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 151 
 
 speak a word either against, or so much as concerning the government ; and 
 although very frequently, both in public and in private, discourses have 
 been purposely introduced, to the disparagement of his master, the Earl of 
 Shaftesbury, his party, and designs, he could never be provoked to take any 
 notice, or discover in word or look the least concern ; so that I believe there 
 is not in the world such a master of taciturnity and passion. He has here 
 a physician's place, which frees him from the exercise of the coUege, and 
 the obligation which others have to residence in it, and he is now abroad 
 upon want of health, bilt notwithstanding that, I have summoned him to 
 return home, which is done with this prospect, that if he comes not back, 
 he wiU be liable to expulsion for contumacy ; if he does, he wiU be answer- 
 able to your Lordship for what he shaU be found to have done amiss ; it 
 being probable that though he may have been thus cautious here, where he 
 knew himself to be suspected, he has laid himself more open in London, 
 where a general liberty of speaking was used, and where the execrable 
 designs against his Majesty, and his Government, were managed and pur- 
 sued. If he does not return by the 1st day of January next, which is the 
 time limited to him, I shall be enabled of course to proceed against him to 
 expulsion. But if this method seem not eifectual or speedy enough, and 
 his Majesty, our founder and visitor, shall please to command his immediate 
 remove, upon the receipt thereof, directed to the Dean and Chapter, it shall 
 accordingly be executed by 
 
 My Lord, 
 Your Lordship's most humble and obedient servant, 
 
 J. OXON." 
 
 TO THE BISHOP OF OXFORD. 
 " MY LORD, Whitehall, Nov. 10, 1684. 
 
 " Having communicated your Lordship's of the 8th to his Majesty, he 
 has thought fit to direct me to send you the enclosed, concerning his com- 
 mands for the immediate expulsion of Mr, Locke. 
 
 Sunderland." 
 
 " to the right reverend father in god, john lord bishop of 
 oxon, dean of christ-church, and our trusty and well- 
 beloved the chapter there. 
 
 " Right Reverend Father in God, and trusty and well-beloved, we greet 
 you well. Whereas we have received information of the factious and dis- 
 
152 THE LIFE OF 
 
 loyal behaviour of Locke, one of the students of that our College ; we 
 have thought fit hereby to signify our will and pleasure to you, that you 
 forthwith remove him from his student's place, and deprive him of aU the 
 rights and advantages thereunto belonging, for which this shaU be your 
 warrant; and so we bid you heartily farewell. Given at our Court at 
 Whitehall, 11th day of November, 1684. 
 
 By his Majjesty's Command, 
 
 Sunderland." 
 
 to the eight honourable the earl of sunderland, principal 
 
 secretary of state. 
 
 "RIGHT HON. November 16, 1684. 
 
 " I hold myself bound in duty to signify to your Lordship, that his 
 Majesty's command for the expulsion of Mr. Locke from the College, 
 is fully executed. 
 
 J. OXON." 
 
 TO THE BISHOP OF OXON. 
 " MY LORD, 
 
 " I have your Lordship's of the I6th, and have acquainted his Majesty 
 therewith, who is well satisfied with the College's ready obedience to his 
 commands for the expulsion of Mr. Locke. 
 
 Sunderland." 
 
 The meanness of Fell's (the Bishop of Oxford) conduct was 
 certainly never exceeded, seeing by his own unblushing confession, 
 that he had been instrumental in laying snares for the destruction 
 of one who was a member of his own college, and to whom he stood 
 therefore in the relation of a father ; and of one with whom he had 
 lived in habits of friendship during the time of his prosperity, as 
 a proof of which one or two amongst many letters Irom the same 
 hand, and in the same phrases of friendship, are here inserted. 
 
 'fO HIS ESTEEMED FRIEND MR. JOHN LOCKE, AT THANET HOUSE, IN 
 
 ALDERSGATE STREET. 
 « gjjj June 1, 1680. 
 
 " You are not to excuse your address by letter as if it could give a 
 trouble to me ; I assure you I have that respect and friendship for you, 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 153 
 
 that I should have been glad to have heard from you, although you had no 
 other business than to let me know you were in health, especially since you 
 left this place in such a condition as might make your friends apprehensive 
 for you. As to the proposal concerning books, we have two years since 
 quit our hands of our stock to men of trade, so that the interest is now with 
 those we dealt with. I have spoke this morning with one of them, Mr. 
 Pitt, who within few days will be in London, and will there attend upon 
 you ; he seems to approve of the terms offered, so that I presume he will 
 close with them. I have no more to add at present, but desire that when 
 you write to Monsieur Justell, you would represent the esteem I have for 
 him. Let me also desire you to be assured that I am your 
 
 Affectionate friend, 
 
 John Oxon." 
 
 from the same affectionate friend of an earlier date, 
 
 indorsed 1675. 
 
 " SIR, Nov. 8. 
 
 " I am sorry for the occasion of your voyage, but wish you success in 
 it, and by no means expect you should add to it, by a journey hither upon 
 the score of ceremony. It is that which I by no means expect from my 
 friends, and I hope the rest of the Chapter are of the same mind. When 
 we have occasion to meet next, I shall propose your concern to the company, 
 and with my affectionate remembrances, remain. Sir, 
 
 Your assured friend and servant, 
 
 J. Fell." 
 And many others letters directed to the worthily esteemed John 
 Locke, Esq. at Thanet House, in Aldersgate Street. 
 
 Of the illegality of the proceeding there can now be no doubt ; the 
 visitatorial power of the Crown can only be executed by the Lord 
 Chancellor ; and the King, like every other visitor, is bound, before 
 he pronounces sentence against any party, to hear him, or at least to 
 cite him, and give him an opportunity of being heard. It is but fair, 
 however, to add, that, at the time of the transaction alluded to, the 
 rights and powers of visitors were much more loose and unsettled 
 than at present. The leading decision on the visitatorial power (the 
 Exeter College case) took place many years afterwards, and the 
 
 X 
 
154 THE LIFE OF 
 
 necessity of a visitor's acting strictly and properly, in that capacity, 
 was not finally established before the case of the King and the 
 Bishop of Ely. 
 
 Resistance was, however, made even at Oxford a few years later, 
 but it was at a time when the rights and privileges, not of an 
 obnoxious individual, but of the whole ecclesiastical order were 
 attacked ; at a time when the blind despot, then on the throne, for- 
 tunately aimed his blows, not only against the liberties of his coun- 
 try, but against the Church itself, and broke the terms of the secret 
 articles, offensive and defensive, so well understood at all other 
 times between the parties concerned, which are inferred in the union 
 of Church and State. 
 
 When I say it was fortunate that James II. aimed his blows 
 against the Church, which secured her assistance in the work of the 
 Revolution, I by no means express an opinion that the gentlemen 
 of England were so dead to all feelings of patriotism, that they 
 would have surrendered their liberties for ever without a struggle. 
 That country which, in the preceding age, had produced a Hampden, 
 a Pym, a Coke, and a Hutchinson, would doubtless have burst asun- 
 der the bonds of tyranny, even without the assistance of the Esta- 
 blished Church, although the effort might have cost a second civil 
 war. 
 
 The persecution which had driven Locke from his country, the 
 tyranny which had illegally deprived him of his situation at Oxford, 
 did not cease after his retreat to Holland ; the King's minister at 
 the Hague demanded amongst several others named in his memo- 
 rial, that Locke should be delivered up, describing him as secretary 
 to the late Earl of Shaftesbury, a state crime worthy of such extra- 
 ordinary interposition. 
 
 Memoire present^ par Monsieur Schelton, Envoy6 Extraordinaire de sa 
 Ma-jest^ de la Grande Bretagne a Messeigneurs les Estats Generaux hauts 
 et puissants Seigneurs. 
 
 .Vos Seigneuries ay ant fait scavoir il y a trois jours au sousigne Envoy^ 
 
JOHN LOCKE. IQ^ 
 
 Extraordinaire de sa Majest6 le Roi de la Grande Bretagne, la resolution 
 qu'elles avoyent prise de bannir tons les sujets rebelles du Roi son maitre des 
 terras de leur domination, sur les representations que sa Majesty avait faites 
 aux Ambassadeurs de cet Estat, le susdit Envoy6 Extraordinaire auroit eu 
 lieu de se contenter en partie des esgards que vos Seigneuries avoyent tes- 
 moigne pour sa Majesty en cette rencontre s'il n'en eut re9U des ordres 
 expr^s de representer a vos Seigneuries qu'elle apprend avee un tres sensible 
 deplaisir que tant de ses sujets rebelles (dont les noms sont si dessous spe- 
 cifics) se sont refugies dans les provinces de vostre obeissance, lesquels se sont 
 attire sa juste indignation et colore, en ce que contre la foy et I'obCissance 
 qu'ils doivent a leur souverain, ils ont conspird contre la vie de sa sacr6e 
 personne, contre le gouvernement dont le bouleversement a fait depuis assez 
 long temps le but de leurs dessins, et qu'ils ne se lassent de former tons les 
 jours de nouveaux projets de trahison et d'infamie, et de dCchirer la re- 
 nomm6e et la gloire de sa Majeste par toutes sortes de papiers difFamatoires 
 qu'ils font imprimer et distribuer en ces pays. Or sa Majeste voyant le 
 danger auquel sa sacrfee personne est exposee, tant que ces traitres et fils 
 d6natur6s de leur patrie trouvent un azile dans les provinces de vos Seig- 
 neuries, ou ces scelerats par la grande facilite continuent a correspondre avec 
 ceux de leur party en Angleterre et en Ecosse, et a s'assembler et consulter 
 sur la destruction du repos et de la prosperity des rosyaumes de sa Majesty, 
 eUe se persuade que vos Seigneuries non seulement les en chasseront, mais 
 aussi les saisiront et envoy eront en Angleterre conformement a leur propre 
 declaration faite sur ce sujet. Et certes, il semble que I'amitie, que de droit 
 et d'intCret de bons voisins doivent les uns aux autres ne le demande pas 
 seulement, mais il y a des raisons bien plus fortes a scavoir des traitCs entre 
 sa Majesty et cet estat qui luy donnent ces pretentions outre que la pros- 
 perity de leur estat a laquelle sa Majeste prend tant de part depend de 
 ceUe des affaires du Roi. Et c'est pourquoi le svisdit Envoy6 Extraordi- 
 naire dAngleterre croit que vos Seigneuries voudront d'abord donner les 
 mains a cette saisie et bannissement d'autant plus qu'elles dans I'extract de 
 leur resolution de Mardy le 15 de May, de TannCe prCsente, veulent bien 
 donner les assurances de concourir en tout ce que dependra d'elles pour le 
 maintien des traitCs et de la bonne intelligence entre sa Majeste et cet estat. 
 Fait a la Haye a 17 May, 1685. 
 
 (Signe) B. Schelton. 
 
 X 2 
 
156 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Then follows a list of the proscribed, including Locke. 
 
 He was therefore under the necessity of living very much con- 
 cealed, and of going out only at night, in order to avoid observation. 
 His occupations, however, were such as could not have given offence 
 to the most jealous Government ; and he had actually, at one time, 
 (as says Le Clerc) removed from Amsterdam to Utrecht, to avoid 
 the possible suspicion of being connected with Monmouth, or of 
 abutting his expedition, having no good opinion either of the leader 
 or of his undertaking. He certainly left Amsterdam on the 16th of 
 April, 1685, and remained at Utrecht till the 2Sd of May following, 
 which last date coincides exactly, I believe, with the Duke of Mon- 
 mouth's departure from the Texel. It was during this secluded 
 residence with M. Veen in 1685 that his Letter on Toleration was 
 finished. 
 
 The subject had many years before engaged his attention, as I 
 find a long article on Toleration in his Common Place Book, dated 
 1667, containing his early thoughts on that most important of all ques- 
 tions, as he first committed them to writing. It concludes thus : 
 " But to show the danger of establishing uniformity, to give a full 
 prospect of this subject, there remain yet these following particulars 
 to be handled : 
 
 1st. To show what influence Toleration is like to have upon the 
 number and industry of your people. 
 
 2d. What force must compel all to an uniformity in England ; 
 to consider what party alone, or what parties, are likeliest to unite, 
 to make a force able to compel the rest. 
 
 Sd. To show that all that speak against Toleration, seem to sup- 
 pose that severity and force are the only arts of government, and 
 way to suppress any faction, which is a mistake. 
 
 4th. That for the most part the matters of controversy and dis- 
 tinction between sects are no parts, or very inconsiderable ones, and 
 but appendages of true religion. 
 
 5th. To consider how it comes to pass that the Christian reli- 
 gion has made more factions, wars, and disturbances in civil societies 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 157 
 
 than any other, and whether Toleration and Latitudinism would 
 not prevent those evils. 
 
 6th. The making the terms of church communion as large as 
 may be, i. e. that your articles in speculative opinions be few and 
 large, and ceremonies in worship few and easy, which is Latitu- 
 dinism. 
 
 7. That the desiring and undertaking to prove several doctrines 
 which are confessed to be incomprehensible, and to be no otherwise 
 known but by revelation, and requiring men to assent to them in the 
 forms proposed by the doctors of your several churches, must needs 
 make a great many Atheists, 
 
 But of these when I have more leisure. Sic cogitavit J. Locke, 
 
 1667. 
 
 The letter on Toleration was first printed in Latin at Tergou. 
 The title " Epistola de Tolerantia ad Clarissimum virum T.A.R.P. 
 T.O.L.A. Scripta a P.A.P.O. J.LA. The first letters signify Theo- 
 logiae apud Remonstrantes Professorem, Tyrannidis Osorem, Lim- 
 burgiun Amstelodamensem : and the last letters Pacis Amico, Per- 
 secutionis Osore. Joanne Lockio Anglo." This, in some sort the 
 most useful, because the most practical of all his works, was trans- 
 lated into English and printed in London after the Revolution, 
 and frequently defended by its author from the repeated attacks 
 of his adversaries. 
 
 William Penn, who enjoyed some degree of favour with James 
 11. offered to obtain from the King the pardon of Locke, who nobly 
 refused to accept a pardon, as being conscious of having committed 
 no crime. The same office of friendship and assistance was also 
 performed by the Earl of Pembroke, to whose honour the following 
 letters deserve to be made known. The first relates probably to 
 the proceedings at Oxford ; the second to the promise of pardon 
 obtained from James II. : to these, one of a later date from the 
 same person is added, relating to the publication of the Essay on 
 Human Understanding, which was dedicated to him. 
 
158 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " SIR, Nov. 1684. 
 
 " You might very well expect that T, who have had so much satisfaction 
 in the friendship I have so many years contracted with you, would be 
 pleased at your design of coming hither this winter ; but when I consider 
 how prejudicial it may be to your health to leave that country, (which I 
 have often heard has much increased it) I can't but use my endeavours you 
 should not remove till Spring. I was much surprised when I heard the 
 reason of your coming so soon, but as soon comforted myself, when I con- 
 sidered how many men of good reputation, by being accused have had an 
 advantage publicly to prove themselves honest men : certainly, I, who know 
 your actions, should be to blame to give credit to others' words. You may 
 be assured, nothing shall hinder me from hazarding all I am worth, when 
 it may be advantageous to such a friend. I perceive my great concern has 
 made me say more than is needful, I wOl therefore subscribe myself 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 Pembroke." 
 
 " SIR, London, Aug. 20, 1685. 
 
 " I HAVE often writ to you with great satisfaction in hopes of an answer. 
 You will easily, therefore, conclude, with how much more I write now, 
 since it will be the occasion of enjoying your company here in England. 
 I need not tell you that I have omitted no opportunity of contradicting all 
 false reports to the King, and (as in so good a cause none can but succeed) 
 I have so satisfied the King, that he has assured me he will never 
 believe any ill reports of you. He bid me write to you to come over ; I 
 told him, I would then bring you to kiss his hand, and he was fully satisfied 
 I should. Pray, for my sake, let me see you before the summer be over ; 
 I believe you will not mistrust me : I am sure, none can the King's word. 
 You having so many friends, lest you should mistake who I am, I must 
 subscribe myself your friend 
 
 Pembroke." 
 
 " SIR, London, Nov. 25, 1687. 
 
 " I received the second part, and with it the names of all the rest in 
 print ; such thoughts need no epistle to recommend them. I do not say so 
 to excuse my name to it, for I shall always be as desirous (by my name) to 
 testify the satisfaction I have in any thing you are pleased to write, as I am 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 159 
 
 and ever will be (by my person) ready to vindicate any thing you do : but 
 pray do not let the hopes of seeing this in print, defer the satisfaction of 
 seeing the whole at large, which I hope you will send me as soon as pos- 
 sibly you can. A chain is not to be commended for its strength by taking 
 it asunder ; I shall not, therefore, pretend to commend this, since T can't 
 do it without repeating the whole ; but I will spare no pains where I may 
 approve myself 
 
 Your friend 
 
 Pembroke." 
 
 At the back of this letter his friend Thomas writes : — " If I can 
 be serviceable to you in any thing, I will see you though it be now 
 winter ; if not, I will early in spring, and not wait for Musidore, * 
 because his occasions may delay me, if I wait to suit mine to his. 
 He tells me Will. Penn hath moved the King for pardon for you, 
 which was as readily granted. I said if you either wanted or de- 
 sired it, you would move by your friend here, and you would write 
 your own sense of it," 
 
 During his abode in Holland, he was often occupied in different, 
 scientific pursuits in company with M. Guenelon, the first physician 
 at Amsterdam, with whom he had become acquainted some years 
 before, whilst resident at Paris. He now formed a small society, 
 which met weekly at each other's houses, to discuss such questions 
 as by their rules had been proposed at a previous meeting. The 
 society consisted of Limborch, Le Clerc, Guenelon, and a few others. 
 He appears, indeed, on all occasions, to have been very much dis- 
 posed to promote the formation of societies of that nature, having 
 encouraged frequent meetings at his chambers whilst resident at 
 Oxford, and also that weekly society which he afterwards promoted 
 when settled for a few years in London, after his return to Eng- 
 land in 1689. 
 
 It has been observed that he led a very retired and secluded 
 life at Amsterdam, to avoid observation. His Journal at that time 
 
 * Musidore, a name by which his other friend Tyrrell was designated, to avoid danger. 
 
1(^0 THE LIFE OF 
 
 consists for the most part of references to the books he was reading ; 
 there are sentences from Cicero, and many notes from books of travels, 
 of which latter he was always very fond. A few extracts will show 
 his manner of life and employment, 
 
 Feb. 14th. Montaigne, by a gentle kind of negligence, clothed 
 in a peculiar sort of good language, persuades without reason : his 
 Essays are a texture of strong sayings, sentences, and ends of verses, 
 which he so puts together, that they have an extraordinary force 
 upon men's minds. He reasons not, but diverts himself, and pleases 
 others ; full of pride and vanity. 
 
 Friday, March 3rd. The ice here at Amsterdam, this having 
 been the hardest winter in the memory of man, being cut on purpose 
 to try its thickness, was one Amsterdam ell and one inch : an Am- 
 sterdam ell is three quarters of an English yard. This, Mr. Wil- 
 cock saw himself cut and measured, in a place cleared from snow 
 in the Fluelle Burg wall by the old Kirk. 
 
 April 14th. M. Bremen showed us at Dr. Sibilius's the way of 
 making The, in use amongst the Japanese, where he lived eight years. 
 He beat the yolks of eggs with sugar-candy in a basin, pouring on 
 them the hot infusion of The by degrees, always stirring it. 
 
 May 12th. From Amsterdam to Haarlem two and a-half hours. 
 There I saw a mill for weaving of incle or ribbon, where a man with 
 the easy motion of one hand, would weave at once thirty pieces of 
 incle. Between Haarlem and Heemsted they bleach much linen. 
 
 Sunday, July 30th. The Armenian priest going to say the 
 service, was habited in a cap without brims, on the top of which 
 stood a cross. His dress a white silk cope, on which, behind, was a 
 large red satin cross, a great high collar, the collar standing at a 
 distance from the neck, and reaching half way up his head ; he had 
 under this a surplice girt close about his middle with a girdle; he 
 was assisted by one in a surplice. He began with crossing and 
 bowing ; after some few words, I suppose a prayer, he pulled 
 off his cap and appeared shaved, more Romano. The species are 
 
JOHN LOCKE. IQl 
 
 elevated before consecration both covered, after consecration sepa-^ 
 rately, the priest keeping his face to the altar. Afterwards, the cup 
 in his hand, and the wafer held over it, he turns about to the people, 
 and holds it there. All this time the people on their knees beat 
 their breasts, and say something. The priest breaks the wafer and 
 soaks it in wine, and so takes it. After the service is done, the priest, 
 holding the New Testament in his hand, descends from the altar, 
 and so standing, with his face turned towards the people, they all 
 come, one after the other, and kiss the cover of the book, which was 
 of silver ; and most of them also kiss the priest's hands, and then, 
 by the assistant, have each of them a little bit given them of the 
 same bread (but unconsecrated) that the wafer was made of, that 
 was consecrated. In crossing, bowing, incense, and other things, 
 they agree much with the Roman ceremonies, only they incense all 
 present. They give not the cup to the laity, but only a wafer dip- 
 ped in the wine. They admit to their communion all Christians, 
 and hold it our duty to join in love and charity with those who 
 differ in opinion. 
 
 Aug. 16th. — From Amsterdam to Alkmar, six hours. A pretty 
 little town, very clean, but seems rather in a decaying than a thriving 
 condition. The church large, built like a cathedral. The great 
 merchandise of the town is cheese, which the pastures round about 
 it furnish. About a league and a half is Egmont, the ancient seat 
 of the Counts of Egmont. 
 
 17th. — To Home, a large town on the Zuider Sea. From Home 
 to Enchuysen, three hours, the way all pitched with clinkers, and 
 beset with Boors' houses almost as it were one street. The houses 
 are of a pretty odd fashion ; the barn joining to the dwelling-house 
 making a part of it. Enchuysen has a fair East India House, the 
 most handsome and stately of any thing in the town. Here I lay at 
 the sign of the Golden Hen ; in the same house, twenty-three years 
 since, they say the King lay for a whole week together in a little 
 room over the kitchen, in a cupboard-bed, about five feet long. 
 
 18th. — -To Worcum, four leagues ; the land is secured against the 
 
 Y 
 
1(32 THE LIFE OF 
 
 sea for a mile by long piles driven in, a little inclining towards the 
 bank, close one by another, each whereof cost, to be there so placed, 
 a ducat. Thirty or forty lime-kilns ; the lime all cockle-shells 
 picked upon the sea strand, which, laying with turf, they burn to 
 lime. The ordinary women went most bare-legged ; but what most 
 surprised me was to see them have woollen cloth stockings reaching 
 down to the small of their legs, close laced, and yet bare-foot. To 
 Balswert by sailing. 
 
 19th. — To Francker ; it is a little fortified town, that one may 
 walk round in half an hour ; it has an university ; the schools and 
 library not extraordinary, which shows that knowledge depends not 
 on the stateliness of the buildings, &c. &c. &c., since this university 
 has produced many learned men, and has now some amongst its pro- 
 fessors ; the professors thirteen or fourteen — the scholars 300. They 
 have the pictures of all their professors. A thing worthy imitation in 
 other places is, that any one may take his degree here when he is 
 fit, abilities, and not time, being only looked after : the fees are 
 moderate. In Friesland they still use the old style. The land is 
 generally better than in Holland ; some worth thirty francs per 
 morgen, but they say the taxes amount to one half the value. 
 
 21st. — To Leewaerden ; to Wienwert. Here, in M. Somerdyke's 
 house, is the church of the Labadists ; they receive all ages, sexes, 
 and degrees, upon approbation, after trial. They live all in com- 
 mon ; and whoever is admitted is to give with himself all he has to 
 Christ the Lord, ^. e. the church, to be managed by officers appointed 
 by the church. It is a fundamental miscarriage, and such as will 
 deserve cutting off, to possess any thing in property. Their disci- 
 pline, whereby they prevent and correct offences is, first, reprehen- 
 sion ; secondly, suspension from sacrament ; and if this makes no 
 amendment, they cut him off from their body, &c. &c. &c. Baptism 
 they administer only to grown people, who show themselves to be 
 Christians by their lives, as well as professions, &c. &c. &c. They 
 have been here these nine years, and, as they say, increase daily ; 
 but yet I could not learn their numbers : M. Yonn said 100, M. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 163 
 
 Meuler, 80. They are very shy to give an account of themselves, 
 particularly of their manner and rule of living and discipline ; and 
 it was with much difficulty I got so much out of them ; for they 
 seemed to expect that a man should come there disposed to desire 
 and court admittance into their society, without inquiring into their 
 ways ; and if the Lord, as they say, dispose him to it, and they see 
 the signs of grace in him, they will proceed to give him farther in- 
 struction ; which signs of grace seem to me to be, at last, a perfect 
 submission to the will and rules of their pastor, Mr. Yonn ; who, if I 
 mistake not, has established to himself a perfect empire over them. 
 For though their censures, and all their administration, be in ap- 
 pearance in their church, yet it is easy to perceive how at last it 
 determines in him. He is do minus factotum ; and though I believe 
 they are much separated from the world, and are, generally speaking, 
 people of very good and exemplary lives, yet the tone of voice, man- 
 ner, and fashion, of those I conversed with, seemed to make one 
 suspect a little of Tartouf. Besides that, all their discourse carries 
 with it a supposition of more purity in them than ordinary, and as if 
 nobody was in the way to heaven but they ; not without a mixture 
 of canting, in referring things immediately to the Lord, even on 
 those occasions where one inquires after the rational means and 
 measures of proceeding, as if they did all things by revelation. It 
 was above two hours after I came before I could receive audience of 
 Mr. Yonn, though recommended by a friend ; and how many offers 
 soever I made towards it, I could not be admitted to see either their 
 place of exercise, of eating, or any of their chambers, but was kept 
 all the while I was there in atrio gentium, a little house without the 
 gate ; for, as I said before, they seemed very shy of discovering the 
 secreta domus, which seemed to me not altogether so suitable to the 
 pattern of Christianity. 
 
 24th. — By Leewaerden to Doccum, To Groningen, a large town, 
 regularly fortified with seventeen bastions, the distance of each 470 
 steps. The taxes here are, for every chimney, 55 s. per annum ; for 
 every grown person, one ; boys at school, half so much ; besides 
 
 Y 2 
 
164 THE LIFE OF 
 
 excise on beer, wine, bread, and every thing ; French, or Rhenish 
 wine, pay 36 per hogshead ; brandy, 78 ; and they pay so much a 
 head for their cattle ; besides near one half the value of their lands 
 for land-tax. Here is an university ; eight professors : their library 
 a long gallery, two sides of a square. 
 
 25th. — Returned to Leewaerden the same way. 
 
 29th. — Henrie Casimir, Prince of Nassau, Governor and Captain- 
 General of the provinces of Friesland and Groningen, having about 
 eight months since married the Princess of Anhault, made his public 
 and solemn entry into Leewaerden, the capital city of Friesland, at 
 the public charge of the States. The cavalcade and solemnity were 
 suitable to the greatness of the government. That that I observed 
 particular in it was, that when the Prince and his Princess, with 
 their two mothers, and the Princess of Sere win and their two sisters, 
 were alighted at his house, and had rested a little, he took the ladies 
 with him down into the court, and there placing them in chairs just 
 within the outward gate which stood open, he himself stood bare 
 just without the gate, whilst all the burghers who were that day 
 in arms, marched by and saluted him with firing their muskets as 
 they passed. This lasted well nigh two hours, and after that they 
 went to supper. Some of the gentlemen of the country, and some 
 of the chief of his officers supped with him and the ladies, and here- 
 upon a page said grace. 
 
 The Prince is about twenty-eight years old, little, and not very 
 handsome ; but, as they say, a man of parts, loving, and well-beloved 
 of his country. His lady is of a younger branch of the house of 
 Hainault; and her father at present a Marshal to the Duke of 
 Brandenburgh. 
 
 30th. — This evening the Prince and Princess were treated at 
 supper by the Deputies of the States of the province, and entertained 
 with fireworks. 
 
 31st.^ — And this day, to conclude the compliment, they are enter- 
 tained at dinner by the States at the College, where the States used 
 to keep their assembly. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 165, 
 
 Sept. Srd. — To Ens, Campertown, Groning, and Dewenter. Here 
 are two Protestant nunneries ; one belongs to the freemen of the 
 town, and their daughters only are admitted, these are fourteen ; 
 they live all together in one house, the oldest, of course, is the abbess. 
 They have each a little garden, and their dividend of the corn and 
 some land which belongs to them, which amounts to three or four 
 bushels of rye. Their meat and drink they provide for themselves, 
 and dress it in a common kitchen in the summer, in the winter in 
 their chambers. There was formerly, before the Reformation, a 
 convent of Catholic nuns ; and when in the last war the Bishop of 
 Munster was possessed of this town two years together, he put three 
 Catholic maids into the nunnery, which remain there still, under 
 the same rules as the others. , 
 
 There is besides this, another nunnery in the town, only of the 
 noblesse of the province ; they have each four hundred guilders per 
 annum, one half whereof the abbess has for their board, the other 
 half they have themselves to dispose of as they please. They have 
 no particular habit, and are often at home with their friends in the 
 country. 
 
 20th. — From Dewenter to Zutphen and Arnheim. In the mid- 
 way is Deiren, where the Prince of Orange has a house, more con- 
 siderable for the pleasant country about it, than for its largeness 
 or beauty. Here I saw the camels which the Count of Waldek 
 sent the Prince, taken amongst others in the rout of the Turks. The 
 taller was near about seven feet high ; they were both males. They 
 seemed creatures made for labour by their patience and submissive- 
 ness and small feeding ; these eat not so much as a horse. Their 
 food hay, and a paste made of rye-meal ; upon bidding they lie 
 down, resting on their sternum. From Deiren to Arnheim is a 
 pleasant country ; the borders of their fields set with rows of oaks 
 three or four deep, which makes it look like a country full of woods. 
 The soil sandy and dry, but not unfruitful. 
 
 21st. — To Nimegen. The town is situated on a rise on the side 
 of the Waal. 
 
IQQ THE LIFE OF 
 
 They showed some remains of an old Roman building. In their 
 town-house are some ancient inscriptions found about the town. 
 
 23rd. — To Gorcum, Bomel, and Utrecht. 
 
 Oct. 10th. — Utrecht tO Amsterdam. 
 
 15th. — To Haerlem — to Leyden. 
 
 23rd. — The young Gronovius, son of the famous Gronovius, 
 made a solemn oration in the schools; his subject was the original 
 of Romulus. At it were present the curators of the university, and 
 the professors, solemnly ushered in by the university officers. The 
 music, instrumental and vocal, began and concluded the scene. The 
 harangue itself began with a magnificent and long compliment to 
 the curators, and then something being said to the professor and 
 scholars, he came to the main business, which was to show that 
 Romulus was not an Italian born, but came from the East, and was 
 of Palestine or thereabout. This, as I remember, was the design of 
 his oration, which lasted almost two hours. 
 
 29th — Sunday, to the French church. Here Joseph Scaliger lies 
 buried, with a high eulogium on a table in the wall ; he was hono- 
 rary professor here. 
 
 Nov. 12th. — From Doctor Herman, who lived nine years in Zey- 
 lon, many particulars of diseases of that climate, &c. &c. 
 
 The cinnamon grows large ; the smell is peculiar to the bark, and 
 in that too there is great difference, according to the temper the 
 tree is in. They gather it in August and February, at which time 
 the sap rises, and so makes it easy to separate the bark from the 
 wood. They bark none but young trees, and those only on one 
 side. 
 
 15th. — I saw Swammerdam's remains, being a great collection of 
 anatomical preparations of several parts of animals, especially of 
 human bodies. Amongst other things very remarkable is, the 
 spiral valves in the rectum, and the circular in the ilium ; in the 
 ilium they reach not quite over the cavity of the gut, but are con- 
 tinued all round in circles, about half an inch or less asunder. In 
 
JOHN LOCKE. ]g7 
 
 the colon they are not continued round, but end in three seams, 
 that are continued all along that gut, but the direction in them is 
 more spiral than circular, and they stand at a greater distance than 
 in the small gut. There were the parts of several guts, we knew not 
 of what animals, that were perfectly spiral. The Ccecum had visibly 
 a valve opening outwards, and hindering the ingress of any matter 
 into the caecum, &c. 
 
 June 22d, 1685. — I saw, at Mr. Lewenhook's, several micro- 
 scopical observations, which answer the description he has given of 
 them, &c. &c. The exceeding small and regular fibres of the crys- 
 talline humour are wonderful, if all the works of Nature were not so. 
 Speaking of some of the small animals which Lewenhook mentioned 
 
 that he had discovered, there is a very long description. 
 
 * # # * * 
 
 It was with much difficulty I could perceive the tails he des- 
 cribes, if, at least, I did perceive any at all. The glasses we saw, he 
 said, would magnify to a million of times, which I understood of 
 cubical augmentation, which is but 100 in length ; but the best 
 of all his glasses, and those by which he describes his spermatic 
 animals, we did not see, nor, as I hear, does he show them to 
 any one. 
 
 24th. — To Amsterdam. 
 
 Aug. 28. — I saw a boor's house a mile or more from Amsterdam. 
 The people and the cows live all in the same room in the winter, 
 there being place for twenty-four cows on both sides, with a large 
 space to pass between them in the middle, to which their heads are 
 turned. The place they stand in is raised a little above the pave- 
 ment. There runs a row of white marble paving fifteen or eighteen 
 inches square, on which their meat was laid. At the upper end of 
 the room was a partition of about breast-high of boards, which sepa- 
 rated a square place, where the people lived. There were three 
 pigeon-hole beds, after the Dutch fashion, and though this was but 
 a part of the stable wherein the people and their beasts live toge- 
 ther, yet the whole room, and every thing in it was much cleaner 
 
158 THE LIFE OF 
 
 than one shall see any kitchen, nay, most of the finest parlours in 
 England. 
 
 Oct. 5. — Concerning the beginning of the Quakers, all I can 
 learn from B. Furly is, that John Saltmarsh, who had been Fairfax's 
 chaplain, and a member of the Church of England, was the first 
 that began to be scrupulous of the hat, and using common language, 
 in 1649. In 16-50, Job Fox, a shoemaker, and Jas. Nailor, a sergeant 
 in the army, in the North, began to publish the doctrines of the 
 light 
 
 March 8, 1687. — Whether things, both moral and historical, 
 writ, as other such matters are, by men liable to the same mistakes 
 and frailties, may not yet be so ordered by Providence, as to be cer- 
 tain rules in future ages, and presignifications of future events, 
 sufficient to guide those who are sincere inquirers after truth and 
 right ? 
 
 June 1. — A boor, that lived about three miles from Rotterdam, 
 had about thirty morgens of land, which would keep thirty cows, 
 His land was worth, to be let, about seventeen shillings per annum 
 per morgen, besides taxes, which were about seven or eight guilders 
 per year more ; whereof three, or thereabouts, to the State, the 
 remainder four or five was for mills, sluices, and other charges of 
 draining. A morgen of land, to be sold, is worth 700, for he had 
 given 2,100 for three morgens, which he would now let for fifty, so 
 that the lands sell for above thirty-five years purchase. One of 
 these morgens, which is to be sold, being digged up, and the turf 
 sold, will make 8,000 s., whereof the State has 4,000 s. Making the 
 turf, and other charges about them, will amount to 2,000 s. The 
 tax which is to be still paid, after the turf is dug out, and the land 
 lying under water, may be bought off for 225 s., (Q. whether this be 
 the whole tax for mills and all ?) so that by selling his land for the 
 turf, a man does more than double his fee. 
 
 The vein of turf lies about two feet under the surface, and is 
 about eight feet thick. Under it lies clay. The top of the vein 
 now lies higher than the surface of the water, as it is in summer 
 
JOHN LOCKE. Igg 
 
 time when lowest. The upper part of the vein yields the best turf, 
 the under half is not so good. They cut it not with spades, but 
 fish it all up from under the water with nets, and so lay it upon the 
 neighbouring land of a certain thickness to dry, and when it is of a 
 fit temper, they cut it into sizes fit for use. The turf never grows 
 there again ; at least as they observe : but sometimes, when a large 
 tract of ground is by this means laid under water, they drain it, and 
 so have their land again, for which they pay no taxes for thirty 
 years after draining. 
 
 Whilst Locke resided in Holland he kept up a regular cor- 
 respondence with his friends in England, and appears to have been 
 well informed of what was passing there. Some of these letters 
 describe the state of affairs, and the particulars of the proceedings 
 of James the Second's commissioners at Oxford, in the business of 
 Magdalen College. 
 
 EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM TYRREL TO LOCKE. 
 
 " May 6th, 1687. 
 " Your discourse about the hberty of conscience would not do amiss 
 now, to dispose people's minds to pass it into law whenever the Parliament 
 sits. The thing gives so general a satisfaction, that more are displeased at 
 the manner of doing it, than at the thing itself. So that I find few but 
 the high Church of England-men highly displeased ; but let the intent 
 of those that do it be as it will, I believe whatever the Church of England 
 may lose, the Roman Catholic religion wiU not gain so much as they 
 imagine ; more being likely to go off to the fanatics than to them, amongst 
 the ordinary people, who can neither expect offices nor pensions by the 
 change : and if so, I think the Roman Catholic religion (as Osborne says) 
 wiU only change herb John for Coloquintida. As for news, I have not 
 much to send you, only to the great satisfaction of many, Judge Wilkins 
 is put out; and one Sir Richard AUebone, a Roman Catholic of gTeat 
 integrity, as those say who know him, put in his room ; and more such 
 
170 THE LIFE OF 
 
 changes are daily expected. The Vice Chancellor of Cambridge was sus- 
 pended and deprived this day by the ecclesiastical Commissioners ah officio 
 et heneficio, for refusing to propose and admit Father Francis, a Dominican 
 friar, to the degree of Master of Arts in the University ; the rest of the 
 doctors who signed the University plea are to expect their doom, but what 
 it will be we cannot yet tell. And now I am speaking of universities, I 
 will give you a short account of the state of Oxford. In Christ-church, 
 where there hath been a Roman Catholic head almost this half year, I can- 
 not hear of one conversion amongst the students. The old Hall in cant 
 quadrangle, formerly the Bishop's wood-house, is now fitting up for a chapel, 
 for the Dean. There are, notwithstanding Mr. W's. great endeavours to 
 turn people, not above six or seven scholars beside himself, who have 
 declared themselves Roman Catholics. Mr. W. prints books at his new 
 press for his religion, but they have no very good success : one was an- 
 swered as soon as it came out ; the other, which is a kind of history of the 
 Reformation, has a very slight reception among the learned, being no more 
 than a translation of Gander's and Gretner's stories, which have been so long 
 since confuted. I doubt not you have received Dr. Burnet's letters, which 
 are a pattern how a man should travel, and what observations he should 
 make. The book was forbid to be brought in, but it has since been printed 
 here and sells infinitely. I forgot to tell you the head of Magdalen College 
 in Oxford being dead, the King sent down a mandamus for one Mr. Farmer 
 a new convert, a commoner of the House ; but the Fellows refused to elect 
 him, and have been so stout as to choose Mr. Hough, a chaplain of the 
 Duke of Ormond, for their President. My Lord Sunderland has writ to 
 them from the King about it ; their answer was, that they could not choose 
 IMr. F. with a safe conscience, being under an oath and having received the 
 sacrament upon it, to choose none but a fit man, whereas this man was not 
 so, being a person of ill-fame and debauched life. 
 
 FROM TYRRELL TO LOCKE. 
 
 -* * * * Nov. 2nd. 
 
 " I have nothing else worth writing but a short account how things 
 
 have gone lately at Magdalen College before the Commissioners whom the 
 
 King sent down to visit the College ; viz. the Bishop of Chester, the Lord 
 
 Chief Justice Wright, and Baron Jenner. When they came, they sum- 
 
JOHN LOCKE. ]YJ 
 
 moned the President and Fellows before them, and admonished the Pre- 
 sident to recede from the government of the house, which he refusing, they 
 expelled him. Then they asked all the Fellows severally, whether they 
 would admit the Bishop of Oxford to be their head? which all of them 
 refusing except one Papist, they admitted him themselves by installing one 
 of his chaplains, and giving him the oaths by proxy. Then they sent to 
 Dr. Hough for the keys of the lodging, which he refusing to deliver, they 
 sent for a smith and broke them open, and put the Bishop's proxy in 
 possession ; then they sent for all the Fellows again, and asked them 
 whether they would submit to and obey the President whom the King had 
 
 set over them, which Dr. F , who was the first man asked, utterly 
 
 refused, saying he neither would, nor could do it with a safe conscience. 
 The rest of them signed a paper in which they promised to submit to the 
 Bishop in omnibus Ileitis et honestis, according to the statutes of the house, 
 which submission was taken, and they much commended for it. But Dr. 
 
 F upon the third admonition still refusing, had his name struck out 
 
 of the books, and was ordered to depart the College within fourteen days ; 
 against which proceedings as null and unjust, he read and gave in a 
 protestation, as Dr. Hough had done before, both appealing to the King in 
 his courts, he. So there were no more expelled at present for denying their 
 
 authority, than the President, Dr. F , and the under porter. But on 
 
 Friday morning upon receiving fresh instructions, the former submission not 
 being looked upon as full enough, they were farther required to sign an 
 address to the King, wherein they were to confess and beg pardon for their 
 passed contumacy, and promise absolute obedience for the time to come ; 
 but instead of that when they came together, they made a quite other sort 
 of address to the Commissioners, wherein they first assert that they are not 
 conscious of having acted in any thing contrary to their oaths and the 
 statutes of the house, and therefore hope that his Majesty will pardon them 
 if they cannot render any more than a passive obedience to his Majesty's 
 commands, since they cannot look upon the Bishop as their lawful head, or 
 words to that effect : and desire the Commissioners to represent their case 
 fairly to his Majesty. At which paper (being signed by all the Fellows 
 except two, viz. Dr. Smyth and Charnock) they were very much displeased, 
 and adjourned the court till the 20th instant, when it is to be feared they 
 will come down again, and proceed very severely against all that signed that 
 
 paper. This is the sum of what has been done ; Dr. F is very cheer- 
 
 z 2 
 
172 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ful under it, and many commend his carriage as much more fair and above 
 board than the rest, who meant the same thing, though they dared not 
 speak it out. What will be the issue, God knows ! but we fear the turning 
 out the most of the Fellows. I fear I have tired you as much as I have 
 myself. 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 M." 
 
 FKOM THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
 * * * «- Feb. 20tli, 1688. 
 
 " The aldermen and bailiffs in Oxford that were lately put in by the 
 
 new charters, are all turned out, and Mr. P , your old acquaintance, 
 
 Alderman Wright, with several others, put in their places, though I hear 
 the former refuses to act. Now if you would know the reason of all this, 
 they say there will be a new Parliament in May, and in order to his Ma- 
 jesty's designs, it is fit the Corporation should undergo a new alteration, the 
 former members growing weary, and not willing to drive out the whole 
 stage, it was time the very Judases should be unharnessed and turned out to 
 grass. Those that before were so ready in giving up their charters, now 
 find the good effect of it, being the first that were turned out : nee lex est 
 justior ulla ; enough of politics, but wishing you all health and a happy 
 meeting 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 M." ■ 
 
 That happy accident, the Revolution of 1688, enabled Locke to 
 return to his native country, and he arrived in the same fleet that 
 brought the Princess of Orange to England. It was at this time 
 that he stood forward as the most strenuous champion of those 
 true principles of Government which assert, that the people are not 
 to be considered as the property of their rulers, nor Monarchs as 
 the Gods of the earth, according to the slavish doctrine of the 
 divine and indefeasible right of Kings ; but that the kingly office, 
 and all other orders, privileges, and distinctions whatsoever, are 
 held in trust for the benefit of the people, by whose consent 
 they were appointed, and from whom they derive their delegated 
 power. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 173 
 
 It was almost immediately after his arrival in England that an 
 offer was made to him by Lord Mordaunt, whom he had known in 
 Holland, then one of King William's Ministers, and much trusted 
 by him, as Burnet says, to be employed as Envoy at one of the 
 great German Courts, probably either at Vienna or Berlin ; an ap- 
 pointment which he modestly refused by the following letter, the 
 copy of which is indorsed J. L. to Lord Mordaunt. 
 
 " MY LORD, Whitehall, Feb. 21, 1689. 
 
 " I cannot but in the highest degree be sensible of the great honour his 
 Majesty has done me in those gracious intentions towards me which I have 
 understood from your Lordship ; and it is the most touching displeasure 
 I have ever received from that weak and broken constitution of my health 
 which has so long threatened my Hfe, that it now affords me not a body 
 suitable to my mind in so desirable an occasion of serving his Majesty. I 
 make account every Englishman is bound in conscience and gratitude not 
 to content himself with a bare, slothful, and inactive loyalty, where his 
 purse, his head, or his hand may be of any use to this our great deliverer. 
 He has ventured and done too much for us to leave room for indifferency 
 or backwardness in any one who would avoid the reproach and contempt of 
 all mankind. And if with the great concerns of my country and all Christ- 
 endom I may be permitted to mix so mean a consideration as my own 
 private thoughts, I can truly say that the particular veneration I have for 
 his person carries me beyond an ordinary zeal for his service. Besides this, 
 my Lord, I am not so ignorant as not to see the great advantages of what 
 is proposed to me. There is honour in it enough to satisfy an ambition 
 greater than mine, and a step to the making my fortune which I could not 
 have expected. These are temptations that would not suffer me easily to 
 decline so eminent a favour, as the other are obligations to a forward obe- 
 dience in all things, where there are hopes it may not be unuseful. But such 
 is the misfortune of my circumstances, that I cannot accept the honour is 
 designed me without rendering myself utterly unworthy of it. And how- 
 ever tempting it be, I cannot answer to myself or the world my embracing 
 a trust which I may be in danger to betray even by my entering upon it. 
 This I shall certain be guilty of, if I do not give your Lordship a true 
 account of myself, and what I foresee may be prejudicial to his Majesty's 
 affairs. My Lord, the post that is mentioned to me is at this time, if I 
 
174 THE LIFE OF 
 
 mistake not, one of the busiest and most important in all Europe, and, 
 therefore, would require not only a man of common sense and good inten- 
 tions, but one whom experience in the methods of such business has fitted 
 with skill and dexterity to deal with not only the reasons of able, but the 
 more dangerous artifices of cunning men, that in such stations must be 
 expected and mastered. But, my Lord, supposing industry and good will 
 would in time work a man into some degree of capacity and fitness, what 
 will they be able to do with a body that hath not health and strength 
 enough to comply with them ? what shall a man do in the necessity of ap- 
 plication and variety of attendance on business to be followed there, Avho, 
 sometimes after a little motion, has not breath to speak, and cannot borrow 
 an hour or two of watching from the night without repaying it with a great 
 waste of time the next day ? Were this a conjuncture wherein the affairs 
 of Europe went smooth, or a little mistake in management would not be 
 soon felt, but that the diligence or change of the Minister might timely 
 enough recover it, I should perhaps think I might, without being unpar- 
 donably faulty, venture to try my strength, and make an experiment so 
 much to my advantage ; but I have a quite other view of the state of things 
 at present, and the urgency of affairs comes on so quick, that there was 
 never such need of successful diligence, and hands capable of dispatch as 
 now. 
 
 The dilatory methods and slow proceedings, to say no worse of what I 
 cannot without indignation reflect on in some of my countrymen, at a 
 season when there is not a moment of time lost without endangering the 
 Protestant and English interest throughout Europe, and which have already 
 put things too far back, make me justly dread the thought that my weak 
 constitution should in so considerable a post any way clog his Majesty's 
 affairs ; and I think it much better that I should be laid by to be forgotten 
 for ever, than that they should at all suffer by my ambitiously forward un- 
 dertaking what my want of health or experience would not let me manage 
 to the best advantage ; for I must again tell your Lordship, that however 
 unable I might prove, there will not be time in this crisis to call me home 
 and send another. If I have reason to apprehend the cold air of the country, 
 there is yet another thing in it as inconsistent with my constitution, and 
 that is their warm drinking. I confess obstinate refusal may break pretty 
 well through it, but that at best will be but to take more care of my own 
 health than the King's business. It is no small matter in such stations to 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 175 
 
 be acceptable to the people one has to do with, in being able to accom- 
 modate one's self to their fashions, and I imagine whatever I may do there 
 myself, the knowing what others are doing is at least one-half of my busi- 
 ness, and I know no such rack in the world to draw out men's thoughts as 
 a well-managed bottle. If therefore it w;ere fit for me to advise in this case, 
 I should think it more for the King's interest to send a man of equal parts, 
 that could drink his share, than the soberest man in the kingdom. I beseech 
 you, my Lord, to look on this not as the discourse of a modest or lazy man, 
 but of one who has truly considered himself, and above all things wishes 
 well to the designs which his Majesty has so gloriously began for the re- 
 deeming England, and with it all Europe, and I wish for no other happiness 
 in this world, but to see it completed, and shall never be sparing of my mite 
 where it may contribute any way to it, which I am confident your Lordship 
 is sufficiently assured of, and therefore I beg leave to tell your Lordship 
 that if there be any thing wherein I may flatter myself I have attained any 
 degree of capacity to serve his Majesty, it is in some little knowledge I, 
 perhaps, may have in the constitutions of my country, the temper of my 
 countrymen, and the divisions amongst them, whereby I persuade myself I 
 may be more useful to him at home, though I cannot but see that such an 
 employment would be of greater advantage to myself abroad would but my 
 health consent to it. My Lord, missing your Lordship at your lodging 
 this morning, I have taken the liberty to leave you my thoughts in writing, 
 being loth that in any thing that depends on me there should be a moment's 
 delay, a thing which at this time I look on as so criminal in others. 
 
 I am, my Lord, 
 Your Lordship's most humble 
 
 and most obedient servant, 
 
 J. Locke." 
 
 Locke, on his return to England, after the Revolution, endea- 
 voured to be reinstated in his studentship at Christ- church, and, for 
 this purpose, presented a petition to the King, as visitor, to be 
 restored to his former station and rights in that College. 
 
176 'I'HE LIFE OF 
 
 TO THE king's MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. — THE HUMBLE PETITION 
 
 OF JOHN LOCKE. 
 
 " She WET H, — That your Petitioner being student of Christ-church Col- 
 lege, in Oxford, was, in the year 1684, by a letter sent by the Earl of Sun- 
 derland, the principal Secretary of State, to the Dean and Chapter of the 
 said College, ordered to be turned out. Dr. Fell, then Bishop of Oxford, 
 and Dean of the said College, finding it against the rules of common justice, 
 as well as the ordinary method of the College, to turn out any one without 
 hearing, or so much as being accused of any fact which might forfeit his 
 place, especially one who had lived inoffensively in the College for many 
 years, did, by a "Moneo" affixed to the screen in the College-hall of the same 
 College, summon your Petitioner, who was then in Holland, to appear at 
 Christmas following, which was about two months after, to answer any 
 thing should be alleged against him ; but this regular proceeding not suiting 
 the designs upon the University, another letter was sent the week follow- 
 ing with positive orders to turn your Petitioner out immediately, which was 
 accordingly done. 
 
 " Your Petitioner therefore humbly prays that your Majesty, being 
 visitor of the said College, and having power by your immediate command 
 to rectify what you find amiss there, would, out of your great justice and 
 goodness, be graciously pleased to direct the Dean and Chapter of the said 
 College to restore your Petitioner to his student's place, together with all 
 things belonging unto it, which he formerly enjoyed in the said College. 
 
 *' And your Petitioner shall ever pray." 
 
 A Paper, indorsed J. Locke's case, 1679, contains the substance 
 of the petition, with this variation : — 
 
 " He therefore prays his Majesty, who is Visitor of the said College, and 
 has, at least, as much power to redress as others to do wrong, to grant his 
 mandate to the Dean and Chapter of the said College immediately to restore 
 the said John Locke to his former place of student in the College, and to 
 his chambers and the other rights he had therein, with a liberty to be absent, 
 he having aji employment in his Majesty's service." 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 177 
 
 What were the exact difficulties which prevented his re-instate- 
 ment are not known ; Le Clerc says, that finding he could only be 
 received as a supernumerary, he determined to press his claim no 
 farther. It is probable, from the terms of his petition, that he re- 
 jected any other conditions than such as should afford him full 
 redress for the wrongs and injustice he had suffered. 
 
 One of the first acts that passed after the settlement of the new 
 Government at the Revolution, was that for " exempting their Ma- 
 jesties' Protestant subjects from the penalties of certain laws ;" and 
 although the act confers but a scanty measure of religious liberty, 
 it did not pass without the murmurs of the bigoted Churchmen. 
 There is a tradition, that the terms of the Toleration Act were ne- 
 gotiated by Locke himself ; and the fact is in some degree confirmed 
 by an expression in one of his letters to Limborch. We know, how- 
 ever, that he was dissatisfied with the terms then granted, and that 
 he considered them most inadequate and insufficient. 
 
 In this first charter of religious liberty, as much was granted as 
 the prejudices of the time would permit. The Unitarians, who were 
 not allowed to enjoy the benefit of that act, were afterwards re- 
 lieved by a subsequent statute of George III. The repeal of the Test 
 and Corporation Acts, so long resisted, and at last so happily con- 
 ceded, was the next great step towards the attainment of religious 
 liberty and peace. The repeal of the laws which, since the reign of 
 Charles the Second, have excluded our Roman Catholic fellow-sub- 
 jects from their civil rights, and from their due share of political 
 power, has now confirmed that just and true liberty, that 
 
 EQUAL AND IMPARTIAL LIBERTY, WHICH WE HAVE SO LONG STOOD 
 IN NEED OF. 
 
 The Essay on Human Understanding, which had been finished 
 during the author's retirement in Holland, and the English version of 
 the Letter on Toleration, were now published on his return to his na- 
 tive country. They contributed, as Stewart has observed in his excel- 
 lent Dissertation, to prepare the thinking part of his readers, in a de- 
 gree till then unknown, for the unshackled use of the understanding. 
 Perhaps it is not too much to say, that if Luther delivered the 
 
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178 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Christian world from the thraldom* of the priesthood in matters of 
 religion; Locke, in no less degree, contributed, by his method of bold 
 examination, and by his ardent search for truth, to deliver the world 
 from the thraldom of errors and prejudices. 
 
 It has been observed by Mr. D. Stewart, and also by Sir 
 James Mackintosh,-}- who, both as a writer and orator, is so 
 eminently distinguished by his profound research and splendid 
 talents, that the course and circumstances of Locke's life were, 
 in every respect, favourable to the production of such a work as 
 the Essay on Human Understanding. Mr. Stewart remarks, that 
 the study of medicine formed one of the best preparations for the 
 study of mind ; and that the busy and diversified scenes through 
 which the author afterwards passed, contributed, not less than the 
 academical retirement of his former life, to enhance the peculiar 
 and characteristic merit of his works. On his first entrance into life, 
 as he himself says, " I no sooner perceived myself in the world, but I 
 found myself in a storm;" and thus he might well describe the 
 civil wars, and the military rule, which prevailed from his childhood 
 to his twenty-sixth year. Educated then, to use the words of Sir 
 James Mackintosh, amongst the English Dissenters, during the short 
 period of their political ascendency, he early imbibed that deep 
 piety and ardent spirit of liberty which actuated that body of men ; 
 and he probably imbibed also in their schools the disposition to me- 
 taphysical inquiries, which has everywhere accompanied the Cal- 
 vinistic theology. Sects, founded on the right of private judgment, 
 naturally tend to purify themselves from intolerance, and in time 
 learn to respect in others the freedom of thought, to the exercise of 
 which they owe their own existence. By the Independent divines 
 who were his instructors, our philosopher was taught those prin- 
 ciples of religious liberty which they were the first to disclose to the 
 world. When free inquiry led him to milder dogmas, he retained 
 the severe morality which was their honourable singularity, and 
 
 * It has been said that Luther made every man his own Pope; i. e. established the right of 
 private judgment. 
 
 t Vide a most admirable article in the Edinburgh Review, vol. xxxvi. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 179 
 
 which continues to distinguish their successors in those communities 
 which have abandoned their rigorous opinions. His professional 
 pursuits afterwards engaged him in the study of the physical 
 sciences, at the moment when the spirit of experiment and observa- 
 tion was in its youthful fervour, and when a repugnance to scholastic 
 subtleties was the ruling passion of the scientific world. At a more 
 mature age he was admitted into the society of great wits and ambi- 
 tious politicians ; during the remainder of his life he was often a 
 man of business, and always a man of the world, without much un- 
 disturbed leisure, and probably with that abated relish for merely 
 abstract speculation, which is the inevitable result of converse with 
 society, and experience in affairs. But his political connexions, 
 agreeing with his early bias, made him a zealous advocate of liberty 
 in opinion and in government ; and he gradually united his zeal and 
 activity to the illustration of such general principles as are the guar- 
 dians of those great interests of human society. Almost all his 
 writings (even his Essay itself) were occasional, and intended direct- 
 ly to counteract the enemies of reason and freedom in his own 
 age. The first Letter on Toleration, the most original, perhaps, of 
 his works, was composed in Holland, in a retirement where he was 
 forced to conceal himself from the tyranny which pursued him into 
 a foreign land ; and it was published in England, in the year of the 
 Revolution, to vindicate the Toleration Act, of which the author 
 lamented the imperfection. 
 
 As no one is so capable of describing the extent and scope of 
 Locke's improvements as the philosophical writer whose words have 
 been already quoted, the same high authority is again appealed to 
 in the following transcript, with all due acknowledgment, and with 
 an unfeigned deference and admiration for his talents and judg- 
 ment. 
 
 " It is with the Second Book that the Essay on Human Under- 
 standing properly begins, and this Book is the first considerable 
 contribution in modern times towards the experimental philosophy 
 of the human mind. The road was pointed out by Bacon ; and by 
 excluding the fallacious analogies of thought to outward appear- 
 
 2 A 2 
 
1 80 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ance, Descartes may be said to have marked out the limits of the 
 proper field of inquiry. But before Locke, there was no example in 
 intellectual philosophy of an ample enumeration of facts, collected 
 and arranged for the express purpose of legitimate generalisation. 
 He himself tells us, that ' his purpose was, in a plain historical 
 method, to give an account of the ways by which our understanding 
 comes to attain those notions of things we have.' In more modern 
 phraseology this would be called an attempt to ascertain, by obser- 
 vation, the most general facts relating to the origin of human know- 
 ledge. There is something in the plainness, and even homeliness, 
 of Locke's language, which strongly indicates his very clear con- 
 ception, that experience must be his sole guide, and his unwilling- 
 ness, by the use of scholastic language, to imitate the example of 
 those who make a show of explaining facts, while, in reality, they 
 only ' darken council by words without knowledge.' He is con- 
 tent to collect the laws of thought, as he would have collected those 
 of any other object of physical knowledge, from observation alone. 
 He seldom embarrasses himself with physiological hypotheses, or 
 wastes his strength in those insoluble problems, which were then 
 called metaphysical. Though in the execution of his plan there 
 are many and great defects, the conception of it is entirely conform- 
 able to the Verulamian method of induction, which, even after the 
 fullest enumeration of particulars, requires a cautious examination 
 of each subordinate class of phenomena, before we attempt, through 
 a very slowly ascending series of generalisation, to soar to compre- 
 hensive laws. 
 
 "Few books have contributed more to rectify prejudice, to under^ 
 mine established errors, to diffuse a just mode of thinking, to excite 
 a fearless spirit of inquiry, and yet to contain it within the boun-r 
 daries which Nature has prescribed to the human understanding. 
 An amendment of the general habits of thought is, in most parts of 
 knowledge, an object as important as even the discovery of new 
 truths, though it is not so palpable, nor in its nature so capable of 
 being estimated by superficial observers. In the mental and moral 
 world, which scarcely admit of any thing which can be called 
 
JOHN LOCKE. Igl 
 
 discovery, the correction of the intellectual habit is probably the 
 greatest service which can be rendered to science. In this respect 
 the merit of Locke is unrivalled ; his writings have diffused 
 throughout the civilized world the love of civil liberty ; the spirit of 
 toleration and charity in religious differences ; the disposition to 
 reject whatever is obscure, fantastic, or hypothetical in speculation ; 
 to reduce verbal disputes to their proper value ; to abandon pro- 
 blems which admit of no solution ; to distrust whatever cannot be 
 clearly expressed ; to render theory the simple expression of facts ; 
 and to prefer those studies which most directly contribute to 
 human happiness. If Bacon first discovered the rules by which 
 knowledge is improved, Locke has most contributed to make man- 
 kind at large observe them. He has done most, though often by 
 remedies of silent and almost insensible operation, to cure those 
 mental distempers which obstructed the adoption of these rules ; 
 and thus led to that general diffusion of a healthful and vigorous 
 understanding, which is at once the greatest of all improvements, 
 and the instrument by which all other improvements must be ac- 
 complished. He has left to posterity the instructive example of a 
 prudent reformer, and of a philosophy temperate as well as liberal, 
 which spares the feelings of the good, and avoids direct hostility 
 with obstinate and formidable prejudice. These benefits are very 
 slightly counterbalanced by some political doctrines, liable to mis- 
 application, and by the scepticism of some of his ingenious fol- 
 lowers ; an inconvenience to which every philosophical school is 
 exposed, which does not steadily limit its theory to a mere expo- 
 sition of experience. If Locke made few discoveries, Socrates made 
 none ; yet both did more for the improvement of the understanding, 
 and not less for the progress of knowledge, than the authors of the 
 most brilliant discoveries. Mr. Locke will ever be regarded as one 
 of the great ornaments of the English nation ; and the most distant 
 posterity will speak of him, as in the language of the poet, 
 
 " O Decus Angliacse certe, O Lux altera gentis." 
 
 Gray de Princ. cogitand. 
 
132 '^^^ LIFE OF 
 
 With respect to the style of the Essay, it has been observed by a 
 most competent* judge, that it resembles that of a well-educated 
 man of the world, rather than of a recluse student, who had made 
 an object of the art of composition. It everywhere abounds with 
 colloquial expressions, which he had probably caught by the ear 
 from those whom he considered as models of good conversation ; 
 and hence, though it now seems somewhat antiquated, and not alto- 
 gether suited to the dignity of the subject, it may be presumed to 
 have contributed its share towards the great object of turning the 
 thoughts of his contemporaries to logical and metaphysical inquiries.f 
 
 We learn from Lord Shaftesbury and from Addison, that the 
 Essay very soon after its publication excited considerable atten- 
 tion. Lord Shaftesbury was one of the first who sounded the alarm 
 against what he conceived to be the drift of that philosophy which 
 denies the existence of innate principles. The most direct of all his 
 attacks upon Locke is to be found in the eighth letter, addressed to 
 a student at the university, which was published long after the 
 death of Locke. The two following letters, from the same Lord 
 Shaftesbury, then Lord Ashley, are selected from a great number writ- 
 ten by the same person now remaining amongst Mr. Locke's papers : 
 the one dated 1689, is near the period of the publication of the 
 Essay, when, considering his intimacy with the author, he must have 
 seen it; the other, dated 1694, is soon after the publication of the 
 second edition. They both appear to be aimed against the new 
 philosophy, and being written to Locke, it is probable that the 
 opinions contained in the Essay are the real objects of attack. 
 After perusing these letters, the reader will probably be of opinion, 
 that the friends of the author of the Essay gave him as much 
 trouble as his public adversaries. 
 
 * Mr. Dugald Stewart. 
 
 f In a new translation of Aristotle's Rhetoric, 1823, it is said of Locke's Essay, " This 
 admirable work is recommended by clearness of conception, soundness of judgment, accuracy of 
 reasoning, and a richness of fancy, equal to the illustration of every subject. When we add to 
 all these the purity, aptness, and variety of his style, it is no wonder that the Essay on Human 
 Understanding should have formed a new epoch in philosophy. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 133 
 
 LORD ASHLEY TO MR. LOCKE. 
 " SIR, Aug. 1689. 
 
 " I WAS SO concerned at not being able to explain myself on some 
 
 notions that I had only started to a discourse which, to excuse myself, I 
 
 must say was begun by you, that whether it was only the affection that 
 
 every one has to his own that made me fond of them, yet, rather than they 
 
 should die so, I resolved to engage farther in their defence the next day, 
 
 with the same impudence that I have used you to. But as good luck would 
 
 have it for you, you were gone abroad, so I missed the gain of an hour or 
 
 two by you, and you the loss of as much upon me ; yet so far was I from 
 
 learning the discretion I mought by this that I grew worse than before ; 
 
 those thoughts that were not so well satisfied with themselves, but feared 
 
 their doom from you, proud and insolent with this reprieve, thought now 
 
 of nothing less than living ; and those that were clearer conscienced, and had 
 
 before expected quarter, now fell to refining upon themselves, in hopes still 
 
 better to deserve it ; so that here was I drawn in and disposed of at the 
 
 caprice of these impertinent thoughts, (for to speak ingenuously, I care not 
 
 a straw for either one or other of them, or what becomes of them,) and for 
 
 all what resistance my materiality could make, this troublesome immateriality, 
 
 as the distinction is that you taught me, got the better, and I was forced 
 
 to think whether I would or no. Being thus, at length, forced to know 
 
 and acknowledge the existence and much superior force of an immaterial 
 
 part ; so finding it came upon me with such violence, I quitted hold, and 
 
 let myself be carried down in the midst of this immaterial stream, which 
 
 methinks, I had much rather have called this muddy one, if you would have 
 
 let one alone to one's natural epithets. 
 
 " This here must certainly maze you, if, as I cannot expect otherwise, 
 
 yovi should have forgotten the subject of the last discourse I had with you ; 
 
 therefore, to recover you out of what confusion such a wild style as this 
 
 may have put you in, know the truth, that being caught in an idle hour, 
 
 and cut off from the recourse to books, having only this very pen and paper 
 
 left me for my defence, I bethought myself of the practice you have so 
 
 often advised me to ; and here being a very fair occasion offered, I resolved 
 
 to muster up my disorderly thoughts, and make all the strength I could for 
 
 those yesterday's notions that had fainted but at the apprehension of your 
 
 siding against them, and that only in your absence could come to some- 
 
184 THE LIFE OF 
 
 thing, where they might have liberty to come to some head ere they were 
 crushed, and were not to be destroyed so still in their rise ; but if, after all, 
 that was to be their fate to perish under you, that I might at least have the 
 honour of yielding with more resistance, and you of overcoming with 
 greater opposition. 
 
 " This is enough to vindicate myself from what may appear shocking 
 to any thing that relates to religion by the side of the argument I have 
 chose to defend, which I know you would have me do with vigour ; for as 
 to myself, to make use of Monsieur Fontenelle's words, ' Je respecte 
 jusqu'aux delicatesses excessives, que Ton a sur le fait de la religion.' 
 
 " Thus far in my letter I have let you read without interrupting you ; 
 but for the rest that follows, unless you are as idle when you receive it as 
 I am now I write it, pray put it up in your pocket, and do not read it 
 till you happen to be so, how long soever it may be till that time. 
 
 " So then to our argument. Whatever was of matter, you denied to be 
 any part of the soul, and the only part you justified to be immaterial was 
 thought. Now, what will thoiight prove when you do not appropriate it 
 to a body ? What is it that thinks, when no material being does ? What 
 is thought but the ideas of natural objects as they represent themselves to 
 sensible creatures, and if these ideas do not cease with the sensibility of the 
 creature, why do you attribute their original to matter ? Will you affirm, 
 that that which subsists without matter, should have sprung from matter, 
 and that that which sprung out of matter should outlive it ? Again, how 
 is it, that in distempers and obstructions in the order and motion of the 
 matter of our bodies, that the thinking faculty is by these obstructed : may 
 there be a medium supposed, such a liaison, compounded of materiality and 
 immateriality to work these mutual influences? or what hold else shall 
 plain matter have on that which has not any thing of its own nature ? 
 Again, does the thought fail ever, as we know the senses may ? or do we 
 think, and not know it? feel, and not know it? see, and not know it? 
 I would answer, we do not then feel, we do not then see : how then is it, 
 that we still think, and think on you must ; for you dare not allow of a 
 suspension of the exercise of thought, for fear of destroying the only re- 
 liance of its being. Thus much in short, but let us take away all materiahty 
 from the faculty of thinking, and all from the objects it is to work upon, 
 (for this must be to suppose it completely independent from matter,) and 
 then give me an idea of what this thought or idea is to be, or do but remove 
 
JOHN LOCKE. Ig5 
 
 a thing from us by the discovery of it to the sense or imagination of all 
 living creatures like us ; will you say an idea shall simply rise from this 
 real being ? as thus, before it was discovered the earth moved, or that there 
 were antipodes, was there from this either thought or idea for several ages 
 in the known part of our world ? Creatures dizzied, have fancied it to 
 move, and, by a wild incoherence of rambling thought, men may have been 
 fancied opposite as flies on a table. But this makes no idea of existence of 
 those things ; for the very ideas, on which it must then be said to have been 
 received, themselves hinder the framing of such a one, and show it to be 
 only accidental classing of ideas, that have no just relation to one another. 
 In short, from a being hid from the conceptions of all sensible creatures, (but 
 such a one you cannot expect me to instance,) there can no idea or thought 
 arise ; for if it be inanimate, it cannot have an idea of itself : therefore, as 
 there is no idea but from things substantial, so there cannot be any from 
 such but by the communication of them to the senses ; and thus, we owe all 
 to our sensibility ; and by the measure this decreases, the other must. 
 
 " But, to conclude with the best my apprehension will afford me, 
 I define thought as a name given, not to the power whereby animated 
 bodies are prepared and rendered capable of receiving the impressions of 
 ideas, (for that Nature alone is to give an account of, and how matter in 
 some bodies is animated, and in others not,) but to the action, the evident 
 workings of exterior objects, by their ideas on sensible creatures, vdio 
 receive them either by the immediate and forcible application of the objects 
 to the senses, or by more remotely and indirectly from the impressions they 
 have left. This depends on the natural composition of the brain, or other 
 essential parts, as it is coarser or finer; for as in animated creatures, from 
 those that are but in the first degree removed from vegetables, to us that 
 esteem ourselves in the farthest, the senses multiply and grow in vigour ; so 
 do they, when arrived to a sufficient number and force, retain the many 
 ideas they receive, and receive them afterwards by reflection. But here the 
 imperfection of the remaining impressions, which the intervention of time 
 has occasioned, or that originally may have been imperfect, and the obscu- 
 rity of a dubious variety of these occurring representations, breed such 
 alteration and confusion, that there is often great difficulty and trouble ere 
 a fixed idea be framed in the mind ; that, last remaining, being the subse- 
 quent idea of the preceding ones, and formed by their concurrence. Those 
 being just, orderly, and full, the general comprehensive idea that springs 
 
 2 B 
 
IQQ THE LIFE OF 
 
 thence will be true, and the nature of the thing described in the mind will 
 appear as it is ; whereas, if on the contrary, they prove weak, deceitful, 
 confused, or imperfect, the conclusive ideas that are drawn from and formed 
 out of those will be defective, corrupt, uncertain, false. I profess myself 
 now, as far as I can, (and till I know more of myself you will excuse 
 me) as far, that is, as materiality will go, 
 
 Entirely yours, 
 
 A. Ashley." * 
 
 " MR. LOCKE, St. Giles's, Sept. 29, 1694. 
 
 " You may most certainly be assured, that if out of any studies of mine, 
 which you mention, I could draw any thing I thought could be any ways 
 profitable, or other than superfluous to you, I should not fail to communi- 
 cate it without any need of being pressed ; since that all the end to which 
 my studies, such as they are, have any leaning or bent, is but to learn me 
 this one thing, in short — how to communicate every thing freely — how 
 to be more sociable, and more a friend. How is it possible that I should be 
 a niggard here, and not impart all that I were able ? It is not with me as 
 with an empiric, one that is studying of curiosities, raising of new inven- 
 tions, that are to gain credit to the author ; starting of new notions, that are 
 to amuse the world, and serve them for diversion, or for trial of their acute- 
 ness, (which is all one as if it were some new play, as chess, or a game of 
 cards that were invented;) — it is not, in my case, as with one of the men of 
 new systems, who are to build the credit of their own invented ones upon the 
 ruin of the ancienter, and the discredit of those learned men that went before. 
 Descartes, or Mr. Hobbes, or any of their improvers, have the same reason, 
 to make ado, and be jealous about their notions and discoveries as they call 
 them, as a practising apothecary or a mountebank has to be jealous about 
 the compositions that are to go by his name ; for, if it be not a livelihood is 
 aimed, it is a reputation, and what I contend for reputation in I must neces- 
 sarily envy another man's possession of. But as for me, could I make any 
 of those admirable discoveries, which were nothing worth but to be com- 
 mended for their subtility, I would do as Timon did, (though out of a just 
 contrary principle,) when he found gold, — after I had by chance dug upon it, 
 and found what it was, I would put the clod over it again and say nothing 
 of it, but forget it if I could. For my part, I am so far from thinking that 
 mankind need any new discoveries, or that they lie in the dark, and are un- 
 
 * Afterwards the third Earl of Shaftesbury, Author of the " Characteristics," &c. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 137 
 
 happy for want of them, that I know not what we could ask of God to 
 know more than we do, or easily may do. The thing that I would ask of 
 God should be to make men live up to what they know, and that they 
 might be so wise as to desire to know no other things than what belonged 
 to them, and what lay plain before them, and to know those to purpose ; 
 and that all other affectation of knowledge he would preserve us from as 
 from a disease, in which sort of knowledge if we excelled ever so much, 
 and were masters of all as far as we coveted, it would not help us to be one 
 jot the honester or better creatures. If there be any one that knows not, 
 or believes not that all things in the universe are done for the best, and ever 
 will go on so, because conducted by the same good cause; if there be any 
 one who knows nothing like this of God, or can think of him constantly in 
 this manner, and who cannot see that he himself is a rational and a sociable 
 creature by his nature, and has an end to which he should refer his shghtest 
 actions, such a one is indeed wanting of knowledge. But if this be known, 
 (as what is easier to know ?) there is not then one study or science that 
 signifies a rush, or that is not worse than ignorance, which gives a man 
 no help in the pursuance of what he has learnt to be his duty ; assists him 
 not in the government of the irrational and brutal part of himself; which 
 neither makes him more truly satisfied with what God does in the world, 
 (for that is loving God,) nor more sociable, more honest, or more just, 
 by removing of those passions which he has always to struggle with, that he 
 may preserve himself so. If there are any other sciences that are worthy of 
 esteem, they are what must relate to the well-being of mankind in societies ; 
 and on that account a button-maker is to be esteemed if he improves his 
 art, and adds some conveniency to life. But how the founders of meta- 
 physics, of rhetoric, of the arts of reasoning upon every thing, and never 
 coming to end, of the arts that lie in words, and the turns of them, and 
 the divisions that may be run upon them ; how, I say, these men came 
 to be preferred to the commonest mechanics, I cannot tell. Anciently, 
 these notable inquisitive men, that were curious in what signified 
 nothing, were called by a name that they thought themselves highly ho- 
 noured with, and aspired no farther ; they were called sophists, and never 
 expected to be treated in the style of philosophers, or professors of philo- 
 sophy. Who were true philosophers those wise men showed, (for amongst 
 them the name came up,) that were in early times in Greece, whom the 
 fancy of people that succeeded put into a certain number called seven, 
 
 2 B 2 
 
Xgg THE LIFE OF 
 
 though the number was far greater ; of whom not one but was signally- 
 remarkable for some service to his Commonwealth ; who were all united in 
 the strictest friendship, and by good offices, and helps one to another ; and 
 whose study was that of knowing themselves, and learning how to be ser- 
 viceable to others. When Socrates lived it was still thus, for he made the 
 sophists know themselves and keep their distance ; but when after his death, 
 the Socratic spirit sunk much, then began philosophy and sophistry to be 
 better acquainted ; but it was never known till more late days, that to 
 profess philosophy was not to profess a life, and that it might be said of one, 
 that he was a great man in philosophy, whilst nobody thought it to the 
 purpose to ask, how did he live ? what instances of his fortitude, contempt 
 of interest, patience, &c. ? What is philosophy, then, if nothing of this is 
 in the case ? ^^hat signifies it to know (if we could know) what elements 
 the earth was made from, or how many atoms went to make up the round 
 ball we live upon, though we know it to an atom ? What signifies it to 
 know whether the chaos was cast in Dr. Burnet's mould, or if God did it a 
 quite different way ? What if we knew the exact system of that of our 
 frames ; should we learn any more than this, that God did all things wisely 
 and for the best ? And are we not already satisfied of this, or may be 
 assured of it by the thousandth part of what we know and see? If we 
 should discover any thing that led us to conceive what were contrary to 
 this, we should have learnt that which was worse than nothing. And better, 
 then, we know already Ave cannot learn to know ; for God cannot by any 
 discovery be conceived to be more wise than perfectly so, and such it is 
 easy to conceive him to be without knowing any more of the things of 
 nature than we already do. What I count true learning, and all that we 
 can profit by is, to know ourselves ; what it is that makes us low and base, 
 stubborn against reason ; to be corrupted and drawn away from virtue, of 
 different tempers, inconstant, and inconsistent with ourselves ; to know how 
 to be always friends with Providence, though death and many such dreadful 
 businesses come in the way ; and to be sociable and good towards all men, 
 though they turn miscreants, or are injurious to us. Whilst I can get any 
 thing that teaches this ; whilst I can search any age or language that can 
 assist me here ; whilst such are philosophers and such philosophy, whence I 
 can learn aught from, of this kind, there is no labour or study, no learning 
 that I would not undertake. This is what I know to be sufficiently de- 
 spised ; for who is there that can think so much to the dishonour and 
 
JOHN LOCKE. Igg 
 
 prejudice of himself as to think he has odious vices within tiim which only 
 labour and exercise can throw out ? or who, if he sees sometimes any such 
 ill sights in himself, can endure to look on that side long, but turns to that 
 other side which his flatterers (and himself the greatest of them) always 
 readily present to him. To look to our bodies and our fortunes is a sohd 
 and serious work, and has been, is, and will keep in good fashion in the 
 world. Anlmi autem medicina, (says one who spoke, yet in a much better 
 time than this,) nu tarn desiderata antequam inventa, nu tam culta posteaquam 
 cognita est, nu tam multis grata et probata 'plurihus etiam suspecta et invisa. 
 . . . But I must end, for I have almost out-writ the post-time. You 
 see what it is to get me a-talking. I can add nothing now more than that 
 I am with all sincerity 
 
 Your entire friend and humble servant, 
 
 A. Ashley. 
 
 " I have not yet received the book, but I have a thousand obligations to 
 my Lady Masham." 
 
 About four years after the publication of the Essay, that is, 
 towards the end of 1694, the new philosophy began to excite some 
 attention at Oxford. It was Mr. Wynne, Fellow of Jesus College, 
 who first appears to have recommended the Essay in that Univer- 
 sity ; and it gives me pleasure to make known the opinions and the 
 efforts of that excellent man, who was sincerely desirous of pro- 
 moting the advancement of knowledge and science. 
 
 TO THE HONOURED MH. J. LOCKE. 
 " HONOURED SIR, Gates, in Essex. 
 
 " After the repeated perusal of your excellent Essay concerning Hu- 
 man Understanding, (which will ever afford me the most agreeable and 
 instructive entertainment,) though I feel myself deeply impressed with 
 motives of the greatest respect and esteem for the author, yet I am very 
 sensible how impertinent it would be for one of my rank and condition to 
 pretend to make any private acknowledgments for so public and universal a 
 benefit. But having some thoughts relating to your book, which may be 
 of advantage to the public, I make bold to offer them to you, not doubting 
 but that your candour will pardon my presumption, though your judgment 
 should disallow my proposal. Ever since I had the happiness to be ac- 
 
190 THE LIFE OF 
 
 quainted with your accurate Essay, I have been persuaded that the greatest 
 service that could be done for the judicious and thinking part of the world, 
 next to the composing of it, would be to bring it into vogue and credit, and 
 thereby into common and general use. If men did not labour under inve- 
 terate prejudices and obstinate prepossessions, this might easily be effected. 
 And yet, notwithstanding these, the truths contained in your book are so 
 clear and evident, the notions so natural and agreeable to reason, that I 
 imagine none that carefully reads and duly considers them, can avoid being 
 enlightened and instructed by them, I have for some time made it my 
 business, in my little sphere, to recommend it to all those that I have any 
 influence over, nor did I ever meet with any, who, after an attentive and 
 dihgent perusal, complained of being disappointed in their expectation ; 
 but, on the contrary, they owned themselves to have been infinitely bene- 
 fited by it. By the light which they have derived from it, they so clearly 
 perceive how useless and insignificant our vulgar systems are, that they 
 have resolved to trifle no longer, but to rid their hands and heads entirely 
 of them ; and in all probability it would have the same effect upon us all, 
 if it were but read and considered by all. Now, in order to this, I am in- 
 clined to think that it would be very useful to publish an abridgment of 
 the book. If some of the larger explications (some of which are but inci- 
 dental to the general design of the work) were contracted, it might be 
 reduced to the compass of a moderate 8vo. I need not represent to you 
 the advantages of a small over a large volume ; but shall only tell you that 
 it would be of excellent use to us of this place, to be put into the hands of 
 our young men, and be read and explained to them instead of those trifling 
 and insignificant books, which serve only to perplex and confound, instead 
 of enlightening and improving our reason. I do not see that there is 
 any thing wanting in it to complete the third part in your division of 
 science. I know you mention an epitome of the work in your preface ; 
 but 'tis, as I am informed, in a language not commonly understood among 
 us, and too scarce to answer the end which I propose. If, upon this inti- 
 mation, you shall think what is here offered worthy of your regard, I 
 would willingly contribute any assistance that I may be capable of to ease 
 you of the trouble. I humbly crave your pardon for this bold intrusion, 
 and beg leave to subscribe myself, what I sincerely am, with all respect 
 imaginable, honoured Sir, 
 
 Jesus College, Oxon. Your obedient and very humble Servant, 
 
 Jan. 31. 1695. JoHN WyNNE." 
 
JOHN LOCKE. . 191 
 
 THE ANSWER TO THE ABOVE LETTER, INDORSED J. LOCKE TO J. WYNNE. 
 
 « Sir, Gates, 3d Feb., 1694-5. 
 
 " You cannot think it strange that I should be surprised at the receipt 
 of a letter of so much civility to me from a person I had not the honour to 
 know, and of so great commendation of my book from a place where I 
 thought it little taken notice of; and though the compHments you are 
 pleased to bestow both on me and it are above what belongs to either, yet I 
 cannot but acknowledge myself sensibly obliged by the kind thoughts you 
 are biassed with in favour both of me and my Essay. It having been began 
 by chance, and continued with no other design but a free inquiry into the 
 subject, it would have been great vanity in me to publish it with hopes, that 
 what had been writ for the diversion of my idle hours, should be made 
 serious business of studious men who know how to employ their time. 
 Those who had leisure to throw away in speculations a little out of the road, 
 I guessed might perhaps look into it. If by the credit and recommendation 
 of those, who, like you, have entertained it with a favourable opinion, it be 
 read farther, and get into the hands of men of letters and study, it is more 
 than I could expect from a Treatise I writ in a plain and popular style, 
 which having in it nothing of the air of learning, nor so much as the lan- 
 guage of the schools, was little suited to the use or relish of those, who, as 
 teachers or learners, applied themselves to the mysteries of scholastic know- 
 ledge. But you, I see, are got above fashion and prejudice ; and you must 
 give me leave to have no ordinary thoughts of a man, who, by those two 
 great opposers of all new efforts of improvement, wOl not suffer yourself to 
 be hindered from contriving how to make the way to real knowledge more 
 open and easy to those beginners who have set their faces that way. I 
 should be very glad if any thing in my book could be made useful to that 
 purpose. I agree with you, that most of the larger explications may be 
 looked on as incidental to what you design, and so may by one, who would 
 out of my book make a system of the third part in my division of science, 
 be wholly passed by or but lightly touched on ; to which let me add that 
 several of those repetitions, which for reasons then I let it go with, may be 
 omitted, and all the parts contracted into that form and bigness you propose. 
 But with my little health, and less leisure, considering that I have been so 
 long a stranger to systems, and am utterly ignorant what would suit those 
 
192 THE LIFE OF 
 
 you design it for, it is not for me to go about it, though what you have 
 said would incline me to believe it might not be wholly lost labour. It is 
 not for nothing I hope that this thought is fallen into the mind of one who 
 is much abler to execute it ; you, I see, are as much master of my notions 
 as I myself, and better able to put them together to the purpose you intend. 
 I say not this to decline giving my assistance, if you, in civihty, think I can 
 afford you any. The Abstract, which was published, in French, in the 
 Bibliotheque Universelle, of 1688, will neither in its size or design answer 
 the end you propose ; but if the rough draught of it, which I think I have 
 in English somewhere amongst my papers, may be of any use to you, you 
 may command it, or whatever service I can do you in any kind ; for I am, 
 with a very particular esteem and respect. 
 
 Sir, your most humble Servant." 
 
 After the first objection had been overcome, the success of the 
 Essay must be considered to have been very great, as its several suc- 
 cessive editions during the life of the author, as well as an excellent 
 translation by M. Coste into the French language, sufficiently attest. 
 If, however, the Essay received the approbation of enlightened men, 
 not only in England, but on the Continent, yet after an interval of 
 several years from its first publication, when time had been allowed 
 to sift its merits, and decide its character, it excited the disapproba- 
 tion of the Heads of Houses at Oxford, who at one time took coun- 
 sel to banish it from that seat of learning. Their proceedings are 
 described in the following letter : — 
 
 MR. TYRRELL TO LOCKE. 
 " DEAR SIR, April, 1704. 
 
 " In answer to yours received by our good friend, Mr. Church, the best 
 information I can give you concerning the forbidding the reading of your 
 Essay is as foUows : That in the beginning of November last, there was a 
 meeting of the Heads of Houses then in town ; it was there proposed by 
 Dr. MiU, and seconded by Dr. Maunder, that there was a gi-eat decay of 
 long-cut exercises in the University, which could not be attributed to any 
 thing so much as the new philosophy which was so much read, and in parti- 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 193 
 
 cular your Book and Le Clerc's Philosophy : against which it was 
 oiFered, that a Programma should be published, forbidding all tutors to 
 read them to their pupils. This was like, at first, to have passed, till it was 
 opposed by some others there present, and particularly by Dr. Dunstan ; 
 who not only vindicated your Book, but said that he thought the making 
 the Programma would do more harm than good : first, by making so much 
 more noise abroad, as if the University went about to forbid the reading of 
 all philosophy but that of Aristotle ; next, that he thought that, instead of 
 the end proposed, it would make young men more desirous to buy and read 
 those books, when they were once forbid, than they were before. Then, at 
 another meeting, their resolution upon the whole was, that upon Dr. Ed- 
 wards' proposal they agreed, instead of a Programma, that all Heads of 
 Houses should give the tutors private instructions not to read those books 
 to their pupils, and to prevent their doing it by themselves as much as lay 
 in their power ; and yet I do not find, after all, that any such thing has been 
 put in execution in those Colleges where I have any acquaintance, as parti- 
 cularly in University, Magdalen, New College, and Jesus, all which have 
 Heads that are sufficiently of the High Church party ; so that I believe 
 they, finding it like to have little effect, have thought it best to let it 
 drop. Mr. Percy, the son of your old acquaintance at Christ-church, not 
 only read your book himself, but encouraged others to do it. I hope you 
 will not impute the indiscreet zeal of a few to the whole University, any 
 more than we should lay the failing of the Bishops to the Church. 
 
 Your most faithful servant, 
 
 T. Tyrrell." 
 
 It is here necessary to give some account of the attack which 
 Dr. Stillingfleet, Bishop of Worcester, made upon the Essay, as also 
 upon the principles of the author. If it be true, as it was reported 
 at the time, that the Reverend Prelate died from vexation at the 
 issue of the contest he had engaged in, his memory as a metaphy- 
 sician has at least been preserved from oblivion by the celebrity of 
 his antagonist, and by his own signal defeat. 
 
 The circumstances which led to the controversy were these : — 
 Toland had published a book, called " Christianity not Mysterious," 
 in which he endeavoured to prove that there is nothing in the 
 
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194 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Christian religion contrary to reason, or even above it ; and in ex- 
 plaining his doctrines had used several arguments from the Essay on 
 Human Understanding. It happened also that some Unitarian Trea- 
 tises, published nearly at the same time, maintained that there was 
 nothing in the Christian religion but what was rational and intelligi- 
 ble ; and Locke having asserted in his writings, that Revelation deli- 
 vers nothing contrary to reason ; the Bishop of Worcester, * defend- 
 ing the mysteries of the Trinity against Toland and the Unitarians, 
 denounced some of Locke's principles as heretical, and classed his 
 works with those of the above-mentioned writers. Locke answered 
 the Bishop, who replied the same year. This reply was confuted by 
 a second letter of Locke's, which produced a second answer from the 
 Bishop in 1698. Locke again replied in a third letter, wherein he 
 treated more largely of the certainty of reason by ideas, of " the cer- 
 tainty of faith, of the resurrection of the same body, and the imma- 
 teriality of the soul." He showed the perfect agreement of his 
 principles with the Christian religion, and that he had advanced 
 nothing which had the least tendency to scepticism, with which 
 the Bishop had very ignorantly charged him. The death of Stil- 
 
 * It seems probable that Locke and Dr. Stillingfleet, though now engaged in adverse contro- 
 versy, had formerly belonged to the same party ; the Bishop of Lincoln having conferred upon 
 him his first dignity in the church at Shaftesbury's request. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF SHAFTESBURY, AT WINBORNE, ST. GILEs', 
 
 DORSETSHIRE. 
 
 " MY VERY GOOD LORD, Hatton Garden, Jan. 27, 1674. 
 
 " That your Lordship may perceive I have not been unmindful of the promise I made, I 
 have conferred on Dr. Stillingfleet the Prebend of North Kelsey, which is the more acceptable to 
 him, because it lies very conveniently, and is that which he desired. 
 
 " I wish your Lordship all happiness from my heart. The times are bad, but I comfort 
 myself with the close of Bishop Duppa's Epistle before Archbishop Spottswood's History of 
 Scotland — 
 
 ' Non, si mala nunc, et olim sic erit,' 
 
 " Beseeching God to guide and protect you, I rest, 
 
 " Your Lordship's most humble and affectionate servant, 
 
 G. Lincoln.", 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 195 
 
 lingfleet put an end to the controversy ; in which we cannot but 
 admire Locke's strength of reasoning, the great clearness and preci- 
 sion with which he explains his own notions and principles, and ex- 
 poses and confutes those of his adversary. The Bishop was by no 
 means able to maintain his opinions against Locke, whose reasons he 
 did not understand any more than the subject itself about which 
 they disputed. The Reverend Prelate had employed his time 
 chiefly in the study of Ecclesiastical Antiquities, and in multifarious 
 reading ; but was no great philosopher, and had never accustomed 
 himself to that close way of thinking and reasoning, in which Locke 
 so highly excelled. Notwithstanding the reason which Locke had 
 to complain of the unfounded charges brought against him by the 
 Bishop writing upon a subject upon which he was wholly ignorant, 
 yet he always treated him with the respect due to his rank, whilst 
 he triumphantly confuted his mistakes, and from his own words con- 
 victed him of inaccuracy and ignorance. 
 
 Never was a controversy, Le Clerc observes, managed with so 
 much skill on one side, and on the other part with so much misre- 
 presentation, confusion, and ignorance, alike discreditable to the 
 cause and the advocate. 
 
 In other times, and under other circumstances, had a contest 
 arisen between a Philosopher and a Churchman, the cause, if un- 
 favourable to the latter, would have been removed into the In- 
 quisition, or into the Court of High Ecclesiastical Commission. 
 Perhaps this Prelate of our reformed church might, in the extre- 
 mity of his distress, (as* " the method and management of that holy 
 office were not wholly unknown to his Lordship, nor had escaped 
 his great reading,") breathe a regret, that he could not employ the 
 arms of the Roman Church, or of the Stuart Princes, and silence his 
 adversary by the same ultima ratio of ecclesiastics, which he had 
 seen so successfully used against Galileo, scarce fifty years before. 
 
 In a letter written to his relation, Mr.f King, during the con- 
 
 * Second Reply to the Bishop of Worcester. t Afterwards Lord Chancellor. 
 
 2 c 2 
 
196 THE LIFE OF 
 
 troversy with the Bishop of Worcester, Locke, in noticing the ob- 
 servations and remarks of some of his adversaries, thus expresses 
 his contempt : — 
 
 * * * * November 5, 1698. 
 
 " If those gentlemen think that the Bishop hath the advantage by not 
 making good one of those many propositions in debate between us, but by 
 asking a question, a personal question, nothing to the purpose, I shall not 
 envy him such a victory. In the mean time, if this be aU they have to say, 
 the world that sees not with their eyes, will see what disputants for truth 
 those are, who make to themselves occasions of calumny, and think that a 
 triumph. The Bishop is to prove, that my book has something in it that 
 is inconsistent with the doctrine of the Trinity, and all that upon examin- 
 ation he does, is to ask me, whether I believe the doctrine of the Trinity 
 as it has been received in the Christian Church ? a worthy proof !" * 
 
 And in a draft of a letter on the proper manner of conducting a 
 controversy, Locke says : — 
 
 " If readers were not willing to cosin themselves, how could they, 
 
 * EXTRACT OF LETTER, FROM LIEBNITZ, TO DR. BURNET, 1697. 
 
 " Je liray avec attention les Amoebaea cle Monsieur I'Eveque de Worcester et de Monsieur 
 Locke. Je ne doute point que celui-ci ne se tire fort bien d'aft'aire. II a trop de jugement pour 
 donner prise a Messieurs les ecclesiastiques qui sont les directeurs naturels des peuples, et dont 
 il faut suivre les formulaires autant qu'il est possible. Et j'ay deja remarque dans les endroits 
 que j'ai v6s d'abord que Monsieur Locke se justifie d'une maniere tres solide. II m'est arrive 
 quelque chose d'approchant avec le celebre Monsieur Arnaud. II avait vA quelque chose de moy, 
 et il avait cr6 y trouver des mauvaises consequences, mais quand il eut vu mes explications il me 
 dechargea hautement lui-meme, et quoique nous ne fussions pas d'accord en tout, il ne laissa 
 pas de reconnoitre que mes sentimens n'avoient rien de mauvais. 
 
 " J'imagine qu'il pourra arriver la meme chose a I'egard de Monsieur de Worcester, car les 
 sentimens peuvent demeurer difFerens sans etre dangereuses ou reprehensibles. Je vous ai marque 
 autrefois en quoi je difFere un peu moy meme de Monsieur Locke, et je serai bien aise d'en 
 avoir un jour votre sentiment. Les miens en philosophic approchent un peu davantage de ceux 
 de feu Madame la Comtesse de Conway, et tient le milieu entre Platon et Democrite; puisque 
 je crois que tout se fait mechaniquement comme veulent Democrite et Descartes, centre I'opinion 
 de Monsieur Morus et ses semblables. Et que neanmoins tout se fait encore vitalement et suivant 
 les causes finales, tout etant plein de vie et de perception, centre I'opinion des Democriticiens. 
 Un ami d'Hollande me demanda si mes remarques sur les essais de Monsieur Locke ne 
 pourroient pas etre jointes a la nouvelle edition de Hollander mais je m'en excusai, car il 
 auroit ete injuste de publier dans son propre ouvrage quelque chose qui auroit pu paroitre fait 
 contre lui sans lui donner lieu d'y joindre sa reponse." 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 197 
 
 where they pretend to seek for truth and information, content 
 themselves with the jingle of words, and something they know not 
 what, that looks like a sprinkling of wit or satire, in all which they 
 find not the least improvement of their knowledge or reason. Those 
 whose aim is to divert, and make men laugh, let them write plays and 
 romances, and there sport themselves with words and false images 
 of things as much as they please. But a professor, to teach or main- 
 tain truth, should have nothing to do with all that tinsel trumpery ; 
 should speak plain and clear, and be afraid of a fallacy or equivocation, 
 however prettily it might look, and be fit to cheat the reader ; who 
 on his side should, in an author who pretends instruction, abomi- 
 nate all such arts, and him that uses them, as much as he would a 
 common cheat who endeavours to put off brass money for standard 
 silver." 
 
 It was not in this public controversy only that the author of the 
 Essay was obliged to labour in defence of his work. He was equally 
 anxious to satisfy the scruples of his friends, and to clear up any 
 doubts and difficulties which they suggested. To Mr. Tyrrell he 
 writes in explanation of some points which he had misunderstood, 
 and successfully obviates the chief objections then, and since urged 
 against what have been called the dangerous principles of the Essay. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, Gates, Aug. 4th, 90. 
 
 " I SEE you and your friends are so far from understanding me yet 
 rightly, that I shall give you the trouble of a few lines to make my mean- 
 ing clearer, if possible, than it is ; though I am apt to think, that to any 
 unprejudiced reader, who will consider what I there ought to say, and not 
 what he will fancy I should say besides my purpose, it is as plain as any 
 thing can well be. — L. 1, c. 3, s. 13. where it was proper for me to speak 
 my opinion of the law of nature, I affirm in as direct words as can ordinarily 
 be made use of to express one's thoughts, that there is a law of Nature 
 knowable by the light of Nature — Book second, c. 27. s. 7, and 8, where 
 I have occasion to speak indefinitely of the divine law, it is objected I could 
 mean none other but the divine revealed law exclusive of the law of nature, 
 and that for two reasons ; the first is, because I call it a law given by God 
 
198 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to mankind ; the law of Nature, then, in these men's opinions, had not God 
 for its author ; for if it had, he gave it to mankind ; and if he did, I think it 
 is no derogation to it to say, he gave it to mankind. I fear somebody on 
 the other side will from this very sentence argue, that I could not mean the 
 Mosaical or evangelical law of God. I am sure they may with more reason, 
 for neither of those, as I take it, was given to mankind ; which is a term 
 which, in my sense, includes all men. 'Tis plain the Mosaical law was not 
 given to mankind ; for it was, Hear O Israel ! and I never yet met with 
 any one that said the laws of Moses were the laws of mankind ; and as for 
 the revealed will of God in the New Testament, which was a revelation 
 made to the children of men 2000 years after Moses, and 4000 years 
 after the Creation ; how that can be called a law given to mankind is hard 
 to conceive, unless that men born before the time of the Gospel were no 
 part of mankind, or the Gospel were revealed before it was revealed. 
 
 " The other reason I find in your letter why I could not there mean 
 the law of nature, is because the divine law I there speak of has inforce- 
 ments of rewards and punishments in another life. Your letter, indeed 
 says, whose only eiifor cements, but only is of your putting in, and not mine, 
 as you will perceive if you read the passage in my book again ; and that, 
 I suppose, would have as well excluded the law of Moses, as well as that 
 of Nature, and I imagine the law of the Gospel too. But if those gentle- 
 men think that it is a denial of that branch of the divine law which is called 
 the law of Nature, to speak of a divine law whose inforcements are the 
 rewards and punishments of another life, which is as much as to say the law 
 of Nature has no such inforcements : and if they are of that opinion, 
 they cannot but be very sincere and zealous sticklers for a divine law of 
 morality only upon rewards and punishments of this life, 'tis easy to see 
 what a kind of morality they intend to make of it. You tell me, you could 
 not tell me how to answer them; I am sorry for it, not being able to see any 
 difficulty. The reason you give in these words : / must confess I could 
 not tell positively what reply to make, because you do not expressly tell us 
 where to find this law, unless in the S. S. ; and since it is likewise much doubted 
 by some whether the rewards and punishments you mention, can be demon- 
 strated as established by your divine law. This reason or reasons, seem 
 very admirable to me, that I could not mean the law of Nature, because I 
 did not expressly tell you where to find the law, unless in the S. S. I do 
 not remember I any where tell you it is to be found in the S. S. Cannot 
 
JOHN LOCKK 199 
 
 I tell you, in matter-of-fact, that some men, many men, do compare their 
 actions to a divine law, and thereby form the ideas of their moral rectitude 
 or pravity, without telling where that law is to be found ? Another thing 
 that stumbles you is, that it is much doubted hy some whether the rewards 
 and punishments I mention, can he demonstrated as established hy my divine 
 law. Will nothing then pass with you in religion or morality but what 
 you can demonstrate ? if you are of so nice a stomach, I am afraid, if I 
 shoidd now examine how much of your religion or morality you could 
 demonstrate, how much you would have left : not but that I think that 
 demonstration in these matters may be carried a great deal farther than 
 it is. But there are many, perhaps millions of propositions in mathematics 
 which are demonstrable, which neither you nor I can demonstrate, which, 
 perhaps, no man has yet demonstrated, or will do, before the end of 
 the world. The probability of rewards and punishments in another life, 
 I should think, might serve for an inforcement of the divine law, if that 
 were the business in hand ; but in the present case, demonstration of fu- 
 ture rewards and punishments was no more my business, than whether the 
 squaring of the circle could be demonstrated or no. But I know not how 
 you would still have me besides my purpose, and against all rules of method, 
 run out into a discourse of the divine law, show how and when it was 
 promulgated to mankind, demonstrate its inforcement by rewards and 
 punishments in another life, in a place where I had nothing to do with 
 all this, and in a case where some men's bare supposition of such a law, 
 whether true or false, served my turn. It was my business there, to show 
 how man came by moral ideas or notions, and that I thought they did, 
 by comparing their actions to a rule. The next thing I endeavoured to 
 show is, what rules men take to be the standards to which they compare 
 their actions to frame moral ideas, and these I take to be the divine law, 
 the municipal law, and the law of reputation or fashion. If this be so in 
 matter-of-fact, I am in the right in all that I pretended, and was proposed in 
 that place. If I am out in either of these propositions, I must confess I 
 am m an error, but cannot be accused for not having treated more amply 
 of these rules in that place, or entered into a full disquisition of their 
 nature, force, or obligation, when, if you will look into the end of that 
 chapter, you will find it is not of concernment to my purpose in that 
 chapter, whether they be as much as true or no ; but only that they be 
 considered in the minds of men as rules to which they compare their actions, 
 
200 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and judge of their morality. But yet you think me guilty of other men's 
 mistakes, because I did not write plainer, and I think they might have 
 considered better what I writ. I imagine, what I was there to make out 
 I have done very plainly, and if readers wiU not allow so much attention to 
 the book they read, as to mind what the author is upon, and whether he 
 directly pursues the argument in hand, they must blame themselves, if they 
 raise doubts and scruples to themselves, where the author gave no occcasion 
 for any. And if they be ill-natured as well as groundless objections, one 
 may suspect that they meant not over well to the author, or the argument 
 they are so scrupulous about. You say, that to show what I meant, I 
 should, after divine law, have added in a parenthesis, which others call the 
 law of nature, which had been so far from what I meant, that it had been 
 contrary to it, for I meant the divine law indefinitely, and in general, how- 
 ever made known or supposed ; and if ever any men referred their actions 
 to the law of nature as to a divine law, 'twas plain I meant, that if any 
 judged of their actions by the law of Moses or Jesus Christ, as by a divine 
 law, 'twas plain I meant that also : nay, the Alcoran of the Mahometans, 
 and the Hanscrit of the Bramins could not be in this case excluded, (though 
 perhaps you or your friends would have thought it more worth their 
 censure if I had put them in, and then I had lain open to I know not 
 what interpretation,) or any other supposed divine revelation whether true 
 or false. For it being taken for a divine law, it would have served men, 
 who make use of it, and judged of their actions by it, to have given them 
 notions of morality or moral ideas, and that was all I was to show ; indeed, 
 if you can tell of any other rule but, 1st. Divine laws or the law of God ; 
 2nd. Civil laws, or the laws of the magistrate ; 3rd. The law of fashion or 
 reputation, whereby men judge of the goodness of their actions, I have 
 then failed in giving a full account whence men get their moral ideas : but 
 that is all I can be accused to have failed in here ; for I did not design 
 to treat of the grounds of true morality, which is necessary to true and 
 perfect happiness ; it had been impertinent if I had so designed ; my business 
 was only to show whence men had moral ideas, and what they were, and 
 that, I suppose, is sufficiently done in the chapter. 
 
 I am, 
 
 J. Locke." 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 201 
 
 The occupations which now engaged the attention of this great 
 man were of the most varied and opposite description. He was at 
 the same time a practical politician, and a profound speculative phi- 
 losopher ; a man of the world, engaged in the business of the 
 world, yet combining with all those avocations the purity and sim- 
 plicity of a primitive Christian. He pursued every subject with 
 incredible activity and diligence ; always regulating his numerous 
 inquiries by the love of truth, and directing them to the improve- 
 ment and benefit of his country and of mankind. 
 
 His literary employments at this period, were the Treatises on 
 Government, written in defence of the Revolution against the Tory 
 enemy. And in the following year, 1690, he published a Second 
 Letter for Toleration, (without the name of its author,) in vindica- 
 tion of the principles of religious liberty, which had as naturally 
 been attacked by a churchman. 
 
 Perhaps the most deadly blow which the Court and Church had 
 ever directed against the liberty of the country, was the act of 1662, 
 for preventing abuses in Printing. It established a censorship in 
 England, and under the specious pretence of prohibiting the print- 
 ing of books contrary to the Christian faith, or of seditious works, 
 the number of printing-presses was limited by law within the nar- 
 rowest bounds, and all works w^ere subjected to the previous license 
 of the governors of the Church- and State. 
 
 This act was at first passed for seven years, and was afterwards 
 continued in force, by several re-enactments, until a few years after 
 the Revolution, when, by the refusal of the House of Commons, it 
 was suffered to expire. The following copy of the objectionable 
 clauses of the act, with Locke's observations upon each separate 
 clause, will be found very interesting, as a record of the existence of 
 a censorship in England, accompanied by the comments of so com- 
 petent a judge, who had witnessed both the beginning and the end 
 of that most arbitrary measure. These notes were probably written 
 at the time when the Printing Act was last under consideration in 
 Parliament, in 1694. If the unanswerable objections which Locke 
 
 2 D 
 
202 THE LIFE OF 
 
 stated against every part of that act contributed in any degree to 
 prevent its farther re-enactment, his exertions may be regarded as 
 no small service rendered to the cause of liberty and truth. 
 
 " ANNO 14° CAR. 2. CAP. XXXIII. 
 
 " An Act for preventing abuses in Printing seditious, treasonable, and 
 unlicensed Books and Pamphlets, and for regulating Printing and Printing- 
 presses." 
 
 " § 2. Heretical, seditious, schismatical, or offensive books, wherein 
 any thing contrary to Christian faith, or the doctrine or disciphne of the 
 Church of England, is asserted ; or which may tend to the scandal of reli- 
 gion, or the church, or the government, or governors of the church, state, 
 or of any corporation, or particular person, are prohibited to be printed, im- 
 ported, published, or sold." 
 
 Some of these terms are so general and comprehensive, or at 
 least so submitted to the sense and interpretation of the governors 
 of church and state for the time being, that it is impossible any 
 book should pass but just what suits their humours. And who 
 knows but that the motion of the earth may be found to be heretical, 
 as asserting Antipodes once was ? 
 
 I know not why a man should not have liberty to print what- 
 ever he would speak ; and to be, answerable for the one, just as he is 
 for the other, if he transgresses the law in either. But gagging a 
 man, for fear he should talk heresy or sedition, has no other ground 
 than such as will make gives necessary, for fear a man should use 
 violence if his hands were free, and must at last end in the impri- 
 sonment of all whom you will suspect may be guilty of trea- 
 son or misdemeanour. To prevent men being undiscovered for 
 what they print, you may prohibit any book to be printed, pub- 
 lished, or sold, without the printer's or bookseller's name, under great 
 penalties, whatever be in it. And then let the printer or bookseller, 
 whose name is to it, be answerable for whatever is against law in it, 
 as if he were the author, unless he can produce the person he had it 
 from, which is all the restraint ought to be upon printing. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 203 
 
 " § S. All books prohibited to be printed that are not first entered in the 
 register of the Company of Stationers, and licensed." 
 
 Whereby it comes to pass, that sometimes, when a book is 
 brought to be entered in the register of the Company of Stationers, 
 if they think it may turn to account, they enter it there as theirs, 
 whereby the other person is hindered from printing and publishing 
 it ; an example whereof can be given by Mr, Awnsham Churchill. 
 
 " § 6. No books to be printed or imported, which any person or per- 
 sons by force, or virtue of any letters patent, have the right, privilege, au- 
 thority, or allowance, solely to print, upon pain of forfeiture, and being 
 proceeded against as an offender against this present act, and upon the 
 further penalty and forfeiture of six shillings and eight-pence for every 
 such book or books, or part of such book or books imported, bound, 
 stitched, or put to sale, a moiety to the King, and a moiety to the in- 
 former." 
 
 By this clause, the Company of Stationers have a monopoly of all 
 the classical authors ; and scholars cannot, but at excessive rates, 
 have the fair and correct edition of those books printed beyond 
 seas. For the Company of Stationers have obtained from the Crown 
 a patent to print all, or at least the greatest part, of the classic 
 authors, upon pretence, as I hear, that they should be well and truly 
 printed ; whereas they are by them scandalously ill printed, both for 
 letter, paper, and correctness, and scarce one tolerable edition is made 
 by them of any one of them. Whenever any of these books of better 
 editions are imported from beyond seas, the Company seizes them, 
 and makes the importers pay 6s. 8d. for each book so imported, or 
 else they confiscate them, unless they are so bountiful as to let the 
 importer compound with them at a lower rate. There are daily 
 examples of this ; I shall mention one, which I had from the suf- 
 ferer's own mouth. Mr. Samuel Smith, two or three years since, 
 imported from Holland Tully's Works, of a very fine edition, with 
 new corrections made by Gronovius, who had taken the pains to 
 
 2 D 2 
 
204 THE LIFE OF 
 
 compare that which was thought the best edition before with several 
 ancient MSS., and to correct his by them. These, Tully's Works, 
 upon pretence of their patent for their alone printing Tully's 
 Works, or any part thereof, and by virtue of this clause of this act, 
 the Company of Stationers seized and kept a good while in their 
 custody, demanding 6s. 8d. per book : how at last he compounded 
 with them I know not, but by this act scholars are subjected to the 
 power of these dull wretches, who do not so much as understand 
 Latin, whether they shall have any true or good copies of the best 
 ancient Latin authors, unless they pay them 6s. 8d. a book for that 
 leave. 
 
 Another thing observable is, that whatever money, by virtue of 
 this clause, they have levied upon the subject, either as forfeiture or 
 composition, I am apt to believe not one farthing of it has ever been 
 accounted for to the King, and it is probable considerable sums have 
 been raised. 
 
 Upon occasion of this instance of the classic authors, I demand 
 whether, if another act for printing should be made, it be not rea- 
 sonable that nobody should have any peculiar right in any book 
 which has been in print fifty years, but any one as well as another 
 might have the liberty to print it ; for by such titles as these, which 
 lie dormant, and hinder others, many good books come quite to be 
 lost. But be that determined as it will, in regard of those authors 
 who now write and sell their copies to booksellers, this certainly is 
 very absurd at first sight, that any person or company should now 
 have a title to the printing of the works of Tully, Caesar, or Livy, 
 who lived so many ages since, in exclusion of any other ; nor can 
 there be any reason in nature why I might not print them as well 
 as the Company of Stationers, if I thought fit. This liberty, to any 
 one, of printing them, is certainly the way to have them the cheaper 
 and the better ; and it is this which, in Holland, has produced so 
 many fair and excellent editions of them, whilst the printers all 
 strive to out-do one another, which has also brought in great sums 
 to the trade of Holland. Whilst our Company of Stationers, having 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 205 
 
 the monopoly here by this act, and their patents, slobber them over 
 as they can cheapest, so that there is not a book of them vended 
 beyond seas, both for their badness and dearness ; nor will the 
 scholars beyond seas look upon a book of them now printed at 
 London, so ill and false are they ; besides, it would be hard to find 
 how a restraint of printing the classic authors does any way pre- 
 vent printing seditious and treasonable pamphlets, which is the title 
 and pretence of this act. 
 
 " § 9- No English book may be imprinted or imported from beyond the 
 sea. No foreigner, or other, unless a stationer of London, may import or 
 sell any books of any language whatsoever." 
 
 This clause serves only to confirm and enlarge the Stationers' 
 monopoly. 
 
 " § 10, In this §, besides a great many other clauses to secure the Stationers' 
 monopoly of printing, which are very hard upon the subject, the Stationers' 
 interest is so far preferred to all others, that a landlord, who lets a house, 
 forfeits five pounds if he know that his tenant has a printing-press in it, 
 and does not give notice of it to the masters and wardens of the Stationers' 
 Company. Nor must a joiner, carpenter, or smith, &;c. work about a print- 
 ing-press, without giving the like notice, under the like penalty." 
 
 Which is greater caution than I think is used about the presses 
 for coinage to secure the people from false money. 
 
 " By §11. The number of master-printers were reduced from a greater 
 number to twenty, and the number of master-founders of letters reduced 
 to fewer ; and upon vacancy, the number to be fiUed by the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury and the Bishop of London, and to give security not to print 
 any unlicensed books." 
 
 This hinders a man who has served out his time the benefit of 
 setting up his trade, which, whether it be not against the right of 
 the subject, as well as contrary to common equity, deserves to be 
 considered. 
 
206 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " § 12. The number of presses that every one of the twenty master- 
 printers shall have are reduced to two. Only those who have been masters, 
 or upper-wardens of the Company may have three, and as many more as 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury or Bishop of London will allow. 
 
 ^13. Everyone who has been master, or upper-warden of the Company, 
 may have three ; every one of the livery two ; and every master-printer of 
 the yeomanry but one apprentice at a time." 
 
 By which restraint of presses, and taking of apprentices, and the 
 prohibition in § 14, of taking or using any journeymen except Eng- 
 lishmen and freemen of the trade, is the reason why our printing 
 is so very bad, and yet so very dear in England. They who are 
 hereby privileged to the exclusion of others, working and setting 
 the price as they please, whereby any advantage that might be made 
 to the realm by this manufacture is wholly lost to England, and 
 thrown into the hands of our neighbours ; the sole manufacture of 
 printing bringing into the Low Countries great sums every year. 
 But our Ecclesiastical laws seldom favour trade, and he that reads 
 this act with attention will find it upse* ecclesiastical. The na- 
 tion loses by this act, for our books are so dear, and ill printed, 
 that they have very little vent among foreigners, unless now and 
 then by truck for theirs, which yet shows how much those who buy 
 the books printed here are imposed on, since a book printed at 
 London may be bought cheaper at Amsterdam than in Paul's 
 Church-yard, notwithstanding all the charge and hazard of tran- 
 sportation : for their printing being free and unrestrained, they sell 
 their books at so much a cheaper rate than our booksellers do ours, 
 that in truck, valuing ours proportionably to their own, or their own 
 equally to ours, which is the same thing, they can afford books 
 received from London upon such exchanges cheaper in Holland 
 than our stationers sell them in England. By this act England 
 loses in general, scholars in particular are ground, and nobody gets, 
 but a lazy, ignorant Company of Stationers, to say no worse of them ; 
 but any thing, rather than let Mother Church be disturbed in her 
 opinions or impositions by any bold inquirer from the press. 
 
 * A low word, derived from the Dutch upzee, signifying highly. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 207 
 
 " § 15. One or more of the messengers of his Majesty's chamber, by 
 warrant under his INIajesty's sign-manual, or under the hand of one of his 
 Majesty's principal secretaries of state, or the master and wardens of the 
 Company of Stationers, taking with them a constable and such assistance 
 as they shall think needful, has an unlimited power to search all houses, and 
 to seize upon all books "which they shall but think fit to suspect." 
 
 How the gentry, much more how the peers of England came 
 thus to prostitute their houses to the suspicion of any body, much, 
 less a messenger upon pretence of searching for books, I cannot 
 imagine. Indeed, the House of Peers, and others not of the trades 
 mentioned in this act, are pretended to be exempted from this 
 search, § 18, where it is provided they shall not be searched but by 
 special warrant under the King's sign-manual, or under the hands 
 of one of the Secretaries of State. But this is but the shadow of 
 an exemption, for they are still subject to be searched, every corner 
 and coffer in them, under pretence of unlicensed books, a mark of 
 slavery which, I think, their ancestors would never have submitted 
 to. They so lay their houses, which are their castles, open, not to 
 the pursuit of the law against a malefactor convicted of misde- 
 meanour, or accused upon oath, but to the suspicion of having 
 unlicensed books, which is, whenever it is thought fit to search his 
 house to see what is in it. 
 
 " § 16. All printers offending any way against this act are incapacitated 
 to exercise their trade for three years. And for the second offence, per- 
 petual incapacity, with any other punishment not reaching to life or limb." 
 
 And thus a man is to be undone and starved for printing Dr. 
 Bury's case, or the History of Tom Thumb unlicensed. 
 
 " § 17. Three copies of every book printed are to be reserved, whereof 
 two to be sent, to the two Universities by the master of the Stationers' 
 Company." 
 
 This clause, upon examination, I suppose, will be found to be 
 mightily, if not wholly neglected, as all things that are good in this 
 act, the Company of Stationers minding nothing in it but what 
 
208 THE LIFE OF 
 
 makes for their monopoly. I believe that if the public libraries of 
 both Universities be looked into, (which this will give a fit occasion 
 to do,) there will not be found in them half, perhaps not one in ten 
 of the copies of books printed since this act. 
 
 § Last. This act, though made in a time when every one strove 
 to be forwardest to make court to the Church and Court, by giving 
 whatever was asked, yet this was so manifest an invasion of the 
 trade, liberty, and property of the subject, that it was made to be 
 in force only for two years. From which, 14 Car. 2, it has, by 
 the Joint endeavour of Church and Cou7% been, from time to time, 
 received, and so continued to this day. Every one being answerable 
 for books he publishes, prints, or sells, containing any thing seditious 
 or against law, makes this or any other act for the restraint of 
 printing very needless in that part, and so it may be left free in 
 that part as it was before 14 Car. 2. That any person or company 
 should have patents for the sole printing of ancient authors is very 
 unreasonable and injurious to learning ; and for those who purchase 
 copies from authors that now live and write, it may be reasonable 
 to limit their property to a certain number of years after the death 
 of the author, or the first printing of the book, as, suppose, fifty or 
 seventy years. This I am sure, it is very absurd and ridiculous that 
 any one now living should pretend to have a propriety in, or a power 
 to dispose of the propriety of any copy or writings of authors who 
 lived before printing was known or used in Europe." 
 
 This act, which had been renewed once since the Revolution, was 
 suffered finally to expire in 1694. It may appear extraordinary 
 that the same Parliament which passed the Act of Settlement, and 
 embodied the Declaration of Rights in our statutes, should also have 
 subjected the press to the fetters imposed upon it by the former 
 printing acts of Charles and James II. But as the Revolution was 
 effected by the assistance of the Church, the new government might 
 perhaps wish to avoid giving offence to that powerful party by too 
 sudden a repeal of this their favourite act. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 209 
 
 It was probably at this period, during Locke's residence in Lon- 
 don, which continued about two years after the Revolution of 
 1688, that he became known to Newton, some of whose letters for- 
 tunately have been preserved. With Sir John Somers he lived at 
 this time in habits of intimate friendship, and one of his recreations 
 was a weekly meeting for the purpose of conversation and discussion, 
 held at the house of Lord Pembroke, the same Earl of Pembroke 
 to whom Locke had dedicated the Essay. 
 
 Several letters from Newton, from Lord Monmouth, better 
 known as the celebrated Earl of Peterborough in the succeeding 
 reign, and from Lord Somers, are here inserted, and considering by 
 whom they were written, and to whom they were addressed, they 
 will not be read with indifference, or considered superfluous. 
 
 The following papers, indorsed Mr. Newton, March 1689, are 
 the earliest in point of date ; they are Newton's Demonstration of 
 Kepler's Observation, that the planets move in ellipses, as commu- 
 nicated by that great philosopher before the publication of his 
 Principia. 
 
 A DEMONSTRATION, THAT THE PLANETS, BY THEIR GRAVITY TOWARDS 
 THE SUN, MAY MOVE IN ELLIPSES. 
 
 " Hypoth. 1. — Bodies move uniformly in straight lines, unless so far as 
 they are retarded by the resistance of the medium, or disturbed by some 
 other force. 
 
 " Hypoth. 2. — The alteration of motion is proportional to the force by 
 which it is altered. 
 
 " Hypoth. 3. — Motions impressed by forces in different lines, if those 
 lines be taken in proportion to the motions, and completed into a parallelo- 
 gram, compose a motion whereby the diagonal of the 
 parallelogram shall be described in the same time in 
 which the sides thereof would have been described by 
 the compounding motions apart. The motions A B, 
 
 A C, compound the motion AD. 
 
 2 E 
 
210 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 D ;„i 
 
 PROP. 1. 
 
 " If a body move in a vacuo, and be continually attracted towards an 
 immovable centre, it shall constantly move in one and the same plane, and in 
 that plane, with a right line, drawn continually from its own centre to the 
 immovable centre of attraction, describe equal areas in equal times. 
 
 " Let A be the centre towards 
 which the body is attracted, and 
 suppose the attraction acts not 
 continually, but by discontinued 
 impressions, or impulses, made at 
 equal intervals of time, which in- 
 tervals we will consider as phy- 
 sical moments. Let B C be the 
 right line in which it begins to 
 move, and which it describes 
 with uniform motion in the first 
 physical moment, before the at- 
 traction make its first impression 
 upon it. At C let it be attracted towards the centre A by one impulse ; 
 produce B C to I, so that CI be equal to B C. In CA take CR in such 
 proportion to CI as the motion which the impulse alone would have begot- 
 ten hath to the motion of the body before the impulse was impressed. And 
 because these two motions apart would, in the second moment of time, have 
 carried the body, the one to I, by reason of the equahty of C I and B C, and 
 the other to K, by reason of the aforesaid proportion, complete the parallelo- 
 gram IC, II D, and they shall both together, in the same time of that 
 second moment, carry it in the diagonal of that parallelogram to T) by 
 Hypoth. 3. 
 
 " Now, because the basis BC, CI of the triangle ABC, A CI, are equal, 
 those two triangles shall be equal ; also, because the triangles ACI and 
 A C D stand upon the same base, A C, and between two parallel hnes, A C 
 and DI, they shall be equal ; and therefore the triangle A CD, described in 
 the second moment, shall be equal to the triangle ABC, described in the 
 first moment. And by the same reason, if the body at the end of the 
 second, third, fourth, fifth, and following moments, be attracted again by 
 single impulses successively in D, E, F, G, H, &c. describing the line D, E, 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 
 
 211 
 
 in the third moment, E F in the fourth, F G in the fifth, &ic. ; the triangles 
 A E D, shall be equal to the triangle ADC, and all the following triangles 
 to one another. And by consequence the areas compounded of these equal 
 triangles (as ABC, AEG, ABG, &c.) are to one another as the times in 
 which they are described. Suppose now, that the moments of time be dimi- 
 nished in length, and increased in number in infinitum, so that the im- 
 pulses or impressions of the attraction may become continual, and that the 
 line BC, DEFGH, by the infinite number, and infinite littleness of its 
 sides BC, CD, DE, &c. may become a curve line ; and the body, by that 
 continual attraction, shall describe areas of this curve, ABE, AEG, ABG, 
 &c, proportional to the times in which they are described, which was to be 
 demonstrated. 
 
 LEMMA 1. 
 
 " If a right line touch an ellipsis in any point thereof, and parallel to 
 that tangent be drawn another right line from the centre of the ellipsis 
 which shall intersect a third right line drawn from the touch point through 
 either focus of the ellipsis ; the segment of the last named right line, 
 lying between the point of intersection, and the point of contact, shall be 
 equal to half the long axis of the ellipsis. 
 
 "Let APBQ be the ellipsis, AB its long axis, C its centre Yf, its 
 foci, P the point of contact, PR the tangent, CD the line parallel to the 
 tangent, and PD the segment of the line PF; I say, that this segment 
 shall be equal to CB. 
 
 " For join PF, and drawyE parallel to CD ; and because Fy*and FE 
 are bisected in C and D, PD shall be equal (to half the sum of PF, and 
 PE, that is, to half the sum of PF, and Yf, that is to half A B, that is) 
 to CB, W M7. to be demonstrated. 
 
 LEMMA % 
 
 " Every line drawn through either 
 focus of any ellipsis, and terminated at 
 both ends by the ellipses, is to that dia- 
 meter of the ellipsis, which is parallel to 
 this line, as the same diameter is to the -^ 
 long axis of the ellipsis. 
 
 " Let APBQ be the ellipsis, AB its 
 longer axis, Yf its foci, C its centre, 
 
 2 E 2 
 
212 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 PQ the line drawn through its focus F, and VCS its diameter parallel 
 to PQ; and PQ shall be to VS as VS to AB; for drawy^o parallel to 
 QFP, and cutting the ellipsis in ,p, join Vp, cutting VS in T, and draw 
 PR, which shall touch the ellipsis in P, and cut the diameter in V S pro- 
 duced in R, and CT wiU be to CS as CS to CR. But CT is the semi 
 sum of FP andyjo, that is of FP and FQ, and therefore 2 CT is equal 
 to PQ, also ^CS is equal to VS, and (by the foregoing Lemma) ^CR is 
 equal to AB, wherefore PQ is to VS as VS to AB ; Ww. to be dem. corol. 
 ABxPQ=:VS^ = TS''. 
 
 LEMMA 3. 
 
 " If from either focus of any ellipsis unto any point in the perimeter 
 of the ellipsis be drawn a right line, and another right line do touch the 
 ellipsis in that point, and the angle of contact be subtended by any third 
 line drawn parallel to the first hne, the rectangle which that subtense 
 contains with the same subtense produced to the other side of the ellipsis, 
 is to the rectangle which the long axis of the ellipsis contains with the 
 first line produced to the other side of the ellipsis, as the square of the dis- 
 tance between the subtense and the first hne is to the square of the short 
 axis of the ellipsis. 
 
 "Let AKBL be the ellipsis, AB its long axis, KL its short axis, C 
 its centre, Yf its foci, P the point 
 in the perimeter, FP the first line, 
 PQ that line produced to the other 
 side of the ellipsis, PX the tangent, 
 XY the subtense, XI the same 
 subtense produced to the other side 
 of the ellipsis, and YZ the distance 
 between this subtense and the first 
 line, I say, that the rectangle YXI 
 is to the rectangle AB x PQ, as 
 YZ-' to KL\ For let VS be the diameter of the eUipsis parallel to the 
 first line FP and GF, another diameter parallel to the tangent PX, and the 
 rectangle YXI, shall be to PX^i the square of the tangent, as the rectangle 
 SCV to the rectangle GCH, that is as SV" to GH". This is a property 
 of the ellipsis demonstrated by all that write of the conic sections, and 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 
 
 213 
 
 they have also demonstrated that all the parallelograms circumscribed 
 about an ellipsis are equal. Whence the rectangle PE x GH is equal 
 to the rectangle AB x KL, and consequently GH is to KL as AB, that 
 is (by Lem. 1.) 2 PD, is to 2 PE, and by consequence as PX to YZ ; and 
 therefore PX is to GH as YZ to KL, and PX'^ to GH'' as YZ" to KL''. 
 But PX-i was to GH" as YXI to SV, and SV" (by Corol. Lem. 2.) is 
 equal to AB x PQ, and therefore YXI is to AB x PQ as YZ" to KL". 
 W.^t?. to be Dem. 
 
 Prop. 2. 
 
 " If a body be attracted towards either focus of any ellipsis, and by that 
 attraction be made to revolve in the perimeter of the ellipsis, the attraction 
 shall be reciprocally as the square of the distance of the body from that 
 focus of the ellipsis. 
 
 " Let P be the place of the body in the elhpsis at any moment of time, 
 and PX the tangent, in which the body would move uniformly, were it 
 not attracted, and X the place in that tangent at which it would arrive in 
 any given part of time, and Y the place in the perimeter of the ellipsis at 
 which the body doth arrive in the same time by means of the attraction. 
 Let us now suppose the time to be 
 divided into equal parts, and that 
 those parts are very little ones, so 
 that they may be considered as phy- 
 sical moments ; and that the at- 
 traction acts not continually, but by 
 intervals in the beginning of every 
 physical moment, and let the first 
 action be upon the body in P, the 
 next upon it in Y, and so on per- 
 petually ; so that the body may move from P to Y, in the chord of the 
 arch PY, and from Y to its next place in the ellipsis in the chord of the 
 next arch, and so on for ever. And because the attraction in P is made 
 towards F, and diverts the body from the tangent PX into the chord PY, 
 so that in the end of the first physical moment it is not found in the place 
 X, where it would have been without the attraction, but in Y, being by 
 the force of the attraction in P translated from X to Y, the Une XY, 
 generated by the force of attraction in P, must be proportional to that force 
 
214 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and parallel to its direction, that is, parallel to PF, as is manifest by the 
 third hypothesis. 
 
 " Produce XY and PF till they cut the ellipsis in I and Q. Join FY, 
 and upon FP let faU the perpendicular y%, and let AB be the long axis, 
 and KL the short axis of the ellipsis, and by the third Lemma, YXI wiU 
 be to AB X PQ as YZ^"^"^ to KL''""'^, and by consequence, YX wiU be 
 
 AB X PQxYZj^^ 
 ^^^^1 *° xy X KL-- 
 
 " And in like manner, ii py be the chord of another arch, py, which the 
 revolving body describes in a physical moment of time, ajidipx be the 
 tangent of the ellipsis at p, and xy the subtense of the angle of contact 
 drawn paraUell to joF, and if pY and xy, produced, cut the ellipsis in q 
 and ^; and from y, upon joF be let fall the perpendicular y%, the subtense 
 
 yx shaU be equal to ^ • ^ KL^^"-"^ ' 
 
 " Now, because the hues P Y py are, by the revolving body, described 
 in equal times, the areas of the triangles PYF, pyF must be equal by the 
 first proposition, and therefore the rectangles PF x YZ and pF x yz are 
 equal; and pF is to PF as YZ to ijz, and pF''"'"^ to PF''""'' as YZi*""* 
 to 2/^''"'"' (and if you multiply the antecedents alike, and the consecuents 
 
 alike,) ^^ p F''"^'^ to ^ pp i""'' as ^ Y Z ''""'' to ^ ^/^''""^ that is, as 
 
 ^ T T^ T n — to — -^ .^^^^-^ , that is as YX to yx, and there- 
 
 XI X KL'' Xz X KL'' ^ > 
 
 fore as the attraction in P to the attraction in p, by Hypoth. 21 and 3. 
 
 " Suppose now, that the equal times in which the revolving body de- 
 scribes the lines P Y, and py becomes infinitely little, so that the attraction 
 may become continual, and the body, by this attraction, revolve in the 
 perimeter of the ellipsis, and the line PQ, XI, as also pq, xi becoming 
 
 PQ VQ 
 
 coincident, and by consequence equal the quantities ^^^ joF'' and ^^PF^ 
 
 will become ^F'' and PF'' ; and therefore the attraction in P will be to 
 the attraction in jo as^F'' to PF'' that is reciprocally as the squares of the 
 distances of the revolving body from that focus of the ellipsis towards 
 which the attraction is directed, which was to be demonstrated." 
 
JOHN LOGKE. 215 
 
 The first letter dated November 14, 1690, and that dated Feb. 
 16, 169§, relate to " an account of the corruptions of Scripture" 
 written by Newton, and which he desired to have translated into 
 French, and published abroad. He resolved afterwards, as it 
 appears by his letter dated February 16, 169^:, to suppress the 
 translation and impression, and it is believed that Newton's letters 
 upon the disputed verse in the Epistle of St. John, and the contro- 
 verted passage in the first Epistles to Timothy, were not published 
 before 1754. Mr. Porson, in his celebrated letter to Archdeacon 
 Travis, states that Newton wrote his discourse between 1690 and 
 1700, but that it was not published before 1754, and then imper- 
 fectly. It was afterwards restored by Dr. Horsley, in his edition 
 of Newton from the original manuscript, of which a more detailed 
 account will be found at the end of these letters. 
 
 " SIR^ Nov. 14, 1690. 
 
 " I send you now by the carrier, Martin, the papers I promised. I 
 fear I have not only made you stay too long for them, but also made them 
 too long by an addition. For upon the receipt of your letter reviewing 
 what I had by me concerning the text of 1 John, v. 7. and examining 
 authors a little further about it, I met with something new concerning that 
 other of 1st Tim. iii. 16. which I thought would be as acceptable to inqui- 
 sitive men, and might be set down in a httle room ; but by searching farther 
 into authors to find out the bottom of it, is swelled to the bigness you see. 
 I fear the length of what I say on both texts may occasion you too much 
 trouble, and therefore if at present you get only what concerns the first 
 done into French, that of the other may stay till we see what success the 
 first will have. I have no entire copy besides that I send you, and therefore 
 would not have it lost, because I may, perhaps, after it has gone abroad 
 long enough in French, put it forth in Enghsh. What charge you are at 
 about it, (for I am sure it wiU put you to some,) you must let me know ; 
 for the trouble alone is enough for you. Pray present my most humble 
 service and thanks to my Lord and Lady Monmouth, for theh so kind 
 remembrance of me ; for their favour is such that I can never sufficiently 
 acknowledge it. If your voyage hold, I wish you a prosperous one, and 
 
216 THE LIFE OF ^ 
 
 happy return. I should be glad of a line from you, to know that you have 
 these papers, and how far you have recovered your health, for y^u told.me 
 nothing of that. . 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 Your most faithful and most humble Servant, 
 
 Is. Newton." 
 
 ^ « SIB, Cambridge, Feb. 7, 1690 — I. 
 
 " lam sorry your journey proved to so little purpose, though it de- 
 livered you from the trouble of the company the day after. You have 
 obliged me by mentioning me to my friends at London, and 1 must thank 
 both you and my Lady Masham for your civilities at Oates, and for not 
 thinking that I made a long stay there. I hope we shall meet again in 
 due time, and then I should be glad to have your judgment upon some 
 of my mystical fancies. The Son of man, Dan. vii. I take to be the same 
 with the Word of God upon the White Horse in Heaven, Apoc. xix, and 
 him to be the same with the Man Child, Apoc. xii, for both are to rule 
 the nations with a rod of iron ; but whence are you certain that the 
 Ancient of Days is Christ ? Does Christ any where sit upon the throne ? 
 If Sir Francis Masham be at Oates, present, I pray, my service to him 
 with his lady, Mrs. Cudworth, and Mrs. Masham. Dr. Covel is not in 
 Cambridge. 
 
 I am. 
 Your affectionate and humble servant. 
 
 Is. Newton." 
 
 " Know you the meaning of Dan. x. 21. There is none that holdeth 
 with me in these things but Mich, the Prince.^" 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 " I had answered your letter sooner, but that I stayed to revise and 
 send you the papers which you desire. But the consulting of authors 
 proving more tedious than I expected, so as to make me defer sending 
 them till the next week, I could not forbear sending this letter alone, 
 to let you know how extremely glad I was to hear from you ; for though 
 your letter brought me the first news of your having been so dangerously 
 iU, yet by your undertaking a journey into Holland, I hope you are well 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 217 
 
 recovered. I am extremely much obliged to my Lord and Lady Mon- 
 mouth for their kind remembrance of me, and whether their design suc- 
 ceeded or not, must ever think myself obliged to be their humble servant. 
 I suppose JNIr. Falio is in Holland, for I have heard nothing from him the 
 half year. 
 
 Sir, I am. 
 Your most humble servant, 
 " Cambridge, Sept. 28, 1690." Is. NewtON." 
 
 "SIR, Cambridge, June 30th, 1691. 
 
 " Your deferring to answer my letter is what you needed not make 
 an apology for, because I use to be guilty of the same fault as often as 
 I have nothing of moment to write, and therefore cannot in justice com- 
 plain. If the scheme you have laid of managing the controller's place of 
 the M., will not give you the trouble of too large a letter, you will oblige 
 me by it. I thank you heartily for your being so mindful of me, and 
 ready to assist me with your interest. Concerning the Ancient of Days, 
 Dan. vii. there seems to be a mistake either in my last letter, or in yours, 
 because you wrote in your former letter, that the Ancient of Days is Christ ; 
 and in my last, I either did, or should have asked, how you knew that. 
 But these discourses may be done with more freedom at our next meeting. 
 I am indebted to my solicitor, INlr. Starkey. If you please to let me have 
 your opinion what I should send him, I will send it with a letter by the 
 carrier. My lady INIasham and you have done me much honour in look- 
 ing into my book, and I am very glad to have the approbation of such 
 judicious persons. The observation you mention in Mr. Boyle's book of 
 colours, I once made upon myself with the hazard of my eyes. The 
 manner was this : I looked a very Mttle while upon the sun in the looking- 
 glass with my right eye, and then turned my eyes into a dark corner of 
 my chamber, and winked, to observe the impression made, and the circles 
 of colours which encompassed it, and how they decayed by degrees, and at 
 last vanished. This I repeated a second and a third time. At the third 
 time, when the phantasm of light and colours about it were almost vanished, 
 intending my fancy upon them to see their last appearance, I found to 
 my amazement, that they began to return, and by httle and little to be- 
 come as lively and vivid as when I had newly looked upon the sun. But 
 when I ceased to intende my fancy upon them, they vanished again. 
 
 2 F 
 
218 THE LIFE OF 
 
 After this, I found that as often as I went into the dark, and intended 
 my mind upon them, as when a man looks earnestly to see any thing which 
 is difficult to be seen, I could make the phantasm return without looking 
 any more upon the sun ; and the oftener I made it return, the more 
 easily I could make it return again. And at length, by repeating this 
 without looking any more upon the sun, I made such an impression on my 
 eye, that if I looked upon the clouds, or a book, or any bright object, I 
 saw upon it a round bright spot of light like the sun ; and, which is still 
 stranger, though I looked upon the sun with my right eye only, and not 
 with my left, yet my fancy began to make the impression upon my left 
 eye, as well as upon my right. For if I shut my right eye, and looked 
 upon a book or the clouds with my left eye, I could see the spectrum of 
 the sun almost as plain as with my right eye, if I did but intende my 
 fancy a little while upon it; for at first, if I shut my right eye, and 
 looked with my left, the spectrum of the sun did not appear till I intended 
 my fancy upon it ; but by repeating, this appeared every time more 
 easily. And now, in a few hours' time, I had brought my eyes to such a 
 pass, that I could look upon no bright object with either eye, but I saw 
 the sun before me, so that I durst neither write nor read : but to recover 
 the use of my eyes, shut myself up in my chamber made dark, for three days 
 together, and used all means to divert my imagination from the sun. For if 
 I thought upon him, I presently saw his picture, though I was in the dark. 
 But by keeping in the dark, and employing my mind about other things, 
 I began in three or four days to have some use of my eyes again ; and by 
 forbearing a few days longer to look upon bright objects, recovered them 
 pretty well, though not so well, but that for some months after the spectrum 
 of the sun began to return as often as I began to meditate upon the phe- 
 nomenon, even though I lay in bed at midnight with my curtains drawn ; 
 but now I have been very weE for many years, though I am apt to think, 
 that if I durst venture my eyes, I could still make the phantasm return 
 by the power of my fancy. This story I tell you, to let you understand, 
 that in the observation related by Mr. Boyle, the man's fancy probably 
 concurred with the impression made by the sun's light, to produce that 
 phantasm of the sun which he constantly saw in bright objects : and so 
 your question about the cause of this phantasm, involves another about the 
 power of fancy, which I must confess is too hard a knot for me to untie. 
 To place this effect in a constant motion is hard, because the sun ought 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 219 
 
 then to appear perpetually. It seems rather to consist in a disposition of 
 the sensorium to move the imagination strongly, and to be easily moved 
 both by the imagination and by the light, as often as bright objects are 
 looked upon. 
 
 " If the papers you mention come not out, I will tell you at our next 
 meeting what shall be done with them. 
 
 " My humble service to Sir Francis, my lady, and Mrs. Cudworth. 
 
 I am 
 
 Your most humble servant. 
 Is. Newton." 
 
 " SIR, Cambridge, Jan. 26th, 169^. 
 
 " Being fully convinced that Mr. Mountague, upon an old grudge 
 which I thought had been worn out, is false to me, I have done with him, 
 and intend to sit still, unless my Lord Monmouth be still my friend. I 
 have now no prospect of seeing you any more, unless you will be so kind 
 as to repay that visit I made you the last year. If I may hope for this 
 favour, I pray bring my papers with you. Otherwise, I desire you would 
 send them by some convenient messenger when opportunity shall serve. 
 My humble service to my Lady Masham, and to Sir Francis if at Oates. 
 
 I am 
 
 Your most humble servant. 
 Is. Newton." 
 " I understand Mr. Boyle communicated his process about the red 
 earth and Mercury to you as well as to me, and before his death, procured 
 some of that earth for his friends." 
 
 " SIR, Cambridge, Feb. 16th, J69|. 
 
 " Your former letters came not to my hand, but this I have. I was 
 of opinion my papers had lain still, and am sorry to hear there is news about 
 them. Let me entreat you to stop their translation and impression so soon 
 as you can, for I design to suppress them. If your friend hath been at 
 any pains and charge, I wiU repay it, and gratify him. I am very glad 
 my Lord Monmouth is still my friend, but intend not to give his lordship 
 and you any farther trouble. My inclinations are to sit still. I am to 
 beg his Lordship's pardon, for pressing into his company the last time I 
 saw him. I had not done it, but that Mr. Pawlin pressed me into the room. 
 
 2 F 2 
 
220 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Miracles of good credit continued in the Church for about two or three 
 hundred years. Gregorius Thaumaturgus had his name from thence, and 
 was one of the latest who was eminent for that gift : but of their number 
 and frequency, I am not able to give you a just account. The history of 
 those ages is very imperfect. Mr. Pawlin told me, you had writ for some 
 of Mr. Boyle's red earth, and by that I knew you had the receipt. 
 
 Your most affectionate and humble servant. 
 
 Is. Newton." 
 
 "SIR, August 2d, 1692. 
 
 " I BEG your pardon that I sent not your papers last week ; the carrier 
 went out a quarter of an hour sooner than I was aware of. I am glad you 
 have all the three parts of the recipe entire ; but before you go to work 
 about it, I desire you would consider these things, for it may perhaps save 
 you time and expense. This recipe I take to be the thing for the sake of 
 which Mr. Boyle procured the repeal of the Act of Parliament against 
 Multipliers, and therefore he had it then in his hands. In the margin of 
 the recipe was noted, that the mercury of the first work would grow hot 
 with gold, and thence I gather that this recipe was the foundation of what 
 he published many years ago, about such mercuries as would grow hot 
 with gold, and therefore was then known to him, that is, sixteen or twenty 
 years ago, at least ; and yet, in all this time, I cannot find that he has either 
 tried it himself, or got it tried with success by any body else : for, when I 
 spoke doubtingly about it, he confessed that he had not seen it tried ; but 
 added, that a certain gentleman was now about it, and it succeeded very 
 well so far as he had gone, and that all the signs appeared so that I needed 
 not doubt of it. This satisfied me that mercury, by this recipe, may be 
 brought to change its colours and properties, but not that gold may be mul- 
 tiplied thereby ; and I doubt it the more, because I heard some years ago of 
 a company, who were upon this work in London, and after Mr. Boyle had 
 communicated his recipe to me, so that I knew it was the same with theirs. 
 I inquired after them, and learnt that two of them were since forced to other 
 means of living ; and a third, who was the chief artist, was still at work, but 
 was run so far into debt that he had much ado to live ; and by these cir- 
 cumstances, I understood that these gentlemen could not make the thing 
 succeed. When I told Mr. Boyle of these gentlemen, he acknowledged that 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 221 
 
 the recipe was gone about among several chymists, and therefore I intend 
 to stay till I hear that it succeeds with some of them. 
 
 " But, besides, if I would try this recipe, I am satisfied that I could not, 
 for Mr. Boyle has reserved a part of it from my knowledge. I know more 
 of it than he has told me; and by that, and an expression or two which 
 dropped from him, I know that what he has told me is imperfect and useless 
 without knowing more than I do : and, therefore, I intend only to try 
 whether I know enough to make a mercury which will grow hot with gold, 
 if perhaps I shall try that. For Mr. Boyle to offer his secret upon condi- 
 tions, and after I had consented not to perform his part, looks oddly ; and 
 that the rather because I was averse from meddling with his recipe, till he 
 persuaded me to it ; and by not performing his part, he has voided the obh- 
 gation to the conditions on mine, so that I may reckon myself at my own 
 discretion to say or do what I will about this matter, though perhaps I shall 
 be tender of using my liberty. But that I may understand the reason of 
 his reservedness, pray will you be so free as to let me know the conditions 
 which he obhged you to, in communicating this recipe ; and whether he 
 communicated to you any thing more than is written down in the three 
 parts of the recipe. I do not desire to know what he has communicated, 
 but rather that you would keep the particulars from me, (at least in the 
 second and third part of the recipe,) because I have no mind to be concerned 
 with this recipe any farther than just to know the entrance. I suspect his 
 reservedness might proceed from mine ; for when I communicated a certain 
 experiment to him, he presently, by way of requital, subjoined two others, 
 but cumbered them with such circumstances as startled me, and made me 
 afraid of any more : for he expressed that I should presently go to work 
 upon them, and desired I would publish them after his death. I have not 
 yet tried either of them, nor intend to try them ; but since you have the 
 inspection of his papers, if you design to publish any of his remains, you 
 will do me a great favour to let these two be published among the rest. 
 But then I desire that it may not be known that they come through my 
 hands. One of them seems to be a considerable experiment, and may prove 
 of good use in medicine for analysing bodies ; the other is only a knack. 
 In dissuading you from too hasty a trial of this recipe, I have forborne to 
 say any thing against multiplication in general, because you seem persuaded 
 of it ; though there is one argument against it, which I could never find an 
 
222 THE LIFE OF 
 
 answer to, and which, if you will let me have your opinion about it, I will 
 send you in my next." * 
 
 " SIR, Cambridge, Dec, 13, 1691. 
 
 " When I received your former letter, I was engaged here by the term, 
 and could not stir, I thank you for putting me in mind of Charter-house, but 
 I see nothing in it worth making a bustle for : besides a coach, which I con- 
 sider not, it is but 200/. per annum, with a confinement to the London air, 
 and to such a way of living as I am not in love with ; neither do I think it 
 advisable to enter into such a competition as that would be for a better 
 place. Dr. Spencer, the Dean of Ely, has perused the specimen of Le 
 Clerc's Latin Version of the Old Testament, and likes the design very well, 
 but gives me no remarks upon it. Pray return my most humble service 
 and hearty thanks to my Lady Masham, for her ladyship's kind invitation; 
 and accept of mine to yourself for so frankly offering the assistance of your 
 friends, if there should be occasion. Mr. Green called on me last Tuesday, 
 and I designed to have answered your letter sooner, but beg your pardon 
 that I did not. 
 
 I am, 
 
 Your most humble servant. 
 
 Is. Newton." 
 
 « SIR, Cambridge, May 3rd, 1692. 
 
 " Now the churlish weather is almost over, I was thinking within a 
 post or two, to put you in mind of my desire to see you here, where you 
 shall be as welcome as I can make you. I am glad you have prevented 
 me, because I hope now to see you the sooner. You may lodge con^ 
 veniently either at the Rose tavern, or Queen's Arms inn. I am glad the 
 edition is stopped, but do not perceive that you had mine, and therefore 
 have sent you a transcript of what concerned miracles, if it come not now 
 too late. For it happens that I have a copy of it by me. ' Concerning 
 miracles, there is a notable passage or two in Ireneus L. 22, c. 56, recited 
 
 * Multiplication of metals was the term used by the chymists of that time to express a pro- 
 cess, by which they supposed that a certain quantity of a metal would be increased by their 
 operations. Locke was, at this time, editing a General History of the Air, by the Right Hon. 
 Robert Boyle. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 223 
 
 by Eusebius, 1. 5, c. 17. The miraculous refection of the Roman army 
 by rain, at the prayers of a Christian legion, (thence called fulminatrix) is 
 mentioned by Zipliilina apud Dionam. in Marco Imp, and by Tertullian 
 Apolog. c. 5, and ad Scap. c. 4, and by Eusebius 1. 5, c. 5. Hist. Eccl., and 
 in Chronico, and acknowledged by the Emperor Marcus in a letter, as 
 Tertullian mentions. The same Tertullian somewhere challenges the 
 heathens to produce a Demoniac, and he will produce a man who shall 
 cast out the demon.' For this was the language of the ancients for curing 
 lunatics. I am told that Sir Henry Yelverton in a book about the truth 
 of Christianity, has writ well of the ancient miracles, but the book I never 
 saw. Concerning Gregory Thaumaturgus, see Gregory Nystra in ejus vita, 
 and Basil de Spiritu Sancto. c. 29. 
 
 " My humble service to Sir Francis and his lady. 
 
 I am 
 
 Your most humble servant, 
 
 Is. Newton. 
 
 " I know of nothing that will caU me from home this month." 
 
 I must be allowed to call the reader's attention to the two 
 following letters, by prefixing the note of Mr. Dugald Stewart. 
 
 " For the preservation of this precious memorial of Mr. Locke," 
 he is pleased to say, " the public is indebted to the descendants of 
 his friend and relation, the Lord Chancellor King;" and after noticing 
 the ingenuous and almost infantine simplicity of Newton's letters, 
 he adds, speaking of Locke's reply ; " it is written with the mag- 
 nanimity of a philosopher, and with the good-humoured forbear- 
 ance of a man of the world ; and it breathes throughout, so tender 
 and so unaffected a veneration for the good as well as great qualities 
 of the excellent person to whom it is addressed, as demonstrates 
 at once the conscious integrity of the writer, and the superiority 
 of his mind to the irritation of little passions :" he adds, " I know 
 nothing from Locke's pen which does more honour to his temper 
 and character." 
 
224 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 " Being of opinion that you endeavoured to embroil me with women 
 and by other means, I was so much affected with it, as that when one 
 told me you were sickly and would not live, I answered, 'twere better if 
 you were dead. I desire you to forgive me this uncharitableness. For 
 I am now satisfied that what you have done is just, and I beg your pardon 
 for my having hard thoughts of you for it, and for representing that you 
 struck at the root of morality, in a principle you laid down in your book 
 of ideas, and designed to pursue in another book, and that I took you for 
 a Hobbist. I beg your pardon also for saying or thinking that there was a 
 design to seU me an office, or to embroU me. 
 
 I am 
 
 Your most humble 
 " At the Bull, in Shoreditch, London, And unfortunate servant, 
 
 Sept. 16th, 1693." Is. NeWTON." 
 
 LOCKE TO NEWTON. 
 •' SIR, Gates, Oct. 5th, 93. 
 
 " I HAVE been ever since I first knew you, so entirely and sincerely 
 your friend, and thought you so much mine, that I could not have be- 
 lieved what you tell me of yourself^ had I had it from any body else. 
 And though I cannot but be mightily troubled that you should have had 
 so many wrong and unjust thoughts of me, yet next to the return of good 
 offices, such as from a sincere good will I have ever done you, I receive 
 your acknowledgment of the contrary as the kindest thing you could 
 have done me, since it gives me hopes that I have not lost a friend I so 
 much valued. After what your letter expresses, I shall not need to say 
 any thing to justify myself to you. I shall always think your own re- 
 flection on my carriage both to you and all mankind, will sufficiently do 
 that. Instead of that, give me leave to assure you, that I am more ready 
 to forgive you than you can be to desire it ; and I do it so freely and fully, 
 that I wish for nothing more than the opportunity to convince you that 
 I truly love and esteem you ; and that I have stiU the same good will for 
 you as if nothing of this had happened. To confirm this to you more fully, 
 I should be glad to meet you any where, and the rather, because the con- 
 clusion of your letter makes me apprehend it would not be whoUy useless 
 to you. But whether you think it fit or not, I leave wholly to you. I 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 
 
 225 
 
 shall always be ready to serve you to my utmost, in any way you shall like, 
 and shall only need your commands or permission to do it. 
 
 " My book is going to the press for a second edition; and though I 
 can answer for the design with which I writ it, yet since you have so 
 opportunely given me notice of what you have said of it, I should 
 take it as a favour, if you would point out to me the places that gave 
 occasion to that censure, that by explaining myself better, I may avoid 
 being mistaken by others, or unawares doing the least prejudice to truth 
 or virtue. I am sure you are so much a friend to them both, that were 
 you none to me, I could expect this from you. But I cannot doubt but 
 you would do a great deal more than this for my sake, who after all have 
 all the concern of a friend for you, wish you extremely well, and am 
 without compliment." 
 
 The draft of the letter is indorsed " J. L. to T. Newton." 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 " The last winter by sleeping too often by my fire, I got an ill habit 
 of sleeping ; and a distemper, which this summer has been epidemical, put 
 me farther out of order, so that when I wrote to you, I had not slept an 
 hour a night for a fortnight together, and for five nights together not a 
 wink. I remember I wrote to you, but what I said of your book I re- 
 member not. If you please to send me a transcript of that passage, I will 
 give you an account of it if I can. 
 
 I am your most humble servant, 
 
 "Cambridge, Oct. 5th, 1693." Is. NeWTON." 
 
 Newton in the following letter criticises Locke's paraphrase 
 of 1 Corinthians, vii. 14, the unbelieving husband is sanctified or 
 made a Christian by his wife ; the words, however, stand unaltered 
 in the printed copy. 
 
 « SIR, London, May 15, 1703. 
 
 " Upon my first receiving your papers, I read over those concerning the 
 first Epistle of the Corinthians, but by so many intermissions, that I re- 
 solved to go over them again, so soon as I could get leisure to do it with 
 more attention. I have now read it over a second time, and gone over also 
 your papers on the second Epistle. Some faults, which seemed to be faults 
 
 2 G 
 
226 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of the Scribe, I mended with my pen, as I read the papers ; some others, I 
 have noted in the inclosed papers. In your paraphrase on 1 Cor. vii. 14, 
 you say, ' the unbelieving husband is sanctified, or made a Christian in his 
 wife.' I doubt this interpretation, because, the unbelieving husband is not 
 capable of baptism, as all Christians are. The Jews looked upon themselves 
 as clean, holy, or separate to God, and other nations as unclean, unholy, or 
 common, and accordingly, it was unlawful for a man that was a Jew, to 
 keep company with, or come unto one of another nation. Act. x. 28. 
 But when the propagation of the Gospel made it necessary, for the Jews 
 who preached the Gospel to go unto, and keep company with the Gentiles, 
 God showed Peter by a vision, in the case of Cornelius, that he had cleansed 
 those of other nations, so that Peter should not any longer call any man 
 common or unclean, and on that account, forbear their company : and there- 
 upon, Peter went in unto Cornelius and his companions, who were un- 
 circumcised, and did eat with them. Acts x. 27, 28. and xi. 3. Sancti- 
 fying therefore, and cleansing, signify here, not the making a man a Jew 
 or Christian, but the dispensing with the law, whereby the people of God 
 were to avoid the company of the rest of the world as unholy or unclean. 
 And if this sense be applied to St. Paul's words, they will signify, that al- 
 though believers are a people holy to God, and ought to avoid the company 
 of unbelievers as unholy or unclean, yet this law is dispensed with, in some 
 cases, and particularly in the case of marriage. The believing wife must 
 not separate from the unbelieving husband as unholy or unclean, nor the 
 believing husband from the unbelieving wife : for the unbeliever is sanc- 
 tified or cleansed by marriage with the behever, the law of avoiding the 
 company of unbehevers being, in this case, dispensed with. I should 
 therefore interpret St. Paul's words, after the following manner, 
 
 " ' For the unbelieving husband is sanctified or cleansed by the believing 
 wife, so that it is lawful to keep him company, and the unbelieving wife 
 is sanctified by the husband ; else, were the children of such parents to be 
 separated from you, and avoided as unclean, but now by nursing and 
 educating them in your families, you allow that they are holy.' 
 
 " This interpretation I propose as easy and suiting weU to the words 
 and design of St. Paul, but submit it wholly to your judgment. 
 
 "I had thoughts of going to Cambridge this Summer, and calling at 
 Gates in my way, but am now uncertain of this journey. Present, I 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 227 
 
 pray, my humble service to Sir Francis Masham and his Lady. I think 
 your paraphrase and commentary on these two Epistles, is done with 
 very great care and judgment. 
 
 I am 
 
 Your most humble. 
 And obedient servant. 
 
 Is. Newton." 
 
 REMAUKS ON SIR ISAAC NEWTON's THREE LETTERS.* 
 
 The principal subject to which the first letter of 14th of No- 
 vember, 1690, relates, and which is referred to in the others, of 16th 
 February, 1692, and 3d May, 1692, will cause them to be read with 
 interest by the Biblical scholar. Sir Isaac Newton's dissertations on 
 the controverted texts of 1 John, c. v. v. 7, and 1 Timothy iii. 16, 
 have long been before the public, and now hold their proper rank 
 amongst the ablest treatises of this class. The history of these 
 valuable tracts is, however, but imperfectly known ; it may, there- 
 fore, not be unacceptable to state here a few facts, collected chiefly 
 from Mr. Locke's papers, which may conduce to its elucidation. 
 Mr. Porson, who must be believed to have been extensively ac- 
 quainted with whatever related to the controversy, evidently knew 
 little as to the origin of the first of these works, and of its progress 
 towards publication. In the Preface to his masterly Letters to 
 Travis, (pp. ii, iii,) he thus expresses himself : — " Between the years 
 1690 and 1700, Sir Isaac Newton wrote a Dissertation upon 1 John, 
 v. 7, in which he collected, arranged, and strengthened Simon's argu- 
 ments, and gave a clear, exact, and comprehensive view of the whole 
 question. This Dissertation, which was not published till 1754, and 
 
 * I am indebted to the kindness of the Rev. Dr. Rees, to whom I had submitted the letters of 
 Sir Isaac Newton and of M. Le Clerc with Mr. Locke, for these learned and critical remarks. 
 
 2 G 2 
 
228 THE LIFE OF 
 
 then imperfectly, has been lately restored by Dr. Horsley, in the last 
 edition of Newton's Works, from an original manuscript." Bishop 
 Horsley, who regarded the two Dissertations with no favourable eye, 
 satisfies himself with the following account of their publication : — 
 " A very imperfect copy of this Tract, wanting both the beginning 
 and the end, and erroneous in many places, was published in Lon- 
 don, in the year 1754, under the title of ' Two Letters from Sir 
 Isaac Newton to Mr. Le Clerc :' but, in the author's manuscript, the 
 whole is one continued discourse, which, although it is conceived in 
 the epistolary form, is not addressed to any particular person." — 
 Preface to the Tract, Newton's Works, vol. v. p. 494. 
 
 The edition of 1754, although it conveys some additional in- 
 formation, leaves some things still to be explained. The editor thus 
 accounts (pp. 122, 123,) for his possession of the papers : — " The 
 reader is to be informed that the manuscript of these two Letters is 
 still preserved in the library of the Remonstrants in Holland. It 
 was lodged there by Mr. Le Clerc, and it was sent to him by the 
 famous Mr. Locke, and is actually in the hand-writing of this gen- 
 tleman. And notwithstanding the Letters have the acknowledged 
 defects, the editor thought it a pity that the world should be longer 
 deprived of these two pieces, as they now are, since they cannot be 
 obtained more perfect, all other copies of them being either lost or 
 destroyed." 
 
 The " acknowledged defects," to which the editor alludes, are 
 the loss of the beginning of the first letter, and of the end of the 
 second. The second letter is printed after the imperfect manu- 
 script, and concludes in the middle of a sentence. A different fate 
 befel its companion. Another writer, conjecturing from the course 
 of argument pursued in the existing portion of the first dissertation, 
 what must have been comprised in that which was lost, drew up a 
 new introduction to supply its place. The reader is not apprised 
 of this fact till he arrives at the end of the thirteenth page, when 
 his attention is arrested by the following note. " The editor must 
 inform the reader, that thus far is not Sir Isaac's ; the copy trans- 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 229 
 
 mitted to him fairly acknowledges it, and adds, that the first four 
 paragraphs of the manuscript are lost ; and that as there were no 
 hopes of recovering them, they were supplied, not out of vanity, but 
 merely to lay before the reader those passages which the letter 
 itself plainly shows had been made use of by the author himself; 
 and to the purposes, as is apprehended, they are here subservient 
 to ; and an assurance is also given that all which follows the words 
 * he makes use of,' are Sir Isaac's own, without alteration." 
 
 The author of the new introduction has shown himself to be a 
 man of learning, well acquainted with the subject. There is, how- 
 ever, a considerable difference, as may well be imagined, between 
 what he has written and Sir Isaac Newton's original, which is now 
 happily recovered. 
 
 These are the chief particulars of information to be obtained 
 from books as to the early history of the two tracts. It may be 
 proper to add, that in some catalogues of Sir Isaac Newton's works, 
 another edition is mentioned of the date of 1734, under the title 
 of " Two Letters to Mr. Clarke, late Divinity Professor of the 
 Remonstrants in Holland." But no opportunity has occurred of 
 consulting this edition, which is stated to be a duodecimo pam- 
 phlet. 
 
 Mr. Locke's papers have thrown some new light upon this 
 subject. From Sir Isaac Newton's letters, inserted above, we 
 now learn that these valuable papers were first communicated 
 to Mr. Locke in the strictest confidence. The author, with his 
 characteristic timidity, shrunk from the responsibility of send- 
 ing them forth to the public with the sanction of his name, and 
 thus expose himself to the scoffs or the censures of the theolo- 
 gical bigots of the age, who were either incompetent or indisposed 
 to appreciate the value of his labours. Mr. Locke was at this 
 time meditating a voyage to Holland; and Sir Isaac Newton's 
 first purpose was, that he should take these papers with him, and, 
 through the medium of some literary acquaintance, procure 
 the translation and publication of them there in the French Ian- 
 
230 THE LIFE OF 
 
 guage. He wished in this manner, without bringing himself per- 
 sonally before the public, to ascertain the feeling and judgment of 
 Biblical critics, as to the subjects of his work. Then, " after it 
 had gone abroad long enough in French," he " might," he states, 
 " perhaps put it forth in English." 
 
 Mr. Locke having postponed or abandoned his design of re- 
 visiting Holland, forwarded the papers to his friend M. Le Clerc, 
 with instructions to have them translated and published. Sir Isaac 
 Newton was not apprised of this circumstance, but, knowing that 
 Mr. Locke had not quitted England, concluded that they were 
 still in his possession. In the second letter, written fifteen months 
 after the first, he expresses his regret at learning that this was not 
 the case, and entreats Mr. Locke to countermand the translation, 
 it being his design to suppress the work. In the third letter, 
 written three months later, he merely says, he was " glad the edition 
 was stopped." 
 
 There exist no letters of Mr. Locke's to indicate what steps he 
 took towards the execution of Sir Isaac Newton's commission. This 
 deficiency is, however, partially supplied by the letters, still among 
 his papers, addressed to him by M. Le Clerc. The subject is first 
 mentioned in' a letter dated April 11th, 1691, in which M. Le Clerc 
 thus writes : — 
 
 "Des que j'aurai quelque loisir je traduirai, ou en Latin ou en 
 Franpois, le petit Historical Account, &c., qui merite de voir le jour, 
 Je crois pourtant qu'il pourroit etre meilleur si I'Auteur avoit lu 
 avec soin ce que M. Simon a dit du sujet, dont il parle dans la 
 critique du N. T. p. 1." 
 
 In a letter dated July the 31st, in the same year, referring to 
 a preceding communication, probably the letter already quoted, M. 
 Le Clerc writes : — 
 
 " Je vous y disois quelque chose du M.S. sur le passage cor- 
 rompu. Je n'en ai encore rien fait, a cause de diverses occupations 
 que j'ai cues, mais j'espere d'avoir occasion de le publier avec quelques 
 autres dissertations, etant trop petit pour paroitre tout seul. Un 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 231 
 
 trop petit livre se perd ; il faut tacher de le grossier un peu si on 
 veut qu'il subsiste." 
 
 The next letter in which the tract is mentioned, is dated Jan, 
 20th, 1692, and was written after a farther communication had been 
 received from Mr. Locke. " J'aurois soin," says M. Le Clerc, " d'in- 
 serer dans la dissertation sur le passage de S. J. I'addition que vous 
 m'avez envoiee, et de traduire I'autre, pour les publier toutes deux 
 ensemble en Latin. Si je n'etois pas engage dans un autre travail 
 qui demande tout mon temps, j'entreprendrois de composer, ou de 
 traduire en Latin, quantite de dissertations Anglois, ou Franpois, 
 ou Italiennes, sur des sujets de literature, qui sont peu connues, 
 et que leur petitesse fait perdre. Je les donnerois de temps en 
 temps au public, comme la Bibliotheque ou les Nouvelles de la Rep. 
 des Lettres ; et je le ferois a mes depenses, parce que les libraires 
 sont ici si avares, et de si mauvais gout, qu'ils veulent tout avoir 
 pour rien, et meprisent les meilleures choses lorsqu'on les leur 
 offre. Mais je suis a present trop occupe pour cela." 
 
 M. Le Clerc's next letter is dated the 11th of April, 1692. He 
 had by this time received Mr. Locke's instructions to stop the 
 publication. From the terms of M. Le Clerc's answer, it may be 
 conjectured, that the fears of the author of the tract that he might 
 be recognized, even through the disguise of a translation, had been 
 alleged as the cause of its suppression ; and this conjecture is 
 strengthened by the language of the subsequent letter. 
 
 " C'est dommage," writes M. Le Clerc, " que ces deux disserta- 
 tions MSS. que j'ai, demeurent supprimes. Je ne crois pas que Ton 
 put reconnoitre qu'elles sont traduites, a moins qu'on ne le dit. 
 Dans une matiere de cette nature, ou je ne saurois manquer de 
 prendre le sens de I'auteur, j'y donne un tour d'original qui ne sent 
 point du toute la traduction. Je n'avois pas encore conclu pour 
 cela avec I'imprimeur, qui faisoit difficulte a cause de la petitesse 
 de I'ouvrage ; et depuis votre lettre, je ne lui en ai plus parle." 
 
 In the next letter, July 15, 1692, M. Le Clerc thus expresses 
 himself: 
 
232 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " Je garderai fidelement les deux dissertations que j'ai, jusqu'a 
 ce que vous me marquerez ce que I'Auteur veut que j'en fasse. 
 Je puis bien dire, que ni cela, ni autre chose qui seroit public ici, 
 ne feroit aucune affaire a personne, pourvu qu'on n'en sut rien 
 d'ailleurs de la la mer. II faut hazarder quelque chose pour decrasser 
 beaucoup d'honnetes gens, qui ne pechent que par ignorance, et 
 qui desabuseroient les autres s'ils etoient desabuses." 
 
 On the 5th of December, in the same year, M. Le Clerc ob- 
 serves ; — " Vous aurez oui parler de dernier Tome de la critique 
 du P. Simon sur le N. Testament. H y a encore quelques eclair- 
 cissemens sur le passage de S. Jean, sur lequel M. Arnaud avoit fait 
 diverses remarques dans ses Objections a M. Steyaert. Cela meriteroit 
 d'etre examine par I'Auteur de la dissertation." 
 
 No farther notice of these papers occurs in this correspond- 
 ence, which continued to the year 1704, when Mr. Locke died. 
 There can be no doubt that the manuscript remained in M. Le 
 Clerc's hands up to this period. He had been enjoined not to 
 publish the dissertations, and he appears to have faithfully acted up 
 to his instructions. He was fully competent to appreciate their 
 value : the most favourable and inviting opportunities offered of 
 making them more extensively known through the press. His Bib- 
 liotheque, which had been discontinued about 1693, to afford him 
 leisure to prosecute works of more research and greater importance, 
 was resumed in December 1703, and continued till about 1730 ; and 
 yet, in none of the volumes, although presenting so convenient a 
 channel for their publication, are they introduced or named. In the 
 absence of more decisive information, we may receive, as probable 
 at least, the statement of the anonymous editor of the edition of 
 1754, that M. Le Clerc deposited the manuscript in the library of 
 the Remonstrants, from which, through the medium of a friend, he 
 alleges that he received his copy. 
 
 The title of the edition of 1754, " Two Letters from Sir Isaac 
 Newton to Mr. Le Clerc," is conjectural and inaccurate. The 
 tract having been in M. Le Clerc's possession, being written too in 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 233 
 
 the epistolary form, and the first leaves with the title-page having 
 been lost, the editor concluded that the author had actually addressed 
 them to the Remonstrant professor. It is now clear that Sir Isaac 
 Newton had no direct correspondence with this gentleman on the 
 subject, all the communications having been made through Mr. 
 Locke. There is also good reason to believe that Mr. Locke had 
 on no occasion divulged to his correspondent the name of the 
 writer, who was anxious to remain unknown. If the letters were 
 really addressed to any one, it must have been to Mr. Locke, to 
 whom the papers were transmitted as they were composed. The 
 probability however is, that the epistolary form was adopted by 
 the author merely as a matter of taste or convenience. The title 
 given to the tract by M. Le Clerc himself, in acknowledging the 
 receipt of the manuscript in the first extract inserted above, is not 
 that of " Two Letters," but " Historical Account,'' &c. which cor- 
 responds with the beginning of the title of the copy inserted in 
 Bishop Horsley's edition of Newton's Works, viz : — " An Historical 
 Account of Two Notable Corruptions of Scripture, in a Letter to a 
 Friend." 
 
 Sir Isaac Newton tells Mr. Locke, " I have no entire copy besides 
 that I send you." At a later period, he must have written many 
 other copies, without introducing any very material alterations. 
 Bishop Horsley performed a valuable service to biblical literature, 
 by the publication of one in the author's own hand, in the pos- 
 session of Dr. Ekins, Dean of Carlisle. From the catalogue of the 
 Newton Manuscripts at Lord Portsmouth's, at Hurstborne, it would 
 appear that there are some copies there ; but whether in a perfect 
 state, or not, cannot be ascertained until that collection shall have 
 been examined by some competent person, less influenced by theo- 
 logical and ecclesiastical biases, than the learned and Right Reverend 
 editor of Sir Isaac Newton's Works. 
 
 2 H 
 
234 THE LIFE OF 
 
 MR. SOMEKS TO MR. LOCKE. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, Oxoi), Wednesday, 5th March, 1689. 
 
 " Since you have wished so kindly to my election, I cannot but think 
 it my duty to give you an account that yesterday morning my old partner, 
 Mr. Bromley, and myself were chosen at Worcester without any opposition. 
 I know you will be pleased to hear that my Lord Bellamont has all the 
 reason in the world to be assured of being elected at Droitwich, and I hope 
 the next post will bring you a certain account that it is so, to-morrow being 
 his day. This day was the election for the county of Worcester, and I 
 doubt not but Mr. Foley and Sir Fr. Winnington were chosen, which may 
 be looked upon as good fortune, for there would have been danger from any 
 pretenders, as far as I can find, by the sense of the county. I was very wil- 
 ling to get out of the town as soon as my election was over, and so got into 
 the circuit at this place, from whence I shall go back to Worcester, where 
 I hope you wiU make me so happy as to let me receive another letter from 
 you, in which I wiU beg your advice, (for by this time you have an account 
 of the bulk of the elections,) whether you think I may go on in the circuit 
 or not : what you write shall be my rule in this point. If I could hope to 
 be useful, I would not fail to be at the opening of the Session ; but if there 
 be no hopes of it, (and that the Gazette inclines me to believe,) I would take 
 the advantage of the whole circuit, since I am now engaged in it. This 
 letter I beg from you by Saturday's post ; and when I have the satisfaction 
 of seeing you, I will beg your pardon for this freedom, which nothing but 
 your kindness to me upon all occasions, as well as my dependance upon your 
 judgment, could have drawn me to. I am earnest in expectation of your 
 thoughts in this and greater matters, and shall be often wishing for the 
 coming of the post to Worcester on Monday next. I am. 
 
 Sir, 
 Your most faithful, humble servant, 
 
 J. SOMERS." 
 
 " I am so unfortunate as to have forgot the name of the gentleman 
 at whose house you lodge, and therefore direct this to the Earl of 
 M.(onmouth)." 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 235 
 
 MR. SOMERS TO MR. LOCKE. 
 
 « Sjji , Worcester, Sept. 25, 1698. 
 
 " 1 OUGHT to be out of countenance for being so long in making my 
 acknowledgments for your two favours, which I really value so much ; but 
 as I had nothing to write from this place, which was fit for you to read, so I 
 wanted a proper address to you, till I learnt it from my friend Mr. Freke, 
 in his last letter. The country, generally speaking, is extremely well dis- 
 posed in relation to the Government ; but some few clergymen who have 
 not taken the oaths, and some that have, and a very little party of such as 
 pay them a blind obedience, use incredible diligence, by misconstructions of 
 every thing, false stories, and spreading of libels, to infect the people. I 
 wish heartily the friends of the Government were encouraged to use the 
 same diligence in suppressing such doings; for though they behave them- 
 selves with much malice, yet it is so very foolishly, that they lie as open as 
 one could wish. I am making all possible haste to town, and hope to learn 
 from you all that I want from my long absence. Your former favours 
 make me bold to presume upon you, and your judgment is such that I can 
 depend upon your instructions as the rules for my behaviour. 
 
 I am. 
 Your most obliged, humble servant, 
 
 J. SOMERS." 
 
 The next eight letters are selected from the correspondence be- 
 tween the Earl of Peterborough and Mr. Locke ; the intervals are 
 wide ; the date of the first being 1689, and that of the last 1703, the 
 year before Locke's death. Lord Monmouth had been in Holland 
 before the Revolution, and there, probably, their intimacy com- 
 menced. 
 
 " MR. LOCKE, Newcastle, Jan. 9, 1689. 
 
 " I MUST begin with a description of my Lord Delamere's army ; it 
 wanted nothing to be a complete regiment but clothes, boots, arms, horses, 
 men, and officers : there never was any thing so scandalous as that the King 
 should have paid near nine thousand pounds already to that rout of fellows 
 
 2 H 2 
 
236 ' THE LIFE OF 
 
 that have been more disorderly than any, never having all the while but one 
 captain with them. He hath stiU those same champions with him that 
 saved the nation, in the same or worse equipages than they were in the 
 West, mounted upon just such horses, attended the protestant peer out of 
 town. Good God ! what is the love of money ! O Roma venalis esses, &c. 
 and so is every thing else. Who has got ten thousand pounds by the late 
 made peer ? we take it for granted he gave no more ; he offered but fif- 
 teen for fifteen years together. Some of our Lords take their rest, others 
 their pleasure ; my Lords Devonshire and Lumley stay here ; Mr. Whar- 
 ton* goes for Scotland. I go to-morrow for Berwick, to examine some 
 regiments, and come back the next day to Newcastle, a pleasant journey ; at 
 least no reproach shall lie at my door ; for I can brag that pleasure, when I 
 am engaged in business, never made me go an hour out of my way. Direct 
 your letters to Carlisle. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Monmouth." 
 
 earl of monmouth to me. locke. 
 
 19th Nov. 1692. 
 " I AM told, that so many of your friends have sent you word how de- 
 sirous they are you should come to town, that I am resolved I will not be of 
 the number, concluding that your health obliges you to stay in the country. 
 I am afraid of mentioning Parson's-green to you, for I find you would 
 be importuned, if so near, to come to town, and our innocent air would be 
 accused of the ill effects of London smoke. If your acquaintances would 
 make you visits, and expect no returns, I would do all in my power to 
 tempt you to a lady, who would take all possible care of you ; she has pre- 
 pared you a very warm room, and if you take the resolution, which she 
 thinks you are obliged to by your promise, you must send me word of it ; 
 for, as your physician, you must refuse none of her prescriptions ; and she 
 wiU not allow you to come up but in a glass-coach. This is no compliment ; 
 and you can gain no admittance except my coach brings you, which I can send 
 without the least inconvenience ; but after all, I desire you not to venture 
 coming towards us if it may be prejudicial to your health. If you stay in 
 the country, T will send you now and then a news-letter : our revolving 
 
 * Mr, Wharton, the same whose song of Luliibalero had produced such au effect on King 
 James's army. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. ' . 237 
 
 Government always affords us something new every three or four months ; 
 but what would be most new and strange, would be to see it do any thing that 
 were really for its interest; there seems a propensity towards something like 
 it : I fear their suUen and duller heads will not allow it. Mons. Blanquet 
 tells us the King is grown in love with Englishmen and Whigs ; it is true, 
 he smiles and talks with us, but Messrs. Seymour and Trevor come up the 
 back-stairs. Mons. Dolm tells us my Lord Nottingham is a little lawyer, 
 and no man of business ; yet the Court have taken aU possible pains to pre- 
 vent the petition against him, and my good Lord Mayor to set it aside 
 broke up the court so abruptly as my Lord Sidney the Irish Parliament. 
 I wiU engage no farther in politics, but being sick, am going, by way of 
 physic, to eat a good supper, and drink your health in a glass or two of my 
 reviving wine. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Monmouth." 
 
 " MR. LOCKE. March 25, 1693. 
 
 " Shall we pretend more that nothing shall surprise us ? and have you 
 heard of our late Whiggish promotion without admiration ? I cannot but 
 confess, I rather wish we had our Whiggish laws : but however, I think 
 there must be some consequence, not so much of our joy, as of the ill hu- 
 mour of the Tories, which is so apparent, and so great, that I am resolved 
 to enjoy the satisfaction it gives me, and not lose the few moments of mu'th 
 offered us by a too nice examination. The new Secretary* treads the stage 
 with quite another air, than our friend ; the poor Lord-keeperf looks as if 
 he wanted the comfort of his friends ; but the other ij^ thinks he may depend 
 on his own parts and the ability of Mr. Bridgman. Whether to congratulate 
 with your friends, or to see the silly looks of the enemy, I suppose you 
 will give us one week in town. There is a little philosophical apartment 
 quite finished in the garden that expects you, and if you will let me know 
 when you will come, it will not be the least inconvenience to me to send 
 my coach twenty miles out of town to meet you, and may make your jour- 
 ney more easy, and if you would make me so, pray, Mr. Locke, be less cere- 
 monious to your affectionate servant, 
 
 Monmouth." 
 
 * The Earl of Shrewsbury. 
 
 t St. John Trevor, afterwards expelled the House of Commons for corruption. 
 
 I Sir John Somers. 
 
238 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " MR. LOCKE, December 12, 1695. 
 
 " I CANNOT but write to you to give some ease to my ill-humour, for, 
 though accustomed to see such follies committed, I cannot be insensible 
 when I see them repeated, especially when the public and a friend is 
 concerned. I was some days ago extremely pleased when the King was 
 brought to so reasonable a resolution as to determine upon a council of 
 trade, where some great men were to assist, but where others, with salaries 
 of a thousand pounds a year, were to be fixed as the constant labourers. Mr. 
 Locke being to be of the number, made me have the better opinion of the 
 thing, and comforted me for our last disappointment upon your subject : 
 but, according to our accustomed wisdom and prudence, when all things 
 had been a good while adjusted, the patent ready for the seal, and some 
 very able and honest men provided for your companions, it was impossible 
 to get the King to sign it ; but delaying it from day to day, the Parlia- 
 ment this day fell upon it, and are going to form such a commission, to be 
 nominated by themselves. Our great managers surprised, were forced to 
 run up to some in our House, others to go to Kensington, so that at last, 
 the Secretary informs the House at the latter end of the debate, (and much 
 consultation) that the King had just formed such a commission, with all that 
 could be said to prevent their farther proceeding ; but they all looked upon 
 it as a trick, and all they could do was to put it to a vote for an adjourn- 
 ment, which, in a full House, after great exertions, they carried but by 
 eleven : this is the effect of our gravity and prudence ; what the event will 
 be I know not, but for the little I am able, I shall endeavour. Mr. Locke 
 may be the choice of the House, as well as the King's : if it take that course, 
 if the ill-weather prevent you not, it were not improper you were in town ; 
 but above all things take care of yourself, without which your friends will 
 lose the pleasure they may have in serving you. I hope we may make the 
 House desist, and that your affair is fixed ; but these unnecessary labours 
 might be spared to those who have enough to do. 
 
 From your affectionate servant, 
 
 Monmouth." 
 
 "MR. LOCKE, August, 1697. 
 
 " You know the impatience country gentlemen have for news ; we 
 are here as fond of a Gazette as the sparks are of their mistresses with 
 you. We lay wagers on Ponty and Revel and Conti and Saxe, to pass away 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 239 
 
 the time, instead of playing at piekett. Pray give us a letter now and then 
 to decide who has won : this request is made you, not only by myself, but 
 by some other of your humble friends, 
 
 Peteeborow." 
 " Direct your's for me, to be left at the post-house, Chippenham, Wilt- 
 shire." 
 
 "MR. LOCKE, September 4, 1697. 
 
 We aU return you thanks for your charitable correspondence, but the 
 lady is a little out of humour since your last, having long ago settled the 
 peace with the restitution of Strasburgh, and Luxemburgh, and Loraine, and 
 sunk and destroyed all, or most of Pont squadron, not considering the generous 
 Knight-errantry of our admirals, who scorn to beat their enemies with odds 
 nine to five, being shameful advantage. The next letter you are pleased to 
 write this way, address it to the lady who stays here some time longer, I 
 hope in four or five days after you have received this, to see you in Lon- 
 don ; for I take it for granted, the Essex lady is not to attract, while the 
 sun has so much influence, 
 
 Your most affectionate servant, 
 
 Peterborow." 
 
 " SIR, Dec. 26th, 1702. 
 
 " The lady that made you a visit with me would not let me write, till 
 I could teU you all is gone afore, and that the first easterly wind we 
 follow. I wish we were as sure of success as we are of your good wishes ; 
 and I assure you. Sir, I have some pretence to that from the very sincere 
 respect and inclination I have ever had for you. Our Vigo success has a 
 little abated our vigour, a fault too often committed by the English, and 
 we seem not so willing as the Dutch to raise new recruits for the next cam- 
 paign. I confess, (after the schoolboy fashion) I am for giving the enemy 
 the rising blow when they are down. And I hope to convince you in the 
 West Indies, that if Providence give us successes, we wiU not sleep upon 
 them. Sir, if I make a prosperous voyage and live to come back again, I 
 shaU not have a greater pleasure than to meet you where we parted last. 
 
 Your most aifectionate friend and servant, 
 
 Peterborow." 
 
 " The gentleman you recommended from my Lady Coverly, went this 
 night aboard." 
 
240 THE LIFE OF 
 
 27th Jan. 1703. 
 
 " Had I not with Mr. Locke left off wondering at any thing long ago, 
 I might with surprise write this letter, and you receive with amazement, 
 when I let you know our American expedition is fallen, as a mushroom 
 rises in the night. I liad my orders to be aboard the I6th ; all my equipage 
 and servants gone ; and the 14th I was sent for to the place of Wisdom 
 to be asked this question, whether I could not effect with three thousand 
 men, what I was to have attempted with above double the number? I 
 modestly confessed myself no worker of miracles ; and being told that the 
 States had desired the Dutch squadron, and land-forces might be employed 
 upon other services, since the season was so far spent, and the wind con- 
 trary, I likewise desired they would excuse my going if the season were 
 passed, when I was sure the force would not answer what the world ex- 
 pected from her Majesty's arms and preparations so long talked of; besides, 
 these 3000 men I was to depend upon, were but 2800 when they left Calais, 
 and before my arrival must have been employed for four months against 
 the French in their strongest islands, and probably reduced to half the 
 number, at least, by disease and the accidents of war. I am sure this does 
 not surprise you, that I refused to go to the other world loaded with empty 
 titles, and deprived of force. These mysteries of state I wUl not pretend to 
 unfold at present, but before I return to my home, I wiU have another 
 meeting in Essex. 
 
 Your most faithful friend, 
 
 Peterborow." 
 
 The state of the coin had for a long time very much engaged 
 Locke's attention ; the first of his treatises upon that subject was 
 published in 1691, and the farther consideration in 1695, for the 
 purpose of correcting the false ideas then universally prevalent. 
 
 Whenever there is considerable distress in the public affairs, — 
 if trade is embarrassed, if the currency is disordered, if the finances 
 are deranged, — there are always to be found men, who from igno- 
 rance or interest, are ready to recommend what they are pleased 
 to call the easy, practical, and natural remedies, which in the end 
 generally aggravate the evils they were supposed to cure. Under 
 a despotic Government, if the debts are embarrassing, or the finances 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 241 
 
 in disorder, a base coin is issued, and the defrauded creditor is com- 
 pelled to submit in silence to the royal ordinance. Such was the 
 common ordinary practice of the old French Government, and of 
 most of the other states of Europe, whose coins have been succes-^ 
 sively deteriorated from their original standard. 
 
 In our own country, and in our own times, we have seen a 
 Bank-Restriction Act imposed, to avoid a temporary difficulty, which 
 deranged our affairs during a quarter of a century. 
 
 In 1695, one or perhaps all these causes of national distress 
 were severely felt ; the war had diminished the national resources, 
 and the frauds practised for some time by the clipping the money, 
 had considerably impaired its intrinsic value. Mr. Lowndes and 
 the practical men of that day, recommended the usual panacea, an 
 alteration of the standard ; but those honest ministers. Lord Somers 
 and Sir William Trumbull, the Secretary of State, knowing from the 
 treatise on Lowering of Interest, and Raising the Value of Money, 
 published in 1691, that Locke had turned his attention very much 
 to those subjects, now called him to their assistance, and were guided 
 by his advice. 
 
 Lord Keeper Somers writes to him : 
 
 " gjj{^ November, 95. 
 
 " You will easily see by the book which was put in my hand last night, 
 and by the title of a Report which it bears, as well as by the advertisement 
 at the end of it, that you were in the right when you said that the alteration 
 of the standard was the thing aimed at. The challenge at the end, if you 
 will allow me to say so, is in some sort directed to you. The proposition 
 which you and I discoursed upon yesterday is endeavoured to be repre- 
 sented impracticable. The passing of money by weight is said to be ridi- 
 culous, at least in little payments ; the sudden fall of guineas will be an 
 utter ruin to very great numbers ; there is no encouragement proposed to 
 invite people to bring the clipped money into the Mint, so that will be 
 melted down to be transported, which wiU be a certain profit at least, till 
 by a law money can be exported. And whilst this is doing nothing will 
 
 2 I 
 
242 THE LIFE OF 
 
 be left to carry on commerce, for no one will bring out his guineas to part 
 with them for twenty shillings when he paid thirty shillings for them so 
 lately. These, as I remember, were the objections made use of; and I doubt 
 not but you will, without great difficulty, help us with some expedients for 
 them. I believe it an easier task than to remove what I see is so fixed, the 
 project of alteration of the standard. 
 
 I am. 
 Your most humble servant, 
 
 J. SOMERS." 
 
 In the " Farther Consideration on raising the value of Money," 
 published 1695, addressed to Sir John Somers, he endeavoured to 
 strip the question of hard, obscure, and " doubtful words wherewith 
 men are often misled and mislead others." He condemns the 
 nefarious project of raising the denomination and altering the 
 standard as a fraud upon all creditors, and justly considers it as 
 
 " THE MEANS OF CONFOUNDING THE PROPERTY OF THE SUBJECT, 
 AND DISTURBING AFFAIRS TO NO PURPOSE." 
 
 The advice of Locke was followed, and the great recoinage of 
 1695 restored the current money of the country to the full legal 
 standard. 
 
 The difference between the embarrassments which affected the 
 currency in the reign of King William, and those which have oc- 
 curred in our own time, may be thus stated : the coin at the period 
 first mentioned, had been deteriorated by the frauds of individuals 
 and the neglect of the public, but when the evil was felt, and the 
 remedy pointed out, the Parliament, notwithstanding the pressure 
 of the war and the false theories of the practical men of those days, 
 applied the proper remedy at the proper time before any great per- 
 manent debt had been incurred. In our own time the depreciation 
 of the currency was entirely to be attributed to the Bank and the 
 Government. The paper-money of a banking company, without 
 the one indispensable condition of security against excesses, payment 
 
JOHN LOCKE, 243 
 
 in specie on demand, was in an evil hour substituted in place of the 
 King's lawful coin ; and in order that the Minister might avoid the 
 imputation of being an unskilful financier, who borrowed money on 
 unfavourable terms, a debt of unexampled magnitude was accu- 
 mulated in a debased currency, to be ultimately discharged by 
 payment in specie at the full and lawful standard. It must be 
 confessed that by the tardy act of retributive justice, which was 
 passed in 1819, the punishment inflicted upon the nation was in 
 the exact proportion to the former deviations from good faith 
 and sound principle, and we may at least hope that the severity 
 of the penalty will prevent for the future a repetition of the same 
 foUv. 
 
 Respecting the other subject of the treatise, viz. "Consideration 
 on lowering the rate of Interest," the author asks this question : 
 " Whether the price of the hire of money can be regulated by law ?" 
 The same question after the lapse of ISO years, we may still continue 
 to repeat with the same success. He then shows that the attempt 
 " to regulate the rate of interest will increase the difficulty of bor- 
 rowing, and prejudice none but those who need assistance." 
 
 In the same year he was appointed to a seat at the Council of 
 Trade. Sir John Somers writes to inform him of the King's no- 
 mination, and to make excuse for using his name without his 
 " express consent." 
 
 Sir Wm. Trumbull communicates the same appointment by the 
 following letter. 
 
 « Sm, Whitehall, May 19, 1696. 
 
 " Besides my particular obhgations to thank you for your kind letter 
 to me, I am now to caU upon you in behalf of the public, whose service 
 requires your help, and consequently your attendance in town. The 
 Council of Trade (whereof you are most worthily appointed a member,) 
 must go on with effect, or the greatest inconveniences and mischief will 
 follow. I hope your health will permit you to come and make some stay 
 here ; and what reluctancy soever you may have to appear among us, I 
 
 2 I 2 
 
244 THE LIFE OF 
 
 know your love to your country, and your great zeal for our common 
 interests will overcome it, so that I will trouble you no farther till I can 
 have the happiness of seeing you here, and assuring you by word of mouth 
 that I am unalterably 
 
 Your most faithful humble servant, 
 
 William Trumbull. 
 
 " My wife will have me send her humble service to you." 
 
 After holding the appointment at the Board of Trade for a short 
 time, his increasing infirmities made him wish to resign it, and he 
 communicated his intention to Lord Keeper Somers, by letter, dated 
 7th Jan., 1696-7. 
 
 " MY LORD, 
 
 " Some of my brethren, I understand, think my stay in the country 
 long, and desire me to return to bear my part, and to help to dispatch the 
 multitude of business that the present circumstances of trade and the planta- 
 tions fill their hands with. I cannot but say they are in the right ; and I 
 cannot but think, at the same time, that I also am in the right to stay in the 
 country, where aU my care is little enough to preserve those small remains 
 of health, which a settled and incurable indisposition would quickly make 
 an end of anywhere else. 
 
 " There remains, therefore, nothing else to be done but that I should 
 cease to fill up any longer a place that requires a more constant attendance 
 than my strength wiU allow ; and to that purpose, I prevail with your 
 Lordship to move his Majesty, that he would be pleased to ease me of the 
 employment he has been so graciously pleased to honour me with, since the 
 crazyness of my body so iU seconds the incUnation I have to serve him in it, 
 and I find myself every way incapable of answering the ends of that com- 
 mission. I am not insensible of the honour of that employment, nor how 
 much I am obhged to your Lordship's favourable opinion in putting me 
 into a post, which I look upon as one of the most considerable in England. 
 I can say that nobody has more warm wishes for the prosperity of his 
 country than I have ; but the opportunity of showing those good wishes, in 
 being any way serviceable to it, I find comes too late to a man whose health 
 is inconsistent with the business, and in whom it would be folly to hope for 
 
JOHN LOCKR 245 
 
 a return to that vigour and strength which such an employment I see re- 
 quires. It is not without due consideration that I represent this to your 
 Lordship, and that I find myself obliged humbly and earnestly to request 
 your Lordship to obtain for me a dismission out of it. I wish your Lord- 
 ship rnany happy new years, and am, with the utmost acknowledgment and 
 respect." 
 
 LORD KEEPER SOMERS TO MR. LOCKE. 
 
 " SIR, 26th Jan. 1696-7. 
 
 " My great fatigue, joined with a very great indisposition, must make 
 my excuse for being so slow in returning an answer to your very obliging 
 letter. I am very sorry for your ill health, which confines you to the coun- 
 try for the present ; but now you will have so much regard to yourself, 
 your friends, and your country, as not to think of returning to business till 
 you are recovered to such a competent degree, as not to run the hazard of a 
 relapse. As to the other part of your letter, which relates to the quitting 
 the Commission, I must say you are much in the wrong, in my opinion, to 
 entertain a thought of it ; and 1 flatter myself so far as to believe I could 
 bring you over to my sentiments, if I had the happiness of half an hour's 
 conversation with you. These being my thoughts, you cannot wonder if I 
 am not willing to enter upon the commission you give me, of saying some- 
 thing to the King of your purpose. But when the new commission is 
 made, and the establishment fixed, and the Parliament up, and you have had 
 the opinion of your friends here, I will submit to act as you shall command 
 me. In the mean time give me leave to say, that no man alive has a greater 
 value for you, nor is, with more sincerity than myself. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Your most faithful servant, 
 
 J. SOMERS." 
 
 DRAFT OF LOCKE'S ANSWER TO LORD KEEPER SOMERS. 
 "MY LORD, Feb. 1, 1696-7. 
 
 " I know nobody that can with so much right promise himself to bring 
 me over to his sentiments as your Lordship, for I know not any one that 
 has such a master-reason to prevail as your Lordship, nor any one to whom. 
 
246 THE LIFE OF 
 
 without attending the convictions of that reason, that I am so much dis- 
 posed to submit to with implicit faith. Your Lordship, I perceive, from 
 several positions takes a different view of the same thing ; and since your 
 Lordship, who always speaks reason, is always also ready to hear it, I 
 promise myself that the propositions I made would not appear to your 
 Lordship altogether unfit, had I an opportunity to offer to your Lordship 
 all the considerations that moved and hold me to it. The obliging promise 
 your Lordship has been pleased to make me in the honour of yours of the 
 25th of January, that when I have had your Lordship's opinion, you will 
 not refuse me the favour I have asked, if I shall then continue my request, 
 sets me at rest for the present ; and a word from your Lordship that you 
 will have the goodness to let me have notice time enough to lay before 
 your Lordship what weighs with me in the case, before any thing can be 
 done either in making a new commission, or fixing the establishment, will 
 ease your Lordship of any farther importunity from me ; and then I who 
 am so much in your favour, shall not alone of all the subjects of England, 
 apprehend that, upon a fair hearing, your Lordship will not allow the equity 
 of my case. Untoward health, which complies no more with good manners 
 than with other obligations, must be my excuse to your Lordship for this 
 last, as well as it was a great cause of my first request to you in this affair. 
 If my ill lungs would permit me now presently, {as becomes me) to come 
 to town and wait there the opportunity of discoursing your Lordship, I 
 should not have reason as I have to desire to quit this employment. The 
 great indulgence your Lordship expresses to my infirm constitution, makes 
 me hope it will extend itself farther ; it cannot, I think, do less than make 
 your Lordship bethink yourself of a man to substitute in the place of a 
 shadow. I cannot make an equal return to your Lordship's concerns for 
 my health, since my country's welfare is so much interested in your 
 Lordship's preservation, mixing with my concern for your late indisposition, 
 wlU not suffer my good wishes for the confirmation of your strength to be 
 purely personal to your Lordship, though nobody can be more than I am, 
 
 &c. &c." 
 
 In the following year King William ordered Locke to attend 
 him at Kensington, desirous to employ him again in the public 
 service. However flattering the King's intention towards him must 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 247 
 
 have been, the state of his health prevented him from accepting the 
 honour that was designed him : he writes to the Lord Chancellor 
 Somers, probably from Gates. 
 
 " MAY IT PLEASE YOUR LORDSHIP, Jan. 28, 1697-8. 
 
 " Sunday, in the evening, after I had waited on the King, I went to 
 wait upon your Lordship, it being, I understood, his Majesty's pleasure I 
 should do SO before I returned hither. My misfortune in missing your 
 Lordship I hoped to repair by an early dihgence the next morning, but the 
 night that came between destroyed that purpose and me almost with it. 
 For, when I was laid in my bed, my breath failed me ; I was fain to sit up 
 in my bed, where I continued a good part of the night, with hopes that my 
 shortness of breath would abate, and my lungs grow so good-natured as to 
 let me lie down to get a little sleep, whereof I had great need ; but my 
 breath constantly faihng me as often as I laid my head upon my pillow, 
 at three I got up, and sat by the fire till morning. My case being brought 
 to this extremity, there was no room for any other thought but to get out 
 of town immediately ; for, after the two precedent nights without any rest, 
 I concluded the agonies I laboured under so long in the second of those, 
 would hardly fail to be my death the third, if I stayed in town. As bad 
 weather, therefore, as it was, I was forced early on Monday morning to set 
 out and return hither. 
 
 " His Majesty was so favourable as to propose the employment your 
 Lordship mentioned ; but the true knowledge of my own weak state of 
 health made me beg his Majesty to think of some fitter person, and more 
 able, to serve him in that important post ; to which I added my want of 
 experience for such business. That your Lordship may not think this an 
 expression barely of modesty, I crave leave to explain it to your Lordship, 
 (though there I discover my weakness,) that my temper, always shy of a 
 crowd of strangers, has made my acquaintances few, and my conversation 
 too narrow and particular, to get the skiU of dealing with men in their 
 various humours, and drawing out their secrets. Whether this was a fault 
 or no to a man that designed no bustle in the world, I know not. I am 
 sure it wiU let your Lordship see that I am too much a novice in the world 
 for the employment proposed. 
 
248 "THE LIFE OF 
 
 " Though we are so oddly placed here, that we have no ordinary convey- 
 ance for our letters from Monday till Friday, yet this delay has not fallen 
 out much amiss. The King was graciously pleased to order me to go into 
 the country to take care of my health : these four or five days here have 
 given me a proof .to what a low state my lungs are now brought, and how 
 little they can bear the least shock. I can lie down again, indeed, in my 
 bed, and take my rest ; but, bating that, I find the impression of these two 
 days in London so heavy upon me still, which extends farther than the 
 painfulness of breathing, and makes me listless to every thing, so that me- 
 thinks the writing this letter has been a great performance. 
 
 " My Lord, I should not trouble you with an account of the prevailing 
 decays of an old pair of lungs, were it not my duty to take care his Majesty 
 should not be disappointed, and, therefore, that he lay not any expectation 
 on that, which, to my great misfortune, every way, I find would certainly fail 
 him ; and I must beg your Lordship, for the interest of the public, to pre- 
 vail with his Majesty to think on somebody else, since I do not only fear, 
 but am sure, my broken health will never permit me to accept the great 
 honour his Majesty meant me. As it would be unpardonable to betray the 
 King's business, by undertaking what I should be unable to go through; so 
 it would be the greatest madness to put myself out of the reach of my 
 friends during the small time I am to linger in this world, only to die a 
 little more rich, or a little more advanced. He must have a heart strongly 
 touched with wealth, or honours, who, at my age, and labouring for breath, 
 can find any great relish for either of them." 
 
 King William, who was subject to the same asthmatic complaint, 
 is said to have conversed with Locke respecting his treatment of his 
 own disorders. The King, when he was told that a very strict ab- 
 stinence afforded the only relief, acknowledged that the advice was 
 very good, but, like other patients, did not resort to that disagree- 
 able remedy. Having refused the employment which the King had 
 designed for him, he now determined to resign that which he for 
 some years held, and for the same reason. 
 
 The asthmatic complaint, to which he had been long subject, 
 making a continued residence in London, particularly during the 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 249 
 
 winter season, very distressing to him, he had for some years taken 
 up his abode with Sir F. and Lady Masham, at Oates, near Ongar, 
 in Essex, where he was perfectly at home, and enjoyed the society 
 most agreeable to him ; as Lady Masham, the daughter of Cudworth, 
 is said to have been a woman of great sense and of most agreeable 
 manners. Their intimacy seems to have been of long standing by 
 the following letter of Locke to her brother, Mr. Cudworth, dated 
 1683, which is interesting, as it affords a proof of the great activity 
 of his mind in the search for every sort of knowledge. 
 
 " Sm, London, 27th April, 1683. 
 
 " Though you are got quite to the other side of the world, yet you 
 cease not to make new acquisitions here ; and the character you have left 
 behind you, makes your acquaintance be sought after to the remotest parts 
 of the earth. There is a commerce of friendship as well as merchandise ; 
 and though nobody, almost, lets his thoughts go so far as the East Indies, 
 without a design of getting money and growing rich, yet, if you allow 
 my intentions, I hope to make a greater advantage by another sort of cor-, 
 respondence with you there. In the conversation I have had the happiness 
 to have sometimes with your sister here, I have observed her often to speak 
 of you with more tenderness and concern than all the rest of the world, 
 which has made me conclude it must be something extraordinary in you 
 which has raised in her (who is so good a judge) so particular an esteem and 
 affection, beyond what is due to the bare ties of nature and blood. And I 
 cannot but think that your souls are akin, as well as your bodies, and that 
 yours, as well as hers, is not of the ordinary alloy. I account it none of the 
 least favours she has done me, that she has promised me your friendship ; 
 and you must not think it strange, if I presume upon her word, and trouble 
 you with some inquiries concerning the country you are in, since she en- 
 courages me in it, and assures me I shall not fail of an answer. 
 
 " Some of those who have travelled, and writ of those parts, give us 
 strange stories of the tricks done by some of their jugglers there, which 
 must needs be beyond legerdemain, and seems not within the power of art 
 or nature. I would very gladly know whether they are really done as 
 strange as they are reported ; and whether those that practise them are any 
 of them Mahometans, or all (which I rather suppose) heathens, and how they 
 
 2 K 
 
250 '^H^ LIFE OF 
 
 are looked on by the Bramins, and the other people of the country ; whe- 
 ther they have any apparitions amongst them, and what thoughts of spirits ; 
 and as much of the opinions, religion, and ceremonies of the Hindoos and 
 other heathens of those countries, as comes in your way to learn and inquire. 
 It would be too great kindness, if you could learn any news of any copies of 
 the Old or New Testament, or any parts of them, which they had amongst 
 them, in any language, in those Eastern countries, before the Europeans 
 traded thither by the Cape of Good Hope. I should trouble you also 
 with inquiries concerning their languages, learning, government, manners, 
 and particularly Aureng Zebe, the Emperor of Hindostan, since I coidd 
 promise myself a more exact account from you than what we have in 
 printed travels ; but I fear I have been more troublesome than what you 
 will imagine will become a man that does but now begin to beg your ac- 
 quaintance. If I have trespassed herein, you must excuse it to the little 
 distinction I make between you and your sister ; you must conclude I forgot 
 myself, and thought I was talking to, and (as I used to do) learning some- 
 thing of her ; and 'tis to the same account I must beg you to place the ob- 
 ligation you will lay on me, by procuring and sending hither an answer to 
 the inclosed letter, du-ected to Mrs. Richards ; her husband died going to 
 the East Indies, in a ship that set out hence about Christmas was twelve- 
 months, where he was to have been factor, somewhere in the Bay of Bengal, 
 for the Company. His wife and two daughters, who were with him, went 
 on their voyage ; where she settled herself, and remains now, you will easily 
 know. I beg the favour of you to get the inclosed conveyed to her, and 
 an answer from her, which be pleased to direct to be left for me either with 
 Mr. P. Percevall, at the Black Boy, in Lombard-street, or Mr. S. Cox, at 
 the Iron Key, in Thames-street, London. 
 
 " And now, having been thus free with you, 'tis in vain to make apolo- 
 gies for it ; if you allow your sister to dispose of your friendship, you will 
 not take it amiss that I have looked upon myself as in possession of what 
 she has bestowed on me ; or that I begin my conversation with you with a 
 freedom and familiarity suitable to an established amity and acquaintance ; 
 besides, if, at this distance, we should set out, according to the forms of cere- 
 mony, our correspondence would proceed with a more grave and solemn 
 pace than the treaties of Princes, and we must spend some years in the very 
 preliminaries. He that, in his first address, should only put off his hat and 
 make a leg, and say your servant, to a man at the other end of the world. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 251 
 
 may, (if the winds set right,) and the ships come home safe, and bring back 
 the return of his compliment, may, I say, in two or three years, perhaps, 
 attain to something that looks like the beginning of an acquaintance, and by 
 the next Jubilee there may be hopes of some conversation between them. 
 Sir, you see what a blunt fellow your sister has recommended to you ; as 
 far removed from the ceremonies of the Eastern people you are amongst, as 
 from their country ; but one that, with great truth and sincerity, says to 
 you, 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 J. L. " 
 " One thing, which I had forgot, give me leave to add, which is a great 
 desire to know how the several people of the East keep their account of 
 time, as months and years ; and whether they generally agree in using 
 periods answering to our weeks ; and whether their arithmetic turns at ten 
 as ours doth." 
 
 The following letters are selected from a very great number 
 written by Locke to his relation Mr. King, afterwards Lord Chan- 
 cellor, and found amongst his papers. 
 
 TO p. KING, ESQ. M. P. MIDDLE TEMPLE, LONDON. 
 " DEAR COUSIN, Gates, July 3d, 98. 
 
 " I AM glad that you are so well entered at the bar ; it is my advice to 
 you to go on so gently by degrees, and to speak only in things that you 
 are perfectly master of, till you have got a confidence and habit of talking 
 at the bar. I have many reasons for it which I shall discover to you when 
 I see you. This warm day, (which has been the third that I have been 
 able this year yet to pass without a fire,) gives me hopes that the comfort- 
 able weather which I have long wished for is setting in, that I may venture 
 to town in a few days, for I would not take a journey thither to be driven 
 out again presently, as I am sure our late cold weather would have done, 
 for my lungs are yet very weak. 
 
 " I have writ to my Lord Pembroke, because you desire it, and because I 
 understand by you that Mr. Edwards desires it ; you wiU see what I have 
 writ, but it is by no means fit that Mr. Edwards should see my letter, for 
 I have in it kept to the measures I always observe in such cases, and which 
 have gained some credit to my recommendation, though it does not always 
 
 2 K 2 
 
252 THE LIFE OF 
 
 content candidates, if one says no more than what one knows. If you 
 dehver it, pray let it be with my most humble service ; if you do not de- 
 liver it, pray burn it. 
 
 " My lady, &c. give you their service. 
 
 I am, dear cousin, 
 
 Your most affectionate 
 
 J. Locke." 
 
 " DEAR COUSIN, Gates, March 1st, 1701. 
 
 " Tn compliance with yours of yesterday, I Avrite this evening with 
 intention to send my letter to Harlow to-morrow morning, that Mr. Har- 
 rison may, if possible, find some way of conveyance of it to you before to- 
 morrow night. The family and other circumstances have no exception, and 
 the person I have heard commended, but yet the objection made is con- 
 siderable. I think the young gentleman concerned ought to manage it so 
 as to be well satisfied whether that be what he can well bear, and wiU 
 consist with the comfort and satisfaction he proposes to himself in that state 
 before he seem to hearken to any such proposal, so that he may avoid what 
 he cannot consent to, without any appearance of a refusal. For to make 
 a visit upon such proposal, though it be designed without any consequence 
 and offered to be contrived as of chance, is yet a sort of address ; and then 
 going no further, whatever is said will be ill taken of her friends, and con- 
 sequently the whole family be disobliged, which will have ill consequences, 
 and therefore should be avoided : for whatever reason a man may have to 
 refuse a woman that is offered him, it must never be known that it was 
 any thing in her person ; such a discovery makes a mortal quarrel. If he 
 that proposed it be the confidant of the young gentleman, and can be relied 
 on by him, and has said nothing of it to her friends, he possibly may con- 
 trive an unsuspected interview, and is the fittest person to do it ; if not, the 
 young man must find some other way to satisfy himself that may not be 
 discovered. A friend of mine in Jermyn-street, who missed you narrowly 
 when you came last from Exeter, knows her well ; but an inquiry there 
 must be managed with great dexterity to avoid suspicion of the matter, 
 and consequently talking of it. You shall be sure to hear from me in the 
 matter before you go out of town, if you persist in the mind of going. 
 
 I am your most affectionate cousin, 
 
 and humble servant, 
 
 John Locke." 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 253 
 
 " DEAR COUSIN, ^^^- ^7, 1700. 
 
 " I AM as positive as I can be in any thing that you should not think 
 of going the next circuit. I do not in the mean time forget your calling ; 
 but what this one omission may be of loss to you, may be made up otherwise. 
 I am sure there was never so critical a time when every honest Member of 
 Parliament ought to watch his trust, and that you will see before the end 
 of the next vacation, I therefore expect in your next a positive promise 
 to stay in town. I tell you you will not, you shall not repent it. I cannot 
 answer the other parts of your letter, lest I say nothing to you at all this 
 post, and I must not omit by it to put an end to the remainder of your 
 wavering about your going the circuit. I shall enlarge in my next. 
 
 And am, yours, 
 
 J. L." 
 
 " DEAR COUSIN, ' Gates, Jan. 31, 1700. 
 
 " Having no time but for a few words the last post, it is fit I now 
 answer the other particulars of your letter, which I then was forced to 
 omit. Your staying in town the next vacation I look upon as resolved, 
 and the reasons T find for it in your own letters, now that I have time to 
 read them a little more deliberately, I think sufficient to determine you 
 should, though I say nothing at all. Every time I think of it I am more 
 and more confirmed in the opinion that it is absolutely necessary in all re- 
 spects, whether I consider the public or your own private concerns, neither 
 of which are indifferent to me. It is my private thought that the Par- 
 liament will scarce sit even so much as to choose a Speaker before the 
 end of the term; but whenever he is chosen, it is of no small consequence 
 which side carries it, if there be two nominated, or at least in view, as it 
 is ten to one there will be, especially in a Parhament chosen with so 
 much struggle. Having given all the help possibly you can in this, which 
 is usually a leading point, showing the strength of the parties, my next 
 advice to you is not to speak at all in the House for some time, whatever 
 fair opportunity you may seem to have : but though you keep your mouth 
 shut, I doubt not but you will have your eyes open to see the temper, and 
 observe the motions of the House, and diligently to remark the skill of ma- 
 nagement, and carefully watch the first and secret beginnings of things, and 
 their tendencies, and endeavour, if there be danger in them, to crush them 
 in the egg. You will say, what can you do who are not to speak ? It is 
 
254 THE LIFE OF 
 
 true I would not have you speak to the House, but you may communicate 
 your light or apprehensions to some honest speaker who may make use of 
 it ; for there have always been very able members who never speak, who 
 yet by their penetration and foresight have this way done as much service 
 as any within those walls. And hereby you will more recommend yourself 
 when people shall observe so much modesty joined with your parts and 
 judgment, than if you should seem forward though you spoke well. But 
 let the man you communicate with be not only well-intentioned, but a man 
 of judgment. Methinks I take too much upon me in these directions ; I 
 have only then to say in my excuse, that you desired it more than once, 
 and I advise you nothing I would not do myself were I in your place. I 
 should have much more to say to you were you here, but it being fitter for 
 discourse than for letter, I hope I may see you here ere long, Sir Francis 
 having already proposed to me your stealing down sometimes with him on 
 Saturday, and returning Monday. The votes you offer me will be very 
 acceptable, and for some time at least during the busy season I would be 
 glad you would send me, every post, the three newspapers, viz. Postman, 
 Postboy, and Flying Post ; but when you begin to send them you will 
 do me a kindness to stop Mr. Churchill from sending me any more, for he 
 sends them now ; but it is by the butcher they come, and very uncertainly. 
 But when you send me these papers, do not think you are bound always 
 to write to me ; though I am always glad to hear from you, yet I must 
 not put that penance upon you. Things of moment I doubt not but 
 you will let me know. 
 
 I am your affectionate cousin, 
 
 J. L. " 
 
 " DEAR COUSIN, Feb. 7th, 1700. 
 
 " I AM glad to find by yours of the 30th Jan. that you are resolved to 
 stay ; your own resolution in case of unforeseen accidents wiU always be in 
 your power, or if you will make me your compliment that you will not 
 go without my leave, you may be sure that in any unforeseen and pressing 
 occasion that may happen that may make it necessary for you, you will 
 not only have my leave, but my persuasion to go : but as things are, I 
 think it for your interest to stay. If you have read the two parts of the 
 Duke of Anjou's Succession Considered, pray tell me your opinion of it. 
 
 " Just now, I received yours of the 4th ; whether you should frequent the 
 meeting of the Rose I know not, till I know who they are that meet there. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 255 
 
 " I think your cousin's advice about Bank bills and East India bonds 
 is right. I wish the cash you have of mine were turned into guineas ; in 
 that specie it will be fitter to lodge any where, as there shall be occasion. 
 I hope with you it is very secure where it is, and I cannot desire you should 
 do better for me than for yourself ; so that I shall rest satisfied whatever 
 may happen, being confident you do for me as for yourself. Pray put 
 in the Gazette with the other newspapers you send me. 
 
 Your affectionate cousin and humble servant, 
 
 J. Locke." 
 
 "DEAR COUSIN, Oates, Feb. 29th, 1 701. 
 
 " You need not make apologies for not precisely answering my letters : 
 I can easily conceive your hands fuU of late. When you see my Lord 
 Shaftesbury again, pray, with my most humble service, let him know that 
 though the honour of a visit from him be what I could not in good manners 
 ask, yet there is nothing I have for this good while more earnestly longed 
 for, than an opportunity of kissing his hands ; and since he owns so favour- 
 able an intention, that of coming hither, my Lady Masham and I, are in 
 impatient expectation of it. 
 
 " I believe Sir H. Furne's case might afford you fit occasion to speak 
 in a matter which, being law, you might be fully master of. I am very 
 glad the ice is broke, and that it has succeeded so well ; but now you have 
 showed the House that you can speak, I advise you to let them see you 
 can hold your peace, and let nothing but some point of law, which you are 
 perfectly clear in, or the utmost necessity, call you up again. 
 
 " When you go to the meeting of those gentlemen you mention, I 
 think you should say as little as possible as to public affairs, but behave your- 
 self rather as one unversed, and a learner in such matters. And your other 
 business in the law will be an excuse, if you are not there every night, 
 and you may always learn the next day what was debated there the night 
 before. 
 
 " You will do me a kindness to send me word what is done in the 
 House of Lords, and which way at any time they move with regard to 
 public things on foot. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it said that the House seems in a good disposition, 
 and resolved to support England against France ; but wonder at myself 
 for saying I am glad, it being prodigious for any one to think it could ever 
 
256 THE LIFE OF 
 
 be otherwise. And yet I find some here wonder, that whilst the King of 
 France makes such a mighty collection of forces in Flanders just over 
 against us, we hear not of raising any land-forces on this side the water, 
 especially since the printed papers mention transport ships drawn together 
 about Calais and that way. If his fleet should be ready before ours, (which 
 God forbid !) what will your thirty thousand seamen signify. 
 
 I am, dear cousin, your's, 
 
 J. Locke." 
 " The transactions also of the Convocation are worth observing : pray 
 tell me is Dr. Kennet's answer to Mr. Atterbury worth the reading ? if it 
 be, pray speak to Mr. Churchill when he comes in your way, to send it me." 
 
 " DEAR COUSIN, Gates, March 3rd. 
 
 " I IMAGINE by what you say of the circuit, that you have not duly 
 considered the state in which we are now placed. Pray reflect upon it well, 
 and then tell me whether you can think of being a week together absent 
 from your trust in Parliament, till you see the main point settled, and the 
 kingdom in a posture of defence against the ruin that threatens it. The 
 reason why I pressed you to stay in town was, to give the world a testimony 
 how much you preferred the public to your private interest, and how true 
 you were to any trust you undertook ; this is no small character, nor of 
 small advantage to a man coming into the world. Besides, I thought it no 
 good husbandry for a man to get a few fees on circuit, and lose Westminster 
 Hall. For I assure you, Westminster Hall is at stake, and I wonder how 
 any one of the House can sleep till he sees England in a better state of 
 defence, and how he can talk of any thing else till that is done. Pray read 
 the pamphlet I sent you by M. Coste ; of the rest, you and I shall talk when 
 I see you here : the sooner the better. 
 
 I am your affectionate 
 
 J. L." 
 
 " DEAR COUSIN, Gates, 3rd Jan. 1701-2. 
 
 " I HAVE received the prints you sent me ; I have read the King's 
 speech, which is so gracious, and expresses so high concern for the religion, 
 freedom, and interest of his people, that methinks that besides what the two 
 Houses will do or have already done, the city of London and counties of 
 England, and all those who have so lately addressed him, cannot do less than 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 257 
 
 with joined hearts and hands return him addresses of thanks for his taking 
 such care of them. Think of this with yourself, and think of it with others 
 who can and ought to think, how to save us out of the hands of France, 
 into which we must fall, unless the whole nation exert its utmost vigour, 
 and that speedily. Pray send me the King's speech printed by itself, and 
 without paring off the edges ; a list also of the members, if there be yet any 
 one printed complete and perfect. 
 
 I am dear cousin, 
 Affectionately, &c. 
 
 J. L." 
 
 " DEAR COUSIN, Gates, 27th Feb. 1701-2. 
 
 " I AM more pleased with what you did for the public the day of your 
 last letter, than for any thing you have done for me in my private affairs, 
 though I am very much beholden to you for that too. You will guess 
 by all my letters to you of late, how acceptable to me is the news of your 
 not going out of town the beginning of the next week. You see what 
 need there is of every one's presence, and how near things come. Do not 
 at this time lose a week by going to Winchester or Salisbury. You think 
 the crisis is over ; but you know the men indefatigable and always intent 
 on opportunity, and that will make new crises ; be but absent and afford 
 occasion. I conclude, therefore, that you will stay at least a week longer ; 
 and let me tell you it can, it will, it shall be no loss to you. 
 
 Y^our affectionate cousin, 
 
 John Locke." 
 
 * * * " Gates, 5th April, 1701. 
 
 " I CONFESS I do not see if we stick to our proposals, which the Dutch 
 and we have given in, how a war can be avoided ; and if we do not obtain 
 that security, the Dutch and we must be lost. The House of Lords in 
 their address are clear in that point, and I think every body sees it. The 
 good King of France desires only that you would take his word, and let 
 him be quiet till he has got the West Indies into his hands, and his grand- 
 son well established in Spain ; and then you may be sure you shall be as 
 safe as he will let you be, in your religion, property, and trade. To all 
 which, who can be such an infidel as not to believe him a great friend ? 
 
 " I am glad Lord Shaftesbury and you talk of coming at Easter, there 
 will then be some kind of vacancy." 
 
 2 L 
 
258 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " DEAR COUSIN, Gates, 4th Nov. 1702. 
 
 "Had not my health with strong hand held me back from such a 
 journey at this time of the year, especially to London, I had certainly upon 
 reading my Lord Peterborough's message to me in your letter, obeyed my 
 inclination and come to kiss his hands before he went ; nor could the con- 
 siderations of my health have hindered me, nor the remonstrances of my 
 friends here against it, if I could have seen any thing wherein I could by 
 waiting upon him have done any service to his Lordship, As it is, there 
 is nothing I have borne so uneasily from the decays of age, my trouble- 
 some ear, my breathless lungs, and my being unable to stir, as the being 
 stopped paying my respects in person, upon his going upon such an expe- 
 dition. And yet I know not what I could do were I now in London, but 
 intrude myself unseasonably amidst a crowd of business, and rob him use- 
 lessly of some of his time, at a season when he cannot, I know, have a minute 
 to spare. But when I have said and resolved all this, I find myself dis- 
 satisfied in not seeing of him ; and 'tis a displeasure will rest upon my 
 mind, and add weight to that of those infirmities that caused it. If I could 
 hope that in this my state of confinement and impotency, there was any 
 thing remained that might be useful to his Lordship, that would be some 
 comfort and relief to me. And if he would let me know wherein I might 
 be any way serviceable to him in his absence, it would make me put some 
 value upon the little remainder of my life. And dear cousin, if you could, 
 before my Lord goes, find an opportunity to wait upon him, and say some- 
 thing to him from me to the purport above written, you would do me a 
 singular kindness. 
 
 " Let me hear from you by the first opportunity. 
 
 Your affectionate cousin, 
 
 J. Locke." 
 
 " DEAR COUSIN, Oates, 23rd Nov. 1702. 
 
 "If you had come (as it seems you talked) with my Lord Peterborough, 
 you had saved him the going several miles out of the way, and I had seen 
 you ; but you had business, and I wonder not at it. I must trouble you 
 once more to wait upon my Lord or Lady Peterborough in my name, with 
 the return of my humble service and thanks for the honour they have done 
 me, and my inquiries how they do after their journey. I hope you will 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 259 
 
 have an opportunity of going so far as Bow -street to-morrow, that I may 
 hear from you how they do. I was much in pain about their getting to 
 town now the days are so short ; your letter saying nothing of them, makes 
 me presume they got safe ; it would else have made a noise. Pray in your 
 letter write whether my Lord Marlborough be yet come or no. I beg your 
 pardon for this trouble, and excuse it this once more. 
 
 And believe that I am your affectionate 
 " All here greet you." J. L." 
 
 " DEAR COUSIN, Oates, April 30, 1703. 
 
 " I AM puzzled in a little aiFair, and must beg your assistance for the 
 clearing of it. Mr. Newton, in Autumn last, made me a visit here ; I 
 showed him my Essay upon the Corinthians, with which he seemed very 
 well pleased, but had not time to look it all over, but promised me if I 
 would send it him, he would carefully peruse it, and send me his observa- 
 tions and opinion. I sent it him before Christmas, but hearing nothing 
 from him, I, about a month or six weeks since, writ to him, as the inclosed 
 tells you, with the remaining part of the story. When you have read it, 
 and sealed it, I desire you to dehver it at your convenience. He lives in 
 German St. : you must not go on a Wednesday, for that is his day for being 
 at the Tower. The reason why I desire you to deliver it to him your- 
 self is, that I would fain discover the reason of his so long silence. I have 
 several reasons to think him truly my friend, but he is a nice man to deal 
 with, and a little too apt to raise in himself suspicions where there is no 
 ground ; therefore, when you talk to him of my papers, and of his opinion 
 of them, pray do it with all the tenderness in the world, and discover if 
 you can, why he kept them so long, and was so silent. But this you 
 must do without asking why he did so, or discovering in the least that you 
 are desirous to know. You will do well to acquaint him, that you intend to 
 see me at Whitsuntide, and shall be glad to bring a letter to me from him, 
 or any thing else he will please to send ; this perhaps may quicken him, 
 and make him despatch these papers if he has not done it already. It 
 may a little let you into the freer discourse with him, if you let him know 
 that when you have been here with me, you have seen me busy on them 
 (and the Romans too, if he mentions them, for I told him I was upon them 
 when he was here) and have had a sight of some part of what I was doing. 
 
 2 L 2 
 
260 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " Mr. Newton is really a very valuable man, not only for his won- 
 derful skill in mathematics, but in divinity too, and his great knowledge in 
 the Scriptures, wherein I know few his equals. And therefore pray ma- 
 nage the whole matter so as not only to preserve me in his good opinion, 
 but to increase me in it, and be sure to press him to nothing, but what 
 he is forward in himself to do. In your last, you seemed desirous of my 
 coming to town ; I have many reasons to desire to be there, but I doubt 
 whether ever T shall see it again. Take not this for a splenetic thought ; 
 I thank God I have no melancholy on that account, but I cannot but feel 
 what I feel ; my shortness of breath is so far from being relieved by the 
 renewing season of the year as it used to be, that it sensibly increases 
 upon me. 'Twas not therefore in a fit of dispiritedness, or to prevail with 
 you to let me see you, that in my former I mentioned the shortness of the 
 time I thought I had in this world. I spoke it then, and repeat it now upon 
 sober and sedate consideration. 1 have several things to talk to you of, 
 and some of present concernment to yourself, and I know not whether 
 this may not be my last time of seeing you. I shall not die the sooner 
 for having cast up my reckoning, and judging as impartially of my state 
 as I can. 1 hope I shall not live one jot the less cheerfully the time that 
 I am here, nor neglect any of the offices of life whilst I have it ; for whe- 
 ther it be a month, or a year, or seven years longer, the longest any one 
 out of kindness or compliment can propose to me, is so near nothing when 
 considered, and in respect of eternity, that if the sight of death can put an 
 end to the comforts of life, it is always near enough, especially to one of my 
 age, to have no satisfaction in living. 
 
 I am your affectionate cousin. 
 
 And humble servant, 
 
 J. L.» 
 
 " DEAR COUSIN, Oates, April 23, 1703. 
 
 " I TOLD you that the Term had got you, nor am I dissatisfied that you 
 mind your business ; but I do not well bear it that you speak so doubtfully 
 of making yourself and me a holiday at Whitsuntide. I do not count upon 
 much time in this world, and therefore you will not blame me, (if you think 
 right of me) for desiring to see and enjoy you as much as I can, and having 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 261 
 
 your company as much as your business will permit : besides that, I think 
 some intervals of ease and air are necessary for you." 
 
 "DEAR COUSIN, Gates, Nov. 15, 1703. 
 
 " I TAKE very kindly your offer of coming hither : your kindness makes 
 me very willing to see and enjoy you, but at the same time, it makes me the 
 more cautious to disturb your business ; however, since you allow me the 
 liberty, you may be assured, if there be occasion, I shall send for you. 
 
 " I am troubled at the news from Turkey, for though I think I shall be 
 gone before any storm from thence can reach hither, yet you and my friends 
 and my country, whilst 1 have any thought, will be dear to me. As to my 
 lungs, they go on their course, and though they have brought me now to 
 be good for nothing, I am not surprised at it ; they have lasted longer al- 
 ready than the world or I expected ; how much longer they will be able to 
 blow at the hard rate they do, I cannot precisely say. But in the race of 
 human life, when breath is wanting for the least motion, one cannot be 
 far from one's journey's end. 
 
 Your affectionate cousin, 
 
 And humble servant, 
 
 J. L. " 
 
 « Dec. 4, 170S. 
 
 " If Sir Cloudesly Shovel and the men-of-war that went out of the Downs 
 with him are lost, and the storm has that effect upon us and the Dutch, 
 that the King of Spain cannot go between this and Christmas to Portugal, 
 as was concerted, what other thing can be reasonable to be done, but to 
 keep ready money by you for any exigence that may happen ; there you 
 have in short my measures. I would not, I confess, part with a penny 
 for parchment or paper securities of any kind, till I could see what is like 
 to come of the terrible shock." 
 
 "Gates, June 1, 1704. 
 " 1 have received no letters from you since the 210th. I remember it is 
 the end of a Term, a busy time with you, and you intend to be here 
 speedily, which is better than writing at a distance. Pray be sure to order 
 your matters so as to spend all the next week with me : as far as I can im- 
 partially guess, it will be the last week I am ever like to have with you ; 
 
262 'J'HE LIFE OF 
 
 for if I mistake not very much, I have very little time left in the world. This 
 comfortable, and to me usually restorative season of the year, has no effect 
 upon me for the better : on the contrary, my shortness of breath, and uneasi- 
 ness, every day increases; my stomach, without any visible cause, sensibly de- 
 cays, so that all appearances concur to warn me, that the dissolution of this 
 cottage is not far off. Refuse not, therefore, to help me to pass some of 
 the last hours of my life as easily as may be in the conversation of one 
 who is not only the nearest, but the dearest to me, of any man in the world. 
 I have a great many things to talk to you, which I can talk to nobody else 
 about. I therefore desire you again, deny not this to my affection. I 
 know nothing at such a time so desirable, and so useful, as the conversation 
 of a friend one loves and rehes on. It is a week free from business, or if 
 it were not, perhaps you would have no reason to repent the bestowing a 
 day or two upon me. Make haste, therefore, on Saturday, and be here early : 
 I long till I see you. I writ to you in my last, to bring some cherries with 
 you, but fear they will be troublesome to you ; and these things that en- 
 tertain the senses, have lost with me a great part of their relish ; there- 
 foi-e, give not yourself any trouble about them ; such desires are usually but 
 the fancy seeking pleasure in one thing, when it has missed it in another, and 
 seeks in vain for the delight which the indisposition of the body has put 
 an end to. When I have your company, I shall forget these kind of things. 
 
 I am, dear cousin, 
 
 Your most affectionate, 
 
 J. Locke." 
 
 It was probably in this calm and philosophic temper of mind 
 that he wrote the epitaph, which was afterwards placed upon his 
 tomb, at High Laver. 
 
 " Siste, viator ; juxta situs est * * * *. Si qualis fuerit rogas, me- 
 diocritate sua contentum se vixisse respondet. Literis innutritus, 
 eousque tantum profecit ut veritati unice studeret. Hoc ex scrip- 
 tis illius disce ; quae, quod de eo reliquum est, majori fide tibi ex- 
 hibebunt, quam epitaphii suspecta elogia. Virtutes si quas habuit, 
 minores sane quam quas sibi laudi, tibi in exemplum proponeret. 
 Vitia una sepeliantur, morum exemplum si quaeras in Evangelio 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 263 
 
 habes, (vitiorum utinam nusquam,) mortalitatis certe quod prosit 
 hie et ubique. 
 
 " Natum * * * 
 
 " Mortuum * * * 
 
 " Memorat hac tabula brevi et ipsa interitura." 
 
 During the last four years of his life, increasing infirmities con- 
 fined him to the retirement he had chosen at Oates, near High 
 Laver, in Essex ; and although labouring under an incurable disor- 
 der, he was cheerful to the last, constantly interested in the welfare of 
 his friends, and at the same time perfectly resigned to his own fate. 
 His literary occupation at that time was the study of and Commen- 
 tary on St, Paul's Epistles, published amongst his posthumous works. 
 
 In October, 1704, his disorder greatly increased : on the 27th 
 of that month Lady Masham not finding him in his study as usual, 
 went to his bedside, when he told her that the fatigue of getting 
 up the day before had been too much for his strength, and that he 
 never expected to rise again from his bed. He said that he had 
 now finished his career in this world, and that in all probability he 
 should not outlive the night, certainly not to be able to survive 
 beyond the next day or two. After taking some refreshment, he 
 said to those present that he wished them all happiness after he 
 was gone. To Lady Masham, who remained with him, he said 
 that he thanked God he had passed a happy life, but that now he 
 found that all was vanity, and exhorted her to consider this world 
 only as a preparation for a better state hereafter. He would not 
 suffer her to sit up with him, saying, that perhaps he might be able 
 to sleep, but if any change should happen, he would send for her. 
 Having no sleep in the night, he was taken out of bed and carried 
 into his study, where he slept for some time in his chair : after 
 waking, he desired to be dressed, and then heard Lady Masham 
 read the Psalms, apparently with great attention, until perceiving 
 his end to draw near, he stopped her, and expired a very few 
 
264 THE LIFE OF 
 
 minutes afterwards, about three o'clock in the evening of the 28th 
 October, in his 73d year. 
 
 When we consider the number of his pubhcations as well as 
 the subjects which he discusses, it is evident that his appUcation 
 must have been very great, and to enumerate his works will prove 
 his surprising industry. His great work, the Essay on Human Un- 
 derstanding, was first published in 1690, nearly at the same time as 
 Newton's Principia, both contributing to render illustrious the era of 
 the Revolution. The Treatise on Civil Government, a Letter for 
 Toleration, first pubhshed in Latin, in Holland, and afterwards in 
 English, with the second Letter in defence of Toleration, were all 
 published in 1690, and a third Letter in 1692. The Treatise on 
 Education,* 1690 ; that concerning raising the value of money and 
 lowering the interest, 1691 ; and further considerations on the same 
 subject, 1695, when he was very much consulted on the measures 
 then in operation for restoring the coin. The Reasonableness off 
 Christianity, 1695, and a first and second vindication of the same, 
 1696, and also the three elaborate letters in defence of the prin- 
 
 * Bayle, Op. Mix. torn. 4, p. 695. Lettre a Minutol, September 21, 1693. " M. Locke 
 a public en Anglais diverses Pensees sur I'Education des Enfans. C'est un profond philosophe, 
 et qui a des vues fort finies sur tout ce qu'il entreprend." 
 
 And in page 696, " Quelqu'un travaille a mettre en Franpais les Pensees que Monsieur Locke, 
 I'un des plus profonds metaphysiciens de ce siecle, a publies en Anglais sur I'Education. C'est 
 un homme de beaucoup d'esprit. Je I'ai vu ici (Roterdam) pendant le regne du Roi Jaques ; 
 la Revolution le ramena en Angleterre, ou il est fort content. II a publie un systeme de I'en- 
 tendement, et un traite de I'origine du Gouvernement, le dernier a ete traduit en Franpais. 11 
 prouve que la souverainte appartient aux peuples, et qu'ils ne font que la deposer entre les mains 
 de ceux qu'on appelle souverains ; sauf a eux a retirer leur depot pour le mieux placer, lorsque le 
 bien public le demande, vous savez que c'est I'evangile du jour a present parmi le,s Protestans, 
 &c." 
 
 t Locke on the Reasonableness of the Christian Religion criticised in Vol. II. Bibliotheque 
 choisie of Le Cler. and Histoire des Ouvrages des Savans, Feb. 1703. Bayle, Op. tom. 4, p. 834, 
 Letter to Coste, Dec. 27, 1703. " Autant que je I'ai compris [the work on the Reasonableness, 
 &c.] cet ouvrage tend h, montrer, que pourvu que Ton croie que Jesus Christ est le Messie, et 
 que I'on ait une intention sincere d'obeir a ses preceptes, et de decouvrir les autres verites 
 contenues dans le Nouveau Testament, on a toute I'essence du Chretien : de sorte qu'en vivant 
 selon I'Evangile, autant que la fragilite humaine le peut soufFrir, et en suppleant par la foi et 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 265 
 
 ciples contained in the Essay against the attacks of the Bishop of 
 Worcester. 
 
 The Conduct of the Understanding, one of the most useful and 
 practical of his works, and the Commentaries and Notes on the 
 Epistles of St. Paul, close the catalogue of those of his literary 
 labours which have been given to the world.* 
 
 par la repentance, ce qui manque aux bonnes oeuvres, on est sauve aussi surement, que si i'on 
 etoit eclaire sur lous les mysteres que I'Eglise Anglicane, par exemple, trouve dans les tcrits des 
 Aputres. 
 
 " L'auteur nous apprend dans la seconde partie, qu'il a surtout eu dessein de convertir les 
 Deistes : on a done lieu de croire qu'il a pretendu faire voir, que I'esprit de la Religion Chre- 
 tienne n'est pas d'exiger de rhomme, comme una condition necessaire k etre sauve, que Ton 
 croie ce grand nombre de dogmes incomprehensibles et qui choquent la lumiere naturelle, dont 
 la confession des Protestans est chargee : le Peche originel, la Trinite, I'union hypostatique du 
 Verbe, &c. II n'a point travaille h concilier avec la raison, ou a imposer a la raison le joug de 
 ces dogmes, comme il a travaille fortement a refuter les objections fondees sur les i'aits de la 
 conduite du Messie; je veux dire, sur la maniere de cacher ou de deguiser sa Mission, d'emploier 
 des responses ambigues quand il etoit interroge par les Pharisiens, &c. : choses que certains Juifs 
 ont violemment critiquees, et qui ont je ne scai quoi de choquant, L'auteur a dit, ce me semble, 
 la-dessus de tres bonnes choses ; mais je ne crois point qu'il y ait des Sociniens qui ne souscrioient 
 a son livre, generalement parlant ; et il est certain que cette Secte a toujours suivie cette ta- 
 blature, pour rendre le Christianisme plus conforme aux lumieres de la raison." 
 
 Ditto, page 840. Letter to Coste, April 8, 1704. 
 
 " II auroit ete, peut-etre, a souhaiter que l'auteur se fiit fait cette objection. Qu'encore qu'au 
 commencement du Christianisme on f<it sauve sans une croyance distincte de la consubstan- 
 tialite du Verbe, il ne s'ensuit pas qu'on le puisse etre aujourd'hui. Car, les premiers Chretiens 
 faisant profession de recevoir le Messie pour le fils de Dieu, ne nioient pas qu'il le fut essen- 
 tiellement ; ils faisoient abstraction entre cette maniere d'etre fils de Dieu, et les autres manieres : 
 mais aujourd'hui cette abstraction est impossible. II faut, ou admettre formellement, ou rejetter 
 formellement la co-essentialit6 du Verbe. Cela fait une difference capitale ; car vous savez que 
 ' abstrahentium non est mendacium.' Tel etoit I'etat des simples aux premiers siecles ; ils 
 n'affirmoient ni ne nioient ce dogme la ; leur foi etoit la-dessus indeterminee. Mais depuis des 
 disputes et les decisions, il faut opter ou la negative ou 1' affirmative. Or il est bien plus criminal 
 de rejetter une verite proposfee, que d'ignorer simplement si les termes, sous lesquels on croit, 
 signifiant pr6cis6ment, determinement, une telle chose, ou une autre." 
 
 * Copyright of Locke's Works. 
 
 Mr. Locke received for the first edition of the Essay on Human Understanding 30/. in 1689, 
 
 and by agreement made several years afterwards, the bookseller was to deliver six books well 
 
 bound for every subsequent edition, and also to pay ten shillings for each additional sheet. For 
 
 the Reasonableness of Christianity, the price was ten shillings each sheet. For " the copy of 
 
 2 M 
 
266 THE LIFE OF 
 
 CODICIL OF MR. LOCKe's WILL, RELATING TO HIS WORKS. 
 
 " Whereas, the Rev. Df. Hudson, library keeper of the Bodleian 
 Library, in the University of Oxford, writ to me some time since, 
 desiring of me, for the said library, the books whereof I was the 
 author, I did, in return to the honour done me therein, present 
 to the said library all the books that were published in my name, 
 which, though accepted with honourable mention of me, yet were 
 not understood fully to answer the request made me ; it being 
 supposed that there were other treatises, whereof I was the author, 
 which had been published without my name to them : in compli- 
 ance, therefore, with what was desired in the utmost extent of it, 
 and in acknowledgment of the honour done me, in thinking my wri- 
 ting worthy to be placed among the works of the learned, in that au- 
 gust repository, — I do hereby give to the public library of the Uni^ 
 versity of Oxford, these following books ; that is to say ; three let- 
 ters concerning Toleration, the first whereof I writ in Latin, and 
 was published at Tergon in Holland 1689, under the title " Epis- 
 tola de Tolerantia," and afterwards translated into English, with- 
 out my privity. 2nd. A second letter concerning Toleration, printed 
 for Awnsham and John Churchill, 1690. Srd. A third letter for 
 Toleration to the author of the third letter concerning Tolera- 
 tion, printed for Awnsham and John Churchill, 1692. Two trea- 
 tises of government, whereof Mr. Churchill has published several 
 editions, but all very incorrect. The Reasonableness of Christianity, 
 as delivered in the Scriptures. A Vindication of the Reasonable- 
 several other books," which I believe were, the Consideration of raising the value, or lowering 
 the interest of Money, the Reasonableness of Christianity, and vindication of the same, the sum 
 received was " 44Z. 15s." For the Treatise on Education, 51. for every impression, and twenty-five 
 books bound in calf. Of this book Mr. Cline, the celebrated surgeon, said that it had contri- 
 buted more to the general health of the higher classes of society, by one rule which the author 
 lays down, than any other book he had ever read. 
 
 1698. My Reply to the Bishop of Worcester's second answer 14/. 10*. 
 Fourth edition of my Education - - - - 51. 
 
 1699. Third Letter to the Bishop of Worcester - - lU.^Lockes Account Books. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 267 
 
 ness of Christianity from Mr. Edwards' reflections. A Second Vin- 
 dication of the Reasonableness of Christianity. These are all the 
 books whereof I am the author, which have been published with- 
 out my name to them. Item. I give to the said Bodleian Library 
 the argument of the letter concerning Toleration, briefly consi- 
 dered and answered, printed at Oxford 1691, both which treatises 
 it is my will should be bound up in one volume, with my three 
 letters on the same subject, that therein any one who pleaseth, 
 may have the convenience to examine what my opponent and I 
 have said in the controversy. 
 
 "Item. Whereas, there is intended speedily another edition of 
 my Essay concerning Human Understanding, wherein there will be 
 in the thirty-first chapter of the second book some small alterations 
 which I have made with my own hand, that the University which 
 hath been pleased to honour it with a place in its library, may have 
 that essay in the estate that my last thoughts left it in, it is my will 
 that my executor shall, in my name, present to the said Bodleian 
 Library, one copy of the next edition of my said essay well bound. 
 Item. Whereas I am informed that there is a design of publishing 
 two other volumes as a continuation of the collection of voyages 
 published this year by A. and S. Churchill in four vols, folio, it is 
 my will that my executor shall, in my name, present to the said Bod- 
 leian Library the two intended volumes also, when they come out, 
 which I do hereby give to the University of Oxford." 
 
 The character of Locke which Le Clerc has added to his eloge, 
 derived, as he tells us, from a person who knew him well, is too 
 excellent to be omitted. 
 
 " He was," says she, (and I can confirm her testimony in great 
 measure by what I have myself seen here) " a profound philosopher, 
 and a man fit for the most important affairs. He had much know- 
 ledge of belles lettres, and his manners were very polite and par- 
 ticularly engaging. He knew something of almost every thing 
 which can be useful to mankind, and was thoroughly master of all 
 
 2 M 2 
 
268 THE LIFE OF 
 
 that he had studied, but he showed his superiority by not appearing 
 to value himself in any way on account of his great attainments. 
 Nobody assumed less the airs of a master, or was less dogmatical, 
 and he was never offended when any one did not agree with his 
 opinions. There are, nevertheless, a species of disputants, who after 
 having been refuted several times, always return to the charge, and 
 only repeat the same argument. These he could not endure, and 
 he sometimes talked of them with impatience, but he was the first 
 to acknowledge that he had been too hasty. In the most trifling 
 circumstances of life, as well as in speculative opinions, he was al- 
 ways ready to be convinced by reason, let the information come from 
 whomever it might. He was the most faithful follower, or indeed 
 the slave of truth, which he never abandoned on any account, and 
 which he loved for its own sake. 
 
 " He accommodated himself to the level of the most moderate 
 understandings, and in disputing with them, he did not diminish 
 the force of their arguments against himself, although they were 
 not well expressed by those who had used them. He felt pleasure 
 in conversing with all sorts of people, and tried to profit by their 
 information, which arose not only from the good education he had 
 received, but from the opinion he entertained, that there was no- 
 body from whom something useful could not be got. And indeed 
 by this means he had learned so many things concerning the arts 
 and trade, that he seemed to have made them his particular study, 
 insomuch, that those whose profession they were, often profited by 
 his information, and consulted him with advantage. Bad man- 
 ners particularly annoyed and disgusted him, when he saw they 
 proceeded not from ignorance of the world, but from pride, from 
 haughtiness, from ill-nature, from brutal stupidity, and other simi- 
 lar vices ; otherwise, he was far from despising whomever it might 
 be for having a disagreeable appearance. He considered civility 
 not only as something agreeable and proper to gain people's hearts, 
 but as a duty of Christianity, which ought to be more insisted on 
 than it commonly is. He recommended with reference to this, a tract 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 269 
 
 of Messrs. de Port Royal "sur les moyens de conserver la paix 
 avec les hommes ;" and he much approved the sermons he had heard 
 from Mr. Wichkot, a Doctor of Divinity, on this subject, and which 
 have since been printed. 
 
 " His conversation was very agreeable to all sorts of people, 
 and even to ladies ; and nobody was better received than he was 
 among people of the highest rank. He was by no means austere, 
 and as the conversation of well-bred people is usually more easy, 
 and less studied, and formal, if Mr. Locke had not naturally these 
 talents, he had acquired them by intercourse with the world, and 
 what made him so much the more agreeable was, that those who 
 were not acquainted with him, did not expect to find such manners 
 in a man so much devoted to study. Those who courted the 
 acquaintance of Mr. Locke to collect what might be learnt from 
 a man of his understanding, and who approached him with respect, 
 were surprised to find in him not only the manners of a well-bred 
 man, but also all the attention which they could expect. He often 
 spoke against raillery, which is the most hazardous part of conver- 
 sation if not managed with address, and though he excelled in it 
 himself, he never said any thing which could shock or injure any 
 body. He knew how to soften every thing he said, and to give it 
 an agreeable turn. If he joked his friends, it was about a trifling 
 fault, or about something which it was advantageous for them to 
 know. As he was particularly civil, even when he began to joke, 
 people were satisfied that he would end by saying something obliging. 
 He never ridiculed a misfortune, or any natural defect. 
 
 " He was very charitable to the poor, provided they were not 
 the idle, or the profligate, who did not frequent any church, or who 
 spent their Sundays in an ale-house. He felt above all compassion 
 for those who, after having worked hard in their youth, sunk into 
 poverty in their old age. He said, that it was not sufficient to keep 
 them from starving, but that they ought to be enabled to live with 
 some comfort. He sought opportunities of doing good to deserving 
 objects ; and often in his walks he visited the poor of the neigh- 
 
270 THE LIFE OF 
 
 bourhood, and gave them the wherewithal to relieve their wants, 
 or to buy the medicines which he prescribed for them if they were 
 sick, and had no medical aid. 
 
 " He did not like any thing to be wasted ; which was, in his 
 opinion, losing the treasure of which God has made us the eco- 
 nomists. He himself was very regular, and kept exact accounts 
 of every thing. 
 
 " If he had any defect, it was the being somewhat passionate ; 
 but he had got the better of it by reason, and it was very seldom 
 that it did him or any one else any harm. He often described the 
 ridicule of it, and said that it availed nothing in the education 
 of children, nor in keeping servants in order, and that it only 
 lessened the authority which one had over them. He was kind 
 to his servants, and showed them with gentleness how he wished 
 to be served. He not only kept strictly a secret which had been 
 confided to him, but he never mentioned any thing which could 
 prove injurious, although he had not been enjoined secrecy ; nor 
 could he ever wrong a friend by any sort of indiscretion or inad- 
 vertency. He was an exact observer of his word, and what he 
 promised was sacred. He was scrupulous about recommending 
 people whom he did not know, and he could not bring himself to 
 praise those whom he did not think worthy. If he was told that 
 his recommendations had not produced the effect which was ex- 
 pected, he said, that ' it arose from his never having deceived any 
 body, by saying more than he knew that what he answered for 
 might be found as he stated it, and that if he acted otherwise, his 
 recommendations would have no weight.' 
 
 " His greatest amusement was to talk with sensible people, and 
 he courted their conversation. He possessed all the requisite 
 qualities for keeping up an agreeable and friendly intercourse. He 
 only played at cards to please others, although from having often 
 found himself among people who did, he played well enough when 
 he set about it ; but he never proposed it, and said it was only an 
 amusement for those who have no conversation. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 271 
 
 "In his habits he was clean without affectation . or singularity ; 
 he was naturally very active, and occupied himself as much as his 
 health would admit of Sometimes he took pleasure in working in 
 a garden, which he understood perfectly. He liked exercise, but 
 the complaint on his chest not allowing him to walk much, he used 
 to ride after dinner ; when he could no longer bear the motion of 
 a horse, he used to go out in a wheel chair ; and he always wished 
 for a companion, even if it were only a child, for he felt pleasure 
 in talking with well-bred children. The weak state of his health 
 was an inconvenience to himself alone, and occasioned no unpleasant 
 sensation to any one, beyond that of seeing him suffer. His diet 
 was the same as other people's, except that he usually drank nothing 
 but water ; and he thought his abstinence in this respect had 
 preserved his life so long, although his constitution was so weak. 
 He attributed to the same cause the preservation of his sight, which 
 was not much impaired at the end of his life ; for he could read 
 by candle-light all sorts of books, unless the print was very small, 
 and he never made use of spectacles. He had no other infirmity 
 but his asthma, except that four years before his death he became 
 very deaf, during a period of about six months. Finding himself 
 thus deprived of the pleasures of conversation, he doubted whether 
 blindness was not preferable to deafness, as he wrote to one of his 
 friends ; otherwise, he bore his infirmities very patiently. This," as 
 Le Clerc says, " is an accurate, and by no means flattered descrip- 
 tion of this great man." 
 
 It has been observed in this character of Locke, that he knew 
 something of almost every thing, and that he had learned so much 
 of the Arts, that he seemed to have made them his peculiar study. 
 The truth and accuracy of this remark is fully confirmed by 
 the numerous receipts, memoranda, and observations, scattered 
 throughout the Journal. All, or very nearly all these have been 
 omitted, because their publication would now be useless, considering 
 the improvements that have been made in arts and manufactures 
 during the last century and a half. As they exist in the original 
 
272 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Journal, they afford a striking proof of the activity of his mind, of 
 his industry in obtaining information, and of the accuracy of his 
 descriptions. It is sufficient to say, that if he sees a cannon foundry, 
 or a manufacture of fire-arms, he notes down in great detail the 
 exact process of casting and boring, and of making the best French 
 or German gun-barrels. He does the same of optical glasses, and 
 of microscopes. He is as curious in observing the fermentation of 
 wine, the method of making soap or verdigris, as he is to collect 
 the most accurate information respecting the weights and measures 
 or the true proportion of alloy in the different coins of every coun- 
 try in Europe. In one page he describes the management of vines, 
 olives, and fruit-trees ; in another, the preparation of Spanish per- 
 fumes ; and in another, he writes on the metaphysical questions of 
 space and extension. 
 
 The religious opinions of this great man may best be collected 
 from his own writings : to an ardent piety, and a firm belief in the 
 religion he professed, was joined a truly Christian charity for all those 
 who differed in opinion from him. The religion of Locke was that 
 revealed in the Scriptures, which, in his opinion, was the most reason- 
 able religion in the world. Of the particular form of his faith, it is 
 more difficult to speak, because he was always averse to vain and idle 
 disputations ; but for the dogmatical and mystical doctors of the 
 Church he certainly had no predilection. Reason was his rule and 
 euide in every thing ; toleration was his text ; and he abhorred those 
 only who pervert that divine precept, which teaches — to promote 
 peace on earth, and good will towards man. Those who rely upon 
 his authority, and make use of his name, would do well to consider 
 what manner of Christian he was ; and, when they bid others believe 
 because he believed, let them also teach as he taught, and practise 
 those virtues which he practised. 
 
 He lived in communion with the Church of England ; but it will 
 appear most clearly, from extracts which will be given from an un- 
 published reply to a work of Dr. StilHngfleet's, that he entertained a 
 strong opinion that the exclusive doctrines of the Church of England 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 273 
 
 were very objectionable ; that he thought them much too narrow 
 and confined, and that he wished for a much larger and easier com- 
 prehension of Protestants. 
 
 The following Paper, in Locke's hand-writing, was drawn up by 
 him apparently for the rule and guidance of a religious society, 
 whilst he resided in Holland, as it is dated 1688. It may be consi- 
 dered as his idea of a pure Christian community, or church, un- 
 tainted by worldly considerations, or by professional arts. 
 
 PACIFIC CHRISTIANS. 
 
 1. We think nothing necessary to be known, or believed for sal- 
 vation, but what God hath revealed. 
 
 2. We therefore embrace all those who, in sincerity, receive the 
 Word of Truth revealed in the Scripture, and obey the light which 
 enlightens every man that comes into the world. 
 
 3. We judge no man in meats, or drinks, or habits, or days, or 
 any other outward observancies, but leave every one to his freedom 
 in the use of those outward things which he thinks can most contri- 
 bute to build up the inward man in righteousness, holiness, and the 
 true love of God, and his neighbour, in Christ Jesus. 
 
 4. If any one find any doctrinal parts of Scripture difficult to be 
 understood, we recommend him, — 1st. The study of the Scriptures 
 in humility and singleness of heart : ^d. Prayer to the Father of 
 lights to enlighten him : Sd. Obedience to what is already revealed 
 to him, remembering that the practice of what we do know is the 
 surest way to more knowledge ; our infallible guide having told us, 
 if any man will do the will of Him that sent me, he shall know of 
 the doctrines, John vii. 17. 4th. We leave him to the advice and 
 assistance of those whom he thinks best able to instruct him. No 
 men, or society of men, having any authority to impose their 
 opinions or interpretations on any other, the meanest Christian. 
 Since, in matters of religion, every man must know, and believe, and 
 give an account for himself. 
 
 2 N 
 
274 THE LIFE OF 
 
 5. We hold it to be an indispensable duty for all Christians to 
 maintain love and charity in the diversity of contrary opinions : by 
 which charity we do not mean an empty sound, but an effectual for- 
 bearance and good-will, carrying men to a communion, friendship, 
 and mutual assistance, one of another, in outward as well as spiritual 
 things ; and by debarring all magistrates from making use of their 
 authority, much less their sword, (which was put into their hands 
 only against evil doers,) in matters of faith or worship. 
 
 6. Since the Christian religion we profess is not a notional 
 science, to furnish speculation to the brain, or discourse to the 
 tongue, but a rule of righteousness to influence our lives, Christ 
 having given himself to redeem us from all iniquity, and purify 
 unto himself a people zealous of good works,* we profess the only 
 business of our public assemblies to be to exhort thereunto, laying 
 aside all controversy and speculative questions, instruct and encou- 
 rage one another in the duties of a good life, which is acknowledged 
 to be the great business of true religion, and to pray God for the 
 assistance of his Spirit for the enlightening our understanding and 
 subduing our corruptions, that so we may return unto him a reason- 
 able and acceptable service, and show our faith by our works, pro- 
 posing to ourselves and others the example of our Lord and Saviour 
 Jesus Christ, as the great pattern for our imitation. 
 
 7. One alone being our master, even Christ, we acknowledge no 
 masters of our assembly ; but if any man, in the spirit of love, 
 peace, and meekness, has a word of exhortation, we hear him. 
 
 8. Nothing being so oppressive, or having proved so fatal to 
 unity, love, and charity, the first great characteristical duties of 
 Christianity, as men's fondness of their own opinions, and their 
 endeavours to set them up, and have them followed, instead of the 
 Gospel of peace ; to prevent those seeds of dissension and division, 
 and maintain unity in the difference of opinions which we know 
 cannot be avoided — if any one appear contentious, abounding in his 
 own sense rather than in love, and desirous to draw followers after 
 himself, with destruction or opposition to others, we judge him not 
 
 * Titus ii. 14. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 275 
 
 to have learned Christ as he ought, and therefore not fit to be a 
 teacher of others. 
 
 9. Decency and order in our assemblies being directed, as they 
 ought, to edification, can need but very few and plain rules. Time 
 and place of meeting being settled, if any thing else need regulation, 
 the assembly itself, or four of the ancientest, soberest, and discreetest 
 of the brethren, chosen for that occasion, shall regulate it. 
 
 10. From every brother that, after admonition, walketh disor- 
 derly, we withdraw ourselves. 
 
 11. We each of us think it our duty to propagate the doctrine 
 and practice of universal good-will and obedience in all places, and 
 on all occasions, as God shall give us opportunity. 
 
 Thus lived this great and upright man, whose private history I 
 have endeavoured to make more known from the memorials he has 
 left, and from the best information that I have been able to collect. 
 From these and from his works, it is evident that his understand- 
 ing was alike fitted for speculation or practice ; and that his mind 
 was capable of comprehending the greatest subjects, and of adapting 
 itself to the smallest details. He regulated his affairs, his time, and 
 his employments with the truest economy, and the most exact 
 attention to method and order. He was ever ready to assist his 
 friends, and he had the satisfaction of retaining their attachment to 
 the end of his life. He possessed those great requisites of hap- 
 piness — equanimity, cheerfulness of temper, and the habit of con- 
 stantly employing his mind in the pursuit of noble or useful objects. 
 He was engaged not only in metaphysical and logical researches, 
 but in most of the great questions which agitated men's minds in 
 religion and politics during the period in which he lived ; and 
 greater questions certainly never were decided than those contended 
 for between the time of the Civil Wars of Charles the First and the 
 Revolution of 1688. Whatever may be the inaccuracies or errors 
 in his abstract principles, and many exceptionable passages may no 
 doubt be found in his works, yet it is allowed that when writing on 
 
 2 N 2 
 
276 THE LIFE OF 
 
 political questions he thoroughly weighed and maturely considered 
 the practical results, and arrived at conclusions which are always 
 just, generous, and prudent. 
 
 It was within the compass of his life that the great question of 
 Toleration was first agitated, and by his exertions in great part 
 decided. For it must not be supposed that the Reformation con- 
 ferred a general freedom of conscience, or liberty of enquiry in 
 religious concerns. No greater latitude of examination (except in 
 that one sense as set forth by authority,) was either intended or 
 permitted after the Reformation, than had been allowed under the 
 Roman Church. One tyranny was replaced by another ; and the 
 new Church was no less intolerant than its predecessor. The civil 
 magistrate first assumed the direction of the Reformation in Eng- 
 land, then formed a league with the Church (falsely so called), and 
 usurped that dominion over opinion and faith which the Popes had 
 usurped before. The state-Church now made the same imperious 
 demand for the prostration of the understanding, and the will of 
 the people committed to their charge, always so much coveted by 
 every priesthood* which has the power to enforce it. We exchanged 
 at the Reformation a foreign spiritual head, for an equally supreme 
 dictatorship at home. All who presumed to differ from the esta- 
 blished rule, were smitten by that double-edged sword which the 
 civil power wielded against the Papists on one side, and the " fana- 
 tics" on the other. Ultra citraque nefas, it treated with equal 
 severity those who yielded too much to authority, and those who 
 yielded too little. 
 
 In one respect, the Reformation conferred an unmixed benefit ; 
 it dispersed the wealth, and broke the power of the priesthood : as 
 for toleration, or any true notion of religious liberty, or any general 
 freedom of conscience, we owe them not in the least degree to what 
 is called the Church of England. On the contrary, we owe all these 
 to the Independents in the time of the Commonwealth, and to 
 Locke, their most illustrious and enlightened disciple. 
 
 * See Locke, Common-place Book, article Sacerdos. 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 277 
 
 If we consider the political changes which it was his fortune to 
 witness, and the important effects produced by his opinions and his 
 writings in promoting the free exercise of reason, which he con- 
 sidered as the highest of all the high interests of mankind, and that 
 on the security of which all others depended ; we shall be of opinion 
 that his lot was cast at the time the most fortunate for himself, and 
 for the improvement of mankind. Had he lived a century earlier, 
 he might have been an enquirer indeed, or a reformer, or perhaps 
 a martyr ; but the Reformation, which was brought about by passion 
 and interest, more than by reason, was not the occasion for the 
 exercise of his peculiar talents. Had he lived at a later period, 
 the season and the opportunity suited to his genius might have 
 passed by. 
 
 It was also within the compass of his life that the other great 
 contest was decided in England ; whether the rights of Kings were 
 to be paramount to all laws, to supersede all laws, and to dispense 
 with all laws; or whether the subjects of England were to possess 
 and enjoy their ancient undoubted rights and liberties, as claimed 
 and asserted at the Revolution, of which Locke was the most suc- 
 cessful advocate. His object in the treatise on Civil Government, 
 was, as he says, " to establish the throne of our great restorer, our 
 present King William ; to make good his title in the consent of 
 the people, which being the only one of all lawful governments, he 
 has more fully and clearly than any prince in Christendom ; and to 
 justify to the world, the people of England, whose love of their just 
 and natural rights, with the resolution to preserve them, saved the 
 nation when it was on the very brink of slavery and ruin." 
 
 Sir James Mackintosh, after praising the caution for which 
 Locke's Treatise on Government is so remarkable, bearing, as he 
 says, every where the marks of his own considerate mind, has ob- 
 served that " the circumstances of his life rendered it a long warfare 
 against the enemies of freedom in philosophizing, freedom in w^or- 
 ship, and freedom from every political restraint which necessity did 
 not justify. In his noble zeal for liberty of thought, he dreaded 
 
278 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the tendency of doctrines which might gradually prepare mankind 
 to ' swallow that for an innate principle which may suit his purpose 
 who teacheth them' He might well be excused, if in the ardour of 
 his generous conflict, he sometimes carried beyond the bounds of 
 calm, and neutral reason, his repugnance to doctrines which, as they 
 were then generally explained, he justly regarded as capable of being- 
 employed to shelter absurdity from detection, to stop the progress 
 of free enquiry, and to subject the general reason to the authority 
 of a few individuals." The same accurate judge has observed, that 
 " every error of Mr. Locke in speculation, may be traced to the in- 
 fluence of some virtue ; at least every error, except some of the 
 erroneous opinions generally received in his age, which with a sort 
 of passive acquiescence, he suffered to retain their place in his mind." 
 After selecting this favourable apology for Locke's errors, I may be 
 accused of partiality if I omit noticing the opinion of another most 
 acute writer, who speaking of the Essay has declared, " that few 
 books can be named from which it is possible to extract more ex- 
 ceptionable passages." It is, however, thought by many, that Mr. 
 Stewart scarcely does justice to Locke's principles, and that he too 
 much distrusted their tendency. On the subject of free will, he says, 
 " Locke is more indistinct, undecided, and inconsistent, than might 
 have been expected from his powerful mind when directed to so 
 important a question." He seems to think that he had made 
 various concessions to his adversaries, in which he yielded all that 
 was contended for by Hobbes. He has accordingly been numbered, 
 with some appearance of truth, with those who have substantially 
 adopted the scheme of necessity, while they verbally oppose those 
 doctrines. That some of the principles contained in the Essay may 
 possibly lead to these extreme consequences, that they may be 
 pushed thus far, that these grave objections have been brought 
 forward, cannot be denied. I should, however, have profited little 
 from the example and precepts of that upright man, whose life I 
 have endeavoured to make more generally known, whose sincerity 
 and simplicity, whose constant search for truth, are among the most 
 
JOHN LOCKE. 279 
 
 distinguished features of his character, if I attempted to palliate or 
 disguise those imputed errors and mistakes, which he himself, if con- 
 vinced, would have been the first to retract. " Whatever I write," 
 these are his own words, " as soon as I shall discover it not to be 
 truth, my hand shall be forwardest to throw it in the fire." 
 
 The delineation of his true character, whatever may be its de- 
 fects, the most faithful portrait of him will, I believe, contribute 
 more effectually to his real fame, than any praise, however laboured 
 and brilliant it might be, and 1 am convinced it is the only panegyric 
 which is worthy of him. 
 
 END OF THE LIFE. 
 
EXTRACTS FROM 
 LOCKE'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK. 
 
 (On the first page is written, " Nat. 29 August, 1632, Adversaria, 1661.") 
 
 ERROR. 
 
 The great division among Christians is about opinions. Every 
 sect has its set of them, and that is called Orthodoxy ; and he 
 who professes his assent to them, though with an implicit faith, 
 and without examining, he is orthodox and in the way to salvation. 
 But if he examines, and thereupon questions any one of them, 
 he is presently suspected of heresy, and if he oppose them or 
 hold the contrary, he is presently condemned as in a damnable 
 error, and in the sure way to perdition. Of this, one may say, that 
 there is nor can be nothing more wrong. For he that examines, 
 and upon a fair examination embraces an error for a truth, has 
 done his duty, more than he who embraces the profession (for the 
 truths themselves he does not embrace) of the truth without 
 having examined whether it be true or no. And he that has 
 done his duty, according to the best of his ability, is certainly more 
 in the way to Heaven than he who has done nothing of it. For 
 if it be our duty to search after truth, he certainly that has searched 
 after it, though he has not found it, in some points has paid a 
 more acceptable obedience to the will of his Maker, than he that 
 has not searched at all, but professes to have found truth, when 
 he has neither searched nor found it. For he that takes up the 
 
 2o 
 
282 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 opinions of any Church in the lump, without examining them^ 
 has truly neither searched after, nor found truth, but has only 
 found those that he thinks have found truth, and so receives 
 what they say with an implicit faith, and so pays them the 
 homage that is due only to God, who cannot be deceived, nor 
 deceive. In this way the several Churches (in which, as one may 
 observe, opinions are preferred to life, and orthodoxy is that which 
 they are concerned for, and not morals) put the terms of salva- 
 tion on that which the Author of our salvation does not put them 
 in. The believing of a collection of certain propositions, which 
 are called and esteemed fundamental articles, because it has pleas- 
 ed the compilers to put them into their confession of faith, is 
 made the condition of salvation. But this believing is not,, in 
 truth, believing, but a profession to believe ; for it is enough to 
 join with those who make the same profession ; and ignorance or 
 disbelief of some of those articles is well enough borne, and a man 
 is orthodox enough and without any suspicion, till he begins to 
 examine. As soon as it is perceived that he quits the implicit faith, 
 expected though disowned by the Church, his orthodoxy is presently 
 questioned, and he is marked out for a heretic. In this way of an 
 implicit faith, I do not deny but a man who believes in God the 
 Father Almighty, and that Jesus Christ is his only Son our Lord, 
 may be saved, because many of the articles of every sect are such 
 as a man may be saved without the explicit belief of But how the 
 several Churches who place salvation in no less than a. knowledge 
 and belief of their several confessions, can content themselves 
 with such an implicit faith in any of their members, I must own 
 I do not see. The truth is, we cannot be saved without per- 
 forming something which is the explicit believing of what God in 
 the Gospel has made absolutely necessary to salvation to be expli- 
 citly believed, and sincerely to obey what he has there commanded. 
 To a man who believes in Jesus Christ, that he is sent from God 
 to be the Saviour of the world, the first step to orthodoxy is a 
 sincere obedience to his law. Objection — But 'tis an ignorant day- 
 
LOCKE'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK. 283 
 
 labourer that cannot so much as read, and how can he study the 
 Gospel, and become orthodox that way ? Answer — A ploughman 
 that cannot read, is not so ignorant but he has a conscience, and 
 knows in those few cases which concern his own actions, what is 
 right and what is wrong. Let him sincerely obey this light of 
 nature, it is the transcript of the moral law in the Gospel ; and this, 
 even though there be errors in it, will lead him into all the truths 
 in the Gospel that are necessary for him to know. For he that in 
 earnest believes Jesus Christ to be sent from God, to be his Lord 
 and ruler, and does sincerely and unfeignedly set upon a good life 
 as far as he knows his duty ; and where he is in doubt in any matter 
 that concerns himself he cannot fail to enquire of those better skilled 
 in Christ's law, to tell him what his Lord and master has com- 
 manded in the case, and desires to have his law read to him con- 
 cerning that duty which he finds himself concerned in, for the regu- 
 lation of his own actions ; for as for other men's actions, what is 
 right or wrong as to them, that he is not concerned to know ; his 
 business is to live well with himself, and do what is his particular 
 duty — This is knowledge and orthodoxy enough for him, which will 
 be sure to bring him to salvation, — an orthodoxy which nobody can 
 miss, who in earnest resolves to lead a good life ; and, therefore, I 
 lay it down as a principle of Christianity, that the right and only way 
 to saving orthodoxy, is the sincere and steady purpose of a good 
 life. Ignorant of many things contained in the Holy Scriptures we 
 are all. Errors also concerning doctrines delivered in Scripture, we 
 have all of us not a few : these, therefore, cannot be damnable, if any 
 shall be saved. And if they are dangerous, 'tis certain the ignorant 
 and illiterate are safest, for they have the fewest errors that trouble 
 not themselves with speculations above their capacities, or beside 
 their concern. A good life in obedience to the law of Christ their 
 Lord is their indispensable business, and if they inform themselves 
 concerning that, as far as their particular duties lead them to enquire, 
 and oblige them to know, they have orthodoxy enough, and will not 
 be condemned for ignorance in those speculations which they had 
 
 2 o 2 
 
284 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 neither parts, opportunity, nor leisure to know. Here we may see 
 the difference between the orthodoxy required by Christianity, and 
 the orthodoxy required by the several sects, or as they are called, 
 Churches of Christians. The one is explicitly to believe what is in- 
 dispensably required to be believed as absolutely necessary to salva- 
 tion, and to know and believe in the other doctrines of faith deli- 
 vered in the word of God, as a man has opportunity, helps and parts ; 
 and to inform himself in the rules and measures of his own duty as 
 far as his actions are concerned, and to pay a sincere obedience to 
 them. But the other, viz. the orthodoxy required by the several 
 sects, is a profession of believing the whole bundle of their respec- 
 tive articles set down in each Church's system, without knowing the 
 rules of every one's particular duty, or requiring a sincere or strict 
 obedience to them. For they are speculative opinions, confessions 
 of faith that are insisted on in the several communions ; they must 
 be owned and subscribed to, but the precepts and rules of morality 
 and the observance of them, I do not remember there is much notice 
 taken of, or any great stir made about a collection or observance of 
 them, in any of the terms of church communion. But it is also to 
 be observed, that this is much better fitted to get and retain church 
 members than the other way, and is much more suited to that end 
 as much as it is easier to make profession of believing a certain collec- 
 tion of opinions that one never perhaps so much as reads, and several 
 whereof one could not perhaps understand if one did read and study ; 
 (for no more is required than a profession to believe them expressed 
 in an acquiescence that suffers one not to question or contradict any 
 of them) ; than it is to practise the duties of a good life in a sincere 
 obedience to those precepts of the Gospel wherein his actions are 
 concerned. Precepts not hard to be known by those who are willing 
 and ready to obey them. 
 
 J. L. 
 
LOCKE'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK. 285 
 
 Religio. — They that change their religion without full convic- 
 tion, which few men take the way to, (and can never be without great 
 piety,) are not to be trusted, because they have either no God, 
 or have been false to him ; for religion admits of no dissembling. 
 
 J. L. 
 
 DispuTATio. — One should not dispute with a man who, either 
 through stupidity or shamelessness, denies plain and visible truths. 
 
 J. L. 
 . Lingua. — Tell not your business or design to one that you are 
 not sure will help it forward. All that are not for you count against 
 you, for so they generally prove, either through folly, envy, malice, 
 or interest. J. L. 
 
 Do not hear yourself say to another what you would not have 
 another hear from him. J. L. 
 
 Voluntas. — Let your will lead whither necessity would drive, 
 and you will always preserve your liberty. 
 
 SACERDOS. 
 
 There were two sorts of teachers amongst the ancients : those 
 who professed to teach them the arts of propitiation and atonement, 
 and these were properly their Priests, who for the most part made 
 themselves the mediators betwixt the Gods and men, wherein they 
 performed all or the principal part, at least nothing was done 
 without them. The laity had but a small part in the performance 
 unless it were in the charge of it, and that was wholly theirs. The 
 chief, at least the essential, and sanctifying part of the ceremony, 
 was always the priests', and the people could do nothing without 
 them. The ancients had another sort of teachers, who were called 
 philosophers. These led their schools and professed to instruct 
 those who would apply to them in the knowledge of things and 
 the rules of virtue. These meddled not with the public religion, 
 worship, or ceremonies, but left them entirely to the priest, as the 
 priests left the instruction of men in natural and moral knowledge 
 wholly to the philosophers. These two parts or provinces of know- 
 
286 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 ledge thus under the government of two distinct sorts of men, seem 
 to be founded upon the supposition of two clearly distinct originals, 
 viz. revelation and reason : for the priests never for any of their 
 ceremonies or forms of worship pleaded reason ; but always urged 
 their sacred observances from the pleasure of the Gods, antiquity, 
 and tradition, which at last resolves all their established rites into 
 nothing but revelation. " Cum de religione agitur, T. Coruncanum, 
 P. Scipionem, P. Sceevolam, pontifices maximos, non Zenonem aut 
 
 Cleanthem aut Chrysippum sequor A te philosopho 
 
 rationem accipere debeo religionis, majoribus autem nostris etiam 
 nulla ratione reddita credere." Cic. de Nat. Deor. The philoso- 
 phers, on the other side, pretended to nothing but reason in all that 
 they said, and from thence owned to fetch all their doctrines ; 
 though how little their lives answered their own rules whilst they 
 studied ostentation and vanity, rather than solid virtue, Cicero tells 
 us, Tusc. Quaest. 1. 2. c. 4. 
 
 Jesus Christ, bringing by revelation from Heaven the true religion 
 to mankind, reunited these two again, religion and morality, as the in- 
 separable parts of the worship of God which ought never to have been 
 separated, wherein for the obtaining the favour and forgiveness of 
 the Deity, the chief part of what man could do consisted in a holy life, 
 and little or nothing at all was left to outward ceremony, which was 
 therefore almost wholly cashiered out of this true religion, and only 
 two very plain and simple institutions introduced, all pompous rites 
 being wholly abolished, and no more of outward performances com- 
 manded but just so much as decency and order required in the actions 
 of public assemblies. This being the state of this true religion com- 
 ing immediately from God himself, the ministers of it, who also call 
 themselves priests, have assumed to themselves the parts both of 
 the heathen priests and philosophers, and claim a right not only to 
 perform all the outward acts of the Christian religion in public, and 
 to regulate the ceremonies to be used there, but also to teach men 
 their duties of morality towards one another and towards them- 
 selves, and to prescribe to them in the conduct of their lives. 
 
LOCKE'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK. 287 
 
 Though the magistrate have a power of commanding or forbid- 
 ding things indifferent which have a relation to religion, yet this 
 can only be within that Church whereof he himself is a member, who 
 being a lawgiver in matters indifferent in the commonwealth under 
 his jurisdiction, as it is purely a civil society, for their peace, is 
 fittest also to be lawgiver in the religious society, (which yet must 
 be understood to be only a voluntary society and during every 
 member's pleasure,) in matters indifierent, for decency and order for 
 the peace of that too. But I do not see how" hereby he hath any 
 power to order and direct even matters indifferent in the circum- 
 stances of a worship, or within a Church whereof he is not professor 
 or member. It is true he may forbid such things as may tend to 
 the disturbance of the peace of the commonwealth to be done by 
 any of his people, whether they esteem them civil or religious. 
 This is his proper business; but to command or direct any circum- 
 stances of a worship as part of the religious worship which he 
 himself does not profess nor approve, is altogether without his 
 authority, and absurd to suppose. Can any one think it reasonable, 
 yea, or practicable, that a Christian Prince should direct the form 
 of Mahometan worship, the whole religion being thought by him 
 false and profane ? and vice versa ; and yet it is not impossible that a 
 Christian Prince should have Mahometan subjects who may deserve 
 all civil freedom ; and de facto the Turk hath Christian subjects. 
 As absurd would it be that a magistrate, either Popish, Protestant, 
 Lutheran, Presbyterian, Quaker, &c. should prescribe a form to any 
 or all of the different Churches in their ways of worship, the reason 
 whereof is because religious worship, being that homage, which every 
 man pays his God, he cannot do it in any other way, nor use any 
 other rites, ceremonies, nor forms, even of indifferent things than 
 he himself is persuaded are acceptable and pleasing to the God he 
 worships ; which depending upon his opinion of his God, and what 
 will best please him, it is impossible for one man to prescribe or 
 direct any one circumstance of it to another : and this being a thing 
 different and independent wholly from .every man's concerns in the 
 
288 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 civil society, which hath nothing to do with a man's affairs in the 
 other world, the magistrate hath here no more right to intermeddle 
 than any private man, and has less right to direct the form of it, 
 than he has to prescribe to a subject of his in what manner he shall 
 do his homage to another Prince to whom he is feudatory, for 
 something which he holds immediately from him, which, whether it 
 be standing, kneeling, or prostrate, bareheaded or barefooted, whether 
 in this or that habit, &c. concerns not his allegiance to him at all, 
 nor his well government of his people. For though the things in 
 themselves are perfectly indifferent, and it may be trivial, yet as to 
 the worshipper, when he considers them as required by his God, or 
 forbidden, pleasing or displeasing to the invisible power he addresses, 
 they are by no means so until you have altered his opinion, (which 
 persuasion can only do,) you can by no means, nor without the 
 greatest tyranny, prescribe him a way of worship ; which was so 
 unreasonable to do, that we find scarce any attempt towards it by 
 the magistrates in the several societies of mankind till Christianity 
 was well grown up in the world, and was become a national religion ; 
 and since that it hath been the cause of more disorders, tumults, 
 and bloodshed, than all other causes put together. 
 
 But far be it from any one to think Christ the author of those 
 disorders, or that such fatal mischiefs are the consequence of his 
 doctrine, though they have grown up with it. Antichrist has sown 
 those tares in the field of the Church ; the rise whereof hath been 
 only hence, that the clergy, by degrees, as Christianity spread, affect- 
 ing dominion, laid claim to a priesthood, derived by succession from 
 Christ, and so independent from the civil power, receiving (as they 
 pretend) by the imposition of hands, and some other ceremonies 
 agreed on (but variously) by the priesthoods of the several factions, 
 an indelible character, particular sanctity, and a power immediately 
 from Heaven to do several things which are not lawful to be done by 
 other men. The chief whereof are — 1st To teach opinions concern- 
 ing God, a future state, and ways of worship. 2d. To do and perform 
 themselves certain rites exclusive of others. 3d. To punish dissent- 
 
LOCKE'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK. 289 
 
 ers from their doctrines and rules ; whereas it is evident from Scrip- 
 ture, that all priesthood terminated in the Great High Priest, Jesus 
 Christ, who was the last Priest. There are no footsteps in Scriptures 
 of any so set apart, with such powers as they pretend to, after the 
 Apostles' time ; nor that had any indelible character. That it is to 
 be made out, that there is nothing which a priest can do, which 
 another man, without any such ordination, (if other circumstances of 
 fitness, and an appointment to it, not disturbing peace and order, 
 concur,) may not lawfully perform and do, and the Church and wor- 
 ship of God be preserved, as the peace of the state may be by justices 
 of the peace, and other officers, who had no ordination, or laying on 
 of hands, to fit them to be justices, and by taking away their com- 
 missions may cease to be so ; so ministers, as well as justices, are ne- 
 cessary, one for the administration of religious public worship, the 
 other of civil justice ; but an indelible character, peculiar sanctity of 
 the function, or a power immediately derived from Heaven, is not 
 necessary, or as much as convenient, for either. 
 
 But the clergy (as they call themselves of the Christian religion, 
 in imitation of the Jewish priesthood,) having, almost ever since the 
 first ages of the Church, laid claim to this power, separate from civil 
 government, as received from God himself, have, wherever the civil 
 magistrate hath been Christian and of their opinion, and superior 
 in power to the clergy, and they not able to cope with him, pre- 
 tended this power only to be spiritual, and to extend no farther ; 
 but yet still pressed, as a duty on the magistrate, to punish and per- 
 secute those whom they disliked and declared against. And so when 
 they excommunicated, their under officer, the magistrate, was to 
 execute ; and to reward princes for their doing their drudgery, they 
 have (whenever princes have been serviceable to their ends,) been 
 careful to preach up monarchy jure divino ; for commonwealths 
 have hitherto been less favourable to their power. But notwith- 
 standing the jus divinum of monarchy, when any Prince hath dared 
 to dissent from their doctrines or forms, or been less apt to execute 
 
 2 p 
 
290 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 the decrees of the hierarchy, they have been the first and forwardest 
 in giving check to his authority, and disturbance to his government. 
 And Princes, on the other side, being apt to hearken to such as 
 seem to advance their authority, and bring in religion to the assist- 
 ance of their absolute power, have been generally very ready to 
 worry those sheep who have ever so little straggled out of those 
 shepherds' folds, where they were kept in order to be shorn by them 
 both, and to be howled on both upon subjects and* neighbours at 
 their pleasure : and hence have come most of those calamities 
 which have so long disturbed and wasted Christendom. Whilst the 
 magistrate, being persuaded it is his duty to punish those the clergy 
 please to call heretics, schismatics, or fanatics, or else taught to ap- 
 prehend danger from dissension in religion, thinks it his interest to 
 suppress them — persecutes all who observe not the same forms in 
 the religious worship which is set up in his country. The people, 
 on the other side, finding the mischiefs that fall on them for wor- 
 shipping God according to their own persuasions, enter into con- 
 federacies and combinations to secure themselves as well as they 
 can ; so that oppression and vexation on one side, self-defence and 
 desire of religious liberty on the other, create dislikes, jealousies, 
 apprehensions, and factions, which seldom fail to break out into 
 downright persecution, or open war. 
 
 But notwithstanding the liberality of the clergy to princes, when 
 they have not strength enough to deal with them, be very large ; yet 
 when they are once in a condition to strive with them for the mas- 
 tery, then is it seen how far their spiritual power extends, and how in 
 or dine ad spiritualia, absolute temporal power comes in. So that 
 ordination, that begins in priesthood, if it be let alone, will certainly 
 grow up to absolute empire ; and though Christ declares himself to 
 have no kingdom of this world, his successors have (whenever they 
 can but grasp the power) a large commission to execute ; and that 
 a rigorously civil dominion. The Popedom hath been a large and 
 lasting instance of this. And what Presbytery could do, even in 
 
 * It is thus in the original, but, I confess, it is not intelligibb. 
 
LOCKE'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK. 291 
 
 its infancy when it had a little humbled the magistrates, let Scot- 
 land show. 
 
 Patri^ Amor is from the idea of settlement there, and not leav- 
 ing it again, the mind not being satisfied with any thing that sug- 
 gests often to it the thoughts of leaving it, which naturally attends 
 a man in a strange country. For though, in general, we think of 
 dying, and so leaving the place where we have set up our rest in this 
 world, yet, in particular, deferring and putting it off from time to 
 time, we make our stay there eternal, because we never set precise 
 bounds to our abode there, and never think of leaving it in good 
 earnest. 
 
 Amor PATRiiE. — The remembrance of pleasures and conveniences 
 we have had there ; the love of our friends, whose conversation and 
 assistance may be pleasant and useful to us ; and the thoughts of re- 
 commending ourselves to our old acquaintance, by the improvements 
 we shall bring home, either of our fortunes or abilities, or the in- 
 crease of esteem we expect for having travelled and seen more than 
 others of this world, and the strange things in it ; all these preserve 
 in us, in long absence, a constant affection to our country, and a 
 desire to return to it. But yet I think this is not all, nor the chief 
 cause, that keeps in us a longing after our country. Whilst we are 
 abroad we look on ourselves as strangers there, and are always 
 thinking of departing ; we set not up our rest, but often see or think 
 of the end of our being there ; and the mind is not easily satisfied 
 with any thing it can reach to the end of. But when we are re^ 
 turned to our country, where we think of a lasting abode, wherein 
 to set up our rest, an everlasting abode, for we seldom think of any 
 thing beyond it, we do not propose to ourselves another country 
 whither we think to remove and establish ourselves afterwards. 
 This is that, I imagine, that sets mankind so constantly upon desires 
 of returning to their country, because they think no more of leaving 
 it again ; and, therefore, men married, and settled in any place, are 
 much more cold in these desires. And, I believe, when any one 
 
 2 p 2 
 
292 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 thinks often of this world, as of a place wherein he is not to make any 
 long abode, where he can have no lasting fixed settlement, but that 
 he sees the bounds of his stay here, and often reflects upon his de- 
 parture, he will presently upon it put on the thoughts of a stranger, 
 be much more indifferent to the particular place of his nativity, and 
 no more fond of it than a traveller is of any foreign country, when 
 he thinks he must leave them all indifferently to return and settle 
 in his native soil. 
 
 The following remarkable passage, containing, as it does, the sub- 
 stance of Paley's argument, must have been written very early, being 
 found in the tenth page of the first Common-Place Book, dated 1661. 
 
 " Virtue, as in its obligation it is the will of God, discovered by 
 natural reason, and thus has the force of a law ; so in the matter of 
 it, it is nothing else but doing of good, either to oneself or others ; 
 and the contrary hereunto, vice, is nothing else but doing of harm. 
 Thus the bounds of temperance are prescribed by the health, estates, 
 and the use of our time : justice, truth, and mercy, by the good or 
 evil they are likely to produce ; since every body allows one may 
 with justice deny another the possession of his own sword, when 
 there is reason to believe he would make use of it to his own harm. 
 But since men in society are in a far different estate than when con- 
 sidered single and alone, the instances and measures of virtue and 
 vice are very different under these two considerations; for though, 
 as I said before, the measures of temperance, to a solitary man, be 
 none but those above-mentioned ; yet if he be a member of a so- 
 ciety, it may, according to the station he has in it, receive measures 
 from reputation and example ; so that what would be no vicious 
 excess in a retired obscurity, may be a very great one amongst 
 people who think ill of such excess, because by lessening his esteem 
 amongst them, it makes a man incapable of having the authority, 
 and doing the good which otherwise he might. For esteem and re- 
 putation being a sort of moral strength, whereby a man is enabled 
 to do, as it were, by an augmented force, that which others, of equal 
 
LOCKE'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK. 293 
 
 natural parts and natural power, cannot do without it ; he that by 
 any intemperance weakens this his moral strength, does himself as 
 much harm as if by intemperance he weakened the natural strength 
 either of his mind or body, and so is equally vicious by doing harm to 
 himself. This, if well considered, will give us better boundaries of 
 virtue and vice, than curious questions stated with the nicest dis- 
 tinctions ; that being always the greatest vice whose consequences 
 draw after it the greatest harm ; and therefore the injury and mis- 
 chiefs done to society are much more culpable than those done to 
 private men, though with greater personal aggravations. And so 
 many things naturally become vices amongst men in society, which 
 without that would be innocent actions : thus, for a man to cohabit 
 and have children by one or more women, who are at their own dis- 
 posal ; and when they think fit to part again, I see not how it can be 
 condemned as a vice, since nobody is harmed, supposing it done 
 amongst persons considered as separate from the rest of mankind; 
 but yet this hinders not but it is a vice of deep dye when the same 
 thing is done in a society wherein modesty, the great virtue of the 
 weaker sex, has often other rules and bounds set by custom and re- 
 putation, than what it has by direct instances of the law of nature in 
 a solitude or an estate separate from the opinion of this or that 
 society. For if a woman, by transgressing those bounds which the 
 received opinion of her country or religion, and not nature or reason, 
 have set to modesty, has drawn any blemish on her reputation, she 
 may run the risk of being exposed to infamy, and other mischiefs, 
 amongst which the least is not the danger of losing the comforts of 
 a conjugal settlement, and therewith the chief end of her being, the 
 propagation of mankind. 
 
 Scrip TURA Sacra. A Vindication of the Divine Authority and 
 Inspiration of the Writings of the Old and New Testament. By 
 William Louth. 8. Ox. 92. p. 288. 
 
 " All the books have not an equal inspiration. 1 Q. What is 
 equal inspiration ? if the new be inspired the old is, because of the 
 
294 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 testimony given to the old by the new. 2 Q. Inspired, because de- 
 signed by God for the perpetual use and instruction of the Church, 
 and to be a rule of the Christian faith in all ages. S Q. Whether 
 by the same reason, they must not be very plain, and their sense 
 infallibly intelligible to those to whom they are to be a rule ? 
 
 An inspired writing is what is writ by the incitation, direction, 
 and assistance of God, and designed by him for the perpetual 
 use of the Church. Q. What is meant by incitation, direction, and 
 assistance in the case ? 4 Q. Whether that may not be inspired 
 which is not designed for the perpetual use of the Church? God de- 
 signed to provide a means for preserving the doctrine of Christ to 
 the end of the world. 5 Q. Will it thence follow that all that St. 
 Luke writ was inspired ? 
 
 Writing, the best ordinary means of conveying doctrine to after 
 ages ; for God never works more miracles than needs must. 6 Q. 
 Whether, therefore, all in the New Testament was appointed by 
 God to be written ? 
 
 Oral tradition not so good. Particular revelation not pretended 
 to but by enthusiasts. 7 Q. Whether the name, enthusiasts, answers 
 their arguments for particular revelation ? 
 
 By writings, preserved in the ordinary methods of providence, 
 men may as well know the revealed will of God, as they can know 
 the histories of former ages, and the opinions of philosophers, 
 &c. 8 Q. Will as well serve the turn, for that is with great uncer- 
 tainty. 
 
 God made use of writing for the instruction of the Jewish 
 Church. Moses, by God's direction, wrote his law in a book. 
 10 Q. Whether then the argument be not, the Old Testament was 
 inspired, therefore the New is ? 
 
 It is natural to suppose that the Apostles should take care to 
 provide some certain means of instruction for the Christian church 
 in conformity to the Jewish. 11 Q. When the author writ this, 
 whether he thought not of it as an human contrivance ? St. Matthew 
 
LOCKE'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK. 295 
 
 writ particularly for the use of the Jews he had preached to. 1^1 Q. 
 Whether then he had any thoughts that it should be an universal 
 rule? 
 
 ELECTIO. 
 
 I cannot see of what use the Doctrine of Election and Perse-- 
 verance is, unless it be to lead men into presumption and a neglect 
 of their duties, being once persuaded that they are in a state of 
 grace, which is a state they are told they cannot fall from. For 
 since nobody can know that he is elected but by having true faith, 
 and nobody can know when he has such a faith, that he cannot fall 
 from, common and saving faith, as they are distinguished, being so 
 alike that he that has faith cannot distinguish whether it be such as 
 he can fall from or no. Vide Calvin, Inst. 1. 3. c. 2. 6. 12 Who is 
 elected, or has faith, from which he cannot fall, can only be known 
 by the event at the last day, and therefore is in vain talked of now 
 till the marks of such a faith be certainly given. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 JUDGING— ELECTION— RESOLUTION. 
 
 Judging is a bare action of the understanding, whereby a man, 
 several objects being proposed to him, takes one of them to be best 
 for him. 
 
 But this is not Election ? 
 
 Election then is, when a man judging any thing to be best for 
 him, ceases to consider, examine, and enquire any farther concern- 
 ing that matter ; for till a man comes to this, he has not chosen ; 
 the matter still remains with him under deliberation, and not de- 
 termined. Here, then, comes in the will, and makes Election volun- 
 tary, by stopping in the mind any farther enquiry and examination. 
 This Election sometimes proceeds farther to 
 
 Firm Resolution, which is not barely a stop to farther enquiry 
 by Election at that time, but the predetermination, as much as in 
 him lies, of his will not to take the matter into any farther deli- 
 beration ; i. e. not to employ his thoughts any more about the 
 eligibility ; i. e. the suitableness of that which he has chosen to 
 himself as making a part of his happiness. For example, a man 
 who would be married, has several wives proposed to him. He 
 considers which would be fittest for him, and judges Mary best ; 
 afterwards upon that continued judgment, makes choice of her ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 297 
 
 this choice ends his deliberation ; he stops all farther consideration 
 whether she be best or no, and resolves to fix here, which is not any 
 more to examine whether she be best or fittest for him of all pro- 
 posed, and consequently pursues the means of obtaining her, sees, 
 frequents, and falls desperately in love with her, and then we may 
 see Resolution at the highest ; which is an act of the will, whereby 
 he not only supersedes all farther examination, but will not admit 
 of any information or suggestion, will not hear any thing that can 
 be offered against the pursuit of this match. 
 
 Thus we may see how the will mixes itself with these actions, 
 and what share it has in them ; viz. that all it does is but exciting 
 or stopping the operative faculties ; in all which it is acted on more or 
 less vigorously, as the uneasiness that presses is greater or less. At 
 first, let us suppose his thoughts of marriage in general, to be ex- 
 cited only by some consideration of some moderate convenience 
 offered to his mind ; this moves but moderate desires, and thence 
 moderate uneasiness leaves his will almost indifferent ; he is slow in 
 his choice amongst the matches offered, pursues coolly till desire 
 grows upon him, and with it uneasiness proportionably, and that 
 quickens his will ; he approaches nearer, he is in love — is set on 
 fire — the flame scorches — this makes him uneasy with a witness ; then 
 his will, acted by that pressing uneasiness, vigorously and steadily 
 employs all the operative faculties of body and mind for the attain- 
 ment of the beloved object without which he cannot be happy. 
 
 INDORSED EXCOMMUNICATION. Dated 1673-4. 
 
 There is a twofold society, of which almost all men in the world 
 are members, and that from the twofold concernment they have 
 to attain a twofold happiness ; viz. that of this world and that of 
 the other : and hence there arises these two following societies, viz. 
 religious and civil. 
 
 2 Q 
 
298 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 CIVIL SOCIETY, OR THE 
 STATE. 
 
 1. The end of civil society is 
 civil peace and prosperity, or the 
 preservation of the society and 
 every member thereof in a free 
 and peaceable enjoyment of all 
 the good things of this life that 
 belong to each of them ; but be- 
 yond the concernments of this 
 life, this society hath nothing to 
 do at all. 
 
 2. The terms of communion 
 with, or being a part of this so- 
 ciety is promise of obedience to 
 the laws of it. 
 
 3. The proper matter, circa 
 quam, of the laws of this society 
 are all things conducing to the 
 end above-mentioned, i. e. civil 
 happiness ; and are in effect al- 
 most all moral and indifferent 
 things which yet are not the 
 proper matter of the laws of the 
 society, till the doing or omitting 
 of any of them come to have a 
 tendency to the end above-men- 
 tioned. 
 
 RELIGIOUS SOCIETY, OR THE 
 CHURCH. 
 
 1. The end of religious society 
 is the attaining happiness after 
 this life in another world. 
 
 4. The means to procure obe- 
 
 2. The terms of communion 
 or conditions of being members 
 of this society, is promise of obe- 
 dience to the laws of it. 
 
 3. The proper matter of the 
 laws of this society are all things 
 tending to the attainment of fu- 
 ture bliss, which are of three 
 sorts : 1. Credenda, or matters of 
 faith and opinion, which termi- 
 nate in the understanding. 2. 
 Cultus religiosus, which contains 
 in it both the ways of expressing 
 our honour and adoration of the 
 Deity, and of address to him for 
 the obtaining any good from him. 
 3. M or alia, or the right manage- 
 ment of our actions in respect of 
 ourselves and others 
 
 4. The means to preserve obe- 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 299 
 
 dience to the laws of this society, dience to the laws of this society 
 and thereby preserve it, is force are the hopes and fears of hap- 
 or punishment ; i. e. the abridge- piness and misery in another 
 ment of any one's share of the world. But though the laws of 
 good things of the world within this society be in order to happi- 
 the reach of the society, and some- ness in another world, and so the 
 times a total deprivation, as in penalties annexed to them are also 
 capital punishments. And this, of another world ; yet the society 
 I think, is the whole end, lati- being in this world and to be con- 
 tude, and extent, of civil power tinned here, there are some means 
 and society. necessary for the preservation of 
 
 the society here, which is the ex- 
 pulsion of such members as obey 
 not the laws of it, or disturb its 
 order. And this, I think, is the 
 whole end, latitude, and extent 
 of ecclesiastical power and reli- 
 gious society. 
 This being, as I suppose, the distinct bounds of church and state, 
 let us a little compare them together : — 
 
 THE PARALLEL. 
 
 1. The end of civil society is 1. The end of church commu- 
 present enjoyment of what this nion, future expectation of what 
 world affords. is to be had in the other world. 
 
 2. Another end of civil society 2. The preservation of the 
 is the preservation of the society society in religious communion is 
 or government itself for its own only in order to the conveying 
 sake. and propagating those laws and 
 
 truths which concern our well- 
 being in another world. 
 
 3. The terms of communion 
 must be the same in all societies. 
 
 2 Q 2 
 
300 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 4. The laws of a common- 
 wealth are mutable, being made 
 within the society by an autho- 
 rity not distinct from it, nor ex- 
 terior to it. 
 
 5. The proper means to pro- 
 cure obedience to the law of the 
 civil society, and thereby attain 
 the end, civil happiness, is force 
 or punishment, 1st. It is effect- 
 ual and adequate for the preser- 
 vation of the society, and civil 
 happiness is the immediate and 
 natural consequence of the ex- 
 ecution of the law. 2nd. It is 
 just, for the breach of laws being 
 mostly the prejudice and diminu- 
 tion of another man's right, and 
 always tending to the dissolution 
 of the society, in the continuance 
 whereof every man's particular 
 right is comprehended, it is just 
 that he who has impaired another 
 man's good, should suffer the di- 
 minution of his own. 3rd. It is 
 within the power of the society 
 which can exert its own strength 
 against offenders, the sword being 
 put into the magistrate's hands 
 to that purpose. But civil so- 
 
 4. The laws of religious socie- 
 ty, bating those which are only 
 subservient to the order neces- 
 sary to their execution, are im- 
 mutable, not subject to any au- 
 thority of the society, but only pro- 
 posed by and within the society, 
 but made by a lawgiver without 
 the society, and paramount to it. 
 
 5. The proper enforcement of 
 obedience to the laws of religion, 
 are the rewards and punishments 
 of the other world, but civil pu- 
 nishment is not so. 1st. Because 
 it is ineffectual to that purpose; 
 for punishment is never sufficient 
 to keep men to the obedience of 
 any law, where the evil it brings 
 is not certainly greater than the 
 good which is obtained or ex- 
 pected from the disobedience ; 
 and therefore no temporal world- 
 ly punishment can be sufficient 
 to persuade a man to, or from 
 that way which he believes leads 
 to everlasting happiness or mi- 
 sery. 2nd. Because it is unjust 
 in reference both to Credenda 
 and Cultus, that I should be de- 
 spoiled of my good things of this 
 world, where I disturb not in the 
 least the enjoyment of others ; 
 for my faith or religious worship 
 hurts not another man in any 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 301 
 
 ciety has nothing to do without 
 its own limits, which is civil hap- 
 piness. 
 
 concernment of his ; and in mo- 
 ral transgressions the third and 
 real part of religion, the religious 
 society cannot punish, because it 
 then invades the civil society, 
 and wrests the magistrate's sword 
 out of his hand. In civil society 
 one man's good is involved and 
 complicated with another's, but 
 in religious societies every man's 
 concerns are separate, and one 
 man's transgressions hurt not 
 another any farther than he imi- 
 tates him, and if he err, he errs 
 at his own private cost ; there- 
 fore I think no external punish- 
 ment, i. e. deprivation or diminu- 
 tion of the goods of this life 
 belongs to the Church. Only be- 
 cause for the propagation of the 
 truth, (which every society be- 
 lieves to be its own religion,) it 
 is equity it should remove those 
 two evils which will hinder its 
 propagation, 1 , disturbance within, 
 which is contradiction or disobe- 
 dience of any of its members to its 
 doctrines and discipline; 2. in- 
 famy without, which is the scan- 
 dalous lives or disallowed profes- 
 sion of any of its members ; and 
 the proper way to do this, which 
 is in its power, is to exclude and 
 disown such vicious members. 
 
302 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 6. Church-membership is per- 
 fectly voluntary, and may end 
 whenever any one pleases without 
 any prejudice to himself, but in 
 civil society it is not so. 
 
 But because religious societies are of two sorts, wherein their 
 circumstances very much differ, the exercise of their power is also 
 much different. It is to be considered that all mankind, (very few 
 or none excepted,) are combined into civil societies in various forms, 
 as force, chance, agreement, or other accidents have happened to 
 constrain them : there are very few also that have not some religion ; 
 and hence it comes to pass, that very few men but are members both 
 of some church and of some commonwealth ; and hence it comes 
 to pass — 
 
 1st. That in some places the civil and religious societies are co- 
 extended, i. e. both the magistrate and every subject of the same 
 commonwealth is also member of the same church ; and thus it is in 
 Muscovy, whereby they have all the same civil laws, and the same 
 opinions and religious worship. 
 
 2nd. In some places the commonwealth, though all of one re- 
 ligion, is but a part of the church or religious society which acts and 
 is acknowledged to be one entire society, and so it is in Spain and 
 the principalities of Italy. 
 
 Srd. In some places the religion of the commonwealth, i. e. the 
 public established religion, is not received by all the subjects of the 
 commonwealth, and thus the Protestant religion in England, the 
 Reformed in Brandenburgh, the Lutheran in Sweden. 
 
 4th. In some places the religion of part of the people is different 
 from the governing part of the civil society, and thus the Presbyte- 
 rian, Independent, Anabaptists, Quakers and Jewish in England, 
 the Lutheran and Popish in Cleve, &c. ; and in these two last the 
 religious society is part of the civil. 
 
 There are also three things to be considered in each religion as 
 the matter of their communion : — 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 303 
 
 1. Opinions or speculations, Credenda. 
 
 2. Cultus religiosus. 
 
 3. Mores. 
 
 Which are all to be considered in the exercise of church power, 
 which I conceive does properly extend no further than excommu- 
 nication, which is to remove a scandalous or turbulent member. 
 
 In the first case there is no need of excommunication for im- 
 morality, because the civil law has provided, or may sufficiently, 
 against that by penal laws, enough to suppress it ; for the civil ma- 
 gistrate has moral actions under the dominion of his sword, and 
 therefore it is not like he will turn away a subject out of his country 
 for a fault which he can compel him to reform. But if any one 
 differ from the Church in " fide aut cultu," I think first the civil 
 magistrate may punish him for it where he is fully persuaded that 
 it will disturb the civil peace, otherwise not ; but the religious soci- 
 ety may certainly excommunicate him, the peace whereof may by 
 this means be preserved ; but no other evil ought to follow him upon 
 that excommunication as such, but only upon the consideration of 
 the public peace. 
 
 In the second case I think the Church may excommunicate for 
 faults in faith and worship, but not those faults in manners which 
 the magistrate has annexed penalties to, for the preservation of 
 civil society and happiness. The same also I think ought to be 
 the rule in the third case. 
 
 In the fourth case, I think the Church has power to excommu- 
 nicate for matters of faith, worship, or manners, though the ma- 
 gistrate punish the same immorality with his sword, because the 
 Church cannot otherwise remove the scandal which is necessary for 
 its preservation and the propagation of its doctrines ; and this 
 power of being judges who are fit to be of their society, the magis- 
 trate cannot deny to any religious society which is permitted within 
 his dominions. This was the state of the Church till Constantine. 
 But in none of the former cases is excommunication capable to be 
 denounced by any Church upon any one but the members of that 
 
304 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 Church, it being absurd to cut off that which is no part ; neither 
 ought the civil magistrate to inflict any punishment upon the score 
 of excommunication, but to punish the fact or forbear, just as he 
 finds it convenient for the preservation of the civil peace and pros- 
 perity of the commonwealth, (within which his power is confined,) 
 without any regard to excommunication at all. 
 
 THUS I THINK 
 
 It is a man's proper business to seek happiness and avoid misery. 
 
 Happiness consists in what delights and contents the mind, 
 misery in what disturbs, discomposes, or torments it. 
 
 I will therefore make it my business to seek satisfaction and 
 delight, and avoid uneasiness, and disquiet ; to have as much of the 
 one and as little of the other as may be. 
 
 But here I must have a care I mistake not ; for if I prefer a short 
 pleasure to a lasting one, it is plain I cross my own happiness. 
 
 Let me then see wherein consists the most lasting pleasures of 
 this life, and that as far as I can observe is in these things : 
 
 1st. Health, — without which no sensual pleasure can have any 
 relish. 
 
 2nd. Reputation, — for that I find every body is pleased with, and 
 the want of it is a constant torment. 
 
 3rd. Knowledge, — for the little knowledge I have, I find I would 
 not sell at any rate, nor part with for any other pleasure. 
 
 4th. Doing good, — for I find the well-cooked meat I eat to-day 
 does now no more delight me, nay, I am diseased after a full meal. 
 The perfumes I smelt yesterday now no more afiect me with any 
 pleasure, but the good turn I did yesterday, a year, seven years since, 
 continues still to please and delight me as often as I reflect on it, 
 
 5th. The expectation of eternal and incomprehensible happi- 
 ness in another world is that also which carries a constant pleasure 
 with it. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 305 
 
 If then I will faithfully pursue that happiness I propose to 
 myself, whatever pleasure offers itself to me, I must carefully look 
 that it cross not any of those five great and constant pleasures above 
 mentioned. For example, the fruit I see tempts me with the 
 taste of it that I love, but if it endanger my health, I part with 
 a constant and lasting for a very short and transient pleasure, 
 and so foolishly make myself unhappy, and am not true to my ow^n 
 interest. 
 
 Hunting, plays, and other innocent diversions delight me : if I 
 make use of them to refresh myself after study and business, they 
 preserve my health, restore the vigour of my mind, and increase my 
 pleasure ; but if I spend all, or the greatest part of my time in them, 
 they hinder my improvement in knowledge and useful arts, they 
 blast my credit, and give me up to the uneasy state of shame, igno- 
 rance, and contempt, in which I cannot but be very unhappy. 
 Drinking, gaming, and vicious delights will do me this mischief, not 
 only by wasting my time, but by a positive efficacy endanger my 
 health, impair my parts, imprint ill habits, lessen my esteem, and 
 leave a constant lasting torment on my conscience ; therefore all 
 vicious and unlawful pleasures I will always avoid, because such a 
 mastery of my passions will afford me a constant pleasure greater 
 than any such enjoyments ; and also deliver me from the certain 
 evil of several kinds, that by indulging myself in a present tempta- 
 tion I shall certainly afterwards suffer. 
 
 All innocent diversions and delights as far as they will contri- 
 bute to my health, and consist with my improvement, condition, 
 and my other more solid pleasures of knowledge and reputation, I 
 will enjoy, but no farther, and this I will carefully watch and 
 examine, that I may not be deceived by the flattery of a present 
 pleasure to lose a greater. 
 
 2 R 
 
306 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 OF ETHICS IN GENERAL. 
 
 1. Happiness and misery are the two great springs of human 
 actions, and through different ways we find, men so busy in the 
 world, they all aim at happiness, and desire to avoid misery, as it 
 appears to them in different places and shapes. 
 
 2. I do not remember that I have heard of any nation of men 
 who have not acknowledged that there has been right and wrong in 
 men's actions, as well as truth and falsehood in their sayings ; some 
 measures there have been every where owned, though very different ; 
 some rules and boundaries to men's actions, by which they were 
 judged to be good or bad ; nor is there, I think, any people amongst 
 whom there is not distinction between virtue and vice ; some kind 
 of morality is to be found every where received ; I will not say 
 perfect and exact, but yet enough to let us know that the notion of 
 it is more or less every where, and that men think that even where 
 politics, societies, and magistrates are silent, men yet are under some 
 laws to which they owe obedience. 
 
 3. But however morality be the great business and concernment 
 of mankind, and so deserves our most attentive application and 
 study ; yet in the very entrance this occurs very strange and worthy 
 our consideration, that morality hath been generally in the world 
 rated as a science distinct from theology, religion, and law ; and 
 that it hath been the proper province of philosophers, a sort of men 
 different both from divines, priests, and lawyers, whose profession it 
 has been to explain and teach this knowledge to the world ; a plain 
 argument to me of some discovery still amongst men, of the law of 
 nature, and a secret apprehension of another rule of action which 
 rational creatures had a concernment to conform to, besides what 
 either the priests pretended was the immediate command of their 
 God, (for all the heathen ceremonies of worship pretended to revela- 
 tion, reason failing in the support of them,) or the lawyer told 
 them was the command of the Government. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 307 
 
 4. But yet these philosophers seldom deriving these rules up to 
 their original, nor arguing them as the commands of the great God 
 of heaven and earth, and such as according to which he would 
 retribute to men after this life, the utmost enforcements they 
 could add to them were reputation and disgrace by those names of 
 virtue and vice, which they endeavoured by their authority to make 
 names of weight to their scholars and the rest of the people. Were 
 there no human law, nor punishment, nor obligation of civil or 
 divine sanctions, there would yet still be such species of actions in 
 the world as justice, temperance, and fortitude, drunkenness and 
 theft, which would also be thought some of them good, some bad ; 
 there would be distinct notions of virtues and vices ; for to each of 
 these names there would belong a complex idea, or otherwise all 
 these and the like words which express moral things in all languages 
 would be empty, insignificant sounds, and all moral discourses would 
 be perfect jargon. But all the knowledge of virtues and vices 
 which a man attained to, this way, would amount to no more, than 
 taking the definitions or the significations of the words of any lan- 
 guage, either from the men skilled in that language, or the com- 
 mon usage of the country, to know how to apply them, and call 
 particular actions in that country by their right names ; and so in 
 effect would be no more but the skill how to speak properly, or at 
 most to know what actions in the country he lives in are thought 
 laudable or disgraceful ; i. e. are called virtues and vices, the general 
 rule whereof, and the most constant that I can find is, that those 
 actions are esteemed virtuous which are thought absolutely ne- 
 cessary to the preservation of society, and those that disturb 
 or dissolve the bonds of community, are every where esteemed ill 
 and vicious. 
 
 5. This would necessarily fall out, for were there no obligation 
 or superior law at all, besides that of society, since it cannot be 
 supposed that any men should associate together and unite in the 
 same community, and at the same time allow that for commendable, 
 i. e. count it a virtue, nay not discountenance and treat such actions 
 
 2 R 2 
 
308 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 as blameable ; i. e. count them vices, which tend to the dissolution 
 of that society in which they were united ; but all other actions 
 that are not thought to have such an immediate influence on society, 
 I find not (as far as I have been conversant in histories,) but that 
 in some countries or societies they are virtues, in others vices, and 
 in others indifferent, according as the authority of some esteemed 
 wise men in some places, or as inclination or fashion of people in 
 other places, have happened to establish them virtues or vices ; so 
 that the ideas of virtues taken up this way teach us no more than 
 to speak properly according to the fashion of the country we are in, 
 without any very great improvement of our knowledge, more than 
 what men meant by such words ; and this is the knowledge con- 
 tained in the common ethics of the schools ; and this is not more 
 but to know the right names of certain complex modes, and the 
 skill of speaking properly. 
 
 6. The ethics of the schools, built upon the authority of Aris- 
 totle, but perplexed a great deal more with hard words and useless 
 distinctions, telling us what he or they are pleased to call virtues 
 and vices, teach us nothing of morality, but only to understand their 
 names, or call actions as they or Aristotle does ; which is in eifect 
 but to speak their language properly. The end and use of morality 
 being to direct our lives, and by showing us what actions are good, 
 and what bad, prepare us to do the one, and avoid the other ; 
 those that pretend to teach morals mistake their business, and be- 
 come only language-masters where they do not do this, — when they 
 teach us only to talk and dispute, and call actions by the names 
 they prescribe, when they do not show the inferments that may draw 
 us to virtue, and deter us from vice. 
 
 7. Moral actions are only those that depend upon the choice of 
 an understanding and free agent. And an understanding free agent 
 naturally follows that which causes pleasure to it, and flies that 
 which causes pain ; i. e. naturally seeks happiness and shuns misery. 
 That, then, which causes to any one pleasure, that is good to him ; 
 and that which causes him pain, is bad to him : and that which 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. " 309 
 
 causes the greater pleasure is the greater good, and that which 
 causes the greater pain, the greater evil. For happiness and misery 
 consisting only in pleasure and pain, either of mind or body, or both, 
 according to the interpretation I have given above of those words, 
 nothing can be good or bad to any one but as it tends to their 
 happiness or misery, as it serves to produce in them pleasure or 
 pain : for good and bad, being relative terms, do not denote any 
 thing in the nature of the thing, but only the relation it bears to 
 another, in its aptness and tendency to produce in it pleasure or 
 pain ; and thus we see and say, that which is good for one man is 
 bad for another. 
 
 8. Now, though it be not so apprehended generally, yet it is from 
 this tendency to produce to us pleasure or pain, that moral good or 
 evil has its name, as well as natural. Yet perhaps it will not be found 
 so erroneous as perhaps at first sight it will seem strange, if one should 
 affirm, that there is nothing morally good which does not produce 
 pleasure to a man, nor nothing morally evil that does not bring pain 
 to him. The difference between moral and natural good and evil 
 is only this ; that we call that naturally good and evil, which, by the 
 natural efficiency of the thing, produces pleasure or pain in us ; and 
 that is morally good or evil which, by the intervention of the will of 
 an intelligent free agent, draws pleasure or pain after it, not by any 
 natural consequence, but by the intervention of that power. Thus, 
 drinking to excess, when it produces the head-ache or sickness is a 
 natural evil ; but as it is a transgression of law, by which a punish- 
 ment is annexed to it, it is a moral evil. For rewards and punish- 
 ments are the good and evil whereby superiors enforce the observ- 
 ance of their laws ; it being impossible to set any other motive or 
 restraint to the actions of a free understanding agent, but the con- 
 sideration of good or evil ; that is, pleasure or pain that will follow 
 from it. 
 
 9. Whoever treats of morality so as to give us only the defi- 
 nitions of justice and temperance, theft and incontinency, and tells 
 us which are virtues, which are vices, does only settle certain complex 
 
310 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 ideas of modes with their names to them, whereby we may learn to 
 understand others well, when they talk by their rules, and speak 
 intelligibly and properly to others who have been informed in their 
 doctrine. But whilst they discourse ever so acutely of temperance 
 or justice, but show no law of a superior that prescribes temperance, 
 to the observation or breach of which law there are rewards and 
 punishments annexed, the force of morality is lost, and evaporates 
 only into words, disputes, and niceties. And, however Aristotle or 
 Anacharsis, Confucius, or any one amongst us shall name this or that 
 action, a virtue or a vice, their authorities are all of them alike, and 
 they exercise but what power every one has, which is to show what 
 complex ideas their words shall stand for : for without showing a 
 law that commands or forbids them, moral goodness will be but an 
 empty sound, and those actions which the schools here call virtues 
 or vices, may by the same authority be called by contrary names in 
 another country ; and if these be nothing more than their decisions 
 and determinations in the case, they will be still nevertheless indif- 
 ferent as to any man's practice, which will by such kind of deter- 
 minations be under no obligation to observe them. 
 
 10. But there is another sort of morality or rules of our actions, 
 which though they may in many parts be coincident and agreeable 
 with the former, yet have a different foundation, and we come to 
 the knowledge of them a different way ; these notions or standards 
 of our actions not being ideas of our own making, to which we give 
 names, but depend upon something without us, and so not made by 
 us, but for us, and these are the rules set to our actions by the de- 
 clared will or laws of another, who hath power to punish our aber- 
 rations ; — these are properly and truly, the rules of good and evil, 
 because the conformity or disagreement of our actions with these, 
 bring upon us good or evil ; these influence our lives as the other do 
 our words, and there is as much difference between these two, as 
 between living well and attaining happiness on the one hand, com- 
 pared with speaking properly and understanding of words on the 
 other. The notion of one, men have by making to themselves a 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 311 
 
 collection of simple ideas, called by those names which they take 
 to be names of virtues and vices ; the notion of the other, we 
 come by from the rules set us by a superior power : but because we 
 cannot come to the knowledge of those rules without 1st. making 
 known a lawgiver to all mankind, with power and will to reward 
 and punish ; and 2d. without showing how he hath declared his will 
 and law, I must only at present suppose this rule, till a fit place to 
 speak of these, viz. God and the law of nature ; and only at present 
 mention what is immediately to the purpose in hand, 1st. That this 
 rule of our actions set us by our law-maker is conversant about, and 
 ultimately terminates in, those simple ideas before mentioned ; viz. 
 Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. 2d. That the law being 
 known, or supposed known by us, the relation of our actions to it, 
 ^. e. the agreement or disagreement of any thing we do to that rule, 
 is as easy and clearly known as any other relation. 3d. That we 
 have moral ideas as well as others, that we come by them the same 
 way, and that they are nothing but collections of simple ideas. 
 Only we are carefully to retain that distinction of moral actions, 
 that they have a double consideration; 1st. As they have their 
 proper denominations, as liberality, modesty, frugality, &c. &c. and 
 thus they are but modes, i. e. actions made up of such a precise 
 collection of simple ideas ; but it is not thereby determined that 
 they are either good or bad, virtues or vices. 2d. As they re- 
 fer to a law with which they agree or disagree, so are they good 
 or bad, virtues or vices. 'Evr^ot^TsXioc wa§ a name amongst the 
 Greeks, of such a peculiar sort of actions ; i. e. of such a collec- 
 tion of simple ideas concurring to make them up ; but whether 
 this collection of simple ideas called Eyr^otTsX/a, be a virtue or 
 vice, is known only by comparing it to that rule which determines 
 virtue or vice, and this is that consideration that properly be- 
 longs to actions, i. e their agreement with a rule. In one, any 
 action is only a collection of simple ideas, and so is a positive 
 complex idea : in the other it stands in relation to a law or rule, 
 and according as it agrees or disagrees, is virtue or vice. So educa- 
 
312 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 tion and piety, feasting and gluttony, are modes alike, being but 
 certain complex ideas called by one name : but when they are con- 
 sidered as virtues and vices, and rules of life carrying an obligation 
 with them, they relate to a law, and so come under the consideration 
 of relation. 
 
 To establish morality, therefore, upon its proper basis, and such 
 foundations as may carry an obligation with them, we must first 
 prove a law, which always supposes a law-maker : one that has a 
 superiority and right to ordain, and also a power to reward and 
 punish according to the tenor of the law established by him. This 
 sovereign law-maker who has set rules and bounds to the actions of 
 men is God, their Maker, whose existence we have already proved. 
 The next thing then to show is, that there are certain rules, certain 
 dictates, which it is his will all men should conform their actions 
 to, and that this will of his is sufficiently promulgated and made 
 known to all mankind. 
 
 Deus. — Descartes's Proof of a God, from the Idea of necessary 
 Existence, examined. 1696. 
 
 Though I had heard Descartes's opinion concerning the being 
 of a God often questioned by sober men, and no enemies to his 
 name, yet I suspended my judgment of him till lately setting myself 
 to examine his proof of a God, I found that by it senseless matter 
 might be the first eternal being and cause of all things, as well as an 
 immaterial intelligent spirit ; this, joined to his shutting out the 
 consideration of final causes out of his philosophy, and his labouring 
 to invalidate all other proofs of a God but his own, does unavoidably 
 draw upon him some suspicion. 
 
 The fallacy of his pretended great proof of a Deity appears to me 
 thus : — The question between the Theists and Atheists I take to be 
 this, viz. not whether there has been nothing from eternity, but whe- 
 ther the eternal Being that made, and still keeps all things in that 
 order, beauty, and method, in which we see them, be a knowing imma- 
 terial substance, or a senseless material substance ; for that something, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 313 
 
 either senseless matter, or a knowing spirit, has been from eternity, 
 I think nobody doubts. 
 
 The idea of the Theists' eternal Being is, that it is a knowing 
 immaterial substance, that made and still keeps all the beings of the 
 universe in that order in which they are preserved. The idea of the 
 Atheists' eternal Being is senseless matter. The question between 
 them then is, which of these really is that eternal Being that has 
 always been. Now I say, whoever will use the idea of necessary 
 existence to prove a God, i. e. an immaterial eternal knowing spirit, 
 will have no more to say for it from the idea of necessary existence, 
 than an Atheist has for his eternal, all-doing, senseless matter, v. g. 
 The complex idea of God, says the Theist, is substance, imma- 
 teriality, eternity, knowledge, and the power of making and produ- 
 cing all things. I allow it, says the Atheist ; but how do you prove 
 any real Being exists, answering the complex idea in which these 
 simple ideas are combined. By another idea, says the Cartesian 
 Theist, which I include in my complex idea of God, viz. the idea of 
 necessary existence. If that will do, says the Atheist, I can equally 
 prove the eternal existence of my first being, matter ; for it is but 
 adding the idea of unnecessary existence to the one which I have, 
 wherein substance, extension, solidity, eternity, and the power of 
 making and producing all things are combined, and my eternal 
 matter is proved necessarily to exist upon as certain grounds as the 
 immaterial God; for whatsoever is eternal must needs have neces- 
 sary existence included in it. And who now has the odds in prov- 
 ing by adding in his mind the idea of necessary existence to his 
 idea of the first being ? The truth is in this way, that which 
 should be proved, viz. existence, is supposed, and so the question 
 is only begged on both sides. 
 
 I have the complex idea of substance, solidity, and extension 
 joined together, which I call matter : does this prove matter to be ? 
 No. I, with Descartes, add to this idea of matter a bulk as large 
 as space itself ; does this prove such a bulk of matter to be ? No. 
 I add to it this complex idea, the idea of eternity ; does this prove 
 
 2 s 
 
314 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 matter to be eternal ? No. I add to it the idea of necessary exist- 
 ence ; does this prove matter necessarily to exist ? No. Try it in 
 spirit, and it will be just so there. The reason whereof is, that the 
 putting together or separating ; the putting in, or leaving out, any 
 one or more ideas, out of any complex one in my head, has no in- 
 fluence at all upon the being of things, without me to make them 
 exist so, as I put ideas together in my mind. 
 
 But it will be said that the idea of God includes necessary exist- 
 ence, and so God has a necessary existence. 
 
 I answer : The idea of God, as far as the name God stands for 
 the first eternal cause, includes necessary existence. 
 
 And so far the Atheist and the Theist are agreed ; or rather, 
 there is no Atheist who denies an eternal first Being, which has 
 necessary existence. That which puts the difference between the 
 Theist and the Atheist is this : that the Theist says, that this eter- 
 nal Being, which has necessary existence, is a knowing spirit ; the 
 Atheist, that it is blind unthinking matter : for the deciding of 
 which question, the joining the idea of necessary existence to that 
 of eternal first Being or Substance, does nothing. Whether that 
 eternal first Being, necessarily existing, be material or immaterial, 
 thinking or not thinking, must be proved some other way ; and 
 when thus a God is proved, necessary existence will be included in 
 the idea of God, and not till then. For an eternal necessary exist- 
 ing Being, material, and without wisdom, is not the Theist's God. 
 So that real existence is but supposed on either side ; and the adding 
 in our thoughts the idea of necessary existence to an idea of a sense- 
 less material substance, or to the idea of an immaterial knowing 
 spirit, makes neither of them to exist, nor alters any thing in the 
 reality of their existence, because our ideas alter nothing in the 
 reality of things, v. g. The Atheist would put into his idea of mat- 
 ter, necessary existence ; he may do that as he pleases, but he will 
 not thereby at all prove the real existence of any thing answer- 
 ing that idea ; he must first prove, and that by other ways than that 
 idea, the existence of an eternal all-doing matter, and then his idea 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 3^5 
 
 will be proved evidently a true idea ; till then it is but a precarious 
 one, made at pleasure, and proves nothing of real existence, for the 
 reason above mentioned, viz. our ideas make or alter nothing in the 
 real existence of things, nor will it follow that any thing really 
 exists in nature answering it, because we can make such a complex 
 idea in our minds. By ideas in the mind we discern the agreement 
 or disagreement of ideas that have a like ideal existence in our 
 minds, but that reaches no farther, proves no real existence ; for the 
 truth we so know is only of our ideas, and is applicable to things 
 only as they are supposed to exist answering such ideas. But any 
 idea, simple or complex, barely by being in our minds, is no evidence 
 of the real existence of any thing out of our minds answering that 
 idea. Real existence can be proved only by real existence ; and 
 therefore, the real existence of a God can only be proved by the real 
 existence of other things. The real existence of other things with- 
 out us, can be evidenced to us only by our senses ; but our own 
 existence is known to us by a certainty yet higher than our senses 
 can give us of the existence of other things, and that is internal per- 
 ception, a self-consciousness, or intuition ; from whence, therefore, 
 may be drawn, by a train of ideas, the surest and most incontestable 
 proof of the existence of a God. J. L. 
 
 The following paper appears to be intended as a supple- 
 ment to the mode of acquiring truth ; it illustrates Mr. Locke's 
 other works, and shows how deeply his mind was engaged in this 
 particular. 
 
 Enthusiasm. 
 
 Method. The way to find truth as far as we are able to reach 
 it in this our dark and short-sighted state, is to pursue the hypo- 
 thesis that seems to us to carry with it the most light and consis- 
 tency as far as we can without raising objections, or striking at those 
 that come in our way, till we have carried our present principle as 
 
 2 s 2 
 
316 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 far as it will go, and given what light and strength we can to all 
 the parts of it. And when that is done, then to take into our consi- 
 deration any objections that lie against it, but not so as to pursue 
 them as objections against the system we had formerly erected; but 
 to consider upon what foundation they are bottomed, and examine 
 that in all its parts, and then putting the two whole systems to- 
 gether, see which is liable to most exceptions, and labours under 
 the greatest difficulties ; for such is the weakness of our under- 
 standings, that, unless where we have clear demonstration, we can 
 scarce make out to ourselves any truths which will not be liable to 
 some exception beyond our power wholly to clear it from ; and 
 therefore, if upon that ground we are presently bound to give up 
 our former opinion, we shall be in a perpetual fluctuation, every day 
 changing our minds, and passing from one side to another ; we shall 
 lose all stability of thought, and at last give up all probable 
 truths as if there were no such thing, or which is not much better, 
 think it indifferent which side we take. To this, yet as dangerous 
 as it is, the ordinary way of managing controversies in the world 
 directly tends. If an opponent can find one weak place in his ad- 
 versary's doctrine, and reduce him to a stand, with difficulties rising 
 from thence, he presently concludes he has got the day, and may 
 justly triumph in the goodness of his own cause ; whereas victory no 
 more certainly always accompanies truth, than it does right. It 
 shows, indeed, the weakness of the part attacked, or of the defence of 
 it ; but to show which side has the best pretence to truth and fol- 
 lowers, the two whole systems must be set by one another, and con- 
 sidered entirely, and then see which is most consistent in all its 
 parts ; which least clogged with incoherences or absurdities, and 
 which freest from begged principles and unintelligible notions. This 
 is the fairest way to search after truth, and the surest not to mis- 
 take on which side she is. There is scarce any controversy which is 
 not a full instance of this, and if a man will embrace no opinion but 
 what he can clear from all difficulties, and remove all objections, I 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 317 
 
 fear he will have but very narrow thoughts, and find very little that 
 he shall assent to. What, then, will you say, shall he embrace that 
 for truth which has improbabilities in it that he cannot master ? 
 This has a clear answer. In contradicting opinions, one must be 
 true, that he cannot doubt ; which then shall he take ? That which 
 is accompanied with the greatest light and evidence, that which is 
 freest from the grosser absurdities, though our narrow capacities 
 cannot penetrate it on every side. Some men have made objections 
 to the belief of a God, and think they ought to be heard and heark- 
 ened to, because, perhaps, nobody can unravel all the difficulties of 
 creation and providence, which are but arguments of the weakness 
 of our understandings, and not against the being of a God. Let us 
 take a view then, of these men's hypotheses, and let us see what 
 direct contradiction they must be involved in who deny a God. If 
 there be no God from eternity, then there was no thinking thing 
 from eternity ; for the eternal thinking Thing, I call God. If from 
 eternity there were no thinking Thing, then thinking things were 
 made out of unthinking things by an unthinking power : as great 
 an absurdity as that nothing should produce something. If matter 
 be that eternal thinking thing, let us change that deceitful word 
 matter, which seems to stand for one thing when it means the con- 
 geries of all bodies, and then the opinion will be, that all bodies, 
 every distinct atom, is in its own nature a thinking thing. Let any 
 one then, resolve with himself how such an infinite number of distinct 
 independent thinking things came to be of one mind, and to consent 
 and contrive together, to make such an admirable frame as the world, 
 and the species of things and their successive continuation is. How 
 some of them consented to lie buried for long or numberless ages 
 in the bowels and centre of the earth, or other massy globes, — ^places 
 certainly very uneasy for thinking beings, — whilst others are delight- 
 ing themselves in the pleasures of freedom and the day. Let them 
 produce harmony, beauty, constancy, from such a congeries of think- 
 ing independent atoms, and one, may I think, allow them to be ere- 
 
318 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 ators of this world, and I know not why upon their own grounds 
 they should not think so themselves, since there is no reason why 
 the thinking atoms in them should not be as wise as any other in 
 the universe ; for if they once allow me one atom of matter to have 
 from eternity some degrees of knowledge and power above any other, 
 they must tell us a reason why it is so, or else their supposition will 
 be ridiculous when set up against the supposition of a Being that 
 had from eternity more knowledge and more power than all matter 
 taken together, and so was able to frame it into this orderly state of 
 nature so visible and admirable in all the parts of it. 
 
 Letter of Mr. Le Clerc to Locke. 
 
 "A' Amsterdam, le 12 d'Aout, 1694. 
 
 " Je refus, Monsieur, la semaine pass6e, par la voie de Monsieur Furly 
 
 les additions de votre ouvrage, qui m'ont infiniment plu. J'ai lu avidement 
 
 I'addition du chapitre de la Liberty, qui m'a entierement satisfait, 6tant 
 
 convaincu depuis long-temps que la pluspart du temps, les hommes ne se 
 
 d6terminent pas par la vue distincte ou confuse de ce qui peut etre leur 
 
 plus grand bien, ou qu'ils croient ^tre tel, mais par le plaisir qu'ils prennent 
 
 a certaines choses, auxquelles ils sont habitues. On pourroit seulement de- 
 
 mander si ce plaisir, ou cette easiness, comine vous vous exprimez plus com- 
 
 modement que je ne le saurois faire en Francois, est toujours de telle nature, 
 
 que nialgr6 cela, I'esprit ne puisse se determiner du cote oppos^. Pour moi, 
 
 j'avoue que je ne vois pas bien comment lorsque je Us avec attention ce que 
 
 vous dites ; mais je ne sais si le sentiment ne nous en convainc point. Au 
 
 moins, il me semble qu'en mille choses je puis faire, ou non, et que je ne me 
 
 determine que parceque je le veux sans trouver plus de plaisir d'un c6t6 que 
 
 d'un autre. Mais c'est 1^ une matiere qui demande plus d'6tendue, qu'un 
 
 billet 6crit a la hate. Pour parler d'autres choses, et pour r6pondre a une 
 
 article de vos lettres auquel j'ai oubli^ de repondre trois ou quatre fois, vous 
 
 disposerez comme il vous plaira de I'exemplaire relie de ma Geneses soit que 
 
 vous le veuillez garder pour vous, ou le donner a quelqu'un de vos amis. 
 
 J'attends avec impatience le livre de Monsieur I'Eveque de Bath et Wells, 
 
 pour voir ce qu'il dira centre moi, car les Francois de Londres, gens envieux 
 
 et malins, s'il y en eut jamais ont pris plaisir a semer qu'il me refutoit en 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 319 
 
 termes forts. Cela me facheroit, non a cause des raisons auxquelles je ne 
 ferai pas difficulte de me rendre si elles sont bonnes, mais a cause de la 
 consequence, je ne sais si je me trompe, mais je m'imagine que ce sont des 
 raisons de theologie in quibus magis optatit viri pii quam docent. On prescrit 
 a Dieu ce qu'il doit avoir fait comme on le juge, a propos, sans rechercher ce 
 qui est effectivement. Quoi qu'il en soit j'en userai avec lui, avec tout le 
 respect qu'il pourra demander, et pour Ten convaincre, je lui ai deja envoy 6 
 dix-huit feuilles de mon Exode, qu'il m'avoit faites demander par M. Cappel 
 et par M. Limbourg, a qui il avoit ^crit expres pour cela. II y en a a pre- 
 sent environ le double d'imprim^es, et j'esp^re que nous commen^erons bien- 
 tot le Levitique. Je ne comprends pas qui avoit fait coiirir le bruit d'Ox- 
 ford, dont M. Cappel m'avoit aussi averti. II n'en est venu aucun vent a 
 mes oreilles que par ce que vous et lui m'avez mand6. Mylord de Salis- 
 bury pourroit beaucoup faire pour moi, s'il vouloit, mais je ne sais s'il le 
 veut. II a un Chanoine Francois aupr^s de lui, qui feignant de m'estimer 
 seme par tout, que je me suis perdu par ce livre, parce que je n'ai pas donne 
 dans les fetranges visions qu'il a debitee sur le Mistic, dans ses reflections sur 
 les livres de fEcriture. Je tenterai n^anmoins de ce cote la, et je ne crois 
 pas qu'il me nuira s'il ne veut pas m'aider. Enfin il en arrivera ce qu'il 
 pourra, et pourvu que personne de nos gens sache rien de ma tentative si elle 
 ne reussit pas, il n'y aura rien de perdu. Mais vos boutiquiers qui sont ici 
 les souverains, et qui regardent leurs ministres comme leurs servantes, me 
 regarderoient de haut en bas plus que jamais, s'ils savoient que je n'eusse pas 
 reussi. Au contraire, si je pouvois me passer d'eux et me retirer d'ici, je me 
 mettrois peu en peine de ce qu'ils diroient. Cependant il n'est pas bon que 
 des personnes mal-intentionn6es sachent rien de mes desseins. II ne se passe 
 rien ici de nouveau. Je vous prie de me mander la voie par laquelle vous 
 m' envoy erez ou vous m'avez envoy e le Pentateuque de M. I'Eveque de Bath. 
 Je suis de tout mon coeur. Monsieur, votre tr^s humble et tr^s obeissant 
 serviteur, 
 
 J. Le Clerc." 
 
 Mr. Locke's answer to M. Le Clerc. 
 
 LIBERTY. 
 
 As to the determination of the will, we may take it under three 
 considerations. 
 
320 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 1st. The ordinary and successive uneasinesses which take their 
 turns in the common course of our lives, and these are what, 
 for the most part, determine the will, but with a power still of 
 suspending. 
 
 2d. Violent uneasiness which the mind cannot resist nor away 
 with: these constantly determine the will without any manner 
 of suspension, where there is any view of a possibility of their 
 removal. 
 
 3d. A great number of little and very indifferent actions which 
 mix themselves with those of greater moment, and fill up, as it were, 
 the little empty spaces of our time. In these, the will may be said 
 to determine itself without the preponderancy of good or evil, or the 
 motive of uneasiness on either side ; as whether a man should put 
 on his right or left shoe first, whether he should fold a margeant in 
 the paper wherein he is going to write a letter to his friend, whether 
 he should sit still or walk, or scratch his head whilst he is in a deep 
 meditation ; there are a thousand such actions as these which we do 
 every day, which are certainly voluntary, and may be ascribed to 
 the will determining itself. But there is so little thought precedes 
 them, because of the little consequences that attend them, that they 
 are but as it were appendices to the more weighty and more volun- 
 tary actions to which the mind is determined by some sensible un- 
 easiness, and therefore in these the mind is determined to one or the 
 other side, not by the preferable or greater good it sees in either, 
 but by the desire and necessity of dispatch, that it may not be hin- 
 dered in the pursuit of what is judged of more moment by a linger- 
 ing suspense between equal and indifferent things, and a delibera- 
 tion about trifles ; in these, the uneasiness of delay is sufficient to 
 determine and give the preference to one, it matters not which side. 
 Mem. This writ to Mr. Le Clerc 9th Oct. 1694, in answer to his of 
 12th. Aug. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 321 
 
 The following articles properly belong to the Journal. Their 
 date will show when each was written, 
 
 1677. — Species. 
 
 The species of things are distinguished and made by chance, in 
 order to naming and names imposed on those things which either 
 the conveniences of life or common observation bring into discourse. 
 The greatest part of the rest sine nom'me herhce^ lie neglected, neither 
 differenced by names, nor distinguished into species ; viz. how many 
 flies and worms are there which, though they are about us in great 
 plenty, we have not yet named nor ranked into species, but come 
 under the general names of flies or worms, which yet are as distinct 
 as a horse and a sheep, though we never have had so great oc- 
 casion to take notice of them. So that our ideas of species are 
 almost voluntary, or at least different from the idea of Nature by 
 which she forms and distinguishes them, which in animals she 
 seems to me to keep to with more constancy and exactness than in 
 other bodies and species of things : those being curious engines, do 
 perhaps require a greater accurateness for their propagation and 
 continuation of their race ; for in vegetables we find that several 
 sorts come from the seeds of one and the same individual as much 
 different species as those that are allowed to be so by philosophers. 
 This is very familiar in apples, and perhaps other sorts of fruits, 
 whereof some have distinct names and others only the general, 
 though they begin every day to have more and more given them as 
 they come into use. So that species in respect of us are but things 
 ranked into order, because of their agreement in some ideas which 
 we have made essential in order to our naming them, though 
 what it is essentially to belong to any species in reference to Na- 
 ture be hard to determine ; for if a woman should bring forth a 
 creature perfectly of the shape of a man, that never showed any 
 more appearance of reason than a horse, and had no articular lan- 
 guage, and another woman should produce another with nothing of 
 the shape, but with the language and reason of a man, I ask which 
 of these you would call by the name man ? — both or neither ? 
 
 2 T 
 
322 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 UNDERSTANDING. ARGUMENTS POSITIVE AND NEGATIVE, 1677- 
 
 In questions where there are arguments on both sides, one posi- 
 tive proof is to preponderate to a great many negatives, because a 
 positive proof is always founded upon some real existence, which 
 we know and apprehend ; whereas the negative arguments termi- 
 nate generally in nothing, in our not being able to conceive, and 
 so may be nothing but conclusions from our ignorance or incapacity, 
 and not from the truth of things which may, and we have expe- 
 rience do really exist, though they exceed our comprehension. This 
 amongst the things we know and lie obvious to our senses is very 
 evident, for though we are very well acquainted with matter, mo- 
 tion, and distance, yet there are many things in them which 
 we can by no means comprehend ; for, even in the things most ob- 
 vious and familiar to us, our understanding is nonplussed, and pre- 
 sently discovers its weakness ; whenever it enters upon the conside- 
 ration of any thing that is unlimited, or would penetrate into the 
 modes or manner of being or operation, it presently meets with un- 
 conquerable difficulties. Matter, and figure, and motion, and the 
 degrees of both, we have clear notions of ; but when we begin to think 
 of the extension or divisibility of the one, or the beginning of either, 
 our understanding sticks and boggles, and knows not which way to 
 turn. We also have no other notion of operation but of matter by 
 motion, at least I must confess I have not, and should be glad to 
 have any one explain to me intelligibly any other ; and yet we shall 
 find it hard to make out any phenomenon by those causes. We 
 know very well that we think, and at pleasure move ourselves, and 
 yet, if we will think a negative argument sufficient to build on, we 
 shall have reason to doubt whether we can do one or other ; it being 
 to me inconceivable how matter should think, and as incomprehen- 
 sible how an immaterial thinking thing should be able to move im- 
 material, or be affected by it. We having therefore positive expe- 
 rience of our thinking and motion, the negative arguments against 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 323 
 
 them, and the impossibility of understanding them, never shake our 
 assent to these truths, which perhaps will prove a considerable rule 
 to determine us in very material questions. 
 
 AN ESSAY CONCERNING RECREATION, IN ANSWER TO D. G's. 
 
 DESIRE, 1677. 
 
 As for my recreation, thus I think ; that recreation being a thing 
 ordained, not for itself, but for a certain end, that end is to be the 
 rule and measure of it. 
 
 Recreation then seeming to me to be the doing of some easy 
 or at least delightful thing to restore the mind or body, tired with 
 labour, to its former strength and vigour, and thereby fit it for new 
 labour, it seems to me, — 
 
 1. That there can be no general rule set to different persons 
 concerning the time, manner, duration, or sort of recreation that is 
 to be used, but only that it be such as their experience tells them 
 is suited to them, and proper to refresh the part tired. 
 
 2nd. That if it be applied to the mind, it ought certainly to be 
 delightful, because it being to restore and enliven that which is 
 done by relaxing and composing the agitation of the spirits, that 
 which delights it without employing it much, is not only the fittest 
 to do so, but also the contrary, i. e. what is ungrateful doth certainly 
 most discompose and tire it. 
 
 Srd. That it is impossible to set a standing rule of recreation to 
 one's self ; because not only the unsteady fleeting condition of our 
 bodies and spirits require more at one time than another, which is 
 plain in other more fixed refreshments, as food and sleep, and like- 
 wise requires very different according to the employment that hath 
 preceded the present temper of our bodies and inclination of our 
 minds ; but also because variety in most constitutions is so necessary 
 to delight, and the mind is so naturally tender of its freedom, that 
 the most pleasant diversions become nauseous and troublesome to 
 us when we are forced to repeat them in a continued fixed round. 
 
 2 T 2 
 
324 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 It is farther to be considered : — 
 
 1st. That in things not absolutely commanded nor forbidden 
 by the law of God, such as is the material part of recreation, he in 
 his mercy considering our ignorance and frail constitution, hath not 
 tied us to an indivisible point, nor confined us to a way so narrow 
 that allows no latitude at all in things in their own nature indif- 
 ferent ; there is the liberty of great choice, great variety, within the 
 bounds of innocence. 
 
 2nd. That God delights not to have us miserable either in this 
 or the other world, but having given us all things richly to enjoy, 
 we cannot imagine that in our recreations we should be denied 
 delight, which is the only necessary and useful part of it. 
 
 This supposed, I imagine :- — 
 
 1st. That recreation supposes labour and weariness, and there- 
 fore that he that labours not, hath no title to it. 
 
 2nd. That it very seldom happens that our constitutions (though 
 there be some tender one's that require a great deal,) require more 
 time to be spent in recreation than in labour. 
 
 Srd. We must beware that custom and the fashion of the world, 
 or some other by-interest, doth not make that pass with us for 
 recreation which is indeed labour to us, though it be not our busi- 
 ness ; as playing at cards, though no otherwise allowable but as a 
 recreation, is so far from fitting some men for their business and 
 giving them refreshment, that it more discomposes them than their 
 ordinary labour. 
 
 So that God not tying us up of time, place, kind, &c. in our re- 
 creations, if we secure our main duty, which is in sincerity to do 
 our duty in our calling as far as the frailty of our bodies or minds 
 will allow us, (beyond which we cannot think any thing should be 
 required of us,) and that we design our diversions to put us in a 
 condition to do our duty, we need not perplex ourselves with too 
 scrupulous an inquiry into the precise bounds of them ; for we 
 cannot be supposed to be obliged to rules which we cannot know; 
 for I doubt first whether there be any such exact proportion of 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 325 
 
 recreation to our present state of body and mind, that so much is 
 exactly enough, and whatsoever is under is too little, whatsoever is 
 over is too much ; but be it so or no, this I am very confident of, 
 that no one can say in his own or another man's case, that thus 
 much is the precise dose ; hitherto you must go and no farther ; — 
 so that it is not only our privilege, but we are under a necessity of 
 using a latitude, and where we can discover no determined, precise 
 rule, it is unavoidable for us to go sometimes beyond, and some- 
 times to stop short of, that which is, I will not say the exact, but 
 nearest proportion ; and in such cases we can only govern ourselves 
 by the discoverable bounds on the one hand or the other, which is 
 only when we find that our recreation by excess or defect, serves 
 not to the proper end for which we are to use it, only with this 
 caution, that we are to suspect ourselves most on that side to which 
 we find ourselves most inclined. The cautious, devout, studious 
 man, is to fear that he allows not himself enough ; the gay, careless, 
 and idle, that he takes too much ; to which I can only add these 
 following directions as to some particulars : — 
 
 1st. That the properest time for recreating the mind is when it 
 feels itself weary and flagging ; it may be wearied with a thing 
 when it is not weary of it. 
 
 2nd. That the properest recreation of studious, sedentary per- 
 sons, whose labour is of the thought, is bodily exercise ; to those of 
 bustling employment, sedentary recreations. 
 
 3rd. That in all bodily exercise, those in the open air are best 
 for health. 
 
 4th. It may often be so ordered that one business may be made 
 a recreation to another, visiting 'a friend to study. 
 
 These are my sudden extemporary thoughts upon this subject, 
 which will deserve to be better considered when I am in better 
 circumstances of freedom, of thought and leisure. Vale, March 77. 
 
 J. L. 
 
326 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS, 
 
 MEMORY IMAGINATION MADNESS. 
 
 Memory. When we revive in our minds the idea of any thing 
 that we have before observed to exist, this we call memory ; viz. to 
 recollect in our minds the idea of our father or brother. But when 
 from the observations we have made of divers particulars, we make 
 a general idea to represent any species in general, as man ; or else 
 join several ideas together, which we never observed to exist to- 
 gether, we call it imagination. So that memory is always the pic- 
 ture of something, the idea whereof has existed before in our 
 thoughts, as near the life as we can draw it : but imagination is a 
 picture drawn in our minds without reference to a pattern. And, 
 here it may be observed, that the ideas of memory, like painting after 
 the life, come always short, i. e. want something of the original. 
 For whether a man would remember the dreams he had in the night, 
 or the sights of a foregoing day, some of the traces are always left 
 out, some of the circumstances are forgotten ; and those kind of 
 pictures, like those represented successively by several looking-glasses, 
 are the more dim and fainter the farther they are off from the ori- 
 ginal object. For the mind, endeavouring to retain only the traces 
 of the pattern, losing by degrees a great part of them, and not 
 having the liberty to supply any new colours or touches of its own, 
 the picture in the memory every day fades and grows dimmer, and 
 often times is quite lost. But the imagination, not being tied to any 
 pattern, but adding what colours, what ideas it pleases, to its own 
 workmanship, making originals of its own, which are usually very 
 brihgt and clear in the mind, and sometimes to that degree that they 
 make impressions as strong and as sensible as those ideas which come 
 immediately by the senses from external objects, — so that the mind 
 takes one for the other, and its own imagination for realities. And 
 in this, it seems madness consists, and not in the want of reason ; 
 for allowing their imagination to be right, one may observe that 
 madmen usually reason right from them : and I guess that those 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 327 
 
 who are about madmen, will find that they make very little use of 
 their memory, which is to recollect particulars past with their cir- 
 cumstances : but having any particular idea suggested to their 
 memory, fancy dresses it up after its own fashion, without regard to 
 the original. Hence also, one may see how it comes to pass that 
 those that think long and intently upon one thing, come at last to 
 have their minds disturbed about it, and to be a little cracked as 
 to that particular. For by repeating often with vehemence of ima- 
 gination the ideas that do belong to, or may be brought in about the 
 same thing, a great many whereof the fancy is wont to furnish, these 
 at length come to take so deep an impression, that they all pass for 
 clear truths and realities, though perhaps the greater part of them 
 have at several times been supplied only by the fancy, and are 
 nothing but the pure effects of the imagination. 
 
 This at least is the cause of several errors and mistakes amongst 
 men, even when it does not wholly unhinge the brains, and put all 
 government of the thoughts into the hands of the imagination ; as it 
 sometimes happens when the imagination, being much employed, and 
 getting the mastery about any one thing, usurps the dominion over 
 all the other faculties of the mind in all other. But how this comes 
 about, or what it is that gives it on such an occasion that empire, 
 how it comes thus to be let loose, I confess, I cannot guess. If that 
 were once known, it would be no small advance towards the easier 
 curing of this malady ; and perhaps to that purpose it may not be 
 amiss to observe, what diet, temper, or other circumstances they are 
 that set the imagination on fire, and make it active and imperious. 
 This, I think, that having often recourse to one's memory, and tying 
 down the mind strictly to the recollecting things past precisely as 
 they were, may be a means to check those extravagant or towering 
 flights of the imagination. And it is good often to divert the mind 
 from that which it has been earnestly employed about, or which is 
 its ordinary business to other objects, and to make it attend to the 
 informations of the senses and the things they ofier to it. 
 
 J. L. 1678. 
 
328 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 MADNESS. 
 
 Madness seems to be nothing but a disorder in the imagination, 
 and not in the discursive faculty ; for one shall find amongst the dis- 
 tract, those who fancy themselves kings, &c. w^ho discourse and rea- 
 son right enough upon the suppositions and wrong fancies they have 
 taken. And any sober man may find it in himself in twenty occa- 
 sions, viz. — in a town where he has not been long resident, let him 
 come into a street that he is pretty well acquainted with at the con- 
 trary end to what he imagined, he will find all his reasonings about 
 it so out of order and so inconsistent with the truth, that should he 
 enter into debate upon the situation of the houses, the turnings on 
 the right or left hand, &c. &c. with one who knew the place perfectly 
 and had the right ideas which way he was going, he would seem 
 little better than frantic. This, 1 believe, most people may have 
 observed to have happened to themselves, especially when they have 
 been carried up and down in coaches, and perhaps may have found 
 it sometimes difficult to set their thoughts right, and reform the 
 mistakes of their imagination. And I have known some, who upon 
 the wrong impressions which were at first made upon their imagi- 
 nations, could never tell which was north or south in Smithfield, 
 though they were no very ill geographers ; and when by the sun 
 and the time of the day they were convinced of the position of that 
 place, yet they could not tell how to reconcile it to other parts of 
 the town that were adjoining to it, but out of sight ; and were very 
 apt to relapse again as soon as either the sun disappeared or they 
 were out of sight of the place, into the mistakes and confusion of 
 their old ideas. From whence one may see of what moment it is 
 to take care that the first impressions we settle upon our minds be 
 conformable to the truth and to the nature of things ; or else all our 
 meditations and discourse thereupon will be nothing but perfect 
 raving. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 329 
 
 ERROR. 
 
 The foundation of error and mistake in most men lies in hav- 
 ing obscure or confused notions of things, or by reason of their 
 confused ideas, doubtful and obscure words ; our words always in 
 their signification depending upon our ideas, being clear or obscure 
 proportionably as our notions are so, and sometimes ( * * * ^ have 
 little more but the sound of the word for the notion of the thing. 
 For in the discursive faculty of the mind, I do not find that men 
 are so apt to err : but it avails little that their syllogisms are right, 
 if their terms be insignificant and obscure, or confused and indeter- 
 mined, or that in their internal discourse, deductions be regular, if 
 their notions be wrong. Therefore, in our discourse with others, 
 the greatest care is to be had that we be not misled or imposed on 
 by the measure of their words, where the fallacy oftener lies than 
 in faulty consequences. 
 
 And in considering by ourselves to take care of oujr notions, 
 where a man argues right upon wrong notions or terms, he does like 
 a madman ; where he makes wrong consequences he does like a fool. 
 Madness seeming to me to lie more in the imagination, and folly in 
 the discourse. 
 
 SPACE. — 1677. 
 
 Space in itself seems to be nothing but a capacity or pos- 
 sibility for extended beings or bodies to be, or exist, which we 
 are apt to conceive infinite ; for there being in nothing no resist- 
 ance, we have a conception very natural and very true, that let 
 bodies be already as far extended as you will, yet, if other new bodies 
 should be created, they might exist where there are now no bodies : 
 viz. a globe of a foot diameter might exist beyond the utmost super- 
 ficies of all bodies now existing ; and because we have by our ac- 
 quaintance with bodies, got the idea of the figure and distance of 
 
 2 u 
 
330 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 the superficial part of a globe of a foot diameter, we are apt to 
 imagine the space where the globe exists to be really something, to 
 have a real existence before and after its existence there. Whereas, 
 in truth, it is really nothing, and so has no opposition nor resistance 
 to the being of such a body there ; though we, applying the idea of 
 a natural globe, are apt to conceive it as something so far extended, 
 and these are properly the imaginary spaces which are so much dis- 
 puted of. But as for distance, I suppose that to be the relation of 
 two bodies or beings near or remote to one another, measurable by 
 the ideas we have of distance taken from solid bodies ; for were 
 there no beings at all, we might truly say there were no distances. 
 The fallacy we put upon ourselves which inclines us to think other- 
 wise is this, that whenever we talk of distance, we first suppose 
 some real beings existing separate from one another, and then, with- 
 out taking notice of that supposition, and the relation that results 
 from their placing one in reference to another, we are apt to consider 
 that space as some positive real being existing without them; where- 
 as, as it seems to me, to be but a bare relation ; and when we sup- 
 pose them to be, viz. a yard asunder, it is no more but to say ex- 
 tended in a direct line to the proportion of three feet or thirty- six 
 inches distance, whereof by use we have got the idea ; this gives us 
 the notion of distance, and the vacuum that is between them is un- 
 derstood by this, that bodies of a yard long that come between them, 
 thrust or remove away nothing that was there before. 
 
 1. I take it for granted that I can conceive a space without a 
 body ; for, suppose the universe as big as you will, I can, without 
 the bounds of it, imagine it possible to thrust out or create any the 
 miost solid body of any figure, without removing from the place it 
 possesses any thing that was there before. Neither does it imply 
 any contradiction to suppose a space so empty within the bounds of 
 the universe, that a body may be brought into it without removing 
 from thence any other ; and if this be not granted, I cannot see how 
 one can make out any motion, supposing your bodies of what figures 
 or bulk you please, as I imagine it is easy to demonstrate. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 331 
 
 If it be possible to suppose nothing, or, in our thoughts, to re- 
 move all manner of beings from any place, then this imaginary space 
 is just nothing, and signifies no more but a bare possibility that body 
 may exist where now there is none. If it be impossible to suppose 
 pure nothing, or to extend our thoughts where there is, or we can 
 suppose no being, this space void of body must be something belong- 
 ing to the being of the Deity. But be it one or the other, the idea 
 we have of it we take from the extension of bodies which fall under 
 our senses ; and this idea of extension being settled in our minds, 
 we are able, by repeating that in our thoughts, without annexing 
 body or impenetrability to it, to imagine spaces where there are no 
 bodies— which imaginary spaces, if we suppose all other beings 
 absent, are purely nothing, but merely a possibility that body might 
 there exist. Or if it be a necessity to suppose a being there, it must 
 be God, whose being we thus make, i. e. suppose extended, but not 
 impenetrable : but be it one or the other, extension seems to be 
 mentally separable from body, and distance nothing but the relation 
 of space, resulting from the existence of two positive beings ; or, 
 which is all one, two parts of the same being. 
 
 RELATION SPACE. 1678. 
 
 Besides the considering things barely and separately in them- 
 selves, the mind considers them also with respect, i. e. at the same 
 time looking upon some other, and this we call relation. So that if 
 the mind so considers any thing that another is necessarily supposed, 
 this is relation ; there is that which necessarily makes us consider 
 two things at once, or makes the mind look on two things at once, 
 and hence it is that relative terms or words that signify this relation 
 so denominate one thing, as that they always intimate or denote 
 another ; viz. father, countryman, bigger, distant ; so that whatsoever 
 necessarily occasions two things, looked on as distinct, this connec- 
 tion in our thoughts of whatsoever it be founded in, that is properly 
 relation, which perhaps may serve to give a little light to that great 
 
 2 u 2 
 
332 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 obscurity which has caused so much dispute about the nature of 
 space, whether it be something or nothing, created or eternal. For 
 when we speak of space (as ordinarily we do) as the abstract dis- 
 tance, it seems to me to be a pure relation, and we call it distance ; 
 but when we consider it as the distance or space between the extre- 
 mities of a continued body, whose continued parts do, or are sup- 
 posed to fill up all the interjacent space, we call it extension, and it 
 is looked on to be a positive inherent property of the body, because 
 it keeps constantly with it, always the same, and every particle has 
 its share of it ; whereas, whether you consider the body in whole 
 mass, or in the least particles of the body, it appears to me to be 
 nothing but the relation of the distance of the extremities. But 
 when we spoke of space in general, abstract and separate from all 
 consideration of any body at all or any other being, it seems not 
 then to be any real thing, but the consideration of a bare possi- 
 bility of body to exist: to this, I foresee, there will lie two great 
 objections : — 
 
 1st. The Cartesians will except against me, as speaking of space 
 without body, which they make to be the same thing ; to whom let 
 me say, that if spacium be corpus, and corpus, spacium, then it is as 
 true too that ejctensio is corpus, and corpus, eoctensio, which is a pretty 
 harsh kind of expression, and that which is so distant from truth, 
 that I do not remember that I have anywhere met with it from 
 them ; and yet I would fain know any other difference between 
 esctensio and spacium than that which I have above mentioned. If 
 they will say omne eoctensum et omnis res positiva eactensa (* *") corpus 
 et vice ve?'S(i, I fully consent. But then it is only to say that body 
 is the only being capable of distance between its own parts, which is 
 extension, (for I do not know why angels may not be capable of the 
 relation of distance, in respect of one another,) which shows plainly 
 the difference of the words extension, which is for distance, a part of 
 the same body, or that which is considered but as one body, and that 
 of space, which is the distance between any two beings, without the 
 consideration of body interjacent. Besides this, there seems to me 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 333 
 
 this greiat and essential difference between space and body, that 
 body is divisible into separable parts, but space is not. This, I 
 think, is so plain that it needs no proof; for if one take a piece of 
 matter, of an inch square, for example, and divide it into two, the 
 parts will be separated if set at farther distance one from another ; 
 but yet nobody, I think, amongst those who are most for the reality 
 of space, say the parts of space are or can be removed to a farther 
 distance one from another. And he that, imagining the idea of a 
 space of an inch square, can tell how to separate the parts of it, and 
 remove them one from another, has, I confess, a much more powerful 
 fancy than I. 
 
 It is no more strange, therefore, that extension, which is the re- 
 lation of distance between parts of the same being, should be proper 
 only to body, which alone has parts, than that the relatioii pf filia- 
 tion should be proper only to men. ' 
 
 To my supposition, that space, as it may be conceived antecedent 
 to, and void of all bodies, or, if you will, all determinate beings, is 
 nothing but the idea of the possibility of the existence of body ; for, 
 when one says there is space for another world as big as this, it seems 
 to me to be no more than there is no repugnancy why another world 
 as big as this might not exist ; and in this sense space may be said to 
 be infinite ; and so in effect space, as antecedent to body, or some de- 
 terminate being, is in effect nothing. To this I say will be objected, 
 that space being, as it is, capable of greater and less, cannot properly 
 be nothing. To this I say, that space, antecedent to all determinate 
 beings, is not capable of greater or less. The mistake lies in this, 
 that we, having been accustomed to the measures of a foot, an ell, 
 a mile, &c. &c., can easily frame ideas of them, where we suppose 
 no body to be even beyond the bounds of the world, but our having 
 ideas in our head proves not the existence of any thing without us. 
 But you will say, is not the space of a foot beyond the extremity of 
 the universe less than the space of a yard ? I answer, yes ; that the 
 idea of one, which I place there, is bigger than the idea of the other ; 
 but that there is any thing real there existing, I deny ; or by saying 
 
334 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 or imagining the space of a foot or yard beyond the extremity of the 
 world would suppose or mean any thing more than that a body of a 
 foot or a yard (of which I have the idea) may exist there, I deny. 
 Indeed, should a body be placed a foot distant from the utmost ex- 
 tremity of the universe, one might say it was a foot distant from the 
 world which seems to me to be a bare relation,*resulting from its po- 
 sition there, without supposing that space to be any real being exist- 
 ing there before, and interposed between them, but only that a real 
 body of such dimensions may be placed between them without re- 
 moving them farther one from the other. For the relation makes 
 itself appear in this, that whatsoever is so spoke of requires its cor- 
 relative ; and therefore speaking of the universe one cannot say it is 
 distant, because without it we suppose no other determinate or 
 finite being which may be the other term of this relation. It will be 
 answered, perhaps, that one may suppose a point in that empty 
 space, and then say it is a foot from that point. I answer one may 
 as easily suppose a body as a point, if the point be quid reale ; if not, 
 it being nothing, one cannot say the extremity or superficies of the 
 world is a foot from nothing ; so that, be it a point, or body, or what 
 other being one pleases, that is supposed there, it is evidence there is 
 always required some real existence to be the other term of the 
 relation. 
 
 And after all the suppositions that can be made, it can never 
 truly be said that the utmost superficies of the world is a foot distant 
 from any thing, if there be nothing really existing beyond it, but 
 only that imaginary space. 
 
 That which makes us so apt to mistake in this point, I think is 
 this, that having been all our life-time accustomed to speak ourselves, 
 and hear all others speak of space, in phrases that import it to be a 
 real thing, as to occupy or take up so much space, we come to be 
 possessed with this prejudice that it is a real thing and not a bare 
 relation. And that which helps to it is, that by constant conversing 
 with real sensible things, which have this relation of distance one to 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 335 
 
 another, which we, by the reason just now mentioned, mistake for a 
 real positive thing, we are apt to think that it as really exists beyond 
 the utmost extent of all bodies, or finite beings, though there be no 
 such beings there to sustain it, as it does here amongst bodies, which 
 is not true. For though it be true, that the black lines drawn on a 
 rule, have the relation one to another of an inch distance, they being 
 real sensible things ; and though it be also true that I, knowing the 
 idea of an inch, can imagine that length, without imagining body, as 
 well as I can imagine a figure without imagining body ; yet it is no 
 more true that there is any real distance in that which we call ima- 
 ginary space, than that there is any real figure there. 
 
ADVERSARIA THEOLOGICA. 
 
 In a book with this title, commenced 1694, Mr. Locke had written 
 several pages, of which the two following have been selected as 
 specimens ; they may be considered also as indications of his 
 opinions. The other subjects in the book are : — 
 
 Anima humana materialis. 
 Spiritus sanctus Deus. 
 Christus merus homo. 
 Lex operum. 
 
 Anima humana non materialis. 
 Spiritus sanctus non Deus. 
 Christus non merus homo. 
 Lex fidei. 
 
 TRINITAS. 
 
 iGen. 1.26. Let 
 us. 
 
 2. Man is become 
 as one of us. 
 
 3. Gen iii. 22. 
 Gen. xi. 6. 7. Isa. 
 vi. 8. 
 
 NON TRINITAS. 
 
 Because it subverteth the unity of God, in- 
 troducing three gods. 
 
 Because it is inconsistent with the rule of 
 prayer directed in the SS. For if God be three 
 persons, how can we pray to him through his 
 Son for his spirit ? 
 
 The Father alone is the most high God. 
 Luke i. 32, 35. 
 
ADVERSARIA THEOLOGICA. 337 
 
 TRINITAS. NON TRINITAS. 
 
 There is but one first independent cause of 
 all things, which is the most high God, Rom. 
 ii. 36. 
 
 The Lord shall be one, and his name one. 
 Zee. xiv. 9. 
 
 The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Mar. 
 xii. 9. 
 
 'Tis life eternal to know thee [Father], the 
 only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou 
 hast sent. John xvii. 8. If the Holy Spirit 
 were God, the knowledge of him would be ne- 
 cessary too, to eternal life. It is eternal life to 
 know Christ as sent, not as eternally begotten, 
 nor as co-essential to the Father. Biddle, 1-24. 
 1 Cor. viii. 5, 6. 
 
 There is one Spirit manifestly distinguished 
 from God, i. e. one created spirit by way of ex- 
 cellency ; i. e. the Holy Spirit. 2. There is 
 one Lord distinguished from God, and there- 
 fore made, else there would be two unmade 
 Lords ; i. e. one made Lord by way of excel- 
 lency, which is Jesus. Eph. iv. 4-6. Acts ii. 
 ^2, 23, 33, 36. Matt. xxiv. 36, Mark xiii. 32. 
 
 Rom. XV. 6. 
 
 John vi. 27. 
 
 James iii. 9. 
 
 John viii. 54. The Jews knew no God but 
 the Father, and that was St. Paul's God. 
 
 2 Tim. i. 3. Acts iii. 13., v. SO, 31., xxii. 14. 
 Neh. ix. 6. Thou art Lord alone. Thou, de- 
 noteth a single person. 
 
 1. Let us make man, no more proves the 
 speaker to be more persons than one, than the 
 
 2 X 
 
338 
 
 ADVERSARIA THEOLOGICA. 
 
 TRINITAS. NON TRINITAS. 
 
 like form Mark iv. 30 ; John iii. 2 ; 2 Cor. x. 
 1, 2. 
 
 This, if any thing, proves only that there 
 was some other person with God whom he em- 
 ployed, as in the creation of other things, so of 
 man, viz. the Spirit, v. 2 ; Psal. civ. 30 ; Job 
 xxvi. 13, xxxiii. 4. 
 
 Gen. iii. 22. This was spoken also to the Holy 
 Spirit, as also that, Gen. xi. 6, 7 ; Isa. vi. 8. 
 
 CHRISTUS DEUS 
 SUPREMUS. 
 
 1. If Christ were 
 not God he could 
 not satisfy for our 
 sins. 
 
 2. He is called 
 the mighty God. 
 Isa. ix. 6. 
 
 3. Rom. ix. 5. 
 
 oov £7r< Totfro^c Ssog 
 'cvXoyrjTog eig rovg 
 ot,imccg 
 
 CHRISTUS NON DEUS SUPREMUS. 
 
 Because we are to honour him, for that the 
 Father hath committed all judgment to him. 
 John V. 22, 23. But the highest is to be ho- 
 noured with the highest honour for himself, 
 and for no other reason but his own sake. 
 
 Because the love to the Father is made the 
 ground and reason of love to the Son. 1 John 
 V. 1. He is the Son of the Most High, Luke 
 i. 32., and thereby distinguished from the Most 
 High. The Father is greater than he. John 
 xiv. 38. 
 
 Phil. ii. 5, 8 ; v. Biddle, 5-24., nobody can be 
 equal with himself, equality is always between 
 two. ib. 
 
 1 Cor. 8. 6. By whom are all things, i, e. 
 pertaining to our salvation, ib. 7. God has 
 made him Lord, Acts ii. 39 ; Phil. ii. 9, 10. 
 
 The glory and thanks which we give to 
 Christ, and the faith and hope which we place 
 in him, do not rest in him, but through him 
 
ADVERSARIA THEOLOGICA. 339 
 
 CHRISTUS DEUS CHRISTUS NON DEUS SUPREMUS. 
 
 SUPREMUS. 
 
 tend to God the Father, Phil ii. 9, 10 ; 1 Pet. i. 
 21 ; John xii. 44 ; Rom. i. 8, xvi. 27 ; and there- 
 fore he is not equal to God. 
 
 He shall deliver up the kingdom, and be 
 subject to the Father. 1 Cor. xv. 24, 25, 28. 
 
 And he shall be subject according to his hu- 
 man nature. Rev. 1. This distinction is not to 
 be found in God's word. 2. It begs the ques- 
 tion ; for it supposes two natures in Christ, 
 which is the thing in question. 3. It makes 
 two persons in Christ ; for he is to be subject 
 who ruled and subdued, i. e. a person, for no 
 other can be a king ; and therefore they must 
 grant that the person of Christ, which they hold 
 to be a Person of supreme Deity, delivereth up 
 his kingdom, and becomes subject, or that his 
 human nature is a person. The latter of these 
 subverts the Trinitarian doctrine, the former 
 itself, ib. 7- 4. It is said the Son himself shall 
 be subject : but how can the Son himself become 
 subject, if only a human nature, added to the 
 Son, is subjected, and not the very person of 
 the Son ? Biddle 8-24. God has exalted him 
 and made him Lord, Phil. ii. 9, H? and raised 
 him from the dead. Rom. x. 9, iv. 24. 
 
 If the eternal Son of God, co-equal, and co- 
 essential with the Father, were conceived and 
 born of the Virgin Mary, how said the Angel 
 to Joseph, that which is conceived in her is of 
 the Holy Spirit? Matt. i. 20. Biddle, 11-24. 
 
 Luke i. 35. 
 
 Acts x. 38. 
 
 2x2 
 
340 ADVERSARIA THROLOGICA. 
 
 CHRISTUS DEUS CHRISTUS NON DEUS SUPREMUS. 
 
 SUPREMUS. 
 
 Luke xxii. 48. 
 Matt. xvii. 46. 
 
 1 . How can God satisfy God ? If one per- 
 son satisfies another, then he that satisfies is 
 
 . . still unsatisfied, or forgives. lb. 12. 
 
 John XX. 17. 
 Eph. i. 7. 
 Heb. i. 8, 9. 
 
 2. A mighty God ; for, in the Heb., El Gib- 
 bor, not Hael Haggibbor, as the Lord of Hosts 
 is called, Jer. xxxii. 18. Besides the words in 
 the close of ver. 7. distinguish Christ from the 
 Lord of Hosts, making his Godhead depend on 
 the bounty of the Lord of Hosts. Biddle, 15-24. 
 
 3. A God over all, for Ssog there, is without 
 an article, and so signifies not the supreme 
 Deity. 
 
There is an unpublished work of some length amongst Mr. 
 Locke's papers, but as all interest on the subject to which it relates 
 is now gone by, it would be useless to print any thing except 
 a few extracts as a specimen. It was an answer to Dr. Stilling- 
 fleet, (Bishop of Worcester,) who had preached, 1680, a sermon 
 before the Lord Mayor, styled the " Mischief of Separation," an 
 elaborate and severe attack upon the Nonconformists. This dis- 
 course was answered by Mr. Baxter, Mr. Alsop, Dr. Owen, and 
 other leading writers amongst the Presbyterians and Independents. 
 Dr. Stillingfleet published, in reply, a larger work, 168S, which he 
 entitled " The Unreasonableness of Separation," and this is evidently 
 the work on which Mr. Locke animadverts. 
 
 Bishop G. was probably Dr. Gauden, Bishop of Exeter, the 
 author of the Eizm ^(ta-iXizri ; P. the Catholic, may be conjectured to 
 have been Parsons the Jesuit. 
 
 DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY. 
 
 # ^ # # • # . * 
 
 All the arguments used from the Church, or established Church, 
 &c. amount to no more than this, that there are a certain set of men 
 in the world upon whose credit I must without farther examination 
 venture my salvation, so that all the directions and precepts to 
 examine doctrines, try the spirit, take heed what you believe, hold 
 the truth, &c. are all to no purpose, when all the measure and 
 stamp of truth, whereby I am to receive it, will then be only the 
 hand that delivers it, and not the appearance of rectitude it carries 
 with it. This is to deal worse with men in their great eternal con- 
 cernment of their souls, than in the short and trivial concernment 
 
342 DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY. 
 
 of their estates ; for though it be the allowed prerogative of Princes 
 to stamp silver and gold, and thereby make them current money, 
 yet every man has the liberty to examine even those very pieces 
 that have the magistrate's stamp, and image, and if they have the 
 suspicion and appearance of a false alloy, they may avoid being 
 cozened, and not receive them ; the stamp makes it neither good nor 
 current. But no authority that I know on earth, unless it be the 
 infallible Church of Rome, boldly claims a right to coin opinions 
 into truths, and make them current by their authority ; and yet in 
 all places all men are unreasonably required to receive and profess 
 doctrines for truths, because this governor, or that priest, says they 
 are so ; yet how senseless soever, it helps not the case nor profits^ Jhe_ 
 opinions of any one sort of them ;| for if the Pope demands an 
 obedient faith to him and his emissaries, the Bishops of England tell 
 us, that they and such as have episcopal ordination under them are 
 the true Church, and are to be believed : the Presbyterians tell us 
 those of Presbyterian ordination have no less authority, and that in 
 all matters of doctrine and discipline they are to be believed. The 
 Independents and Anabaptists think they have as much reason to 
 be heard as the former ; and the Quakers think themselves the only 
 true guides, whilst they bid us be guided by the light within us. 
 All these we have within ourselves, every one of them calling on 
 us to hearken to them, as the sole deliverers of unmixed truth in 
 doctrine and discipline ; this they all do severally with the same 
 confidence and zeal, and, for aught I know, with the same divine 
 authority, for as for human authority, I am sure that weighs nothing 
 in the case. If we will look further, and add to these the Lutheran, 
 Greek, Armenian, Jacobite, and Abyssine Churches, and yet further 
 out of the borders of Christianity, into the Jewish synagogues and 
 Mahometan mosques, the Mufti and the Rabbis are men of autho- 
 rity, and think themselves as little deceivers or deceived as any of 
 the rest. What will it avail then to the Church of England, among 
 so many equal pretenders, to say they are the true Church, and 
 must be believed, and have the magistrate on their side, and must 
 
DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY. 343 
 
 I 
 
 be obeyed ? j If they are to be believed the true Church because 
 Bishop G. or Dr. S. says so, Mr. B. or Dr. O* will say as much for the 
 Presbyterian or Independent ; Cardinal H. and Mr. P. for the 
 Popish and Quakers ; and upon the same authority ; for they are all 
 men that say it, endowed with the like faculties to know themselves, 
 and subject to the same frailties of mistaking or imposing. If they 
 will prove themselves to be in the right, or to be the true Church, 
 they take indeed the right course, but then they lay by their 
 authority in proposing, as I myself lay it by in considering, their 
 arguments : they appeal to my reason, and that I must make use of 
 to examine and judge ; but then we are but just where we were at 
 first setting out, and where we shall be, whether the Church of 
 England be or be not in the right, whether its constitution be or be 
 not "jure divino," i. e. every one judging for himself of what Church 
 he thinks it best and safest to be. If it be said, as it is, " we have the 
 law on our side, our constitution is established by the law of the 
 land, you ought to be of our Church because the civil magistrate 
 commands it," I know not how short a cut this may be to peace, or 
 rather uniformity, but I am sure it is a great way about, if not quite 
 out of the way, to truth ; for if the civil magistrates have the power 
 to institute religions and force men to such ways of worship they 
 shall think fit to enact, I desire any one, after a survey of the 
 present potentates of the earth, to tell me how it is like to fare with 
 truth and religion, if none be to appear and be owned in the world 
 but what we receive out of the courts of Princes, or senate-houses 
 of the states that govern it. I say not this with any reflection on 
 the present age we live in, but let him, if he please, take any other 
 age recorded in history, and then, (if the rulers of the earth were to 
 prescribe the way to heaven, if their laws were to be the standards 
 of truth and religion,) let him tell me what advantage it would ever 
 have been to true religion to subject it to the power of the magis- 
 trate ; and if Princes and potentates are not like for the future to 
 be better informed, or more in love with true religion than they 
 have been heretofore, if they are not like to be more sincerely con- 
 
344 DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY. 
 
 cerned for the salvation of their people's souls than every man 
 himself is for his own, I do not see what reason we have to expect 
 that these laws should be the likeliest way to support and propagate 
 truth, and make subjects of the kingdom of heaven for the future. 
 
 vF ■vf 7F ^'^ . 
 
 Bonds. — The bonds given to their pastors in Independent 
 Churches, shows how in this contest churches are made like bird- 
 cages with trap-doors, which give free admission to all birds, whether 
 they have always been the wild inhabitants of the air, or are got 
 loose from any other cages ; but when they are once in, they are to 
 be kept there, and are to have the liberty of going out no more ; 
 and the reason is, because if this be permitted our volary will be 
 spoiled, but the happiness of the birds is not the business of these 
 bird-keepers. 
 
 *^ ^ a^ 4^ 
 
 ■vs* W vt* vP 
 
 In the dispute of ceremonies, our men speak of their Church as 
 if it had such a divine power that it needed not consider whether 
 any thing were suited to the ends for which they are made use of, 
 and so the Church need not consider whether any thing be fit, and 
 therefore appoint it ; but as good as say that they make them fit by 
 appointing, which whether God himself ever did I much doubt, but 
 I am sure nothing can do but an infinite power. 
 
 It is not enough to justify the imposing of ceremonies, because 
 in themselves they are not unlawful ; but if by their number or 
 inconvenience they are burdensome, they cannot be justified w^ho 
 impose them. This was the reason Peter uses against circumcision. 
 Acts XV. 10. because it was a yoke that could not be well borne, or 
 continue them as necessary when the end is to extend the metaphor 
 of pastor and flock a little too far. Circumcision in itself was in- 
 different, and in the time of the Gospel might be used when there 
 was a good end in it, as Paul circumcised Timothy; but if its injunc- 
 tion proved burthensome, as Act xv., or there was an opinion that 
 it was unnecessary, it became unlawful. 
 
 It is not unlawful to separate from a Church which imposes 
 
DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY. 345 
 
 even indifferent things, if those who imposed them had not the 
 power of imposing ; for what is imposed by those who have not the 
 authority to impose, can have no obhgation on any to observe it, and 
 therefore they may go where there are no such impositions, and this 
 is more for the peace of the Church than to continue in it and 
 oppose it. The convocation, with or without the civil magistrate, 
 have not a power to impose on all Englishmen. 
 
 The charge of separating from our Church will not reach many 
 of the Dissenters, who were never of it. 
 
 I suppose it will be allowed that a man may be saved in the 
 Presbyterian, Independent, or Hugonot Church, of which there are 
 now in England, and are or are not distinct Churches from the 
 Church of England. If they are not, they cannot be accused of 
 separation, being still parts of the Church of England : if they are, 
 and a man be a member of the Presbyterian Church, will he not be 
 guilty of sin if he separate from it, and go to the Independent, 
 unless he can prove any doctrines and ceremonies sinful in the 
 Presbyterian Church ? And if so, the same sin will he be guilty of 
 if he separate from that Church and come over to the Church of 
 England ; for if there be no sin in the doctrine and discipline of the 
 Church he leaves, there is sin in his separating from it by the 
 Doctor's rule, wherever he goes after separation ; for being supposed 
 both of them innocent in their doctrine and discipline, the only odds 
 upon the Doctor's foundations remaining between them will be the 
 law of the land, which I think I have shown can give neither autho- 
 rity nor advantage to one Church above another, but only in pre- 
 ferments and rewards, and that indeed they have, but are not 
 content with it unless they have dominion too. But if the Doctor 
 should say that they may without sin come over to ours, because 
 our ceremonies and discipline are better, (for we suppose them to 
 agree in doctrine,) they are only better, as they are better means of 
 salvation : so that it will follow a man may separate from a Church 
 lawfully in whose communion there is no sin, only for better edifi- 
 cation ; for suppose the state in England being again Popish or 
 
 2 Y 
 
346 DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY, 
 
 Heathen, or on any other consideration should take off all the se- 
 cular laws that oblige to conformity, would it be any more sin, upon 
 the Doctor's ground, to separate from the Presbyterian Church to 
 come to the Episcopal, than it would be to quit the Episcopal to go 
 to the Presbyterian ? 
 
 If the Doctor, who is so well versed in Church history, would in 
 the heat of dispute have recollected himself a little, he would cer- 
 tainly not have said that the great reason of retaining of the cere- 
 monies in our Church by our Reformers, was the reverence to the 
 ancient Church, since they themselves in the preface to a book he 
 has every day in his hands, says so much otherwise. In the preface 
 made and prefixed to the Liturgy in Edward the Sixth's time, and 
 continued there till this very day, concerning the service of the 
 Church and ceremonies, they declare that the great reason of the 
 changes they made, and the chief aim they all along had in it, was 
 the edification of the people, wherein, though with great reason they 
 referred themselves to the ancient Fathers of the Church, yet it was 
 only so far as the Fathers of the Church followed the great rule of 
 edification. Why else did they leave out many of the most ancient 
 ceremonies of the Church, though in themselves innocent, when 
 they suspected them rather a burthen than profitable to the people ? 
 And what they say concerning bringing in use again the reading 
 Scriptures in a known tongue ; viz. that the people might continu- 
 ally profit more and more in the knowledge of God, and be more 
 inflamed with the love of his true religion : and therefore left out a 
 multitude of responds, verses, vain repetitions, commendations, 
 synodals, anthems, and such like things, as did break the continued 
 course of reading : I suppose A. will not say in themselves unlawful, 
 but the reason they give was, because they made the service hard 
 and intricate, and jostled out the more profitable reading of the Scrip- 
 tures. And concerning ceremonies they say thus : " Of such cere- 
 monies as be used in the Church and have had their beginning from 
 the institution of man, some were at the first of godly intent and 
 purpose devised, yet at length turned to vanity and superstition," 
 
DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY. 347 
 
 (whereby I think it is plain, that things not only lawful in them- 
 selves but godly in their first institution, may come to be unlawful.) 
 Some entered into the Church by indiscreet devotion, which not 
 only for their unprofitableness, but also because they much blinded 
 the people and obscured the glory of God, are worthy to be cut 
 away and rejected ; others there be which, although they have been 
 devised by man, yet it is thought good to reserve them still, " as well 
 for decent order in the Church, for which they were first devised, as 
 because they are for edification, in which all things done in the 
 Church as the Apostle teacheth, ought to be referred." Whereby 
 I think it is plain that no ceremony devised by man ought to find 
 admittance in the worship of God, even upon pretence of decency 
 and order, unless they some way or other conduce also to edification. 
 Now, if we will but take a view of the Reformation and its dis- 
 creet and sober progress, we may observe how the Reformers in their 
 management of it, kept steady to this great rule and aim, viz. of 
 bringing the people to the knowledge of God and the practice of his 
 true religion. See Burnet's History of the Reformation, page 73, 
 
 respecting the Ceremonies. 
 
 * # * * # 
 
 It is plain that several of the ceremonies were retained and 
 allowed only to the desires of the people, and allowed with limitation. 
 
 When the Common Prayer Book was reviewed, (see Burnet, page 
 155, 170) the additions were very sparing, and such as were very 
 necessary for the edification of the people at that time. The other 
 
 changes, p. 283, 392, History of Reformation. 
 
 ***** 
 
 I have been thus particular to show what governed those wise 
 and pious Reformers in their proceedings at that time, and we may 
 observe all through, that the great difficulty that pressed them, was 
 how they might lessen the ceremonies without lessening their con- 
 verts ; the men they had to do with were, we see, fond and loth to 
 part with them, and therefore they retained as many of them as they 
 could, and added some again in Queen Elizabeth's time, which had 
 
 2 Y 2 
 
348 DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY. 
 
 been disused in King Edward the Sixth's time only to satisfy the 
 people, and as a fit means to hold them in or bring them over to our 
 communion : whereby they plainly kept close to the rule of the 
 Scriptures which they had set to themselves, of doing all things for 
 edification, and had been, besides the precept, the command of St. 
 Paul, who became all things to all men, that he might gain some. 
 But is the case so now with us ? have we now any hopes of fresh har- 
 vests amongst the Papists, and to gain them over to us by the mul- 
 titude of lawful ceremonies ? I fear not ; I hear of nobody that after 
 so long an experience to the contrary, (and their being now fixed 
 upon quite different fundamentals by the Council of Trent) that 
 thinks it now reasonable to expect it. But on the other side, since 
 Protestant dissenters are so great a part of the people upon the same 
 principles with us, and agree with us perfectly in doctrine, and are 
 excluded from our communion not by the desire of more, but by 
 their scruples against many of those ceremonies we have in our 
 Church, can any one say that the same reason holds now for their 
 rigorous imposing, that did at the Reformation at first for their 
 retaining, where the Reformers did not so much contend for, as 
 against ceremonies. I appeal to the Doctor himself, whether he 
 thinks that if those wise and worthy men were now again to have 
 the revising of our liturgy and ceremonies, they would not as well 
 leave out the cross in baptism now, (as well as they left it out in 
 confirmation and consecration of the sacramental elements wherein 
 they had once retained it,) and as well as they left out several others 
 in use in the ancient Church, to comply with the weakness and per- 
 haps mistake of our dissenting brethren, and thereby hold some and 
 gain others to our communion as well as they retained several they 
 had no great liking to, only to avoid offending those who by such 
 compliance were more likely to be wrought upon ? And of this 
 mind I think every one must be, who will not say that more charity 
 and christian forbearance, more care and consideration is to be used 
 for the saving the souls of Papists than of dissenting Protestants. 
 I hope it will be thought no breach of modesty in me, if from a 
 
DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY. 349 
 
 heart truly charitable to all pious and sincere Christians, I offer my 
 thoughts in the case. At the beginning of the Reformation, the 
 people who had been bred up in the superstition and various out- 
 ward forms of the Church of Rome, and had been taught to believe 
 them substantial and necessary parts, nay almost the (* * *) of reli- 
 gion, could not so easily quit their reverend opinion of them ; and 
 therefore, in a Church that endeavoured to bring over as many con- 
 verts as they could, the retaining of as many of those ceremonies 
 as were not unlawful, was then to enlarge the communion of the 
 Church, and not narrow it. Since the people at that time were apt 
 to take offence at the too few rather than too many ceremonies. So 
 that ceremonies then had one of their proper ends, being a means to 
 edification, when they were inducements to the people to join in 
 communion with the Church, where better care was taken for their 
 instruction. But the sad experience of these latter years makes it, 
 I fear, but too plain, that the case is now altered : and as we at pre- 
 sent stand with the Church of Rome, we have more reason to appre- 
 hend we shall be lessened by the apostacy of those of our Church to 
 them, than increased by gaining new proselytes from them to us. The 
 harvest for such converts has been long since at a stand if not an ebb ; 
 and being therefore likelier to lose than gain by any approaches we 
 make towards them in outward agreement of rites and ceremonies, the 
 retaining now of such, though lawful, cannot but in that respect be 
 injurious to our Church, especially if we consider how many there 
 are on the other side who are offended at and shut out by the retain- 
 ing of them. And therefore, the taking away of as many as possible 
 of our present ceremonies, may be as proper a way now to bring the 
 Dissenters into the communion of our Church, as the retaining as 
 many of them as could be, was of making converts at the Refor- 
 mation. So that, what then was for the enlargement, now tends to 
 the narrowing of our Church, and vice iiei'sa. Since Dissenters may 
 be gained, and the Church enlarged by parting with a few things, 
 which when the law which enjoins them is taken away are acknow- 
 ledged to be indifferent, and therefore may still be used by those 
 
350 DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY. 
 
 that like them, I ask whether it be not, not only prudent but a 
 duty incumbent on those whose business it is to have a care of the 
 salvation of men's souls, to bring members into the union of the 
 Church, and so to put an end to the guilt they are charged and lie 
 under of error and schism, and division, when they can do it at so 
 cheap a rate ? whereas, whatever kindness we may have for the souls 
 of those who remain in the errors of the Church of Rome, we can 
 
 have small hopes of gaining much by concessions on that side. 
 
 # * * * * 
 
 Speaking of the obedience required from a rational creature in 
 Church government, it is never obedience for obedience sake, since 
 the end God has prescribed of Church society, and all the institu- 
 tions thereof, are for the preservation of order and decency ; what- 
 soever is arbitrarily imposed in the Church, no way subservient to 
 that end, is beyond the authority of the imposer, nor can any one 
 be bound by the terms of communion, which our Saviour does not 
 allow to be made. This fundamental mistake is the reason, I 
 suppose, why in this dispute about ceremonies, the champions for 
 conformity speak generally of the Church in such manner as if it 
 had such a divine power that it need not consider whether any 
 thing were suited to the end for which only its use can be allowed, 
 and therefore this, our Mother, (whether it be the mark of an in- 
 dulgent one I will not say,) need not consider whether any thing 
 be fit, and therefore appoint it ; but as good as tells us that she 
 makes it fit by appointing, which whether God our merciful father 
 ever does in such cases I much doubt ; this I am sure, nothing but 
 an infinite Being can do ; and therefore to make things necessary by 
 an arbitrary power, and continue them as necessary when the ends 
 are ceased for which they were appointed, is to extend the metaphor 
 of pastors and flocks a little too far, and treat men as if they were 
 brutes in earnest. 
 
 All the Dissenters can be accused of is nothing but their refrac- 
 toriness in choosing to lose the privileges of our Church commu- 
 nion, which they lawfully may do. 
 
DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY. 351 
 
 2nd. The Doctor answers : " that there can be no reasonable 
 suspicion that our Church should impose any other ceremony than 
 it has already done, because the Church has rather retrenched than 
 increased ceremonies, as will appear to any one that compares the 
 first and second Liturgies of Edward the Sixth, and since that time 
 no new ceremony has been required as a condition of communion." 
 
 If the Doctor can prove that the Church has had these last 
 twenty years the same ground for retaining the ceremonies as it had 
 at the beginning of the Reformation, I yield there will be no such 
 reasonable suspicion ; but if that ground ceasing, the ceremonies have 
 been still retained, and no other ground left for many of them, but 
 the will of those that retain them being once imposed, the argu- 
 ment he brings that very little has been altered since Edward the 
 Sixth's time, will serve only to make such a suspicion more reason- 
 able, since those who keep up the imposition of ceremonies when the 
 ground they were first imposed on had long before ceased, may for 
 the same reason be suspected to have no other restraint from 
 increasing them, but some accidental hinderance, especially if the 
 Prelates of our Church practise and countenance more ceremonies 
 than are enjoined, and these new and voluntary additions are un- 
 derstood to be the terms of preferment, though the law has not yet 
 made them the terms of communion. But the Nonconformists, (I 
 believe,) will not think the present Church of England gets much 
 advantage upon them, or shows much of her condescension by the 
 proof the Doctor offers, that the present Church is not like to 
 increase her ceremonies because in Edward the Sixth's time she did 
 review and retrench those of her own appointment, which does only 
 tell us that the Church then did more towards a full reformation 
 in two years than has been done in one hundred years since, viz. 
 review her own constitutions, and retrench the ceremonies as much 
 as the present temper of the people would permit ; and though that 
 Church and this have the same name of the Church of England, yet 
 I imagine that the Dissenters think they are under far different 
 
352 DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY. 
 
 churchmen, and do very much doubt whether the conduct of these 
 now, and those then, tend both the same way. 
 
 As to the law of the land, it can never be judged to be a sin not 
 to obey the law of the land commanding to join in communion with 
 the Church of England, till it be proved that the civil magistrate 
 hath a power to command and determine what Church I shall be 
 of, and therefore all the specious names, established constitution, 
 settled Church, running through all the Doctor's sermons, and on 
 which he seems to lay so much stress, signify nothing, till it be 
 evident the civil magistrate has that power. It is a part of my 
 liberty as a Christian and as a man to choose of what Church or 
 religious society I will be of, as most conducing to the salvation of 
 my soul, of which I alone am judge, and over which the magistrate 
 has no power at all ; for if he can command me of what Church to 
 be, it is plain it follows that he can command me of what religion to 
 be, which, though nobody dares say in direct words, yet they do in 
 effect affirm, who say it is my duty to be of the Church of England, 
 because the law of the land enjoins it. 
 
 •?P Vt* TP TT VT 
 
 To understand the extent, distinction, and government of par- 
 ticular Churches, it will be convenient to consider how Christianity 
 was first planted and propagated in the world ; the apostles and 
 evangelists went up and down, preaching the new doctrine, and the 
 better to propagate it, went from city to city, or one great town to 
 another, and there published their doctrines, where great collection 
 of men gave them hopes of most converts. Having made a sufficient 
 number of proselytes in any town, they chose out of them a certain 
 number to take care of the concernments of that religion ; these 
 they called the elders, or bishops, who were to be the governors of 
 that city, which so became a particular Church, formed much after 
 the manner of a Jewish synagogue ; such a constitution of a Church 
 we find at Ephesus, Acts xx. and in several other cities. When a 
 Church was thus planted in any city, these itinerant preachers left 
 
DEFENCE OF NONCONFORMITY. 353 
 
 it to grow and spread of itself, and from thence, — as from a root, to 
 take in not only those who from thenceforth should be converted in 
 the city, but in the neighbouring villages ; and having done this, 
 I say, they went to plant the Gospel in some other city. And the 
 apostle St. Paul, having preached the Gospel, and made converts in 
 all the cities of Greece, stayed not himself to appoint the elders, but 
 left Titus there to do it, whilst he himself went on to publish the 
 doctrines of life and salvation to those that sat yet in darkness. 
 
 The particular churches in different cities, directed by the pru- 
 dence and enlarged by the preaching of these presbyters, under 
 whose care they were left, spread themselves so that, in succession of 
 time, in some places, they made great numbers of converts in the 
 neighbourhood and villages round about, all which so converted 
 made an accession to, and became members of the Church of the 
 neighbouring city, which became an episcopacy, and the ttoc^oikkx,, 
 from which our own name parish comes the diocese, which was the 
 name that remained in use for a bishop's diocese a good while in 
 the Church ; how far the ra^oiKicc in the first times of Christianity 
 reached, the signification of the word itself, which denotes neigh- 
 bourhood, will easily tell us, and could certainly extend no farther 
 than might permit the Christians that lived in it to frequent 
 the Christian assemblies in the city, and enjoy the advantage of 
 Church communion. Though the number of believers were in some 
 of these cities more than could meet in one assembly for the hear- 
 ing of the word, and performing public acts of worship, and so, con- 
 sequently, had divers basilicas, or churches, as well as several pres- 
 byters to officiate in them, yet they continued one church and one 
 congregation, because they continued under the government of the 
 same presbyters, and the presbyters officiated promiscuously in all 
 their meeting-places, and performed all the offices of pastors an d 
 teachers indifferently to all the members, as they, on their side, had 
 the liberty to go to which assembly they pleased, a plain instance 
 whereof we have in several Protestant Churches beyond sea, at 
 Nisnes, at St. Gall. 
 
 2 z 
 
354 ADDITIONS 
 
 This, probably, seems to be the constitution and bounds of par- 
 ticular Churches in the most primitive times of Christianity, dif- 
 ferent from our present parochial congregations and episcopal 
 dioceses ; from the first, because they were independent Churches, 
 each of them governed within themselves by their own presbytery ; 
 from the latter they differ in this, that every great town, wherein 
 there were Christians, was a distinct church, which took no great 
 extent round about for its parochia, that what would allow the 
 converts round about to have the convenience of communion and 
 church fellowship in common with the assemblies of Christians in 
 that town ; but afterwards, when these Churches were formed into 
 episcopacies, under the government of single men, and so became 
 subjects of power and matter of ambition, these parochias were ex- 
 tended beyond the convenience of church communion ; and human 
 frailty, when it is got into power, naturally endeavouring to extend 
 the bounds of its jurisdiction, episcopal parochias were enlarged, 
 and that name being too narrow, was laid by, and the name of 
 diocees, which signifies large tracts of ground, was taken to signify a 
 bishoprick ; which way of uniting several remote assemblies of 
 Christians and Churches under one governor, upon pretence of pre- 
 venting schism and heresy, and preserving the peace and unity of 
 the Church, gave rise to metropolitans and archbishops, and never 
 stopped (nor indeed upon that foundation well could it,) till it at 
 last ended in supremacy. 
 
 ADDITIONS INTENDED BY THE AUTHOR TO HAVE BEEN ADDED TO 
 THE ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 Book ii. c. 21. God if he will.* Sec. 54. 
 
 Perhaps it will be said if this be so, that men can suspend their 
 desires, stop their actions, and take time to consider and deliberate 
 upon what they are going to do. If men can weigh the good 
 
 * These are the concluding words of the preceding Section. 
 
TO THE ESSAY. 355 
 
 and evil of an action they have in view : if they have a power to for- 
 bear till they have surveyed the consequences, and examined how it 
 may comport with their happiness or misery, and what a train of 
 one or the other it may draw after it ; how comes it to pass that 
 we see men abandon themselves to the most brutish, vile, irrational, 
 exorbitant actions, during the whole current of a wild or dissolute 
 life, without any check, or the least appearance of any reflection, 
 who if they did but in the least consider what will certainly over- 
 take such a course here, and what may possibly attend it hereafter, 
 would certainly sometimes make a stand, slacken their pace, abate 
 of that height of wickedness their actions rise to. Amongst the 
 several causes there may be of this, I shall set down some of the most 
 common. 
 
 1st. It sometimes happens, that from their cradles some were 
 never accustomed to reflect, but by a constant indulging of their 
 passions have been all along given up to the conduct and swing of 
 their inconsiderate desires, and so have, by a contrary habit, lost the 
 use and exercise of reflection, as if it were foreign to their consti- 
 tution, and can no more bear with it than as a violence done to 
 their natures. How much fond or careless parents and negligent 
 inspectors of the education of children have to answer on this 
 account they were best look — for both the poor and rich I fear 
 ofl^end this way, the one in not opening their children's minds at 
 all, the other in letting them loose only to sensual pleasures ; and 
 hence the one never have their thoughts raised above the neces- 
 sities of a needy drudging life, on which they are wholly intent, and 
 the other have no thought besides their present pleasures, which 
 wholly possess them. To the latter of these, all proposals of con- 
 sideration are nonsense ; to the other, the names of virtue and 
 worth are utterly unintelligible ; and to talk of a future state of 
 happiness or misery, is looked on as a trick, and mere mockery, 
 and they are ready to answer, You shall not make me such a 
 fool as to believe that. This, in a country of so much preaching 
 as ours, may seem strange, but I have very good witnesses of such 
 
 2 z 2 
 
356 ADDITIONS 
 
 instances as these ; and I think nobody need go far to find people 
 ignorant and uninstructed to that degree, for it is plain the in- 
 structions of the pulpit will not make people knowing if those be 
 begun with and relied on. 
 
 2d. There seems to me to be in the world a great number of 
 men who want not parts, but who, from another sort of ill educa- 
 tion, and the prevalency of bad company and ill-imbibed principles 
 of mistaken philosophy, cast away the thoughts and belief of another 
 world as a fiction of politicians and divines conspiring together to 
 keep the world in awe, and to impose on weak minds. If any of 
 them, by their miscarriages, have brought this discredit on this fun- 
 damental truth, I think they have a great deal to answer for ; for 
 this I imagine is certain, that when in this age of the world the 
 belief of another life leaves a man of parts who has been bred up 
 under the sound and opinion of heaven and hell, virtue seldom stays 
 with him ; and then all his happiness being resolved into the 
 satisfaction of his temporal desires, it is no wonder that his will 
 should be determined, and his life guided by measures that, by men 
 of other principles, seem to want consideration. 
 
 3d To these we may add a third sort, who, for want of breed- 
 ing, not arriving at a learned irreligion, or an argumentative dis- 
 belief of a future state, find a shorter cut to it from their own ill 
 manners, than the others do from study and speculation ; for having 
 plunged themselves in all sorts of wickedness and villany, their 
 present lives give them but a very ill prospect of a future state, 
 they resolve it their best way to have no more thoughts about it, 
 but to live in a full enjoyment of all they can get, and relish here, 
 and not to lessen that enjoyment by the consideration of a future 
 life, whereof they expect no benefit. 
 
 N. B. This addition to the chapter may be spared. 
 
TO THE ESSAY. 357 
 
 Book iii. c. 10. § 11. — Organs of Speech. 
 
 By this learned art of abusing words and shifting their signi- 
 fications, the rules left us by the ancients for the conducting our 
 thoughts in the search, or at least the examination of truth, have 
 been defeated. The logic of the schools contains all the rules of 
 reasoning that are generally taught, and they are believed so suffi- 
 cient, that it will probably be thought presumption in any to sup- 
 pose there needs any other to be sought or looked after. I grant 
 the method of syllogism is right as far as it reaches ; its proper 
 business is to show the force and coherence of any argumentation, 
 and to that it would have served very well, and one might certainly 
 have depended on the conclusions as necessarily following from the 
 premises in a rightly ordered syllogism, if the applauded art of dis- 
 puting had not been taken for knowledge, and the credit of victory 
 in such contests introduced a fallacious use of words, whereby even 
 those forms of arguing have proved rather a snare than an help to 
 the understanding, and so the end lost for which they were in- 
 vented. For the form of the syllogism, justifying the deduction, the 
 conclusion, though never so false, stood good, and was to be admitted 
 for such. This set men, who would make any figure in the schools, 
 to busy their thoughts, not in a search into the nature of things, but 
 in studying of terms and varying their signification of words with 
 all the nicety and, as it was called, the subtlety they could strain 
 their thoughts to, whereby they might entangle the respondent, who, 
 if he let slip the observation and detection of the sophistry whenever 
 any of the terms were used in various significations, he was certainly 
 gone without the help of a like sort of artifice ; and therefore, on the 
 other side, was to be well-furnished with good store of words, to be 
 used as distinctions, whether they signified any thing to the purpose, 
 or any thing at all, it mattered not, they were to be thrown in the 
 opponent's way, and he was to argue against them ; so that whilst 
 one could use his words equivocally, which is nothing but making 
 the same sound to stand for different ideas, and the other but use 
 
358 ADDITIONS 
 
 two sounds, as determining the various significations of a third, 
 whether in truth they had any the least relation to its signification 
 or no, there could be no end of the dispute, or decision of the ques- 
 tion. Or if it happened that either of the disputants, failing in his 
 proper artillery, was brought to a nonplus, this, indeed, placed the 
 laurels on his adversary's head, victory was his, and with it the name 
 of learning and renown of a scholar ; he has his reward, and therein 
 his end. But truth gets nothing by it ; every one says he is the 
 better disputant and carried the day, but nobody finds or judges of 
 the truth by that. The question is a question still, and after it has 
 been the matter of many a combat, and by being carried sometimes on 
 one side and sometimes on the other, has afforded a triumph to many 
 a combatant, is still as far from decision as ever. Truth and know- 
 ledge hath nothing to do in all this bustle ; nobody thinks them 
 concerned, it is all for victory and triumph : so that this way of con- 
 testing for truth, may be, and often is, nothing but the abuse of 
 words for victory, — a trial of skill, without any appearance of a true 
 consideration of the matter in question, or troubling their heads to 
 find out where the truth lies. This is not the fault of mode and 
 figure, the rules whereof are of great use in the regulating of argu- 
 mentation, and trying the coherence and force of men's discourses. 
 But the mischief has been brought in by placing too high a value 
 and credit on the art of disputing, and giving that the reputation 
 and reward of learning and knowledge, which is in truth one of 
 the greatest hindrances of it. 
 
 Book iii. c. 10. § IS.— To do so. 
 
 We cannot but think that angels of all kinds much exceed us in 
 knowledge, and possibly we are apt sometimes to envy them that 
 advantage, or at least to repine that we do not partake with them in 
 a greater share of it. Whoever thinks of the elevation of their 
 knowledge above ours, cannot imagine it lies in a playing with ^ords, 
 but in the contemplation of things, and having true notions about 
 them, a perception of their habitudes and relations one to another : 
 
TO THE ESSAY. 359 
 
 if this be so, methinks we should be ambitious to come in this part, 
 which is a great deal in our power, as near them as we can ; we 
 should cast off all the artifice and fallacy of words, which makes so 
 great a part of the business and skill of the disputers of this world, 
 and is contemptible even to rational men, and therefore must needs 
 render us ridiculous to those higher order of spirits : whilst we, pre- 
 tending to the knowledge of things, hinder as much as we can the 
 discovery of truth, by perplexing one another all we can, by a per- 
 verse use of those signs which we make use of to convey it to one 
 another, must it not be matter of contempt to them to see us make 
 the studied and improved abuse of those signs have the name and 
 credit of learning ? Should not we ourselves think the Chinese 
 very ridiculous, if they should set those destined to knowledge out 
 of the way to it, by praising and rewarding their proficiency in that 
 which leads them quite from it? 
 
 The study of such arts as these, is an unaccountable wasting of 
 our time ; they serve only to continue or spread ignorance and error, 
 and should be exploded by all lovers of truth and professors of 
 science ; at least, ought not to be supported by the name and re- 
 wards of learning given to them. Those who are set apart to learn- 
 ing and knowledge, should not, one would think, have that made the 
 chief, or any part of their study, which is an hindrance to their main 
 end — knowledge. The forms of argumentation should be learned and 
 made use of ; but to teach an apprentice to measure well, would you 
 commend and reward him for cheating, by putting off false and 
 sophisticated wares ? It is no wonder men never come to seek and 
 to value truth sincerely when they have been entered in sophistry, 
 and questions are proposed and argued, not at all for the resolving 
 of doubts nor settling the mind upon good grounds on the right 
 side, but to make a sport of truth which is set up only to be thrown 
 at, and to be battled as falsehood, and he has most applause who can 
 most effectually do it. What, then, shall not scholars dispute ? how 
 else will they be able to defend the truth, unless they understand 
 the ways and management of arguments ? To this I answer 
 
360 ADDITIONS 
 
 1st. This way of managing arguments is nothing but the forms 
 of syllogism, and may quickly be learned. 
 
 2d. If disputing be necessary to make any one master of those 
 forms, it must be allowed to be absurd for beginners to dispute in 
 any science, till they have well studied that science : if they be 
 accustomed and required to dispute before they know, will it not 
 teach them to take words for things, — to prefer terms to truth, — 
 and take disputing for knowledge ? 
 
 Srd. If disputing be necessary, every one should dispute in ear- 
 nest for the opinion he is really of ; that truth and falsehood might 
 not appear indifferent to him, nor was it matter which he held ; vic- 
 tory was all, truth nothing in the case. 
 
 4th. But that can never teach a man to defend truth which 
 teaches him not the love of it, and when he gets commendation not 
 by holding the truth, but for well maintaining falsehood. Besides, 
 if it find approbation, never to come to an end of his syllogisms or 
 distinctions till he has got the last word, what is this but to per- 
 suade a man it is a fine worthy thing never to have done talking, — 
 to take no answer as long as he can find any terms of opposing, — nor 
 ever to yield to any arguments ; than which there can be nothing 
 more odious to those who have a regard to truth, to say nothing of 
 civil conversation and good breeding. 
 
 In Locke's fourth Letter for Toleration there is an hiatus, where 
 the Editor informs the reader that [the two following leaves of the 
 copy are either lost or mislaid] that deficiency is now supplied from 
 the original rough draft. 
 
 But since, perhaps, it would have laid the matter a little too 
 open, if you had given the reason why you say I was concerned to 
 make out that there are as clear and solid arguments for the belief 
 of false religion as there are for belief of the true ; or that men may 
 both as firmly and rationally believe and embrace false religions as 
 they can the true, I shall endeavour here to do it for you. 
 
ADDITION. 3(31 
 
 Kno\^ ledge, properly so called, or knowledge of the true religion, 
 upon strict demonstration, as you are pleased to call it, not being to 
 be had, his knowledge could not point out to him that religion 
 which he is by force to promote. The magistrate being thus visibly 
 destitute of knowledge to guide him in the right exercise of his 
 duty, you will not allow his belief or persuasion but it must be firm- 
 ness of persuasion, or full assurance ; and this you think sufficient to 
 point out to him that religion which by force he is to promote. 
 And hereupon you think your cause gained, unless I could prove 
 that which I think utterly false, viz. that there is as clear and solid 
 grounds for the belief of false religions as there are for belief of the 
 true, and that men may both as firmly and as rationally believe and 
 embrace false religions as true. All which is bottomed upon this 
 very false supposition, that in the want of knowledge nothing is suf- 
 ficient to set the magistrate upon doing his duty in using of force to 
 promote the true religion, but the firmest belief of its truth ; where- 
 as his own persuasion of the truth of his own religion, in what 
 degree soever it be ... he believes it to be true, will, if he think it 
 his duty, be sufficient to set him to work. 
 
 This, as well as several other things in my former letters, stick 
 with some readers, who want to have them clear ; but such poor 
 spirits deserve not to be regarded by a master of fencing, who an- 
 swers by specimen, and relates by wholesale, and whose word is to 
 be taken for sufficient guarantee of truth — the most commodious 
 way that hath been yet found out for silencing objections, and 
 putting an end to controversy. 
 
 S A 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 On opening the MS. copy of the Essay on Human Understand- 
 ing, dated 1671, I found the following paper without title or date: 
 it is an Epitome or Abstract of the Essay, drawn up by Locke him- 
 self The same which was translated by Le Clerc, and published in 
 the Bibliotheque Universelle of 1688, before the Essay was given to 
 the world. 
 
 Lib. 1. In the thoughts I have had concerning the Understand- 
 ing, I have endeavoured to prove that the mind is at first rasa tabula. 
 But that being only to remove the prejudice that lies in some men's 
 minds, I think it best, in this short view I design here of my prin- 
 ciples, to pass by all that preliminary debate which makes the first 
 book, since I pretend to show in what follows the original from 
 whence, and the ways whereby, we receive all the ideas our under- 
 standings are employed about in thinking. 
 
 Lib. 2. Chap. 1. The mind having been supposed void of all 
 innate characters, comes to receive them by degrees as experience 
 and observation lets them in ; and we shall, upon consideration, find 
 they all come from two originals, and are conveyed into the mind by 
 two ways, viz. sensation and reflection. 
 
 1st. It is evident that outward objects, by affecting our senses, 
 cause in our minds several ideas which were not there before ; thus 
 we come by the idea of red and blue, sweet and bitter, and whatever 
 other perceptions are produced in us by sensation. 
 
 2d. The mind, taking notice of its own operation about these 
 ideas received by sensation, comes to have ideas of those very opera- 
 tions that pass within itself ; this is another source of ideas, and this 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 363 
 
 1 call reflection ; and from hence it is we have the ideas of thinking, 
 willing, reasoning, doubting, purposing, &c. 
 
 From these two originals it is that we have all the ideas we 
 have ; and I think I may confidently say, that, besides what our 
 senses convey into the mind, or the ideas of its own operations about 
 those received from sensation, we have no ideas at all. From whence 
 it follows — first, that where a man has always wanted any one of his 
 senses, there he will always want the ideas belonging to that sense ; 
 men born deaf or blind are sufficient proof of this. Secondly, it 
 follows that if a man could be supposed void of all senses, he would 
 also be void of all ideas ; because, wanting all sensation, he would 
 have nothing to excite any operation in him, and so would have 
 neither ideas of sensation, external objects having no way by any 
 sense to excite them, nor ideas of reflection, his mind having no ideas 
 to be employed about. 
 
 Chap. 2. To understand me right, when I say that we have not, 
 nor can have, any ideas but of sensation, or of the operation of our 
 mind about them, it must be considered that there are two sorts of 
 ideas, simple and complex. It is of simple ideas that I here speak ; 
 such as are the white colour of this paper, the sweet taste of sugar, &c., 
 wherein the mind perceives no variety nor composition, but one uni- 
 form perception or idea ; and of these I say we have none but what 
 we receive from sensation or reflection ; the mind is wholly passive 
 in them, can make no new ones to itself, though out of these it can 
 compound others, and make complex ones with great variety, as we 
 shall see hereafter ; and hence it is, that though we cannot but 
 allow that a sixth sense may be as possible, if our all-wise Creator 
 had thought it fit for us, as the five he has bestowed ordinarily upon 
 man, yet we can have by no means any ideas belonging to a sixth 
 sense, and that for the same reason that a man born blind cannot 
 have any ideas of colours, because they are to be had only by the 
 fifth sense, that way of sensation which he always wanted. 
 
 Chap. S, 4, 5, 6. I think I need not go about to set down all 
 those ideas that are peculiar objects of each distinct sense, both 
 
 3 a2 
 
364 "^lEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 because it would be of no great use to give them by tale, they are 
 most of them obvious enough to our present purpose, and also be- 
 cause they, most of them, w^ant names ; for, bating colours, and some 
 few tangible qualities, which men have been a little more particular 
 in denominating, though far short of their great variety, tastes, 
 smells, and sounds, whereof there is no less a variety, have scarce 
 any names at all, but some few very general ones. Though the 
 taste of milk and a cherry be as distinct ideas as white and red, yet 
 we see they have no particular names ; sweet, sour, and bitter, are 
 almost all the appellations we have for that almost infinite difference 
 of relishes to be found in Nature. Omitting, therefore, the enumera- 
 tion of the simple ideas peculiar to each sense, I shall here only ob- 
 serve that there are some ideas that are conveyed to the mind only 
 by one sense, viz. colours by the sight only, sounds by the hearing, 
 heat and cold by the touch, &c. Others again are conveyed into the 
 mind by more than one sense, as motion, rest, space, and figure, 
 which is but the termination of space, by both the sight and touch. 
 Others there be that we receive only from reflexion ; such are the 
 ideas of thinking, and willing, and all their various modes. And 
 some again that we receive from all the ways of sensation, and from 
 reflection too, and those are number, existence, power, pleasure, and 
 pain, &c. &c. 
 
 These, I think, are in general all, or at least the greater part, of 
 the simple ideas we have, or are capable of, and which contain in 
 them the materials of all our knowledge," out of which all our other 
 ideas are made, and beyond which our minds have no thoughts nor 
 knowledge at all. 
 
 Chap. 7. One thing more I shall remark concerning our simple 
 ideas, and then proceed to show how out of them are made our com- 
 plex ideas ; and that is, that we are apt to mistake them, and take 
 them to be resemblances of some thing in the objects that produce 
 them in us, which, for the most part, they are not. This, though it 
 lead us into the consideration of the way of the operation of 
 bodies upon us by our senses, yet, however unwilling I am to engage 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 365 
 
 in any physical speculations, pretending here to give only an his- 
 torical account of the understanding, and to set down the way and 
 manner how the mind first gets the materials, and by what steps it 
 proceeds in the attainment of knowledge ; yet it is necessary a little 
 to explain this matter to avoid confusion and obscurity. For to dis- 
 cover the nature of sensible ideas the better, and discourse of them 
 intelligibly, it will be convenient to distinguish them, as they are 
 ideas or perceptions in our minds, and as they are in the bodies that 
 cause such perceptions in us. 
 
 Whatsoever immediate object, whatsoever perception, be in the 
 mind when it thinks, that I call idea ; and the power to produce 
 any idea in the mind, T call quality of the subject wherein that 
 power is. Thus, whiteness, coldness, roundness, as they are sensa- 
 tions or perceptions in the understanding, I call ideas ; as they are 
 in a snow-ball, which has the power to produce these ideas in the 
 understanding, I call them qualities. 
 
 The original qualities that may be observed in bodies, are so- 
 lidity, extension, figure, number, motion, or rest ; these, in whatso- 
 ever state body is put, are always inseparable from it. 
 
 The next thing to be considered is, how bodies operate one upon 
 another, and the only way intelligible to me is by impulse ; I can 
 conceive no other. When then they produce in us the ideas of any 
 of their original qualities which are really in them, — let us suppose 
 that of extension or figure by the sight, — it is evident that the thing 
 seen being at a distance, the impulse made on the organ must be by 
 some insensible particles coming from the object to the eyes, and 
 by a continuation of that motion to the brain, those ideas are pro- 
 duced in us. For the producing, then, of the ideas of these original 
 qualities in our understandings, we can find nothing but the impulse 
 and motion of some insensible bodies. By the same way we may 
 also conceive how the ideas of the colour and smell of a violet may 
 as well be produced in us as of its figure, viz. by a certain impulse 
 on our eyes or noses, of particles of such a bulk, figure, number, 
 and motion, as those that come from violets when we see or smell 
 
366 VI^W OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 them, and by the particular motion received in the organ from that 
 impulse and continued to the brain ; 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 has also no resemblance. 
 
 What I have said concerning colours and smells may be ap- 
 plied to sounds and tastes, and all other ideas of bodies produced 
 in us by the texture and motion of particles, whose single bulks 
 are not sensible. And since bodies do produce in us ideas that 
 contain in them no perception of bulk, figure, motion, or number 
 of parts, as ideas of warmth, hunger, blueness, or sweetness, which 
 yet it is plain they cannot do but by the various combinations of 
 these primary qualities, however we perceive them not, I call the 
 powers in bodies to produce these ideas in us secondary quali- 
 ties. 
 
 From whence we may draw this inference, that the ideas of 
 the primary qualities of bodies are resemblances of them, and their 
 archetypes do really exist in the bodies themselves ; but the ideas 
 produced in us by these secondary qualities have no resemblance 
 of them at all. There is nothing existing in the bodies themselves 
 that has any likeness to our ideas. 'Tis only in them a power to 
 cause such sensations in us, and what is blue, sweet, or warm, in 
 idea, is but the certain bulk, figure, and motion of the insensible 
 parts of the bodies themselves to which we give those denomi- 
 nations. Chap. 8, 9, 10. 
 
 Chap. 11. Having showed how the mind comes by all its simple 
 ideas, in the next place I shall show how these simple ideas are the 
 materials of all our knowledge, and how, from several combinations 
 of them, complex ones are made. 
 
 Though the mind cannot make to itself any one simple idea 
 more than it receives from those two sole inlets. Sensation and 
 Reflection, wherein it is merely passive, yet out of these being lodged 
 in the memory, it can make, by repeating and several ways combi- 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 3^7 
 
 ning them, a great variety of other ideas, as well as receive in such 
 combinations by the senses. I shall give some few instances of 
 this in those that seem the most abstruse, and then proceed to other 
 things. 
 
 Chap. 12. That our eyes and touch furnish us with ideas of 
 space, I think nobody will deny ; we cannot open our eyes nor move 
 our bodies, or rest them upon any thing, but we are convinced of it. 
 Having got the idea of the length of our span, or the height and 
 breadth of the door we usually go in and out at, or of the bulk of any 
 body that familiarly comes in our way, we can repeat this idea in 
 our minds as often as we will, and so increase that idea to what 
 bigness we please by still adding the like or the double to the for- 
 mer ; and by this way, though sensation should supply us with no 
 idea but of a foot, a yard, or a mile long, we could by this repetition 
 attain and form to ourselves the idea of immensity, which had its 
 foundation still in that idea of space we received by our senses, and 
 is nothing but the enlargement of that by repetition. I shall not 
 here set down what I have at large written, to show the clear dis- 
 tinction between the idea of body and space, which some have en- 
 deavoured to confound ; it shall suffice only to mention, that when 
 distance is considered between any two things, abstract from any 
 consideration of body filling up the interval, it may most properly 
 be called space — when the distance is considered between the ex- 
 tremes of a solid body, it may fitly be called extension. The right 
 application of these two terms, would, I hope, help us to avoid some 
 confusion, which sometimes happens in discourses concerning body 
 and space. 
 
 Chap. IS. Time and duration have a great conformity with 
 extension and space. Had the original, from whence we have our 
 idea of duration, been well considered, I imagine time would never 
 have been thought mensura motus, since it hath truly nothing to do 
 with motion at all, and would be the same it is, were there no mo- 
 tion at all. He that will look into himself and observe what passes 
 in his own mind, will find that various ideas appear and disappear 
 
368 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 there in train all the time he is waking, and this so constantly, that 
 though he is never without some whilst he is awake, yet it is not 
 one single one that possesses his mind alone, but constantly new 
 ones come in and go out again. If any one doubts of this, let him 
 try to keep his thoughts fixed upon any one idea without any al- 
 teration at all ; for if there be any the least alteration of thought 
 by addition, subtraction, or any manner of change, there is then 
 another, a new idea. 
 
 From this perpetual change of ideas observable in our minds, 
 this train of new appearances there, we have the clear idea of suc- 
 cession. The existence of any thing commensurate to any part of 
 such succession, we call it duration ; and the distance between any 
 two points of duration, we call time. That our ideas of time and 
 duration have their original from this reflection is evident from 
 hence, that whenever this succession of ideas ceases in our minds, 
 we have no idea, no perception at all of duration, and therefore a 
 man that sleeps without dreaming perceives no distance betwixt his 
 falling asleep and waking ; but if dreams furnish him with trains of 
 ideas, the perception of duration accompanies them, and that comes 
 in to his account of time. 
 
 Though mankind have made choice of the revolution of the 
 sun and moon as the fittest measure of time, because they are every 
 where observable, and riot easily discernible to be unequal, yet this 
 is not because of any connection between duration and motion ; for 
 any other regular periodical appearances, that were common to all 
 the world, would measure time as well were it without any sen- 
 sible motion. 
 
 Chap. 14. And though the word time is usually taken for that 
 part oidu7'ation which is taken up by the existence of natural things, 
 or the motions of the Heavens, as extension for that part of space 
 which is commensurate and filled by body, yet the mind having 
 got the idea of any portion of time, as a day, or a year, it can repeat 
 it as often as it will, and so enlarge its ideas of duration beyond 
 the being or motion of the sun, and have as clear an idea of the 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 3Qg 
 
 763 years of the Julian period before the beginning of the world, 
 as of any 763 years since. And from this power of repeating and 
 enlarging its ideas of duration, without ever coming to an end, 
 frame to itself the idea of eternity, as by endless addition of ideas 
 of space it doth that of immensity. 
 
 Chap. 15. The idea of number, as has been observed, is sug- 
 gested to us by reflection, and all the ways of sensation we count 
 ideas, thoughts, bodies, every thing : and having got the idea of an 
 unit, by the repetition and addition of one or more such units, 
 make any combinations of numbers that we please. 
 
 Chap. 16. Whereas the mind can never come to the end of 
 these additions, but finds in itself still the power of adding more 
 in the proportion it pleases, hence we come by the idea of infinite, 
 which, whether applied to space or duration, seems to me to be 
 nothing else but this infinity of number, only with this difference, 
 that in number, beginning at an unit, we seem to be at one end 
 of the line which we can extend infinitely forward. In duration 
 we extend the infinite end of number or addition two ways from 
 us, both to duration past and duration to come ; and in space, as if 
 we were in the centre, we can on every side add miles or diameters 
 of the orbis magnus, &c., till number and the power of addition 
 fail us, without any prospect or hopes of coming to an end. 
 
 That this is the idea we have of infinite made up of additions, 
 with still an inexhaustible remainder, as much as there is in number, 
 and not in any positive comprehensive idea of infinity, I shall not in 
 the brevity I now propose to myself, set down the proofs of at large : 
 let any one examine his own thoughts and see whether he can find 
 any other but such an idea of infinity ; in the mean time, it suffices 
 me to show how our idea of infinite is made up of the simple ideas 
 derived from sensation and reflection. C. 18, 19- 
 
 Chap. 20. Amongst the simple ideas we receive both from sensation 
 and reflection, pleasure and pain are none of the most inconsiderable ; 
 they are our great concernment, and they often accompany our 
 
 3 B 
 
370 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 other sensations and thoughts. For as there are few sensations of 
 the body that do not bring with them also some degrees o^ pleasure 
 or pain, so there are few thoughts of our minds so indifferent to us 
 that do not delight or disturb us ; all which I comprehend under the 
 names oi pleasure 2in& pain. That satisfaction or delight,. uneasiness 
 or trouble, which the mind receives from any either external sen- 
 sation or internal thought whatsoever, has an aptness to cause, in- 
 crease, or continue pleasure in us, or to lessen or shorten any pain 
 we call good, and the contrary we call evil ; upon these two, good and 
 evil, all our passions turn, and by reflecting on what our thoughts 
 about them produce in us, we get the ideas of the passions. 
 
 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 the spring when there are none, that he loves 
 grapes, he means no more but that the taste of grapes delights him. 
 The being and welfare of a man's children and friends producing 
 constant delight in him, he is said constantly to love them. 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. 
 
 The uneasiness a man finds in himself upon the absence of any 
 thing whose present enjoyment carries the idea of delight with it, is 
 that we call desire, which is greater or less, as that uneasiness is 
 more or less. 
 
 Joy is a delight of the mind from the consideration of the 
 present or future assured possession of a good. Thus a man almost 
 starved, has joy at the arrival of relief even before he tastes it ; and 
 we are then possessed of any good when we have it so in our power, 
 that we can use it when we please ; a father in whom the very well- 
 being of his children causes delight, is in the possession of that good, 
 always as long as his children are in such an estate ; for he needs 
 but to reflect on it, to have that pleasure. 
 
 Fear is an uneasiness of the mind upon the thought of future 
 evil likely to befall us. 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 37 J 
 
 I will not go over all the passions ; they are not my business ; 
 these are enough, I think, to show us how the ideas we have of them 
 are derived from sensation and ?'eJlectio?i. 
 
 Chap. 21. I shall only mention one more simple idea, and show 
 how we come by it, and give some instances of some modifications of 
 it, and then put an end to this part of simple ideas and their modes. 
 Every man experiences in himself that he can move his hand or 
 tongue, which before was at rest ; that he can apply his mind to 
 other thoughts, and lay by those that he has at present ; hence he 
 gets the idea of power. 
 
 All power regarding action, we have, as I think, the ideas but of 
 two sorts of action ; viz. motion and thinking. 
 
 The power we find in ourselves to prefer this or that peculiar 
 thought to its absence, this or that peculiar motion to rest, is that 
 We call will. And the actual preference of any action to its forbear- 
 ance, or vice versa, is volition. 
 
 The power we find in ourselves to act or not to act, conformable 
 to such preference of our minds, gives us the idea we call liberty. 
 
 Chap. 22. Having thus in short given an account of the original 
 of all our simple ideas, and in the instances of some of them showed 
 how, from certain modifications of them, the mind arrives at those 
 that seem at first sight to be very far from having their original in 
 any ideas received from sensation, or from any operation of our 
 minds about them, I shall now proceed to those that are more com- 
 plex, and show that all the ideas we have (whether of natural or 
 moral things, bodies or spirits,) are only certain combinations of 
 these simple ideas got from sensation or reflection, beyond which our 
 thoughts, even when they ascend up into the highest heavens, cannot 
 extend themselves. 
 
 The complex ideas we have, may, I think, be all reduced to these 
 three sorts, viz. : — 
 
 Substances, 
 
 Modes, and 
 
 Relations. 
 
 3 B 2 
 
372 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 Chap. 23. That there are a great variety of substances in this world 
 is past doubt to every one ; let us then see what ideas we have of 
 those particular substances about which our thoughts are at any 
 time employed. Let us begin with those more general ideas of 
 body and spirit. I ask, what other idea a man has of body, but of 
 solidity, eoctension and mobility joined together, which are all simple 
 ideas received from sense. Perhaps some one here will be ready to 
 say, that to have a complete idea of body, the idea of substance must 
 be added to solidity and eocte^ision. But of him that makes that 
 objection, I shall demand what his idea of substance is ? So like- 
 wise, our idea of spirit is of a substance that has the power to think 
 and to move body, from which, by the way, I conclude that we have 
 as clear an idea of spirit as we have of body ; for in one we have the 
 clear ideas of solidity, ea^tensioti and mobility, or a power of being 
 moved with an ignorance of its substance, and in the other we have 
 two as clear ideas, viz. of thinking and motivity, if I may so say, or a 
 power of moving with a like ignorance of its substance. For sub- 
 stance in both is but a supposed but unknown substratum of those 
 qualities, something we know not what, that supports their existence ; 
 so that all the idea we have of the substance of any thing, is an ob- 
 scure idea of what it does, and not any idea of what it is. This 
 farther I have to add, that our idea of substance, whether spiritual 
 or corporeal, being equally obscure, and our ideas of mobility and 
 motivity (if I may for shortness' sake coin that new word) being 
 equally clear in both, there remains only to compare extension and 
 thinking: These ideas are both very clear, but the difficulty that some 
 have raised against the notion of a spirit, has been that they said 
 they could not conceive an unextended thinking thing, and I on the 
 contrary affirm that they can as easily conceive an unextended think- 
 ing thing as an extended solid. To make an extended solid, there 
 must be an idea of a cohesion of parts, and I say it is as easy to 
 conceive how a spirit thinks, as how solid parts cohere ; that is, how a 
 body is extended ; for where there are no cohering parts, there are 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 373 
 
 no parts, extra partes^ and consequently no extension ; for if body be 
 divisible, it must have united parts, and if there were no cohesion of 
 the parts of body, body would quite be lost, and cease to be. He 
 that can tell me what holds together the parts of steel or a diamond, 
 will explain a fundamental difficulty in natural philosophy. Ber- 
 nouli, who has endeavoured to explain the coherence of the parts of 
 all bodies by the pressure of the other, hath made two great over- 
 sights : 1st. That he takes no notice that let the pressure of any 
 ambient fluid be as great as it will, yet that if there be nothing else 
 to hold the parts of any body together, though they cannot be pulled 
 asunder perpendicularly, yet it is demonstrable they may be slid off 
 from one another, as easily as if there were no such pressure, and the 
 experiment of two polished marbles held together by the pressure of 
 the atmosphere, makes it evident to sense, since they can so easily by 
 a side motion be separated, though they cannot by a perpendicular. 
 
 That he takes no care of the particles of the other itself, for 
 they too being bodies, and consisting of parts, must have something 
 to hold them together, which cannot be themselves ; for it is as hard 
 to conceive how the parts of the least atom of matter are fastened 
 together, as how the greatest masses, and yet, without this, we have 
 as great a difficulty to conceive body as spirit, an extended as a 
 thinking thing. 
 
 But whether the notion of a spirit be more obscure, or less ob- 
 scure, than that of body, this is certain that we get it no other way 
 than we do that of body ; for as, by our senses, we receiving the ideas 
 of solidity, esctensioji, motion, and i^est, and supposing them inherent in 
 an unknown substance, we have the idea of body ; so by collecting to- 
 gether the simple ideas we have got by reflecting on these operations 
 of our own minds, which we experience daily in ourselves, as think- 
 ing, understanding, willing, knowing, and the power of moving bodies, 
 and by supposing those, and the rest of the operations of our minds, 
 to be co-existing in some substance, which also we know not, we 
 come to have the idea of those beings we call spirits. 
 
374 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 The ideas we have of understanding and power, which we have 
 from reflection on what passes in ourselves, joined to duration, and 
 all these enlarged by our idea of infinite, gives us the idea of that 
 Supreme Being we call God ; and to satisfy us that all our complex 
 ideas contain nothing in them but the simple ideas taken from sen- 
 sation and reflection, we need but cast our thoughts on the different 
 species of spirits that are or may be ; for though it be possible there 
 may be more species of spiritual beings between us and God upwards, 
 than there are of sensible beings between us and nothing downwards, 
 we being at a greater distance from infinite perfection than from the 
 lowest degree of being, yet it is certain we can conceive no other 
 difference between those various ranks of angelic natures, but barely 
 different degrees of understanding and power, which are but differ- 
 ent modifications of the two simple ideas we got from reflecting on 
 what passes in ourselves. 
 
 As to our ideas of natural substances, it is evident they are 
 nothing but such combinations of simple ideas as have been observed 
 by sensation to exist together ; for what is our idea oi gold, but of a 
 certain yellow shining colour, a certain degree of weight, malleable- 
 ness, fusibility, and "perhdi^s fixedness, or some other simple ideas put 
 together in our minds, as constantly co-existing in the same sub- 
 stance, which complex idea consists of more or fewer simple ones as 
 his observation who made this combination was more or less accu- 
 rate. And thus I think from sensation and refiectioti, and the simple 
 ideas got thence, differently combined and modified, we come by all 
 our ideas of substances. 
 
 Another sort of complex ideas there is, which I call modes, which 
 are certain combinations of simple ideas, not including the obscure 
 one we have of substance : of these modes there are two sorts, one 
 where the combination is made of simple ideas, of the same kind 
 as a dozen or a score made up of a certain collection of units ; 
 the other sort of modes is, when the combination is made up of 
 ideas of several kinds, such are the ideas signified by the words 
 obligation, friendship, a lie. The former sort, whereof I have 
 
_ VIEW OF THE ESSAY 375 
 
 above given several instances, I call simple modes; the latter I 
 call mixed modes. 
 
 These mixed modes, though of an endless variety, yet they are 
 are all made up of nothing but simple ideas, derived from sensation 
 or reflection, as is easy for any one to observe who will, with ever so 
 little attention, examine them. For example, if a lie be speaking 
 an untruth knowingly, it comprehends the simple ideas — 1st. Of 
 articulate sounds : 2d. The relation of these sounds to ideas, whereof 
 they are the marks : 3d. The putting those marks together dif- 
 ferently from what the ideas they stand for are in the mind of the 
 speaker. 4th. The knowledge of the speaker, that he makes a wrong 
 use of these marks, all which are either simple ideas, or may be re- 
 solved into them. In like manner are all other mixed modes made 
 up of simple ideas combined together ; it would be endless, as well 
 as needless, to go about to enumerate all the mixed modes that are 
 in the minds of men, they containing almost the whole subject about 
 which Divinity, Morality, Law, and Politics, and several other 
 sciences, are employed. Chap, 24. 
 
 Chap. 25, 26, 27. 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 ; this we call 
 relation ; which is such a consideration of one thing as intimates or 
 involves in it the consideration of another ; now since any of our 
 ideas may be so considered by us in one thing as to intimate and 
 lead our thoughts to another, therefore all, both simple and com- 
 plex, may be foundations of relation, which, however large it is, yet 
 we may perceive hereby how it derives itself originally from sensa- 
 tion and reflection, it having no other foundation but ideas derived 
 from thence. I shall not need to go over the several sorts of rela- 
 tions to show it ; I shall only remark that to relation it is necessary 
 there should be two ideas or things, either in themselves really se- 
 parate, or considered as distinct, which being not both always taken 
 notice of makes several terms pass for the marks of positive ideas, 
 which are in truth relative ; viz. great and old, &c., are ordinarily as 
 relative terms as greater and older, though it be not commonly so 
 
376 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 thouglit ; for when we say Caius is older than Sempronius, we com- 
 pare these two persons in the idea of duration, and signify one to 
 have more than the other ; but when we say Caius is old, or an 
 old man, we compare his duration to that which we look on to be the 
 ordinary duration of men. Hence it is harsh to say a diamond or 
 the sun is old, because we have no idea of any length of duration 
 belonging ordinarily to them, and so have no such idea to compare 
 their age to as we have of those things we usually call old. 
 
 This is, in short, what I think of the several sorts of complex 
 ideas we have, which are only these three, viz. of substances, modes, 
 and relations, which being made up, and containing in them nothing 
 but several combinations of simple ideas received from sensation and 
 reflection, I conclude that in all our thoughts, contemplations, and 
 reasonings, however abstract or enlarged, our minds never go be- 
 yond those simple ideas we have received from those two inlets, viz. 
 sensation and reflection. Chap. 28, 29, SO, 31. 
 
 Lib. III. When I had considered the ideas the mind of man is 
 furnished with, how it comes by them, and of what kind they are, I 
 thought I had no more to do but to proceed to the further exami- 
 nation of our intellectual faculty, and see what use the mind made 
 of those materials or instruments of knowledge which I had col- 
 lected in the foregoing book ; but when I came a little nearer to 
 consider the nature and manner of human knowledge, I found it 
 had so much to do with propositions, and that words, either by cus- 
 tom or necessity, were so mixed with it, that it was impossible to 
 discourse of knowledge with that clearness one should, without say- 
 ing something first of words and language. 
 
 Chap. 1. The ideas in men's minds are so wholly out of sight to 
 others, that men could have had no communication of thoughts 
 without some signs of their ideas. 
 
 The most convenient signs, both for their variety and quick- 
 ness, that men are capable of, are articulate sounds, which we call 
 words. Words then are signs of ideas ; but no articulate sound 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 377 
 
 having any natural connection with any idea, but barely of the 
 sound itself, words are only signs (Chap. 2) by voluntary imposi- 
 tion, and can be properly and immediately signs of nothing 
 but the ideas in the mind of him that uses them ; for being 
 employed to express what he thinks, he cannot make them signs 
 of ideas he has not, for that would be to make them signs of 
 nothing. It is true words are frequently used with two other 
 suppositions — 1st. It is commonly supposed that they are signs 
 of the ideas in the mind of him with whom we communicate ; 
 this is reasonably supposed, because unless this be so the speaker 
 cannot be understood ; but it not always happening that the ideas 
 in the mind of the hearer always exactly answer those to which 
 the speaker applies his words, this supposition is not always true. 
 2d. It is commonly supposed that words stand not only for ideas, 
 but for things themselves ; but that they should stand immediately 
 for things is impossible, for since they can be signs immediately of 
 nothing but what is in the mind of the speaker, and there being 
 nothing there but ideas, they stand for things no otherwise than as 
 the ideas in the mind agree to them. 
 
 Chap. 3. Words are of two sorts, general terms or names of par- 
 ticular things ; all things that exist being particular, what need of 
 general terms ? and what are those general natures they stand for, 
 since the greatest part of words in common use are general terms ? 
 As to the first ; particular things are so many that the mind could 
 not retain names for them, and in the next place, could the memory 
 retain them, they would be useless, because the particular beings 
 known to one would be utterly unknown to another, and so their 
 names would not serve for communication where they stood not for 
 an idea common to both speaker and hearer : besides, our progress 
 to knowledge being by generals, we have need of general terms. As 
 to the second, the general natures general terms stand for, are only 
 general ideas, and ideas become general only by being abstracted 
 from time and place and other particularities, that make them the 
 representatives only of individuals, by which separation of some 
 
 3 c 
 
378 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 ideas which annexed to them make them particular, they are made 
 capable of agreeing to several particulars ; thus ideas come to repre- 
 sent not one particular existence, but a sort of things as their names, 
 to stand for sorts, which sorts are usually called by the Latin terms 
 of art, genus and species, of which each is supposed to have its par- 
 ticular essence ; and though there be much dispute and stir about 
 genus and species, and their essences, yet in truth the essence of 
 each genus and species, or to speak English, of each sort of things, is 
 nothing else but the abstract idea in the mind which the speaker 
 makes the general term the sign of. It is true every particular 
 thing has a real constitution by which it is what it is ; and this, by 
 the genuine notion of the word, is called its essence or being ; but 
 the word essence having been transferred from its original signifi- 
 cation, and applied to the artificial species and genera of the schools, 
 men commonly look on essences to belong to the sorts of things as 
 they are ranked under different general denominations, and in this 
 sense essences are truly nothing but the abstract ideas which those 
 general terms are by any one made to stand for. The first of these 
 may be called the real, the second the nominal essence, which some- 
 times are the same, sometimes quite different one from another. 
 
 Chap. 4. The nature and signification of words will be made a 
 little more clear if we consider them with relation to those three 
 several sorts of ideas I have formerly mentioned, viz. simple ideas, 
 substances, and modes, under which also I comprehend relations. 
 1st. The names of simple ideas and substances intimate some real 
 existence from whence they are taken, as from their patterns ; but 
 the names of mixed modes terminate in the mind, and therefore I 
 think it is they have the peculiar names of notions. 2nd. The 
 names of simple ideas and modes signify always the real as well as 
 nominal essences ; the names of substances seldom, if ever, any thing 
 but the nominal essence. 3rd. The names of simple ideas are of 
 all other the least doubtful and uncertain. 4th. But that which I 
 think of great use to remark, and which I do not find any body has 
 taken notice of, is that the names of simple ideas are not definable. 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 379 
 
 but those of all complex ideas are ; for a definition being nothing 
 but the making known the idea that one word stands for by several 
 others not synonymous words, it cannot have place in any but 
 complex ideas. It is very manifest how both the Peripatetics and 
 even modern philosophers, for want of observing this, have trifled 
 or talked jargon, in endeavouring to define the names of some few 
 of the simple ideas, for, as to the greatest part of them, they found 
 it best to let them alone ; for though they have attempted the de- 
 finitions of motion and light, yet they have forborne to offer at any 
 definitions of the greatest part of simple ideas ; and those definitions 
 of light and motion they have ventured at, when strictly examined, 
 will be found to be as insignificant as any thing can be said ; to 
 explain which the term red or sweet signifies when a man can be 
 found that can by words make a blind man understand what idea 
 the word blue stands for, then also may he be able by a definition 
 to make a man have the true signification of the word motion or 
 light who never ■ had it any other way. 5th. The names of simple 
 ideas have but few assents in linea p7'adicame7itali, as they call it, 
 because these ideas, not being compounded, nothing can be left out 
 of any of them to make it more general and comprehensive, and 
 therefore the name colour, which comprehends red and blue, &c., 
 denotes only the simple ideas that come in by the sight. 
 
 Chap. 5. As to the names of mixed modes and relations, which 
 are all of them general terms — 1st. The essences of their several 
 sorts are all of them made by the understanding. 2nd. They are 
 made arbitrarily and with great liberty, wherein the mind confines 
 not itself to the real existence of any patterns. Srd. But though 
 the essences or species of mixed modes are made without patterns, 
 yet they are not made at random without reason. Not only sig- 
 nification, but shortness also, and dispatch, is one of the great con- 
 veniences of language ; and hence it is suitable to the end of speech 
 not only that we should make use of sounds for signs of ideas, but 
 also that one short sound should be the sign of many distinct ideas 
 combined into one complex one. Suitable to this end, men unite into 
 
 3 c 2 
 
380 ^lEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 one complex idea many scattered and independent ones, and give a 
 name to it where they have occasion often to think on such combin- 
 ations, and express them to others, and thus several species of mixed 
 modes are made arbitrarily by men giving names to certain combin- 
 ations of ideas, which have in themselves no more connexion than 
 others which are not by any denomination so united. This is 
 evident in the diversity of languages, there being nothing more 
 ordinary than to find many words in one language which have none 
 that answer them in another. 
 
 Chap. 6. The names of substances signify only their nominal 
 essences, and not their real essences, which two essences in substances 
 are far different things, v. g. the colour, weight, malleability, 
 fusibility, fixedness, and perhaps some other sensible qualities, 
 make up the complex idea men have in their minds, to which they 
 give the name gold; but the texture of the insensible parts, or what- 
 ever else it be, on which these sensible qualities depend, which is 
 its real constitution or essence, is quite a different thing, and would 
 give us quite another idea of gold if we knew it ; but since we have 
 no idea of that constitution, and can signify nothing by our words, 
 but the ideas we have, our name gold cannot signify that real essence. 
 It is therefore by their nominal essences that substances are ranked 
 into sorts under several denominations, which nominal essences being 
 nothing but abstract, complex ideas, made up in various men of 
 various collections of simple ideas which they have observed or 
 imagined to co-exist together, it is plain the essences of the species 
 of substances, and consequently the species themselves as ranked 
 under distinct denominations, are of men's making. I do not say 
 the substances themselves are made by men, nor the likeness and 
 agreement that is to be found in them, but the boundaries of the 
 species, as marked by distinct names, are made by men. 
 
 But though men make the essences whereby the species of sub- 
 stances are limited and distinguished, yet they make them not so 
 arbitrarily as they do in modes, for in substances they propose to 
 themselves the real existence of things as the patterns they would 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 381 
 
 follow, yet through their variety of skill or attention, their complex 
 idea, made up of a collection of sensible qualities, signified by the 
 same specific name, is in various men very different, the one putting 
 in simple ideas that the other has omitted ; but the real essences 
 supposed of the species of things must be, if there were any such, 
 invariably the same. If the first sorting of individuals into their 
 lowest species depend on the mind of man, as has been shown, 
 it is much more evident that the more comprehensive classes, called 
 genera by the masters of logic, are so, which are complex ideas 
 designedly imperfect, out of which are purposely left several of 
 those qualities that are to be found constantly in the things them- 
 selves as they exist ; for as the mind to make general ideas com- 
 prehending several particular beings, leaves out those of time and 
 place, and others that make them incommunicable to more than one 
 individual, so, to make others yet more general that may comprehend 
 different sorts, it leaves out these qualities that distinguish them, and 
 puts into its new collection only such ideas as are common to several 
 sorts ; so that in this whole business of genus and species, the genus, 
 or more comprehensive, is but a partial conception of what is in the 
 species, and the species but a partial idea of what is to be found in 
 each individual ; this is suited to the true end of speech, which is 
 to denote by one short sound a great many particulars as they agree 
 in one common conception genera ; and species, then, seem to me to 
 be nothing but sorting of things in order to denomination, and the 
 essence of each sort is nothing but the abstract idea to which the 
 denomination is annexed ; for a little attention will teach us that 
 to particular things nothing is essential, but as soon as they come 
 to be ranked under any general name, which is the same as to be 
 reckoned of any species, then presently something is essential to them, 
 viz. all that is comprehended in the complex idea that that name 
 stands for. 
 
 This farther is to be observed concerning substances, that they 
 alone, of all the several sorts of ideas, have proper names ; to which 
 we may add, that though the specific names of substances can sig- 
 
382 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 nify nothing but the abstract ideas in the mind of the speaker, and 
 so consequently the substances that agree to that idea, yet men 
 in their use of them often substitute them in the room of, and 
 would suppose them to stand for, things having the real essence 
 of that species, which breeds great confusion and uncertainty in 
 their use of words. 
 
 Chap. 7. Words have a double use ; 1st. to record our own 
 thoughts ; and for this any words will serve, so they be kept con- 
 stantly to the same ideas. 2d. To communicate our thoughts with 
 others, and for this use they must be common signs standing for the 
 same ideas in those who have communication together. In com- 
 munication they have also a double use. 
 1st. Civil. 
 2d. Philosophical. 
 
 The first of these is that which serves for the upholding of 
 common conversation and commerce. The philosophical use is to 
 convey the precise notions of things, and to express in general pro- 
 positions certain and undoubted truths, which the mind may rest 
 upon, and be satisfied with in its search after true knowledge. 
 
 In this last use of words they are especially liable to great imper- 
 fections of uncertainty and obscurity in their signification. 
 
 Words naturally signifying nothing, it is necessary that their 
 signification, i. e. the precise ideas they stand for, be settled and 
 retained, which is hard to be done. 
 
 1st. Where the ideas they stand for are very complex, and made 
 up of a great number of ideas put together. 
 
 2d. Where the ideas that make up the complex one they stand 
 for have no connection in nature, and so there is no settled stand- 
 ard any where existing in nature to rectify and adjust them by. 
 
 3d. Where the signification of the word is referred to a standard 
 existing, which yet is not easy to be known. 
 
 4th. Where the signification of the word and the real essence 
 of the thing are not exactly the same. The names of mixed modes 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 3g3 
 
 are very much liable to doubtfulness, for the two first of these 
 reasons, and the names of substances chiefly for the two latter. 
 
 According to these rules, as well as experience, we shall find First, 
 That the names of simple ideas are the least liable to uncertainty, 
 1st. because they are simple, and so easily got and retained ; 2d. be- 
 cause they are referred to nothing but that very perception which 
 things in nature are fitted to produce in us. 
 
 Second, That names of mixed modes are very uncertain, because 
 the complex ideas they are the signs of have no standing patterns 
 existing in nature whereby to be regulated and adjusted ; their ar- 
 chetypes are only in the minds of men, and therefore uncertain to 
 be known, and being very much compounded and often decom- 
 pounded, are very hardly to be exactly agreed on and retained. 
 Where shall one find an assemblage of all the ideas the word Glory 
 stands for, existing together ? and the precise complex idea the name 
 Justice is the sign of, is seldom, I imagine, settled and retained. 
 
 Third, The names of substances are very uncertain, because their 
 complex ideas not being voluntary compositions, but referred to 
 patterns that exist, are yet referred to patterns that cannot at all be 
 known, or at least can be known but very imperfectly ; 1st. as has 
 been showed, sometimes the names of substances are supposed to 
 stand for their supposed real essences. Every thing having a real 
 constitution, whereby it is what it is, this is apt to be called its 
 essence, as if it were the essence of a species ; but whether it be or 
 no, this is certain, that it being utterly unknown it is impossible to 
 know in such a supposition or reference, of the name which any word 
 stands for. 2d. Sometimes the ideas the names of substances stand 
 for are copied from the sensible qualities to be observed in bodies 
 existing ; but in this which is their proper use, it is not easy to 
 adjust their significations, because the qualities that are to be found 
 in substances out of which we make their complex ideas, being for 
 the most part powers, they are almost infinite, and one of them hav- 
 ing no more right than another to be put into our complex ideas. 
 
384 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 which are to be copies of these originals, it is very hard by these 
 patterns to adjust the signification of their names, and therefore it 
 is very seldom that the same name of any substance stands in two 
 men for the same complex idea. 
 
 Chap. 8. To this natural imperfection of words it is not unusual 
 for men to add voluntary abuses, some whereof I take notice of, as, 
 1st. The using of words without any clear and determinate signifi- 
 cation : this whole sects in philosophy and religion are frequently 
 guilty of, there being very few of them who, either out of affectation 
 of singularity, or to cover some weak part of their system, do 
 not make use of some terms which it is plain have no clear and 
 determinate ideas annexed to them. Besides these appropriated 
 terms of parties, which never had any distinct meaning, there are 
 others who use ordinary words of common language, without hav- 
 ing in their minds any precise ideas they stand for ; it is enough 
 that they have learned the words that are common in the language 
 of their country, which serving well enough to be produced in talk, 
 they dispense with themselves from being solicitous about any clear 
 notions to be signified by them ; and if men who have them often in 
 their mouths should be examined, what they mean by Reason or 
 Grace, &c. they would often be found to have in their minds no 
 distinct ideas which these and the like words were the signs of. 
 2d. Another abuse is inconstancy, or putting the same word as the 
 sign sometimes of one idea, sometimes of another, in the same dis- 
 course. There is nothing more ordinary in all controversies, where 
 one can seldom miss to find the same sound often put for different 
 significations, and that not only in the incidental parts of the dis- 
 course, but in those terms which are the most material in the de- 
 bate, and on which the question turns. 3d. To this may be added 
 an affected obscurity, either in the use of old words, or the coining 
 of new ones. To this nothing has so much contributed as the 
 method and learning of the schools, where all has been adapted to 
 and measured by dispute. This way of proceeding unavoidably 
 runs all into multiplication and perplexity of terms. This perverse 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 385 
 
 abuse of language, having under the esteemed name of subtility 
 gained the reputation and rewards of true knowledge, how much it 
 has hindered real improvements the world is now satisfied. 4th. 
 The next abuse of language is the taking words for things ; this 
 most concerns the names of substances, for men having feigned to 
 themselves peculiar and groundless ideas, proportionably as they 
 have thought fit to contrive or espouse some certain system of na- 
 tural philosophy, have suited names to them, which, growing into 
 familiar use, came afterwards among their followers to carry with 
 them the opinion of reality, as if they were the necessary and un- 
 avoidable marks of things themselves. Thus, substantial forms and 
 intentional species, and abundance of such other terms, have by 
 their common and unquestioned use carried men into the persuasion 
 that there were such things, it being hard for them to believe that 
 their fathers and masters, learned men and divines, should make 
 use of names that stood for fancies only, that never had any real 
 being in the world. The supposing words to stand for the real 
 essences of substances is an abuse which I have already mentioned. 
 5th. Another more general, though less observed abuse of words is, 
 to suppose their signification so clear and settled that a man cannot 
 be mistaken what ideas they stand for ; and hence men think it 
 strange to ask or be asked the meaning of their words, when yet 
 it is plain that many times the certain signification of a man's 
 words cannot be any otherwise known but by his telling what precise 
 idea he makes any word the sign of. 6th. Figurative speeches and 
 all the artificial ornaments of rhetoric are truly an abuse of lan- 
 guage also ; but this, 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 a plea- 
 sure to be deceived. 
 
 Chap. 9. That which has nourished disputes and spread errors 
 in the world being chiefly the imperfection or abuse of words before 
 mentioned, it would be of no small advantage to truth and quiet, if 
 men would apply themselves seriously to a more careful and candid 
 
 S D 
 
386 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 use of language, wherein I shall offer some easy and obvious cautions 
 to those who have a mind to be ingenuous ; for I am not so vain as to 
 think of reforming so prevailing an abuse, wherein so many men 
 imagine they find their account. Though I think nobody will deny, 
 1st. That every one should take care to use no word without a sig- 
 nification, — no vocal sign without some idea he had in his mind, 
 and would express by it. 2nd. That idea he uses a sign for, should 
 be clear and distinct ; all the simple ideas it is made up of, if it be 
 complex, it should be settled. This, as it is necessary in all our 
 names of complex ideas, so is most carefully to be observed in moral 
 names, which being compounded and decompounded of several 
 simple ones, our ideas are not right as they should be, and conse- 
 quently our words are full of uncertainty and obscurity, and neither 
 others nor we ourselves know what we mean by them till we have 
 so settled in our minds the complex idea we would have each word 
 stand for, that we can readily enumerate all the particulars that 
 make it up, and resolve it into all its component simple ones. Srd. 
 These ideas must be accommodated as near as we can to the common 
 signification of the word in its ordinary use. It is this propriety of 
 speech which gives the stamp under which words are current, and it 
 is not for every private man to alter their value at pleasure. 
 
 But because common use has left many if not most words very 
 loose in their signification, and because a man is often under a ne- 
 cessity of using a known word in some with a peculiar sense, there- 
 fore it is often his duty to show the meaning of this or that term, 
 especially where it concerns the main subject of discourse or ques- 
 tion. This showing the meaning of our terms, to do it well, must 
 be suited to the several sorts of ideas they stand for. The best, and 
 in many cases the only, way to make known the meaning of the name 
 of a simple idea is by producing it by the senses. The only way of 
 making known the meaning of the names of mixed modes, at least 
 moral words, is by definition ; and the best way of making known 
 the meaning of the names of most bodies is both by showing and by 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 337 
 
 definition together ; many of their distinguishing qualities being not 
 so easily made known by words, and many of them not without 
 much pains and preparation discoverable by our senses. 
 
 Chap. 10. What words signify, and how much we are to beware 
 that they impose not on us, I have shown, it being necessary to be 
 premised to our consideration of knowledge, the business of the next 
 book ; only, before I conclude this, I take notice of one ordinary 
 distinction of words, because I think it gives us some light into our 
 ideas ; viz. Abstract and concrete terms, concerning which we may 
 observe, 1st. That no two abstract ideas ever affirmed one of another. 
 2nd. That simple ideas and modes have all of them abstract as well 
 as concrete names ; but substances only concrete, except some few 
 abstract names of substances in vain affected by the schools, which 
 could never get into common use of corporietas and animalitas, &c. 
 The first of these seems to me to show us that two distinct ideas 
 are two distinct essences that cannot be affirmed one of another. 
 The latter carries with it a plain confession that men have no 
 ideas of the real essences of the sorts of substances, since they 
 have put into their languages no names for them. 
 
 LIB. IV. 
 
 The two foregoing books were of ideas and words, this is of 
 knowledge. 
 
 Chap. 1. The first chapter shows that knowledge is nothing but 
 the perception of the agreement or disagreement of any two ideas. 
 
 This agreement or disagreement, for the clearer explaining of 
 this matter is reduced to these four sorts : 
 
 1. Identity, 2. Coexistence, 
 
 3. Real Existence, 4. Relation. 
 
 1st. It is the first and fundamental act of our understanding to 
 perceive the ideas it has, to know each what it is, and perceive 
 wherein it differs from any others ; without this, the mind could 
 
 3 D 2 
 
388 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 neither have variety of thoughts nor discourse, judge or reason about 
 them. By this faculty, the mind perceives what idea it has when it 
 sees a violet and knows blue is not yellow. 
 
 2nd. Our ideas of substances, as I have showed, consist in certain 
 collections of single ideas which the specific name stands for ; and 
 our inquiry, for the most part, concerning substances, is what other 
 qualities they have ; which is no more but this, what other ideas 
 coexist and are to be found united with those of our complex ideas. 
 Thus, whether gold be fixed, is to inquire whether the power of 
 abiding in the fire without wasting be an idea which coexists in the 
 same subject with those ideas of yellowness, weight, malleability and 
 fusibility, whereof my idea of gold is made up. 
 
 The 3rd sort of agreement is, whether a real existence out of my 
 mind agrees to any idea I have there. 
 
 4th. The last sort of agreement or disagreement of any ideas, is 
 in any other sort of relation between them. Thus, sweetness is not 
 bitterness, is of identity. Ii'on is susceptible of magnetical impressions, 
 is of co-existence. God is, is of existence. Two triangles upon equal 
 basis between two parallels are equal, is of relation. 
 
 Chap 2. According to the different way of perceiving the agree- 
 ment or disagreement of any of our ideas, so is the evidence of our 
 knowledge different. Sometimes the mind perceives the agreement 
 or disagreement of two ideas immediately ; thus it perceives that red 
 is not yellow, that a circle is not a triangle, that three is more than 
 two, and equal to one and two ; and this we may call intuitive know- 
 ledge. When the agreement or disagreement of any two ideas can- 
 not be immediately perceived, but the mind makes use of the inter- 
 vention of other ideas to show it, then (as the word imports) it is 
 de'inoyistration. 
 
 Thus the mind not being able to bring the three angles of a 
 triangle and two right ones so together as to be able immediately 
 to perceive their equality, it makes use of some other angles to 
 measure them by. 
 
 To produce knowledge this way, there must be an intuitive 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 389 
 
 knowledge of the agreement or disagreement of the intermediate 
 ideas in each step of the deduction, for without that there can be no 
 demonstration, the agreement or disagreement of the two ideas 
 under consideration is not shown ; for where any agreement or dis- 
 agreement of any two ideas is not self-evident, i. e. cannot be imme- 
 diately perceived, there it will always need a proof to show it. This 
 sort, which may be called rational or demonstrative knowledge, however 
 certain, is not so clear and evident as intuitive, because here the 
 memory must intervene to retain the connection of all the parts of 
 the demonstration one with another, and be sure that none is omit- 
 ted in the account, which in long deductions requires great atten- 
 tion to avoid mistake. Why demonstration is generally thought to 
 belong only to ideas of quantity, I shall not in this short epitome 
 mention. 
 
 These two sorts are all the knowledge we have of general truths. 
 Of the existence of some particular finite beings we have knowledge 
 by our senses, which we may call sensitive knowledge. 
 
 Chap. 3. From what has been said, it follows : 
 
 1st. That we can have no knowledge where we have no ideas. 
 
 2nd. That our intuitive knowledge reaches not so far as our 
 ideas, because the greatest part of them cannot be so immediately 
 compared as to discover the agreement or disagreement we seek. 
 
 Srd. Neither can rational and demonsti'ative knowledge make out 
 the agreement or disagreement of all those of our ideas wherein we 
 fail of intuitive knowledge, because we cannot always find mediums 
 to connect them intuitively together. 
 
 4th. Sensitive knowledge reaching no further than the actual 
 presence of particular things to our senses, is much narrower than 
 either of the former. 
 
 That which I would infer from this is, that our knowledge is not 
 only infinitely short of the whole extent of beings, if we compare 
 this little spot of earth we are confined to, to that part of the 
 universe which we have some knowledge of, which probably is all 
 of it but a point in respect to what is utterly beyond our discovery. 
 
390 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 and consider the vegetables, animals, rational corporeal creatures, 
 (not to mention the ranks and orders of spirits,) and other things, 
 with different qualities suited to senses different from ours, whereof 
 we have no notion at all, which may be in them, we shall have reason 
 to conclude that the things whereof we have ideas, are very few in 
 respect of those whereof we have none at all. 
 
 In the next place, if we consider how few, how imperfect, and 
 how superficial those ideas are which we have of the things that 
 lie nearest our examination, and are best known to us ; and lastly, 
 if we consider how few they are of those few ideas we have, whose 
 agreement or disagreement we are able to discover, we shall have 
 reason to conclude that our understandings were not proportioned 
 to the whole extent of being, nor men made capable of knowing all 
 things, but that it fails us in the greatest part of the inquiry con- 
 cerning those ideas we have. 
 
 1st. As to identity and diversity, it is true our intuitive know- 
 ledge is as large as our ideas themselves ; but, 2nd, on the other side, 
 we have scm^ce any general knowledge at all of the coeocistence of any 
 ideas, because, not being able to discover the causes whereon the 
 secondary qualities of substances depend, nor any connexion between 
 such causes and our ideas, there are very few cases wherein we can 
 know the coexistence of any other idea with that complex one we 
 have of any sort of substances, whereby our knowledge of substances 
 comes to be almost none at all. 3rd. As to other relations of our 
 ideas, how far our knowledge may reach is yet uncertain ; this I 
 think, morality, if rightly studied, is capable of demonstration as 
 well as mathematics. 4th. As to existence we have an intuitive 
 knowledge of our own, a demonstrative one of a God, and a sensible 
 one of some few other things. 
 
 I shall not here, in this short compendium I am giving of my 
 thoughts, mention those particulars which I have set down to show 
 up the narrowness of our knowledge ; that which I have here said 
 may, I suppose, suffice to convince men, that what we know bears 
 no proportion to that which we are invincibly ignorant of 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 39] 
 
 Besides the extent of our knowledge in respect of the sorts of 
 things, we may consider another kind of its extent, which is in 
 respect of its universality. When the ideas are abstract, our know- 
 ledge about them is general : abstract ideas are the essences of 
 species, howsoever named, and are the foundations of universal and 
 eternal verities. 
 
 Chap. 4. It will perhaps be said, that knowledge placed thus in 
 the consideration of our ideas may be chimerical, and leave us igno- 
 rant of things as they really are in themselves, since we see men 
 may often have very extravagant ideas ; to which I answer, that our 
 knowledge is real so far as our ideas are conformable to things, and 
 no farther. To be able to know what ideas are conformable to the 
 realities of things, we must consider the different sorts of ideas I 
 have above mentioned. 
 
 1st. Simple ideas we cannot but know to be conformable to 
 things, because the mind not being able to make any simple ideas 
 to itself, those it has must needs be conformable to that power which 
 is in things to produce them, which conformity is sufficient for real 
 knowledge. 
 
 2nd. All our complex ideas, but those of substances, are conform- 
 able to the reality of things ; and this we may certainly know, because 
 they being archetypes made by the mind, and not designed to be 
 copies of any thing existing, things are intended in our discourses 
 and reasonings about these ideas no farther than as they are con- 
 formable to these ideas. 
 
 8rd. Our complex ideas of substances being designed to be copies 
 of archetypes existing without us, we can be no farther sure that 
 our knowledge concerning any of them is real, than the real exist- 
 ence of things has made it evident that such a collection of simple 
 ideas, as our complex one is made up of, can coexist together ; the 
 reason whereof is, because not knowing the real constitution on 
 which these qualities depend, we cannot but by experience know 
 which of them are, and which are not, capable to exist together in 
 the same subject ; and if we put other than such that are capable 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 to exist together into any complex idea, our knowledge concerning 
 such an idea of a substance will be only concerning a chimera of 
 our own, and not of any real being. 
 
 Chap. 5. According to this account of knowledge, we may come 
 to discover what t7mth is, which appears to be nothing else but the 
 joining or separating of signs according as things themselves agree 
 or disagree. The joining and separating I here mean is, such as is 
 made by affirmation and negation, and is called proposition. Now 
 the signs we use being of two sorts, viz. ideas and words ; pro- 
 positions also are of two sorts, viz. mental or verbal ; truth also is 
 two-fold, either i^eal or barely verbal. Real truth in any proposition 
 is when the terms are affirmed or denied as the ideas they stand 
 for agree or disagree, and as the ideas also themselves agree to their 
 archetypes. Verbal truth is when the affirmation or negation is 
 made according to the agreement or disagreement of our ideas, but 
 the ideas themselves have no conformity with their archetypes. 
 
 Chap. 6. Truth being for the most part conveyed to our under- 
 standings, or considered by us in propositions, it will be of moment 
 to examine what propositions are capable to convey to our under- 
 standings the certain knowledge of general truths. 
 
 1st. Then I say that in all general propositions, where the terms 
 are supposed to stand for species constituted and determined by real 
 essences distinct from the nominal, we are not capable of any certain 
 knowledge, because not knowing that real essence, we cannot know 
 what particular things have it, and so can never know what par- 
 ticular things are of that species. This frequently happens in 
 propositions concerning substances in other things, not because in 
 the species of other things there is no supposed real essence different 
 from the nominal. 
 
 2nd. In all general propositions where the terms are substituted 
 only in the place of the nominal essence or abstract idea, and so the 
 species determined by that alone, there we are capable of certainty 
 as far as the agreement or disagreement of such abstract ideas can 
 be perceived; but this also reaches but a very little way in substances, 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 395 
 
 because the necessary co-existence or inconsistency of any other ideas 
 with any of those that make up one complex one of any sort of 
 substances, is in very few cases discoverable. 
 
 Chap. 7. There are a sort of propositions which, passing under 
 the title of maxims, are by some men received as innates, and by 
 most esteemed as the foundations of knowledge ; but if what we 
 have said concerning self-evident or intuitive knowledge be well 
 considered, we shall find that these dignified axioms are neither 
 innate nor have any other self-evidence than a thousand other pro- 
 positions, some whereof are known before them, and others alto- 
 gether as clearly, and therefore they are neither innate, nor be the 
 foundations of all our knowledge or reasonings as they are thought 
 to be. X 
 
 Whatsoever it is, and it is impossible for the same to be and not 
 to be, it is granted are self-evident propositions ; but he that considers 
 the nature of the understanding and the ideas in it, and that it is 
 unavoidable for the understanding to know its own ideas, and to 
 know those to be distinct that are so, must needs observe, that these 
 supposed fundamental principles of knowledge and reasoning are 
 no more self-evident than that one is one, and red red, and that it 
 is impossible one should be two, or red blue ; of these and the like 
 propositions, we have as certain a knowledge as of those other called 
 maxims, and a much earlier ; and can any body imagine that a child 
 knows not that wormwood is not sugar, but by virtue of this axiom ? 
 That it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be ; intuitive 
 knowledge extends itself to all our ideas in respect of identical agree- 
 ment or disagreement, therefore all propositions made concerning this 
 sort of agreement or disagreement, whether in more or less general 
 terms, so the ideas they stand for be but known, are all equally self- 
 evident. As to the agreement or disagreement of co-existence, we 
 have very little intuitive knowledge, and therefore, concerning that 
 there are very few self-evident propositions and little talk of axioms. 
 In the third sort of agreement, viz. relation, the mathematicians 
 have dignified several general propositions concerning equality with 
 
 3 E 
 
394 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 the title of axioms, though these have no other sort of certainty 
 than all other self-evident propositions ; and though, when they are 
 once made familiar to the mind, they are often made use of to show 
 the absurdity of wrong reasoning and erroneous opinions in par- 
 ticular instances ; yet the way wherein the mind attains knowledge, 
 is not by beginning and setting out from these general propositions, 
 but in the quite contrary method; it begins its knowledge in parti- 
 culars, and thence gradually enlarges it to more general ideas. 
 
 Chap. 8. Besides these there are other propositions, which are 
 many of them certain, but convey no real truth to our knowledge, 
 being barely about the signification of words. 
 
 1st. Where any part of any complex idea is predicated of the 
 name of that complex idea, such a proposition is only about the sig- 
 nification of the terms, and such are all propositions wherein more 
 comprehensive terms are predicated of less comprehensive, as genera 
 of species or individuals. 
 
 2d. Wherever two abstract terms are predicated one of another, 
 there the proposition carries no real knowledge in it, but is barely 
 about the import of names. Were such trifling propositions as these 
 shut out of discourses, the way to knowledge would be less perplexed 
 with disputes than it is. 
 
 Chap. 9. Universal propositions, that have certain truth or false- 
 hood in them, concern essences only. The knowledge of existence 
 goes no farther than particulars of our own existences ; it is plain 
 we have such an intuitive knowledge, that nothing can be more 
 evident. 
 
 Chap. 10. Of the existence of God there is demonstration, for 
 which we need go no farther than ourselves for a proof, though God 
 has given *****. 
 
 Chap. 11. The existence of all other things can be known only 
 by the testimony of our senses ; our knowledge reaches in this as far 
 as our senses and no farther. For the existence of any other being 
 having no necessary connexion with any of the ideas I have in my 
 memory, I cannot from them infer the necessary existence of any 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 395 
 
 particular being, and can receive the knowledge of it only by the 
 actual perception of my senses. 
 
 Chap. 12. For the improvement of our knowledge we must suit 
 our methods to our ideas : in substances, where our ideas are but 
 imperfect copies, we are capable of very little general knowledge, 
 because few of our abstract ideas have a discoverable agreement or 
 disagreement of co-existence, and therefore in substances we must 
 enlarge our knowledge by experiment and observation in particulars ; 
 but in modes and relations where our ideas are archetypes, and real 
 as well as nominal essences of species, there we attain general know- 
 ledge only by views of our own abstract ideas ; and in them our in- 
 quiries not being concerning the agreement or disagreement of co- 
 existence, but of other relations more discoverable than that of 
 co-existence, we are capable of greater advances in knowledge : and 
 that which is proposed for the improvement of it, is to settle in our 
 minds clear and steady ideas, with their names or signs, and then 
 to contemplate and pursue their connexions, and agreements, and 
 dependencies — whether any method may be found out as useful in 
 other modes as Algebra is in the ideas of quantity ; for the discovery 
 of their habitudes and relations cannot, beforehand, be determined ; 
 and therefore not to be despaired of. In the mean time, I doubt not 
 but that Ethics might be improved to a much greater degree of 
 certainty, if men, affixing moral names to clear and settled ideas, 
 could with freedom and indifferency pursue them. 
 
 Chap. 13. Knowledge is not born with us, nor does it always 
 force itself upon our understandings ; animadversion and application 
 is, in most parts of it, required, and that depends on the will ; but 
 when we have thoroughly surveyed, and to our utmost traced our 
 ideas, it depends not then on our wills whether we will be knowing 
 or ignorant. 
 
 Chap. 14. The shortness of our knowledge, not reaching to all the 
 concernment we have, is supplied by that which we call judgment, 
 whereby the mind takes ideas to agree or not agree ; i. e. any proposi- 
 
 3 E 2 
 
396 '^lEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 tion to be true or false, without perceiving a demonstrative evidence 
 in the proofs. 
 
 Chap. 15. The ground on which such propositions are received 
 for true, is what we call probability, and the entertainment the mind 
 gives such propositions is called assent, belief, or opinion, which is the 
 admitting any proposition to be true without certain knowledge that 
 it is so. The grounds of probability are these two — 1st. The con- 
 formity of any thing with our own knowledge, observation, or ex- 
 perience. 2d. The testimony of others, vouching their observation 
 and experience. 
 
 Chap. 16. The variety of these in concurring or counterbalancing 
 circumstances, affording matter for assent in several degrees of as- 
 surance or doubting, is too great to be set down in an extract. 
 
 Chap. 17. Error is not a fault of our knowledge, but a mistake of 
 judgment, giving assent to what is not true ; the causes whereof are 
 these — 
 
 First. Want of proofs, whether such as may be, or as cannot be 
 had. 
 
 Secondly. Want of ability to use them. 
 
 Thirdly. Want of will to use them. 
 
 Fourthly. Wrong measures of probability, which are these 
 four — 
 
 1. Doubtful opinions taken for principles. 
 
 2. Received hypotheses. 
 
 3. Predominant passions. 
 
 4. Authority. 
 
 Chap, 18. Reason, that serves us to the discovery of both demon- 
 stration and probability, seems to me to have four parts — 1st. The 
 finding out of proofs. 2d. The laying them in their due order for 
 the discovery of truth. 3d. In the perception of the more or less 
 clear connexion of the ideas in each part of the deduction. 4th, 
 and last of all. The drawing a right judgment and conclusion from 
 the whole. By which it will appear that syllogism is not the great 
 instrument of reason, it serving but only to the third of these, and 
 
VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 397 
 
 that only, too, to show another's wrong arguing ; but it helps not 
 reason at all in the search of new knowledge, nor the discovery of 
 yet unknown truths, and the proofs of them, which is the chief use 
 of that faculty, and not victory in dispute, or the silencing of wran- 
 glers. 
 
 Chap. 19. Faith is by some men so often made use of in opposi- 
 tion to reason, that he who knows not their distinct bounds will be 
 at a loss in his inquiries concerning matters of religion. 
 
 Matters of reason are such propositions as may be known by the 
 natural use of our faculties, and are deducible from ideas received 
 from sensation or reflection. Matters of faith, such as are made 
 known by supernatural revelation ; the distinct principles and evi- 
 dence of these two, being rightly considered, show where faith ex- 
 cludes or overrules reason, and where not. 
 
 1. Original revelation cannot be assented to contrary to the clear 
 principles of our natural knowledge, because, though God cannot lie, 
 yet it is impossible that any one, to whom a revelation is made, 
 should know it to be from God more certainly than he knows such 
 truths. 
 
 2. But original revelation may silence reason in any proposition, 
 whereof reason gives but a probable assurance, because the assurance 
 that it is a revelation from God may be more clear than any pro- 
 bable truth can be. 
 
 3. If original revelation cannot, much less can traditional revela- 
 tion be assented to, contrary to our natural clear and evident know- 
 ledge ; because, though what God reveals cannot be doubted of, yet 
 he to whom the revelation is not originally made, but has only 
 received it by the delivery or tradition of other men, can never so 
 certainly know that it was a revelation made by God, nor that he 
 understands the words aright in which it is delivered to him. Nay, 
 he cannot know that he ever heard or read that proposition which is 
 supposed revealed to another, so certainly as he knows those truths. 
 Though it be a revelation that the trumpet shall sound, and the 
 dead shall be raised, yet it not being revealed anywhere that such a 
 
398 VIEW OF THE ESSAY. 
 
 proposition, delivered by a certain man, is a revelation, the believing 
 of such a proposition to be a revelation is not a matter of faith but 
 of reason ; and so it is if the question be, whether I understand it in 
 the right sense. 
 
 According to these principles, I conclude all with a division of 
 the sciences into three sorts — 1st. ^va-txr!, or the knowledge of things, 
 whether bodies or spirits, or of any of their affections in their true na- 
 tures; the end of this is bare speculation. 2d. Yl^otzTizf;, or the rules 
 of operation about things in 6ur power, and principally those which 
 concern our conduct ; the end of this is action. Sd. ^yiyyiconzri, or the 
 knowledge of signs, i. e. ideas and words, as subservient to the other 
 two, which, if well considered, would perhaps produce another kind 
 of logic and critique than has yet been thought on. 
 
399 
 
 At the end of Le Clare's* translation of the above abstract in 
 the Bibliotheqiie Universelle, is the following notification, published 
 evidently under Locke's immediate direction, and affording one 
 amongst the many proofs of his sincerity in the search for truth. 
 
 " C'est la, I'extrait d'un ouvrage Anglois que I'auteur a bien 
 voulu publier, pour satisfaire quelqu'uns de ses amis particuliers, et 
 pour leur donner un abrege de ses sentimens. Si quelqu'un de 
 ceux qui prendront la peine de les examiner, croit y remarquer 
 quelque endroit, oil I'auteur se soit trompe, en quelque chose d'ob- 
 scur, et de defectueux dans ce systeme, il n'a qu'a envoyer ses 
 doutes, ou ses objections a Amsterdam, aux Marchands Libraires, 
 chez qui s'imprime la Bibliotheque Universelle. Encore que I'au- 
 teur n'ait pas une grande envie de voir son ouvrage imprime, et 
 qu'il croie qu'on doive avoir plus de respect pour le public que de 
 lui ofFrir d'abord ce que Ton croit etre veritable, avant que de savoir 
 si les autres I'agreront, ou le jugeront utile ; neanmoins il n'est pas 
 si reserve, qu'on ne puisse esperer qu'il se disposera a donner au 
 public son traite entier, lorsque la maniere dont cet abrege aura ete 
 recu, lui donnera occasion de croire qu'il ne publiera pas mal a 
 propos son ouvrage. Le lecteur pourra remarquer dans cet version 
 quelques termes, dont on s'est servi dans un nouveau sens, ou qui 
 n'avoient peut-etre jamais paru dans aucun livre Francois. Mais il 
 auroit ete trop long de les exprimer par des periphrases, on a crut 
 qu'en matiere de philosophie il etoit bien permis de prendre en 
 notre langue la meme liberte, que I'on prend en cet occasion dans 
 
 * Stated to be translated by Le Clerc, on his own authority, as I find in Mr. Locke's copy of 
 that work these words in Le Cierc's handwriting: 
 
 " Tout ce qui estdepnis le commencement jusqu'a la p. 261, est de moi. Vol. viii. 
 
400 
 
 toutes les autres, c'est de former des mots analogiques quand I'usage 
 commun ne fournit pas ceux dont on a besoin. L'auteur I'a fait en 
 son Anglois, et on le pent faire en cette langue, sans qu'il soit neces- 
 saire d'en demander permission au lecteur. II seroit bien a sou- 
 haiter qu'on en put autant faire en Franpois, et que nous pussions 
 egaler dans I'abondance des termes une langue, que la notre surpasse 
 dans I'exactitude de I'expression." 
 
 THOMAS BEllNETT TO MR. LOCKE. 
 " WORTHY SIR, London. 
 
 " I WAS sorry I could not see you at my coming back from Tunbridge 
 in Septem^ber last, having called twice at your lodgings. I was necessitated 
 to go to the country immediately thereafter, and made a ramble from the 
 Bath through the West of England to Salisbury, and at last to Oxford, 
 where the good society and most kind treatment from all I made acquaint- 
 ance with, did charm me for more than three months, and made me at last 
 leave that place with regret. I have lately received a letter from your 
 worthy admirer Monsieur Leibnitz. He hath been kept back from making 
 his returns to his correspondents this long time, having more to do in the 
 public affairs of that country as I understand, from the new title I find 
 given him, of Conseiller intime de S. A. E. de Brunswick. In this letter 
 he gives a new proof of the esteem he hath of your writings, having writ 
 seven or eight pages of his observations concerning your dispute with the 
 Bishop of Worcester, and seeming to hold the balance betwixt your learned 
 antagonist and you with all the fairness of an honest man, and the judg- 
 ment of a philosopher ; though the weight of what is thrown into the 
 scales seems to make him incline sometimes to one side, sometimes to an- 
 other. It appears he hath not yet seen the last letter of the Bishop's, nor 
 your two last to him, though I have sent him all that was come out, 
 with several books of other authors, by three packets at several times. 
 There is a young gentleman who was here a long time to search for records 
 relating to the House of Brunswick, for whom I did buy all the curious 
 books that have come out these several years, with whom I have also sent 
 all what he could not find himself out of my own library. He will open 
 his pack at Hanover, and both the Electrix and Monsieur Leibnitz wiU see 
 what books are for their service. In speaking to the certainty and clear- 
 
401 
 
 iiess of ideas, he pleases himself with the difference he makes betwixt the 
 two terms of clear and distinct. That he calls clear, which can be diffe- 
 renced in our notion by a certain characteristic from all things besides itself. 
 This knowledge he calls distinct, when we know a thing in its whole essence 
 or nature with all its conditions and requisites, or when we can give its 
 definition. So that the knowledge of substance, in so far as we know its 
 certain differences and accidents, may be called clear, but cannot be 
 termed distinct : but if I may add my own thoughts, this distinct notion is 
 not applicable to any thing else we know, any more than it is to our ideas 
 of substance ; since no human knowledge reaches a complete understanding 
 of the nature of the most minute subject, reasoning so as to exhaust its 
 whole nature, essence, and all that is to be known about it, no more than 
 the understanding of the nature of the least grain of the dust we trample 
 upon : this knowledge by comprehensive ideas is too wonderful for us, and 
 can only belong to that infinite Being who is perfect in knowledge. Mon- 
 sieur Leibnitz desires the names of all your works, that he may have all sent 
 him. Now you are best able to inform him of that particular. I thought 
 fit to acquaint you (Sir) with this letter, and of two long articles in it rela- 
 ting to the metaphysical subject of ideas, and your discourses of the coin also. 
 I was transcribing all that belongs to these two parts, and sending them to 
 you ; but I imagine you will be no less pleased to see the whole contexture of 
 the letter itself, where there is an account of many other particulars that may 
 be interesting. I need not send you the news of the town ; I only take the 
 liberty to acquaint you of some particulars concerning Dr. Bentley's book, 
 which is at last come out. He read to me a great part of the preface long 
 before it was published, and I then thought his narration of the matter of 
 fact (if he be to be believed in verbo sacerdotis) did justify very much his be- 
 haviour to Mr. Boyle at the beginning. And as to the controversy itself, if 
 he, like many good judges, think he is able to defend himself against the 
 reason, if not against the authority of his contrary party. He told me then 
 the Bishop of Coventry and Litchfield was so far of his opinion, that he 
 would publish something of his own at the same time upon the same sub- 
 ject, which he had kept by him many years ; wherein, though there were 
 some small things wherein they dissented, the Bishop said it was so much 
 the better, since thereby was taken away all suspicion of combination ; and 
 that the Bishop himself would send the Doctor's book to Mons. Spanheim ; 
 so that Grevius, Mons. Spanheim, and that Bishop, a learned triumvirate, 
 
 3 F 
 
402 
 
 seemed to be engaged on the Doctor's side. But I doubt not that a greater 
 number will be of another sentiment, who would not be thought to be of 
 the imlearned tribe ; and I heard yesterday morning from Mr. GastereU that 
 the Bishop of Coventry and Litchfield hath thought fit to suppress his own 
 dissertation ; and that there would come forth an apology for the book- 
 seller by himself within a day or two. The Doctor told me likewise, the 
 Bishop thought Mr. Dodwell's opinion was wholly overturned upon this 
 occasion, who founded his hypothesis upon the authenticness and the sup- 
 posed antiquity of the Epistles of Phalaris. There is also come out, Master 
 Gasterell's book, in 8vo., of the certainty of the Christian religion, as the 
 second part of his Discourses intended upon Mr. Boyle's Lecture ; and I 
 doubt not but will argue as much of the reason and judgment of the author 
 as his sermons on that occasion. I have read over Doctor Bentley's long 
 preface, and a great part of the book, and have just now finished the new 
 piece that is come out against him, exposing his plagiary, ingratitude, and 
 inhumanity, particularly to Mr. Stanley, in the edition (as the Doctor calls 
 it himself) of his Callimachus. The bookseller's Vindication, and Letter of 
 Dr. King's, and the Judgment of Sir AVm. Temple, &c. are annexed to the 
 end. I do profess, upon second thoughts, (which sometimes are best,) I 
 think, considering Doctor Bentley's magisterial and supercilious way of treat- 
 ing his adversaries, his hard words, and opprobrious language to Mr. Ben- 
 net; and, on the other hand, Mr. Bennet's manner of justifying himself, and 
 representing the matter in a sober and far less passionate, but more natural, 
 narration of every thing, so that his story seemeth the more likely, if not 
 the most true, of the two ; and though the Doctor may have both truth and 
 learning on his side, he hath no ways shown the spirit of meekness in re- 
 proving, but rather hath made not only his own character but that of his 
 order cheap, and * * * * by writing so much, and in such a manner 
 to take off little reflections upon his civility and breeding, which he had 
 easier wiped off by slighting and forgetting than answering. I have pre- 
 sumed to communicate to you these accounts, since I have them from im- 
 mediate hands. I have sent you Mr. Leibnitz's letter, consisting of pieces 
 1 shall be glad to receive your orders, if you have any thing to charge me 
 with, when you send back the papers, at which time 1 am to write again to 
 Mr. Leibnitz. I did write to him from Oxford, at the same tune Dr. 
 Wallis received a line from him, which was six weeks ago ; and now lately 
 
403 
 
 I did write with that gentleman, who is gone to Hanover, but he will ex- 
 pect I should write to him again, since the receipt of this I now send you, 
 wherein (you see) he desires to know what things are unclear in what he 
 did formerly write in the &st paper of reflections I sent you. I have not 
 been so well as to write to you sooner, since I had this last letter. To hear 
 of your own health will be the best news to Mr. Leibnitz, and to, Sir, your 
 most ready and most obliged. 
 
 And humble servant, 
 
 T. Burnett." 
 
 " Pall-Mali Street, in London, l7th March, 1699." 
 
 " Sir, I thought once of sending this packet with Mr. Cunningham, who 
 told me at my chambers some days ago he was to go out to you ; but now, 
 after waiting longer than his set time, I was resolved to delay no longer. I 
 wish you would indulge him before he leaves you to piece together his 
 proofs of the Christian Religion, that the world may enjoy that light he 
 hath so long promised. You may send back the papers to Mr. C, and I 
 shall send for them ; or direct them for me at the Two Pigeons, on the 
 east end of the Pall Mall." 
 
 This letter from Mr. Thomas to Locke was omitted at page 29. 
 It is the one which led to the acquaintance with Lord Shaftesbury. 
 
 " MY DEAR FRIEND, 
 
 " This town is very barren of news, and therefore you must not expect 
 much. The most considerable is, that the Commissions are granted for 
 raising sixteen troops of horse; amongst others to Lord Fairfax, Col. 
 Inglesby, Sir W. Waller, &c. &c. The fleet will set sail the beginning of 
 the next week, if the London be ready, but not without her, as I am now 
 informed by a gentleman of Prince Rupert's, who came yesterday from the 
 fleet, consisting, as he says, of eighty-nine sail, which are ready, and eighteen, 
 or as some say twenty-five, fire-ships, which will be made thirty. After all 
 the great noise of a press, I am informed that not above 2200 were sent from 
 hence to the fleet. The Gazette wiU inform you of more, which is, the 
 story of Capt. Reeves is true, and the King much troubled at it, and has 
 given orders that the Captain, who was to be exchanged for him, be laid in 
 irons. 
 
 3 F 2 
 
404 
 
 " I must request one favour of you, which is to send me word by the 
 next opportunity whether you can procure twelve bottles of water for my 
 Lord Ashley, to drink in Oxford Sunday and Monday mornings : if you can 
 possibly do it, yOu will very much oblige him and me. I have this day 
 spoke with C. Grant, and will give you an account of vipers by my next. 
 I am to-morrow resolved to go for the fleet ; however, let me receive a letter 
 by the next opportunity. 
 
 Your affectionate friend and servant, 
 
 David Thomas." 
 
 " Half-Moon Street, Bread Street. 
 " 9 July, 1666." 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Adversaria Theologica 
 
 Amor Patriae 
 
 Arguments positive and negative 
 
 i^shley, Lord, letter to Locke 
 
 Page. 
 
 Armenian priest and service 
 
 B 
 
 Bernier, Monsieur .... 70 
 Burnett, Thomas, letter to Locke . . 400 
 
 C 
 
 Character of Locke . . . .275 
 
 Character of Locke, from Le Clerc . 267 
 Charles the Second's letter to Sir Geo. 
 Downing ..... 38 
 
 Christus non Deus Supremus . . 338 
 Clergy . . . ... .289 
 
 Copy-right of Locke's Works . . 265 
 Common-place Book, extracts from . 281 
 
 D 
 
 Death, and last illness of Locke . . 263 
 Declaration of Charles the Second on 
 Rye-house Plot . . . .140 
 
 . 336 
 
 Devonshire Sessions order . 
 
 145 
 
 . 291 
 
 Defence of Nonconformity . 
 
 341 
 
 . 322 
 
 Des Cartes' proof of a God, examined . 
 
 312 
 
 . 183 
 
 Disputatio ..... 
 
 285 
 
 . 188 
 
 
 
 . 160 
 
 E 
 
 
 Electio 295 
 
 England in 1679, directions for a fo- 
 reigner visiting . , . .133 
 
 Enthusiasm . . . . . 315 
 
 Ethics in general .... 305 
 
 Epitaph, Locke's .... 262 
 
 Error 281 
 
 Errors 329 
 
 Essay, first sketch of ... 6 
 Essay, additions intended to Book ii. 
 
 c. 21 354 
 
 to Book iii. c. 10 . 357 
 
 Essay, Locke's view and abstract of . 362 
 Excommunication . . . .297 
 
 Expulsion of Locke from Oxford . . 147 
 
 Fell, Bishop, to Locke . . .152 
 Fontainbleau 73 
 
406 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Grave, Pays de 
 
 Happiness 
 
 G 
 
 H 
 
 I 
 
 Imagination, Madness, &c. 
 
 Immortality of the soul 
 
 Journal begins 
 
 Journal in Holland 
 
 Journal dissertations in, begin at . 
 
 Judging, Election, and Resolution 
 
 K 
 
 Knowledge, its extent and measure 
 Knowledge, sorts of . 
 
 Labadists . 
 
 Le Clerc's to Locke's letter 
 
 Lewis XIV at Versailles 
 
 at Fontainbleau 
 
 at a revicAv 
 
 Leibnitz .... 
 
 Library at St. Germains 
 
 Liberty of the Will, Locke to Le Clerc 
 
 Lincoln Bishop of, to the Earl of Shaf- 
 tesbury ..... 
 
 Lingua ..... 
 
 Locke's Letter to Mr. Cudworth . 
 
 to his father 
 
 to Lord Mordaunt 
 
 to the Earl of Peter 
 
 borough on Education 
 
 to Newton 
 
 Mr. King 
 
 Page. 
 76 
 
 115 
 
 326 
 127 
 
 41 
 160 
 
 34 
 296 
 
 Locke's Letter to Mr. King 
 
 Lord Somers 
 
 Mr. Strachy 
 
 Mr. Tyrrell 
 Mr. Wynne 
 
 Longevity, instance of 
 
 M 
 
 N 
 
 Nassau, reception of Prince of 
 Nismes .... 
 Newton's demonstration 
 Newton's Letter to Locke 
 
 71 
 
 It 
 
 196 
 
 78 
 319 
 
 194 
 285 
 249 
 2 
 173 
 
 224 ^^wton's Letters, remarks on, by Rev 
 251 '^■••^^^^ .... 
 
 252 
 
 254 
 
 255 Opinion 
 
 Nonconformity, defence of, by Locke 
 O 
 
 Page. 
 
 256 
 
 257 
 
 258 
 
 259 
 
 260 
 
 244 
 
 245 
 
 247 
 
 13 
 
 25 
 
 tQ 
 
 197 
 
 191 
 
 120 
 
 84 
 
 Mackintosh, Sir James 
 
 . 178 
 
 120 
 
 Madness ..... 
 
 328 
 
 
 Marseilles ..... 
 
 63 
 
 
 Memory, Imagination, Madness . 
 
 326 
 
 162 
 
 Miscellaneous Papers . 
 
 296 
 
 318 
 
 Money, raising value of . . . 
 
 242 
 
 164 
 48 
 209 
 215 
 216 
 217 
 219 
 220 
 222 
 224 
 225 
 
 227 
 341 
 
INDEX. 
 
 407 
 
 Pacific Christians 
 
 Paris ..... 
 
 Penal Laws, obligation of . 
 Pembroke, Earl of, Letter to Locke 
 Petition of Locke to the King 
 Pembroke, Earl of, Letter to Locke 
 Peterborough, Earl of, Letter to Locke 
 
 Prayer, Form of, as ordered Sept. 9, 
 1683 
 
 Printing Act of 14th Charles IL, Locke's 
 Observations on . 
 
 Power, Civil and Ecclesiastical, differ- 
 ence between .... 
 
 Protestants in France 
 
 R 
 
 Page. 
 273 
 69 
 57 
 158 
 176 
 1.58 
 235 
 236 
 237 
 2S8 
 239 
 240 
 
 141 
 
 201 
 
 297 
 49 
 52 
 54 
 
 Reading, Method of . 
 
 116 
 
 Recreation, Locke on . . 
 
 323 
 
 Religion and Inspiration 
 
 123 
 
 Religious Opinions of Locke 
 
 273 
 
 Relation and Space 
 
 331 
 
 Review of French Guards . 
 
 73 
 
 Swiss ditto 
 
 79 
 
 Space 
 
 , Imaginary 
 
 Species of things 
 
 Scriptura Sacra 
 
 Scrupulosity 
 
 Somers, Mr., Letter to Locke 
 
 Somers, Lord, to Locke 
 
 States of Languedoc 
 
 Study, Dissertation on, by Locke 
 
 Stillingfleet's, Dr., Controversy with 
 
 Locke ...... 
 
 Thus I think 
 
 Toleration Act, and progress of Religious 
 Liberty ...... 
 
 Toleration, Deficiency in the fourth let- 
 ter supplied ..... 
 
 Toleration, Letter for, when written 
 
 Trinitas, non Trinitas 
 
 Trumbull's, Sir William, letter to Locke 
 
 Tyrrell, Mr., to Locke 
 
 V 
 
 Versailles . . . . • 
 
 Visitation, Episcopal, usual effects of . 
 
 329 
 
 62 
 
 321 
 
 293 
 
 109 
 
 234 
 
 '235 
 
 241 
 
 245 
 
 52 
 
 90 
 
 195 
 
 304 
 
 177 
 
 360 
 156 
 336 
 243 
 169 
 170 
 172 
 192 
 
 71 
 133 
 
 Sacerdos, spirit of the order 
 Shaftesbury, Earl of, to Locke 
 
 Shaftesbury, Earl of, (3d) to Locke 
 
 285 
 33 
 36 
 138 
 183 
 186 
 
 W 
 
 Works, List of Locke's . . .264 
 
 enumerated in his Will , . 265 
 
 Worcester, Controversy with the Bishop 
 
 of 193 
 
 Wynne's, Mr., Letter to Locke . .189 
 

 
 ERRATA. 
 
 
 
 Page 27 line 30 
 
 for 
 
 considedation 
 
 read 
 
 consideration. 
 
 30 34 
 
 for 
 
 the Lord 
 
 read 
 
 tliis Lord. 
 
 75 18 
 
 for 
 
 taile 
 
 read 
 
 taille. 
 
 122 8 
 
 for 
 
 s'oifence 
 
 read 
 
 s'oflensent. 
 
 133 24 
 
 for 
 
 direction appears 
 
 read 
 
 directions appear. 
 
 240 14 
 
 for 
 
 Calais 
 
 read 
 
 Cales or Cadiz. 
 
 201 
 
 for 
 
 Patiiia 
 
 read 
 
 PatuiyE. 
 
 LB 20 
 
/ 
 
A. 
 
Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: August 2005 
 
 PreservationTechnologies 
 
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