R NEGA TIVE 93-81593- MICROFILMED 1993 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES/NEW YORK as part of the . . . » Foundations of Western Civilization Preservation Project ..rtoNAL Envo^u^rioi rm humanities Reprod„ctions™ay^no.,g.a^^^^^ COPYRIGHT STATEMENT Th« ^nnurinht law of the United States - Title 17, United itetS^?^df- concerns tl,e making of photocopies or other reproductions of copyrighted material. Under certain conditions specified in the law, libraries and X~p"or o?he"lprX'.^n i^t to be "used for any ffl involve violation of the copyright law. A UTHOR: REID, THOMAS TITLE: WORKS OF THOMAS REID PLACE: DATE: 1895 Restiictioiis on COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT Master Negative # PIPirfAvxyfvAM Olx^ iVIIl.KIJf wJvM. ■^Airiw i t A Qrigiiial Material as Filmed - Existing Bibliographic Record Held, Thomas, 1710-1796. The works of Thomas Re id, with notes and supplementary dissertations, by* Sir William Hamilton. 8th ed. Edinburgh, J. Thin; Lon- don, Longmans, Green, 1895. 2 ▼• Paged continuously. I. Hamilton, Sir William, 9th bart., 1788- xooo • eci • u SIZE: TECHNICAL MICROFORM DATA ,_^ REDUCTION RATIO; H IMAGE PLACEMENT: lA @) IB IIB DATE FILMED: 2-l^_i^___ INITIALS ^^^g^*^ FILMED BY: RESEARCH PUBUCATIONS. IMP wnnnmjfnnu rr ~ M AsMciation for Information and Image Management 1100 Wayne Avenue. Suite 1100 Silver Spring, Maryland 20910 301/587-8202 Centimeter 12 3 4 IMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIillllllMlllllllll i I I T 5 6 7 8 9 10 n 12 13 14 15 mm [ yillllllllllllMMIIIIIIIIIlMlllMIIIIMIIIMIlMlllllllllllllMlllMlllllMllMllMlllllMllMllMlJ 1 incriGS h'h'*rrt''/Vi'tiVj'i'fii'rf'/t'i''i*'j'i''j'fri' 1.0 I.I 1.25 tii, 12.8 US, I ¥' 1^ m 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.4 1.6 I I I I I 5 m MRNUFfiCTURED TO RUM STRNDfiRDS BY RPPLIED IMRGE, INC. ^>- ^^- THE UBRARI£S THE WORKS OF THOMAS REID, D.D. WITH NOTES AND SUPPLEMENTARY DISSERTATIONS BY SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON, BART., 0OXB18PONDIHO MEMBER OF THE IHSTITPTB 0» FRANCE; HONORART MEMBER OF THE AMERICAN ACADKMr OF ARTS AND SCIENCES ; OF THE LATIN SOCIETT OF JENA; ETC.; PROrKSSOE OF LOGIC AND METAPHT8IC8 IN THE DNIVSR8ITT OF EDINBUROH, ETC. Ill VOL. L EIGHTH EDITION EDINBURGH: JAMES THIN LONDON : LO^GjIANS, GREEIT k CO. ; 't ,' ■ > ' > f ' i 1, 1 i 1 ■It 1 - '" 1 J 0» lARTH, THIBI IS NOTHING GREAT BUT MAMi IV MAN, TMlll 18 NOTHING GREAT BUT MIND. JKlfO WMI». MMHTEKS. SOINBUWH • . • •■•,••• . , < I • \ • I , • » f • ■ • • • I • I • * '• a * * ' • . • . » t • • • ' •*-•■• • t ,•."•• • II < • • ID • to ••J TO ¥ICTOR COUSIN, PBER OP FRANCE, LATE MINISTER OF PUBLIC INSTRUCTION, MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE, PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY, ETC., ETC., THIS EDITION OF THE WORKS OF REID IS DEDICATED; NOT ONLY, IN TOKEN OF THE EDITOR'S ADMIRATION OP THE FIRST PHILOSOPHER OF FRANCE, BUT, AS A TRIBUTE, DUE APPROPRIATELY AND PRE-EMINENTLY TO THE STATESMAN, THROUGH WHOM SCOTLAND HAS BEEN AGAIN UNITED INTELLECTUALLY TO HER OLD POLITICAL ALLY, AND THE AUTHOR'S WRITINGS, (THE BEST RESULT OF SCOTTISH SPECULATION,) MADE THE BASIS OF ACADEMICAL INSTRUCTION IN PHILOSOPHY THROUGHOUT THE CENTRAL NATION OF EUROPE. CONTENTS. Dbdioation, , . » . . ♦ TaBLK of CoNTENTg, . . * .. , EDITOR'S PREFACE, .... DUGALD STEWART'S ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF THOMAS REID, D.D. Section I. From Dr Eeid^s birth tiU the date of his latest publication, II. Observations on the Spirit and scope of Dr Reid^s philosophy, III. Conclusion of the Narrative, NOTBSy • . » • Paob II XT S 11 35 RE ID'S (I.— WRITINGS NOT INTENDED FOR PUBLICATION.) LETTERS. A. — To Drs Andrew and David Skene, 1764 — 1770, » ♦ B— To Lord Karnes, 1772—1782, C— To Dr James Gregory, 1783 — 1793, D. — To the Rev. Archibald Alison, 1790, E.— To Prof Robison, 1792, . . , . . F. — To David Hume, 1763, . • • . m 62 91 (U^^WRITINGS INTENDED AND PREPARED FOR PUBLICATION.) A.— INQUIRY INTO THE HUMAN MIND. Dedication, • . . • • 95 CHAPTER I. — Inteoou€tion. Section I. The Importance of the subject, and the Means of prosecuting it, 97 II. The Impediments to our knowledge of the mind, . 98 III. The Present State of this part of philosophy. Of Des Cartes, Male- branche, and Locke, . ... 99 IV, Apology for those philosophers, . . 101 V. Of Bishop Berkeley ; the " Treatise of Human Nature " [by Hume ;] and of Scepticism, .... 101 VI. Of tJie" Treatise of Human Nature,** . . 102 YII. The system of all these authors is the same, and leads to Scepticism, 103 VIII. We ought not to despair of a better, . . . 103 ^ CHAPTER II— Of Smelling. Section I. The Order of proceeding. Of the medium and organ of Smell, 104 II. The Senwtion considered abstractly, . . Ifl5 III. SenscUum and Remembrance, natural principles of Belief, 105 IV. Judgmsnt and Bdiefin some cases precede Simple Aj^ehension, 106 V. Two Theories of the nature of Belief refuted. Conclusions from what hath been said, • • • . 107 IV COKTBNTS. Bbotiow VI, Apolo^formetaphymaiabiurdiiim. SmmMm mtkoui a mUism, memmqmmmofmikmrpofldBm, Cmmfimmt of this stranag Paoi 106 VII, Tk§ ttmmpUm mid Muf of a gmtimt hdnpor Mind, is tuffgeMted ftf imr tfiiifflfiiflmi. Tfw noHan of Rdakons not always got by Comipmtkig th» related idem, . . . 110 / VIIl. Thare is a quality or virtue in bodies, which we call their Smell ^ Mow this is connected in the imagination with the sensation, 112 IX. That there is a principle m kmmm nature, from which the notion _ J}^ '*«*' «» ^'^ «* «^' ©liir meaural virtues or causes, is derived, 1 12 X. Wkmer in Sensation At. miiif is Active or Passive, . 114 CMJUrMER II I. ^ Or TastinOi 115 CHAPTER IV.-Of Hbarino. Sbi3»ioii !. Tarie'y of Sounds, Their place and distance teamed by Custom, 11. iyiViif«inil£ai^^iM^«, , . . . ' 116 117 CHAPTEE V 0» ToiTOB. Sbctiow I. Of Heat and €bld, 11. Of Hardness and Softness, III. Of Maiural Signs, IV. (^ Mardness a$Mi other Primary Qualities, • VI. OfMsm^m, , . ' , VII. OftheemstenceofaMmtiM World, VIII. 0/(Atf %il||iii« ofPhUmoplms eonemmng tks Smms, 119 119 121 123 123 125 126 130 SB€T10M I. JLJl« III. IV. V. VI. T Mia IX. TC ■MMm XII. Iff If '■■IMlh lit V s Jib T . XVI. XVII. xvm. |iiiii| CHAPTER VI-Of 8ekii,«. The essceUenm and digmiy of tMs faculty. Sight discovers edmmi smmng wMch the Mind may not compre- hend. The reason of this, . . . Of the Visible Appemranees of objects, Thai CMmt if m^^mMiy of bodies, not a sensation of the mind. An infmnee from ^preceding. That none of our sensaiions are Mesembkmces of any of the auaU- ties of bodies, . . . . Of visibU mgvm emd Emtension, Somf f^smim mmceming Visible Figure answered, • €fi^ HMMfry of Visibles, qfmPmmtUiMmlonofthe^eyes, Of our seeing ol^eets Erect by inverted images. The same sid^fect continued, , . , Of seeing olfim Single with two eyrs. Of the lau/s of vision in Brute animcds, . . SiqumUng considered hypothetictdly, Fade reiaiing to Squinting, Of the efect of Custom in seeing objects Single, . qfBr Porterfefd's accomH ^ single emddouMe vision. Of Br Br^*s theory, and «r Isaac Newton's [ JBkJaLm wuwijecfp Of Peremption in general. conjteimre cm this 132 133 135 137 138 140 , 142 -^ 144 147 152 163 156 163 166 167 172 173 176 178 182 CONTENTS^ V Pack Sbotiom XXI. Of the Process of NcUure tn perception, . . 186 XXII. Of the Signs by which we learn to perceive Distance from the eye, 188 XXIII. Of the S^fns used in other acquired perceptions, . 193 XXIV. Of the Analogy between Perception, and the credit we give to Himan Testimony, . . . 194 CHAPTER VII—CowcursioK. ConkUning Uejlections upon the opinions of Philosophers on this subject. 1 201 J B^ESSAYS ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS OF MAN. Dedication, Pbbface, ESSAY L— Preliminary. Chapter I. Explication of Words, .... II. Principles taken for granted, III. Of Hypotheses, .... IV. Of Analogy, .... V. Of the proper means of Knowing the operations of the mindj VI. Of the difficulty of Attending to the operations of our own minds, VII. Division of the powers of the mind, VI II. Of Social land Solitary} operations of mind. 215 216 219 230 234 236 238 240 242 244 ESSAY II. — Of the Powers we have bt means of our External Senses. Chaptsr I. Of the Organs of Sense, .... 245 II. Of the Impressions on the organs, nerves, and brain, 247 III. Hypothesis concerning tlic Nerves and Brain, . 248 IV. False Conclusions drawn from the impressions before mentioned, 253 V. Of Perception, .... 258 VI. What it is to Account for a Phcmomenon in Nature, 260 VII. Sentiments of Philosophers about the Perceptions of External objects; and frst, of the theory of Father Malebranche, 262 VIIl. Of the Common Theory of Perception ; and of the sentiments of the Peripatetics, and of Des Cartes, . . 267 IX. The sentiments of Mr Locke, . . • 276 X. The sentiments of Bishop Berkeley, . . • 280 XI. Bishop Berkeley's sentiments of the nature of Ideas, 287 XII. The sentiments of Mr Hume, . . . 292 XIII. The sentiments of Anthony Amatdd, . . 295 XIV. Reflections on the Common Theory of Ideas, . * 298 XV. Account of the system of Leibnitz, . • 306 XVL Of Sensation, . , . . 310 XVII. Of the Objects of Perception; and first, of Primary and Second- ary Qualities, . . . . 313 XVIIl. Of other objects of Per^-evtion, . . • 319 XIX. Of Matter and of Space, ... 322 XX. Of the Evidence of Sense, and of Belief in general, • 326 XXI. Of the Improvem nt of the Senses, . • • 330 XXII. Of the Fallacy of th'i Senses, , * 834 1 CmAwt: CONTENTS. ESSAY III.— Of Mbmobt. I. Things obmmt -tlBMABKI. ' fccTiow I. Oil iJli' Mm FreMmMes, IL 011 li« Tm CWif«>rlff, mnd on Divisions in genmmlg III. On Distinctions, • • . « IV. On D^/nttiofUy . • • V. On the strm^sre of Speech, . . • VI. On PropoMmM, 685 687 689 -^90 691 692 CHAPTER III. ^ACCODHT of THB FiBN AllAI.TTIOff. Sbotiow I. Of the Conmrsiim of Propositions, . • II. Of the Figures and Modes of Pure Syllogisms, • III. Of the Invention [Discovery] of a Middle Ttrm, IV. ^the rem&kiAigpmt of the First Book, . . V. Of the Second Book of the First Analytics, 603 694 695 695 605 CHAPTER IV.— Rbhabks. I C^lii OMMrfloii^'J¥o]Miili0iii^ • 996 I CONSENTS. Slot nm II. On Additione made to AristotWs Theory, III. On Emamples used to illustrate this Theory, IV. On the Demonstration of the Theory y V. On this Theory considered as an Engine of Science, VI. On Modal Syllogisms, . VII. On Syllogisms that do not belong to Figure and Mode, Pagi 697 698 699 701 702 704 CHAPTER V. — AooouNT of ths Rbmaihino Boaiu of xhb OBOANOir. SiOTioif L Of the Last Analytics, .... 11. Of the Topics, .... III. Of ihe book concerning Sophisms, 705 706 707 CHAPTER VL— RiFLBCTioHs on thk Utility ov Logic, and the Means of ITS IMFB07BUBNT. SiOTiov L Of the Utility of Logic, IL Of the Improvement of Logic, 703 711 E— ESSAY ON QUANTITY. [Occasion and grounds of the Discussion,1 . Of the Newtonian Measure of Force, . Of the Leibnitzian Measure of Force, Beflections on this Controversy, 715 717 718 719 F.^ACCOUNT OF THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW. iNTBODUCTIOIf, , . • . I. History of the University before the Reformation, II. Ancient Constitution, . • III. History after the Reformation, IV. Modem ConstUution, • • V. Donations, • • • VL Present State, , • Vn. Conclusion, • • 721 721 722 T27 729 730 732 738 EDITOR'S SUPPLEMENTARY DISSERTATIONS. (A.)— ON THE PHILOSOPHY OF COMMON SENSE; OR, OUR PRIMARY BELIEFS CONSIDERED AS THE ULTIMATE CRITERION OF TRUTa Sbotioh I. The Meaning of the Doctrine, and Purport of the Argument^ of Common Sense, . . . • 742 IL The Omditions of the Legitimacy, and legitimate application, of ^ the argument, . . • • '^9 III. That it is one strictly Philosophical and sdentifc, . 751 IV. The Essential Characters by which our primary beliefs, or the ^ principles of Common Sense, are discriminated, . 754 V. The Nomendature, that u, the various appellations by which these ^ have beendesignateda • • • • 755 I If i 1*1 '! CONTSNTSi' PMIt Sioviof VI. Tk§ Ummrtaitty ofth§ fUkmphf of Comnum Smm ; or iU general twmpdHon, m rmUty mnd in neme, ihoum by a chronological 'if of Ttatimmiisi from the daum of tpeculation to the pre^ day, . . • • 770 (B.)— OF FEESENTATIVE AND REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. ttcrrioit I The dMimHon of PremnimHmt Intuitim or Immediate, and of M^pmamtal^m or Mediate eognitian ; with the various signifi- eaihmt of ike term Object, ite conjugates and correlatives ^ 804 BsoTioif IL Srrors of Bmdand other Phiiosophers, in reference to the preced- ing dtaHmttimt, . . . .812 (O— ON THE VARIOUS THEORIES OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. SioviOH I. %iliiiiiiliBd. It was Jacobi who first in Germany at- tacked the mediate and demonstrating philosophy of the Leibnitians, and shewed the necessity of immediate knowledge. This he took from Reid.— See Francke, p. 227 sq. Schuke, another great pro- moter of this.— Ibid., p. 230. [The purport of this memorandum is explained by the following extracts, translated from Francke's work. Das selbststaendige und reine Leben des Gefuehls, als des Oeistes urspruenglichen Urtheils, u.s.w. Leipzig, 1838 : — " The union of the English and French empiricism with the German logical ra- tionalism produced that maxim of the philosophy of reflection, which maintains that nothing can be admitted as truth which cannot be proved, or logically de- duced, from the perceptions of sense ; a position which leads, as a natural conse- quence, to the scepticism of Hume. On the other hand, Reid, Beattie, and Oswald, advocating the hitherto obscured element of Feeling, maintained that the human mind possesses immediately in conscious- ness principles of knowledge independent of experience ; and a more cautious at- tempt was made by Richard Price to shew that the Understanding, or Faculty of Thought, as distinguished from the deduc- tive faculty, is essentially different from the faculty of sense, and is a source of special representations distinct from those of the senses. Yet, on the whole, all these writers, as regards the scientific vindication of their teaching, were com- pelled to place the foundation of the mmediate cognition of the higher truths of reason in a Common Sense ; and the assumption of this pretended source ne- oessarily involved suspicion and doubt as regards the truth of the cognitions derived from it And so also Jaoobi, if .— • Sfi lIBlfllftAlillA IPOR PRKVACUL «•' '«iMpl iiie 'mpilfft, 'piibiiiioal .liii* of w ItMiipg,. wheioiii lio oertaiilf Mooii- ;|iliiliti maam, hm Mttsnced mk or imiliiiC'lilfviiid iils^ iMiiiii predeoenon M l^rfif m ifiu. wimilie fouodalum for n own viow; Hiongli ho wm iM Inl ■moiif omelfoiwHm tlM oontm^vwu 'Willi. HM' 'dlMii|i«i of Wolf Mil 'oHmv ong^ ittte oi^'oola, If' tiio onpliifiiMiit of lio tmmfeelmg aiid ftti^,. lirMloi illiiilioi to tlio mmmUm of aolmoirkdlgiiv Iho inipiKtiiMe of iii'imwi;i«io oogiiiioii ■uai. l^mmmSmmtm .... '" Allioiii^. Jaoolii% lyiliiii,, wm ■mmm^ ^ of its vAdUating kii8|iiogi| aiiil itfl moro * on aoooaaftof lio inliiiliTo narrowiuii ftod flabJoclivofliiaitolor|iiM'iiot'illMi.to Imho-' il pyioeoplijr tentdlatel j, il liaiy 'sol- «ili0tftiidiiig^ ft fbimdatioii of tmHi, wMoii oould nol long Ml of produoiog its (Aei ^IfaQy looii 'Imomho' otaKigr eonvloood Ibat liM" XHitkii fliilotoiiliy dm wu Ikblo to ■^m 'fliitgo of oBiwriil« to lio :iinaerTalion and. prograea of piiloao- pliy. Bvatt' wmm wio ooiild not' d»ae%' lie daaaad aa 'lioloiiging to tia aaiool of lacobi, Iho' okavaet^ and. 'nioal 'Oanlioaa Ihinken,, aobnow ladgod 'Ilio 'imfMilMioo of tibo 'dMinolion balwoeft mediato and in- nadiaio inovledga, and boliioan tie il.;" and ^alliiin# thaj ' iroiild 'not oonoado' 'to liiing' an. indapandenl' iiigniftoano% and wwm vbMu to aaiign to il a anio iliii||r«.iiM ppofiad.. iMiiid:nnTd]r, tiuA 'Hm' rwr ^and mmm^ lUi Ming mH ft noaaaaaif' ooiidilion '•! inovloiip ll tO' all ^dalaniinftla mmgmmm^l^m^ lio ao«aallad. in. iia iiiar' mitfiifla M a naAnial. raOiiU Q. B.. Soinli^i* lomtar- ■KT ana. liicnMKi *Wiu]a^, indeed, regardallMfMinga aa It BOiiobaeQra and Yftriablafhaaaof Ilia %9 oMMMialte' .nunHoMd i aeeplie, Imfco in. iia iilar %|iu,]ifkfl«tiii: mifaikiiAililiik It i|.|%ibA. BMtttai life : ie holda them to be incapable of eatabliahing or procIaimiii| an jthing ob- JeetiTe, and .ionee tO' be naeleaB aa^ pnnei- plea for the demonatration of trutb; but he repealedlj aaaerta the exiatence in the hnman oonaoionaneaa of oertain funda^ mental aanunfUona, of which, by the con- elitulion of our nature, we are unable arfai- liar%' tO' diveat ourmlf ea,. and whioh ha?e ft 'liiMi' 'In. 'ftU nfttural aeienoe' and in moral and rellgioiia oonvictiona. It ia true liftl Sehnlaadid not iipnetrate to a complete •^■^^^^■^^j^^ ^F mim^ ^r^^ ^^HHw laiMi^^^^aaiippBP ^jwai" ^HBVMaiaaMiirP*iawvpaeaiVMv w vp knowledge and tranaoendental idealiam; and hence, from the poaition of hia natural objectiTe realiam, he la unable to diaoover that ooridaol eonviotiona can attain to an 3 ml Oiflftiitar villi the natural conviotton knowledge oaaed 'On 'intuition. Bouter- wek, adhering more eloaely to JaooM'a doctrine^, apeaka of the eonaoiottaneaa of the oiiginal iMling of truth aa lie ihral witneaa of oertain^ in all hnnan oonvio- Hon.; bwt| .like Jaoobi,;iie.aeenia to believe In. ft 'parainlife power of the internal. loaophioal oognitiona may be reallaed in wmaoMwianeBBt • ■ • « fnea u me 'iral' who, hj opening a now path of anthropologioo-isntlcal inquiry, hiu oom- ,plet«|y and fnly 'aneceeded in oigani- cally uniting the immediate produota of Jaoobi'a philoaophy with the reaulta of the Kanlhn. 'OiiliaianL, iw d t hiM in **if^iifiM r in a dear and :M*i'—i*!Mji Msht. from the IftWB of the theory of msn'a menial lila, tie rektion of Knowledge to Belief, of the nslunl and ideal aapeot of the world, aa Will aa lift i—flfftant rwlallffii betroien the J wW uya nd liioowicqBltait of the troth. He FeeUng'iaa won an indapandent #tid firmly ealahlialied podtion. ' im f fig the fiAtloio- jAmbI' oenviraona of ^hi * Maaan.* -— .Kd..1 ITifteitf ti0 Aoofflil Mod ZA ^gn g> '■■■■ Ia 1 '1*lftia<|fc 'KHpr 'faaiv w wi ^aiiii^wiPB mi' a "^i sHvar^ip the proviaoa of a pNliinlnaiy or ganaial Logie lllooloiy)— 4he ultimate iaw% im^ Of tna nnman mina.— -abouia oa aongnt onland.aati bliiiiad ; r,'linlonei niifld md gif fm, tiasf ffwiH ho wP'^iMi ^ipi^ i^m^p'iiir^wa' nBBi w^^BPiiai'ii^iP"B^w'^aipaaiHr''jB waaa* waiaa. ^i^ wHiiiJPiai' Willi Mpmi. in Iia inl, lie ii****%y» |ihifl«ao|iiaB aaa Ml^ mImmA. It ■ • 'Of tfn apatmi if Vkto' |o MEMORANDA FOR PEKFACE. ZTU aven by tioae who revolted •gMnat it. pae Note A) The meritof the Scottien JSool ia one only of degroe,— that it ia iBora Qonaialent, more catholic, and em- bodiea thia permmit ph^osiipkM more mudy. ptB writers, however,] are them- idvea peccant in detaala, and have not dwi^ followed out the apirit of their own dootrmea. [With regard tothe aecond,] Dr Edd and Mr Stewart not only denounce aa dwurd the attempt to demonatrote that the origind data of Consdooaneaa are for UB the rule of what we ought to believe, that is, the criteria of a relative— human— aubjective truth; but interdict aa unphi- loaophicd all question in regard to their validity, as the vehicles of an absolute ar objective truth. M. Jouflfroy,* of course, comcidea with the Scottish philoaophera in regard to the former; but, as to the latter, he mdntains, with Kant, that the doubt is legitimate, and, though he admits it to be insoluble, he Uiinks it ought to be enter- tained. Nor, on the ground on which they and he consider the question, am I disposed to dissent from hia oonclusion. But on that on which I have now placed it, I cannot but view the inquiry aa in- oompetent For what is the question m plain terms I Simply,— Whether what our nature compels us to believe as true and red, be true and real, or only a consistent illodoni Now thia question cannot be phaoaophiodly entertained, for two rea- sons. 1% Because there exists a pre- aumption in favour of the veracity of our nature, which either predudee or peremptorily repels a gratuitoua aupposi- tion of its mendadty. 2% Because we have no mean out of Consciousness of lasting Oonsdousnesa. If its data are found concordant, they must be presumed trustworthy; if repugnant, t*^^*^ •^■ ready proved unworthy of eredit. Un- Icas, therefore, the mutud coUation of the primary data of Conaciousneas bo hdd Buoh an inquiry, it is, I think, mani- fbetly incompetent It is only m the oaae of one or more of theae origind facts being rfjeoted aa Cdae, that the queation •an emeige in regard to the truth of the othefB. But,inredity,onthishypothMia, fie problem ia already decided ; their oiaracter for truth ia gone; and "J •**." aeqnent canvassing of their probability la profitleas speculation. Kant started, like the philoaophwa m * with the non-ftooeptance of the deliverance of ConsdouanesB,— that wo are immediately cognisant of extended objects. This first step decided the des- tmy of his philosophy. The extemd worid, aa known, was, therefore, only a ph»nomenon of the intemd; and our knowledge in general only of self; the objective only subjective ; and truth only the harmony of thought with thought, not of thought with things; redity only ft necessary illusion. It was quite in order, that Kant should canvass the veracity of all our primary beliefs, having founded his philosophy on the presumed falsehood of one ; and an m- quiry followed out with such consistency and talent, could not, from such a com- mencement, terminate in a different result.* Fichte evolved this exphcit idedism— Nihilism, t . ^ .. , . Following the phantom of the Absolute, Schelling rejected the law of Contradiction, as Hegel that of Excluded Middle ; t with the result that, as acknowledged by the former, the worlds of common sense and of philosophy are reciprocally the converse of each other. Did the author not see that this is a reduetio ad ahturdum of phi- losophy itself 1 For, «a; Aypogic, vol. i p. 90.— En. I In the MS. foUow references to the two BcaUgers, to Gtotins, and to Cuaa ; the last being, tiirongh Bnmo, the father of the modem Phllo. Bophy of the Absolnte. All these references axe given in fdl, Dwcuwiona, pp. 888-641.— Bn. Jtfffl lilMOBAMDA FOB FREFACE. mi Btewiri vera lilionl— .Iml ifrmn n^ol opinioDi with tiiliotoiilMiiiiaq^.11^^ m sufficienUy lo% poiiil nf "'limr. On tlie natim .Hid. iiiiHii,iif 'ilie |iiiifi.' ^niiif ol'iiiiiiii will. ■ml.-flltiHrt' dd iicil.]iy il 'fml' mo- fnOf, Hicnigli 'Hidr iWMtiM>:ii.'lMlliriiiii Iktir fvmwpl They do Ml tlltt^ :iiillit 'OfUM: 'dillMiuse betw eon 'Uiiilil. mad fhy- iiatl.in9iii7— thiitthektterjsmen.induo- tii* 'dMiiimtiini, the fomer mora roeoiik- tim. eeoeniiiig mti m mw j firen MEttiagent Inl m ekment of thought being fimid mmamrif, there mneioe e tether prooeii —10 Moeriein. whether It 'he, I'l kf neliw w hf 'Odnoetion 1 S*> nltiaietely' or ^egbm- tifify neeeHMy ; .If,. potitlTe or nig»life. . . . . A kw of nature il only got hy general indnotion ; « 1*« of mind, m sot by •ipeilnMil— whether we^ can ■%$$ 0mh U; & f. esiie^o^ieeyiwind. snliJMtive |ihi- 'not |Millfll--«rror of Stewart (Eaeayt, p. xili. I An experimental aoaljpie,. 'but ^of diflw- •ttt hinds, is oompetent to phjaleal and mental mnenoe, heeidea the oleerfation 'eottmon. to both.. 'To meiitil, the tiying whal' parte of a ooncrete' 'ihoiMht or oog- .nItiMt een 'be^ thought away, what eannol [Aifliir ili«fliiMMifi iMfifiliiiiiifiify to :tiy'|iUlMMlf #«lf Seoiikk idbo^ m re- 'prtmmted^flMimmimmmrt} [A. Om fii . JMmIpIc' of €kmmm Smm,} I would, with Laihnit^,.t 'dWiignieh tmtha m 'Oognitione 'inio 'thoM' '«( mk, or 'Of AfnqMion, (external and intemai)., and Ihoaeof JlemoM. The tnilhi or oogoitiona of both, claasea mat 'On .an '■^ifjitilt .mm! ooamon ground of a primaiy end inenll- eable beli.ef . Thia .ground :Biay 'be 'eaied - the_ namiii_ of Otmmm _%iif,"Of Fim- " " or ' • Ooll Wmia, wrt. ▼. p.. m ••llie: eildiUMit 'la 'tHe iatdleelQal imil.. aMnii tO' be .ngnlMed. bf hiira pailiMitly' MMiiipiit to tlioM 'iihiah 'lit 'tiaoe among the fi* ftp»tftWftt of flie 'iwlailtfl. efftaa; .iiid in aU ^eor ]iiiilMii|iliJml mmm,^ (le'«hiitOT«rral(|wl tlMfiaer nhitej ^ jti«nM of th« niad It UtUe to IM aiMMl If lie' ^tHut ttndtney to a pramttiin gnnemliM- 'HlB.'*' Ob. 'thii' 'pwMiu tiMra k .tht foUowiiur :BHi#iialDott ta'SlrW, HMiilloa%.oepf : •* Hhew hew tliit iBtloiy it Titltted Iqr tht flMt thtl fit i being MMMitiii tftlKNiiili an jtbttntttttblitlitcl. ' lnillft'ii i i% Hi.litt ta the enter of Mnettai. it tht im. :iB tht oMtr t Hflmttox Imii, L. i». oh. t^ln. of Fidmff eif Tmik or EmmU^ of Nth imrtdorint»6m$imMiM^. Thit, in itaelf , ia^ iimply a HMt,. rimply an. expetieDce, and. It purely mbieotiTe and purely negative. II aupportt the validity of a propoeitioo, only on the fiwit that I find that it is im- potitble for me not to hold it for true, to anppote it therefiore not true— without denying, in the one otee, the Teradty of oontoiouanete ; and. In 4he other, the poe- aibility of thought; [without presuming] that I am neoetsitated to hold the falae lor the true^ the unreal for the real, and thenfOfe thai my inteUigent nature ia radically mendacious. But this is not to be gnmiitoaBly preaumed ; therefore the proposition must be admitted. But to apoly it to the two ohMMi of truths. 1* Tmtha of Fael or of. fanepHon (Ex- ternal and Internal..) Am I asked, for example, how I know that the series of phanomeoa called ihe oxtamal ^world or the non-ego exi.8ti lanswes^that I know it by external Per- eeption. But if further aaked, how I 'know that thia PetoepHon ia not an. U- .Inslon — that what I peroetve aa the ex- ternal wodd, is not merely a particuUir order of nhaiiioniena pertaining to the in- lemal— toat what I am conscious of aa aomething different from me, is not merely telf lepMtenting a not-self — I can only anawer, thai I know this solely inasmuch aa I find that I cannot but feel, hold, or -bellofe that what I perceive as not^lf, ia rwOly |rea«itad In consoiouanets aa nol- self. I can, indeed, in this, as in the ctte of every other truth of Fact, imagine the poeiiMlilv of the converse— imagine that what ia given aa a mode of not-self, may behifialityonlyainodeof self. Butthta only in faiiytntng -that my primary oon- aeiouanen deoeivea me; which is not to be supposed without a ground. Now, the oonviction here cannot in propriety be called Beaton, because the truth avouched by II la one only of Fact, and because the -oonviction avouching it is itself only ma- iiliMted. aa^ a .flacL It may, .however, bO' •well denmniaated Common Sense. Funda* mental or Transcendental Consciousneaa. 4)ther' examplea ^nay be taken from Me* 'norvand its^ rea]%/Fieraonal Idenlity,fta M. Truths of lleaaon. Again, If I am aahed, how I know that Q^^m^ jjC«||2iq mtigt .have Ita cauae. thai every -q uality must .have Its aubstanoa^ that there ia no 'mean between two contra- dictoriet, ftc, I anawer, tiiat I know il by Beaaon, i^trs— Beeton or pwt being a nama for tiMi' »wipd oonaidered la the aomne,oraa the ooDipiement, of firal principles, axioms, lff» notions, xenial or fwucmi iwimm. MEMORANDA FOR PREFACE. sli But if further asked, how I know that Rea- lon it not illusive— that this, or that tirst principle may not be false-I can only an- iwer. that I know it to be true, solely inaa- much aa I am conscious that I cannot but feel hold, believe it to be true, seeing that I cannot even realise in imagination the poBsibUity of the converse. Now, this last ktence of conceiving the converse, is not, I think, so properly styled Reason, which is more of a positive character, as Common Sense, Fundamental Consciousness, &c. This is shewn in the quotations from Locke and Price. Note A, TesUmomes, Nos. 61, 78. , [The substance of these remarks on the Principle of Common Sense, has been already printed, in an abbreviated form, in Note A. p. 754. The present fragment, which has the appearance of bemg au earlier sketch of the same note, has been inserted in this place, as containing a somewhat fuUer statement of an import- ant distinction, which is perhaps liable to be overlooked in the brief form m which it was previously published. Though not apparently designed for this Preface, it is sufficiently cognate in matter to the pre- ceding fragments, to be entitled to a place with them. The following fragment, which is marked « Preface," may be regarded as a continuation of the same subject, being a step towards that further analysis of the Truths of Reason, in relation to the Phi- losophy of the Conditioned, which the Author regarded as his peculiar addition to the philosophy of his predecessors. 1 his analysis will be found further pursued in Notes H and T. and especially m the Philosophical Appendix to the Discussum. —Ed.] [TestimonieB to the merits of the Scottish Philosophy, and of Beid cu its founder, j [B. Stagei m the method of Mental Samce.] Three degrees or stages in the method of mental science. 1°, When the mind is treated as matter, and the mere Baconian observation and Induction applied. .^ • • 2°, When the quality of Necessity is m- vestigated, and the empirical and neces- tary elements thus discriminated. (Here Reid is honourably distinguished even from Stewart, not to say Brown and other British philosophers.) »• When the necessity is distinguished into Iwo classes— the one being founded on a power or potency, Ihe other upon an impoteooeofmind. Hence the Philoaophy oftheOondllioned. l.—PoRBT.— Manuel de Philosophic par Auguste Henri Matthise, traduit de I'Alle- mand sur la troisifeme ^tion, par M. H. Poret, Professeur suppliant h la Facultfi des Lettres, et Professeur de Philosophic au Collie Rollin- ^»"«' ^^??* ^, ,, Preface du Traducteur.— ' II suffit da- voir une id^e de I'^tat des etudes en France pour reconnaitre que la philosophic ^cos- saise y est aujourd'hui naturaUs^e. Nous la voyons defrayer k peu prfes seule len- seignement de nos coU^ges; sa langue et ses doctrines out passd dans la plu- mrt des ouvrages 6l^mentaires qui se publient sur les matiferes philosophiques ; aa m^thode severe et circonspecte a satisfait les plus difficiles et rassur^ lea plus d^fiants, et en meme temps son profond respect pour les croyances mo- rales et religieuses lui a concili^ ceux qui reconnaissent la v^rit^ surtout k ses fruits. Les penseurs pr^voyants qui se donndrent taut de soins pour 1 mtroduire parmi nous out eu h se f^liciter du succfes de leur efforts. La seule apparition de cette phUosophie si peu fastueuse suffit pour mettre k terre le sensualisme ; une doctrine artificielle dut s'^vanouir devant la shnple exposition des faits ; le sens in- time fut r^tabli dans sa prerogative ; lea elements a priori de rintelligence, si ridi- culement honnis par Locke et son 6cole, rentr^rent dans ]& science dont on avait pr^tendu les bannir, et y reprirent leur place l^itime. Cette espkje de restaura- tion philosophique devait avoir ses conse- quences: des questions assoupies, mais non pas mortes, se r^veill^rent ; les limites arbitrdrement posdes ii la connaissance disparurent; la philosophic retrouva son domaine,et de nouveau les esprits s effor- cferent de le conqu^rir. En g^n^ral, le bienfait des doctrines ^cossaises import^es en France, 5*a ^t^ d'affiranchir les intelU- gences de tout pr^jug^ *^'^®l® **, xt ? remettre en presence de la r^lit^. Nul doute que ce ne fut 14 rindispensable con- dition de tout progrfts ult6rieur, et cette condition indispensable, elles 1 ont remplie dans toute son ^tendue. Aujourdhm mdme qu'eUes ont port6 ces premiers fruits, les bons effets de ces doctrines ne sont pas, nous le croyons, prds de s ^P^iser, et nous regarderions comma un 6chec h la prosp^rit^ des Etudes philosophiques tout ce am tendrait k en contraner 1 mfl«ence. 2.— Garnieb.— Critique de la Philoso- phic de Thomas Reid, Paris, 1840. P. 112.—' Demandez k ce philosophe nnediatribution m4thodiquedesmatAiau» UniOBAIIDlA. FOB FEEFAOB. MBMOEANDA FOR PBEFACE. JPBT. f ttfi ft MtiMilli% imo •dteoito induoiioa fill. Oft n'^rtait Dfifirliiii 'DM' IA' 'tielia la ,|ilw nalna^ ; ' tl h cUptt do lui voir BlpgOT 00 facile kaiai «■! oo qui nous a inli la 'DlmiMi li Ift' maiiL Maia. oos mmJb&ci* am. :iiiii 'liaia m mmim qui uO' parligenl notrO' Imo, MIT' le 'leaa' dm devoir ^el anr' la. 'morale t Aveo loiu :iii' §Simm» fmmm§§' de Reid 'OAiim .longlempa enoow la loolure k plui inilraoilve pour l'«i|ii% lafliii..dllieieiMe poor le oarar, el la pm prafltaUe pour la phikwoplue.' P. 1 IS—' In prtenoO' del ooMlniolioiia. "ftiiliBli|iiei de I' AUemigne, j'ainie :niionz to naliiianz 4^ais de imoeie* Tlioaaa laid. '«!' FottTtier .ialmiiens,. qui a p«ni- 'Uomonl ataiit' lea Hoeii 'do m 'Oairidre^ 'qnl a lailM lei miti el lei oharpenlei : vi- '•mN'l^anliiteole, il en oomlruira des Tillei «l- 'daa iolfei. L* Alemand eil Tenlnpre- :iMiir andadenz qnl dana. .la .Mia de litir le 'Oonlnile de lerre el de^ 'paiie.' ..t.-^-tOmxJBAT.—Mmth de Plifloiopliie, .Bnria ISil, t. i p. Wk—' La 'pliloH^pUe 'dO' laid.. BOOS parall nn ^dea ptiii 'luaoi '«<- ■■llBli,de.km^tliodepiyoliologiqiiei Mm il^cofondie, mienz ordonnie, ellepeal de- vmir plw ^nt^matiqae el plni oompMe ; 'diO' penl 'donner )k roboervaion. nao fnnno "ptna^^'ialioBneUe. ^Sani doulo aio'n'eil'poi' lout la. vdril6 philoaopiiiqiio ; niaii' dani: .aoO'eMOBible eie eil ▼ini% ^el nona. oroyoni qpi'elle doH itaa ooniiddr^. par to Acolei laodeinea eonune: 'la pkitoopliia Mnen- Mm de Fnpril tonain.' 4.— TmiOT.— Intradnolioa ^ I'J^de ialafllfaofiii% Diaooon Pk«iminaire, 'Ik i pt' .HiP. flfnatiiK of Saad'a Eiiafei ' L^iniiinn. ^elioiiio el variAe qn'il. a an f fffpandm, Faaoor aino^n de la vMt^ qui 9*f rnonti* ;pafflOfil, el la digniltf oalma^'de Fezpreiaion en rondeni laleelaxe ezlrtaia' meni altaciuute.' fi. — OoOMK— {Conn d'Hiiloire de la PMloiopliie Morale an diz-huitiidme Si^dc^ aeoonde parlie^ public par MM. Danton el Yaobeiot, Para, 1840], p. 241 eq.* ' Tiiore 11 a final meril in Ihe ductrino of Uie Scottiah philoaopher, wbich it ia InpoMible too highly to ezloL Ho haa done belter than rain the hjpolheiea wbicb bad ahaken all the baaea of human belief; in izing with precision the limita of acienoe, he haa deatrojed for ever the apiiililiellwiiieii had inapind them. The pbiloiopb J which Beid combated had nol underatocd that there were facta inezpli- cable, facta which carry with them their own light ; and had therefore gone, in queal of a principle of ezplanaUon, into a iireign aphere. II ia Ihoa that to ezpMn Ihe phnnomena of perception, of mem- ory, of imagination, recourse was had lo imagei from the ezternal world ; the ph»> nomena of Ihe aoul were represented aa tiie effeota of lenaible impresaiona, them- lelvei reNiUnf fN>m a coatad between the mind and the body, letd hai liM down Ihe trnaeillefflnm, in virtue of which we can alwamfOoogniMe the point at which an allempi at wclination ^ht to ato^, when he aaya : — Paeti fimfk tmd primi- Urn mm iMajpiiMle. ll ia tfani thai he haa oiil ihorl Ihoie hypotlieses, those pro- ■nnptnona Hiaoriea, which history baa conaigned fbr ever lo the romanoei of In the meanwhile, il remaina for me lo conaider, whether Ihe remedy be nol ezotiiifii 'Snd whether 'the philoaophy of Beid, in mining the metaphyseal hypo- lheie% haa not proscribed the metaphyai- mI apMl itaelf. But belbre entering npon Ihe qneation, il ia requiaite lo pre- miae, thai even if this be done by Reid, alill there ia nothing in the proceeding al which oriliciam ongbl lo take offence. Hia mlaaion waa to proclaim the applica- tion of Ihe ezperimental method to the pliJtooDli|r of the human mind, on the mine of the hypotheses which had issued fvon the Chti«a n achool ; this mission he haa oonpleldl^ fnMlled, for .he has purged philoiophy, one alter another, of the IbntrT'fff'idiai 'Of the dnola^niE iceDlloiini * Tliia iMamp is gitm ia a tiaaalatioa found among Sir W. Hamilton's pqpecs. The other w^iiWiPW'aiHaa'WnaaiWMiP aaeaw luf flyPHnwaa mwiiWiawWia ausiuriUMp ■mump %#<^wWw*^^if^^^ mmf |QlSmBOSI»'--'B0k ofHaiut, of the idealism of Berkdey, of Se demonstrationB of ^^^J^'^ thua made a tahulm mn. Were it^en the fact, that the abuse of «w jneti^yBicaJ ;pirit,a;id theapect^lc of theabe^^^ iito which this apint has ^^jf^ human mind, bad canned Beid to pro- nounce ita baniahment from acience, for this we ought no more seriously to re- ^h him, than we ^^^o^^. f ^X"" Bacon for his proscription of the Syllog- iam, of which Ihe Schoolmen had made ao flagknt an abuse. My intention, there- fore, in touching on this deUcate point is, far less to evince the too empirical char- actor of the phUosophy of Reid, than to reUeve a great and noble acience from the unjust contempt to which J* ^aa been ezpoaed from Ihe philosophers both ome tohWof Bacon imd of the Scot^aa^L *But let us first see, how far Keias neglect of Metaphysic haa «te'»d«f;-T^^; oording to him, to ezplain a fiict la to carry il up into a fact more aimple; ao that the ezplanatory principle la of tne lame nature aa the fact ezplamed, nor, m our ezplanation of facta, ia it ever neoea- aarv for ua to tranacend ezpenence. 1 admit Ihe trath of thia definition for a certain number of Ihe adencea which ought not to transgreaa the bounda of ob- ■ei^ation : thua in Phyaics, in Natural His- tory, in Psychology even, the ezplanation of the foci can possess no other ohiffaxster, in propose no^SJ^aim. But I bebeve the luman mind goea farther ; the ez- okination which conaiata in the connecUng one fact to another more simple does not Buffice for it, nor doea it even recogniM Ihia aa a veritable ezplanation. To ez- plain, to ezplicate, in Ihe atnct Pfopnety Slanguage, is to reduce that which « to Ll Sh^b ought to be, in other words, to connect a foot to a principle. K^d, therefore, in the view he *i^? ?^^* ezpknation of focts, haa }>^jf^^r^ «si^the research of prmcipto, of the necessary causes and reaaona of thinga,— thatis,precisely,metaphysical epeculation. *0n the other hand, to djstmguiah phUoaophy from the sciences which have Lture for their object, be defines it-«A^ teunce of ih€ hwnan mwd; he thua wn- iiden philoaophy aa a adence no toa "pecial than the others, which la only dia- iSnated from them by the nature of ita object, and which, moreover, haa witn them the same method and the aame end. The aame method : for, like ^e "^^ ■ciencea, it observes; only the fojta which it observe! an immatenaL The iMae «id: foril propoMi the diaooveiy of Iftwj UhilheMkiMMof nalnn} monlyail- ferenoe Iving in the nature of theae laws. STthr^eral and Bynthetic Bcien^ which appliea itaelf to all, and to wh^ no matte? comes amiss, which « disto- ouiahedfrom other aciences, not by ino character of ita object but by the elevated point of view from which it contempktea Se universe of things, which styles iteelf philosophy of Nature, philosophy of Mind, phUosophy of History, according to ^e Hmitation of the object which for tt^e moment it conaider8,-^f such a acience Reid doea not appear to have even aua- pected the ezistence. ^n fine, we ought not to forget that Reid is a pariasan of the Baconian method, which he has eztended from the sci^ces of nature to the science of mmd. JNow, as is well known. Bacon had a V^^^J^^ tempt of Metaphymc, and names it only to deride it, or to shew that m retaming the word, he rejects the thing. Accordingly, in his classification of the sciences, he reduces Metaphysic to the ^lejre bc^°^ of the immutable and universal forma of nature, that is to say, to a transcendental phyS^; while subsequently, in h« Novum Organum, there is no mention of it at aU. R^d, who inherited from Bacon h« method, inherited likewise from bun hia contempt of Metaphysic; and, with Beid, the whole Scottish school. * Once more I repeat, the reaction ot the ezperimental philosophy, so mnchand BO long oppressed by speculation, is ezcus- ^leTn rSw aa in Bacon, because on thenr part it waa natural and almost neceBSMy; but in the present day, when this philoso- phy haa everywhere tnumpbed over the SbLcles which the spirit of Byetem the prejudices and the authority of the past, had accumulated in ite path,-in the pre- sent day, when this philosophy m its turn oppreawe Metaphysic, and would, if rt coSdr^clude V from, the dom^ of scienc^, it may not be unimportant bnefly to BheW, thJt Metaphysic also ha^>^ titlea, and ii» legitimate place m the cycle of human knowledge. . . ■to the firrt place, it is a veiy anc.™* science; under definitionB the meet d^ veree. it has always appeared aa the ^^ce of principle..' TJntU the e.ghteenth Mntury, it has never for a moment qmt- ^ fte philosophic stage, and on th^ eSge has new ceased to occupy themost Snguished part The reaeon of th» preeminence waa 'J^/'J'Ptik of ^ Jtetophysio was confided the task of r^ JolvSr the most extensive, ajdoous, and SJS!Lt probleos: MeUphyaio alow SD<&e ol God and his attnbutea, of t^ S2wti coMiawed in if totaUty wd i% 02 MEMOMASBA WGSL PEEmCK 1mp% of IIm imMi toil ami. of ;ili itaia j; M Atepliytio aloiw Ommi, U mek iMnllf ' llie ond in. view for tte atHfilf , to Hm iin. 4#Hita, Ills idid 'iif ' tlM^ iMnlifn], to '«iM win tlM ii«a of Hio good, to ilio iatolli- mi^m Hm ideal of tie true. Siiiee the ampiritiii of ilM 'lasl ceolury, domiimiit in iteme and SDgbnd, has i^6gatod Xela|ifBio to Hie ragion. of oMmnraa, adenea mmW pgitatoe '«liMe mlgli^' po* ^iaiM, ^and. .if piehaDoa H^. inoola tlieni, it doaa- m vitk .a 'tinidiif :and waakneai 'wliiit. make na mgrtM Mk fioweifal. iin-^ pulae of tlie malaiilifaioal. nmiiiia wMoli. 'atone: .la MMfetent' to' :liandle and mmlw Ikam foraidaUe f paatfona.. Whj then iaa it been fepodiaiad % aoieneef la it only proper' to genemto nmni.ifl<3ent .ro- maneeat la it tliat' lUa|ili|ie'lii wltlioil abaaisf • To jndga of it by the objectfone of ita advenatiea and by the nnreflective en- ihnaiaani of ita partlaane, to judge of .it •apaiWly by the alfanga ftonna in which imaiination haa been, 'pfeaaed to' olothe 'it^ II would aeeni that Metaphyaie it • .phllo- BOphy myataiioaaiuid almoet' anpeifannieQ. wiiili deaeenda fb«n another world, and wiieli ..haa^ noiiinf in oominon with' 'tfca poaHlve^ and. 'uatnial. 'meHiodB of acienoe. 'fhiia 'ia nothing' 'naoie 'lyaa.^ M elaphysic, like the other aoleueea, haa lie note in the nature of the mind. If the leieneea of fiwi :iiiOBe in obaervation, if the .abetnust •oiaiioea are f oonded. mpm reaaonin.g, Me- tafhyaic has for ita faaaia the oonoeptiona of 'reaaon,. aa wel 'pnre aa in comUnalion with, tbo date. »l«tol into EngUah Boehaaan'h Hi. ^ «f Scottaad. ''of twTSSiSr »«"»«*>>«- wAton fcy Dr kSS a^ ne Bad resolved to amwe Umaelf wM^nV be^«Mh bet. a. his PHSSwiSTrv ZrtSirT^ J • "^ ^'^y "BCwad on the *n»ed from then notes, is odimtfid in the foj^ing pag,., ^ j iSTSSeS I^.i!r^ J^"* ■** '*«" traditiotu •nd the neoUaetto of alnroU m^!^ iff ■BNiirld Qf«giiiitlier of jPMMT^wgiiry^ 11,0 miriiiiiir of 'ti|« ^ieot. ■£W<»Joo|Hs, and the wl^pnfat of Hoy. m^m. me WM onoof tw«ii^.««neeliiMi«; , ♦ Mote' A. OF THOMAS REID, D.D. the most ramarlaMe of wbom wm ThtvM -« rt th«s««, tin»KS's^?r «» EdinbBi5^_4„d were the firet k,™^ "L™^™ """"rife., itehl^ij; ?»*J^ gBrfos which have «> l^S SSir^ •^^'*W> still distinguief, thi .*.«_a 1 ^ r "i^Mim ^'UanMSffltinicai endow. S^Sii!? *!**» «he other monuments wnirn uinMiato the race of tlu «!»«..»<_ « to be addod «. PhlZp^i^} & ' Rewflifr2f'th\*T\'^-'^ »' »' , '"■ uw, aU that 1 have been able «« l«ni amounts to this i—That. after tJ» 3«" J|«rt at the parid, sdSj of^L«r! ««ch.r, that, abJut^ai^. *>»* ^ilosophy for three j«n inrDrS^ *;»»bul^ who after^ iSaSLlI^ ^^ of notice a. an author r»rticuto?» » '■wiwimj { and by a voliuntnous trtt^titm, £ong ago W.t.e„/„n "TS'S^ iS*that 2S: ««»"l"f «he College wei^ » W tin^ vttf abort, and the edn«> •to (««jrting to'o, K^d-s own L^uS^ ■<«htandsape>6eiaL "«conm; ^««*rf«», h,r^^ -^.^ » nnui of good and w«n.w«ai*S X. .» . l»»«f«on which touched,^uSwJilv « «h« ,^«city of "lattrnt u3& :;^->^P^,cha,a5^,t7^ •o2s^d"thntS'''t:r"in-^r- q»«« of hi, WASSt to CoS^ •"wnan, whidi bad hm, iinA>,^T ' ^-w^Mrata^, and muted the charuM KoHBi During this period, he formed an intimacy with John Stewart, afterwards Professor of Mathematics in Marischal College, and author of ** A Commentary on Newton's Quadrature of Curves." His predilection for mathematical pursuits was confirmed and strengthened by this connection. I have often heard him mention it with much pleasure, while he recollected the ardour with which they both prosecuted these fas- cinatmg studies, and the lights which they imparted mutually to each other, in their first perusal of the " Principia,''' at a tiiiie when a knowledge of the Newtonian dis- coveries was only to be acquired in the writings of their illustrious author. In 1736, Dr Reid resigned his office of librarian, and accompanied Mr Stewart on an excursion to England. They visited togetlier London, Oxford, and Cambridge, and were introduced to the acquaintance of many persons of the first literary eminence. His relation to Dr David Gregory procured him a ready access to Martin Folkes, whose house concentrated the most interesting objects which the metroi>oli8 had to offer to his curiosity. At Cambridge he saw Dr llentley, who delighted him with his learn- ing, and amused hun with his vanity ; and enjoyed repeatedly the conversation of the blind mathematician, Saunderson— a pheno- menon in the history of the human mind to which he has referred more than once in his philosophical speculations. With the learned and amiable man who was his companion in this journey, he main- tained an unmterrupted friendship till 1706, when Mr Stewart died of a malignant fever. His death was accompanied with circum- stances deeply afflicting to Dr Reid's sensi- bility; the same disorder provmg fatal to hb wife and daughter, both of whom were buried with him in one grave. In 1737, Dr Reid .vas presented, by the King's College of Aberdeen, to the living of New-Machar, in the same county ; but the circumstances in which he entered on his preferment were far from auspicious. The intemperate zeal of one of his predecessors, and an aversion to the kw of patronage, had BO inflamed the minds of his parishioners against him, that, m the first discharge of his clerical functions, he had not only to en- counter the most violent opposition, but was exposed to personal danger. His unwearied attention, however, to the duties of his office, the mildness and forbearance of his temper, and the active spirit of his humanity, soon overcame all these prejudices ; and, not many years afterwards, when he was called to a different situation, the same per- sons who had suffered thwnselves to be so for misled as to take a sllttn in the outrages iigainst him, followed him, on his departure, with their blessings and tears. Dr Reid*s popularity at New-Machar (as I am informed by the respectable clergy- man* who now holds that living) increased greatly after his marriage, in 1740, with Elizabeth, daughter of his uncle, Dr George Reid, physician in London. The accom- modating manners of this excellent woman, and her good offices among the sick and necessitous, are still remembered with gra- titude, and so endeared the family to the neighbourhood, that its removal was re- garded as a general miBfortune. The simple and afi'ecting language m which some old men expressed themselves on this subject, in conversing with the present minister, deserves to be recorded ; — " We fought agaiml Dr Reid when he came, and would have fought /or him when he went away." In some notes relative to the earlier part of his history, which have been kindly com- municated to me by the Rev. Mr Davidson, minister of Rayne, it is mentioned, as a proof of his uncommon modesty and diffi- dence, that, long after he becanie minister of New-Machar, he was accustomed, from a distrust in his own powers, to jireach the sermons of Dr Tillotbon and of Dr Evans. 1 have heard, also, through otlier channels, that he had neglected the pnictiee of com- position to a more than ordinary degree in the earlier part of his studies The fact is curious, when contra^sted with that ease, perspicuity, and purity of style, which ho afterwards attained. From some informa- tion, however, which has been lately trans- mitted to me by one of his nearest relations, I have reason to believe that the number of original discourses which he wrote while a country clergjiuan, was not inconsider- able. Tlie satisfaction of his own mind was probably, at this period, a more powerful incentive to his philosophical researclies, than the hope of being able to instruct the world as an author. But, whatever his views were, one thing is certain, that, during his residence at New-Machar, the greater part of his time was spent in the most intense study ; more particularly in a careful exami- nation of the laws of external perception, and of the other principles which form the groundwork of human knowledge. His chief relaxations were gardening and botany, to both of which pursuits he retained his attachment even in old age. A paper which he published in the Phi- losophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London, for the year 1748, afibrds some light with respect to the progress of his speculations about this period. It is en- titled, "An Essay on Quantity, occasioned by reading a Treatise in which Simple and Comnound Ratios are anpUed to Virtue and • The Rev. William Stronacn. ACCOONT OP THE Llf B AND WRITINGS OF THOMAS REID, D.D, i III i Varit r amltiiie'iw plainlj, by Its eoiilMil% Wm^ altlMiuli. :||0 liMi not yet entii«ly ro- .iMpiM: m §mmiu mmmim •«! .Iiii ywlfc, M'«W'1i#Miiiigtoflifwt^liiitiliiii|htt^ to iitlier 'ObJMts. Tim Instiae ftUuded to in Aeiitlii of' 'tliit ptpiTi WIS' nywiftely the ** hammn into ilM '0*%tn of' our IdeM of Bmm^ ami Fir. lue ;'" by Dr Hutdiflion of OiMgow. A^ 'OOKiMmg to tbit very .ingnioiaB writor, tbo ■wiiiwil of faMie good producod by an indi- vidiialy deprading partly on bis b^mmmimee, and partly on his oAl/i/yy therobilioiibotivoon tbeae dillbronl 'moral idoaa may bt «CfMM»d m 'tiw tadmioal form of alphyiH W lay- iig' Ibal 'Iba inl Is in tbo oompoiind pio- portte 'Of 'iio two otboia Honim^ Br SwIfllwBOii 'ialbn,. iiat ** m^ ^mmmimm of m. .agent (wbieb in. 'tbis iystem is sjwrny. ':iMMii' witb bis moral fmrit) Is pmpertional to a HwitiMf having' 'the monent ' of good for 'tbo :iiiiiiietBfor» and the ability of the .^gontforlbedenonbiator.** Yarious other' eianiiilesofaaiiitikr nature occur in tbe iMne works and are stated 'with a giavity :iiol dtogeilier 'worthy of tbe author. It is^ ;|ivobable thai they were intended, merely as ilfusfniiliiiurof his geneisl icasoniiigSi. not as «M«iii of investigation for the discovery of new eomihiiloiis .; but 'they appeared to Dr .Reid 'to hi' an innovation 'wbieb 'ft was^ of luiportauee to resist, on .aeeouit of the. tan- deaey it ntkbt have (by conlbiiiMiiif lie evidence of different bimneheo of seiiiiie) to. nitardiiepfop«isor'.|inowiedge. Tbe very .h%|i 'lepntatiott wbleh .Dr .Biteboson. then foss e ss ed in tbe univenitieB of :8eotiN!id, mMoi to tbe recMt attempts of Pitcalm and Obe^ne to apply mathematical, reasoning to iiiedieiii% would, bestow, ;il .is...lihely, an .in- tnpist' 01, .Dr lMd% Essay at the 'tine of Its pttUieation, which it can scanely be expected to ^possess, at present Many ^of tho' observatiiiiiB, ho'wever, wbieb it containn, .are aonto" ^ani' 'Original ; Md :ai^ of them are expriiBed wilh that ^deaniisB;' and, preeision. ao oooBpEewMis In his snhseiinent oonposip tioii& Tbe chreumstanoe which renders, a nlsieet.8oseeptibleofmatbeniat,icalcoiisider- •tMni, is aoouratoly stated; and the proper 'proflnoe of that scienM dollied 'in sue! a :maiiiier as sufficiently to expose the ahsur- .dity of those abuses off te technleal phiMo- ^^ wbick were, al^ 'that time jno'valent Fffoni some 'passsgea in It, there fa, I think, rojfd fiir concluding that the author*^ Midini had not been very extensive pre- vimii^ 'to this period. 'The, ^ennnNnitlon, in pwtlenbur, which he bas.glv«n. of'^'ibe diUbr- ent kinds d pn^er f imii|%, aftmh, a 'praoff tbat^ he was not aeouainted witb tbe le- ined yet .sound 'disquisilions. eoneermng thO' nniuin of .iMailsr and of pmpmMomt "wkcb 'the <*'ll.alhainatieal. Lectures" of Dr Bar- row| nor with, tbe rsnarks on tfaa .same Miijeet inifodnied. by Dr Ckrke In. one of ^hls eontmriirial letters, addressed to ajemmss* In the same paper. Dr Reid takes occa- sion to olfer aonie leiections on the disputo between tbe Mewtonians and Leibnitzbuis, floneeming the measure of forces. The iindamental idea m wbleh these reflections nroceed, is just and Important ; and it leads to the correction of an error com- mitted veiy genendly by the partisans of both opinions-.tbat of mistaking a question concerning the comparative advantages of two dfJttMmm ibr a differenee of statement with respect to a pkptkai fact It must. I think, be aokntwledged, at the same time, that the whole merits of the controversy are not here exhausted ; and that the hon- our of placing this very subtte and abstruse question in a point of view calculated to reconcile oomnletely tbe contending parties, was reserved for M.D*Alenibert To have lUlen short of the success which attended the Inquiries of that eminent man, on a sn%ect so oongenid to his favourite babito of stn%, wIM not reflect any discredit on the powoM off Dr Reid*s mind, in tbe judgment off those who are at all acquainted with tbe history of this oelebmted discussion. In 1711^ the prafeeBors of King*s Col- Imo ehnted^ Dr Reid Professor of Philoso- phy, in testimony of the high opinion they had lormed of bis learning and abilities. Of tbe particular phu which he followed in .US' aeademioal ,leetu.res, whUe he held 'thisoAce, Have. 'not 'been able to obtain any satisfactory account; but the depart- ment of science which was assigned to him by the general system of education in that univendty, was abundantly extensive ; com- prehending Mathematics and Physics as well as Logic and Ethics. A simikr system was pursued formerly in the other univer- sltios of Scotland ; the same prafMSor then MdMting his pupil through all those biinnes of knowledge which are now ap- eropriated to diflferent teachera And where e happened fortunately to possess those various accomolisbments which distin- guished Dr Reid In so remarkable a degree, it cannot be doubted that the unity and comprehensiveness of method of which such acadiBmical courses admitted, must neces- mtSfy have poseeseed Important advantages over that more mhinte subdivision of Uter- ary kbour which has since been introduced. But, as public establishments ought to adapt themselves to what is ordinary, rather than to what is possible, it is not surprising that experienoe shouM have gradually suggested an arrangement more suitabh) to the narrow limita wUeb comnMinly circumscribe human ge^ Soon alter Dr Reid% roMval to' Aber- I i deen, he projected (in conjunction with his friend Dr John Gregory) a literary society, which subsisted for many years, and which seems to have had the happiest effects in awakening and directing that spirit of philo- sophical research which has since reflected so much lustre on the north of Scotland. The meetings of this society were held weekly ; and afforded the members (beside the advantages to be derived from a mutual communication of their sentiments on the common objects of their pursuit) an oppor- tunity of subjecting their intended publica- tions to the test of friendly criticism. The number of valuable works which issued, nearly about the same time, from individuals connected with this institution— more par- ticulariy the writings of Reid, Gregory, Campbell, Beattie, and Gerard— furnish the best panegyric on the enlightened views of those under whose direction it was originally formed. . . Among these works, the most ongmal and profound was unquestionably the " In- quiry into the Human Mind," published by Dr Reid m 1 764. The plan appears to have been conceived, and the subject deeply medi- tated, by the author long before ; but it is i^oubtful whether his modesty would have ever permitted him to present to the world ihe fruits of his solitary studies, without the encouragement which he received from the general acquiescence of his associates in the most important conclusions to which he had From a passage in the dedication, it would seem that the speculations which termi- nated in these conclusions, had commenced as early as the year 1739 ; at which period the publication of Mr Hume's " Treatise of Human Nature," induced him, for the first time, (as he himself informs us,) " to call in question tbe principles commonly received with regard to the human understanding." In his " Essays on the Intellectual Powers," he acknowledges that, in his youth, he had, without examination, admitted the esta- blished opinions on which Mr Hume's sys- tem of scepticism was raised ; and that it was the consequences which these opinions seemed to involve, which roused his suspi- cions concerning their truth. " If I may presume," says he, "to speak my own sen- timents, I once believed the doctrine of Ideas so firmly as to embrace the whole of Berke- ley's system along with it ; till, finding other consequences to follow from it, which gave me more uneasiness than the want of a ma- terial worid, it came into my mmd, more than forty years ago, to put the question, What evidence have I for this doctrine, that all the objects of my knowledge are ideas in my own mind ? From that time to the pre- sent, I have been candidly and impartiy,all as I think, seeking for the evidence of this principle ; but can find none, excepting the authority of philosophers." In following the train of Dr Reid's re- searches, this last extract merits attention, as it contains an explicit avowal, on his own part, that, at one period of his life, he had been led, by Berkeley's reasonmgs, to abandon the belief of the existence of matter. The avowal does honour to his candour, and the fact reflects no discredit on his saga- city. The truth is, that this article of the Berkleian system, however contrary to the conclusions of a sounder philosophy, was the error of no common mind. Considered in contrast with that theory of materialism which the excellent author was anxious to supplant, it possessed important advantages, not only in its tendency, but in its scientific consistency ; and it afforded a proof, wher- ever it met with a favourable reception, of an understanding superior to those casual associations which, in the apprehensions of most men, blend indissolubly the pheno- mena of thought with the objects of external perception. It is recorded as a saying of M. Turgot, (whose philosophical opinions in some important points approached very nearly to those of Dr Reid,*) that " he who had never doubted of the existence of matter, might be assured he had no turn for metaphysi^ disquisitions.'* As the refutation of Mr Hume's sceptical theory was the great and professed object of Dr Reid's " Inquiry," he was anxious, before taking the field as a controversial writer, to guard against the danger of misapprehend- ing or misrepresenting the meaning of his adversary, by submitting his reasonings to Mr Hume's private examination. With this view, he availed himself of the good offices of Dr Blaur, with whom both he and Mr Hume had long lived in habits of friend- ship. The communications which he at first transmitted, consisted only of detached parts of the work ; and appear evidently, from a correspondence which I have per- used, to have conveyed a very imperfect idea of his general system. In one of Mr Hume's letters to Dr Blair, he betrays some want of his usual good humour, in looking forward to his new antagonist. " I wish," says he, " that the parsons would confine themselves to their old occupation of worry- ing one another, and leave philosophers to argue with temper, moderation, and good manners." After Mr Hume, however, had read the manuscript, he addressed himself directly to the Author, in terms so candid and liberal, that it would be unjust to his memory to withhold from the public so pleasing a memorial of his character :— « By Dr Blair's means I have been • See, In ptrticulsr, tiw utide *• fsistenoe" In tbe ** foqrdopeilta." ACX30IINT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF THOMAS REID, D.D. hwmmi. villi, tie pennal. «f jour peiform* mm viiiA I hmm mtd with, gram fliMiim' mm .MtantifiB. It m 'Mrtainlir wrj' mm tlmt a piom to tefajpliiliMopli^ h wrote with so niusli ^Mt, and affords no much Mtattainnieiit to tbe reader i thomgli. I mist ■til .«|iil' tlie 'diaadviiitaf^. under wMcIi I nm. %ml mmr had the whole perfomi- iiiioe at oooB before me, and could not he M» Mly to oompuw one part with .another. Tb thia wmmm, ehiea/, I aaetihe some obseoiitiee, whMh, in. .ifwile ef jwrnr ihort .anal|aii: or abetnMsiL .stiU. seem to 'hai^g over your ^jntem; for I must do you the jus- tiee to own that, when I enter into your mm,, m nan, .afpeais to expeii. .himalf ' with, gnalor penpieuity than mn do-.* talent which, above all others, u inquisito In that spedea of literature which you have eultivalM. There are some objections whieli I wouy , willii^ ftpose to the ehap- ter, * Clf Syit,' did! not anspeeft that 'they proceed from my not sulieieBiy nnderl ■tawhng il I and I am the more oonirmed In tUa^fii^ieiiMi, aa Br Blair 'tells, me thai 'the^ inner objeetions I mtda had been derived chiefly ffom, 'thai> mam, I shall, theiefbre, inrbear 'til the whole can be belMe at,, and ihai. not at present propose iny tether difieulties to your 'reasonlqii, I iiai only say that, if' you. .have beaiiaK to clear up these abstnise and iaportant JibjeetB. inalesd ef beinr mortified,' I shall he so vain as to pretend to a share of the iwafae' I and. thai think, thai, my errors, by having at hisal aone coherence, had led you to male a more strict review of my prin- 'Ciples, which were the common ones, .and to' pereeive their' ftttiiily. « As I was^ desirous to be of aone 'use to yen, I kept a watchful eye all ahing ever your itvle ; but it is really so correct, and m guoi English, that I found not anything votth the remarldi^, 'Thaw ie o4y una fmmm in. this chapter, 'whero mm naha use of the phrase Mmekr ia io, Instead of Mmtler f,am doing, which is the English «ne ; bat I eould mot find the passage when * sou^t for 11 You nay Judge how nn- exceptionahle 'the whole appeimd. 'to^ me, -then I eould remark so amai a blemisk .i tw8':i^compline&to.to^niy'IMendly.adver. aanes, Br Cmpbel .and Bt' Gerard .{ and alro to Br Oregoiy, whom I euwect to be of the same ii^tion, llioturii It has iwt openly deckred himself suck^ ^^L^. P^«Ml«r ■doctrines contained in Br Keid's" Inquiry," I do not think it necefwy here to attempt any ahatracti nor, indeed, do his speeulataona (conducted, aa they' iim% 'to slilel, .eonfoimlty to the .iiilea.«( induellve pUoeopbixhig) afford a .mljeel 'iW' the same miecies of rapid out^ line^ 'Which is so usefli.l in faolBliift« 'the ■tttdj «f » merely hypothetical Ihe'jry. Their' great object was to record and to' ebssiiy the phenomena which the operations ef the human 'nkd 'piMBt to those who reflect carefuUy on the snbjccto of their oonseiouaness ; and of such a history, it is manifest that no abridgement could be offered with advantage. Some reflections on the peculiar pkn adopted by the author, and en. 'tlie pnerml scope of his^ fesearches m this department of scienoe, will after- wards find a more convenient place, when I ■hall hum inished my account of his subse- qiaent publications. The iflea of prosecuting the study of the human mind, on a plan analagous to that whjdi had been so sucoeflsfully adopted in phyiici by the foUowers of Lord Bacon, if not first eonceived by Br Reid, was, at least, first carried successfully into execution in his writings. A n attempt had, long before, been announced by Mr Hume, in &e title- fagfi' ef ;hia *« fieatise of Human. Nature,'' 'to^ intndnee' 'tliO' einerhnental. method of TCisonlng into moni subjects; and some admbahb remarks are made in the intro- 'duetiMi to thai work,, on the errors into which his predecessors had been betiuretl by the spirit of hypothesis | and yet it is now very generally admitted, that the whole of his 'Own. .mien, nsto on a principle for wbli* then k no evidence but the authority of phioeophers; and it is certain that, in no part of it baa heahned to investigato, by a systamalinal analvsis, those general prin- ciples of our constitution which can alone afford a synthetical, ezphinatlon of its com- plicated phenomena.. I have often been disposed to think that Mr Hume's inattention to those rules of philoso- pli«i«.ii*Wi 'it 'Was his prafeMMd. intantimi. to exempli^, 'waa owing, in part, 'to^ acme uidistindiMii in :his notions concerning their hnport. It does not appear that, Si the earlier ;pan. ef m studies, he had. paid much attention to the' 'models of investigalliin. ex- hibited in the writings of Newton and of his succeasors i and that he was by no meane awan of the extraordmary merits of Bacon aa a pMlosonher, nor of the influence which his writings have had on the subse- quent progress of physical discovery, is demonalrated by the cold and qualified eneeminn. 'Whieh. is bestowed en bis genius in one of the most ehOleEato paasaifes of the " History of Bnghuid.** In these respects, Br Reid possessed important advantages ; famaiariied, from his eariy years, to those experimental inquiries which, in the course of the two hut centuries, have exalted natural philo- sophy to the dignity of a science, and determinad ■toongly, by the peculiar bent of hia genhis, to connect every step in the F«P«" of f^l^^ *»th the history of tlie human mind The influence of the general views opened in the " Novum Organon'* may be traced in almost every page of his writings ; and, indeed, the circumstance by which these are so strongly and character- istically distinguished, is, that they exhibit the first systematical attempt to exemplify, in the study of human nature, the same plan of investigation which conducted Newton to the properties of light, and to the law of gravitation. It is from a steady adherence to this plan, and not from the superiority of his inventive powers, that he claims to himself any merit as a philosopher ; and he seems even willing (with a modesty approaching to a fault) to abandon the praise of what is commonly called fienius^ to the authors of the systems which he was anxious to refute. " It is genius," he ob- serves in one passage, ** and not the want of it, that adulterates philosophy, and fills it with error and false theory. A creative imagination disdains the mean offices of digging for a foundation, of removing rub- bish, and earrymg materials : leaving these servile employments to the drudges in science, it pLins a design, and raises a fa- bric Invention supplies materials where they are wanting, and fancy adds colouring and every befitting ornament. The work pleases the eye, and wants nothing but solidity and a good foundation. It seems even to vie with the works of nature, till some succeeding architect blows it into ruins, and builds as goodly a fabric of his own in its place.** " Success in an inquiry of this kind,'* he observes farther, " it is not in human power to command ; but perhaps it is possible, by caution and humility, to avoid error and delusion. The labyrinth may be too intri- cate, and the thread too fine, to be traced through all its windings ; but, if we stop where we can trace it no farther, and secure the ground we have gained, there is no harm done ; a quicker eye may in time trace it farther.** The unassummg language with which Br Reid endeavours to remove the preju- dices naturally excited by a new attempt to philosophize on so unpromising, and hitherto so ungrateful a subject, recalls to our recol- lection those passages in which Lord Bacon —filled as his own imagination was with the futuro grandeur of the fabric founded by his hand — bespeaks the indulgence of his readers, for an enterprise apparently so hopel^s and presumptuous. The apology he offers for himself, when compared with the height to which the structure of physical knowledge has since attained, may perhaps have some effect in attracting a more gene- ral attention to pursuits still more im- mediately interesting te mankind; and, at any rate, it forms the best comment on the prophetic suggestions in which Dr R«»<1 occasionally indulges himself concerning the future progress of moral speculation : — " Si homines per tanta annonira spatia viam veram inveniendi et colendi scientias tenuissent, nee tamen ulterius progredi po- tuissent, audax procul dubio et temeraria foret opinio, posse rem m ulterius provehi. Quod si in via ipsa erratum sit, atque homi- num opera in iis consumpta in quibus mmime oportebat, sequitur ex eo, non in rebus ipsis difficultatem oriri, quae potestatis nos- trse non sunt ; sed in intellectu humane, ejus- que usu et applicatione, quaj res remedium et medicinam suscipit.*'*— "De nobis ipsis silemus : de ro autem quae agitur, petimus ; Ut homines earn non opinionem. sed opus esse cogitent ; ac pro certo habeant, non sectae nos alicujus, aut placiti, sed utilitatis et amplitudinis humanse fundsimenta moliri Prseterea, ut bene sperent ; neque Instau- rationem nostram ut quiddam infinitum et ultra mortale fingaiit, et animo concipiant ; quum revera sit infiniti erroris finis et ter- minus legitimus.**+ The impression produced on the minds of speculative men, by the publication of Dr Reid*s " Inquiry,*' was fully as great as could be expected from the nature of his under- taking. It was a work neither addressed to the multitude, nor level to their compre- hension ; and the freedom with which it canvassed opinions sanctioned by the highest authorities, was ill calculated to conciliate the tavour of the learned. A few, however, habituated, like the author, to the analytical researches of the Newtonian school, soon perceived the extent of his views, and re- cognised m his pages the genuine spirit and language of inductive investigation. Among the members of this University, Mr Fergu- son was the first to applaud Dr Reid's success ; warmly recommending to his pu- pils a steady prosecution of the same plan, as the only effectual method of ascertaining the general principles of the human frame : and illustrating, happily, by his own pro- found and eloquent disquisitions, the appli- cation of such studies to the conduct of the understanding and to the great concerns of life. I recollect, too, when I attended (about the year 1771) the lectures of the late Mr Russell, to have heard high encomiums on the philosophy of Reid, in the course of those comprehensive discussions concerning the objects and the rules of experimental science, with which he so agreeably diversi- fied the particular doctrines of physics. Nor must I omit this opportunity of paymg a tribute to the memory of my old friend, Mr Stevenson, then Professor of Logic ; whose candid mind, at the age of seventy, gave a welcome reception to a system subversive of the theories which he had taught for » Not. Org. W. t IniUuf. Mag —VtwStx. 10 ACCOUNT OP THB LIFE AND WRITINGS OF THOMAS REID, D.D. It Ibffty jttm; and whose zeal for the ail- iTHMiiMiit of Icnowletige prompted him, wkm m career wae almoel inished, to undertake 'tlie laborioiw laak.of new-model. ling tto: uief 111 oompiatfeii. ef elumeiituy instruciioii to which a mnffular diffldeoce of his. own powers Umited. m ■litifary exer- It is with no oommon feelings of respeeft and of gratitude, that I now rfteall the names ef these to whom I owe my first attach- Man! to these' stuiiM, and the happinesS' mm Iheral. eeenpatieii' superior to the mofO' asMring aims of a servile ambition. From the University of OiasgeW| Br Bald's '* Inqniiy" received a sill mere sfibslantial testimeny of approbation ; the aifiMff' having been invited, in 1710. by that learned body, to the Frofcssor^ip of Menil Phitosophy, then vacant by the reslgnatien of Mr .Smith. The 'pvefennent 'Was,, ht many respects, advantageow ; aibrdiiig an income considetahly greater tlian he enjoyed at Aberdeen ; andenahliuf him to concentrate to his favourite objects, that attention which had 'been, hitherto ^dis- taeled hy the miscelkneous nature' of his academical engagements. It was not, how- ever, without reluctance, that be consented to tear himself from a spot whore he had m long been luitening his roots; and, much as he loved the society in which he pasnd the remainder of his days, I am doubtful if, in his miml, it compensated the '^mctiiee' of earlier habits and connections. Lbattactiuf imm the charm of local attachment, 'the University of Ohugow, .at the time when Dr Reid was adopted as one of its members, piesaited strong attrae- tlons to reconcile hhn to his change of 'Situation. Robert Simeon, the gnat re- storer of ancient .geometry, was^ still, alive ; and, although far advanced in years, pre- served unimpaiied. his .ardour fa iitu%, ' his relish for mtM rehmation, and his aniisinir •sii^grfarities of humour. Br Moor com- bined, with a gaiety and a levity foreign to this olimate, the profound, attainments of a 9Adm tad of a ;raatlieniBtician. In Dr .Bhck, to 'whoae' 'fortunate genius a new world of science had just op^ied. Reid acknowtodged an instructor and a guide i and met a nnficity of msimois coumiial to his own. Tlie' Wilioiis (both fiitlitt .and son) wero' formed to attach his: 'heart. 'I^"the' similarity of their scientific pursuits, and an entire svinpathy with, his views and sen- tmwnts. .Ifor was hO' .:ieiB'. dehghted with the good^iumoured. oppoAion which .his opinions neirer failed to encounter in the .acuteuess of .Mliaru-then in the vigour of jjtttl*! genius, and. warm horn thelessons of a dtfTemnt school. Dr I.eeehman, thO' fipleid and bli^gnnber of Hutehcoon, was the official head of 'the Cbllege $ ^and. added. the weight of a vweraye name to the ropu- tation of a community which he had oncQ udomed. hi a more active station.* Animated hj the seal of such associates, and by the bnsjrseenes which his new resi- deuce pressntod k eveiy department of useful Industry, Dr Reid entered on his functions at Ok^w with an ardour not common at the pOTiod of life which ha had now attauMi His researches concemmg the human mind, and the principles of morals, which had occupied hut an mcon- siderable spaoe k the wide circle of science allotted to him hv his former office, wero extended and metiiodtaod in a course which empkyed five hours every week, during six months of the year ; the example of his illustrious pndoeessor, and the prevailing topics of eoavMiation around him, ocoS sioiially turned his thoughts to commercial politics, and produced some ingenious essays on different f nastioQS oonnected with trade, which 'weie conmunieated to a private society of hb academical friends ; his early passion for the mathematical sciences was revived by the conveisation of Simson Moor, and the Wihions; and, at the age of fifty-five, he attended the lectures of Black, with a juvenile curiosity and enthusiasm. As the substance of Dr Reid's lectures at Glasgow (at hsast of that part of them which was most unportant and origuial) has been since given to the public in a more improved form, it is unnecessary for me to enlarge on the plan which he followed in the disehaigo of his official duties. I shaU thetefiws only observe, 'that,, beside his spe- culations on the intellectual and active powers of man, tM a system of practi- cal ethics, his course comprehended some general 'views with .respect to natural, juris- prudence, and the Umihunental principles of politics. A few lectures on rhetoric, whicli wore read, at a separate hour, to a more advanced ckss of studonta, formed a volun- tary addition to the ■niropriate functions of his office, to which it is probable he was prompted, rather hy a wish to supply what was then a deficiency in the established course of educatio% than by any piedileo- *'*S '®' * ^'•«* ^ '■*«>J «» ''«■%! to hit Oidina.ry pursuits. The meiis of Dr Reid asa puMic teacher were derived chiefly from that rich fund of original and mstructive philoaophy which is to be found in his writrngs, and Irom his unweaMaasiduity kinciOcMing prindples which he conceived to be of essential import- ance to human happiness. In his elocution and mode of mstruction, there was nothing peculiarly attractive. He seldom, if eve^ mdulged hunself in the warmth of extem- pore discourae; nor was his mann« of • Motee reading calculated to increase the effect of what he had committed to writing. Such, however, was the simplicity and perspicuity of his style, such the gravity and authority of his character, and such the general m- terest of his young hearers in the doctrmes which he taught, that, by the numerous audiences to which his instructions were addressed, he was heard uniformly with the most sUent and respectful attention. On this subject, I speak from personal know- ledge ; having had the good fortune during a considerable part of winter 1772, to be one of his pupils. It does not appear to me, from what l am now able to recollect of the order which he observed in treating the different parts of his subject, that he had laid much stress on systematical arrangement. It is pro- bable that he availed hunself of whatever materials his private inquiries a,fforded, for his academical compositions, without auning at the merit of combming them into o whoie, by a comprehensive and regular design--an undertaking to which, if I am not mistaken, the established forms of his umvemty, consecrated by long custom, would have presented some obstacles. One thing is certain, that neither he nor his unmediate predecessor ever published any general pro- spectus of their respective plans, nor any hmds or outlines to assist their students in tracing the trains of thought which suggested their vaiious transitions. ... . The mterest, however, excited by such details as these, even if it were in my power to render them more full and satisfactory, must necessarily be temporary and local ; and I, therefore, hasten to observations of a more general nature, on the distinguishing characteristics of Dr Reid^s philosophical genius, and on the spirit and scope of those researches which he has bequeathed to posterity concerning the phenomena and laws of the human mind. In mentioning his first performance on this subject, I have already anticipated a few remarks which are equally appUcable to his subsequent pubU«itions ; but the hints then suggested were too slight to place in so strong a lieht as I cculd wish the peculiarities of that mode of investigation which it was the ereat object of his writings to recommend Snd to exemplify. His own anxiety to neglect nothing that might contribute to its farther illustration induced him, whde his health and faculties were yet enture, to withdraw from his public labours, and to devote himself, with an undivided attention, to a task of more extensive a«d Pf "?*f ^* utiUty. It was in the year 1781 that he carried this design into execution, at a period of Ufe (for he was then upwards of ievcnty) when the infirmities of age might bo supposed to account sufliciently for Ins retreat ; but when, in fiust, neither the vigour of his mind nor of his body seemed to have suffered any injury from time. ITie works which he published not many years afterwards, afford a sufficient proof of the assiduity with which he had availed hunself of his literary leisure-his « Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man" app^rmg in 1785, and those on the " Active Powers ^^ ^788. . As these two performances are, hotn oi them, parts of one great work, to which his " Inquiry into the Human Mind" may bo regarded as the introduction, I have re- served for this place whatever critical reflec- tions I have to offer on his merits as an authof; conceiving that they would be more likely to produce their intended effect, when presented at once in a connected form, tbaii if interspersed, according to a chronologica order, with the details of a biograj-hical narrative. SECTION II. OBSERVATIONS ON THE SPIRIT ANO SCOPE OP DR RBin'S PHILOSOPHY. I HAVE already observed that the dis- tinguishing feature of Dr Reid's philosophy, is the systematical steadiness with which he has adhered in his inquiries, to that plan of investigation which is delineated m the " Novum Organon," and which has been so happily exemplified m physics by Sir Isaac Newton and his followers. To recommend this plan as the only effectual method ot enlarging our knowledge of nature, was the favourite aim of all his studies, and a topic on which he thought he could not enlarge too much, in conversing or corresponding with his younger friends. In a letter to Dr Gregory, which I have perused, he particu- larly congratulates him upon his acquaint- ance with Lord Bacon's works; adding, " I am very apt to measure a man's under- standing by the opinion he entertams of that author." . , j *i. ♦ i,« i,o^ It were perhaps to be wished that he naa taken a little more pains to illustrate the fundamental rules of that logic the value of which he estimated so highly ; more especially, to point out the modifications with which it is applicable to the science of mind. Many important hints, indeed, con- nected with this subject, may be coUected from different parts of his writings ; but I am incUned to think that a more ample discussion of it, in a preUminary dissertation, might have thrown light on the scope of mwiy of his researches, and obviated some of the mosi plausible objections which have been stated to his conclusions. I A ACCOUNT OP THE LIFE AMD WRITINGS li mllt^ lioiwir, my intention «t pw- ienito Mtompt to suiiDfj a dmideratum of InlniillMtHiQ to the « PUIoMiiliy of tlie Ii»Rb«n8eyonifiiifIyappreci«tiil-.|,y some o»5«'«oinl(|««I M tlieaoio: mm of tli« .pica Of 'tlMsse two extromett, tho kttor r*f it?;5r ^f ^ *«*^^^ •%!22 T®^ ^*^^ 0' '•*tora, no other tiowi haw liad so indtaiitS*^!!!!?' klmi On the other handr^WtTr. SETTi^ ^'*T pliiliWViwBi in different 1^1? ^5~r **** •*«* »*« a« right l»tli; and it may perhaps he doubted whether any owi,hn|ioitMit role with resiieet um trne «1h«| of1In««t|ption uZ' !?!LS****r* ''«***■ « fiww^ Attention ijjgayiihew on the affipilahi'ng X «gteAt« of trne ani of iy£ sdenoeX EmZjJS!! **!S commanding powm of a MdaBdigM»tiveeloowMioo^ BioiiMtlioi Mien previoiMily followed in ewerir inatmee ^^^Tm^'^ l*wirf iirtiiw,. but it ^ !Z it ^"^ accidentally and withoit ^ ^^^ P'~?neeived^ design i and it , ««W jhat others had effeeted, either foftmitewdy or from some 'nomentarv ghmpse of the tru-tk. Itiajiiitlyohierred % Dr Reid. that "AtiMi^lTSu' hllTlfif '":!? ^""^ •****'' «>d Cj «!I1 „ ■ *l"**!^T?™»l I>w<»«lfld on. the 2J««J»' of light Hi« '»egnlii.ttiilo. "Pipw •»• naiims of commonsenae, and we F«et«nd ewjr day in oomsmi lilbi SS-! J?** P¥««i!*S»» % '^ther files, eitiier conoemlng' the material tyitem or •owprniDg the nund, mistakes his aim. •' Tlmerwiaiiaarenotint^idedtodetract apply to all tkae, withont cieeiitioa, who I»v« qmtiiiiiitiaed the prineiples of any of the artfc Indeed, they apply less fordblv •tojfis l»Te been dii^a te ob^ts anX 82", J"}" 5 inasmuch as we know of no "*™TT* *««i'e» have been reduced m^mMly Into a didactic form, wC Se artitsdf was as mnch in infimiy mexT. mamUl philosophy was when Bacon wrote. ^J!Tn Jit?* "«PP««<1 that the utility S!^'!!?^!:*"'* ^ ^ ^ ^ «»»l«t exe^ tojM of aeientifie method which have M ^ genniii' 'ui pnisnlte' of inferior imoortaniM. T^ vejy philosoiAical motto whSTST T^^ ,»?,>PPiIj prefixed to hi A^donml Diaeourses/' admits, on thS ZZi^fe2!Sl?T ««» Piwceptis con. tffl«IWNihingemoei8honiinikaiunt; sed «^«»daminagi8qua^ Weoque eTSTt!! !?'««»1»«~ adWhenda est/ut «• fUM interdmn iine rmtiowi. nobis .occur- mnt, semper in nostra proteataie aint . «* quotitt na postulaverit, a nobis exmrni^ml to SteSSSr^ » few superior mhidsseom to have been, m some measure, pndisiMiBed for that revolution in science SXS eotttiibiitiid so powoAlIy to aewmS ^^mm «aa ireiy dilinit withSrSmt "S^Lff^T "^ *•'** ^^ most^dis- tingnished for learning and talents Hk jmrnwrn^ pWnlv too Advanced f«r the ale J«^kabe passages in which ho styles •^l^rhis"*ire to rr^'^^r -ixth •• Kssay on the Intel, tectnal Powers," cbap. I., and of the original edition. science is involved. It is sufficient at present to mention those which arise from the metaphorical origin of all the words which express the intellectual phenomena ; from the subtle and fugitive nature of the objects of our reasonings ; from the habits of inattention we acquire, in early life, to the subjects of our consciousness ; and from the prejudices which early impressions and asso- ciations create to warp our opinions. It must be remembered, too, that, in the science of mind, (so imperfectly are its logi- cal rules as yet understood !) we have not the same checks on the abuses of our rea- soning powers which serve to guard us against error in our other researches. In physics, a speculative mistake is abandoned when contradicted by facts which strike the senses. In mathematics, an absurd or inconsistent conclusion is admitted as a demonstrative proof of a fiiulty hypothesis. But, in those inquuries which relate to the principles of human nature, the absurdities and inconsistencies to which we are led by almost all the systems hitherto proposed, instead of suggesting corrections and im- provements on these systems, have too frequently had the effect of producing scepticism with respect to all of them alike. How melancholy is the confession of Hume !— " The intense view of these manifold contradictions and imperfections in human reason, has so wnmght upon me, and heated my brain, that I am ready to reject all belief and reasoning, and can look upon noopmion even as more prob- able or likely than another.*' Under these discouragements to this branch of study, it affords us some comfort to reflect on the great number of important facts with respect to the mind, which are scattered m the writings of phUosophers. As the subject of our inquiry here lies within our own breast, a considerable mix- ture of truth may be expected even in those systems which are most erroneous; not only because a number of men can scarcely be long imposed on by a hypothesis which is perfectly groundless, concerning the ob- jects of their own consciousness, but because it is generally by an alliance with truth, and with the original principles of human nature, that prejudices and associations produce their effects. Perhaps it may even be affirmed, that our progress m this re- search depends less on the degree of our industry and invention, than on our saga- city and good sense in separating old dis- coveries from the errors which have bej n blended with them ; and on that candid and dispassionate temper that nr^y prevent us from bemg led astray by tha love of novelty, or the affectat on of smgulanty. In this re?pect, the science of mmd pos- sesses a vtry important advantage over ACCOUNT OP THE LIFE AND WRITINGS ■ I III VMM Willi mum m ]«tt wmmm in all ites •»d iMmiitiiMs tiie Hunt wiikli terw^is the hm of the latter IwTe, with a ▼ety few 5«p»twoa. keen eoOeeiMl diiii^»lhe counie or tlie twm ,laal centnifan. An oliaervBiiim '•inilir 'to thit ia applied U MmmZ ^m by Mr teith, & hia aeeent if 'the theory of IfandeTille ; and the illaatnition hegiireaelit nay he eitended with eqnil protinety tothe adeM of aiiiiiiii pM^, - Aayrtem of iiafinl phawAy/' he maite, ** ina|r' afpear veiy piauifale^ mod i!?*i!f * ^^ *T*^ ^fy genen% leoeiTed tethe worid, and yet have no iMniatioiiin ■iiMiiw, m»r mjr tort of .waonHwiee to the tenth. Butitwothefiilw'wihi^yileine^of moial phUoaophy. When a tiaveller jriTea m aocount .of aonie dialant country, he may irapwi^niwnonrjsredi^ MM and atenrd fictMNM as the moit iMKltin manen orfiMSI ; botwhenapenonpMlenda tojn&rm nay what paaieehionrne%hbour- hood, and of the affiOi. of the irety paiish we hve in.«4hoiigh heie, too, if we aie ao CMeifHi. m not to examine thinp 'wiih. our own eye% he may deceive us in many re- ,«f««i«— jwit the .greateet falaehooda^ which he impoaea^ on oe must hear' some Maem. hlan^ to the truth, and must even have a considenible mixture of truth hi them.- ««»■ oonaidenitionS' demoBitale the es-^ ■ential unportanea^, hi. 'this himnch of stwly, of intimn|, at the eonmeneemeut of our "f™% jw«t notiona of the crilerlo of true * J™e ■^«M», WMi of the rules of philoao- ]ttfflai:.inveal%atioii. 'ThqrdenMnalnite,at 'thejBineJime, that attaltiiitioBto'lhe':iiiha of philoMphuii^ as'thi^m •mmiiiiied in tbephysiinilreseavcheaofHewtonnndhis^fol. Ioww% aWiiwigh the beat of all piepaiations 'teiii,.«xainination of themeniat phenomena, tofcut oneof the steps neceasaiytiln^ our suoeeas. On an accurate oompwison of the^two aubjwjta, it might piobab% appear, •ha^ifter this pietimlnaiy step laaheen ^^2^^^.;^^'^ ^ of the proctae ■liijMiania. One thing is eettdn, that Jt «««in or dednction, that our speenhitlve WW' ohiefly arise —a fret ^of which we Mvt » 'decisive psoof b the iwsility with whiA, most staicnta may be^ 'tMidi the i!!!?**??*^,.*?* Jte"""*"' tilBiiS^^'when rSrS**r*!' ^ ™*^'^*y ofSdJg'their "T" 'S.***' '•"*"■» ^ fiortlons of moimls. aadMiiitiea. ■The higical roleowhiflh':iiv the foundation Jff sound and nselhl conclusions couceminff tie laws of this ;hitemal. world,, althonffh .not a]t(i|ethev ovoileohed. by .Loid. .Bae^, weni plamly aot^ the prindpal object of his work 5 and what he has written on the sub- jectjconsiatschieiy of detached hints dropped oaiiaUy hi the courae of other specuktionsi A eonpnhenaive view of the sciences and arts dependant on the philosophy of the htman miidi exhibiting the leUtiona whieh they bear to each other, and to the general system of human knowledge, would form a njiniil and naefiil introduction to the study of those hi|jcai principles ; but such a view raniama atill a deddmmium^ alter all the advances made towards it by Bacon and D'Alembert. Indeed, hi the present im- proved state of thmgs, much is wanting to complete and perfect that more simple part of their inteUectual map which relates to the material universe. Of the inconsider- mm pffiMreas hitherto made towards a just deineation of the method to be pursued in ■tiidyhif the mental phenomena, no other evidence ia neeessary than this, That the sources of error and false judgment, so pe- cnlhtfly eonneeted, in consequence of the Miooiitliiii of ideas, with studies in which our best hilensiBarekimedktoly and deeply ooncemed, have never yet been investigated with such aceuiw^ aa to afford effectual aid to the student, in his attempts to coun- tenust their influence. One of these sources alone— that whwh niiaea from the hnper- ftctionsof knguage--funiifihe8 an exeeplbn to the general remark It attracted, forto- mtely, ^ particokr notice of Locke, whose observations with respect to it, compose, porhape, the most valuable part of his phik. iophical writings; and, smce the time of CondiUae, thembjeot has been still more dendy analysed by others. £v^. on this. article^ nueh yet remahis to he done ; but enouah has been already accomplished to justify tbepntfonndaphonsm in which Bacon pomted Jt out to the attention of his follow- phy of the mind ; and that there still remains a wide, and, indeed, boundless region, where all our datn must be obtained from our own mental operations. In examining, for instance, the powers of judgment and reasoning, let any person of sound understanding, after perus- ing the observations of Bacon on the differ- ent classes of our prejudices, or those of Locke on the abuse of words, turn his atten- tion to the speculations of some of our con- temporary theorists, and he will at once perceive the distinction between the two modes of investigation which I wish at pre- sent to contrast. " Reasoning," says one of the most ingenious and original of these, " is that operation of the sensorium by which we excite two or many tribes of ideas, and then re-excite the ideas in which they differ or correspond. If we determine this difference, it is called Judgment ; if we in vain endeavour to determine it, it is called Doubting; if we re-excite the ideas in which they differ, it is called Distinguishing ; if we re-excite those in which they correspond, it k called Comparing. " • In what accept- ation the word idea is to be understood in the foregoing passage, may be learned from the following definition of the same author : — " The word idea has various meanings in the writers of metaphysic : it k here used simply for those notions of external things which our organs of sense bring us ac- quainted with originally ; and k defined a contraction, or motion, or configuration, of the fibres which constitute the immediate organ of sense. "f Mr Hume, who was less of a physiologist than Dr Darwin, has made use of a language by no means so theoretical and arbitrary, but still widely removed from the simplicity and precision essentially neces- • '* Zonnomia.* vol. L !• 181, Sd edit f lliid..«ttLi.|i[k II. ti. sary in studies where everything depends on the cautious use of terms. "BeUef,** according to him, k ** a lively idea rekted to or associated with a present impression ; Memory k the faculty by which we repeat our impressions, so as that they retain a considerable degree of their first vivacity, and are somewhat intermedkte betwixt an idea and an impression." According to the views of Dr Reid, the terms which express the simple powers of the mind, are considered as unsusceptible of definition or expknation ; the words, Feeling, for example, Knowledge, Will, Doubt, BeUef, bemg, in this respect, on the same footing with the words. Green or Scarlet, Sweet or Bitter. To the names of these mental operations, all men annex some notions, more or less distinct; and the only way of conveying to them notions more correct, k by teaching them to ex- ercise their own powers of reflection. The definitions quoted from Hume and Darwin, even if they were more unexceptionable in point of phraseology, would, for these rea- sons, be unphilosophical, as attempts to simplify what k incapable of analysis ; but, as they are actually stated, they not only envelope truth in mystery, but lay a found- ation, at the very outset, for an erroneous theory. It is worth while to add, that, of the two theories in question, that of Darwin, how inferior soever, in the estimation of competent judges, as a philosophical work, is by far the best calculated to impose on a very wide circle of readers, by the mix- ture it exhibits of crude and visionary me- taphysics, with those important facts and conclusions which might be expected from the talents and experience of such a writer, in the present advanced state of medical and physiological science. The questions which have been hitherto confined to a few, prepared for such dkcussions by habits of philosophical study, are thus submitted to the consideration, not only of the cultivated and enlightened minds which adorn the medical profession, but of the half-informed multitude who follow the medical trade: nor is it to be doubted, that many of these will give the author credit, upon subjects of which they feel themselves incompetent to judge, for the same abiUty which he dis- pky^ within their own professional sphere. The hypothetical principles assumed by Hume are intelligible to those only who are familkrized to the language of the schook ; and his ingenuity and elegance, captivating as they are to men of taste and refinement, possess slight attractions to the majority of such as are most likely to be mkled by hk conclusions. After all, I do not apprehend that the physiological theories concerning the mind, whieh have made so much noise of kta ACCOUNT OF TMK UFE AND WRITINGS OF THOMAS REID, D.D. 21 i »!«»• wMfli have immortjiiiMd tkaJk of ^Wtjom the moirf«»of Haflle7B«trr" mim m time of Beg CarteiL a coiiiZa pwiWiirftlMimall With Ae same Tfew. A mmaH liel|i taldns notice of a prevailinir SfiZL^r^ *^^ t JlbmiaikS; i^ostigation of "kature in the wayof indue. 1„. ^*\r"" » ■yttiiiM, tmmm to the Seneml conclusions, from the observation i«d conpinMii of particular focts, isT •niiiiiilit Jienritely on the works of SoUie^ . No opinion, aiifelir. am h« n,n«. „:" !;' --jw —«*..,.« ui A^es i-»rte«, a continual emmmi-it* -I-Z^i i !'»»"*-"«»'■ mcis, is tc Pidaeli to tli0 iniiicti¥# plan of atydviiir i^T 1? 1^ """v' *^ ^^ niore groumi- hMUMMi natnm ir« ma/t«L^k fc^IE^ ^^ ***. ** ** ^ *^^ principles, or eve , -Trilinp even of tho!e^LtS«^^^ 2ir«*"lt*^'P''^> ^ '^^^ founditil'of : m-i*il - " " ™"# *'»oo iHii n the *2^f ®''®° **^ *''*^ ^'^o profeirtTcon wrm^a ite' viningi: .more particularly Mttoug h they m.j, ha^, oec«ioiidfy ex! "^^ge^W tt» utnn o? mind, have, WHO lotm the imM eonMDiViinna -.•«^-.*' to this ft«iualTii^''*irZ^Ja^^ ZSyiST'ter^"* statement of sup. P^."*^ afled by a dexterous use «l ^SSSS !? I?'!**" P*?''^*'^ «ptnation, phtnwnena, is withm the reach of mo«t ^LTT^,^^ Bubtliiii* of the schools : #T!!!^^*i Ji T"^ >'«^ an « *a«t eye- to ^5 *!2S^""^ ^'^^^ ^''^ exhibits,^a„a to wcord nothing more-to trace, amidKt Md comprehenswe kws by which thev are fegwwted, and sometimes to inimii «? #i.I beneficent piimoaea to wt J? ♦!!?" *^.*^ iiM» whoMi orrors Siav Mb^m^tI "f '>®"«'5cent pitfpoM to which theTai! h-.k SrJS^L fi.^?^'''^**"*^^ «»iistomid to SrS,.!!^ 'tlw^kiifc of the anatomist Into titottmr ^ »?«? u li^^r**'?^^* ri!!!.!?!f ^r^.?\ "'■•'** *^*^ fwhat Bacon itnace.'* Of the t&Ima »# i»,«i. And, ^rfingiy. ^^^^ S'^Z oenniijr BBrtl;— or, ntber, they an onlv h^nnwg now to have a ^impi^S suggestions of his own msksmn . wr*-.* Iflirr ^ '"^"^ tiWMniilMi and tarnish of nhvRi^TZlZrrr' "T »;«««P«o •Jrtsin rfttoftifiiaiM.- Oftbo^neofsuTjr TurSS^^r**'*'"''''^^^ »tut% wine can thini mon highly thl Ti^^T-f^"'^'^'''^^^'^ Nowtonas- •hit Mmi moat distinimlrf.«i ^^^Trff S^Skl rfJ^^^ ^ * *'*^ **^ ^^^ "«« •itj of eoUiMtod and ibrtiitodftiSEl" •iCLfo^ '^lo •awTtatTth^ b' SKy^urfflSSS?:^^^^^ «dl cautions research, and wonld^wTt fr« their antagonists the same ^ml^. Ill offering the«i remarlc^ I bave no to iiJUS* ?^. oxpenne of another, but ^ .*****^ .gwj«»dicea e^iially fiital to the * Msita S^n ^^»f*««iAn, a iSmifof Lord Jioon appears singuhirly apposite-that •'Ateiiaiideraiidawuir tLZv;i.r.r!? i 1!!^ ^1*" '**?" theoties calculated to I mlf^'^^'i!;.**^ ^'^ »« ***«°^«d with ;^ I »"J^ difflenlties. One g«at cause of this Is, the analogical or theoretical terms em- ployed in ordinary language to express every thing relating either to our intellectual or active powers; in consequence of which, specious explanations of the most mysteri- ous phenomena may be given to superficial inquirers ; while, at the same time, the la- bour of just investigation is increased to an incalculable degree. 2, To allege that, in this circumscription of the field of our inquiries concerning the mind, there is any tendency to repress a reasonable and philosophical curiosity, is a clmrge no less unfounded than the former ; inasmuch asevery physical inquiry concern- ing the material world is circumscribed by limits precisely analogous. In all our in- vestigations, whatever their subject may be, the business of philosophy is confined to a reference of particular facts to other facts more general ; and our most successful re- searches must at length terminate in some law of nature, of which no explanation can be given. In its application to Dr Reid's writings, this objection has, I think, been more pointedly directed against his reason- ings concerning the process of nature in perception ; a part of his writings which (as it is of fundjmiental importance in his general system) he has laboured with pecu- liar care. The result is, indeed, by no means fijittering to the pride of those theorists who profess to expUin everything ; for it amounts to an acknowledgment that, after all the lights which anatomy and physiology supply, the information we obtain by means of our senses, concerning the existence and the qualities of matter, is no less incomprehen- sible to our faculties than it appears to the most illiterate peasant ; and that all we liave gained, is a more precise and complete acquaintance with some particulars in our animal economy— highly interesting, indeed, when regarded' in their proper light, as ac- cessions to our physical knowledge, but, wuisidered in connection with the philoso- phy of the mind, afl'ording only a more accurate statement of the astonishing phe- nomena which we would vainly endeavour to explain. This language has been charged, but most unjustly and ignorantly, with mps- t'fiMm ; for the same charge may be brought, with equal fairness, against all the most im- ]'ortant discoveries in the sciencea It was, in truth, the very objection urged against Newton, when his adversaries contended, that gravity was to be ranked with the occnft tfvatUies of the schoolmen, till its mechanical cause should be assigned ; and the answer given to this objection, by Sir Isaac New- ton's commentator, Mr Maclaurin, may be literally applied, in the instance before us. to the inductive philosophy of the human mind i-— ,, ** The opponents of Newton, findmg no- thing to object to his observations and reason- ings, pretended to find a resemblance between his doctrines and the exploded tenets of the scholastic philosophy. They triumphed mightily in treating gravity as an occult quality, because he did not pretend to de- duce this principle fully from its cause. . ... I know not that ever it was made an objection to the circulation of the blood, that there is no small difficulty in account- ing for it mechanically. They, too, who first extended gravity to air, vapour, and to all bodies round the earth, had their praise ; though the cause of gravity was as obscure as before ; or rather appeared more myste- teriousf after they had shewn that there was no body found near the earth, exempt from gravity, that might be supposed to be its cause. Why, then, were his admirable discoveries, by which this principle was ex- tended over the universe, so ill relislied by some philosophers ? The, truth is, he had, with great evidence, overthrown the boasted schemes by which they pretended to unravel all the mysteries of nature; and the philosophy he introduced in place of them, carrying with it a sincere confession of our being far from a complete and perfect knowledge of it, could not please those who had been accustomed to imagine themselves possessed of the eternal reasons and primary causes of all things. "It was, however, no new thing that this philosophy should meet with opposition. All the useful discoveries that were made in former times, and particularly in the seven- teenth century, had to struggle with the prejudices of those who had accustomed themselves, not so much as to think but in a certain systematic way; who could not be prevailed on to abandon their favourite schemes, while they were able to imagme the least pretext for continuing the dispute. Every art and talent was dit^played to sup- port their falling cause; no aid seemed foreign to them that could in any manner annoy their adversary ; and such often was their obstinacy, that truth was able to make little progress, till they were succeeded by younger persons, who had not so strongly imbibed their prejudices." These excellent observations are not the less applicable to the subject now under consideration, that the part of Dr Reid s writings which suggested the quotatmn, leads only to the correction of an mveterate prejudice, not to any new general conclu- sion. It is probable, indeed, (now that tne ideal theory has, in a great measure, dis- appeared from our late metaphysical sys- tems,) that those who have a pleasure in detroctmg from the merits of their prede- cessors, may be disposed to represent it as an idle waste of labour and ingenuity to have entered into a serious refutation of a hypo- ACCOUNT OF Till HFl ANll WEITINGS OF THOMAS REID, D.D. 23 4 dAratt judgmiiiti ]iowi»f«r| '«il .be :iiniM«, by tueh iW''Mt".M4iittiii.|«i wlib Clie extensive influence whieh, from tie mg^ Bmt aeeounts of aeieiice, tliae aingle pwju- 'iiee mm bud in vitiating almoet ev^ tiiHwIi rf the pbiloiopiiy of tbe mini 5 mmI. T*Y** *^® "*'™® *™«> lecolleet lie ;iiAiiici. of the lUustrieiis men by whom, In more iWNteii times, it baa been w^^pm m m liwemtTOvertible ^olpifc II w tnileieiit for me to meelioa. "thoie' of" .iafiM%, H wme, Loeke, Oarke^ and Newton. To tlie two Wit of tbese, it has served as the basis of **r aeeptieal. ooneliiaioi^ whieh .aeani,, in- deed, to^ follow 'irou: 'it^ as neeessMy eonse- qnences ; while the others t^witedly refer to It in their ressonliigBi as one of those iMsts eoneemhig the mind of which it would be equally supeffluoua to attempt a proof or a refutation. I havi. enlarged on this part of Br Eeid*8 writings the more fully, as be was himself disposed, on all ocMskns, to rest upon it his^ ehief merit as an Mthor. In proof of this, I shall transcribe a few sen- tences from a ktter of his to Dr Greijory, «tatod 20th Aoinisl 1790 1-. ** If ^<»«W. » "wnt of candour aol to •vn. that' I "tfaiiik 'there is Mme merit in what ion are pleased to call ai^ FMimo> phf ; hut I thmk It lies chiefly in having «lled in, ouislion the eeminon theory of Ifm$^ or iiMi^» # lilfiiBitf In ii# wmd being the only objeels of 'thonglit; a the^ founded on natural preJudiM^ and so urn- versally received as to he intorwoven with 'thA'^stmeture of hmguage. Yet, were I to givo. |i» a detail .of what led. me to' eai in <|nestion this theory, alter I had: iomr held It as^self-evident and unqnestknahle, you weuld thmk, as I do, that there was much of chance in the .matter.. Tho diseovery w the birth of tanL. .iwt ^of ^geniua i and Berkeley and Hume m vmrn to bring It t« iWil thMi the man that hit upon it I «dkd »i»# In 'the philosophy of tho^ 'uind,. whtab does not Ulow with ease fhwi 'the detection of this prejudice. '•* I must, thiMdbre, beg of you most ear- 'iMWf , 'to 'male' no. 'Contrast in my favour to 'the disparagement ^of my predecesson m the SMue pursuit I can truly say of 'tnem, and :shali always avow, what yon are pleased to say of me, that, bnt for the .assistanee I have reetived iam their wiii.. iim I mmt mm Urn wtm m 'ihoiight what I have dona'' ^ X Somewhat' eonneeted. with the kst objection, are the eensures which have been ■" '* ^"*" %' liartowtd on Dr Beid, 9m an '■MMMMsar^ :aiid imiiyileroalkBl multipliim-' isii of w%inal or instinctive principles. m, reply to these censures, I have ittle to add to what I have remarked on the same topH in the " Phikaophy of the Human Mind." That the fault which is 'Ihua ascribed 'lo Br .Reid has been real.]y committed by some ingenious writers in this part of the island, I most readily allow ; nor will I take upon me to assert that he has. In no instance, fallen into it himself. Such instances, however, will be found, ou an aocumto examination of his works, to be comparatively few, and to bear a very triihig proportion to those in which he has most suooesefblly and decisively dlsp^yed his acuteness in exposing the premature and flimsy generalizations of his prede- A certain dopree of leaning to that ex- treme to wUUl Dr Reid seems to have inclined, was, at the time when he wrote, mueh safer than tlie opposite bias. From the oarhest ages^ the sciences in general, and mom particuhirly the science of the human mind, have been vitiated by an undue love of simplicitv ; and, in the course of the last century, this disposition, aftor having been long displayed in subtle theo. ries concerning 'the active powers, or the principles of human conduct, has been directed to simikr refinements with respect to the liMiullies of the underotanding, and the 'traths with which they are conversant Mr Hume himself has eoindded so fiir with the Hartleian school, as to represent the *• principle of union and cohesion among our simple Ideas aa a kind of afiraetiim, of as universal appHcation In tlie mental world as in the nataral C* and Dr Hartley, with a still more sanguine imagination, looked forward to an era ** when future generations shall put all kinds of evidences and ImiuirieB Into mathematical forms; reducmg Aristotle's ten categories, and Biahop Wilkin's forty sttniiiia gemem, to the head of f naatity alone, so as to make mathematics and li^ natural history and eivU histoi>v, natural phioeophy and philo- Sophy of all other kinds, coincide, omni tM It is needless to remark the obvious tcn- dteiMw of such prematura generallialions, to withdraw the attentiim. Iknn thO' study of E^rtieular phenomena; while the eflsct of eid%' .:inode of 'ph.ilosopliiaiiw, evm In those instancies where It is^ carried to an^eii* ens, is 'to detaui us, in this prelimina.ry' stop, a little longer than is absolutoly ne- esssary. The truth is, that, when the plwiMinMna an' once .ascertained, geneml.ia- atlon. U :here of 'Oonparatively UtUe value, and a task of &r less difficulty than to observe &iito with precision, and to record thes with. ^'''~" In no part of Dr Reid's writings, I am inclined to think, could more plausible criti- cisms be made on this ground, than in his classification of our active principles : but, even there, the facts are always placed fully and distinctly before the reader. That several of the benevolent affections which lie has stated as ultimate facts in our con- stitution, might be analyzed into the same general principle differently modified, ac- cording to circumstances, there can, in my opinion, be little doubt This, however, (as I have elsewhere observed,*) notwith- standing the stress which has been some- times hiid upon it, is chiefly a question of arrangement Whether we suppose these affections to be all ultunate facts, or some of them to be resolvable mto other facts more general, they are equally to be re^irded as constituent parts of human nature ; and, upon either supposition, we have equal reason to admire the wisdom with which that nature is adapted to the situation in which it is placed. The laws which regulate the acquired perceptions of sight, are surely as much a part of our frame as those which regulate any of our original perceptions ; and, although they require, for their developemeat, a certain degree of experience and observation in the individual, the uniformity of the result shews that there is nothing arbitrary nor accidental in their origin. In this point of view, what can be more philosophical, as well as beautiful, than the words of Mr Ferguson, that " natural affection springs up in the soul of the mother, as the milk springs in her breast, to furnish nourish- ment to her chUd !" " The eflect is here to the race,*' as the same author has excel- lently observed, " what the vital motion of the heart is to the individual ; too neces- sary to the preservation of nature's works, to be intrusted to the precarious will or intention of those most nearly concerned, "f The question, indeed, concerning the origin of our different affections, leads to some curious analytical disquisitions ; but is of very subordinate importance to those inquiries which relate to their laws, and uses, and mutual references. In many ethical systems, however, it seems to have been considered as the most interesting subject of disquisition which this wonder- ful part of our frame presents. In Dr Reid's " Essays on the Intellec- tual Powers of Man," and in his ** Inquiry into the Human Mind,'* I recollect little • •• 'I^etilfe of Munuiii Nature. •* »o|. i. p. : ». nil '** ** ^'* ***"'" "** *'*• *"* ***"* ****** .1 • " Outlines of Moral PhiloMi»liy," i»p. TO, 80, 4 ** Principles of Moral and Political Science/* mml 1. chap. I. lect 3. " Of the Principle, ol Society in Human Nature." The whole discu^Mon ""'»«=."• a ainffiilar depree, the MMirdctt philowiJiy with ine miH cloqueat deacriiilioD. that can justly incur a similar censure, notwithstanding the ridicule which Dr Priestley has attempted to throw on the kst of these performances, in his " Table of Reid's Instinctive Principles.'** To examine all the articles enumerated in that table, would require a greater latitude of disquisition than the limits of this memoir allow ; and, therefore, I shall confine my observations to a few instances, where the precipitancy of the general criticism seems to me to admit of little dispute. In this light I cannot help considering it, when applied to those dispositions or determina- tions of the mind to which Dr Reid has given the names of the " Principle of Credulity,** and the " Principle of Vera- city.** How far these titles are happily chosen, is a question of little moment ; and on that point I am ready to make every concession. I contend only for what is essentklly connected with the objection which has given rise to these remarks. "That any man," says Dr Priestley, " should imagine that a i>eculiar instinctive principle was necessary to explain our giving credit to the relations of others, appears to me, who have been used to see things in a different light, very extraordi- nary ; and yet this doctrine is advanced by Dr Reid, and adopted by Dr Beattie. But really," he adds, " what the former says m favour of it, is hardly deserving of the slightest notice. **t The passage quoted by Dr Priestley, in justification of this very peremptory deci- sion, is as follows :— " If credulity were the effect of reasoning and experience, it must grow up and gather strength in the same proportion as reason and experience do. But, if it is the gift of nature, it wUl be the strongest in childhood, and limited and restrained by experience; and the most superficial view of human life shews that this last is the case, and not the first.** To my own judgment, this argument of Dr Reid*s, when connected with the ex- cellent illustrations which accompany it, carries complete conviction ; and I am con- firmed in my opinion by finding, that Mr Smith (a writer inferior to none in acute- ness, and strongly disposed, by the peculiar bent of his genius, to simplify, as far as possible, the philosophy of human nature) has, in the latest edition of his " Theory of Moral Sentiments,** acquiesced in this very conclusion; urging in support of it the same reasoning which Dr Priestley affects to estimate so lightly. "There seems to be ui young children an instmctive ♦ Examination o: Reid'a " Inquiry." &c Loftloo 'f Eiamination of ReiiTa •• Inquiry,* Stc, p. iS ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WEITING3 itomiliiii tO' bdiflTe wimteirer tlie^f mro mmmn iir their pfwtnration tlifti 'tibej ■liimM, for some time at' iettt, put iiii{illeit eoniifaiee iu tlMMe^ to whom the eare of their chtldlioody and of the earliest and noet^' neoesBafy fmt of' their edacatkn, 'is iratmled. . 'Their erednlity, aeeordingljr, is esceeesiTei .and it .re(|aire8 long and mueh V'X'penenee of the lalflehood of mankind to rednee them/toafeaeonahled^meof diffl^- donee wd distmst**** That Mr Smith's #|yiiiion aim eolneided. with Dr BeidX in what he has stated concening Iheprindpk Iff wmtmijff appears evidently fbom the remarlcs wMeh immedlalelj follow the pas. sapt fist' qnoted. But I muii not add to the length of this memoir by uuneeessary eitaCions. Another' tnstinetiTe principle mentioned hy Eeid, is *^ our belief of the continuance of the present course of nature. *' " All our knowledge of nature,** he obserres, ** be- yond our ori^nal perceptions, is got by 'Oiiierienee^. and consists in the kte^rela^' tiou of natural signs. The' appooanee of tlie sign is followed by the belief of the tiling signified. Upon this principle of our eoiiatitntson, not only acquired pereef tion, but also' inductive reasoning, and all rea- soning from analogy, is grounded; and, tlieremre, for want of a better name, we shall beg leave to call it the imimeHoe pin- dpie. It is from, the force of this principle that we im'mediately assent to that axiom upon which alt our knowledge of nature is built, that effects of the same kind m.u8t have the same cause. Take away the %ht of this 'ind'uetive principle, and ex- 'pericBim' is .88 blind as a mole. She may mdeed feel what is present, and what im- mediately touches her, but she sees nothing 'that is. either before or behind, upon the r%ht hand or 'upon the left, future' or past'* On this doctrine, likewise, the same critic has expressed himself with nmeh .severity s ealltng it ** a mere quibble;** and ackiiig, "'every step that I take among Hiig ^i^ijigptg gopiiiiiiig^ raises my astonish- ment higher tlian before.** In this, how- ever, as in many other iaMuioe% .he has been led tO' 'Oensure Bf Beid, not baeanse he waS' aMe to .see farther tlutn Mb antago- nist, hut because he did not see quite so far. Tur^t, in an article inserted in the Freneh ^* £ncyelop^ie,** and. Condoreet, in a 'diseomiae' |Mix«d to one of his matlie- matical pnbli«sations,t faave, both of than, .stated the fact with a true phiksophieal. precision.; and,, .after doing 'SO, have de- • Soritlit •*TlMiivv»*' last edit |i«rt Vli mcC I. f ** KmiI mtr l1||ipi«ation de r«naly»e k la pro. 'Iipilli ftat deeiilfMM icmiiMt S b .pluralili ito dueed from it an inimmee, not only tin same itt' .substance with 'that of Dr Eeid, bnl' ahnnst expressed in the same Ibrm of words. .in tnese 'references, as well as m tnat already made to .Mr Sn'iiih*s " Theory,** .1 would not be understood to lay any undue stress .on authority k a phikMophicad argu- ment. I. wish only — by contrasting the mod'Csty and eantion resulting from habits of profound thought, with tlit thenietkal intrepidity wUeh a blndness to fnauper- able difficulties has a tendency to inspire- to invite those whose prejudices against this part of .Keid*s system, rest ch.iely on the great names 'to which tliey concei've it tO' e hostile, to re-examine it with a little more attention, before they pronounce inally on its merits. The prejudifses which are apt to occur against a modO' of phikMophixIng sO' morti- fying to scholastic amgW'ee, are encour- aged greatly by that natural disposition, to reifer particular facts to general laws, wliicli is the foundatte 'Of all scientific arrango- ment .; a principle of the utmost importance to our intellectual constitution, but whicli n^iuires the guidance of a sound and ex- perienced undentanding to accomplish the purposes for which it was destined. They are enoottfaged also, in no inconsiderable degree, by the adinowledged success of nmthematicianR, in raising, on the basis of a few simple daia^ the most magnificent, and, .at the same tune,, th«' 'most .solid 'fabric of science^ of 'whieh hnmaii. gfttlns. can boast The absurd references which logicians are accustomed to make to Euclid's " Elements of Geometiy,*' ■§ a model which cannot bo too studionsly copied, both in physics and In morals, have contifhuted, in this as in a variety of other instances, to mislead phi- losophers from the study of iu!t% into the false reinemente of hypMhttteai theory. On these 'miiapplieatiowi.'Of'inalhematl- .eal 'UeiMMl to seieDces which .rest ulti- mately on experiment and observation, I. shai take another opportunity of offering some strictures. At present, it .is sufH- eient to renarkthept^nBtf i»tn«ofd» truths about which pure or abstract mathe- matics are conversant As these truths .haire all a necessary connection with each othet, (all 'Of them ;rest'hig. nllimalely on those deinWona or hypotheses 'which are the nrhunples of our reasoning,) the beauty of the scieneoeannotfail to increase k proportion to the simplicity of the ifsla. eonipiired with the incalculable variety of eonequenees whidi they involve: and to the simplifications and generalizations of thewy' on such a subject, it is perhaps im- nosdtte to conceive any Ihnit How dif- ferent is the case in those mquiries where our first princiflea art not d^nUhm bul OF THOMAS REID, D.D. 25 Jketf i and where our business is not to trace necessary couuections, but the hiws which regulate the established order of the uniirerse ! , . . i. u In various attempts which have been lately made, more especially on the Conti- nent, towards a systematical exposition ol the elements of physics, the effects of the nitetake I am now censuring are extremely remarkable. The happy use of mathema- tical principles, exhibited in the writings of Newton and his followers, having ren- dered an extensive knowledge of them an indispensable prei>amtion for the study of the mechanical philosophy, the early habits of thought acquired iu the former pursuit are naturally transferred to the latter. Hence the illogical and obscure manner in which its elementary priucii>les have fre- quently been stated; an attempt beuig made to deduce, from the smallest possible number of da/a, the whole system ot truths which it comprehends. The analogy exist- iticr among some of the fundamental laws of mechanics, bestows, in the opinion of the multitude, an appearance of plausibility on iuch attempts ; and their obvious tendency iB to withdraw the attention from that unity of design which it is the noblest employ- ment of philosophy to illustrate, by dis- guising it under the semblance of an eter- nal and necessary order, similar to what the mathematician delights to trace among the mutual relations of quantities and figures. , . These slight hints may serve as a reply m part to what Dr Priestley has suggested with respect to the consequences likely to lr)llow, if the spirit of Reid's philosophy should be introduced into physics.* One consequence would unquestionably be, a careful separation between the principles which we learn from experience alone, and those which are fairly resolvable, by ma- thematical or physical reasoning, into other facts still more general ; and, of course, a tDrrection of that false logic which, while it throws an air of mystery over the plainest und most undeniable facts, levels the study of nature, in point of moral interest, with the investigations of the geometer or of the algebraist. j ak * It must not, however, be supposed, that, in the present state of natural philosophy, a false logic threatens the same dangerous effects as in the philosophy of the mmd. It may retard somewhat the progress of the student at his first outset ; or it may con- found, in his apprehensions, the harmony of systematical order with the consistency and mutual dependency essential to a series of mathematical theorems : but the funda- mental trutlis of physics are now too well ♦ •• Esamtnation of Reiil'i Inquiry, p 1 IU established, and the checks which it fur- nishes against sophistry are too numerous and palpable, to admit the possibility of any permanent error in our deductions. In the philosophy of the mind, so difficult is the acquisition of those habits of reflection which can alone lead to a correct knowledge of the intellectual phanomena, that a faulty hypothesis, if skilfully fortified by the im- posing, though illusory strength of arbitrary definitions and a systematical phraseology, may maintain its ground for a succession of ages. It will not, I trust, be inferred from anything I Imve here advanced, that I mean to offer an apology for those who, either in physics or morals, would pre- sumptuously state their own opinions with res[)ect to the laws of nature, as a bar against future attempts to simplify and generalize them still farther. To aasert that none of the mechanical explanations yet given of gravitation are satisfactory, and even to hint that ingenuity miuht be more pnifitably employed than in the search of such a theory, is something different from a gratuitous assumption of u'tiraate tacts in physics ; nor does it imply an obstinate de- termination to resist legitimate evidence, should some fortunate inquirer— contrary to what seems probable at present - succeed where the genius of Newton has failed. If Dr Reid has gone farther than this in his conclusions concerning the principles which he calls original or instinctive, he has de- parted from that guarded language in which he commonly expresses himself— for all that it was of importance for him to conclude was, that the theories of his predecessors were, in these instances, exceptionable; and the doubts he may occasionally insinu- ate, concerning the success of future adven- turers, so far from betraying any overween- ing confidence in his own understanding, are an indirect tribute to the talents of those from whote failure he draws an argument against the possibility of their undertaking. The same eagerness to simplify and to generalize, which led Priestley to complain of the number of Reid*8 instinctive prin- ciples, has carried some later philosophers a step farther. According to them, the very word instinct is unphilosophical ; and everything, either in man or brute, which has been hitherto referred to this mysteri- ous source, may be easily accounted for by experience or imitation. A few instances in which this doctrine appears to have been successfully verified, have been deemed sufficient to establish it without any hmit- ation. . 1 • 1 T u In a very original work, on which I have already hazarded some criticisms, much in- genuity has been employed in analyzing the wonderful efforts which the humau mfiuit cut ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF THOMAS REID, 0.D. 2? h €iiaWed to m*!*' for te fnm ptMfiMiMi tli« moment tll«r ito ;iiitmifi.iieti(iii to 'tie Iklit Thus, it is observed that ih9 Jkfm, while still in the mtems, learns to perform the cnaitioii of swallowing ; and also learns to ;rdieire itself, by a change of posture, from the irksomeness of MBtiimed rests and, therefore, (if we admit these pnfMisl- tiowi,) we most eoncltide that some of the aetioiM: which infants aro' vnlgarl j sup pesed to^'pefiinn 'in 'fKnse<|uen«e of ii8t;|^^^ with bi:rth, are only a eontlniiatioii of aetlons to which they were determined at an earlier period of their being. The remark ia inge- nious, and it may perhaps be j'ust 5 bit it does not'pffwe that I ii«rifief ban nnphiloso-' phieal torm ; nor does it render the opera- tions of the in&nt less mystetious than ihey •eem to be on the eomnfiii. supposition. How te sooner the aiii%ii8, in such in- ttanees, may 'be carried, we must at hist .arrive at some phmnomenon no less wondter^' ful than that we mean to explain : in other words^ we must istlll: admit as an ultimate fiiit,, the ejdstenee rf an original. Meffm:ka^ tion to a partJeu^lar mode of .action isaliiaij or necessary to the animal; and all we have accomplished is, to connect the origin, of this .instinct' with an earlier period in the hiitoij of 'the human, mind. The same author' has attero,pted to ac- count, In a manner somewhat smilhur, for the different 'degrees in which 'the young of different anhnals are able, at the moment of birth, to eieri their bodily powers. Thus, calves and chickens are able to walk ahnost immediately ; while the human in- fant, even in the most lavoniable atiations, 'is MX or even twelve nion'tlis old 'before he can stand idone. For this Dr Darwin assigns two causes. 1. That the young of some aninalt 'Oome hito 'the world in a non Mnphito' ttato:' 'Ihaa. that of otheis- the colt .and .Iambi 'for' 'example, enjoying, in this fcsnect, a strikmg advantage over the puppy and the rabbit 2. That the mode of walk- ing' of aone anhnals,. 'Coincides more per- iw%'thaa Ihal: of' others, 'witb the previous motionS' of iMfit^m in utero. The atn^les (If all animahi, he observes, in the womb, miflt resemble their manner of swimming, as by this kmd of motion they can best change their attitude in water. But the swimmiog of the calf and of the ehleken lesembles their ordinary movements on the gmmd, whidi they have thus learned in pait to exoento while concealed 'from our observation 1 'whereas. the.swmim.inS'Of the himian inlant diiWiii" 'tntaiy 9mm his iMBWier of walking, he has no opportanity of aeiiuiring the huit of 'these attB''tii. he is ciposed to our viow. 'Tho' theory 'is ex- tremely ;phwirflili,. and 'does honour 'to the author*s sagacity; but it only pbces in a new l.igb.t that provident 'Caro: which Nature I has taken of all her offspring in the infancy of 'their' 'existanee, Anolhir.iiiatiiMemay contributo' towards a more ample Iloatration of the same sub- ject. A kmb, not many minutes after it IS dropped, iiroceeds to search for its nour- Ishmenl k that spot where .alone it is to be found; applylng'both 'Itsllmbs. anil itS' eyes, to their' res.pective offices. 'The peasant ob- serves the fact, and gives the name of in. tiftid, or some oonresponding torm, to the 'Unknown principle by which the animal is. guided. On a more accurate examination of circumstances, the philosopher inds reason to conclude that it is by the sense of smellng It .is thus dhwotod tu its object. In proof of this, among other curious fuct», the following has been quotetl :— " Ou dissecting," saya Qalen, "a goat great with yomig, I found a brisk emhrgon^ and having dciaohad it from the mairix, and sutchinii' it away 'before it saw its dam, I brought It mto a room where there were many vessek ; some filled with wine, others with oil, some with honey, others with milk, or some other liquor ; and in others there were grahis and fruits. We first oh- served the young animal get upon its feet and walk; then it shook itself, and after- wards sciatohed 'its^ side with one of its fsel ; then we saw it smelling to every one of those things that were set in the room ; and, when it had smelt to them all, it drank up the milk."* Admitting this verj beautiful story to be true, (and, for my own part, I am itr frcm being disposed to ques- tion its probability,) it only enables us to .state the &ct with a llttk more precision, in consequence of our having ascertained, that it is to the .sense of smelling 'the in- stinctive detormhiation is attached. The conclusion of the peasant is not here at variance with that of the |>hilofiopher. It differs only in this, thai he exproeses hrai- self in those gpiemi terms which are suited to his ignuBance of the particukr process by whidtt Nature, in this case, accomplishes her 'Ond ; and, if he did otherwise, he would bO' eenmrabh) .for' prejudginga ques- tion of which he 'is. -faeomptont 'to form an accurate opinion. The application of these illustrations to iorae of Dr Reid*s conelusionB concerning the hMtinctive principles of the human mmd, is, I flattor myself, sufficiently mani- fest. They rekte, indeed, to a subject which differs, m various respects, from that which has iailen under hk more particukr consideration ; but the same rules of philo- sophixing will be found to apply equally to both. 4. The critleiinis which have been made 01 what Dr Reid has written concerning • Osrvln, vd. 1 ^pf,. mck im the intuitive truths which he distmguishes bv the title of " Principles of Common S'euse," would require a more ample dis- cussion than I can now bestow on them ; not that the importance of these criticisms (of such of them, at least, as I have happened to meet with) demands a long or elaborate refutation, but because the subject, accord- ing to the view I wish to take of it, involves tome other questions of great moment and difficulty, relative to the foundations of Imman knowledge, Dr Priestley, the most formidable of Dr Reid's antagonists, has iFranted as much in favour of this doctrine as it is worth while to contend for on the present occasion. " Had these writers," he observes, with respect to Dr Reid and his followers, ♦* assumed, as the elements of their Common Sense, certain truths which are so plain that no man could doubt of them, (without entering into the ground of our assent to them,) their conduct would have been Ikble to very little objection. All that could have been said would have been, that, without any necessity, they had made an innovation in the received use of a term ; for no person ever denied that there are self-evident truths, and that these must be assumed as the foundation of all our reason- ing. 1 never met with any person who did not acknowledge this, or heard of any argu- mentative treatise that did not go upon the supposition of it."- After such an acknow- ledgment, it b impossible to forbear askmg, (with Dr Campbell,) " What is the great point which Dr Priestley would controvert ? Is it, whether such self-evident truths shall bedenominatedPrinciplesofCommonSense, or be distmguished by some other appella- tion ?"t That the doctrine in question has been, in some publications, presented in a very exceptionable form, I most readily allow : nor would I be understood to subscribe to it implicitly, even as it appears in the works of Dr Reid. It is but an act of justice to him, however, to request that his opinions may be judged of from his own works alone, not from those of others who may have happened to coincide with him m certain tenets, or in certoin modes of expression ; and that, before any ridicule be attempted on his conclusions concerning the authority of Common Sense, his antagonists would take the trouble to examine in what accept- ation he has employed that phrase. The truths which Dr Reid seems, in most instances, disposed to refer to the judgment of this tribunal, might, in my opi»»fn; ^ denominated more unexceptionably, fun- damental laws of human behef. iney ' • •• ExMiii»««on of Dr Reid't Inquiry/* *c. p. "f " PhOoioithy of Rhtionc," vol L p. 111. -See llutc& have been called by a very ingenious fo- reigner, (M. Trembley of Geneva,) but certainly with a singular infelicity of lan- guage, Prejupes Ltf/itimes. Of this kind are the following propositions :— " I am the same person to-day that I was yesterday ;" " The material world has an existence in- dependent of that of percipient beings;" " There are other intelligent beings in the universe beside myself;" " The future course of nature will resemble the past." Such truths no man but a philosopher ever thinks of stating to himself in words ; but all our conduct and all our reasonings pro- ceed on the supposition that they are admit- ted. The belief of them is essential for the preservation of our animal existence ; and it ia accordingly coeval with the first opera- tions of the intellect. One of the first writers who mtroduced the phrase Common Sense into the tech- nical or appropriate language of logic, was Father Buffier, iu a book entitled, " Trailt de.i Premieres Verilea.'* It has since been adopted by several authors of note in this country ; particularly by Dr Reid, Dr Os- wald, and Dr Beattie; by all of whom, however, I am afraid, it must be confessed, * it has been occasionally employed without a due attention to precision. The last of these writers uses it* to denote that power by which the mind perceives the truth of any intuitive proposition ; whether it be an axiom of abstract science ; or a statement of some fact resting on the immediate inform- ation of consciousness, of perception, or of memory ; or one of those fundamental laws of belief which are implied in the ap- plication of our faculties to the ordinary business of life. The same extensive use of the word may, I believe, be found in the other authors just mentioned. But no authority can justify such a laxity in the employment of language in philosophical discussions ; for, if mathematical axioms be i.is they are, manifestly and indisputably) a class of propositions essentially distinct Irom the other kinds of intuitive truths now described, why refer them all indis- criminately to the same principle m our ct)D8titution ? If this phrase, therefore, be at all retained, precision requires that it should be employed in a more limned ac- ceptation; and, accordingly, in the works under our consideration, it is appropriated most frequently, though by no means um- formlv, to that class of intuitive truths which I have already called " fundamental laws of belief."t When thus restricted, it conveys a notion, unambiguous, at least, • •• EMay on Truth," edition second, p. 40, « '1iht°«£m?^ot7e.rly the meaning .nn^ed t; ,h;,!hr««e, hy the learned and .eutean^'orji^ l^ ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF THOMAS IIEID, D.D. m ■nd ileAnito i anil, «4iiit«|iei%, 'tiM f u ^ tion akNit ite proprisly m mprnpAatf Itirns eiitmly on fche coincidence of this deiiiilion with the meaning of tlw word m emphijeil in ordinal}* diaeonim What- ever obje^iena, tlierafote|. may be stated to the expression as now defined, will a^pljto it with additional force, when used with the latitude which has heen already censufeff* I have said that the question about the propriety of the phrase Common Sense as employed by nliiloflophera, m.ust be decided by an. appeal to gene;ral. p'ractm; for, althongb. it te .aliowable, and eir«i meees- sary,lSr a philo«»pher to limit thoaMepta- tion of words which, are^ employed Tafuely .In common discourse, it is always dani^erous to five to 1. word a scientific meaning easentially distinct from that in which it ia ujiuaily nndentood. It has, at least, the effect of misleading those who do not enter deeper into the subject ; and of giving a panulo.xical appearan.ce tO' 'doctrines w.hich, if expressed in more nnexei^onable terms, would be readily admitted. It appears to me that this lias actually happened in the present instance. The ph'rase Common Sense, aS' it Is ,gepemlly undsfstood,, .is. nearly synonymous with mftikm-'Witi denoting that degree of sagacity (depending partly on original capacity, and paftly on Mrsonal experience .and observa- tion) whldi. «|ualifies an individual for those simple and essential occupations which all men are called on to exercise habitually by tlieir C0Bim.0Q ..nature. In this acceptation, it is opposed to those 'mental ac^uttomeots witlch are derived fnm a regnhtf education, and from the study of books; and refers, not to the specuhtlve convictions of tlie under^ standing, but In tbatfmdaMe and diseretion which are the foandation of sueeessfyeon. duct Such is the idea which Pope annexes to the word, when, ^Mailing of good sense, (which means only a more than. ord.in.ary share rf' common sense,) he cal.ls It—. , ^ ^ ^ •"THepiltofWestfii, And, though no telenet, fkirly wortli tli«ievtnr To speak, accordingly, of appealing from the conelwiions of philosophy to eommon .sense, had. the appearanee, to title^nage readew, of appealing from the vardiflt nfthe .learned: to tte voi.ce of the^ nnltitude i or of atlemptiiig to dlenee^ .free disensiinii. by a .leliwmeo. to some' arbitiafy .and 'nnMnable standard, distinct from any of tha 'intel- lectual powen hitherto enumerated by logi- eiam... wlialever' countenanM mav be sup- poied to have 'been given by some writera to Bwih an interpretation of this doctrine, I may venture to assert that none la aJTorded bytheworksofDrReid. The standard to whidi. he appeala. .is^ ;ndtb«r' 'tte enad of a pwtioular seet, .nor tiia inmnl light of wdiuiiaitie pvemniptimi, but that constitu- tion of hnnan nature without which all the buiinaii of the worid would immediately cease i and the substance of his argument amounts merely to this, that those essential laws of belief to which sceptics have objected, when considered in connection with our seientiie reasonings, arc implied in every step we lake aa active beings ; and if called in qieation by any man in his prac- tical oonoimi would expose him universally to the chaifi' of insanity. In stating this important doctrine, it were perhap to be wished that the subject had been treated with somewhat^ more of ana- lytical accuracy ; and it la certainly to be regretted that a phrase should have been employed, so well calculated by its ambiguity to funiiBh a convenient handle to misro* presentatkMMi but, in the judgment of those who have pmsed Br Heid'e writings 'willi an intelligent and candid attention, these misrepresentations must recoil on their antioffa.| while they who are really uiter- ««tfld. .In 'the pragress of useful science, will be disposed tather to lend their aid in sup- plying wluit is defective in his views tlmu to imeet hastily a doctrine which aims, by the developement of some logical principles overlooked in the absurd sjatems which have been borrowed from the sehoohi, to vin- dicate the authority of truths intimately and extensively conneeted with human happiness. In the pmimwtion of my own .speeuUtiona on 'the human -miiid, I shall have oocasion to exphin myself fully concerning this, as well as various other qieslions connected w'ith the foundatJona^ heH. aftef his .leath. in the •• S atis i^al Acciint of Scotland." U is now, for the flrtt Uni« added to hi» other worka.— H, ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS The revkal, iit this period, of Br Reiil^s ftrat seieiitiie pro'iieiwitjr,, has^ ofbn ncalM to ine a Ikvourito nmarfc of Mr 8miih*a — ' that of all tlie .antiiaeiiieiitt of oM agOi 'Ihe 'most gwtefel md MoiUiig' h « mmmd *ii umimdmmm mWk tliO' fkroiirite' ataiiiei mill fiivourito wthors of our youtli ; a re- inarl: whirii, in his own ease, seened. to he: :niiiwi: part^ioibrlv exempllied, wbile ie wiis K-penisiiif , witi the enthusiasm of a stn- iletit, the tn^c poets of aneient Greeee. I heard him, at least, repeat the ohoerva- tion more than omsei. while Sophoeles or £uri|iides ky open, on his ^tahfe.. In the case of Dr Reid, other motives perhaps conspired with the iuflueiioe of the i|f raeshie ^asaooiations to whieh Mr Smith pnihahlj.allnde4 His. attention was alwajs ixed. on the state of his intelleetnal faenl- tias; and fur cuunteractiiig the effects of time on these, mathematieid studies seem to 'hO' itted in a peeuliar degree. Thej are fortunately, too, within the reach of many individ'oab, afler a deca¥ of memory dis- f ualiflfls them for inquiries which involve a multiplicity of details. Such detached prolilenia. more especially, as. Or .Eeid. com- monly sefeeted for hk eomideratton— pro- Wems where all the riata are brought at once under the eye, and where* connected train of thinking is not to be carried on from 'day to day— will be found, (as I hai*e wit- nessed with pleasun in several instances,) by those who are capable of such a recrea- tion, a valuable addition to the scanty re- sources, of a life protracted beyond the or^ dhmfT' limit. While he was thus enjoying an old age happy in some resfiects beyond the usual lot of .humanity, his domestic coinfo.rt. suf- fered a deep .and incurable wound by the 'death of Mn Reid. He had. had the mis- fortune, too, of surviving, for many years, a numerous, family of promisiiv children ; Ibur of whom (two sons and two dauf^teia) died, afler they attained to maftnrily. One daughter only was lefl to hhn when 'he lost his wife ; and of her afleetionato good oflioes he eould not atnays avail himself, in eon- .■equenee of thS' attentions wblch her own h.utfhand.*s inirmities requlied. Of this lady, who is stil alive, (the widow of Patrick Ctanicluel, M. D.,*) I shall have oeeaaiim Main to introduce the name, be- i»m f eondfude this, narrative. * A lennicid and worthv phj^fician. who, aflw a liMif mliiiice in Holland. 'wiiere .|ie '|inietlft«l 'Mcdi. ^we, idiMi to 'ClteiDv. He vat a 'youngar'Mn .of mti^mm 'HsMlMim CafiMiaal, mm imU'itlMil, aiMMi. tlie 'jrcar im .an ailllDii' nT 'PuAtHloffl; m IMWi' IT mimit cf CMi, 'and. 'Wbo ia. paomouwad iif ' Ilr HmelMMM, •^liyiMr' llM' ieii aommmi'lalor on tli.Bi iMMik.** C'C^inaldiaal -wai 'Hutdhcwnli innie.. dlatajnttoeciMir' in. 'llNi'ilMifr of lfi«al nillMo|ihy m tlic' Unlvimiif »4 flUiow, and' maf 'la. iaft.ara«d, an |oml itrnund*, as tlio ratil fouiidar of tilt ScoCtlii 'KMM* m |lt»llOM|lll.y.— H..} A short extiaet from a lettw addrasaed to myself by Dr Reid, not mmi weeks after his wife's death, will, I am petanaded, be acceptable to many, as an mtoresting relic of the wiitor. ** By the leas of my bosom friend, with whom I lived ifty-two years, I am bronght mto a kind of new world, at a time of life when old habits are not easily forgot, or new ones acquired. Bui every world is God's wfirld, and I am thankful' for the comforts ho has led me. Mrs Carmichael has now the care of two old deaf men, and does every thing in her piwer to please them ; and both are very sensible of her goodness. I have more health than, at my time of life, I had any reason to expect. I walk about ; entertain, myself with reading wliat I soon f«>r|^t $ oan eonverse with one person, if he artieuktes disti.netly, and is within ten inches of my left ear ; go to church, without hearing one word of what is said. You know I never had any pretensions to viva- city, but I .am stil free' from .hmguor .and snnui, " If you are weary of this detail, impute it to the anxiety you express to know the state of my health. I wish you may have no more uneasiness at uiyage, — being yours most affectionately." About Ibur yearo after this event, he was pmailed on, by his friend and relation. Or Oiegoiy, to pass a few weeks, during the summer of I7WI, at Edinburgh. He wa« accompanied by Mm Carmichael, who lived with him in Dr Gregory*8 house ; a situation whieh united under the same roof, every aivmlage of nedicil mg% of tender attachment, and of phUoaopliical inter- course. As Dr Gregory *s professional en- gngements, however, necessarily interfered mnoh with his attentions to his guest, I enjoyed more of Or Reid*s society than might otherwise have lallen to my share. I had the pleasure, accordingly, of spend- ing some houBB with him daily, and of atlandii^ .Un in his. walking excursions, whieh imineiitly 'extended to the distance' of three or four mUes. His faculties (ex- eeptmg his memory, whieh was considerably impaired) appeared aa vigorous as ever ; and, although .fiis desfneis 'prevented him. from taking any iharo in general conversa- tion, he waa stil able to enjoy the company of .a. 'friend. Mr 'Playiiir' .and. myself were both witnesses 'oT 'the acatMieii which he disphiyed on one oeeaiiin, in delecting a mistake, by no means obvious, in a manu- .seriptof his kimnan, David Orsgory, on the suljiNil of « PtiiiM..Hid Ullunato .Ratkis.*' Nor had his temper inffewd Inmi the hand of thne, either in nolnl of gentleness or of aaiety. *« Instead of repining at the en- joyiMnls of tlie young, hedeli|[;hted in pro- 'motiiif Iham i and, .after .aU. the hMses he OF THOMAS REID, D.D. 31 bad sustained in his own family, he con- tinued to treat children with such eoiide- scension and benignity, that some very young ones noticed the peculiar kmdness of h s eye."* In apparent tounduess and activity of body, he resembled more a man of sixty than of eighty-seven. He returned to Gksgow m his usual health and spirits ; and continued, for some weeks, to devote, as formerly, a i egular por- tion of his time to the exercise both of body and of mind. It appears, from a letter of Dr Cleghorn's to Dr Gregory, that he was still able to work with his own hands in his garden ; and he was found by Dr Brown, occupied in the solution of an algebraical problem of considerable difficulty, in winch, lifter the fabour of a day or two, he at last succeeded. It was in the course of the Mime short interval, that he committed to writing those particulars concerning his an- cestors, whieh I have already mentioned. This active and useful life was now, how- ever, drawing to a conclusion. A violent disorder attacked him about the end of September; but does not seem to have occasioned much alarm to those about him, till he was visited by Dr Clegliorn, who soon after communicated his apprehensions in a letter to Dr Gregory. Among other symptoms, he mentioned particularly "that alteration of voice and features which, though not easily described, is so well known to all who have opportunities of seeing life cIofc." Dr Reid's own opinion of his case was probably the same with that of his physician ; as he expressed to him on his iirst visit his hope that he was "soon to get his dismission.'* After a severe struggle, attended with repeated strokes of palsy, he died on the 7th of October following. Dr Gregory had the melancholy satisfaction of visiting his venerable friend on his death- bed, and of paying him this unavailing mark of attachment before his powers of recol- lection were entirely gone. The only surviving descendant of Dr Reid is Mrs Carmichael, a daughter worthy in every respect of such a father— long the ?hief comfort and support of his old age, and his anxious nurse in his last moment8.t In point of bodily constitution, few men have been more indebted to nature than Dr Reid. His form was vigorous and athletic ; and his muscular force (though he was somewhat under the middle size) uncom- monly great ; advantages to which his habits of temperance and exercise, and the un- clouded serenity of his temper, did ample • 1 hare borrowed thin sentence from a jn«l and aleeant character of Dr Reid, which api>eared. a lew data after his death, in one ot the Glasgow joufuali. I had occasion frequently to verify the truth of Ihe Olwervatinn during his visit to Edinburgti. t Note F justice. His coui.ter.anee was strongly expressive of deep and collected thought ; but, when brightened up by the face of a friend, what chiefly caught the attention was a look of good-will and of kindness. A picture of him, for which he consented, at the particular request of Dr Gregory, to sit to Mr Raeburn, during his last visit to Edinburgh, is generally and justly ranked among the happiest performances of that excellent artist. The medallion of Tas^ie, also, for which he srat in the eighty-tirst year of his age, presents a very perfect 1 have little to add to what the foregoing pages contain with respect to his character. Its most prominent features were, intrepid and inflexible rectitude, a pure and devoted attachment to truth, and an eutiie com- mand (acquired by the unwearied exertions of a long life) over all his passions. Hence, in those parts of his writings where his subject forces him to dispute the conclusions of others, a scrupulous rejection of every expression calculated to irritate those whom he was anxious to convince : and a spirit of liberality and good-humour towards his opponents, from which no asperity on their part could provoke him for a moment to deviate. The progress of useful knowledge, more especially in what relates to human nature and to human life, he believed to be retarded rather than advanced by the iii- temperauce of controversy ; and to be secured most efiectually when mtrusted to the slow but irresistible influence of sober reasoning. That the argumentative talent s of the disputants might be improved by such altercations, he was willing to allow ; but, considered in their connection with the great objects which all classes of writers profess equally to have in view, he was convinced " that they have done more harm to the practice, than they have done service to the theory, of morality.' * .... In private life, no man ever mamtamed, more eminently or more uniformly, the dignity of philosophy ; combining with the most amiable modesty and gentleness, the noblest spirit of independence. The only preferments which he ever enjoyed he owed to the unsolicited favour of the two learned bodies who successively adopted him into their number; and the respectable rank which he supported in society was the well- earned reward of his own academical la- bours. The studies in which he delighted were little calculated to draw on him the patronage of the great ; and he was un- skilled in the art of courting advancement by " fashioning his doctrines to the varying ^^As a philosopher, his genius was more ♦ Preface to Pope's " Ess^J "" "■^' ma ACCOUNT OF THE LIFl ANB WRITINGS P?culiarlj«4»^^ t»y » sound, cMtioiii, eri which paaitMl l«etwreii Ldlk niti •nil Clarke. Om Or Ctarke'. DediweiMi t I liave adootcil here, the words which Dr Cia>ks ■niiM to ^mhhc or Mr Lockei crlier loltower ' .nwf .are •till nort .amillai'lile to manv 'wrflti* m tim OF THOMAS REID. D.Di 33 bis dectsitins, even on those topics which lie had must diligently studied; reserved and silent in promiscuous society ; and re- taining, after all his literary eminence, the same simple and unassuuiing manners which he brought from Iuh country residence : the other, lively, rapid, and communicative; accustomed, by hh professional pursuits, to wield with address the weapons of con- troversy, and not averse to a trial of his powers on questions the most foreign to his ordinary habits of inquiry. But these cha- lacteristical differences, while to their com- mon friends they lent an additional charm to the distinguishing merits of each, served only to enliven their social intercourse, and to cement their mutual Jittachment. I recollect few, if any anecdotes of Br Reid, which appear to me calculated to throw additional light on his character; and I suspect strongly, that many of those which are to be met with in biograpliical publications are mure likely to mislead than to inform. A trifling incident, it is true, may sometimes paint a peculiar fea- ture better than the most elaborate descrip- tion ; but a selection of incidents really characteristical, presupposes, in the ob- server, a rare capacity to discriminate and to generalize; and where this capacity is wanting, a biographer, with the must scru- pulous attention to the veracity of his de- tails, may yet convey a very false concep- tion of the individual he would describe. As, in the present instance, my subject afforded no materials for such a choice, I have attempted, to the best of my abilities, (instead of retailing detached fragments of Cimversations, or recording insulated and unmeaning occurrences,) to comnmnicate to others the general impressions which Br Reid'fi character has left un my own mind. In this attempt i am far from being confi- dent that I have succeeded; but, how barren soever 1 may have thus rendered my pages hi the estimation of those who consider 1 iography merely in the light of an amusing tale, I have, at least, the satisfaction to think, that my picture, though faint in the colouring, does not present a distorted re- senihlauce of the original. The confidential correspondence of an individiuil with his friends, affords to the student of human nature, materials of far greater authenticity and importance; more [larticuhirly, the correspondence of a man like Br Reid, who will not be suspected by those who knew him, of accommodating his letters (as has been alleged of Cicero) to the humo .rs and principles of those whom he addressed. I am far, at the same time, from thinking that the correspondence of Br Reid woukl he generally mterestmg; or even that he excelled in this species of writmg t but few men, 1 sincerely believe, who have written so much, have left be- hind them such unblemished memorials of their virtue. At present, I shall only transcribe two letters, which I select from a considerable number now lying before me, as they seem to accord, more than the others, with the general design of this Memoir. The first (which is dated January 13, 177U) is ad- dressed to the Rev. William Gregory, (now Rector of St Andrew's, Canterbury,) then an undergraduate in Balliol College, Oxford. It relates to a remarkable pecu- liarity in Dr Reid's physical temperament, connected with the subject of dreaming ; and is farther interesting as a genuine re- cord of some particulars in his early habits, in which it is easy to perceive the openings of a superior mind. " The fact which your brother the Doctor desires to be informed of, was as you men- tion it. As far as I remember the circum- stances, they A\ ere as follow : — *' About the age uf fourteen, I was, almost every night, unhappy in my sleep, from frightful dreams : sometimes hanging over a dreadful precipice, and just ready to drup down ; sometimes pursued fur my life, and stopped by a wall, or by a sudden loss uf all strength ; sometimes ready to be de- voured by a wild beast. How long I was plagued with such dreams, I do not now recollect. I believe it was for a year or two at least ; and I think they had quite left me before I was fifteen. In those days, I was much given to what Mr Addison, in one of his " Spectators," calls castle-build- ing ; and, in rayeveningsolitary walk, which was generally all the exercise I took, my thoughts would hurry me into some active scene, where I generally acquitted myself much to my own satisfaction ; and in these scenes of imagination I performed many a gallant exploit. At the same time, in my dreams 1 found myself the most arrant coward that ever was. Not only my cour- age, hut my strength failed me in every danger ; and I often rose from my led in the morning in such a panic that it took some time to get the better of it. I wished very much to get free of these uneasy dreams, which not only made me unluippy in sleep, but often left a disagreeable im- pression in my mind for some part of the following day. I thought it was worth trying whether it was possible to recollect that it was all a dream, and that I was in no real danger. I often went to sleep with my mind as strongly impressed as I could with this thought, that I never in my life- time was in any real danger, and that every fright I had was a dream. After many fruitless endeavours to recollect this when the danger appeared I effected it at la8t» and have often, when I waa shdiog over n ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS fmOskm into 'Umi slmi, inetUiiotod. ilm^ it m» all s imtm^ mai MMf JiMpmi '«lii«ii. Til© eiiMit of thia eommonlj wiia, tliat I ■■imiiMiiMiidy awoke. Bat I awolte' mltn 'MKl^'ialM|Mi wUeii I thought & groftt ac- f nUtion. Aflor thin, mj dnams woro imver very uneaav ; and, in a short time, I areanod not at all. " During all this time I waa in perfect health ; bnt whether my ceaaing to dream vat' the eftet of the reooieetion ahove mentioned, or of any change in the Imhit of my hody, which la uaial about that feriod. of life, I ^eannot tell I thkk it may mofe ptohahly he imputed to the hwt However, the fact ivaa, that, for at leaat forty yearn after, I dreamed none, to the liaat rf my remembrance i .andinding, from, Umi teatimony of othera, that thia m mam- what imsommon, I have oflen, aa aoon as I awoke, endeavoured to recollect, witliotit behig able to recollect, anything that paaaed in my^ almp^ For aomO' yean^ paat,, I ean aometiimea recollect some kind rf dreaming thotights, but HO incoherent that I can make nothing of them. **Tho only distinct dream I ever had •mee I was about sixteen, .as far aa I rcmem^ber, waa about two yearn ago. I had got my head blistered for a fall. A plaater, which maa put upon it after the Wiator, pained, ns eseeaai'vely for a whole night In 'the mtmkm I alept a littte, ^aml. dreamed, vmw diatinetly, that I had iilhin into the hands of a party of Indians,, and waS' aealfied. ** I am apt to think that, as there is a .State of Bleep, and a 8.tate' wherein we are awake,, ao there is .an hitennediate state, whieh partakes, of the other two. If a man, peremptorily resolves to ,riae ,at an ■mtij hour lor :8fmie ktereaing purpose, he will .of himself awalwat that hour. A sick- nurae .gets the haoit of sleeping in such a manner that she hean 'the kast whiaper of the sick peraon, and yet is reftaahed by tlita kmd of half aleep. The lame la the eaao' 'of a nnrae who aleeps with, a child in her arma. I have slept on horseback, but m m 'to preserve my balance ;, and, if the home stumbled, I could 'make thO' exertion neceaaarv for saving me from a fall, aa if I was awake., •* I hope the sc,ien:ce8 at your good uni- verai,ty ,ave not in this ,atate. Vet, from ,so nia.ny learned men, m mneh at. iieir eaM^ one 'wonld expect something 'mom 'than, 'we iear of.*' For the other letter, I .am indebted to one of Dr .Reid'a moat intimate friends, to 'Whom It waa addressed, in. the year 17114. m oceadon, of the 'melandioly .event to 'whieh It allndea,. "I sympatUaa. witfi .you very laineeiely ittthe'hMifif'aiiMialaaiablowilk. I judge of your feelinga by the impression she made upon my own heart, on a very sliort ac- qoaintanec. But all the blesmngs of thia world are transient and uncertaui ; and it would be but a melancholy acene if there were no proapeet of another. ** I have often had occasion to admire the resignation and fortitude of young per- sons, even of the weaker sex, in the views of death, when their imagination is filled with all the cay prospects which the worid presents at that period. I have been wit. neaa to inatances of thia kind, which I thought 'tru.]y heroic, and I hear Mrs O gave a remarkable one. •^ To see the soul increase in vigour and wisdom, and in every amiable quality, when health, and strength, and animal spirits deeay — when it is to be torn by violence fkim all tltat filled the imagination and llattered hope — is a spectacle truly graiul and instructive to the surviving. To thin It that the soul perblies in that fatal moment when it is purified by this fiery trial, and fitted for the noblest exertions in another state, ia an opinion which 1 cannot help looking down upn with contempt and dis- dain. " In old people, there ia no more merit in leaving this workl with perfect acquiescence llian in rising from a feast after one is full. When I have before me the prospect of the infi..rniitieo, the diatreaaea, and 'the peevish* 'neaa of old age, ,and when I have al,ready received more than my share of the good thinga of this life, it would be ridicnious indeed to be anxious about prolonging it ; but, when I waa four-and4wenty, to ha%e had no anxiety 'for its. continuance would, I think, have requured a noble effort Such efforts in those that are called to make them surely ahall not lose their reward.*' I have now finished all that the limits of my plan iiermit me to offer here aa a tribute to the memory of this excellent person. I n the details which I have atated, both with respect to his private life and his scientific pursuits, I Iwve dwelt chiefly on such cir- cumstancea as appeared to me moat likely to ,intereat the readers of his works, by illnatrating his character as a man, and his views aa an author. Of his merits as an instructor of youth, I have said but little ; partly from a wish to avoid unnecessarv diftiaeaess, but chiefly from, mv anxiety to enhttie' m tlioae^ st,i,ll more in'iportant ta- houra of which he has bequeathed the fruits to future ages. And yet, liad he left no ,snch monument to perpetuate his nun'ic, the ideiily and leal with whicli he diK. charged, during so long a neriud, theobscure but momentous dutiea of hia official station would, in the jodgment of the wiae and .good, ,have ranlcM, hipi in the first o^rder iil OF THOMAS REID, D.D. m nseful citizena. " Noc enim is solus rei- publicie prodest, qui candidatos extraliit, et t uetur reos, et de pace belloque eenset ; sed qui juventutem exhortatur; qui, in tanta lionorum pneceptoruni inopiA, virtute in- struit animos ; qui, ad pecuniam luxuri- anique cursu ruentes prensat ac retrahit, et, si nihil aliud, certe moratur : in privato, publicum n«gotiuin agit.*'* In concliding this memoir, I trust I shall he pardoned, if, for once, I give way to a personal feelinjr, while I express tlie satisfaction with which I now close, finally, ni.v attempts as a biographer. Those which I have already made, were imposed on me by the irresistible calls of duty and attach- iiient ; and, feeble as they are, when com- pared with the magnitude of subjects so splendid and so various, they have en- croached deeply on that small portion of literary leisure which indispensable engage- ments allow me to command. I cannot, at the same time, be insensible to the grati- fication of having endeavoured to associate, in some degree, my name with three of the greatest which have adorned this age— • tienxa," De Traiiquill. An." cap. 3. happy, if, without deviatmg intentionally from truth, I may have succeeded, however imperfectly, in my wish to gratify at once the curiosity of the public, and to soothe the recollections of surviving friends. But I, ton, have designs and enterprises of my own ; and the execution of these (which, alas ! swell in magnitude, as the time for their accomplishment hastens to a period) cbiims, at length, an undivided attention. Yrt I should not look back on the past witli regret, if I could indulge the hope, that the facts which it has been my province to record— by displaying those fair rewards of extensive usefulness, and of permanent f.iHie, which talents and industry, when worthily directed, cannot fail to secure — may contribute, in one single instance, to foster the proud and virtuous independence of genius ; or, amid8t the gloom of i>overty and solitude, to gild the distant prospect of the unfriended scholar, whose laurels are now slowly ripening iu the unnoticed pri- vacy of humble life.* I • On Reid's doctrines Mr Stewart has a1«- of the transcript is I'^th December Ifi-i. Accord- ii.g to Calrictwnnd's IMS. Historv of the Church i»f .Scotland, John Read was •* i*erviiof and writer to ulr Georgp Buchanan." Rut this is not likely.— H. • ihis is doubtJul ; for Sir Kobert Aytoui., in the account he gives of Reid's studies, makes no mentioti of so remarkable a circumstance. Dempster pf>>8ibly confmed I homas Keid with Ueid'»trieiid,Sir Thom.s Seghei, another learned and wandering Scotchm«n, jtnd a favourite pupil of '* the Prince of Latin Let- lers.'— H. d2 M ACCOUNT OF THl I-IFE AND WRITINGS •tii,, i Iiterb Ltttinb 'Bcgi fbil SerifMil mult*, lit est nMfni 'hMk' rt mm tnuil. tione,** Ac " Ex aula m^ nemiiM cmiieio, iiuper^ proripuit, dum ill omnia fctdnati tionoris augmenta. Miigiii niiiiiiiafMitiir, nm il'iM MoAb •gvffi.. snl qm liMxiniB m em' Itilaijt ^qiiiiiiimi. iiiieaiv 'puliit M illi ■Micaliaiiliif, tiiedio ante affectum., mon- ^aafiMi: Mieti seipsum tniilM:iiiw, mb al- lium I61& Mmmr fm$m Ml fa aulam. mliiw, M'meritiasira'ialiiiinfilma 'ndditnm, MMmAny •-. _ t . Mtraxit Gcraiaiila nlilltre K*' |Wf«li ft ■|iwtii.»' In that ciHtntrf, li« tafl rffpiiagiiin, in ilMi univmiiiMi of' Ldptie and UmmK Z ''•■'Wi* '» e»«lrli' niiitt tile mm laiide nmitilMi.. Ft *M« at illcf Iwrit :icli«tli. Ilitrefitem \miw€B fwrna ¥lctrtc« tritimi>|im l>*psfa rtHiiiuit lon>.iimOultciedidlt illie I ipiwiii mi Rt' ritr admiMiim in ^ _.,^^, .-..i™«,, Non MMteM* iiTM f <||t|.ia 'p«r '*iiiMti> t.,wrm Mmm lijf tcntan, nWiiaot M ■wptc*' Riacli-i f nm: tM taiii.a mtMir (pa Ralllilea Itttora tiiciital Mommm, iMittdt illie tilil nliirittiit aniiii €mm lioiio., Nullo noil aiiniitanle piil«iMla- Pnetrin* amtftios lot in umi ^fiaiioffe aMrtia, Feiiwwwiiit vtimi faMil..«iMiM!m|iW'iilicivt. Oi.e iMtil. (|iMeiiiM|Me i|iiili.ii podticerv partna ll«Mli,;f>l. 'ex.aiilaita terlplto .anlmar* fiaiiyroa.** WWte in emiiMif,li«'«rat#tlielfi|io«l:iit trear ij», «liM iltMlmr |i«Mt_ |iltlliiM|ihi«a.l ia.lMl>- mKmwrmfwttim* .mlMMfitlt laili." .Ilo.. I haw tiitawte tetn wftwifd to, a mmmnM Ijtfte tor him. puMftiMat Rt«tndi: hut In what jmr I Itiiow 'iwt. 'llboHih th»« d«f r of ilw. mmm. of tto '|iMMlii«,ttaBi.lMtiw i«*i-«. It apwan ilwi te Mill ftud: tliai lie ihcn. hai i The only wwfci of Alexander Reid of which I hare heaid are ** Chiiurgical L#c- turet on Ttimors and Ulcers,'* London, mail and a "Treatise of the Pimt Fart of Chirurgerie,** London, IIRIII. Heappean to hava iwen the phi^aidan and friend of the celebrated matlMnal'ician Thomat Harriot, .of whose interesting history so^ little was known till th« recent discovery of his manuscripts b^ Mr Zach of Saxe-Gotlia. A renariiable .luslanee of the careless or eaprieioiis orthogfapbyimnerly so common in writing proper iianie%. ^oceun in the dif. ferent individuals to whom this note refers. SomeCinet the family name is written— Reid I on other occa8.ionsy Riede, Read, Rhead, or .Rhaid. WoTi B— Page 4. Dr Tumbuirs woric on moral philosonhy was published at London in 1740. As I hare only turned over a few pages, I can- mot .say anything with respect to "its merits. 'The motitees on the title-page are 'Curions, when considered in connection with those inquiries which his pupil afterwards prose- cuted with so much success ; and mav, 'periia.pe,^ without his perceivinf; it, have had some effect, in suggesting to him. that plan of philosophixing which he so systemati- cally and so happily pursued :^ " If natural philosophy , in all its parts, linhed a dimcrtation affaintt Arniwiig; to which (hit phllOMiiher in that rear rriilii^ in hh " Vindi. clia neciiiiiiiiin veritatem pm Anslnicle etjtaninriiuf oiiiliii»i|M philMOfihia cmitm Thorns Rhadi, Srnfi. I lliwnatlonem denclfllcaiii de ■uMf cto ilei»nhy8ice« M nutiiraEatla. aiMrtcdli Henninf^o Ariii»aH>/H«l. OF THOiMAS REID, D:D. 37 tifffwtailftnti. Franc*ifiirti : ifill." 4ln. At what date Rt-id renrned in Eiiglard, or when lie waa a|i|ii»in*fil Ijitin Sccri'tarv to Kinit Jampn. doft •>*< •Ifwr- I fltid. however, from Smith 'i Lite of Patrlci. f nnnjt, w»m «ai. aumlMtPd with Mnln the trantlattoii Into Lmiu of Jainiw% En|tli»h worltif anj' wIm aiimfvled h>in as K<>cretarv that RrM died In Ml. There i« alMttotte found' i'n tlie name Life (tee " Vine qiiornnitam enidifiMimornra ♦ironini,* Ifc.) the tragment ot a D>«wttation lir Rvid— *• UmA Mffiiiiit et Licitum H l^erortim ait A conil ifffahle numher oi Rei.fa t>omia •wm He Imind in tiht «• IM.it.t» Pngtariim Scotl»era Inter manra. vinaniit Scriptorum Inneniei, i|iieis ii mprema ailMct C^um lima poriefts aianw, non iilla ftiineC ralHopet t'lto •aiili.iOTe^llltifirifir alho lluaiB fin* RtiadeniB. iinilerret' pagina iMNntii'. Piiiw •«• tapajnla aiiirfiint tainnminodo l»it.ia. Fautuia nnlvai ■Meiliaaniata fiiu per hocaiL OmallaciiiMine *9mm Mnt ha>c. haw ipM revineenl Inat' Caiedoniifl etlanniran lumen alumnli W:.. panluil,. 411O' tel' ioiti. jiiiimili arnmen, ▼ii 'ftrttniKl dttlcea Indiatiiiiil mqmm Camnmat.* Mr »ewart. (f HI ii mtilalHiMd in ftating that Raid .puUlilMd. any trolkctlmi. of lilt .lUMifftatiMM.:^' 'Mm hj pursuing this method, shall, at length, be perfected, the bounds of moral philoso- phy will also be enlarged.** Newton's OpticM. *■ Aeeotuitfor moral aa for natural thlngK." For the opinion of a very competent jutlge, with respect to the merits of the " Treatise on Ancient Painting," vide Hogarth*s Print, entitled "Beer-Lane," Note C— Page 10. " Dr Moor combined," &c. — James Moor, LL.D., author of a very ingenious fragment on Greek grammar, and of other philological essays. He was also distin- guished by a profound acquaintance with ancient geometry. Dr Sirnson, an excel- lent judge of his merits, both in literature and science, has somewhere honoured liim with the following encomium : — ** Turn in Mathesi, tum in Grsecis Literis multum et feliciter versatus." " The Wilsons," (both father and son,) &c Alexander Wilson, M.D., and Patrick Wilson, Esq., well known over Europe by their "Observations on the Solar Spots," and many other valuable memoirs. Note E Page 27- Note D — Page 20. A writer of great talents (after having reproached Dr Reid with "a gross igno- vanee, disgraceful to the university of wliieli he was a member") boasts of the trifling expense of time and thought which it had cost himself to overturn his philosophy. " Dr Oswald is pleased to pay nie a com- pliment in saying, that * I might employ myself to more advantage to the public, by pursuing other branches of science, than by deriding rashly on a subject which he sees I have not studied.* In return to this compliment, I shall not affront him, by telling him how very little of my time this business has hitherto taken up. If he alludes to my esperimentu, I can assure him that I have lost no time at all ; for, having been intent upon such as require the use of a burning lens, I believe I have not lost one hour of sunsliine on this account And the public may, perhaps, be informed, some time or other, of what I have been doing in the «'m, as well as in the *Art^«?.**—[ Priestley *8l " Examination «f ll«id*8 Inquiry,*' &c, p. 357. See also ppi. I01| 102 of the same work. ' The following strictures on Dr Priestley** " Examination,** &c., are copied from a very judicious note in Dr Campbells " Phi- losophy of Rhetoric," vol i. p. 3. " I shall only subjoin two remarks on this book. The first is, that the author, through the whole, coufounds two things totally distinct —certain associations of ideas, arid certain judgments implyingbelief, which, though in .vome, are not in all cases, and, therdbre not necessarUy connected with association. And if so, merely to account for the association is in no case to account ff»r the belief with which it is attended. JNay, admitting his pleji, (p. 86,) that, by the principle of association, not only the ideas, but the concomitant belief may be accounted for, even this does not invalid;»t<^ the doctrine he impugns; for, let it bt observed, that it is one thing to assign a cause, which, from the mechanism of our nature, has given rise to a particular tenet of belief, and another thing to produce a reason by which the understanding has been convinced. Now, unless this be done as to the principles in question, they nmst be considered as primary truths in respect of the understanding, which never deduced them from other truths, and which is under a necessity, in all her moral reasonings, of founding upon them. In fact, to give any other account of our conviction of them, is to confirm, instead of confuting the doctrine, that, in all argumentation, they must be regarded as primary truths, or truths which reason never inferred through any medium, from other truths previously perceived. My second remark is, that, thougli this exa- miner has, from Dr Reid, given us a cata- logue of first principles, which he deems unworthy of the honourable place assigned them, he has nowhere thought proper to give us a list of those self-evident truths which, by his own account, and in his own express words, * must be assumed as the foundation of all our reasoning.* How much light might have been thrown upon the subject by the contrast ! Perhaps we should have been enabled, on the compari- son, to discover some distinctive characters in his genuine axioms, which would have preserved us from the danger of confound- ing them with their spurious ones. No- thing is more evident than that, in whatever regards matter of fact, the mathematical axioms will not answer. These are purely fitted for evolving the abstract relations of Quantity. This he in effect owns himself, p. 39.) It would have been obliging, then, and would have greatly contributed to shorten the controversy, if he had given us, at least, a ^cimen of those seli'-evideat ::« ACCOUNT of THM life and WmiTlNGS OF 1>R REia ,priiieitt'«i wMok ii; hk ntiinaitiim, an' 'iw MNi'liliMtilltaiil'iBoiml ntMHiiiiis.** JfomF— .Bif»31. I>r E«lil*t Mber, the Rev, Lewis Reid, of Mr Wimm «i Plicipttdij, ii^ tL mml^ of Imrerneiis. A Slighter of tliis manriage !• itm alive; the wife of the Rev. Al«x^ andef Letik, rad the mnther of the Rev. Jamea .Leiliei iminialeia of Fontaii. To the .latter '(if 'Ihew pniemen, I an. iaifehfeil for the greater part of the infofmatioii I have heen abk' to coiflet with immek im Br Seid, piwimiB to hk ramoirml tO' Oh^gow— Mr :iiealia''s regard, for the memory of Iiis^ Qnele' haflrug frompted. him., not' only to tmnsmit to me such particulan as had fallen under hk own knowledge, but some val:uaUe letters on the save Ml^^eet, wUdi he prwwed 'fk» his relations and friends, in the notth. For all the memhers of this most reepeet- able family, Dr Reid entertained the strangest .sentiments 'Of affection and regard. Dttrimg several years before his death, a danghtcr of M,r» Leslie's was a constant inmate of his house, and added much to tlie ImppilMsa of his small, domestic circle. Another^ daitiiiter of Mr .Lewis. R«id was married to the Reverend John Rosci min- ister of Udny. She died in 17«3.— In this connection Dr Reid was no less fortu- nate than in the former.; and to Mr^ Rose I am, indexed for favours of the eame kind with those which I have already aelcnow. hid«ed from Mr Leslie. The widow of Mr Lewis Reid died in 1 IS8, in the eight v-eeventh year of her age ; .having .survived her step-mi^ Dr Reid, more 'than a year. The limits within which I was oMIg^i to Conine my hiogmphieal. dstalls, prevented me from, avaiiag myself of ;many interest- ing eirenmslaiicea which were eemmmi- eaied to mc' through, the authentic channels which .1 have now mentioned. But I can- not omit thlS' opportunity of returning to my different 'OORespwIeats, my warm«t aclinowledgpents for the pleasure and instruction which I received from their .letters* Mr Jard,ine, also, the learned. .Prafeesor of Logic m the University «f QhMgow— a gentleman who, for many years, Ived in . . *1 *1 **'® ■"'*** oiMiidentlal. intiniaey with Dr Reid and his famiy— k entitled to my best thaite for hk ohligh^ attention to various i|uerie8 which I took the liberty to propose to him, concerning the hktorv of our common friend* t«f Mr »ewsrt1i:.MeMiilsl' liU;% OH. Itt PrafcMor of Msl'tttal ^nulonpiir in. €MliiikA.:litffileen i aiti. In •MtftfiMmcr. iM iimiMMlliie 10 iliMrlliiiitlliciii la the' til topfiiilile tliat Ttimnai Reid hail been MUesied .1 MsriNcJial ColleRv. whemheieachinB «| etaM mm^^ iiiiiiMiillsiely im its fbundatio in IMrL III WiM|ii*t •f««ti. Ox»n.'(thira or Hm'* ••^llliHI, M.aviai1tiiiiiM MeM, .(Kh«fl'Uf.» M.A. ff Aljinleiit la :ltooll.a.nil. lucotinimlml. He hml litCife Ijw • itiHlf nt of ihit Un.veniitw, snd imb. iMMd m» jw •JhiMiliiiili Plain,. ci».» I.on.i«u : Hff •***• «*!!d ■»»<«« *•»« •»"»>« *»m^ ' Kpwt M i|MMMi|iii'in 'infliiiiaiiB Iti mvo." iialllwrts^f ' Red aiut. m 'bratlicr Ataamli-r, ttt tAfiicln.. WNi Id lia«» dW in 'tathtr early Hit* ilMB mm» eaiiiMiiiiis in their wllii. gjwisif IWii% irMiicriiit or King Jamef VI'i. I'i?!'* «*. the Eettlatloiii.- k pmerved In il«rte.|ial M.I«P' llUmry. It it iitterlesmi, Hm tlw rnjral ami. on lliecomr. and on the maigint levrral alteralioM in tiie well known liaiiii.wri line of ihit woiiafdi. In Ilia will, datctl 19th May wn, hedesiirns him- •eit •• Sieaatarf to hia Msjemy ftir »he Lat.n Tongue." In Dcfon'i «• l»aiim of the fixcheqtier. being iiav. mrnta nade in iIm niga ef Jawn.. 1... ftam the '«rl|ei.. nal .Hewrti. In tUe aiMient IWi .oilce,- (iiulilM.hcii mm,) It tlic iiHoaning entry :— *• To Ihomaa Heed, Gentleman, the i.«m of «« ; 9 1 i, In reward for tl;e travail, .chargeii, and «iptni«« of hiniftf and otnew, cmoloyed m wntim "l*l*l»"f ottag 'llM book or :lili Ma]eily*a wrkt out Mf.lMialitolo Lali.ii.. bur hb MifstYvVipteltifcoiii'I MBWliiitiil, awl IW' otHfT' his Htghnca/a ■ervioes. In JiiS ihaeit «vff« Ml. belhi* 1 toe Mfe«i.ng Intsnuiaginsiiiii m. the month of October isn," Kc. The original catalngiie ot hit librarr. which he be. qtieathed to MBrischal College, " f'-rthe love I Iwar to tha town of New Aberdeen, and wishing the nt-w college siii ichoola thticiif thoUlil flour i^h," i« still extnnt ammpt the towi/a recorda. He had |.ur. ch«Md In Ma tiaveiamnie oftlit beat editions of the claatica and eommmtatoia ii|ion ihiin, which were theniotecMltalnotf. Hit brother Alexander, M I) , (Stewart, p. 4.) died In liMidon about itI'H. In mti), he intimated to the iWlgiatraiet of Aberdeen hit having bequeaihetl hit pooKiai'd M:«S., and Ibndt for burMrics to the cni. Itgei and. In a letter to them, (4th Oct. I6.T),) he ir«r.»inliiii| JI10 •teiliiig Itor tlie toiler' |iu.rtiaae.' ^ From, a paper, daiwl In IWS, In DrUiomaa HeW't Mml. wrllini, it appears that he had an intention nt leingieftrflielrlohitdirei't fniieiiitor. Robert, the brother aiid heir of Setrretary ieiil In iM, In order *•! •?!*•• •»'■ *«» *•»•!»' "te a suit '«it.li ihS' maiiit'ratt-t nf AbMlflaii,. .ibont thdr nanagemflnt or the flind left. Iw bbaacaMor' fbr the^ librarfaii'b salary, which tutui ImI iiMn paatly dtlafildaini by tbem since IflTI. Thii wai, however, niidered unnooratary tiy a deciaioii of the C*ourt ot Se-sion, wUdi dcfirived themof the itatronageoi that office, ami tw.loied it to the pmont In w.lmii Uw lieereiary'a wii bad f cated. it> Dr Mm appeaia fhnni the College records, to hnve been In Orlf. 'Itirnbuirielaitt. (at Mr. Stewart men. tionsp.4,) rudy.ngnnder him thiee settions. and liccoming A. M in 17: fi. He entered isiillege in ll«, and was in the fir*t hu. l^S t '"L**** W^ ■"*^ colleague, the late Protteor WiUiam Ogllvle. used to relate thin he had heard him redte iphia daia. dcmonttrations i.f Euclid In thtortgliial langii^iie The aenwMi whicli wsi 'praaclifd bv Mr John Bit. !!!f ""ife ^f' ■"r Heid't appointment to the plaea of one of the Regents of Kingi College, he prevaMimlllacoileaaues to make mm Improve. nieiiu in iMv ayatem of Univeiiity ediiealliimr 'Ilit acailou wai eaiaudadfiom iwe toieven moutha. [ 39 : CORRESPONDENCE OF DR REID. Tim following correspondence consists of three consecutive series. The/rff, for which I am indebted to my friend, Alexander Thomson, Esq., of Ban- chory, extends from 1764 to 1770, and contains letters by Reid, during the first six years after his removal to Glasgow, to Dr Andrew Skene, and hk son, Dr David Skene, physickiis in Aberdeen. Thk correspondence was terminated, by the death of the father, in 1767, and of the son, in 1771' Both were highly eminent in their profession* but the latter, who hardly reached the age of forty, was one of the most zealous culti- vators of the natural sciences in Scotland, and the valued correspondent of Linnaeus, Pennant, Lord Karnes, and other distinguished contemporaries. These letters afford what was perhaps wanting to Mr Stewart*8 portraiture of Reid — they shew us the philo. sopher in all the unaffected simplicity of his character, and as he appeared to his friends ill the familiar intercourse of ordinary life. The second series comprises the letters addressed to Lord Karnes, as given in Lord Woodhouselee's Memoirs of the Life and Writings of that ingenious philosopher. They extend from 1772 to 17»2, and are chiefly of scientific interest. The third series contains a selection from Reid's letters to his kinsman, the kte Dr .Tames Gregory, Professor of the Practice of Medicine in the University of Edmburgli. Dr Gregory is known, not only as a distinguished physician, but as one of the mos-t elegant scholars and vigorous thinkers of his time. He was indeed a remarkable member even of a family in which, for two centuries, talent would almost seem to have been entailed. To Dr Gregory and Mr Dugald Stewart, Reid appropriately dedicated his prm- cipal work—the « Essays on the Intellectual Powers." The correspondence, which is of varied interest, extends from 1783, and was only terminated by Reids death in 1796. I owe my best thanks to John Gregory, Esq., for the flattering manner in which lie placed these valuable letters at my disposal ; but my friend Dr Alison is not the only other member of the family for whose kindness 1 have also to express my obligation — H. A.— LETTERS TO DRS ANDREW AND DAVID SKENE. I. TO DR ANDREW SKENE. Glmijnw, Nor. \4th, 1764. Dear Sir, — I have been for a long time wishing for as nmch leisure as to write you, if it was only to revive the memory of the many happy hours which I have enjoyed in your company, when, tete-a- tete, we sat down to speak freely of men and things, without reserve and without malignity. The time slipt aw ay so smoothly, humanity olasii was ailded, on a higher scale than had Ijceii tautiht previously ; and the teaching of the ele- ment! of Latin, by the Professor of Humanity, dis- roniinued ; some of the small bursaries were united ; and an account of these alteration! was given to the lublic in a small tract, published in 1754. Dr Reid was in favour of one professor teaching the whole, or I he greater part of the curriculum, and iheielbre did nit follow the plan of confining the professors to atparate kranrhes, at hjid lieen done in Glasgow since 17*7, and in Maritchal Collefje ^ll»ce 1753 The plan •f a*tten muntlis* ketsiun, atler a trial of five yean, iiiiandoncd. that I could often have wished to have dipt its wings. I dare not now be guilty of any such agreeable irregularities ; for I must launch forth in the morning, so as to be at the College (which is a walk of eight minutes) half an hour after seven, when I speak for an hour, without interruption, to an audience of about a hundred. At eleven 1 examine for an hour upon my morning prelection ; but my audience is little more than a third part of what it was in the morning. In a week or two, I must, for three days in the week, have a second pre- lection at twelve, upon a different subject, where my audience will be made up of those who hear me in the morning, but do not attend at eleven. My hearers commonly attend my class two years at least. The first session they attend the morning pre- lection, and the hour of exammation at eleven; the second and subsequent years they attend the two prelections, but not the hour of examination. They pay fees for the first two years, and then they are civet 40 C»IIEliro3fBllfCl OF DE 'EKia ■f ' lliat cl«i%^.;iiii: 'Migr attanil: gwlii m many fmm m 'iaqr lUmm, Wmf MimtA Urn Mmii Wm&m^ 'dbm fom m Iw' ymm i m ilwt I Imv® mil J ^mmhem and etiKknto of clivintly And kw of iKmiMefAlik stand- iiig, befote wlwia I itaiid in awe to apeak witknit iiime fvepantion than I have iMisiifV §m. I have a great incUnation to attend some of the promoro here — several 'Of whom aie^ ve^ eiiiiiient in their wayi but I 'DMUiiit^ ind leiaiif& M ueh ^tiiiM' k consnnei: ;in our eoHef^e^ meeHnp' ahenl busineae, of wMeh we have commonly four or ive in the week. We have a literary Mwiely nnee' a-weefc, eonaiatiog ef the .MmIms Bid two or 'tliree more $ wfaere^ 'eadi. of the' memben haa a diaeoune onee in the aeaaion. The Profeesora of Hu- manity, Greek, Logic, and Natural Fhio- mphy, have aa^ many houri' aa I 'have» aome tif them more. All the other profeaflors, exeeft one, teach at least one hour a-day ; and we are nO' leae than, fourteen in num* ber. The houra^ of' the diffefMit .profenora ai« different m far aa ean 'be^ iiBl''llie aame Mwlent 'may attend two or three, or per* hi^ more, at the aame time. Near a tnird part of our studenta are Iriih. Thirty eamo' over 'hiNy in 'Una 'Bhip, beiidaa thireO' that went to Sdinburgk^ we^^'liaini s gnod. many English, and aome forefgnenk. If any of the IrM, as well aa Seotdi, are' poor, and 'Come up htte, tO' :eave mon^ | so tiaat we are not yet' fully eonveenedy althoogi I have 'been teaehing ever ainee tit' Wm of' October. 'Theae who pretend to know, 'Say thai ^ :niimiber of stndaiita thh year, when fitly eonveened, will amount to sua The MaateiaMve in good, habits with one another, and 'manage their political diffbr- ences' with onlwiid deeeuey and mod man- iier% .aKlMimgiii 'vith. m moi deal m 'intrigue and :Beeiet 'oilaliiiig' when there' ia an elee*' tion. I have met with parfeet dviity from them all. By this tune, 1 am sure you have 'enouigh.of the Coile|» ; for you knew'aamoeb aa 'I ean 'tell jou 'Of the' inO' 'kmaea of Ihe llaater% of' the Aitrononiiial 'Obiervalorj*,. 'Of ' Bobin Fonlia* eoUeetien of pictures and painting' 'ioii§jp> of'lhe: immmf fer^ Ijypia' and. pfimiig lonae i tlMrefbre, I. vill eaify yon. hmm t» my own 'house', wbMi 'lyea amottgthe middle of the weaveia, like the Back Wynd m Aberdeen. You go through a hmg, dark, abomlnahly nasty ai^i whieh up stain to a 'ueal itHto diidng^Nioin, .and. find aa many other little rooma aa just aceommiKiate my iMMtiy so scantily tiat my anaitment is a oloiol in six. feet 'by eight or nine on tiie o&ii[ig4UfMD« i o iUatanflO' tneao' little inoMiveMiiMeaa fHi' .imiii M Mnr aiM. free of baggs ; It has the best air and the finest msiiecl in Qlilpv t 'Iha'^priviego of a laifa 'garden, 'very airy, to walk in, which la not' ao nicely kept hut cnie 'may^ ase free- dom with it. A ive minutes* walk leadi* ui up a rocky precipice into a huge park, partly planted, 'with irs^ and partly open, which overtooka 'the town and all the country round, .and gives a view of the windings of the Clyde mr a great wm. The ancient cathedral stnniia at 'the loot of the rock, half of iU '.beighl bebw you, and half above you I and, inXei, it is a very magnificent When we came here, the street we live in (which isealledtlie Brypte) was infested with the smallpox, whieh were ''very mortal. T'wollHo:llieS''inour neighbonrhwid. lost all their 'ehildren, being three each. Little David was seiaed. with the infection, and had .a very great eruption both in. .his face and over hli wbole body, which you will believe would diseompose his mother. . • .•.•••• Although mj salary here be much the same .aa al .Aberdeen, yet, .if the claaa 'does, 'not: idloft'nor-py healtb, iO' as to disable me from. 'teaeii.hig, 1 'believe I shall be able to live as easily as at Aberdeen, notwithstand- ing the dHIPvenee of the expense of living at the 'two phMsa. .1 liave 'touched about .£711' of'iMS,. and 'may 'possibly make out the hundred this sessio'n. And now, sir, after I have given you so full an aceount of .my own state, spiritual .and temporal., 'how g€«s it w'tth you ? Are 'Qeorga and .Molly mindmg their business ? I know Eate will mind hers. Is Br David littering up your house more and more with all the birds^ of the air, the beasts of the field, and tbO' eloda. of the valley ? Or haa Walker, the botanist, been carrying him about to visit vegetable patients, while you 'are ..lell to 'drudga among the animal, ones ? 'Ia your bead steady, or is it somet'im'CS [turning] round ? 1 have a thousand (lucs- tfona to iik about our [country] people, but I ought rather to put them tb th 'head 'broke, of m ^poflfcet picked, or of any flagrant otliiMk 'liiiao' .1 came here. I have not ^boafd .any aweariiig in the streets, nor seen a man drunk, (excepting, tiiVr iteir,one Prof— — r,) since I .amii' hmt. If this serol liKTTEBS TO DBS A. AND D. SKENE. 41 tire you, Impute it to this, that to-morrow is to be employed in choosing a Rector, and I can steep till ten o'clock, which I shall not do again for six weeks ; and believe me to be, with sincere friendship and regard, dear Sir, yours, Thomas Rkid. IL TO DE DAVID SKENE. . DiAE Sim,— We had a Turin Professor of Bledicine here lately, whom I wished you acquainted with i Count Carburi is his name; an Athenian bom, but has been most of his time m Italy.* H e seems to be a great connoisseur in natural history, and hius seen all the best collections m Europe. The Emi>eror and King of France, as well •8 many persons in Italy, he says, have much more coropleat collections of our Scotch fossils than any we have in Britain. I described to him our Bennachie porphyry ; but he says all that they call porphyry in Italy, consists of small dark-coloured grams, in a grey ground, and has very much the same appearance as many of our granites, before it is polished. He wanted much to know whether we had any authentic evi- dence from Ireland, or anywhere else, of wood that had been seen in the state of wood, and afterwards petrified. He would have gone over to Ireland on purpose, if we could have given him ground to expect this. He says MM. Buffon and Daubenton are both positive that no such thing was ever known, and that all the petrified wood dug up on various parts of the earth— of winch Carburi says he has two waggon-loads, found in Piedmont— has been petrified before our earth put on its present form; and that there is no evidence of any such petrifica- tion now going on. I have a strong mcliii- ation to attend the chymical lecture here next winter; but am afraid I shall not have time. I have had but very imperfect hints of Dr Bhick's theory of fire. He has « strong apprehension that the phlogistick principle is so far from adding to the weight of bodies, by bemg joyned to them, that it diminishes it ; and, on the contrary, by taking the phlogistick from any body, you make it heavier. He brings many experi- ments to prove this: the calcination of metals, and the decomposition of sulphur, you will easily guess to be among the num- ber; but he is very modest and cautious ni his conclusions, and wants to have them amply confirmed before he asserts them positively. I am told that Black's theory m not known at Edinburgh. Chemistry • ThU WM Count Mflreo. not t'oum ^"'""'.^"J!;- huri ; Ijoin at CepkaHmim, snd» lri«m liSa to 1BI». Proi^r of CkemiHtji In l*erf««.-". seems to be the only branch of philosophy that can be said to be in a progressive state here, although other branches are neither ill taught nor ill studied. As Bkck is got into a good deal of practice, it is to be feared that his chymical inquiries must go on slowly and heavily in time to come. 1 never con- sidered Dollond's telescopes till I came here. I think they open a new field in op- ticks which may greatly enrich that part of philosophy. The laws of the refraction ot light seem to be very different, in different kinds both of glass and of native chrystal. 1 have seen a prism of Brazil pebble, which forms two distinct speculums in Sir I. New- ton's experiment, each of them containing all the primary colours. A German native chrystal seemed to me to form four or five. One composition of glass separates the different colours much more than another composition, even with the same degree of refraction. Dollond has made a fortune by his telescopes, nobody elsehaving attempted to imitate them, and is now, I am told, grown lazy. Nor is the theory of them prosecuted as it ought. DoUond'e micro- meter is likewise a very fine instrument, although not built upon anything new lu optickK. We have one of tlieni here fitted to a reflecting telescope of about 18 inches, by which one may take the apjarent diame- ter of the sun, or of any planet, within a second of a degree. I find a variety of things here to amuFe me ill the literary world, and want nothing so much as my old friends, whose place I cannot expect, at my time of life, to sup- plv. I think the common people here and * the neighbourhood greatly inferior to in the common people with you. They are Boeotian in their understandings, fanatical in their religion, and clownish in their dress and manners. The clergy encourage this fanaticism too much, and find it the only way to popularity. I often hear a gospel here which you know nothing about; for you neither hear it from the pulpit, nor will you find it in the bible. . , . , What is your Philosophical Society do- ing? Still battUng about D. Hume? or have vou time to look in? I hope your papa holds out in his usual way. I beg to be remembered to him most affectionately, and to all the rest of your fannly. But 1 believe you do not like to be charged with compliments, otherwise I would desire of vou likewise to remember me respectluUy to Sir Archibald Grant, Sir Arthur and Lady Forbes, and others of my country al ud« w.. found, d by •'i^"'?'^ »;;*Xi he' H'^J John Grpcory. It »m tuinarly »*>' . V l;/ w C?»?. Dr*D.vW Skene. «ho » «* '«;J^^.^^;'; „^ ' of iZnpinal meraberi. ^ ee Foibi . s " Lite of Beat- tie." i. aa.-H. ^9' COlllSroNDBNCE OF DE EEiD. ■«ll«II. I liMllllll. IW plad, too, to iMT f«i« jow,, wlMo.M«iiB,iiif ii|iportiiiii|j,.ti^ tiMi' enMohij'' ktnnour ^ai meet togvf lier. My mm MW' mil prettj mil, mid h^, iMr ioiiipBiiioiits to Jim and all yours. — I an, ■ifaar Sir, moel afTeetionatolj, •• jo«,», Cksmm^ IS Jufy 171% Wng tlM!' int warni day wn laf «' Iwl ainee tlie montli. 'Of JKmmmmWm 111. TO' IE OAVIO SKINI. Ciofffow, 20 £)^f. 1,76a.. PiAH Sir, — Your commiesioiia^ liave Iwen Ijliig by tm mrnie tkm^ for want of a pni|Mr GoiiTeyaiiM. Ab. Alierdoeii oartier 'proniied to call for tlioni, but diaafiiMiiiitiid roe ; I tlierefor© sent the two thermonwtem WBBiit tip k paper, and directed for jm by Kr. Memleii, inefdiant tn 'tlie Narrow Wyrad, wbo waa^ to intt^Mt from, henee yea- tenlay 'inoming. One bat a areolar bore ill tbe^ :fmail tube, the other' an elliptieal one, and la on that aeeonnt mneh itter for 'oxperinienta. .Aa tbetO' ,!s a much giMiter iliantity of midcsi'ver in the cireular ono^ it may tali,e four or five minutes to bring it to the teni'perature of a fluid, m whieli it ii' immenied. For' itiM ex|ierinienta,. eomi rf the elliptieal. ones: .an^ 'niadO' by .Dr Wil- ■on with the bulb of the amall tibO' iiake4 .Bnl tbeie .are m liablO' to acoidents that few ehooM them. The perspeotiire maehine goet to' Edinburgh to.morrow with Dr Trail, who wil ,iend it to my siiters to be^ lent you by the first, proper opportunity. . . . Mr Watt ,bas made two .small improve- Bentaof'tbestaam-cnibMb. 'Thoiratkin IbeJrfmbamwhidiauppoftithtim TbeiM' have always been .mado' of mid iion, .and burn away ao liiat by the great beat, thai the expense' of repairhig them. 'Conet to be very eonitidefableb. Ho wm hdlow wpani ban of plito' inn, .ai^waya hmt full of 'water, vbiBh eommunieatea with a pretty 'kri^ naervoir, .so that^ 'the 'bam ean never be^ iMKled. .above the 'degree of boyling water, and maybe kept, iuf below thai degne of .heat. 'The other irapraveaent 'la to pn- veni the wasto of beat by the ebimney piipo of the fufoaoew It is 'evident that a very hniSe proportion of the heas of the fiio paasea: off 'in th.i8 way wltbonl being ^applied to the water in the boyler. Tto provenl this, he makes three small ehirnneiy pipes of iron, which ate 'made to paia thmiiipi the boyler. .He is juat now employed' .in''aetting 'np an engine for the Ommn 'Ctampny 'witi Mt. — I hnprovementa. Sinee I saw C. Oarburi, I have it upon good authority' that there are petrif}-ing apflinp 'in Inghml. 'whieh 'pelrify thinn 'pnt into them in a .short 'time. And 'a gentleman, 'here expeels, in a abort time, a petrified peri:wig from one of them. Dr Black tolla me that Cramer's fur- .naeea,. both for' 'essaying and melting, aa. yon 'havo 'them, 'described in his 'Kir* D&ei^ SMultr*!,** are the best he knows. His are of this kind, being made of plate iron, lined with a coat of a lute, which is com- posed of one-parl clay and three-parts fire- sand, which, he says, never cracks. He has not exainined the Fechel earth, but con- jectures it to be a composition of the same kind with Fmssian. blue. He has seen a horse's head, whlob, by being long buried in a clay which bad some mixture of iron, had in several places taken a fine blue tinge, or rather was covered with a fine blue dust. I have attended Dr B:iaek%.k€taresM.tli- erto.. His doctrine of latent 'heat is tlie only thing I have yet heard that is idto- gether new. And, indeed, I look 'upon it aa a very imprtant discoverv. As Mr Ogilvie attended, .him ud 'took notes,, .1 believe he can give you a fuller account of it than I can. It gi'vea a great deal of light to the pbisnomenii of heat that appear in mixture, .solution, and evaporation ; but, aa far ai' I see, it gives, 'no light 'to 'those 'which appesT' in animal beat, inflammat.ion, and frictio.n. I 'wisb this discovery may not reach any person who may be so ungene- rous as to make it public before the Dr lias time to puhliHh it himself. If the ac- count which Ogilvte can give you should suggest any doubts, I will be glad to clear them, so far aS' 'my knowledge of th.is doc- trine leaobea.,— I .am very,gbd to hear that .Dr' Mope :baa a 'prospect of raising the true rhubark I believe I forgot to tell you that I wrapped up a head of what I take to be the dmum jf/ir*lri«, in a piece of paper, and put it in the box witli the drawing machine. It grows in great plenty in the fields here ; hut I never saw it with you. I have not nef ' with ..any hotaniitts liere. OnrCoUege .ia eonsideiably more crowded than it was .last .seashin. My class, indeed, is much the same as hnt year ; but all the rest are bettor. I believe the number of our stiidenis, of one Und or another, may be between, four and i've hundred. But the Col.lege of Edinbn.rgh is increased th.isyear much more than wo are. The Mural Fhilosophy ehua tboii, ia :nion than double ours. The Professor, Feiguson, is, mdeed, as far as I ean jndp, a man of a noble spirit, of very elegant manners, and bas^ a very uncommon low of eloqneneo. I bear he is about to fmblish, I don*t know under whiit title, a natiinl history of man : exhibiting a view of liini in tlie savage state, and in LETTERS TO DBS A. AND D. SKENE. 43 the several successive states of pasturage, ftirriculture, and commerce. ^Your friend, the Cte. de Laura^uais, was very full of you when he was here, and shewed an anxiety that your merit should be known. I am told that he has wrote many things in the Memoirsof the Academy ; but I know nobody here that has read them. Our College Library is ten or twelve years behind in the Memoirs of the Royal Aca- demy ; and all that the Cte. has wrote must full within that period. He seems to have attached himself so entirely to chemistry as to have neglected every other branch of knowledge. Carburi was more universal ; he gave attention chiefly to the progress of manufactures and commerce, and to col- iMt books and specimens of natural or artifi- cial things. Our society is not so harmonious as I wish. Schemes of interest, pushed by some und opposed by others, are like to divide us a;« parties, and, perhaps, engage us in a v-suits. • When you see M r W. Ogilvie, -jl^Ase make my compliments to him. I fwieived his letter, and will write him when t can find leisure. I hope your papa is quite recovered of his cold, and that all the rest of the family are in good health. Fray, make my best compliments to him. Mrs Roid, Fegie,and I, have all had a severe cold and cough. I have been keeping the house these two days, in order to get the better of it.— I am, dear Sir, Yours most affectionately, Thomas Rbid. Ended, Dec. 30- Wishbg you many happy yeara lY. TO DE ANDEKW SKEXX. Dear Sir,— I have been sometimes apt to impute it to laziness, and sometimes to hurry of business, that I have been so long without writing you. I am ashamed to plead the last of these excuses when I con- aider how many people there are of my acquaintance that have a great deal more to do than I have, and would think all my business but idleness. Yet, I assure you, I can rarely find an hour which I am at liberty to dispose of as I please. The most disagreeable thing in the teaching part is to have a great number of stupid Irish teagues who attend chwses for two or three years to qualify them for teaching schools, or being dissenting teachers. I preach to t hese as St Francis did to the fishes-f I • See above, p 40, A.below.pp. »«,/%. and 47, B. Alltheoryand all exiierience prore, that the worn and the most corrupt depwitariet of acadeir'cai ps. ironiipp are a neU-errrive body of protM«.r«.-H. f KoC !»l Fraiici«, but St Antony (of Padua.)— H. don't know what pleasure he had in his audience ; but I should have none in mine if there was not in it a mixture of reason- able creatures. I confess I think there is a smaller proportion of these in my class this year than was the last, although the number of the whole is not less. 1 have long been of the opinion, that, in a right con- stituted college, there ought to be two Pro- fessors for each class— one for the dunces, and another for those who have parts. The province of the former would not be the most agreeable, but, perhaps, it would require the greatest talents, and, therefore, ought to be accounted the post of honour. There is no part of my time more disagree- ably spent than that which is spent in College meetings, of which we have often five or six in a week. And I shoiild have been attending one this moment if a bad cold I have got had not furnished me with an excuse. These meetings are become more disagreeable by an evil spirit of party that seems to put us in a ferment, and, I am afraid, will produce bad consequences. The temper of our northern colonies makes our mercantile people here look very grave. Several of them are going to Lon- don about this matter, to attend the pro- ceedings of Fariiament. It is said that the effects in those colonies belonging to this town amount to above £400,000 steriing. The mercantile people are for suspendmg the stamp-act, and redressing the grievances of the colonists. Others consider then- conduct as an open rebellion, and an avowed claim to indeiiendence, which ought to be checked in the beginning. They say that, for all their boasting, the colonists are a das- tardly, pusillanimous race, and that a Bri- tish fleet and army would soon reduce them to such terms as would secure their future dependence upon the mother country; that this is the most proper time for doing so when we are at peace with all our neigh- bours. In what light the House of Com- mons wUl view this matter, I don't know, but it seems to be one of the most import- ant matters that have come before them. I wish often an evening with you, such as we have enjoyed in the days of former times, to settle the important affairs of State and Church, of Colleges and Corpora- tions. I have found this the best expedient to enable me to think of them without mehmcholy and chagrin. And I think all tliat a man has to do in the world is to keep his temper and to do his duty. Mrs Reid is tolerably well just now, but is often ailing. She desires to be remembere. I to you and all your family.- I am, dear Sir, Youra most affectionately, Thomas Rbio. Glasffou, Dec. 30, l7Co. M CORRESroMBENCl OP DE HEID. LETTERS TO DRS A. AND D. SKENE. 43 T. Ooi^Piw, n MmNA 17m, Baa* 8i%^I hwi jwiw «f tlM^ |4ik mod thm mmmmai tist of Tburadfty 'At m with tlie inetofled, a letter from jour mm by Mr B'ligiiid, witli. f&mt' eireiikr tlie^no- ■mfer. I rvtuiwid tlie ilieniiiiiiietm-, m. IMimi lif .Mr Annsn, wlw .l«fl'iliie.tii|i'4i|M W, but was to !» » week at EdinluMi k bis fetum. I aliall remember Sir Archi- bald Q;iMit%^ etmiiitiieifin, but muat tale mnie time: te think of it. What would mm think of Alex. Meams in Oordoii*i EoepI* tal ? If jon are not aeqiiatnted with him, jm raaj kam his qttalltiea, and tell me jonraentiaienta.. I shall .likewise mind jonr eiliptiealthefiiometer. MrStewart's'ifaath afreets me^ deeply. A si^ncero friendtfiin, begnn at twelve years of age, and wntinued ti»' my time of hie without any intetmiition, 'cwi'not ^bnt give yon somo' 'punis. ' Yon know his 'Worth, yet it 'Wis '.shaded ever since you knew him by too great atatnetion from the world. The former part of his life was more amwble' .and more soaial, but 'the whole was of a 'pfeee in virtn% 'eandonr, wd humanity. I have often r^iifetted that the flolieitudeof providingfor anumerousiamily, and. the .bbour ui mawigii«' an estate and a 'tern, should inakeatnanlnagmit.metsum nnknown,, 'who«i"virtae, fateggty, .and. Jiii|i. meat ought to have shone in a mom exten- sive .sphere. His schohicB eouid not but observe and levew'his^irirtuei I andlhave .no dtabt but great nmnbem of' them have rmped^great improvement by him In 'matter* Jif higher importanee than mathematical k.now|e%i, I have always regarded hhn as my nest 'tutnti. thou^ o( tho' .same age with me. If the gid% part of my life was in any degrw' ipcnt innocent] v and virtnMsly, 1 owe It tO' him. 'mono than 'to any human «i«tBni' j for .1 eonid not but be vtrtuoiia 'ui iis^ flonpany, aad' I ^eould not be so happy m any other. But I 'must .lettve 'this pSasl « melaneholy subjeet He is happy i and I ahall dlen be ha|ipy in the nmembmnce iif'«»ur.friendriiip.; and I hope^ we .shall meet 'iga1.11. There is no sudi thing as chj-mical fur- M«sjs made here for sale. They are made jJ"pWe iiwi,| and.a'«lite4im«ian .manages 'that materld better' than. « 'IMMiail^^ you must direct 'them, in eventiinfr, and "be still, over the woiric .1 can give but an 'imperfect^ account of •r ine taanHiiiiim of caii'illitMe< lor mSmlS^ '*• *>< ffM.ln«ittKaiitoj Sai fHiir 9t tiW' IMS IMitii«iwQeiiecaL-.II. of the Tlieory and Practice of Physic, to succeed Dr Jo. Blaci, ahhuu^^h all that we do is to recommend one tu tlie King, who has the presentation. Dr Stevenson, a son of the kte Dr Stevenson in Edinburgh, who has by much the best practice in this town and neighbourhood, lias obtained a recommendation from the majority of the College, not without much interest. The only ubjection to him wa» his great practice, which it was thouglit might tempt him to neglect regular teacli- .ing. And, I believe, the majority would have preferred to him any man of character who had not aneh a temptotion to neglect the duties of his office. However, the strongest assurances that he would not ne- gloct the class— nay, that he would think himself bound in honour to give up the Profession if he could not keep up a class, brought in a majority to sign a reconi- inendation in his favour; and, as he has a strong interest at Cnurt, and' no rival, as far as we know, it is thought he will be the man. He declines teaching the chemistry ekes, which is in the gift of the College, and, 1. conceive, will be .given to one of Dr BiMk*s sehohrs. My ektss will be over in less than a month, and by that time I shall be glad to have some respite. I hope to have the fileasure of seemg my friends at Aberdeen in tlie month of August, if iiol sooner. We .have had a thronger College this year than ever before. 1 had some reason te think that I should not have so gtwd a class as last ^^ear, and was dis- appointed, for it was somewhat better. I expect a got>d one next winter, if I live so long. The Irish, on whom we depend much, have an ebb and iow, as many of them come but one year in two. We have been remarkably free from riots and dis- orders among the students, and I did not indeed expect that 350 young fellows could have been kept quiet, for so many months, with no little trouble^ They commonly attend so many ckises of different profes- sors, from half-an-hour after seven in the morning till eight at nighl, that they have little time to do mischief. Youll say to all this tlmt cadgers are are speaking of erooksaddles. I think so they ought ; besides, I have nothing else to nv to you, and I have had no time to think Jf anything hut my crooksnddles^ for seven months pant When the session is over I must rub up my mathenatleks against the month of Augiist There is one candidate for your Profession of Mathematicks to go from this College ; and, if your College get a better man or a better' mathematician, they will be very lucky. I am so sensible of the honour the magistrates have done me in naming me to he one of the exarnhmtort, that I will not decline it, though, I confeiai I like the honour better than the office.— I am, dear Sir, Yours most affectionately, Thomas Rkio. Gfasame, %lh May, 1766. Half an hour after eleven at night. VIIL TO DR ANDREW SKKXK. When you are dis- posed to laugh you may look into the in- closed proposals from a physician here who has been persecuting everybody with an edition of Celsus, and now with an index to him as large as the book. Another physi- cian here is printing a History of Medicine, and of all the arts and sciences from the beginning to the present time, four vols. 8vo, price one guinea. He is not thought mad, but whimsical. I have not the pro- posals to send you, and I suppose I have se it enough of this kind. We authors had rather be known for madmen or fools than pass our lives in obscurity. Stevenson's presentation to the Profession of Medicine here is not yet come, but is expected as cer- tain. The College have appointed a Lec- turer in Chemistry, and one in Materia Medica, for next session. I think we might have a college of medicine here if we had an infirmarv. I think our surgeons eclipse our M.D's.' I do not hear much of the last, if you except Black and Stevenson. Our Professor of Anatomy is not an M.D., otherwise 1 would have excepted him also. Have you ever tried the seeds of the dnn- iti«f syloestris in nephritick cases ? It has been much talked of of late. I never saw it in the north, but it is pretty common m the fields here.— I am, dear Sir, Yours most affectionately, Thomas Rkid- Glrngm, Uih Juig 1766. TO nn ANDREW SKENB. Glaxgrw Coilefjf, Bee, 17, 1766. ... I live now in the College, and have no distance to walk to my class m dark mornings, as I had before. I enjoy this ease, though I am not sure whether the necessity of walking up and down a steep hill three or four times a-day, was not of use. I have of late had a little of your distemper, finding a giddiness in my head when I lie down or rise, or turn myself m mv bed. , , ^. lOur College is very well peopled this session ; my public class is above three score, besides the private class. Dr Smith ne%-er had so many in one year. There is nothing so uneasy to me here as our fac- tions in the College, which seem to be rather more inflamed than last session. Will you take the trouble to ask of Dr David, whether he knows of a bird called a stankhen.* It is a water fowl, less than a duck, with scolloped membranes at the toes, but not close-footed, and has a crest on the forehead of the same kind of sub- stance with a cock's comb, but white and flat. It has a very fishy taste, and is found here in the loehs. If he has none of this kind, I could send him one when I find a pr<»per occasion. I am, with entire affection atul regard, dear Sir, yours, Thomas Reid. TO DR DAVID SKKXK. Gh^f^ow Cofefie. 2o'h F^'lif. 1767- Dear Sir,— I intend to send your stank- hen along with the furnace, which w.ns ready long ago, and I suppose would have been sent before now, but that Dr Irviu'^ was confined a long time by a megrim, and was like to lose one eye by it ; but is now pretty well recovered, and intends to send your furnace this week. Since the repeal of the stamp-act, tradis which was languishing, has revived in this place, and there is a great bustle and great demand for money. We are now resolved to have a canal from Carron to this place, if the Pariiament allows it. £40,000 was subscribed last week by the merchants ami the Can-on Company for this purpose ; and commissioners are immediately going up to London to apply for an act of Parlia- ment. The freight upon this canal is not to exceed twopence per ton for every mile ; the land carriage is more than ten times as much. ^ ,, _ ^, Our medical college has fallen off greatly this session, most of the students of medi- cine having followed Dr Black ; however, our two medical professors and two lec- turers have each of them a class, and Irvine expects a great many to attend him for botany in summer. The natural and moral philosophy classes are more numerous than they have ever been ; but I expect a great falling off, if I see another session. The Lecturer in Chemistry has general approba- tion. He chiefly follows Dr Black and Stahl. There is a book of Stahl's, called « Three Hundred Experiments," which he greatly admires, and very often quotes. I was just now seeing your furnace along with ♦ The OsUinuU thloropu8.-H. 411 CflRRBfiPON DE '^C!M OP DR R£IEI LETTERS TO DRS A. AND D. SKENE. 49 I pfig^ I I iiiini; ti n .^pny dbefttt iiiM0' of furnitttre for m^ miui of your prafisMon, mail ttiiit no limb of the famiflv should be without of ntiirt%, emmtliitai. Jie* For nj iwtt| if I coitU. flml. tk iwMliiiM ■• proper for ami^ 1: jiing icieafl, moml sentimenta, uil. otiior 'lualerUi bdoiifiiig to the fourth kingdom, I believe I .dbouM find in my heMt' lO' be- i^«r tiM noney for it I huve IIM' 'Uiore' use* fttr .ft nMehiM' of thw kind, 'beeMiM' my •lembiek for performing tlieee opemtioni — I mean my'Cnniiim'—niiii lieea s. little out of order tiiia winter, by m vertigo, wliieli lilts mnde my atuilet. go on hmvtly, tliongb it has not hitherto interrupted my teaching- I have found air and exercise, and a clean rtomaeb, the best .reinedieai but I euinot eommand the two fo*'Slu;tchef of the History of Man *— H« m COm'EESPONDENCE OF DR EEI'D. LETTERS TO LORD KAMES. wfinM. 'Im fmd. of jMir MsqiuuntanM. Mm to mytelf^ tlis iiiiii«l«iiil wwrM lun swiiIp luwud up all my tliM^glita tineo I 'flame .iiere ; but I IM«I' 'iritli few 'Hiat hm% tiavalM far ^tmtnf ifvj in a move solitary' niw ii ^ ^r 'tlian. wlieii we iiiecl. to meel at^ tlie clak Wluit k indulge me with tlie pleasure of knowing that von liave not fotgoti dear Str, your AIIOIKAB' J%KJIla' B.— LETTERS TO LORD KAMES. 1 Alf TUB BOCmiNB OF MBCBMimr IM ItttA- TION TU' .|fORA.U. Ch^&m ColUffe, M Bre, 1772- Mr LoRDi — I was very glad to onder- siand, by tbe letter yon honourefi me with of November 0, that you got safe lionie, after a long journey, in sueh dreadful niiuy weather. I got to Mr C *8 on hone- back soon after you left me. wherO' I wits m good warm quarters. The eaiO' you 'State is verv pniper, to dis- eover 'how 'fkr we diibr with res^pect to the hiiueuce of the doctrine of necessity upon morals* A man in a mail it of 'passion stabs his best'irieiid ; 'immediately uteri be'CondemnS' himself I and, at lasti 'is eondemned by a 'COiart of justice, .although his passion was no less irresiBtible than if he had been pushed, on hy external 'Tiiilenc«.. My opinion 'Of the'CaaOi 'my Lordf. Is this ': if 'the pasiion was really as irresistible as. you represent it, both in its be|inninf and pnwew, the man is in^noeeiit m. 'the' sight of God, who knows that he 'waa 'driven as. by a whirlwind, .and that, the moinent lie was master' of' himself, he abhorred the action as m.ucli as a gocMl. man ought to 'do. At the same time, he reasoiiahly may 'eondtomn himself, and be ciMi.demiied by a eonrt of Jnstiec. Be eoiMiemns himself, hecaiuse, from his ireiy ecmstitntion, he Iwi. a eonv'ktiim. that '^his. passimi. 'was. not' inesistiUeb Every man 'baa 'this 'eoi'vletlon ta 'h»g as he be-' itves. himself not to be really mad, and .iieapable of lelf-gO'vemmenL Even if he 'Is a litalist. in speculation, that wiU not hinder thii' natural conviction when his 'eoBseienee' smites him, any m.ore than specu.- lative scepticism will hinder a man from .apprehension of daniBr when .a cart runs :^pi'nst him. ^ 'The court. 'Of j'listiee condemns hhn for the same reason, because 'they 'believe 'that 'his passion was not irresistible. Bnt, if it .could Cepmved tlmt the man was really incapa- waa .really mad- then the 'Court of juatioe ought not to punish him as a criminal, but to confine him as a madman. What, is madness, my Lord? In my opinfon, it is .such weulcness. in the power of .self-government, or such strength of pas- sion, OS deprives a man of the command of himsell The madman has will and inten- tion, but he has no power to restrain them. If this madness contiimcs so lonj? as to \m cafftMe of proof from the tenor of a man's actions, he is no subject of criminal kw, because he is not a free agent. If we sup- pose reol madness to continue but for a moment, it makes a man incapable of a crime, whUe it lasts, as if it hod continued for years. But a momentary madness can have no effect to acquit a man in a court of justiee, because it cannot be proved. It would not even hinder him from conclenni- ing himself, because he cannot know that he was mad. In a word, if, by a mad fit of passion, your Lordship means real madness, thoui;li temporary, and not permanent, the man ih not crimuul for wlut this it of madness produced. A court of justice would not mipute the aetk»n to him, if this could be S roved to 'be 'the cose. But if, by a mad t of passion, you mean only a .strong pas- sbn, which still leaves a man the power of self-government, then he is accountable for his eondnet to God and man ( .for every good 'man— yea, every man that would, .avoid.. the most heinous crimes— must at some times do violence to very strong passions. But :hard 'would be our case :radeed,. if wo 'Were vsqulred, either by God or man, to leeist 'irrcsiaClble 'passionit You think that will and intention is suf- icient to make an action imputable, even 'though thati wiU. 'be irresistibly determined. I. 'bff 'leave to distenty for the following 1 An invincibleerroroftheunderstandtng, of m0m:Ory, of judgment, or of reasoning, .is not imputablu,. for this very .reaso% that it is invlmable : whv, 'then, 'dimld 'an error of the wiU be imputable, when it is supposed equally invincible f God Ahnli^ty has given us variMt ;powefi'Of undeistandrng and of will. They'ivt all. 'equally hia workmanship. Our understandings may deviate from truth, as <»«.l, b th. r4»tt of mud. » orpmieal. structure as tint dt the brain. C!oBsei|iently, .sajn^ he, 'the whole 'man. becomes exwet. at death, and we have no ho'fte of surviving 'the gimve, hnt 'what is 'derived from the %ht of Revelation. I would be gkd to-know' your Lo^rdship's opinion^ whetlMri 'whea. .my hiain htm lost i'tsofigiiial. stmeture, and 'when, .some hun- dred years after, the same mttolais are' again fabricated so eurimisly as to become an .intdluent Iwiing, wheAer, I say, that being will bei me ;* or, :if' twO' or three sueh bC'inip iiion.id be formed. 'Ont^ 'Of mv 'brain:, whether they wii. a.ll 'be 'int, .and eonse- qnently all be one and the' .same' :iiitei%ent bcingi This .aeema tO' me a .great mysteiy, but Priestley den^iet all mysteries. Me thinkfi and mjoiees in tMmkhig' so^ tbat^ phati^ Iiave .ime degree oCsenaatSon.^ As to the .inwer niiial%. 'tli«r' 'dilir' from, is ;ia ^degne 'Holy, and net^ in muk Only 'thtj .have no promise of a nanrreetion.. If 'thii be true, why ebonld not the^ KinK*s advocate be •rdared tO' ptoseente erim:inal Amft*, and ^^u B^pHi' .( Mlm of in unlilgiiiMii ioiiimI,. U Ije sH j i i i ti eleit iB pifcbotogy,couid weogairton. ws| iwf Mff' MV a .i|MiiiiliiitlvcB ai. Um .FHmui no wmi. ]lut.tliii'niiliMiiiffhe'aM%il«U'ttiiti% I'M Bblsi 'Igjyui igiM ■^■■■■■^■■■"Mii^l^hMjIBiM A#' JRkiiiw lift •#• ^^^w fflVPw^^i H'VIn .^S V ' WnaHHNNPfllHM^plBM'SMJr ■wa' aep^*'"ai(i pu criminal judges to try them ? You are obliged to Br Priestley for teaching you one^half of your duty, of whicb you knew nothing before. But I Inrmt that the fault lies in the legislature, which has not givenyou kws for this purpose. I hope, how- ever, when an^ of them shall be brought to a trial,, thiit'he' will healk>wed.a:iif if 'i{f Aupe4?r>-. I 'tin ;wit mueh. surpriMMl. - that your Iiordship baB' 'found ittle 'entertainment i.ii a late Freneb writer on human nature.* From what I learn, they are all become rank Epienreins. One would think that French poitesse m.ight consort very well with disinterested benevolence ; but, if we believe 'tlieniselves, it is all grimace. It is 'flatteiji in order to be flattered ; like that 'of 'tit' 'bfiif% who when ^bisneck itches, 'MfBtflbw bis neigli^hovr, that he may be seiatebed by bun again. I detest all sys- tems that depreciate human nature. If it bO' .ft. delusion, 'that there is^ 8ometh.ing in the eonatitntion. of 'man 'that is venerable and wurtby ef its anther, let me live and die in that delusion, rather than have my eyes opened to see my species 'in a humi- liating and disgnsting^^ %hi .Every good man. leela bii iniignatien rise against those who 'diapnnige' Us- Umked or his countrp ; why should, it not rise againat those who di^paiage -bis kind 9 Were it not that wc somet-imes sei' extrem-ea meet, .1 should tbink it 'ver^' strange to see atheists and bigh-shod divines contending as it were' who should'mestbbidcenand degrade human nature^ Yet 'I, 'think the atheist acts the nnre consistent'part of the two i for surely iueh. 'Views of human ;natun tend more to promote atheism, than to promote religion and virtue* • • • • • III. 'ON TII'B 'COK'VBKfllON OP CLAY llfH VBII.KrJi»LB MOULH. Octtfher 1, lyjS. • . The theoij of agriculture m a wide .and deep' ocean, wherein we soon go beyond our -dtoptb. 1 believe a lump of dry eky baa much the same degree of bardneas^ whether the w'catber bO' .hot or' cold. It laema- to be mora alfceted 'by moisture' or diougbt : and 'to be harder in. diy weatlwffi -and more easily broken when a little moiitened. But tliere is a degree of wetness in. elay which makes it not break at all when, struck or fMiied t it ia eempiessed and 'ohanges ite figure, but doei- not break. qy ground,. I think, ought to b e ploughed • Hdvetiua. He l*Si|irll.->LoHi» WoonnniiisLKt. tlanilfi Hiltwofk tmm then, newly twenty year old. fkelNilf'tht.'Work»**>3' Tho Ebiol TV ON THB OBNBRATION OP PLANTS AND ANIMALS. J^o (faie—but mppm^d 1775. My Lord, — I have some compunction for having been so tardy in answering the letter which your Lordship dkl me the honour to write me of the 6th November, especially as it suggests two very curious subjects of correspondence. But, indeed, my vacant time has been so much filled up with trifles of College business, and with the frequent calls of a more numerous class of students than I ever had before, that there was no room for anything that could admit of delay. \'ou have expressed with great elegance and strength the conjecture I hinted with regard to the generation of plants. I am indeed apt to conjecture, that both plants and animals are at first organized atoms, having all the parts of the animal or plant, but so slender, and folded up in such a manner, as to be reduced to a par- ticle far beyond the reach of our senses, and perliaps as small as the constituent parts of water.* The earth, the water, and the air may, for anything I know, be full of such organized atoms. They may be no more liable to hurt or injury, than the con- stituent elementary parts of water or air. They may serve the purposes of common matter until they are brought into that situation which nature has provided for th*ir unfolding themselves. When brought into their proper matrix or womb, perhaps after some previous preparations, they are commonly surrounded with some fluid matter, in which they unfold and stretch themselves out to a length and breadth perhaps some thousand times greater than they had when folded up in the atom. They would now be visible to the naked eye, were it not that their Umbs and vessels are so slender that they cannot be distin- guished from the fluid in which they float. All is equally transparent, and therefore neither figure nor colour can be discerned, although the object has a considerable bulk. The foetus now has a fluid circulatmg in its vessels ; all the animal functions go on ; it is nourished and grows ; and some parts, first the heart, then the head, then the « This oiinion is similar to that ot M. Bonnet See hi» " Conftidtrationa sur lea Corps Organizes/* and his *< Contemplation de la Nature" I oro WooDHou^ELEE.—Reid's opinion has comparativi ly little resemblance to the involution theory nf Bonnet : it bears, howeter, a strong analogy to the Pan^per- mia of ihe Ionic philosophers, more especially as modified by some of the recent physiological epeiu. latists of Germany This conjecture ia curious, aa a solitary escapade of our cautious philosopher i** the rtgiun of imagination.— H« M CORRESPONBINCI Of DE WBIB. LETTERS TO LORD KAMES. ■finet hy ^pitiif MnM' tdmtr, hmmm^ \ II .iiiii IK It'b to Iw 'UliMrfdl,. tlMt|. fmn. ^m Hum tiiftl iIm iMtft iifit ftffMiCi' 'in Hit 'iwiiMii. llqiior, iiDlal Hie tiiM of birth, the Animal gnmr* mmimMj mai inaeiuiilihr, m it does aftcT'limi. mkf hdum il h irMibl% it mmt^ hmm iiMftiMi in. iiieiiMiiy thouflMii tiinet' in • few dagrs. This does not look like growth by nourishment, but like a swMen iniiiiliiui of' fiarta, which before were' winf pM np in • amaU. atom. I gO' almiff ' wj l l j joup Ii#f # t M p eoiiiillir, til joit oome to the firit formation of an omniiei body. But there' I hesitate. ''Jiajr tiMnL:**' ^si^' jo% *< net be particles of a eerttin nid Mdowed with a power to form in 'Oonjnnetion an organiied. body ?** Would your Lordship allow that oortain Mtefs 'might be endowed with the power of fefninir 'themselves into an '^ Iliad" or ** MMuMi* or 'Oven into aKniible diseonnw in prose ?* I oonfess our faculties carry us but a very little way in determining what is possible' and what is inpotsf ~ and therefore we ought to be modesl I cannot 'help thinking that such a work as the ** Iliad,** .and much moro an animal or vegetable body, must have been made by •xpresSi design and counsel employed for iliat^' end. .And. an author whom 1 very much .respect'., has 'taught me, ** That we form, this condusion, not by any process of nssottlnga but M mer» 'perception and feel- 'ing.**t ^B<1 1 'i^»ik 'Kwt 'Coneliisions formed in this manner, are of ai othem most to be tmsled. It seems to me as easy to con- trive a machine that should compose a variety 'Of '^pie poems, and tra||edie8, as. 'to eontrive liws of motion, by which unthink- ing' particles 'Of .mattor should coaltMt: :iiito a viMiety of organised. bodicB. *• Btttj" says your Lordship, ** certahily the .Ahai|bty has. made none of his works so imperfect as to stand in need, of perpe- tual miracles.** Can we, my Lord, sliew, by any good reason, that the Almighty 'iniiiied his. work at a .stKike,^ .and has eon- 'tinned ever since' an. nnaetiire .speftatOT' F €mk 'we prove thit 'this.. 'method .is 'tho' best:;: or that it is possible that the universe should be well governed m litis, 'way ? I fear we And, if his contmued operation be 'neees-. saiy or proper, it is no miracle, while it 'is 'uniform, and .aeeoiding to' fixed 'kws. ^Thoogb WO' should wippoae the gimvitatioD. of natter to 'be iie. 'imaiediato iperation of the IMly, it wonld te no miraele, 'wMIe il Is constant and uniform t but if m that case it should cease fur a moment, only by Ills •' This. illniliiMMi' Is iKMrfMml: tmm Clcem. f * IJ* jfstun. DtonnD.** 1. ii c« S7.)-i>Ii •C't... Ultiflsff '«• flu hiptttfi I iSs" 'iilss M Iff. 'IMI withhoMIng Ms hand, this would be a 'mi. That :aii. animal or vegetable 'body is a wnrk of art, and requires a skilful workman, I thhik we may conclude, without going beyond^ our sphere^ But when we would dfltemine how' .it 'is formed, we have no iteiil ani oar most rational conjectures are only reveries, and probably wide of the mark. We travel back to the first origin of tliinp on the wings of fiincy. We would discover Hatiire •» jwri* natumiUmtf and 'tiaco' her 'fint^ opoiatimis and gradual pro- gress. But, aks I we soon find ourselves unequal to the task : and perhaps this is an entortainment reserved for ns in a future state. .As to what ,yon. aay about earth or soil ;. tliere seems, indeed, to' be a repulsion of the parts, when it is enriched by the air, or 'by 'ina.n.uro. And, in consequence of this, it swells and occupies more space. But, I conceive, it gets an additional quantity of mattor, from the moisture and air which it imbibes, and thereby increases both in bulk and weight I have been told Chat a dung- hill made up of earth, dung, and lime, trenched over two or three times, at proper intervals, and then led out, will be found to m:ake more cart-loads than it received : and I 'believe 'this, 'to be true. If the earth taken out of a pit does not ill it again, I am apt to think there must have been 'va- cuities in the earth at first, perhaps made by the roots of phmts that have decayed, by males, insects, or other causes.— I am, my Lord, &e. Tiia Rkio. If ON T'M.B LAWS OF MOTION.— KB'WT0N*8 .1..X.IQM8 A.N0 DBri.NITION..S. Ghifftm C&Ufff^f Maif 19, IJflO. If? Lord,— In order to understand the reliminairy part of Newton's Frindpm, it I necsiiaiy to attond to' bis pneral 'design, 'both in his. axioms and definitions. Firtf, As to hii sxioms : he sets down the three kws of motion as axioms. But he doeS' .ml msin 'Iqr this, 'thai 'they are to be held as :ielf^viliiil 'tmthS: ; mm does he in- tend to prove then .in 'whal' .he^ .says upon them. They are incapable of demonstra- tion, being matters of fact, which universally obtain in 'tha natetkl world, and which had before been obsorved by phihisophers, and verified by tbimsands of expenments by Galileo, by Wren, Wallis, Muygens, and M miolte^ to wlmin. he reliNrs for the proof of then.. ThaislDra, thai' ha^ might not ffifliiai^aipsre, he kya Ann down .asestablished truths, sajing some things upon them by r .10. way of illustration, and deducing some gene- ral corollaries from them. That this was his view, he expressly myn in the scholium following tlie axioms : Jiactenus principia Iradidi, a MathMmaiicis receptdt et muUiplici es'perientia mnfirmata, d*c. The very same method he follows in his optics, laying down as axicuns what had before been discovered in that science. The axioms, or established principles in the Pritimpta, are three :— Ul, Every body perseveres in its present state, whether of motion or rest, until it is made to change that stote by some force impressed upon it. 2rf, The change of motion produced is al- ways proportional to the force impressed, and in the direction of that force. 3-/, All action of bodies upon each other is nmtual or reciprocal, and in contrary directions ; that is, if the body A produces any motion or change of motion in B ; by the reaction of Bf an equal change of motion, but in a contrary direction, will be produced in A. This liolds ill all action of bodies on .each other, whether by a stroke, by pressure, by attraction, or by repulsion. Perhaps, you will say these principles ought not to be taken for granted, but to lie proved. True, my Lord, they ought to lie proved by a very copious induction of experiments ; and, if they are not proved, the whole system of the Principia falls to the ground ; for it is all built upon them. But Sir Isaac tliought they were already proved, and refers you to the authors by whom. He never intended to prove them, but to build upon them, as mathematicians do upon the Elements vf Euclid, Secondly, As to the definitions. They are intended to give accuracy and precision to the terms he uses, in reasoning from the kws of motion. The definitions are accom- modated to the laws of motion, and fitted so as to express with precision all reasoning j^rounded upon the laws of motion. And, for this reason, even the definitions will appear obscure, if one has not a distinct conception of the kws of motion always be- 'fore his eye. Taking for granted the laws of motion, therefore, he gives the name of vis insita, or t»if merlim, to that property of bodies, whereby, according to the first and second laws of motion, they persevere in their slate, and resist any change, either from fust to motion, or from motion to rest, iir from one degree or direction of motion 'to another. This via innta is exercised in every case wherein one body is made to change its state by the action of another body; and the exertion of it may, in different respects, be called both resistance and impetus. The reluctance which the body A has to change its state, which can be overcome only by a force proportioned to that reluct- ance, is resistance. The reaction of the body A upon B, which, according to tl e third law of motion, is equal to the action ot B upon A, and in a coptrary direction, is impetus. Thus, in every change made in the state of one body by another, there is mutual resistance and mutual impetus. The one never exists without the other. A body at rest not only resists, but gives an impetus to the body that strikes it. And a body in motion coming a<]^inst a body at rest, not only gives an impetus to the body that was at rest, but resists that change of its own motion which is produced by the stroke. Each gives an impetus to the other, and exerts a resistance to the impetus it receives from the other. This is the notion which Newton affixes to the words— impetus and resistance ; and, I think, it corresponds perfectly with the third law of motion, but may appear dark if that is not kept in view. But, because this notion of resistance and impetus differs somewhat from the vulgar application of those words, in order to point out the difference, he contrasts it with the vulgar meaning in the words which your Lordship quotes :— Viilgm resixtentiam (juiescentibm et impctum moventilmsfrihuiti sed motus ei guiea, ut vulgo concipiuntui\ respectu solo distingwintur, neque sempfr verequiescunt qua vulgo tanqnam quicscenlia spectantur. He considers both resistance and impetus as belonging to every body, in every case in which it is made to change its state, whether from rest to motion, or from* motion to rest. It resists the change of its own state, and, by its reaction, gives an impetus to the body that acts upon it. The vulgar, having no notion, or no distinct notion, of this reaction established by the third law of motion, suit their language to their conceptions. He suits his to the kws of motion. A post, you say, resists, but has no im- petus. This is true in the vulgar sense of the word. But, in order to shew you that his sense differs somewhat from the vulgar, he would say, that the post has impetus in his sense. And by this he means only, that the post stops, or changes the motion of the body that strikes it ; and, in producing this change, exerts a force equal to that with which it was struck, but in a contrary direction. This is a necessary consequence of the third law of motion. The vulgar both speak and judge of motion and rest m a body, by its situation with respect to some other body, which, perhaps, from prejudice, they conceive to be at rest. This makes Newton say, " That motion and rest, as commonly conceived, are distinguished by relation ; nor are those bodies always really S6 COtRESPON,DEN€B OF BR REID. •I rent, witieli ftre oonundiili' 'Ooncniirdl. to Itet, vlwii' we iiMftli, 'Of Mfo, is nfifNitdl,, noi to sftlf-notiiiii only, 'but to all 'dwip of place. Aiwiliite, ixr rail nsl| h e|i|MM4l. to feal iiwlioii ; imd lelaliverest— -tluit i% fent with relslioii to^ such a body that is stippoaed at rest, is opposed to reh^ve motion with wtpeet to the sanie hody. But a body may be relatively at .rest, and, at the same time, really m inolacib 'thsm^ a iMmse vests^ upon Its imndkitimi te ages ; but' Ihii rest Is .rdbtf ve' with feepeet to 'the earth. For it lias gone round the earth's axis eveiy day, uid round the sun every year. The' distineticn yonr' ImpMiip imhMi' 'be- tween meving' and. Mug' mnved, 'b^nigi'iiot' tophysies,'lmtto''iiieiaA|«iiH./ Inphysies, you may nso' the active or the passive verb as you tike best The reason ii, 'that in piiysieO' we leelc not the elBeient causes of' 'plieimiieo% but only the' rules or Iiwb' 'by whidi tlioy ^are reguuited* We know, that a body oneo' put hi .motion, eontin'Ues to move, or, if you please, to' be moved, until Mime force is applied to ^stop or retard it. But, wlhether this phenomenon .is pmdieed: 'by some .real ^aetivity in the body .itself, or by the 'efficiency of some extemal. cause' ; tir whether it rcfnirss no^ eSdeucy at all to 'Contuine in the .state .into' which it is 'put, Is,, lierhaps^ difficult to' determine; and is a f oestion that 'belongs not to physics,, hut to metaphysics. Some divines 'and philosO'pbers have maintahied, that 'the preservation 'of a created being in ejclstence, is a continued. act of creation $ and that annihilation is nothing hut the suspending that exertion of the Creator by which 'the heiqg was upheld in ei:.isteiice. Anahigeus to this, I think, 'iS' the opinion, tliat the continuance of motion in a body reqiuires a continued exertioii of that 'Setive 'force' 'Which put it mto' the .state' of notion.' I am mther ineHned to the contfary' of 'both, these ophiions, and disposed to think that eontinuMiee' of existence, and. continuance of motion m a body, requires no active cause I and that it is only a change of state, .and not a contmuance' of the present state, that requires active power. But, .1 suspect, both f lastiMi 'are rather' borond the reach 'Of Hm .human lusultlea*. However, they 'belong not to the 'provinee of phyiies, but I wish I may be intelligible, and. that I dO' net' 'Opifess your Lordihip with thO' gar^ 'ruity of ohl 1^ I 'ini mjsdi; imleed, .growing oM, and have no fi|pil to plead ex.* emption from the infirmities of that stage of iif»' .Fur 'that reason* I lunre made choice of aa'.asii8tani m my oOee. "Yesterday, the college, 'ai my desire, made choice 'Of Mr .▲reliibald Arthur, pMMher, to be mj'asiiat- | ant and successor.* I think I have done .good serf iee 'to the colkge by this, and pro. -enid aonie 'leisiife to mysdl, though with a teiuelion of my finances. May your Lord- ship ive long and liappy,— Yours, Tho. Ebio. VI. 'OH COWKCTURES AHD IITPOT'IIWXS IN rH'!- lOSOPHV..— CAIISa WHA'T IN MKLATION' TO PJIYilCB.-.'.I>IPrBm.KN'T PKOVINCBS OP r.H"YSICAIi AND OP M.ETAPH'Y'SICAL SCIRNCI.. Wtk Demmlmr 1780. My Loro,«'.1. I am no'W to answer the letter you honuufed. raO' with of 7th No- vember. And, irst, I disebum what you seem to impute 'to me—to wit, "' the valuing myself npon my igaoiance of the cause of .gmvity.** To confess' 'Ignonnce when one is eonseious of it. .1 'te.ke to be a sign., not of pride, but of humility, and of that can- dour which becomes a philosopher ; and so I meant it. 2* Your Lordship thinks, *^* That never to trust to hypthesesand conjectures about the works of Ood, and being fiersuaded tliat tbey are' more like to be falsc' than true, is a discouraging' doctrine, and danipS' the spirit of inquiry,'* &e. jNow, my Lord, I have, ever since I was sequaiuteil with Bacon and Newton, thought that this doc- trine is the very key to uitural philosophy, and the 'touchstone by which everytning that is legitimate and solid in that sctenct*, is to be distinguiahed from what is spurious and hollow ; and I can hardly tliink, that we can differ in so capital » point, if wo understood each other% ;meaning. 3. I would discourage no man from con- jeeluruig, 'Only I W'ish him not to take hie conjectures for knowledge, or to expect that others should do so. Conjecturing may be a useful step even in natural philosophy. Thus, attending to such a phenomenon, I ooDjeeture that it may be owing to such a cause.' 'Th.is 'nitiy lead, me to make the ex- perimento or observations proper for dis- covering whether that is really the cause or not : and if I can discover, either that it is or is not,i 'my knowledge is .improved ; and my 'Conjeetare was a step 'to 'that iin- • Mr AftlMf, a mm of teaniing. aliilitiea. aiid wottli, illcd llw Cliair or Mmal PhilcMnpny in tlie Univcmtjr of illaigiM for iltren ye^irs with a rvfiti. tat ion which did not ilim|i|M>ini the hopet of his rcs|M>ctai>ie prpdMSaMMr. A fniiime of *• Otacounei OB Th«oliifiial. anii. .lite«arf 'Sui^Ject*,'* which give a vcfjT' 'fiiwiiiniU* idM of iw tHlmift, the J'HStnvM t4 hto laate, and the tCClSiiMleor hit mora) and reliKioui Srinci|«lct« lira baaii imblithed, finof hi* death, hy tofet'or Hidiatillon ol the Mme t'oluge—a ffeiittck man dittingulthcd Iti the literary world, and wlio hat done honour to the meinot y ui lib rriemi, Is »n mtri. Ckttnf tieiirli of .litf. Iilc .ami 'Chaiact'ei, »iii'jt>iiifa tii " ■••^^s aa«iW'WHSiS"^W(W 'HI ***"*' SpImP MiS' WV 'SvwSVSVViPa''BHM*'Bi'W'H4l LETTERS TO LORD KAMES. niovement. But, while I rest in my con- jecture, my judgment remains in suspense, and all I can say is, it nmy be so, and it may be otherwise. 4. A cause that is conjectured ought to be such, that, if it really does exist, it will produce the effect. If it have not this qiuUity, it hardly deserves the name of a conjecture. Supposing it to have this tfuality, the question remains— Whether does it exist or not ? And this, being a question of fact, is to be tried by positive evidence. Tlius, Des Cartes conjectured, that the planets are carried round the sun in a vortex of subtile matter. The cause liere assigned is sufficient to produce the effect. It may, therefore, be entitled to the name of a conjecture. But where is the evidence of the existence of such a vor- tex ? If there be no evidence for it, even though there were none against it, it is a conjecture only, and ought to have no admittance into chaste natural phUosophy. 5. All investigation of what we call the causes of natural phenomena may be reduced to this syllogism— If such a cause exists, it will produce such a phenomenon : but that cause does exist : Therefore, &c. The first proposition is merely hypothetical. And a man in his closet, without consulting nature, may make a thousand such propositions, and connect them into a system ; but this is only a system of hypotheses, conjectures, or theories ; and there caimot be one con- clusion in natural philosophy drawn from it, until he consults nature, and discovers whether the causes he has conjectured do really exist As far as he can shew that they do, he makes a real progress in the knowledge of nature, and not a step further. I hope in all this your Lordship will agree with me. But it remains to be considered how the second proposition of the syllogism is to be proved— to wit, that such a cause does really exist. Will nothuig satisfy here but demonstration ? 6. I am so far from thinking so, my Lord, that I am persuaded we never can have demonstratitm in this case. All that we know of the material world, must be grounded on the testimony of our senses. Our senses testify particular facts only ; from these we collect, by induction, general facts, which we call laws of nature, or natural causes. Thus, ascending by a just and cautious in- duction, from what is less to what is more general, we discover, as far as we are able, natural causes, or laws of nature. This is the analytical part of natural philosophy. Tlie synthetical part takes for granted, as principles, the causes discovered by induc- tion, and from these expkins or accounts for the phenomena which result from them. Tliis analysis and synthesis make up the whole theory of natural philosophy. The practical part consists in applying the lawa of nature to produce effects useful in life. 7. From this view of natural philosophy, which I have learned from Newton, your Lordship will perceive that no man who understands it will pretend to demon- strate any of its principles. Nay, the most certain and best established of them may, for anything we know, admit of exceptions. For instance, there is no principle iu natu- ral philosophy better established than the universal gravitation of matter. But, can this be demonstrated? By no means. What is the evidence of it, then ? It is collected by induction, partly from our daily experience, and from the experience of all nations, in all ages, in all places of earth, sea, and air, which we can reach ; and partly from the observations and expe- riments of philosophers, which shew that even air and smoke, and every body upon which experiments have been made, gravi- tate precisely in proportion to the quantity of matter ; that the sea and earth gravitate towards the moon, and the moon towards them ; that the planets and comets gravi- tate towards the sun, and towards one another, and the sun towards them. This is the sum of evidence ; and it is as differ- ent from demonstration, on the one hand, as from conjecture on the other. It is the same kind of evidence which we have, that fire will burn and water drown, that bread will nourish and arsenic poison, which, I think, would not properly be called conjecture. 8. It is proper here to explain what is meant by the cause of a phenomenon, when that word is used in natural philosophy. The word cause is so ambiguous, that I fear many mistake its meaning, and take it to mean the efficient cause, which 1 think it never does in this science. 9. By the cause of a phenomenon, nothing is meant but the law of nature, of which that phenomenon is an instance, or a neces- sary consequence. The cause of a body's falling to the ground is its gravity. But gravity is not an efficient cause, but a gene- ral law, that obtains in nature, of which law the fall of this body is a particular in- stance. The cause why a body projected moves in a parabola, is, that this motion is the necessary consequence of the projectile force and gravity united. But these are not efficient causes ; they are only laws of nature. In natural philosophy, therefore, we seek only the general laws, according to which nature works, and these we call the causes of what is done according to them. But such laws cannot be the efficient cause of anything. They are only the rule accord- ing to which the efficient cause operates. 10. A natural philosopher may search after the cause of a law of nature ; but this means no more than searching for a COtEESPONDlNCl OF DE IIJB. tmm .pDeml Imw, wkieh iimliides that iwr. ticttlwr kw, unci fieriiaiis wamf otimm. mdm it Thia wit all that Newton aimed at by his ether. He theiiffht it possiUe, that, & there wm. Meh an ether, th» giairiti^iiiii. .of ■ hoiiet, tlie reieetion aiii. :iefiaetioii of ilie rajs of light, and many otier laws of nature, might 'he the nseesaary eorasequences of the ehistkitj and repelling fmee of the ether. Biit, nmiowiig this 'ether to exist, its. ehis- tieity .and repelliiig foree mnst he eontidered^ as a kw of nature ; and the efficient citiise of 'thb 'Olaitidty would sliU have been latent. II. Sffleient causes, popriy so called, are not within Ihe' :iq>here 'Of natumt iiMlo- wphy. Its. business is, from parMkr facts in the material world, to liollect, by just induction, the laws that are general, and from. th;e8e the more general, .as far as we can go. And when this is^. dtae, natural. fihihMW'iihy has no more to do. it exhibits to our view the grand maeliine ot tlw 'Oiate* rial, world, analysed, aa^ .it were, and token to iiieoes, with the connexioits and depends eneies of its several parts, and 'the hiws^ of ' its leveral movements. It belongs to another braraeh of philouopliy to consider whether' thiis .machine is the work of chance or of design, .and wliether of good or of bad ilesign ; whether there is not an iiitel%!nt first Mover who contrived the whole, and gives m'Otion to the whole, according to the tews which tbenatiiial ph.ilo8onher'liaS'dis- 'Coyered, or, perhaps, aceoiding 'to bws still more general, of which we can only discover some branches; and whether he does these thingS: by his own hand, so to •peak, or emplovs. sttbord.i.nate ^efieient eanses to execnte his purposes. These' am ▼ery noble and important inquiries, but they do not belong to natural philosophy ; nor can wefffoeeed 'in them in ''the way of ex- perinest .and induetion, the only instru- ments the natuml f Ukwiiher uses. in. his lesearehes. 12.. Whether you call this^ blanch of lihilosophy Natural Theology or .Meta- 'physics, I care not ; hut I 'thlnlc if nnght not to bo .confounded, with .Matural Fhllo- Mphys .and .nei.ther of them with Mathe-' matiias. .Let the vathenatician. dennm- stiate 'the nation of abstoMl. quantity t thO' natural philosopher investkate the laws of the material system by induction ; and the .metaphyweian, the fi.nal. causes, .and 'the 'Oitaeiit .eauM. of wlial wt' see and what, naiiifal ph.iosophy diseoveta in the world we hvo' m. IX As to final causes, they stara us in ihe face whevever we east onr eyes. I can no more doubt whetbiir the eye was nade for the purpose of lediig* and the car of hearing, than I can doubt of a mathema* tiial axiom ? yet the evidence is neither ■ialiieniatic«l demoii8tra.tion, nor :is it in> duetieiL In .a word, final 'Causes, good final ca«se% are seen pWnly everywhere : in the heavens and fa. 'the earth |. in tlie constitu^ tion of every animal, and in our own consti- tution of body and of mind ; and they aro roost worthy of observation, and liave a charm in them thai delights the souL 14. As to Efident Causes, I am afraid our faculties carry us but a very little way, .and .almost 'Only 'to general conclusions. I hold it 'tO' be ieU-evldtent, that every nro- duetion, 'and eteiy ^ehange in nat.u.re, must have an. efficient cause that has powet to produce the effect ; and that an effect which has the most nanifest marks of in- telligence, wisdom, and goodness,, must .have an intelligent, wise, and good eiieient cauifw' From these, and some such self-evident truths, we may discover the principles of natural theology, and tliat the Deity is the first efficient eause of all nature. But how far he opentes in nature immediately, or how far by the ministry of subordinate effi- cient causes, to which he has given power adequate to the task committed to them, I am afraid our reason is not able to discover, and we can do little else than conjecture. We are led by nature to believe ourselves to be the efficient causes of our ow.n volun* tiiry oetions ; and, from «na%y, we judge the same of other intelligCBl beings. But with regard, to the woris: of nature, I .cun- not reeolleet a single instance wheiein I can say, with, any degnw of aantiMiie, Ihat sa.ch a thing .is the efficient eause of'anei a phe- nomenon of natu.re. la. Malebnnche, and many of the Ciir- te«anB, aserihed all to^ the im:nMMiate oper- atiomof 'the Beily,.exeeptthedetenninatlons of the will of fiw agents. Leihniix, and all his followers, maintain, thai Ood finished his work at the creation, havmg endowed every creature and eveij individual particle of matter, with such internal powers us neoesaafily produce all its actions^ motions, and changes, to the end of time. Othem have held, that various intelligent beings, apponited by the Deity to thehr Severn! departments, are tlio efficient causes of the various oprations of nature. Others, that there are belnp endowed with power with- out intelligence^ which .are the efficient •uses In natuie% operations | and they have given them the name of Phwtic Powers, or Plastic Naturea A hite author uf your Lordship's acquaintance,* has given it as ancient, 'metaphysics, That mery body in the uaiTcrse is compounded of two sub- stances united— to wit, an immaterial mind or soni, which, in the inanimate craation, has the power of motion without thought 5 andofhiertinatterastheotherpart. The celebrated Dr Priestlef mahitams, that •^■•^^w^^B "ipp ^p'SflPWPWBypiii^iiiif^^^'.JBiHa ♦ fM LETTERS TO LORD KAMES. 59 matter, pK»perly organized, has not only the |K>wer of motion, but of thought and intel- ligence ; and that a man is only a piece of matter properly organized. 16. Of all these systems about the effi- cient causes of the phenomena of nature, there is not one that, in my opinion, can be either proved or refuted from the principles of natural philosophy. They belong to metaphysics, and affect not natural philo- sophy, whether they be true or false. Some of them, I think, may be refuted upon meta- physical principles ; but, as to the others, I can neither see such evidence for them or agauist them as determines my belief. They seem to me to be conjectures only about matters where we have not evidence ; and, therefore, I must confess my ignor- ance. 17. As to the point which gave occasion to this long detail, Whether there is reason ti> think that matter gravitates by an in- herent power, and is the efficient cause of its own gravitation, I say, first, This is a metaphysical question, which concerns not natural philosophy, and can neither be proved nor refuted by any principle in that science. Natural philosophy informs us, that matter gravitates according to a certain law i and it says no more. Whether mat- ter be active or passive in gravitation, can- not be determined by any experiment I can think of. 1 f it should be said that we ought to conclude it to be active, because we per- ceive no exterujil cause of its gravitation, this argument, I fear, will go too far. Be- sides it is very weak, amounting only to this : I do not perceive such a thing, there- f jre it does not exist. 18. I never could see good reason to believe that matter has any active power at all. And, indeed, if it were evident that it has onefl think there could be no good reason assigned for not allowing it afher/t. Your Lordship speaks of the power of resisting motion, and some others, as acknowledged active powers inherent in matter. As to the resistance to motion, and the continu- ance in motion, 1 never couhl satisfy my- self whether these are not the necessary consequences of matter being inactive. If they imply activity, that may lie in some other cause. 19. I am not able to form any distinct conception of active power but such as I find in myself. I can only exert my active power by will, which supposes thought It seems to me, that, if I was not conscious of activity in myself, I could never, from things I see about me, have had the conception or idea of active power. I see a succession of changes, but I ree not the power, that is, the efficient cause of them ; but, having got the notion of active jwwer, from the con- sciousness of my own activity, and finding it a first principle, that every production requires active power, I can reason about an active power of that kind I am acquainted with->that is, such as supposes thought and choice, and is exerted by will. But, if there is anything in an unthinking inanimate being that can be called active power, I know not what it is, and cannot reason about it. 20. If you conceive that the activity of matter is directed by thought and will in matter, every particle of matter must knew the situation and distance of every other particle within the planetary system ; but this, I am apt to think, is not your Lord- ship^s opinion. 21. I must therefore conclude, that this active power is guided in all its operations by some intelligent Being, who knows both the law of gravitation, and the distance and situation of every particle of matter with regard to every other particle, in all the changes that happen in the material world. I can only conceive two ways in which this particle of matter can be guided, in all the exertions of its active power, by an intelli- gent Being. Either it was formed, in its creation, upon a foreknowledge of all the situations it shall ever be in with respect to other particles, and had such an internal structure given it, as necessarily produces, in succession, all the motions, and tend- encies to motion, it shall ever exert. This would make every particle of matter a ma- chine or automaton, and every particle of a different structure from every other particle in the universe. This is indeed the opinion of Leibnitz ; but I am not prejudiced against it upon that account ; I only wished to know whether your Lordship adopted it or not. Another way, and the only other way, in which I can conceive the active power of a particle of matter, guided by an intelligent Being, is by a continual influence exerted according to its situation and the situation of other particles In this case, the particle would be guided as a horse is by his rider ; and I think it would be iinproi)er to ascribe to it the power of gravitation. It has only the power of obeying its guide. Whether your Lordship chooses the first or the last in this alternative, I should be glad to know ; or whether you can think of a third way better than either. 22. I will not add to the length of so immoderately long a letter by criticising upon the passages you quote from Newton. I have a great regard for his judgment ; but where he differs from me, 1 think him wrong. Tlie idea of natural philosophy I have given in this letter, I think I had from him. If m scholia and queries he gives a range to his thoughts, and sometimes enters the regions of natural theology and nietaphysics, this I think is very allowab'e, and is not to mi C01118P0NBENCE OF BR REID, h I hB mmMmA^ • mat of hk f hjniM, vlileli 'Hilt cmteiiicMl in Iiii propositiuM mm. cmiiI> liiffiist.. 'Emm his querks And eonjtfciimt. tire valuable ; but I think be ne¥er intended tliat thflj tkmM h& taken for gmnted, but mmSk tki wibjeet of iii«|niij. Tea Ebid. Il VII. JLAWM Of IfOnO.X — PRASSURB OF FLUIDS. Jammrp 25, IJIII. Mr IiORn,'^To wbat cauae' m it owing t!iat I differ m much from youf' Loidahip in Physics, when we differ so little in Meta^ physios ? I am at a loss to account for this 'lAenomenon. Whether is it owing to our having dilTerent conceptions 'to the same words ?~or, as I ratLr think it is, to your being dissatbfied with the three gene- mi laws of motion ? Without them I know not indeed how to reason in physics.. Ar^^ chimedes reasoned from them both in me- clianics and hydrostatics. 'CMieo, Buy. ,gens, Wren, Wallis, Mariotte, and many others, reasoned from them, without ob- serving that thej did. .so. I have not indeed any seruples about the principles of hydrostatics They seem to nie to be the necessary consequences of the ileinltaon of « inidi the thiree laws of motion, and the hiw of'gmTitiitioii ,; and, therefore, I cannot a8se.nt to yov :ijor«lshi.p*s mason- ing, either about the pressure of iuithi, or about the suspension of the mercury in the barameter. As to the first, the experiments whicbshew that fluids do, in fact, press urnkftim^ue, are so numerous, and so well known to your Lo'rdship, that I apprehend it is not the fact yon question, but the causes You think that gravity .is not the caisa Why? Be- 'Cause gravity gives to every part of the fluid a tendency downwards only; and what is true of every 'part, is true of the whole: therefore, the whole lias no other tendency but downward. This argument m specious, but there is a Isdhicy in it. If the parts did not act upon one another, and oonnteract one another, the ttgnaeBt would, te good ; but the parts are m ecnneeted, 'that one 'Cannot go down but another- nwt go up, and, therefore, that very gravity which presses' do^wa. one 'parl presses up another : 8®. that every part is^ 'pmied. down liy .its own gravitv, and nicsaed np, at 'the same time, by the gravity ^of other parte t and the 'Contnuy pressuies bemg equal, it re-^ nwlMatiisi. •Oils, may be 'iUnstnited by n bdanee eqnihbmtinghy equal 'wrigte hi both .scales. I say each arm of the bahince is equally pressed upwards ami downwards at the :Htme tim% Md 'ipom that mnse is at .rest ; althongli tlw tendenqr of the weights, in each of Uie 'Beale% fa dn^wn'wards only. I prove it a p'ut* teriori ; because the arm of a balance being moveable by the least force, if it was pressed in one direction only, it would move m that direction : but it does not move. I prove it o prion ; because the necessary effect of pressing one arm down, is the pressing the other np with the same force : therefore, 'eaeh .arm is 'pressed, down by the weight in its own ioaH and equally pressed up by the weight m the other scale ;. and, being pressed with equal force in contrar}- directions, it semahia at rest. Your Lordship will easily appk this naioning to a fluid, every part of wliieh is as moveable as the balance is about it» futerum ; and no one part can move, but an equal part must be moved in a contrary dhreetton. And I thmk it is impossible we should differ in this, but in words. Next, as to the barometer. You say the mercury is kept up by the expansive power of the air z but you say further, that it is not kept up by the weight of the air. I agree to the first, but not to the last. The expansive power of the air is owing to its being compressed ; and it is compressed by the we%ht of the incumbent atmosphere. Its eacpansive force is exactly equal to the force that presses and condenses it ; act! that force is the weight of the air above it, to ih€ top ofifm atmoaphere^^m that the ex- fiansive force nf the air is the causa projtima^ the weight of tbe atmosphere the eausa rgmoia of the impgmdom of the mercury. Your Lordship knows the maxhii, CauMa cnuam #»l cmmm tanmiK The barometer, therefore, while it measures the expansive force of the air which presses upon the lower end of the tube, at the same time messures the weight of the atmosphere, whieh. m 'the canse of that expansive force, and exactly equal to it If the air was not pressed by the iucumlent weight, it would expand in boundless space, until it liad no more expansive force. As to the observation in the postscript, it is troe^ that the gravity of the air, while it rests upon an unyielding bottom, will give no motion to it ; but the mercury in the lower end of the tube yields to the pressure of the air upon it, until the weight of the merenry Is balanced by the pressure of tlie air. What your Lordship is pleased to call the %iif iHiif ntfiit, goes on, but more slowly than I wlah.— I am, most respectfully, my Lnrff yiwrs, Tiicii R.BI.9* LETTERS TO LORD KAMES. 61 VIIL DN THE ACCELERATED MOTION OF FALLIN'O BODIES. Glasgow College, Nov. 11, 1782. My Lord, — My hope that your Lordship Is in no worse state of health than when 1 left you, and that the rest of the good faniily are well, is confirmed by your continuing your favourite speculations. I promised to call upon you in the morning before I came away. I sent in Samuel to see if you was awake : he reported that you was sleeping sound ; and 1 could not find it in my heart to disturb your repose. When we say, that, in falling bodies, the space gone through is as the square of the velocity, it must be carefully observed that the velocity meant in this proposition, is the kst velocity, which the body acquires only the last moment of its fall : but the space meant is the whole space gone through, from the beginning of its fall to the end. As this is the meaning of the proposition, your Lordship will easily perceive, that the velocity of the last moment must indeed correspond to the space gone through in that moment, but cannot correspond to the 8i)ace gone through in any preceding moment, with a less velocity ; and, consequently, can- not correspond to the whole space gone through in the last and all preceding mo- ments taken together. You say very justly, that, whether the motion be equable or accelerated, the space gone through in any instant of time corresponds to the velocity in that instant. But it does not follow from this, that, in accelerated motion, the space Kone through in many succeeding instants will correspond to the velocity of the kst instant. If any writer in physics has pretended to demonstrate mathematically this proposi- tion—that a body falling by gravity in vacuo, goes through a space which is as the square of its last velocity ; he must be one who writes without distinct conceptions, of which kind we have not a few. The proposition is not mathematical, but physical. It admits not of demonstration, as your Lordship justly observes, but of proof by experiment, or reasoning grounded on experiment. There is, however, a ma- thematical proposition, which possibly an inaccurate writer might confound with the last mentioned. It is this— that a body uniformly accelerated from a state of rest, will go through a space which is as the square of the last velocity. • This is an ab- stract proposition, and has been mathema- tically demonstrated ; and it may be made a step in the proof of the physical proposi- tion. But the proof must be completed by shewing, that, in fact, bodies descending by gravitation are uniformly accelerated. This is sometimes shewn by a machine invented by S'Gravesande, to measure the velocities of falling bodies; sometimes it is proved by the experiments upon pendulums ; and sometimes we deduce it by reasoning from the second law of motion, which we think is grounded on universal experience. So that the proof of the physical proposition always rests ultimately upon experience, and not solely upon mathematical demonstra- tion.— I am, my Lord, respectfully yours, Tuo. Reid. IX. EXTRACT OF A LETTER TO MRS DRUMMOND, AFTER THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND, LORD KAMES, IN 1782. I accept, dear madam, the present you sent me,* as a testimony of your regard, and as a precious relic of a man whose talents I admired and whose virtues I honoured ; a man who honoured me with a share of his conversation, and of his cor- respondence, which is my pride, and which gave me the best opportunity of knowing his real worth. I have lost in him one of the greatest comforts of my life; but his remembrance will always be dear to me, and demand my best wishes and prayers for those whom he has left behind him. When time has abated your just grief for the loss of such a husband, the recol- lection of his eminent talents, and of his public and domestic virtues, will pour balm into the wound. Friends are not lost who leave such a character behind them, and such an example to those who come after them. A goldsnuiriKUr^ €01E£8F0NII£NC£ OF DR REIB. C— LETTEES TO BE lAMES GREGOEY. I. DmAR Sim,— By hmm ^ Mr WmOnk Wihciii, our Aasiiitftiil Profetior of A»lio- 'itonify I :ieiici jou Iwo mon mtmbera of' mj ImmmAMm,* I am not. sure when I cmi Miii now, M I ain .not. mm whellier my leribe imy toon leave the College. I ihall be miieh obliged to yoi if yon will iwotlmio to imma mm wiA ymit obsem- tioiii, tlmigii. I Ittire put off muiiiiiif tboM' you Mm mmt until the M9S. be letunttil, wbieb I expect about tbeeud of tliis month, ^•Img witb, Ba^ ;8towiirt% obMrratiom. I iiiivo' alw' Mut tht €««salogy of tbo Ore. mdm, wiifeli your brother .toll with, mo : I :sufipeeted that it was^ mom partinthr than the wpy I had, biit> .1 Hud they agree ]>er- fcMstly*. You will please deliver it to him, with ny oompltmcnti. The few 'di^jg 'he waa^ here he paved hii' fMpoets to aU the Pro- feseora and all his aequaintanee, and they am all ireiy Kuch ptotsed. with, his .appca^r^ .Mice. If It ^mm God. to^ aparo Us life, I liope' he' wii do. bononr to his Jkm Jf elf r,. and to his friendaf I .know ni»t upon what authority the Edkbniigh. and. Iiondin now»«writcis. have givtn, •ontaMietofy aciNMiitS' ^of Dr Hun- ter*a sotithwiorats.* Thtn s nothing otr^ tamiy Icnown here. I know that, six. or ■so»on,yfaft mg^ bo made a .sattfamont very iftvoiflahlo' to this. CMkgff^ .But whather th« is: altMsd, or fa. what 'rsqMet, I 'believe nobody hoiebiowa.. BntwosbaU prahahly know soon. He was surely a man that did great honour' to hia^ coumtey, and: .1 doubt not 'but 'his. publiek snUt| wUoh I take' to ha.ve been great, wil liavo iiipos«l hln to leave .h» books,, medals, and other' Iteraw fiirniture-.whieh 'he had ooUeeted at vast oxpenM, nid with gnat Indiiitiy— fa such » 'Way aa that it .may bo' usefU. to tho pub* .1 beg you to. m.ako my host respects, 'to llfs Gregory, and to all your family ; and I .am, dear Sir, Your most obedient Servant, TiiOb RuBb • Hii " E§mn m ihe Inttilcctutl fowefi."— ft t.t./.***7tf "»«««•• WllliMn llriforT, A. II. nf mm im»m» Omm4, aflcrwank 'llfciw tn h leflMff CatMlfil.. .»».:iiw| :atiiilfMl «t QlmmwmZ vioMiy"ie«fiiifaai|.||]tiiiiii..fi.. ^^ ■^* t 'Tit'teMMlMl .Ur Wm Hunttr. He brq'Utirtilwi 'Of 'iwilklf.. lo. Hie U'tilvertltv of GlaiaMr, ami: « mm •f laiiiiif in Um ttfci'iiMi at* iii.imciiiii..-.H. Gkiffmif CoMt§9^ Jum S, t783. Bbjie Sir, • • • • . I cannot get more copied of my papers till next winter, ■nd faAMd have not much more ready. This :panMl, .goca to pgo iiMI. I beliave what you htem got 'bsfor^' may be one»haif or more of all I intend. The matoUi of what fa not yet ready for the oopyer are pariy diaeonisit' read in oar litmry So- eiety, partly notea of my Lectures. Your judgment of what' you have seen iatters me very much, and adds greatly to my own oplninn of it, though authors sel* dom. .arO' deicient fa a guod opinion of their I am at a loss to eipress my obligations to you for the pains you have taken, and pro- pose to take agafa upn it I have carefully laid tm the observations you sent me, to be consiifsTCd when, the copy they refer to is returned, and I hope for the continuation of them. The analogy between memory and preecitaee is, I believe, a notion of my own. But .1 ahall be 'Open. to 'convietion on this .and Of ety thing else we may ^dlilr about I have often thought of what yonjmposo --tt^ give the History of the Ideal System ; ^and what I have to say agpiiust it, by itself, .ami I am. lur iroiii being 'positive that it .stands in the :mest' proper plac& Perlmps it will be easier to judge of this when the work is concluded. I l»ve endeavoured to 'put it fa iSepantoehapteiB,. wheat titlfs may direct those who have no taste for it to pasn over them. But I hope to have your opi- nion upon thia pofat at more length when we meet I observe that Boyle and otIierR, w'h%, at the Mafbrmation 'Of Natuml. .Philo- sophy, pvu' 'newllg'ht, fmind it necessary to contrast tbehr diseoveries with the Aristo- telian notions which then prevailed. We could, now wish, 'tliahr works puraed. of the eontniviisU part $ but, perhaps, it waa pro- per and neceasanr at 'the time they wrote, when men's minds were fuU of the old avs. terns, and nniposaessed in its favour. Wlmt 1 take to be the .genuine phiooophy .of the human mind, is in so low a stote^ and has so many enemi«i, that, I apprehend those who would make any improvement m it must, for some time at least, build with one hand, and hold a weapon with the other. I shall be very ghd to see you heue, and will take it as a favour if you acquaint me when you have fixed your time, that I may he sure to 'be at home. I beg you will LETTERS TO DB JAMES GREGORY m make my best compliments to Mrs Gregory, whom I should be happy to see along with you in good health, and to Mr D. Gordon, if he is still with you, and to all your fa- mily ; and am, dear sir, Yours most affectionately, Tho. Rkio. March 14, 1784. Db.ir Sir,— I send you now tlie remainder of what 1 propose to print with respect to the Intellectual Powers of the Mind. It may, perhaps, be a year before what relates to the Active Powers be ready, and, there- fore, I think the formerniight be published by itself, as it is very uncertain whether I shall live to publish the latter. I have enclosed, in the first of the three papers now sent, the contents of the whole, which you was so good as to write out as far as it was carried last year. I think the title may be, Etmyson thelntelleclual Powers of the Mumim Mind. It will easily divide into eight essays, as you will see by the contents ; but with regard to this, as well as whether the two parts may be published separately, I wish to have your advice and Mr Stuart's — {Sic.) Since you have been so pood as to take a concern in it, I apprehend that the second Part— I mean what rektes to the Active Powers — will not be near so large as the first. I wish to liave the manuscript, with your remarks and Mr Stuart's, (m;) about the end of April, if you can. Dr Rose at Chiswick— who, you know, has all alon;; had a principal concern in The MuHlhly Review^hsiB made me a very kind offer, that, if I please to send the MSS. to him, he will both give me his rt-marks, and treat with a bookseller about the sale of it. I think this is an offer that I ought not to re- fuse ; and I can have a good occasion of sending it about the beginning of the month of May, by his son, who is at this college. I long to hear how Mrs Gregory has stood this severe winter, and beg my most humble respects to her, and to the Rev. Mr Wil- liam, when you write him. I send you on the other pape an anecdote respecting Sir I. Newton,* which I do not remember whether I ever happened to men- tion to you in conversation. If his descent be not clearly ascertained, (as I think it is not in the books I have seen,) might it not be worth while for the antiquarian branch of your R. Society, to inquire if they can find evidence to confinn the account which he is said to have given of himself. Sheriff Cross was very zea lous about it, • See Brew«er'i " Life of Newton." and, tnff^^ Keid't 1i uer to Mr Robifoti, at ttie end of tail Cor. reii»onU«rici*.— H. when death put a stop to his uiquiriea.— I am, dear Sir, yours most respectfully, Tho. Reio. Wlien I lived in Old Aberdeen, above twenty years ago, I happened to be con- versing over a pipe of tobacco, with a gen- tleman of that country, who had been lately at Edinburgh. He told me that he had been often in company with Mr Hepburn of Keith, with whom I had the honour of some acquaintance. He said that, speaking of Sir Isaac Newton, Mr Hepburn men- tioned an anecdote, which he had from Mr James Gregory, Professor of Mathematics at Edinburgh, which was to this purpose :— Mr Gregory being at London for some time after he resigned the mathematical chair, was often with Sir I. Newton. One day Sir Isaac said to him, " Gregory, I believe you don*t know that I am connected with Scotland.'* " Pray, how, Sir Isaac ?" said Gregory. Sir Isaac said — " He was told, that his grandfather was a gentleman of East Lothian ; that he came to London with King James at his accession to the Crown of England, and there spent his fortune, as many more did at that time, by which his son (Sir Isaac's father) was reduced to mean circumstances." To this Gregory bluntly replied — " Newton, a gentleman in East Lothian ?— I never heanl of a gentleman of East Lothian of that name.'* Upon this Sir Isaac said, that, being very young when his father died, he had it only by tradition, and it might be a mistake; and imme- diately turned the conversation to another subject. I confess I suspected that the gentleman who was my author had given some colour- ing to this story ; and, therefore, I never mentioned it for a good many years. After I removed to Glasgow, I came to he very intimately acquainted with Mr Cross, the Sheriff of Lauerick, and one day at his own house mentioned this story with- out naming my author, of whom I expressed some diffidence. The Sheriff immediately took it up as a matter worth being inquired into. He said he was well acquainted with Mr Hepburn of Keith, (who was then alive,) and that he would write him, to know whether he ever heard Mr Gregory say that he had such a conversation with Sir Isaac Newton. He said, he knew that Mr Keith, the ambassador, was also inti- mate with Mr Gregory, and that he wouM write him to the same purpose. Some time after, Mr Cross told me, that he had answers from both the gentlemen above- mentioned, and that both remembered to have heard Mr Gregory mention the con- versation between him and Sir Isaac New- ton to the purpose above narrated ; and at the same time acknowledged that they had m COREBSPONDBNCE OF BE REID. LETTERS TO DR JAMES GREGORY. 65 II 'miKfo Ml fartlier aiiqiiiry nhtmi tlift nmt^ Mr Cross, liowevor, eonttnued in the inquiry ; aiiii, m sliorl time befon lib 'deftth, 'told 11%. tint 'till lie had learned 'waa. that there ia, er 'waa ^lately, a baronet^s imily ef ' the name ef 'Newton in West-Lethian, er Mid-Lothkn, (I haTe fergot which;) that there is a tradition in that family that Sir Isaae Hewten w;rot« a letter to the old kniglit that waa, (I Amh Sir John New- ton of Newton was his name,) desiring to Icnow what children, and particularly what ■cms he had ; their age, and what iiioibe. aions they intended. That the old baronet never deigned to return, an answer to this letter, which his famij was sorry for, as they thought Sir Isaae might haveintonded to do something for them. IV Dbar Sir, — Happening to haTe gone into the country a little way, your kttor of ith June did not reach me in time to writoyou before you set out upon your journey, which I wish to be attended with much banpineis to the parties, and 'Comfort' to their friends.* I was so stupid at first as to misunder- stand the direetion yon gave me bow to write yon. Now I see it is plain enough, and I hope baire taken .it r%ht I send jmt the enclosed to Br Rose, as yon desire. I baf e by me our friend II. Stewart's ** DiseonrsC' on the IdeaS' of Cause' and Effect,** &e. ; and I have this 'dny sent him my remarlcS' npn it. I am happy to ind his sentiments on that subject agree so mnch. with my own. I think it well wrote, •nd. bi»e It will be very useful Br Rose will shew you the letter I wrote to him along witli the M SS., and one from Mr Bett-f- to me, which I enelosed in it : IbesS' 'eontain all the information I have to ,glTe, and all the instructions I thought .nanessary. I expect an answier liiMi. Me quarter, at least, before the work 'beeoH:lRmi the press. But the only answer that aball ever have any reply 'from, me nnst be one who keeps good temper, and. who obeenreS' good manners, m the 'int nhMse {. and next one who, in my oplnifi% gfires :miv light to the subject. I win. mm happf neccsS' in vnur own aAihrs, and % tafb leta'm. If notli.ing liap» ;pena of whieh ,you wish to ae(|uiiint me aooner, I shall be glad to hear from you on your return ; being, dear sir, .A. .Iltl.' JCBIlIb Clmff&w Con. llil. • Tlik alludM' 'to' tbi' aianiags' of 'Or Hftmrv %' eUiiliiiilw^liit' tlev. AnMilMlirA.li«iii.- M. f ' ' flK B U l wI i l llt' —M. lTk§ kiimt' gmttd m$m§ % Mr 5/«tvarf, (jk M) **■ i» mm ^3r M'§M*» m**$t imtimatM /HeiMlf,** IMS m4tiimied to Dr James Gregorp m ike death o/ Mb JfrtI wife, ami thuitid prnperiff here JInd it§ jdam^^R. ] ¥• O'M TMB IfaANINQ OV NOTIOVr. Gkmffim Colfege, December 31, 1784 Bbae Sir, — I had the favour of yours bj Mr Tower, and take the opportunity of his return to wish you many bappy returns of this season* I believe you and I cannot differ about right or wrong noii&m, hut in words. The notions we have of real existences, may with good reason be said to be right or wrongs true or false ; but I think every notion of this kind has a standard to which I believe my notion to agree ; and as ttiiit belief is true 'Or false, so my notion of the thing is true or false. .For instance, if my notion of tbeBevil includes horns and cloven feet, I must believe these to be attribute.^ of the Devil, otherwise they would not be Inelnded in mj notion of Iiim. If this be. lief be wrong, I have a wrong notion of him ; and, as soon as I am convinced that this belief is wrong, I leave out these attribute! in my notion of Mm. I may have an abstract notion of a being with boms and cloven feet, without apply- ing it to any individual—then it is a simple appmi«nBio.tt, and neither true nor false ; but ft eannot be my notion of any in.divi. dual that exists,, unkas I believe that Mng to have these attributes. I am therefore still apt to think that true and false can only with propriety he applied to notions which inelnit some 'belief; but whether' my re- mark on your use of the word noiim be just or not, I cannot presently say z jon will judge for miinelf. I Ihonglil to 'liave seen B. Stewirl^ here about this tine. When you see .hhn, please acquaint hhn that I have made my remarks upon tie performance be left with me. I am eitrcnely obliged to you and bmi for eorreetinf tiM sheets of my performance. Ton kave me very little to do. By the slowness of printing, I conjecture thai the book cannot be published next 'Sprini^ md ean only be ready for the spring llfM. I desired long ago to know of Mr Bell whether bo proposed to publish it in one vol or two I hut I have not had an anavtr. .1 ampeet' it 'will be too thick for mm fill and im thin, for two. Perhaps if the' piMiealiMi la delayed to 1788, 1 might have mar Bann on the Active Powera ready, of wbicii Mr Bell iliall have the first offer { and I appnbend 'that, with thiS' addition, there may be two sizeable 4tos in the whole.— I am, dear Sir, Yours most affectionately, Tuo. Rkic. Dear Sia,— I send you enclosed what I propose as the title-page of my essays, with an epistle, which, I hope, you and Mr Stewart will please to allow me to prefix to Whether your name should go hrst, on account of your doctor's degree, or Mr Stewart's, on account of his seniority as a professor, I leave you to adjust between yourselves.* As to the title-page, you and he may alter what you think tit,t and deliver it to JSIr Bell without farther communication with me, as he intends immediately to ad- vertise the book. If you find anything in the epistle tliat you would have altered or corrected, you may please write me; but you need not send back the copy, as I have a copy by me. I know not how to express my obliga- tions to you and Mr Stewart for the aid you have given me.— I am, dear Sir, your most obliged servant, X HO. XvaiD. Map 2rf, 1785, Glasgow College, . You will give the epistle to the printers when it is wanted. 1 send with this the last part of the MS. VII. IIIANIKGS OF CAUSE— MOTIVB — LAW OF NATURE. June 14, 1785. Bear Sm,— I am extremely obliged to you for your friendly consultation about my fiealth. For two days past, I have had almost nothing of my ailment, which 1 ascribe to some exercise I have taken, and to a comfortable warmness in the air. I resolve to try some short excursions, which I can make either on foot or in a chaise. If that do not produce the effect, I shall fall to your prescriptions, which I think very rational I very probably may be at home when you propose to be m Glasgow. • m the MS. deiUcation of the " Efiwyi on the Intellectual Powew," Dr Gregory"! name rtands b?S!irSi»t of Mr Stewart. Thuorder wa.. pr^ab^ by Dr Gregory hinwelf, reversed There »rej»^»o Mime ▼crbal improvementiin theityjeof thedemca- lion. as It itand. printed, which, it »• hk^Yi w*" luirwluccd by Dr Gregory or Mr »*«**'J--rl*' „_, Powen of the Human M*"Y ^jj |5S?IL ori! Intellectual Powen of Man.* Ihe latter was pre- feired— H. Your speculation to demonstrate, mathe- matically, the difference between the rela- tion of motive and action, and the relation of cause and effect,* is, indeed, so new to me, that Icannoteasily forma judgment about it. I shall offer some of my thoughts on the sub- ject of those two relations. Whether they be favourable to your speculation, or unfavour- able, I cannot immediately determine. The word cause, is very ambiguous in all languages. I have wrote a chapter lately upon the causes of this ambiguity. The words power, agent, effect, have a like am- biguity ; each different meaning of the first mentioned word leading to a corresponding meaning of the three last A reason, an end, an instrument, and even a motive, is often called a cause. You certainly exclude the last from what you call a cause. Whether you exclude all the other meanings which I think improper meanings, I am not so sure. In the strict and proper sense, I take an efficient cause to be a being who had power to produce the effect, and exerted that power for that purpose. Active power is a quality which can only be in a substance that really exists, and is endowed with that power. Power to pro- duce an effect, supposes power not to pro- duce it ; otherwise it is not power but neces- sity, which is incompatible with power taken in a strict sense. The exertion of that power, is agency, or efficiency. That every event must have a cause in this proper sense, I take to be self-evident. I should have noticed that I am not able to form a conception how power, in the strict sense, can be exerted without will ; nor can there be will without some degree of under- standing. Therefore, nothing can be an efficieni cause, in the proper sense, but an intelligent being. , ^ ^ .. . I believe we get the first conception of power, in the proper sense, from the con- sciousness of our own exertions ; and, as all our power is exerted by will, we cannot form a conception howpower can be exerted with- out will. Hence the only notion we can form of Ahnighty power in the Deity, is that •'rhi.refersto Dr Orepory's ingeniom « Ewayo" '^e Diffferencebetwcen thcRelation of Motive and Action, and that of Cau»e and Effect in Physic. ; on ph>8ical Indmaiheinatical principles." This ireatise. which t«?uWlSSdin i-iQ^. hid been previously cpmmu. ;".SdTo tariou. philosophical friends, and .n P«. ticular to every Necessitarian of the authors ac- nuantance. with the assurance that, if any error S be^iiued out in the reasoning-which a. mShemat^cal, could be examined with the utmost rigJiShe <^Stion should either be completely Iniwcredror the essay itself supprwsed. ^On>yo'^ NfJS«ISrian. however, alloued his objections to NJ SSuhX and tSese. with Dr Gregory's a"«wer. «« ?o be found in the appen-ix to the «.««*/• JJ' «?f waa among the first to '"jo™ ,1^' S-^Then mSl municaUid thii workj and to Dr Rf'^' * /S;^"H. lUhed, the *• Philoaophical and Uierary EMsy* wera inscribed.— H. I. m COmilSfONBENCE OP DR REia LETTERS TO DR JAMES GREGORY. 67 lie can do^ wlimteirer he wills A power to ia whsA be lieei' nol will, is words without a ;iiMiit;iiig. Matter amnol be tlie 'Cause of iiii jdilng ; it can only be an instmineiit in tbe hands of a real cause. Tbtis, when a body has a cer- tain fonsa- ,glf«i. it by tepilee, it may 'COin- iWQiiiflale that foree to another body, and thai tO' a third, and so on* But, when 'we traee 'back this motion to its origin, it 'mrat nave been given, not by matter, but by some 'bein| whidi had in itself the pmm of be- ginning motion — that is, by a proper efficient cause of motion. It cannot be said that there i» a constant conjunction between a pro'per cause .and the effect s fori though the 'Cffeet 'Cannot be, wi^thont 'power to produce' it, yet that 'power may be, without 'being exerted, and power which is not exerted produces no effect Y'On. will see, by what is said .above, 'What I 'tile to^ be the strict and proper meaning of the word mum^ .and the rekted 'worda,, pouwr, o^fit/, ^r. In this sense' wO' use it in reasoning concerning the being and attributes of the Deity. In this sense we ought 'to use it in the iiuestion about liberty aul 'neeesBit^, and, I think. In all metaphy- sical reasonmg about causes and effects; for when, in metaphysical reasoning, we de- 'part from thiS' senae, the word is so vague that there can Iw' ;no clear reasoning about it. Sii|ipose, now, that you take the 'Wo••• I Intentor of ilw Rafecting or Ogoilaii. I'etmiie; ^attCboror'anwai lemarkZbte tnatlMi en optia end geooMiri' ; and, aHofechcr. Mif^or tie most mlmml matneinaticiant ofbit Rge. cJSiriiSE: '^SfSK *^ ,*■•*****"•' i».yin g>. OHMte* Aheraetna waa ihiber of a 'mote oaMnicd Jaia. vbo waa hmrn m^ and died 17:9. He was f^i!!?*!5St !!!!!!!?^«!.W»''o«»P*»> ■«<« «f Medicine fell's"? «•••» Alifiietn. and of the Piamim' ^of Fhfiic itt ttelln^rmiry o/ l^nlmrght autboroT Ibe *• Comiiaialliw ¥lew of the State and Facuttiei of to bit llHMfam,* lii eidott aoB. (Dt BiMVooff' r« waa born 1751, and died IWI. He wai of tb«' lUiOf,-, attaiwatda of tlie Ftadlo^, I know not precisely either the year of mj fpandliither*B death or his age. But all 'that. I have heard .agrees veij 'wei with, the •ccomit yon mention. He served appnn. tice to A merchant in Rotterdam or Camp- vere, and, I believe, continued there till the m.iifder of' his tidar .brother. After he came home, ho praseented. Iht murderer, (son and heir to Yisoount Fmdritt, as I have heard, thoofh I find not the title among the extract or forfeited Peers,) who, being a Roman Gatholic, waa protected by all the interest of the Dnko of York i but was at last condenmed, but pardoned by the crown, and soon after kiled In a naval engage. nent* Your g-grmndfither was .so much ymnger than KinaMly, .aa^ to be ed.ucated by him. Kinalrdy had no more sons professors than the three you mention, who were all professors before he died David and James were of the first mairisie, and Charles of the second. Tim two Irat were settled before the Retolntion— David as Professor of Hathematics at Edhitargh, and, I sup- pose, inuMdialdy succeeded bia uncle, and James as a Protosor of Philosophy at 8t AndrewSk I think I have a printed tliesis of James, published at 8t Andrews before the Revolution, which is a compend of Newton- ian philosophy,. iifith...iQne strictures agauut the aehohatic pkiliMi|ihy. With regard to' the ten ^'Categories: .in 'partienlar, ho nys there neither are nor can be more than two categories, viz. Data and attiMita.t I be- lieve .ho wis 'the first professor of nUlosophj that tamglit iM doctrines of 'M ewton & a Scotob uniwnity; for the Cartesian was of Kmlielne, In Ibe Unlvenlrf of i>Minburgb ; and aoibmr of •;Coni|ieft.iit Mcdicins Th^eoreCicB.'* .of •• Pbilowjiihical and liierary EM>ayt,>* and of variout ■nil III ne nereditarjr* • 11; Bittnler here aUiidad to wat cumniiited on Aleianite Owiory of Nafberdort, aldttt ten and "•??!?• ^^- '^?*»'l Gregory, minltltrof Onamoak ; fC rtehtoiii Vyoti ntFirendiangtit. lie Books of Aijrariial (reooidaortboSeoCllib Oimlnal Court) deuu tbt atieimitaneea of tbe case. 1 n Ifl64» A lex. ?i***^®'«t9lL ••»*» *>*W» In •ecurity. a nart of !!*• 'ff^ ofttfodrauthl, waa decoyed by Irancit r'T?***f • •™* vtaeount^i uncle, lo accompany him o Ite bMteof Bopile. wbera tlial nohleinan ihen lo«i|Mf. On tbe way bt wat aauiulted by Crichtou and bit tervanti aa^ alter be bad iurrendered hit arma, wna wounded t«y iliem with swords and pistols. and4hen carried a piaoner lo Bognie. Here he wm watched during the nlfbl, among others, by the Via. count, whoac servanta, next day. early in a cold morn - '"If l*)!!? ***" ■?**■ • *>"*»•» bh WOOOdt undressed and bleeding, and brought him to a lone cottage. •nety he waa left till found by his friends, who con- vevfd him to Abeidain. when-, after languishing for a few daya, te died, ifr Francis and his servant did nm eompear. ITie relevancy of the libel against Lord Freiidraught was impugned, on the ground that the criimil libelled being only st^itutory, and the pannel a minor, they ougbl not topaas to an a^^ire. Hut, though the IIM waafiiund relevant, the proof seetns tt» have °^!l*!l'*^** *. **!«J"'y. •* •oli»gy.— U. noun, signifying bread, which substantive will be fit to make a part of many other Thus tiie object, or accusative, may be, as it were, cut out of the sentence, so as to form a word by itself, though originally it was only a part of a word. Another set of sentences— such as, / Inve Martha, You love Mary, John loves Matilda —might lead men to separate what is com- mon in the word by which each of these three sentences is expressed, from what is proper to each, and by that means to have a word for the verb love. To shew how all the parts of speech may be cut out of words that signify whole sen- tences, by separating that part of the sound which is common to many sentences, from that which is proper to each, would be more tedious than diflicult, and may easUy be conceived. By dividing the sound, the mental abstraction is made easy, even to rude men, who, without some aid of this kind, would find it above their reach. Such division facilitates greatly the use of lan- guage, and, therefore, when once begun, will go on. , , , , That the parts of speech should be con- ceived before speech was in use, and that speech should at first be formed by putting together parts of speech, which before had got names, seems to me altogether incred- ible ; no less incredible than if it should be said that before men had the conception of a body, they first formed the conception of matter, then the conception of form, and, putting these two together, they got the conception of body, which is made up of matter and form. Perhaps, in the language of some savages, all the parts of speech have not yet been separated into difi-erent words. Charlevoix has given a very full account of some of the Canadian languages- I quote him from memory, having read his history of Canada, I think, about forty years ago ; but, as it first led me into this specuktion, 1 remem- ber it the better. He says,»of one of their languages, (I think that of the Hurons,) that in each of their villages there is a public orator chosen, who makes it the whole study of his life to speakthe language with propriety and force ; that the people are very nice judges of tlie defects and excellencies of their orators ; so that there are very few of them that can perfectly please the public ear ; that their verbs have aa many moods and tenses as the Greek verbs have, and, besides this, that the accusative or object always mak^ a part of the verb. Thus, one verb stgnu fies to drink mne ; another, to drink water i one, to kill a brother ; another, to ktU an ene. my i so that the verb very often expresses the whole sentence. 72' COEEESFOff DUf OK' Of' DR ,11111. LETTERS TO DR JAMES GREGORY. 73 all hnguapM ig imtiom I tMBSstudf 'Ino g0^||||g| 'Hgffi df'ilMMii imm been ■flpunited from one mi. «tli«r, and mn often expmaed by wonit frofivto'ilMiii.^ Biit^iB.d^of'tlMiii,,aiiiiii, •WW 'iMia' 'Ibn 'in' lyUMiti eererkl purit of speech aro often oonMitd in one word, 'not from neceesity, but for the aake of elegance and beauty. Tbuii, in the .Iiatin. and Qntk 'verb^^ be. '■idea «be mdleai ,eigniietficiii of eraon. and number are' all. espessed in. one word. In nouni, lioA. 'iubatantiYe and a4|eetiv% «■ baw 'tbe noun, togetber witb its case, namber, and gender, in one wowi Nor is this owing to m want of words in those knguages to ejc- pnss.'a9faiiite|y"iMie' aeddenls of verbs and nouns. II iiieiiit' aafier 'to be^ a matter of choice, to .gim .greater beauty and .stnmgtb to the lanmage. By this ^expedien^ 'mndi inaj be said in for worda-.and these, lofty and sononius words, with a beantiftil variety and .hanmniy of termination, .and great Iiower of inversion ; which an onalit^ of great importance in poetry and flofience. In kngnage, as in many other things, ^necessity, convenience, and long practice, have, without the mki of art, produced artiices, which the artist or the philosopher has reason to admire, whieh, sitting in his chair, he would never have been able tO' invent, and which, now that they are in- vented, be inds it very difficult to reduce to principles of arL^ I believe the principles of the art of lan- nage are to be fomnd in a just analysis of the varioos species of sentences. Aristotle and the logieians haveandNMid one spedee— < M wit, tke prnponiion. To enumeiato and analyse the other species, must, I think, be 'the lonndMlMi of a j'ust theoiy of bngoage. —I am, dear Sir, yours .ailectionateiy, Tsa Bnn. eity, and call that appointment a law of nature and a physieal cause ; such a law of nature' .re<|airea a Being who .has not 'Only enaeted the law, but provided Ae .meaiW' of its being executed, either by 'some phyaical. eauae, or by some agent acting by his order. If we agree in these' thinn, I see not w:hi»«in we 'differ, but in words.. I agree with jou that to confound the notion of agent or efficient cause with that of ph^ad cause, has been a common error orphioM|ihers, from the days 'Of .Fkto to our own. 1 4»uld wish that the same gene- .ral name of mum had not been .given to both, as if they were two spmim belonging to tlie same ^mus. They differ ioto f/enerr. For a physieal. cause' is not an agent It does not act, but it acted upon, and is as passive as its effect. You aeoordinffly give Ihem. diffetent generical naraM, 'Calling the one the offmi^ .and not the cii.use^t.lie other the ■mugef but not the i^nt I approve of your view in this 5 hut think it too bold an innovation in language. In all writing, preaching, and spefOiing, mem have been so much .aceuitomed to ca.ll the l>eity the ftret cause of all. thmgs, that to maititain tliat he is no cause at all, would he too shocking. To say titat the world exists without a cause, would be accounted Atheism,, in spite of all explications that eouM bo' given 'of .it. Agency, ■efllcieney, operation, are so conjoyned in our concep- tions with, a causey that an. age would not be sufficie'nt to disjoyn them. The words mg/mi and ndtei are not less ambi^ouS' than mmm and omiHifiiiii ; they .are applied, by the 'most^ accurate thinkers and speakers,, to what you ^call physical eauiea. 80 we say, one body acts upon another, by a stroke, by pressure, byattrae- tion or repuhiion ? and in vain would one attempt to abolish this knguage. We must bear with the imperfectiona of hmgnaM in some degree .; we are not able to 'iidie il :so philoioph:ieal as we 'wish.. To remedy the ambiguity of mmm and liffiil as far as posiibH without too bold ani .imovationi. I aay that' each of these wofds 'hmtm^ iiitMihm»-« ^ f^ popuhur meaning, and a phio«i|ihieaL. In the 'po- pular meaning, both are applied to what you tall a phj-aieal cause. In 'the itriet or philo* .iophieal 'meaning, both are applied only %f what' you eai an ageni^l, an efficient eausa.. I choose 'to dMnguish the philoso- phical meaning of came, by callhig it an effidiiit cause; and to distinguish the {ihUfWOphiflal. meaning of agent, by calling t .an agent .in the iftrfet mi.d proper sense. You distinguish 'the phiteophical mean- ing of these two ambiguous words from the popular, by appropriating one to the philo- sophical. .mean.mg, and the other to the populir. Is not this the difference between you and me ? It is remarkable that the philosophical meaning of those two word% and of the othtni' Ihat' depend upon them, nmsl have 'been tte iet, and the popular raeanhig a corruption of the philosophical, introduced by thne, but so deeply rooted in the struc- ture of all hmguagesy that it is impossible toera^dicateit; 'for 'nothing external to us could introduce into the human mind tlie general notion of priority and constant con- junction, but nothing farther. Power and activity are first conceived from being conscious of them in ourselves. Conceiving of other beings from what we know of ourselves, we first ascribe 'to them such powera as we are conscious of in our- aelvea. Sxperience, at least, informs ui that 'tlie th;inp about us liave not the same powew that we have; but knguage was formed on a contrary supposition before this discovery was marie, and we must give a new, and perhaps a very .hidiithict, mean- ing to words which before had a clear and distinct one. As to the other difference you mention between JOU and me, I have quite forgot it But I tbmk one can hardly be too cautious of denying the itona Jides of an antagonist in a philosophical dispute. It is so bitter a Cill, that it cannot be swallowed without King very wei gilded and aromatiied. I cannot but agnse with you that assent or belief is not a voluntary act Neither is seeing when the eyes are ojien. One may voluntarily shut hia bodily eyes, and perhaps the eye of his understanding. I confess this is mala Jidex, But as light may be so offensive that the bodily eye is shut involun- tatilji .:niiy not something isimilar happen to the eye 'of 'the undentanding, when brought to * light too 'Offensive to some favouritft prejodice or passion, to be endured ?* AM soon aa I have done with your book, I aliai execute your commission to Mr Ar- tiiur.— -I am, diear Sir, youri' very aineerely. TH'Ci. Sctn. Thursday, Julg 30, ijfla • Tiita iMKHiit r But I th'ink"~««li«' miIii' to mMMfffl In tie laiiodiictioii to Br Gitfoff % pw J16.— 'HL XV. ARISTOTELIC SPECIES OF CAUSES— ORIGIN OP NOTIONS OP CAUSE AND POWER— WHAT ES- SXNTIAL TO THE NATURE OP CAUSE — DIS- TINCTION OP PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL CAUSES. Remarks on the Tntroduction.* I. I humbly think you are too severe against Aristotle and Plato, especially the former. t Two hundred years ago, it was proper to pull bim down from the high seat he held ; but now he is sufficiently humbled, and I would not have liira trampled upon. I confess that his distinction of causes into four kinds is not a division of a^e/iu^f into its gpecies, but of an ambiguous word into its different meanings, and that this is the case with many of his divisions. But, in 'the in- fancvofphilo8ophy,thisoughtto be corrected without severity. It was more inexcusable in many philosophers and divines of the scholastiek ages to handle every subject in one method, namely, by shewing its four causes— Efficient, Material, Formal, and Final. Avery learned divine, whose compend was the text-book in the school where I was taught, treating of the creation, when he comes to the material cause, pronounces it to be nihil. If Aristotle had treated of his materia prima in this method, he must haye made the material cause to be the thing it- self, and all the three other causes to be mhili for it had no form, no efficient, con- sequently no end. But the absurdity of making everything to have four causes, can- not, I believe, be imputed to Aristotle. 2. You challenge him with a violation of propriety in the Greek language. t I am dis- posed to take it upon the authority of Aris- totle, as a man who understood Greek better than any modern, that the word «<«« was sometimes used to signify the form, some- times the matter of a thing. If these were not popular meanings of the word, might they not be philosophical, and perhaps to be found only in the writings of philosophers, which are now lost ? But I cannot think that Aristotle would have given these mean- ings without authority ; and I think it bold in any modern to impute this to him. 3. You are likewise severe upon the ti i| J. || May it not be said that it is very like the sup- pmed principle of change^ which, in page xvu. , you make the general meaning of the word fmm $ . 4. You seem to think (end of page xxi.) that there are different kinds of causes, each • "Introduction to the BtMy," -V*. printed In rart.— H _, 1 Vide ••EiMWiv*,*' lntrofluctir»n,n mvi. «!.—«. t tmem, \\ xvii.-H. ]] Ibidem, p »vtt.— H- having something specifick iu its relation to the eliect. I know not what the kinds are which you have in your eye, and therefore speak in the dark upon this point. I mean ouely to put you upon your guard that they be really species of the same genus, that you may not fall under the censure you have passed upon Aristotle. You wUl forgive my offering this caution, because I apprehend that there is one ori- ginal notion of came grounded in human nature, and that this is the notion on which the maxim is grounded—that every change or event must have a cause. This maxim is 80 universally held, and forces itself upon the judgment so strongly, that I think it must be a first principle, or what you call a law of human thought. And I think the only distinct and true meaning of this maxim is, that there must be something that had power to produce the event, and did pro- duce it. We are early conscious of some power in ourselves to produce some events ; and our nature leads us to think that every event is produced by a power similar to that which we find in ourselves— that is, by will and exertion : when a weight falls and hurts a child, he is angry with it— he attributes power and will to everything that seems to act. Language is formed upon these early sentiments, and attributes action and power to tilings that are afterwards discovered to have neither m\\ nor power. By this means, the notion of action and causation is gradually changed ; what was essential to it at first is left out, while the name remains : and the term cause is applied to things which we believe to be inanimate and passive. I conceive that, from the original notion or sentiment above described, all the dif- ferent notions of cause have been derived, by some kind of analogy, or perhaps abuse ; and I know not but the « i| ? may compre- hend them all, as well as any other general name, as they are so heterogeneous. A law plea is the cause of a litigation. The motive that induces a great body of men to act m concert, is the cause of a revolu- tion in politicks. A law of nature is the cause of a phenomenon in pliysicks, or, perhaps, the cause is another phenomenon which always goes before it. The cause of the universe has been by some thought to be necessity, by others chance, by others a powerful intelligent being. I think it is a good division in Aristotle, that the same word may be applied to dif- ferent thmgs in three ways— univocal y, analogically, and equivocally. Univoealiy, when the things are species of the same genus; analogically, when the thmgs are rehited by some similitude or analogy ; equi- vocally, when they have no relation bur a common name. When a word is analogi- s'.-.v) n COmEESroifDENCE OF ,DE REID, LETTERS TO DR JAMES GREGORY. p»#y «iBjr anplM to diiSeMnt iHiigi, a% I !»• Ii«v«i, ym wmi mum 1% Ihero musi be an. i^ginU' tnflmttiig isoni wmisii tuo tuings nlStoi to il haim lioifiiiPt^. fhe name { and al iMfpens not imfrequenily thai tlie ori|i- tlw .itiatima' 'iwiiopoUze it j aa in 'tlia Eng- The Tulgiari .in tlieir .notiiiii eren of tlie pigraiial. 'Cane of a phsenomenooi. indnile ■one emoeiitlon. of 'effietano^r or prodnetlve iniMnea :S0' all. Hie' andent philosophero difi Ilaqm nan do caam t»lil%l tieheif ui f ianI euiqm mnieetdat. M H mum #1*4 Mid qam fjfuiiiilvr aiil«efili/.^CiCBRa .If iMtotn. fUowiilMfi know tliat w^ have :nO' grauni' to' aaeribe clieieney to :natnral canaee, or even neceseary conneetion with the effect But we still call them eanaea, indwimi nothing under tlie nanW' hnt pri- ori^ anl eongtaul oonjunetion. 'Hum the .giving the name of eanaation to the .rthlion. of connected events In phyaieka, k, in mo- lten philosophers^ .a kind of abnse of the '^'^^■liapi'^iPii wp^p'iw'^Sf™''™''™' " "•■• nwiiawSiP' w wHw 'WaaiiiP' a>aHiaJur||||L must, essential to eanstttion. in te proper' niean.ing~to wit, eiteiency~i8 wanting. Yet this does not hinder our notion of a piiysioal 'Oanse from. Iiei.ng distinct and de» teminate, though, I. thmk, it 'Cannot 'ha ■aid to be' of the .same ggnut with an. effi« cient cause or agent Even the gmal .Baeen. seems to have tiiought thai there is a fatem pnmmm^ m he mk .it, % which natural eaoMM really 'pmdnee llieir effects i and that, in the progress of philosophy, this 'might be diaeovered. But Newton, ' more' en%htoned on this^ point, has taught ns 'to aei|nieaeei .in #• law ff matmrtt mmnimff' ft mhi^k 'the 'OAlct is predieed, as the 'ntmost that natund phiosophy can reaeh, leaving what can he known of the agent or eileient cauae to :ni0tapl^ysifika or natural th^eolofy. This I" look npon aa^ 'One of the .great dis- Goveries of Newton ; for I know of none that went before him in it It has new. modelled our notion of phyiieal. 'Sanies, but, at 'the same time, 'Carried it fafiber from what I 'takO' to be the original, notion of cans* or mnt .If you have found, aa^ yon. seem, to say, (Dago: xxii,} that the different rehitbna of 'things, whin, we call 'Canse and ellBet, diflar 'Only as ^spseies of 'the: same genns, and have .fonnd. the general notion 'wMch comprehends 'them all 'under it— :tld% indeed, is more 'than I am. abb' to 'do. Supposing it to' be done, I should 'thhik." that the gii.ua, biittg .an. .aiitaet notion,, would, be 'eapabb of a just definition. Yet I do not find fiiult with youT' 'deelinbg to set owl by giving thO' 'definiiioii. I lor I eoneelve you m»y, with ^ pMl' piopiiely, pave 'the way to it by .a 'pfelnninary 'indiiftii*n« ON CA.' XVL mwcm or 'OaoMKTBT^'PO'WiR •— AOXNCV, &C. [N'ndati,] Mv Dbar Sia,— I must thank you, in the first pbce, for your attention to my in- terest in writing to Dr Rose what you in- formed me of in your anawer to my last I received your three volumes* on Wed- nesday 'evening, Arith the lettor and phin of mwmm^ ■mmt^lHi^tmJi 9 S iflt e* 9 9' M Folifiw Flrft In the induction made to prove timt men have a notion of the rehitiou of cause and 'Offecty thia. easO' 'OUght to' be particukrly in 'the view of the author, (as I take it to be the ease that really eiy8)~to wit, that cause and effect, from the imperfection of langu- age, aigniie many different relations, and yiti by those who write and think dis- thietly, wil be used without ambiguity; the things of which they are predicated ex- plaining sufficiently what relation is meant This is the case of many words that have variimi' meanings really difibrent, thougli, piliapi, somewhat similar' or analogous. It IS remarkably the ease of prepositions. Yet such woids as prepositions are used wllh- o:it ambiguHy liy those who think diatinetlj. How many relationa are expressed by the preposition qf?— and yet, when it is put be- tween two words, we are never at a loss for ita meaning. In Aristotle^s days, a oause meant ifgnr 'thbgs-to wit, t.he Efficient, the .Form, the Matter, and the End. Yet, when it was used by a good writer, it was eai^ to see in which of these senses it was meant With us the word cause has lost some of theao'^four meanings and has got others to supply theur plaees, and, perhaps, has not, in one kngusge, all the meanings whkh it has in another. Perhaps, therefore, it 'may 'be said, that all 'men have many .no- tkins 'Of cause and eiM, and some men more than othere; the same observation may, I think, be amilied to the words Power, .Imt, .and Activity. To give yon a hint of my notion, of the 'wwd. cause, I 'tUnfc :it 'has one strict and pUhiBOphioal m.eaning which is a single re- lallon, and it has a hue and popuhtf meaning which. mdndeS' many .rektions. Thepopu- hur meaning I think I can express by a definition. Cimiii mi id, quo pmdto ptmitttr • The M8. sT Che .Emm ItMlf. lh§ Emmy pr lalMf 'ContMirSUriMillM MlMre pitMication } c*'til l.lMifeticefi'ii|:Lt!i UW till nnllP* LETTERS TO DR JAMES GREGORY. 7^ wliieli it aetiuillj f fodiiees. Tlio power' of an .•eid to diasolve inin is mestaurad bj wliBt it aetuaUy diasolYea. We g^ tli0 nutiM. iif m^hm pmm, m well tm m esnw anM effeet, •■ I 'tiuiik, 'fiwfii wial 'we feel in ourselves* We ImI im eur- iselves » power 4o ikioto our Iiiiili% itiid U prodttee oertalu ^ktM when we choose. Hence, we get tlM notion of power, sgenej, iind mnsfition, in the striet^nnd philosophloil ■enae ; and this I take to be our first mttoii of these 'th.ree thinfs.. If this be My it is & 'Oiifions problem in linman nature, how, in the proimas. ^f life, we come by th« kx notion of power, agency, cause, and effect, and to ascribe them, to thinp that ,have no will, nor intol- ligence* I '■in.apl' to think, with, tho' .Abb^ Its in the same predieanient,) *' wherever they see motion which they cannot account f(ir, there they suppoM a ■on.t** .Hence chey ascribe actl.ve power and ausatton to sun, moon, and stars, rivers, fountains, sea, air, and earth ; these are 'conceived to be causes in the atriet SMiae. In this period of society, hinguage .is fomedt tis fund** mental ruieS' and ferms' 'establishod.. Ac- tive verbs are applied onely to thtnj^ tliat are believed to have power and activity in the proper sense. Every part of nature which moves, without our seeing any exter- nal eauso' of its motion, is oonoetved to be a cause in the strict sense, and, therefore, is called so. At length, the more acute and speeuiativo' ftw' dlMover that .Mma' of those thingP' whinh tliO' vulgar beliave' to be ani- 'roatM. .like themselves, are imniniate, and have neither will nor understanding. These discoveries grow and spread slowly in a course of .ages. .In this slow progress, what use must the wise men make of their dis- coveries ? Will they affirm that the sun doeS' ml shine nor give hea.t, that the .sea' never ra^es, nor do the winds^ 'blow,, nor the earth bring 'forth grass awl. mm.? If any bold, spirit sImiuM naintilEi 'Midi para- doxes, he would probably repent his teme- rity. The wiser part will speak the com- mon htnguMo,. and suit it to thek .new no- 'tlons as wm as they can ; Just as philoso- phers say with the' vulgar, that the .sun rises and sets, and the moon dbanges. The pbileaopher must put a meanmg upou vul- gar knguagO' that suits hia peculiar tenete aS' 'Well aS' he can. And, even if all men should become philosophers, their knguagO would still retain strong marks of the oiii- ttioinS' tbal prevailed when it 'was 'irst UMun.. If we alfow that active verbs were 'made' to express :aetion, it .seems to be a neeessary 'COMequence, 'that all the knguages we bow ' were made' M men who believed ''ahmosl every' part 'Of nature to bC' active, .and to 'have inherent power. W§lum§ Third. The phiological discussion is new to me ; and It would require more time in my slow way to make up my mind about it, than you allow me. But the general principle— thai eveiy distinction which is found in the 'Struolnre of a common knguage, is a real disiinelion, and. b 'perceivable by the com- mon sense of mankind — this I hold for cer- tain, and have ;made frequent use of it I wish it were norO' used than it has been ; for I believe the whole system of metaphy- sides, 'Or th*' fur greater part, may be brought uul of It ; and, next to accurate reflexion upon theopmlions of our own m.inds,. I know nuiinig that' ^ean. give so much light to the human. .fMtl.tiea .m^ a due co'usidera- tion of the structure' 'Of teguage. From this principle, you prove to my iatislietion thai there u .a real distinction 'between the rektion which a living ag^nt has to his action,, .and the reIat.ion 'between, an inanimate and the effect of which it is* the eause, mean, or instrument. But I know no .knguage in which the word cause Is confined, 'to .inanimate' things,. though, perhaps,, it may 'be more 'frequen.tly applied to them than to thmgs that havo life and mtelligence* If I 'werC'Convlneed that it cannot be said, in a plain, literal, sense, that I am the muse of my own actions, or that the Deity m the cause of the universe — if I were convinced thai my aoiion% or the production, of 'the universe, are' nol^ effects, or 'thai' 'th«ra must bo a cause' of these effects dlstinet Ikm. 'the agent, I should in tMs case agree to your treason ing. 'The rnle of Latin syntax from which you. reason, seems, indeed, to suppose that all causes are inanimate thlnp^ like means and instruments; but I desiderate better authority. I am not aure but power and agency are as uften ascribed toTnanimate tbinp .as eaiaation. Thus we speak of the powers of gmvity, magnetism, mechanioil powers, and a hundred more. Yet there is a kind of power and agency which you ^knowledge 'to 'belong only to' mind. Your system, if I conipreliend it, (which, indeed, I am dubious about,) seems to go upon the supposition that power and agency belong onely to mind andf that in kngua|;e causation never belongs to mind. If this be so, you and I may, after all, differ only about the meaning of words. What you call an mmlf and .a being that ImS' power, Ibal I flail a wnse with regard to every ex- ertion of his. power. That which akne you call a cause, I think is no cause at all in the strict 'sense of the word ;. but I .acknowledge il is so 'in thi In these remarks I thought friendship obliged me to lay aside all regard to friend- ship, and even to indulge a spirit of severity that seems opposite to it. 1 hope you will make allowance for this. For, in reality, 1 have such an opinion of your judgment and taste, that I caniiot help suspecting my own where they difl'er. XVII. AN AMBIGUITY OP HUME— MEANINGS OP WILL AND VOLITION — POWEll. Motive^Seci I. 27. [Page 21, published work.)— It does not appear to me, that the long pas- sage quoted from Mr Hume's reconciling project, is so full of ambiguous expressions and hypothetical doctrine, as it is said to be ; though I think it is very clearly shewn to be full of weak reasoning. I think he does not confound a constant conjunction with a necessary connection^ hut plainly dis- tinguishes them ; affirming, that the fiist is all the relation which, upon accurate reflec- tion, we are able to perceive between canse and effect t but that mankind, by some pre- judice, are led to think that cause and effect have moreover a necessary connection; when at the same time they acknowledge onely a constant conjunction between motive and action; so far I see no obscurity or ambiguity. The words constant conjunction and necessary connection^ I think, are the best that can be used to express the meaning of each, and the difterence between them. At the same time, to suppose, without assigning any reason for the supposition, that the constant conjunction of cause and effect leads men to believe a necessary con- nection between them, but that the con- stant conjunction between motive and action has no such effect, appears to me very weak and unphilosophical ; and this account of the phenomenon of men's putting a differ- ence between the relation of motive and action, and the relation of cause and effect, does not appear to me to deserve the epithet you give it, of veiy ingenious. The last part of the quotation, beginning with " Let any one ftrJiHe a cause wiihovt comprehending,** Slc.j* I think has a distinct • The whcile sentence is as follows :— It Is from Hume's ♦• liiquirv concerning ihc Human Under- standing?,*' sect. viil. pait I. prope Jinrm. •• Let any onerf£N€£ OF DE IBIB. LETTERS TO DR JAMES GREGORY. 81 of will, fa not eiiidl. Tolltion, ImomiM' il 1im< ft fvoper naiiio of its own—^wo mil it m mo- latbn or piir|Kiee' ; and .liefO' 'Hm^ OHM is MP WiWff ■IP^wllNW'lllW^ilrTlMlf wift^iP' WiMli^hi' JP''^litt|p' Bffm^iP^llr "^HP ^^dF Wm^^ ^wupw^ 'OdttOu* I afpnlMiii 'tliali in dnfttiiiig,. tlie dforl pMontpuite voKtMMif m vol m wImii, w% arO' awaio' i Imt in most 'imnoiiS' tin oiiirt in dreaming produces little or no motion in tlio liody, as is tlie case in palsy. Wlitn a hound dieams,. we see a feeUe attomnt to^ :inoTO his Imlks Md to barl^ as if lie hm tlie palkf . Jlsd a man dreanxtng that lie eriis desporateljr for help, is often neard to make a feeUe attempt to trj. Ptmer, ]6| Ac— I hnmbly think that my power 'to ride or to walk, and the king*s power to call or to disaol ve a parliament, ^aro diffeient iiais, or rather different meanings of the word power. In the foraier nieankig, every- thing depending npon my wiE is in. my pwer,. and eonsef|nently my will itself; for,, if I had not power to will, I eoald have no power to do ' what 'depends npon my will. In the second meaning, power ngntfies a light by the kw or by the constitution, .ftMordiiig' to that maxim of kw, Mthii pf.s- mm qwodjm^g nan jmmmm. In another hiw sense, we say— It is part of the lcinj*s prerogative that lie ean do no wrong. The 'meaning nf this is not that he has no Iq^l right to & wrong, for this may be said of the meanest of his subjeets i but it niiaiia thai' he eannot te .aeinsed. or tried, for .any wrong before anv erlninil. JidietF tttre. It is hk 'premgattve, thai 'he eaaaot be ealled to account for any wronff. 71,&c.— Thedoctrinedeliveredlrompge 71 to l^t I snspeet veij much not to be fust,. If it bO' tfii% it iS' surely importaii't, and 'wonid make many difiiettlties instantly to vankh, whkh the bulk of philosophers have kboured in vain to ieiOlv% and 'the wieor part have reckoned' to 'be^ 'inaolvabki. It k so new and 'So 'Ountinrj to^ all that' philosophefB have taught and believed since the days of Aristotle, that it ought to be 'pfopoeed aodrapported with...griat' modesty; hut» indeed, I 'Cannot yet assent to it. I have, for instance, 'the power of moving my band ; all the act.ivity I am conscious of exerting, k volition, and effort to move the .hand..; the motkn must begin sonie* 'Where. Supwise it begl.nB .at 'the .nerves, and that its being continued 'tiU. the hand be moved, k all meehanism. The irst motion, however, 'Camot' be 'micchaniiin. .It 'fullowB immediately "Upon my voitim and 'If or dO' I know how my vnlitioii and. 'iibrt to move 'my :hand, wodnosS' aeertain 'notion in the nerves.. I am eonseioufl th^t .in thk 'therO' k ,ionie'tMng which. I do iiot 'eouprehond,:'tbon||h I believe He that madS' me comprehends it perfectly. If I be struck with a paky, that volition and effort which befurO'' moved' 'my hand,: k now unable to do ii. It this owing to an. 'inabihty to produce 'the irst m.otion ? or k itowinc to wme de- rangement of the machine of the body ? I know not Nay, I am uncertain whether I 'bO' truly and properly 'the ^agont m tho' imt' "motion .; for I ean. suppose,' 'that, 'whenever I will to move my hand, the Deity, or some other sgent, produces the first motion in my body— whkh' was the 'Opinion of Malc- bBanehe. ThkbyiMth'esk agrees with all that I an eoweioai of' In the matter. I am like a child turning the handle of a hand organ —the turning of 'the handle answers tO' my volition and. 'Oilbrk The musk Innediatoly follows .{ but' how 'it followB, thO'Ohild knows not Were two or three ingenious children to speculate upon the subject, who had never seen .nor heard of soch .a machine' before, perhai'is 'Ono who had seen strange effects of 'mechiin.ism, 'might 'Conjecture that the handle^ by means of machinery, produced the music : another, like Malebranche^ might conjecture that a nusieiaa* 'Ooneealed in the maehine, always pkyed wlien the llAITIillA IB Mlil J[»jf jipy|||||||l We know as little how our intellectual openitknS' :«re performed as how we move OUT' own 'body. I reo'ember many thinrs past { but how I remember them I know not Some have attempted to account for menwiy by a repository of ideas, or by tiaiies lift 'in 'the brak of the ideas^ we had. beibre.. Snei. .aeeounti "would appear ridiculous at •ret 'light, if wo knew how the operation of memory is performed. But, as we are totally Ignonnt how we remember, such weak hypotheses have been embraced by :Siniibkniiin« In these, and in innumerable cases that might be mentioned, it seems to me to be ono thing to know that such a thing is, and another' to know how it k IMiap you may have been led into the nlitake, if it be a mistake, by what you say about deinilion In the note, p. 7& An operatkn, or any other thing that k per- fectly :ihnple, eannot be defined— thk k true. Nor can it be explained by words to a man who had not the conception of it be- foN' ; for' words ean #ve uS' no new shnpk eoneeptiiiiii, but liMli only as wO' lad. 'before, and had anneiied. to sooli. 'Woids. Thus, if a man bom blmd asks me what a searlet colour is, the question, I think, is not impertinent, or nugatory, or absurd; but I can only answnr him, that, though I know lieiiMilj what a aeailet cokur k, it k im- fOiiiUe to give him a distinct conceptkn of it unkas he saw. But, if be aaka me how my volition and effort moves my hand, I not onely cannot satisfy him, but am con- scious that I am ignorant myself. We both know tliat there is a constant conjunction between the volition and the motion, when I am in health, but how they are connected I know not, but should thmk myself much wiser than I am, if I did know. For any- thing I know, some other being majr move my liand as often as I will to move it The volition, I am conscious, is my act ; but I am not conscious that the motion is so. I onely learn from experience that it always fol- lows the volition, when I am in sound health. Activity. — Sect, 1. P. 24, &c ^The distinction between the two kinds of active verbs here marked, ap- pears no less clearly when they are used in the passive voice. To he known, to be be- iieved, &c., imply nothing done to the things known or believed. But to be wounded^ to be fmtkdf implies something done to the wounded or healed. A scholastick philoso- pher would say that to be ufounJed, belongs to the category of passion ; but to be knou a. belongs to none of the categories— being only an external denomination. Indeed, however grammarians might confound those two kinds of active verbs, the scholastick philo- sophers very properly distinguished the acts expressed by them. They called the acts expressed by the first kind immanent acts, and those expressed by the second kind, transitive acts. Immanent acts of mind are such as produce no change in the object Such are all acts of understanding, and even some that may be called voluntary— such as attention, deliberation, purpose. Jciimlp—SecL 2. P. 43— If my memory does not deceive me, Charlevoix, in his history of Canada, says, that, m the Huron knguage, or in some knguage of that country, there k but one word for both the sexes of the human species, which word has two genders, not a mascu- line and feminine— for there k no such dis- tinction of genders in the language— but a a noble and an ignoble gender : the ignoble gender signifies not a woman, though we improperly transkte it so. It signifies a coward, or a good-for-nothing creature of either sex. A woman of distinguished talents that create respect, k always of the noble grnder. I know not whether it be owing to something of thk kind in the Gaelic language, that a Highlander, who basgfttoneiyalittlebrokenEngliahjmodestly takes the feminine gender to himself, and, in place of saying I did so, says, her own mif did £0. . • . • . . As to the mathematical reasoning on motive, Section 2, to prove that the relation of motive and agent is very different from that of a physical cause to its effect, I think it just and conclusive ; and that it isa good argument ad hominem, against the scheme of Necessity held by Hume, Priestley, and other modern advocates for Necessity, who plainly make these two relations the same. Mr Hume holds it for a maxim no less ap- plicable to intelligent beings and their ac- tions, than to> physical causes and their effects, that the cause is to be measured by the effect. And from thk maxim he infers, or makes an Epicurean to infer, that we have reason to ascribe to the Deity just as much of wisdom, power, and goodness, as appears in the constitution of things, and no more. The reasoning in the papers on activity, to shew that the relation between an agent and his action is, in the structureof language, dis- tinguished from the relation between a causo and its effect, is, I think, perfectly just when cause is taken in a certain sense ; but I am not so clear that tlie word cause is never, except metaphorically or figuratively, taken in any other sense. You will see my senti- ments about that word in two chapters of my " Essay on the Liberty of Moral Agents," uow in your hands. If I had seen your papers before I wrote those two chapters, perhaps I would have been more explicit. However, they will save you and nie the trouble of repeating here what is there said. I think, after all, the difference between you and me is merely about the use of a word ; and that it amounts to this — whether the word cau5«, and the corresponding words in other knguages, has, or has not, from the beginning, been used to express, without a figure, a bemg that produces the effect by }m will and power. I see not how mankind could ever have acquired the conception of a cause, or of any rektion, beyond a mere conjunction in time and pkce between it and its effect, if they were not conscious of active exertions in themselves, by which effects are pro- duced. Thk seems to me to be the origin of the idea or conception of production. In the grammar rule, causa, modus et instrumentum, &c., the word cause k taken in a limited sense, which is explained by the words conjoyned with it Nor do I see that any part of the rule would be lost if the word caum had been altogether left out. Is not everything which you would call a cause a mean or an instrument ? May not everything to which the rule applies be called a meaner an instrument ? But surely many thmgs are called causes that are m C0RRE8F0NDINC1 OP DE REID. LETTERS TO DR JAMES GREGORY. m it%s»ltowliieli If BciilMr 'tlie rafe ^->EIPEOACif OF MALA Finia — C0IV8C10t»lCK« OF LIBIBTV -^AB®iiiiiiii"ijii pifiaoM,&e.— 4M A PAPim bsctitiiBH'— ■' Faob 2— *«■ Fkilm§i^ie«^ Nee§mt»,'*^ 'This, I think, iS' an. epithet given to the doctrine of Necessity by Dr Priestley only i .and I do not see that he deserves to 'he jfol* .jewed, in. .it.. The vulpr have,, fkoni tho' heiiHtlng ef the wiild,. .had the 'Ooneeflion ef.it.aS'WeU.aa'philtiie|Aen. Whether they .gieund It upon, the ;iniiience of the staf% m 'tile daenes of fiite, or of the gods, or im. Hm^ Uienise -of motive^ il :is .necessity ■m i:have''ellen.feondtheillllerate"Vu.lp. gar .have 'recourse to it to^ exculpate: 'their mm Ikilts, or those of their frlendi, when Bo^ other excuse 'Could he".iinnd. It lurhs In. thdT' 'ndnds at a bstshiH 'to allevialetiw I of, guilt,, m to. soften their indlniiilon Hthesewhem they love. But it is not ed on other occasions. Br Priestley by this epithet no ^doubt wlihed it tO' para^ for a proimnd discovery of pMlosopliy ; but llii'.liit ** IfiMaf '■* 9mm vmn < iUIAii. mA,jmm io mtiT The -• . '|iiiM% priatid. bet hi peaC-^iT to lis I know no dahn it 'has to be ^called lUtise- phical* In other phice% you use another of Br Priestley's woida— ..fA# Niemmriam. I .eee no .reason Ibr adding this wiO'rd to our lan- |iiago> 'viien f&iaMttM miRht do as well. Sometimes I think you calllhem the Fhtl . 'Mfilcffv indsin.itely.. I don't like this 'Biitiier.. .Ritallsm 'waS' never so .general anion|'phihisopher%.nor to peculiar to them, as to justify it. P. 27 — In my «« Essay on Liberty" I have censured the defenders ^of Necessity for groundug me of 'their chief arnments upon this as a self-evident axiom, Thmi th€ strmtffm §atmnim ahmifi d*iermin''8 theagmt, while no one of' then%. aa iw as I know, has oUsred to expkin what is meant by the tirmffegt niotlfei or given any test by which we may know which of two contrary motives is the strongeet I without which the axiom ia an identical proposition, or has no meaning at aE I have offered two tests of the strength of motives— according as they operate upon the will immediately, or upon the under- 'Standhw~and.cndeavoured to shew that the 'Mahn. Is not true accordbg to cither. • • • • P. It.— The want of sincerity or Aorm jMw, k a krge body of men, respected and respectable, Is a mn tender phuse, and mn- nol be touched with too much delicacy. Though you were sure of being able to de- monstrate it, I am afraid it may be taken as an insult, which even 'demonstration cannot justify. 'Your not 'makkfr the 'Conclusion leneiBl, for want of a sufficiently extensive information, will not latiiiy, because it seema to extend the conclusion as far ss your observation has extended, and because the ressons on which you ground your con- clusion seem to extend it to all fatalists who can draw a conclusion from premises. If David Hume, or any other person, has charged, 'those who profess.to^helwve ;nien to he free' .ag^ts with l:nsfaiceri.ty, I think 'he did wrong, and that I should do wrong in foUowing the 'example^ But, setting apart the consideration of Ummmmt I ^imtbt of the truth of your conclusion. If human 'reason were perfect,. I thhik you would be better founded ; hut we are such hnperfeot creatures, that I fear ■we .are. not 'exenipted.from the possibility of swaUowing' 'CenitfadictioBfl. Could you not prove with, equal .strength that ail bad men are :inlldelS' f Yet I believe this not to be In page 7% you speak of our having a conaciiMisness of independent activity. I think this 'Cannot 'be said wi'th strict pro- priety. ^ It is only the operations of our O'wn.. mind, thai 'we .are conscious of. Ac^ iBBOt'aaoperalionof'mhidi it is a Ui power to act We are conscious of our volitions, but not of the cause of them. I think, indeed, that we have an early and a natural conviction that we have power to will this or that ; that this conviction precedes the exercise of reasoning ; that it is unplyed in all our deliberations, purposes, promises, and voluntary actions: and I have used this as an argument for liberty. But I think this conviction is not properly called consciousness. I truly think that a fatalist who acted agreeably to his belief would sit still, like a passenger in a ship, and suffer himself to be carried on by the tide of fate ; and that, when he deliberates, resolves, promises, or chuses, he acts inconsistently with his be- lief. But such inconsistencies, I fear, are to be found in life ; and, if men be ever con- vinced of them, it must be by soothing words and soft arguments, which ludunt cir- cum prmcordia ; for the force of prejudice, Joyned with that of provocation, will shut the door against all conviction. I humbly thmk, therefore, that it will be prudent and becommg to express less con- fidence in your mathematical reasonings, though I really believe them to bo just upon the hypothesis you combat. Fatalists will think that, when you put the issue of the controversy solely upon the experiments, you treat them like children. No fatalist will contend with you upon that footing, nor take it well to be challenged to do so ; and I think you have a good plea with any man who disputes the strength of your ma- thomatical reasoning, to prove that the relation between motives and actions is altogether of a different kind, and subject to different kws from that between physical causes and their effects. ON VULGAR NOTION OP NECESSARY CONNEC- TION — INAOVERTENCY OF HUME — REIO'S REFUTATION OF inBAS-REIo's USE OF THE WORB CAUSE -INERTIA, PASSIVITY, STATE, OF MINn — ANB SUNDRY OBSERVATIONS ON THE NECESSITARIAN CONTROVERSY — IN A PAPER ENTITLEO Memarki on the Essay, Page 23 I am apt to think even the vulgar have the notion of necessary con- nection, and that they perceive it in arith- metical and mathematical axioms, though they do not speculate about it ; nor do they perceive it between physical causes and their effects. Does not every man of com- mon sense perceive the ridiculousness of • Ai publishcd.^H. that complaint to the gods, which one of the heroes of the " Dunciad** makes — . ■ ■'* « And am I now founcorep Ah I why, ye godt, iboukl two »nd two make four f" But is it not remarkable that Mr Hume, after taking so much pains to prove that we have no idea of necessary connection, should impute to the bulk of mankind the opinion of a necessary connection between physical causes and their effects ? Can they have this opinion without an idea of necessary connection ? 33.— The passage here quoted from Mr Hume is, indeed, so extraordinary, that I suspect an error in printing, and tliat the word without has been put in against his intention, though I find it in my copy of his essays, as well as in your quotation. For how could a man who denies that we have any idea of necessary connection, defy any one to define a cause without comprehending necessary connection ? He might, consist- ently with himself, have defied any one to define a cause, comprehending in the defi- nition necessary connection; and at the same time to shew distinctly the origin of the idea expressed by the definition. How could he pledge himself to give up the con- troversy on the condition of getting such a definition, when, as you observe, he had given two such definitions himself? H there be no error of the press, we must say, AUquando bonus dormitat Humius,* 34 and 35. — You observe justly and perti- nently, that "the intelligible and consistent use of a word shews that the speaker had some thought, notion, or idea, correspond- ing to it." Idea is here put for the mean- ing of a word, which can neither be true nor false, because it implies neither affirmation nor negation. But in the same paragraph it is supposed that this idea may be im- proper, groundless, and to be given up. This can onely be applied to idea, taken in another sense— to wit, when it unplies some affirmation or negation. I know this ambiguity may be found in Locke and Hume ; but I think it ought to be avoided. 36.— « Or the philosophical doctrine of ideas." If, an hundred years after this, thd philosophical doctrine of ideas be as little regarded as the Vortices of Des Cartes are at this day, they may then be coupled m the manner you here do. But at present, though I am proud of your opinion, that that doctrine must be given up, I think it is expressed in a way too assuming with regard to the publick. 40.— I know of no philosopher who makes the word cause extend solely to the giving 44. Dr Reid agrees with the author of the Essay, that the word cause ought to be • See note at page 79.— H. o2 84 COftR£SPOMIIBNC£ OF BR .IBID. LETTERS TO DR JAMES GREGORY, 85 I is tlia' moil cfnnmoii wmum,* But one sense maf Iw tlie miwl cunnMm in mm mmwe, mA mm^km m ottiers. He tliiiiltt''liiit, in tlieoliigj'Wii'iii/iiietaphyri^ the wMit ounuDiMi leiiae is tlmt of ag^nt or effioMtt cause $ and for this lie thinks lie has Ihb .amtlMiiilf of Des Cartes, Lodio, Dr Glaii%'BiiiO|i 'Butler, and many others. In phfrifliB^ 'and in all its hranohes, medi^ iwi% ehymistry, agriculture, the mechanic cat arts, ftc^, he thinlts the most 'ComnM. meaning iiimmm w Hume's notion of it-. to wit) .something whidi goes hefore tho ^effect, and is 'eoiijoyiiMl:«liil iii;tlie«NnsO'Of nature. As this notion Is vague and popular, philosophers, when they would speak/mim mciaelr ti' m mmm in phjsieks, 'iman: "If n sone lair '«f 'natnra,, of which m phano-' menon calM the eiSwl is a neoessar}* consequenoeb Therefore, in writin of the fomer kind, he would think 'hliBSolf waffinled "In^ 'iw 'the^ word ause, without .additiott 'in Urn flit of Hmm senses t aiid|. 'if he had oeeasloii to use' it in the ksl senie, he wnald. eall it |i%tk«l cause. In writings 'Of A*, bat Mnd, ho' thinhS' it 'may, with pro- piietji he used 'Without additlin in the'last' 'iiSHe' I and if, :in. andi writings^ it he 'Used .In. the. irst .sense, he would, haire^ It called the 4pd«il eaasa But the additions of #Wiiil and fftfiliw^ he dues [not] 'Ooneeive' aS'dtanoinf'twO' jfuvktof tlie same jmiiif, • Tbto li In tvAffifice to wfuit Dr Orcfoiir taj* of tli0 iiNMttiiig attached by Heid ttlnMcIf to tlw word CMWOi Tlw paMBgc U as foitowa :-*•* Aa little ooiild lie (iHiiiiitl iMiv* In view the mcenlng espciMtii In I off ttm wmd eevme) 'lietli empltqrtd it lit 'iltMNlioii ; (' Ekaafi on the AeUve FkMNN^* prnttm }) aa w.licfe .lie tajra, aller admittliif tw li. tlM ciiiM of liiMii. llito nwanliip of -40 wit, « Mns tiatlng power (and OfMiiiiiri or.'dliemlioiiarf 'poweif to praifiiee or not to fffdip t' a ei|ifrtl..''SaViaWH^avia SanMBIiW [all Hit oter' nwaninp. of "it, .and partlcuiatlf 'tHal. of 'Hit 7 Or m la" - i^ - ' -. In n^ii^ ||. aaentf Or (S^ la it In tlHl dtined. and uacd by aetacal^ 'ptiikMoplMnaii toidonoleesciuaifoly tiMi^ent* In Gontra^MlneUMi' •• flM' f^riitil .imm f ' CNr .(#<') la It viad toexpriaiteirwtM' noHoa Mraalid by ilfiiiiilio*a va. il imt ooo^piwiendlns .am. tliaae' .already memMnMo, awi wumw mofe r rw exanpic^wnai ino' 'partaaiwlo tiMi.'eiMiMk what a right angle in a tn. ani^ It lo the nraiMMriion 'hetweeii the •ldeiofll,whMtlMraiM wreekf, wliit. tlwi md ii to hia ^MNit. 'wiallte' ranmfai .of an onpoiing eaiiae la m any tf tat ir efieit Drv. i^c**— H. oiMMnaon Mtween the aonani 'Sriae l^lihdb AlfcaaaaHBhaaHi Jiuff' ea 'HmI^'^'' Im Ajn. hHi ||mUL|||||, iHAiiMsl %tk 'Ada Hk 'BHtian MiMl'' 'SannaehA h flia'lf'll'iuiiaii* nftiSi but aa. diilhip'liUiiglwo afferent meanings of 'the same .amhiguous word. Yon haft .gnod .naaon. 'to dispute the inaihn .aboni eanses,. aa''.hdi 'down, by Mr Hume, in whaloror :sense 'hO' tahea. the word. Mine. It is a maxim in natural theology, universally .admitted,, that evetythbg that. Ai^rlitf to exiit must have a cau4, mSmmg an efident cause ; and from this maiom we easily deduce the ejdstance of a Being who neither had a cause nor a beginning of ex- istanee^: 'but •slats necessarily. Physicks, In aU iia biWMhes, la convers^t about the phenomena, of natnre,. and their physical caoaes; and I think it may be admitted as '• .i WM i i'lm . that' .evory phenomenon of natu.re 'baa. a phyaleal cause. But the .actions of man, or of other rational beings, are not phenomena of nature, nor do they come within the sphere 'Of physicks. As littte is a 'heginnhig of' existance a phenomenon of nature. • •••••• Page '1M> — ^* MMmreaig §9clud'm§ from th9 wmmin§ i|f ll«' ji^roa«,'*4-«., tO' the end of thtpaiagrapk* My remark, upon th:ia para* .graph I 'think more important 'than any other I have made on the Essay; and, there- fore, I beg your attention to it. Imr^ of m:uid. seems to be a very pro- per 'name for a aualty which, upon every sjmteni of Moeessity, must belong to the mind It Is likewise very proper to explain the meaning of 'that, term when applied to the mind. But 'When you *' expressly exclude fifom the' meankg of the phiiis% tio 'diunmstance of 'mind iwnalnlng .or 'persevering in any state intO' 'whieh. It 'Onoo' .gets,** I wish yon to. considoff' very .sttionsly whether 'thii' eon- eeialmi. heBot.^miiie'.generoas. than Just t mi, if it be not just, whether by making it, you nfarrad to la aa ftillowa :— *« I have ooeaalon 'Olleii 'lo oomaUer ihesuprKMed want of any such atlrlhuta of mind £«la.. Power] as this it 'thediictrineiit neceaaity. ity, and tlie oppoaition Co Activity and Fortx Cjf jjk mg^/k 'ifkiyaii ''Ik'lltaija akAHiidb' ti^tt 'Itaa^aar ■ # a * ■hBiHMb aauap ' aiiwNBi 'RiaMaaisp' ima aiaB^cwiii iamhnie 'llM'ClRlllMlance of mmd remaining or pifiavafini In aaf ilalt into which it onre get*, aa i«% doea In a itHib etlhcr ot reat or of unifhrm proiifltfaive tcctUiiMMr flMllon, Into which it it once put Soeil paiaianaiicy of atate doea not appear to lie anr patt of iheeonMltoikio of the liiiman mind, with icapeot to any of ha operatlona. Senaation of eveiy fclnd^nnnan, ISMilnation, juriKinent, emotion, o* paaidon, vnUtMMI, aiil involuntary eObrt— all appear I|. -, HjKju^ j|||^|^|^^M^n^^^^|di|| jnanaMaiMHHdMutfuiiiua jpu^ Aaaw4IS'ui!a.M''aiMa lanHar 'WHuaiH'aikMi m> m %jr nHmai'' wiia'Sipsii^saiaawMBW' imwiip™ a^awi'nHiWPw'PWia ^fw ^w* • • simp^^mii^^V' ^^9 fponuiniiiMi' "■{ whWh« if 'their em natu:re, indepcndantly of any eama apphed. paaa. away'or oooie to a.n end. And lUa I •BOCrlve to he one of the moat general circum. alMHii of dIftinctioD hi |. m i> mere tta eor condition, wiiisii la ptedicableot ■dnd.aa well aa budy, (a», for' ..aaaaipH^ mad.MMaf Idioliliiai vtvattiVi diilncMi paeii* 'liar geniiM, wlailoa, k.:nowMli% virtue. viceJ and Ihoae thinga whieh ace lemMd .acta, or (inmillena 'Of mind, or though .."*— .M. do not much weaken the force of a great part of your subsequent reasoning. The justice of the concession is not evi- dent to me. To be merely passive, and to remain in the state into which it is put, seem to Mgnify the same thing ; as, on the other hand, to bo aclive, and to have power to change its own state^ have the same meaning. If the mind be passive onely, all its changes «re phenomena of nature, and therefore be- long to the science of physicks, and require a physical cause, no less than does the dbange of direction or of Velocity in a moving body. Of all things that belong to the mind, its acts and operations are the onely things which have any analogy to motion in a body. The same analogy there is between the ceasing of any act or operation and the ceasing of motion. If, therefore, from mere inactivity, the body, once put in the state of motion, continues or perseveres in that state, why should not a mind, which is equally inactive, being once |«ut in the state of action or operation, continue in that state ? You say, " Such permanency of state does not appear to be the constitution of the mind in any of its operations. " I grant this. But the question is not, ** What really is its constitution ?" but " What would be its constitution if it were as inert and in- active SJB body is ?" To admit this want of permanency is to admit that the mind is active in some degree, which is contrary to tlie supposition. The reason why madness, idiotism, &c., are called states of mind, while its acts and operationsarenot," is because mankind have always conceived the mind to be passive in the rormer and active in the later. But on the system of Necessity, this distinction has no place. Both are equally states, onely the first are not so frequently changed as the last. If the concession be just and consistent with necessity, it must be granted, what- ever he its consequences ; but I apprehend the consequences willdeeply affect your essay. For, first, it contradicts what you have said, page 336, and, perhaps, in several other places, that, " according to Mr Hume*s doctrine, a living person, m relation to motives and actions, is precisely in the situation of an inanimate body in relation to D lection and gravity." If an inanimate y had not the quality of persevering m its state of motion, the effect of projection and gravity upon it would be very different from what it is with that quality. Secondly, by this concession, your reason- ing from the kws of motion and their cor- olkriee, la much weakened \ for those kws • The term State haa, more eipeclally of late ye«Wi and principally by Neceaitarian pnilotophen, be«i ipplicdto all modifications of mind indifferenUy.—H. and corollaries are founded on the supposi- tion that bodies persevere in the state of motion as well as of rest ; and, therefore, are not properly applied to a being which has not that quality. Indeed, perseverance in its state is so essential to inertia, that it will be thought unjustifiable to apply that name to what you acknowledge does not persevere in its state. And you will, perhaps, he charged with giving an invi- dious epithet to the mind, which, by your own acknowledgment, is not due, and then reasoning from that epithet as if it were due. 226.— In the style of physicks, to carry a letter in the direction A B, and to carry a letter from A tq the point B, are different things. Any line parallel to A B, is said to be in the direction A B, though it can- not lead to the point B. The case, therefore, here put, is, that the porter is offered a guinea a-mile to carry a letter from A to the point B, and half-a- guinea a-mile to carry a letter, at the same time, from A to the point C. And both motives must necessarely operate according to their strength. I truely think it impos- sible to say how the porter would act upon these suppositions. He would be in an in- extricable puzzle between contrary actions and contrary wills. One should think that the two motives mentioned, would conjoyn their force in the diagonal. But, by going in the diagonal, he loses both the guineas and the half- guineas ; this is implied in the offer, and is a motive not to go in the diagonal, as strong as the two motives for going in it. By the force of the two motives, he must loill to go in the diagonal ; by the force of the third, he must will not to go in the diagonal. You pretend to demonstrate that he must go in the diagonal willingly. I think it may be demonstrated, with equal force, that he must will not to go in the diagonal. I perceive no error in either demonstration ; and, if both demonstrations be good, what must be the conclusion ? The conclusion must be, that the supposition on which both demonstrations are grounded must be false — I mean the supposition that motives are the physical causes of actions; for it is possible, and often happens, that, from a false sup- position, two contradictory conclusions may be drawn ; but, from a true supposition, it it impossible. I think it were better to omit the case stated toward the end of this page,' because I think it hardly possible to conceive two motives, which, being conjoyned, shall have an analogy to a projectile and centripetal force conjoyned ; and your concession, that a ThU has been done.— H. I i COEEESfONDENCE OF DE EEID, LETTEES TO DE JAMES GEEGOEY. 87 1 I tlw 'tiBKi of ft iiwtif«' is not pemmii^eiit, mMB to the diUmlty. A pfojeotik §otm .MMMiMi' ft' cftuie to Msiiii it| ImiI ^it' nqiiim Ml 't find leisure to complete •»»» "/"f.*®'" J° Mesm Crombie, Pr estley, and Co. ;" of which 512 pages have been printed, but are still unpublished. t This is Aristotle's definition (t« i»i*« •«) oi «»» or Jlnal eaufi and, as a synonyme for end or Dnai ra-ue, the term motive had been long exclusively ciiiplcyed. There are two schemes of Necessity— the Nece«»lation by tfficient-the ^eces^itation by final causes The former is brute or bhna Fate ; the Utter rational Determinism. 1 hough their practical »oult4 be the came, the* ought to be carefully du- lii.gublied in theory-.— U« After these two authors had exhausted their eloquence upon it, Mr Cionibie adds his, from page 27 to 39. Now, if motives we are unconscious of be the cause of many actions, it will be impossible to prove from experience, that they are all caused by mo- tives. For no experiment can be made upon motives we are unconscious of. If, on the contrary, all our actions are found by experience to proceed from motives known or ftelt, there is no work left for the unknown, nor any evidence of their exist- ance. I apprehend, therefore, Mr Crombie must either keep by the old meaning of motive, or give up this argument for Neces- sity taken from experience. But he lays the main stress, as Dr Priestley Ukewise has done, upon another argument. It is, that a volition not determined by mo- tives, is an uncaused effect, and therefore anabsurdity, a contradiction, and the greatest of all absurdities. I think, indeed, it is in vain to reason upon the subject of Necessity pro or cm, till this point be determined ; for, on the one side, to what purpose is[it] to disprove by argument a proposition that is absurd ? On the other side, demonstration itself cannot prove that to be true which is absurd. If this be really an absurdity, Liberty must be given up. And if the appearance of absurdity be owing to false colouring, I think every argument this author has used, when weighed in the balance of reason, will be found light. . I would, therefore, think it a prudent saving of time and labour, that controvertists on both sides should lay aside every other weapon, till the force of this be fairly tried. Mr Crombie triumphs in it almost in every page ; and I think Dr Priestley urged it as an apology for neglecting your essay, that you pretended to demonstrate an absurdity. It must, indeed, be granted, that even the Deity cannot give a power to man, which involves an absurdity. But if lliis absurdity vanish, when seen in a just light, then it will be time to examine the tact, whether such a power is given to man or not. Is a volition, undetermined by motives, an uncaused effect, and therefore an ab- surdity and a contradiction ? I grant that an uncaused effect is a con- tradiction in terms ; for an effect is some- thing effected, and what is effected implies an efficient, as an action implies an agent. To say an effect must have a cause, is really an identical proposition, which carries no information but of the meanmg of a word. To say that an evcn^— that is, a thing which began to exist-must have a cause, isnot an identical proposition, and might have been as easUy said. I know [no] reason why Mr Crombie should stick by this impro- priety, after it was censured m Dr Priestley, CORRESPONDENCE OF DR REID. i htA iluit .imiiro|ifi«lj M ^» mm nf tanm m an •ipmiianl aitlMr'te oowir mi dMiiiity «li«n'il'fMll7.i% or to maim 'tliM apiMii ■iMiii wiieh is mil •» ;iii iwity. I giwl, 'then, Hiat an cikst imiiaiiwd m m wnitiiiAiliiin, and Hiat^an. event nneamei it an aiMwity. Tlit'fiiealiMitlial.iiHiaina' ia whether a volitiiin, nndelenihieil. hj mo- tive% ia an event 'nneaMed. 1Mb I ileny. The ^eanse nf the velitlm. la Hm wmm that wilM it. 'Thk Mr GfoniMe' .pMita in. aevwal: pheea i^hia Siiaf — that ue maa. ia the eO^nt name' ^ aU his yolitiona. Ia it nel:itfange, th«n».thal, ahnoet in eveiyMfe, he ihonld affi'in Oat a Tfiitiii% 'nnoelar^ mined bv modfe% is an. eHhot meanaiilf' Is an. emeient^ eaoM' ne eauie ? er .are two «naeaneeeiiaiy'to«vi|iij'ef«ilf'* llwtlvea. he thinh%, ^are^ mil 'tha elifliiBt hnt^ the^ iphyal^ cal. 'aanae' 'Of voitimi^. aa gnavitj ' ia^ of 'the deaeent of a ^stone^ 'Then,, fair dealing would have made him qualify the abenrdity, and, aay that it Is ahenrd thai a voUtion ^ahenid he without a phyaieal. 'OmiM ; hut to 'have' ''phaded 'tho' ab8urd.ity thna f naiied,. would have 'bean a naaifeal jMlflio prkteipii, I. 'Oan. aee noihing in a physical muso' but s-mnilaiiteonjuniion with, the oiiMl. .Mr Crantbie calk it a neceemxy eonniolioii. .} " 'but thia no man aeea in nhyrfeal oantea; and, if every event must iiave a physical causey then, avaiy avont mnsl< have been repeated In ooi^'unotion 'with ita came^ Imn. etem.ity, for it 'Oonld 'have no 'Constant flo»> junction when iiat produced. 'The moat .ahodiing eon8e<|ience8 'Of the .ayatem. of neoessity are avowed, by 'this an^ thoT' 'Without: ihame.. Moral evil is nothhs' hut ^as it tenda 'to prodhice natural evil. A man 'truely eniipitancd, ou|riit to :iiavo 'no for the Uaekest onmes. I think ha miibl have added that the villain haa raaaon to' ,gloiy 'in hia 'Orimes, as^ I ■ ho suffers for them without liii> iMilt,, and for the com- mon good. Among Iba'aita of 'this author, th« folloiihMf are often, put. :hi 'pnwtioe :— .1. To nippy the defMt< of aigmwit 'by of the qrstem of Lihertv he 'impnteS' to hia 'i^wiw^ ^PS' '^mbpB' wiiMP'' WHP 'WpBWPaai ipawwaiBaNMaBiBi aaup^iiPaaHBiiBB wim^s_j deny it % 'What 'is nt^ aa' a eonse- '4|Uiiioe'Of Necessity, hO'ConsiderBaa'impitiiig am ophiion to those who hold .Neoessity, ^aiid. 'thiala it ^anawar that 'th^' hold. :wi snoh. 'Ophiion. 4 What' :ia said to' kvalidate an aignment for NeeessHy, lie oonaidari aa an diiipalsei: to ■emisiL aiiiir'lo a 'effialii' kind of voli. not avoided |. j^tM latlevk^Oadiniuefi atwuntity IP' ■■"'■■■ ULM of' OMtlV awl of N«c«Mit| arc ltt'llM''|S5Nl|r'ef 'iMl.ilMr can bt i '■*' laeli cfuaily 'iBvobw «lwi' 'la lafoi» 'ir'iMilwhatiaalMtt.nL .Buliifllia':|pl'ii. It against Neoessily ; and 'thinks it It to shew thai It doea not answer a |mrpose for which it never was intonded, as if what' :is a sulBciant answer to an argument for Neceisity must be a conclusive argu.ment Neoeeaity. I beleve, however, he ivehum the merit of adding the word LimriariaM to the Eniclish hmguage, as Priestley added that of Necessarian. — Tho. Rbw.* A,^k 1.. [Th§ fMmim§ Letkt fa Dr Gregorf i§ fmo^ % Mr Mmmrt im Am <* Dimerutm mm o» fla Anfrtfsff o/MtMpkgmal and Mmti' SfifiMV..'* Th§ dmh i§ mai gimn i muf fif orti^iaal i» nM mm eJiUmut amm§ tk§ t§il9r§ of Mdd in ike hmtk of Dr The 'mofil of what yon are pleased to oaU inf jptMlsffipftf, lies, I think, chiefly, in hav- ing caied in question the common theory of ideas, or images of things in the mind, htkm the only objects of thought ; a theory fooiMed. on. natnrsl' prejiidices, and so uni- 'vanaiy received as to be interwoven with the structure of thateguage. Yet, were I to' give yon. '• 'datai of what led me to call k question thii^iiieoffy, after I had .long held II aa aeif-ovidont .and unquestionable^ you Would thmk, as 1 do, that there was much of chance in tho mattor. The discovery waa the bhrth of thne.^ not of genius $ and Berkoley and Enmo did more to bring it to l%hl Ihaii tho man that hit upon it. I think, thiia' ia hardly anything that can he called imlma In the phikioophy of the mind, which 'doea :nol follov' with case' from the detootlon of' this pnjudieeb. I m.ust, there- fore, beg of you most earnestly to make no contrast in my favour to the disparagement of' By predecessors in. the sa:nio 'pufsa.itai I 'Can. truly say of thoa% and .shall al'ways avow, what you. are''"'plaaaed to :say of mo, thati but 'for the assistance I have received from th.eir wfllinf% I never could have wroto or thought w.liat I have done. ^ ^ . tht imccdiiiir fiapen on tM qumtion of UttMfft'y and MtcoMiCy, ihero aiv cxlanti Mfwiawk§ at eonaMacabte ItORth by Reid. on thrae itci of O^fev, Horn madC'lif a dlallm«liii«d natural ptiilowphcr in Dr Gre|aff 1i laiayt w tbt yean 17W, 11W, and ITIKl TiMW KcnimMb tlMiaili of much inteicit, Itave btflii emUtad: 9m Ibfr ^""^ not adequately be undcfUotd'OpBlftlmMltlieniative Objecuuni} and thaae It wat dfsaHi. tea p ojiet' lo pulrfiiti jwitl iu. sia'P^"'iiasP'ay ji ^la %^i^a aawvaa' 'aaaa'a"SHWpa aw't^wia ^wwho^^ ^p*^^"j|r •* 'wwaap^paw waip allow them to bo 'printed during 'hia lifli.— There ate alM omtttcd, aa of ailnor inq»ort«noe» two other panen on the aame question | the one containing, ** Remariu on the Object iom to Dr Gifgoryli fcnay/ which weie printed m the appendix to that Esiay t Ihoolh'r,*' RaBarka"(Ni apaniphle* eiitiiiml " lllun. tnlion.1 of lihti'tyand KeceMltv, In An»«erto 11* LETTERS TO THE REV. A. ALISON & PROFESSOR ROBISON. 89 D.— LETTER TO THE REA^ ARCHIBALD ALISON. The following letter was addressed, by Dr Reid, to the Rev. Archibald Alison, (LL.B., Prebendary of Sarum, &c.,) on receiving a copy of his « Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste*'— a work of great ingenuity and elegance, and the first systematic attempt to explain the emotions of sublimity and beauty on the principles of association. It was originally published in 1790. It is, perhaps, needless to remind the reader that Mr Alison was brother-in-law of Dr Gregory — H. son and Mr Spence, though both admirers of Plato, do not appear to me either to have perceived this doctrine in him, or to have discovered it themselves. The first places beauty in uniformity and variety, which, when they are perceived, immediately afiect that internal sense which he calls the sense of beauty. The other makes colour, form, expression, and grace to be the four ingre- dients of beauty in the female part of our species, without being aware that the beauty of colour, form, and grace is nothing but expression, as well as what he calls by that name. On these grounds, I am proud to thmk that I first, in clear and explicit terms, and in the cool blood of a philosopher, main- tained that all the beauty and sublimity of objects of sense is derived from the expres- sion they exhibit of things intellectual, which alone have original beauty. But in this I may deceive myself, and cannot claim to be held an impartial judge. Though I don't expect to live to see the second part of your work, I have no hesi- tation in advising you to prosecute it ; being persuaded that criticism is reducible to prin- ciples of pliilosophy, which may be more fully unfolded than they have been, and which will always be found friendly to the best interests of mankind, as well as to manly and rational entertainment. Mrs Reid desires to present her best re- spects to Mrs Alison, to which I beg you to add mine, and to believe me to be your much obliged and faithful servant, Tuo. Reid. Glasgow College^ 3d Feb, 1790. ON THB PHILOSOPHY OP TASTB. Dear Str,— I received your very oblig- ing letter of Jan. 10, with two copies of your book, about the middle of last week. I ex- pected a meeting of Faculty, to which I might present the book, and return you the thanks of the society along with my own ; but we have had no meeting since I received it. In the meantime, I have read it with avidity and with much pleasure ; and cannot longer forbear to return you my cordial thanks for this mark of your regard, and for the hand- iiome compliment you make me hi the book. I think your principles are just, and that you have sufficiently justified them by a great variety of illustrations, of which many appear new to me, and important in them- selves, as well as pertinent to tho purpose for which they are adduced. That your doctrine concerning the siib- lime and beautiful in objects of sense coin- cides, in a great degree, with that of the Platonic school, and with Shaftesbury and Akenside among the modems, I think may justly be said. They believed intellec- tual beauties to be the highest order, com- pared with which the terrestrial hardly de- serve the name. They taught beauty and good to be one and the same thing. But both Plato and those two, his admirers, handle the subject cf beauty rather with the enthusiasm of poets or lovers, than with the cool temper of philosophers. And it is difficult to determine what allowance is to be made, m what they have said, for the hyperbolical language of enthusiasm. The orfier two you mention, Dr Hutche- E— LETTER TO PROFESSOR ROBISON. There haa been given above, (^ 68,) a letter by Dr Reid, in 1784, recording a remarkable conversation between Sir Isaac Newton and Professor James Gregory, relative to Sir Isaac^a descent from the family of Newton of Newton, m the county of Eaat Lothian. Some years thereafter, Mr Barron, a relation of Sir Isaac, seems to have instituted inquiries in regard to the Scottish genealogy of the philosopher ; m con- eOElESPONBENCE OF BR REID. 'Hiaii 8im|~I am Tm |{|ii. tol«ym, by jonn ouglasof Fechel, the father of Sylvester .Bouglas, now' a bar^' rister at London, told me, thatt 'having been 'lately at 'Edinbiirgh, he was often in 'Coui- |»ny of Mr Hepburn of Keith, a gentleman with whom I had some aequatntanoe, by his lodging a night at 'my house' at New Maebar, wlien no was 'in 'the nbel army 'in 17li. That Mr Hepburn told him, that be had 'heard Mr James Gregory, .Professor of .Mathematics, 'Edinburgh, say, that, being 0110: day in 'teniliar 'eonvenation. 'with. Hr Isaac Newton, at fjondnn, Sir Isaae said.—' *^ Gregory, I believe you don't know that I ama Seotehman,*'— " Pray, how Is that ?" ■aid. 'Gr^ry. Sir Isaac said, be was in- formed 'that h'is grandlkther (or ,gfeat-gfand- father) was a ge'Utleman of 'East (or West) fjothian; that he went to London with .K'ing James I. at his. .aeeassiun to' tbo' erown uf Enghmd ; and that 'beatlended. the court,, in expeetation., as many others did, until lie spent his fortune, by which meana his family was 'reduced to' low circumstamis.. At the' 'time this was told me, Mr Gregonr 'WBS' dead, otherwise' I should have had 'his own. testimony ; for he was my mother's brother. I likewise tliought at that time, 'that' it had been 'Certainly kno'wu that. Sir laaac:- bad been 'descended 'from, an old 'English 'tenily, :as I think 'Is said, 'in his ehffe before 'the .Academy of Sciences at Paris; and therefore I never nenttmed 'What I had .heard for 'many yean, believing that 'there 'must 'he some m:btake iu it Some years .after I eame to Glasgow, I mentioned, (I believe for the first thne,) what I 'had heard to havo' been. :said. 'bv Mr Hapbum, to Mr Crass, late iherilT of thiS' 'Connty, 'wbmn. yon wil renenber. Mr Cross 'waa 'moved, by this 'aceonnt. and im- nediatd/ said—'' I know Mr Hepbu.m. very wdl,..and I. know b*' waa 'faitimato: with. .Mr 'Gregory. I. shall wrtte^hnn this same' night, to 'know 'Whether' 'ha beard Mr 'GiMoiy say so or not..** Alter .some refltef Ion, m .added COllRESPONDENCE OF pR REID. n Bi all the information he could give. I wrote him, accordingly, and had a very polite answer, dated at Bath, 25th Decem- ber 1787, which is now before me. He Miys, " I shall be glad, when I return to London, if I can find, in some old notes of my mother, any thing that may fix the cer- tainty of Sir Isaac's descent. If he spoke go to Mr James Gregory, it is most cer- tain he spoke truth. But Sir Isaac's grandfather, not his great-grandfather, inust he the person who came from Scot- land with King James I. If I find any thing to the purpose, I will take care it shall reach you." This is all I know of the matter ; and for the facts above mentioned, I pledge my veracity. I am much obliged to you. dear Sii .for the kind expressions of your aflfection and esteem, which, I assure you, are mutual on my part ; and I sincerely sympathise with you on your afflicting state of health, which makes you consider yourself as out of the world, and despair of seeing me any more. I have been long out of the world by deafness and extreme old age. I hope, however, if we should not meet again in this world, that we shall meet and renew our acquaintance in another. In the meantime, I am, with great esteem, dear Sir, yours affectionately, Tho. Ram 12lh April 1792. F.— LETTER TO DAVID HUME. The followintli attempts to find for phllo^ Bophy deeper foundations than those whl«h he had po thoroughly subverted.— H- t * I 1 cl i CORBESPONDENCE OF DR REID. Wlicn you tmwe seen the whole of my perfoniMiice, I shall take it as a very rtat liviiiir to have your opinion upon , from which I make no doubt of re- ceifiiif light, whether I receive correc- tion or no. Your friendly adversaries Bm Campbell and Gerard, as well as Dr Qfftgory, return their compliments to you rMfeotfuIly. A little philosophical so- ciety here^ of which all the three are members, is much indebted to you for its •ntertainmenl Your company would. although we are all good Christians, ba more acceptable than that of St Athana- sius ; and since we cannot have you upon the bench, you are brought oftener than any other man to the bar, accused and defended with great zeal, but without bitterness. If you write no more in morals, politics, or metaphysics, I am afraid we shall be at a loss for subjects. I am, respectfully, Sir, your most obliged^ humble servant, Thomas Rcid. The following should haTO b««n inserted in the correspondence with Karnes. Karnes's objection to Dr Aiam Smith's theory of Sympathy as the sole foundation of our moral judgments, which appeared in the third edition of the " Essays on Morality," were, previously to publication, communicated to Dr Reid, who thus expresses his opinion on the subjact : — " I have always thought Dr S 's system of sympathy wrong. It is indeed only a reinement of the selfish system ; and I think your arguments against it are solid. But you have smitten with a friendly hand, which does not break the head ; and your compinent to the author I highly approve oV—From Letter of 30th October 1778. lu this Judgment uf Smith, Reid and Kant are at one. The latter condemns the Ethic of Sympathy as a Eudasmonism, or rather Hedonism H. In Mutton's Mathematical Dictionarv, 1796, in the article, David Gregorv» there are given, ** Some farther particulars of the families of Gregory and Ander- son, communicated by Dr Thomas Reid," &c., probably written in the year of publication, or the preceding. As these notifies contain nothing of any moment which does not appear in the foregoing correspojuence, it has been deemed unnecessary to reprint ttiem.«~il. AN INQUIRY IN'TO THE HUMAN MIND, ON THE PRIN'CIPLES OF COMMON SENSE. By T H O M A S REID, D D , raOFESSOR of moral PUILOSOPHV in the university of GLASGOW, " The inspiration of the Almighty giveththem understanding. "-Job. f 1^ Tills iftfuirp was firat publislied in 17C4, when Dr Reid was Professor of Philo- ■oph J, in King*8 College, Aberdeen. Three subsequent editions were printed during the anthor*s lifetime— in 1765, 1769, and 1785. The text of the present impression is talnii fnim the last anthentk edition—the fourth, or that of 1785, which professes to be " eorrected ;** collated, however, with the first, and any variations of importance Mticed— H. DEDICATION. 'flO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE JAMES, EARL OF FINDLATER AND SEAFIELD; CHANCELLOR OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OLD ABERDEEN. My Lord,— Though I apprehend that there are things new and of some import- ance, in the following Inquiry, it is not without timidity that I have consented to the publication of it. The subject has been canvassed by men of very great penetration and genius : for who does not acknowledge Des Cartes, Malebranche, Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, to be such ? A view of the human understanding, so different from that which they have exhibited, will, no doubt, be condemned by many, without examin- ation, as proceeding from temerity and vanity. But I hope the candid and discerning Few, who are capable of attending to the opera- tions of their own minds, will weigh delibe- rately what is here advanced, before they pass sentence upon it. To such I appeal, as the only competent judges. If they dis- approve, I am probably in the wrong, and shall be ready to change my opinion upon conviction. If they approve, the Many will at lastyield to their authority, as they always do. However contrary my notions are to those of the writers I have mentioned, their spe- culations have been of great use to me, and seem even to point out the road which I have taken : and your Lordship knows, that the merit of useful discoveries is sometimes not more justly due to those that have hit upon them, than to others that have ripened them, and brought them to the birth. I acknowledge, my Lord, that I never thought of calling in question the principles commonly received with regard to the hu- man understanding, until the " Treatise of Human Nature" was published in the year 1 739. The ingenious author of that treatise upon the principles of Locke— who was no • In the first edition. "Jame« Loid UeskfoortT— his tather being ktili alive.—H. sceptic— hath built a system of scepticism, which leaves no ground to believe any one thing rather than its contrary. His reason- ing appeared to me to be just ; there was, therefore, a necessity to call in question the principles upon which it was founded, or to admit the conclusion * But can any ingenuous mind admit this sceptical system without reluctance ? I truly could not, my Lord ; for I am per- suaded, that absolute scepticism is not more destructive of the faith of a Christian than of the science of a philosopher, and of the prudence of a man of common understand- ing. I am persuaded, that the unjust live by faithf as well as the jusl ; that, if all belief could be laid aside, piety, patriotism, friendship, parental affection, and private virtue, would appear as ridiculous as knight- errantry; and that the pursuits of pleasure, of ambition, and of avarice, must be grounded upon belief, as well as those that are honourable or virtuous. The day-labourer toils at his work, in the belief that he shall receive his wages at night ; and, if he had not this belief, he would not toil. We may venture to say, that even the author of this sceptical system wrote it in the belief that it • " This doctrine of Ideas," (says Dr'Reid, in a sub. sequent work,) " I once believed so firmly, as to em- brace the whole of Berkeley's system in consequence of it: till, finding other consequeitces to follow from it, which gave me more uneasiness than the want of a material world, it came into my mind, more than forty years ago, to put the question. What evidence have I for this doctrine, that all the oi jects of my knowledge are ideas in my own m\nd?'*—EsiaifS on the IntfUectual Powers, Eu. II. ch. x. p. IHi. In like manner, Kant informs us, that it was by Hume's sceptical inferences, in regard to the caudal nexus, that he also « was first roused from his dog- matic slumber." See the " Prolegomena," p. 13.— u + See Note A at the end of the volume, in illustra. tion of the principle, that the root of Knowledge w Belief.— H. m OF THE HUMAN MIND. skwia be' reed ■mA npfini, I lwiM''lw wwte ifc in tlw^ lielief ' abo ihni it wwiid Iw 'Uadful tO' msiilmid!; and, p«rliapi| it 'mftj prov® eo «t last. For I conceive tlie icep- ticai wiiten to lie » wt of men wImM' Imsi- :iiera' it h U pick liolet in 'tin Mirie of ]yiewle%e wliefeirer' it is wmk mi luiltj ; and, when these places are propetly :iepBifMl, the whole buiMing becomes .more 'itm. .and mM than II waa formerly. f For my mm wtis&etion, I wiered into a serious eianinatien 'Of the 'prlndplefl upon wUeh this seeptieal system is bitilt ; and wm not a little surprised tO' find, thftt it hmm with its whole weight mmi a hypo- thenfa,. which is aaeient Meed, and hath been very generally received by pliiloso- pliers, but of which I could find no solid pr«iof. The hypothesis I m:ean, Is, That notlimf is 'peraeived. but what is in the ■mkd which 'pereelves it : That we do not really perceive things that are external, but only 'Certain ;iniagea and. pietnna. of them imprinted upon the 'mind^ which are called impmmimt ami itka$. .If this he true, supposing 'Certain Im- 'preisliini and ideas to exist In ray mind,* I canaelj from their' existence, infer the exist* enco' 'Of' an vtMn| ^elae j My impressions: and ideas are the only existenees of which I can have any knowledge or conception; and they are soeh ieeting and tmnsitorj beings, Ihai they can have no existen.Ge at .aU, any lunger than I am 'ConiciiMa of 'think So that, upon thk hypothesii, the whole uni- verse about me, bodies and spirits, snn, moon, stars, and earth, friends and rek tion% ai Ihinfls withont exception, which 1 imagined tO'lmve a pemaiieiil •xistenee, whether .1 thought of then or mat, 'vanish i^at onco' I *; AtMi, liietlW' iMMctas Mwit cT a vltliMi, hmm net a ifMjk iitli.liiii.** I thought it unreasonable, my Lord, upon the' anthori'ty ^of phioeopher% to admit a hypoiliesb which, in my opinion, overturns all pUlosopby, all religion and virtue, and mil eommon sen8et~and,findhigthat all the Mtems concemmg the human 'undtetand- .ing which I waS' Acquauted/wiih, were built upon, this hypofhcais, .1 wmOnA 'tO' 'inf niiH' Into this mnjeet anew, witliont legwid. to any hynoth'esi& what I now humbly present to your Iiordship^ is the fruit of^tliH mo'uiry, m far mOfmk Niprdto: 'the ivo^ smsia t lu which I ehim no^ other merit than 'that of having wrufp in lit mmmiam 'iMMiliig of' At « tmk wMt f Sm ll«STl*al llic'tfMl of'tlit 'V(iii:int, 'In iMmee •ml tlluitraiMMi ortteterni €mmm »m«..H. great mtlention to 'the operations^ of m v own. :nilnd, and of .having expressed, with all the perspienltv' I was able, what I conceive every man, who gives the same attention, will feel and perceive. The productions of imagination refutre a genius which soars above the common rank; hut the treasures of knowledge are comnmily buried deep, and may be reached by those drudges who can dig with labour and patience, though they have not winn to fiy. The experi- 'ments 'that 'were to be made in this investi- gation suited me, as they required no otiier expense but that of time and attention, which I could bestow. The leisure of an scideniical lilb, diflenpged from the pur- suits of Intonst and amMtion ; the duty of my profession, whit^h obliged me to give prelections on these subjects to the youth $ and^an, early faieination to speenlations of IhiS' kind, 'have enaUed 'me, as^ .1 ;iatter my. self, to give a men' nin'Ute attention to the subject of this kfnlij, than has been given heffwe. My thougbts npon this subject were, a good many years ago, put together in an- other form, for the use of my pupils, and afterwards were submitted to the judgment 'Of a fffivnto' phlkMophioal: ^sooivty,* of which I have the honour to be a member. A great prt of this Inquiry was honoured even by your Lordship's perusal. And the encouragement which you, my Lord, and others, whose friendship is my boast, and 'Whose judgment I reverence, were pleased to give me, counterbatenee my tuni- dity and diffidence, and dotermmed me to offer it to the 'pnblk. If it appears to your Lordship to justify the commen sense and reason of mankind, agarast the sceptical subtilties which, in Ihis age, have endeavoured to put them out of coniitenaBce^if it appears to throw any new light upon one of the noblest parts of the divine workmiiiiiip— your Lordship*8 respect for the arts and sciences, and your attention to eveiytUng which ten^ds 'to the inpnivonient ef 'them, as well. as. to ever}*- th.ing else that contributes to thO' Mieity of your country, kave me no room to doubt of your favourable aieepinnce of this essay, as the' fruit of my industiy 'in a profe8eion philosoimical language, it were to be wished that the word subject should be reserved for the »«6. §ect of inhfsi'U^the materia m qua i and the term fbject exclusively applied to the su^et^ qf operatiom —the materia circa quam If thb be not done, the ftrand distinction of tubjective and oi^ecttve, in phi- lofophv, IK contounded. But if the employment of Su' ject for Object is to be deprecated, the employ, meut of Object tor purpose or tinal cause, (in the French and English lanfiuagw.) ta to be absolutely condemned, as a recent and irrational conlusion of Dotiuni which should be careful lydutiiigui«hed.—H. their several arts ever stand on a solid found- ation, or rise to the dignity of science, until they are built on the principles of the human constitution. Wise men now agree, or ought to agree, in this, that there is but one way to the knowledge of nature's works — the way of observation and experiment. By our con- stitution, we have a strong propensity to trace particular facts and observations to general rules, and to apply such general rules to account for other effects, or to direct us in the production of them. This proce- dure of the understanding is familiar to every human creature in the common affairs of life, and it is the only one by which any real discovery in philosophy can be made. The man who first discovered that cold freezes water, and that heat turns it into vapour, proceeded on the same general prin. ciples, and in the same method by which Newton discovered the law of gravitation and the properties of light. His regufte vhilosophandi are maxims of common sense, and are practised every day in common life; and he who philosophizes by other rules, either concerning the material sys- tem or concerning the mind, mistakes his aim. Conjectures and theories* are the crea- tures of men, and will always be found very unlike the creatures of God. If we would know the works of God, we must consult themselves with attention and humility, without daring to add anythmg of ours to what they declare. A just interpretation of nature is the only sound and orthodox philosophy : whatever we add of our own,/ is apocryphal, and of no authority. All our curious theories of the fonnation of the earth, of the generation of animals, of the origin of natural and moral evil, so far as they go beyond a just induction from • Reid use* the terms, Theory^ HifpoAem't, and Conieeturf, as convertible, and always in an untavour. ablTacceptition Herein there u a double inaccu- racy. But of thii again.— H. ^' ( m f\ WM 'tfi u |]% vf rtlU' 11^" U t \? T1 £ Ikcte, are Taiiity an eiples.. -..———— — — . Seciim IL TM'B fXFEMMBKTS TO Ot'R K.N*0WL1IMIB< OF THE M'lMl.. But it must be acknowledged, that this kind of anatomy is much more difficult than the other; mnd^ therefore, it needs not seem strange that mankind liave nude less pKigress in it. To attend aecumtely to the operations of our minds, and make them an object of thought, is no easy mat- ter eren to the contemplative, and to the bulk of mankind m next to impossible. An anatom.ist. who hath happy opportu- nities, may liave .aeeeim to exami&e with hw own eyes, and with eqvtid .aceuntcy, bodies of all different ages, sexes, and 'ComlitionS' i so that, what 'is defective^ ob- ■eure, or pretematuml in one, may be diieemed clearly and in its most perfect state in another. But the anatomist of the mind cannot have the same advantage. It is hk own mind (miy that he can escomine with any de|ree' of .aceu'ntcy and distinci- nes& This is the only subject he can look into. He may, from, outward .8%ii% collect the opentiow of other minds s kit these signs mm for the most part anh^giMus, .and must be interpnCed by what he' 'perceins within himself. So that, if » philoeopher could delineate to us, dii«iietlf^iidi?ethod]»^^^^ all the oprntkoi of tlw "thmking principle within him, which no man was ever able to do, this 'WOuM bO' only the anatomy of one par- ticular snbjeot ; which would be both nei- eient and erroneoiis, if applied to fauniai nature in general. For » ittle reieetion • Mo one ileiiiicit 'more Ifftfitly of hit tifpotlwift tluiii- lltS' Ca'ttn MiMiir Mm antl&i tfmn ** 'libtlmciiili. :istt'Voiwu«ei r sntl tlin aMicfpHteii .Fsllier .Osnlcl, mhm lisln Mit.ir|pM»cd Vott'S'lre, In the Mjrins—Tiltf mtmmpM§ t>fDf$ Varies is the Mommtwe ttfNmtmre, — ■H, may satisfy us, that the difTereitee oruuiuls is j^-reater than llint of any other heiii^^s wliieli we consider as of the same speeiett. Of the various powers and faculties we possess, there' are some which nature seems both to have planted and reared, so as to have lefl .nothuigto human Witstry. Sucli are the powers which we have ui common with the brutes, and which are necessary to the preservation of the individual, or the continuance of the kind. There are other powers, of which nature hath only planted 'the seeds in our minds, but hath left the resring of them to human culture. It is by the proper culture of thcHe that we are ciip- able of all those improvements in iiitellec- tualsy in taste, and in morals, which exalt and uignify human nature ; while, on ilio other hand, the neglect or perversion of them makes its degeneracy and corruption. The two-legged animal tliat eats of na- ture's dainties, what his taste or appetite craves,, mndsat.i8ie8 his thirst .at the crystal fountain, who propagates his kind as ocea- slon and lust prom.pt, repis injuries, and takes alternate' labour ami 'repose, is, like a tree in the forest, purely of nature's growth. But this same savage hath witliin him the seeds of the logician, the man of taste and breed.ing, the omtor, the statesman, the man of virtiie, and the saint ; which seeds, thongli planted in his mind by nature, yet, through want of culture and exercise, must lie for ever buried, and bo hardly perceivable by himself or by others. The lowest degree of social life will bring to light some of those principlcii wlitcli liiy hid k the savage state ; and, according to Ills trainuig, and. 'Company, ani manner of life, some of them, either by their native vigour, or by the force of culture, will thrive and grow up to great perfection, others will l»e strangely perverted fnmi their natural form, and others cheeked., or perhaps quite eni'dicated*. Thb ^ h.n»n natan> » T.rion» ....1 multiform in the individuals tliat partake ut it, that,, .in point 'Of monda .and mtellectual endO'Wmen'ts,. it lilt if all 'tlwl gap which we conceive 'to he het:«een brutes and devils helow, and the oel'estkl orders above .; and such a prodigious diversity of minds must nake it extremely difficult to' discover the common 'principles of the species. The language of pliilosophers, with re- gard to the oi^lnal faculties of the mind, 'IB SO adapted' 'to 'the prevailing .system, 'tliat 'it cannot 'it any other $ like a coat that its the man for whom it was made, and shews him to advantage, which yet will sit very awkward upon one of a different make, although perhaps aS' handsome and as well 'prO'portioaed* .It 'is hardly possible to make any innovation in our philimiphy concern- ing the mind and lis o]>enittons, without 1 I ..iiiii INTRODUCTION". f9 using iie'v words and phr.ases, or giving a dirtereut lueaLing to those that are received — a liberty which, even when necessary, creates prejudice and uitsconstruction, and which must wait the sanction of time to atithorixe it ; for inuovatioiis in language, like those in religion and tjovennneiit, are always suspected and disliked by the many, till use hath made them familiar, and pre- seription liath given them a title. If the original perceptions and notions of the mind were to make their a|>pcarance single and unmixed, as we first received them from the hand of nature, one accus- tomed to reflection would have less difficulty in tracing them ; but before we are capa- ble of reflection, they are so mixed, com- pounded, and decompounded, by habits, associations, and abstractions, that it is hard to know what they were originally. The mind may, in this respect, be compared to an apothecary or a chemist, whose mate- rials indeed are furnished by nature ; but, lor the purposes of his art, he mixes, com- iniunds, dissolves, evaporates, and sublimes them, till they put on a quite difl'erent a|)|iearaiice ; so that it is very difficult to know what they were at first, and much more to bring them back to tiieir original and natural form. And this work of the inind is not carried on by deliberate acts of mature reascni, which we might recollect, but by means of instincts, habits, associa- tions, and other principles, which operate before we come to the use of reason ; so (hat it is extremely difficult for the mind to return upon its own footstc[)s, and trace back those operations which have employed it sinec it first began to think and to act. Could we obtain a distinct and full his- tory of all that hath past in the mind of a child, from the beginning of life and sensa- tion, till it grows up to the use of reason — how its infant faculties began to work, and how they brought forth and ripened all the various notions, opinions, and senlimeats which we find in ourselves when we come to be capable of reflection— this would be a treasure of natural history, which would probably give more light into the human faculties, than all the systems of philoso- phers about them since the beginning of the world. But it is in vain to wish for what nature has not put within the reach of our power. Reflection, the only instru- ment by which we can discern the powers of the mind, comes too late to observe the progress of nature, in raising them from their infancy to perfection. It must therefore require great caution, and great application of mind, for a man that is grown up in all the prejudices of education, fashion, and philosophy, to unravel his notions and opinions, till he find out the simple and original principles of his constitution, of which no account can be piven but the will of our Maker. This may be truly called an an.ilysLs of the human faculties ; and, till this is performed, it is in vain we expect any just .syxlem of the mind — that is, an enumeration of the original powers and laws of our constitution, and an explication from tliem of the various phienomeua of human nature. Success in an inquiry of this kind, it is not in human power to command ; but, per- haps, it is possible, by caution and humility, to avoid error and delusion. The labyrinth may be too intricate, and the thread too fine, to be traced through all its windings ; but, if we stop where we can trace it no "' ( fartl*er, and secure the ground we have gained, there is no harm done ; a. quicker eye may in time trace it farther. It is genius, and not the want of it, that adulterates pliilosuphy, and fills it with error and false theory. A creative imagi- nation disdains the mean offices of digging for a foundation, of removing rubbish, and carrying materials ; leaving these servile employments to the drudges in science, it plans a design, and raises a fabric. Inven- tion supplies materials where they are wanting, and fancy adds colouring and every befitting ornament. The work pleases the eye, and wants nothing but solidity and a good foundation. It seems even to vie with the works of nature, till some succeeding architect blows it into rubbish, and builds as goodly a fabric of his own in its place. Happily for the pre- sent age, 4he castle-builders employ them- selves more in romance than in philosophy. That is undoubtedly their province, and in those regions the oft'spriiig of fancy is legitimate, but in philosophy it is all spu- rious.* Section III, THE I'KKSKNT STATE OF THIS PART OF PEILO- SOPMV — OF DKS L'ARTKS, MALEBRANCHK, AND LUCKK. That our philosophy concerning the mind and its faculties is but in a very low state, may be reasonably conjectured even by those who never have narrowly examined it. Are there any principles, with regard to the mind, settled with that perspicuity and evidence which attends the principles of mechanics, astronomy, and optics ? These are really sciences built upon laws of nature which universally obtain. What iss • The saniedoctrincof»heincomi)atibilily of crca. tive imagioatinn and pliilusophical talent, is hold t>y Hume and Kant. There is rcquire«l, hnwever, fur the niotaphysiciati, not le«N ima^iination than for tl;e poet, though ot a different kind ; it may, in fact, «•« doulited whether Homer or Arisn.tle pussetftcd thit faculty in greater vigour.— H. 11 00 OP THE HUMAN MINB. diwsoverea m tten i» no Iwnger matttr ^of ilispiite s fiitun i^gos nmy ^aiM to it ; but, till "tlie Gotirae 'of ' mtum be eliaiig^ wbal to mlraidy establislied can never be ©vertatied. But Wfieii we litm mat attentiwi mmvd, jnd, coii«iiieftbefbiiiii«iiei»efbmiiwn'W»^^ ii|iiii'iiiii% sad '|i«we|»lieiMi,, and endeavour to trmce tliem to the general laws and tbe fiwt principles of our ctinititiition, we ar® imw- dktely w olved. in 'darknesi and mrijleiitj ; aiid, 'if ■ eoramum leniie^ or fte prineipiia of ©ducation, bappen not to be stubborn, it is .odds bnt we end in absolute' aeepticism. Dea Cartes, Ending notbinf eitablislied in tbis part, of plulosopbj, in. oMer t«i kj^tiie foimSSion of it deep, resolved not to believe Ms own existence till be should be able to give a good, reason for it. Me was, per- liaps, tbe fi,nit that took np aueb a 'resolu- tion 5 but, if be eonld indeed lave effected, his purpose, and really become diffideut of bis existence, hk ease wonld Mve been dif lorable, and without any remedy ,from reason or philosophy. .A man 'that dii- 'helieves bis own existonee, .isMraly as niiik to be reasoned with as a man tliat believcg be is made of glass. There nmy be dis- ord,e» In tit hnnan frame that may pro- duce' sneh e:jcti»va|«ncle%but they will never be cured by reasoning. Des Cart«, in- deed, would make us believe that he got out ijf this delirium by this li^gical argument, Cmio, er^e mm ; but .it is evident be was in bis se'nses all the time, ,and never seri- ously doubted of his ejcisteiice ; for be takes it for granted in this argument, and proves notliing at alb I am 'thinking, wys be- therefore, I am. And Is it 'net asfood rea- 'toning to say, I am sleeping— tlierefore, I am ? or, I am domg nothing— therefore, I am f If a body moves, it must exist, no doubt I but, if it is at rest, it must exist likewise.* PorbaiJS Des Cartes meant not to assume bis own existence in this cuthymem% but tlie existence' of thought ; and, 'to ,infer,fiiwi, aiat tbe e,xistence' of a 'mind, or subject of 4ii^bl. ,But 'Why did be not p'rove the C'Xistenee of his thought ? CcfnseMuaness, It may be aaid, vouches that But who 'ii ¥Oiiciier for conseloiiawMis, ? Can any mM 'pmm that bia 'eimieiiinsness 'may not 'deceive Mm ? Mo man ean ; nor can we give a better reason fur trusting to it, than 'that every man, wbib ,lils .mind 'ia^ amnd, is ietemuied, by 'tin iwii^itntlon of bi« ,n»- 'ture, 'tO' give ini^lliit Mier to' it, ,and to lingb at or pity tbe, man who doubts its Icstiuiony. And is not every man, in, bis j Vila, aS: much detciuined, 'to 'tain 'bia extst- "^J 'tnee upon trust, at 'Us eonsriousmnS' ? • TI»*ntlur«ortiM'<*,an«l«a,Ilmililawltoi«M,ii- 'lliiM.iilitie'iB'iM|»l»t«li*ii*l«l--hii«r, W'il to •hiwa in • mat' ttpin ilw m§m ctmpier «f lis m m HM' ln;illtciual re,ircr%**— U Tbe other proposiiion assumed in Ibii aignment, That thought cannot be without a mind or subject, is liable to tbe m\m objection : not that it wants evidence, but that its evideuco is no clearer, nor more immediate, than that of the proposition to be proved by it And, taking all these pro pos,itiomi together— I think; I, am, con« scious; Ever}thing that thinks, exists; I exist would not every sober man form the taam opinion of tlie roan who seriously doubted any one of them ? And if be mm his friend, would he not hope for his cure from phyie and good regimen, rather than from 'motapb jsie and legw ? But supposing it proved, tliat my thougtit and my consciousness must have a sulject, and consequently that I exist, how do I know that all that 't:ra,ln and succession of tliontbts which I remember belong to one subjSrt, and that the V of this moment in the very individual I of yesterday and of times past ,? Des Cartes did not tliink proper to start this doubt I but Locke has done it ; and, in order to resolve it, gravely detemwiea that personal identity consists in wnseiousness-- that is, if you arc conscious that you did such a thing a twclvemaiith ago, this con. sciousness nmkcs yon to be the very Fre«» that did It Now, consciousness of what isj ]>ast can signify notliing else but the re- menihrance that I did it ; so that Locke's principle must be, That identity consists in remembrance; and, consequently, a niau nmst lose hia personal identity with regard ^ to everything be fofigetP. Nor are' these 'the only instances whereby our philosophy concerning the mind appears to be very fruitful in creating doubts, but very unlwppy in resolving them. BeS' Cart,es, l!alebra,nch'e, and Loc^e, have a!l employed their genius and skill to prove tbe existenee of a material world : and with 'very bad ,auece88. ,Foor untauglii mortals believe undoubtedly that there is a sun, moon, and stars ; an earth, which we inhabit; country, friends, and rektions, which we enjoy ; knd, bouses, and move- ables, 'whiA 'we posseas* But ph,ilosopliers, 'pitytoi tie etedulily of the vulgar, resolve tolavenoittth but what is founded upon reasomf They apply to philosophy to fur- • liiEiifMi,weairaiw»tWif litf /."IhI tke Not.i m hmMf ■• ttie Fi" wd* l» Mot* «n*l.^ i^iw- Moi, or eventhe OernitiisilatMi «m1 *m NieMmim. llm ambiimttv anting Ihnn tbe ktontiiyofaMail betweeit tBtptofiDCiit «i' tlie Vimmr . i %e lys «iio t,ac Jfiw,- Jbo ■fttlM»lieit irrin* ii»ftc»ii u»«; «iwi. m tiie ex. Zttkmiiifr Miiciitlic. »t Isptthap- iio hm Ih.t tlu-.r tt«liBtailrfd*ai lig'U»nl«?d by their noii.»ernacu,l. ' t'lMMii, {I htm «iii>Hr« Sense and Philosophy, the latter will always come off both with dishonour and loss ; noi can she ever thrive till this rivalship is dropt, these encroachments given up, and a cordial friendship restored : for, in reality, Common Sense holds nothing of Philoso- phy, nor needs her aid. But, on the other hand, Philosophy (if I may be permitted to change the metaphor) has no other root but the principles of Common Sense ; it grows out of them, and draws its nourishment fro:u them. Severed from this root, its honours wither, its sap is dried up, it dies ami rots. The philosophers of the la t age, whom I have mentioned, did not attend to the pre- serving this union and subordination so carefully as the honour and interest of phi- losophy required : but those of the present have waged open war with Common Sense, and hope to make a complete conquest of it by the subtilties of Philosophy — an attem|)t no less audacious and vain than that of the giants to dethrone almighty Jove. Section V, OF BISHOP BERKELEY — THE " TRKATrSK Of HUMAN NATUEK" — AND OP SCEPTICISM. The present age, I apprehend, has not pro- duce(J two more acute or more practised in this part of philosophy, than the Bishop of Cloyne, and the author of the " Treatise of Human Nature." The first was no friend to scepticism, but had that warm concern for religious and moral principles which be- came his order: yet the result of his inquiry was a serious conviction that there is no such thing as a material world — nothing in nature but spirits and ideas ; and that tlie belief of material substances, and of abstract ideas, are the chief causes of all our errors in philosophy, and of all infidelity and heresy in religion. His arguments are founded upon the principles which were formerly laid down by Des Cartes, Malebranche, and Locke, and which have been very genemllv received. And the opinion of the ablest judges seems to be, that they neither have been, nor can be confuted; and that he hath proved by unanswerable arguments what no man in his senses can believe. J 02 OF THB HUMAN MIND. INTRODUCTION. 103 Tlie Misoiiil proceeds ipon tlie uum prin- cipl«S| 'but esrfiMi llmi^ to tbeir'IfiU temgtli ; m4 m Um BUiiip undii tiW' «iMi» 'matiiriAl, wnfiii,, ^ik mtlmr, miwii. tl» .■•iiie:gR»iiiiia, iimdiNS the world which the philosopher himself nmst yield, after he imagines he hath ouiifuted tlieiu. Sucb prtociptoS' .are older, and of more au- thority, 'than. .Philosophy : she rests upon them as her baais, not they upon her. If slie could overturn tliem, slieumst be buriid in tbetr ruins ; but all the engines of pliilo- sopbical suhtilty are too weak for this pur- p«ise' I and 'tbe attempt is 'no less ridiculous tlian if a mechanic should contrive an 4ts"t in ^iirmkm to remove the earth out of its place ; or if a nmthematician should pre- tend to demonstrate that things etiual tii 'mfdlimi In anf ivnae ; and. M llemocritut long at" •brewdly ob«i>rved. alt ilitt itiiMt mt oiili miMtilleatiaiiB oT loucli.— H. , wisdom of nature to this sense; so that when a body emits no effluvia, or when they do not enter into the nose, or when the pituitary membrane or olfiictory nerves are rendered unfit to perform their office, it can- not be smelled. Yet, notwithstanding this, it is evident tliat neither the organ of smell, nor the medium, nor any motions we ean conceive excited in the membrane above mentioned, or in the nerve or animal spirits, do in the least resemble the sensation of smelling: nor could that sensation of itself ever have led us to think of nerves, animal spirits, or effluvia. able; and frequently those that are agree- able when weak, are disagreeable when stronger. When we com|iare different smells together, we can perceive very few resemblances or contrarieties, or, indeed, relations of any kind between them. They are all so simple in themselves, and so dif- ferent from each other, tliat it is hardly [lossible to divide them into genera and .species. Most of the nam* s we give them are particular ; as the smell of a rose, of a jessamine, and the like. Yet there are some general names — as sweef, stiukiuii, musty, putrid^ cnr/ai^erouy, amnititic. Some of them seem to refresh and animate the mhid, others to deaden and depress it Sfciion II, THE SBSSATTON' CONSIDBRBD ABSTRACTLY. Having premised these things with re- gard to the medium and organ of this sense, let us now attend carefully to what the mind is conscious of when we smell a rose or a lilv; and, since our knguage affords no otfier name for this sensation, we shall call it a smell or odour, carefully excluding from the meaning of those names everything but the sens;itiou itself, at least till we have ex- amined it. Suppose a person who never had this sense before, to receive it all at once, and to smell a rose— can he perceive any simi- litude or agreement between the smell and the rose ? or indeed between it and any other object whatsoever ? Certainly he can- not. He finds himself afl'ected in a new way, he knows not why or from what cause. Like a man that feels some pain or pleasure formerly unknown to him, he is conscious that he'is not the cause of it himself; but cannot, from the nature of the thing, deter- mine whether it is caused by body or spirit, by something near, or by something at a distance. It has no similitude to anything ehe, so as to admit of a comparison ; and, therefore, he can conclude nothing from it, unless, perhaps, that there must be some unknown cause ot it. It is evidently ridiculous to ascribe to it figure, colour, extension, or any other quality of bodies. He cannot give it a place, any more than he can give a place to mel- ancholy or Joy ; nor can he conceive it to ^have any existence, but when it is smelled. ' 80 that it appears to be a simple and original affection or feeling of the mind, altogether inexplicable and unaccountable. It is, in- deed, impossible that it can be in any body : it is a sensation, and a sensation can only be in a sentient thing. The various odours have each their dif- ferent degrees of strength or weakness. Most of them are agreeable or disagree- Section III. SENSATION AND REMEMBRANCE, NATURAL PRINCII'LKS Ot UELIKF. So far we have considered this sensation abstractly. Let us next compare it with other things to which it bears some relation. And first 1 shall compare this senpation w ith the remembrance, and the imagination of it. I can think of the smell of a rose when I do not smell it ; and it is possible that when I think of it, there is neither rose nor smell anywhere existing. But wlien I smell it, I am necessarily determined to believe that the sensation really exists. This is common to all sensations, that, as they cann(»t exist but in being perceived, so they cannot be perceived but they must exist. I could as easily doubt of my own existence, as of the existence of my sensatioiis. Even those profound ])hilosophers who have endeavoured to disprove their own existence, have yet left their sensations to stand upon their own bottom, stript of a subject, rather than call in question the reality of their existence. Here, then, a sensation, a smell for in- stance, may be presented to the mind three different ways : it may be smelled, it may be remembered, it may be imagined or thought of. In the first case, it is neces- sarily accompanied with a belief of its pre- sent existence ; in the second, it is neces- sarily accompanied with a belief of its jtast existence ; and in the last, it is not accom- panied with belief at all,* but i> what the logicians call a simple apprehension. Why. sensation should compel our belief of the present existence of the thing, me- mory a belief of its past existence, and * This i« nofitrictly correct The tmagmalion of an object Is necessaiily accoinpanied w.lh a bHirf u» the existence of the mental re|»resenta' ion. Ileul uses tf\e term exittcuce tor o/>Jective fj^tsfvnr «iil% , and t«kos no account of the |.o» ibilitv ot a fljectiv^ 1^ OF THE HUMAN MIND. OF SMELLING. 107 III imuiMitiiiii no belief at alL I believe no iibiMiiiiiiiKr' CM giire ii sbadow of feMon, imt thai sueb is tbe wtiife of tbete opea- tions ; tbe J are all aiinple and original, anil 'tbefefoni' incxplicabki' acti^ of tbe niiii4 ^SaMMMo tiiit onee, ami only once, I smdU a tuberoee in a eertain room.,, wbere it grew in a pot, and gave a very gmftffltl perfmme. Next day I relate what I mm and amelled* Wben . I attond a« earefiilly as I can to wbat paases in my miiid in tbis 'Caae^ it appears evident 'that, the very thing .1 saw yesterday, and tbe fiagtmnoe Imelled, when .1 twnenlNir it. .FiftiiMr}' .1 en. Imagine 'this 'pot and lower 'tisnsporlad to the room where I now sit, and yielding the same perfume. Here likewise' it spears,, that the individoal thing which I saw and ■moiled, is the object of mj imagination.* Fliiloiiophers indeed tell me. that the imm^ediate object of my memory and .ima- gination* in this case, is not tbe past sensa- tion, 'bnt an idea of it, an image, phantasm, or species,1* of tl'ie odour I smelbd i 'that this iisfi now exists, in my mind, or in my sensorinm ; and tbe mind, contempbithig 'this. 'present idea, 'intk it a representation of what 'is past, or of what may exist | .and a.coc»nlingly calls itmemo'ry,or inia|^:nation. This is the doctrine of tbe ideal philosophy ; which we shall not now examine, that we 'may not tnlermpt tbe 'thread, of the present investigation. ' U'pon the st'ri'etest ' atten- tion, memory .appcsrs to me to have thinp llint arO' nast,, and not present ideas, for its ohjflct. we shall aflerwards e;xam.ine tbis system of iiMS. and. endeavonr to 'make it appMr, that no .solid 'proof has ever been advanced of tbe existence of .ideas; that they are a mere fiction and hypothesis, con- trived, to. .solve the phaenomena. 'Of 'tbe hu- man nndoffstanding .i that 'they 'do: not' fit .all answer this end. ;. .and that this bypotbesis of ideas or images of things in tbe mind, or in the sensortom, is the parent of those many pintdoxes so sboeking' to com'mon sense, and of that' seO'iiticism. 'whicb disgrace our philosophy of the mind, and have brought upon it tbe ridieule and contempt of sensible. :iiMn. wilii. 'the vulgar, that,, wmk I lemmilieff' tbe smell of the tuberose, 'that very sensation whidk I had yesterday, and which has now «' Wm am txp«it:taii td Reid'k error in rrsaful tn tli»..|aiMii«AillrOli«:tafMetnfirf and Iiii4giaalIiNi.ptrt' liMc i. St. ilweiMi of the volume ->H.. f It win lit tmmwwK that lleid undtntandi lif 1# 41 • liMTfe, fkm^mm* Spee*e$t%e,iAwmft alrr. liMM. ffili' Miini-fflQiillv liillmiitboth from the Ofatt^ct rxMintami'fmit lliviMwi fcnowiiig; . Heiwilfo fiiied mi coMcpllfMi of' a 4obIiiimi' ln:.'Wlitoh. a nimMmsil'W iM'ifCt It ailovfil. tat only aa a 'moiifcaliiNa .of thC' ■wmI itaeir. On the evil eootfipMniM. ni ihli. eraor, '^p^^i'Biwff' ^'ff^pflpi' w#i^w'' ^p^iff VS. ]a'!iiiF"^^|iw'^iW|B'^PSi|jf 'Sa*— s™ ^wpws ■■■phis^ip' ^na •aissppws'sw ^'Pw nirr 'OiiiitaM,. MS .ilieiit'C at. 'lit iml. 'Of'tlit 'mIubw. no 'morO' .any existence, is tbe immediate" object, of my memory ; and wben I imagine' it present, 'the sensation, .itself, and not any idea of it,ta the object of my imagination. But, 'thouKb tbe'Obiieet of my se'nsaloni memory, and inafiiatton, be .in tb.is case tbn sane, yet tbese aiits or operations of the mind aro' as difftnnt, and as easily distinguishabk, as smell, taste, and sound. I am conscions 'Of a diffiBrenoo in kind between sensation and memory, and between both and imag- ination. I 'ind'this als% that tbe sensation compels my belief of the present existence of lie amoU, and memory my belief of its .past, existence^ TberC' is a smell, is the imnediate testimony of sense; there was a smell, is the immediate testimony of mem- ory. If ^*ou ask me, why I believe that tbe 'Smell exists,. I «an. .give no other reason, nor shall ever "he able to give .any other, than that I smell it If you ask, why I believe that it existed yesterday, I can give no other reason but that I remember iL Sensation, .and .memory, therefore, are sim'ple, origbwl, and perfeetly distinct opera- tions of the mind, and both of them nrc oilfinal principks of belief. Imagination w dmtinct from both, but is no principle of belief. Seitsatioo implies tbe present exist- ence of itS' object, memory its^ past, existence, bnt imagination views its object naked, and without any belief of its existence or noii- existouee, and is^ IhenforC' w.hat the schoola call Mm^pk jippr§k€mkn»^ AoiioR IV, j'lrnoM'xmr' Ann 'Wblixf m mum cases pii.»-' CnOB SIMPLB APPRKHKNblOX. But liere, again, the 'ideal, system comes'' in. our way: it teaches ns tnnt tbe first operation of tbe m'ind about its ideas, is .simple apprehension— that is, the 'bare conesption of a thing without any belief .aiMNit it : .and that, alter we Imve got "Simple .apprehensions, by comparing them together, we perceive agreements or dis- ai^eements between theii ; and that this pereeptinn. of theapnMnwnt or disagreement of .idaasi 'is all. that we call belief, j'udgment, 'Or knowledge. Now, this appears to me to ' be all fiction, without any foundation in ..tan,, for U i. «b>.wl.dg«l by .11, thU sensation most go before nMmory and im- agination ; and nenoe' It neoessarily follows, that apprebenam, acompanied with beliel and knowledge, must go before simple ap- prebonsion, at ..least in the miatters we are now apeaking of. :8o that here, instead' of - '• Miwiple Jpfffke*'^m^ In 'tlit kn.|titt|t of Hm iChooK hat iM' reierriMT to amf csduiiia itl MleC It wa» 'ifierelv r>«'*>ti tn the mwr t:iii»iet slinpieiia roiitiiiil iM liie i9iigiii*M.ii m cmrg li^ tcmui— it. saying that tbe belief or knowledge is got by putting together and comparing the simpleappreliensions, we ought rather to say that the simple apprehension is performed by resolving and analysing a natural and original judgment. And it is with the operations of the mind, in this case, as with natural bodies, which are, indeed, compounded of simple principles or ele- ments. Nature does not exhibit these ele- ments separate, to be compounded by us ; she exhibits them mixed and compounded in concrete bodies, and it is only by art and cbeinical analysis that they can be separated. Seclkn V. TWO THEOHIKS OF THE NATURB OF BKtlBF RBPUTKO — CONCLUSIONS FROM WHAT MATH BBEN SAID. But what is this belief or knowledge which accompanies sensation and memory ? Every man knows what it is, but no man can define it. Does any man pretend to define sensation, or to define con- sciousness ? It is happy, indeed, that no man does. And if no philosopher had endeavoured to define and explain belief, some paradoxes in philosophy, more in- credible than ever were brought forth by the most abject superstition or the most frantic enthusiasm, had never seen the light. Of this kind surely is that modern discovery of the ideal philosophy, that sensation, me- mory, belief, and imagination, when they have the same object, are only difierent degrees of strength and vivacity in the idea.* Suppose the idea to be that of a future state after death : one man believes it firmly— this means no more than that he hath a strong and lively idea of it ; another neither believes nor disbelieves— that is, he has m weak and faint idea. Suppose, now, a third person believes firmly that there is no such thing, I am at a loss to know whether his idea be faint or lively : if it is faint, then there may be a firm belief where the idea is faint ; if the idea is lively, then the belief of a future state and the belief of no future state must be one and the same. The same arguments that are used to prove that belief implies only a stronger idea of the ol»ject than simple apprehension, mi«lit as well be used to prove that love imi»lies only a stronger idea of the object than indiffer- ence. And then what shall we say of httred, which must upon this hypothesis be a degree of love, or a degree of indifference ? If it should be said, that in love there is something more than an idea — to wit, an ilfectiun of the mind— may it not be J'aid • Ik refers to Hnine.^ll. with equal reason, that in belief there is something more than an idea — to wit, an assent or persuasion of the mind ? But perhaps it may be thought as ridicu- lous to argue against this strange opinion, as to maintain it. Indeed, if a man should maintain that a circle, a square, and a triangle difller only in magnitude, and not in figure, I believe he would find nolody disposed either to believe him or to argue against him ; and yet I do not think it less shocking to ooramon sense, to maintain that sensation, memory, and imagination differ only in deforce, and not in kind. I know it is said, that, in a delirium, or in dreaming, men are apt to mistake one for the other. But does it follow from this, that men who are neither dreaming nor in a delirium cannot distinguish them ? But how does a man know that he is n«t in a delirium ? I cannot tell : neither can I tell how a man knows that he exists. But, if any man seri- ously doubts whether he is in a dehrium, I think it highly probable that he is, and that it is time to seek for a cure, which I am persuaded he will not find in the whole system of logic. I mentioned before Lockes notion of belief or knowledge ; he holds that it con- sists in a perception of the agreement or disagreement of ideas ; and this he values himself upon as a very iini)ortant discovery. We shall have occasion afterwards to examine more particularly this grand prin- ciple of Locke's philosophy, and to shew that it is one of the main pillars of modern scepticism, although he had no intention to make that use of it. At present let us only consider how it agrees with the instances of belief now under consideration; and whether it gives any light to them. I be- lieve that the sensat:on 1 have exists ; and that the sensation I remember does not now exist, but did exist yesterday. Here, according to Locke's system, I compare the idea of a sensation with the ideas of pa^t and present existence : at one time I per- ceive that this idea agrees with that of j)re- sent existence, but disagrees with that of past existence ; but, at another time, it agrees with the idea of past existence, and disagrees with that of present existence. Truly these ideas seem to be very capri- cious in their agreements and disagree- ments. Besides, I cannot, for my heart, conceive what is meant by either. I say a sensation exists, and I think I understand clearly what I mean. But you want t«. make the thing clearer, and for that end tell me, that there is an agreement between the idea of that sensation and the idea of existence. To speak freely, this conveys to me no light, but darkness ; I can /o"; ceive no otherwise of it, than as an odd and obscure circumlocution. 1 coj.clude, then, im OF TUB HUMAN MIND. OF SMELLixg. 109 tlwl tli« Mief wliieli ffiecfmipiiiM MiMitiwii mni iMnofj, .is » simiik ■mt'dtHm mind, wWeli Mondt be clisined. It v«, in this respel, like seeing mad hearing, which esii never 'lie m ^/Ami m to be inilenteiM]. bj IhoaO' vh» 'hsve" :mit these' faenlties t ukI to »wBh us have them, no deinition ean malie these operations more clear than they are already. In like manner* every man that has any bel.ief--anfl lie mnst be m eunesity tliat has none-~kniiw8^ 'fwrfeetly what 'belief i% bnl can never define or explain it. I eonelude, also^ that sensation, memory, and troaglnatioii, even where they liave the same object, are. operatiom of a <|iiite' dif- _ fe'rent nature, and p«f eetly distingny lable liy those who are sound and sober. A mini that is in danger of confounding them, is indeed to be pitied ; but whatever .relief lie limy ind from, another art, 'be can i;nd mone from logic or nietaphysic. I conclude fur- ther, that it is no less a part' of the humini ciinstitutioti, to believe the present exis eiiee of iHtr sensations, and to believe the |)aHt extHtenoe of what we remember, than it is to Wieve that twice two make four. The evidence of sense, the evidence of inemor}', and. the evidence of the necessary rektions of things, arS' all distinct and original kinds of evidcn.ee, equally grounded on our consti- tution : none of them depends upon, or 'Cun . lie resolved into another. To reason agiainst Miy of these kinds of evidence,, is absurd ; nmy, to' 'reason for them is at-surd,' 'They are first principles ; and such fall not with- in the province of reason,* but of eommon |l|t:|%|f|g|i Artlleii VI* JirOLOGY VOm MrrAPtIVSICA.L absurditibs — mStHATlOS. WITIIllUT A SKN'I IKNT, A CO?f- MIM|VKNT£ or THB THEORY OF IMAi— CONSEQlBN-t-KS OF THIS STHANtiS OPINION. Having eonsidered the 'relation which the :seiMifi«n. of melling bears 'to the .rememi- branee' and imagination of it,. I proceed to consider 'Wliat 'rehition. it bears to a m.ind, . or :seiitien't 'principle. It .is certain, .no man 'Can conceive or 'believe smelling to exist of itself, without a mind, or somethmg that has the power of smelling, of which it is called a sensatim, an O'pemtiMi, or 'feeling* ..Yet, If anf nini :shouid. demand a 'poi.if, that sensation 'Cannot 'bC' without a mind or sentient being, I confess tliat I can give none ; and that to pretend to prove it, seems .10 roe almost as^ absurd as to 'deny it, Thiami{|iit ha%e been said^ without any •pnlogy before' the *- Treatise of Human Nature** appeared in the world. For till • am Kmti f lit '■».. IM. b *fl.. tint time, no mii.n, aS' &r as I know, mm thmglit either of eall.liig in question Iht prinSple, «r of giving . rca»«,! for hi. belief of it. Whether thinking beings ivere 'Of 'M. ethereal or igneous nature, whether material or immaterial, was variouslv dis- puted ; but that thinking is an opemtion of i some kind of being or other,.'was always/ taken for pnted, m . principle tbu co«ldl not posnihly admit of doubt.' / liowever, since the author abiyvc men- tioned, who is undoubtedly one of the most acute metaphysicians that this or any age hath produced, hatll. 'treated it as a vulgar prejudice, and raa:hitained that the m.ind is only a succession of ideas and Impres* sions without any subject; his opinion, however contrary to the common appre- hensions of man.Mnd, deserves respects I hog 'tbeiefbre, onee' for all, ilmt uu ofiSence may be taken at cliarging tliis or other metapbjsiciil notions with absurdity, or with bemg contraij to the common senw of man.kittd. Ho dispu..rageuieut is meant to the understandings of the authors or maintainers of such opinions. Indeed, they commonly proceed, not from defect of under- slnnding, but from an excess of rcfineincnt ; the reasoning that leads to tliem often gives new light to the subject, and sheuM real genius and deep penvtraiion in the author; and the premises do more than atone for the conclusion. If there .art certain principles,, as I think ^' there are, which the constitution of our nature leads m to believe, and which we •re 'Under a :necesttty to take for gnmtetl in the eommon eoneems of life, without being able to give a reason fur tlieni— these are what we call the princi|iles of conmion seuee ( and what 'is manifestly contra.ry to them, is what we call absurd. Indeed, if it .is true, and to be received as a principle of philosophy, that sensation and thought may be without a thinking being, .11 must be .acknow.|edgcd 'to be the meal wonderful .iiMovery tb^ th'is or sny other ago hath produced. /The received doctrine of ideas^ is the principle 'from which it is deduced, and of which indeed it seems 'to be^ a just and. natumi conseiuenc^^ And it is pmhaMe, that it would "not. bate 'been so late a 'discover^', but that it is so shock- ing and repugnant to the common appre- henaimiB' m 'mankind, 'that it .required an incommon degree of philosophical Intre- pidity to usher ii into the world. It Is a fundamental principle of the ideal system, that every ohjeet of thought must' bo a.n impression or an .idea^-4hat is, a faint copy of isome preeed.'ing' hn'pression. Tltis is a principle so commonly received, that the author above mentioned, although his whole system is built upon it, never offers tite 'least proof of it. It is upon th's 'principle, * . « I it a.M a fixed point, that he erects his meta- physical engines, to overturn heaven and earth, body and spirit. And, indeed, in my apprehension, it is altogether sufficient l(ir the purpose. For, if impressions and ideas are the only objects of thought, then heaven and earth, and body and spirit, and everything you please, must signify only impressions and ideas, or they must be words without any meaning. It seems, therefore, that this notion, however strange, is closely connected with the received doc- trine of ideas, and we must either admit the conclusion, or call in question the premises. Ideas seem to have something in th^jr natnTrnnfricndly to other existences. They were first introduced into philosophy, in the humble character of images or repre- sentatives of things ; and in this character they seemed not only to be iuoftensive, but toserve admirably well for explaining the operations of the human understanding. But, since men began to reason clearly and distinctly about them, they have by degrees supplanted their constituents, and under- mined the existence of everything but themselves. First, they discarded all se- condary qualities of bodies ; and it was found out by their means, that fire is not hot, uur snow cold, nor honey sweet ; and, in a word, that heat and cold, sound, colour, tiiste, and smell, are nothing but ideas or impressions. Bishop Berkeley advanced them a step higher, and found out, by just reasoning from the same principles, that extension, solidity, space, figure, and body, are ideas, and that there is nothing in nature but ideas and spirits. But the triumph of ideas was completed by the " Treatise of Human Nature," which discards spuits also, and leaves ideas and impressitvnaasthe sole existences in the universe. What if, :it last, having nothing else to contend with, they should fall foul of one another, ar.d leave no existence iu nature at all ? 1 his would sure'y bring philosophy into danger ; for what should we have left to talk or to dispute about ? However, hitherto these philosophers acknowledge the existence of impressions and ideas ; they acknowledge certain laws ot attraction, or rules of precedence, accord- ing to which, ideas and impressions range themselves m various forms, and succeed one another : but that they should belong to a mind, as its proper goods and chattels, this they have found to be a vulgar error. Tiicse ideas are as free and independent as the birds of the air, or as Epicurus's atoms When they pursued their journey in the vast inane. Shall we conceive them like Uie films of things iu the Epicurean system? Principio f>oc dico, rerum •imul«cra vagari, Multa niodi^ multw, in ciircai undqiie iMiteii Teiiuia. qos f cile ii'lei Mrjunguiilui in aurU, Uuvia cuui veniuut.- -Luck. Or do they rather resemble Aristotle's in- telligible species, after they are shot forth from the object, and before they have jet struck upon the passive intellect ? But why should we seek to compare them with any- thing, since there is nothing in nature but themselves ? They make the whole furni- ture of the universe ; starting into existence, or out of it, without any cause ; combining into parcels, which the vulgar call minds ; and succeeding one another by fixed laws, without time, place, or author of those laws. \et, after all, these self-existent and in- dependent ideas look pitifully naked and destitute, when left thus alone in the uni- verse, and seem, upon the whole, to be in a worse condition than they were before. Des Cartes, Malebranclie, and Locke, as they made much use of ideas, treated them hand- somely, and provided them iu decent accom- modation ; lodging them either in the pineal gland, or in the pure intellect, or even m the divine mind. They moreover clothed them with a commission, and made tlRin representatives of things, which gave them some dignity and character. But the " Trea- tise of Human Nature," though no less hiaebted to them, seems to have made hut a bad return, bv bestowing upon them this independent existence ; since thereby they are tu.ned out of house and home, and set adrift in the world, without friend or con- nection, without a rag to cover their naked- ness ; and who knows hut the whole system (.f ideas may perish by the indiscreet zeal of their friends to exalt them ? However this may be, it is certainly a most amazing di!^covery that thought and ideas may be without any thinking being —a discovery big with consequences which cannot easily be traced by those deluded mortals who think and reason in the coin- nioii track. We were always apt to mia- gine, that thought supposed a thinker, and love a lover, and treason a traitor ; but this, it seems, was all a mistake ; and it is found out, that there may be treason with- out a traitor, and love without a lover, laws without a legislator, and punishment with- out a sufferer, succession without time, and motion without anything moved, or space in which it may move : or if, in these cases, ideas are the lover, the sufferer, the traitor, it were to be wished that the author ot this discovery had farther condescended to ac- quaint us whether ideas can converse to- eether, and be under obligations of duty or Gratitude to each other; whether they ciiii make promises and enter into leagues ami covenants, and fulfil or break them, and be punished for the breach. If one set of ideas makes a covenant, another breaks it, and a third is punished for it, there is rea- son to thmk that justice is no natural vurtua in this system. lOi tint tli» MM' wWeli a.Muia. qii» f ciJe ti.tei »*; juiiguutui u» aurli, Olivia cum vcniuut.--Lucii. Or do they rather resemble Aristotle's in- telligible species, after they are shot forth from the object, and before they have yet struck upon the passive intellect ? But why sliould we seek to compare them with any- thing, since there is nothing in nature but themselves ? They make the whole furni- ture of the universe ; starting into existence, or out of it, without any cause ; combining into parcels, which the vulgar call minds ; and succeeding one another by fixed laws, without time, place, or author of those laws. Vet, after all, these self-existent and in- dependent ideas look pitifully naked and destitute, when left thus alone in the uni- verse, and seem, upon the whole, to be in a worse condition than they were before. Des Cartes, Malebranche, and Locke, as they made much use of ideas, treated them hand- somely, and provided them in decent accom- modation ; lodging them either in the pineal gknd, or in the pure intellect, or even m the divine mind. They moreover clotheil them with a conmiission, and made them representatives of things, which gave them some dignity and character. But the " Trea- tise of Human Nature," though no less indebted to them, seems to have made but a bad return, by bestowing upon them tins independent existence ; shice thereby they are tu. ned out of house and home, and set adrift in the world, without friend or con- nection, without a rag to cover their naked- ness ; and who knows but the whole system ..f ideas may perish by the indiscreet zeal of their friends to exalt them ? However this may be, it is certamly a most amazing discovery that thought and ideas may be without any thinking being —a discovery big with consequences which cannot easily be traced by those deluded mortals who think and reason in the com- mon track. We were always apt to ima- giue, that thought supposed a thinker, and love a lover, and treason a traitor : but this, it seems, was all a mistake ; and it is found out, that there may be treason with- out a traitor, and love without a lover, laws without a legislator, and punishment with- out a sufferer, succession without time, and motion without anything moved, or space in which it may move : or if, in these cases, ideas are the lover, the suff-erer, the traitor, it were to be wished that the author of this discovery had farther condescended to ac- quaint us whether ideas can converse to- gether, and be under obligations of duty or gratitude to each other ; whether they can make promises and enter into leagues and covenants, and fulfil or break them, and be punished for the breach. If one set of ideas makes a covenant, another breaks it, and a third is punished for it, there is rea- son to thmk that justice is no natural vurtua in this system. .) .':• 110 OF TME HUMAN MIND. OF SMELLING. 1)1 r I It iMiiied verj' niitifiiil to titiiilc, tlmt the '"'' TraitiHe cif MtiniMi Miita.-u.r-' suit of those self-existent idess as to lose night of alt other' thkga But when they condescend to mingle apiin with the human' 'raee, .and to oonverse with a friend., a eom- ]Minion, or a fellow-eillzen, the Ideal system, vanishes.; eommon sense, like an Inrasist- ible torrent, earries them, along; .and, in .spite of idl their reasoning and piiloeopliy, they believe their own ei.istenoe, and the existenee of other things. Indeed, 'it 'is happy 'they do :S0 ; 'fo'r, if they shoald carry tiieir eloset belief iiitO' the world, the rest of mankind would eon- .sider them, as diseased, and send them to aninirmary. Therefore, as^ .Plato rephy to ^do the .same, and 'to .refuse admittance to eveiy 'man, who is so weak ^as. 'to imaft'ine that' be ought to have 'the wum 'belief in wflitude and in company, or that his priii- ciples ought to have any iniuence upon his iiractice.; for this phikiBophy is like a hob- by-horse^ 'Which a iMm. in bad health may riiie In hit elneet, without hurting his repu- tation ; but, if he should take him abroad with him tO' ehureh, or to the exchnnQC, or to 'tho' play4iouae, .his heir would "imnie-' diaiely 'Call a jury, and seise bis^ 'Cslate. S'fcljofi Vil» Tiia coifCBmiiMi'Kn BitiKr or a sin'TIkxt umwii OR mm» is fiuoonno .bt oua CWWWTOTIOIf— THa KIOTIOM OF B'ELA- TlOlfS MOT' ALWAYS O^OT .BT ■CO«.rAaW''U TUB aSLATBO 10'BA.i. Leaving this philosophy, tberufare, to ihoso' who .have occasion *for it, and can mat 'il disereetly as a clmmber exercise, we may still ini|nire how the rest of 'mankind, .and even the' adepts themselves, except in iSomO' 'Solitaiy moments, have got m strong .and. .Imsiitilk a belief,, that, thoiight nmt have a ■nbjeet, and tm 'the aet of sume thinking b^ng ; how every man believe* himself to be sondhiiiif distinct from hi* .idttM and iiifiMtiona^'Bomething which. continues the same i(lent!e»l self when nil his ideas and unpresstuus aru clianged. 1 1 is impossible to trace the origin of this opinion in history ; for all languages have it mterwoven in their origiiiid con- stnict.ion. All .nations have always believed it. The eonstitutiiin of all laws amt governments, as well as the couinion trans- acttes of life, suppose' it. It is no less impo6sl.ble for any man to -*■ recollect when, he hlmiclf came by tliiti notion .; for, as far back as we 'Can remem.- ber, we were already in poHsession of it, and aii fully iiersuaded of our own existence, and the existence of other things, as that o'ne .and one make two. It seems, there- fore, that this opinion preceded all reason- ing, and experience, and instruction ; and this is the more pmbahle, because we could not get It by any of these' mmmiu It ap- ^,^,,-J Cra, then, to be an mndenuible fact, that^ n thoug'lit or sensat'ion, all 'mankind., constantly and invariably, from the first dawning 'Of 'leiection, do infer a power or faculty of thinking, and a permanent being or mind to whieh that faeulty belongs ; and that we as invariably ascribe all the varioua kinds of sensation and thought we are con- scious of, to one individual mind or self. But by what rute of .kgic we 'make 'theso , inferences, it ts^ im'possibte to shew ; nay, it is impossible to shew how our sensations and thoughts can give us the very notion and conee^ion either of a mind or of a faculty. The faculty of smelling is some- thing very diierent from the actual setisa- tion of smelling ; for the faculty may 'remain when we have no sensation. And the mind is no lens diierent from the faculty ; for it ci>ntlnuefl the same indivi- dual being when that faculty is lost. Yet this sensation ngsests to us both a faculty and a mindi bb3 not only suggests the notion of 'th«m^, but ereatce a belief 'of their existence; although it .is impoesible to dts- co%'er, by reason, any tie or connection between 'One and the other. W^hat 'Shall we say, then ? Either those i.itfeitBflM: 'Which we draw fro'Ui our sensa-' tioiis— namely, the existence of a mind, and of powers or facilities helonging to it>-> .are pnjudiceB of philoso'iihy or education. nierO' ictions of the mind, which a 'wise man should throw off as he does the belief of fairies ; or they are judgments of nature — jui%menta not got by aimittring ideas,, and fierceifhif agreements .and disagtesm'entfs but immMiately inqi:irid by our conatitu- ^ tion. If this kst is the case, ss I apprehend it ii, It wiU be impossible to skike off those opinions^ .and 'We .:|nust yield to them at bst, 'thmigh 'Wo .struggle luurd to get rid of them. And if we could, by a determined ohaliMMy, shake off the pnnciples of our k2 |{ nature, tliis is not to act tliu pliilosoplicr, but the fool or the niadiiiau. It is incuin- lient u|K>n those who think that these are not natural principles, to shew, in the first place, how we can otherwise get the notion of a mind and its faculties; and then to shew how we come to deceive ourselves into the opinion thut sensation cannot be without a sentient being. It is the received doctrine of philosophers, that our notions of relations can only be got by comparing the related ideas: but, ill the present case, there seems to be ail instance to the contrary. It is not by having first the notions of mind and sensa- tion, and then comparing them together, that we perceive the one to have the rela- tion of a subject or substratum, and the other that of an act or operation : on the contrary, one of the related things— to wit, sensation— sui][gests to us both the correlate and the relation. I beg leave to make use of the word sfffj- geslion, because I know not one more pro- per, to express a power of the mind, which seems entirely to have escaped the notice of philosophers, and to which we owe many of our simple notions which are neither impressions nor ideas, as well as many original principles of belief. I shall endeavour to illustrate, by an example, what I understand by this word. We all know, that a certain kind of sound suggests unmediately to the mind, a cciach passing in the street; and not only pro- duces the imagination, but the belief, that a coach is passing. Yet there is here no comparing of ideas, no perception of agree- ments or disagreements, to produce this belief: nor is there the least similitude be- tween the sound we hear and the coach we Imagine and believe to be passing.* Berkeley, in this appiopriate and techniral hense, n<»l only in his ♦ I'lu-ory of Vision,' but in hi« * Priii- cilili-s nf Hum.'in Knowledge,' and in Ills • Mimitf * •• The word suei^sV (xays Mr Stewart, in r« fo»- ence lo the [irectding |la^s«ge) "is much used, by Be tittt Cl|i . Fhilotopher.* It expresses, indeed, the cnrdinal principle on which hi-« ♦ i heory of Vision' hince:', and is now no incoi|>orated with woine of our b<'!«t metaphysical 8|>eculafion», that one cannot easily Conceive how I he use of it was «o long dispensetl With. Ixicke uses tne word rjccite for the same pnriHMe; but I' i«e< m"* to imply an l>ypothc>i8 con- i-erninii the mechnnnm of the mind, and by no means expr»>«eM the 1 act in queel ion, with ihc.-anie force autl precision. *'lt is remark.ible, that l)r Reid»hou'd hive thou ht It iiicumbent on him to jipttlogi-ie for introducing into phdosophy a word so fatnihar to every person conversant with Berkeley's woiks. *l beg leave lo make ute of the word si^ggtstfoa, because.' ftc> ...... •♦So f-irDr Keid's ui"e of the wnnl coincides e%. ■ctly with that of Berkeley ; nut the lormer will be found to annex to it a meaninft more extensive than Itie latter, by e-oployuiK it to comprehend, not only Ibofcintima iotu which are the result of experience and habit ; hut asm* her cla*! of intimations, (quite overliMiked by Berkeley,) those wiiich renlt fnim UMt original tVainc of the human mind."— D'«f Wa- lt is true that this suggestion is iiotN natural and original ; it is the result of ex- perience and habit. But 1 tlunk it appears, from what hath been said, that there are ii^»lilW34 suggestions : particularly, that sens- ation suggests the notion of present exist- ence, and the belief that wluit we perceive or feel does now exist ; that memory sug- gests the notion of past existence, and the belief that what we remember did exist in time past ; and that our sensations and thoughts do also suggest the notion of a mind, and the belief of its existence, and of its relation to our thoughts. By a like natural principle it is, that a beginning of existence, or any change in nature, sug- gests to us the notitm of a cause, and com- pels our belief of its existence. And, in like manner, as shall be shewn wlien we come to the sense of touch, certain sensa- tions of touch, by the constitution of our nature, suggest to us extension, solidity, and motion, which are nowise like lo sensations, a'.tlioiigh they have been hither- to confounded with them.* titm on the History of Metnf hi/sical and Ethicat HcU'nce. P. 107. ftcronri edi ion Mr Stewart ir.ight have adduwd, perhaps, a higher and, ceriaiiily. a more proxiina e authority, in fa- vour, not merely nf the tcim ui K^noral, hut ui Heid's restruted employmeni of it, as an iniinia'ion ot what he and otheiN have designated the Common Sen>e of mankind. The following .-entence of T* r. lullian contains a singular anticqi (I ion, both of the philoiiophy and of the philosoplmal phraseology peaking of the universal belief of tlie soul's immortality :—" Naiura pleraque J^ttg^'*'r- ttniur, quasi depw6//ro5<*n.v« quo aiiimam Deus di. taredignatus est." — I)e Amma. c. 2. Some strictures on Reid'fi empltiynient of the terra sugantion may be seen in the " Ver»uche"of Teteu!-, I., p. 508, sqq. — H. • '1 his last itlatement is not historirally correct. But, waving this there may lie aiiduced, in illnstra- ton of •he two la>t para»fraphs, the iollow ng remarkable passate from St Augustine:— '* *i". Ricte furtasse exis'imas. Sed re-iponde obsecro, Ulruin omne quod per vi^unl cognoHcinius, vuiea. mus. r.v. Ita credo, aii. l redis ctuim omne qur visum nos cognogrere f ^v. Kt h«.c credo, ai;. ("ur ergo p'.eiumque fumuui solum videndo.ignom suliter latere cognoscimusqueni non videtnus? bv Vernin dicis. Et jam non puto nos videre quicquid per visum coKnoscimus : poiisu. mus enim, ut docuisti, ahuil videndo aliud cognoscci e quod visus non attigerit. AV. Quid, ilUid quod i er visum sentimusipossumusne non videre? Ev. Nu Ui mndo. AU Aliud eat ergo smtire, alud cognos err, V. Omninoat'ud, tianmeutintits fumum quern vud-. mtiit, et ej eo ignem quern nun vUlemuit, subesfte aiu- wtuHmus. A", bene intelligis Sed vi ;e» rerteciiin hoc accidit, cori'Us nostrum, id est oculos nihil |Mti ex igiie, sed ex fumo quern solum videiit. Eteniin viilerc sentire, et sentire pati esse, lam supra eoii- si'n>iiuu'«. kv. lene**, * as>eniior. aii. Cum «Tg« per passionem corporis ni>ii visus, nee auditus, nee olfiiclu.s, nee gustatus, nee tactus a nobis, non tamen latet animain fumo vi'o Et cum hoc non latere non voceiur tenons, quia «k igne cor|>U8 nihil est pa^sum, vocatur tamen cognUiu tier gen^um, quia ex passione corporis quumvis aiiu, id est ex alterius rei visione, conjectatum est atque compertum. i v. Intelligo, et uptime video isiuil congiuere ac (avere illi definitioni lua;, qnain ut meam mihl detendendam dedisti: nam ita meinini e^8e abs te sensum definitum, rum animam non lalet quod patiiur corpus. Itaque iHud quod/umtu »i II h in tliii niMiiiflr tlial mm aoqutre m ap- iwilt for .iiiiiff, 'tolweiis ilMiiBg liquors, 'liiilHittiiiy aoA ■Hkm WkB. NilitiVi iiiiMil,^'teciiis ituAwdj'to ham mi bottndt to the pleMUfiw and paint we liave bv these two tenses, and to Imve con- :ftMcl 'tiMD wiliiii. VBiy naiiow :iiiBlt%, tliat *» mlAl apt: fiftfle anj part of oar "liappl- nest m Hummt Ihtm 'beinf lianiy rav smell or taite to dit^greeaUe tliat use will not make it toteraMe, ^andat latl fotliiyt^ .afii»eaUo» mmttmfm agreeafcto m not. to lotO' m mMi^ ij 'oonatant 'use; Naltlier It tliefe' My ptostnre or 'pain of these senses which is not introdnedl or followed hj sone-d^fw of its> nnntiaiy, whioh iieailj hakmmm It; so tUt we^ nay hero apply the heautilW ■:aIlegory of' th© diflne Bo- cmtes— that, althongh pleatnwi and pain are contrary in their natoK, and 'their iMies .look iliy»mt ways, ,y«l Jnplter hath tied, 'then :So tofsther' that he that "kys liold of ihO' one draws, 'the ^other along with it As there is a great variety of smells, :teenihMly shnpia ^and. nneonipundod, not only^altog^lhoff unlike, hot 'tont 'Of' tkm contraiy to ■others^ and as. the tame thing may he said c^ tattes, it would seen that one taste is not leas diterent from another than It it from a smell: and therefore it ntay he a f nestion, how all smeUt come to he oomsiderBd as. one fimu§, and .all tastes as another ? What is the gpierical distinction ? Is it only that the note 'it the organ of the one and the phito of the ©tier? or, .alatraoing iwra, the^ ^iirgan, is. tlwro not In the sensations themselves something common to smells, and :some- thing else common to 'tiiite%. whereby the one it dittlngnished from tie ofter? It 'teemt most, prohahio that tlie kttor is tlie isase; and that, under the appearance of the greatest simplicity, there is still hi these sensationa. :Something of composition. If one eoBsideii 'the natter .liMtiaelly, It wo«M iteem 'that a nnmher of sensations, or, indeed, 'Of any other 'individnal. things,, 'Which am petfee^y rim.pto and "'iioom- 'pomided,. a»' iieapihte «f 'hetog^iiAwMl 'into nmmm and tp^f i heeantO' Ifedividuals which belong to a species mnst haire some- 'Ihhig peculiar to each, hv' which they an ditt^gnUied,. .and something common to 'the mmU species.. And the samo may he aaid of MfmiiM which belong to one fmtit. And, whether this 'does not im'ply':wni0Uwi .nf wmpotiiiiii,. 'W« ahai tevo to metophy- HW' 'tontaiiMt both of ameU and. tatto do undonhtedly .admit of .an immente' variety of modiHeations,' which no 'hapiage' can •apieia. If nan waa to examhM' ive hmdred dilBrent wuies, he would hawiy 'tnd. 'two of "thMii tiil hail wioltely the tametaate. The tame thing holds m cheese, and In many other things. Yet, of five hundred diflSerent tastes in cheese or wme, we can hardly describe twenty, so as to give a diithiet notion of them to one who had not tatted them. Dr Nehomiah Grew, a moti ju^iout and lahofinut. natortlitt, to a discourse read bifon the 1I<^ Society, anm 167d, hath eadeavonred to shew that there are at least sixteen different shnple tastes, which he •numerates.* How many compounded ones mm be made out of all the various oomhhiaiMit of two, three, four, or more of thete timple ones, they who are ao- f namted with the theory of combinations will eatiy peroelvt. All these have va^ rious di»rect of ^ 'hitensenets and weakness. Many ofthem have other varieties ; in some the tasto is more quickly perceived upon the apniieataon of the sapid boi|y. ui others mOM slowly— .k. some 'the 8«iiation'i8.more 'permanent, in others more transient— .m some it seems to undulate or return after certain intervals, in others it is constant ; the variout parto of the organ— as the lips, the tip of the tongue, the root of the tongue, the fiwe€M^ the uvuia, and the throat— are some of them chiefly afftected by one sapid body, and others by another. All these, and other varletiet of tastes, that accurato writer illustrates by a number of exampks.. Nor b it to be doubted, but smelk, if exa- mined with the same accuracy, would appear to have aa great variety. CHAPTER IV. or niAEiKO. Section /• irjiaiiTY or souNns— Tnim placs anu MSTAllCn LnAENSD BY COhTOM, WITHOUT kSOMtNO. .SO'imM 'have 'pobah^y no less variety of modiii!ation% 'than, either 'tattet or odours.. For, Irst, 'lOtiiii'' differ in tone. The ear is capable of peroeivmg four or five hun- dred variations of tone in .sonndy .and. 'pro- bably aamany different degf«»of strengths hf ' iWMwiMiili^g ^ese, we have above twenty tniiliaid thnple' sounds that differ either UI tone or strength, supposing every tone to be perfect But it » to be observed, that to mske a perfect tone, a great many • Plato and Oaten rtckon irarw, ArlrtoU*' and Tlito|ih'«wtya.«#g*f'#«l«tof •liB.|»ltlaal« Ainonit iliaTOOiiif'nt4Jr''f55KlJ.tliiie sie mfmfm M im. lif Boeriiasvt sad linitanui by Hsllci, ai 1 undulations of ehistie air are required, which must all be of equal duration and extent, and follow mie another with perfect regularity ; and each undulation must be made up of the advance and recoil of in- numerable particles of elastic air, whose motions are all uniform in direction, force, and tima Hence we may easily conceive a prodigious variety in the same tone, aris- ing from irregularities of it, occasioned by the constitution, figure, situation, or man- ner of striking the sonorous body; from the constitution of the ehistic medium, or its being disturbed by other motions ; and from the constitution of the ear itself, upon which the impression is made. A flute, a violin, a hautboy, and a French horn, may all sound the same tone, and be easily distinguishable. Nay, if twenty human voices sound the same note, and with equal strength, there will still be some difference. The same voice, while it re- tains its poper distinctions, may yet be varied many ways, by sickness or health, youth or age, leanness or fatness, good or bad humour. The same words spoken by foreigners and natives — nay, by jMjraons of different provinces of the same nation— may be distinguished. Such an immense variety of sensations of smell, taste, and sound, surely was not given us in vain. They are signs by which we know and distinguish things without us ; and it was fit that the variety of the figns should, in some degree, correspond with the variety of the things signified by them. It seems to be by custom that we learn to distinguish both the place of things, and their nature, by means of their sound. That such a noise is in the street, such another in the room above me ; that this is a knock at my door, that a person walk- ing up stairs— is probably learnt by expe- rience. I remember, that once lying a- bed, and having been put into a fright, I heard my own heart beat; but I took it to be one knocking at the door, and arose and opened the door oftener than once, before I discovered that the sound was in my own breast. It is probable, that, pre- vious to all experience, we should as little know whether a sound came from the right or left, from above or below, from a great or a small distance, as we should know whether it was the sound of a drum, or a bell, or a cart. Nature is frugal in her operations, and will not be at the ex- pense of a particular instmct, to give us that knowledge which experience will soon E reduce, by means of a general principle of uman nature. For a little experience, by the constitu- tion of human nature, ties together, not only in our unagituition« but m our belief, those things which were in their nature un- connected. When I hear a certain sound, I conclude immediately, without reasoning, that a coach passes by. There are no pre- mises from which this conclusion is inferred by any rules of logic It is the effect of a principle of our nature, common to us with the brutes. Although it is by hearing that we are capable of the perceptions of harmony and melody, and of all the charms of music, yet it would seem that these require a higher faculty, which we call a musical ear. This seems to be in very different degrees, in those who have the bare faculty of hear- ing equally perfect ; and, therefore, ouglit not to be classed with the external senses, but in a higher order. Section IL or NATURAL LANUUAGB. One of the noblest purposes nf sound un- doubtedly is language, Avithout which man- kind would hardly be able to attain any degree of improvement above the brutes. Language is commonly considered as purely an invention of men, who by nature are no less mute than the brutes ; but, having a superior degree of invention and reason, liave been able to contrive artificial signs of their thoughts and purposes, and to es- tablish them by common consent. But the origin of language deserves to be more care- fully inquired into, not only as this inquiry may be of importance for the improvement of language, but as it is related to the pre- sent subject, and tends to lay open some of the first principles of human nature. I shall, therefore, offer some thoughts upon this subject. By language I understand all those signs which mankind use in order to communi- cate to others their thoughts and intentions, their purposes and desires. And such signs may be conceived to be of two kinds : First, such as have no meaning but what is afiixed to them by compact or agreement among those who use them — these are ar- tificial signs; Secondly, such as, previous to all compact or agreement, have a mean- ing which every man understands by the principles of his nature. Language, so far as it consists of artificial signs, may be called artificial ; so far as it consists of natural signs, I call it natural. Having premised these definitions, I think it is demonstrable, that, if mankind had not a natural language, they could never have invented an artificial one by their reason and ingenuity. For all arti- ficial knguage supposes some compact or agreement to affix a certain meaning to OF THE HUMAN MIND. Mrtain t&gm i tliercfofe, ^ham awit Im coiiiiMiets or mgmmmim he/km lUm 'itt of' artiidiil mgm; but there can be no eom- piet or agreemeiit without mgm, nor with- out kiiguig^i mi, thet^ore, there miift 'te fti istiini' towage before any artificial langnage 'Ovi. be invented : which was to 'be' demonitiftted Had hmgnafO' In geneml. 'been. • biman inTea.tio% ae iniMb m wrttiiig' ot' priatiag,: we aboiild. ind wbole^ 'nations aa mule' aa^ the brato. Indeed, even the brutes have some nfttwal sfem by which they express their' own. ■ vwv^b the onteTi 'io w aS' th^ are 'expressive— although, 'the 'fawwledge of them requires in us a delicate taste, a nice judgment, and 'much' itn% and KaflUffie— yet they arO' noth.li^' tlW' 'b«t tM' 'langu.age of nature, which 'WO 'bicogiit .into the world with us, but have unlearned by disuse, and so find the greatest dilBeulty m recovering it Abolish the ise of' articulate eounds nnd writing among manldnd for a centmry. Bn4 every man would be a painter, an actor, and an orator. We mean not to affirm that such an expedient is practica- ble; or. if it were, that the advantage would counterbalance the loss; but that, as men are led by nature and necessity to converse together, they will use every mean in their power to make themselves under- stood ; and where they cannot do this by artificial signs, they will do it, as far as possible, by natural ones: and he that understands perfectly the use of natural signs, must be the best judge in all the ex- pressive arta CHAPTEE V. OF TOUCH. Sectiom I. or HlAT AND COLD. The senses which we have hitherto con- sidered, are very simple and uniform, each of them exhibiting only one kind of sensa- tion, and thereby indicating only one quality of bodies. By the ear we perceive sounds, and nothing else; by the palate, tastes; and by the nose, odours. These qualities are all likewise of one order, being all secondary qualities ; whereas, by touch we perceive not one quality only, but many, and those of very different kinds.* The chief of them are heat and cold, hardness and softness, roughness and smoothness, figure, solidity, motion, and extension. We shall consider these in order. As to heat and cold, it will easily be allowed that they are secondary qualities, of the same order with smell, taste, and Bound. And, therefore, what hath been /already said of smell, is easily applicable to them ; that is, that the words heat and cold have each of them two significations ; they sometimes signify certain sensations of the mind, which can have no existence when when they are not felt, nor can exist any- where but in a mind or sentient being ; but more frequently they signify a quality in bodies, which, by the laws of nature, occa- sions the sensations of heat and cold in us — a quality which, though connected by cus- tom 80 closely with the sensation, that we cannot, without difficulty, separate them, yet hath not the least resemblance to it, ■ It hM lieen very commonly lipid by philoRophen, both in ancient and modem timet, ihiit the division ofthenenset into five, is altogether inadequate; and pf:>rchologi»ta, though not at one in regard to the dis. iribution, are now generally agreed, that under Touch —or FeeHtifir, in the^trictect signifiration of the term —are comprised pcrreptions which are, at least, as well entitled to be oppoaed in ipccici, as those of Taste siMlttaieU— H« and may continue to exist when there is no sensation at all. The sensations of heat and cold are per- fectly known ; for they neither are, nor can be, anything else than what we feel them to be ; but the qualities in bodies which we call heat and cold^ are unknown. They are only conceived by us, as unknown causes or occasions of the sensations to which we give the same names. But, though common sense says nothing of the nature of these qualities, it plainly dictates the existence of them ; and to deny that there can be heat and cold when they are not felt, is an ab- surdity too gross to merit confutation. For what could be more absurd, than to say, that the thermometer cannot rise or fall, unless some person be present, or that the aiast of Guinea would be as cold as Nova Zembla, if it had no inhabitants ? It is the business of philosophers to in- vestigate, by proper experiments and in- duction, what heat and cold are in bodies. And whether they make heat a particular element diffused through nature, and ac- cumulated in the heated body, or whether they make it a certain vibration of the parts of the heated body ; whether they de- termine that heat and cold are contrary qualities, as the sensations undoubtedly are contrary, or that heat only is a quality, and cold its privation ; these questions are within the province of philosophy ; for com- mon sense says nothing on the one side or the other. But, whatever be the nature of that quality in bodies which we call heat^ we certainly know this, that it cannot in the least resemble the sensation of heat. It is no less absurd to suppose a likeness be- tween the sensation and the quality, than it would be to suppose that the pain of the gout resembles a square or a triangle. The simplest man that hath common sense, does not imagine the sensation of heat, or anything that resembles that sensation, to be in the fire. He only imagines that there is something in the fire which makes him and other sentient beings feel heat. Yet, as the name of heat, in common lan- guage, more frequently and more properly signifies this unknown something in the fire, than the sensation occasioned by it, he justly laughs at the philosopher who denies that there is any heat in the fire, and thmks that he speaks contrary to com- mon sense. Section jl OP HARDNESS AND iOPTNlSl. Let us next consider hardness and soft- ness ; by which words we always under- iW OF THE HUMAH MINa Of TOUCH. 121 / ■taiid ml pNP|Miiit m ii^mMAm ^ 'hoMm. of lAieli wm Mm a dittinet otmiseptioii. WlMn tlie ptrtiof alwIgradlicvtMinilj tliflt it aumoC^ 'Meity lie made' te elauige itt 'ipiBi He ^oiill It kmrdi when 'ite^ wte^ mm •■■%#iph«ed,weeill.it«8^. TUilsthe iiotifw whkh all nnnldiMl have of haidnees aor like any sefnaiiiiiii ihegr 'were. ;nai. naafitiea before they weie iMRseiTed hy tbodi, and eontimae to heno when they aie not|iereeived$ for if any mail wii affirm 'thai diaimida" wen: ^nol hard till they wen 'handMy 'whe: wenM mmm liHh him f tteie ill no donhl, a leneafioa by whieh wefeteeive'abodytobehardoreoft Thii Miiation of hardnen may eisily 'be had, by incaeinf ome*a hand againet the taMfli :and attending to the feeling thai ewiiie% wtthig ■side, as mncb as poenhlei all thoa|^t of the table and its qualitiee, or of any external things :Biit tils onO' thing' to have the .eens- atio% .aniaiiotheff to 'attend. telt| and make it a 'diatinct object of reieetioB. The first w very easy ; the lasl, in most emm, ex- V tremdy dttenlt* We are so aeeusiomed to um the lensa-' tlon as asip,,aad/tO''|iasB immediately tO' the 'hardness s%iiied,, that, as^ far .aa'appean, it waB"iiefer' wde an object of thought, either by thevilgarof by philosophers ; nor has it a naae:hi/aBy'hmpage. There kaosensation .moie disliiiet, or more fieqnent; yet it is. never :alieiidBd to, but pssseS' 'thMMgh the mind instantaneonsly, and acnres onlv to introdnoe that qiiality in bodies, which, by a hiw' of OUT' eenstitiitbn, it snggesls. There' mi% indeed, some eases, wherein it is no diffieuit matter to attend to the sens- ation oeeasioned by the hardness of a body ; for instance, when it is sn^ 'im)leiil"M' to occa- sion, flonaiderable patn'i then, 'natme 'Calls upon wto attend to it,, and then, we adtaow- .ledg^ that it is a 'mere sensation, and. can only be' in a .sentient 'being. If a man .mns .his head. with, violeiwe' agimiit '• |iiil*rf I appeal to Mm. whether 'the psin 'he tetiB re- icmblsB 'the hardness of the slone, or 'if he can conceive anything like what he feels to bc' in .an inanimate' piece of matter. The attention of fhemhii, iaheffeentw%' tvmed. 'towards the "painfhl. iMhit ; and, to speak hi. the 'lionmion bngnsge M mankind, he leels notUnii In tiie Btoiie,'bat feels a vMsnt pahi ia 'us 'liead. .It 'IS'fnite other- wist' 'When: he^ 'bans :iii licad. pntly agahwt tbs' 'pilar' I te' 'iicn he^ wil. 'tell .yea. that he IMs nothing In his head, but feels hardness in the stone. M^ath he .not a sensaliom in this ctso' Mini, m in the ctfwT'f Va- donbledly he 'halfct hat It is ft'iSiisallon which nature intended oiily as a sip of isomethhig hi. the stone;, and, ^acconhngly, 'he iBstantlj ixea his attention npon. the hiilg s%aiisd| and 'Camiot,. without grtat dUBculty, attend so mnch to^ 'thC' sensaticn ss to be persuaded that there is any such thing distinct from the hardness it signilles* But, however dUBoult it may be to Attend to this iagitive leoiatbn, to stop its rapid progress, and to disjoin it from the external fiudity of hardness, in whose shadow it is ^i^it Immediately to hide ..itself ;. this is what a phiosophcr by iwilns and practice must .attam, otherwise' ft will be impossible for him to reason justly upon this subject, or even to understand what is here advanced. For the last appeal, In snbjeets of 'thto na- tn:r% ntuat be to^ 'what a man. feels aud per^ ceives in his own niiii!) (hi! distinction of FrAfMry and Secondary Qualities, M» " Euavaon the btd'ectual Poweri. K'My 11., chap. 17, and Note D, at the end of tlitv'ilume.— kt. smoothness, to figure and motion, that we may be excused from making the applica- tion, which would only be a repetition of what hath been said. All these, by means of certain corresponding sensations of touch, are presented to the mind as real external qualities ; the conception and the belief of them are invariably connected with the corresponding sensations, by an original principle of human nature. Their sensa- tions have no name in any language ; they have not only been overlooked by the vul- gar, but by philosophers ; or, if they have been at all taken notice of, they have been confounded with the external qualities which they suggest. Section F. OP BXTBX8I0N. It is further to be observed, that hard- ness and softness, roughness and smooth- ness, figure and motion, do all suppose ex- tension, and cannot be conceived without it ; yet, I think it must, on the other hand, be allowed that, if we had never felt any thing hard or soft, rough or smooth, figured or moved, we should never have had a con- ception of extension ;• so that, as there i» good ground to believe that the notion of extension could not be prior to that of other primary qualities, so it is certain that it could not be posterior to the notion of any of them, being necessarily implied in them all.f Extension, therefore, seems to be a qua- lity sw^f /<'."?/<''/ to us, by the very same sens- ations which suggest the other qualities above mentioned. When I grasp a ball in my hand, 1 perceive it at once hard, figured, and extended. The feeling is very simple, and hath not the least resemblance to any quaUty of body. Yet it suggests to us three primary qualities perfectly dis- tinct from one another, as well as from the sensation which indicates them. When I move my hand along the table, the feel- ing is so simple that I find it difficult to distinguish it into things of different na- tures ; yet, it innnediatey suggests hardness, smoothness, extension, and motion— things » According to Reid,- Exte» sion (Spare) is a no. tion a poUeriori, the result of experience. Accord- ing to Kant, it is a priori ; experienc e only affording the occasions required by the mind to exert the «cf«, of which the intuition o» space is a condition. To that we' get Hm^^ iiea^'df exteiiiliMi hy feeling aluDg ilie ejclMiiiilaa nf a My, as if there was no manner of difficulty in the natter. I .have loiight, with great pains, I ef»fia% to ind onthow this Ifte'eaii bept hj feel- ing' ; hni I haw Mughl In Tain. Yet it is ttie: of'the^ dearest^^and most distlnist notbns we have; nor is there anything whatsoever ahonl which 'the hmaii. iideiitaiMing can carry m m mniy long ^and. deiiwnitiatave 'trains 'Of .reasoning.* The notion of exteniioii is so familiar to us from in&ney, and so constantly ob- Inided hy everything we 9m ^and fed, that we an apt to think i ohvionS'tew it 'Comes into the mind , but upon a narrower ex- amination we shall find it utterly inexpli- . eabte. It i» true 'we have feelings of touch, which every momant present extension to the mind ; hut bo'w' 'they come tO' 'do eo, is the question ; for those' feelings do no more resemble extension, than, they re- semble justice or coura|e---nor can the existence' of extended, thinga be inferred from, ibose feelinp by any rules of rea.sou- iug ; BO that the feelrngs^ we have by touch, can neither explain how we pet the .notion, nor bow 'We 'Come by tbe belief of exteudtd What hath imposed npon philosophers in this matter is^ that the feelings of touch, which suggest primary qual.ities, have no names, 'nor are' 'tbey ever reieeted. ^poii. They psss: through 'the mind instantane- ously, and serve only to introduce' the .mi- tion and belief of external things, which, by our constitution, are connected with tbem. 'They arO' natural sifps, rad the 'nhid hnmedlately passes to the thing ti^ niied, without making the least refieetion 'Upon the sign, or obi«.rviiig that there was wysuehthmg. HiCnee 'it baA always bewi taittt for granted, that 'tbe^ ideas of extent .sion, l|»ir% and motion, .are 'ideas of sensa- tion, 'wTiicb 'Outer into themmd by 'ihe sens« of touch, .in the same manner as the .sensa* tici.i.iS' of sound and ^smei In by the ear .ami. nosa't Tbe.Beiiia'iiiMilie;ien«fSll|ailiiemt. Iwimlii rtiesiiifaet nm of tli» litfilitftt ilitii. ....^^ but lie hM certainly btr« maOt tHeWliCfe .sntirfpled bf HutchMon, In Mint of llM' aiMt wiplci, no icw tliaa. In tmne d' ttiS' iiM.||.ii|ilitlaM|iliy. l^|int«,'«l«lliiiit iwr.MlMvliill' ame flmn MniditMHi'i nected, by our eonslltutioii, with the notions of extenaion, figure, and motion, that phi^ losopbera have mistaken the one for the ■trietly'ielsllie lo Hit atieitlon In ili« text :— <* It •• n« 'SMf' le iiflda 'ilnliafltlf mir several $t-nia'iom mio Cla.>aii> llieiitUoai el cNir External Seiitet itiio verjr imperlieoi. Some I any previO'tit idea* can attom of Hunger, 'Tiiifal.. Weaiinewi Sictneia; «r If we reduce ercr|KloR Joined with i.nani.. javf fwrrg wtmwmmot^ if acctmnmmmtm witn •Alf tutea, time ^ mm mmmmmiet Mem itfimtr- Nmm6er may acoMnpsiny any .a«iis.lble ideas, and yet nay also aflCM^paAf any oibtr':iilea«, as well m, enter. ftutcs, when several objean are Ijjfiiyjfm IImi I 'tlMfii only 'iwft. of' it. m bclbtv ttein, Have probably all the proper Ideas of St 'Wliiei we 'lia«% wttliouc tb« Idea, of nuaibir, \ .ti'Ome' .Mew ate Amnd ecwiitiHtiiBilig' Hie anotl' • . |iaratni)taii> tboldeaa ot liighl or Colours, and yet may be per. ««|.vad 'Vllbiiat Uwn, asm Ibe idea* ot Touch, at leu t If we 'not t our otgant: .along 't..b« parts of tiw body tiNidiei. M9im^m» tifgmwf M9timtm' Metta af*m UkrQfbrf m $0 'mmre prmir*§ mUett Mem meom. pm^fmg lAe amMllMa nfSigM mitt TtmeAttkamtkii mmmHiim* qf eilker qf ihe$e mue» ) nince ihey cat! lie received somvtinies without the Ideas of lolour, and toinemm-s without tlioseot Touching, ihuugb never wlilioiit the out or the other l he ■merte^ mm trUteH ■mrepmirt^ amtMe^ rt.'Cetved each by its proper sense* are lasti-t, Smellit. (oiowSi liotind, t old, Heal, a. c 'I'be itsii'vef mt concomitmm fOem whieh may attend any idea whati>oever, art Uuratiun and Numbtn *lheide.ts which accompany the moat dtil'reiit sensations, art* kJEifnKMin, Figure, MoikiM, and. Meat Th«te mii arif « .wlf.Aitail e»y pre^ wimmmm'^memhku. oremi^mm4''4k»i » set I , Jl'rCI . 'llM "riader may liktW'iae'Con.siilt Ihe same autliar*^ **%Mipis MetaphyDtcm,** Fart 11., can., i, I & 8tt Mow. 'p.. 829. b, note. BlM. ktvt I may observe, in the firvt place, that the .ilalamtat made in the preceiilnM' i|u«)iaiiik II L Ch. .l.p*|li«t im,:)calm the other : but, by our con- itilliticui, we conclude from the first an ob- scure or occult quality, of which we have only this relative conception, that it is something adapted to raise in us the sensa- tion of heat ; from the second, we conclude a quality of which we have a clear and dis- tinct conception — to wit, the hardness^f the body. Section VI. OP BXTBNSION. To put this matter in another light, it may be proper to try, whether from sensa- tion alone we can collect any notion of ex- tension, figure, motion, and space.* I take it for granted, that a blind man hath the same notions of extension, figure, and mo- tion, as a man that sees ; that Dr Saunder- son had the same notion of a cone, a cylin- der, and a sphere, and of the motions and distances of the heavenly bodies, as Sir Isaac Newton. -|- As sight, therefore, is not necessary for our acquiring those notions, we shall leave it out altogether in our inquiry into the first origin of them; and shall suppose a blind man, by some strange distemper, to have lost all the experience, and habits, and notions he had got by touch ; not to have the least conception of the existence, figure, dimensions, or extension, either of his own body, or of any other ; but to have all his knowledge of external things to ac- quire anew, by means of sensation, and the power of reason, which we suppose to re- main entire. We shall, first, suppose his body fixed immovably in one place, and that he can only have the feelings of touch, by the application of other bodies to it. Suppose him first to be pricked with a pin— this will, no doubt, give a smart sensation : he feels pain ; but what can he infer from it ? Nothing, surely, with regard to the existence or figure of a pin. He can infer nothing from this species of pain, which he may not as well infer from the gout or sciatica. Common sense may lead him to think that this pain has a cause; but whether this cause is body or spirit, extended or unex- tended, figured or not figured, he cannot possibly, from any principles he is supposed to have, form the least conjecture. Hav- ing had formerly no notion of body or of extension, the prick of a pin can give him none. Suppose, next, a bod y not pointed, btit "•"Why 'axe'Exteniion and~S/»a r distinguibhed tis cO'Oniinate, and thus oddly sundered ?— H. f 'Ihe observations of Pia'ner, on a. person born blind, would prove, however, xhax sight, not toudi, is rhesenRehv which we principally obtain our know. Iitlgt; ot Figure, and our empiiicnl knowli-d^-c <»( Spat-e. i>4uuuei»uii, at any raie, was not hot n blind. — H. OP THE BUM AN MINB. Muni* ■ .MHilW. to Mi Wy witli » font giiilnallb'' fnor miiii ipitil^ it briiiiM niiii* IriwI'liiM'iw gol^ by tlib, but wmtlMif mm^ Mkm. or tnta of leiiartlims, from which 1m». ii ^aife to 'OoadliMl* m 'iltfo ■—■ fmm the tmum f A •dffloiii temwur M mj in- wuil |Mkri of iM body, by f trn t kng upon the adJMeut piin% n»y give thosMue kind of fleuMitioii ais the pressuf© of an ext««l 'body, without, cwnveying any uotioii but tiwt. of fiiin. which, iuwly, h«lli m ■•«- MbuM' 'to 'Ojctenfiion. tepiMMMi, thirdly, thiit 'tiw body sppliMl to him touchet a ktier or a h&mf port of hit body. Can thk giw bim my notion td' its emtension or dimoniiiiiM ? lo me it aeetna imposaible that it shouy, unloia he had eome previous nottou of tho' dlmen* fiiitns and figure of hia own body, to serve him a« a nM*aure.« When my two hands wueh the' oatremltiea of a body, if I know them to be a foot aaauder, I easily eol- iect that the body is a foot hmg | and, if I know them to be five feet asunder, that it is, iwi fast long 5 but, if I know not what iho dirtanee of my hands is, I cannot know tho' :i«igth of the object they grasp | and, if I have no f levious notion 'Of han^ds at aU, or of distance 'between tb«n, I ©an nover get. that notion hy their 'being tombed. Suppose, again, that a body is drawn along his liands or face, while they are at test. Can this give him any notinu of space or 'motion ? It no doubt gives a new feeling ; but how it ^ou'ld convey a notion iif space or motion to onO' who had none hefofe, I cannot conceive. The blood moves along the arteries and veins, and this motion, when, violent,, 'Is^felt s but I imagine no man, hy this feolin|, could get the conception of spice' or motion, if he had it not before. Sneh a motion BMV;,||ve * 'Certain wicces- aioB, of feelii«8, ■■ may do ; but no feelhigs. nor aw combination of feelings, .can ever lesemble space or motion. .Let us next sup'pose, 'that he nMlns:BeiMi: lustinetive eibrt to wmm his head, opbis. hand I 'but that m motion 'follows, either m accou'Ut of external resiitance, or^of palsy. Can this effort convey the notion nf spaoo' .and, 'motiun tO' mm who nover had .it 'before.?- Smty ft «Miwit. last of all,, 'let 'Us suppose 'Aat'he moves. a limb by raistinct, without havmgj had any Srevious ,notion of ^spacO' or 'motion- .He as 'here: a 'icw sensation, 'whiiii. .Mscom- panies. 'the 'iexni» of 'Jotnto, and the 8wel.ling of muicles. But how this sensation can convey into bis mind the idea of space and motbn, is. ,stil altogether mysterious^ and uninteiigi'ble. The 'motbns of the heart. - .|^^^^ ■■■ nriiiii *. • Nif , tie ii«eiii immud^mmti Wciiw eimillili tlie ciatKiiH fact, mat 111* 'MUIi* .««IwiI. wlriMl SMiMr tbf .Kune' 10 tlie tcMidi. u diflMrcnl fiafftf ui llie iMulf . and. lap are^ .all perfnrmed by the con« traction of muscles, yet give no conception .of apace or motion. An embrvo in the womb ,has many sncii ■■mliins, and, probably the feelhigs that aceMninny them, without any idea of space or notion. Ut>on the whole, it appears that our phiosopbois. .hava ,inpoied upon tliemsdvea .and nnon i%. .:ln. pitondhig to deduct froni senition. the 'Irsl. origin. 'Of onr notions of extomal inlslwiees, of space, motion, and extension,* and all the primary qnniitios of 'body— that, is, the <|ualitica. 'whereof 'we 'han-tbe most, .clear .and dist.inot conception. These qualities do not at all tally with an v system of the human l&colties that hath been advanced. They have no resembhiuce to any sensation, or to any operation of our 'ra'inds;. and, «lierefore, tbey cannot be ideas either of sensation or of reflection. The very conception of them is irreconcil- able to the principles of all our philosophic systems of the nndofslanding. The belief of them Is no ...Ji^«:iim ¥11* or TH« ■XlfTlNCl or A lIATlRIAi. WOmLD. It is beyond our power to say when, or in what order, we came by our notions of these qualities.. When. 'WO' 'trace the opera- tbns of our minds as far back as menmry and reflection can carry us, we find them .already in poseesaion of our imngination and belief, and quite 'familiar to the 'mind t but how they came first into its acquaintance, or what has given them so strong a hold of our belief, and what regard they deserve, are, no doubt, very important questions in the phioeopliy of human nature. Shall we, with the Bishop of Cloyne^ serve them with a qm warranto, and havn them tried at the bar of philosophy, upon 'tlM .ilatato of (be ideal, system ? Indeed, In (bis trial they teem to have come ofT very pitifully ; for, although they had very abto counsel, learned in the law -viz., Dea Cartes, Malebianch% and Locke, who said everything tliey could fur their clients— th« • Tliit thi ani'iiio of ip«» is • ■rf comtltion of liMMihl, md.. thu. m mdL U to ImfoMiiile to d». rive it from «JH«fi«n«r, Inm Imm cogently dctnoiu itrattd by lUnt. Bm iliM •• m»y not. through •MMC, lisvecinirtflfairau imniediate peireolion of •omcthlng calwfci, I li«»e yet seen no valid reason to dkwM. lie aarKif I Concepiion does not excludo timmpo9tmmt WmmfHim j and ihls latter cannot I* Wjected WllhOUtllSlyillStllteiridenceol c«>n«io.i»i.. m. Which MillMi m Ihsi wc are iimneome. tliiag«lt«iMI. In thl«, however, I «"«"«*• '^H* lliwiab 1 ■w BOMfiwJMl that the pnitoophy ef the two SffiMff imM io...'hlt cooenmioa, whidi. i-^ la ilHt.of"tbe aPKBawHa wpa ippp^wpw ili'hiil.-li. OF TOUCH. 127 Bishop of Cloyne, believing them to be aiders and abetters of heresy and schism, prosecuted them with great vigour, fully answered all that had been pleaded in their defence, and silenced their ablest advocates, who seem, for half a century past, to declhie the argument, and to trust to the favour of tlie jury rather than to the strength of their pleadiugs. Thus, the wisdom of philosophy is set in opposition to the common sense of mankind. The first pretends to demonstrate, a priori, that there can be no such thing as a mate- rial world ; that sun, moon, stars, and earth, vegetable and animal bodies, are, and can be nothing else, but sensatioiis in the mind, or imsges of those sensations in the memory and imagination ; that, like pain and joy, they can have no existence when they are not thought of. The last can conceive no otherwise of this opinion, than as a kind of metaphysical lunacy, and concludes that too much learning is apt to make men mad ; and that the man who seriously entertains thisbelief, thougli in other respects he may be a very good man, as a man may be who be- lieves that he is made of glass ; yet, surely he hath a soft place in his understanding, and hath been hurt by much thinking. This opposition betwixt philosophy and common sense, is apt to have a very un- happy influence upon the philosopher him- self. He sees human nature in an odd, unamiable, and mortifying light. He con- siders himself, and the rest of his species, as born under a necessity of believing ten thousand absurdities and contradictions, and endowed with such a pittance of reason as is just sufficient to make this unhappy discovery : and this is all the fruit of his profound spt'culations. Such notions of human nature tend to slacken every nerve of the soul, to put every noble purpose and sen- timent out of countenance, and spread a me- lancholy gloom over the whole face of things. If this is wisdom, let me be deluded with the vulgar. I find something within me that recoils against it, aivi inspires more reverent sentunents of the "numan kind, and ^ of the universal administration. Common Sense and Reason* have both one author ; that Almighty Author in all whose other works we observe a consistency, uniformity, and beauty which charm and delight the understanding: there must, therefore, be some order and consistency in the human faculties, as well as in other parts of his workmanship. A man that thinks rever- ently of his own kind, and esteems true wisdom and philosophy, will not be fond, nay, will be very suspicious, of such strange • The reader will a^aln notice thin and the other Inotancrs whirh follow, of the inaccuracy ot R«*id*« I laoftuaite in hi« entlier woik, ron»tituting, asdifliT. tnl, Msason and Cuvimm Stfttfe.->H. t and paradoxical opinions. If they are false, they disgrace philosophy ; and, if they are true, they degrade the human species, and make us justly ashamed of our frame. To what purpose is it for philosophy to decide against common sense in this or any^ other matter ? The belief of a material ' world is older, and of more authority, than any principles of philosophy. It declines the tribunal of reason,* and laughs at all the artillery of the logician, it retains its sovereign authority in spite of all the edicts of philosophy, and reason itself nmst stoop to its orders. Even those philosophers who have disowned the authority of our notions of an external material world, confess that they find themselves under a necessity of submitting to their power. J Methinks, therefore, it were better to make a virtue of necessity ; and, since ue cannot get rid of the vulgar notion and be- lief of an external world, to reconcile our reason to it as well as we can ; for, if Rea- - son* should stomach and fret ever so much at this yoke, she cannot throw it off; if she will not be the servant of Common Sense, she must be her slave. In order, therefore, to reconcile Reason to Common Sense* in this matter, I beg leave to offer to the consideration of philo- sophers these two observations. First, That, in all this debate about the existence of a material world, it hath been taken for granted on both sides, that this same material world, if any such there le, nmst be the express image of our sensations; that we can have no conception of any material thing which is not like some sens- ation in our minds ; and particularly that the sensations of touch are images of exten- sion, hardness, figure, and motion. Every argument brought against the existence of a material world, either by the Bishop of Cloyne, or by the author of the " Treatise of Human Nature," supposeth this. If this is true, their arguments are conclusive and unanswerable ; but, on the other hand, if it is not true, there is no shadow of argu- ment lett. Have those philosophers, then/ given any solid proof of this hypothesis, upon which the whole weight of so strange a system rests. No. They have not so much as attempted to do it. But, because ] ancient and modern philosophers have agreed in this opinion, they have taken it for granted. But let us, as becomes philosophers, lay aside authority ; we need not, surely, consult Aristotle or Locke, to know whether paui be like the point of a sword. I have as clear a conception of extension, hardness, and motion, as I have of the point of a sword ; and, with some pains and practice, I can form as clear a notion of the other B ensa« " • See lait note.— H . > - -*• ■■■ I2B or TB« HUMAN MINB. tioiit df 'tuMli m I ham of psiii. Wlioi I iito M,, mud MBipvt' 'thffii logetlier, it Ap- 'PMin to mi' «lflw •■• Aiyiglit, that tli© fo^ neraM moKif Miito«li«htt«r,iiorrfiseiiible tlwm in mj mm featuw. Tbejr at® at mmm, ,jm mi fl«tMi|af «<* mMif-^lf «"- 'liw, M vaim ia 'to '«lw^ fobt nf a wrnni. It may te'tnio, tliat mm :8eiii«EiiiM' trot .intnanised 'Hi© matofial. wnild to our ac- HiaiiilaiiiMi^i it naf ^ <*<■*• ^^^' '^ mMom or wsver apfMaan^ 'wiiimil llwir ^ooniiiaiiy ; tout, for ai tial, tlioy ar« as unlike an the passion of anger is to those features of the countonanoe' which att<«d it m that, in the^ seatcnM 'those: pbiloso- phen 'hate passed again* the iii«torial world, the» i» an trwir permmB, Their proof touches not matter, or any of its oim- iilies I tout istrilieB direetly .i^pins* »n Hal of 'their own iaiii|inatiiw, * «ato Al world 'made of ideas and sensations, which never had, nor can have an existence. Secondly, The very cxistunee of owr «on- leoplions of extension, Iguw, and motion, Mco'they are neither ideas of sensation nor rdiection, overturns the whole ideal system, by which the material world hath been tried and condemned i* so that there hath been likewise 'in this sentonce an error jmrh. It is a very ine and a just obaervation of Locke, that, as no human art can create a single 'partic!© of matter, and the whol« ex- tmt of our power over the material world .omsista in compounding, combinhif , and disioining the matter made to our hands ; BO, in the world of thought, the materials are rfl 'made by nature, and can only be^ ▼arioualy oomMned and disjohied toy 'ni- 80 'that It is. ■faposiible 'for reason or prejn- iiee, true or false phiosophy, to pwducO' nne simple notion or .conception, whicli. is not the work of na*Mf0|„ ^aid. 'thO' 'resnit of nur constitution. The cooeeplloii of exten- ■ion, motion, and the other attributes of matter, cannot be the effect of error or pre- judice; it mnst be the work of .nature^ 'And. the power or faunlty by which 'we^ .ac<|iilre''tho«} wnoepilons, 'must toe^some- thing dilfafent from any power of ttie hu- man mind that hath been emptoined, since it. is 'neither sensation nor reieetlon. r This I wooW, Aerefote, toimbly propose, 'as m tippenmmmm trum, by whwh the Meal system mnat stand or WI« and it brings the n»ttor to a short issue j Exten- sion, iffw, 'motion, way, ■»nyf««. «'*?'* of them, be takm 'for the iubfe* of th'is experiment Either they are ideas of scns- • It oalf iweitiifii* 'bat IdeaHstn i*S«**f, ^V**** 'tlM>. »**«- wmm .Mmilicii • lis«it *«*» ••• "•«"» »*« *•*»* *" .nchta ltoi.'tiie'miiortui ii«tt.-.a ation,: Of they are not If any one of \ thoitt can be shewn to be an Idea of sensa- tion, or to have the least resemblance to any sensation, I ky my hand upon my mouth* and give up all pretence to recon- cilo 'reason 'to eommon sense, in this matter, and must suffer the ideal ■cepticiMn to trinmph. But if, on the other hand, they are not ideoa of sensation, nor like to any sensation, then the ideal system is a rope of sand, and aU the kboured arguments of the sceptical philosophy against a inatorua world, and against the exiitenoeof every thing but impressions and ideasj proceed upon a filae hypothesis.* • Nothliii !• Siwlfr tton to ihew. thai, m far frcrn ■•Aitiag Iil«ill«ni,tbi«**|tfae«flord* lithe beit of onet Itoia llM Hiitertal oHiect and the immatei al •laliwt. Illftt Inlfrniecliate entities being likewlie hdM to Of Iginate iiamediately or mediately »"•«»««-• ifllilt briMtbevis. I kajf wwe requUilc.i© Msiliaiii» ilitti would R«l»i'icriiidiiiiof lliaiidoctrlnelitaeoiii- iilete and flnal eottHilstioii. But m thi» criticum aid iwt cmittiiiiilM*, M> tl dott not conmte that 1.1m- p|«'»id«iii»ttin«l 'bl«ii.lf«. wItWi viewwn ideai mm MoiUkaiiiinaffll ttw wind UatMi and which, in lliitiM emiimy, lltid. fsml hemln be to loUowed by Mr atwait.) ill ihtilocifl'iie'now'inaiiitsiiied.afcjerta the vetj pnaininioii which thw iolifip of laeaiwm mla£h«ili«MiclwloiM. An Ego^^ml Uiealwm >s •itabliriieil, m Ilit imstfliift^lhai «U our know Wxe It merely Mit»iecti»e, or of the mind «i«lf j that ihe £iO hai no immediate cognteaiice of a Non-tgo a« okniia. tout thai the Non.E«o l» oiilf lepreMfntwU.t «itoajii««fti»itonoftbet*lf.con«^^ Ihw (looiiliitliwif Bitailtt«l,the IdraJisi haionly to shew that the luppoilCton ol a !liMi.effo. or external wo« feiillf exiitent, is a groundlew and unnecewary aimimiilioii; ii»f,whUc the law of parcimouy iiro- tiiMta the ■wtepieation of lubstanm or aiu«« be. •oml what lbs |ih«oiimMia iwiutie. *•*>■»« "»5S: ieitly no mm. to pMtulala''iir the f on-te* the «lr niltl' 'of an ittdSiNMllillt .fUillaiiOS bmnd the Kgn, Mdiig that thit Moo-ifo K #• Ifp»l*<«. """*»!« u% eonw^litoilf ««iita tor u». oiiFv .» » pheiiomewMi oflbs to— l«i,tbtjtocifiiic of our Scouish phlto. • to, in ftcl|tliefi»f grou'idwork on which tlJeEgototictf IdisliMn wpoMfc, That doctrine not null maintalniour aeiMatMinaof thtaecondary qua. itlM to be the mmm •<*(»• of iwtaiii ""J,""*" mmm, at which we ate «»Mi«l««5y «"»"' Ji* aiiniliMNMllfi but that wtb»feiio«i«and Inima. dfate uerciiitton of eiiemlim «i»d the otherpnmary ouahtlM of malltr. To limit ourtel vei to e*teniion» Im' •fsw.l whiidi,JHiir« and. motion (the, two other linlitlatpopiwi* if llaMfbr the tspeilineitt) tufi. iimlvii aa saisfasllf txtatUig, tMfmaed object* cannot bt lmai«ll«tif pwrtvtd ■«^«f»'"" ;,""'• •nd mdeprtidwil. ofthe percipient tul^|ect ; for, il we were antable of wich a iiercepnon or iurh object*, we •houU iitliHiMiafi'j%T alao capable of a perception of Ihii, lbs «» saientlal attribute of their existence. Bill, on the docirtne . f our Scott-»h philosopher^ fistemion l« a n«»«i«JO|pfHlon ooca»i..n ot«^^^^ ■CUinsiiuppoMd tobwm«finin«lbyctrtain "»«"«*" etUMS I which iinltnown eauaii are agaui »"PP«ed 10 he MlMtnoM iMlmiiiilfnt of the mind, and ex. cZiSXiheif comSSTi; «52v«2^''S:2££l extenal world. AU our knowledge of Ihe Noo-lfigo 11 thtia 'BCMlf 'IdaSl and mediate ; we have tio knowledgt of anr >**1'7 objective reality, exesfic IhroUf h a nilMlive repre^-ntaUon w n"«'on ; in .'— !• . -^ -— ooiy immedliitely coienixant Ol mil Biindi, and. in and through _rnt4 of the phwnnniena of the In atl es«ential re«Dect«, this di)0> ■It II. Identical with Kanfai ■|lilitontbSff.in faolduig^pa«f ontsltt modas tliem, mediately material univcnt. tnne of HeUl ••■ OF TOUCH. 129 If our philosophy concerning the mind be so lame with regard to the origin of our notions of the clearest, most simple, and most familiar objects of thought, and the powers from which they are deriTed, can we expect that it should be more perfect in the account it gives of the origin of our opinions and belief ? We hai^e seen already some instances of its imperfection in this respect: and, perhaps, that same nature which hath given us the power to conceive things altogether unlike tci any of our sens- ationi), or to any operation of our minds, hath likewise provided for our belief of them, by some part of our constitution hitlierto not explained. Bishop Berkeley hath proved, beyond the possibility of reply, tliat we cannot by reasoning infer the existence of matter from our sensations; and the author of the " Treatise of Human Nature'' hath proved no less clearly, that we cannot by reasoning infer the existence of our own or other minds from our sensations. But are we to admit nothing but what can be proved by reasoning ? Then we must be sceptics in- deed, and believe nothing at all. The author of the "Treatise of Human Na- ture" appears to me to be hut a half-«ceptic. He hath not followed his principles so far as they lead him ; but, after having, with un- paralleled intrepidity and success, combated vulgar prejudices, when he had but one blow to strike, his courage fails him, he fairly lays down his arms, and yields him- self a captive to the most common of all vulgar prejudices— I mean the belief of the existence of his own impressions and ideas. • to be a necessary form ot our conceptions of external things, prudently declined a<-rertiiig that these un. known things are, m themselvet, extended. Now, the doctrine of Kant has been rigorously proved hy Jacohi and Fichie to be, in its legitimate issue, a dfictiineof absolute Idealism; and the de. inonstrations which the philosopher of Koenigsberg lias given o* the existence of an external world, have Wen long admitted, even by his disci|>le8 them elves, to lie inconclusive. But our Scottish philosophers appeal to an argument which the German philoso. plier overtly rejected -the argument, as it is called, tioin common sense. In their hands however, this argument is unavailing ; tor, if It be good against the roriclusions ofthe Idealist, it is good against the pre- mises which they atlord him. The common nense of mankind only assures us of the existence of an ex- ternal and extended world, in assuring us i hat we atecor.scious, n-^ merely of the phainomena of mind in relation to mSiter, but of the phaenomena of mat. ter in relation to mind—in other words, that we are immediately percipient of extended things. Reid himself seems to have become obscurely aware of this condition ; and, though he never retracted his doctrine concerning the mere iUlil■estiono(ext^n^i n, we find, in his •• Essays on the Intellectual Powers," araertions in regard to the immediate perception of external things, which would tend to shew that his later views were more in unison with the ne- ccMary convictions of mankind. But of this again. • There it in this and the two folloi^ing para, graphs a confUsion and inaccuracy which it is re- quisite to notice— There is no scepticism possible touctiing the facts of consciousness in themielvet. We cannot doubt that the phenomena of contcioua. I beg, therefore, to have the honour of makmg an addition to the sceptical system, without which I conceive it cannot hang together. I affirm, that the belief of the existence of impressions and ideas, is as lit- tie supported by reason, as that of the exist- ence of minds and bodies. No man ever did or could offer any reason for this belief. ncM are real, in so far as we are cons'ious of them I cannot doubt, for example, that I am actually coiiscicaM of a certain feeling of fragrance, and of certain perceptions of colour, figure, \c. when I see and -mella rose. Of the reality of these, as exi»e. rienced, I cannot doubt, because they are facts of consciousness ; and of consciousness 1 cannot doubt liecause such doubt being itselt an act of conscinu*,' ness, would cr.ntradict, and, consequently, annihi. r i!-*^^^" ^"' °* *" *^yon'* the mere phenomena of which we are conscious, we may— without fiar of self-contradiction at least— doul-t I may. for in. stance, doubt whether the rose I see and smell has any existence beyond a phajnomenal existence 111 my consciousnc.-s. I cannot doubt that I am cmi. sciousof it as something d flerent from self, but whe- ther il have, indeed, any reality beyond my mind— whether the not-selfbc not in tru-h only «<•//— that I may philosophically question. In like inanner, I am conscious of the memory of a certain past event. Of theronttntsof this memory, as a i)ha;n.)menon given in consciousness, scepticism is impo-isthle. But I may by possibility denmr to the reality of all be- yond these contents and the sphere of present con. sciousness. In Reid's strictures upon Hume, he confounds two op[)osite things. He reproaches that philosopher with inconsequence, in holdmg to •• the belief of the existence of his own impressions and ideas." Now, if, by the existence qf impressions and ideas, Keid meant their existence as mere phenomena of con. sciousness. his criticism is Inept; for a disbelief of their existence, as such phenomena, would have been a suicidal act in the sceptic. If, again, Jie meant by impressions and ideas the hypothesis of representative entities different from the mind and its moditieations ; in that case the objection is equally invalid. Hume was a sceptic; that is, lie accep-ed the premi'^es afforded him liy the dogmatist, and carried these premises to their legitimate con. sequences. To blame Hume, therefore, for not having doubted of his borrowed principles, is to l)Iame the sceptic for not performing a part altogether incon. sistent with his vocation But, in point of fac:, the hyj>othe-is of such entities is of no value to Die idealist or sceptic. Impressions and ideas, viewed as mental modes, would have answered Hume's pui. pose not a whit worse than imprrstwns and tdeai viewed as objects, but not as affections of mind. The most consistent scheme of idealism known in the history of philosophy is that of Ficnte ; and Fichte 8 idealism is founded on a basis which ex. eludes that crude hypothesis of ideas on which alone Reid imagined any doctrine of Idealism could pos. sibly be esublished. And is the acknowledged result of the Fichteaii dogmatitsm less a nihilism th;in the scepticism of Hume ? " The sum to'al," says Fichte, "is this:— There is absolutely nothing permanent either without ine or within me, but only an un. ceasing change. I know ai'solutely nothing of any existence, not even of my own. I myself know nothing, and am nothing. Images (Bilder) there are : they constitute all that apparently exists, and what they know of themselves is after the manner of images ; images that pass and vanish wiihuuc there being aught to (vitneiis their transition ; that consist in fact ofthe images of images, without sig. nificance and without an aim. I myself am one of these images ; nay, I am not even thus much, but only a confused image of images All reality is con. verted into a marvellous dream, without a life to dr-eam of, and without a mind to dream ; into a ' dream made up only of a dnam of itself Percep. tion is a dream ; thought— the source ot all the ex. istence and all the reality wh 'The true 'iieason I take to be, because 'they cannot help it ; and the same reason will tead them tO' believe many other' 'thingi.' .Al :rea8oninf ' nmst 'he UnM irst- prin- e^dea; .and •!»' iist principles no other 'reason can te .given but this, that, by the •omtltlllion of our nature^ we are under a necessity of aaaeatiiig to^ them. Such Crindidea' are' parta of 'Onr constitution, no tsa than iiie 'paver of thinking.! reason can neither make nor destroy them.t nor can it do anything 'without them s it 'is^ like a teieaiMipe,. 'wMch may .help a man. to .see 'Ihrlber, who haA eyes^i tel, 'wiiiont eyes, I n'tdaseoiM' shews nothing al^ aE. A. ma- " thematioan. cannot prove the truth of his .axioms, nor can he prove .anything, 'wIcsb he takes them for granted.. We cannat. pmve 'the existence of our minds, nor even 'of our thoughts and aensalifma. A Msto- flhui, or a 'Wttacss, ^can prove notlingi uless it is taken for gianted. 'that. 'Ihe memory and senses mi^' be 'tmsted. .A 'natural. philosopher can prove nothing, unless it is 'taken, for gianted that' the course^ of nature is. ateadty .and nnifomi* Bow or' 'When I got .auch. first principles, upon 'wMch. I build ail my reasoning, I know not I for I bad them before I can nniaiiiber : but I am. sure tbey are partS' ' Id rflol.|f nlntt. H'tid. oagM, tlOTfflift* ellhcr to have irivon up liia doctrlns: ol 'the intit nmi!if*"ofi of extemion. ftc , a« tut Jacflvc notloiii, on tie occasion of •enxailoii, or not to ajiMal to the Divine veracity, and thecaminiiii Mtiae or ■wnkimii in fiifoiut vf conclusion* of « hich tlist doetriM mliftlil lit louinlatinn. In this in. 'OomliMncy, Raid.. Imii ho'wever, hraktaa Ilc» Can**, iiMinydlatfnpitokfi,.eiiiartiw;r*.— H. ^ . „ f On ihlN' MMlMt,. am '**' iMifa on the Imieltectnal Poweri,'* luaajf 11,, ohaph 1-IS» and the notea there- on. It to patllilia proiw to ? ecall to the reailer's at- 1 linllnn, tW. by the Ideal Iheoryg Reid «lwa%s wildcffstandi the ruder rorni of the dnetrtnr, wh'ch holdi tlial. Idiat .art 'entitles, dilftmit htm* fnm tha estemal Oi^ct and flrom tte iMtdiiltiiit mind, aiwl thai ho half no conceptlnn of f ht Hnff form off lliai doctitnt, wbkh holds that all that wo arv Misciout «rinnawfpliou,{of count aton In lnia^na«i'»n,» to .'* * ij Idiiiil^'iiiila OF TOUCH. 131 ■Nisations which can have no existence but wiien they are felt, from the things sug- gested by them. Aristotle — with as dis- ti liguishing a head as ever applied to philoso- phical disquisitions— confounds these two; and makes every sensation to be the form, without the matter, of the thing perceived by it. As tlie impression of a. seal upon wax has the form of the seal but nothing of the matter of it, so he conceived our sensa- tions to be impressions upon the mind, which bear the inia^e, likeness, or form of the extenml tiding perceived, without the mat- ter of it Colour, sound, and smell, as well as extension, figure, and hardness, are, according to him, various forms of matter : our sensations are the same forms un- printed on the mind, and perceived in its own intellect It is evident from this, that Aristotle made no distinction between prim- ary and secondary qualities of bodies, al- though that distinction was made by De- uiocritus, Epicurus, and others of the an- cients. • f Des Cartes, Malebranche, and Locke, revived the distinction between primary and becondary qualities; but they made the secondary qualities mere sensations, and the primary ones resemblances of our sens- ations. They maintained that colour, sound, and heat, are not anything in bodies, but sensations of the mind ; at the same time, they acknowledged some particular texture or modification of the body to be the cause or occasion of those sensations ; L but to this modification they gave no name. Whereas, by the vulgar, the names of col- our, heat, and sound, are but rarely applied to the sensations, and most commonly to those unknown causes of them, as hath been ilmady exphuned. The constitution of our nature leads us rather to attend to the things signified by the sensation than to the sensa- tion itself, and to give a name to the former rather than to the latter. Thus we see, that, with re.'ard to secondary qualities, these philosophers thought with the vulgar, and with common sense. Their paradoxes Were only an abuse of words; for when they maintain, as an imjiortant modern discovery, that there is no heat in the fire, they mean no more, than that the fire does not feel heat, which every one knew before. r With regard to primary qualities, these philosophers erred more grossly. They indeed believed the existence of those qua- lities; but they did not at all attend to the sensations that suggest them, which, having no names, have been as little con- eiden^ as if they had no existence. They were aware that figure, extension, and • On this la. Jceta of lionii^t, lie wOl then clearly per- ceive that the maxim of Bi8ho|i Berkeley, above-mentioned, k self^eTident { and that the features of the face am not more un- like to a pasmm of the mind which they indicate, than the sensationa of touch lie to the primary qualities of hody. But Itt us observe what use the Bishop makes of this important discover}-. Why, ho concludes, that we can have no con- ception of an inanimate suhstanoe, such as matter is conceived to he, or of any of its qui^itieS' i and, that there is^ the strongest ground to believe that there is no existence in nature but minds, sensations, and ideas t if there is any other kind of existence ', it must be' what we neither have nor can have .any conception of. But how does this foUew ? Why, thus : We can have no conception of anything but what resem- bles some sensation or idea In our minds ; but the sensations and ideas in our' minds 'Can lesemble nothtog but the sensations and ideas m other minds; therefore, the conclusion is. evident. Ttm ^ argument, we see, leans upon two pnipositloni*. The last of them the hipa.ioua' author .liath, indeed, made' evident 'to ^ai. that 'imdeniittii. his^ :reaaoi]lng, and can attend to their own sensatbnsi but the irst proposition he 'iie¥«f ■ attempts' to prove .; it is taken freni the doctrine of' Meas, whi.ch hath been m 'Universally received, by philosophers, that it was thought to need no proof. ^ We may here a,gain observe, 'that this .ai»tewiiterargiietfnMn:mhypotheBis«ga.lnst iiet, and against the 'Common sense of man- kind. That we can have no conception of anything, unless there is some impression, iieMBtMMi, or idea, in our minds^ wliieh' »• .sembhis. it, is Indeed, an opinion which hatb been very gewnally received among philo- .aopheis ; bnt it is neither self-evident, nor hath it been dearly proved; and therefore it 'hath. been, 'more reasonable to call in question, this doetrine of philosophers, than 'to 'AMsaid 'the material world, md by that means expose philosophy to the ridicule of all men who will not offer tip common V sc'ttso' as a 'Sacrifiee to' ;metaphysics. We ought, however, to do this justice both to tlie Bishop of Cloyne and to 'the author of the "Treatiseof Human Nature," 'to ackiiowle%%, that Hieir" coneluawns an justly immm imm the doctrl'ue' of .Ideas, which has been so universally received. On tho' other hand, from, the eharaetor of .BUmi BerW^., and of his predecessors, BeS' Glutei, 'Lodte, and Malebiaiidi%^ wo' may ventnie'to laj,. that, if they 'had. all the coaseqi«i«es. of 'this doetrine, as dearly as the aiithor before mentioned did, thej would have suspected it vehemently, mndfixamlned it more carefully than they appear' to have done. The theory of ideas, like the Trojan ho'cse, had a specious appeaimnce both of imnoeence and beauty 5 but If those philo- sonhera had known that it carried in its belly death and destruction to all science and common sense, they would not have broken down theur walls to give It admit- lanciSa That we have clear and distinct con- ceptions of extension, figure, motion, and other attributes of body, which are neither sensations, nor like any sensation, is a fact of which we may be as certain as that we have sensations. And that all mankind ^ have a fixed lielief of an extomal material world— a belief which is neither gothy rea- son.li|g nor ©dwsatlon, and a belief which we can'iiot .shake off, even when we seem to have strong arguments against it and no shadow of argument for it— is likewise a fact, for which we have all the evidence j that the nature of the thing adraiis. These facts are phmoniena of human nature, from which we may Justly argue against any hypothesis, however generally received. But to argue from a .hypothesis against ftets, is contrary to the rulea of 'true phEo- sophy. CHAPTER VI* OP BRBIK'O. Seciion /. THE EX.ClE.tLEIIC« AMB I>IG'N.IT1 Oi THIS F'ACULTV. The advances made in the knowledge of optics in the last age and in tlie pre«ent, and chiefly the discoveries of Sir laaac Newton, do honour, not to philosophy only, but to human nature. Such discoveriiety of a landscape ! If a man were by feeling to find out the figure of the peak of Teneriffe, or even of St Peter's Church at Rome, it would be the work of a lifetime. * It would appear still more incredible to such beings as we have supposed, if they were informed of the discoveries which may be made by this little organ in things far beyond the reach of any other sense : that by means of it we can find our way in the pathless ocean ; that we can traven-e the globe of the earth, deter- mine its figure and dimensions, and deli- neate every region of it ;— yea, that we can measure the planetary orbs, and make discoveries in the sphere of the fixed stars. Would it not appear still more astonish- ing to such beings, if they should be farther informed, that, by means of this same organ, we can perceive the tempers and disposi- tions, the passions and aflections, of our fellow-creatures, even when they want most to conceal them ?— that, when the tongue * The thing would be impnuible. Let any one tnr by touch to ascertain the figure of a room, with which he i« previously unacquaintpd, and not alto, fether o^* the usual shape, and he wi|i find that tsuch will afford him but klendrr aid— H. is taught most artfully to lie and dissemble, the hypocrisy should appear m the counte- nance to a discerning eye ? — and that, by this organ, we can often perceive what is straight and what is crooked in the mind as well as in the body ? How many myste- rious things must a bimdman believe, if he will give credit to the relations of those that see ? Surely he needs as strong a faith as is required of a good Christian. It is not therefore without reason that the faculty of seeing is looked upon, nut only as more noble than the other senses, but as having something in it of a nature superior to sensation. The evidence of reason is called seeing, not feeling, smellinf/, or tasting. Yea, we are wont to express the manner of the Divine knowledge by Hie- ing, as that kind of knowledge which is most perfect in us. Section II, SIGHT DISCOVERS ALMOST NOTHING WHICH THE BLIND MAV NOT COMPREHEND — THK REAbON OF THIS. Notwithstanding what hath been said of the dignity and superior nature of tliis faculty, it is worthy of our observation, that there is very little of the knowledge ac- quired by sif;ht, that may not be communi- cated t«) a iiiau born blind. One who never saw the lij^ht, may be learned and knowing in every science, even in optics ; and may make discoveries in every branch of philo- sophy. He may understand as much as another man, not only of the order, dis- tiinces, and motions of the heavenly bodies ; but of the nature of light, and of the laws of the reflection and refraction of its rays. He m.iy understand distinctly how tliote laws i)roduce the phaenomena of the rain- bow, the |>rism, the camera obscura. and the magic lanthorn, and all the powers of the microscope and telescope. This is a fact sufficiently attested by experience. In order to i>erceive the reason of it, we must distinguish the appearance that objects make to the eye, from the things suggested by that appearance : and again, in the visi- ble appearance of objects, we must dis- tinguish the appearance of colour from the appearance of extension, figure, and motion. Fu-st, then, as to the visible appearance of the figure, and motion, and extension of bodies, 1 conceive that a man born blind may have a distinct notion, if not of the very things, at least of something extremely like to them. May not a blind man be made to conceive that a body mov- ing directly from the eye, or directly to- wards it, may appear to be at rest ? and tlmt tne same motion may appear quicker OF THE HUMAN MIND. or slower, aecorilng m It is mmm U t1i« eye or lurtlwr 'Off, more diied or iwiie oli- lique? Maj ho'iiollie adle to coneeiim^ tlimt » pWii iiiiiiM^ in ft' eertftin powtioii, maj wpmr m a fitmight line, ud »«iy its vmmk §gm%m its pmitim, or 'tlwnia- tim of' tl» eye,, m ▼wrlodF—tliftt ft liwlo seen, oliliiiidy wiU. appear an eniiNw; aid a square, a rhombus, or an olilong lec- tapgb' ? Dr tenderson 'iniiefstood 'tlie pi^ootion 'Of ' tim iqibere, and tlie oonimon Mte of' perspectlTOt «nd if lie did,, lie m'wt hvm nndeniood all tliat I fwm men- tione4 If there mem any doubt fi Br Saunder8oii*s understanding these things, I could intention, n^y having 'imd. him say in Donrersalimi^ ttat^ ho 'Ibmid great difiieulty in understandiiif Dr Halley's demonstra- tion of that proposition, tfiat the angles 'made' by the circles of tlie sphere, .are ef^pal to thO' angles made by their' fepreaentalivis in the stereomphio' pM»|e0tion.< bnt|, :said, he, when I mid aside that demonstralioni and eonsidered the proposition in my own way, I saw deariy Aat it must be true. Another g^ttaman, of undoubted credit and Judgment in 'these matters, who had partin this conversation, remembers it dislini^* As 'to the appeaianet of eolour> ft Mind man 'must be 'more^ rt a lose.? bocaiselie hatli BO fereeptlon that resembles it Yet he may, by a kind of analogy, in part sup- ply thui ddeet. To those who see, a scar- let cokmr ^eigniies an unknown quality in bodies, that makes, to the eye an ap- peaianoe whieh they are wel aoquainted with and have often observed- to a blind man, it «|n,lfies. an 'unknown, nialitv, that makes 'to the eye^ an appesisneo which he is miaeiiuiuited with. But he can conceive the eye to be variously affected by differ- ent colours, as the now is by different smells, or 'tbs: 'Oar by «ilrent sounds. Thus he can conceive scafM to diferlkiin. blue, as the sound of a 'trumpet does, 'irom. that of a drum; or as the smeirof an •orange dliSwrs from that of an apple. It is: impoiiilili to know whether ft scarlet eolfnr' 'has th«' same appeanmeo to me which it hath to another man s nnd, if the i^pearftuces of it to' diiiwent aeiMmi dlf- fend as mneh :as colonr docs 'fram sou:nd,, they might never be able to discover this difference; Hence, it appears obvious, thai ft blind man might talk long about l It lll'VIMVflSHi AH |i'|«lrm|^iHww fSAOftfil'' AllUdl 'tk 'llflll'W'll eiiwi. ThO'iiame^f^coltmr'belonfli iii.deed to the cause' o'niy, ^and not to me effeet .But,, aa the' cause' ia unknown, we can form no iiatinet coneeplion of It hut by its relation to the known effect; and, therefore, both go to- gether in the imagination, and are so closely object of' thoughif When I would. 'Oonmve those 'Colours 'Of bodies which we call mmiet and Mu&^it I conceived them only as un- known <]uaElte% I could perceive no distinc- tion between, "the one and the other. I must, therelbfe, 'for 'the sake of distinetion, join to eai^ of them, in my imagination, some effeet or some relation that is peculiar ; and the most obvious distinction is, the appeal^' .anee 'whieh on*' and: the^ .other makes, to^ lb* eya. JSence' the'appeal!alMe'^ ;in -the hnadm* aion, so closely united with the qmdity called a mmrkt-^adour^ that tliey are apt to he mistaken, for one .and the same thinff* dtl»ii^tb«r »e in >«%» dUr««nt a£d .80 unlike^ that one is an idea in the mindi the other is a quality of body. I conclude, then,, that' colovr is not a sensation, but a secondaiy qnatity of 'bodie% in the sense we have already explained, i that it is a certain power or virtue in. bodies, tliat in fair daylight exhibits to the eye an appeaiance' whieh is very iuii:iaf ' to 'iVi. alliiQiigh it hath, no name. Oolonr diHiii from, other saeondary qualities In. 'this,. 'that,, whereas the name of the quality is, sometimes given to the sensation whiiA indicates it, and judge, give the name of enleiir- 'to< the ^sans- ation, but 'to' the quality •iii%4 Pifhap •ti It 'Is .,lMiir |if Mr ^ Stewart, that worn wnn sacn ouMf> .It IH' ilW' 'psfMiiiliNi of' eiiloiir«, the wniaDiiti swl 'tbt' fiitlitf ' '*'• 'be .10 'Sloi«if 'unttfld .at to l>e mis. Isktn te onS' •iaAle''OlilBet of thought,** dors It noc •MtoMlf ' :MlMi. ibat, It biothia oompott'ndecl notJ^M file imiMe' of mtmm wm .In pnnral be pven t On tiM oiibtt hand:. «bMi It to aaid ikat tkt mmm itf m^mr i» mmr flams !»' ikt$nuatHm, Imi :!• liif §iMtMff #■%■< ikiit' no* tttt iiii|il)ri 'tliai &9ttf 'li'ins' the void III' MiinMiiiiiBdk tiw eniilili .la icpiifslia ^fbuai the feaion 'Of this may be, that the appear* anoes of the same colour are so various and chanfsablak 'amiffdiiig to the different nio- diiemins tf lie light, of the medium, and of the eye, tiat language could not afford names mr tiiem. And, indeed, they are eo little 'interesting, that they are never at- tended to, but serve only aa signs to in- troduce the thinga signified by them. Nor ought it to appear incredible, that Zpearanees ao frequent and so familiar ould havo' nO' 'names, nor be made ob- jects of thought I ance we have before' shewn that thtt Is^tme of many sensations of touch, which are no less frequent nor less familiar. SteHon Vm AM INrxmSKCX FMOM TUB FRECXOIKO. From wliat hath been said about colour, we may infer two things. The first is, that one of the most remarkable paradoxes of modem nhiosophy, which hath been uni« versalty 'esteemed ^as a great dlsco'Veiy, is, in realty, when examinsd to the bottom, nothing ehw but an abuse of words. The paradox I mean is, That colour is not a quaito of bodiesu but only .an .idea in the m.ud we have shewn, that the word oolour, as used by the vulgar, cannot signify an idea .in the 'luind, but a permanent Snlty of body. We have shewn, that ere is really a permanent quality of body, to' which the common nso' 'Of thiS' word ex- actly agrees. Can any stronger proof be desired, (hat this quality is tkit to which the vnlipr .give the name of mimir $ If it ahunldleaali], 'Ihat this quality, to which we give the name 'Of oolour, is unknown to tlie viihpyr» 'Ud, tiierelbre, can have no mune aanng then, I answer, it is, indeed, known only by 'its effects— that is, by its exciting a certain Idea in ns ; but are there ' not numberless qualities of bodiea which are known only by their effects, to which, notwitliatandin& we find it necessary to give nameaf ifedicine alone might fur- man na wim a nunureti instaneea oi mis kind. Bo not the words mirmpml, narmtie^ #filjtp«sliir, eaiiifie, and innumerable others, a*gnifyqualitisa,^oi'hedias,«lilcli. are known only by their eibcta upon animal bodies f Why, then, should not the vulgar give a name to a quality, whose effects are every moment perceived by their eyes? We .have all the 'reason, 'tlierefore, that the nature of the thhtg adhnita, to think that the vnlgar apnly the name of coWr to that quality of boaieS' which exeiteB in us what tlie litiimiiloii, cvtn in the iinaiiiiailoii of tht vul. gar t^H. OF SEEING 129 the philosophers call the iilfa rf cnlonr. And that tliat there is such a quality in bodies, all philosophers allow, who allow that tltere is any such thing as body. Philo- sophers have thought fit to leave that quality of bodies which the vulgar call etdouTf without a name, and to give the name of eo/ot«r to the idea or appearance, to which, as we have shewn, the vulgar give no name, because they never make it an object of thought or reflection. Hence it appears, that, when philosophers affirm that colour is not in bodies, but in the mind, and the vulgar affirm that colour is not in the mind, but is a quality of bodies, there is no difference between them about things, but only about the meaning of a word. The vulgar have undoubted right to give names to things whieh they are daily con- versant about ; and philosophers seem justly chargeable with an abuse of language, when they change the meaning of a com- mon word, without giving warning. If it is a good rule, to think with philo- sophers and speak with the vulgar, it must be right to speak with the vulgar when we think with them, and not to shock them by philosophical paradoxes, which, when put into common hinguage, express only the common sense of mankind. If you ask a man that is no philosopher, what colour is, or what makes one body appear white, another scarlet, he can- not tell. He leaves that inquiry to philo- sophers, and can embrace any hypothesis about it, except that of our modem philo- sophers, who affirm that colour is not in body, but only in the mind. Nothing appears more shocking to his apprehension, than that visible objects should have no colour, and that colour should be in that which he conceives to be invisible. Yet this strange paradox is not only universally received, but considered as one of the noblest discoveries of modern philosophy. The ingenious Addison, in the Spectator, No. 413, speaks thus of it :— " I have here supposed that my reader is aequaiiited with that great modern discovery, which is at present universally acknow- ledged by all the inquirers into natural philosophy— namely, that light and colours, as apprehended by the imagination, are only ideas in the mind, and not qualities that have any existence in matter. As this ■I a truth which has been proved mcon- testably by many modern philosophers, and is, indeed, one of the finest speculations in that science, if the English reader would see the notion expUined at large, he may find it in the eighth chapter of the second book of Locke's * Essay on Human Understanding.* " Mr Locke and Mr Addison are writers who have deserved so well of mankind, tliat one must feel some uneasiness in differing from them, and would wish to ascribe all the merit that is due to a discovery upon which they put so high a value. And, in- deed, it is just to acknowledge that Locke, and other modern philosophers, on the sub- ject of secondary qualities, have the merit of distinguishing more accurately than those that went before them, between the sensa- tion in the mind, and that constitution or quality of bodies which gives occasion to the sensation. They have shewn clearly that these two things are not only distinct, but altogether unlike : that there is no similitude between the effluvia of an odo- rous body and the sensation of smell, or between the vibrations of a sounding body and the sensation of sound : that there can be no resemblance between the feeling vi heat, and the constitution of the hen ted body which occasions it; or between tho appearance which a coloured body makes to the eye, and the texture of the body whieh causes that appearance. Nor was the merit small of distinguishing these things accurately ; because, however different and unlike in their nature, they have been always so associated in the ima- gination, as to coalesce, as it were, into one two-faced form, which, from its ami)hibious nature, could not justly be appropriated either to body or mind; and, until it was properly distinguished into its different con- stituent parts, it was impossible to assign to either their just shares in it. None of the ancient philosophers had made this distinc- tion.* The followers of Democritus and Epicurus conceived the forms of heat, and sound, and colour, to be in the mind only ; but that our senses fallaciously represented them as being in bodies. The Peripatetics imagined that those forms are really in bodies ; and that the images of them are conveyed to the mind by our senses. + The one system made the senses natur- ally fallacious and deceitful ; the other made the qualities of body to resemble the sensations of the mind. Nor was it possible to find a thu"d, without making the distinc- tion we have mentioned; by which, indeed, the errors of both these ancient systems are avoided, and we are not left under the hard necessity of believing, either, on the one hand, that our sensations are like to the qualities of body, or, on the other, that God hath given us one faculty to deceive us, and another to detect the cheat. "• Thig is inaccurate 1 he dihtinction wa» known to the ancient phJlosopherB ; and DeniocntiiR w»$ generally allowed to be itsauihor. Thi» Reid himhen eliewhere indeed admitB— (See above, p. lili, a j a. U f 11ip«e"»ta'tementi concerning Ijolh claww of philoBophen are vaRueand incorrert. The InV^r, in Rcneral. only all(.we.l species for two scntci, Siant and Hpariiip; few adm tied li em iii leehng; ana tome rejectid the n altoKethir.— H. ]l§ OF THE HUMAN MIND. f " Wo 'imin, fliiiefbff*^ witli pkiMre, tO' do justice to tlie diiclniie of Loeke, and iitlwr 'modern |iltifM(i|ilie'r% with regard to Mlour mA imm mmmimj qmMm^ and to aaerite to it Hft 'diW' mmk, wMle we lieg leave to oewnre the hwguage 'in. which they have expressed their doctrine. When they .had eifiained and 'enlahliahed' the die-' tinetiim. helveen. 'the .aflManiiiM' 'whieh co- lour inakea 'to^ the ^eye, ^and Ab 'modiica- tion iif the coloured bodv which, by the laws of nature, causes that appearance, the question was, whether to give the name of wimtr to the cause or to the ef- fwt ? By ,glvtag it, aa^ they have done, to^ tite ellwt, tliey set philosophy apparently ill opposition to common sense, and expose it to the ridicule of the vulgar. But had they given the name of eeleiir to the cauae, as they ought to have done, they must then have affirmed, with the vulgar, that colour is a quality of hodies ; and that there is neither eolonr uorwythiug like 'it 'in the mind. Their 'hu^gnag% m well " as 'their sentiments,, would :havt 'he«n 'per- fectly agreeabk to the common :apiehen- mam of mankind, and true Philosophy would have joined. ..handS' with Common iBense. As tioche 'waa^ wi enemy to oomnnni ^seiise, it 'may 'he presumed, that, in this instance, as in some others, he was .sed^ueed hy some received hypothosis ; and that^ tUi' wia^ao* tually the ^eaie, will appear 'in the 'iSoiowIng '^ section. tmAT 'VOH'B OP OUR 8B»l»Jl.tIOI4S AMI' Bl-' BBM:BS.A:«rCBS' 0.P AHY OF THB. (lUAI.rriB8 OP BdMBl* A .second inferenee is, 'that, although co- lour is really a quality of body, yet it is not renresented to the 'mmd by an idea nr MBsation thai :MW»i:hles it $ on the con- trary, tt .ia ingi^siad.. hw ma. .idea^ wMch does^ not IB the laaat 'fesonlle ii And this in- ference^ is applicable, not to colour only, hut to all the qialltiiS' of body which we have 'ejcaonned* it deservw to be remarked, that,, in 'the analysis we have hitherto given of the ope-' rations of 'the five seQS0% and of the quiui* ties of bodies dlaeovered hy them,, no in- stance liaih.'OC«iiifBd|;'«f^iir of any sensat.ioii ^ which icaenUea any quality of body, or of' any quality of body whose hEnage or resem- toknce is conveyed to the mind by means of Thert' 'is^ 'no 'phuMiiNnenon in nature' more unaeeountabk than the intercou:.se''that 'is ■•iriad on between, the mind .and the en- _ temal wortd— there is no phaenn'mennn " which philosophical .spirits liave hIicwm greater avidity to pry into, and to resolve. It ia imid. by .all, that this intercourse u catriM on by means of 'the. senses ; and 'this satisies. the vulgar' 'Curioeity,. hut not the pMlosopUc PhiiosopherB must have some systom, some hypothesis, that shews the manner in which our senses make us .acquainied. 'With. extomal things. All the ferHity of 'human invention seems to have prodwsed oiiy one hypothesis for thb pur- pose, which, therefore, hath been univer- sally received ; and that is, that the mind, like a Burror, reeelves the images of things, from 'Without by 'means of the senses ; so that their use must be to convey these images mio the mind.*' 'Whether to these imiips of external. thuuS' 'hi the mmd, 'We .give the name of fmrnkfrnmsf or mmMt tfiMtCf, with tlie Peri'paleticB, or the name «»/ idms if imm* Mom^ with Locke ; or whether, with kter philosophers, we distinguish mmailom, which are .humediately 'Cwveyed 'hy tlie 8ense%*fri:iBi iifaw o- thesis: If heat, and colour, and sound are real qualities of body, the sensations by which we perceive them umst be re- semblances of those qualities; but these sensations are not resemblances; there- fore, those are not real qualities of body. We see, then, that Locke, having found that the ideas of secondary qualities are no resemblances, was compelled, by a hypo- thesis ctjmnion to all philosophers, to deny that they are real qualities of body. It, is more difficult to assign a reason why, after this, he should call them .secondnri/ (jWilHu's ; for this name, if I mistake not, was of his invention.* Surely he did not mean that they were secondary qualities 4)f the mind ; an cemlm taejinentlfin. 'tif' iiiiMig|M:t«, ipUMi lia< aa») tint .1 read litrwcrt. Lie iiieuiiioii' niit.e» tv tliit'quaftloii,'* WlMlifr'tlMielieaiif •en.iatioti pro|.>ei to 'VMlWt igine* bf ' Wlllcll. 'it it wpgetted In virion T Tlie 'ramill. of 'flw imuaicnt in. that < our eye migki bavelmmi m timmmm to «i|Mmt the figure of rhe 'SllMt, WItlMMt •IVgeitllif efll.filir or any other quali. If I and, oi' coiMiMieoee» tlMit Mem* to be f»o gensa. Hm» ■pfrapfffateii m vMlilellpira ; thksquality iicing siigKCctei ilwiMliiilillir bf 'lie material imprestion upon tiM ocpn, of wlildi ImpreMton we are not conidour.*— Jnfiilffw, ft& chap. vi. | 8. I'o nif .MipnlMnaloii* aoiiing can appear more manifeit 'liaU: lliia,. ttat, if llMteliai baen no BarMg in our •entatioai.or'fliil^ceriied, though the colour may And thus it was with this young gentleman, who, though he knew these colours asunder in a good light, yet, when he saw them after he was couched, the taint ideas he had of them before, were not sutlicient for him to know them by after, wards, and thercfnie he did not think them the same which he had before known by those names." — There are also several statements in the report which shew that the patient was, on the recovery of distinct vision, perfectly familiar with differences of visible magnitude See Note E.— H. f To render this supitosition possible, we must not only change the objective, but alio the tubjective conditions of smell and hearing ; for, with our or. gans of these senses, and our nervous system in ge- neral, constituted as they are at present, the resul' would not be as assumed, even were the olfactory effluvia and audible vibrations conveyed in right lines.from bodies to the nose and ear But to sup- pose both subjective and objective conditions chanv ed is to suppose new qualities and n^w senses altogether; an hypothesis which would hardly serve the uurpota of an illustration, a notforf. A timilar hypothekis and illustration M »o ha found In Condillac't " Traite det5entatioiUi" but. OF THE eUllAN MIND. OF SEEING. W« 'liftw nttmi to bdiovt, ikat 'tlw mm^ ^ .ligiil. 'Siah* ^iiiiM' imptenifiB. mftm mm ffiiiMf 'tat wm mm 'Wtl Mmaiiiiui 39.— H. l2 I. n Jo UV M-ikri IMl III lf« *l'4i' iaiidtoi.«iidiW' ttio Ibnier''^:'!!!!^ wuM. to 'IIm 'vUbb aii|^' oomprelieiideil tuuitr tiM' klter. Buttlie'vigi'libMgle«oiBBMiieiifMi vndw tiie tw# ^gMil ^«iiisK «!>«' im^ :i^« •tlw 'OentK, it ^ 'iW' ■■me nmiiiiilii^ with tile splieiieil. tm^ wiUi Hiey imIIj' eeni- mhend, as mftiiaiistickiii know ; there- iii% llie vMUe ftiigle made by any two virfUe. linei' m equal, te tlw sjAeiical. mngle .madk liy 'tlie' tim .gnKt «iicles^iir' flw. spliere wIMi an< ttieir 'fe|ineentativ«8. 5. Hence it is evident, that every Timble Bglit^ined triangle will coincide in all its fiyrla with nome splierieal triaiigl& Tlie •iiea of tlM' eae will appear ef vi to' tlie eidee of the other, and the angles of the one to the angles of the other, eacii to eaeh ; and, therefon,. the whole of IJm one tfiangle' wiB. appear efual to the whole of the other. Id a word, to the eye they wiE bO' one and the aame, and hs^e the nune mathematical f roMffties.^ The properties, tiietefor% of ■wmmm dghtnined triapglis are not the «me with iiie> pn^iertiis int eoin- eiiii with some' point 'Of the suiiaoe 'Of the :Bphere, .and has the sane visible phustt .it follO'wa, 'thai >all the parts^ of the spherical ■iiriMe^ taken, togother, wil imresent all fOiilhle viaihle plices^that is,, the whole of visi:bb' .spaea. And fram 'th.is it .follows,, in th # last plaee— ■' & llial every visible inive wil be repre- .aeated. by 'that part of we snrfaoe of the sphere on whidi. it vigiit be 'pnjeeti»d, 'the eye being in the eoitn. .Anl. eveiy mob. fisOile figore wil. 'bear the nnwraflo to' the whole of visible space, as 'the part of the ■plMfiflal sniue wnieh represents 'it, bears tothS' whohi ispherical suiiee. ThS' mcttifiiiiifeal. leader, I hope, will 'enter into theeO' 'piliielples with 'perleet fiuiilf, and will as easily peioeive that the ibilowtef propositions with, regard, to visible figtifm . im^ space, vUdi. wt elfer only as .a istnted. from them, and are not leas true nor loiS evident than the ptopositioiis of Eidid, with fsgard' to tangible figures, - Frapb. h .Bvvryrightlmo being pmduoedi will .at: 'hMt: 'leUm into itself. 2. A .r%ht Mie, returning into itself, is the .loiigest poasible rklit Ihie ; and. all other & A r%ht liue returning' into itialfi, di'vides the 'whole of visible space into twa equal parte, which will both be compre- hended under th.is right linew 4 'The 'whole of visible' .space bears a finite m.ik to any part of it. i. Any 'two .rignt lines be'ing produced, will meet in two points, and mutually biseet eaeh other & If two lines be paraUel— 'that 'is, every 'whe'ro equally distant 'from eaeh. other — they cannot both be straight 7. Any right line being given, a pf4iit :may he found, which Is ^.at the same dm- 'tance from, all 'the points 'Of'the .given right line. «. A eircle mi^y be paralkl to a right line— that is, may be equally distant from it in all its parts. 9. Eight-lined triaiigles that are 8im.ikr, are also equal. 1«. Of every right-lined triangle, the 'three aiif '•! taken together, ave .greater 'than 'two tight .angles. 1 1. The angles of a right-lined triangle* may all he right angles, or all obtuse angles. 12. 'Unequal drdeS' are not as the squares of their diameters, nor are their eireunlevenees .in the paiio of their dia«' This small specimen of the geometry of 'visi'bles, m 'intended to 'lead, the reader 'to a clear and dlstinet conception of the figure and extensbn which is presented to the mind by vision; and to demonstrate the tru'th of what we have afilittied. above — namely, 'that those .figures 'and. that enten- sion whieh are the Immedlato objects of sight, are not the figures and the extension about which common geometry is employed ; that 'the geometrieiaii, while 'he looks ut his dkmm, Md demonstrates a proposition, bath a fiipre 'presented to his eye, which is only a rign and representative of a 'tangible figure I Siat he gives 'not the least atten- tion to the 'first^, but attendS' only to tho hst I and that these two figures, have differs ent propertiea, m that what he demon- strates of the one, is not true of the other* It deserves^ 'however, to 'be remarked, thai, as a small part, of .a spherical surfaee^ difibrs 'not 'senaihlj from a phdn .snrfiice, so a sdmU part >• «>»- ieot' of tbta inquiry. Thtf irst IB tbe paiaiel notion of tbe eyea; by wbidi, wben one eye is tomed to tbe fight or to the left, npwaids or do wi- 'waids, or itealghl forwards, the ^otber ':ilways goti' ^alaqf wiii ft in 'the same diree- 'tion. W'e 'See pably, when both eyes are 'Open, that they are dways turned 'the samo' way, as if both, weie aeted. upon by tbe sane motive foree ; and if one ^eyo ■• ■hnl, ^and. thO' hMd hud. 'Upon it, while the 'Other tnns vankMa ways,, we feel the eye that is shut tnn at the same tinier mm that whether we win or not What 'males thii p hawi- «ieiionsnfprii»ngis,'thatitfo aiteo«1ed||iid, by all. .anatomists, that the miiseles which move the two eyes, and tbe nerves which 'Serve these muscles, are' entirely distinct and. ■nacoimeeted.. It wonid 'be thong^t very snrprising ^and nnaceonntahto to ^see a man, who, fran his birth, never moved one arm, without moving the other pre- cisely in the ^same 'manner, m m to iMop them always patalleWyet 'it woqM :not. be more difficult to find 'the 'phiyrfeal^^eanse of such motion of the arms, than it ia to ind the cause of the naiallel motion of the eyes, whIA. IB' puleepy siaiilaK. ^fbO' only 'canao' that 'hath been, .assigned of this panOM 'notion of 'the' eyes, la. 'Cns- Imn. We find by experienoe, It iS' .mid, when we begin, to look .at oltal% tinl,. in .ofdor to' have diathiel 'visioii,!! ia 'ueesisary to'-tnni both, eyes lhe.iaiiM'wny'| 'thiitfofe, we ioon acquire Iha habit of doing it con* ■tantly, and by degrsee hiee the power of dohig otherwise. This aecount of the matter seems to be .insuiloienti beeaase habits are not got at ones I it tabes time to acquire and to con- firm them { and if tbia motion of the eyes were got. bj' habit, we 'should see children, wh«n.ih»aie'bom, turn their eyes differfnt wayi|. .and move one without the other, as thqr do their banda or legs. I know soma have afilimad. that they are apt to .do sow .But I havo' never' fraud it 'true from my own obaervatlon, although I have taken 'pains to make observations of this kind, and ;iiave had good opportunities. I have likewise' 'Consulted, espiianced midwivea, 'iiothera,and.'nunos, and "irand 'them agree, Amk they had never observed distortions of this kmd in the eyes of children, but 'When, 'they had. .reason to lUBpeet convul- isioni, Off niDfl 'pietemataral cause. It teema, Aerefore, to be extremely pro- bable, thai previous to custom, there ia something in the constitution, some natural instineti. which, directs ua to' move both eyea alwayS' 'the :saine' 'way.* We know not how the mind acts upon the body, nor by what power the muscles «re coBtiaQted and rekxed— but we see that, k aome of the voluntary, aa well aa in some of the involuntary motions, th.is. power is so directed, that many muscles which have no material tie or connection,t net .in. coneert) each, .of them being taught to pfej ia. part' In ^exact time and measure. Nor doth a company of expert pkyers in a 'theatrical performan.Qe, or 'Of excellent Busieiana' m a concert, or of .good dancers 'in. a eonntry dance, with more regu.kritj and order, conspire and contribute their several parte, to produce one uniform effect, than a number of muscles do, in many of tbe animal 'faietioiis, and to many volun- taiy aotiona. 'Tet 'wa 'SeO' such actions no less skiliiUy and regularly performed hi children, and hi those who know not that thm have such muscles, than hi the most duinl. :anatomist :and physiokgisi Who tought all the muscles that are concerned in sucking, in swalkwing our food, m breathing, and in the several na- tural expuliions, to act theur part m such n^gnkr order .and exact, measure ? It was nciteustOBi.iSiirely. It was that same power- ful and wise Bemg who made the fabric of the human body, and fixed the kws by whkh the mmd operates upon every part " jft 'RuW anpia 'iBws'aw _^.„— ,.. i, lii»ol.li«' »«cl|woclti« of tte toe flp% iia to 5«pl*in«i pkiftiologicaUy^ bf tbe aMiiiMl Mlsiton of lli«ir neivM, without re. •uniigto any hlghet or moremjiteriowiifindple.— t Tlito to not convet. If imcIm whicli imw mr. ralativ* motiofit awiioiv eitliet kninra or adaiiltMi IQ. ball cof wl»tHe :at»f«i — '.H. OF SEEING. 153 of It, so that they may answer the pur- poses intended by them. And when we see, in so many other instances, a system of unconnected muscles* conspiring so won- derfully in their several functions, without the aid of habit, it needs not be thought strange, that the muscles of the eyes should, without thk aid, conspire to give that di- rection to the eyes, without which they could not answer their end. We see a like conspiring action in the muscles which contract the pupils of the two eves ; and in those muscks, whatever they be, by which the conformation of the •yes k varied according to the distance of objects. It ought, however, to be observed, that, although it appears to be by natural in- stinct that both eyes are always turned the same way, there is still some ktitude left for custom. What we have said of the parallel motion of the eyes, is not to be understood so strictly as if nature directed us to keep their axes always precisely and mathematically par- allel to each other. Indeed, although they are always nearly parallel, they hardly ever are exactly so. When we look at an ob- ject, the axes of the eyes meet in that object: and, therefore, make an angle, which Is always small, but will be greater or less, according as the object k nearer or more remote. Nature hath very wisely left us the power of varying the parallelism of our eyes a httle, so that we can direct them to the same point, whether remote or near. This, no doubt, k learned by custom ; and accordmgly we see, that it is a long time before children get this habit in perfection. This power of varying the parallelism of the eyes is naturally no more than is sufll- eient for the purpose intended by it ; but by much practice and strainmg, it may be increased. Accordingly, we see, that some have acquured the power of distorting their eyes into unnatural directions, as others have acquired the power of distorting their bodies into unnatural postures. Those who have lost the sight of an eye, commonly lose what they had got by custom, in the direction of their eyes, but retain what they had by nature ; that k, although their eyes turn and move always together, yet, when they look upon an object, the bimd eye will often have a very small devk- tkn from it ; whkh k not perceived by a slight observer, but may be discerned by one accustomed to make exact observations in these matters. • Stt tbe pKOcding iiote. Section XI, OP OUR SXarNG objects ERBCT BT INV£RTE0 IMAGBS. Another phsenomenon which hath per- plexed philosophers, k, our seeing objects erect, when it is well known that their images or pictures upon the tunica retinu of the eye are inverted. The sagacious Kepler first made the noble discovery, that distinct but inverted pictures of visible objects are formed upon the retina by the rays of light coming from the object. The same great philosopher demonstrated, from the principles of optics, how these pictures are formed — to wit, That the rays coming from any one point of the object, and falling upon the various parts of the pupil, are, by the cornea and crystalline, refracted so as to meet again in one point of the retina, and there paint the colour of that point of the object from whicli they come. As the rays from dif- ferent points of tbe object cross each other before they come to the retina, the picture they form must be inverted ; the upper part of the object being painted upon the lower part of the retina, the right side of the object upon the left of the retina, and so of the other parts.* This philosopher thought that we see objects erect by means of these inverted pictures, for this reason, that, as the rays from different points of the object cross each other before they fall upon the retina, we conclude that the impulse which we feel upon the lower part of the retina comes from above, and that the impulse which we feel upon the higher part comes from below. Des Cartes afterwards gave the same solution of this phsenomenon, and illustrated it by the judgment which we form of the position of objects which we feel with our arms crossed, or with two-sticks that cross each other. But we cannot acquiesce in this solution. First, Because it supposes our seeing things erect, tobea deduction of reason, drawn from certain premises : whereas it seems to be an immedkte perception. And, secondly, Be- cause the premises from which all mankind are supposed to draw this conclusion, never entered into the minds of the far greater part, but are absolutely unknown to them. We have no feeling or perception of the pictures upon the retina, and as little surely ♦ Thii inverted picture it leen if we take the eye of an o», for example, and cut away the posterior part of the aclerotica and choroid ; but, without tub preparation, it Is apparent in the eyei of albino ans. maU, of the owl, &c., in which the hard coat and choroid are aemi-diaphanoui.— U. 154 ngflf Aur MtM'TI of flio |MNi1iit, ffom preniaee 'whieh 'paas throiigh the mind very f niekly, and wUdi ate' never 'made the ehJeelB of ^re- ieelion. ; hut surely no man. 'will eonseiTe it poaaihie to draw eonduaioiis fro:n pre- miiea whieh never entered, into the mind at §11, . .Biahop ^Berkeley liaviiig Jnaily njeeted. thiS' 'aolntion, gives one founded npon 'his own prindplea ; wherein he is followed by the jndieioiiB I>r Smith, in his " Optica t'* and'tUa' weahai mezi explain, and examine. 'Thai 'inpnioue' writer 'Ooncdves the Ideas of a^hl to he aHogether unlike thoae of toudi. And| ainee we notiena 'we have of an elvfeet. by these' diffamil .mniMii have no how 'One senae wH. be 'aHMeiL '% 'whal^. 'to ak. Vtt ^^^^tti.^W'ttlS .^HB a^l-^k iflkutfki the oonataiil'aasMiKion of the ideas of si^t OF SEEING. 155 and touch, carried this principle a little be- yond its just limits. In order to judge as well as we can whether it is so, let us suppose such a blind man as Dr Saunderaon, having all the knowledge and abilities which a blind man may have, suddenly made to see perfectly. Let us suppose him kept from all opportu- nities of associating his ideas of sight with those of touch, until the former become a little familiar ; and the first surprise, occa- sioned by objects so new, being abated, he has time to canvass them, and to compare them, in his mind, with the notions which he formerly had by touch ; and, in particu- lar, to compare, in his mind, that visible extonsion which his eyes present, with the extension in length and breadth with which he was before acquainted. We have endeavoured to prove, that a blind man may form a notion of the visible extension and figure of bodies, from the relation which it bears to their tangible extension and figure. Much more, when this viaible extension and figure are presented to his eye, will he be able to compare them with tangible extension and figure, and to perceive that the one has length and breadth aa well as the other ; that the one may be bounded by lines, either straight or curve, as well as the other. And, therefore, he will perceive that there may be visible as well as tangible circles, triangles, quadri- lateral and multilateral figures. And, al- though the visible figure is coloured, and the tangible is not, they may, notwithstand- ing, have the same figure ; as two objects of touch may have the same figure, although one is hot and the other cold. We have demonstrated, that the proper- ties of visible figures differ from those of the pkin figures which they represent ; but it was observed, at the same time, that when the object is so small as to be seen distinctly at one view, and is placed directly before the eye, the difierence between the visible and the tangible figure is too small to be perceived by the senses. Thus, it is true, that, of every visible triangle, the three angles are greater than two right angles ; whereas, in a phiin triangle, the three angles are equal to two right angles ; but when the visible triangle is small, its three angles will be so nearly equal to two ri^t angles, that the sense cannot discern the difference. In like manner, the circum- feiences of unequal visible cireles are not, but those of pkin circles are, in the raHo of their dtametera ; yet, m small visible cireles, the ciroumferences are very nearly in the ratio of their diameters ; and the diameter bears the same ratio to the ciroumference, as in a plain circle, very neariy. Hence it appears, that small visible figures (and such only can be seen distinctly at one view) have not only a resemblance to the plain tangible figures which have the name name, but are tu all sense the same : so that, if Dr Saunderson had been made to see, and had attentively viewed the figures of the first book of Euclid, he might, by thought and consideration, without touching them, have found out that they were the very figures he was before so well ac- quainted with by touch. When plain figures are seen obliquely, their visible figure differs more from the tangible ; and the representation which is made to the eye, of solid figures, is still more imperfect ; because visible extension hath not three, but two dimensions only. Yet, as it cannot be said that an exact pic- ture of a man hath no resemblance of the man, or that a perspective view of a house hath no resemblance of the house, so it cannot be said, with any propriety, that the visible figure of a man or of a house hath no resemblance of the objects which they represent. Bishop Berkeley therefore proceeds upon a capital mistake, in supposing that there is no resemblance betwixt the extonsion, figure, and position which we see, and that which we perceive by touch. We may further observe, that Bishop Berkeley's system, with regard to material things, must have made him see this ques- tion, of tlie erect appearance of objects, in a very different light from that in which it ap- pears to those who do not adopt his system. In his theory of vision, he seems indeed to allow, that there is an external material world : but he believed that this external world is tangible only, and not visible ; and that the visible world, the proper object of sight, is not external, but in the mind. If this is supposed, he that affirms that he sees things erect and not inverted, affirms that there is a top and a bottom, a right and a left in the mind. Now, I confess I am not so well acquainted with the topo- graphy of the mind, as to be able to affix a meaning to these words when applied toll. We shall therefore allow, that, if visible objects were not external, but existed only in the mind, they could have no figure, or position, or extension ; and that it would be absurd to affirm, that they are seen either erect or inverted, or that there is any re- semblance between them and the objects of touch. But when we propose the question, why objects are seen erect and not in- verted, we take it for granted, that we are not in Bishop Berkeley's ideal world, but in that world which men who yield to the dictates of common sense, believe them- selves to mhabit. We take it for granted, that the objects both of eight and touch, are external, and have a certain figure, and 156 gvuf *|i:f|"|ji fl'flM'AM Hf' ffyTI m mtlam 'fMitioii witli regMri tociM:aiifiii«'| :Hiil, nilii. ftqpri. 'to 4»r liodies, wMlMr w» Mnti:w it or not. ■^Wlieii I Wd mv walking-ano iiprigU in my hand, and fook at % I talio it for ipuitcd. tlwt I we and haadlo 'tlie iBme: 'indiiriiiiii olijoot. When I my Hial' I fotl it 'Onet, my mnaning m, tliiA I feel the head directed from the horizon, and the point diieeled towards it ; and when I w 'that I aee it eftet, I mean that I me h with, the head Steeled 'irom the 'hiifiso%, .and. the point 'towards 'it. I conceive the hori- xon as a ixed ohject^ lioth of sight and 'toneh, with nhitiln 'to which, ohjeeto 9m mM to he high OT' 'low, eieet or inverted } and when the question is^ ashed, 'Whjr I see the ob- Jeot erect, and not inverted, it is the same as if yon thonld adc, why I see it in that 'positian. whidi M redl| Phalli, or wliy the miBhews'the"iisl:'poeition. ef tthjeola, and 'iMi. 'not shew then in. an inverted posi- tion, as they are seen by a common astro- non^kal teleacope, or m their fietures are' .aeen. 'upon the rt^m 'Of an ^f when it is^ flt'B SAIIB SinnCT CONTIHtl'in. It is imposnihle to give a aatilibetory an^ awer 'to 'this qnestion, otherwiM: than, by 'pokthig out 'the kws of aatnre iMsh. 'talie pkee in vision ; for by these the phnno- '■lena of vision most be regnkted. Thenfore,. I answer, Fint, That,. % a law of natnre, the rays of light 'pffoeeed.fkMn. every 'pete^ of the objeet to' 'the: pnpi of the 'Cye^ 'in straight lines ; Secondly, That,, by the 'bwa of nature^ the 'rays 'Coming from' .any 'One point of thO' 'ObJeet to the va- riena pvis of the pa:pi, 'are' sO' refiactod. as to meet i^^ in one point of thef«lifM| and the rap from diibfant 'pofaito' of the objeeti int eniesiiig' ^eaiii' other,*' .and then pmeetdinf 'to^ aa many dUfefenl pobts. of the t^mMf 'form an. .inverted, 'pietnre of the object .So far' the principles of optics earry ii8..| and. eacpenenee further seMues 'is, that, if there' is no iueli. pietnre upon, the f»li.fiii, there is no vision ; and that inch as the pietnre on the ivlifM ia, indi Is the 'appear-' '•' 'It te HMffir^llmH %mm mVUlif iMia atliiPil pliilo. pImh §!■# atipWiMi H i aiO'St WMtaMewItt ^npuil l:li«.'piiiit'or''tli« er*,it«l)'M> Ihe w^mmmA III: UN' iiiilMi 'Of tilt pupil ■■■Bine lojbejMMit ef' lit' laMrtta. taiMiieil for tliwpiiipiiM «r HH Jli loialllv. woA •ttU askMMiB in thb p6ce It MUm th« CTntatttm Imia Tills la lliiiPi''IO'bt' at. once Hw cranimr point, botii of tbt rep «i ijlt and of' tiie linS' or v&tie finwtlon, aMi. Um taming' point 'Onviliiltliie eye ralla— !!• .. — 'tO' of the object, in colour and igurn, MS or indistinctness, brightness or flilotness* It is evident, therefore, that the pictures upon the r§^im are, by the laws of nature, a mean of vision ; but in what way they accomplish their end, we are totally igno- rant. Philosophers conceive, that the im- lion made on the r§Hna by the rays of jht, ia cownwmieated to the optic nerve, and. hy the optie 'nerve conveyed, to some ;|iart. of the Kain, by them .called the aemo' 'fkm s and that the impression thus conveyed to the MttMrnmrn is immediately perceived hy 'the mind, whieh. :is .supposed to reside tiere^ Bit' wt 'know nothing of the seat 'Of the:Boal t and we .are so .ikr:fmn perceiving immediatoly what is transacted in the bram, that of all parto of the human body we hnow least about it. It is indeed very probable^ that the optic nerve is an instrument of vision no leas necessary than the retina ; and that some impression is made upon it, by meana of 'thO' nietnris on the rgiimk .But of what 'kind this imfrossion is, we .know' Bothmgt There is not the leiat probability that there is any pietnre or unage of the ob- . ject either in the optie nerve or 'brain* The pietnns on the rtHma are formed, by the rays 'Of ight t and, whether we suppose, with some, that their impnhie upon the re- Urnrn causes .some vibration of the fibres 'Of the optie nerve, or, with olhers, that it ^ives motlMi to .some nhtilO' inid contained. m the nerve, neither that vibration nor this mn^on. can resemble the visible ob- .leel whieh. b presented to the mind. Nor Ml 'tiMTO' wDj pnibahility Ihal the mind per- eelves the 'pietnna 'ipon the reline. These' laetures are no more objects of our percep- tion, than the brain is, or the optie nervo. eye^ nor 'indeed the petntes in tlie eve of another, until it was taken out of the head' .and duly prepared. It is very :Btiange, that phihiaophers, of all .apS| iMdd have agreed. iB.'thli notion, 'that 'the 'images of' extnial. objects .are eon* veyed by the organs of sense to the brain, .and are there perceived by the mind.* Hothini can. bO' nofe 'nnpliilosopfaical. For, First, '*flii8 .notion 'hath no'fbundation in fact and observation. Of all the organs of sense, the eye 'Only, aa far .as we can dlMO* ver, fomi' .auf ' kind, ^of image of its. objeet ; and the Images iirmed by the eye are not k the brain, but only in the bottom of the eye ; nor are they at all perceived or felt by the niind.t Secondly, It is as difiicull • TItIt it«t.cnfnt In Ite iiniiiiailiii nnlvcnalltf la ailiMeliieff ct rancouiip^ it. f llili wwiid ■molfe a lecoml ejre bdiliMl rlia reflmi vlUcb 'C|e wmM alto set t:iie inaici hum. OF SEEING. 157 to conceive how the mind perceives images in the brain, as how it perceives things more distant. If any man will shew how the mind may perceive images in the braiu, I will undertake to shew how it may per- ceive the most distant objects ; for, if we give eyes to the mind, to perceive what is transacted at home in its dark chamber, why may we not make these eyes a little longer-sighted ? and then we shall have no occasion for that unphilosophical fiction of images in the brain. In a word, tlte man- ner and mechanism of the mind's percep- tion is quite beyond our comprehension ; and this way of explaining it, by images in the brain, seems to be founded upon very gross notions of the mind and its opera- tions ; as if the supposed images in the bmin, by a kind of contact, formed similar impressions or images of objects upon the mind, of which unpressions it is supposed to be conscious. We liave endeavoured to shew, through- out the course of this inquiry, that the im- pressions made upon the mind by means of the five senses, have not the least resem- blance to the objects of sense ; and, tliere- fore, as we see no shadow of evidence that there are any such images in the bmin, so we see no purpose, in philosophy, that the supposition of them can answer. Since the picture upon the retina^ therefore, is neither itself seen by the mind, nor produces any impression upon the brain or sensorinm, which is seen by the mind, nor makes any Impression upon the mind that resembles the object, it may still be asked, How this picture upon the reiina causes vision ? Before we answer this question, it is pro- per to observe, that, in the operations of the mind, as well as in those of bodies, we must often be satisfied with knowing that cer- tarn things are connected, and mvariably follow one another, without being able to discover the chain that goes between them. It is to such connections that we give the VKom otlaws of nature t and when we say that one thing produces another by a law of nature, this signifies no more, but that one thing, which we call in popular lan- guage tM cause, is constantly and invari- ably followed by another, which we call the ejffwct i and that we know not how they are connected. Thus, we see it is a fact, that bodies gravitate towards bodies; and that this gravitation is regulated by certain mathematical proportions, according to the dibtsiices of the bodies from each other, and their quantities of matter. Being un- able to discover the cause of this gravita- tion, and presuming that it is the immediate operation, either of the Author of nature. SI they are pUttural oo the ooncuvltf of tliat mem- or of some subordinate cause, which we have not hitherto been able to reach, we call it a law of nature. If any philoso- pher should hereafter be so happy as to discover the cause of gravitation, this can only be done by discovering some more general law of nature, of whieh the gravi- tation of bodies is a necessary consequence. In every chain of natural causes, the highest link is a primary law of nature, and the highest link which we can trace, by just induction, is either this primary law of nature, or a necessary consequence of it. To trace out the laws of nature, by induc- tion from the phsenomena of nature, is all that true philosophy aims at, and all that it can ever reach. There are laws of nature by which the"* operations of the mind are regulated, there are also laws of nature that govern the material system ; and, as the latter are the ultimate conclusions which the human faculties can reach in the philosophy of bodies, so the former are the ultimate con- clusions we can reach in the philosophy ofi minds. To return, therefore, to the question above proposed, we may see, from what hath been just now observed, that it amounts to this — By what law of nature is a picture upon the retina the mean or occasion of my seeing an external object of the same figure and colour in a contrary position, and in a certain direction from the eye? It will, without doubt, be allowed that I see the whole object in the same manner and by the same law by which I see any one point of it. Now, I know it to be a fact, that, in direct vision, I see every point of the object in the direction of the right line that passeth from the centre of the eye to that point of the object. And I know, likewise, from optics, that the ray of light that comes to the centre of my eye, passes on to the retina in the same direction. Hence, it appears to be a fact, thai evergf point of the object is seen in the direction of a right line passing from the picture of that point on the retina, through the centre of the eye. As this is a fact that holds universally and invariably, it must either be a law of nature, or the necessary consequence of some more general law of nature ; and, according to the just rules of philosophising, we may hold it for a law of nature, until some more geneml law be discovered, whereof it is a necessary conse- quence — which, I suspect, can never be done.* 4> A eonflnnation of this doctrine is drawn from the catef of Cheselden and others, in which no men- tal Inversion of the objects is noticed, and which had it occui red, is too remarkable a phenomenon to have been overlooked. Iluii indeed, generally asserted tb«» iiiii OF THE HOMAN MIND. , ^ .._.^ 'iist An plmiiioiiiiim' rf vinixiii liMl. 'It lif iW' li«ni. t«» » kw rf »^ 'tiiie, or ft 'liiv' « mt •©wlitiitMiii, or wMeh liv, out iMing. it mn . Noa •■■ con- : tienitto oontlmial© ••• iamam Aiinipliiiii ludNiniii In^ wsngdlo '■mmK.'fk eC, loil a Vlr 'aiMtiii «• •nfii'*^ mmm, m wmmm. miMiiKM. ■iiiiiiii:Nf«atiiiiiMMto cmtiit fiSm actii 'tWiiiils mm ilrtiiiiiif 'loe pn^nt, utntiiM itataMt, qiiat mtHm, mmkwmmam^ m arimm fiM'iliiMo|M.«Me(Mfi«ioiiaii'icl«mc)i iclatfMwaaMiiiii»tt«ic MMMuni ;miifiiiii'«f>arlefitla, um hmAwm^ ifimm ■tlpiltt mimmm itaturai i« §!•«■%, it wIlAirt ••««•. fi«lt,«|ii»,«l tttoiif- ?iat ilte'PNiMltiiii. AWtfM rtiMlIt alliiiwwilii to ly tat pfiMitr cataradain oooifliiltaiiiii 'Cuieoii iMlt •liMffvam iMlt Hie «it |»ii|MMiiii faanlia mmm artiii, ilalliB, fcut pattum " * iin ft a n ifrg M iitfr moiImiini purillaiii ti •fii. Fie ineitnhil hMsm mOam citn-' flMMii' MMnt ^mm mawiU mi vmammmi •mii lianitot drtiMi In ^ielioias wHmm liplil in««itl) .signa dciiiL A n'iMi aelalla etndier taimo aiptliwi. MMCto ex qua cauta graTMma o|ilitiiatnila ooiiiptur mm tiiiwice fMlpdmriiin «i a«fbo dolara; In h« •tatu aUqualla mcdieatfA wIliiDIU crt. ObMrvarunt Pott attquot balidMnadea Mute ct opHtlialniia ito- mewunt t euin tununofljiM atttpore aUaualeiii littnlnia utuf sin nandieltiir. QiiMm'&i^b&mT^MiMmmiam*^ ii4lm ii#iis wMmM wammm^ nam * •» tmm ItaqiiMiiw i «l MmMff adinlciiitt fnni c ew ni n i l i Hoc hmhi, ii/mA 9A .iwi. IMt. aililo ; inailiM In milo •fftaa pmnaa 'il isf ai ftiiie* Ab initio non pai Mm. tiir M pcntiethcl. itiMiM'.liMltow 'CractM incedara. — ^ilMit Iwiiilimia mi/lm mk unto petilbua ««««». fi3«; it: 'elia(Ma.oimnto laltaic^aiii immm tabatur, 'Morm miiliifli ecMie«|itiini. halwtrat Nam cpaiwitu '«imBiif' 'int, 'tk m^ ^ n'li'^ ***1*^ *=**'*** ■iiii'fefal* ii CNMnpntenH mm mmmmmmm^ KitUrH* '4M patMntavarat caw alquli 4p«l. f the former 'pninees no sensation .at all. This may 'be extended to all the sensat, whereof each, hath its peculiar' .kws, aecord. ing to which the impressions made upon the organ of that sense, produee sensations or perceptions in tbe miud, tiiat cannot he produced by impitiilons made 'upon any other oigaiia S.. We nay observe^ 'that, the kws of per- ception, by the diHeient senses, are very dilniMiti not only in res|iect of the nature of the objects perceived, hv thenii tat like- wise, in fcspeet. 'Of the notices tli« give ua of the diilanie and. situat'bn of the objeet. In all of them the object is conoeivedf to be eitemal, and to have real existence^ k- dependent of our perception i but in one, Mm 'distance! 'Hgptrsi and situation^ of the ohjeel, arO' all presented to the mind ; in another, the figure and situation, but not the distance; and in others, neither figure, situation, :nor distance. In 'Vam.. dO' 'we at- tempt 'to .aeeount for these varieties' in the manner of percepli oii by the different ♦ POftetlltld did lit flrtt point tliii out ; on thecon- tmrf. It wa» a oommoii, if not l** cominnn doctrine at ibc time 'ha wiolfc. Sat Mow, tho itit note of * t llScoinnon mum of mankind a«iTfa w that fteoUMt or mnmt U not meiely eom€ei9ed to te ex. lanal, tatnercdattf to lii externality ; tliat we know Um lNiim.Eio, not nwrdy mediately, by a rrprnciita. Hon in the%}, but immediately, as existing tbaugh onlf at exiatSit In lalatiioa to oui organs.— H. OF SEEING 159 r senses, ft?om principles of anatomy or na- tural philosophy. They must at last be resolved into the will of our Maker, who intended that our powers of perception diould have certain limits, and adapted the organs of perception, and the kws of na- ture by which they operate, to his wise pur- poses. When we hear an unusual sound, the sensation indeed b in the mind, but we know that there is something external that produced this sound. At the same time, our hearing does not inform us whether the sounding body is near or at a distance, in this direction or that ; and therefore we look round to discover it. If any new phsenomenon appears in the heavens, we see exactly its colour, its ap- parent pkce, magnitude, and figure ; but we see not its distance. It may be in the atmosphere, it may be among the planets, or it may be in the sphere of the fixed stars, for anything the eye can determine. The testimony of the sense of touch reaches only to objects that are contiguous to the organ, but, with regard to them, is more precise and determmate. When we feel a body with our hand, we know the figure, distance, and position of it, as well as whether it is rough or smooth, hard or soft, hot or cold. The sensations of touch, of seeing, and hearing, are all in the mind, and can have no existence but when they are perceived. How do they all constantly and invariably suggest the conception and belief of external objects, which exist whether they are per- ceived or not ? No phUosopher can give any other answer to this, but that such is the constitution of our nature. H o w do we know that the object of touch is at the fiiiger*8 end, and nowhere else ? — that the object of sight is in such a direction from the eye, and in no other, but may be at any distance ?*— and that the object of hearing may be at any distance,* and in any direc- tion ? Not by custom surely— not by rea- soning, or comparing ideas—but by the con- stitution of our nature. How do we per- ceive visible objects in the direction of right lines perpendicular to that part of the retina on which the rays strike, whUe we do not perceive the objects of hearing in lines per- pendicular to the membrana tympani upon Which the vibrations of the air strike ? Be- cause such are the laws of our nature. How do we know the parts of our bodies afiected by particukr pains ? Not by experience or by reasoning, but by the constitution of nature. The sensation of pain is, no doubt, in the mind, and cannot be said to have any rektion, from its own natu re, to any part • It has been previously noticed, tliat In no tm$e doet the mind pereave any distant or mediate ob. Jecti..-li. of the body ; but this sensation, by our con- stituUon, gives a perception of some parti- cular part of the body, whose disorder causes the uneasy sensation. If it were not so, a man who never before felt either the gout or the toothache, when he is first seized with the gout in his toe, might mistake it for the toothache. Every sense, therefore, hath its peculiar laws and limits, by the constitution of our nature ; and one of the laws of sight is, that we always see an object in the direction of a right line, passing from its image on the retina through the centre of the eye. a. Perhaps some readers will imagine that it is easier, and will answer the pur- pose as well, to conceive a law of nature, by which we shall always see objects iu the place in which they are, and in their true position, without having recourse to images on the retina, or to the ojjtical centre of the eye. To this I answer, that nothing can be a kw of nature which is contrary to fact. The laws of nature are the most general facts we can discover in the operations of nature. Like other facts, they are not to be hit upon by a happy conjecture, but justly deduced from observation ; like other general facts, they are not to be drawn from a few particulars, but from a copious, i»a- tient, and cautious induction. That we see things always in their true place and posi- tion, is not fact j and therefore it can be no law of nature. In a plain mirror, I see myself, and other things, m places very different from those they really occupy.* And so it happens in every instance where- in the rays coming from the object are either reflected or refracted before falling upon the eye. Those who know anything of optics, know that, in all such cases, the object is seen in the direction of a line passing from the centre of the eye, to the point where the rays were last reflected or refracted ; and that upon this all the powers of the telescope and microscope depend. . Shall we say, then, that it is a kw of nature, that the object is seen in the direc- tion which the rays have when they fall on the eye, or rather in the direction con- trary to that of the rays when they fall upon the eye ? No. This is not true ; and therefore it is no kw of nature. For the rays, from any one pomt of the object, come to all parts of the pupil ; and there- fore must have different directions : but we see the object only in one of these direc- tions—to wit, in the direction of the rays that come to the centre of the eye. And this holds true, even when the rays that Bliould pass through the centre are stopped, • This is s very inaccurate statement. In • mirror 1 do not see nm*e^f, Ac— H. 160 OF THE HUMAN MIND. ndllwoliJMtis seen by rays tint pw at m iiiteiice from the centre.* ■ItliMSira' M« ii<»t: made » m U mm t^ JMltJiniya'iii their true pkuse, nor m uto aee' tknn pttAtly in tli« iiwMstion of the n^ when they ■«,. iifiiii tlie mmmf. jwl we may he m vmiSm^ ■■ lo .ee© Umi ©Meet, in the' 'ifwilion, wWeh the rays have when they ftll upon the rdiiw, alter th<^ have un- def^one .all. their refractions in the eye- that is, in the lifeetaxn in vhinii Ilia rays pas from, lhe^iafrtBliiiet rays coming in thai direction.* From. tW» Indwstio* we conclude, That onr ieeiiig an object In that ^'particalar di- lecHon in which, we do see it, is not owing tO' any law of nature by which, we are made to ie*' il m 'HM' 'diiettioa of 'tlie rays, either be- tam tiidr .frfiraciimis in 'ld 'IN' wmm mnm to iMotlt*' vWton-a P»g;«««» ^f wlilrii 'M'tafca :laiiBailala eofobawca of llgjil » «• laltoa loaM" '•naB-i:bit '!•. at 'i«!«2* 205 "tf**" unoa. 'Hie litlBa,. imicr' varioiia maMm^timoidB. an tie .raHaa h '»ot Urtir an •i»1.if i*"#:,..,.!P!*? P^ Hoe. lrltaalf'to'tetaga«itdat.^c«iBiig ^ llMMa"PiiBta» m of that •nuttiva: anrlaeai oa wlMi. tia taji tmiilnBO. and with which thf ao laff toioi* Mml Tli!itotaloli«*irfviw»ip««q*l<»»«ta^ Mllliat' tb« rayt Iw thcnutlva^ aor tba '«5^»* »- siil, bin. tha lafi. and, tiMr Itfiag' aigan. In iictaMiiwf' I The fkcts upon which 1 gfound this In- duction, are taken from some curious ex- petiments of" ■8chei:ier, k his '< Fundameu- tun Opticnm,'* quoted by Dr Porterfield, and confirmed by his experience. I have also repeated thesO' experiments, and. found them to ,answer. .As they an easily made, and tend. tO' ilustrate and confirm, the law of nature I have mentioned, I shall recite them as briefiy and distinctly as I can. Mspmriment 1. Let a very small object, such ,as tho' head, of a 'pl% 'well 'lllummated, be fixed at such a dislanee frintn the eye as to be beyond the 'nearest limit and withto the farthest limit of distinct vision. For a young ^1 :not nearsighted,, tbc' object 'may k placed al 'tlie diatanee of eighteen techea. .IjCI dw, eye 'he hept'"Slesd!ly"iki onC' 'phice, and talce a diatittct' 'view of the object. Wo know, from the principles of optics, that the rays from any oio ,point of this obiect, whether they pass 'tbnwgh tiW' centra of' the eye, or at any distance' 'from 'the centre' which the breadth of the pupil will permit, do all 'Unite: agnin |n. one. |Miint of the tvUmr. We know, also, that these rays have dlfrer- ent dlmctions, both before tbev fall upon the eye, and after they pass through the crystalliue. .How, we 'Can see tie ebjed by any one small parcel of these »y% exciudtng the rest, by looking through a small pin-hole in a card. Moving tbw pin-hole over the various parts of the pupil, we can ace the object, first by the rays that pase above the centra of the eye, 'then by the'Cantial. ray% then by the rays that pass below the centre, and in like manner by the rays that pass on the right and left of the centre. Thus, we view iiis olject, successively, by rays that are central, and by rays that are not central 1 by rays that have different directions, and are variously inclined to each 'Other, both when they fall upon the cot-iuw, and when tbey fidl upon tlw mtma; but always by rays whicb fall upon the same point of the 'ftH'iMi.. And what Is the event? It Is this— that, the object. Is seen, in the same individual diieatiai, 'wheHier seen by all these rays to- gether, m by any one parcel of them. Ejtpmrkmai %■ Let the object above mentmned be now pbMsed within the nearest limit 'Of distlnflt vision— that is, for an eye that is 'not 'near-alghted, at the distance of ihla nraan Is net,, iMMWffw, 'to> He 'Vtawad. m wmOf ih« Mtaa. lait .as. 'iht''wliaia' tiai* of napons thm peitalniaf to th* scom. in an act of vltlon, m also In iIm otlitr •cnailive aotSi 1 •» thus com. tetmm, (taa void ahoiiM not lit nstrieted to self. QOoidouniMSj «ff lanaadtstety coRiiixant, not only of the aflaotioas of Hlf, but of the ph«nonieti» of iomcthlDf diltennt Hoob lell. both, however, always In lalatioo to oadi othw. According, *• in diflbr- ant iim— , tha mUeeti9« or the objecttvr clement pt'tpondef a tis, we Jiava mmtaHvn or pcrcrptton^ me smtforf or thafton the retina^ and the object, at the same time, seems to move downwards, so as to be always in the right line, passing from the picture through the centre of the eye. It is likewise to be observed, that the rays which form the upper and the lower pictures upon the retima do not cross each other, as in or- dinary vision ; yet, still, the higher picture shews the object lower, and the lower pic- ture shews the object higher, in the same manner as when the rays cross each other. Whence we may observe, by the way, that this phenomenon of our seeing objects in a position contrary to that of their pictures upon the retina^ does not depend upon the crossing of the rays, as Kepler and Des Cartes conceived. Ejpperiimnt 3. Other things remaining as in the last experiment, make three pin- holes in a straight line, so near that the rays coming from the object through all the boles may enter the pupil at the same time. In this case, we have a very curious pbsenome- non ; for the object is seen triple with one eye. And if you make more holes within the breadth of the pupil, you will see as many ohjects as there are holes. However, we shall supiK)se them only three — one on the right, one in the middle, and one on the left ; in which case you see three objects standing in a line from right to left. It is here to be observed, that there are three pictures on the retina ; that on the left being formed by the rays which pass on the left of the eye's centre, the middle picture being formed by the central rays, and the right-hand picture by the rays which pass on the right of the eye's centre. It is farther to be observed, that the object which appeara on the right, is not that which IS seen through the hole on the right, but that which is seen through the hole on the left; and, in like manner, the left- hand object is seen through the hole on the right, as is easily proved by covering the holes successively : so that, whatever is the direction of the rays which form the right-hand and left-hand pictures, still the right-hand picture shews a left-liand object, and the left-hand picture shews a right- hand object. Experiment 4. It is easy to see how the two last experiments may be varied, by placing the object beyond the farthest limit of distinct vision. In order to make this experuneut, I looked at a candle at the dis- tance of ten feet, and put the eye of my spectacles behind the card, tliat the rays from the same point of the object miglit meet and cross each other, before they reached the retina. In this case, as in tlu* former, the candle was seen triple through the three pin-holes ; but the candle on the right was seen through the hole on the right ; and, on the contrary, the left-hand candle was seen through the hole on the left. In this experiment it is evident, from the firinciples of optics, that the ravs forming the several pictures on the retma cross each other a little before tliey reach the retina f and, therefore, the left-hand picture is formed by the rays which pass through the hole on the right : so that the position of the pictures is contrary to that of the holes by which they are formed ; and, therefore, is also contrary to that of their objects — as we have found it to be in the former experiments. These experiments exhibit several un- common pheeuoniena, that regard the api)a- rent place, and the direction of visible objects from the eye; [diaenoniena that seem to be most contrary to the common rules of vision. When we look at the same time through three holes that are in a right line, and at certain distances from each other, we expect tliat the objects seen through them should really be, and should appear to be, at a distance from each other. Yet, by the first experiment, we may, through three such holes, see the same object, and the same point of that object ; and through all the three it appears in the same individual place and direction. When the rays of hght come from the object in right lines to the eye, without any reflection, inflection, or refraction, we expect that the object should appear in its real and proper direction from the eye; and so it commonly does. But in the second, third, and fourth experiments, we see the object in a direction which is not its true and real direction from the eye, although the rays come from the object to the eye, without any inflection, reflection, or refraction. When both the object and the eye are fixed without the least motion, and the medium unchanged, we expect that tiie object should appear to rest, niid keep the same place. Yet, in the second and fourth OF THE HUMAN MIND. OF SEEING. 163 «f«fliii«iit%. iilitii.'lK>tli tli« «y«^ ^ jMt MW':!! :iiflt. moA ^kmm&Smm unclmiiged, '««: mlM'tlM mJBm afptivto' 'move upwMtli^ m fluiiiiiwwiiii,. nr'iii. «iij diraiiiiii w 'pktM. When we look, at the same tnM awl 'fiii, tlie Hune egpe,. tbioiii^ ImiIot tlittt .tlaiid Ib h line from riglit to' Mt, we expect tlittt tlie object seen, ^lum^ tl» 'klt- liMii Imle should apiieiir en tlie left, and the object seen through the rigbt-hand hole •honld appear onthe right Yet, in the thitd «periinent|, we ind the diiect' Dontwiy. 'iltiwugh 'many initaneea ooenrla aee- iiig the mmm ol§®ct double with two ^gre% always expect that it should appear we simle wiMW 'Men wl j by one eye. ¥et, in the: :8e8ond..aiii fonrih experiments, wV'haiw wlieretn the same objeet may appear doohlc, triple, or quadruple to one eye, without the lielp of a pdyhedron or multiplying i^ass. All mese extraordinary nhsnomena, re- garding the^ dhnetion. of fliiilto objects from the eye, as wel. m those that are common and ofdinarj, lead ns to that law of nature which. I have 'meiition'ed,. and :are ti«' neces- ■Bij iCOMefMneeS' 'of it And, as there' is no probability that we shall ever be able to give a reason why pictures upon the reiina waakB us. seo' external objeels, any mere than, pictures npon the hand or upon the cheek ; or, that we shall ever be able to Sive a reason, why we see tlie object in the ireetion of a line passing from fto pietare tbrongh the oentm 'Of the eye, latiier than im any other dlieetion— I am, 'therefore, ^apt to look upon this law as a primary kw of our coustituton. To prevent being misunderstood, I beg the reader to observe,, that' .1 do not mean to affirm that the pietan' npon the rifitiii will make us see an object in the direction mentioned, or 'in any direction, 'unkss the optis':nerve, and the other .more immediale instruments of vision, be sound, and per* form their function. We know not well what is the office of the optic nerve, nor in 'What manner It foifhRnt' 'thai iiiiee.{ but 'that it 'hath some pari in. the 'Ikealty of' .see-' 'hig, seems 'to be 'Certain.;' because, in an mmauroMk^ which is believed to be a disorder of the optie nerve, the pictares on the miinm an clear' and disttnd, and yet therO' is^ no vision. We know still baa of the use and func- tion of' the choroid membrane i hut it seems likewise to 'be necessary to vision. : 'for It is well 'known, 'that 'pictures ufoa that, prt of 'the reimm where' .it is. not. 'OOfired. m the 'diorotd~I mean, at 'the entrance of the imtic nerve -produce no vision, any more Ihan a picture upon the hand.* We ac. knowledge, inirsfore, that the nUm k :aat the .kst .and. 'meal' hnmediato inslmiiiMit cif the mind in-Tlaimi. There are other 'mate- rial organs, whose operation is necessary to seekg, even afler the pictures upon the rfiiiM 110' temcd. If ever we 'Come to^ knoW' the :BlRieture. and use of the choroid membrane, the optic nerve, and the bram, and what impressions are made upon them by means of the pictures on the retina, some more links of the chain may be brought withk. our' view, .and a more general kw of vision discovered ; but, while we know so little of the nature and office of these more immedkte instruments of vision, it seems to be impossible to trace its kwa be- yond the 'pielnna 'npon the r«f iraa. Neither do I pretend to say, that there may not be diseases of the eye, or aecidents, which may necasion our seekf objects in a diiMtiim .somewhat, different from that men- tioned above. I shall beg leave to mention one instance of this kind that concerns my- self In May 1761| Mng occupied in making an. exact 'meri«an, in order to observe the traiail of Venua, I rashly directed to the sun, by my right eye, the cross hairs of a small tolesoope. I had ofton done the Hko in my younger days with unpnnity i but I snfimd. by it at 'kst, 'whIch. I mention as a wamuig to others. I soonobserM a remarkable dimness in thai' eye .| .and .for many weeks, when 1 was in. tiM dark, 'Or 'thut my 'Oyee, 'there ap- pearsd before the right eye a lucid spot, which trembled much like the image of the sun seen by reiection from wator. This appeaimnce grew iUnter, and kaa frequent, by d^prees i so that now then an seldom any remains of it But some other very iinilble eiSaets of 'thk hurt .stil ;Mmam. For, First, 'Sfm sight of the right eye con- tinues to be more. dim. than th.at of the left. Secondly, The ncanti lim.it of distinct viskn k more remoto in the right eye than in the other; although, before the time mentiened, they won equal in both these 'respecti|. aa I .had 'found by many trials. But, thirdly, what I chieiy intended to mention is, That a straight line, in some circunwtanoea,. appears to the ri,;ht eye to have a cnrvalnre' in it Thus, when I look upim a mnsk. 'book, an^d, shutting my left eye, direct the right to a point of the mid- .■ml who leMiiPiiMir ~ I, tiMi. tlie ' ^^ aaHPiiaii iBwwssp B. tie thtuff of 'il«i.iitte. who^ Rril iMt of' 'tMi tocsl inaentlUlilf , ed it in sup|iort of liit not the retina, ia tlw piwitaiste omta m vMoa But imt' mly i» the ah. MMC or the :^onilfl net to be vl«««t aa 1 he cause 0:1 IhlsiitanMIBiiloii} Hhiiot even tobeAttrJbutearatu8; but still hold thit, in the mind, there is determined only a singl" perception. One opinion allows the perception to have been origU aaily twofold, and saves the phieiiomeiion, by suppos. ing that it became aiiigie through the influence of cus. lom and association. Another explains it more sub. Jeetlvdy, by an ultimate and inexplicable law of our , tures of the object, one on each retina , and each picture by itself makes us see an object in a certain direction from the eye ; yet both together commonly make us see only one object. All the accounts or solu- tions of this phaenomenon given by anato- mists and philosophers seem to be unsatisfac- tory. I shall pass over the opinionsof Galen, of Oassendus, of Baptista Porta, and of Ro- hault. The reader may see these examined and refuted by Dr Porterfield. I shall ex- amine Dr Porterfield's own opinion, Bishop Berkeley's, and some others. But it will be necessary first to ascertain the facts : for, if we mistake the phucnomena of single and double vision, it is ten to one but this mis- take will lead us wrong in assigning the causes. This likewise we ought carefully tt> attend to, which is acknowledged in theory by all who have any true judgment or just taste in inquiries of this nature, but is very often overlooked in practice — namely, that, in the solution of natural phsenomena, all the length that the human faculties can carry us, is only this, that, from particular pha^nomena, we may, by induction, trace out general phsenomena, of which all thtf particular ones are necessary consequences. And when we have arrived at the most general phaenomena we can reach, thero we must stop. If it is asked. Why such sw body gravitates towards the earth ? all the answer that can be given is, Because all bodies gravitate towards the earth. This is resolving a particular phaenomenon into a general one. If it should again be asked, Why do all bodies gravitate towards tho earth ? we can give no other solution of this phaenomenon, but that all bodies whatso- ever gravitate towards each other. This is resolving a general phaenomenon into a more general one. If it should be asked. Why all bodies gravitate to one another ? wo cannot tell ; but, if we could tell, it could only be by resolving this universal gravita- tion of bodies into some other phaenomenon still more general, and of which the gravi* tation of all bodies is a particular instance. The most general phaenomena we can reach, are what we call laws of nature ; so that tho laws of nature are nothing else but the most general facts relating to the operations of nature, which include a great many parti- cular facts under tliem. And if, in any cast-, we should give the name of a law of nature to a general phaenomenon, which liuniau industry shall afterwards trace to one more general, there is no great harm done. The most general assumes the name of a law «if nature when it is discovered, and the less general is contained and comprehended iu it. Having premised these things, we pro- ceed to consider the p haenomena of sing le constitution ; and the la^t. moreobjectifeljr,on intelligible principle of optics,— H. \ti 1'64 OF TH.1 H:ilMA!f MIND. ftiid imhU ▼Woo, In ordef to 4mmw 'mmm IMiiinl ffindple to which th«y aU lead, and 'Of' 'iMA Imf mm A* imceamr j mmm^ ■mimmm» II '«• «>■ diamifitr njr ■«« fSfliMiBlfriiMiiple, it mual eith«r h% m law of nature, or A© mowaiafy^ oonieiintiMSO of tome law of natiue ; and its anlMitir wUl he eqnal whether it is the first m HmhaL 1. WeiiiiAit,wh«ntheeyesM»80inid and perfect, and the axes of both dlroctwl to one point, an oMiisI f hMsed hi tel point is ^seen stogie— 'Sud Mm. 'W ohserwe, thai in this ease Ae two pletufwi whiuh i^ tte ohjeet sinile, are in the eenlres^ of the fVlJfM. When two pietnies m a small nhjeet ^aro' formed upon ponteof iW'ffiifM» if ■ thej shew the olret shwle, m shall, :•»■ the'SaLi'Of ''piispieitiljycaf sueh two'pohits of the rfliiiii, Mff«f|i0iiflii|f' pdntM; and where the ohjeet is seen double, we shall eail the foints of 'the tvUmi ini: which the ptetntes: aiO' fomed, ,jiiiiwl» ^^ * mt cor- rtffNMil.* If ow, In tliit"irsi phmiomenon, it is efldent, that the two centres of 'the fvHtiii' are' TOwesponding' poin^ta. 2. Supposing the ^sano' things as in the .hist phienmenon, other' ol^eetsal the same iistanM' 'from 'the ejes^ m that to 'wbich their axes are directed, do also appear ■mgfe. Thus, if I direct my ejes to a ^eandle phused. at the dbtanee of ten feet, agd, while I look mM. this eamlle, another stands: 'St the isame distance from my eyes, within the ield of Tision, I can, wbie I look at the first candle, attend to the ap- Mannee which the^ atcond makes to the eyo' I and I 'ind that fa this 'case: it always appean sinipe. It is here to he ohsenred, that the pictures of the second candle do not fall upon the 'Centres of the imlkm* hut they both fall upon the samO' :Hide of 'the centres— that.''is, both to^ the right, or both to the left ; and both are at the same dis- tance from the centres. This m%ht easily 'be demonstrated, from^ the 'prineiphw of optica Henec' 'It appears,, 'that m this second phnmomenon of isuigle ¥ision, the cortesponding points are points of 'the two rgiinm, which are similarly mtuate with TCspeet to the two centres, being both upon the :Bame ride of 'the centre, and at the same distance from it. It appears likewise, from this pbamomenon, that every pinnt in one rfiiii« ■corfesponds 'with, that which is 'Simi- 'Isrly situate In 'tile 'Other. • It li t©lit mnHceil th»t Wrid me% the term mr. m ^mmimmM mm aoiaft lU' S :miM fNipOlite tO UUt 0> Si»tlli.. Sill ■fNM^ iammmtM^im i£ irMwi l< mtb&j the ror'liMiDtllue, ffopond by tfttiiMi, and now Wmwm mm»A^^ the the observer carefully le- iiiafk 'the' 'difeetiin. nf 'both his eyes, and olserve their motions ; and let an opaque body bO' interposed betneeii. the objeet and tiM two^eyee sueeessively. If the 'patieiit|: ;iiiiti»iiislanding this int^poeitiiiii, and ' viA^ out changing the direction of his iiyes, con- times to see the objeet all the time, it may bC' concluded that he mm it with bolh eyes at once. :Bu.I, :if the interporition. 'Of iie 'body between, one eye and the objeet< 'makes it disappear, then we may be certain that it was seen, by that' eye only. In the two following aiileles,,. 'W shai mppoee^ the irst tohnA «~«lingtothec«m«mh««- tbesisn & Upon this supposition, it ought to be inquired,. 'Whether the patient sees^ an ob- jeet dimble: n those eirennstiMiees wlierem It appears' double 'to them who have .no squint? Let him, for instance, phMse a candle at the distance of ten feeti and hohing his inger at armVlength between 'him ud the candle, 'let him observe, 'when he looks at the candle^ whether' 'he :sees his inger with both eyes, and whether he sees it single or double ; and when he looks at his finger, lei him observe whether he^ leeS' the'. 'ean.dle with 'both eyes, tad whether ■ingle or double. By this observation, it may be deter- 'mmed, whetiher to thte^ patient, the phseno- mem of double as wdl as of single vimon are the same as to then who^ have no :sqiihit If they are not the same—if he sees objects nngle with two eyes, not only in the eases wherein they .appear sin{|^. but in those .also wherein th«r appear 0mMB U other men-'the^ coiiel.niSon £be drnwn. fh»i.th'is supposition it, that his single vision does not arise from corresponding pcrants m the re- imm 'Of his 'i^yes .| and 'thai the 'hiws of vision .are not the same k. him as 'In 'the .vest' of llliflLlllciflO 7. If, on the other hand, be sees objects donhhi' .In., those cases wheiehi they appear dMtble to others, 'the eoiiel.nsiott. must be, thai he hath corresponang pohts In the mikm of his ejres, but unnaturally situate. 4nd. their situation may he thns.deitfniine4 When, he 'looks :alM objeel» havhif the axis of one eye diveeted toll, and 'the .aais of the other turned aside from it, let us suppose a right line to psss from the object OF SEEING. 171 'thfongb 'the' eentie of 'liie 'ilv«i||ing 'tyn.' Wei£all». fpr-the sake ^of penqplenlty, eai 'this right lhl% lit' mtmrai mstM qf the ej^e; and it will make an angle with the real aids, greater or less, aoeotdh^gts his squint h CMiier or less.. We shai also ^oall thai 'poSit of the fvlifie in whieh "the natoial axis ents It, lft# naiurai rnntre qf ths retina ; which wffl be more or less distant from the real eentie, according as the sqnmt is MMMMft,wjttflS' iHHV IAHDUHL ^Bwai^iirispwipiiaii i»ia me^^wm^irKi Mmiag 'premised these deinitions, it will be evident to those who understand the principles of optics, that in this person the natural eentn of one retina corresponds with, the real centre of the other, in the very same manner as the two real centres correspond in perfect eyes i and that the points simikriy situate with regard to the real centre in one reiiwij and the natural centre k the other, do likewise correspond. In the very same manner as the points si- mikriy situate with regard to the two reA centres correspond k perfect eyes. If it la tniiii as has been commonly af- irmed, thai one who squmts sees an object with both eyes at the same time, and yet sees it single, the squkt will most probably 'be suA as we hnwdeieribed in this article. And we may farther conclude, that, if a Serson affected with such a squkt as we ave supposed, eould be brought to the habit of looking straight, his sight would theiebj be greatly hurt 5 for he would then see everythkg double which he saw with both eyes at the same time ; and ob- jects distant from one another would appear to be confonnded together. Mis eyes are made for aqnktkg, as much as those of oiier men are made for lookkg straight ; and his sight would be no leas kjured by kioking straight, than thai of another man 'by sqilnting. He cm. never see perfectly when, he dim ne* aq ikt, unless the corre- rikg pokts of his eyes should by custom ge meir pbee ; hut how small the pro- bability of this is wiU appear m the 17th seetion. fhose of the medical faculty who attempt the cure of a squkt, would do well to con- sider whether it is attended with such symp- tonii aa-am above deseribed. If it is, the nupe wenM h9 'worse than the 'makdy : for, every one wil readily acknowledge that it Is better to put up with the deformity of a squkt, than, to pircliaBe' the core by the loss of perlMil and. dhAkct vlskn. & We shai mm return to Dr Jurin^s hypothesis^ and suppose that our patient, when he saw objects single notwithstanding hk 'Squkt, was lnnd|. npon trial, to have :seen. 'then, oal^' with, mm eye. We "Wonld adirise' such a patient to en- deavour, by repeated elTorta, Ui leiuten his squint, and to bring the axes of liis eyes nearer to a parallel direction. We have naturally the power of makmg small varia- tions m the inclination of the optic axes ; and this power may be greatly kcreased by exercise. In the ordmary and natural use of our eyes, we can direct their axes to a fixed star; k this case they must be parallel: we can direct them also to an object six kches distant from the eye; and k this case the axes must make an angle of fif- teen or twenty degrees. We see young people in their frolics learn to squint, mak- ing their eyes either converge or diverge, when they will, to a very considerable de- gree. Why should it be more difficult for a squinting person to learn to look straight when he pleases ? If once, by an effort of his wilU he can but lessen his squint, fre> queut practice will make it easy to lessen ft, and will daily increase his power. So that, if he begins this practice in youth, and perseveres m it, he may probably, after some time, learn to direct both his eyes to one objecu When he hath acquired this power, if will be no difficult matter to determine, by proper observations, whether the centres of tiie retina^ and other points similarly situate with regard to the centres, correspond, as in other men. 9. Let us now suppose that he finds this to be the case ; and that he sees an object single with both eyes, when the axes of b«»th are directed to it. It will then conc^n hun to acquire the habit of looking straight, as he hath got the power, because he will thereby not only remove a deformity, hut kiprove his sight ; and I conceive this ha- bit, like all others, may be got by frequent exercise. He may practise before a mirror when alone, and m company he ought to have those about him who will observe and ad- monish him when he squints. 10. What is supposed k the 9th article is not merely imaginary ; it is really the case of some squinting persons, as will tppear in the next section. Therefore, it ought further to be inquired, How it comes to pass that such a person sees an object which he looks at, only with one eye, wlien both are open ? In order to answer this question, it may be observed, first, Whether, when he looks at an object, the diverging eye is not drawn so close to the nose, that it ciin have no distinct images ? Or, secondly, whether the pupil of the diverging eye is not covered wholly, or k part, by the upper eye- lid ? Dr Jurin observed instances of these cases in persons that squinted, and assigns them as causes of their seekg the object only with one eye. Thirdly, it may be observed, whether the diverging eye is not so directed, that the picture of the object falls upon that part of the rttim, where the optic nerve enters, and where there is no vision? This will probably happen in a squint wherein the axes of the eyes converge so as to meet about six inches before the nose. II. In the last place, it ought to be inquired, Whether such a person hath any distinct vision at all with the diverging eye, at the time he is lookmg at an object with the other ? It may seem very improbable that he should be able to read with the diverging eye when the other is covered, and yet, when both are open, have no distinct vision with it at all. But this, perhaps, will not appear 80 improbable if the following conssiderationa are duly attended to. Let us suppose that one who saw per- fectly, gets, by a blow on the head, or some other accident, a permanent and involun- tary squint. According to the laws of vi- sion, he will see objects double, and will see objects distant from one another confounded together ; but, such vision being very dis- agreeable, as well as inconvenient, he will do everything in his power to remedy it. For alleviating such distresses, nature often teaches men wonderful expedients, which the sagacity of a philosopher would be un- able to discover. Every accidental motion, every direction or conformation of his ejes, which lessens the evil, will be agreeable ; it will be repeated until it be learned to perfection, and become habitual, even with- out thought or design. Now, in this case, what disturbs the sight of one eye is the sight of the other ; and all the disagreeable appearances m vision would cease if the light of one eye was extinct. The siglit of one eye will become more distinct and more agreeable, in the same proportion as that of the other becomes faint and in- distinct. It may, therefore, be expected, that every habit will, by degrees, be ac- quired which tends to destroy distinct vi- sion in one eye while it is preserved in the other. These habits will be greatly facili- tated if one eye was at first better than the other ; for, in that case, the best eye will always be directed to the object which he intends to look at, and every habit will be acquired which tends to hinder his seeing it at all, or seeing it distinctly by the other at the same time. I shall mention one or two habits that may probably be acquired in such a case ; perhaps there are others which we cannot so easily conjecture. First, By a small in- crease or dimmution of his squint, he may bring it to correspond with one or other of the cases mentioned in the last article. Secondly, The divergmg eye may be brought to such a conformation as to be ey tremely short-sighted, and consequently to have no distinct vision of objects at a distance. I 173 Of THE HUMAN MIND. OP SEEING. 173 knew thit to be tlio mm df ose p«raon tkil ■fiiiited t l»t ewnot mj whether the ':dMir|.ii||y«iiiMi of th» 'iimfgipK «je wm iirkiMil» 'W'^aifiiind. hy 'hal»iL W« 'M% 'lheraiiif%. iiat one who squints, itnii orii^iiMy mm objects donbk bj reason of thai. K|tiint,: may mqwrn mm habitt thai» when he looln at an objtot, im ahall leo It 'Only with one eyo ; nay, h*' may ae- qnire sneb habits that, when M tookt at an object with his best eyej he shall have no distiwjt^viriiin'with the other al all. Wheiier this is really the case— being' niuMft to tbat^ no one 'instaneO' lath been found of a person who had acquired the habit of Bceing objects single witli both eyes, while they were directed in any other man^ The judicious Br Smith, in his excellent system .of optics, ma.intaina 'the contrary opinion, and offere some ressoninas and facts in proof of it He agrees with Bishop Berkeleyt 'in attributing It enti.rely to cuti- tom, that we see .objects single with two eyes, as well as that we see objects erect by in- verted images. Having considered Bishop Befkeley%ieaaoiiingshi the llth section, 'we ahai. now beg leave to make^ some remarks on what Dr Smith hath said upon this subject, with the respect due to an author to whom the world owes, not only mma valuable discoveries of his own, but those of the br|gh;lest mathematical genius of this age, which, with great labour, he generously redeemed from oblivion. He observes, that thequestion. Why we see objects single with two qrea ? is of the same sort with this, Why we hear sounds single with two ears ?— and that the same answer mnst serve both. The inference intended to be drawn from this observation is, thai, as the second of these ph&enomena is the effect of custom, so likewise is the Now, I humbly conceive that the ques- tions are not so much of the 'Same sort, that the same answer must serve for both ; and, moreover, that onr hearinK ■ingle with two ears, is not the eflect oi m Thifolirctioii did not «isit...pr:afillh liiiMelf J Imt Rcld mma to htw ©tertmiai hii •iiiwer. *. Wlicn we wkwr He yi, " «» «bi^*»"«*i'Jr*;« Hwirthit ia view i Mmmm lit '|£iwm. falltng u|Mm .■udEtr. sii iw totli: towiW with «»p«t to'll» ointo aMi*. H' 'IMIMM Hwt tlie pidurn of any col. latcffslMiBt^irt 'iwlnlMl. wpon o(ifftci|MWdi.Dg]ioints oi Till .sMutr it. fiiidftrt. mote ptawMe ft«iii flit .fnlMMtimt MMiaiical. mammrf of .Soemmwiiii.. Heltound that, to tW pit of tlie teUna uhich « •t tlio ■»!• oftit tp, Hwe i». Jn ."««. •"<*'" _*^f ■aiBUit of ieait viiio,. m 'Openinc. real or armar. ■at. fibMMiiii iMlMlVt) the diaMOMOiM. oi woicn f Tint 1* m liMrfTertencf. Beftdef haiardino iiieh opinion lo amf Di bis worka.— H. Two or more visible objects, although perflMStly sunilar, and seen at the very s^ine time, may be distinguished by their visible places; but two sounds perfectly similar, and h€«rd at the same time, cannot be dis- tinguished ; for, from the nature of sound, the sensations they occasion must coalesce into one, and lose all distinction. If, there- fore, it b asked, Why we hear sounds single with two ears ? I answer, Not from custom ; but because two sounds wliich are perfectly like and synchronous, have nothing by which they can be distinguished. But will this answer fit the other question ? I think not. The object makes an appearance to each eye, as the sound makes an impression upon each ear : so far the two senses agree. But the visible appearances may be distin- guished by place, when perfectly like in other respects ; the sounds cannot be thus dis- tinguished : and herein the two senses dif- fer. Indeed, if the two appearances have the same visible place, they are, in that case, as incapable of distinction as the sounds were, and we see the object single. But when they have not the same visible place, they are perfectly distinguishable, and we see the object double. We see the object single only, when the eyes are directed in one particuiarraanner ; while there are many Other ways of directing them within the sphere of our power, by which we see the ODJect double. Dr Smith justly attributes to custom that well-known fallacy in feeling, whereby a button pressed with two opposite sides of two contiguous fingers laid across, is felt double. I agree with him, that the cause of this appearance is, that those opposite sides of the fingers have never been used to feel the same object, but two different objects, at the same time. And I beg leave to add, that, as custom produces this phse- nomenon, so a contrary custom destroys it ; for, if a man frequently accustoms himself to feel the button with his fingers across, it will at last be felt single ; as I have found by experience. It may be taken for a general rule, that things which are produced by custom, may be undone or changed by disuse, or by a contrary custom. On the other hand, it is a strong argument, that an effect is not owing to custom, but to the constitution of nature, when a contrary custom, long contuiued, is found neither to change nor weaken it. I take this to be the best rule by which we can determine the question presently* under consideration. I shall, therefore, mention two facts brought by Dr Smith, to prove that the corresponding pouits of the reiimt have been changed by • See note * at p. 06. a.— ti. custom ; and then I shall mention some facts tending to prove, that there are cor- responding points of the retinm of the eyes originally, and that custom produces no change in them. " One fact is related upon the authority of Martin Folkcs, Esq., who was infornu^d by Dr Hepburn of Lynn, that the Rev. Mr Foster of Clinchwharton, in that neighbour- hood, having been blind for some years of a guUa serena, was restored to sight by sali- vation ; and that, upon his first beginning to see, all objects appeared to him double i but afterwards, the two appearances ap- proaching by degrees, he came at last to see single, and as distinctly as he did before he was blind." Upon this case, I observe, First, That it does not prove any change of the corre- sponding points of the eyes, unless we sup- pose, what is not affirmed, that Mr Foster directed his eyes to the object at first, when he saw double, with the same accuracy, and in the same manner, that he did afterwards, when he saw single. Secondly, If we should suppose this, no account can be given, why at first the two appearances should be seen at one certain angular distance rather than another ; or why tliis angular distance should gradually decrease, until at last the appear- ances coincided. How could this effect be produced by custom ? But, Thirdly, Every circumstance of this case may be accounted for on the supposition that Mr Foster had corresponding points in the retina of his eyes from the time he began to see, and that custom made no change with regard to them. We need only further suppose, what is common in such cases, that, by some years' blindness, he had lost the habit of directing his eyes accurately to an object, and that he gradually recovered this habit when he came to see. The second fact mentioned by Dr Smith, is taken from Mr Cheselden's " Anatomy," and is this :— " A gentleman who, from a blow on the head, had one eye distorted, found every object appear double; but, by de- grees, the most familiar ones became single ; and, in time, all objects became so, without any amendment of the distortion." I observe here, that it is not said th.it the two appearances gradually approached, and at last united, without any amendment of the distortion. This would indeed have been a decisive proof of a change in the corresponding pfHuts of the retina!, and yet of such a change as could not be accounted for from custom. But this is not said ; and, if it had been observed, a circumstance so remarkable would have been mentioned by Mr Cheselden, as it was in the other cass by Dr Hepburn. We may, therefore, take it for granted, that one of the appearances vanished by degrees, without approaching to iji OF THE HUMAN MIND. OF SEEING. 177 the iiHier. And tliit I 'eMiMif«'iiit#t hxp* S,.iaftnilwi^ »■% 11i«-ii#it of tli€ drtai. «j» Miglil gniiiif - ma^f by tlie imii ; m iiie sppwrnmset nmiitdl hy timt «l« WHOM, gmdiillj TOiiiii. fle«mn%, A •imE ftod unferaeiTdl, dimge in e iwii- ner of direcfing thm mjm, might o««A« his not seeing the object with the dis- torted eye, m appears Iroin | lfi> Art. 10. 'Thirdlyi By :aeqiiifing 'tlio liAliit of direct-' inie on© «d tli©' mam •?•■ riwiyi to the ob-^ }eot,. the' fnint and. obiiiine sppeiumoe pra- Bonted by the other eye, might be so httle ultended to when it became familiar, as not ti> be perceived One of thei« causes, or more' of them cononrring, might pfodnoc' the effect menti©iie4 without any change of the correfiponding points of the eyes. For these mmam, the iMitB mentioiifld by Br Smith, although corinoa, leeni nol to be 'decisive, 'The foUowuig fiwtB onght to ^ be put in the opposito soile*' First, in the teums eaae' of the young gunieraMWi 'Cowshed by Mr OicieMen, .tltat' ImirlaK hai, crttweta on both 'fsyiS' ontH'he'WM [ahote] 'tiirteen yenrS' of age, it appears that he saw objects single from the time he bogan to see 'with. 'both eyes. Mr Cheselden% words, ,an>, '*And now, being ktely 'CowAed, of 'his 'Other eye^ he says, that objects, at first, appeared large to Ibis 'eye, bnt not so krge as they did at first to the other ; and, looking upon the same object witb both eye% he thought illooked abont twice as^ krge' ,as with the iitt, condied, eye only, but not double, that, we can, anywise discover." Secondly, The 'threC' young g^ilonen, 'mentioned in the last section, who had, 'Wfuinted, as far' as I know, firom ulkncy, as soon as they learned to direct both eyes to an object, saw it single. In these four cases, ,lt afipeaini 'evident thsl' the oentres of the, fwfimm^ comtponded, niighially, and befcR custom, could, pmduee' any sum effect 1 for Mr Cheselden*s young gentkman liad never been aMuatonMid tn,:8ee at all hefon be was oondiad ; „aiid the othet tireC' Imd never ibeen, ,ac«i«tomed to duceet the mm of both, eyes to the object , . « .^ 'Th,irdly, from, the' faels^ »clted m § 13, it appenm, 'that, fiwm, 'tit tine 'W are 'Capable of observini 'tlw idHMMMMna, of single ,aiid 'denble' vismi, enstom mnhes no change' in them. I have amused myself 'witb Meh observ* ations^ for mow thna, tbktf finrs ; and m, every 'CaM' wbeiein, I saw lie, cljeet double at first, I see it so to this day, notwith- ■ta»l,ing the constant experience of itS' being single. ' In other eases, whevs I loiew'lhem are two ohject% 'there npfcnrt' w^T ^n^i 'ftftor thousiiMh' of emperiments. Let a man looh at a fiwiillir object through a polyhedron, or mnltiplying-g'liHS,, mmj htm of Mb 'lie, the number of viaibfc appeawwsea wli be the 'Same at Inst as at firatTnor does any number of experiments, or length, of 'time^ 'make the least ehtnge. Effects produced, hf habit, mnet vsry according as the acts by which the habit is aeiimimd are more or leas frequent ; but the pbeenomena of single and double vision arO' so invariable and uniform m, ^all, men, are so exactly legukted by mntbematlcal rules, that I think we have good reason to conclude that tbey are not the effect of cus- tom, but of fixed and immutable laws of nature. Seetim XVI li, o,p na poETniFiH,n*s Msmvwr w mKOLB Ann mmm mmam. Bishop Berkeley and Dr Smith seem to attribute too much to custom in vision, Dr Porterield 'toO' ,little. This ingodous writer thinks, that, by an original law of our nature, antecedent to custom and experience, we perceive visible ohjecia in tbeir true pkce, not only as to 'their' 'direction, but likewise as to tbeir dls- tance from, 'the' eye ; ,and, therefore, lie accounte lor our seeing objects single, with two eyes, in this manner. Havhug the faculty of i?eroeiving the object with each eye in its true place, we must perceive it with both eyes in the same place; and, conswiuently, must perceive it singlcw Mo h aware that this |>rtnci,plei althougli It aooounts for our seeing objecto shigle witib two eyes, yet does not at all account for our seeing objects double ; and, whereas other writers on this suhject take it to be a sulieieat canse for double vision that we bnve two eyes, and only find it difficult to assign a eauso' for single vision, on the contrary, Dr Porterfield's principle throws all 'the .dlitanlity on the 'Other Mde. Tharafore, In order to account for the pbiinonienn 'Of' dmble vision, he advances another principH without signifying whe- ther be conceives it to bean original hfcw of onr nature, or the effect, of c'?****''*., J* ■% 'That our natural 'perception of the ^ditlaiiee of ohjecte from the eye, is not extended to all the objeete that faU vritbin the field of vision, 'but 'Innlted to thalwiinli'We du«ctly Inok ,at ,| .and, that' tbe.«lr«nmjafient objects, whatever be tbeir real distance, are seen at the same distance with the object we look ati asifthey were all In the surface of » sphere, wberiif the eye ia the' centre. Thus». iin|ln 'vUon 'la, acconiited lor_ by our sedng lit tne dlitanoe of an ot^jed which we look at 1 and double vision, by a fahie appaaiMMSo of distance in object! wjiich we do not directly look at. We agree with this earned and inge- nious author, that it is by a natural and original principle that we see visible objects in a certein direction from the eye, and honour him as the author of this discovery :* but we cannot assent to either of those principles by which he explains single and double vision — for the following reasons : — 1. Our having a natural and original ])erception of the distance of objects from tlie eye, appears contrary to a well-attested fact : for the young gentleman couched by Mr Cheselden imagined, at first, that what- ever he saw touched his eye, as what he felt touched his hand.*f- 2. The perception we have of the distance of objects from the eye, whether it be from nature or custom, is not so accurate and determinate as is necessary to produce sin- gle vision. A mistake of the twentieth or thirtieth part of the distance of a small object, such as a pin, ought, according to Dr Porterfield's hypothesis, to make it ap- pear double. Very few can judge of the distance of a visible object with such accuracy. Yet we never find double vision produced by mistaking the distance of the object. There are many cases in vision, even with the naked eye, wherein we mis- take the distance of an object by one half or more : why do we see such objects single ? When I move my spectacles from my eyes toward a small object, two or three feet dis- tant, the object seems to approach, so as to be seen at last at about half its real distance ; but it is seen single at that apparent distance, • To this honour Porterfie'd has no title. The law odhf iiiu' of visible rtirectton, was a jcommon theory long before the pubiication of liis writings j for it was maintained by Kepler, Gas'-endi, Scheiner, Hohauir, Regis Du Hamel, Mariotte. De Chales, Mussclien- liroelc, Molyneux, Ac. &c., and mani/ of these main, tainc d that this law was an original principle or in- itiMion of our nature.'-H. t We must be careful not, lilce Reid and.philn. soyhersin general, to confound "he perceptions of mete externality 01 outneis, and the knowli the foundation of our acquired knowledge oi dis- tance, set-nis given us in ibe-natural perception we have ot the direction of the rays of light. In like mdnner, we must i ot confound, as is com. monlydone, t) e fact of the eye affording us a per. ception of exten»ion and plain figure ^ or outline, In the perception ^»fr(il(iurs. and the tact of its being the vehicle of intimations in regard to the conipa- rative magnitude and cubical forms of the objectt from which these rays proceed. 1 he one U a know- ledge by senre— natural, immediate, and inlisUible ; the other like thai of distance, is, by infeience, ac. fuired, mediate, and at best i Iwayi uisecure.— U. as well as when we see it with the naked eye at ite real distance. And when we look at an object with a binocular telescope, pro- perly fitted to the eyes, we see it single, while it appears fifteen or twenty times nearer than it is. There are then few cases wherein the distance of an object from the eye is seen so accurately as is necessary for single vision, upon this hypothesis: this seems to be a conclusive argument against the account given of single vision. We find, likewise, that false judgments or fallacious appearances of the distance of an object, do not produce double vision : this seems to be aconclusive argument against the account given of double vision. 3. The perception we have of the linear distance of objects seems to be wholly the efiect of experience. This, I think, hath been proved by Bishop Berkeley and by Dr Smith ; and when we come to point out the means of judging of distance by sight, it will appear tliat they are all furnished by experience. 4. Supposing that, by a law of our nature, the distance of objects from the eye were perceived most accunitely, as well as their direction, it will not follow that we must see the oliyject single. Let us consider what means such a law of nature would furnish for resolving the question, Whether the objects of the two eyes are in one and the same place, and consequently are not two, but one ? Suppose, then, two right lines, one drawn from the centre of one eye to its object, the other drawn, iu like manner, from the centre of the other eye to its object. This law of nature gives us the direction or position of each of these right lines, and the length of each ; and this is all that it gives. These are geometrical data^ and we may learn from geometry what is determined by their means. Is it, then, determined by the.se ryato, Whe- ther the two right lines terminate in one and the same point, or not ? No, truly. In order to determine this, we must have three other data. We must know whether the tivo right lines are in one plane ; we must know what angle they make ; and we must know the distance between the centres of the eyes. And when these things are known, we must apply the rules of trigono- metry, before we can resolve the question, Whether the objects of the two eyes are in one and the same place ; and, consequently, whether they are two or one ? 5. That false appearance of distance into which double vision is resolved, cannot be the effect of custom, for constant experience contradicts it. Neither hath it the features of a law of nature, because it does not answer any good purpose, nor, indeed, any purpose at all, but to deceive us. But why should we seek for argumeute^ in a question l.ltf OF THE HC'MAN MIND. OF SEEING. 170 I IMliftlilj, ie not coiniiioii to all »iiiinaK 'nM BURMMC: of tlio iMi. 9Mid lOtli aoctioua M, to ioquin, Whether there be mi j m«» eyes, ■eaimot ans.wer 'the purposes^of vision in some other anhnals ; andtiepsfore, very per ohserfitiona. Those who have had ekill to make proper observations, havo wanted opportunities; and those who have had opportmilios, have wanted skill or attention. I ham therefore thought it worth while to give a distinct account of the observations necessary for the deter- mination of this question, and what con- clusions may he drawn from the facts ob- served. I have 'likewise eolleoted, and set in one view, the most conclusive facts that have occurred in authors, or liave fallen under my own observation. It must be confessed that these facts, when applied to the question in liand, make a very poor Hgure ; and the gentlemen of the medical, iieulty a»B' .called upon, 'for-tho honooT' of their prefeision, and for the bene- fit of 'mankind, to add to them. AM the medical, and all the optical wnters upon the flniAt«iftii« that I have met with, exeepl Dr Jurin, either affirm, or take it for granted, that squinting persons see th© object. 'With both, eyes, .and yet see it smgle. Dr Jurin alfirms that squinting persons never see the object with, both eyes ; and that, if they did, they wouM see it double. If 'tiM common opinion be true, the cure of Rm ISAAC a iqufat would be as pernicious to the sight THIS soil- of tho patient, as the causing of a perma- Bint aquint would be te' one who natumlljr had. 'no aqitot i .and, therefore^ no physi- .eian onghl to atten:^. such a cure, no patient ought te submit to it. But, if Dr Jurin's opiiion be tme, most young people that, .aq uini may mm th«niBel.ves, by 'taking sooiO' 'palna. ,| and, may not .only remove 'tlm diloinlty, but, at the aame time, improve their sighi If the common opinion faa true^ ^'Mntn%.and .other pointeofthetwo niiittf, in aqninthig persons, 'do not corre- spond, as in other men, and Nature, in them, deviates from her common rule. But, if Dr .Jurin*s opinion 'be true, there is reason te think thai tiM iiine general kw of vision whieh ' we have found 'in perfed hiiman eyes, extends .abo to those which sqninL It is impossible te determine, by reason- ing, which of these ophtions is true; or whether one may not he found true in somo 'patients, and. tho olh.er in others. Here, experience and observation are our only guides ; and a deduction of instances is the only rational argnment. It mkht, there- foroi have 'been 'Oxneeted, that, the patrona tf the contrary opinions should have given instances iu support of them that are clear und indisputable ; but I have not found one such instance on either side of the question, in all the authors I have met with. I have given three instances from my own observ- ation, in confirmation of Dr Jurin's opinion, which admit of no doubt ; and one which leans rather to the other opinion, but is dubious. And here I must leave the matter to further observation. In the 17th section, I have endeavoured to shew that the correspondence and [or] sym- pathy of certain points of the two retina:, into which we have resolved all the phseno- mena of single and double vision, is not, as Dr Smith conceived, the eflect of custom, nor can [it] be changed by custom, but is a natural and original property of human eyes ; and, in the last section, that it is not owing to an original and natural perception of the true distance of objects from the eye, as Dr Porterfield imagined. After this re- capitulation, which is intended to relieve the attention of the reader, shall we enter into more theories upon this subject ? That of Dr Briggs — first published in English, m the " Philosophical Transac- tions," afterwards in Latin, under the title of '* Nova Visionis Theoria," with a prefa- tory epistle of Sir Isaac Newton to the .-^uthor—amounts to this. That the fibres of the optic nerves, passing from correspond- ing points of the retincs to the thalami neP' varum oplicorumy having the same length, the same tension, and a similar situation, will have the same tone; and, therelbre, their vibrations, excited by the impression of the rays of light, will be like unisons in music, and will present one and the same image to the mind : but the fibres passing from parts of the retiruB which do not cor- respond, having different tensions and tones, will have discordant vibmtions ; and, there- fore, present different images to the mind. I shall not enter upon a particular exam- ination of this theory. It is enough to ob- serve, in general, that it is a system of con- jectures concerning things of which we are entirely ignorant ; and that all such theories in philosophy deserve rather to be laughed at, than to be seriously refuted. From the first dawn of philosophy to this day, it hath been believed that the optic nerves are intended to carry the images of visible objects from the bottom of the eye to the mind ; and that the nerves belonging to the organs of the other senses have a like office. • But how do we know this ? We conjecture it; and, taking this conjecture for a truth, we consider how the nerves may best answer this purpose. The system of the nerves, for many ages, was taken to be a • This •tatmeiit s ftr too unqualified.— H. hydraulic enguie, consisting of a bundle of pipes, which carried to and fro a liquor called animal spirits. About the time of Dr Briggs, it was thought rather to be a stringed instrument, composed of vibrating chords, each of which had its proper tension and tone. But some, with as great probability, conceived it to be a wind instrument, which played its part by the vibrations of an elast ic U3.her in the nervous fibrils. These, I think, are all the engines into which the nervous system hath been moulded by philosophers, for conveying the images of sensible things from the organ to the sensorium. And, for all that we know of the matter, every man may freely choose which he thinks fittest for the purpose; for, from fact and experiment, no one of theni can claim preference to another. Indeed, they all seem so unhandy engines for carry- ing images, that a man would be tempted to invent a new one. Since, therefore, a blind man may guess as well in the dark as one that sees, I beg leave to offer another conjecture touching the nervous system, which, I hope, will answer the purpose as well as those we have mentioned, and which recommends itself by its simplicity. Why may not the optic nerves, for instance, be made up of empty tubes, opening their mouths wide enough to receive the rays of light which form tho image upon the retina, and gentjy convey- ing them safe, and in their proper order, to the very seat of the soul, until they flash iit her face ? It is easy for an ingenious phi^ losopher to fit the caliber of these empty tubes to the aiameter of the jtarticles uf light, so as they shall receive no grosser kind of matter ; and, if these rays should be in danger of mistaking their way, an expe- dient may also be found to prevent this ; for it requires no more than to bestow upon the tubes of the nervous system a peristal- tic motion, like that of the alimentary tube^ It is a peculiar advantage of this hypo- thesis, that, although all philosophers be- lieve that the species or images of things are conveyed by the nerves to the soul, yet none of their hypotheses shew how this may be done. For how can the images of sound, taste, smell, colour, figure, and all sensible qualities, be made out of the vibra- tions of musical chords, or the undulations of animal spirits, or of aether ? We ought not to suppose means inadequate to tiin end. Is it not as philosophical, and more intelligible, to conceive, that, as tlie Ktoniach receives its food, so the soul receives !ier images by a kind of nervous deglutition ? I might add, that we need only continue this peristaltic motion of the nervous tubes from the sensmnm to the extremities of the nerves that serve the muscles, in order to account for muscular motion. H I? ill 180 or TEM HUMAN MIMB. Tims nature' will 1j« wiiMiiaiil id lier^' .self; and, aa imiiilioii. will te tlM Mivi^y- MM iif tho iiiiil whmmi to Urn mkd, m miiHiilte imitiwi 'wiU Im tlm wpwlnioii of tlie nMSMMiitiliDiii fMirt of it For who cm Amy, tl»t the images fti tliiiigs oon- Ycyed by leiwitioii, may, after duo cow- ^iMielio% li«s«iii« il to W tbrown, off by BiiMiiiitr' noOm ? 1 'Wly f^^^ ^^'^ ^ iliese iiiiigB to tbo imgenioua, iopimg tbat in time this hypotliaA may ^ wrought up into »,fyiiteiii.aBtfiilypbio«>phical aa'llial jImii- 'mal tpiijti,. or the fibmlion of iwrwiM Ibrea. To be serious : In tiM opeialions of na^ turn, I hold the theories off A ^hiloiopher, whieh are unsupported by fiust, in the fane esttmat'bn with the dwama. of a man asleep, or the ravings of a madman. Welaughat the: Indian phiosopher, who, to^aooount for the support of tie earth, contnved the hypothesis of a huge ehf hani, and,^ to support the' elephaat,, m ingt tortoisfc If we will eandidl J eonfen the Iraih, «• know as little ©f the operation of the nerves, as he did of the manner in which the earth is supported ; and our hjpotheies about Mhnal ifirils,,, or .about the tenrfom and vibmtioua of the nerves, are as Ike to' bO' true, as his about the support of the earth. Hb elephant was a hypothesis, and our hypotheses ^are elephants. Every theory in fhiloeophy, wliieh Is built on pure eon- jeetire, Is^ an, elephant: and every theory thai is supported partly by fact, and partly by eonjeeture, is. like Nebuehadneiiar'*s iinaee, whose feet' were partly of iron .and partly of 'Clay. The great Newton Irst .gave an exam'ple to philosophers^ which always ought to be, but rarely hath been followed, by distin- suishmg his conjeetnueS' from his eonelu* sions, and putting 'the former by themittlvee, in the modest form of queries. This is fair and legal ; but all other philoso|Meal traf- 'ie 'in. eonjeetare' ought to' be liiid 'Cmitra- bawl. and iiieit.. Indeed, his cwijectures 'have aom:mottly 'raofe' foundation in fact, and more verislmiEtnde, than, the dogma- tical theories of most other phitoopiin « anil 'thenfore, we oug^t not 'to 'Cwit that 'Whteh he hath, offered eoneeming ' the eanse of our seemg objects single with two eyes, in the 16th query annexed to his *« Optics." <* Are not the .species of oljeeta seen ■with both eyes,, imitii. 'whein the 'Optta nerves 'meet 'befofo they eome into, the bram, tlie ibies on the 'right .side of both nerves. uniting there, and after union flohig iianoe Into the' bwin 'hi. 'the mmm 'Whfih. 6 on the right :siio «!■*•' head, :aiid the. 'ihres on the 'left, side of both, nerves nnittU'p in the same place, and alter union going mto the brain .k. 4M' 'iwrvtt 'Which is on the left side of the hiai, .aui. Urnrn tm-o nerves meetina in ^ 'ti Htlti in inch a miuner thai, their ihteii 'make but one entire .ffMiei OT' pksttue, half of which, m. the .right ii*' of tfo mmmm mmm from the rMit aide of both eyai tlim^h the right side of both optic nerves, to the place where the nerves meet, and bmm ihenee on the right side of the head mto the brain, and lie other hail on the left side of the immrimm comes, m like manner, from the left side of both eyes ? For the optic nerves of such animala .as kiok the same way with both eyes (as men, dep, sheep, omen, Ac.) meet before they eonm 'Into 'the brain i but the 'Optic nerves of such ammals as do not look the same way with both eyes (as of fishes, and of the ehameleon) do not meet, if I am rightly in- I beg leavw to distinguish this query into two, which are of very different natures ; O'ue being' purely .anatomical, the other re- latiur 'to 'the caiiylng' spceies 'Or 'pictures of viaible ©bjeeta. to the Mnifflriiim. The irst nuestion is, Whether the fibroa eomhig from corresponding points of the two refill* do not mite at the place where the optic nerves 'meet, and continue united. from thence 'to tlie brain ; so that the right optie nerve, after the meeting of the two nerves, is composed of the 'ibres oommg flmn the .rij^t aide., of both retittaf, and the 'left, of 'the 'llbtei eoming from the lett side ofbothrertwi*'? , This is undoubtedly a curious and mtional ?tuestioni because, if we could find grouiid rom. anatomy to answer it in the •ffinn- ative, it would lead us a step forward in dlseovering the cause of the correspondence and sjinpathy which there is between cer- tain points of the two reHnm, ^.For, although WO: 'know' not 'What is. the pattionlar ftmction .of 'the optic nerves, yet it 'la 'probable that bome impression made upon them, and communicated along their fibres, is neces- sary to vision I and, whatever be the nature of ttia "hnpieiiiioii, if two ibfea are united into mm, an hnprwaion made upon one of them, or upon both, may probably produce the same effect. Anatomtsta thmk it a mlfiisient account of a sympathy between t«o paiti of the body, when they are served by bvaaihea of the same nerve ; we should, therefore, took upon it .as an. im'portant dis-' covery in anatomy, if it were tiimd. that, the ■ftiwii : mmre sent braiwhes to the corre** spondhigpointoofth»riltn<». But hath any such discovery been made ? No, not so much as in one subject, as far as I can kam i hut, m several subjects, the contrary soama to 'have 'been, discovered. Dr Portorfield hath given ua two eases at length ft>£ation of the human optic nerve. Soemmering, Treviranus, Ku- dolphi, Johannes Mueller, Langcnbeck, Magendie, Mayo, gcc, are paramount authority for the fact. I dinnot know whether the nb&ervat'on has been made, thai the degree of docussaton in different animals is exactly in the inverse ratio of what we might have been led, at first sight, theoretically to anticipate. In proportion as the convergence is complete— f. <•., where the axis of the field of vision of the severareyes cnincid<>s wiib the axis of the (idd ffvisiin common to both, as in men and apes — there we find thedc- rusKatinn most partial and obscure; whereas, in the lower animals, in proportion as»we' find the fields of 1 he two eyes exclusive of each other, and where, conse- quently, the necessity of bringing the two organs Into lini'on might seem abolished, there, however, we find the crossing of the optic fibre* complete. In fishes, accordingly. U it distinct and isolated ; in birds, it take* led to this reflection, That, if we trust to the conjectures of men of the greattst genius in the tiperations of nature, we ha^ e only tlie chance of going wrong in an inge- nious manner. The second part of the query is, Wliethcr the two species of objects from the two eyea are not, at the place where the optic nerves meet, united into one species or picture, half of which is carried thence to the sen^ sorium in the right optic nerve, and the other half in the left ? and whether these two halves are not so put together again at the sensoriuni^ as to make one species or picture ? Here it seems natural to put the previous question, What reason have we to believe that pictures of objects are at all carried to the sensorinm, either by the optic nerves, or by any other nerves ? Is it not possible that this great philosopher, as well as many of a lower form, havhig been led into this opinion at first by education, may have con- tinued in it, because he never thought of calling it in question ? I confess this was my own case for a considerable part of my life. But since I was led by accident to think seriously what reason I had to believe it, I could find none at all. It seems to be a mere hypothesis, as ranch as the Indian philosopher's elephant. I am not conscious of any pictures of external objects in my sensnrinm, any more than in my stomach : the things which I perceive by my senses, appear to be external, and not in any part of the brain ; and my sensations, properly 80 called, have no resemblance of external objects. The conclusion from all that hath heen said, in no less than seven sections, upon our seeing objects single with two eyes, is this — That, by an original property of human eyes, objects painted upon the centres of the two retinm, or upon jioints similarly situate with regard to the centres, appear in the same visible place ; that the most plausible attempts to account for this property of the eyes, have been unsuccess- ful ; and, therefore, that it must be either a primary law of our constitution, or the consequence of some more general law, which is not yet discovered. We have now finished what we intended to say, both of the visible appearances of things to the eye, and of the laws of our constitution by which those appearances m re the appearatice of an interlacement; in the luainmalia, that of a fkision <.f substance. A second coiisideratirn, however, reconciles theory and observ- a'ion. Some, however, as Woolaston, make the parallel motion of the eyes to be ro are varii us pathological cacs in favoui of Magendie's opinion, that the fifth pair are tht nerves on which the energies of tight, hearitiu. gmfll, and'tatte are proximately ana principally d«i (itndent — H. les OF THE HUMAN MIND. OF SEEING. 183 I I Uf I »n eidiiMtod. Bui it ww wlMMrffMi,, h 'Hm tiegiunipK «f «• «bii|>l«t» thii;*» 'irMlik »|i|MMsiiMi rf iil#«to.. •«« 'mij m mm ^ tiMif iirtanoe, mtgiiiludfi, figure, and otber taiigiWe qwalitiea. The visible ap- pMianee is tliat wliich is pnamitacl. to tlM mind hf nateie,. -aiwrdiiig to Ihom laws •of wr coQfttitiitbii wiicii l»M']mii.«XflM]iM. But tlie tMng signified by tbal appeiiBttioe, lit ^mk which is presentod, to the mmd by cttiitoiik. When mm spMlu to m in a language thai is iniliat, w» hear eertain sounds, and this is all the effect that his discourse lias upon us by nature ; but by custom we 'iindflntand the mewing of these sounds ; ind, theNfam, w» ix mt attention, not upen the somiii, but upon the things sig- iiiiiid by them. In like manner, w© see only the visible appearance of obj'ecta by natumi hut we hsarn hy custom, temter- nnst, 'theso' apitearattces, and to undentand their meammg. And when this visual hinguage is learned, and becomea fimihar, we attend only to the things signlied ; and cannot, without great difficulty, attend to the signs by which they are presented. The mind passes from one to the other so rapidly aud so familiarly, that no trace of the sign, ia .left m the memory, and we seem immeliatoly, and without thC' intervention #f any sign, to perceive the thing sig- When I look at the apple»tree wineh staads^ before my window, I 'pewselve, at the int ghmee, its^distance andmagmtude, the roughness of its tnmk, the dispositioii of its branches, the figure of its leaveaand fruit I seem to perceive all these things immediately. The wlble appearance which pmenled. 'them all to the mind, has entirely escaped me; I cannot, without great diffi- culty, and painM ahatraetlon, attend to it, •van «h«n. It islands befom me let^ it is eertahi that this visibhi appearance only is presented to my eye by nature, and that I teamed by custom to collect all the rest from it. If 1 had never leen before now, I should mm. 'iwiciv© either tl» diataacn or tangiUefignn of the tree; and it would have required the practice of seeing for ■ many months, to change that origi,ial. p«:r» eeplion which nature' five 'me by my oye^ into thai which I nowliave by cmrtom. The •oiliieelB which we see^ naturally and Mmally, as hath been before observed, have length and breadth, hut no Ihiekness nor dirtanee 'Itaim. the me. Cwtom, by a Mnd. of'higafdemahi, withdrawa gradually these original and fwpw objects of sight, and subsliHilMi in their f koe obijeta ui touch, whieh lave length, hnailh,. Md 'tiiiehneia, and m detarm:inato lialaaDe: Hmn thii m. By what mean* thfe change ia hranghl abiml, and what principles of the 'faiman mbd 'Ooneur an it, we are neat to' Seeikn XX, or .piacsPTioM m -omwaaim Sensation, and the perceptionf of exter- nal ol^eeta by the senses, though very dif- ferent hi, Aefr 'iat,ure, have commonly been considered ,aa one and the same thmg.^ ,. The purposea of eommun life do not make it necessary to distmguish them, and the received oplninna of philosophers tend ra- ther to confound them; but, without at- tending earilully to this distinction, it is impossible to have any just conception of the operations of our senses. The most simple operations of the mmd, admit not of a Iv^gical definition t all we can do is to de- scribe them, so as to lead those who aro conscious of them in themselves, to attend to tiwD, and nieel upon them,,; and it is oHen very 'difficult to' describe 'Ihfln, was to ,answer thu ktontion. The same mode of expression is used to denote sensation and perception ; and, there- fore, we are apt to look upon them as thmgs of the same nature. Thus, / /#*! a pain g i m« m tree: the first denoteth a sensation, the last a perception. The grammatical analysis of both expressions is the same : • Nothing In the compass of inductive reasoning apDfsrt mote wrtistactory than Bcrkelejr*i cleraon. itratlm of the necewitjr and manner oJ our leam- InSi hf aitow prooeMOt obiervatinn and compariiim alone. Hie emraneciloii between tiic perceptioni of vision and nwcht ««»<>» i»» genenh all tliai relates to the diitaace and real magiiitud- of o««mal tbinp. But. dtbMth the aaine nuceitiity aeems in theory couaUvlMMinbsiit on Hie lower animals as on man, yet thfc tiwrf lapiofckliillty-^ that by the mwt 'niMiiftat, cspertance— ,im>Ml totiiHf «t fault with re- Jrt^thein; iir weiad thrtatllje snimals who mmm nl Uffth the power of »«guiatcd motion (and these af« those only through vhom the truth of the theory can be brought to the test of a didslfe O- pcfflment) poness also from birth the whole appre. hension of iHtance. &c_, whtehthef are ever known to eihlMI. n»« solotwii of this dlflfcrence, by a fffort to toiHtmst, !• wniflilkjtory ; lor instinct is. la fact, an ooooll ptiiiciple-a kind of natural rev. 1. atlon— •Ddthehypolhewaof intllnct* therefore, only a confession of our ignorance ; and, at the same time. if Instinct be allowed In the lower animals, how can we determine whether and how far instinct may nut la hhe manner ofierate to the same r^ult iauMlf^l have discovered, and, by a wide indue. ilOT, •italliihid. that tilt pownr ot reguiated mo. linn It With Is, in all anlnala. gnverned by the de. velopenenl, at that peilod, of the cerebellum, in pro. DO. tiMi III the hrain pmncr. I s this law to be cxte dtd tti the faculty of determining distances, «(C. by sight t "t'On the disHndiOii d Sematim proper^ from AKfaMMiMVper.sce *« iSssays on the Intellectual WmSFmmlL ehisp. 16. and Nate D • Held hhaaiift capedaily In th,ia work, has not be«n always rigid In observing ihdr discrimlnatlon:.«->H. t Not only art UMf dllhfent, but— what has escaped mir pbUoaophets— the law ol their naniiestation K that, «bll«:'bnih ,are ciMBlBltiil, oieh b alwavs in the in? ttse 'MmuM the^other. Bmptlon is thefAiec,. tlvt. SwaiiM, fht Killccllvt, tltment. This by iht way.— li. for both consist of an active verb and an object. But, if we attend to the things sig- nified by these expressions, we shall find that, in the first, the distinction between the act and the object is not real but gramma- tical ; in the second, the distinction is not only grammatical but real. The form of the expression, I feel pain, might seem to imply that the feeling is something distinct from the pain felt ; yet, in reality, there is no distinction. As ihinking a thought is an expression which could signify no more than thinking, so feeling a pain Hgnifies no more than being paitted. What we have said of pain is ap- licable to every other mere sensation. It is difficult to give mstances, very few of our sensations having names ; and, where they have, the name being common to the sensation, and to something else which is associated with it. But, when we attend to the sensation by itself, and separate it from other things which are conjoined with it in the imagination, it appears to he something which can have no existence but in a sentient mind, no distinction from the act of the mind by which it is '" Pe»ep.ion, as we here understand it, hath always an object distinct from the act by which it is perceived; an object which may exist whether it be perceived or not. I perceive a tree that grows before my win- dow ; there is here an object which is per- ceived, and an act of the mind by which it is perceived ; and these two are not only distinguishable, but they are extremely un- like in their natures. The object is made np of a trunk, branches, and leaves ; but the act of the mind by which it is per- ceived hath neither trunk, branches, nor leaves. I am conscious of this act of my mind, and I can reflect upon it ; but it is too simple to admit of an analysis, and I cannot find proper words to describe it. I find nothing that resembles it so much as the remembrance of the tree, or the ima- gination of it. Yet botli these differ essen- tially from perception ; they differ likewise one from another. It is in vain that a philosopher assures me, that the imagina- tion of the tree, the remembrance of it, and the perception of it, are all one, and differ only in degree of vivacity. I know the contrary ; for I am as well acquainted with all the three as I am with the apartments of my own house. I know this also, that the perception of an object impUes both a conception of its form, and a belief of its present existence.* I know, moreover, that * It Is to be observed that Rdd himself does not discrlminaie ptrception and imagination by any essential difference. According to him, perception is only llie conception (imagination) of an object, ac- companied with a belief of its present existence; and even this last distinction, a mere ** faitli without this belief is not the effect of argumentation and reasoning ; it is the immediate effect of my constitution. I am aware that this belief which I have in perception stands exposed to the strongest batteries of scepticism. But they make no great impression upon it. The sceptic asks me, Why do you believe the existence of the external object which you perceive? This belief, sir, is none of my manufacture ; it came from the mint of Nature ; it bears her image and superscription; and, if it is not right, the fault is not mine : I even took it upon trust, and without suspicion. Rea- son, says the sceptic, is the only judge ot truth, and you ought to throw off every opi- nion and every belief that is not grounded on reason. Why, sir, should I believe the faculty of reason more than that of percep- tion ? — ^they came both out of the same shop, and were made by the same artist ; and if he puts one piece of false ware into my hands, what should hinder him from put- ting another ?* Perhaps the sceptic will agree to distrust reason, rather than give any credit to per- ception. For, says he, since, by your own concession, the object which you perceive, and that act of your mind by which you perceive it, are quite different things, the one may exist without the other ; and, as the object may exist without being per- ceived, so the perception may exist without an object. There is nothing so shameful in a philosopher as to be deceived and de- luded ; and, therefore, you ought to resolve firmly to withhold assent, and to throw off this belief of external objects, which may be all delusion. For my part, I will never attempt to throw it off; and, although the sober part of mankind will not be very anxious to know my reasons, yet, if they can be of use to any sceptic, they are theses- First, because it is not in my power : why, then, should I make a vain attempt ? It would be agreeable to fly to the moon, and to make a visit to Jupiter and Saturn; but, when I know that Nature has bound me down by the law of gravitation to this planet which I inhabit, I rest contented, and quietly knowledge," is surrendered by Mr Stewart. Now, as conception (imagination) is only immediately cog. nisant of the ego, so must perception on this doctrine be a knowledge purely suA/cr/it^e. Pcrcepiion must be wholly different in kind from Conception, if we are to possess a faculty informing us of the existence and qualities of an external worid ; and, unless we are possessed of such a faculty, we fjhall never be comf)''- tent to vindicate more than an ideal reality (o the objects of our cognitions. — H. • This argument would be good in favour of our belief, that we are really percipient of a non-ego : it is not good in favour of our belief that a non.i'go really exists, our perception of its re. 1 existence being abandoned. Mankind have the latter belief only as they have the former ; and, if we are deceived by our Nature touching the one, it is a»»8urd to up. peal lo her veracity in proof of the other.— H. IN OF THE HUMAN MIND. •milir mjmM to U c«ifiii»lwig m :iiii.«rliit If J Mkf la '«sarried ^tlmig hf 'ptimtinii, m^ IrKWstiWy as my l»o%' li| m tartli. And tiie gfoaleit aaaptfe wil. ind Mnwlf to be in thm nme condition. Be may 8tn4g|le Imfd to diilielieve the MonnationB: of' h» wmmmif m a :iiiaii ioea^to swiniaiaiiiit a tor- lent { 'Imt, A I il ^is in vain. It ia .in vain that he straina every 'nerve, and wrestles with nalnre, and with every ohject that strikes upon his senses. For, ^alter ^aU,. when his Miength is spent in 'the llniitkas ,attaiii]it, he wii, he airried down the tor- rent with the eommon herd of believera. Secondly, I think it would not be pru- dent to throw off this, belief;., if it wen): in my power. If Katnre In'tetided to deeelve me, and Impose upon me by false appear- mnees, and L by my great cunning and pro- found logic, have discovered the iinfosture, prudence would dictate to me, in this, case, even to put up |with] this indignity done me, as quietly as I could, and not to call her an npostor to her face, lesl she should 'be even with nie 'in another wajr. For what do I gain by resenting 'thfe 'injury ? Yoo. oaiptt at least not to believe what she my%. This indeed seems reasonable, if she intends to impose, 'upon ma But what is the consequence f I resolve not to be- lieve my lenses.. I hfeai: 'my nose against II post that comes in my way ; I step into n dirty kennel ; and, after twenty such wise and ratioiial ^actions, I am. taken up ud chipped, into, m 'inad-honae.. Mow, I mu- fees I 'would imther make one of the credu- lous fools whom Mature' imposes 'npon, than of 'those wise .and rational phiiosiHihers who resolve 'to withhold assent at ai this. Mpense. If a man pretends, to te a .leeii-' tic' 'With r^ard to the informations of wnse, aad yet 'prudently keeps out of 'harm.*s way .as other men do, he must excuse my .■iiniieion|.that he either acts the hypocrite, or impoies 'Upon himseE .For, :if 'the .scale of his helief were so evenly poised as to lean no more to one side than to the con- 'trary,it iS'.impoisihle thai:his.ai9iionS'ConM'bo Greeted. % any rules of common prudence.* Thirdly, Although the two reasons al- ready mentioned .are perhaps two more than enougii, I shall 'Oftr a third. .1 gave iui- plicit bdief to the inlMiMitiona 'Off .M.atttre' by my aensea,. iir a oonaiderdile part, of 'my life, helbm I had learned to much logic as to he able to start a doubt eoncemin| them. And now, when I reflect upon what li past, 1 do not ind thai I have'been^ impcaad^ upon hythiS' helief. lindlhatwlthoitlltl'niist ham 'peridiei hy a Ihonsand aeeidents. 4 find that without it I should have been no wiiernowthanwhenlwaabonfc I should not even 'have been able to aequire thai logic which suggests these 'imliiial 'doubts wih regard to my uenses. Therefore, I consider this instinctive belief as one of the heat gifia of Mature. 1 thank the Author of my being, who bestowed it upon me beiwe the eyes of my roaaou were opened, and still beatowa It upon me, to be my guide where reason leaves me in the dark. And now I yield to the direction of my senses, not from instinct only, but from confidence and trust ma faithiil amd,'teneficent M.om- tor, grounded upon the experience of his 'paternal care and g^ness. In ai this, I deal with the Author of my being, no otherwise than I thought it reason- able to deal with my parents and tutors. I believed by instinct whatever they told me, long before 1 bad the idea of a lie, or thought uf the pussibllity of their deceivhig me. Afterwards, upon reiection, I found they bad acted hke fair and honest |ieople, rho wished me well. 1 found that, if I had no*. Iwlieved what they told me, before I could give a resBon of my belief, 1 had to this day been Httle better than a changeling. And although this natural crtilulily hath iome- times occasioned my being imposed upon by deceivers, yet it hath been of inhnito advanta.ge'tome upon 'the whole; therefore, I consider it as another good gift of Nature. And I continue to give that credit, from reflection, to those of mliose integrity and veracity I have bad experience, which be- fore I gave from instinct. There is a much greater similitude thaii is commonly imagined, between the testi- iiiony of nature given by our senses, and the testimony of men given hy 'hinguage. The credit we give to both is at first the effect of instincf only. When w© grow up, and begin to reason about them, tlie ciedit tlven to^ liuman testimony is re- atrainel .and weakened, 'by 'the experience we have of deceit. But the credit given to the testimony of our senses, is established ud eonirmed by the miiform.ity and con- atancy of 'the 'tows of natire. O'lr peieeptions art rf two kinds : some are natural and original ; others acquired, and the fruit of experience. When I per- ceive that this is the taste of cyder, that of brandy i that this is tlie smell of an apple, that of an orange ; that 'this is the noise of thunder, that the ringing of bells; this the sound of a coaei. passing, 'that. tho. 'vonse of such a friend f 'theia.'piwptioMi, and others of the same kind, are not original^they are acquired. But the perception which 1 have, by touch, of the hardness and softness of bodies, of their .extwdon, '%«»» ^^ mo- tion, is not acqulred^'it h original. • nitoli-nclalWr ufliMiiniillifftft* • On tilt inopiitlf ol tM IMS ** Inatiact/ Note A..— .H. irt in OF SEEING. 185 In all our senses, the acquired percep- tions are many more than the original, especially in sight By this sense we per- ceive originally the visible figure and colour of bodies only, and their visible place:* but we learn to perceive by the eye, almost everything which we can perceive by touch. The original perceptions of this sense serve only as signs to introduce the acquired. The signs by which objects are presented to us in perception, are the language of Nature to man ; and as, in many respects, it hath great affinity with the language of man to man, so particularly in this, that both are partly natural and original, partly acquired by custom. Our original or natural perceptions are analogous to the natural language of man to man, of which we took notice in the fourth chapter ; and our acquired perceptions are analogous to artificial language, which, in our mother- tongue, is got very much in the same man- ner with our acquired perceptions — as we shall afterwards more fully explain. Not only men, but children, idiots, and brutes, acquire by habit many percej)tions wliich they had not originally. Almost every employment in life hath perceptions of this kind that are peculiar to it. The shepherd knows every sheep of his flock, as we do our acquaintance, and can pick tliem out of another flock one by one. The butcher knows by sight the weight and quality of his beeves and sheep before they are killed. The farmer ])erceive8 by liin eye, very nearly, the quantity of hay in a rick, or of corn in a heap. The sailor sees the burthen, the built, and the distance of a ship at sea, while she is a great way of!'. Every man accustomed to writing, distin- guishes his acquaintance by tlteir hand- writingj^^ lie does by tliiir faces. And the pahiter distinguishes, in the works of his art, the style of all the great masters. In a word, acquired perception is very ditterent in difibrent persons, according to the divers- ity of objects about which they are em- ployed, and the application they bestow in observing them. Perception ought not only to be distin- guished from sensation, but likewise from that knowledge of the objects uf sense which is got by reasoning. There is no reasoning in perception, as hath been ob- served. The belief which is implied in it, is the effect of instinct. But there are many things, with regard to sensible ob- jects, which we can infer from what we perceive ; and such conclusions of reason ought to be distinguished from what is merely perceived. When I look at the • In this iMUiage Reid admits Fiimre and Place (rantiMiuentlj, Exteniion) tn be originat i>nrceptiont dt viaion. See aliovf, p. 1^;), b . nuie f.— H. moon, I perceive her to be sometimes cir- cular, sometimes horned, and sometimes gibbous. This is simple perception, and is the same in the philosopher and in the clown : but from these various appearances of her enhghtened part, I infer that she is really of a spherical figure. This conclu- sion is not obtained by simple perception, but by reasoning. Simple perception has the same relation to the conclusions of rea- son drawn from our perceptions, as the axioms in inathematics have to the pro- positions. I cannot demonstrate that two quantities which are equal to tli^ same quantity, are equal to each other ^either can I demonstrate that the tree which I perceive, exists. But, by the constitution of ray nature, my belief is irresistibly car- ried along by my apprehension of tlie axiom ; and, by the constitution of my nature, my belief is no less irresistibly car-^y ried along by my perception of the tree.^ All reasoning is from principles. The first principles of mathematical reasoning art* mathematical axioms and defiuitiuns ; and the first i)rinciples of all our reasoning about existences, are our perceptions. The first principles of every kind of reasoning are given us by Nature, and arc of equal authority with the faculty of reason itself, wliich is also the gift of Nature. The con- clusions of reason are all built ufxin first jjrineiples, and can have no other founda- tion. Most justly, therefore, do such prin- ciples disdain to be tried by reason, and laugh at all the artillery of the logician, when it is directed against them. When a long train of reasoning is neces- sary in demonstrating a mathematical pro- position, it is easily distinguished from an axiom ; and they seem to be things of a very different nature. But there are some pn)- positions which lie so near to axioms, that it is difficult to say wliether they ought to be held as axioms, or demonstrated as pro- positions. The same thing holds with regard to perception, and the conclusions drawn from it. Some of these conclusions follow our i)erceptions so easily, and are so immediately connected with thcni, tluit it is difficult to fix the limit which divides the one from the other. Perception, whether original or acquired, implies no exercise of reason ; and is com- mon to men, children, idiots, and brutes. The more obvious conclusions drawn from our perceptions, by reason, make what we call common umlerstatiding ; by which men conduct themselves in the connnon aflairs of life, and by which they are distinguished from idiots. The more remote conclusions which are drawn from our perceptions, by reason, make what we commonly call miemit in the various parts of nature, whether in agriculture, medicine, mechanics, or in any OF THE HUMAN MIND. 186 pwi of o»toml philotc^li J. Wlieii I piitn. in good order, «oiitaiiiiiig ft .giMt ZmMj of thinfi' of A* hmk Jmrn, Mid in. tlw: moiil 'iowfiiiiiig' ©ondWom, I Iminedi- nldj Qondiio fiNMn. those figns tie skill ■ml industry of the gardener. A farmer, wlieii lie risea ia.tlioiiMniiiigraiii,piiiefvm' tliat tlie neigliimiriiif hmtk oveiiowa liis idd, coodiidei fl»l a great deal of rain :iialli. fallen in the 'iilglit. .Perceiving his fence broken, and Ms eoin trodden iown, lie eondndea tlial acme of Us own or his nekhhoiits* cattle 'hatei hroke loose. Per- ^eeiviiig that^ his stahla^doiir is broke ofien, and some of his horses cone^ he concludes that a thief has carried them off. He traeei the prints of bis heisea* feet in the soil grmnd,. and by tbeiB diaeovers whioh. mai. the f hiel' hath tafam. These' aro' instances^ of eoromon underftandin||, which dwells so near to 'pereepiioit that it ttdUiaiil to trace theliMiwbich'iiiiri4ealbeoiie''lkin'iwo^er. In ike manner, tbe icieiiee of inatimdivelk so near to common understandin| that we cannot discern where the latter ends and the former begina I perceive that bodiea ligliter than. 'Water swim .hi' water, .and that tboie which are heavier sink. Hence I conclude, that, if a body remains wherever it is pat under water, whether at the top or bottom, ttwf reeiielv of the same weight with water. If if 'wii. rest only when 'part ^of it ii; above water, it is lighter than water. And the greater the 'part, .above water is, compa.red with the wkSe^ the lighior is the body. If it .had no giavity at all, it would make no iapressiottiipon the water, but stand wholl j above it. Thus, every man, by common 'undmstanding, has a rule by which he jwlges of the spedio g»vity of bodies 'Which swim hi 'water .: an.d a step or two more leada him into the science of hydro- ■taticSf .AB that we 'fcnow" 'Of nature, or of exist- ences, may be compared 'to a tree, which liath its root, trunk, and branches. In this tree of knowledge, perception is the root, common understanding is the trunk, and the sciences are the brandies. Sift lloi jr jr J« or TH« PKOCiii' ©.r iiatii»» m pnacimo^ Although there is no reasoning in per- ception, yet then .are certain means and .inatraments. which, hy the appointment of :iiature, must, intervene between the object and: ouT' pereeptioii 'Of Ht nnd, by these, .eur perceptions are limited .and .regwatcd. Fiiat, If 'the oljeel' ii' 'not .in. wntaiit with. 'tlM' orpin 'Of senses there, nnil 'h« Jionie tntdhnnwMdi'piaseebetwwntlwm. 'Thus,. Ia f iaioo, the rays of light ; m hearing, the vibrations of elastic air s in indBiiC, 'fiw dliivia of the body^imdliBA— mnst pais 'ftoii 'the ol#el 'to 'tha organ i 'OlhefwiBe' 'w» have no penseptioD.* Secondly, There must be some action or impression upon the organ of sense, either by the immedlata applica- tion of the object, or by the medium that goes, between 'tbem. Thhrdly, The nerves which go from the brain to the organ must receive some imprcseion by means of that which was 'made upon the organ ; and, pro- 'hablyi hy aeiiia of the nerves, some im- pression most bo made upon the brain. Fourthly, The impression made upon the organ, nerves, and brain, is followed by a wssation. And, hat of all, This sensation II iiQowdi by the perception of the object f Thus, our perception of objects is the re- sult of a train of operations ; some of which affect the body only, others affect the mmd. We know very little of the nature of some of tiiote'OpOfationa t we know not at all how they are connected together, or in what way they contribute to that perception which is the result of the whole ; but, by the hiws of onr constitution, we perceive objects in this, and in no other wav. There may be other bdngs who can per- ceive eatemal objects without rays of light, or vibrations. 'Of air, or effluvia of bodies — without impressions on bodily organs, or even without sensations; but we are so framed by the Author of Nature, that, even when we are liurrounded by external objects, we may petceive none 'Of them. Our faculty of percefving an object lies dormant, until it is roused and stimukted by a certain corresponding sensation. Nor is this sens- ation alwi^a at hand to perform its office ; for it entera Into the mind only in conse- uuence of a certahi corresponding irapres- sian made on the organ of sense by the oh- ject. .Let IS' trace' this^ correspondence of im- preiaioni, sensations, and ]'»erceptions, .as far as we eau-^beginuing with that which is irst in order, the impression made upon the bodily organ. But,ak»! we know not of 'wtiat nature these impriidona are,^&r less how they excite sensations in the mind. We know that one body may act upon Mothtt' by preieure, by perosdon, by at- tiMtion, by repuldon, and, probably, in many other ways which we neither know nor have names to express. But in which of these waya objects, when perceived by na, act upon the orpins of sense, these organa upon the nerves, and the nerves '• TbC' tMrir eHMt el: mreeptim U the iaaiilMr aUccL •l1ieil«iBtitaitf--l«eTO«li«««<*J«*. f llal mummmpn^rr prcccda percept on pro. mat U • IStot liwuinitloii. They ate iimulUiiMtf :«. ^ ^ ^^ „„, lii(tiflill>le eoOTfr.— H. OF SEEING. 187 upon the brain, we know not. Can any man tell me how, in vision, the rays of light act upon the retina, how the retina acts upon the optic nerve, and how the optic nerve acts upon the brain ? No man can. When I feel the pain of the gout in my toe, I know that there is some unusual im- pression made upon that part of my body. But of what kind is it ? Are the small vessels distended with some redundant elastic, or unelastic fluid? Are the fibres unusually stretched ? Are they torn asunder by force, or gnawed and corroded by some acrid humour ? I can answer none of these questions. All that I feel is pain, which is not an impression upon the body, but upon the mind ; and all that I perceive by this sensation is, that some dis- temper in my toe occasions this pain. But, as I know not the natural temper and tex- ture of my toe when it is at ease, I know as little what change or disorder of its parts occasions this uneasy sensation. In like manner, in every other sensation, there is, without doubt, some impression made upon the organ of sense ; but an impression of which we know not the nature. It is too subtile to be discovered by our senses, and we may make a thousand conjectures with- out coming near the truth. If we under- stood the structure of our organs of sense so miimtely as to discover what effects are produced upon them by external objects, this knowledge would contribute nothing to our perception of the object ; for they per- ceive as distinctly who know least about the manner of perception, as the greatest adepts. It is necessary that the impression be made upon our organs, but not that it be known. Nature carries on this part of the process of perception, without our consciousness or concurrence. But we cannot be unconscious of the next step in this process — the sensation of the mind, which always inunediately follows the impresdon made upon the body. It is essential to a sensation to be felt, and it can be nothing more than we feel it to be. If we can only acquire the habit of attending to our sensations, we may know them per- fectly. But how are the sensations of the mind produced by impressions upon the body ? Of this we are absolutely ignorant, having no means of knowmg how the body acts upon the mind, or the mind upon the body. When we consider the nature and attributes of both, they seem to be so differ- ent, and so unlike, that we can fmd no handle by which the one may lay hold of the other. There is a deep and a dark gulf between them, which our understanding cannot pass ; and the manner of their correspondence and intercourse is absolutely unknown. Fxperience teaches us, that certain ira- pretdons upon the body are constantly fol- lowed by certain sensations of the mind ; and that, on the other hand, certain deter- minations of the mind are constantly fol- lowed by certain motions in the body ; but we see not the chain that ties these things together. W ho knows but their connection may be arbitrary, and owing to the will of our Maker ? Perhaps the same sensations might have been connected with other im- pressions, or other bodily organs. Perhaps we might have been so made as to taste with our fingers, to smell with our ears, and to hear by the nose. Perhaps we might have been so made as to have all the sensations and perceptions which we have, without any impression made upon our bodily organs at all. However these things may be, if Nature had given us nothing more than impressions made upon the body, and sensations in our minds corresponding to them, we should, in that case, have been merely sentient, but not j>ercipient beings. We should never have been able to form a conception of any ex- ternal object, far less a belief of its exist- ence. Our sensations have no resemblance to external objects ; nor can we discover, by our reason, any necessary connection between the existence of the former, and that of the latter. We might, perhaps, have been made of sudi a constitution as to have our present perceptions connected with other sensations. We might, perhaps, have had the percep- tion of external objects, without either im- pressions upon the organs of sense, or sens- ations. Or, lastly, The perceptions we have, might have been immediately connected with the impressions upon our organs, with- out any intervention of sensations. This last seems really to be the case in one in- stance — to wit, in our perception of the visible figure of bodies, as was observed in the eighth section of this chapter. The process of Nature, in perception by the senses, may, therefore, be conceived as a kind of drama, wherein some things are per- formed behind the scenes, others are repre- sented to the mind in different scenes, one succeeding anotlier. The impression made by the object upon the organ, either by im- mediate contact or by some intervening medium, as well as the impression made upon the nerves and brain, is performed behind the scenes, and the mind sees nothing of it But every such impression, by the laws of the drama, is followed by a sensa- tion, which is the first scene exhibited to the mind ; and this scene is quickly suc- ceeded* by another, which is the percep- tion of the object. In this drama, Nature is the actor, we are the spectators. We know nothing of • See the pn ccduifi iiotfc— H. IBS OP THE HUMAN MIND. OF SEEING. JH9 tile mwi yMiM 'fy b J luMtfii nf wliie& «vw j diffonnt inpffOHMm upon tli« offtii, minrw, mmI 'bfiiin, «3cliiiiilt its wmipiiJiiig' mhi- .Ktions m of 'tiw 'UMliiiiMfir ^ mmm 'Of wUeh ewili HiiMiioii •xUMta. ito oom* ■pmidtag peroeftioii. Wo are inspired wilh tlie Honiatiiiii, und we are iaspired with the eonrospoiiiiiiK peioeiitioii, 'l»y meam iin- Imiiwii.* Awl,, hmmm tlie mind pisses ianeiiatoly froni/iieioiiislioii to tliat'eoi* wptiou .and. Mief of' the ohjeot which «• have in perception^ in the isano' manner as^ it passes ffom signs to the^ things. .i%iiiied, hj'theini we haire, tlierefbre, eBilod"Oiir .niniiiMtl<«ii. dgm » as an Improvement of Ais meAod of vlew- iiv.pietaNi8,. that the aperture «f the tubo' nSt to the •!• should be very suiiili If it is m smai as a pin-hole, so much Ae better, ...Mividing' Aew' be li^tt onon#. to see the ^lOTdearly. 'The reason 'Of Ala proposal • TlMr.l«l irii»iMtiMl Is, that, when 'WO' look ai an object through a f"»*M aperture, it will be seen distinctly, wheAer the conformation of the eye be adapted to ita distance or not ; and we have ncTmean left to jndgpi of the distance, but Ae light and colouring, which are m the painter*8 power. If, therefore, the artist performs his part properly, the picture will by this m«Aod afibot the eye in Ac same piIi^wiMip . ihat 'the object 'represented 'would do I wM* is the perfection of this art. AlAough this second mean of perceiving Ae distance of visible objects be more de- tormlnato and exact diaii the first, yet it hath ila imits, beyond which it can be oi 'BO 'Use. For when 'the optic axes directed to an object are so nearly parallel that, in directmg them to an object yet ino're diatan't, we .are not consdoua of' any new effort, nor have anydifferant sensation, there our per- ception of distance stops ; and, as all more distant objects affect the eye in the same manner, wo peroeive them to be at the same distaim Thia is the r«win why the suu, moon, phinets, and fixed stars, when aeen not near the horizon, appear to be all at the same distance, as if they touched the concave surface of a great sphere. Tlie snrfiiee of this celestial sphere is at that distance' 'beyond, which all object* affect the eye In Ae same manner. Why thif celestial vault appears more distant 'towards 'thehoriion, than. towatdS' 'the aenlth, will .afterwards .appear. X The eoloursof objects, according as they .are more, distant, become more faint and bagnid, and are tinged more with tlie asure of tbo^ into'rvening atmoepher©: to this we may add, tliat their minuto pwfts become more indbtinct, and their outune less accurately defined. It is by these iiieanSi chiefly, that :painters can. represent objects at 'very different distances, upon the game canvass. And the diminution of the magnitiido of an object would not have the effect of making it appear to he- at a areat dislance^^ without this degradation of eolmr, and liidhlkitmess of the outlme, and of the minuto parts. If a painter slionld mato a human 'figure 'ton times lesi^ "than, other human Maxm that ai«' in 'the same piece, havhig the eoloiia as bright, and the out- line and minuto parts as accurately defined, it would not have the appearance of a man at a great distance, hut of a pigmy or LilU- nutian. m Whm. m object hath a known variety of edonrs, its distance is nioro clearly uidi- cated by the gradual diution of the colours into ona anoAer, than when it is of one uniform colonr. In the steeple which stands helbre me at a small distance, the ioinmgs of the stones are deafly percepti- ble; 3ie gi^ colour of Ae stone, and Ae white cement mm dletuiolly limited : when OF SEEING. Id] I see it at a greater distance, the joinings of the stones are less distinct, and the colours uf the stone and of the cement begin to dilute into one another : at a distance still greater, the joinings disappear altogether, and the variety of colour vanishes. In an apple-tree which stands at the dis- tance of about twelve feet, covered with flowers, I can perceive the figure and the colour of the leaves and petals ; pieces of branches, some larger, others smaller, peep- ing through the intervals of the leaves — some of them enlightened by the suu^s rays, others shaded ; and some openings of the sky are perceived through the whole. When I gradually remove from this tree, the ap- pearance, even as to colour, changes every minute. First, the smaller parts, then the larger, are gradually confounded and mixed. The colours of leaves, petals, branches, and sky, are gradually diluted into each other, and the colour of the whole becomes more and more uniform. This change of appearance, corresponding to the several dis- tances, marks the distance more exactly than if the whole object had been of one colour. Dr Smith, in his " Optics," gives us a very curious observation made by Bishop Berke- ley, in his travels through Italy and Sicily. He observed. That, in those countries, cities and palaces seen at a great distance appeared nearer to him by several miles than they really were : and he very judi- ciously imputed it to this cause. That the purity of the Italian and Sicilian air, gave to very distant objects that degree of brightness and distinctness which, in the grosser air of his own country, was to be seen only in those that are near. The purity of the Italian air hath been assigned as the reason why the Italian painters commonly give a more lively colour to the sky than the Flemish. Ought Aey not, for the same reason, to give less degrad- ation of the colours, and less indistinct- ness of the minute parts, in the representa- tion of very distant objects ? It is very certain that, as in air uncom- monly pure, we are apt to think visible objects nearer and less than they really are, so, in air uncommonly foggy, we are apt to think them more distant and larger than the truth. Walking by the sea-side in a thick fog, I see an object which seems to me to be a man on horseback, and at the distance of about half a mile. My com- panion, who has better eyes» or is more accustomed to see such objects in such cir- cumstances, assures me that it is a sea- gull, and not a man on horseback. Upon a second view, I immediately assent to his opinion ; and now it appears to me to be a sea -gull, and at the distance only of seventy or eighty yards. The mistake made on this occasion, and the correction of it, are both so sudden, that we are at a loss whether to call them by the name of judgment, or by that of simple perception. It is not worth while to dispute about names •, but it is evident that my belief, both first and last, was produced rather by signs than by arguments, and that the mind proceeded to the conclusion in both cases by habit, and not by ratiocination. And the process of the mind seems to have been this — First, Not knowing, or not minding, the effect of a foggy air on the vis- ible appearance of objects, the object seems to rae to have that degradation of colour, and that indistinctness of the outline, which objects have at the distance of half a mile ; therefore, from the visible appearance as a sign, I immediately proceed to the belief that the object is half a mile distant. Then, this distance, together with the vis- ible magnitude, signify to me the real magnitude, which, supposing the distance to be half a mile, must be equal to that of a man on horseback; and the figure, considering the indistinctness of the outline, agrees with that of a man on horseback. Thus the deception is brouglit about. But when I am assured that it is a sea-gull, the real magnitude of a sea-gull, together with the visible magnitude presented to the eye, immediately suggest the distance, which, in this case, caimot be above seventy or eighty yards : the indistinctness of the figure likewise suggests the fogginess of the air as its cause ; and now the whole chain of signs, and things signified, seems stronger and better connected than it was before ; the half mile vanishes to eighty yards; the man on horseback dwindles to a sea- gull ; I get a new perception, and wonder how I got the former, or what is become of it ; for it is now so entirely gone, that I cannot recover it It ought to be observed that, in order to produce such deceptions from the clearness or fogginess of the air, it must be uncom- monly clear or uncommonly foggy ; for we learn, from experience, to make allowance for that variety of constitutions of the air which we have been accustomed to observe, and of which we are aware. Bishop Berkeley therefore committed a mistake, when he attributed the large appearance of the horizontal moon to the fiiiutiiess of her light, occasioned by its passing through a larger tract of atmosphere :* for we are so much accustomed to see the moon in all degrees of faintness and brightness, from the greatest to the least, that we learn to make allowance for it ; and do not imagine her magnitude increased by the faintness of her appearance. Besides, ifc is certam that the horizontal moon seen through a tube • Thw cii'lanation wm not original to Berkeley.— H, "■lit 1^^ t^^ OF THE HUMAN MIND. OF SEEING. 193 I whieli cuts off llie via* «' *!»•■ in*«j'«c«ii* I .grfWiMl, ana of all t«w»tfi«l objeeto, hmm ai. tittt ■niiinwil •«|i|i«tniiice off mamiitmte. 4 Wo frequently perceive the diBlaiiee •I #1iiects, by mmm of intenreniiig m flon- tiguoufl ofcjocta, 'wlioi!©. diitwmo' ornmmn- tide is ©tlienriiii known. Wtai I |Miwei« certain ieWi or tracts of ground to lio bo- ween me and an object, it is evident that tliefle may bnwino' siipis of its ^ distance. And altbougli. «© bave no particolar in- ftirniatton of the dimensions of sucb ields or tracts, yet tbeir Mmilitude to others wtadi, we know, suggests their dimenaions. Wo are so much accustomed to measure with our eye the ground which we travel, and to 'Compare the judgments of dtetanoes formed by sight, with our experience or in- formation, that wo learn by dii«e«i, m this way, to form a more .aceuwta Judgment oi the distance of terrestrial, objects, than we could do by any of the means before men- tioned. An object phiced, upon tho 'ton of a high bniWing, appeara miA !«• 'Ihaii wbn phi»i upon the gfoind, at thu same distance. When it stands, upon the ground, tlie intervening tract of ground serves as a aign of its distance ; and the distan«a|. to- gether with the visible magnitude^ tmwm m a sign of ita real magnitude. But when the object is placed on high, tliis sign of its distance is taken away: the remaining ■ins lead, m to phioe it at a leii distance } aiid this l«H' dkance, together with the vWble: magnitude, beisomea a sign of a less ;reai. magnitude. The two ftrat means wo have meitumed, would n«ver^ of themselfei male* a ■■fWbte object appear' abo? e a hunifnd and fil^y, ur two hundred, fee*, distant ; because,^ be- yond that there is no sensible change, either nf the conformation of theeyes, or « Urn kclination of their aaiea. ■1Imi. 'tWii^ mma is but a vague and iiiidiliiilili»l« «gn> when applied to distances above two or three hundred feet, unless we know the real colour ':awl iguro' of the objects and the iflh mean, tO' be afterwatds mentbned,. can only be .applied to objecta whieh .are fami- liar, or whose real magnitude is known. Hence it follows, that, when witaiOTm oh- JMts,, mpoa. or near the matm ■«! 'the tartb,, m mmeimi to be at 'the distHiee ^of some mies, it is always by this fourth mean that we are led to that conclusion. Dr Smith hath ohwwved, irery justly, that the known, distance uf 'tte-'leftetlrial objeeta. 'wbieh. 'terminate our view, makes that prt of the sl^ which is towards^ the honaon appear more distant than, ttai' iraielii is to- wards the', .aenith. Henea U iwiieatrpasa, that: the apparent igiwi rf lie 'ily fa not that of a hem^isiiheni, but rather a less ^egw ment of a sphefe* And, hence, likewise, ft eomes to pass^ that the diameter of the. Bun or moon, or the distance between two ixed stars, seen contiguous to a hill, or to any distant terrestrial object, appears much greater than when no such object strikes the eye at the same tuna These ohaerviitions have been sufficiently explained and confirmed by Dr Smith. 1 b^ leave to add, that, when the visible horizon is terminated by very distant ob- jects, the eelestiol vault aeems to be en- larged in all its dimensions. When 1 view it Sum a confined street or lane, it bears some proportion to the buildings that sur- round me ; but, when I view it from a krge plain, terminated on all hands by hills which rise one above another to the distance of twenty miles from the eye, metbhika I see a new heaven, whoeO' magpifioence declares the greatness of its Author, and puts every human edifice out of countenance ; for now the lofty spires and the gorgeous palaces shrink into nothing before it, and bear no more proportion to the celestial dome tluin their makers bear 'to its Maker. §, There remains another mean fty which we perceive the distance of visible objects— and that is, the diminution of their visible or apparent magnitude. By experience, I know what 'ignrtaman, or any other known object, makes to my eye at the distance of ten feet— I perceive the gradual ud pro- portional diminution of this visible figure, at the distance of twenty, forty, a hundred feet, :and at greater distances, until it vanish altogelber. Hence a certain visible magni^ tude of a known object becomes the "ugn of a certain determinate distance, and carries along with it the conception and belief of In this process of the mind, the sign is not a sensation; it is an original percep- tion. We perceive the visible figure and visible magnitide of the object, by the ori- ginal powers of vision ; but the visible figure is used only as a sign of the real, fignie, ^and the TislUe magnitude is used oidy as a alfli either of the distance, or of the real mMUi- tude, of the object ; and, therefore, these original perceptions, like other mere signs, pass through the m.ind without any atten- tion or .i«6eion« This last mean of perceiving the dis- tance of known objects, serves to explain seme very remarkable phienemeoa in op- tics, which would otherwise appear very myaterloua. When we 'tIow objects of kinwii dimensiens through optical glasses, there is no other mean left of determmiM their distance, but this filth. Hence it follows, that known objeete seen through glaeaes, must seem to be brought nearer, m nroMftiim to the magnifying power of the glass, or to be^ removed to a |preator distance, L fiepnrtiiln to the diminishmg power of the chuHt If a man who had never before seen ob- jects through a telescope, were told that the telescope, wliich he is about to use, mag- nifies the diameter of the object ten times ; when he looks through this telescope at a man six feet high, what would he expect to see ? Surely he would very naturally expect to see a giant sixty feet high. But he sees no such thin/. The man appears no more than six feet high, and conse- quently no bigger than he really is ; but he appears ten times nearer than he is. Tlie tolescope indeed magnifies the image of this man upon the retina ten times in dia- meter, and must, therefore, magnify his visible figure in the same proportion ; and, as we have been accustomed to see him of this visible magnitude when he was ten times nearer than he is presently,* and in no other case, this visible magnitude, there- fore, Rugijests the conception and belief of that distance of the object with which it hath been always connected. We have been accustomed to conceive this amplifi- cation of the visible figure of a known ob- ject, only as the effect or sign of its being brought nearer: and we have annexed a certain determinate distance to every de- gree of visible magnitude of the object; and, therefore, any particular degree of vi- sible magnitude, whether seen by the naked eye or by glasses, brings along with it the conception and belief of the distance which corresponds to it This is the reason why a telescope seems not to magnify known objects, but to bring them nearer to the eye. ^ When we look through a pin-hole, or a single microscope, at an object which is half an inch from the eye, the picture of the object upon the retina is not enlarged, but only rendered distinct ; neither is the visible figure enlarged : yet the object ap- pears to the eye twelve or fourteen times inore distant, and as many times larger in diameter, than it really i& Such a tele- scope as we have mentioned amplifies the image on the r^lina, and the visible figure of the object, ten times in diameter, and yet makes it seem no bigger, but only ten times nearer. These appearances had been long observed by the writers on optics ; they tor- tured their uivention to find the causes of them from optical principles ; but in vain : they must be resolved into habits of percep- tion, which are acquired by custom, but are apt to be mistaken for original percep- tions. The Bishop of Cloyne first furnished the world with the proper key for opening up these mysterious appearances; but he made considerable mistakes in the applica- tion of it. Dr Smith, in his elaborate and ju- dicious treatise of ** Optics," hath applied it "— ,_ II _ _ _ ^ Ill— L > Soe note %^m, a.«II. to the apparent distance of objects seen with glasses, and to the apparent figure of the heavens, with such happy success, that there can be no more doubt about the causes of these pheenomena. Section XXIII. OF THE SIGNS USED IN OTHER ACQUIRED PKR- CBPTIONS. The distance of objects from the eye is the most important lesson in vision. Many others are easily learned in consequence of it. The distance of the object, joined with its visible magnitude, is a sign of its real magnitude : and the distance of the several parts of an object, joined with its visible figure, becomes a sign of its real figure. Tims, when I look at a globe which stands before me, by the origuial powers of sij^ht I perceive only something of a circular form, variously coloured. The visible figure hatli no distance from tlie eye, no convexity, nor hath it three dimensions ; even its length and breadth are incapable of being mea- sured by inches, feet, or other linear mea- sures. But, when I have learned to per- ceive the distance of every part of this object from the eye, this perception gives it convexity, and a spherical figure ; and adds a third dimension to that which had but two before. The distance of the whole object makes me likewise perceive the real magnitude; for, being accustomed to ob- serve how an inch or a foot of length affects the eye at that distance, I plauily perceive by my eye the linear dimensions of the globe, and can affirm with certainty that its diameter is about one foot and three inches. It was shewn in the 7th section of this chapter that the visible figure of a body may, by mathematical reasoning, be inferred from its real figure, distance, and position, with regard to the eye: in like manner, we may, by mathematical reason- ing, from the visible figure, together with the distance of the several parts of it from the eye, infer the real figure and position. But this last inference is not commonly made by mathematical reasoning, nor, in- deed, by reasoning of any kind, but by cus- tom. The original appearance which the colour of an object makes to the eye, is a sensa- tion for which we have no name, because it is used merely as a sign, and is never made an object of attention in common life : but this appearance, according to the different circumstances, signifies various things. If a piece of cloth, of one uniform colour, is laid so that part of it is in the sun, and part in the shade, the appearance of colour, in im OW THE HOMAN MINB- OF SEEING. 105 I llMM' iUiniiil fum, h vwy diffenwl t J«» intanMl^ A© ■▼wrlisly rf " ifpiwiiiise m a sign rfWit uid Blind©, Mid not as m rifn of waa £ff®fenc« in colour. But, it tb© 0je iMwId U m iw dneaiiod. m nol to pet - liw A© immmm of' litM ;lii the two ptft© uf'Ao eWli» w© sliould, in ttal ■<»«©, liitoffprel tho v»ri©tyof »piHs«aiMso I«i«biiij a mriety of eoloiir in 111© parti rf til© etotlL Mmm, if we suppoio a poc© ©f •■•W plaSdiSltofofe, but having tW :diadrf|»rt 00 mraoh bilglitef in tli© colour tliat it gives the same appenmnc© to the eye as the more enlijAtened part, the samonesa of appear- mifse will here he inteipwiod to ninify^a variety of 'Ciilour, beeaui© w© shal. make alimiiinee for the effect of light and Bhade^ When the real colour of an ohjeet is known, the appeaiane© 'of it indiia^ to Mine circumstanees, the degiec of llglit or shade; in others, tho colour of the ciiv cnmamhient bodies, whose rays are reieoted by it ; and, in other circumstanees, it mdi- ealesthe ^dlstanoo^ or ffoximity of the ob- jeetp-aS' was obswved in the last^ section ; mi by means of these, many other things mm siiggested to the mind. Thus, ^an un- usual appearance in the colour of lamiiar oblecta may b© tlie diagnostic of a disease iEth© spectator. The appeamnce of things in my room may indicate sunshine or cloudy weattier, the earth covered with snow or blackened with rain. It hath been ob- served, that the colour of the sky, m a piece of painting, may Indicate the countr^r ©f the painter, because the Italian sk^ m nally of a diifercnt colour from the Fl«»»h. It was already observed, thai the ©rigpal and acquired perceptions which we Iiiive by our senses, are the hinguage of wtorc to man, which, in many respects, '*S. * great affinity to hwnan. ..Iai||iia|i!i. ™ Stances which w© 'hav© ,giiren, of :»Bquli«l 'percaptionB, ■•iggist this affinity—that, as, in human languages, ambiguitiea are often found, so this hn^uag© of nature in ©nr ac- ^^QUind, ■peieeptioma is not exempted 'from iusiii. We mm seen, m vision |«rticu- lariy, that the same appearance to the eye, may, in different circuiiistanees,, indioato different things. Therefore, when th© cir-' oiinitances are unknown upon •»» JfJ* intcrpietation of the signs depeiMl%, tiieir meaning must be.smlMguons ; and when, tlio eireuniiftances are mistatan,, the meanmg „ <©f «h© isigns muii|.ah«i be miytataa. ThisT the eas©' In .ail tho^ 'ptaiwwi©ii» which 'W© .call falimkM different classes haire one teadier— Bxpetience, enlightened by the indnetiire priiiel|^e. Take away the 0ght of this indiMtive principle, and £x- perienee is as Mind as a mole 2 :Bhe nay, indeed,, fed what is 'present, and. what im- mediately towaies 'her .; hnt Ae sees nothing thai is either before or beliind, upon the light hand or upon the left, future or past The 'rules of induaive leasoningt.OT' of a just interpretatbn of Nature, as well as 'the faiades by which, we .are apt to m'isinler-" pret her hmguage, have been, with wonder- M sigacity, delineated hy the great genius of Ikird Bacon.: so that, his *• J^eewsi Oifwwni" may justly be called " A Gram- mar of the Iianguage of Nature.** It adds riy to the merit of this work, and atones its defects, that, at the time it was written, the world had 'net seen wy 'tnle- rable 'model of Indwstlire' 'veasonhig,* from which the rules of it might be copied. The arts of poetry and eloquence were grown up to 'perfeetiou when Aristotle described, then ; but 'tie art of interpreting Nature was. yet. •!• «mbrif& when Bacon delineated its manly features and proportknis. Aristotle drew bis rules from the best models of thfW' aits, that hafe ,y«t. .appeared 5 but the 'best 'models ^of iniuetive reasoning that have yet appeared, which I take to be the thiii iKiok of the « Prindpia,** and the •< Optics,** of Newton,, mm immm 'fmn 'Biimi'a .rules. The 'pnrpse «f 'SM. 'those 'lulei,,. 'Is. to. leach 'is to diaHngnUi seeming or apparent connections of things, in 'the coQfse of nature, from such as. are foai They that are unskilful in inductive reaaonng, are^ more apt to^ foil Into error in 'their tmmmin0§ from, the phsenomeiia. of nature than in their acquired percepikm 1 because we often reason, from a few in- ■laiiee% and thereby ate apt. 'to. 'miilake acci- dents! 'CUnfmetions of' tilings. Iv natural the « Yil.i3iilM>wsaHil«ilOT't4i II conneotiOnBt but that habit of without reasoning, from the sign to thing iigliiiled, which conslitotos acquu-ed jwroeplbn. must be learned by many m- stancsi. or experiments .| and the :nttiiber of experiments :Bervee' to disjoin, those things. which have been accidentally conjoined, as well aa to conirm our belief of natural conneetiioiia*. Ffum the tine that children begm to use their "hiiiiii Nature directs th.em to handle efifythlpg over and over, to look at it whUe they handle it, and to put it in va- rious positions, and at various distances from tie eye. W« are apt to excuse this as a childish diversion, because they must be doing something, and have not reason to entertain themselves in a more manly way. But, if we think more justly, we shall fhid, tliat they are engaged in the most serious and important study j and, if they had all the reason of a phlleeopher, they could not be more properly employed. For it M thk 'ChidiA. 'employment that noablea them to make the proper use of their eyes. They are thereby every day acquiring habits of perception, which are of ireatoT' importance' than anything ^ we can teach 'them. The original 'perceptions which Natnre pve them are few, and In- ■iilieienl for the purposes of life ; and, thereibre, she made them capable of ac- quiring many niore perceptions by habit. And, to 'Conplete her 'work, she hath given them aa unwearied assiduity in applying to the exercises by which those iierceptions are This is the education which Nature gives to her ehidren. And, since we have fallen upon this subject, we nay add, that another part of Nature*s education is, That, by tlie course of things children must often exert all their museular force, and employ all their ingenuity, in order to gratify their euriostty, and satisfy their little appetites. What they desire is only to be obtained at the expense ef labour and patience, and many dbappttlnlnieiila. By the exercise of body and mind necessary for satisfying their desires, they acijuire agility, strength, and dexterity iu their motions, as well aa I h pI H i ani. vigour to their constitutions; tlney 'learn, 'pntience and perseverances they learn to bear pain without dejection, and disappointment withnut despondence. The education of Nature is most perfect in lavsges, who have no other tutor ; and we see that, in the quickness of all their senses, in the agility of their motions, in the liardi- ness. of their 'Conslilutiens, and in the istnug^. of thehr mkds tO' bear hunger, thifal, pidn, and disappointment, they oom- inonly hx exesed the civilized. A most ingenious writor, on this account, seems to prefer the savsge life to that off society. L CONCLUSIOK. 201 But the education of Nature could never of itself produce a Rousseau. It is the intention of Nature that human educa- tion should be joined to her institution, in order to form the man. And she hath fitted us for human education, by the natural principles of imitation and credulity, which discover themselves almost in infancy, as well as by others which are of later growth. When the education which we receive from men, does not give scope to the educa- tion of Nature, it is wrong directed ; it tends to hurt our faculties of perception, and to enervate both the body and mind. Nature hath her way of rearing men, as she hath of curing their diseases. The art of medi- cine is to follow Nature, to imitate and to assist her in the cure of diseases ; and the art of education is to follow Nature, to assist and to imitate her in her way of rearing men. The ancient inhabitants of the Baleares followed Nature in the man- ner of teaching their children to be good archers, when they hung their dinner aloft by a thread, and left the younkers to bring it down by their skill in archery. The education of Nature, without any more human care than is necessary to pre- serve life, makes a perfect savage. Human education, joined to that of Nature, may make a good citizen, a skilful artisan, or a well-bred man ; but reason and reflection must superadd their tutory, in order to produce a Rousseau, a Bacon, or a Newton. Notwithstanding the innumerable errors committed in human education, there is hardly any education so bad as to be worse than none. And I apprehend that, if even Rousseau were to choose whether to educate a son among the French, the Italians, the Chinese, or among the Eskimaux, he would not give the preference to the last. When Reason is properly employed, she will confirm the documents of Nature, which are always true and wholesome ; she will distinguish, in the documents of human education, the good from the bad, rejecting the last with modesty, and adhering to the list with reverence. Most men continue all their days to be just what Nature and human education made them. Their manners, their opinions, their virtues, and their vices, are all got by habit, imitation, and instruction ; and rea- son has little or no share in formiiig them. CHAPTER VIL CONTAINING R1PLECTI0N8 UPON THE OPINIONS OP FaiI.060PHER8 ON THIS SUBJECT. Thxrk are two ways m which men may form their notions and opinions concerning the mind, and concerning its powers and oper- ations. The first is the only way that leads to truth ; but it is narrow and rugged, and few have entered upon it. The second is broad and smooth, and hath been much beaten, not only by the vulgar, but even by philosophers; it is sufficient for common life, and is well adapted to the purposes of the poet and orator : but, in philosophical dis- quisitions concerning the mind, it leads to error and delusion. We may call the first of these ways, the way of reflection. When the operations of the mind are exerted, we are conscious of them ; and it is in our power to attend to them, and to reflect upon them, until they become familiar objects of thought. This is the only way in which we can form just and accurate notions of those operations. But this attention and reflection is so difli- cult to man, surrounded on all hands by external objects which constantly solicit his attention, that it has been very little prac- tised, even by philosophers. In the course of this inquiry, we have had many occa- sions to shew how little attention hath been given to the most familiar operations of the senses. The second, and the most common way, in which men form their opinions concern- ing the mind and its operations, we may call the way of analogy. There is nothing in the course of nature so singular, but we can find some resemblance, or at least some analogy, between it and other things with which we are acquainted. The mind na- turally delights in hunting after such analo- gies, and attends to them with pleasure. From them, poetry and wit derive a great part of their charms ; and eloquence, not a little of its persuasive force. Besides the pleasure we receive from analogies, they are of very consideral)le use, both te facilitate the conception of things, when they are not easily apprehended with- out such a handle, and to lead us to probable conjectures about their nature and qualities, when we want the means of more direct and immediate knowledge. When I con- sider that the planet Jupiter, in like manner as the earth, rolls round his own axis, and revolves round the sun, and that he is en- lightened by several secondary planets, as the earth is enlightened by the moon, I am apt to conjecture, from analog)', that, as the earth by these means is fitted to be the habitation of various orders of animals, so the planet Jupiter is, by the like means, fitted for the same purpose : and, having no argument more direct and conclusive to de- termine me in this point, I yield, to this analogical reasoning, a degree of assent proportioned to its strength. When I observe that the potato plant very much SOS OP THB h.um:an mind. CONCLUSION. 203 TCMnUai 'At' ioimwm In it» flower mod froetiflmtioii, and am informed thai the last is poiaoMtis, I am apt frain analofcy to hKm ■mmm' «japlisl«i nf IImi' iwnef » hut,, im Ihli eaw, I haire :iMeia to vmm^ dinei^ and ceirtain evidenm ; and, therefore, ought mot to trust to analogy, which wonld lead. mm into .an error. .Afipunents from analogjaie alwayi «t 'hand,: .and grow up spontaneoiialj in a fniltfnl .imagimtion; while arguments that are more direct and more coBcliisiTe often require' patnf nl attention and appi- ealion: and tnerefore: mankind 'in ysne^ ml have heen very much disposed to trust to the former. If one attentively exaiiiinea the systemS' of the ancient phtlo8iipher% either concerning the material 'worM, or eoneeming the mind, he will find them to he huilt solely upon the foundation of ana- logy. Lord Bacon first delineated the strict and severe method, of induction ; since hm time, it has heem applied with very happy •iMcessin Runie parts of natural philosophy— and hardly in anything else. But there is no subject in which mankind are at nnch disposed to trust 'to the aoalf^cil. way 'Of thinkinf and reasoninf, as in. wiMit'eoiieents tlie mind and its operations ; because, to tirai clear and distinct notions of those opemtions in the direct and proper way, ak to ««o« about them, requires a habit of attentive reflection, of which few are eapahle, and which, even by tliose few, cannot be attained without much pains and labour. Every man is. apt to form his notions of things diflicult ti.i he apprehended, or less famiiar, from their analogy to things which are more familiar. Thus, if a man bred to ihe iseafaring life, and accustomed to thmk and talk only of matters relating to naviga^ lion, enters into discourse upon any other subject, it .is well known that the knguage .and 'the motions proper to his own profcs- ■ion. .an infused Into every subject, .and .all thinn are' measured, hy the rules of nav|gt> tbn ; and, if he should take it into his head 'to philonophlm eomcernlng the fnculties of 'the mind, it oannot he doubted hut he^ wnald draw his notio.ns 'from the fabric 'Of hii shipi and would find in the mind, sais, maita, rudder, and compass.* Sensible objects, of one Mnd or otier, do no leas 'Oeouny and engma itO' iMt ef 'man* kind,, 'iian tfiin'gs 'relating tO' navigation, 'the leaitrlng man. For a considerable part, rf life, we can think of nothing but the objects of sense'; and, to .attend to objects of an- other mature, so .as to form dear and. dis- tinet notions of them, is no easy matter, even alter we eome to yean, of leiection. « )tf« ** EiMirt «M tlie tntdl0et.iua rdwirt,** Em. ¥l..cli.. vili... Nik. 't .Mi 4—11... The condition of mankind, therefore, affords giood leason to apprehend that their lan- guage, and their common motions eonceni- mg the mimd and 'Its. opefations, will be ana- logical, and derived from the objects ol sense t and that these analogies will be apt to InpoM 'Open, .philoiophers, as well as upon the vulgpv, and to lead 'them to .ma- teriallie tbe^ mind and its "faeul:tifla s and experience abundantly confirms the truth of this. Mow gnffially mem of all nat:ion% amd .in .all agea. of ^iie world, have conceived the soil, or thinking prmciple in man, to be some subtile matter, like breath or wind, the names given tO' it' almost in all langna|es ■ulioiMltly testify. • We .have words which are 'proper, and not analogical, to e.xprei>s the various Ways in which we 'perceive ex- ternal objects by the senses— such as /iiicfl the exiHence, a it the MapsiMlent exlatencc, of any menral iwfncipki after the' iliiMi|.iitii>ii of he matei ial ot Ranwia 'Thus, ArMoite iM:iiai..'tiie'foul, the Forai or Kitstocbi or an been some among the ancients, as well as among the moderns, who conceived that a certain structure or organization of the body, is all tliat is necessary to render It sensible and intelligent. • The different powers of the mind ware, accordingly, by the last sect of philosophers, conceived to belong to different parts of the body— as the heart, the brain, the Uver, the stomach, the blood. -^ They who thought that the soul is a sub- tile matter, separable from the body, dis- puted to which of the four elements it be- longs— whether to earth, water, air, or fire. Of the three last, each had its particular advocates.^ But some were of opinion, that it partakes of all the elements ; that it must have something in its composition similar to everything we perceive; and that we perceive earth by the earthly part; water, by the watery part ; and tire, by the fiery part of the 80ul.§ Some philoso- phers, not satisfied with determining of what kind of matter the soul is made, in- quired likewise into its figure, which they determined to be spherical, that it might be the more fit for motion. 1| The most spiritual and sublime notion concerning the nature of the soul, to be met with among the ancient philosophers, I conceive to be that of the Platonists, who held that it is made of that celestial and incorruptible matter of which the fixed stars were made, and, therefore, has a natural tendency to rejoin its proper element. •[[ I am at a loss iMVaniied body; and yet he, hypotheticallyatlea-t, ■dtnlttthat Sit, or Intelligence, i» adventitious to this animated organism^and, therefore, t)088ibly, and even probably* separable from it, and immortal, Iheterm jwii/ in this Instance is not adequate to the Intellec- Itial Ego.— H. • Thus ParmenideR :— Tit »Mf »>9tmit6nrt xetiirji»tf t» y«e ««-« So likewise Dicsearchus, (Jalen, and othera— H. t This. l9 altogether erroneous. Those philoso- phers who assigned differcnt'Seats or organs for dif- ferent parts or functions of the soul, did not therefore admit the absolute ritpi'iidence of the soul upon the Ixidy. For instance, the I'y hagoreans and the 1 la- tonists— H. . ^,.11 t ^ristotleohserven that earth was the only ele- ment which had found no advocate. '1 his he means only of earth hy itse'f— (or, in combination with one or more of the othets, it was by many philosophers allowed to l>e ar constituent of soul. Of these last, water had its champion in Hippo ; air, in Anami- menes and Diogenes, with whom are sometimes enumerated Anaxiinander, Anaxagoras, Archelaus, iEnesidemus, *c. ; Jirff, in Uemocfiius and I^ucip. pus, perhaps in Hipparchus and Herachtus — H. * Emi>edoclesj and Mato, as interpreted by Aris- tolle — H. . . , .1. ..1 _, I Democritus and Leucii'pus held the soul, as an igneous principle, to consmt of spherical atoran. ij 1 See Ihe " Timaus" of Plato. Plolinus, and the lower Platonists in general, held the- human m)u1 tobean emanation from the Anima Mundi. Aristo- tle seemH to have favoured an opinion correspoiident lo Plato's Even the sentient or animal soul, in- aqiaiable as it is from boi Daviks.- HL SOI OF THE HUMAN MINB. I ( form : but lie likcvin Miflrdi. tlist thtm Me etenial forms of all poflnible ihingi wliidi: mtMf witiumt 'instteri and. tn tiicM' 'CtatiMl Mil .i»iiwl«fiii. 1mm te g»ve tli« tlie onlj object of tme knowledge.. It it of no gnmt moment to 'im, wlMtier li« bor» .rowdl. tbeM' notions from Ften«iidfli| or wbef li«r tbif' were the mmm of bit own e'reative imaglMition. Tbe ktter Platanieta^ aeem to have improved npon titenii in con- eeivinptboBe tdeayB^oreterrallmntof 'liiiBgSi to' maeitf nol^ of tb«inMivi% bwt 'in Ibe di< vine mind,* and to be tbe modeb amA 'pt- tems .according to wliicli all things were made :-— •• Then livM ttm Eternal One ; then, dcef rttitM ^la Ills unra:i.tioiii*kl cucice, view*!! «t largC' To tbeie Platonic notions, that of llale- bnuicbe 'is very nearly .allied. This author seems, more than any other, to have been aware of the difieiilties attending the com- mon hypothesis concerning ideaiit^to wit, That ideas of all. objects of thought mm in. the human mind ; and, theref(>re, in order to avoid those diiieukies, makes the ideas which, are' the immediate' O'hjecIS" of hitman thought, to be the ideas of tilings .in 'the Divine m.iiid, wlM^'belDgintimatelypreeeni 1o every human mind, 'may dincover his ideas to it, as far as pleaseth him.. The Pbitanists .and MalebniDclie tx- 'Ccptedit all other piilosopbeis, as iir as. I .know, have conceived that there are. ideas or images of every object of thought in the human mind, or, at least, in some part of the brain, wiMre the m.ind is snppoaed to have its ranidence. Aristotle had no good affection to the word idm^ and seldom or never uses it but • Whether' natx> viewed IdeM at esitttmsei' In. 'il'e|MKleat.or the divine raind, ii a CMlftleii fxiiat ; though, tijpon the whole, it appean more (iriitMible that he did not. It ib, however, admit'ecl, nii all hands., to be hit doctrinepthat Ideas were iheintterns .•a3iiiiiiigfow.bldi tilt' IMif ftAfanal'ibt |4wwiim». iialcMrcet«|«l wntidi.— H' f It fhiitild be earefliny olwerved that the term MMtPrevioiia to the time of t>es Cartes, was uaad eidislvelj, or all but exeliarively. in Its Platonic iilt9iiieatioii« 'Bf Dm Cart:es, .a.nd 'Othrr contem- imrarf ' |ibllMii|ibers, It was. irtt extaided to denot.» our .rejiffsenlattas In general. Manv ctiriotis liluinders. have arisen In comcqiieRet of an iR'norance 'Of Ihii. I mav 'nfilke,ihf ' 'the way, tlMi. a 'ConruMont of :ideiSi In. the llatoitte witli 'ideas in the €:a.rtciiaii i«i.'ife has here' M. Ildd Into the error of asatinii 'ting the hipoHmns of Plata and the hfpothesbof Mala. Iiraticne In regard tu our vwion in the divine nlnd. 'I'lie Platonic theory of Prrwptiomi in tact, bears a Iriniiilitn toliiat tf .11 d^Mtriip. lice aotes OT' tlw '** ASfesayi on tit Isiflllacttial Fowcn.**' Esm II., ch. I*. '«r' vii., and lot* f)»— H. I "Hie .Platonlitsait no cseaitfini t te'tlMf ' alloW'Cd iMMt 'OT' tepntMHat'ioiia for aO.|MMilM§iil||etti of fier. ccfillon ; eaclii nMnentatloii btiiif , bf the ^ntandtjr of mlnil ilartl^ iMlfd. into eniiiciouin.efs on occasion of'lta'(itneM«iiif''iiii«t'Caaiinf wllbin 'the snliere' ■f .WMtt lliit of 'this .a§alii».aiB H ... in refbting Pki(o*s notions about ideas. He thought twit matter may exist without form ; but mat forms, cannot ejust without matter,. Ilii.t, at the same time^ he taught. That there can be no seniatbn, no imagination, nor intellection, without foniis, phantasms, or speeies in the rouid ; and that thingii .eensHklO' are' perceived by se'nsible species, nni things intelligible by intelligible speeies. * HiS' fo.llowers taught, more ex- plicitly, that theie sensible and intelligible species are sent forth by the objects, and make their' impressions upon 'the passive intellect ; and that the active intellect per- ceives them in the passive intellect. And tills seems to Itave been the common opinion while the Peripatetic philoiophy retained its authority. The Epicurean doctrine, as explained by Lueretlus, though widely different from tM Peripatetic in many things, is almost the same in this. He affirms, that slender lllma or ghosts (fimmSa nrum aimufacrm)9m still going off from all things, and flying about ; and that these, being extremely .subtile, easily penetrate our gross bodies, .and, sinking upon the m.lnd,eause' thought .and imagination^t After the Peripatetic system had reigned above a thousand years in the scliooTs ot Eurone^ almost without a rival, it sunk he- fore' 'that of I>es 'Cartes; the perspicuity of whose writings and notions, contrasted with the obscurity of Aristotle and his com- m'ent«tiin« enated a strong prejudice in favoirof this new philo80i3,y. Yl.c cha- raeteristie of Pkto*is genius wa8 piihliinity, that of Aristotle^ subtilty ; but Dcb Cartes far excelled both in perspicuity, and be- ^nealhed th.ls spirit to his .suoceswi^rs. The 'System 'which is now generally received, with regard to the mind and its operations, derives not only Its spirit from Des Cartes, but its indamental principles; and, after all the improvements made by Malebranche, Locke,.' .iftrkeiayv. and Hume, may still be called Itie OsrteMfi gjfUim : we shall, there- fore, make some remarks upon its spirit .and ienderoej in leneml,. and upon its. doc- trine 'COiieerning ideas in 'particular. 1. It nmy be observed, That the method which Des Cartes pursued, naturally led bim to attend more to the operations of the mind by accurate reiectio% and to trust lets, to analogicai. reasoning upon this sub- '• me d»ctn.ne of Arlitotle on this wllcct, admits of ail intefpretatlon far more philcwopliieal than that fiinen to It b| most ol hit fiillowers. But of this again.— 'B. f Tlw imdiktm MmXm rCwai, ttt. of llCIMI.. erltiii.aad .^pmbriMdiilari'dtrom the Ihi, w tp^A-g wt 'the Miff' .Ptilpiilleii, in this— that the tomier wift eontesedif iiil«lait.tlv« and con^weal, while the latter, as met* aiMMaiila,ihre^ fwasled tlicir advooaiMi to .iSF now tliiy' were itiiaiable fkooB. a mllact^ :.Mid: 'Viwilar tbcf wefft malerlal, tonatcfial. off'somel'iow interaicd.iate 'between bod? and si4m CONCLUSION. 205 iect, than any philosopher had done before him. Intending to build a system upon a new foundation, he began with a resolution to admit nothing but what was abso- lutely certain and evident He supposed that his senses, his memory, his reason, and every other faculty to which we trust in common life, might be fallacious ; and resolved to disbelieve eveiything, until he was compelled by irresistible evidence to yield assent. In this method of proceeding, what ap- peared to him, first of aU, certain and evident, was, That he thought— that he doubted— that he deliberated. In a word, the operations of his own mind, of which he was conscious, must be real, and no de- lusion ; and, though all his other faculties should deceive him, his consciousness could not.* This, therefore, he looked upon as the first of all trutlis. Tliis was the first firm ground upon which he set his foot, after being tossed in the ocean of scepticism ; and he resolved to build all knowledge up- on it, without seeking after any more first principles. As every other truth, tlierefore, and par- ticukrly the existence of the objects of sense, was to be deduced by a train of strict argumentation from what he knew by con- sciousness, he was naturally led to give attention to the operations i>f which he was conscious, without borrowing his notions of them from external things. It was not in the way of analogy, but of attentive reflection, that he was led to observe. That thought, volition, remem- brance, and the other attributes of the mind, are altogether unlike to extension, to figure, and to all the attributes of body ; that we have no reason, therefore, to con- ceive thinking substances to have any re- semblance to extended substances; and that, as the attributes of the thinking sub- stance are things of which we are conscious, we may have a more certain and immediate knowledge of them by reflection, than we can have of external objects by our senses. These observations, as far as I know, were first made by Des Cartes ; and they are of more importance, and throw more light upon the subject, than all that had been said upon it before. They ought to make us diflSdent and jealous of every notion concerning the mind and Its oper- ations, which is drawn from sensible ob- ^^^ects In the way of analogy, and to make us rely only upon aocurate reflection, as the source of all real knowledge upon this subject* 2. I obrerve that, as the Peripatetic • 0» Cartes did not pommit Reid's error of malc- IniCeniciousitess a cu-ordiaate and special faculty. system has a tendency to materialize the mind and Its operations, so the Cartesian has a tendency to spiritualize body and Its qualities. One error, common to both systems, leads to tlie first of these extremes in the way of analogy, and to tlie last in the way of reflection. The error I mean is. That we can know nothhig about body, or its qualities, but as far as we have sens- ations which resemble those qualities. Both systems agreed in this : but, according to their diiFerent methods of reasoning, they drew very difterent conclusions from it ; the Peripatetic drawing his notions of sensa- tion from the qualities of body ; the Car- tesian, on the contrary, drawing his notions of the qualities of body from his sensa- tions. The Peripatetic, taking it for granted that bodies and their qualities do really exist, and are such as we commonly take tliem to be, inferred from them the nature of his sensations, and reasoned in this man- ner:— Our sensations are the impressions which sensible objects make upon the mind, and may be compared t" the impression of a seal upon wax : the impression is the image or form of the seal, without the mat- ter of it ; in like manner, every sensation is the image or form of some sensible qua- lity of the object. This is the reasoning of Aristotle : and it has an evident tendency to materialize the mind and its sensations. The Cartesian, on the contrary, thinks that the existence of body, or of any of its qualities, is not to be taken as a first principle ; and that we ought to admit no- thing concerning it, but what, by just rea- soning, can be deduced from our sensations ; and he knows that, by reflection, we can form clear and distinct notions of our sensa- tions, without borrowing our notions of them by analogy from the objects of sense. The Cartesians, therefore, beginning to give attention to their sensations, first discovered that the sensations corresponding to second- ary qualities, cannot resemble any quality of body. Hence, Des Cartes and Locke inferred, that sound, taste, smell, colour, heat, and cold, which the vulgar took to be qualities of body, were not qualities of body, but mere sensations of the mind.* • Des Cartes and Locke made no surh inference. They only maintained (as Reid himself states) that found, tagte, Ac, as sensations in us, have no re. semblance to any quality in bodies. If the names, therefore, of sound, taste, /fee, were to be employed univoeally— f . e., to denote always things the same or similar— in that case they argued that these terms, if properly siffiiticani of the »-ensaf ions, could not be properly aiiplied to the relative qualities in external things. This is distinctly stated both by r es Cartfs and Locke. But Des Cartes and the Cartesians oh. serve that the terms in question are rquivorally used ; being commonly applied both to that in things which occasions the sensation in us, and to that sensation itself. Nay. th- ( artesians, to avoid the ambiguity, aisinguish d the two nlatives by differ. OF THE Hi'MAN MIND, CONCLUSION. 207 If^ H ' Afterwanis, the iiigeiiiom Berkeley, «m- ■ideriiiff momattentirelj tliemlum of awiii* 9^Am m geneiml, iinfMivereil and. ilemoii- stniteil, tluil M seiMftttoit wliateirer eouU fmdUy tmmtlik any quality of an mscn- tMnt Wng, iucli as body is suppoaed to he ; Mid hemm he irafenredi irerj Justly, that then is the .same' naam. to hoM extension, igttfe, and all the 'iiriraiary qualities, to he mere sensations, as theie is to hold the seeondaty qualities to he mere .wnaatkiis. Thua,, hy Just .reasoning upon the Ckvtasian primeiples^ mailer was stripped of all its qualttuM ; the new system, hy a kind of nie- taphysical subliinatiotu converted all the qua- lities of matter into sensations, and spiritu- ulued boJy, as the old had materialized spirit. The way to avoid both these extremes, is to admit the existence of what we see and feel as a irst principle, as well as the exist- [ enM' of things whereof we are^ conscious ; ^ and to taifie our notions of tlie qualities of hody, from the testimony of our senses, 1 with the Peripatetics ; and our notions of y our sensations, from the testimony of con- '\., seiousness, with the Cartesians. 3. I olserve, That the modern scepticism is the natural issue of the new system ; and that, although it did not bring forth this monster until the year 1739,* it may he said to have earried it in its womb from the beginning. The old system admit lei! all the princi- pies of coramion sense as first principles, without requhring any proof of them ; and, therefore, though its reasoning was com- monly vagtie, analiigical, and dark, yet it WM built upon a broad foundation, and lud no tendency to scepticism. We^ do not ind that any 'Peripatetic thought it incum- bent upon hun to prove the existence of a material world ;t but every writer upon the Cartesian system .attempted this, until. Berkeley elearly demonilmted the fotilily of their arguments; and thence concluded ml nanus. To take ocdour, for example: they calloi cuknir, m a ■eii«-*tioti in the mindl, /iinMi/ 'Ootoiir I culiiur, as a itualtty in 'liodlai oqnilie of nraiudoff tli« miMMtliNi, miwtitimt m rmUmetlkm, Ttiey bad likewiie amitlier y the radical in«iid'niedtately,and tar cMdorlvatife ImsMdiaieiy, apiM. the organ of heailnf. 'Tlwre !■ Iliiit iiO' Cm* fereiwe between ReM and llw CMrt.c«ia:na, mtmft that the doctrine wMdi be ceiMirw it in net mort' ptcase ami explicit than hb '«■«.— ''H. • W'hcn Manw'a '"Trtaliaeiif' .Himuui Kature" JafM.— H. TMt it' not comet t Imt 'tiM' reaton. wl:| 'Idm>iiin not i>reirail in ihC'Mshoiitoof Iha Middle agcali MM. at it ..aifear* to^ me, netely ilicoi«fiad. But un tills cacioiM' (McatifHi I cannot wtm io«9h.^il. that there waS' no such tbiiu as a mtierial world ; and that the belief of it ought to be rejeeled as a vulgar error. The „ewj|jBfeS:adiiit8, only„imft,.olthe ir&^ea of common sense as a first prin- ^R ; txM. pritemiB,/ "by strict argumenta* tion, to deduce all the rest from it. That our thoughts, our sensations, and every thing of which we are conscious, hath a real existence, is admitted in this system as a first principle s but everything else must he made evident by the light of rea- son. Reason must rear the whole fabric of knowledj;e upon this single principle of connciousness. There is a disposition in human nature to reduce things to as few principles as possible ;• and this, without doubt, adds to the beauiy of a system, if the principles are able to support what rests upon thenu The matliemJitichms glory, very justly, ui having raised so noble and magnificent a system of science, ujion the foundation of a few axioms and definitions. This love of shnplicity, and of reducing things to few principles, hath produced many a false system ; but there never was any system ill which it appears so remarkably as that of Des Cartes. t His whole system con- -•erntng matter and spirit is built upon one axiom, expressed in one word, cogilo. Upon the foundation of conscious thought, with ideas for his materials, he builds his system of tlie human uiiderstandingi and attempts to account for all its phaaiomena; and having, as be imagined, from his con- sciousness, proved the existence of matter ; upon the existence of matter, and of a cer- tain quantity of motion originally impressed uponlt, he builds his^ system, of the mateiM world, and attempts to account for all its phsenomena- These principles, with regard to the ma- terial, system, have been found insulicieiit i and it has been made evident that, besides matter and motion, we must admit gravita- tion, cohesion, corpuseukr attraction, 'mag- netism, and other centripetal and centri- fugal forces, by which the 'particle8< of natter attract and repel each otiier. New- ton, having discovered this, and demon- ■tmted that these principles cannot be resolved .Into milter and 'motion, was led, by analogy and tlie love of simplicity, to conjecture, but with a modesty and caution peculiar to him, that all the phwnomena of tlte material, world depenled. upon .attiact- isf and repelling foress In. 'the partides^ of matter. But we may now venture to say, that this conjecture fell short of the mark. For, even in the unorganized kingdom, the • See •• Biisp on the Intellectual Fowcfi* " p. 1^ ■qil .iiO':Miliioii.<— fl. f We nun taffltiit* however, before Reid, among others, the ■yitetnof »f our ideas, and of their necessary relations, which appear upon com- paring them, is evident ; for ideas, being the only objects of thought, and having no ex- istence but when we are conscious of them, it necessarily follows that there is no object of our thought which can have a continued and permanent existence- Body and spirit, cause and effect, time and space, to which we were wont to ascribe an existence inde- pendent of our thought, are all turned out of existence by this short dilemma. Either these things are ideas of sensation or re- flection, or they are not : if they are ideas of sensation or reflection, they can have no existence but when we are conscious of them; if they a re not ideas of sensation or reflection, they are words without any meaning.* Neither Des Cartes nor Locke perceived this consequence of their system concerniiiji ideas. Bishop Berkeley was the first who discovered it. And what followed upon this discovery ? Why, with regard to the material world, and with regard to space and time, he admits the consequence, That these things are mere ideas, and have no existence but in our minds ; but with regard to the existence of spirits or minds, he does not admit the consequence ; and, if he had admitted it, he must have been an absolute sceptic. But how does he evade this con- sequence with regard to the existence of spirits? The expedient which the good Bishop uses on this occasion is very re- markable, and shews his great aversion to scepticism. He maintains that we have no ideas of spirits ; and that we can think, and speak, and reason about them, and about their attributes, without having any ideas of them. If this is so, my Lord, what should hinder us from thinking and reason- ing about bodies, and their qualities, with- out having ideas of them? The Bishop either did not think of this question, or did not think fit to give any answer to it. How- ever, we may observe, that, in order to avoid scepticism, he fairly starts out of the Car- tesian system, without giving any reason why he did so in this instance, and in no other. This, indeed, is the only instance of a deviation from Cartesian principles which I have met with in the successors of Des Cartes ; and it seems to have been only a sudden start, occasioned by the terror of scepticism ; for, in all other things, Berke- ley's system is founded upon Cartesian principles. Thus we see that Des Cartes and Locke take the road that leads to scepticism, with- out knowing the end of it ; but they stop • This dilemma applies to the sensualinn of l^-ke, but not to the rationalism of Des Carti-*— H. t I ll I I • 1 11 vm OF 1 Ills ti.lJJI§.jy^ MINP ■tioirt^ for ifniit of ■'liglil to cunrj tlmiii. iwtlitr. Biiifc«lflj| lUglitisil. ftt 'tlie ftfipeftrntiM' of tlie (tretilfiil abjiHy aliifts afliik, and avoida it Etit tlie author of llie " Treatise of Ii.iiiiiaii. Nature,** more' daring ani liitreiiid». witliout tmniiig .aaide to the right .Iwiiil or to the leH,. lue '¥;ii|gil*s Alectoi, thool^ / ■amMi'nm^ and Mtfnt # mjlee^m: the first are coneeived to be oofiies of our sensations, retained in the memory or imagination ; the second, to be^ copies of the o^perations of our mindS' whereof' we are consisioiis,. in. like manner reiaimd In the memory or Imagin- ntion ; and we are taught tbat these' two comprehend all the materials about which the human understanding is,, or can be em> ployed. As to our judgment of thinp, or the belief which we have concerning them, the new system allows no part of it to be the gift of nature, but holds it to be the acqutsi* tion of reaaon, and tO' be got by comparing our ideasi and perceiving their M|ra«ments or d'isagreeineiiti. Mow 1 iaSm thw: necount, both of our notions, and of our judgmentf* or belief, to be extremely imperfect ; and I shall brieiy point out Mme of Its 'Capital, defects. 'The division of our nottes Into ideas of '■eiiaiilion,f .and ideas of teieetm, is eon- tttiy to all rales of logic; beeaaie the ^iwiiiid. nMm:her of the diviaioii. 'imiliiiiiea tbe 'irst For, ean we form dear and just 'notions of our sensations any other way than by reiieetion? Surely we eannot Sensi^tt is an. operation m the mind, of wbieh. we :ai« eonsdonsi. and. w^ get tlio notion 'Of aensatloB by leieeting 'npon t|iat which WO' are 'Conieious o£. .In lue manner, doubtittg 'ftnd bdieirim'are-openitions. of tlw .m..ind wltreof" we mm 'eonseimiS'i and we .get tlie 'notion :of 'tbem. by .feieetin| upon what we are conscious of. "Pie iMw> of se'iMition, therefore, are ideas 'Of reflectioni • The IMtowtng mnmiafi nfSm priMlpsiv 'lo til mmt 'be fcniflnibiifili tiiat imilHt ' .it— a^ia^iM* .ijiMtle MMl otlwn IndiuM Bfpmmmm mrmrmti^ as much as the idem of donbting, or be« lieving, or any 'Other 'ideas whatsoever.* .Bn^ to pasB^ over the 'maccuraey of this division, it is extremely incomplete. For, sinee soLstlon is an o^ration of the mindl as weH. as aU. the 'Other things of which we form our notions by reflection, when it is afserted that all our notions are either ideas of sensation or ideas of reflection, the plain ituglish of this is, That mankind .neither 'do nor ^can think of anting but of the operatwna ^of ' their own 'mada. No- thing 'Can. bo more contmry to truth, or more contmry to the experience of man- kind* I know that Locke, while he main- tained this doctrine, believed the notions whicb we have of body and of its qualities, and the notions whicb we have of motion and 'Of .spaee, to be ideas of sensation. But wh^ did be believe 'this? Because he believed those notions to 'be 'nothing else' but Images of our sensationa If, there- fore, tbe notions of body and its qualitiefl. Of motion and spMe, be not images of our sensation% will it not follow that those notions are not ideas of sensation ? Most oertainly.«iousitaM aa ipcCUl and eiMifdinate iaculties ; parcai>tion baingeonfferainl about the qualttica off '^'-**^i ai'iiipeitad— llMt la, aa 'itprcsented in the It nl«|Mt*i"MMMioitiiieisaB conversant about the Otbiv attributes of mind itself. Olnervaiipnf, tbe reader may tiff %'** Bxaminai ion/ p }M, and Swu ^aF wr as '■ ai sp a aaiaawiiaiwiiFnraia'waiif^iwa' laiiWMaaaj'Wjp •^uimE j^^ ^^^^ a a g^ 'f I nay hera'MictMWhat I abail hereafter more fkiliy advert to— lial Idd^cnilcism of Lodta^ bfft and eliewbarsy priiecada' 'upon tbe Implioittow tbat 'iMamiag to iha taroi' :Snisailon tbat be did Mmat If. .■iilllili'laiMl^tba'CaMi . IjicIw aiaiAiml' Anaafte 'tO' iltiMla both 'tile Mt§ and 'the acaiikMmf of tbe Cart'SHana— Iwli tiba p§fmpifm and. the sematiam ^■"^ aiawtpaaaiP' ■at' iHIF aiiiaiPaa''v%i''aa('ap^B wwiwaP" ^m aaPwi a'W*'' a ■•*paa ^w awv|ii< a aaTiaicni^Sijfc wrang ; 'iNit: liia la a i«pa.ratii and s|iccial grou.nd uf ' eeiiMire. and., in a general critklsoi of Loi.ke'a nan. CONCLUSION. 209 . / There is nc doctrine in the new system which more directly leads to scepticism than this. And the author of the " Trea- tise of Human Nature" knew very well liow to use it for tliat purpose ; for, if you maintain that there is any such existence as body or spirit, time or place, cause or effect, he immediately catches you between the horns of this dilemma ; your notions of these existences are either ideas of sensa- tion, or ideas of reflection : if of sensation, from what sensation are they copied ? if of reflection, from what operati^Q of tiie mind are they copied ? Il is ii)deed to be wished lUat those who have written much about sensation, and about the other operations of the mind, had likewise thought and reflected much, and with great care, upon those operations ; but is it not very strange that they will not allow it to be possible for mankind to think uf anything else ? The account which this system gives of our judgment and belief concerning things, is as liu* from the truth as the account it gives of our notions or simple appre- hension& It represents our senses as hav- ing no other office but that of furnishing the mind with notions or simple appre- honsions of things ; and makes our judg- ment and belief concerning those things to be acquired by comparing our notions to- gether, and perceiving their agreements or disagreements. ^x- ^g have shewn, on the contrary, that S every operation of the senses, in its very nature, implies judgment or belief, as well as simple apprehension. Thus, when I feel the pain of the gout in my toe, I have not only a notion of pain, but a belief of its existence, and a belief of some disorder in my toe which occasions it ; and this belief Is not produced by comparing ideas, and percoiving their agreements and dis^agree- ments ; it is included in the very nature of the sensation. When I pe. ceive a tree before me, my faculty of seeing gives me not only a notion or simple apprehension of the tree, but a belief of its existence, and i4 its figure, distance, and magnitude ; and /^this judgment or belief is not got by com- Cj>aring ideas, it is included in the very na- ture of the perception. We have taken notice of several original principles of belief in the course of this inquiry; and trine, tbe fact that be did so confound perception pro. |ier and sensation proper, should always be taken into account. But, waving this, what is gained by the distinction in Ktid's hands? In his doctrine, spate, motion, &c., a* perceived, are only conceptions, only modifications of self, suggested, in some unknown way, on occasion of the impre«8ion made on the sense : consequently, in the one doctrine as in the other, what is l(nowii is nothing beyond tbe affections of the thinl(ing I'ubject. itself; and this is tbe only t>a<«is required by the idealist and scepticfur the foundation of their a) stems— ti when other faculties of the mind are exa- mined, we shall find more, which have not occurred in the examination of the five senses. Such original and natural judgments are, therefore, a part of tliat furniture whiclu^ Nature hath given to the human under- \ standing. They are the inspiration of the^' Almighty, no less than our notions or simple apprehensions. They serve to direct us in the common affairs of life, where our rea- soning faculty would leave us in the dark. They are a part of our constitution ; and all the discoveries of our reason are grounded upon them. They make up what is called the common sense of mankind ;* and, what is manifestly contrary to any of those first principles, is what we call absurd. The strength of them is good sense, which is often found in those who are not acute in reasoning. A remarkable deviation from them, arising from a disorder in the con- stitution, is what we call lunacy ,* as when a man believes that he is made of glasft. When a man suffers hunself to be reasoned out of the principles of common sense, by metaphysical arguments, we may call this metaphysical lunacy i which differs from the other species of the distemper in this, that it is not continued, but intermittent : it is apt to seize the patient in solitary and speculative moments ; but, when he enters into society. Common Sense recovers her authority, f A clear explication and enu- meration of the principles of common sense, is one of the chief desiderata in logic. Wo have only considered such of them as oc- curred in the examination of the five senses. 5. The last observation that I shall mako upon the new system, is, that, although it professes to set out in the way of reflection, and not of analogy, it hath retained some of the old analogical notions concerning the • See Note A — H. t No one admits this more promptly than the sceptic himself See Hume's " lYcatise of Humait Nature," Book I., Part Iv., ^ 7, and •• Enquiry Concerning Human Undei standing," ^ 12, Part 11. " Nature," says he in tbe latter, " is always too strong for principle ; and, though a Pyrrhoniaii may throw himself or others into a momentary amazement and confusion by his profound reasonings, the tirst and most trivial event in lite will put to flight all his doubts and scruples, and- leave him the8.ime in etcry |)oint of action and 8|)cculation with tlu* philosopher* of every other sect, or with tho^e who never ton. cerned themselves in any- philosophical researclieit. When be awakes from his dream, he will be the first to«join in the laugh against himself, and to conlcss tbat all his rbjections are mere amusement, and car. have-no other tendency than to shew the whimsiOiU condition of manl(ind, who must act. and reason, and believe, though they are not able, by their mo^t diligent enquiry, to fcatisi'y themselves concerning tno foundation of the opeiations, or to remove the obiec- tions which may be j-aised against thetn " " la Nature confond let Pyrrhoniens," (says Pascal,) "et la Raison confond les Dogmatistes." How can philosophy be realized? is thus tiie grand quest ion.— H. '31)8 Of THE HUMAK MINB I ftlimrt' for wfuit of li.:;|it to 'Cfury tlieiii fsiiher. ,l«fk«l«p «glited"iil tlm ii|iiieiyniiiM rf tlie .But the ^aulhor of the " Treatise of Hniniin Mature/* mom cbriBgand intnepid,: wilhottt tttninc mUb to the rtgiii liaiid or to tlie lefl|. liie' ¥iigi% Akcioi slioots 'directly intO' itie gulf; •* Hie ipseW' iMrrtiidtini. ct mmi pplnciila Oitit M'lMigiraitm : iiiftfM|iae Intettt AffteiMte' f orago 4. We maj obeerre, Tluit tlie aeeoiut given by tlie mew system, of fliat 'fiintitim of tlie hamaii' undsrsCanding wMeli is llie ..gift of Naliin^ and not the a«|iliition of our own 'fea80ii.ipg faeolty, .is extiemdy .lame ilLfllf] |fi|riir|ijpf''iw^ ^ The natninl. famitnre of the huiian in- derstanding is of two kinds: Fhst, The notiom or .simple' Mipreliensions which we liafeof thingp; .and, :Becondly, The /«%- Mi^itlt or the helief which we have eoneem- itig them. As to our notions, the new sys- tem reduces them to two chi88es~t«f«iit 1/ wmnlioit, and. idmi f|f r^0m^mn Iho irst are' conceived to he copioi' of "oir MiiMtioMi, retained in the memory or .iiM^iiation ; the second, to be oopieB of the operations of our minds wlMKreof we are conscious, in like manner retained in the memory or ..imagin- ation : and we are 'taught that 'these t'wo 'Comprehend all the matoriahi about which the Iranian undemtandiiig is, or 'Can bO' em- ployed As to our judgment of thuigs, or the belief which we have' coneemlng' them., the nev' system allows 'no 'parl of it to 'be the gilt of nature, hut holds it to be the acquisi- tion of reason, and to be got by efMoaparmg our ideas, ^and pereeiviag their' 'agnomeii'tS' or disagreementa. Howltahethtsacconnt, both of our 'notions, ^and of our' |udgments or belief, to be extremely imperfect ; and I aball 'htieiy pomt out somo' of .its capital The division of our 'notions 'into ideas of ■cn8ation,t and ideas of releflthMi, Is con- trary to all rules of logic; because the ^seecmd member' of 'the 'division includes the irst. For, can. we i>fiii elear and just notions 'Of onr sensations any other way than by reflection ? Surely we cannot Se^nsstion. .is .an 'Operation of 'the mind of which we ars' 'Ciinseloiii<'|.. snd.. w« .^gpt' tlie Bot'ion of sensitiott by rdleetinf vpm Hiat which we arC' 'Conscious 'Ol In llie manner, doubting «d believing .« ope»iion, »f UK, 'mind, whereof we are conscious; and we get the notion of them by reflecting upon what we are consdous of. The ideai* of sensation, therefore, are ideas of reflection. • 'Tlie filoir'lat .Lodcc— H. 't ft 'iiMil'lie ■ ja|^|||JBp,j|| ASHUM' iriHft'niJHIIIUI CtlKJIill'IISiiilBAMill fctos 'principalljF to 'ttMt ui JFertiftiim .fn'frraml as much tS' 'tlit ideas of doubting, or be« lieving, or any other Idnu whatsoever.* But, to pass over the inmseuraey of this division, it is extremely incomplete. For, since sensation is an operation of the mind, m 'weU M all the olb«r things, of which we fofm. our notionS' by reflectwn, when it is ■nerloi. that 'all our notio'us .are either Ideas of sensation or ideas of reflection, the plain English of this is. That mankind neither m nor can thmk of anything but 'Of the operations of their own mmds.. No- 'thing can '\m more contrary to 'truth, or 'more contrary to the experience of man- kind. I know that Locke, while he main- tained this- dncttine, believed the notions wbieh 'we hav«' of 'body and of its qualities, and the notions which we have of motion and of space, to be ideas of sensation. But wh^ did he believe this ? Because he believed thoM notions to be nothing else bnl images 'Of 'Our eensationa If, there- fore, the notions of body and its qualities, off motion and space, be not images of our lensations, will it not follow tliat those notions are not ideas of sensation ? Most • I do pot He bfiw this rrificifiiion Locke't divi. •Ion ami te iMhrndcd., or men excuicd It ii per feet t y •ffWNMt llist Rdd bfifc 'Coiifntiiiilf'fAfjp'fiificr litott ij/ fMaaoMM— 4'lul li,.lilieideMi'Orili« qualities of nattiT, about which MMMtien (peneiition) is conversant— with tte Mea ^fmimMm iliell— that is, the idea of litis faealf ' as iMi atttUmte or'nilml, 'Snd which in the iiiiject of' a felkfi imtseioiisii'ess. Nor would it be competent to miiatiilii tbat Locke^ alNwing no Im- medUte knoiiMp el su^it but of mind and itn contents, eoniiipeiitlf raiitcet all our faculties tti sdf-oonsclouMOsii, andlhm iMIsIms tlie distinct ion o< lentailon (percetition) and reflection, as separate faciitlies, thf one conversant with the qualities of the cxiernsl wortd^ the other wlUi the qualities of thetntcnak lor, in the ^rsl place, it would still ba :lfi|leallf' competMtt on ih(> hyiKiib'tida tiiat alt mm knowMgt to asdiuilvelf ' of self, to^ dlvldo the vert given aa nfneseiitatlons or the nen-ei^o by the tion bting eonvmnant about the qualities off matlCT. at'Mggesied— that is, as leprasented in the |Mnel|rtant ■iil%ct«-confclousn'est.asf9onvefBant about tierDeptlimi and the other attributes of mind itself. — WItli Ike preceding olMervatlpns. the reader may «Mi|Mife 'Prlentley's ** Examination.," t» .:>8, and ttawari^ *• PbUosoplileal .Bssajs,** NolV' 1I'.-»H. 'f ' I aaf ^berc' iiolicc*«wbat 1 shall beteaHer more fUlf advert to— tlMt ield's criticism of Locke, here andaliewhaffe. praaeedt upon the implication that the lagllili nillaioiilMr attached the same restricted maanlng 'to Ilia tar'M Hensaikin that he did Mmstlf. But tkls to MiC' 'llie esMb .Locke cm'ployai .Smtatim m 'denote boik the Mt§ ani. tke .aoMMiiif of tha Ckfffiil^tns— bo'b the p«fiM|iflMs. .and 'tb« mu^iim of' lahk 'lla conlouMllito'disllnction wan, indeed. WfMifl: liiit Ibis to a »eparale and st*ecial ground ut censure, and, in a general cntklim of Locke's uois. CONCLUSION. 209 There is nc doctrine in the new system which more directly leads to scepticism than this. And the author of the " Trea- tise of Human Nature" knew very well how to use it for that purpose ; for, if you maintain that there is any such existence as body or spirit, time or place, cause or effect, lie immediately catches you between the horns of this dilemma ; your notions of these existences are either ideas of sensa- tion, or ideas of reflection : if of sensation, from what sensation are they copied ? if of reflection, from what operatviu of the mind are they copied ? It is indeed to be wished inat those who liave written much about sensation, and about the other operations of the mind, had likewise thought and reflected much, and with great care, upon those operations ; but IS it not very strange that they will not allow it to be possible for mankind to think of anything else? The account which this sjstem gives of our judgment and belief concerning things, is as far from the truth as the account it gives of our notions or simple appre- iMuiions. It represents our senses as hav- ing no other office but that of furnishing the mind with notions or simple appre- hensions of thinc^s ; and makes our judg- n,ent and belief Sncerning those th4?o be acquired by comparing our notions to- gether, and perceiving their agreements or disagreements. /^ We have shewn, on the contrary, that S every operation of the senses, in its very ' nature, implies judgment or belief, as well ' as simple apprehension. Thus, when I feel the pain of the gout in my toe, I have not only a notion of pain, but a belief of its existence, and a belief of some disorder in my toe which occasions it ; and this belief is not produced by comparing ideas, and percmving their agreements and disagree- ments ; it is included in the very nature of the sensation. When I pe.ceive a tree before me, my faculty of seeing gives me not only a notion or simple apprehension of the tree, but a belief of its existence, and Jif its figure, distance, and magnitude ; and /this judgment or belief is not got by coin- Ljiaring ideas, it is included in the very na- ture of the perception. AVe have taken notice of several original principles of belief in the course of this inquiry; and trine, the fkct that he did so confound perception pro. |ier and sensation proper, should always be taken into account. But, waving this, what is gained by the distinction in Heid's hands f In hi« doctrine, space, motion, &c., a« perceived, are only conceptions, only moditications of self, suggested, in some unlinowii way, on occasion of the impression made on the sense : consequently, in the one doctrine as iu the other, what is known is nothing beyond the affections of the thinlcing rubject.itscU; and this is the only ba »• mim a mmpmiljffmka. noit«iiicirciimitance iu relerence to the IdeMutana Sctptic. St'eNoleC— H. .... .1 t 8. e last note. Berkeley di.% hold the bjpotheilt •r liltai m unOmmod bf K«W.^H. I An niMiiiallieil efiof, •»««§ •'«»" »»«>•?"?•'• TlTwla b%hT2«^^ l*iM;l»thihe - motions in the brain, of nhich the mind. u. sint ?•• But Locke seems to place the ideas of sensible things in the mind ;• and that Berkeley, and the author of the " Treatise of Human Nature," were of the same opinion, is evident The last makes a very curious application of this doctrine, by en- deavouring to prove from it, That the mind either is no substance, or that it is an ex- tended and divisible substance ; because the ideas of extension cannot be in a subject which is indivisible and unextended. I confess I thmk his reasoning in this, as in most cases, is clear and strong. For whether the idea of extension be only another name for extension itself, as Ber- keley and this author assert ; or whether the ideaof extension be an image and resem- bknce of extension, as Locke conceived ; 1 appeal to any man of common sense, whether extension, or any image of exten- sion, can be in an unextended and indi- visible subject.t But while I agree with him in his reasoning, I would make a differ- ent application of it. He takes it for grant- ed, that there are ideas of extension in the mind ; and thence infers, that, if it is at all a substance, it must be an extended and divisible substance. On the contrary, I take it for granted, upon the testimony of common sense, that my mind is a substance that is, a permanent subject of thought ; and my reason convinces me that it is an unextended and indivisible substance ; and hence I infer that there cannot be in it anything that resembles extension. If this reasoning had occurred to Berkeley, it would probably have led him to acknow- ledge that we may think and reason con- cerning bodies, without having ideas of them in the mind, as well as concerning spirits. I intended to have examined more par- ticularly and fully this doctrine of the ex- latence of ideas or images of things in the mind ; and likewise another doctrine, which Is founded upon it— to wit, That judgment or belief is nothing but a perception of the agreenHtat or disagreement of our ideas; but, having already shewn, through the course of this inquiry, that the operations of the mind which we have examined, give no countenance to either of these doctrines, and in many things contradict them, I have thought it proper to drop this part of my design. It may be executed with more advantage, if it is at all necessary, after in- quiring into some other powers of the human underatanding. ■ffCMntattonf Is ti«'«*i*l MmM, ^V^'V^'ff^K^'r - - ici Ml. MM0lon of tlwit iiwlli»t..aiid of which 'IIW' BiiMl ia-cognizant. M« rf ;llii; undwr thte m m the InteUi«.tual Powers. '— H. • jAxke'* opinion on this point is as obscure and doubtmi a that of Des Cartes is clear and certain. But Reid U probably right— H . . ^ . 4 I do not recollect seeing any argument raised In favour of materialism, from the «act, that.j|i'ice or mimtiom lea notion necessary to the mind : and yet it TO'tht. with some fhow of plausibility, b" m^in. laiiied, that extension is aneceiisary form of thought, because the thinking principle !■ itaelt extern ed - U. CONCLUSION. 211 Although we have examined only the five censes, and the principles of the human mind which are employed about them, or such as have fallen in our way in the course of this examination, we shall leave the further prosecution of this inquiry to future deliberation. The powers of memory, of imagination, of taste, of reasoning, of moral perception, the will, the passions, the affec- tions, and all the active powers of the soul, present a vast and boundless field of philo- sophical disquisition, which the author of this inquiry is far. from thinking himself able to survey with accuracy. Many authors of ingenuity, ancient and modern, have made excursions into this vast territory, and have communicated useful observations : but there is reason to believe that those who have pretended to give us a map of the whole, have satisfied themselves with a very inaccurate and incomplete survey. If Ga- iileo had attempted a complete system of natural philosophy, he had, probably, done little service to mankind : but by confining himself to what was within his comprehen- sion, he laid the foundation of a system of knowledge, which rises by degrees, and does honour to the human understanding. Newton, building upon this foundation, and, in like manner, confining his inquiries to the law of gravitation and the properties of light, performed wonders. If he had at- tempted a great deal more, he had done a great deal less, and perhaps nothing at alL Ambitious of following such great examples, with unequal steps, alas ! and unequal force, we have attempted an inquiry only into one little corner of the human mind—, that corner which seems to be most exposed to vulgar observation, and to be most easily comprehended; and yet, if we have deline- ated it justly, it must be acknowledged that the accounts heretofore given of it wsie very lame, and wide of the truth. II' II I ESSAYS ON THB INTELLECTUAL POWERS OF MAN. By THOMAS REID, D.D., F.R.S.E., PROFESSOR OF MORAT. PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW. Who hath put w isdom in the inward parts ? '" — Job. / DEDICATION. * k> Thk ImpwsAm of the " K«iy» on the Intelleetaal Powers," h made from the «ay »thi>ti. «fition_th.t of 1786, in 4to. For the convenience of reference aem» •fOU edition «,di*iiwu*eain the present 5 and by these p«e« I *»" «7''^'' '" the nota^ ,«»p«««^iwto. They wttl be found muked both u> the U»t and on the lower' ]iuui||bi*— H* TO BIR DUGALD STEWART, LATBLV PROFESSOR OF MATHEMATICS, NOW PROFESSOR OF 3I0RAL PHILOSOPIfY, AMD DR JAMES GREGORY, PROFESSOR OF THE THEORY OF PHYSIC IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH.' My Dear Friends, — I knmv not to whom I can address these Essays with more propriety than to you ; not only on account of a friendship bej^un in early life on your part, though in old age on mine, and in one of you I may say hereditary ; nor yet on account of that correspondence in our literary pursuits and amusements, which has always given me so great plea- sure ; but because, if these Essays have any merit, you have a considerable share in it, having not only encouraged me to hope that [iv.] they may be useful, but favoured me with your observations on every part of them, both before they were sent to the press, and while they were under it I liave availed myself of your observa- tions, so as to correct many faults that might otherwise have escaped me ; and I have a very grateful sense of your friend- ship, in giving this aid to one who stood nmch in need of it ; having no shame, but much pleasure, in being instructed by those who formerly were my pupils, as one of you was. It would be ingratitude to a man whose memory I most highly respect, not to men- tion my obligations to the late Lord Kanies, for the concern he was pleased to take in this Work. Having seen a small part of it, he urged me to carry it on ; took acount of my progress from time to time ; revised it more than once, as far as^ it was carried, before his death ; and gave me his observa- tions on it, both with respect to the matter and the expression. On some points we • See above. In " Correspondence,** p. (IS, ■.— H. [iii.-vi.l differed in opinion, and debated them keenly, both in conversation and by many letters, without any abatement of his affec- tion, or of his zeal for the work's bdiig carried on and published : for he had too nmch liberality of mind not to allow to [v.] others the same liberty in judging which he claimed to himself. It is difficult to say whether that worthy man was more eminent in active life or in speculation. Very rare, surely, have been the instances where the talents for both were united in so eminent a degree. His genius and industry, in many difier- ent branches of literature, will, by his works, be known to posterity : his private virtues and public spirit, his assiduity, through a long and laborious life, in many honourable public offices with which he was entrusted, and his zeal to encourage and promote everything that tended to the improvement of his country in laws, litera- ture, conmierce, manufactures, and agricul- ture, are best known to his friends and contemporaries. The favourable opinion which he, and you my friends, were pleased to express of this work, has been my chief encoura>;e- ment to lay it before the public ; and per- haps, without that encouragement, it had never seen the light : for I have always found, that, without social intercourse, even a favourite speculation languishes; and that we cannot help thinking the better of our own opinions [ vi. ] when they are approved by those whom we esteem good judges. You know that the substance of these Essays was delivered annually, for mur« liii I III . 2Jli FftSFAUJib lliBii twtnty jissn, in Leetniet to ft lar|e 'Iwdy 'Of " tli« more ■dfamwd etudents in. this UniToreily, and for mveral years b«ibi«, in anolher University. Those who heard me with atteution, of whom I presume there an smile hundreds alive, wiB leoognise the dofltfiM which they heard, some of them thirty years ago, delivered to them more iliilitely,and with the repetitions and illus- trations proper for such aadienoes. I am afraid, indeed, that the more intel- ligent reader, who is conversant in such abstrad sahjects, may think that there are repetitifiiiB stii left, which might be miaie4 Such, I hope, wlB oonsider, that what t# one leader Is a snperlliions itpetltlon, tn the grsater part, leas convaraaiit in such subjects, may be very useful. If this apo- logy be deemed insufficient, and be thought to be the dictate of ksiness, I claim some indnlgenee even for tlial lazines^ at my period of life. [vii>] You who are in the prime of life, with the vigour which it inspifes, will, I hope, make more happy advwaes in this or in any other bianch of sdenee to which your taleuts may bt' iipplied. Tiio. Rsia Qlj^am College, Jum I. ITSl P "R F F A r. F Human knowledge may be tedueed to two general heads, according as it relates Id Imiy or to mind ; to th'mga material or to things intellectual.* The whole system of bodies in the uni- verse, of which we know but a very small part, may be called the Material World ; Creittorto 'tiM'-nwufliit 'Cfeatnre endowed with thonglit, maybe called the Intellectual World. These are the two great kingdoms of natnirt* that fall within our notice; mni ftboul the one, or the other, or things pertMning to them, every art, every science, and every human thought is employed ; nor can the boMest flight of imagination carry us beyond their limits. JlMiy things there are, indeed, ngurding the' naliini ^imd the stndnre both if 'body and of mind, which our faculties cannot reach ; many difficulties which the ablest philosopher cannot resolve : but of otlier • 8«t aewanli ** Life and Writing! of Held;* Mpm, p. It } «n4 bit " i^lenients." vol. I., Inttoduc- iMii 8 Jouirtijr. in lbs pnf»ee to hii •« fituvrat de Keid.*' 1. 1., pp. 23-63. I'hi* important Ppefact wilt Mioii be maide nenerally acceMible.to tlie Btltitli pub> he tea highly competent tnn»lator.— H. f The term Nature i* used iMinBetinM!* In a wider* ■MMrtlnMS in a narrower extension. When employed In flanitltextenkive meaning, it embracei the two wiMrl* of Mind and matter. When employed in its nore rettnetid sipilfisation, it is a synonynw fbrtbe latter only, and ia tlwn used in conUadiitinctlon to Uie iiraier. In tbt' Oreek phitotopliy* tiM word §Smt waa funeral In .Us meaning t and liw fraat toanch nf nbllosophy styled •rpMbilet juli^itola. miguLT Imaudad undar il not aif tlie •wmcet of iiillSK,'liiitalMi'fliiiie''erialiid. WUIij ua, the term Jf«titr« It nioie vacuely ext«nsive than fbeltcnis, wAysto, f A' stVA/, pfyiMogift pAjftio;tn^)tL Of ■tail tain His aiQecttve mUnrat ; whereas, in the pfillo> aofllf if Germany, Natur, and ita correlatives, wllctlier of Orerit or Latin derivailon, ■!% In iineral, iveof tlie world of mattar in cnntratt to the iolimeiliienigs;— M. [fii-Sj natures, if any other there be, we have no knowledge, no conception at all. That everything that exists must be either corporeal or incorporeal is evident. But it is not so evident that every thing [2] that exists must either be corporeal or endowed with thought. Whether there be in the nniveim beings which are neither extended, iolidi and inert, like body, nor active and intelligent, like mind, seems to be beyond the reach of 6ur knowledge. There appear* to be ft vast interval between body and mind | and whether there be any interme- diate nature that connects them together, we know not. We have no reason to ascribe intelH- gen«se, or even sensation, to phints ; yet there appears in them an active force and energy, which cannot be the result of any ariHipiiient or combination of inert matter. The same thing may be said of those powers by which animate are nourished and grow, by which matter gravitates, by which mag- netical and electrical bodies attract and repel each other, and by which the parts of solid bodies cohere. Some have conjeetnred that the phaeno- mena of the material world which require active force, are produced by the continual operation of intelligent beings : others have conjectured that mme mapr be in the uni- verse, beings thtl ate active, without in- tellisence, whidi, as a kind of incorporeal nuMMtnery, contrived by the supreme wis- dom, perform their destined task without any knowledge or intention.* But, teymg ame conjecture, and all pretences to deter- in things beyond our reach, we must JLywHi.— H. a LiftetbetripodtorVulcan— "Otm it awrMuiTSf 'tuiw htrmim' PREFACE. 217 test hi this, that body and mind are the oi.ly kinds of bemg of which we can have any knowledge, or can form any concep- tion. If there are other kinds, they are not discoverable by the faculties which God Imth given us ; and, with regard to us, are as if they were not. [3] As, therefore, all our knowledge is con- fined to body and mind, or things belonging to them, there are two great branches of philosophy, one relating to body, the other to mind. The properties of body, and the laws that obtain in the material system, are the objects of natural philosophy, as that word is now used. The branch which treats of the nature and operations of minds has, by some, been called Pneumatology.* And to the one or the otherof these branches, the principles of all the sciences belong. What variety there may be of minds or thinking beings, throughout this vast uni- verse, we cannot pretend to say. We dwell in a little corner of God's dominion, dis- joined from the rest of it. The globe which we inhabit is but one of seven planets that encircle our sun. What various orders of beings may inhabit the other six, their secondaries, and the comets belonging to our system, and how many other smis may be encircled with like systems, are things altogether hid from us. Although human reason and industry have discovered, with great accuracy, the order and distances of the planets, and the laws of their motion, we have no means of corresponding with them That they may be the habitation of animated beings, is very probable ; but of the nature or powers of their inhabitants, we are perfectly ignorant. Every man is conscious of a thinking principle, or mind, in himself ; and we have sufficient evidence of a like principle in other men. The actions of brute animals shew that they have some thinking principle, though of a nature far inferior to the human mind. And everything about us may convince us of the existence of a supreme mind, the Maker and Governor of the universe. These are all the minds of which reason can give us any eertain knowledge. [4] The mind of man is the noblest work of God which reason discovers to us, and, therefore, on account of its dignity, deserves our study. t I* must, indeed, be acknow- ledged, that, although it is of all objects the nearest to us, and seems the most within our reach, it is very difficult to attend to its operations so as to form a distinct notion • Now properly superseded by the itrm PtjfckoL ngv 1 to which no competent objection can be made, and which alfords us— what the various clumsy pen- |rii rases in u>e do not— a convenient adjective, piyefto- iorf'cal.— H. ... . > •• On earth," says a forgotten philosopher, •« there is nothing Rreat but Man j in roan there is nothing great Iwt Mind."— H. [3—51 of them ; and on that account there is no branch of knowledge in which the ingenious and speculative have fallen into so great errors, and even absurdities. These errors and absurdities have given rise to a general prejudice against all inquiries of this nature. Because ingenious men have, for many ages, given different and contradictory accounts of the powers of the mind, it is concluded that all speculations concerning them are chimerical and visionary. But whatever effect this prejudice may have with superficial thinkers, the judicious will not be apt to be carried away with it. About two hundred years ago, the opinions of men in natural philosophy were as various and as contradictory as they are now con- cerning the powers of the mind. Galileo, Torricelli, Kepler, Bacon, and Newton, , had the same discouragement in their / attempts to throw light upon the material'' system, as we have with regard to the in- tellectual. If they had been deterred by such prejudices, we should never have reaped the benefit of their discoveries, which do honour to human nature, and will make their names immortal. The motto which Lord Bacon prefixed to some of his writings was worthy of his genius, Inveuiam viam ant faciam.* Tliere is a natural order in the progress of the sciences, and good reasons may be assigned why the philosophy of body should [5] be elfer sister to that of mind, and of a quicker growth ; but the last hath the prin- ciple of life no less than the first, and will grow up, though slowly, to maturity. The remains of ancient philosophy upon this subject, are venerable ruins, carrying the marks of genius and industry, suttieient to inflame, but not to satisfy our curiosity. In later ages, Des Cartes was the first that pointed out the road we ought to take in those dark regions. Malebranche, Arnauld, Locke, Berkeley, Buffier, Hutcheson, Butler, Hume, Price, Lord Karnes, have laboured to make discoveries—nor have they laboured in vain; for, however different and contrary their conclusions are, how- ever sceptical some of them, they have all given new light, and cleared the way to those who shall come after them. We ought never to despair of human \ genius, but rather to hope that, in time, j^ it may produce a system of the powers and -^ operations of the human mmd, no less cer- y tain than those of optics or astronomy. This is the more devoutly to be wished, that a distinct knowledge of the powers of the mind would undoubtedly give great light to many other branches of science. Mr Hume hath justly observed, that " all the • See Mr Stewart's •• Philwophical Fssayi," Vm Hminary Diiseitation, ch. ii Ill' I 1) PREFACa* ■eifncif liftTO ft ftlttiiiii. to Imnisii ittture ; to run. :fliini^ :il| '1km itill ittifii: 'liiii' hv mm ^mmm^mn^. 11iii:ittiie€«iiti;«iid ofital of the seienceB,* which, bdngonce maotois of, «• 'iiiur emly extend our 0011- fko 'iMiiltiei of oiviiiiiiii an thetools Hid. engiiies we must uM' m mmy dlMiilsi- tbn ; Mid the heller we onderBtaiid thiir [f] Mitiire and force, tlw more BnemmMfy we ■hell he ahle to aiflir' then, Mr 'Loehe gifwi tiiie aeoonnt ti 'the oeoMion. of his enteiing noon his essey oonoemin| hnmeii undemlBiiding !--.<* Five or six muds,'* eouniaff 00 a eohjeet' verf ' :i«iiiile 'Horn ^his^ fmiiid thcmiiitee. ^nii^y ^A m stand by the diflleiiltieB that rooe on every side. jyier we had for a while puzzled oursel vea, without coming any nearer to a resohitmi of those doubts that perplexed us,, it eame into my thowliii 'tiii' 'we^ 'took a 'wrong eourse ; and that, hefore we set ourselves upon inquiries of thai miliire, H was neces- sary to examine oar own alwlitica, and see what objects onr mMteffstandinis were fitted or not fitted to deal with. Tins I proposed to the company, who all readiy assented ; and 'thereupon, il was. agiwed thai 'thiS' should bO'Our ifit enqnfay.;**' If this 'be eommonly the cauAO of perplexity in those disquisi- tions which have least relation to the mind, it must be somaeh more in those that have an immediate' eilineetion with it The scienesa maybe distinguished into two olas s iii aeesidhig as. 'they pertain to th e material or to the mtellectual world. The various parts of mitirai philosophy, the mechanical arts» ^ehemistiyt 'inadlcine, and agriculture^, bsiiag '!• the 'irsl. .g hut, to the - 'but, belong gnimmar, logie,, rhetoric, na-^ in • Hume prolMlilT had the •tying of 1 hitsft, whoealta iflrtorf tiM aillMff etly [«, 7] lural theology, morals, jurisprudence, law, Dolitics, and the fine arts. The know. Isdpe of the human muid is the root from whieh these grow, and draw their nourish- ment.* Wl^thcr, therefore, we consider the dignity of this subject, or its subser- viency to science in general, and to the noblest branches of sdeiiee in particular, i( highly deserves to be eiitivated. [7] A very eleguit writer, on the suUme and kgamUpUff concludes his account of the passions thus :~" The variety of the pas- sions is great, and worthy, in every branch of that variety, of the most diligent inves- tigation. The more accumtely we search into the human mind, the stronger traces weeverywhere find of His wisdom who made it. If a discourse 011 the use of the parts of the body may be considered as a hymn to the^ Creator,:}: the use of the passions, which are the organs of the mind, canuot be barren of praise to Him, nor unproductive to ourselves of that noble and uncommon union of science and admiration, which a contemphition of the works of infinite Wis- dom alone can afford to a rational mind ; whilst referring to Him whatever we find of right, or good, or fair, in ourselves, dis- covering H is strength and wisdom even in our own weakness and imperfection, honouring them where we discover them clearly, and adoring their profundity where we are lost in our search, we may be inquisitive with- out impertinence, and elevated without pride ; we may be admitted, if I may dare to say so, mto theooansels of the Almighty, by a consideration of his works. This ele- vation of the mind ought to be the principal end of all our studies, which, if they do not in some measure effect, they are of very little service to us.** • It is Ivatif obMrvwi tiy M. JouSroy, that th« division here eiMHinetd it not in priiicipte idvtitiiM with that prevlruity propounded.— H. f Burkfc— H. S Oaten m referred to— U. ESSAYS ■MTHB INTELLECTUAL POWERS OF MAN. ESSAY I. PRELIMINARY. CHAPTER I. SXPLICATION OP WORDS. Thbrb is no greater impediment to the advancement of knowledge than the ambi- guity of words. To this chiefly it b owing that we find sects and parties in most branches of science; and disputes which are carried on from age to age, without being brought to an issue. Sophistry has been more effectually ex- eluded from mathematics and natural philosophy than from other sciences. In mathematics it had no place from the begin- ning ; mathematicians having had the wis- dom to define accurately the terras they use, and to lay down, as axioms, the first prin- ciples on which their reasoning is grounded. Accordingly, we find no parties among ma- thematicians, and hardly any disputes.* [10] In natural philosophy, there was no less sophistry, no less dispute and uncertainty, than in other sciences, until, about a cen- tury and a half ago, this science began to be built upon the foundation of clear defini- tions and self-evident axioms. Since that time, the science, as if watered with the dew of Heaven, hath grown apace ; dis- putes have ceased, truth hath prevailed, and the science hath received greater in- crease in two centuries than in two thous- and years before. It were to be wished that this method, which hath been so successful in those branches of science, were attempted in others ; for definitions and axioms are the foundations of all science. But that defini- tions may not be sought where no defini- tion can be given, nor logical definitions be attempted where the subject does not admit of them, it may be proper to Uy down some general principles concerning definition, for • It was not the superior wisdom of «»«*5f!?lli?: tidans, but the simple and palpaWe character of their sl4eet.matter, which determined the differeuce.— H. [»-U] the sake of those who are less conversant in this branch of logic When one undertakes to explain any art or science, he will have occasion to use many words that are common to all who use the same language, and some that are peculiar to that art or science. Words of the last kind are called terms of the art, and ought to be distinctly explained, that their meaning may be understood. A definition* is nothing else but an ex- plication of the meaning of a word, by words whose meaning is already known. Hence it is evident that every word cannot be defined ; for the definition must consist of words ; and there could be no definition, if there were not words previously understood without definition. Common words, there- fore, ought to be used in their common acceptation ; and, when they have different acceptations in common language, these, when it is necessary, ought to be distin- guished. But they require no definition. It is suflicient to define words that are un- common, or that are used in an uncommon meaning. It may farther be observed, that there are many words, which, though they may need explication, cannot be logically defined- A [1 1 i logical definition— that is, a stnctand proper definition— must express the kmd [genus] of the thing defined, and the spe- cific difference by which the species defined is distinguished from every other species belonging to that kind. It is natural to the mind of man to class things under various kinds, and again to subdivide every kmd into its various species. A species naay I often be subdivided into subordinate species, and then it is considered as a kind. From what has been said of logics! defi- nition, it is evident, that no word can be logically defined which does not denote a • In what follows, thew »• • »P''"«'*'"hi„'*i"i tions merbal and reai, which should have been ca.a- AiUy distinguished.— H. SfiiO ON THE INTILLECTUAL POWEEa [ V I. m \i ■ ... *...* < *■ •S* •^ if tilt Hill lo^klMii* Oiwitft At. tktme ti^ # it* Aral iI^ham. Am! this it tro«. both of tiMr ol^cte or Mme, Mid of tiw ftriff* conscioiinicM.^11. ^ is?* no ««• to pratae for this otwrvatte. It IM itp made Iqr Anttotle, and after hlin lif iMWif othtfi; while, tolMcqiient to Dca Citlcf , and pre, HoM to Locke, Pawal andthaPM^Miifal Logic&nf. wMV niltliing oTa fiaper of Leibnits. in IfiM, Itad re. '*■**« llllia matteroTconmionplace. In thU iDttancv. Itvnn.indecd.beprMmlalMfiiiMr. MrStcwart itlilniu . ■ I hmam Biidi iliiii|s wlj ma have •'"•pMiie differenee ; and m ^ems differ- «iM» is eesential to a kgieal deiiiitioo. Oa this aocomit ttepo wn be no kdeal 'deinition of individual Hitnp^, mail as London or Paris. Individuals an Aitin* gnisbed oither liy proper names, or by aeei- qemai 'Cige nnit a ne es of time or place i but 'ibey'liav,.. - -r^Jl mt^» m s «ril«r»:||iiilMc«|(iefiC m triiiWb not a tittle.'lioiravar, to tw^aaM la vl'ii. m oalf saodcrii ptilioMpher wlio tiasapptsiMiei tHal •rjloliiMi. which reauim, hoircver, lonw illit. iration of the qweial ilgniilcanoe of iti i«au — M. £12, IS J know nona that has abused definition so liiMli aaOarolus [Christianus] Wolfius, the iuBons Oermaii philosopher, who, in a work on the human mind, calM ^ Psycho- logia Empirica^" consisting of many hun- dred propositions, fortified by demon- strations, with a proportional accompani- ment of definitions, corollaries, and scholia, has given so many definitions of thinp whieh cannot be dtllnadt *°d so many de- monstrations of tMnp self-evident, that the greatest part of the work consists of tautology, and ringing changes upon words.* Iliere is po subject in which there is move iheipeni occasion to use words that cannot be logically defined, than in treating nf tiw powurs and operations of the mind. Hm iiiipleBt operations of our minds must all be expressed by words of this kind. No nuui can explain, by a logical definition, what it is to tMnk, to apprehend, to Mieve, to will, toilMir*. Bvnj man who under- stands the tagnage^ baa some notion of the meaiung of those words ; and cwery man who is ca{iable of reflection may, by attend- ing to the operations of his own mind, which are signified by them, form a clear and distinct notion of them ; but tliey can- not be l<^cally defined. Sinee, therefore, it is often impossible to define words which we must use on this subject, we must as much as possible use common words, in their common accepta- tion, pointing out their various senses where the^ are ambiguous i and, when we ai« olil%ed to use words lees common, we must endeavour to exphua them [13] as well as we can, without allMting to give logical de- finitions, when the nature of the thmg does not allow it. The foUowmg obasrvatinns on the mean- ing of certain words an intended to supply, as far aa we can, the want of definitions, by preventing ambiguity or obscurity in the 1. By the mind of a man, we understand that in him which thinks, remembers, rea- sons, wills.f The essence both of body and of mind ii unknown to us. We know cer- tain properties of the first, and certain oper- ations of the kit, and by these only we can define or describe them. We define body to be that which la extended, solid, move- ablew divisible. In like manner, we define mind to be that which thinks. We are con- cious that we thmk, and that we have a variety of thoiigfats of different kinds_such as seeing, hiaiiii|^ remembering, delibe- latii^ resolving, lovhtig, hating, and many • nil ludgnenl knot falM ; but II it cxafgerafsd t Thb comaDoiMlato AiMeUkfB Moor.d delnitiea •f the tool. Of ibat « poMerhrl Vide mprm, p. W9, D<« note *.— H. other kifids of thought— all which we are taught by nature to attribute to one internal principle ; and this principle of thought we call the mind or soul of a man* 2. By the operations' of the mind, we un- derstand every mode of thinking of which we are conscious. It deserves our notice, that the various modes of thinkmg have always, and in all huiguages, as far as we know, been called by the name of operations of the mind, or by names of the same import To body we ascribe various properties, but not oper- ations, properly so called : it is extended, divisible, moveable, inert ; it continues in any state in which it is put; every change of its state is the effect of some force mi- pressed upon it, and is exactly proportional to the force impressed, and in the precise direction of that force. These are the ge- neral properties of matter, and these are not operations; on the contrary, they all unply its bemg a dead, inactive thing, which moves only as it is moved, and acts only by being acted upon.t [14] But the mind is, from its very nature, a living and active being. Everything we know of it implies life and active energy ; and the reason why all its modes of thinking are called its operations, is, that in all, or in most of them, it is not merely passive, as body is, but is really and properly active. In all ages, and in all languages, ancient and modern, the various modes of thinking have been expressed by words of active sii^nifieation, such as seeing, hearing, reaaon- ing, willing, and the like. It seems, there- fore, to be the natural judgment of man- kind, that the mind is active in its various ways of thinking : and, for this reason, they are called its operations, and are expressed by active verbs. It may be made a question. What regard is to be paid to this natural judgment ? May it not be a vulgar error ? Philosophers who think so Imve, no doubt, a right to be heard. But, until it is proved that the mmd is not active in thinking, but merely passive, the conmion language with regard to its operations ought to be used, and ought not to give place to a phraseology invented by philosophers, which implies its being merely passive. 3. The words power and faculty, which are often used m speaking of the mind, need little explication. Every operation supposes a power in the being that oper- lates ; for to suppose anything to operate, which has no power to operate, is mani- festly absurd. But, on the other hand, • Operation, Act, Energy, are nearly convertible terms r«nd are opposed to Faculty, (of whicli aiion.) as the actual to the potential — H. ,, •f •• Materiae datum est cogi, led cogere Mena ^ Mamuus.— H. there is no absurdity in supposing a being to have power to operate, when it does not operate. Thus I may have power to walk, when I sit ; or to speak, when I am silent. Every operation, therefore, implies power ; but the power does not imply the operation. The faculties of the mind, and its powers, are often used as synonymous expressions. But, as most synonymes have some minute distinction that deserves notice, I apprehend that the word /acu/>«. Ibsolutely. is the mind that knows or hmk^-^ e the mind considered as the subject of K"o*'f^^* ?' houKhi ; the object, that wlich is ^noyfn,oriMouwht S ihe adjecti've. subjective :iuA ot>Ject,oeOMm S^;enient.ifnotindifpen.able,exp.e«..ous.-H. ON TEE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essat I. CIIAP. I.] EXPLICATION OF WORDS. ^AtJ of tt In tliii' amtm «zteniftl Uklngi torn in the mind m oftoi M'til*jr m» th» objects f>f our thoiii^t. & TMliifif is a Tery general word, wliieli tncliiiM:aii:|li«: o|»ei«iiona of our .minds, and ii ;iii 'litl nmdiiatocMi m to need m ' deli- nition.* [16] To pereewe^ to wmnemAer.^ to be emuciou§, and to mnceim or iiiMwifi«^ are words eom- mon to .iiyio«i|ten and to tiio Tii%ar. Ilief iliniff' differeni opniiioiis of tlio mini, wlieh. are 'distinguslMid in all lan- guage and by all men that tbink. I sliall endeamiiE' to 'UM tbon in tJwJT t ywtt ' ooni- moB. and f mper aeeimtstioni .awl I Ibink tbejp a«« .batdiy citable' of alriel deinltion. But, as some philosophers, in treating of the mind, have taken the liberty to use them very improperly, so as to oormpt tbo Eng- lish, hmguage, and to confoimi. 'IbhigB which the common understanding of man- kind hath always led them to distmgubh, I ibai inake someobservations on tilt meaii- ing of liwm, that may prevent ambiguity or confUiii in tho use of them. 6. Firsif We are never said to ptredm things, of tho existenee of which we liave not a full convietion. I may mnemm or immgine a mountain of gold, or a winged Imrse ; but no man says that he jMrceives such a creature of imagination. Thus per- cepthm is distinguished from mmeej^n or imagination. Smmkdly, Pdoeption is ap- plied only to external objects, not to those that are in the mind itself. When I am Milled, I do 'not say thai I 'perceive pain, but that I feel it, or that I am conscbua of IL Thus, pmtctptkm is distinguished fiom noiMjioiisiistt. Thirdig, The imnodlito object of perception must be something pie- ■eut, and not what is past. We may re- member what Is past, but do not perceive it. I may say, I perceive such a person has had thesmalUpox ; but this phnse is figurative, aitiio^gli the figure is so familiar that .It is .not ofaaerved. The meaning of it i%. 'tliat I perceive thO' pits, in his^ hm, whi.ch an certain signs of his having had the small pox. We say we peroel ve the thing signi- t ed, when we only perceive the sign. But wlien, tho wmdpgrmpiim is usod piopeiiy, and. without any figure, It is never afolied to th.uigs past. Andthusitisdisthignished. from rmmmkmaee. In a word, perception is most profierly applied to the evidence which wo have of external objects by our mmm Int, as this is a [17] very clear and 'COgnit :Mnd of evidence, the word la oflen appled by ana- higy to the evidence of reason or of tcstl- • nmmkimuiaimMiig m% mtAln amoretaiiil In a 'isii|. mtriclMl •lin.taMtloii. In the fioffiiier mtan. •Of ilMf urn iaiiiai to the 4ttem^9* MtigiM alone t In tli«lati«r» ttaif ate cowtxtsnaive wilb conwious. fl§-ifl mmq^ when it is clear and cogent. The peneiitioii of external objects by our senses. Is an operation of the mind of a peculiar nature, and ought to have a name impro- priated to it It has so in all huigusges. And, in English, I know no word more proper to express this act of the mind thau perception. 8i«ilig, hearing, smellmg, tastiiig, and toncliiiig or feeling, are words Ihat^ csffisa thO' opiiitions^ proper to each 'Sense. {'perceiving expresses that which ia^ common to them all. The observations made on this word would have been unnecessary, if it had not been so much abused in philosophical writings upon the mind ; for, in other writ- ings, it nas no obscurity. Although this abuse is not chargeable on Mr Hume only, yet I think he has carried it to the highest pitch. The first sentence of his " Treatise of Human Nature" runs thus:— "All the perceptions of the human mind resolve thflmsolfOs into two distinct heads, which I shai call impressions and ideas." He adde^ a little aftor, that, under the name of Impressions, he comprehends all our sensations, paaiiona, and emotions. Here we learn that our passions and emotions are perceptions. I believe, no English writer before him ever gave the name of a perception to any passion or emotion. When a man is angry, we must say that he has the perception of anger. When he is In love, that he has the perception of love. He speaks bften of the perceptions of me- mory, and of the perceptions of imagina- tion ; and he might as well speak of the hearing of sight, or of the smellmg of touch ; iir, surely, hearing is not more different from sight, or smdllng pi (cation of it abusive. In the Leibnitiian nMlosophy, pereeptiam and appercrpHon were dia. WRfuished in a peculiar manner— of which again. Reid la rifht in hia own rettriction of the term} but be is not warranted in blaminf Hume for having used it lu till wider tignifieatiou ot hia predeccason— H. Is only of things In the mind, and not of external things. It is improper to say, I am conscious of the table which is before me. I perceive it, I see it ; but do not say I am conscious of it. As that conseiousnet>8 by which we have a knowledge of the opera- tions of our own minds, is a different power from that by which we perceive external objects, and as these different powers have different names in our language, and, I believe, in all languages, a philosupher ought carefully to preserve this distinction, and never to confound things so different in their nature." 8. Conceiving, imagining^ and appre- hending, are commonly used as synony- mous in our language, and signify the same thing which the logicians call simple appre- hension. This is an operation of the mind different from all those we have mentioned. Whatever we perceive, whatever we re- member, whatever we are conscious of, we have a full persuasion or conviction of its existence. But we may conceive or imagine what has no existence, and what we firmly lielieve to have no existence. What never had an existence cannot be remembered ; what has no existence at present cannot be the object of perception or of conscious- ness; but what never had, nor has any existence, may be conceived. Every man knows that it is as easy to conceive a winged horee,oracentaur,as itis to conceive ahorse or a man. Let it be observed, therefore, that to conceive, to imagine, to apprehend, when taken in the proper sense, signify an act of the mind which implies no belief or judg- ment at all.+ It is an act of the mind by which nothing is afiirmed or denied, and which, therefore, can neither be true nor false. But there is another and a very different meauing of those words, so common and so well authorized in language that it cannot easily be avoided; and on that account we ought to be the more on our guard, that we be not misled by the ambiguity. Po- litenessand [ 19] good-breeding lead men,on most occasions, to express their opinions with modesty, especially when they differ from others whom they ought to respect. Therefore, when we would express our opmion modestly, instead of saying, " This is my opinion," or, " This is my judgment," which has the air of dogmaticalness, we say, " I conceive it to be thus— I imagine, or ap- prehend it to be thus ;" which is understood as a modest declaration of our judgment In like manner, when anything is said which we take to be impossible, we say, " We can- • Reid's degradation of Consciousness into a •pecial fiiculty, (in which he seems to follow Hut- cheson, in opposition to other philosophers,) is, in every point of view, obnoxiuua to every pui»»ibie ob- jection. Sf*e note H -^H t Except of its own ideal reahtj.~H. [19,801 not conceive it ;" meauiiu; that we cannot believe it. Thus we see that the words conceive, imagine, apprehend, have two meanings, and are used to express two operations of the mind, which ought never to be con- founded. Sometimes they express simple apprehension, which implies no judgment at all ; sometimes they express judgment or opinion. This ambiguity ought to be at- tended to, that we may not impose upon ourselves or others in the use of them. The ambiguity is indeed remedied, in a great measure, by their construction. When tliey are used to express simple appreheu< sion, they are followed by a noun in the accusative case, which signifies the object conceived ; but, when they are used to ex- press opinion or judgment, they are com- monly followed by a verb, in the infinitive mood. " I conceive an Egyptian pyramid." This implies no judgment. "I conceive the Egyptian pyramids to be the most an- cient monuments of human art.*' This implies judgment. When the words are used in the last sense, the thing conceived must be a proposition, because judgment cannot be expressed but by a proposition. When they are used in the first sense, the thing conceived may be no proposition, but a simple term only — as a pyramid, an obe- lisk. Yet it may be observed, that even a proposition may be simply apprehended, without forming any judgment of its truth or falsehood : for it is one thing to conceive the meauing of a proposition ; it is another thing to judge it to be true or false. [20] Although the distinction between sunple apprehension, and every degree of assent or judgment, be perfectly evident to every man who reflects attentively on what passes in his own mind— although it is very neces- sary, in treating of the powers of the mind, to attend carefully to this distinction — yet, in the affairs of common life, it is seldom necessary to observe it accurately. On this account wo shall find, in all common languages, the words which express one of those operations frequently apphed to the other. To think, to suppose, to imagine, to conceive, to apprehend, are the words we use to express simple apprehension; but they are all frequently used to express judgment. Their ambiguity seldom occa- sions any inconvenience in the common affairs of life, for which language is framed. But it has perplexed philosophers, in treat- ing of the operations of the mind, and will always perplex them, if they do not attend accurately to the different meanings which are put upon those words on different oc- casions. 9. Most of the operations of the mind, from their very nature, must have objects to which they are directed, and about which %jm I lib IN lm.MMsmL0BliAli rUWJiiiisl. £es«ay I. CHAP. 1.] EXPLICATION OF WORDS. 225 • ifm ii |, Mnniio amnelhiiiff i and tni^ wUoli. 1M' 'pivoiifit is 'CftUed tlie ol>j«el nf liii faiv^ «0|)iiiitL To peioeave, wilhout having aoj object, of pere«ptioii| li imDoauiilA. Tlie mind tliat ii«reeif«% ilM tm^ fmrnkred, ind. tlw Off ^raliffii '«if ]fmmmag tm objeist, an dialittot' tiingi, and. are' distinguished in tho straetin of all knguages. In this senltiieo, *'* I see, or perceive the moon,** 1 IS the^ fenott. or' idmd, the: active verh «M denotes the opittfifiii; 'Of 'that' niiiid, and the woota denotes 'the ohfeel.. What we have 'Said of perceiving, is equally applieahle to most operations of the mind. Such, opera- lions ar% .in .all langnam MfteiBed % .active transitive vcrhsi .and^ w» know 'that, in ail languages, such verbs require a thing or person, which Is the agent» and a noun following in an oUique eaie, which is^ the ohjeet. WheneO' It .is evident, 'that .all 'mankind, both 'those who .have 'Contrived. Itngnage, and those who use 'it with under* standing, 'have distinguished thesO' thfeo' ihinp m dllferent~to 'wit, 'the openiliiiiis of the 'mind,. 'Which [tljareexpressed'hyaetive verbs'.; tho' mind itself, whkh. is the nomin- .ativetO' those 'verbs; and the object, which is, in the oMique ease, governed by them. It would have been uimaeeisaiy tO' ex. plain BO obvious a distlnetim, 'if ^ Mme sjs-' tems of philosophy had not confounded it Mr Home's «rt«n, in |»rtihr, coDfoimd. .all 'distimAlon hetween the operatloiis. of the mind and. their' ebjeets. When he spealcs of the ideas of memory, the ideas of imi^in- ation, and the ideas of sense, it is often im- Mislble, from the tenor of his diseoniae, to .inow wiMtther, by those ideas, he means the 'Operations, of the m.ind, or the objecis about which they are employed. And, indeed, according to his system, there' m .no distinction between, the one: tad the other* A |»h.ilosoplier :is, no doubt, entitled to exam.nie even those distinctions, that are tO' be found in the strueture of all hinguages ; .and, if he is able to shew that tihere is no foundathm for them in the nature of the things distinguished — if he can point out .some prejudice' com.m.on to nunhind 'which iuMi' led. tl|fwi te . «i:i«tiiipff.i«ii. tiiiiMp ilf^ t are .not' really 'diilBwint--5i' 'that' ease, anoh a 'distinction may be imputed to a vu.lga.r' error, which oi{ght to be corrected in pbtlo- iophy. .But when, in his irst setting out, he 'takeS' .it for granted, without ■fumf that 'laiiguages,. 'have no foundation in nature, thist surely. Is too itttidlous a wa^ of treaiiiig' the oommon .tenae of manlnnd.. When. 'we. 'Come: to bo' ;hiatnetid. by pbilo* sophers, we must bring' the 'Old liglit of common sense .along with us, .and by it lidgt of the new light which the philo- ^n- ml fc ■j.. •opher eomraunioites to us. But when we are refiiired to put out the old light alto* 'getheri. that we may foUow the new, we have IMMM to bC' 'On our guard. There nnKir be distinctions that have a real foun* philosophy, whteb are not made in common language, 'beoanse 'not' uecessaiy in. the com- mon business of life. But I believe [22] no instance will be found of a distinction made in mUta>ga.g«, «hid> hMBot. j'dottbted, whether'tl.ie introduction 'of 'this: word into popular''d.iscourse^ to signify tl'ie operation, of conceiving or apprehending, was at all necessary. FOr, Jirst, We have, as. has been shewn, aeveial words which aio either efi|inaily Bngl.iih, or have been long naturaliied, 'that express 'the same tH ^ g ; • On the bbtorfoftht'tsnii /tfm.fet Notef).->il. why, therefore, should we adopt a Greek word, in place of these, any more tlian a French or a German word ? Besides, the words of our own language are less ambi- guous. For the word idea has, for many ages, been used by philosophers as a term of art ; and in the different systems of phi- losophers means very different things. Seeondl^f According to the philosophi- cal meaning of the word idea, it does not signify that act of the mind which we call thought or conception, but some object of thout^ht Ideas, according to Mr Locke, (whose very frequent use of this word has probably been the occasion of its being adopted into common language,) "are nothing but the immediate objects of the mind in thinking/' But of those objects of thought called ideas, different sects of phi- losophers have given a very different ac- count. Bruckerus, a learned German, wrote a whole book, giving the history of ideas. The most ancient system we have con- ceruuig ideas, is that which is explained in several dialoj^ues of Plato, and which many ancient, as well as modern writers, have ascribed to Plato, as the inventor. But it is certain that Plato had his doctrine upon this subject, as well as the name iica, from the school of Pythaj5oras. We have still extant, a tract of Timaeus, the Locrian, a Fytha<,foreau philosopher, concerning the soul uf the world, in which we find the sub- stance of I'lato's doctrine concerning ideas.* They were held to be eternal, uncreated, and immutable forms, or models, according to which the Deity made every species of things that exists, of an eternal niatter. Those philosophers held, that there are three first principles of all things: Fhsi^ An eternal matter, of which all things were made; Secondly , Eternal and immaterial forms, or ideas, according to which they were made; and, [24] TAir^/j/, An efficient cause, the Deity who made thera.-|- The mind of man, in order to its being fitted for the con- templation of these eternal ideas, must un- dergo a certain purification, and be weaned from sensible things. The eternal ideas are the only object of science ; because the ob- jects of sense, being in a perpetual flux, there can be no real knowledge with regard to them. The philosophers of the Alexandrian school, commonly called the latter Plalo- nistSy made some change upon the system of tlie ancient Platonists with respect to the eternal ideas. They held them not to be a principle distinct from the Deity, but to be the conceptions of things in the divine un- * llie whole series of Pjrthagorean treatises and nragments in the Doric dialec , in which the doc trinesand phraneology of Plato^and Aristotle are so marrelloualj anticipated, are now iiroved CHAP. I.] EXPLICATION OF WORDS. 227 olijeel} wfa.etlier fif mmm^ nf niMiifyiy, of ftMiLmm or :f|iMMi: :iii. '«!» 'iniiii^ itself TlW' follfiif •!«' of IfisfoAi,: jM|ii«Uly tiie ediooliiiiiii, nwlo gml adililicfiii to this tlieory, wlifcli tbe author Mmaelf mcntiont voiy hfieiy, and with m appoarance of reserre. Thoy eitofed into laiw disquisi- tions 'wich mgud to Iho MUsiMO' speQies s what Mud of things they are ; how they arO' :8eiit forth hy the object, and enter by the oigans of the senses; how they are ffcserred and reined by various agents, cmied internal senses, concerning tlie num- ber and oikes of which they had many controversies. But we shall not enter into a. detai. of theae^ matters. 'The 'reason of givhig this brief account of the theory of the Peripatetics, with regard to tbe immediate objects of our thoughts, is, hecanse the doctrine of modem phMoeo- phon concerning' ideas, 'is built npon it Mr Lodw, who mm 'this word so very fre- quently, tells us, that he means theaame thing by it as is commonly [26] meant by spede§ #r'|itai^MR. 'eaiMdi, from, whom Iioeke bomwed moM' 'than 'from any other author, :Miys 'the :8ame. 'The words spedea and. |iA«iiliiaiii, are 'terms of art in 'the Peripa- tetic system, and the meaning of them is to bO' learned from it-f 'The theory of Democritus and Epieuras, on this 8iili}ect, was not very unlike to that 0f the Peripotelici!. They held that all bodies contisnally .send forth aiendet' 'lil:ms or spectres, from 'their suriaee, 'Of such extreme auhtilty 'that they easily penet.nte our gross bodies, or enter by the organs of sense^, and stamp their image npon 'the min.d. The sensible apeeiea of Aristotle w.ere mere feme without 'matter. The spectres of Epicurus were composed of a very subtile matter. Modem philosophers, as. wflllaB.tlie Peri- patetin and Epieiumina. of ' old^..ha*o wn- ceived 'that tmt«pnal objwsls cannot U the inifflodiate' 'Ohjecte of our tho'Ught; that there mnst be some image of them in the mind itself, in wliich, as in a mirror, they an iseen. And the 'name Msm, in the phLo- •opliieal :Bcnae' of it, is given to those inters nal and immediate objects of our thoughts. The eatemal thing is 'the .remote or mediate object I 'but the 'idca,/or hnago 'Of thai., .object, in 'the mind,i8 the'hnmediate object, without « Thif. if a tolerable acctiiiiit ef 'Um .dnctritie mMmrM MilliillMt 'te Aiitlfitle..- H. * If fir «hta 'It 'it' istMit tiMii' lit tmtm of tpectn ^'atlM&Hn Chen In tli# iiil«ol%, :l*|,..ls. inwii.. llMemli, m sonn Umii. UN. CMn. la afoplhig' 'Hmm' icffins 'rf 'IM iFwIpiWHsfc ijlaiti^ thwi^ i» llMir ftof4Fi«i«.':4|iMfMiliMi. Both IhtM pHlhtn. plitit. mi» «i.|»mit. .t» tf«lwtoif ' 'tijt ciHitwff I ainl 'iatedtailr'iiliilad. Locke. ialMtpacl«i..-M. whieh we could have no perception, no re- 'mcmhrance, no conception of the mediate When, therefore, in common knguage, we spealc of havuig an idea of anything, we 'mean no more by that expregsiout but thmlcing' of it The vulgar altow thai this expreamon implies a mind that 'thinks, an act of that mind which we call thinking, and an object about which we think. But, beaidMi totie three, the philosopher con- oeivet''thal 'fliero is a fourth— 'to 'wit, the tffffl, 'Which is. the immediate object. The idea is in the mind itself, and can have no existence but in a mind that thinks t but the remote or mediate object may be something external, as the sun or moon ; it may be something past or future ; it may be some- thing which never existed. [27] This is the phlloeopbical meaning of the word idea ; and 'we may observe 'that this meaning .of that word is built upon a phiosophical opinion i for, if philosophers had not be- lieved that there are such immediate objects of all our 'thoughte in the^ mind, they would never have ns«i tlie word idea to express tnem* I shall only add, on this article, that, al- tbougb I may have occasion to use the word idea m 'Ibis, philosophical sense m .expbining the opfeions ^of othet% I shall have no occa- sion to use it in expressmgmy own, because I 'believe Mm«, taken in this sense, to be a mere fiction of philosophers. And, in the ppnlar mcan.ing of the word, there is the lesa oceasion to use it, because the English words ikmtghtf noflofi, apprifAtffitim, ans%t:r 'the purpose' as wei as the Greek word idea; with this advania|se, that they are le«s ambiguoufc There is, indeed, a mean- ing of the word idea,, which I think most agreeable to its use in ancient philosophy, and which I wouM. willingly ndopt, if use, the .arbiter of hrngnag^ did. 'pimit. But this wEl come to be explained :allerward.s. II. Tlie word impmmlm is used by Mr Hume, in speaki.ng .of 'tho' .operations of the mind, almost as often as the word idea it by Mr Iioeke. What the kttor 'Calls. idias, the former divides, into 'two chases $ one of whieh he calls impressions, the other ideas, I shall 'make some observations upon Mr' Hnme% explication of ikai 'word, and then consider the proper 'meam.ing of it in the English hnguag^. *°We may divide,*' (says Mr Hume, *« Easayij** vol. II., p. 18,t) " all the percep- tions «f ' 'the hnman mind mto two ckssee or species, which are distingnishod by 'their • Ohi lfU.1i amtiiiiioiii fniplof went of tht rx,- Smamm wte^tnie and immu^limle 0^^, «« Nm* I 'anil, on m cmilWMi ai Uie two liyiiotheBM of ftMntM'tttkiii.. M''Ot'.» C — .H. t '*• Iteiittirf conMrnfiip' Htimiiii (Jiitf«rat«iHlifi|t.** I i Tli«.qiiol.MiM bat icMi ilM up lif llw or^ aal.**.ii 80t *t 1 different degrees of force and vivacity. Tlie less lively and forcible are commonly deno- minated THOUGHTS or IDEAS. The other species want a name in our language, and in most others ; [I suppose because it was not requisite for any but philosophical pur- poses to rank them under a general terra or ap]>ellation.] Let us, therefore, use a little freedom, and call them impressions ; (employing that word in a sense somewhat diieient from the usual.] By the term Jiiiprtosion, then, I mean all our more lively perceptions, wlien we hear, or see, or feel, or love, or hate, or desire, or will. [And impressions are distinguished from] ideas [which] are the [28] less lively perceptions, of which we are conscious, when we reHect on any of those sensations or movements above mentioned." This is the explication Mr Hume hath given in his " Essays" of the term impres- i)tMi«, when applied to the mind : and his explication of it, in hb " Treatise of Human Nature," is to the same purpose. [Vol. I. p. II.} Disputes about words belong rather to grammarians than to philosophers; but philosophers ought not to escape censure when they corrupt a language, by using words in a way which the purity of the lan- guage will not admit. I find fault with Mr IIume*s phraseology in the words I have quoted — First J Because he gives the name of per- ceptions to every operation of the mind. Love is a perception, hatred a perception ; desire is a perception, will is a perception ; and, hy the same rule, a doubt, a question, a command, is a perception. This is an intolerable abuse of language, which no phi- losopher has authority to introduce.* Secondl}/, When Mr Hume says, ihat we may divi>le all the perceptions of the human mind into two c/assex or species^ which arc distingui&hed dy their det/reex of force awl vivacity, the manner of expression is loose and unphilosophical. To differ in species is one thing; to differ in degree is an- other. Tilings which differ in degree only must be of the same species. It is a maxim of common sense adcnitted by all men, that greater aiid l^t^s do not make a change of species. -f- The same man may differ in tlie degree of his force and vivacity, in the morning and at night, in health and in sickness ; but this is so far from making him a different species, that it does not so much as make him a dif- ferent individual. To say, therefore, that two different classes, or species of j)ercep- • Hume did not intrnducc it The 'enn I'ercrp- tlun was ati uh4 by Ilet Car' n and man v »t hers ; and, atilcsirea, feelings, Krc. rxi!«t nnl.vasknown.MKirixitey all* in ■ certain »< n«e,ri>f!<'itions (|i< rci-|iriiiii«.) - H, t *' Alagti it iniiiua iion variant spccieni.*'— H* . [28, 29] tions, are distinguished by the degrees of their force and vivacity, is to coniound .% difference of degree with a difference <»^f species, which every man of understanding knows how to disiinguish.* [29] Thiidly, We may observe, that this author, having given the general name of perception to all the operations of the mind,-|- and distinguished them into two classes or species, which differ only in de- gree of force and vivacity, tells us, that he gives the name of impressions to all our more lively perceptions— to wit, when we hear, or see, or feel, or love, or hate, or desire, or will. There is great confusiim in this account of the meaning of the word impression. When I see, this is an i«/- piessiun. But why has not the author told us whether he gives the name of im- pression to the object seen, or to that act of my mind by which I see it ? When I see the full moon, the full moon is one thing, my perceiving it is another thing. Which of these two things does he call an impres- sion ? We are left to guess this ; nor dots all that this author writes about impressions clear this point. Everything he says tends to darken it, and to lead us to think that the full moon which I see, and my seeing it, are not two things, but one and the s' ^^' temal cause, we say thai such causes make an impression upon the mind; hut, when things are seen, or hea.rd, or apprehendeil, without producing any passion or emotion, we :say that they 'makC' no impression. In the most extensive sense, an impres- sion is a chango produced in some passive subject by the operation of an external cause. If we suppose an active beitig to produce any change in itself by its own active power, this is never called an im- presHon. It is the act or operation of the being itself, not an impression upon it. From this it appears, that to give the name of an impressbn to any effect produced in the mind, is to suppose that the mind does not .act at all. in. the produet.ion of that effect. If seeing, hearing, ^desiring, milling, 'bo operations of the mind, tliey cannot lie itu- pressioiia 1 f |32] they be impressions, they cannot he opmtions of the mind. In the structure of ai hngaa|es, they are con- sidered as aets omperations of the mind it- self, and 'the names, given them imply tbi». To call them impresiionB, therefore, is to •coiiiwn against 'the: itnwtnre, not of a par- tfeniar langnafB only, hut uf u kngnages. * If the word impression be an improper word to signify the operations of the mind, it is at least as improper to signify their objects I for would any man be thought to ■peak with propriety, who should say that tM sun is an unprcssion, tliat the earth and the sea ars' ImiiieHinnB ? It is cimniOBly belieiredf and taken for granted,, that ewry bui:guape, if it be suffi- oently copious in words, is equally fit to express .all opinions, whether they bC' trae * But iw aMlif«r.*«Ils SuMUitate." Bsm. HM, HHAP. I.] EXPLICATION OF WORDS. 22i9 or false. I apprehend, however, that there is an exception to this general rule, which deserves our notice. There are certain common opinions of mankind, upon which the structure and grammar of all languages are founded. WliUe these opinions are common to all men, there will be a great similarity in all languages that are to be found on the face of the earth. Such a similarity there really is ; for we find in all languages the same parts of speech, the distinction of nouns and verbs, the distinc- tion of nouns into adjective and substan- tive, of verbs into active and passive. In verbs we find like tenses, moods, persons, and numbers. There are general rules of grammar, the same in all languages. This similarity of structure in all languages, shews an uniformity among men in those opinions upon which the structure of lan- guage is founded. If, for instance, we should suppose that there was a nation who believed that the things which we call attributes might exist without a subject, there would be in their language no distinction between adjectives and substantives, nor would it be a rule with them that an adjective has no mean- ing, unless when joined to a substantive. If there was any nation who did not dis- tinguish between [33] acting and being acted upon, there would in their language be no distinction between active and passive verbs ; nor would it he a rule that the active verb must have an agent in the nominative case, but that, in the passive verb, the agent must be in an oblique case. The structure of all languages is grounded upon common notions, which Mr Hume's philosophy opposes, and endeavours to overturn. This, no doubt, led him to warp the common language into a conformity with his principles ; but we ought not to imitate him in this, until we are satisfied that his principles are built on a solid foundation. 12. Sematioii is a name given by pliilo- sophers to an act of mind, which may be distinguished from all others by this, that it hath no object distinct from the act itself. • Pain of every kind is an uneasy sensation. When I am pained, I cannot say that the pain I feel is one thing, and that my feeling it is another thing. They are one and the same thing, and cannot be disjoined, even in imagination. Pam, when it is not felt, has no existence. It can be neither greater nor less in degree or duration, nor anything else in kind than it is felt to be. It cannot exist by itself, nor in any subject but in a sentient being. No quality of an inanimate • But feMttion, in the language of philoanph a« been generallv employed to denote the whole] , - „_„„_ pherii ha« been generallv employed to denote the whole pro> ccM of lensitive cognition, including both perception fitfrner AXiA ^fmatiim proper. On this distinciion, fee below, i:.isay II., ch. xvi., and Note D*^H, L33 3*] insentient being can have the least resem- blance to it. What we have said of pain may be applied to every other sensation. Some of them are agreeable, others uneasy, in various degrees. These being objects of desire or aversion, have some attention given to them ; but many are indift'erent, and so little attended to that they have no name in any language. Most operations of the mind that have names in common language, are complex in their nature, and made up of various ingredients, or more simple aets ; whiclv though conjctined in our constitution, must be disjoined by abstraction, in order to our having a distinct and scientific notion of the complex operation. [34] In such operations, sensation, for the most part, makes an in- gredient. Those who do not attend to the complex nature of such operations, are a])t to resolve them into some one of the simple acts of which they are compounded, over- looking the others. And from this cause many disputes have been raised, and many errors have been occasioned with regard to the nature of such operations. The perception of external obiects is accompanied with some sensation corre- sponding to the object perceived, and such sensations have, in many cases, in all Ian- i^uages, the same name with the external object which they always accompany. The ditficulty of disjoining, by abstraction, things thus constantly conjoined in the course of nature, and things which have one and the same name in all languages, has likewise been frequently an occasion of errors in the philosophy of the mind. To avoid such errors, nothing is of more importance than to have a distinct notion of that simple act of the mind which we call sensation, and which we have endeavoured to describe. By this means, we shall find it more easy to distinguish it from every external object that it accompanies, and from every other act of the mind that may be conjoined with it. For tins purpose, it is likewise of import- ance that the name of aensathm should, in philosophical writings, be appropriated to signify this simple act of the mind, without including anything more in its signification, or being applied to other purposes. I shall add an observation concerning the word ftrlinff. This word has two mean ing.s. First, it signifies the perceptions we have of external olsjects, by the sense of touch. When we speak of feeling a body to be hard or soft, rough or smooth, hot or cold, to feel these things is to perceive them by touch. They are external things, and that act of the mind by which we feel them is easily distinguished from the objects felt. Secondly^ the word feeling is used to signify the same thino- as sensation, which we have 830 ON THE INTELLMCT0AL TOWEES. [essay !• CHAP. ii;i PRINCIPLES TAKEN FOR GRANTED. 231 ■ just BOW exiikined ; amd, in thin actiii©, it liM m oljeel; tlm fe«li»i and the thing fell mre one and the lame. [35| Perhapn hetwixl feeUng, lakin in this last icnae, and .ieniatiioii, thet© 'inay he^ this small difference, thai senwliiin is moit oom- iniinly nsed to signify those leelinM which WB liave hy onr external senses and bodily apiielites, and all oor hodilj pains and iiieMiirei.. But thsf© are fmmmfa of a ttoiinr ■matnw iattsompanylng onr affections, our moml jndgments, and our deterauna- tions in matters of tartc, to which the word MmMmUm^ m less ffOMr^y afifilied. I have f remised these ohservafioiis on the meaning of certain words that frequently occur in treating of this snhject, for two reasons r Fhni, That I may be. tlie better Mudewtoodwhenlnsethem; and, Shem^im That those who wonid 'inato any progiess in this branch of science, may accustom themselves to attend very carefdiy to the meaning of words that are need, k it. ^They may be asmned of this, that 'the ambigwty of words, imd'thevagneaml/lmproperniipli- cation of them, have thrown more darkness niMin this snbject than the subttlty and Intricacy of things.. When we nse coromon words, we ought to use them in the .sense in which they .are' most wmmoely nsed by tlie 'best and purest writers in the htngnage ; and, when, we have nccaaion to enlarge or restrict the meaning of a common word, or give it more precision tlian it has in common language, the reader ought to have warning of this, otherwise we sliiill i.m.posc upon ourselves and upon him. A very respectable writer has given a good eaample of this kind, by explaining, m an Appendix to his •* Elements of Criti- cism,'* the terms, he has oceaaion, to nsc. In that Appendix, most of the wowls are explainecl on which I have been making observations I and the explicatiim I liave given, I think, agrees, for the most part, with his. Other words that need explication, shall l»e explained as they occur. [36] CHAFTEE II. FEINCIFI..W T.%.K.«II FO* G.R.AMTlfc. Asthere' are wordscommonto philoso|ihers and to the vulgar, which, need no explica- tion, no there^are^pfindples: common to both, which need no proof, and which do not admit of direct proof. Oue who.applica to'anjhwinA.rfa«iw«f niisi. he come in. yeaia of 'imdeniaMii^i and, consennently, must have exercised^his reason, and the other powers of his mind, IB variona ways.. .Me muat have formed varimii. opmiona .and principle^ by which he I conducts himadf in the affaire of life. Of those principles, some are common to all men, being evident in themselves, andeci necessary in the conduct of life that a man cannot, live .and act according to the rules, of common prudence without them. All men that have common undemland* ing, agree in .such principles $ and 'Conalder a man .aa Inniitic or destitute of common sense, who denica or calls them in question. Thus, if any man were found of so strange a turn as not to believe his own eyes, to nut no trust in his senses, nor have the ieaat leprtl to their testimony, would any man think it worth while to reason gravely with such a person, and, by argument, to convince hhn of his error ? Surely no wise man wonl4 For, before men can reason together, they must agree in first principles; and it h impossible to reason with a man who has no principles in common with you* There are. therefore, common princlphss, which are the fonndation of all reasoning and of all science. Such common principles seldom admit of direct proof, nor do they need it Men need not to be taught them ; for they ate andi as all men tif [37] com- mon understanding know ; or such, at least, as they give a ready assent to, as soon as they are proposed and understood. Such prmciphss, when we have .occasion to urn them In science, are called axioms. And, although it be not a! solutely neces- sary, yet it may l>e of great use, to point lint tlie princii»les or axioms on which a science is gronntled. Thus, mathematicians, liefore they prove any of the propositions of mathematics, lay down certain axioms, or common princi- ples, upon which they build their reasoii- iiiira. And alihough those axioms be truths wfich every man knew before-such as. That the whole is greater than a part, That equal quantities added to equal quantities make equal sums; yet, when we see no* tiling assumed in the proof of mathematical prepoaitions, but such self-evident axioms, the pTOp» ,oiinBMtii:. (ifat lemmtetion^'t not mc of a mpw ■fcffle«liiFi»**«»<»»««'>»«y*'<» net ofif ate on tat a |f'dli«t,#iid,natii,r«lcaiiMtioii,— M., ^ LM, ■417 J jectures as these, Des Cartes could account for every phsenomenon in nature, in such a plausible manner as gave satisfaction to a great part of the learned world for more than half a century. [48] Such conjectures in philosophical matters have commonly got the name of hi/pnthesesj or theories,' And the invention of a hypo- thesis, founded on some slight probabilities, which accounts for many appearances of nature, has been considered as the liighest attainment of a philosopher. If the hypo- thesis hangs well together, is embellished by a lively imagination, and serves to ac- count for common appearances, it is con- sidered by many as having all the qualities that should recommend it to our belief, and all that ought to be required in a philo- sophical system. There is such proneness in men of genius to invent hypotheses, and in others to acquiesce in them, as the utmost which the human faculties can attain in philosophy, that it is of the last consequence to the pro- gress of real knowledge, that men should have a clear and distinct understanding of the nature of hypotheses in pliilosophy, and of the regard that is due to theni. Although some conjectures may have a considerable degree of probability, yet it is evidently in the nature of conjecture to be uncertain. In every case the assent ought to be proportioned to the evidence ; for to believe firmly what has but a small degree of probability, is a manifest abuse of our understanding. Now, though we may, in many cases, form very probable conjectures concerning the works of men, every conjec- ture we can form with regard to the works of God has as little probability as the con- jectures of a child with regard to the works of a man. The wisdom of God exceeds that of the wisest man, more than his wisdom exceeds that of a child. If a child were to conjec- ture how an army is to be formed in the day of battle— how a city is to be fortified, or a state governed — what chance has he to guess right ? As little chance has the wisest nun when he pretends to conjecture how the planets move in their courses, how the sea ebbs and flows, and how our nimds act upon our bodies. [49] If a thousand of the greatest wits that ever the world produced were, without any previous knowledge in anatomy, to sit down and contrive how, and by what internal organs, the various functions of the human body are carried on, how the blood is made to circulate and the limbs to move, they would not, in a thousand years, hit upon any- thing like the truth. Of all the discoveries that have been • See above, note ♦, p. Vl» b.— H. 48-50] made concerning the inward structure of the human body, never one was made by conjecture. Accurate observations of ana- tomists have brought to light innumerable artifices of Nature in the contrivance of this machine of the human body, which we can- not but admire as excellently adapted to their several purposes. But the most saga- cious physiologist never dreamed of them till they were discovered. On the other hand, innumerable conjectures, formed in ditl'erer.t ages, with regard to the structure of the body, have been confuted by obser- vation, and none ever confirmed. What we have said of the internal struc- ture of the human body, may be said, with justice, of every other part of the works of God, wherein any real discovery has been made. Such discoveries have always been made by patient observation, by accurate J experiments, or by conclusions drawn by j strict reasoning from observations and ex- periments ; and such discoveries have always tended to refute, but not to confirm, the theories and hypotheses which ingenious men have inveiited. As this is a fact confirmed by the history of philosophy in all past ages, it ought to have taught men, long ago, to treat with just contempt hypotheses in every branch of philosophy, and to despair of ever ad- vancing real knowledge in that way. The Indian phik)sopher, being at a loss to know how the earth was supported, invented the hypothesis of a huge elephant ; and this elephant he supposed to stand upon the back of a huge tortoise. This hypothesis, however ridiculous it appears to us, might seem very reasonable [50] to other Indians, who knew no more than the inventor of it ; and the same will be the fate of all hypo- theses invented by men to account for the works of God. They may have a decent and plausible appearance to those who are not more knowing than the inventor ; but, when men come to be more enlightened, they will always appear ridiculous and childish. This has been the case with regard to hy}>otheses that have been revered by the most enlightened part of mankind for hun- dreds of years ; and it will always be the case to the end of the world. For, until the wisdom of men bear some proportion to the wisdom of God, their attempts to nnd out the structure of his works, by the force of their wit and genius, will be vain. The finest productions of human art are immensely short of the meanest works of Nature. The nicest artist cannot make a feather or the leaf of a tree. Human workmanship will never bear a comparison with divine. Conjectures and hypotheses are the invention and the workmanship ui men, and must bear proportion to the capa- I ox THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [essay city Mid aktil of' Ae inventor; -and, tliiffe. filk will alwsj* be very tinlilie lo the wmm 'OT Ooii, which it ia^ the bwiiinw of philoaophy to discover. Th« wiM haa been sO' long befooled, by hy^otheaea .in. aM 'pvta of phtloaopliy, thai it IS of tho iiiiwwt mmm%imam to ovtiy man who would 'imlo Hi.y prktmn in rcal^ knowledge) to treat them with just eon- tempt, as the reveriea of vain and fanciful meiiyWlMae' pride makea^them. oomseiveihem- aelvea able to' nnfold th« nyiteriea of miiire' by the force of their gnnine. A. learned: 'msn, in an epistle to Bes Cartes, has the follow- ing 'Obaervaiion,. which vmtf mneh 'deserved, the' sttentioa 'Of ' tliat ph.ilosophcr, and of all that cmnie' aller Mm. s~** when. men,, sit- tin| in their eloset, and consulting only their booics,att«mi»t,diac|iiiaitions into nature, they may, indeed^ iiM.. mm they' wonld. have rawdo' the world,, if Ctod had .given, them 'that in eommiarion ; that ;ii, 'they may deieribt' [51] diimetaa,. which correspond with, the imbeeiity of their own minda, no leas than 'the admimhle beauty of the nniverao' eor-' lesponda with the ininite 'peifeetlim of its Creator; but without an nnderstau'ding truly divine, they can never form such an idea to themselves as the Deity had. in ereating things.** Let U8, therefore, lay dO'Wn this as m fundamental principle in our inquiries into the structure of the mind and its opera- tioot— that .no regatd is d.ue totheeonjec- tnreS' or 'hypotheses of pMlosophen, 'how- ever ancient, however generaliy :r«oei.ved. 'Lei US accustom ourselves to try every opinion by the tonehstone of fact and ex- porienee. What can. fairly b© 'diid.aced. from, facts duly observed, or snlieiently at-' tested, is genuine and pure ; it is the voice of 'God, and .no ictioB of human imigina- tion* 'The first mU of philoafmliialng laid:'down by 'the great .H ewton, 'is 'tbia t^Cmmm' re- rmm mUmr&iiwtif fum p/um adkmiid dehert, fnan fiiiv el verm »mit et mtmm phmm mmi» ejtpiimmiiiB muffktami. **No more cansea, nor any other causes of natu.ral eSects, ought to be admitted, but such as ani' both tme^ and are' sufiicieiit for ei. plaining their appearances/* Thiaisagolden rale ; it is the true and proper test, by wh.ich what is sound and aolM in fbioso* phy may be distingnialied. from what^ it hol- low and vain.* If a phihuophflr, thefeliie, 'pntMidS' to' shew us the' eansO' of any .nitinl effect, whether 'rekting to 'nmttor or to m.ind, let 'US irst eonaider w.hetlier there ia sufficient • Fur 'I: hla fulv we wm imC ladMiMl to lit«t:oii, II it only tlM' ttm laW'iif Mifrtiiiim. 'tiMl: tliat mtti^p. MMif cxpvMiffL For. In iMr |iMln iMmliiai Hie wniift'**' fff iwnt'.irtif * wwftditwliiit' i m wlial Mlmni m ••■iMiiiui.n.'( SMI lae mne .vitie'.a..|pipan. iwi mW i 'M« evidence that the cause ha assigns doaa really exiat If there is not, reject it with diadaiB, as a fiction which ought to lt»ve no plaee In genuine' 'phUnaophy. If the cause assigned really exiata, eonaider, in the next p]ai% whether the efi'ect it is brought to •xphin neeesaarily followa from it. Un- ites it has these two conditions, it Is good for nothings When Newton had shewn the admirable effects of gravitation in our planetary sys- tem, he must have felt a atrong desiie to know [Ii2| its cause. He could have in- vented H liypothesis for this purpose, as many had done before him. But his phi- losophy waS' of another 'Complexion. Let ns hear what he nyS': MMmiem kamm gramtath pritprieiatttm rjr phataomenis iwn pt^mi deducefs, §t hypotheses non fingo, Quiiqtn'l enim em'*§^m§meak non dtfduct- imr kjfpoikmk wommda §»t £i h^p&ihmeM^ «ra. meimfkpAm^. mu phifskmf &en ^ nali/n- ium OfniZ/ainim, wu mrchmnca, in phiioso* phm ■§9penMeaimii iocum won habeni. CH.A.PTE'R IV. nr AlfALOGV. It 'is natural to men to judm of thuigs less known, by some similitude they oli- serve, or think they observe, between them and things more familiar or better known. In many^caaea, we have no better way of judging. And, where the things conipared have really a great similitude in their na- ture, wlien there ia reason to think that they are subieet to the same .laws, there may be a eonaiderable degree of probabiity in con- clusions' drawn from analogy. Thus, we may observe a very great si- militude between this earth which we in- habit, and the other planets, Saturn, Ju- piter, Mars, Yenua, and Mercury. They all revolve round the sun, as the earth does, although at different distances and in different periods. They borrow all their l^ht friim. tiw 'Sun, aa^ the earth does. Several. 'Of 'tiiem are 'knowii'to revolve round their axis like the earth, and, by that means, must have a like succession of day and sight* Some of them have mooii% that mum to .give them light in the absence of 'the am., m our mioon ahnilitiide between, a dead animal and a Imng, :is aa gvoit as that between a balance and a man. The eoneluaion I would draw from all thai, has been said, on analogy, is, 'that, in our 'inquiries eoneeming thC' mind and its opemtbns, we ought never to trust to 'rea* sonings drawn from some supposed simili- tude of body to mhid ;. and that we ought 'to be^ very much 'upon our gnaid liiat< we bC' not imposed upon by those anaiogieal terms, and. phrases, by wh.ich the operations fif the mind are expressed in all hinguages. [57] CU'A'ISWD 'If • This WuitiatiMi It ■peciatlf awietatfd with JcMumtt BNflitMiiMk • ccictyrated HflnliMluL of thii lltb ctnnifv, aiMl.'eiie4ir'tli0. aeitlcte wmmmM on tiie gmt: fUMtloii or awtsi 'IflMilf *. THe mipiMMttiiMi of the «N.. Jfcts.f it not, liii«ew«r. m I liiivt iitiiMrlwd* to lie 'tNiiMl In bit writlsp. ]MitiMlt'Wit>ocailr MlvaMfli 111 d:itpitiAiii«..or In lectiiiing, at m tx. ■■'■■' ■ ""■ " * itaism i ptftUfM It ~" tiMe lo Hilf. IgUit vwwa. a tiwisi'lMiiiilioii of tfc ptinSiaiii. if' ew ' ■MMiMm f!italltti.'Wm, at. wo liitte'tec% Mfiiloiiily' fMif ci 'Iqr Ifiifk .fkieod .ami kintmaii. Pr Jsnat. '©Wforjf.— H, aavanccn in a:iapiiiiHHni«. .or m ibccim-imk* .■afleii|.illiM:ifalion .of' bw Dctcnalaisin : wni' laailMoi. Iif ' :iitt ofnononti ■§ an I 'iiiim''iiaiilMiilae. tO'ioturditf.. WWi' QW THB PKOPBR MBAieS Of KNOWING THB OrSRATION'S O'r TH.a MIND. SiNCB we 'Ought to fiay no rmrd to hypo- tliesas, and. to 'be ^tty 'Bnspi.elous of analo- gical reasoning, it may be asked, From wliat source must the knowledge of the mind and itB.|kcnlties be .d.ni.w'n ? I answer, the eh.ief' .and proper source of this braieh of .knowledge ;is accurate 'leieo- tion upon tie operations ot our own minila. Of this source we shall speak more fullyi aftor making some .romarks upon two others that 'may be sibiervieiit to it. The fi.r8t .of 'them. .iS' attention to the structure of Ian* HllftlM* The language of mankind is expressive of their thoughts, and of the various openi- tious of 'their minds. The 'various opera- tions of the undertitandiug, will, and pas- sions* which are common to mankind, liave various forms nf speech corresponding to tbeni in all languages, which are the signs of them, .and hy which they are expressed : And a due attention to the signs may, in many cases, give comidemble light to the things signified by them. There am in all languages modes of speech, by which men signify their judg- ment, or give their testimony: by which they accept or refuse ; by which they ask information or advice ; by which they com- 'mand, or threaten, or supplicate ; by which they flight their faith in promises or con^ tracts. If such oprations were not com* mon to mankind, we should not find in all languages forms of speech, by which they aK' ex'pressed.. All languages, indeed, have their imper- fections — they can never be ade<|uate to all the varieties of human thought ; and tliere- foro things may be really distinct in their nature, and capable of being distinguished by the human mind, which are not distin- gnUied. [M], in 'Commnn language. We can 'Only •ipeet, 'in the Htructore of languages, those distinctions which all mankind in the common business of life have occasion to 'make. Then may be'peeuliaritica in a particular hingnage, of the' causes, of wh'ich we are ignumnt, and from which, therefore, we can draw no conclusion. But v\ hatever we fintf common to all hugnngas, must have a com* mon eause.s mnst 'be owing to some eoir mon notion or sentiment of the human mind.. We gave some examples 'of this 'before, and shall hero add another. All hinguages have a plural number .in 'many of their nouns ; from which we may infer that all men baft motions, not of mdividual things rS6'— <5SJ • only, but of attributes, or things which are common to many individuals ; for uo indi- vidual can have a plural number. Another source of information in this subject, is a due attention to the course of human actions and conduct. The actions of men are effects ; their sentiments, their passions, and their affections, are the causes of those effects ; and we may, in many eases, form a judgment of the cause from the effect. The behaviour of parents towards their children gives sufficient evidence even to those who never had children, that the parental affection is common to mankind. It is easy to see, from the general conduct of men, what are the natural objects of their esteem, their admiration, their love, their approbation, their resentment, and of all their other original dispositions. It is obvious, from the conduct of men in all ages, that man is by his nature a social animal ; that he delights to associate with his species ; to converse, and to exchange good offices with them. Not only the actions, but even the opi- nions of men may sometimes give lip:iit into the frame of the human mind. The opinions of men may be considered as the effects of their intellectual powers, [59] as their actions are the effects of their active principles. Even the prejudices and errors of mankind, when ihey are general, must have some cause no less general ; the dis- covery of whicli will throw some light upon the frame of the human understanding. I conceive this to be the principal use of the history of philosophy. When we trace the history of the various philosophical opin- ions that have sprung up among thinking men, we are led into a labyrinth of liiuciful opinions, contradictions, and absunlities, intermixed with some truths ; yet we may sometimes find a clue to lead us through the several windings of this labyrinth. We may fkid that point of view which presented things to the author of the system, in the liyht in which they appeared to him. This will often give a consistency to things seem- ingly contradictory, and some degree of probabiUty to those that appeared most iuiciful.* The history of philosophy, considered as a map of the intellectual operations of men of genius, must always be entertainhig, and may sometimes give us views of the human understanding, which could not easily be had any other way. I return to what I mentioned as the mam source of information on this subject— at- tentive reflection upon the operations of our own minds. All the notions we have of mitui and of its operations, are, by Mr Locke, calletl ideas of rtjlection.* A man may have as distinct notions of remembrance, of judg- ment, of will, of desire, as he has of any object whatever. Such notions, as Mr Locke justly observes, are got by the power of reflection. But what is this power of reflection ? " It is," says the same author, " that power by which the mind turns its view inward, and observes its own actions and operations." He observes elsewhere, *'Tliat the understanding, like the eye, whilst it makes us see and perceive all [GO] other things, takes no notice of itself; and that it requires art and pains to set it at a distance, and make it its own oltject." Cicero hath expressed this sentiment nK)st beautifully. Tusc. 1. 28. This power of the understanding to make its own operations its object, to attend to them, and examine them on all sides, is the power of reflection, by which alone we can have any distinct notion of the powers of our own or of other minds. This reflection ought to be distinguished from consciousness, with which it is too often confounded, even by Mr Locke. All men are conscious of the operations of their own minds, at all times, while they ar3 awake ; but there are few who reflect upon them, or make them objects of thought. From infancy, till we come to the years of understanding, we are employed solely about external objects. And, although the mind is conscious of its operations, it does not attend to them ; its attention is turned solely to the external objects, about which those ojierations are employed. Thus, when a man is angry, he is conscious of his pas- • •• Fvery error, •bmcd."— U. •• aayi Bonnet. •' U • tnith sion; but his attention is turned to the person who offended him, and the circum- stances of the offence, while the passion of anger is not in the least the object of his attention. 1 conceive this is sufficient to shew the difference between consciousness of the operations of our minds, and reflection upon them ; and to shew that we may have the former without any degree of the latter. The difference between consciousness and reflection, is like to the difference between a superficial view of an object which pre- sents itself to the eye while we are engaged about something else, and that attentive examination which we give to an object when we are wholly employed in surveying it. Attention is a voluntary act; it re- quires an active exertion to begin and to continue it, and it may be continued as long as we will; but consciousness [61 1 is • Locke is not (aa Reid seems to think, and w >!* Stewart expressly says) the first who introduced Re. f ection either as a ps^chologiral term, or a !>s|Cllol» gical principle. See Note I — H- I I 111 1 210 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. Fessat i« CHIP.- VI.] OPERATIONS OF THE MIND. 241 iiivc»liirataij and of no contiuumice, diangtof with every tliotiglit. Tli« power of reflection ifMiii the oper- ations of their own minds, does not appear at Ml in ehUdren. Men niiist be eome to aome ripen.e8S of understiindiiig^ Wore' they are capaUeof it Of all the powers of the human mind, it seems to lie the last that unfolds itself. Must men seem incapable of acquiring it in any eonsideraMe degree. Like all our other powers, it is greatly im- proved by exercise; and antU a mu ha. got the hahit of attending to the operations of liis own mind, he can never have elear and distinct notions of them, nor form any steady Judgment conceniinf them. His opinions must be borrowed uom others, hlii notions confused and indistinct, and he may etsil J l>e led to swallow verj' grout mbsurd- itiei. To acquire' thk habit, is^ a work of time and labour, even in those who begin it early, and whose natural talents are toler- ablir itted for it ; but the difficulty will bo daily dtniinishiug, and the advantage of it is great. 'They will, tbereby, be enabled to think with precision and accuracy on every subject, especially on those subjects that are more abstmct. They will be able to judge for thcmselvea in many important points, wherein oAert must Mindly follow a leader. CHAPTER VL OP THE DIPFICULTV OF ATTKKMHO «l THl "yPSKATIOXS OF OUB OWN MI'MK. Till difficulty of attending to our mental opecations, ought to be well understood, and justly estimated, by those who would make any progress in this science | 'tihattliey naiy neither, on the one hand, expect^ ■uMess^ withont pains and application of thought ; nor, on the other, be {lt8Coura|cd, by con- eetvipg tliat' the obetaeies that te in the way an insii'perablei and that there is no 'Cer- tainly to be attained in it I shall, there- fore, endeavour to point [62] out the otiises of this difficulty, and the eiects that have a^risen from it,, that we may be able to forai a true jndgiMit of both. 1. 'The Bomber and f|uick snccemion of the operations of the mind, make it difficult to give du' attmtion. to tham. It is well known that,, if a great number of obj- ets Iw presented in. i|tiick .sueceesion.. even to the eye, they are confounded in the memory .and imagination. We retain a confu^'eil notion of Ae wholci and .a imvi' cnnlwcd^ one of the several parts, especially if they are' objects to whidi. we have never before' given particular attention. No succemion can be more qaiek than that of thought. The mind is busy while 'w« are awake, cou* tinually pasting from one thought and one operation to another. The scene is Cfin- stantly shifting. Every man will be sen* tible c»f this, who tries but for one minute to keep the same thought in hm imagination, without addition or variation. He will find it impossible to keep the scene of his imagin- ation fixed. Other objects will intrude, without being called, and all be can do is to reject these intruders as quickly at possible, and return to his principal object 2. In this exercise, we go contrary to habits which have been early acquired, and confirmed by long unvaried practice. From infancy, we are accustomed to attend to objects of sense, and to them only ; and, when sensible objects have got such strong bold of the attention by confirmed habit, it it not easy to dispottess them. When we grow up^ a variety of external O'bjects Boliclt» our attention, excites our curiosity, engages our affections, or touches our pas- sinus ; and tbt constant round of employ- ment, about external objects, draws off the mind from attending to itself; so that nothing is more just than the observation of Mr Locke, before mentioned, " That tlio understanding, like the eye, while it sur- veys all the objects around it, commonly takes no notice of itself.** 3. Tlie operations of the mhid, from tbcir very nature, lead the mind to give its atten- tion to some other object. Our sensations, [ffl] as will Ije shewn aflerwards, are natu- ral signs, and turn our attention to the things signified bv them ; so much tlmt most of them, and tbote' the most .frequent and faraiiar, have no name in any langnaige. In pereeptinn, memory, judgment, inuguiatton, and reasoning, there it an object dwtuict from the operation itself; and, while we are led by a itnmg iinpulte to attend to the object, tlM 'Operation 'flieapeS' nmr notice. Our paataona, affectiont, and all our active powers, have, in like manner, their objects which engrott our attention, and divert :it from th« 'paition Itself. 4. To this we may udd a just observation made by Mr Huine, That, when the mind is agitated by any passion, as soon as wo turn, our altentinn. from, the object to the pastinn itself, the 'passion tubsidet or van- ishes, any p«i«Wt la and Uiioug h SS'Olh«iiiiid.lh«touf|«ycliptoteaI,anali^ iWiMit, aiir»il ii«a»»«'.-l"*' ^ ^_ [67, 681 It may be observed that, without appre- hension of the objects concerning which we judge, there can be no judgment ; as little can there be reasoning without both apprehension and judgment : these three operations, therefore, are not independent of each other. The second includes the lirst, and the third includes both the first and second; but the first may be exer- cised without either of the other two." It is on that account called simple apprehen. sion ; that is, apprehension unaccompanied with any judgment about the object appre- hended. This simple apprehension of an object is, in common lanj-uage, called having a notioHy or having a conception of the ob- ject, and by late authors is called having an idea of if. In speaking, it ia expressed by a word, or by a part of a proposition, without that composition and structure which makes a complete sentence; as a man, a man of fortune. Such words, taken by themselves, signify simple apprehen- sions. They neither afiirm nor [69] deny ; tliey imply no judgment or opinion of the thing signified by them; and, therefore, cannot be said to be either true or false. The second operation in this division is judgment ; in which, say the philosophers, there must be two objects of thought com- pared, and some agreement or disagree- ment, or, in general, some rektion discerned between them ; in consequence of which, there is an opinion or belief of that relation which we discern. This operation is ex- pressed in speech by a proposition, in which some rektion between the things compare*! is affirmed or denied i as when we say, All men are fallible. Truth and falsehood are qualities which bek.ng to judgment only; <.r to proposi- tions by which judgment is exfiressed. Every judgment, every opinion, and every proposition, is either true or false. But words which neither aftirm nor deny any- thing, can have neither of those qualitie« ; and the same may be said of simple api»re- hensions, which are signified by such word?'. The third operation is reasoning; in which, from two or more judgments, we draw a conclusion. This division of our intellectual powers corresponds perfectly with the account com- monly given by philosophers, of the suc- cessive steps by which the mind proceeds in the acquisition of its knowledge ; ^vhiilt are these three : First, By the senses, or by other means, it is furnished witli various o This l«inot correc-t. Apprehension ia a- impo«- tible without judgment, s-s ludgment i« mpo-wMi- Without apprehension The ii|)prel>enfioii ot a thing or notion, is only realised in the mintal attirmatiori that Xhe concept ideally exists, and thi.« affirmation is a judgment. In fact, all cunsdousnets *up|)o»»ei» a Juiigment. as all conicioiwncss luppoMt a discnmina. tion^^H rfi9-7l] simple apprehensions, notions, or ideas* These are the materials which nature gives it to work upon ; and from the simple ideas it is furnished with by nature, it forms various others more complex. Secondly, By comparing its ideas, and by perceiving their agreements and disagreements, it forms its judgments. And, Lastly, From two or more judgments, it deduces con- clusions of reasoning. Now, if all our knowledge is got by a procedure of this kind, [70) certainly the threefold division of the powers of under- standing, into simple apprehension, judg- ment, and reasoning, is the most natural and the most proper that can be devised. This theory and that division are so closely connected that it is diflicult to judge which of them has given rise to the other ; and they must stand or fall together. But, if all our knowledge is not got by a process of this kind— if there are other avenues of knowledge besides the comparing our ideas, and perceiving their agreements and disagreements— it is probable that there may be operations of the understanding whicli cannot be properly reduced under any of the three that have been explained. Let us consider some of the most familiar operations of our minds, and see to which of the three they belong. I begui with consciousness. 1 know that I think, and this of all knowledge is the most certain. Is that operation of my mind which gives me this certain knowledge, to be called simple apprehension ? No, surely. Simple apprehension neither afiirms nor denies. It will not be said that it is by reason- ing that I know that I think. It re- mains, therefore, that it must be by judg- ment—that is, according to the account given of judgment, by comparing two ideas, and perceiving the agreement between them. But what are the ideas compared ? Tliey nmst be the idea of myself, and tlie idea of thought, for they are the terms of the proposition / think. According to tins acct»unt, then, first, 1 have the idea ot my- self and the idea of thought ; then, by com- paring these two ideas, 1 perceive that I tliiidv. Let any man who is capable of rt^lflection judge for himself, whether it ih I. van o| dera- tion tif this kind that he comes to he con- vinced that he thinks ? To lue it appears evident, that the conviction 1 have that I tliink, is not got in this way ; and, tlierefore, 1 conclude, either that consciousness is not judgment, or that jmlgment is not rightly .leHned to be the perception of some agree- ment 01 disagrecnifut between two ukas. Tlie perception of an object by my senses is another operation pr«li»8ioii, .tin. pnnaitil. iif tiM tsittaiMe of tht oljcet M nmeii. m I cduld 'be hy demon* atnUion. It m not |i%non% if hj jwig- nent lie' meiint the eompiiring IMS, and penseivmg tlieir f^greements or diaagree- ■lenta.. II is not ittMinmg ,< IwcaiiM thoeo irlio 'eannot nuon. can |wneiire. I ind IIm 'laiiie diil:eilt j in clustng me- mory under any of the operations men- tioned. Thero' is not a more fruitful eouree of error in tlm hrmA of pMloiopliy, tlian dimionsoftMngswMeharetaLi'tolM. eomplete when they are not really so. To inalie a perfect division, of any class of tilings, a man ought to tiaire the wliole under his view at once. But the gnatcil capacity very often is not sufficient for this. Something is left out which did not come under the philoiopher*s view when he made his division : and to suit this to the division, it must be made what nature never made it. This has been so common a fault of philosophers, that one who would avoid error ought to be suspicious of divi- sions, though long received, and of great authority, especially when they are grounded on a theory that may be called in question. In a subject im^perfeetly known, we ought not to pretend tO' perfeet divisions, but tc leave room for men additions or alterations as a more perfect view of the subject may afterwards suggest. I shall not," therefore, attempt a eom- plete enuineratioii of the powers of the hu- man understanding. I shall only mention those which I propose to explain ; and they arO' the following : — Iff, The powers we 'have by means of our external senses.. 'fi%, Memoir}*. Skify, Conception. 4lAlf, The powers of resolv- ing and analysing complex objects, and compounding 'thoM' 'that' ^an nore simple^ &tkfy. Judging, ililpi, Beasoninf. liiiijf* Taste. 8lMw, Moml Perception ;* and, Imi '#f .ally Consciousnesat [72] CHAPTEH VIII. or MCIAI. OFMATIONS OP If Wn. TfiSBB is another division of the powers perations, as well as our soeial alTections, appear very early in life, before we are ci|iable of reasoning ; yet both suppose m conviction of the exist- ence of other intelligent beings. When a child asks a qnestinn of his nurse, this act • •• lisn," Mjt Aristotle, •• if. l»y nature, m- re IMilllfsl tluil any lire or ant.'* And, in anntlifr wnt'k., •*' Wim tst'm"«i>ettit tMnff to mait"— 4»tfew' I 72, 73] of his mind supposes not only a desire to know what he asks ; it supposes, likewise, a conviction that the nurse is an intelligent tieing, to whom he can communicate his thoughts, and who can communicate her thoughts to him. How he came by this conviction so early, is a question of some importance in the knowledge of the human mind, and, therefore, worthy of the con- sideration of philosophers. But they seem to have given no attention, either to this early conviction, or to those operations of mind which suppose it. Of this we shall have occasion to treat afterwards. All languages are fitted to express the social as well as the solitary operations of tlw mind. It may indeed be affirmed, that, to express the former, is the primary and direct intention of language. A man who had no intercourse with any other intelli- gent being, would never think of language. He would be as mute as the beasts of the field; even more so, because they have some degree of social intercourse with one another, and some of them [74] with man. When language is once learned, it may be ubeful even in our solitary meditations ; and by clothing our thoughts with words, we niay have a firmer liold of them. But this was not its first intention ; and the structure of every language shews that it is not intended solely for this purpose. In every knguage, a question, a com- mand, a promise, which are social acts, can he expressed as easily and as properly as judgment, which is a solitary act. The ex- pression of the last has been honoured with a particular name ; it is called a proposition ; it has been an object of great attention to pliilosophers ; it has been analysed into its very elements of subject predicate, and co- pula. All the various modifications of these, and of propositions which are compounded of them, have been anxiously examined in many voluminous tracts. The expression of a question, of a command, or of a pro- mise, is as capable of being analysed as a proposition is ; but we do not find that this has been attempted ; we have not so much as given them a name diiferent from the operations which they express. Why have speculative men laboured so anxiously to analyse our solitary operations, and given so little attention to the social ? I know no other reason but this, that, in the divisions that have been made of the mind's operations, the social have been omitted, and thereby thrown behind the curtain. In all languages, the second person of verbs, the pronoun of the second person, and the vocative case in nouns, are appropriated to the expression of social operations of mind, and could never have had place in language but for this purpose : nor is it a good argument against this observation, that, by a rhetorical figure, we sometimes address persons that are absent, or even inaiiimated beings, in the second person. For it ought to be remembered, that all figurative ways of using words or phrases suppose a natural and literal meaning of them.* [7^] » What, tliroughout this chapter, is implied, ought to have been explicitly stated— that language it natu- raltoinan; and consequently l he faculty ot speech ought to have been enumerated among the mental puwer(t.— H. I ESSAY 11. OF THE POWERS WE HAVE BY MEANS OF OUR EXTERNAL SENSES. CHAPTER I. OF THE ORGANS OF SKNSB. Of all the operations of our minds, the perception of external objects is the most familiar. The senses come to maturity even in infancy, when other powers have not yet sprung up. They are common to us with brute annuals, and furnish us with the objects about which our other powers are the most frequently employed. We find it easy to attend to their operations ; and, because they are familiar, the names which properly belong to them are applied [7i. 75] to other powers which are thought to re- semble them. For these reasons, they claim to be first considered. The perception of external objects is one main link of that mysterious chain which connects the material world with the intel- lectual We shall find many things m this operation unaccountable ; sufficient to con- vince us that we know but little of our own frame ; and that a perfect comprehension of our mental powers, and t)f the manner of their operation, is beyond the reach of our understanding. In perception, there are impressions upon the organs of sense, the nerves, and brai% 916 ON THE INTILLECTUAL POWERS. £eS8AV lit whlcli, hy the laws nf 4iiir nature, mm M" lowed by certain oferations of minii. These two thngii' aw ii|it' to be 'eeafouiidiii. i but oilglit 'iWMit eaicfuUj to be 'dittingiiiBbdl Some philoaopbera, without good reason, liave eoneluded, that the |76] impfeeakn made on 'tho bodj aiO' the proper eSeient cause' 4if pereeptbn. Others, with as tittle reason, have coneluded. that imprttisiciiis.are made on the mind similar to those made on the body. From these mistakes many others Mm mmm- The wipof mtioiiB'. wma hme itahly taken up with, nspii. to the 'lOMs, 'have led to wrong' notmis with ngnid. to other powers whieh are conceived to resemble them. Miiny important powem of mmd .kim eipeeiitlly uf kte, been called, internal mrnL, imm * supponed resembhwce to the external— «nch as, the sense of beauty, the senie of harmony, the moral sense.* And it is to be' apprehended, that errors, with regard, to the external, have, fromanahwy, led to similar errors with regard to the internal ; it is, therefore, of some ooiiee- ^nence, even with regard to other branches of onr nubjeet, to have just notions coocern- in» the eitemal senses. In order to this, we shall begin with some observations on the oi^^ans of sense, and on the impressiona which in perception are made upon them, and upon the nerves and Wt .p§ntiiM fiiffl eaeieraM <%*«! &ui b§ mmmg iif eeriain bodiig Offfans which Gtid km ftvem w /or that ■purpG^ie*. The 8u- ;|irenie Being who niado' us, .and plaeed ns^ m. tiiis worlii^. bath .givoi us sueh 'powers of mind as he saw 'to be suited to ouT' state and rank in his creation. .Me lias^ given 'US the power of perceiving maiyoMeeta around IS— the sun, moon, and stai% the enrlh. and ica,, awl. a variety of' animals, vegetaUes, and. inanimate bod.ies. .But our power of perceiving these objects is limited in various 'Ways, and partieuliirly in 'this— that, with- out the organs of the sc'veml senses, we perceive no external object. Wo cannot Le without eyes, nor heii^ without ears ; it is .net' 'Onlj memmuj that «t should have these ofgitnsy. 'bat 'that, they should b«' In. a sound awi' 'nalmsai statoi. TImM' .ai«' many disorders of the eye tliat muse total, 'bltnd- nass I others that imptr the powers of vi- sion, 'Without' 'destroying it .al.tofether t and the siaM may be said 'Of the mgmB ^of all. thooiharsittM. {71] .M'iiiiS' IS so well known from 'experience, thai 'it needs no proof; 'but it onglit' to 'be 'OhsenradL, 'tlial we know 'it Ikoni' eiperienM' only., 'wo can give mo.^9timm for It, but that such is the will of our Maker. Mo .man 'Can shew it to be. impossible to tlie < ..Baittg' tO' imve given us. the'powct"of perceiving external objects without suchor« giBSt* We have reason to believe that, when wo put off these bodies, and all. the organs beli.ingi.ng to thero, our peneptivo 'powofs shall lather be improved than destroyed or Impired. We have reason to believe that the SuptiM Being perceives everything in a m.ueh. 'imire perfect .manner than we do, without bodi'ly organs. We have reason t«i believe that there are other created beings endowed with powers of perception mo» pO'rfect and 'more 'extensive than ours, with* out any such organs »s we find necessary. We ought not, therefore, to conclude, nature, necessary to perception ; but rather that, by the will of God, our power of per- ceiving external objects is limited and cir^ eumscribed by our organs of sense; so that we perceive objects in a eertain manner, and in certain circumstances, and in no otber.-f If a man was shut up in a dark room, so lliat he could see nothing but through one small hole in the shutter of a winduw, would, ho 'Conelude that tbe hole was the cause of' his seeing, and 'that it is impos- sible to see anv otlier way ? Perhaps, if he had never in his life seen but in this wn|% be might be apt to think so; but the coii- clusion. is:nish .and ^groundless. He sees, because 'Ood. has given him tbe power of seeing ; and he sees only through this small hole, because his power of seeing iscircum- «:ribed by hnpediLents on all other hands. Another .neeessary 'Caution in this matter is, that we oupht not to confound the or- gani of perception with the being that per^ eeivea Perception must be the act of some being that perceives. Tlie eye [78] is not that which sees; it is only the organ by which we me,t The ear is not that which hears, but the organ by which we hear ; and so of the rest.-§ A man cannot see the satellites of Jupiter but by a telescope. Does. he eonelndefrom this, that it is the telescope that sees those stars ? By no meana!— such a conclusion would be absurd. It is no less absurd to '9 Howevcff ntmifililsc*. tl 'li. 'MVW' pMwvl Mjfond all rallMis] «lfiiilit,tli.iii,lii cen:ita .ilnMimiaii ttaim fiT the netvmii miimlittii. percciitiont an puMiiit, lliromgli. ntlitr 'than the ordtiwry dianncli of tlie f lilt doetrine ot 'Rato .and. nT many other fihi. leiopntvt* Reid mf Mi aowefci't to liaw wud.,. mHntmmt iiMMaii IN "* qp mw af^gMM i|f tfiMVi^ nMr, irttielwdy be 'Vlrwad m tli* primm. tii fbt Mml, the mmm muit te vlawtil. at toa»t ai part:l«l outleta.— H. I Ali^tmkum, mm JMiA/tMif . rays PtatOi followed by a bMfc oi pbioKiplitin, ooin|iari'iig tlw fcnact 'lO' vliMMiwi of 'ilie iii.inil*'"" li.» I ** Ib'tniM iii%**iip Efrieharaiua— ^ the mind heart, allcto' li'dnr.a>id 'bUn.d"— a .layiiiii alluded to ■iblal by Aristotle. In a iMMag* to the Mint wilcfi can.iiot adtquattly Iw Iraiitlatcd f^i ...Am Mtinri* Mm»imf$ mmMmi itwrnSf^mm ivm m^mg mmtm wk Nit Igft ««i ti'i i s • li • J. Wtbat amapi. 'Hit ioiMitntiitora*— H. »««-.. M7'«.ii.. [76-781 CHAP. II.] OF IMPRESSIONS ON THE ORGANS, &c. 247 conclude that it is the ey*s that sees, or the ear that liears. Tlie telescope is ati artificial organ of sight, but it sees not The eye is a natural organ of sight, by which we see ; but the natural organ sees as little as the artificial. The eye is a machine nii«>t admirably contrived for refracting the rays of light, and forming a distinct picture of objects upon the retina; but it sees neither the object nor the picture. It can form the picture after it is taken out of the head ; but no vision ensues. Even when it is in its proper place, and perfectly sound, it is well known tluit an obstruction in the optic nerve takes away vision, though the eye has performed all tliat be'nni^s to ic. If anything more were necessary to be said on a point so evident, we might ob- serve that, if the faculty of seeing were in the eye, that of hearing in the ear, and so of the liig on this head that had not no laM befuit him by the Orcck |ihllo«io|ihcis.— H. [7t, 807 which some impression is made upon the organ." The effluvia of bodies drawn into the nostrils with the breath, are the niediuui of smell ; the undulations of the air are tli«* medium of hearing ; and the rays of light passing from visible objects to the eye, are the medium of sight. We see no object unless rays of light come from it to the eye. We hear not the sound of any body, unless the vibrations of some elastic medium, oc- casioned by the tremulous motion of the sounding body, reach our ear. We per- ceive no smell, unless the effluvia of tlie smelling body enter into the nostrils. Wo perceive no taste, unless the sapid body bo applied to the tongue, or some part of the organ of taste. Nor do we perceive any tangible quality of a body, unless it touch the hands, or some part oi' our bodies. These are facts known from experience to hold universally and invariably, both in men and brutes. By this law of our na- ture, our powers of perceiving external ob- jects, are iartlier limited and circumscribed. Nor can we give any other reason for tliis, than [80] that it is the will of our Maker, who knows best what powers, and what degrees of them, are suited to our state. We were once in a state, I mean in the womb, wherein our powers of perception were more limited than in the present, and, in a future state, they may be more enlarj^^ed. It is likewise a law of our nature, that, in order to our perceiving objects, the im- pressions made upon the organs of sense must be communicated to the nerves, and by them to the brain. This is perfectly known to those who know anything of ana- tomy. The nerves are fine cords, which pass from the brain, or from the spinal marrow, which is a production of the brain, to all parts of the body, dividing into smaller branches as they [jroceed, until at last they escape our eyesight : and it is found by experience, that all the voluntary and in- voluntary motions of the body are performed by their means. When the nerves that serve any limb, are cut, or tied hard, we have then no more power to move that linjb than if it was no part of the body. As there are nerves that serve the mus- cular motions, so there are others that serve the several senses ; and as without the for- mer we cannot move a limb, so without tha latter we can have no perception. • Thii distinction of ■ mediate and immediate ob- ject. or of an object and a medium, in perception, if inaccurate, and a source of sad confusion. We per- ceive, and can perceive, nothing but what m in rela. tion ro the organ, and nothing is in relation tinim organ that it not prewnt to it. All tbefenses are, iii tact, modificatloni of touch, as Democrnui of old taught. We reach the distant reality, not Dy sense, not bv perception, but by inference. Beid, hoia. ever, in thu only followi hu prcdeceMOia.— H. 218 [EUAT fif iutt trsiB 01 niaMifiwfj um wiMoin of 'O'Od liM^ vmiB mammmej to 'Oiir' ptMnving 'Ckbjeete. ¥ifioiii> 'pvta of ^m hmj mmmr to it, audi eadi hoi ito own, fiiiietii». Firsf^ Tlie^object, eitlier' iniMiiisttly, or bj^some mtiliniii* iniiit- inalMi: sn ' i«i:i»— iMii iMt mtg ■th/^ bj wMeb an .infiMiiifiii. :fe 'maide on the iitrro ; and ibe norvo mrrm m a inedium to make an iii|ii«asion npn the brain. Men Umi iwlerial. purl mda ; at leaii. we 'Can 'tfaee' it no iumr; 'the rest is all 'in* tellMtnal.* TheT^of of the«> in>pre«Bioi» ipn the nenrea and brain in [81] (lerception istbis^ tbat| fiwDi mmmj obeenfattmis .and expert- »eiit% it is foaml Hiati wlien Ibe ot>gan of .any aanae h perlBetly aoiind, and has the :iinpieision made upon it by the obJMt ever 80 Strang ly, yet, if the nerve wbieb serves that 'Oi|^n be ent or tied, bard, tbeie is no perefftion i and it 'is 'wsll kmiirn thai dis- iirders in the brain deprive ns of the power of perception when both the orgpin and its ^nerve are sound. 'There isi therefore, sitfielent' reason to conclitie 'Aal, in pe:nseption, the objcei' pro- duces some change in the o^rgan ; that' the organ prodmses .some change upon the nerve; and that the nerve prodtices mnie change in the brain. And 'we give Ibe name of an mpremifm to those ehapgeSt liecanse we have not a name more proper to express, in a general manner, any change' prodacad in a body, by an. external, cause, 'wiiboitt sneeiiying me oatmre of that ebanii^ whether it be pre8sn.re^ or at-' traction, or repolsaon, or vibration, or some* thing un.lmown, for which we have no .name, still it may 'be ealled an impressinn. Bnt, with regard to the particular Mni of this change or impression, philosophers have never been, able to 'discover .anything at. allt :Bat, whatever bC' tho' nature of those: im- ifcssions npim the organs, nerves, and imia, wc' perceive nothing without them. £xperienee' informs, that it Is sO' ; but we cannnti give a reason why It iS' so.. In the conatitntion of man, peroeption, by ixed laws of nature, is connected with those im- piessbns ; bnt we can discover no neces- saiy conn««t.ion. The Supreme -'Being has :8eeii it to thnitonr 'pwer' of peveaption.{..80 ihat we 'perceive not without such. ' Impres- sions .; and this .is .all we know of the This, however, we have reason to oon- * TtMHrt'CSii be nC' danln tbn fit while otpiitmi. pi bi ef 'flie.ieiiML .ilnia nerinlHirf fenetiim. 'imtn 'tiMiititii fi t «niiiK«iwoiHiw' in '|itrf9e|i«kMi i 'Imt. tbnt U tm tm. '^^•ww' ^cwf^ hpp^p^hp ^™wiW' fflMBBeiSiWii. siWp srhhpip hpip'Iiwsiiiw as^ ^iii'Sas'W''WniiiiajiHP!H lavSVijPsW'fl ■imI 'lebiM. Hwt mt 'Snif a 'eiffsin isfict of 'Otgsnio If 'iiiii.fl 'ivm^de tlMi tnentsl ''li]p4ii«i%iai«]f|NMr Hartley conceived to have such evidence, that, in his " Ob- servations on Man," he has deduced, in a mathematical form, a very ample system concerning the faculties of the mind, from the doctrine of vibrations, joined with that of association. His notion of the vibrations excited in the nerves, is expressed in Propositions 4 [81. 851 and 6 of the first part of his " Observa- tions on Man." *' Prop. 4. External objects impressed on the senses occasion, first in the nerves on which they are impressed, and then in the brain, vibrations of the small, and, as one may say, infinitesimal medullary particles. Prop. 5. The vibra- tions mentioned in the last proposition are excited, propagated, and kept up, partly by the aether — that is, by a very sublile elastic fluid ; partly by the uniformity, continuity, softness, and active powers of the medullary substance of the bmin, spinal marrow, and nerves." The modesty and diffidence with which Dr Hartley offers his system to the world — by desiring his reader " to expect nothing but hints and conjectures in difficult and obscure matters, and a short detail of the principal reasons and evidences in those that are clear ; by acknowledging, that he shall not be able to execute, with any ac- curacy, the proper method of philosophising, recommended and followed by Sir Isasic Newton ; and that he will attempt a sketch only for the benefit of future enquirers" — seem to forbid any criticism upon it. One cannot, without reluctance, criticise what is proposed in such a manner, and with so |i;ood intention ; yet, as the tendency of this system of vibrations is to make all the oper- ations of the mind mere mechanism, depend- ent [85] on the laws of matter and motion, and, as it has been held forth by its vota- ries, as in a manner denionstratetl, I shall make some remarks on that part of the sye- tem which relates t«) the impressions made on the nerves and brain in perception. It may be observed, in j^eneral, that Dr Hartley's work consists of a chain of pro- positions, with their proofs and corollaries, digested in good order, and in a scientific form. A great part of them, however, are, as he candidly acknowledges, conjectures and hints only ; yet these are mixed with the propositions legitimately proved, with- out any distinction. Corollaries are drawn from them, and other propositions grounded upon tlrem, which, all taken together, make up a system. A system of this kind re- sembles a chain, of which some links are abundantly strong, others very weak. The strength of the chain is determined by tluit of the weakest links ; for, if they give way, the whole falls to pieces, and the weight supported by it falls to the ground. Philosophy has been, in all ages, adul- terated by hypotheses ; that is, by systems built partly on facts, and much upon con- jecture. It is pity that a man of Dr Hart- ley's knowledge and candour should have followed the multitude in this fallacious tract, after expressing his approbation of the proper method of philosophising:, pointed out by Bacon and Newton. The laot ccm- ON TEE lNTELil€TOAL POWEES. £i»6AY .If- iideKd It B» ft feprcMeli. «li«ii Ms qpii« mm 'flftlU m hff&iktmi awl. Mp, with ciiMUn 'iif 'siteii iwimliitifiiiy .tfffMfifirtfMii /«pi. Ami. it is Tiifj sHWiigo that. Dr Hartley slioiiM not only Mhw emk m vm- tliod of pMlosopliistog Mmsiilf, but that lie :ii|iiOiilil direct oHiers im tMr iiM|tiiries to follow it. 80' Iw 'lioes in Froiwritioii '87, Fkirt. I.., where' lie deduces^ ni.les for tlie ascertiiiiiiiieiit of tnitli, from tlie rule of false,, in aritlmietic, and from the art of decyphertng; ami In other pbces. As to tfie i^ibmtions «nd iribffmtiunelen, whether of an elaslie tether, or of the iii- inHtsimal. particles of the hiain Md ntrtes, there [W] may be such thing* for vhat we know; and men. may rati«iaiy inqnire whether they «an ind any evidtmse of their ex.istence ; but, while we have wi proof of Ibifir existence, to apply them to the wlu- tion fif'phti»ora.ena, md to build a srateni upon them., is what f 'Coiieetve we 'Call build- ing' a castle in tlie air. When men pretend to account for any of the openi.tii)ii8. of Nature, the causes assigned by them 'Ought, as Sir Isaae New- ton haa taught ns, to have two conditions, otherwise tbey .aR good for nothing. Fmi^ They ought to bO' true, to have a ■fcal ex.i»t- enee, and not to be barely iMmJMSlured to exist, without proot S*em»d.% 'They ought to be sufficient to produce the effect. As to the existence of vibratory motions in the m#, 95] FALSE CONCLUSIONS DRAWN FROM TUB IMPKKSSIONS BEFORE MENTIONED. Some philosophers anu)ng the ancients, as vvell as among the moderns, imagined that man is nothing but a piece of matter, so curiously organized that the impressions of external objects produce in it sensation, perception, remembrance, and all the other operations [95] we are conscious of.* This foolish opinion could only take its rise from observing the constant connection which the Author of Nature hath established be- tween certain impressions made upon our senses and our perception of the objects by which the unpression is made ; from which they weakly inferred that those impressions were the proper efficient causes of the cor- responding perception. But no reasoning is mrire fallacious than this— that, because two things are always conjoined, therefore one must be the cause of the other. Day and night have been joined in a constant succession since the beginning of the world; but who is so foolish as to conclude from this that day is the cause of night, or night the cause of the following day? There is indeed nothing more ridiculous than to imagine that any motion or modification of nuitter should pro- duce thought. If one should tell of a telescope so exactly made as to have the power of seeing ; of a whispering gallery that had the power of hearing ; of a cabinet so nicely framed as to have the power of memory ; or of a machine so delicate as to feel pain when it was touched— such absurdities are so shocking to common sense that they would not find belief even among savages; yet it is the same absurdity to think that the impressions of external objects upon the machine of our bodies can be the real efficient cause of thought and perception. Passing this, therefore, as a notion too absurd to admit of reasoning, au«»ther con- clusion very generally made by philoso- phers is, that, in perception, an impression is made upon the mind as well as upon the organ, nerves, and brain. Aristotle, as was before observed, thought that the form or image of the object perceived, enters by * The Stoics are lepreliended for cuch a doctrine by Boethius:— •* Quondam |X)rttcua attuht Obacuros nimium sencs. Qui sensus c-t unagines Kcorporibusextimi* C'retiant mentibus imprimi. Ut quondam ccleri stylo Mos est vquore paKii'ie Quae nullas hal)eat nota*, Pierias figere lireras " nc the inhula rasa remounts, howevt-r, to ArlaKW — inUeeU tt> Flato— aa an illu»tratiou.— ti. 251 ON THE IMTBLLBCTOAL TOWlia ['b»aY' it. tlie orjiiiii erceived ; and that the mind, being seated in the brain as its chamber «f presence, immediately 'pereelves these iiiiages only, and haa no lierception of the external object but by them. Ttiis notion of mir perceiving ex- ternal, objects, .net iatmedktely, but in cer- tain Images or species of tbem conveyed by the senses, seems to be the most ancient philosophical liypothesis w© have on the subject of perception, and to ha\e with ^ [96-98] CHAP. IV.] FALSE CONCLUSIONS, &c. 25S small variations retained its authority to ttiis day. Aristotle, as was before observed, mani- tained, that the species, images, or forms of external objects, comudg from the object, are impressed on the mmd. The followers of Democritua and Epicurus held the same thing, with regard to slender films of sub- tile matter coming from the object, that Aristotle did with regard to his immaterial species or forms. Aristotle thought every object of luunan understanding enters at first by the senses ;• and that the notions got by them are by the powers of the mind refined and spirit- ualized, 80 as at last to become objects of the most sublime and abstracted sciences, Phito, on the other hand, had a very mean opinion of all the knowledge we get by the senses. He thought it did not deserve the name of knowledge, and could not be the foundation of science ; because the objects of sense are individuals only, and are in a constant fiuctuatiou. All science, according to him, must be employed about those eternal and imnmtable ideas which existed before the objects of sense, and are not liable to any change. 1 n this there was an essen- tial diflerence between the systems of these two philosophers. [09] The notion of eter- nal and immutable ideas, which Plato bt.i- rowed from the Pythagorean school, was totally rejected by Aristotle, who held it as a maxim, that there is nothing in the intel- lect, which was not at first in the senses. But, notwithstanding this great ditterence iu those two ancient systems, they might both agree as to the manner in which we iierceive objects by our senses : and that they did so, I think, is probable ; because Aristotle, as far as I know, neither takes notice of any difference between Inu.selt^ and his master upon this point, nor lays' ckim to his theory of the manner of our perceiving objects as his own invention. It is still more probable, from the hints which Plato gives in the seventh book of his Republic, concerning the manner in which we perceive the objects of sense ; which he ct)mparesto persons in a deep and dark cave, who see not external objects themselves but only their shadows, by alight let into the cave through a small opening. 1* It seems, therefore, probable that the Py- thagoreans and Platonists agreed with the Peripatetics in tliis general theory of per- ception—to wit, that the objects of sense "^Thif i«a very doubtfuljioint, and ha« accord- inKly divided h\» followers. Texts can be Quoj"' \" prove, on tnc one .ide.tbat Aristotk dented a I our tmtiom, a posteriori, from the experience of sense ami. on the other, that he viewed 6en*?"n'y " ♦« i^ ' ing to intellect the c ndition requmte for itto bt- coine actually conscious of the native and necessary notiong it, a priori, viftually possessed— H- + Reid wholly miftakes the meaning of Plato s •imlle of the cave. See below, under p. 1 Ilk— w. [99, 100] are perceived only by cert:iin images, of shadows of them, let into the mind, as uito a camera obscura. * The notions of the ancients were verj various with regard to the seat of the soul Since it has been discovered, by the im- provements iu anatomy, that the nerves are the instruments of perception, and of the sensations accompanying it, and that the nerves ultimately terminate iu the brain,t it has been the general opinion of philosophers that the brain is the seat of the soul ; and that she perceives the images that are brought there, and external things, only bv means of them. Des' Cartes, observing that the pineal gland is the only part ot the bmin that is single, all the other parts being double,:^ and thinking that the soul must liave one seat, was determined by this [100] to make that gland the soul's habitation, to which, by means of the aniinal spirits, intelligence is brought of all objects that aflect the senses. § Otliers have not thought projier to con- fine the habitation ot the soul to the jiineal gland, but to the brain in general, or to some part of it, which they call the sen- sorium. Even the great Newton favoured this opinion, though he proposes it only as a query, with that modesty which dis- tinguished him no less than his great genius. " Is not," says he, " the sensorinm of anunala the place where the sentient substance is [.resent, and to which the sensible species of things are brought through the nerves and brain, that there they may be perceived by the nund present in that place ? And is there not an incorporeal, living, intelligent, and omnipresent Being, who, in infinite space, as if it were in his sensorium, inti- mately perceives thin-s themselves, and comprehends them perfectly, as being pre- sent to them ; of which things, that prin- ciple in us, which perceives and thinks, discerns only, in its little sensorium, the images brought to it through the organs ot the senses ?"|1 , ^, i His great friend Dr Samuel Clarke adopted the same sentiment with more con- fidence. In his papers to Leibnitz^ we find the following passages: Without being present to the images of the things perceived, it (the soul) could not possibly perceive them. A living substance can only there perceive where it is present, either to the things themselves, (as the omnip resent God is t.> the w lnde^uni^^Q • An error. Sw below, under p. 1 16.— H. + That U,8mce. he nine of Erasi.tratusand Galen. "t^'which is not the case. The Hyponhvsis the vJrJfom iroce...&c.. .re not less single ihantl.e Conariuin. — H. . - u were justly censured by Gcnoveei, and other.— n. fl 336 ON THE iNrK.LLB'd UAIj POWEIIS* ['bsiay If. or to tlio iiMigtS' of tMngUi (■• iho ■onl of intra it in lis proper mamry,} Notliing can maj more .set, or be meted upcm, whens it is BOt 'prwttt, than it can fm wliere it is not We are sure tlie soul eaniiot {leroeive wliat it i»' not present to, 'beeauBe nothing emi .ai!t, or bo^ acted upon, where it i« not** Mr lioclce expreeeee himself m upon this point, that, for the [lOIJ mostpiirt, one would imagine that he thought that the ideas, or images of things,, whioi he be- lieved to be the' immediato objeeta ol' per- eeption, are impressions upon the mind it- self; jet, in some passag!e% be rather places them in the brain, and makes them to be perceived bj the mind there present *'*' There are some' .ideas,** sajs he, ^ which liam :admitt«nee only thronich one sense; and, if the organs or the nerves, which aro' tlie eonduits to convey them from without to their aiidience in the brain, the niind*s preteaee' .room, if I may so call it| are so disordered as not to perform their fbnetion, they have no postern to be admitted by. *' There seema to be a constant deeay of all onr .ideas, even of those that .are stnieic dee'pest The pictures drawn in our minds are laid in Hiding colours. Whether the temper of the brain makes this difference, that .in :8ome it wtaiia the ehaffRflteni 'drawn on it like marMe^ in..'Othenliii0'.ineitone, and in others little' 'belter tiian. sandi I shall not enquire.**' From theso' fiaasagea of Mr Iioehe, and otiiers of a like nature, it .te plain, that he tlioaght that Ibere are' images, of estemal objects eon. vey ed to 'th«' temin. But whether he thought with Des Cartesf and Newtou, that the images in the brain are perceived by 'the mind, there pvesen.t, or that' they are imprinted, on the mind itself, is not so evi^ dent Now, with n»a.rd to 'tli.is hypothesis, there' are three things that deserve to be 'Considered, beeause the hypothesis leans ipoB then, I iand, if uy one of them iii, it nwat fall to' the ground Timjimi h. That the soul has its seat, or, as Mr Locke calk it,, its prcsenee' room in the brain. 'The memi; Thai 'then' are images 'fMned. in the brain of ai. the nhjeets of sense., Tl.ie third. That the m.tnd or , soul, perceives these images in the brain i^ and that it perceives. WW^t/r-W^ W'iPffillilWIiM" MMIMVVi ^IPiBIIFiBpBirlliliiSi^P VlSIBVaiaiVVfflpMMHIIV'VpayF 'Wf 'aiF"B'w ^|FSlSli#jr ivcs them hy 'iMiiiS' '•!' 'those' Images., .As'to'the/rtl point — that the soul has its •' tfe^f rail, mnm itaNii. 'bt laid, tm fucii. ftRuraCive wkhM, on this iNiliiti it !• not esff tO'dlMgovtr. Urn llf.'l»'-'0.— H.. f 'iff MiliiilM iO' ilW"Miliid s'l fomsioiiMMPMi-sr' Isiim.' Hiftte 'I'fitiwitilm sf inalltr' sni ilt. nMNliift.'ltf>i'tt., BtttortbiaaMMi.. Sst' Mi'lt lt.«-li. seat in the brain — this, surely, is not so well eetablislied as that we can safely build other principles upon it There have been various opiuions and much disputation about the place 'Of spirits : whether' 'they have a phioe ? and, if they have, how they oeeu.py that phice ? After men had fonght in the dark about those points for ages, 'the wiser part seem to have leH off disputmg about them, as matters beyond the reach of the human faculties. As to the,«Meiiil':pomt— thal.imagpB'Of all 'tlie objects 'of 'Sense are formed in the brain — we may venture to affirm that there is no proof nor probability of this, with regard to any of the objects of sense ; and that, with regard to the greater part of them, it is words without any mean.in:g.* We have not the least evidence that the image of any external object is formed in the brain. The brain has been dissected times innumerable by the nicest ana- tomists ; every part of it examined by the naked eye, and with the help of microscopes ; but no vestige of an image of any external object was ever fomid. The brain seems to be the most improper substance that can be iniaghiediir reeeiving or retainuig .hnages, being a soft, moist, medullary substance. But how are these images formed ? or whMMMi 'dO' they come ? Says Mr Locke, the '0:rgan»of sense' rad nerves convey then, from without This is. just the Aristotelian hypothesis of sensibte species, which modem pnilosopheia have been at great pams to refute, and wUeh. mnat. be admowledged to be one of the most unintelligible parts of the Peripatetic sptem. Those 'wbo con- sider species of colour, figure, sound, and .sael^ly coming :from the object, and entering 'by 'the organs of wnse, as a pari of the seholwtle Jaignn feng ago diseaided from sound philosophy, ought to have discarded images in the brain along with them. There never was a shadow of aigument brlialjititr iwllaimiwln^lw wl -i-— i^;,. tumiae were agnoMamfw, iilliil "•« «^t™"'?» iniie'clliitnin. rtw^iwhiteHlitwiM. ftj«*dm i« cMMMia. '#w. priiBsiii i «|w» piiitiiiiiiis asmii:" •■t ieiintis.*'— H. * Itealwfe, 'p. 183,% wm •! ^ Wi 0, 'Uiitf • j ■md. NoteC— .H. a dmr than in a foggy day. An object iMi Indistinctly with the naked eye, on aeconmt of Its smalkess, may be seeu dis- tinctly with a microscope. The objects in this room will he seem hy a person in the room, less and less distinctly as the hght of the day fiuls; they pass through all the various degrees of distmctness according to the dffrees of the light, and, at last, iu total itaftaiess they are not seen at all. What has been said of the objects of sight is so easily applied to the objects of the other senses, that the application may be left to the reader. In a matter so obvious to every person capable of fefcetion, it is neccssarjfc snlv itftier to observe, that the notion which we get of an object, merely by our extenial sense, ought not to be confounded, witli thst moie' sdentilc notion which a man, come to the years of understanding, may have of the same object, hy attending to its various attribute", or to its various parts, and their relation to each other, and to the wholes 1 107 ] Thus, the motion which a chUd has of a Jack forroastingmeat, will beacknowledged to he very different from that of a man who undeistamds Its construction, and perceives. the relation of the parts to one another, and to the whole. The chid sees the jack and every part of it as well as the man. The child, therefore, has all the notion of it whldi ^ght gives ; whatever there is more im the notiom which the man forms of it, must be derived from other powers of tho mind, which may afterwards be expkined. This observation is made here only that we may not confound the operations of differ- ent powers of the mind, which by being always conjoined after we grow up to under- standing, areapt to pass for one and the same. Nmmt0lh In perception we not only have a notion more or less distinct of the object pereoived, but also an irresistible conviction and belief of its existence. This is always the case when we are certain that we per- ceive it. There may be a perception so faint and ntdistinet as to 'hsave ns in doubt whether we perceive the object or mot. Thus, when a star begins to twinkle as the light of the sun withdraws, one may, for a sliofft. time, think he sees, it without bein^ .eertain, until the perception acquire some strength and steadmess. When a ship j ust bi^ns to appear in the utmost verge of the horlion, we may at first he dubious whether we perceive it or not ; but when the percep- tion is in .any d'Ogree clear .and stead>, there renudns no doubt of its reality ; and when the 'real.ity of the perception is. ascertained, the' existence of the object perceived can no longer 'he doubted.* • In tllii Wif««T»nll there is a conftisinn of that ■whkUt Upt'tximamd liiatuhich is $nfirrea ttuta tlie ptfcqitlon.— H. _ ,_ fl06, lOTl 'fWlP v.] OF PERCEPTION. 2r»ii By the laws of all nations, in the most solemn judicial trials, wherein nieu'a for- lulMss and lives are at stake, the sentence passes according to the testimony of eye or tmr witnesses of good credit. An upright Judge will give a fair hearing to every objec- tion that can be made to the integrity of a witness, and allow it to be possible that he may be corrupted; but no judge will ever suppose that witnesses may be unposed upon by trusting to their eyes and ears. And if a'sceptical counsel should plead against the testimony of the witnesses, tliat they luul no other evidence for what they [108] de- ckred but the testimony of their eyes and ears, and that we ought not to put so much faith in our senses as to deprive men of lite or fortune upon their testimony, surely no upright judge would admit a plea of this kind. I believe no counsel, however scep- tical, ever dared to offer such an argument ; and, if it was offered, it would be rejected with disdain. Can any stronger proof be given that it IS the universal judgment of mankind that ihe evideuce of sense is a kind of evidence which we may securely rest upon in the most momentous concerns of mankind ; that it is a kind of evidence against which we ought not to admit any reasoning ; and, therefore, that to reason either for or against it is an insult to common sense ? The whole conduct of mankind in the daily occurrences of life, as well as the so- lemn procedure of judicatories in the trial of causes civil and criminal, demonstrates this. I know only of two exceptions that may be offered against this being the uni- versal belief of mankind. The first exception is that of some luna- tics who have been persuaded of things that seem to contradict the clear testimony of their senses. It is said there have been lunatics and hypochondriacal persons, who seriously believed themselves to be made of glass ; and, in consequence of this, lived in continual terror of having their brittle frame shivered into pieces. All I have to say to this is, that our minds, in our present state, are, as well as our bodies, liable to strange disorders ; and, as we do not judge of the natural constitu- tion of the body from the disorders or dis- eases to which it is subject from accidents, so neither ought we to judge of the natural powers of the mind from its disorders, but from its sound state. It is natural to man, and common to the species, to have two hands and two feet ; yet I have seen a man, and a very ingenious one, who was born without either hands or feet. [109 J It is natural to man to have faculties superior to those of brutes ; yet we see some indivi- duals whose faculties are not equal to those cf many brutes ; and the wisest man may, L108-110 by various accidents, be reduced to this state. General rules that regard those whose intellects are sound are not over- thrown by instances of men whose intellects are hurt by any constitutional or accidental disorder. The other exception that may be made to the principle we have laid down is that of some philosophers who have maintained that the testimony of sense is fallacious, and therefore ought never to be trusted. Perhaps it might be a sufficient answer to this to say, that there is nothing so absurd which some philoso])hers hiive not main- tained.* It is one thing to profess a doc- trine of this kind, another seriously to be- lieve it, and to be governed by it in the conduct of life. It is evident that a man who did not believe his senses could not keep out of harm's way an hour of his life ; yet, iu all the history of philosophy, we never read of any sceptic that ever stepped into fire or water because he did not believe his senses, or that shewed in the conduct of life less trust in his senses than other men have.f This gives us just ground to appre- hend that philosophy was never able to conquer that natural belief wliich men have in their senses ; and tluit all their subtile reasonings against this belief were never able to persuade themselves. It appears, tiierefore, that the clear and distinct testimony of our senses carries* irresistible conviction along with it to ever^ man in his right judgment. I observed, Thirdly, That this conviction is not only irresistible, but it is inimediate that is, it is not by a train of reasoning and argumentation that we come to bo convinced of the existence of what wu perceive ; we ask no argument for tho existence of the object, but that we per- ceive it ; perception commands our belief upon its own authority, and disdains to rest its authority upon any reasoning what- soever. $ [110] The conviction of a truth may be irre- sistible, and yet not inmiediate. Thus, my conviction that the three angles of every plain triangle are equal to two right angles, is irresistible, but it is not immediate ; I am convinced of it by demonstrative rea- soning. There are other truths in mathe- matica of which we have not only an irre- sistible but an immediate convictum. Such are the axioms. Our belief of the axioms in mathematics is not grounded upon argu- • A saying of Varro.— H. t All this we read, however, in Laijrtius, of Pyrrho; and on the authority of Antigotius Carystlus. the preat iceptic'B contemjiorary. Whetter we are to believe the narrative is another qutwtion.— I *. X If Kcid holds that in perception w« v.Vft only a conception of the Non-E.o in the £^o, this \)f^\iet i§ either not the reflex of a coRiiition, liui a bhud faith, or it i» mediate, as held b) Stcwiirt.— i^Ai" o .. l.si. l^ c 8— H. 62 v^ Ml ON THK INTELLECTUAL POWERS. £Gii*v f|« imsnt— arfumeiitii are groiindod upon them 5 but tbeir eviiknce is diacerned immediately by tbe iumui 'undeciltiiiiiigp it ii, no dmuM, one tbing to baire an innnediate ooifiistion of a uelf-evldorat aucifMn ; it is another thing to have an im- mediate eonvietion of the exialenoe of what mm see ; but the oonvielion. is^ofnaHy inine- diate and eqndlly inMAitihla' in botm mmm. No man tUnlka^ ol'aeAInf a fwwon, toWieve what Im mm I and, before we are capable of reasoning, we pot no leas confidence m our «:ni!esthanaller. 'Tho mdeit. aavage ia at f nUy convinced of what ht iii% and l»«rs, and feeK as the moit. expwl. loglciaii. The constitntei of our understanding dttor^ mines 'us to hold the truth of a matbiinaluai axiom, as a iwt'princinle, from whkh other tfuthS' may he deduced, hut it » dediced fiom none; and the constitution of our power of perception determines us to hold the 'existence of what we distinctly peifceive as a irst principle, from which oiwf tfnths may bo deduced ; bat it is deduced from none. What has been said of the irresis- tible and immediate belief of the existence of objects distinntly prceived, I mean only to .affirm with i^|i0d to^ persons so far ad- vanced in undfifstanding as to distinguish objects of mere imagination from things which have a real existence. Every man knows that he may have a notioM. of Don Quixote, or of Gtaigamlna, without any belirf ' that luch peiaons. ever existed ; and that of Julius CSaiar and Oliver Croni- wolL he has not onlv a notion, hut a belief that. *ey did reaiy exist Ilill But whether children, from the time that they begin to use th«r senses, make a distinction between things which are only conceived or imagined, and things which really exist, may be doubted. Until wo .are able to make this distinction, we cannot properly bo «aid to believe or to disbelieve the cxtKleoce of anything. The belief of the existence of any^iini seems to siippoae,* notirtnof existenee— a^ notion toO' abstract, perliaps, to enter into the mind of an in- Imnt. I speak of the power of perception in thoso that are adult and of a sound mind, who balieve' that^ thero are' :8ome 'things whteh do teaiy e«lit..|. and. that there are many things conceived by themmlves, liiid by others, which have no existence. That 'sneli pMsnni do invarii^y awmh* existence toewiyHiing which they iMiaetly •lerceive, with«»t teeking reasons or «rgu. ineiitfi for doing no, is perfectly etident from the whole tenor of human life. 'The .account I have given of our percep- tion of exl«mal objects, is intended as a iUthM dolhiwrfon of what every man, come to years of understanding, and capaMe of giving Bttantioii. to what passes jnhisjiiwn :iBind, may feel m himself. In ner the notion of external objects, and the immediate belief of their existence, is pro- diMd by means of our senses, I am not able to shew, and I do not pretend to shew. If the power of perceiving external objects in certain ciroumstauces, be a part of the original constitution of the human muid, all attempis to account for it will be vain. No other account can he given of the con- stitution of things, bpt the will of Him that made them. As we can give no veaaon why matter :iooxt«Bded....Bnd. .Inert, why the mmd Ihinlts and is conscious of ita thoughts, but tho will of Him who made both ; so I sus- pect wo can give no other reason why, m certain circumstances, we perceive extternal ohjicts, and in others do not.* The Supreme Being intended that we should have such knowledge of the material olfects that surround us, as is necessary in order to our supplying the wants of nature, and avoiding tho dangers to which we are constantly exposed! and he has admirably fitted our powers of perception to tins purpoa®. [112] Mtheuitelligencowehave of external objects were to be got by reasoning only, the greatest part of men would be destitute of it; for the greatest part of men hardly ever learn to reason ; and in infancy and childhood no man can reasons Therefore, as this intelligent of Che objects that surround us, and from which we may receive so much benefit or harm, is equally necessary to children and to men, to the ignorant and to the learned, Ood in his wisdom conveys it to us in a way that puts all npon a level. The infttrm- ation of the senaea is as perfect, and gives as full conviction to the moat ignorant as to the most teamed. CHAPTER VI. WHAT .IT » fO ACCOUNT FOB A PH J1.N0MKX0N' IN NATtlRX. An object placed at a proper distance^ and in ngood Ikht, while the eyes aro shut, is not perceived at all ; but no sooner do we open our eyes upon it than we have, as it were by inspiration, a certain knuwledgo of its existence, of its colour, figure, and distance. This ia alaet which every one knows. The vulgar .are satlified with know. ing the fact, and give themselves no trouble about the cause of it : hut a phihiaopher la impatlflnt to know how this event is pro- duced to account for It, or asaign its cause. This avidity to know the causes of things is the parent of all philosophy, true and fahie. Men of apeculation place a great purl of their ha ppiness in "" ^"''J^Q^'^^K^: aiao MMc .A.— & [111. 1 If J CHAP. VI.] ACCOUNT OF A PHiENOMENON. 261 Feii* qui p&tuU rerum cogno^cere causaSj has always been a sentiment of human nature. But, as in the pursuit of other kinds of happiness men often mistake the road, so in none have they more frequently done it than in the philosophical pursuit of tlie causes of things. [il3] It is a dictate of common sense, that the causes we assign of appearances ought to be real, and not fictions of human imagina- tion. It is likewise self-evident, that such causes ought to be adequate to the efl'ects that are conceived to be produced by them. That those who are less accustomed to inquiries into the causes of natural appear- ances, may the better understand what it ia to shew the cause of such appearances, or to account for them, I shall borrow a plain instance of a phsenomenou or appear- ance, of which a full and satisfactory ac- count has been given. The phtenomenon is this : That a stone, or any heavy body, falling from a height, continually increases its velocity as it descends ; so that, if it acquire a certain velocity in one second of time, it will have twice that velocity at the end of two seconds, thrice at the end of three seconds, and so on in proportion to the time. This accelerated velocity in a stone falling must have been observed from the beginning of the world ; but the first person, as far as we know, who accounted for it in a proper and philosophical manner, was the famous Galileo, after innumer- able false and fictitious accounts had been given of it. He observed, that bodies once put in motion continue that motion with the same velocity, and in the same direction, until they be stopped or retarded, or have the durection of their motion altered, by some force impressed upon them. This property of bodies is called their inertia, or inac- tivity; for it implies no more than that bodies cannot of themselves change their state from rest to motion, or from motion to rest. He observed also, that gravity acts constantly and equally upon a body, and therefore will give equal degrees of velocity to a body in equal times. From these principles, which are known from experi- ence to he fixed laws of nature, Galileo shewed that heavy bodies must descend with a velocity uniformly accelerated, as by experience they are found to do. [114] For if the body by its gravitation ac- fuiro a certain velocity at the end of one second, it would, though its gravitation should cease that moment, contmue to go on with that velocity ; but its gravitation con- tinues, and will in another second give it an additional velocity, equal to that which it gave in the first ; so that the whole velocity at the end of two seconds, will be twice as great as at the end of one. In like manner, this ril3~115l velocity being continued through the third second, and having the same addition by gravitation as in any of the preceding, the whole velocity at the end of the third second will be thrice as great as at the end of the first, and so on continually. We may here observe, that the causes assigned of this phsenomenon are two : Firsfj That bodies once put in motion retain their velocity and their direction, until it is changed by some force impressed upon them. a'f external tliinp ate admitted into the mind--to tfpiiy, In ihnfttSn hipoihotitof nensitive perception. Oa ihia fUMKiiltinn, the identity of the Platonic. Pflhagoroan. and Ferl|wtelk theories of this pro. Ciii it Inferred. Nothing can, bowevcr, be more gnMindlett than the tuppoution i nothing more erro. BiOilt tiian the taisieni e. By his cave, images^ and I, Flito awaiit timply to illuttrate the grand iwadpio eif hto phllMOphf— that the Sensible or Ec. iypai world, (phrnomenal, tfamltoff, v»m^a*mt h ««i pm **i) »tanii» to the NoeHc or Ardietyyw, (tub. •lantial, permanent, ••tw' fcil .!» 'thf. iWBt itiatiMi of .comparative imiealitf bin whli*t.it .aA«lBiir aflke images of itntlble esittwcw IheiMSitif, •land to t he tningt of wMdl thtf atethe dim and dittant adura- brittfoM. In the laikfpage of an illutirioui poet- •• .An natelta fiiaciinf ue hi-ic tunt, qiue hac uocte tepiBtutt Omnia tet pfonui. vfisa. «» eMe* m^ ■umhtat. Ant tpecula, undO'.ad not allena. oiimt imago f TeniTquldem, tt maria alta. at. * m||m|m 'miiMl 'If '.« .ai '. placed Fsfftlniunt anlmoa.. faltad ft .Imiint ludunl, Nnaquani. aadem., iiiaa .itiaiff vailaia ■pttonni,, tel aiHtin, l^MHiue flebiii. fktiiiea.tlai|tM .attra f !at'tra» tint fiianit it meitorl prwiita *tta, m dooaia mm Imnoftaii, h«c i(i«a tamen sutit JEtemI tpectila. in fuas auimui, qui ctt lode profec tut, Inn^cient. mtriai ipodain 'qiiati' tactut .anoic» Aidatcit. ' Vtrtim. qoonlam Mo null iicni.at cC ulln Netdo quid tcquttur lecum, tadiiiK^ue requirit, Notae licet crcum hcc i|i»um oonKistere verum, Hon flnam : Md enim emc aliutl quid, cujui imaKO Sfiieiidet in ill, quod per ae i|Mum ett, et principiura Omnibut .•temiim..,ante omnem ntimaranM|ue diem.. que I In quo allum Solem atque allam tpleiideM;ere Lu. nam Adniidat. allotque oibcf, alia attra manrre, Tenaniqueb iutimnue aiiot. atque aera, et ignem. £t nsmofS, .alittt .alili ci-rart- aninaiia .iilwit/' .Ai^ .ai' 'tilt ffiomparlion is mlMindcfitoodi.. m no. tiina eBii.lia' conoalved 'non adtefte to llM' doctrine of Plato than the theoff it it'iitppwii. to ra. ^mta^mn)* >" MOiiBcethcraofiMaMiniatid. In the ■nm.ai life. vifMi of Boilliiuip wliliii tete 'been to tttqm Two thousand years after Plato, Mr Locke, who studied the operations of the human mind so much, and with so great success, represents our manner of perceiving external objects, by a similitude very much resembling that of the cave. " Methinks," says he, "the understanding is not much unlike a closet wholly shut from light, with only some little opening left, to let in exter- nal visible resemblances or ideas of things without. Would the pictures coming into such a dark room but stay there, and lie so orderly as to be found upon occasion, it would very much resemble the under- standing of a man, in reference to all objects of sight, and the ideas of them.*' [117] Plato's subterranean cave, and Mr Locke's dark closet, may be applied with ease to all the systems of perception that have been invented : for they all suppose that we perceive not external objects immediately, and that the immediate objects of percep- tion are only certain shadows of the ex- ternal objects. Those shadows or images, which we immediately perceive, were by the ancients called species^ forms, phan- tasms. Since the time of Des Cartes, thev have commonly been called ideas, and by Mr Hume, impresdons. But all philoso- phers, from Plato to Mr Hume, agree in this. That we do not perceive external ob- jects immediately, and that the immediate object of perception must be some image present to the muid.* So far there ap- Stoical doctrine of the passivity of mind in this pro. cets. he proceeds :- ** Mens est efliciens magit Longe cauaa potentior, fjuam quae mateiiae modo miMmtas patitur notat. Pf^tmdit tamen excitans Ac vires animi movent Vivo in corporr passio. Cum vel lux oculas ferit, Vel vox aunbus instrepit: Tum mentis vigor excitus Uuat iittus species tmet. Ad motiis similes vocaiiti, Notit apulicat exteris, Jnirorsumque recondilis tortnis miscet imagines." 1 cannot now do mure than indicate the contract of thIt doctrine to the Peripatetic (I do not say Arts. ^^am) theory, and its approximation to the Carte. tian and Leibnitzian hypotheses; which, however, hnth attempt toexptain, what the Platonic did not— how the mind, c» hypothesis dimve all physical in. Huence, is determined, on the presence of the un- Itnown reality within the sphere of f^-fwe, to call into coiitciouaness the representation througli which that reality io made known to us. I may add, that not II ere: y the Platanisti>, but some of the older Peripa- tetics held that the soul virtually contained within it- self representative forms, which were only excited by the external reality ; at Thcophrastus and The- iniMiiis, to say nothing of the Platoniaing Porphyry, Simplictus and Ammonius Hermic ; and the tame opinion, adopted probably from the latter, by hit l>u|>il. the Arabian Adelandua, tubtequcntly he. came even the common doctrine of ine Mooiith Altttotrltant. I shall anerwardt have oocaiioo lo notice that Bacon hat also wrested Plato's timiliiude uf the cave ftom its gentiine signification —H. • This Is not correct. There were philotophert [117, 118] pears an unanimity, rarely to be found among philosophers on such abstruse points.* If it should be asked. Whether, accord- mg to the opinion of philosophers, we per- ceive the images or ideas only, and infer tlie existence and qualities of the external ob- ject from what we perceive in the image ; or, whether we really perceive the external object as well as its image ? — the answer to this question is not quite obvious. -f- On tlie one hand, philosophers, if we ex- cept Berkeley and Hume, believe the ex- istence of external objects of sense, and call them objects of perception, though not im- mediate objects. But what they mean by a mediate object of perception I do not find clearly explained : whether they suit tlieir language to popular opinion, and mean that we perceive external objects in that figura- tive sense in which we say that we perceive an absent friend when we look on his pic- ture ; or whether they mean that, really, and without a figure, we perceive both the external object and its idea in the mind. If the last be their meaning, it would follow that, in every instance of perception, there is a double object perceived: [118] that I perceive, for instance, one sun in the heavens, and another in my own mind. J But I do not find that they affirm this ; and, as it contradicts the experience of all mankind, I will not impute it to them. It seems, therefore, that their opinion is, That we do not really perceive the external object, but the internal only ; and that, when they speak of perceiving external objects, they mean it only in a popular or in a figur- ative sense, as above explained. Several reasons lead me to think this to be the opinion of philosophers, beside what is mentioned above. First, If we do really perceive the external oliject itself, there seems to be no necessity, no use, for an image of it. Secondly, Since the time of Des Cartes, philosophers have very gene- rally thought that the existence of external objects of sense requires proof, and can only be proved from the existence of their ideas. Thirdly, The way in which philosophers speak of ideas, seems to imply tliat they are the only objects of perception. who held a purer and preciser doctrine of immediate perception than Reid himself contemplated.— H. « Reid himself, like the pliilosfiphers in general, really holds that we do not perceive external things immediately, if he does not allow us a consciousness of the non.ego. It matters not whether the external reality be represented in a tertium quid, or in a mo- dification of the mind itself; in either case, it is not known in itself, but in something numerically dif- ferent.— H. ,,^ ^^. f Nothing can be clearer than would tie this answer. —In itercepiion, the external reality, (the mediate object ) is only known to us in and through the im. mediate object, #. f., the representation of which we are conscious. A$ exiiting, and beyond the sphere^of con^ciousne-^s, the external reality i- unknown.--H. t •« Et tolem geminum et dupUces se otlendere Thebat!"— H. 264 ON THE INTILLECTOAL WWl" [mAT II. Having tmUmmmmi to exflttii wlmt m common to pfailoMpliMB in Mooimting for iiiir perceptkni of extttMl t^miM, wo slmU givo ^umo deteil of tkAMMimmBm, Tim ;y«M' bf wMcli *« 'pMoolw •mioiml oljoetB, iro mii by wmio to be the ideas of the Deity ; but it htm been more generally thoiulity tb»t OTory maw's Muaa are proper to Mmedf, and mm mOm :ln bia mind,, or in bit mmmrium^ wbofo llio mind h .imme- diately present. The /ril is tb© thooiy of Malebnindie ; the mtmd we abaU call tbo common 'tiiiionf* With, fegpurd lo 'that, of :]ialeb»nebe, it flcemt. to have lOBO' allinil|' with tho Fla^ tonic notion of ideas,* bnt is not tho aame. Pkto believed thai there are three eternal first pfineipkiiy from which ^all tbingP bave their oiigin^mattcr, ideas, and an eOeient omie. Matter is that of which all things are made, which, by all the ancient pbilo- Mipbeni, was conceived to bo eternal. [ 1 WJ Ideas are fomu withoni matter of every Mod of things which can exist ; which forma were also conceived by Plato to be eternal and immutable, and to be the models or patterns by whicb tho^ efficient canae — that L, the Deity— formed, every part, rf this universe. These ideas were conceived to he the sole objects of tcionce, and indeed of all tnie Imowledge. While we are im- prisoned in the body, we are prone to give attention to the otijecta of iOMt only ; but these being individuaUhin||B, and in a con- slant flnctnatbn, being indeed shadow! rather than ioalilie% 'Cannol b©' the object of real knowledge. All .science h employed not about individual things, but about things universal and abstract from matter. Truth is eternal and immutable, and there- fore mnal have for' its object eternal Md^ immutable ideas ; 'these we are capable 'Of coutempkting in some degree even in our present state, but not without a certain pufiicationof mind, and abstraction from the objects rf sense* Such, as Iw as^ I am able to eomp:iohend, 'wer© the sublime notions of Plato, and probably of Pytlia- Koras. The piiowF^em of the Alexandrian ■ehool, commonly called the latter Plato- nists, seem to have adopted the same sys- tem ; but with this diHlwenoe, that they made tbo eternal. 'ideiM not to^ be n^princirie disttncl. fkom 'tbo :Drfty, but to bO' in tho divine intelleel, aa the objects of those con- ceptions which the divine mind must, from all eternity, have had, not only of every- thing whicb be has made, but of every pos- sible exiitonoe, and of all tho rolalioDs of things.* By a proper puriicatim and abstraction from tho objects of sense, we may bo in some measnro united to the Deity, and, in tho eternal light, be enabled to discern tho most sublime intellectual truths. These Pktonic notions, grafted upon Christianity, probably gave rise to tho sect called JlffflM», which, though in its spirit and principles extremely opposite to the Peripatetic, vet was never extiuguwiied, but aubttta to wis day. [120] Many of the Fathers of the Christian church have a tincture of the tenets of the Alexandrian school; among others, St Ainmatine. But it does not appear, as far as I know, that either Plato, or the latter Phitonists, or St Augustine, or the Mystics, thought that wo perceive the objects of sense in the divine ideas- They had too mean a notion of our perception of sensible objects to ascribe to it so high an origin. This theory, theroforo, of our perceiving the objoota of aenso in the ideas of the Deity, I tako to bo the invention of Father Halebrancbe himself. He, indeed, brings many passagoa of St Augustine to counte- nance it, and seems very desirous to have that Father of his party. But in those passages, though the Father speaks in a very high strain of God's being the light of our minds, of our being illuminated imme- ditttely by tho eternal light, .and uses other dmihir oapreiaions ? yet he seems to apply those expfossbns only to our illumination in moral and divine things, and not to the Srception of objeota by the senses. Mr lyk imaginea that .some traces of tins opinion of Malebimnehe arc to be found in Amelius the PlatouisI, and even in Demo- critus; but his authorities seem to be ■tniittod.i* Maiobiiinebe, with a very penetrating ,genin% «tOfod into a more 'm.inute examm- ation of tho powers of the human mind, than any one before him. H e had the advan- tage of the discoveries made by Des Cartes, whom he followed without slavish attacli- men't lie lays it down as a principle admitted. by all philosophoni, and which could not he call«d. in ouestion, that we do not per- ceive external objects, immediately, but by means of images or ideas of them present to the mind. " I suppose," says he, " that - TIm piat ffff^i *' tbtovf of .IdkMW liM iMilllif'ni io with •*icliliie''Of i«MiilveiiM«5Ptloo j swimtalio. I into tiii qowtton to mtif . .gWfPaat ,»g, Jg;, - fnotlietitor Malebraiietiei toln fiMft not only to, but mucii iurtlicr tMiioftd mm^ tHe tasn the eonnaoo iV "'~ ^' IIM IciiottsiMi.— H. • And thto. ttionfli Ariitotle asserts the contrary. «M tMrhaiMalM the dootrine or Plato.— H. t ^llt theory of Malebranch* hw lif^n vainly ■ouflliiflir in the Bible, the Platoniili,and the Fatbcfti. _ _ Jlur in the Bible, the L ItlS^ In tet, more dtarly enounced in Momcr than In any oTlhcfe paver MNircct. T*W yw »••« irh Wix0**ar- ticularly in this, he has great merit. For this, 1 apprehend, is a key that opens the way to a right understanding, both of i»iir external senses and of other powers of the mind. The vulgar confound sensation with other powers of the mind, and with their objects, because the purposes of life do not make a distinction necessary. The con- founduig of these in common language, has led philosophers, in one period, to make those things external which really are sens- ations in our own minds ; and, in another period, running, as is usual, into t he con- "'• Opinioi^f analogous to the second or third, were held by the PUtoimts, bv some of the Greek, and by many of the Arabian Arist otelians. See . bove, p. 2»r2, note • — H. ... r»„ ♦ Something snnilar io this is hasarded by Dm Carter in his Third •• Meditation," which it is likely that Malebranche had in his eye.— H. . . _„^. t It should have been noticed that ihe Malebranch. tan philosophy is fundamentally (artesian, andthat, after De la Forge and Geuhnx. the doc'J'"'; "J Divine Aftistance, implicitly maintained by ues Cartes, wjs most ably developed by Malebranche. to whom it owes, ndeed, a principal share of its ccl- btity.— H. ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWEia [emat II trarj extreme, to iiiiil;e ererytliiiig almMt to lie ft MniMtioii or teling m our minds. It m «Mmm 'tliiit the Bitteni ©f Mftle- faimiMli* ktmrn 'm mMmm <»ff th© exktonoe of ftBfttorU world, from wha,t we perceive bj mat mamm ; for tlie divine' idefts, wliieli ftN' tliii' objcels inmediiitolj' jperceived, were tie MUM liefofe tlie wwrid w»» creiita4. If ftbhranche was too acuto not to discern titiB comeqweiMse of his system, and too can- did mot to aiiliiwif ledge it. [123] Helatrlj mwm. it,. Mid,, •ndeavimre to make advantage 'Of It, leitingtlie oomiileto' evidence we hsire of the existence of matter upon the author- ity of revektion. He shews that the .argn- uwttts. hwiught hy :ilea Oar tea to Bfov© the existence of m material 'WorM, tlioogh as^ good as any that reason oould fumtsb, are not perfectly condastve ; and, though he acknowledges with Bes Cartes that wo feel ft atrO'ng pfoponstty to' helwTO the existence' of ft material world, yet he tliinks this is not sufficient ; and that to yield to such propensities without evidence, is to expose ourselves to perpetual, delusion. He 'th inki, therefore, that the only eonvincing evidence ra have of the existence of a material world «s, that we are assured hj revektion that God created the heavens and the earth, and that the Word was made flesh. He is sensthle of the ridio'ule to which so strange an opinion may expose him among those who are guided by prejudice ; but, for the sake of truth, he is wilEng to bear it. But no author, not even Bishop Berkeley, hath shewn more clearly, that, either npn his own system, or upon the common j^rinciples. of philosophers with repwrd to ideas, we have no evidence left, either from reason or from our senses, of the existence of a 'material world. It is. no more than justice to Father Malebrancfae, to acknowledge that Bishop Berkeley's arguments are to be found in kin in their whole force. Mr Nornii, an English, divine, espoused the system of Malebmnehe, in his *<^fiMiay towards the Theory of tho Ideal or Intcl- Jeetnal World,** p uhliabed. in two volumw r, anitO' IfOl. Th'is author has made a 'feeble elfort^ to supply a defect' which 'is to' he found not in Mftlebranehe only, but in almost all the autliors who have treated of 'idnas— I mean, to prove their existence.*' He haS' eni'ployed a whole chapter to prove that 'material, "things eannot te an inmedkte object of perception. His arguments are these : If I. They are without them'Uid, and, therelbre there cm be'.iio nnaon between the olfed" and tte ■perception. ■*%, They are dinproportioned to the mind , and removed • Thl» It incoiicct. In tUmml etery tf »tciii of clie ArtMoMlMMiiMMtto' 'iMlMiilif , the sttaspt {■ ~ »'ioBiimtlM-ealflMifeofa|iceiit| M'tolMd^ iMitiiiS' mm «f :iil«P. to 'tlie Caitwlsp phllcMo.. In iMt, Mmnt:*! arfunwiitt .am at otil Mid from it by the whole dlainetor of being. Mgf Because, M mattrial. <^bjecto were immeikte obJefliS' of' pefoeption, there could be no physical science; things necessary and immutable being the only objects of scienoa [124] '4lMf, If mateiiml. things were perceived by 'themselves, 'they 'wonld be a true light to our minds, as being the intel- %ibleformof our understandings, and con- BequeBtly ferftatiire 'Of them, and, indeed, superior to' them.. Makbranehe's system was adopted by many devout people in France of both sexes ; but it seems to have had no great cnrrency in other countries. Mr Locke wrote a small tract against it, which is found among bk posthumous works :* but, whether it was written in haste, or after the vigour of hk understanding was im- paired by nge, there k less of strength and solidity in it than in most of hia writings. The most formidable antagonist Male- brancbe met with was in hk own country~- Antony Amauld, doctor of the Sorbonne, and one of theacutest writers the Jansenists have to boast of, though that sect has pro- duced many. Malebrauehe was a Jesuit, and the antipathy between the Jesuits and Jansenkta left him no room to expect quarter from hkleanied antagonist. f Those who choose lo see this system attacked on the one hand, and defended on the other, with subtilty of argument and elegance of expnaiion,| and on the part of Amauld with Blltth wit and humour, may find satis- fa<^li»by reading Malebrancbe's " Enquiry alter Truth ;'* Aruauld's book " Of True and False Ideas ;** Malebrancbe's ** Defence;" and some subsequent replies and defences. In controversies of this kind, the assaiknt commonly has the advantage, if they are not unequally matched ; for it k easier to O¥ortiini all the theories of pbilosoi»hers upon thk subject, than to defend any one of them. Mr .Bayle nalces a very just re- mark upon thk controversy— tliat tlie argu- mente of Mr Arnauld against the s\stein of Malebranche, were often unanswerable, but • la anntfr to .1 JKfce'b •* .EsanliiatiiNi M .P. Mai*, braoche^' CMnliMi,''' Utails 'wrale *• B«in««kt»* whtdi' .an tolit innd aawng his pottbumou.! «orfc% f 'l|:iM«anclit wsi. n«it.a Jmlt.lml a FriMt or th« Oratorv'i mi mi flttle'w:ai Ik cttHer a favourer or favourite eftbe JcMtitt, tliat, by the Pere de VhIoIh, he was .accuwd. oi' faansf ,. Iif 'iht Pen' tiatjlouiii*. of Aiheinii. Tlia twiiaveitfs ifthf ' JiniUs In Fimim to pMliMt 'tie laiwiiiiilon of mtn tarn of the Carte- •laa doelttaa Into 'l:ht' piMIe' .■tniliiailM of education. pay. ^.^Midit .■nd .Anauld wera' ■• Jewlt awl Jantenltt, aiid II ~ tiiat ihcy were both are ireli. klMWrai.. rihiMlilllkeviM . f'*arl'i^Miiii M I ImtaMiidtollf of bl« pdudnal hypotbetif alt'O. geiher, lit 'vmikf of MaMiranciM ilf«rve'lh» OMMt. attenilva 'itiNlf, 'both on aocounl of Iht wv»m ^td* iiitiabltthonihtsaiii oliHffWlltlM' witb. which thejr ■III, .ana biMiMt 'ihtf .«»' anoii'f the few cun. '■■■■"" I'tf'pbltongllleal doqi>ence—H. cHiF. viilJ of the THEORY OF PERCEPTION, &c. they were capable of being retorted against hib own system ; and his ingenious aiitair- onist knew well liuw to use thk defence. [ 125] 2(iT CHAPTER VIII. O? THK COMMON THEORY OF PBRCKPTION, ANC OF THE SENTIMKMT8 OP THE PERIPA- TETICS, ANO OF nSS CARTES. This theory, in general, k, that we per- ceive external objects only by certain images %vhich are in our minds, or in the sensoriuin to which the mind is immedktely present. Philoso[>liers in different ages iiave differed both in the names they have given to those images, and in tlieir notions couceriiing them. It would be a laborious task to enumerate all their variations, and per- liaps would not requite the kbuur. I shall j)nly give a sketch of tiie princi[)al dif- ferences with regard to their names and their nature. By Aristotle and the Peripatetics, tlie images presented to our senses were called sensible species or forms ; those presented to the memory or imagination were called phantasms ; and those presented to the intellect were called hitelligible species ; and they thought that there can be no perception, no imagination, no intellection, without species or phantasms,* AVliat the ancient philosophers called species, sensible and intelligible, and phantasms, in later times, and especklly since the time of Des Cartes, came to be called by the common nair.e of ideas, f The Cartesians divided our ideas into three classes— those of sensa- tion, of imapnatiotij and of pure intellectioii. Of tlie objects of sensation and imagination, they thought the images are in the brain \X but of objects that are incorporeal the images are in the understanding or pure intellect Mr Locke, taking the word idea in the same sense as Des Cartes had done before hiin, to signify whatever k meant by phan- tasm, notion, or species, divides ideas into those of sensation^ and those of rejiectiun ; meaning by the first, the ideas of all corpo- real objects, whether perceived, remem- bered, or imagined; by the second, the ideas of the powers and operations of our minds. [120] What Mr Locke calls ideas, Mr Hume divides into two distinct kinds, impressions and ideas. The difference be- twixt these, he says, consists in the degrees of force and hveluiess with which they strike upon the mind. Under im/tressions he com- prehends all our sensations, passions, and * See N«)te M.— H. f Not merely etpeciaUy, bitt rmlf lincc the time of P^ Cartes, M» Note (i . — H. 4 liiutrrect. See No:e N.— H. [185, 126J emotions, as they make their first appear- ance in the soul. By ideas, he means the faint images of these in thinking aud rea- soning. Dr Hartley gives the same meaning to ideas as Mr Hume does, and what Mr Hume calls impressions he culls sensations ; conceiving our sensations to be occasioned by vibrations of the infinitesimal particles of the brain, and ideas by miniature vibra- tions or vibratiuncles. Such differences we find among philosophers, with regard to the name of those internal images of objects of sense which they hold to be the innne- diate objects of perception.* We shall next give a short detail of tho sentiments of the Peripatetics and Carte- sians, of Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, con- cerning them. Aristotle seems to have thought that the soul consists of two parts, or rather that we have two souls — the animal aud the ra- tional ; or, as he calls them, the soul and the intellectt To the Jirst, belong the senses, memory, and imaj^ination ; to the last, judgment, opinion, belief, and reason- ing. The first we have in common with brute annuals ; the last is peculiar to man. The animal soul he held to be a certain form of the body, which is insej)arable from it, and perishes at death- To this soul the senses belong ; and he defines a sense to be that which is capable of receiving the sensi- ble forms or species of objects, without any of the matter of thetn ; as wax receives the form of the seal without any of the matter of it. The forms of sound, of colour, of ♦ Heid, I may observe in gerjeuil, does not dis. tingui!.hy.a» it espociilly bch<»ved him to do, between what were held by philosophers to be tlie proximate causes of our mental representations, and these npresentations iliemselves as'tlie objectt of coKtiition — <. e , between what are known in the sch«)oU «s ihcspecies imp>euet, and the apecirsexpresscr. Jhe forujer, to wliich tlie name of Sfecies, image, idea, was often given, in common with the latter, was helil on all handH to be ur. known lo consciou-negs, »ntl generally sujjposed to be merely certain occult uiocions in the organism. J he latter, the result deiennined by the former, is the ment; 1 repieseniation, and the immediate or proper object in perception. Great confusion, to those who do i.ot bear this distinction in mind, is, howevir, the conscquenee of the verbal amiiiguity; and Keid's misreiircsentations of the doctrine of the philosophers ii», in a great measure, lo be traced to this source.— H. 4 This not ciirrect. Inste.id n| two, ihc animal and raiionalt Aristotle gave to the soul three generic functions, the vegetab(eti\\e animator tensmil, ami the rational; but whether he syppo-es these to constitute three concentric potences, three separate oarts, or thiee di.stinct »ouIh, lias divided his disciples. He also defines the soul in general^ and not, as Keid supposes, the mere • animn* soul,' to be the form or i»TiAiY««ofthel)ody— (XJtf .^iii»i'$ (wbidi wmiM .iui««.''bceii,ili tlM|"«clit. or ■W0Q 'tat. whether tm. it m wumm wttt. 'iMifrrtfiil, ^mmiUrM» m ti m 'niiiiiria«iw«««'ba#"'.eiii wlrllk-* 'pralileai, 'It 'inait. b • allMMip enAalMilf mm, hot. mil., likt tie other,. •ttlf-eiiBlfaiktoif.— n. ratting a stop to tbe progress of knowledge, by .iiing men with a conceit that tliey knew everyth'ing. [ 128] It was very Iruitiul also in controversies; but, for the most part, they were controversies about words, or about things of no moment, or things above the reach m Him human faculties. And the issue of them, waa w;hat. might be expected— that the contending parties fought, without gaitiing or losing an inch of ground, till they were weary of tbe dilute, or their atten- tion was called off to some other subject.* Sneh was the philoBophy of the schools of Europe, during many ages of darkness and barbarism that succeeded the decline of the Roman empire ; so that there was great need of a refomnition in philosophy as well as in religion. The light began to dawn at last ; a spirit 'Of inquiiy sprang up, and men got the courage to doubt of the dogmas of Aristotle, as well as of the decrees of Popes. The most important step in the reformation of religion, was to destroy the daun of infallibility, which hindered men from U8.in|^' their jiidgment in. matters of 'religion $ and 'the mostimpertant stop in the remrmation 'Of philosophy, was. 'to destroy the authority of whkh Aristotle had so lone had peaeeable possession. The last had been .attempted by Lord Bacon and others, with no lees leal than 'the irst hy Luth'er atid Calvin. Des Cartes knew well the defects of the prevailing aystem, which had begun to lose ita. authority.. .His. genius enabled him, and faia. Bphrit prom.pted lihn,. to attempt a new one. He had applied much to the mathe- matical sciences, and had made considerable .improvement In them. He wished to in- trcmuce that perspicuity and evidence into other hranehes of philosophy which he found in them. Being sensible how apt we are to be led astray by pie|'udioea.of 'education, he thought 'the only way to avoid error 'was to resolve to doubt of everything, and hold everything to be uncertain, even those things which he had been taught to hold as most certain, until, .he .had. .inel. elear and cogent evidence .as 'Compelled, his aaseu't. [ 1 29] In this state of universal doubt, that which first apneaied to bun to be clear and certain,, wm mm mm eKiatence. Of this be wasecrtaiB,'beiausehe waS'Conscious that he thouglit, that he reasoned, and that he doubted. He used this argument, there- fore, to' prO'Ve his own 'existence, €itft^ «rf # «iifft. This he conceived to he the first of all truths, the foundation-slone upon whieh the whole-lkbric of human knowledge iiiiAP. viii.] OF THE THEORY OF PEllCEP TION, &c. %m • 'Thli' :it. the vU%sr' ■fl.aloii in retsnt to tht .telMhitte philoMphf . The Ifcw an, .liowtver. now awwe tlial the human mind, thniiili pirtitiijr, wm tiewT' iBiiffe piw'cifullf developed 'thsti during iIm ai.tdi!tap4.— .IL. [127-I2§1 Inbuilt, and on which it must rest.* And, as Archimedes thought that, if he had uiie tixed puint to re»t his engines upon, he could move the earth ; so Des Cartes, cliarmed with the discovery of one certain principle, by which he emerged from the state of universal doubt, believed that this principle alone would be a sufficient found- ation on which he might build the whole system of science. He seems, therefore, to have taken no great trouble to examine whether there might not be other first prin- ciples, which, on account of their own light and evidence, ought to be admitted by every man of sound judgment. -|- The love of simplicity so natural to the mind of man, led hira to apply the whole force of his mind to raise the fabric of knowledge upon this one principle, rather than seek a broader fouudatiun. Accordingly, he does not admit the evi- dence of sense to be a first principle, as he does that of consciousness. The arj^u- ments of the ancient sceptics here occurred to him, that our senses often deceive us, and therefore ought never to be trusted on their own authority : that, in s'eep, we often seem to see and hear things which we are convinced to have had no existence. But that which chiefiy led Des Cartes to think that he ought not to trust to his senses, without proof of their veracity, was, that he took it for granted, as all philosophers had done before him, that he did not perceive external objects themselves, but certain images of them in his own mind, called ideu»* He was certain, by consciousness, that he had the ideas of sun and moon, earth and sea ; but how could he be assured that there really existed external objects like to these ideas ?:;: [ KiO ] Hitherto he was uncertain of everything but of his own existence, and the existence of the operations and ideas of his own mind. Some of his disciples;, it is said, remained at this stage of his system, and got the name of Egoists. § They could not find evidence in the subsequent stages of his progress. But Des Cartes resolved not to stop here ; he endeavoured to prove, by a new argu- ment, drawn from his idea of a Deity, the existence of an infinitely perfect Being, who made him and all his faculties. From the perfection of this Being, he inferred that he could be no deceiver ; and therefore con- cluded that his senses, and the other fsicul- ties he found in himself, are not fallacious, • On the Cartesian douhf, we Note R. — H. t *rh» oiinnot justly be affinncd ol Des Caitc* ~r On thw point i» !i probable that Dei Cartes and Beid are at one. See Notes C and N— H. I 1 am doubtltil about the existence of thin sup. pned sect ot EfrnstN. Tiie Chevalier Ramsay. aiio»e a century aRo, incidentally speaks of this dec- trine ai an offiihoot of Spinoaism, and under li.e [130, 1311 but may be trusted, when a proper use is made ut them. The system of Des Cartes is, with great perspicuity and acuteness, explained by himself in his writings, which ought to bo consulted by those who would understand it. The merit of Des Cartes cannot be easily conceived by those who have not some notion of the Peripatetic system, in wliicli he was educated. To throw ofi" the preju- dices of education, and to create a system of nature, totally different from tl.at which had subdued the understanding of mankind, and kept it in subjection for so many cen- turies, required an uncouunon force of mind. The world which Des Cartes exhibits to our view, is not only in its structure very different from that of the Peripatetics, but is, as we may say, composed of diflereut materials. In the old system, everythmg was, by a kind of metaphysical sublunation, resolved into principles so mysterious that it may be a question whether they were words with- out meaning, or were notions too refined lor Uuniau understanding. All that we observe in nature is, accord- ing to Aristotle, a constant succession of the operations of gent-ration and corruption. [131] The principles of generation are mat- ter and form. The principle of corruption is privation. All natural things are produced or generated by the union of matter and form ; matter being, as it were, the mother, and form the father. As to matter, or the first matter, as it is called, it is neither substance nor accident ; it has no quality or property; it is notlung actually, but everything potentially, it has so strong an appetite for form, that it is no sooner divested of one form than it is clothed with another, and is equally susceptible of all forms successively. It has no nature, but only the capacity of having any one. 'J'his is the account which the Peripate- tics give of the first matter. The other principle of generation is /ovm, acl^ pt^rjei - (ion ; for these three words signify the same thing. But we must not conceive form Ut consist in the figure, size, arrangement, or motion of the parts of matter. These, in- deed, are accidental forms, by which thuigs name of EnomisTne. But Father Hulher, about the same time, and, be it uoled, in a work i»ubiibhed some ten years belore Hume's " Treatise of Human Na- tuie," talks of it, on hearsay, as ihe speculation ol a Scotch philosopher :— " Un 6crivain Kcossois a public, dit on, un ouvi age pour prouverqu'il n'avoit aucuiie ifidence de I'txistence d'aucun etre quede lui ; et encore de lui, en tani qu* rsprtt; n'aiant aucune dr. monstrationvdrifablede I'existf nee d'aucun cor,..' -Eirment de Metap/iy»tque, i (il. Now, we know that there is no bucn work. I am awiire, however, that there is ^ome discussion on this point in the " Memous tie 'rrcvoux,"anno 171.1, p-SWifi to which liowever 1 must refer the reader, as I have not thai journal at hand -But more of this below, uucei p i87.~U. II ;270 ON THE INTELLECTUAIi TOW; [essay If. -HAP. viii.J OF THE THEORY OF PERCEPTION, &c. 271 1 1 artilMiil. •»•' hmmi : but every prwInclMm, cif Ifatiin liM m snlietanikl form,* wliiali, kami to natter, malcet it to ho whsi it is. Tlie'flitetaiifial 'form is a kind of infnmitiig soul, which gives the thing ita specific na- tore, and dl ita qualilies, fowera,. and activity. Thus the mhitaiiitial. form ef' heavy bodie%. is that which 'maiiea them deieend ; of light bodies, that which makes theia ascend. The substantial form of gold, is tlut which .gives it its ductiiitv, ita FiirfMlity, its weight, Its colour, and all its qualities'; and tfae:8ame is to be understood of every natural production. A change in the accidental form of any body, is .alteration only ; hut a 'Change in the substantial form is geueratbn and. -ooffnption 1 it is eonrup- tion with respect 'to the substantial fo^rm, of 'Which the body is .deprived; it is genera*' tion with respect to the substantial form that .succeeds. Thus, when a horse dies and turns to dust, the phiksophlcal aisoowit of the pbamomenon is this :~ A certa.in pr- tion of the mmterim prima, which was joined 'to the substantial form of a horse, is^ de- Sived of .It hy 'privation, and .in the aame stant is. invested, with 'the suhBtanthd 'fo'rm of earth. [ 1 S2] As every substance must have a substantial form, tliere are some of those forma inanimate, some vagetative, some animal, and some imtional. The' three former 'hinds 'Can only .subsist 'In matter ; but the hist, according to the schoolmen, is immediately created by God, and mfused into the body, .mahing one substance with it, white they aie united; yet: capable of being disjoined from the body, and of sub- sisting by itself. Sow are the principles of natural 'things k the Peripatetic watem. It retains so much of the ancient Pythagorean doctrine, that we cannot ascribe the invention of it soMy to Aristotle, although he,, no 'doubt, madO' conaideKabte alterations In it The first^ 'matter waS' probably the isame .in both ays-' 'tems, and. was in both 'held 'to be etomiil.. They differed more about form. The Py- thagoreans and PbtonlBte held forma or 'idew, as they 'CalM 'them, to' be eternal, immutable, and. sdlf-eaistent Aristotle matntained thai they were not eternal, nor iseif-existent. On the other 'hand, .he did not allow them to be produced, but educed from, matter; yet 'he held them not to be actually m the matter from which they are educed, but po'tentially only. But these' two systems 'diiiired less 'from one another, than that of Bee Cartes. M froni 'both. In the worid of Dea. ^Cartes, we 'meet 'wifch two kinds of beings only— to wit, body and mind ; the first the object of our senses, • It it iMVtt lioveireri to IM *iip|MWMl thai fht MlMilaMic iloctri.ne 'Of mmimiiiml mrrtm w«l:w» Mf ■mitttensiMt 'imiii tto ■til.liorltf off Aristiil.|ff^ If m* .bf .n^it US''laiipittt"i«icliiiiif us . Mill— M. the other of oomcioisnoss. 1 both 'Of them thiup' of 'wHch. wei have a distuict appre- henmm, tf the hmnan mind be capable of distinct apprehension at all To the irst, no qualittea are ascribed, but extensioB, figure, and motion ; to tbehist. nothing but tLuiiiit, and its various mJificatioms of which we are conscious.'* He could ob- serve no common attribute, no resembling featoie^ in the attributes of body and mind, and therefore concluded them to be distlne* substanees, and totally of a difierent nature ; and that body, from Its very nature, is in- animate and inert, incapable of any kind of thought or sensation, or of producing any clunge or alteration in itself. [133] Des Cartes must he allowed the honour of being the first who drew a distinct line between the nuterial. and lntel.lcclnal. world, which, in all the old .systems, were sii blended together 'that 'it 'was impossible to i^y where toe one ends and the other lie- gm&t How much this distinction hath contributed to the improvements of modem times, In the philosophy both of body and of mind, 'is not easy to say. One obvious conse€|uence of this distinc- tion wss, that accurate reflection on the operations of our own mind is the only way to make any progress in the knowledge of it. Malebranclie, Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, were taught thfa lesson by Des Qirtes ; and to it we owe their most va- luable discoveries, in this branch of plrilo- sophy. The analogical way of reasoning concerning the powers of tlie mind from the properties of body, which is the source of almost all tlie errors on this subject, .and 'Which is. so natural to the bulk of manUi'id, was as contrary to the principles of Des Cartes, as It was agreeable to the princi- ples of the old philosophv. Wo may there- fore truly say* thai, in that part of pbihiso- 'phy which relates to 'the mind, Des C3artes laid the foundation, and put us into that tract which all wise men now acknowledge to be the only one In which we can expect success. With regard to phyaics or the philosophy of body, if Des Cartes had not the merit of leading men into the right tract, we must allow Mm that of bringing them out «»f a wrong 'One. The Peripatetics, by assigning to every species of body a particular sub- stantial form, which prO'duces, in an un- known manner, all the oU'eete. 'W« observe in it, put a stop to all improvement in this bwncli of philosophy. Gravity and levity, fluidity and hardness, heat and cold, were qualities arising frfim the substential form of the bodies to which they belonged. Gen- • In f ii« Cartmian lanicuage, the term tkm^M in. dwM all off waWi;. we sie cenwloua — H. • f 'Tlt:|t.sM«nltion, and that the Deity always combines these, so as to produce the pluenomena in tlie sim]»lest manner possible, he thought that, from a few experiments, he might be alile to dis- cover the simplest way in which the obvious phanomena of nature can be produced by matter and motion only ; and that this must be the way in which they are actually pro- duced. His conjectures were ingenious, upon the principles lie had adopted ; but they are found to be so far from the truth, that they ought for ever to discourage |thilosophers from trusting to conjecture in the operations of nature. [136] The vortices or whirlpools of subtile matter by which Des Cartes endeavave the first and the nohlest examples of thai 'ehaste indnetion which Lord Bacon could only delhieate^ in theory. Mow strange 'is it that the human, mind should have wandered for so many ages, without falling into this tract ! How much ;mo:re strange^ that, after it lias^ heen clearly discovered, weAm happy progress 'made in it, :iiiany Aoost' 'i»4her to wander .in the Ikiry regions of hypothesis ! [ 137] To return to Des Cartes*s notbns of the manner of our perceiving external objects, 'from which a concern 'to do Justice to the merit of that great reformer in philosopliy has led me to digresB|le took it for granted, as 'the old philosophers had. done, that' what we immiediiitely perceive 'must, be either in the mind itself, or in the brain, to which the mind is immediately presenCy The im- pressions made upon our organs, nerves, and brain could be noihhig, afs€0:idiiig to hw 'philosophy, but 'various noditetions^ of extension, figure, and motion. There 'Could be nothing in the brain like sound or colour, taste or smell, heat or cold ; these are sens- ations in the mind, which, by the kws of the union of soul and body, are raised on occasion of certain traces in the brain s and althungh he gives the name of ideas to those traces 'in the brain, he does not think .it necessary that they should be perfhetly like' tO' the things which they represent,, any more than that words or signs should resemble the thhigp thev signify. But, ■ays. he,, that we may follow tmi' veoeived. 'Opinion as lar aa .Is^ poviMe, we may ^aiow a dlght 'resemblance. Thw we know 'that a print in a book may represent houses, tem.pies, and groves ; and so far is 'It ttmm. being 'neeessaiy that tho' print should te prfeeiy like 'the thing 'it lepMieiits, that m priietion. often reqnires 'the contrary s for'a ehwle must often be represented by an ellipse, a square by a rhombus, and so ^of other thmgs.* • But Iw il nbMTVttf tiMl Dm CotCm dlii not ailiMr. Iw taw :lMlil^, 'tint llMi 'imwl' lisi' asf wgiiwiise cf IS retend to say. There are two points, in particular, wherein I cannot reeoucile him to hininelf ; the /rj(/, regarding the place of the idess or unages of external objects, which are the immedmte objects of perception ; the heconiL with regard to the veracity of our extcrnai As to the /nr/, he sometimes places the ideas of material objects in the brain, not only when they are perceived, but when tbey are remembered or imagined; and this has always been held to be the Car- tesian doetrine;* yet he sometimes says, that we are mot to conceive the images or 'tHMiS in 'the brain to be perceived, as if there were eyes in the bmin ; these traces are only occasbns on which, by the kws of the union of soul and body, ideas are ex cited in the mind ; and, therefore, it is not necessary that there shiiuld be an exact resemblance between the traces and the Ihlugs represented by tliem, any more than that words or sii^ns should be exactly likw the thmgs signified by them.f These two opinions, I tliink, cannot he .reeoneited* For, if the iro.ages or traces in the bniin are percei'ved,^' they must be the lliliig' aoffe'tlMUi a modiicatlon of the laind. ilaclC.— ^ * Stit not la .RcM^ esGluiife .sciiie of 'Hit wiifil Mw.— H. t HM' son-'iMpliiin, 'la 'tUi 'imifanre, of ati re. tfoMance iMtwMi' ite malcfial Idea*, or organic miliiiiM in tlw brain, and the extin-iml reality, it one of UieiwaMioiMil Iralanctt of U<*h Cartel's reticeno** ' 4 Ma ililiOidlnale iloeirinMi, in order to avoid all uselena tUtlna apliMt pwvsleni ofiiiiiiiiM. Another ia litt •MAtllnst llflng li 'ilMlt '"UMlioat 'tlw name 'Cf ' %r. I Wlilcli,ln Dm Csitsi* doomn^tlief are not.-^H. ["137. 1381 objects of perception, and not the occasions of it only. On the other hand, if they are only the occasions of our perceiving, they are not perceived at all. Des Cartes seems to have hesitated between the two opinions, or to have passed from the one to the other.* Mr Locke seems, in like manner, to have wavered between the two ; some- times representing the ideas of material things as being in the brain, but more fre- quently as in the mind itself. f [139] Keither Des Cartes nor Mr Locke could, consistently with themselves, attribute any other qualities to images in the brain but extension, figure, and motion; for as to those qualities which Mr Locke distui- guished by the name of secondary qualities, both philosophers believed them not to be- long to body at all,J and, therefore, could not ascribe them to images in the brain. § Sir Isaac Newton and Dr Samuel Clarke uniformly speak of the species or images of material things as being in that part of the brain called the sensorium, and perceived by the mind there present ; but the former speaks of this point only incidentally, and with his usual modesty, in the form of a query, jj Malebranche is perfectly clear and unambiguous in this matter. According to his system, the images or traces m the brain are not perceived at all— they are only occasions upon which, by the laws of Nature, certain sensations are felt by us, and certain of the divine ideas discovered to our minds. The second point on which Des Cartes seems to waver, is with regard to the credit that is due to the testimony of our senses. Sometimes, from the perfection of the Deity, and his being no deceiver, he infers that our senses and our other faculties can- not be fallacious ; and since we seem clearly to perceive that the idea of matter comes to us from things external, which it per- fectly resembles, therefore we must con- clude that there really exists something extended in length, breadth, and depth, having all the properties which we clearly perceive to belong to an extended thmg. At other times, we find Des Cartes and his followers making frequent complaints, • Des Carte* had only one opinion on the point. The difflctilty which perplexes Reid aro>e from his want of a lystematic comprehension of the Cartesian philosophy, and his being unaware that, by Idea*, lies Cartes designated two very different thiiigs—vii. , the proximate bodily antecedent, and the mental consequent— H. f Locke's opinion, if he had a precise one on the natter, It is impossible to ascertain. See Note 0.~ H. t Soe above, p. 805, note • — H. § Yet 1 oclce expressly denies them to be modifica. tions of mind. See Note O.— H. II Reid is correct in all he here sayi of Newton and Clarke J it it indeed virtually admitted by Clarke himself, in hit controvcfiy wiib Leibniti . Compare Uibnitli Opera, li, p. Ml. Slid |i. 18^.~ U. flSi^ 140J 273 as all the ancient philosophers did, of the fallacies of sense. He warns us to throw off Its prejudices, and to attend only with our mtellect, to the ideas implanted there. By this means we may perceive, that the nature of matter does not consist in hard- ness, colour, weight, or any of those things that affect our senses, but in this only, that it is something extended in length, breadth, and depth. [140] The senses, he says, are only relative to our present state ; they exhibit things only as they tend to profit or to hurt us, and rarely, and by accident only, as they are in themselves.* It was probably owing to an aversion to admit anything into philosophy, of which we have not a clear and distinct concep- tion, that Des Cartes was led to deny that tliere is any substance of matter distinct from those qualities of it which we perceive.f We say that matter is something extended, figured, moveable. Extension, figure, mo- bility, therefore, are not matter, but quali- ties, belonging to this something, which we call matter. Des Cartes could not relish this obscure something, which is sup- posed to be the subject or suhstratum of those qualities ; and, therefore, mahitained that extension is the very essence of mat- ter. But, as we must ascribe extension to space as well as to matter, he found him- self under a necessity of holding that si)ace and matter are the same tiling, and differ only in our way of conceiving them ; so that, wherever there is space there is mat- ter, and no void left in the universe. The necessary consequence of this is, that the material world has no bounds nor limits. He did not, however, choose to call it in- finite, but indefinite. It was probably owing to the same cause that Des Cartes made the essence of the soul to consist in thought. He would not allow it to be an unknown something that has the power of thinking ; it cannot, there- fore, be without thought ; and, as he con- ceived that there can be no thought with- out ideas, the soul must have had ideas in its first formation, which, of consequence, are innate.^ The sentiments of those who came after Des Cartes, with regard to the nature of body and mind, have been various. Many have maintained that body is only a collec- tion of qualities to which we give one • But see " Principia," \ 66, cqq— If. t See Stewart '8 •• Elements," 1., Note A: Koyer Collard's Fragment, VIII.- H. I 'I'he doctrine of Des Cartes, in relation to Innate Ideat, has l)een very generally uiisutidertitood j and by no one more than by Locke. What it really amounted to, is clearly atated in his strictures on the Program of Regius. Justire has latterly been done him, among other*, by Mr. Stewart, in his " Uis. sertation," and by M. Laromiguiere, in his " Coursi*» See also the old controversy of Oe Vriea with KiieU on this point — H. ON THE 1NTBLLECT0AL POWERS, £|S8SAY It. 1 'I If mam i ind iitl' the notauB, ^ • ■nMi«wl ^ 'inhmam, U wiWi thmm fusitfit W«iil, m ciiilv ft fietion^ of ^ mind* [1411 Smile' 'mm tma mniiitained Uml tbe eoui IB fmlj m wmmmkm. 9i w^amAMtrng 'with- ©wt »ray nuiiiiot rf ■iilMwIoikt B '•!>?««% %' wlist 'hM 'leaa wdiLhiom far these do*' tioiia are allied to the CSartesiaii syttem. The triumph of the Cartesian sjitaiii over thai 'Of .AriitotH ia on* ft the iMSt. renwikahle ,iiwl»tioiia.iii the^hiatow" jf fh^ losophy, ami haa led me to dwall loiigor upon it than the present anhject perhaps required The authority of Afiitotle was mm m mows. Thai .reverent for hard vindi and. da*, notioaa,, hy which, men's onteBMiiidiiif had heen :itrangled m early yean, iraa turned into contempt, and every- 'thing auiiMMited. whiah was 'HoI dear^^' .and distiliis% mdanlood. This^ is the spirit of the Cartesian phiteophy, and is a more important a«|Uisition to mankind than any of Its particular 'tenets.! and for 'emtliig' this, split 10 iealoii^y» and ^iiiiiMling it so. iBtweetsfuIly, DesCartea-desarfes. immortal, honour. It is to be ohserved, however, that Des Cartes rejected a part only 'Of '^bm .ancient Ihoorj, ewmefninf 'the pwMfiiii f «»- ttrnal ohjeela hy the lensaa, and. that he adfipled the other pari That theory may he divided into two parts : The Jirwt^ that ;inia«s. apeaes, .or.lbrms 'Of extemalo^ecH CMM from 'the #h}ect, and enter hy the avennea of the senses to the mind; the memd part is, That the external ehject itself ia not perceived, hut only the species (ir image' of it in 'IhO' min4 'The irat ;parl Be* Cartes and. Ui' 'ffiiowers rejected, and ivitted hy solid arguments ; but the second part, neither he nor his followers have thoi«ht of calling in question ; bemg per- iMiiiiied that it 'is only a representMVt 'imafC' In the mind of the external object, that we perceive, and not the object itself. And this image, whiA the Peripatetics called a species,, he calk an :idca,, changing 'the ,nanie' only, while he admila the^ tbing^ It seems strange thai the great pains which this phitosiipier took to throw off the 'prejndicea of' 'Cdiicatlon,. to dismisa all his fcmner opInionB, and. to assent 'to iiotliin|, till he found evidence tlial compelled his Msent, :8hould not have led. him to donht of thia. opinion, of 'the ancieni phikeophy. It is evidently a phiioiophical opinion i •hr 'the 'Vulgar undoubtedly 'believe that it ii» the • ,Ai, Lockti, (iNil he it not. coi»lit««t.l Law, 11illoiMi|ilii«/*'Tonie II... La^fm «.viii.— M. t UnML— 11 1 Oct '€»!••■ and MmA colnddt inJmUim, If mm htm 'il»t we kntiw the'«aitnd^fii mtf- 'ail mm^m^^ « «»"«P^'2L2S!Wl2 rM tiMi 111 lit vtniliilant iiiiML. iSm mtMm m am u*-ii. external object which we immediately per< ceive, and not a wpresentative image of it only. It b for this reason that they look upon it as perfectlunacy tO' call in question the existence of 'extamal 'Objects.* It seems to be admitted as a first prin- ciple, by the learned and the unlearned, that what is really perceived most exist, and that to 'poieeive 'wliat does not exist is impossible. :S0' 'far-lht nnleamed 'man and the philoso- jkm agree. The unlearned man 'Says—I perceive the external object, and I perceive tt to exist Nothing can be more absurd 'than to doubt of ,it. The Peripatet,ic says— W:hat I ferciive 'is the very identical form of ^e object, which came immediately from the object, and makes an impression upon my mmd, as a seal does upon wax ; and, thoTifofet I can have no doubt of the ex- ;i8l«iaeof an object 'whose form I perceive, t But what saya the Cartesian ? I perceive not, says he, the external object itself. So 'iw'lie agreeawith, the Peripatetic, and diierS' ifom the unlearned man. But I perceive an image, or form, or idea, in my own mind, or in my brain. I am certain of the existence of the idea, because I imme- diately peroelve itf But how this idea ia imiid. Of what it represents, ,is not self- evidMit; and therefore I must find argu- ments by which, from the existence of the idea which I perceive, I can infer the ex- iataneO' of an external object which it re- proienis* As I take thia to be a Just view of the principles of the unlearned man, of the Peri- patetic, and of tho' CMesian, so I think they ai leaion .ooniequontially from their several principles' : that the Cartesian has^ strong grounds to doubt of the existence of exteruM obiects ? the Peripatetic very little ground of doubt ; and the unlearned [143] man none at all ; and that the difference of their aituation arises from this— that the un- leiirned man has no hypothesis ; the Peri- patetic leana npon an, ,hypothe8is,;. and the Cartesian upon one half of that hjrpothesis. Dea Cartes, according to the spirit of his own philosophy, ought to have doubted of both parti'Or tho Pcnptetichypothesls, or 'to havo' given bis^ ;reasons why he adopted one part, as well as why he rejected the other • Thii If one of the paatages which favour the opinion lliat IMil did nqiiMMe the nom-rf o to lie known In m&mm ■sMing, and not mly In and Ihirauflii mego; tm iMn.ktnd In genecal Wlcve tUat fSt ffxtendetl radMf,, m |wiMivii, it MnnlMiig niiirt ilMa a mere Iniainiai 'mmMntotlnii' bf i*e mtnd, Mi||eil«d In imiMN|Mnet of 'the tviiitMlon ■lade bf tn uuknown lomething on the venue. See ,iy,_A,_ M-f .i| IV 111 V * ■— *^ss« f The Ptripiletk and the Carterian held that the :to 'Or Mm mm an ohject of eonwioiiancM. If 1 uadeiitood lie language lie iM% lit iniiit Ml 'tbatCbt liBtMMl .andnttenM, ,ittilT f m ohject^of eaaiiliManiaat. 'But th'li does 'not Miadnit'WDli Ma <(Wtff||l«, that wp only know exteniloii ilid fl»itt m a'ifiiititad,coiica|M,ioninthemind. fct'woiec.— M. fUl-IISl CHAP. K.] OP THE SENTIMENTS OF MR LOCKE. 275 Raid, 'I part ; especially, since the unlearned, who have the faculty of perceiving objects by their senses in no less perfection than phUosophers, and should, therefore, know, as well as they, what it is they perceive, have been unanimous in this, that the objects they perceive are not ideas in their own minds, but things external. It might I have been expected that a philosopher who I was so cautious as not to take his own ex- I istence for granted without proof, would not j have taken it for granted without proof, that everything he perceived was only ideas in his own mind. But, if Des Cartes made a rash step in this, as I apprehend he did, he ought not to bear the blame alone. His successors have still continued in the same track, and, after his example, have adopted one part of the ancient theory — to wit, that the objects we immediately perceive are ideas only. All their systems are built on this foundation. CHAPTER Jjk. or THK SBNTIMKXTS OF ME LOCKS. The reputation which Locke's " Essay on Human Understanding** had at home from the beginning, and which it has gradually acquired abroad, is a sufficient testimony of its merit [144] There is, perhaps, no book of the metaphysical kind that has been 80 generally read by those who understand the language, or that is more adapted to teach men to think with precision,* and to inspire them with that candour and love of truth which is the genuine spirit of philo- sophy. He gave, I believe, the first ex- ample in the English language of writing on such abstract subjects, with a remarkable degree of simplicity and perspicuity ; and in this he has been happily imitated by others that came after him. No author hath more successfully pointed out the danger of ambiguous words, and the im- portance of having distinct and determin- ate notions in judging and reasoning. His observations on the various powers of the human understanding, on the use and abuse of words, and on the extent and limits of human knowledge, are drawn from atten- tive reflection on the operations of his own mind, the true source of all real knowledge on these subjects ; and shew an uncommtm degree of penetration and judgment. But he needs no panegyric of mine, and I men- tbn these things, only that, when I have occasion to difl'er from him, I may not be thought insensible of the merit of an author u'honi I highly respect, and to whom 1 owe * To praiat Locke fer prgeition, it rather too mueh^H. my first lights in those studies, as well as my attachment to them. He sets out in his essay with a full con- viction, common to him with other philo- sophers, that ideas in the mind are the objects of all our thoughts in every opera- tion of the understanding. This leads him to use the word idea* so very frequently, beyond what was usual in the English language, that he thought it necessary, in his introduction, to make this apology :— " It being that term,** says he, " which, I I think, serves best to stand for whatsoever is the object of understanding when a man thinks, I have used it to express whatever is meant by phantasm, notion, species, or whatever it is which the mind can be em- ployed about in thinking ; and I could not avoid frequently using it. I presume it will be granted me, that there are such ideas in men's minds ; every man is con- scious of them in himself, and men's words and actions will satisfy him that they are in others." [145] Speaking of the reality of our knowledge, he says, " It is evident the mind knows not things immediately, but only by the inter- vention of the ideas it has of them. Our knowledge, therefore, is real, only so far as there is a conformity between our ideas and the reality of things. But what shall be here the criterion ? How shall the mind, when it perceives nothing but its own idea^, know that they agree with things them- selves ? This, though it seems not to want difficulty, yet, I think, there be two sorts of ideas that we may be assured agree with things.** We see that Mr Locke was aware, no less than Des Cartes, that the doctrine of ideas made it necessary, and at the same time difficult, to prove the existence of a material world without us; because the mind, according to that doctrine, perceives nothing but a world of ideas in itself. Not only Des Cartes, butMalebranche, Arnauld, and Norris, had perceived this difficulty, and attempted to remove it with little suc- cess. Mr Locke attempts the same thing ; but his arguments are feeble. He even seems to be conscious of this ; for he con- cludes his reasoning with this observatiiin — " That we have evidence sufficient to direct us in attaining the good and avoidinj^ the evil, caused by external objects, and that this is the important concern we have in being made acquainted with them." Tliis, indeed, is saying no more than will b« granted by those who deny the existence of a material world. As there is no material difference between [Ui, Its] • I^ocke may be itaid to have fir«t naturalized the werd ill English philosophical langu l>|eetB by tlie iwnM^ Ikmm is tlie less ociasioD, in tlus plM% in take iM»tice of all tteir ' Mttmrnmrn in nfher points.^ 'Thejr differed alwiit tto ocigiii ^of ' &m Mmm. Dm CSsrteS' thoi^lit annuo dt ^bmm w«m innjite'i tlie 'Otlier uatetained tliat tbere are no innate ideas, and tliat they are all derived/liroin two aoiifisfis— tO'Wii,«fiiia/'iiifi and 'fi^rlim ; mmm^ by isenaitioii, tb« .ii|i««itioB8 of our 'Mttomal aenses ; and, by reflection, tbal atteotiiiii wiieli w« are' capable of giving to tlie operations of our #wn minds. [146J They differed witb r^jord to tbe essence botb of matter and of mind : the Bri^b pUloiopher boiding tbal tbe real essence of iMiiii. it' bqFmid tbe reacb of buman know- :ie%e ; tbe otber' conceiving tbat tbe very essence' 'Of mind couistS' in thougbt| and tbat of matter in extension, by wbin^be 'made matter ^andspacenot to diiier in reality, and no part of space to be void of matter. Mr Locke eiplained, mote distlnetly Iban bad been doM' 'bafi>n,/ in letackm to V'lial mm, ibroui^ it, known or rapftMiilail.— M. 0f tbe aitbors I have met witli, Dr Bobert Hook, is the moat eiplicit Me was one of the most ingisnloilB .and .active mem- bers of tbe Boyal Society of London at its first institution ; and fnqnently read lec- tureS' to the Society, whiob were published among ^his 'posthumous works. |147] In his ** Le&res upon Light,** § 7) he makes ideas to be matetial suhitances ; and thinks that tbe bram is fuiniabed witb a proper kind 'Of matter for faMcatlng tbe ideas of each :senseb The ideas of' sight, be thinks, are formed of a kind of matter resembling tbe Bononian. stone, 'Or some kind of pbos- pborua .t that the ideaa of Mund are fo'rmed. of suae matter resembling tbe 'Chnrds or glasses whidi take a sound from tbe vibra- gon.ofthe»r,«d»oftbere8t The aonL be^ "thinka, may fabricate some hundreds of' those ideas In a day ; and that, as they are formed, they are pushed farther off firom tbe centre of the brain where the soul naidea. B^ this means they make a con- tinued chain of ideaS|i 'Cojrled up in. the brain .« tbe 'fini end of which is 'fartnest removed from tbe centre or seat of tbe soul, and the otber end is. always at the centre, being the last idea formed, which is always present 'the .moment when considered..; nndi thc're- fore, aoeord'mg as there is a ,grakter 'number of ideaa between 'the present sensation or thought in the centre and any other, tbe soul is apprehensive of a krger portion of time inter|i06e4. Mr Lode 'haa not entered into so minute a detail of this manufacture of ideas ; but he ascribes to the mind a very considerable hand in foinilng Its own .ideas. With re- gard to our aenamona,. tbe mind is pa.88ive, *' tliey berag pwdnced in us, only by dif- ferent degrees .and 'modes 'Of 'motion in our animal niltita,. varionaly agitated by ex.r temal. objeets.** nieae, 'however, ceaae^ to bC' aa soon .as they eease to be fefeeived.s but, by the faculties of memory and imagin- mtion, '*'' the 'mind :haa an ability, when it wills, to revive them, again, and, as it were, to paint them .anew 'Upen itself, though seme with more^ some with lesa difficulty.** As to tbe ideas 'Of reflection, be asG.ribes them to no other cause but to that attention wbieb the mind is capable of giving to its own 'Opemtioiis. These, 'therefore, are formed by the mind itsell [ 148] He ascribes ^likewise to 'the mind the po%ver of com- pounding itS' simple ideas Into complex ones of 'vaiisQa .fwms; nf .sepcatlng 'thm,^ and and eiasamg 'themi of eomparing them, and, from that compariBon, of forming tbe ideaa of their rektton ; nay, of forming m gneial .idea 'Of a species or ^nus, by takmg m. the idea 'Of an Individual everything by wMcb It is distinguished from other in- dividuala of tbe kind, tiU at kat it becomes [146-1481 an abstract general idea, common to all tbe individuals of the kind. These, I think, are the powers which Mr Locke ascribes to the mind itself in the fabrication of its ideas. Bishop Berkeley, as we shall see afterwards, abridged them considerably, and Mr Hume much more. The ideas we have of tbe various quali- ties of bodies are not all, as Mr Locke thinks, of the same kind. Some of them are images or resemblances of what is really in tbe body; others are not. There are oertam qualities inseparable from matter; such as extension, solidity, figure, mobility. Our ideas of these are real resemblances of the qualities in the body: and these he calls primary qualities- But colour, sound, taste, smell, heat, and cold, he calls second- ary qualities, and thinks that they are only powers in bodies of producing cer- tain sensations in us; which sensations have nothing resembling them, though tliey are commonly thought to be exact resem- bkuoes of something in the body. " Thus," says he, ** the idea of heat or light, which we receive, by our eye or touch, from the sun, are commonly thought real qualities existing in tbe sun, and something more than mere powers in it.** The names of primary and secondary qualities were, I believe, first used by Mr Locke ; but the distinction which they ex- press, was well understood by Des Cartes, and is explained by him in his " Prmcipia,*' Part L, § 69, 70, 71. [149] Although no author has more merit than Mr Locke, in pointing out the ambiguity of words, and resolving, by that means, many knotty questions, which had tortured the wits of the schoolmen, yet, I apprehend, he has been aometimes misled by the ambi- guity of the word idea, which he uses so ^ often almost in every page of his essay. In the explication given of this word, we took notice of two meanings given to it — a popular and a philosophical. In the popu- lar meaning, to have an idea of anything, . signifies nothing more than to think of it. Although the opemtbns of the mmd are most properly and naturally, and indeed moat commonly in all vulgar languages, cx- . pressed by active verbs, there is another way of expressing them, less common, but equally well understood. To think of a thing, and to have a thought of it ; to be- lieve a thing, and to have a belief of it ; to . see a thing, and have a sight of it ; to con- ceive a thing, and to have a conception, notion, or idea of it— are phrases perfectly synonymous. In these phrases, the thought •» means nothing but the act of thinking ; the belief, the act of believing ; and tbe con- ception, notion, or idea, the act of conceiv- ing. To have a clear and distinct idea is, ■ in this sense, ncthing else but to concsive rUS, 150] the thing clearly and distinctly. When tlie word idea is taken in this popular sense, there can be no doubt of our having ideas in our minds. To think without ideas would be to think without thought, which is a manifest contradiction.* But there is another meaning of the word idea peculiar to philosophers, and grounded upon a philosophical theory, which the vul- gar never think of. Philosophers, ancient and modem, have maintained that the operations of the mind, like the tools of an artificer, can only be employed upon objects that are present in the mind, or hi the brain, where the mind is supposed to reside. [160] Therefore, objects that are distimt in time or place must have a representative in the mind, or in the brain — some image or picture of them, which is the object that the mind contemplates. This representative image was, in the old philosophy, called a species or phantasm. Siuce the time of Des Cartes, it has more cotnmonly been called an idea ; and every thought is con- ceived to have an idea of its object. As this has been a common opinion anumg philosophers, as far back as we can tra,ce plii- losophy, it is the less to be wondered at that they should be apt to confound the opera- tion of the mind in thinking with the idea or object of thought, which is supposed to be its inseparable concomitant.* If we i)ay any regard to the common sense of mankind, thought and the object of thought are different things, and ought to be distinguished. It is true, thought cannot be without an object — for every man who thinks must think of something ; but the object he thinks of is one thing, his thought of that object is another thing. They are distinguished in all languages, eveu by the vulgar ; and many things may be affirmed of thought — that is, of the opera- tion of the mind in thinking — which cannot, without error, and even absurdity, be af- firmed of the object of that operation.* From this, I think, it is evident that, if the word idea, in a work where it occurs in every paragraph, is used without any inti- mation of the ambiguity of the word, some- times to signify thought, or the of)eration of the mind in thinking, sometimes to sig- nify those internal objects of thought whicli philosophers suppose, this must occasion confusion in the thoughts both of the au- thor and of the readers. I take this to be the greatest blemish in the " Essay on Hu- man Understanding.*' I apprehend this is the true source of several paradoxical opin- ions in that excellent work, which I shall have occasion to take notice of. Here it is very natural to ask, Whether it was Mr Locke's opinion, that ideas are • See Mote C— H. If' 27i OM TH.I INTILLBCTUAL TOWERS. Tmsjit II. DBAP. II.] OF THE SENTIMENTS OF MR LOCKE. 279 11 [If ' III I" \i I Urn mfy nkiem ®f tiovglit F m, WlMlliir' it V'iMil |MMiiU8' §m men to :tiiiiik of tMi|st vliohttniioiyMMiiillieiiiiiid?* [161]' ^ T# this f ufHinii it m nut mmj i& give m iiiMt mmmmt. On tlw ■mm luuid, b» '■ym (litaiy in liiitiiwt .tnd. .etwIM '«ipMiiiiin% that ilio term Mm ttMuli tot whatmm b tlie oljiiot of' Hm 'uteflMiiinf whmm mm tiiink% or wlMtow it is wmik tlw mind CM '1»' onfiiiidl. ^iImmI in tMnMiui tlial «li« niwl fofotivai mliiing Iwt m mm 'Mmm^t that^ all loiowlo(|g« oonaista in. tlie pveqption of' tiM agteement or ditmne- 'iBont of oir idoaa t that w«^ em ham no .faiowle^ge iyrtlier 'tlian w 'ham Mma, ThMO, and man j oliier mpmmimm 'of ' tlio liko importy evidentlj imply^ tliat ©very object of thought miist he an ideai aid ean 'bo notliing eiw. On the other hand, I am 'persnaded that Mr Loeke would have aohnowledged that wo nay think of Aleiander the Great, or of' 'the pliiHit Jnpiter, and of' nnmbedtofs tWiip. wiiliii ..hO' wonld. have owned ^mm not idoaa :in. IhO' mind, but objeote whieh oilit independent of the mind that thinks of them.-|- Mow .shall, we- .reo-oneile the two 'parts of th« .appttMil ^eontfadiotion '? All I an able lO' ny, npon Mr Lookers principles, to reeon- cile them, is this, That we cannot think of Aleiander, or of the planet Jnpiter, unless IPO bavo' 'in our minds .an. 'idea— that is, an imaie or picture of lboee'"'ohjefits. The idea, of Alexander is .an. ima|;eh or picture, or representation of that hero in my mind ; ♦It m m IM SMMnliiiad. tM. •Wpi flJpiBllltlllHilMiBi iimtiH^t dMlMtl. nif wpai^^ ibS'Slnd mM'^K t On. lie tunllirini' «f 'lilt ■ai 'ftie imr miiwqiMiit ^■•tMfltoC.— Whatewr !• tlie:|«iiiaitate lli«Nt|lit,ort.|iiitw*aieiMecMari|«ca^ But of 4l0iaiMi«r. IMT exsmpto, m exuiiii, we are noEMMPif iMt' emici'fiiH. Ateiwter, at eslillat. caniiflt, tlieraiive, ;piiHlMf l«'.ni. liiiiiMditfe..|ilicei. M •fap**! O"!**!*!!!!? . it we can 'lit'.|iM to tfiiik ©f AtmrnArm sC we can enly bt mM umtik of lilm nMxiiMely, In aad throi^gii. « mpmmimm ^of 'wMeli JHF*. "fSf i*""! **^ **»•* roptwentatlon li llw 'in. wlimm'm» laiiiieilMe^alicctlitvicwMl as a l^rttmm ' ' Mnel tonitt 'tlw aaiiitinc' reality .and from the ■■ r 'Wbtlliir aa a mere modality of 'itltlf-.ai.||ieinec««:tortlMcigtit «»iildtiai. in its fetation to .MMNtHnf beyood m .orcfWMioiMnaM. Inra«iilitreai%:ean. webt :lt 'in llie iMoifisaMMa .of .» poniUe or tiM tile' . . .. .. 'Of m pwt exiiMnc^. 'to. know a ttifnt a« '^imilt-lli'St i«. bmedtatdy' 1 anC tbercAne Jf in nmm 'Cfetiions we te isid to. know .anglit out tbt' w>>wat .all,, we oaa. oiiy l» aaid to know It me. «lai«V.^in otlMff'Wiiii% aa a nwdlato oi^eel. Tlie l«% .iiliii. INm. tlie aiUlM^ tf wlildi we ate here not conMAoni, and Brefbre know in itaeir, and for tbetoentol lion, wlilcli we .know m Itielf, but. whleii la l'I'7!'<*9%' ■*'•*■(>*•<» tb«o*bor. AdddmoMaio Ivappisito'a Wm .aet. of thought. In tbia .aiiipoitttton, iiato' fcn0wMlie,'Cvwi' in MtwifrtilMi. by merMy 4teny. Mmamit byiwtbctia. of 'npieieiitMliin.,— M. ■ni ibis .idea is An .immediate object of my thought 'wbeii I 'think, of Alexander. That this was Loelie% opinion, and that It has been generally the opinion of philosophers, there' can bo. :no dou'ht. But, instead of giving' light to the ques- tion proposed, it seems to invoke it hi greater darkness. When I think of Aloxanclor, I am told there is .an image' 'Or idea, of Alexander In m^ mind, « bidi. .is the immediata object of th.is.'tlMN|ghi.. 'The neoesaary 'Oousequence of this seems to he, that there are two ob- jects of this thnugbt— the idea, which is in tho niiiid,;and''the pmaon. represented, by 'that idea t 'dw inlf. Hon, timmgk cnHntr to •)! preoaitnl. a^f to ad. Mittoili int. ilt otUdini. of otliar ;|ililonpMn'iMr Adf 'iWDlOimiiil M 'tiM' latin. 'in a wider' misning' It wMyamundlMft^li f lal 'not. cxdiaiiwif.p»'II. f Tbte il not correct — H. I And whj t Simplf twcsuwve do not. 'lif mmIi ', OT' aj^rrmamt mdk .mi iil#Kf ' to' esitt t But 'OtfiMnttoB wai. onlv ww"' wt mcMlf used tm tiacii in CH' IOC It "ijwni'^BB'wwnnp^pPifciffPtPUM wW ^mf mHHp^Nimiip "VPiMyr a ^i^^i^^^ wm iMfccitcd te'ive 'OOuM. mf that «t wtre l»f na, .aUcr 'Batflation.— >!]. ^ J A nd t>i% .iir tiW' lawie' wion. Wliilia tfinmi. toied la not .sad. eaa not Iw imnicdialaljf knoira t nooglil Imt tie prwtnt nitntal iviNnMantattom !■ ao known ; and. tliis we coiltd |iro|«ftf lay tiiat. «• pcffotlicd.— 'H. f BacMiMi' ttieftoAng of iialn, tiioofli ooiy |MMiiliic 'fkraugH comdoumicii, ia wot. ■■ am 'Of knowledge. " " " " ¥ Bot 'it 'OMild to ptoiMHrlf MriiplMfWito a /erltmg ^f jMMb At .flay iai% tMcaiiilMMin J ptrctiM ajMiiii,. tiou. They make sensation to be a pereep*' tion ; and everything we perceive by our senses to be an idea of sensation. Some- tinea Ihey say Ihat' they are conseioua of' the ideaa^ ;in 'their own minds, sometlmeS' that they perceive' them.* L^^] However improbable it may appear that philosophers who have taken puns to study the operations, of thek own mbds, should 'express 'them, less 'proMrly and less dis-' tinctly than 'the viilg|ir,» seems really to 'be the case i and the only account that can be given of th.is strai^ pbaenomenon, I take to 'be thk t 'thai 'thO' vulgpiV' seek no theory to aiscoail for the operationa of 'their minds i they know that they see, and hear, and re- 'member, and 'imagine ; and those who think dtsthMt^y wit eapresS' these operations dts- tinefly, .aS' 'their 'CohseionsnesS' .represente them to the' 'luinil. i hut 'philosophers, 'think they ought 'to know not only that there are such opantiiMy hut how they are 'per- formed. I how thOT :iee, and hear, and re- I'Liember, .and.imagiM; and, having ;invented a theory to ex'puin 'these operations, bj ideas or imagis tn the mind, they suit their expressions to their theory ; and, as a false comment throws a ehyod upon the text, so a fyse theory darkens the plieenomam. whieh it fttteoEiiitii tO' e^nlsin We tiiaH examme th** 'theoiy aUnrwardSt Here I would., only observe 'that, if it is not true, it nay 'be 'Oxpeeted that it bbould lead ingeBiouB men who adopt it to confound the operations of the mind 'with their objects, .and 'With one' another, even. 'where the com- mon 'hmguage 'of 'the nmleaned cfeariy dis«' 'tingniahes them. One that 'tm.st8 to a 'iilse guide is in greater 'danger of' being led astray, than he who trusts his own eyes, 'though .he should 'bc' but indifferently ac- '^uainted with, the .road. %jMl.A.Mr 1 laim Jkm or TUB BKNTI.1IBNT8 OF BISHOP B'BmK'BlKY. OaoaoB Bbrkelbt, aHerwards Bishop of Cloyne, pubUslied his " New Theory of Vision,** in 1700; his "Treatise concern- ing the Principles of Hmaii Knowfeilge,** m 171l>- jeel% ,ftt it is immediatdf paroelwd by ■iglit,, mm hj Huwe wlm Mfw thO'iigM of ttiat^iigle. He led tlie wny in iliewiiig 'liov «» lcM»' Id peneive the diatamse' of' M: «il#et Ikoni tlM mf% tlMNuli tiui' ipeeiilatini imm^ cacri:e HMMT'Callt •' sMil Mia. aflBaimt of til« lielngtwho 'iNiliKMiilillli..*'— ln*noi« iMU liiit diMiier of '•The Ijifiifjr.'' I •■^ 'tllft lii tlwiitlit of* Oaoowtff of ViitMw wm original to Bffficiqr. and I hail than no rccoHeclioii of lltMt«fe > to Vm pcitaat. 'pofafiaiih.— H. ; and. 'hi. ids. we :have .not m ■wumk nmm to :adiiiini«he 'Slr<»#h of B«heto/hi geohii, aa his boldness in puUiihmg to the worldan opinion which the unlearned would be apt to mterprst as the sign of a crazy ktollect Anan who waB.'fiMilv' 'persuaded of' ihe doetrimt 'universally rseelved by phi- leoophera concerning ideas, if he could but take oourage to call in question the exist- ence of a natorial world, would easily find u.nanBwenibto arguments in that doctrine. [ 161] *' Some truths there are,** says Berke- ley, *' so near and obvious to the mind, that a man need only open his eyes to see them. Such,** ho. adds, *''I. 'take this, important one to be^ thal'illne choir of "heaven, and fti.r- nituru of the earth— in a word, all those bodies which compose the mighty frame of the world — have not any suteistence without a mind*'* Princ* 6; 6. The principle' firom 'which this important conclusion is obviously deduced, is laid down in the firrt sentence of his principles of knowMgOi as evident t >and., indeed, 'it has always 'been acknowledged by 'philosophers, " It ii evident,** says he, " to any one who takes a survey of the objecto of human knowledgo, that their are^ either ideas ac- tually 'hn'pri&ted m 'lie senses, or 'Ch^ such as .are perceived, by attendhig to' the 'pas- sions and operations of the mind ; or, kstly, ideas formed by hdp of memory and imagin- ation, either: compounding, dividlhig, or bMnly mmmmAm those originally pr^ ceived hi the foresaid ways.'* This is the foundation on which the whole system, .rests. If this 'be true, then, indeed, 'tilt existence of a material world must be a dream that has ;miposed. upon .aU .mankmd from the beginning of the world The foundation on which such a fabric 'resta ought to. be. veij .solid, and 'weU. esta^ hllshed } y«l Bofheley says 'nothing 'more 'for i|. 'than that it ia evident. If he means 'that' it is s(df-evident, this indeed m%ht be a good reason for not offeriiw any direct ami* 'mat in. proof of 'it. But I apprehend thia cannot justly M said. Self-evident 'propo- sitions are those which appear evident to every man of sound understanding who ap- prehflndS' 'the meaning of them distuustly, and attends to them without prejiidlee. Can this be said of this proposition. That all the objeete of our knowledge are ideas k our own minds ?• I believe that, to any man OHAP. 5C.J OF THE SENTIMENTS OF BISHOP BERKELEY. 283 •TO'lha ■ SiW' 'fli ^ww liiillffl!rviioe whether 1% f fti i^ ff ' of' the expiiiiioii UMtVit' aliilliMl.~or whether it be held that we are coM^oiM of nothing but of Iha modifications of our own nilndft For, on the luppMition that we can know the nM-^ff only In and through the ego, it flillowa.. (ilneawe aan. .knew nothint inimediate'iy of and it being allowed tlMt 'Wf swii«a*»iiolf'''fll''"ind,) U»»t " »• «on. tfadlBtoff'tO'iii|pfait'.aw|it,'.«i Inawn, (^.*-, anyab- |cct of inow wSa.) 'in te known sflMfWue than at a lomenon oi nitai.— M. £l«0, 1611 uninstructed in philosophy, this proposition wiU .pp«« very improbable, if not absuni. [162] However scanty his knowledge may be, he considers the sun and moon, the earth and sea, as objects of it; and it will be difficult to persuade him that those objects of his knowledge are ideas in his own mind, and have no existence when he does not think of them. If I may presume to speak my own sentiments, I once believed this doc trine of ideas so firmly as to embrace the whole of Berkeley's system in consequence of it; till, finding other consequences to fbUow from it, which gave me more unea- siness than the want of a material world, it came into my mind, more than forty years ago, to put the question, What evi- dence have I for this doctrine, that all the objects of my knowledge are ideas in my own mind ? From that time to the pre- ient I have been candidly and impartially, as I think, seeking for the evidence of this principle, but can find none, excepting the authority of philosophers. We shall have occasion to examine its evidence afterwards. I would at present only observe, that all thearguments brought by Berkeley against the existence of a ma- torial world are grounded upon it ; and that he has not attempted to give any evidence for it, but takes it for granted, as other philosophers had done before him. But, supposing this principle to be true, Berkeley*s system is impregnable. No demonstration can be more evident than his reasoning from it Whatever is per- ceived is an idea, and an idea can only exist in a mind. It has no existence when it is not perceived ; nor can there be any- thing like an idea, but an idea. So sensible he was that it required no laborious reasoning to deduce his system from the principle laid down, that he was afraid of being thought needlessly prolix in handling the subject, and makes an apology for it. Princ. § 22. " To what purpose is it," says he, " to dilate upon that which may be demonstrated, with the utmost evi- dence, in a line or two, to any one who is capable of the least reflection ?*' { 163 J But, though his demonstration might have been comprehended in a line or two, he very pru- dently thought that an opinion which the world would be apt to look upon as a mon- ster of absurdity, would not be able to make its way at once, even by the force of a naked demonstration. He observes, justly, Dial. 2, " That, though a demonstration be never so well grounded and fairly proposed, yet if there is, withal, a strain of prejudice, or a wrong bias on the understanding, can it be expected to perceive clearly, and adhere firmly to the truth ? No ; there is need of time and pains; the attention must be awakened and detained, by a frequent re- petition of the same thing, placed often m the same, often in different lights." It was, therefore, necessary to dwell upon it, and turn it on all sides, till it became familiar ; to consider all its consequences, and to obviate every prejudice and pre- possession that might hinder its admittance. It was even a matter of some difficulty to fit it to common language, so far as to enable men to speak and reason about it intelligibly. Those who have entered se- riously into Berkeley's system, have found, after all the assistance which his writings give, that time and practice are necessary to acquire the habit of speaking and think- ing distinctly upon it. Berkeley foresaw the opposition that would be made to his system, from two different quarters: Jirstj from the philos- ophers; and, secondly, from the vulgar, who are led by the plain dictates of nature. The first he had the courage to oppose openly and avowedly; the second, he dreaded much more, and, therefore, takes a great deal of pains, and, I think, uses some art, to court into his party. This is particularly observable in his " Dia- logues." He sets out with a declaration, Dial. 1, " That, of late, he had quitted several of the sublime notions he had got in the schools of the philosophers, for vul- gar opinions,*' and assures Hylas, his fel- low-dialogist, " That, since this revolt from metaphysical notions to the plain dictates of nature and common sense, he found his understanding strangely enlightened; so that he could now easily comprehend a great many things, which before were all mys- tery and riddle." [164 J Pref. to Dial. « If his principles are admitted for true, men will be reduced from paradoxes to common sense." At the same time, he acknowledges, " That they carry with them a great opposi- tion to the prejudices of philosophers, which have so far prevailed against the common sense and natural notions of mankind." When Hylas objects to him. Dial. 3, " You can never persuade me, Philonous, that the denying of matter or corporeal substance is not repugnant to the universal sense of mankind"— he answers, " I wish both our opinions were fairly stated, and submitted to the judgment of men who had plain common sense, without the prejudices of a learned education. Let me be repre- sented as one who trusts his senses, who thinks he knows the things he sees and feels, and entertains no doubt of their ex- istence—If by material substance is meant only sensible body, that whieh is seen and felt, (and the unphilosophical part of the world, I dare say, mean no more,) then I am more certain of matter's existence than you or any other philosopher pretend to be. If there be anythinfi which makes the ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [MMAv n. (I I i 'i i^ gtenemlity of nuunMiid vrerm 'from. Hm ' MtmisI «ii|ioiiM}, it w a iiiiMfp^^ tist' I im^ 1km .niitjjr ni aeMiib Hiingns iwt 1, icfiilliivra, fliBl, in. tnitli, tli«ir'SV«»ioii. ia .apiiMt your notions, and not mine. I mm. oontont to ammiiI to the ootnmon. MniO' of 'the world for m Itnth of my notio'n. I am. of a vulgar 'iiit, uiple enongh to 'lielteve my ^eenses, and to leave things aa I ind them. I oumot, for my life, help 'thinking that mow m white and. ire .hoi** When Hylaa ia^ at laat tntiftly converted., he ohserveS' tO' .Fhiloneiia, ** Mn&t all» the controversy ahout matter, in the strict aceeptatioB of it, lies altcmther hetween rill, 'and the ph]]MO|iher% wlote prineif les, ■0' agreeable to the common senaC' of man- kind, and Holy Scriptnre, aa yonra.** [1115} Fhilonona ohaervea, in^ thie end, '*' That he does .not' 'nvetead to he a aC'ttcar up of new notional liiB''Ctideavonni' tend only to unite, and to phuse in a clearer light, that truth which was before shared between the vul- ,gar' and the ph.il(i«oplierB ; the lomer' being of' 'Opinio% 'that ''those thlnp they .im> 'mediately perceive are the real, things ; and the latter, that the things immediately perceived, are ideaa which eiclat only .in the m.iod|. 'Which two Ihinga 'pnt^ topwer do, in effect, conatltniO' the aiihslaiioe 'Of ' what he advances.** And he concludes by ob« serving, **That those principles which at irst view lead, to aoepticism, pnraned tO' a certain point, bring men. back to com.nioa These' pinsiipa shew Buffielen% the anihiir% JSmZ to reco»eite Ma ays4m to the 'plain dictates of 'nature ami. common aenae, while he expresses no 'Concern, 'to reconcie it 'to the received doctrines of philosophers. He la fond to take' ptft with the yn.lgar against the phikaophaM, .and to vindicate cowmen. iBenaai''a§shMt 'thair .inno- vatlmB.. What pity .ia it tliat lie did 'not carry thia anspieion of the doctrine of philo- aophera ao fiyr aa to doubt of that philoso- 'phieal. 'tenet on wliieh his whole^ ayatem ia 'imili^o 'wit, that the 'thinga^ 'iannediatelv perceived by thC' aenses. are ideas which exial on.ly in the m.ind ! After .all, it'Seema'noiaaf'^iiiBilwIii'iiiak*: the vulgar opinicii. .and. thai' of 'Berkeley' to meei And, 'to acaanpiiih this, he seems to me to draw eadi out of it» line towards the other, not withont some straining. that the very th'mga which we 'wveeive by our aenaea do really cjust Thiahegranta;* .for theac' things, mvb he, are ideas in our minds, or' oonplexiona of ideas,, to which. * Tliia Is one of the pMMgM that bmit he \xroQ0t tonoveibat Reid did allow to Ibt «fo an imniediaie ai4l Msl knowledge of thC' .iioiMf0.«-ll« 'We give one name, and cona:ider aa one llliBg; theae are the immediate objects of aaiMe, and theae do really exist. Aa to the lOfiMi iiat those things have an absolute external existence. Independent of being perceived by any mind, he thinks [166] that this Is no notiMi of the vulgar, but a idine- ment of philoaophers ; and that the notion of material substaniie, uaa.mhtmiMm, or sup- port of that collection of sensible qualities to which we give the name of an apple or a melon, is likewise an invention of philoso- phers, and is not found with the vulgar till thej are initmcted by philosophers. The substance not being an object of sense, the vulgar never think of it; or, if they are 'taught the use of the word, tliey mean no moro' by 'It 'but that collection of senaibia qualities which they, from finding them con- joined in nature, have been accustomed to call by one name, and to consider as one tiling. Thus he draws the vulgar opinion near to his own ; and, that he may meet it half way, he acknowledges that material things have a real existence out of the mind of thia or that person ; but the question, says he, between the materialist and me, is, Whether they have an absolute existence distinct fW>m their being perceived by God, and exterior to all muids ? This, indeed, he iays, some heathens and phiosophers have affirmed ; but whoever entertains no- tions of the Deity, snitabte to the Holy Scripture, will bC' of another opinion. But here an objection occurs, wliich it required all his ingenuity to answer. It ia this : The ideas in my mind cannot be the same with, the ideaa of tmj other mind ; therefore, tf the obiecta I :perceive 'be only Ideaa, it m 'Impoaaible 'that the 'Objects I per- ceive can exist anywhere, when I do not perceive them ; and it is impossible thai two or more minds can perceive the same object*. Tb this Berkeley answers, that this ob^ jection presses no less the opinion of the materialist philosopher than his. But the diffienlty ia to make hia opinion coincide with 'the notlona 'Of 'the 'vnlgar, 'who are irmly persuaded that the very identical obiecta which they perceive, continue to «.xlat^ when th^dfi.not perceive them ;. and whO' we- 'no 'leaa irmly persuaded that, when ten men look at the sun or the moon, they all see the same individual object.* [16? J To reconcile 'tils repugnancy, he ohaeirvaa, .Dial. !l— " That, :if the term ear even in a more striking light upon his hypothesis, than upon the common one. The powers which inanimate matter ia sup- posed to possess, have always been the stronghold of atheists, to which they had recourse in defence of their system. This fortress of atheism must be most eflectually overturned, if there is no such thing as matter in the universe. In all this the Bishop reasons jus% and acutely. But there is one uncomfortable consequence of his system, which he seems not to have at- ri68, 1691 tended to, and from which it will be found difficult, if at all possible, to guard it. The consequence I mean is this — that, although it leaves us sufficient evidence of a supreme intelligent mind, it seems to take away all the evidence we have of other intelligent beings like ourselves. What I call a father, a bnither, or a friend, is only a parcel of ideas in my own muid ; and, being ideas in my mind, they cannot possibly have tliat relation to another mind which they have to mine, any more than the pain felt by me can be the individual pain felt by another. I can find no principle in Berkeley's system, which affords me even probable ground to conclude that there arc other intelligent beings, like myself, in the relations of father, brother, friend, or fellow-citizen. I am left alone, as the only creature of God in the universe, in that forlorn state of effoism into which it is said some of the disciples of Des Cartes were brought by his philo- sophy.* [169] Of all the o[>inions that have ever been advanced by philosophers, this of Bishop Berkeley, that there is no material world, seems the strangest, and the most apt to bring philosophy into ridicule with plain men whoare guided by tlie dictates of nature and common sense. And, it will not, I ap- prehend, be improper to trace this progeny of the doctrine of ideas from its origin, and to observe its gradual progress, till it acquired such strength that a pious and learned bishop had the boldness to usher it into the world, as demonstrable from the principles of philosophy universally received, aiid as an admirable expedient for the advance- ment of knowledge and for the defence of religion. During the reign of the Tcripatetic phi- losophy, men were little disposed to doubt, and much to dogmatize. The existence of the objects of sense was held as a first prin- ciple ; and the received doctrine was, that the sensible species or idea is the very form of the external object, just separated from the matter of it, and sent into the mind that perceives it ; so that we find no appearance of scepticism about the existence of mat- ter under that philosophy, f Des Cartes taught men to doubt even of those things that had been taken for first principles. He rejected ij: the doctrine of • In which the soul, like the unhappy Dido— m-^— ** semperque relinqui Sola sibi, semper longam incomitata viUctur Ire viam."— H. , . . .,._.. 4 Thi^ is I'ot the case. It could easily be shewn that, in the schools of the middle ages, theargumenti in favour of Idealism were fully understood ; and they would certainly have obtained numerous parti, sans, had it not been seen that such a philohophical opinion involved a theological heresy touchu«g th« eucharist This waa even lecogni^ed by St Augus* tine.^H , ,. J Alter many of the Peripatetics ihcmidvei — H. mvw ON THE INTELLICTOAL POIl'EEa LWSA¥ II. CHAP. E.J OF THE SENTIMENTS OF BISHOP BERKELEY. 287 If 4 gpetAm m Mem mmkm fSrom ®l»|«ste « tel ■til maiilMnwl tliat wiiit wm inuiMdiailely 'Mtwiirei m rani tlie extenml. otijeet, Imt an Mmur imiiti of it in our iiiiiml iiiis mh mine of Iiib dimptai into I^goiami aad tO' dis- lieliove tlie existeneo of mmy mmMme in tlie iuiiMiieliiillhenuol'?iss«iifitIiiiro«iiiideiia.* Bral Bos Cartm Mnmif— oHlicr fnm ^Mui. 'Of " tlMi etMUM' of' liio tlniii^ wludi he took gra^ oare nol to provdiBes or to elmn tlio ridieule of the worMf wliioli ii%iil hftve rnmUrn^. Mo •rat«n ml'Oiiee^ •■ ft du;iliftl of tno aginitii* 'OTy peiiispii Mmi inwira oonvietion — wma mmwi to nipiiort the en- istenoe of nmltor. To do this coosistontly Willi Ais pnneipiefl, m imma imiMif onnpa to hiiiro reooiifw to' aigiinente 'ifait are nur. fetohed, and not vefj' eogent ^Sometimea he argnee tlmt our seniiea are given na hj CM, who is no deodver i and, therefore, we'Onghl to hdieve their tostimony. [17®] Bat tuS' aifitiiieiilia weak ; beeanae, aooord^ lag to liii piinei|ilee, owr aenaes testif j no more 'but that wO' have certain ideaa : and, if we draw ecmeliiiionB from thia teaHiiOiigr, vvliliiili IiiImi viiMHnitt vill iMi'ti ttii'niriciiHEi '*wii deceivo^ onndvea* Tb give more' htm to thia weak afgument, he aomettnea adda^ that we have by :iiature a strong propensity to believe tliat' there ia^ an emtemal world IfaielicaMwe' thought that this strong popnsity is not a si^Bcient reason for be- lievmg m 'Oxisteiifle of matter ; .and that it is to ]£ leorifed. aS' an artiiie' of faith, not certaiik' dhMviiiable %' 'reason. He is awaie tlot ;idih. 'Mnea by hearing ; and that it may be aaid. that prophets, apostles, and miraeiea are only ideas in our minds. But to this he aiiswei%tbaty though these things are only ideas, yetiSuth tnma them into .realities ; and Ibis answer, he hopes, will aalisiy those who are not too morose. It .may ptrhaiia-seem strange that Locke, whO' imilew .about id^ should not see Ihoso' 'emaef uenees. wUeh Berlieley thought so obvioiBly dedneihie trma that doetrine. Mr Iiocke surely was not willing that the doetrine^of' ideaa ahonld be thousht to bo ^loaded with, 'sndh eonsMiiieneea. He .aeknowiedgai 'thal^^thO'exiiteSse of a mate- rial world is not to be received as a irat ;priiiei|ie— nor is. it democatrmMe; but he ofiMi:. 'the. best: .aiguments for it Iie'eani.|. 'Bud auppIieO'the weakness of his aigoments 'by this 'Observation:— that we havt' such evi- t test liW' .Set abovt^ Pi WO, note | j. and Mow, ,"— H. We are oii.lf bf natitrt M toMlsveiB Ibt mUL • nf'an amtw world, bfemm «f. mn^f nalMieMi 'Wltve Clial. we liave an ininediale knotiWie oT eatatiiit. M«»«,Ilw€anet and 'tlie iiMkMiiliars •mi (is. Held, an esception h iiold that, we are I iBtlie'laltarMlefi and. yet ihef .aigiie* iin aollMiilfortlie luaitr. Hut. an. csieraal worM dence as is sufficient to direct us in pur^ aulitt 'the good and avoidim' the ill we may leoiive^ftoiiii wiCBial things, beyond which we have, 'no 'eooeem. There .is, indeed, a single passage in Locke'a essay, which ma^ h»d one to con- tem wUeh 'Berkeley aienmids advanced, hnt'tlMlliglit proper tosuppress it within his own breast. [171] Tlie passage is in Book 4, c. 10, where, having proved the existence of an eternal, intelligent .mind, he comes to' answer those who eonoeive that matter also most be etornal, because we cannot ooneeive how it could be made out of nothing. I and having' observed that the cnatiMi of mind m|uires no less 'power than the eveation of matter, he adds what fol- lows t->" Nay, possibly, if we could eman- dpate ou.neIves from vulgar notions, an.d rHwh. 'to a closer 'Contomplation of things, wenii^l be able to aim at some dim and seeming conception, how matter might at 'first be made and begin to exist, by the 'power of that eternal first Being ; but to ,g|ve banning .and 'bein^ to a apuit, would le:lMtnd a m.0K inconceivable' effect of om- nipotent power. But this being what would perhaps Itad us too far from the notions on whkih the phikiBop'hy now' in the world is 'built, 'it 'would not be pardonable 'to 'deviato so far from them, or to inquire, so far as gmmmar itself would authorize, if the com- mon settled opinion opposes it ; especially in this place, where the received doctrine servia well enough to our present purpose.* It appears from this passage— .Ftr«/, That Mr Locke had some system in his mind, perhaps not fully digwted, to which wo might be led, by raisiiig our tlioughts to a ekiaer contemplation ofthhigs, and emanci- pating them from vulgar notions ; SeeoMUg, That this syitiBi. would lead, .so fiir from, 'the notions on whidh 'the philosophy 'now in 'the woild IB' 'bnit, that he thought proper to keep it within his own breast ; TAjr purpose; \7hich in. volved, likewi^e, an introductory disquisition by him. self; but a complete impression ol the " Clavis Univer. salis" and four other tracts, was found, after hii death ; i:nd this having been purchased by Mr Lum. ley, has. by him, been recently published, under the title—" MeUphysical Jracts, by English Philoso. fibers of the Eighteenth Century," Ac. London : 8:17. A very small edition of the " Clavis" had been printed in Edinburgh, by private subscription, in lh« previous year. A Life of Collier has likewise r*- cenUy appeared.— H. ON TBE INTELLECTUAL POITEIW. , y II. ■\\ mmm to Imve ileTuted. fmni 'tlw wmmiiin opinimi. tikm% khmk tkarn^ h» iiQis oat m his 'priiieiples of .fcoiivldlge^ if toliiiig us tbat it la evi keley*s, the most important objecto an known without ideas. In Locke*s system, there are two sources of our ideas, sensa- tion and reflection. In Beri6eley*8, sensa- tion is the only source, because of the objects of reiection there can be no ideas. We innv 'tham. 'wilhimt ideas. Locke divides our ideas into those of substances, modes, and rektions. In Berkeley's system, there are no ideas of substances, or of rektions $ but notions only. And even in the ckss of modes, the operationB of our own minds are things of which we have distmct notions ; but no Hifi i. Weought to do the justice to Malebranche to adcnowMge that, in this point, as well as k. ra«yotlieni,hiBavst«n comes nearer to Berfcefey% than the falter seems wOluig to own. That author tolls us that there are four different ways in which we come to the knowledge of things. To know thmga % their ideas, is only one of the four. [ 176] He alirms that we have no idea of our own mind, or any of its modifications : that we know these thmgs by consciousness, without ideas. Whether these two acute philosophers foresaw the ennsequences that may be drawn from the system of ideas, taken m its full extent, and which were after- wards drawn hj Mr Hume, I cannot pre- tend to say. If they did, their regard to religion was too great to permit them to ad- mit those consequences, or tlie principles with which they were necessarily connected. However this may b% if there be .so many thingptiiat may be apprehended and known withnnl ideas, thk very naturally suggesto a Bomple with regard to those that are left : for it may be said. If we can apprehend and reason about the world of spirits, with- out ideas, Is it not possible that wo may apprehend and reason about a material world, without ideas? If consciousness and reiection .famish us 'with notions of spirits and of their attributes, without ideas may not our senses furnish us with notions of bodies and their attributes, without ideas ? .Berhe%r foresaw thk objection to hk mitam,^and pute it m the mouth of Hyka. in the fbiowmg words:— Dial 3, Hyka! If you can conceive the mmd of Ood, without having an idea of it, why may not I bo' .allowed to conoelvv the exktence of matter, wtwlthstanding that I have no idea of It?** The answar of Philonous is— " You neither perceive matter objectively aa you do an maetive being or idea, nor know it, as you do yourself, by a reflex act Mithat do yon unmedktely apprehend it by iimiltude of the one or the other, nor yet collect it by reasoning from that which yon know hnmedktely; all which mahea the wise of matter' 'widely 'different hma that of "tha IMty." ri7«. 1761 Though Ilylaa declares himself satisfied with this answer, I confess I am not : be- cause, if I may trust the faculties that God has given me, I do perceive matter objec- tively—that is, something which is extended and solid, whieh may be measured and weighed, is the immediate object of my touch and sight.* [177] And this object I take to be matter, and not an idea. And, though I have been taught by philosophers, that what I humediately touch is an idea, and not matter ; yet I have never been able to dis- cover this by the most accurate attention to my own perceptions. It were to be wished that this ingenious author had explained what he means by ideas, as distiuguished from notions. The word notion, being a word iu common lan- guage, is well undei-stood. All men mean by it, the conception, the apprehension, or thought which we have of any object of thought. A notion, therefore, is an act of the mind conceiving or tliinking of some object. The object of thouglit may be either something that is in the mind, or something that is not in the mind. It may be something that has no existence, or something that did, or does, or shall exist. But the notion which I have of tliat ob- ject, m an act of my mind which really exists while I think of the object ; but has no existence when I do not think of it The word idea, in popular language, has precisely the same meaning as the word notion. But philosophers have another meaning to the word idea ; and what that meaning is, I think, is very difficult to say. The whole of Bishop Berkeley's system depends upon the distinction between no- tions and ideas ; and, therefore, it is worth while to find, if we are able, what those tilings are which he calls ideas, as distin- guished from notions. For this purpose, we may observe, that lio takes notice of two kinds of ideas— the idea** of sense, and the ideas of imagina- tion. "The ideas imprinted on the senses by the Author of Nature,'* he says, " are called real things; and those excited in the imagination, being less regular, vivid, and constant, are more properly termed ideas, or images of things, which they copy and represent. [178] But then our sensations, be they never so vivid and distinct, are nevertheless ideas ; that i% they exist in the mind, or are perceived by it as truly as the idciis of its own framing. The ideas of sense are allowed to have more reality in them— that is, to be more strong, or- derly, and coherent— than the creatures of • Doe* Reid mean to turmifter hit dfictrine, that pereeption U a conception ^ttiatextentioii and liRure •re not known by genie, hut are notions iugge«-ted<r/»H«rv qualities." he says, *' are. neither sensations, nor are they tlM retemblancet of sensationt. "—i»vVa, p. 238.- H. 2Pll' ON THE INTELLECTUAL TOWERS, I ESS A Y 1 1« HfMi miieh more ctiitiiiei tmd sfseunite than LodieX wIm tlioiiglit thai the priniary f mitiea of hodj toe 'KnenihlMieta' of our Thil wtt Invfl 'U pwy iMMilioiis h y iim*imI ' of our extemiil mmm, thero am he no 'liouht ; mti, if he it pkased to cull thoee Ifieaji, there cmght to he^ no dispute ahout the meaning of a word. But, says Bishop Berkeley, by our senses, we have the Icnow- lisdge .mtlp of our sensations or ideas, eall ihem which you will. I allow him to call then which he will ; hut I would have the word omig'm this sentence to be WttU weighed, because a great deal de|>ends upon it F<»r, if it be true that, by our senses, we have tho' Iciowiedgci'. of our sensations only, then his system, must be^ .admitted, and the existence of a material mmM must be given up as a dream. No demonntmtioii 'can 'be more invincible than thia If we have any knowledge' of a material world, it must be by the senses : but,, by the aeuaes, we have no knowledge but of our sensations only ; and our sensations liave no resemblance of anything that can be in a material world.t The only proposition in this demonstration which .admits of doubt is, 'that, by our^'aoiset, we have the knowledge of our sensations only, and of noth:ii^g else. If there ar« ob- ieeis of the seoica^ whieh ar« 'iif>|:'aensations, his aifuments dii not touch them t they may be things which do not ejust in the mind, as all sensations do ; they may be things of which:, hy our wmses, we have notaoia, 'though nO' ideas^ ;|Q8t as, by 'ConaciooaneeS'and 'teieetion, we have notions of spirits and of their oper- ations, without ideas or sensations.^ [180] Shall we say, then, that, by our senses, 'we have the Inowled^ of our sensationS' only ; and 'that they give us no notion ^of anytliing but of our sensations F Perhaps this lias been the doctruie of pMloMiphers, and not of Bishop Berfceliiy alfiii% oiherwim be would have rapporleiit %' .■mmen.ts. Mr Locke odb-all th» notimiS' we nave by our senses, ideas of sensation ; and in this has been: very genendly fdhiwed. Hence it seems a very natural 'inferenee, that ideas • Ht» apaln ■• 'lt«vt • crttictai. which proottdk on the crrAtifmn InjillMiiion. 'Ihai: Lucie meant bv Mmmtttm «h»f .faMTliliMir «U. If tar mmmlm «• tiilittltiitt' |M»«t|iCMM. ifani by Miiialton Lorke AtiDifil both .miwilMi: 'pn90ff:aii4'mi«»|ici«in proiier^ th«» 'nmwiiii 'Uf ■thiitt 'to 'IMimii«s for Bdl mbIp.. tatiH. 'thM. •« mr MM'iftii nf' the friL lity art In .tAawMlMf ,.^.^ l4irk«%nisiiificii|.oi,iMirivi»fiii:. tM tmi »i>t»tiftiii'iiMnf of'tiieMlnrliif iMMSfei.— .u. f Hi» thf ' Ian niii«..H. I Bui.. iiaiHti. llMt tm aiinllMI.. whleli Iht' Pstunl^ ■■"•■if'wiiM nf 'flMikiiii fltitiife, list. W9- hmm mm imm^mwmmmim^^ MMeioiMMi>»-fli; tttet nal. VWi'M'IffllM: fl:|KlHII!lt,tenkakM' 'iio".diflifMst.ta nira d to ihif ci ikImKm «r Iht McsIM, vbtther wlwt «• ai« cMiirlM|.fir ill' pimiiliiMi 'be .ninMHi Ml .oiilii' fa the.mlML {m 'Wm itllcliit mSSmJ .'I 'llM"«toM,|iklli»aM« 't^wM. ■thing 'to 'CfnMira; for IMd malii.. ^wwip'wfwf Bpp^ V^B ^iPIW 'MP WWPa WPIi™P' 'SSaWHJI 'IPi' WMBHWia SW^i^tP MMV iMlfttaL anil, tefimi. m tiial im '^(«#«i.,p.'iai||'wlii(!lito'Oiilr iii'Ol.her«i»fik. lliewane-aliMrva. of sensation are sensations. But philoso- pheni may err : let us hear the diierverted. See below, p. 371 The tenns notiontuvl conception, (or more cor. rectly- coH«7)< in thitu sense, i should- be reserved, toiexpress whnt we comprehend but cannot picture in imagination, such as. a- relation, &< general term. An. 'llie word* rVira, as one prostituted lO all mean. iiigs, it were perhaps lietter altogether to discard. A»far the representations of imagination orphan, tnsy, I would employ the terms tm c an idea of an active being, or of an action, although we may he said to have a notion of them. I. have some knowledge or notion of my mind, and its acts about ideas, in as much as I know or understand what is meant by these words. [I will not say that the terms Idea and Amotion may not be used convertibly, if the world will have it.so.. But yet it conduces to clearness and propriety that we distinguish things very different by different nanus.] It is also to be remarked, that all relations including an act of the mind, we cannot so properly be said to have an idea, but rather a notion of the relations and habitudes be- tween things." From this it follows, that our imaginations are not properly ideas, but no- tions, because they include an act of the mind. [, 1 03 ] , For he tells us, in a passage already quoted, that they are creatures of the mind, of its own framing, and that it makes and unmakes them as it thinks fit, and from this is pniperly denominated active. If it be a good reason wliy we have not ideas, but notions only of relations, because they in- clude an act of the mind, the same reason must lead us to conclude, that our ima^ina* tions are notions and not ideas, since tlie,^ are made and unmade by the mind as it thinks fit : and, from this^ it is properly de- nominated active.:}: • Ihaiis, no imoffet of tnem in the phantasy R« id himself would not say that such could be imoAfitmi.— H t Berkeley does not say to in the meaning sup- posed.— H. t Imagination is an ambiguous word ; it means either the act of imagining, or the product^i. e. , the image imagined. Of the former, Heikeley held, wa can form a tiotton, but not an idea, in the sense h« u 2 ON TOT INTELLECTUAL POWERS. fcSSAY II. WMm Ml mck iiW' mmi wntteiii iml. w .wtiii J disputtt mSmA ftboiil Mmm, it 'wura ittiimlile' thai we knew wlul fimy are, and to wliml categorj or clim of kiup tliey be* long. In tUi we niiglit eipeet sntififiietioii in 'tie writines of Bishoii 'Berkeley, if anv- wliere, considering Ilk ikown aceuLoiand precision in the use of wonb^ and. it is for thiH reason lliat I have taken flOvOiiMli pains lO' find ont what Im took 'then 'to be. .After ally if I nndlentaiid. whiat be calls the ideaS' of .sense, thej ara' the sensations which 'we have bj means of our 'ive seniles; but -they are, be says, lf!ia< profeely termed ideas.. I 'nndemtiind, like'wise, what he ea.lls notioQs ; but chey, says he, are very differ- ent .from. id.eas,. though, in the modern way, often called by .that .nanie. The ida. ^ i>ni«u««i«. noMin. .rtueb are' most properly termed ideas,, as. be aays ; and, with regard to these, I am still very much in the eraitions of my own m..lnd« and 'It 'is repugnant to the common sense of mankindi «x.p.r«w.ed in the struc- 'twpe of all knguages. CHAPTEE Xn. m IHB 813fT'I.MBH11t Of l|.a UUM'I. 'Two volnmes 'Ofth*' " Treatise of Human 'Natnre** were published in I7:s9', and the third in 17441. The doctrine contained in this Treatise was published anew in a more ppnlar fonii.in Mr iiu'me*s ''* Philosophical Bssays,** of which there' have been various 'editions. 'What other authors, from the • fce Note B.-"-!!. dUM' distinct fhim 'the Hilfftltt'r It CSMtOt be citcraal to tlie'ie'l:ml«4br,. m hnmetl, U it Ina. .gtmrfi and, if in tlw iiiinwlif .'wliiit !• fMt ^buC tSe' verf cntiltti .d.ort.fftne'Ol .ipMto'f' Fur 9UUl% pissie, tm Mote is. ["184, 18SJ CHAP.xii.J OF THE SENTIMENTS OF MR HUME. £93 lime of Dea Cartes, had called idcai, this author diHtiuguishes into two kinds — to wit, imprettsions and ideas ; comprehending under the first, all our sensations,. jaHisions, and emojtions; and under the last, the fuiiit images of these, when we remember or imagine them. [IQU] lie sets out with this, as a principle that needed no proof, and of which thewifore lie offers none— that all the perceptions of the human mind resolve themselves into tlieue two kinds, impressioua and ideas. As this proposition is the foundation upon which the whole of Mr Hume's system rests, and from which it is raised with great acuteness indeed, and ingenuity, it were to be wished that he had told us upon what autliority this iundamental proposition rests. But we are left to guess, whether it is held forth as a first principle, which has its evidence in itself ; or whether it is to be received upon the authority of philosophers. Mr Locke had taught us, that all the immediate objects of human knowledge are ideas in the mind. Bishop Berkeley, pro- ceeding upon this foundation, demonstrated, very easily, that there is no material world. And he thought that, for the purposes both of philosophy and religion, we should find no loss, hut great beneHt, in the want of it. But the Bishop, as liecame his oi der, was unwilling tci give up the \>orld of s|>irits. He saw very well, that ideas are as unfit to represent spirits as tliey are to represent bodies. Perhaps he saw that, if ue per- ceive only the ideas of spirits, we shall liiid the same difficulty hi inferring their real existence from the existence of their ideas, as we find in inferring the existence of matter from the idea of it ; and, therefore, while he gives up the material world in favour of the system of ideas, he gives up one-half of that system in favour of the world of spirits; and maintains that we can, without ideas, think, and speak, and reason, intelligibly about spirits, and what belongs to them. Mr Hume shews no such partiality in favour of tlie world of spirits. He adopts the theory of ideas in its full extent ; and. in consequence, shews that there is neither matter nor mind in the universe ; notliing hut impressions and ideas. What we call m 6'w/y, is only a bundle of sensations ; and what we call the mind is only a bundle of thoughts, passions, and emotions, without any subject. [107 J Some ages hence, it will perhaps be looked upon its a curious anecdote, that two philosophers of the eighteenth century, of very distinguished rank, were led, by a philosophical hypothesis, one, to disbelieve the existence of matter, and the other, to' disbelieve the existence both of matter and of mind. Such an anecdote may not be itoinstmctive, if it prove a warning to [ifi^i-ISS] philosophers to beware of hypotheses, espe- cially when they lead to conclusions which contradict the principles upon which all men of common sense must act in coiup'ou life. Tiie Egoists,* whom we mentioned be- fore, were left far behind by Mr Hume ; for they believed their own existence, and perhaps also the existence of a Deity. But Mr Hume's system does not even leave him a sflf to claim the projterty of his unprcs- sions and ideas. A system of consequences, however ab- surd, acutely and justly drawn from a few pruicii)le8, in very abstract matters, is of real utility in science, and may he made subservient to real knowledge. This merit Mr Hume's metaphysical writings have in a great degree. We liad occasion before to observe, that, since the time of Des Cartes, philosoiiliers, in ti eating of the powers of the mind, have, in many instances, confounded things m hich the common sense of mankind has always led them to distinguish, and which have different names in all languages. Thus, in the perception of an external object, all lajignages distinguish three things— the mind that perceive^*, the operation of that mind, which is called perception, and the ol'jnt perceived.-f Nothing appears more evident to a mind untutored by philosophy, than that these three are distinct things, which, though related, ought never to be confounded. [1JJ8] The structure of all languages supposes this distinction, and is built upon it. Philosttphers have intro- duced a fourth thing in this process, which they call the idea of the object, which is supposed to be an image, or representative of the object, and is said to be the imme- diate object. The vulgar know nothing about this idea; it is a creature of philo- sophy,introduced to account for and explain ihemannerofourperceivinge.xternalobjects. ♦ In supplement to no'e § at p 2G9, svpra, in re- gard to ihe |»reteiidi(i sect of Egoists, lliere is to lie ad led the following notices, which I did not recoi. lect till after that note was vt :— Wolf, {Psycholoiiki liatkmalis, \ 38,) after dividing Idealists into hjjoisls and Pluralisis, says, inter alia, of Ihe former .-— " Fuit paucis adhinc annis aset'cia qiiidam Malebranchii, I'arisiia. qui Egoi.-mum pri^ts. The French place them in Scotland ; the Scotch in Hol- land ; the Germans in France ; and 1 hey are variously stated as the immedia'e disciples of Des Cartes, Malebrannhe, Spinoza. There is certainly no reason whv an Egoistical Ideali^m should not have been explicitly promulgated lielbre Fichte, (whose doctrine, however, is not the same;) but I have, as yet, seen no satisfactory grounds on which it cau be shewn that this had actually been done.— H. f See Notes B and C— ii. mI*!' ON THK INTELLECTUAL POWEIia [b«at If.. 1t.is ploifMit to obwnre tliat, wliik pliilo- wiiliefs, for more tham m^eenturj, timra been ktouritig, hj .mcmiS' of iiieiiB, to ejcpkin IwiriMptim Mid tlie other oftermtioiMi' of tbe iiiind, tiiofie Mmm Imve by depvai 4tituqiefi the pbee of fwrtyiittoiit objeek, anil eifeii of tbe mind iiaelf, and have supplanted thofw very thingt thej ireie hnpgli:! .to exphiii, Des Cartes 'reduced all ibe-o^pemtions of the tiiiderBlandtng to perception ; and what can lie more natural to those who believe thai they are only different modes of perceiving ideafttn our own minds ? Loche confounds ifleas sometimes with the perception of an external object, sometimes with the external object itself. In Berkeley's system, the idea is the only object, and yet is often «m- foumled with tbe perception of it But, in liumeX the idea or tbe impression, which is only a more lively idea, is mind, percep- tion, and object, all in one : so that, by tbe term perception, in Mr Hume's .system, we must understand tbe mind itself, all its operations, both of understanding and will, and all tbe objects of tlieseoperationa Per- teption taken in Ibis sense he diTides into our more Mvely perceptions, which he calls mpftmmu^* and tlie less lively, which be ealls idms. To prevent repetition, I must here refer the reader to some remarhs made upon this division, Essay I. chap. I, in the explication there given of the words, |>it- teityp, ohjeet, impwemimt. [pp. 222, 223, 22«. 1 Philosophers have differed very mueb with regard to the origin of our ideas, or the sources whence they are derived. Tbe Peripatetics held that all knowledge is de- rived originally from the senses ;t and this ancient doctrine seems to be revived by .some lato French, pbOosophm, and by Dr Hartley and Dr Prieslley among tbe Brit- ish, |I8«I] Bes Cartes maintained, that many of our ideas are innate. Locke op- posed the doctrine of innate ideas with much zeal, and employs tbe whole first Iwok of bis 'Essay against ii But he ad- mits two different sources of ideas . the opecations of our external senses, which he calk «ifiijiiiioii, by which we get all our ideas of body, and its attributes ; »nd r^- Jfntim upon the operations of our minds, by which we get the ideas of everything be* «r !!L ■!**■!!*. y*!"- '■"• ^'<«dtowto III vol. 1 p. w*} Wfint 10 tliMK tltat tb'O wimi tewrmtei waa iffi InlrmlwMl. m • lnsliiiMi4cnii» imo ibe pliltob. Hlmw ir acl«liifsc% af IHt-llluttratioa^ attMpMl, of tJie ptiMimiens «' neiiMfy tnm the amilniy' of*" '*-' '25?' •"I.* ?.*»**»•»«'• «»nr«i|miiii,iif to immmim wpm..mmmilm «iwi«iii«t«iiiliM««|i;iiM|. loTntpn. cffMi«ct«]cl«ffiial.Mnttiii(iii, imagl'iiailoii.. AaJn tto AtanMlr.tlie FMonle. tli« .Ariitotelta.' ami lite wif c III coni'inoii ine — H . -1 J?**.*" "H ■*"»»«««» »* »*'■•« • t» unqyallllmli ••leiment.— H. longing to tbe mind. The main design of the second book of Locke's ** Essay," is to shew, that all our simple ideas, without exception, are derived from the one or the othert w both of these tsources. In doing this, tbe author h led into some paradoxes, although, in general, he is not fond of para* ioxM : And had he foreseen all the oon- iei|raences that may be drawn from his iic- eount of the origin of our ideas, he would probably have examined it moreearefully.* Mr Hume adopto Locke's account of the origin of our ideas ; and from that priuciplo infers, that we have no Idea of substance, corporeal or spiritual, no idea of power, no other idearof a cause, but that it is something anteeedeut, and ennBtantly.conJoined to tbst which WO' 'Call it» effect ; and, in a word, that we can have no idea of anything but our sensations, and the opemtions of mind we are conscious of. This autbor leaves no power to the mind in firaming its ideas and impressions ; and, no wonder, since he holds that we have no idea of power ; and the mind is nothing but that succession of impressions and ideaii of which we are intimately conBcious. He thinks, therefore, that our impressions arise from unknown causes, and that tbe impressions are the causes of their corre- sponding ideas. By this he means no nioro but that ihej alwavs go before tbe idens ; for this is all that is necessary to constitute tbe rektion • of omse and effect 1 1 !M>] As to the order and succession of our ideas, he holds^ it to be detennined by th.ree lavirs of attraetion or association, which he takes to be original properties of the Ideas, liy which they attract, as it were^ or asso- ciate tbemaehres with •other ideaa wliicli either resemble them, or which have been contiguous to them in time and place, or to which tliey have the relations of cause and eBecc* We may here observe, by the way, that the last of these three laws seems to be in- cluded in the second, since causation, ac- cording to him, implies no more than con- tiguity in time and place. f • At any rate, acconling ii> r orke, all nur know. .ii|»'to a derivation nroin espnimtr.^H. t Mr BvMm taya— ** I dO'a Ari*ti»k,, aai, alter Mai» 'numv other philoaoplisri. bad, .liwtvcr» 'diMt 'tlii% and will even grralcr s^ -IfcMi If nine MiHsC Aiiitolh% ndaetian is to tlie 'Itaiir MIowIng' ImwIs i— Pmalnilty in ilnie—Cunti. gaily la ptoo^-^EftciiilitanGe— Contract. I'his it ncirenimclllian Mane'a; for Hume'aaecondhead ougtii to lie dtvlfJed into two; while our connectitig asy MrflMtter evtnia In the rrlatton oi caute and vlUct* la llwtr ihe tmn^t or their oi' aervcd proaimliy III lime and 'Niiitlgiiitvin|ila<'«| my.lociMiMiaDd CHAP. XIII.] OF THE SENTIMENTS OF ANTHONY ARNAULD. 29;i «4lqrRrid) [189, 19C] It is not my design at present to shew how Mr Hume, upon the principles he has borrowed from Locke and Berkeley, has, with great acuteness, reared a system of absolute scepticism, which leaves no rational ground to believe any one proposition, rather than its contrary : my intention in this plnce being only to give a detail of the sentiments of philosophers concerning idea3 since they became an object of speculation, and c«ncerninc tbe manner of our perceiv- ing external ogjects by their means' CHAPTER XIH. OP THE SENTIAIENTS OP ANTHONY ARNAULD. In this sketch of the opinions of philoso- phers concerning ideas, we must not omit Anthony Arnauld, doctor of the Sorbonne, who, in tbe year 1683, published his book ** Of True and False Ideas," in opposition to the system of Malebranche before men- tioned. It is only about ten years since I could find this book, and l' believe it is rare.* [191] Though Arnauld wrote before Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, I have reserved to tbe last place some account of his senti- ments, because it seems difficult to deter- mine whether be adopted the common theory of ideas, or wbetber he is singular in reject- ing it altogether as a fiction of philoso- phers. The controversy between Malebranche and Arnauld necessarily led them to con- sider what kind of things ideas are~a point Upon which other philosophers had very generally been silent. Both of them pro- fessed the doctrine universally received : that we perceive not material things imme- diately — that it is their ideas that are the immediate objects of our thought— and that it is in the idea of everything that we per- ceive its properties It is necessary to premise that both these authors use the word perception, as Des Cartes had done before them, to sig- nify every operation of the understand- ing. -f- " To tliink, to know, to perceive, are the snme thing," says Mr Arnauld, chap. V. def. 2- It is likewise to be observed, that the various operations of the mind are by both called modifications of the mind. Perhaps they were led into this phrase by the Cartesian doctrine, that the essence of tbe mind consists in thinking, as tliat of body consists in extension. I apprehend, Hume himself endeavour to rfy states of mind and include .both th« active *nd passive ^hKnomcwK'^f thp conscious sub- ject. I he terms were uted by Des Cartesi as well hs by his disciples.— H. 1l!!ilEi iii||i i i'|iMiwiwi *:!i j% i » Miigiiif: Ill III w§ ON THE INTELLECTOAL POirEES. £B88A¥ II. Mmtm nlmd. wliieii can be calM Hie idea tif an «st«nial nbjeet^, he .Mm it is only anotlierwiinliiriieiwilioii. €lia|i» v-t del 3. 1 1031 ** ^ "^* ^ Mmtim elije«t, •nd the p€re§ptmm df an ebjecl, t4> be the lanie thing. I do not eay whether there maj he other things to which the name of idea majf be given. But it is oertain that there are ideas taken in this sense, and that these ideas are either attributes or inodii- cations of our minds..*** This, I thin^lc, iiideed|. was. ti» attadc. the Bjsteni 'Of Matebcaimhe npoa. its ireak aide, and wbere^ at the same time^. an attaek was least expected. Philosophers had been so mnanimims in maintatning that we do not Jiereeive external objeets iniiiiediately,'f- lut bj certain, representative images jf them called. MmsyX ^^^ .Maiebranche might well 'think his amtem. aeenn upon that quarter, and tliat the*onlj f nestlon to lie determined was, in what suhjeet those ideas are phiced,^ whether in the hnm.an or in the divine mind ? But, saja Mr Araanld, thosv- 'ideas are mere ehinieras — iecionii' of philosophers; therC' are no such beings in nature; and, therefore, it is to no purpose to inquire whether tbej are in the divine or in the hu- 'man 'mind. The only tme .and .real, .ideas .are our perf!e|>tions, 'whleb| are acknow- ledged by all philMophers, and by Male- branebe limielf, to be acts or m'Odilicatio.na of our own niinda He does not. mj that the ictttious ideas we.n^ a letifin of Male* hmnehe. lie aclcnowledges that they bad been very generally maintained by the scholastic philosophers, II and points out. vety^ I'ttdiciouHlj, the prejndiees. 'that .hid led. 'them, into tlie belief of sueb ideas. Of all the powers of out' mind,, the • Amaulil did. tioi alNnr 'tliai pticaiitiiiiw ami tmm MW rmltif m miiwcrtellly dltiitiguwhiid— i & , m •itelh.fnt (TMSi snoiliM' iMiif ; not even tliat tiiav' amiiiMla%4ilttiiipiw||c4.i e, m a tliliif. .Irom Ita. nmlc. He 'luaiinttiiicd mm they ate raillyliitiitteal.. •Ml urolf mttmuO^ .dMerliilaated .as view««l in iUL. iBini lalM. a pemqpMm, 'by rrltaWMMi to ttie mind or ihtiiiiiigtii|iiret-.tiiii0a.,'lif lefncneeiotlieaifliiiat* oliji-ct or thitif tlHHtghC. Amauld merjwtmmmmm Mat lie d«ilM;ldeai onlf aa miilcitota'diiliiMi ffeumi pp. 187,. mk m, asur— H. '•• IM^ 'ftrnkm tutmmt nV^ imsiitoliiir-— that li» 111 tlMniMlitMiMi at rxiSm, .He'imi mo accu. taifl' for tiila. % an teaMiflfw 'C«taillAii., Kad neam mcrrlf tilt MialiM of Me .iiiiinniilsllm or any tlitrd thing' litliM«ii. tit' ftiiilr itneiviMl and ■na'|ific9teM iiii.M.<«i.ii... ^ t mmwm i»t ti» woni % wlitcli »fpf««iitat,lve Mtp% tiMacc frnn. tkm pttdpisiit act. had been OMHiMiif cilM t^ni!r'«aM;fkiiiiMaMn' st. all. unani. mom in tiie adauartea of imwIi vicaiiiiiiB 'Ol^eta.-* am Vmm O. L. M, M. ©.SZ-HL^ ^^ •J "'**■!'■*!» *«*»>*»• (llif'«Wiiiiti»e acti,i baf not Miai|iitieln:««Maia'iii||«g|ii^^ Italaltvc mmmt aciaowMpi 'I9' Haisbrandte :ani' all ptok tojibtii JO' be aitft aai or tMidillcations. off oiar own aaj 'VP^w apjr aa viUMHPiaMi'%MMi^|i< ai|MNaHinvii^^^'^Herceived. Hence, by analt^, we are led to say of everything when we think of it, that it is present to the mind, or iu the mind. [1!I4] Bui this presence is metaphorical, or ana- logical only; and Araauld calls it objec- tive presence, to distinguish it from that local presence which is required in objects that are perceived by sense. But both being ealled by the same name, they are coufuunded together, and those things that he''- .fcaMtvac^padiy.! 'MrbtlMfaMf paiM»tobeiNinl ta Ibc 'writiiip m ttila siilaMfber, wIMk, if froiicrty ttiidaiaiooi, wanmitttiitO(inctiitiim,tiiai:,!^ :idaes In lAc iPifttMl.. bt maant awfht diMtscl .finiai tbe M^nltlvt act. IIW' doiiblip 'a«' .eftlie tmn Moo: bjr Dea C'crtM turn 'iNMnever, ImI tUU said, oiheia into a niacoi'i. Tm.mtliifp(ilnt. lli«''lfola M.— H. ltaU% own dkKtr ne Is israioie ■nilii|iufiiia.->ll. tiM, ml CHAP. XIII.] OF THE SENTIMENTS OF ANTHONY ARNAULD. 297 continued in his own opinion, and left his antagonist where he found him. [195] Malebranche^s opinion of our seeing all things in God, soon died away of itself ; and Arnaiild's notion of ideas seems to have been less regarded than it deserved, by the philosophers that came after him ;• per- linps for this reason, among others, that it seemed to bo, in some sort, given up by hiniHelf, in his attempting to reconcile it to the common doctrine concerning ideas- From the account I have given, one would be apt to conclude that Arnauld totjilly denied the existence of ideas, in the philosophical sense of that word, and that he adopted the notion of the vulgar, who acknowledge no object of perception but the external object But he seems very un- willing to deviate so fiir from the common track, and, what he had given up witli one hand, he takes back with the other. For, Jirsff Having defined ideas to be the same tiling with perceptions, he adds this qualification to his definition : — " I do not here consider whether there are other things that may be called ideas ; but it is certain there are ideas taken in this sense. •f' I believe, indeed, there is no philosopher who does not, on some occasions, use the word idea in this popular sense. • The opinion of Arnauld in rcf^ard to the nature ofideas watby no means uvi-rlookcd by subsequent Iihilasophers. It is found lully detailed in uhno.t ivery systematic course or compend of philosophy, which ap[>eared for a lung time atler its first promul. gatinn, and in many of these it is the doctrine re- I'ommended as the true. Amauld's was indeed the opniion which Jatterly prevailed in the Cartesian school. From this it passed into other schools. Leib- niti, like Arnauld, ropaided Idi-as, Notions, Uepre. ■entattons, as mere moditications of the mind, (what I y his disciples, were called material ideas, like the cerebral ideas of Des I artes, are out ofthequesiion,) Mild no cruder opinion than this has ever suhse. queiitly found a lootii.g in any of the Girmau i>yiiemt. " I don't know," says Mr Stewart, " ol any author who, prior to I)r iieid, has t xpresstd himselr on this fuhject with so much j stncss and precision as Father Ifuttieri in the following passage uf liis Treatise on • First Truths :'— ** * If we confine ourselves to what is intelligible in our CbierTat ions onftfmt, we will say, they are no. Ibiaatbut mere mtKtifications ot the mind as a think. lag being. They are called tVit'Ojr with regard to the object represented; and perceptions with regard to liie faculty representing. It is manifest that our Ideas, considered in this sense, are not more distin. fuisbed Iban motion is from a body moved.*— (1*. Sli, JSnifillfA 3VafwMio».}*'— t-ltro. iii. Add. to vol. i. p. lU In this passage, Buffirr only repeats the doctrine of Arnauld, in Artiauld's own words. i>r Tbomasfirown, on the other hand, has en. detvourtd to shew that th s doctrine, (ubicli he identifies with Reid's,) had been long the catholic opinion ; and that tteid, in his attack on the Ideal ■yntem. only reluted what had lieen already almost universally exploded. In this attempt he is, how- ever, Singularly unfortunate; for, with the excep- tion of Crousaz, all the examples he-ad'iuces to evince the prevalence of Arnauld's doctrine are only fo many mi>takes, so many instances, in (act, which mlfllt he alleged in confirmation of the very opposite cnnclusion. :>ee Edinburgh Meview, vol. iii., p. 181- liW-H. f See following note. — H. fl95, 19t<] Secondlt/j He supports this popular senso of the woid by the autliority of Des Cartes, who, in his demonstration of the existence of God, from the idea of him in our minds, defines an idea thus : — " By the word idea, I understand that form of any thought, by the immediate perception of which I am conscious of that thou{;ht ; so that I can ex- press nothing by words, with understanding, without being certain that there is in my mind the idea of that which is expressed by the words.*' This definition seems, indeed, to be of the same import with that which is given by Arnauld. But Des Cartes adds a qualification to it, which Arnauld, in quoting it, omits; and which shews that Des Cartes meant to limit his definition to the idea then treated of — that is, to the idea of the Deity ; and that there are other ideas to which this definition does not aj^ply. [ 1 96 J For he adds: — " And thus I give the name of idea, not solely to the images painted in the phantasy ; nay, in this place, I do not at all give the name of ideas to those images, in so far as they are painted in the cly tbeir ex- istence, I shonld have tbongbt him. morc' eonsistent with biniself, and hb doctrine c philosophical opinion, however ancient, fiowever generally received, ought to rest npon authority. There is no presunipttttii in requiring evidence' for it, or In regulat- iiip our belief by the evidence we can ind. To prevent mistakes, tlie nMider must agnin 'be reminded, that if by ideas are niaiiit only the acts or operations of our minds in perceiving, remembering, or ima- gining objects, I am far from calling in question the exwtenee' of those mM^i we are eonsciO'Us of them every day 'and every lioor of life ; and I believe no man of a sintnd mind ever doubted of the real exist- ence of the operations of mind, of which he is conscious. Nor is it to be donbted that, by the faculties which God has given is, we can conceive things that are absent,, m well as perceive tbosc' that ate' within tbe reach of our senses ; and that sncli concep- tions may be more or less distinct, and • E^da diacontcnt with Aniau.U-« .■■.■........i ■.. opinio 1 wlileh if ftated with great perat^'eiitf lif to •utlior— iiiBf be usftl at an •rfEtim nt to thaw f liat liif own doctrine ii, however ambiguous, that of tnlul. liwew iin:iiMd.iat'0 |iercei«iMi. (Jite N ott C ) Aniwilil%' 'iliff'erf U idcaticat with tlW' infc imraffmrfimtf- 'ii«» or midMe .pefceplloii., and the diflnilliw of tHil. dactrint '«•» not erflr^mlei 'Hf hU graai. antami'lil. AmsQM «^; alleQlfli tlttt» when we tee a bone, ae. •ovdint til Malelmmehe, whit we we la in realitf Olid»hi»i#ifi but Maltbrancbe well rvjotncd, thiit, 'When wt M*' a hocM'. aemrdiitg to Arnauld, wim. ve M ti. in mttf , onty a nuMlltadlM. 'Of owielvta-a more or lesf Uvily .and strong. We havo tmmm U tmoaStm^ tO' tb«: ^all-lnowing and all-petlBet Being 'dlsf iniit' eoneeptions of all things exiatont aad possible, and of all their rekiions ; and If these conceptions are called his eternal ideas, there ought to be no dia- fute among nhikiiophers about a word. 11181 The ideas, of whose existence I require the proof, are not the operations of any mind, but supposed objects of those i||Mi«tioiii. They are not perception, re- nMmhfBnee^ or conception, but things thai an mid to 'be perceived, or .remembered, w imagined. Nor do I dispute the existence of what the 'vnlnr' call tbe objects of perception. These, by all who acknowledge their ex:iit- enoe, are called real things, not ideas. But pbiloiophers niaintain that, besides these, there are immediate objects of perception in tbe mind itself: that, for instance, we do not see the sun immediately, but an idea; or, as Mr Hume calls it, an impres- sion in our own minds. This idea is said to be the image, the resemblance, the re- presentative of the «un, if there be a sun. It is from the existence of the idea that we must hifer the existence of the suti. But the idea, being immediately perceived, there can he no doubt, as philosophers think, of its existence. In like manner, when I remember, or when I imagine anything, all men acknow- ledge that there must be somcthuig tliat ia remembered, or tliat is imagined ; that is, some object of those operations. Tho object remembered must be si>roething that did exist in time past : the object hnaginal may be' lometbing that never existed.* But, say tbe philosophers, besides these objects which all men acknowledge, there is a 'more 'immediate object whicli really exists in the mind at the same time we remember or imagine. This object is an idea or image of the thing remeuibered or imagined. The fitKt reiection I would make on this philoaephical opinion is, that it is directly centmry to tbe universal wnse of men who have not been initmeted in philosophy. When we see the sun or moon* we have no doubt that tbe very objects which we im- m^ediately .seC' .are very far distant from U8, and from 'One another. We have not the least doubt that this is the sun and moon which God created some thousands of years ago, and which have continued to perfunn their revolutions in the 'heavens ever since. [IW] But bow are we astonished when tbe philosopher infonns us that we are mis- 'taken. in ^all this i that the sun and moon which we see are not, as wo imagilie, many miles distant from us, and from eneh other, • See Note B.^M [1&7-190] but that they are in our own mind ; that they bad no existence before we saw them, and will ha%'e none when we cease to per- ceive and to think of them; because the objects we perceive are only ideas in our own muids, which can have no existence a moment longer than we think of them !* If a plain man, uninstructed in philoso- phy, has faith to receive these mysteries, how great must be his astonishment ! He is brought into a new world, where every- thing he sees, tastes, or touches, is an idea —a fleeting kind of being which he can con- jure into existence, or can annihilate in the twinkling of an eye. After his mind is somewhat composed, it will be natural for him to ask his philoso- phical instructor, Pray, sir, are there then no substantial and pennauent beings called the sun and moon, which continue to exist whether we think of them or not ? Here the philosophers differ. Mr Locke, and those that were before him, will answer to this quesiion, that it is very true there are substantial and permanent beings called the sun and moon i but they never appear to us in their own person, but by their re- presentatives, the ideas in our own minds, and we know nothing of them but wliat we can gather from those ideas. Bishop Berkeley and Mr Hume would give a different answer to the question pro- posed. They would assure the querist tliat it is a vulgar error, a mere prejudice of the ignorant and unlearned, to think that there are any permanent and substantial beings called the sun and moon ; that the heavenly bodies, our own bodies, and all bodies what- soever, are nothing but ideas in our minds ; and that there can be nothing like the ideas of one mind, but the ideas of another mind. [2()0] There is nothing in nature but minds and ideas, says the Bishop; — nay, says Mr Hume, there is nothing in nature but ideas only ; for what we call a mind is nothing but a train of ideas connected by certain relations between themselves. In this representation of the theory of ideas, there is nothing exaggerated or mis- represented,«as far as I am able to judge ; and surely nothing farther is necessary to shew that, to the uninstructed in philoso- phy, it must appear extravagant and vision- ary, and most contrary to tlie dictates of common understanding. There is the less need of any farther proof of this, that it is very ami)ly acknow- • Whether Reid himself do not virtuallir hold thi« iant opinion, tee Note C. At anj rate, it is very in- cnrret t to say t hat the ftin, moon, ftc, are, or can be> perceived. by us as existent, aiid in their real dis. tance in the heavens ; all that we can t>e cognisant of (supiKXing that we are immetiiatcli/ percipifnt of the non-ego) is • he rays of .light emanating from them, and ii> contact and relation with our organ of sighi. ■•— M. [200, 201] lodged by Mr Hume in his Essay on the Academical or Sceptical Philosophy. " It seems evident," says he, ** that men are car- ried, by a natural instinct or prepossession, to repose faith in their senses; and that, without any reasoning, or even almost be- fore the use of reason, we always suppose an external universe, which depends not on our perception, but would exist though we and every sensible creature were absent or annihilated. Even the animal creation are governed by a like opinion, and preserve this belief of external objects in alltheir thoughts, designs, and actions." "It seems also evident that, when men follow this bluid and powerful instinct of nature, they always suppose the very im- ages presented by the senses to be the ex- ternal objects, and never entertain any suspicion that the one are nothing but re- presentations of the other. This very table which we sec white, and feel hard, is be- lieved to exist indej)endeiit of our percep- tion, and to be something external to the mind which perceives it ; our presence be- stows not being upon it ; our absence anni- hilates it not : it preserves its existence uniform and entire, independent of the situ- ation of intelligent beings who perceive or contemplate it. [201] '* But this universal and primary notion of all men is soon destroyed by the slightest philosophy, which teaches us that nothing can ever be present to the mind, but an image or perception ; and tliat the senses are only tbe inlets through which these images are received, without being ever able to produce any immediate intercourse between the mind and the object.'* It is therefore acknowledged by this i)lii- losopher, to be a natural instinct or pre- possession, an universal and primary opinion of all men, a primary instinct of nature, that the objects which we immediately perceive by our senses, are not images in our minds, but external objects, and that their exist- ence is independent of us and our percep- tion. In this acknowledgment, Mr Hume in- deed seems to me more generous, and even more ingenuous than Bishop Berkeley, who would persuade us that his oi»inion does not oppose the vulgar opinion, but only that of the philosophers ; and that the external existence of a material world is a philosi*- phical hypothesis, and not the natural dic- tate of our perceptive powers. The Bishop shews a timidity of engaging such an adver- sary, as a primary and universal opinion of all men. He is rather fond to court its pa- tronage. But the philosopher intrei)idly gives a defiance to this antagonist, and seems to glory inaconflict that was worthyof his arm. Optat opium aui ftdvum descendere n.onie ieunern. After all, I suspect that a philo- mm ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWBRa I^EUSAy li« CBAP. XI?.] REFLECTIONS ON THE THEORY OF IDEAS. 301 I*' •nf Ipir w'lio wages wmt witli ilib ndieiwfy, will find himsetf in Hie muim eondittcm m & :iiiiitl]ieiiiiitieiaii wltd tlKwiil unciertalte to denmnitnto that there ia no tratli in the •ixinma^ ef nathematles. A .«iviM4reiecCifini;|>on this suhjeet is— that the anthers w'ho have 'treated ef idea% liave generallj taken their extstenee fiir 'gntttled, M. a thiing tiateouM not 'he called in qnestloii ; wd Mieh argninents aa thej have nentiened. inetdentalljr, in order to ]irove ill seem toO' w«!alc to-npport the 'Cou- eimion. [2021 Mr Locke, m the introduction to his Essay, tells 11% that hs'-'niisa the word idea to signifj whatever' k the innedime ohject of 'thcMtglitt and then adds, ''^ I presume it will he easilj granted me that there are snch ideaS' in men's minds-; everj' one is ednseions of th^em in himiwlf ; and nten*H words and actions will jsatisfj him that tliej arc in others.*' I am indeed consebus of lierceiviog, rememhering, imagining; but that eratiens are^ linages in my mind, I am not eonseious. I am satisfied, by men's words and actions, il»t they often perceive the same ohjeels wliich I perceive, which conld not be, if those' obj^ects were ideas in their own minds. Mr Morris is the only anther I have met with, who professedly pats the qnestion, Whether material thmgs ean be^ |»eroeiv©d by us immediately ? He has offered four arguments to shew that they cannot. /'t«i, ** Material objeeta are without the mind, and therefore there ean^be no union between the object and the peieipient" Jmteer, This argument is bmei nntil it is shewn to he necessary that in pereeption there sliould be a union between the object and the per- cipient. Semwf^ « Material objects are iisproportioned to the mind, and remove*! from It by the whole diameter of Being." fliis argument! cannot answier, because I do not understand it.' Third, «« Because ftipiiy. Noirit'LaccoiMi •rgiiiMiit fa iwlf the ttaiiiL Blent of aprM|»teseiicrally«MiaS'S^^ —tiiai the wimim cil limwMnlitfris a corrmiiind. mm ot nature Mwten tUt wlScci kncmlMTrS the irr. Zi wl i! Vi!*"?:Slf " *|»««tailiin titan anf m |»rtK»f— nay, ■• contfadictcd tif tlie evidcnre nf •MUiniitim wnuU t», lit faut. In a certain milir to write tilt MMof 7 of iXitoophy ; ■!»»?. thoZh lS?in Is? hf •«'*' y*^'^" »»'«W;iiy iw5.S^^^ Miaiviy known mmt toe m an analoinit aatiife^ litt at the men of almwl: eterf tiMnotainiitor^ tie wjr MTlltft to lihs vtriTKTiSteiSt. l5 conillliin of i»o*iHi|e IIm In the riintrarictv. in tlw itatiiral a«tlt»i«l^ ol^Silject aiff ^! Twi^te! Ilkeiri.e. in hit treatlit m He Se^miptSSfmi, mmm Uie pcvatat ofiiiiioii, that tht limilar w mly if material objects were immediate f.bjecCa of pereeption, there could be no plivsicnl science— things necessary and imniucable being the only object of science." Amwer^ Although things necessary and immutable be not the tmU'ediate objeets of pereeption, they may be' immediate objects of other powers of the mind. Fou* ih, " If material things were perceived by themselves, they would he a true light to our minds, as being the intelligible form of our understandings, and eensciinently perfective of them, and indeed superior to them J» If I comprehend anvthing of this mysterious argument, it follows from it, that the Deity perceives nothing at all, because nothing can be supe- rior to his under8tandin<{, or perfective of it im»i * ^ There is an argument which is hinted St hy Malebranehe, and by eeveral other authors, which deserves to be more seriously considered. As I ind it most clearly ex- pressed and most fully urged by Br Samuel Clarke, 1 sUI give it in his words, in his seeond reply to Leibnita, | 4. ** The soul, without beiug present to the images of the thuigs perceived, could not possibly perceive them. A living substance can only there l»erceive, where it b present, either to the maniMlik hFthetlmllar; but. in hnmtmmeMm Ethics, he reverU h* tlie dcictiine which in the lor. mer work, he had rejected. With thewexrentiont. n« pr»iici|ile, since the time of fimiNrioctet. by whom It atvtM irtt to have lieen explicitly annountfd. hai been more uni«er«aiif teceived, than thlt^that the reMwn 4/lttiiwMNt inlieit an mmkm ¥i*^im€$, 1 hit anaiof y nay be of two ief rcet. WMt Jbwr*, and whai i$ kimm, nia) he either $mihir or the mmg and, i ihe principJe itaeli Ik? adet Cartcaand Arnauld. timrmmmtatim,/, termtaltdrnt, ^e of l4!ibnlu and Wdff. the pkmwl mam of Kani. the stMkt of Brown, and fihall we •ay f) the vactlianng docirine of perception held by Ktid himaelt. Blaiilatdy. this principle wiu the ORRtn of many other ramow tkMMrlet t-of ihe^ Ucr. archlcal iradatlon oi' mmh m facullica of the Jlriato^. telian.: of iht tthlciilsf BHtfia of the Platoniita: 01 »he hypolhMii of acmtmon Intellect of Alex. ander, llitailitiua, Aierroei, Caleianui, and Zabar. eila i ofthe iri«on in the deity of ialebianehei aadof the 1 artenan and Leihnltaian dncirlmaa oraMlitaMif ' and iire.e»tabliihcit htimiMiy. Rnally, In thia prtn. dple u to be awrthad: ilie mAm] 01 1 he evidence oiieon. foouaaia* In the primary IImI, tke dlialily of its per. Cfptimi I and the unitarian adlemee of Absolute Ideii. tliy, Materialiia, and Ideailam, are the results- H. I SOS, 2033 things themselves, (as the omnipresent God 18 to the whole universe,) or to the images of things, its the soul is in its proper smsu- riuw.** Sir Isaac Newton expresses the same sentiment, but with his usual reserve, in a query only. The ingenious Dr Porterfield, in his Essay coneerniiig the motions of our eyes, adopts this opinion with more conlidence. His words are : " How body acts upon mind, or mind upon body, I know not ; but this 1 am very certain of, that nothing can act, or be acted vl\wii, where it is not ; and there- fore our mind can never perceive anything but its own proper modifications, and tlie various states of the sensorium. to whioh it is present : so that it is not the external sun and moon which are in the heavens, whicli our mind perceives, but only their image or representation impnjssed upon the sensorium. How 4he soul of a seeing man sees these images, or how it receives those ideas, from such agitations in the sensorium, I know not ; but I am sure it can never perceive the external bodies tliemselves, to which it is not present." These, indeed, are great authorities : but, in matters of pliiloso[>liy, we must not he guided by authority, but l>y reason. Dr Clarke, in the phice cited, mentions slightly, as the reason of his opinion, that '' nothing can any more act, or be acted upon when it is not present, tlian it can be where it is not.** [204] And again, in his third reply to Leibnitz, § 11—" We are sure the soul cannot perceive what it is not present to, because nothing can act, or be aoted upon, where it is not.** The same reason we see is urged by Dr Porterfield. That nothing can act immediately where it is not, I think must be admitted : foi- I agree with Sir Isaac Newton, that power without substance is inconceivable. It is a consc(|iienee of this, that nothuig can be acted upon immediately where the agent is not present : let this, therefore be granted. To make the reasoning conclusive, it is farther necessary, that, when we perceive objects, either they act upon us, or we act upon them. This does not appear self-evi- dent, nor have I ever met with any proof of it. I shall briefly ofier the reasons why I think it ought not to be admitted. When we say that one being acts upon another, we mean that some power or force b exerted by the agent, which produces, or has a tendency to produce, a change in the thing acted ui>on. If this be the meaning of the phrase, as I conceive it is, there appears no reason for asserting that, in perception, either the object acts upon the mind, or the mind upon the object. An object, in being perceived, does not act at all. I perceive the walls of the room £901, SOS] where I sit ; but they are perfectly inactive, and therefore act not upon the mind. To be perceived, is what logicians call an ex- ternal denomination, which implies neitlier action nor quality in the object perceived.* Nor could men ever have gone into this notion, that perception is owing to some action ©f the object upon the mind, were it not that we are so prone to form our notions of the mind from some similitude we conceive between it and body. Thought in the mind is conceived to have some analogy to motion in a body : and, as a body is put in motion, by being acted upon by some other body ; so we are apt to think the mind is made to perceive, by some impulse it receives from the object. But reasonings, drawn from such analogies, ought never to be trusted. [205] They are, indeed, the cause.of most of our errors with regard to the mind. And we might as well conclude, that minds may be measured by feet ami inches, or weighed by ounces and drachms, because bodies have those properties. -f- I see as little reason, in the second ])Iace, to believe that in perception the mind acts upon tlie object. To perceive an ohject is one thing, to act upon it is another ; nor is the last at all included in the first. To say that I act upon the wall by looking at it, is an abuse of language, and has no meaning. Logicians distinguish two kinds of opera- tions of mind: the first' kind produces no effect witliout the mind; the last does. The first they call immnneni acts, the se- cond transitive. All intellectual operations belong to the first class ; they produce no effect upon any external object. But, with- out having recourse to logical distinctions, every man 01 common sense knows, that to * This passage, among others that toijow, afford the foundation of an argument, to prove that Ueid is not original in his doctrine of Perception ; but that it was borrowed from the sfiectilationH uf cert in older phlosophers, of which tic was aware. Seu Note S— H. f 'I'his reaconing, which is not original to Reld, (see Note S.) is not clearly or precisely expressctl. In asserting that ** an object, in being perceived, d(>e« not act at all," our author cannot mean that it does not act U|ion the organ of sent^e ; for this would not only be absurd in itself, but in contrad^tiun to his own doctrine^-" it being," he says, " a law of our nature that we pepceive not exiernal objects un. le»8 certain impretsions be made on tlie nerves and brain." The assertion-*" I perceive the walls ol the room where I sit, -but they are perfectly inactive, and, therelore, act not on the mind," is equally in- correct in statement. 77m; waits of the-room, strictly so called, assuredly do not act on the mind or on ihc eye; hut the walls ofthe tuom, in this sens , are, in fact, no ol^ect of (visual) perception at all. What we see in this instance, aiid what we looacly call tt. fret isMMilMaiiir .fcnovii,. it unit it' kiMwa m it mm»^ Km, m 'lurif ■nin. okIm ia •«"-'" --...--'^- Mit 'Of i9si»--iii a 'iKffisle .fi|«i» . g m iiieb it' lanMiialtly fcMvn «'.ci!iiilivk. JHHiHUMMI^ Mj|, Ikiiyiii iht saAnd. lo i|l9' .lui If 'PNtni 'to U. IB ipcc— H. objects Immediately, subjoins what fol- " But this universiil and primary opinion of all men is soon deitroyed by the slightest philoeophy, which teachea us that nothing can ever' 'be 'present to tbe 'm.ind but an image or perception ; and that the senses are only the inlets through which tliera images are received, without being ever aUe to produce any immediate intercourse between the mind and the object. Ilie table, which we see, seems to diminish as we remove farther from it : but the real table, which enists independent of us, suf- fers no alteration. [ iO? 1 It was, therefore, nothing but its image which was present to the mind. These are the obvious dictates of .reason ; ..and no .man 'who reflectsever doubted 'that 'the exiatoocea 'Which we consider, when we say iku kuwit, and that /ree, are nothing but ]>erceptions in the mind, and fleeting copies and representations of other exist- ences, which remain uniform and independ- ent. So far, then, we are neoessitatedl, by reasoning, to dejiart from the primary in- stincts of nature, and to embrace a new .eyatem w'ith regard, to the evidence of our wnsea** We have here a remarkable conflict be- tween two contradictory opinions, wherein all mankind are engaged. On the one side stand all the vulga..r, who ara un|iract.ised in 'phi''Owp]iical nsMadhea, and .gn.ided. by the uncorrupted primary instincts of nature. On the other side stand all the philoso- phersy. .ancient and m.odcni.s every man, 'withou't '«3t.cept.ion, who ;r«floots. Jn this division, to 'Uiy great hum.illation, I find myself classed with the vulgar. Tlie passage now quoted Is all I have found in llr Hume's writinp upon this '|wint 1 and, Indec'd, there is more reason- mg in It than I have found in any other author ; I shal.l, therefore, examine it min- Fir««,. He tells us, 'tltat ** this universal and primary opinion of all men is soim destroyed by the slightest pbilosnphy, which 'teachea ua that noth.'ing 'can .ever be pre- sent to the mind but an image or percep-. tion* The phrnae' of heing present to the mind has some 'Ohscurity;. but I conceive be means being an inuMdlate object of thought ; an. imnediate 'ObJect, for instance, of per- ception, of memoij, or of hnagination. If thia be the nemiiigi (and it is the only peit.inen.t. one .1 can think of,) there is no more in thla passage but an assertion of tlie proposition to be 'proved, .and an. asaert.iou ma« pnuQsopny laaenea ■(• m» inia nC' so^. I beg' .leave to^ 'diasenl from philosophy till she gives me .reason for what she teaches. 'Cxteraal tti t t fff 'dcnawl. 'By aasent 'to their Cbap. xit.J REFLECTIONS ON THE THEORY OF IDEAS. 303 dictates upon their own authority, yet phi- losophy is not entitled to tliis {privilege. But, that I may not dissent from so grave a personage without giving a reason, 1 give this as the reason of my dissent :— I see the sun when he shines ; I remember the battle of Culloden ;* and neither of these objects is an unage or perception. He tells us, in the next place, "That the senses are only the inlets through which these images are received." I know that Aristotle and the schoolmen taught that images or species flow from ob- jects, and are let in by tlie senses, and strike upon the mhid ; but this has been so effectu- ally refuted by Des Cartes, by Malebranche, and many others, that nobody now pretends to defend it. Reasonable men consider it as one of the most unintelligible and un- meaning parts of the ancient system. To what cause is it owing that modern philo- sophers are so prone to fall back into this hypothesis, as if they really believed it ? For, of this proneness I could give many instances besides this of Mr Hume ;. and I take the cause to be, that images in the mind, and images let in by the senses, are so nearly allied, and so strictly connected, that they must stand or fall together. The old system consistently maintained both : but the new system has rejected the doc- trine of images let in by the senses, hold- ing, nevertheless, that there are images in the mind ; and, having made this unnatural divorce of two doctrines which ought not to be put asunder, that which they have retained often leads them back involun- tarily to that wliicli they have rejected. Mr Hume surely did not seriously be- lieve that an image of sound is let in by the ear, an image of smell by the nose, an image of hardness and softness, of solidity and resistance, by the touch. For, besides the absurdity of the thing, which has often been shewn, Mr Hume, and all modern philosophers, maintain that the images which are the immediate objects of perception have no existence when they are not per- ceived ; whereas, if they were let in by the senses, they must be, before they are per- ceived, and have aseparate existence. L209 J He tell us, farther, that philosophy teaches that the senses are unable to produce any immediate intercourse between the mind and the object. Here, I still require the reastuis that philosophy gives for this ; for, to my apprehension, I unmediately per- ceive extenial objects, and this, I conceive is the immediate intercourse here meant. Hitherto I see nothing that can be called • The tun can lie no iininediate object of conscious, few in iierceptlon, but only certain rays in connec- tion with the eve. The battle of Culloden can be no immediate object of consciouaneia in recollection, but only a certain rcprekenution by tlie mind itMlC— >H. [209, 210] an argument. Perhaps it was intended only for illustration. The argument, the only argument, follows . — The table wliich we see, seems to dimin- ish as we remove farther from it ; but the real table, which exists uidependent of us suffers no alteration. It was, therefore, nothing but its image which was presented to the mind. These are the obvious dic- tates of reason. To judge of the strength of this argu- ment, it is necessarv to attend to a distinc- tion which is familiar to those who are con- versant in the mathematical sciences — I mean the distinction between real and ap- parent magnitude. The real magnitude t)f a line is measured by some known measure of length— as inches, feet, or miles: the real magnitude of a surface or soliil, by kiiowii measures of surface or of capacity. This magnitude is an object of touch only, and not of sight ; nor could we even have had any conception of it, without the sense of touch ; and Bishop Berkeley, on that account, calls it lanyible magnitudr,* Apparent magnitude is measured by the angle which an object subtends at the eye. Supposing two right lines drawn from the eye to the extremities of the object making an angle, of which the object is the sub- tense, the apparent magnitude is measured by this angle. [210] This apparent mag- nitude is an object of sight, and not 'it' touch. Bishop Berkeley calls it vis b'e magnitude. If it is asked what is the apparent mag- nitude of the sun's diameter, the answer is, that it is about thirty-one minutes of a degree. But, if it is a>ked what is the real magnitude of the sun's diameter, the answer must be, so many thousand miles, or so many diameters of the earth. I'Voiu which it is evident that real magnitude, and apparent magnitude, are things of a different nature, though the name of magnitude is given to both. The first has three dimen- sions, the last only two ; the first is mea- sured by a line, the last by an angle. From what has been said, it is evident that the real magnitude of a body must continue unchanged, while the body is unchanged. This we grant. But is it likewise evident, that the apparent mag- ♦ Jhc doctrine of Reid— that real magnitude or rxtensinn is the object of touch, and of touch alone— is altogether untenable. For, in the first place, mag- nitude appears greater or less in proportion to the different siate of the tactile organ in diflPerent subjects ; thus, an apple is larger to the hand of a child than to the hand of an adult, 'i ouch, therefore, can, at best, aflbrd a Icnowledge of the relation of magnitudes, in proportion to the organ of this or that individual. Hut, in the gecond place, even in the same indlvuiuai, the same object appears greater or less, according as it is touched by one part of the body or by another. On this subject, see « eberN " Annotalionei de Puliu, Resorptione, Auditu ct Tactuj JiCipsic, i8;j4.— H ON THE INTELLECTIJAL POWERS. [■MAY It CHAP. XIV.] REFLECTIONS ON THE THEORY OF IDEAS. 305 nitiicle musl eontiMiie tlie :8fiiiie wliile the body is^ iiiicliaiigod » 80 far ©therwise, thftt ewrj mini, wiw kmw snjtlimg of mallieinatin mm wailjr (i«iiioiigt.mie» lliat rw iftiiM imliviiiiifil dbjis^it, 'Knuiiniiig in lli« nnie |#litc«, mid tinehiuiiied, niwt iie<9f»-' •Miljr varj im ita Apparent nrngiututim, ae- eorditig as the point from which it is seen is more or less^ 'distant ; and that its appa- .rent length or breadth will be nearly in a wciprocal proportion to the distance of tlie Apeelator. Ttiis m as certain m the priiiei- pM of fcometrj.* We must likewise attend to this—that, thcMtgh ilie .real, magnitude of a body is not originally an object of sight, but of touch, yet we ieani by expenence to Jndge of the real magnitude in many cases by sight. We learn hy experience to Jndge' of the distance of a body from the eye within cer- tain limits ; and, from its distance and ap- 'puKnt magnitude' taken together, we learn to Judge of its real magnitude. 121 1 J And this kuid of Judgment, by being repeated, every hour and almost ©Tory Biinute of our lives, becomes, when we are grown up, so ready and so^ habituiil, that it very much resembles^ theoriginal perceptions of our senses, ,and. may not improperly be ealtol acquired. peicepimn» Whether we call it judgment or acquired Iie'roeption is a verbal difference. But it is evident that, by means of it, we often dis- cover by one sense tilings which are pro- ¥Jriy and natumlly the objects of another, hns I can say, without ■impropriety, I hear » drum, I hear a great bell, or I hear a small hell; though it is certain that the iguro or sixe of the sounding body is not ongmally an O'bjeet of hearing, In like lis**'*""' ^® '*"" **y experience how a body of such a real magnitude and at sucli a distance ap|iear» to the eye. But neither its real magnitude, nor its distance from tile eye, are properly objects of sight, any wore tliau the form of a drum or ' the siie' of II bell, are properly objects of hearing. If these things be considered, it will ap- W»f that Mr Hume's argument hath no forwi' to support, his eonelu»ion-i»y, that it ietds to a .contrary mnelnsion. The argu* ment is. this : the table we see seems to 'di- miniih as we remove farther from it ; t - h a l . is, its apparont majcmtnde is diminished; but the real table suffers no alteration— to wit, in its real magnitude ; therefore, it is • llie whole emifliiion and ftiflculcv in tliii mm. ^.f^ ,■**«»' " ^ ■'««*g»i««i«^g w.ii^ it tile imf md lit viMal^MiMfiton. ., lUi k net amv iliitant thiiw. lie mipii. We thereiiDf«...Me a mtmt^ cverf ' Niimmit, bf wHieii. a dtilmt iwiiiiilMMiit c#rapitr«i«!M'to'tlieer«, llieiiinplmwiiteli. th«e raji art :ififaMI an net, la tmth. ptMivwIat ail i m»4 III' OMiealve tfuni ■■ iil|Mto of' peraeptloi* la. not the real table we see. I admit botli the premises in this sylkigism, but I deny the conclusion. The sylhigism has what the logicians call two middle terms: apparent inapiitude is the middle tenn in the first premise; real magnitude in the second. Therefore, according to the rules of logic, the conclusion is not Justly drawn from the premises s but, laying aside the rules of logic, let nseianine it by the light of com- mon sense. Let us suppose, for a moment, that it is the real, 'table we. .see : Must not this real table seem, to diminishns wo remove farther from it ? It is deinnitnble that it must. llowthen can this apparent diminution bean amiment that it is not the real table ? [212] When that which must happen to the real table, as we remove farther from it, does actually happen to the table we see, it is ab- surd to conclude from this, that it is not the real table we am,* It is evident, therefore, titti this. tngenwnB..autlior hasimposed/u|wn himself by eonfonndlux real magnitude wfili apparent magnitude, and that his argument is a mere sophism. I O'bservol, that Mr Hume*s argument not only has no strength to nupport his con. elusion, but that It leads to tlie contrary con- clusion—to wit, that it is the real table wo see;* for this plain reason, that the table we see has nreeisely that apparent magni- tude whieh It is deinonstni.ble the real table must have when placed at that distjince. This mrgnment is made much stronger by considering that the real table may be placwl suoeetslvelv at a thousand different dis- tances, and, in every distance, in a thousand diflBreut positions; and it can be deter- mined demonstratively, by the rules of geometry and perspective, what niwtbe its apparent magnitude and apparent igure, in eaeh of those distances and fiositious. Let the table be phced successively in as many of tlioie different distances and different po- sitions as yon will, or in them all ; open your eyes and you sliall see a table pre- cisely of that apparent magnitude, and that apparent fignre, which the real table must have in that dintawMi' and in that position. Is not this a strong anpiment that it is the real table you seep In a word, the appearance of a visible object is infinitely diversified, according to its distance and position. The visible ap- peanmees 'are< Innnnerable, when we con- fine ourselves to one object, and they an multiplied according to the variety of oh* Jects>. Thoae^ appearances have been mat- ter of speeulatioii to ugenious men, at least since tSm tine nf Bueiid. They have ae- counted for all this variety, on thesuppo- sitbn thst the objeets we see are external, • Swiaatiioie.»ii. pll, titfl and not in the mind itself. [213] The rules they have demonstrated about -the various projections of the sphere, about the appear- ances of the planets in their progressions, stations, and retrogradations, and all the rules of perspective, are built on the suppo- sition that the objects of sight are external. They can each of them be tried in thousands of instances. In many arts and professions, innumerable trials are daily made; nor were they ever found to fail in a single in- stance. Shall we say that a false supposi- tion, invented by the rude vulgar, has been so lucky in solving an infinite number of phuenomena of nature ? This, surely, would be a greater prodigy than philosophy ever exhibited : add to this, that, upon the con- trary hypothesis — to wit, that the objects of sight are internal— no account can be given of any one of those appearances, nor any physical cause assigned why a visible object should, in any one case, have one apparent figure and magnitude rather than another. Thus, I have considered every argument I have found advanced to prove the exist- ence of ideas, or images of external things, in the mind ; and, if no better arjguraents can be found, I cannot help thinking that the whole history of philosophy has never fur- nished an instance of an opinion so unani- mously entertained by philosophers upon so slight grounds. A third reflection I would make upon this subject is, that philosophers, notwith- standing their unanimity as to the existence of ideas,* hardly agree in any one thing else concerning them. If ideas be not a mere fiction, tliey must be, of all objects of human knowledge, the things we have best access to know, and to be acquainted with ; yet there is nothing about which men difi'er so much. Some Iiave held them to be self-existent, others to be in the Divine mind, others in our own minds, and others in the brain or $ensorium. I considered the hypothesis of images in the brain, in the fourth chapter of this essay. As to images in the mind, if anything more is meant by the image of an object in the mind than the thought of that object, I know not what it means. [214] The distinct conception of an object may, In a metaphorical or analogical sense, be oalled an image of it in the mind. But this imiige is only the conception of the object, and not the object conceived. It is an act of the mind, and not the object of that act.f Some philosophers will have our ideas, or a part of them, to be innate ; others will have them all to be adventitiouB : some de- rive them from the senses alone ; others from sensation and reflection : some think • TMs unanimity did not cslat— a. t ■•• Notct B and C.-p-H. they are fabricated by the mind itself; others that they are produced by externa objects ; others that they are the immediate operation of the Deity; others say, that impressions are the causes of ideas, and that the causes of impressions are unknown : some think that we have ideas only of ma- terial objects, but none of minds, of their operations, or of the relations of things ; others will have the immediate object of every thought to be an idea : some think we have abstract ideas, and that by this chiefly we are distinguished from the brutes ; others maintain an abstract idea to be an absurdity, and that there can be no such thing : with some they are -the immediate ob- jects of thought, with others the only objects. A fourth reflection is, that ideas do not make any of the operations of the mind to be better understood, although it was pro- bably with that view that they have been hrst invented, and afterwards so generally received. We are at a loss to know how we per- ceive distant objects; how we remember things past ; how we imagine things that have no existence. Ideas in the mind seem to account for all these operations : they are all by the means of ideas reduced to one operation — to a kind of feeling, or imme diate perception of things present and in contact with the percipient ; and feeling is an operation so familiar that we think it needs no explication, but may serve to ex- plain other operations. [215] But this feeling, or immediate percep- tion, is as difficult to be comprehended as the things which we pretend to explain by it. Two thmgs may be in contact without any feeling or perception; there must therefore be in the pereipient a power to feel or to perceive. How this power is pro- duced, and how it operates, is quite beyond the reach of our knowledge. As little can we know whether this power must be limited to things present, and in contact with us. Nor can any man pretend to prove that the Being who gave us the power to perceive things present, may not give us the powe« to perceive things that are distant,* to re- member things past, and to conceive things that never existed. Some philosophers have endeavoured to make all our senses to be only different modifications of touch ;t a theory which serves only to confound things that are dif- ferent, and to perplex and darken things that are clear. The theory of ideas resembles this, by reducing all the operations of the » An immediate perception of tliingi diitant, if a contradiction in ternu.— H. t If an immediate perception be suppoied, it can only be rationally supposed of objects as in contact with the organs of sense. But, in this case, all the KDses would, as Democritus held, be, in a cenaia tort, only modifications of u>uch.— -H. mm on TUB INTELLECTUAL POW EES. [ESf AY II. biinMn. uiiMiisn&f to tlie perceptioii of Mum in. mtr own mindi. Tliis power 'Of pefwiving- idfiui. is as iiiexiiliGiiMe as amy of tlw fmmm aphiiiMl. hf m s awl tlie oon- tiKUit J of ilio olf eet flttitriteles nothinf al all to matso il Mier umkistooili lioaiiso tlwre afipcwn no mnnectioii lietween oon- 'tigtiiij' and percofition, 'but what is grounded on. BKludlMt dniwn from some imaimiod. iiiniitido' Mween. min.d .and Iiody7»i4l^ from ilio nipposition tiiat, in .perception., the object aets upon the mind, or tlie mind upon the ohject. We hmm mam how 'this theoij .lias^ led. pUloioiihen to cooiiiind those operations of min4 whieh ei|icrifln.ee teaelies all men to he dilTefent, and 'teaehes them to distinguish in eommon kngnage ; .and that it has M them to invent a kn- fua:ge inflonsistffnt with the prineiiite upon which all hingnage is grounded.. The l0Mt reieetion .1 shall make upon this theor J, is—that tie natnral and neces8a.ry 'Consequences, of il fumlth a just prejudice apinst .it to every man who 'paja a due re- gard to the common sense of mankind.. [8.111] Hot to mention 'that it led the Pytha- goreans' and .Phito to imagine thai we see only 'the :shaclO'WS of external 'things, aid not the things themselves,* .and that il gave rise to the Peripatetic doctrine of sensible Mpteks, one of the greatest absurdities of that ancient ^ystenii. M ua only 'eomider the fruits .it has produced, siiiee il "waa^ new- modelled by Bes: Carles. Thai gieal le. former in phOosophy saw the ahsurdily of 'the doctrine of ideas coming from external objects and. refbted it effeelnally, .alitor 'it had. been received hj philosophers foi^thou- lands of years; but he still retained ideas in the brain and in the mind.f Upon this foundatMm. all our modem systems .of 'fhe pomrs.of'themindarehul.1. .Andtlw'tiit- teri.ng state of tboeo' Uiriiia,, though hulll by skilful hands, may give astrong'snspieion of the unsoundness of the foundation. It wA.this theoij of Ideaa that led Des Ca.rtes, and those' that followed him, to think It necessary to prove, by philo«iphical aigu* :ment8, the existence of material objects. And who does not see that philosophy must make a very ridlculoas ;%um in Ihe^ eyes of sensible m'en,wliie 'it .is .em'p%od in. M'tisler. ing up metaphysical aiganettt% to 'prove that there is a sun and a moon, an earth and 't!? L !?* '^t *"^ **""^ *«*y K**** "n«f lies Cartes, Malebnnche, Ananld,. and Jocke, .leriouiiy employmg 'thuneelves. in this afgumentt Snreiy their principles led. them lo think •■iiLi iif ' mmmmlSS^r^S. •™* ""•Mpi^ nit 9mu mmm pi.wiiii|iii«is.lniiasiitciiai||.|Qf |||||,p^^ U. Ihal :all men, from 'the beginning of ttw^ world, believed the existenct: of thesi; thinp upon insufficient grounds, and to think that liev would be able to place upon a more mtliinal .foundation Ihia un.ivenal belief of maiiMnd, Bnl 'the 'uiaibilnne .is, that all the kboured arguments they have advanced, to prove the existence of those things we .see and feel, are mere sophisms : Not one 'Of Ihem will bear examination. I might miention leveiBl. paradoxes, which Mr Locke, though by no means fond of pam- doxea, waa led into by this theory of ideas. [tl7j flttchaa, that the secondary qualities. of body an no q ualtties of body at all, but sensations of the mind : That the primary qualities of body aro resemblances of our sensations : That we have no notion of dur- ation, but from the succession of ideas in our minds : That 'personal, identity con8i8.ts in consciousness ; so that the same indivi- dual thinking being may make two or three di.fferenl 'peiioii%.atid several different think- ing bemgs make .one person : Tlmt judg- ment is nothing but a perception oi the agreement or disagreement of our ideas. MoBl of these paradoxes I shall have oc- 'tmmm to eiamine. However, all these consequences, of the doct.rine of ideas were^ tolerable, compared with those which came afterwards to be dis- covered by Berkeley and Hume i— That there is no material world: No abstract ideaa or notions t That the mind is only a train of rehited impressions and ideas, with- out any subiect on which they may be im- pressed : That there is neither spec nor time, body nor mind, but hnnnssSona and ideas only : And, to sum up all. Thai Ihert is no probability, even in demonstration it- self, nor anyone proposition moro probable than .ita. contrary. These .ars' 'the noMe 'fru.its which have grown upon this theory of ideaji, since it began to he cultivated hy skilful hands. 1 1 is no wonder that aenslUe men should be disgusted al philosophy, when such wiM and shocking 'paradoxes pass under 'ito. name. However, as Ib^eso paradoxes have, with great acuteness and. ingenuity, been deduced by just reasoning from the theoiy of ideas, they must at kst bring this advantage, thai positions so shocking to the emuBon sense of mankind, and so contrary to the decisions of .all. our intellectual powef%. wii open men's eyes,, and break the force of the prejudico which hath held them entangled in thai theory. [218] 'CiI.A.PT.EIi XIT* .AOCOPKT or 'TMB Sf iTBll OP .UIBlVm. CHAP, xw.] ACCOUNT OF THE SYSTEM OF LEIBNITZ. 307 Tnaa k .yol. anollMr'.'qFatem concerning 'perception, .of which I .shall give Home ae. [21(1- "ifH I count, because of the fame of its author. It iH the invention of the famous German phi- losopher Leibnitz, who, while he lived, held the. first rank among the Germans in all (larts of philosophy, as well as in mathe- matics, in jurisprudence, in the knowledge of antiquities, and in every branch both of science and of literature. He was highly respected by emperors, and by many kings and princes, who bestowed upon him singu- lar marks of their esteem. He was a par- ticnhir favourite of our Queen Caroline, consort of George II., with whom he con- tinued his correspondence by letters, after fthe came to the crown of Britain, till his death. The famous controversy between him and the British mathematicians, whether he or Sir Isaac Newton was the inventor of that noble improvement in mathematics, called by Newton, the method of Jiudions, and by liCibnitz the differential method^ engaged the attention of the mathematicians in Europe for several years. He had likewise a controversy with the learned and judicious Br Samuel Clarke, about several points of the Newtonian philosophy which he dis- approved. The papers which gave occasion tii this controversy, with all the replies and rejoinders, had the honour to be transmitted from tlie one party to the other, through the hands of Queen Caroline, and were afterwards published. His authority, in all matters of philoso- phy, is still so great in most parts of Ger- many, that they are considered as bold spirits, and a kind of heretics, who dissent from him in anything. [219] Carolus* Wolfius, the most voluminous writer in philosophy of this age, is considered as the great interpreter and advocate of the Leib- nitzian system, and reveres as an oracle whatever has dropped from the. pen of Leibnitz. This author proposed two great works upon the mind. The first, which I have seen, he published with the title of •* Psychologia Enipirica, sen Experiment- alis.*'t The other was to have the title of *' Psychologia Rationalis ;" and to it he refers for his explication of the theory of Leibnitz with regard to the mind. But whether it was published I have not learn- eu>^ I must, therefore, take the short account I am to give of this system from the writ- ings of Leibnitz himself, without the light which his interpreter Wolfius may have thrown upon it. Leibnitz conceived the whole universe, • Hli» mtme was C%rJifian.— H. f This title b incorrect. It l« ** Fiychologia 1^- prtca methodo scientifica prrtracuta," &c. The wmk appeared m l'32.— H t It warp blishedin 1734. Such careless ignorance or the lomt distinguished works on the subject of an author's speculations, is peculiarly British. — H. f 810, 220] bodies as well as minds, to be made up of monads— that is, simple substances, each of which is, by the Creator, in the begin- ning of its existence, endowed with certaiF active and perceptive powers. A monad, therefore, is an active substance, simple, without parts or figure, which has withiu itself the power to produce all the changes it undergoes from the beginning of its ex- istence to eternity. The changes which the monad undergoes, of what kind soever, though they may seem to us the eflect of causes operating from without, yet they are only the gradual and succes>ive evolu- tions of its own internal powers, which would have produced all the same changes and motions, although there had been no other being in the universe. Every human soul is a monad joined to an organized body, which organized body consists of an infinite number of monads, each having some degree of active and of peroepttve power in itself. But the whole machine of the body has a relation to that monad which we call the soul, which is, as it were, the centre of the whole. [220] As the universe is completely filled with monads, without any chasm or void, and thereby every body acts upon every other body, according to its vicinity or distance, and is mutually reacted upon by every other body, it follows, says Leibnitz, that every monad is a kind of living mirror, which re- flects the whole universe, according to its point of view, and represents the whole more or less distinctly. I cannot undertake to reconcile this part of the system with what was before men- tioned — to wit, that every change in a monad is the evolution of its own original powers, and would have happened though no other substance had been created. But, to proceed. There are different orders of monads, some higher and others lower. The higher orders he calls dominant ; such is the hu- man soul. The monads that compose the organized bodiesof men, animals, and plants, are of a lower order, and subservient to the dominant monads. But every monad, of whatever order, is a complete substance ia itself^ndivisible, having no parts ; inde- structible, because, having no parts, it can- not perish by any kind of decomposition ; it can only perish by annihilation, and wo have no reason to believe that God will ever annihilate any of the beings which he has made. The monads of a lower order may, by a regular evolution of their powers, rise to a higher order. They may successively be joined to organized bodies, of various forms and different degrees of perception ; but they never die, nor cease to be in some de- gree active and peroipient. ON THE INTBLLICTUAL POWERS, lis fUfMOf lier imIcm ii dietinetiM lie- t«i9«ii 'fsfneiflitii and whrt ti0 mSk mppmt. m0m* Tli0'iiiitiiciiiiiiiioiitiiaiiiMiiiiii|. m» tet fmfa to 'IIm bigiiar mima, mmm^ iMA. mre human mnAk ['2f 1 ] By afvponseiition he undenitaiids thai de- gree n itm; ij whieh wo mm MiaeioiU' of our own eidsti«o% and. eonwiiHia of our pe;roeptionS'; hjr whieh we ean fafleet^ upon the uperttbus of our own miniia, and ean comf ff«h«nd.ab»lni'et tratha Th« mud, ira imny opemtions, he thinks, partiMhirlj In sleep, mnd in many aelions common to us with the hmtes, has not Ihia appcfiMiition, mlthough it is stil Hied with, a nmltitods of ..olMHtre and .hidlstiiiet' pennptinna, of which WV' sre not eoaec^ims. He Goneeifea ttiat our bodies and minds «re united in such a manner that neither has amy physical iiii.aen«iM«wn pe»Bption and .p. perception is obscure and unphilosophical. As far as we can discover, every operation of -#ir mind la^ .attended 'with. 'Conscionsn^ess, and jparticulaffly 'that whlidi. we .^call the per* 'Coption. 'Of oatemal objecta. ; and to .speak of a perception of which we are not conscious, is to speak without any meaning.. As oonsdonaness is the only power by which we'diBoern. the operations of our own m.inds, or can. form any notion of them, an operation of mind of which we are not con- scious, is, we know not what; and to call such an opemtion by the name of perception, la an .abuse' of hmguagft. No 'man. can per- ceive an object without being conscious that ho perceives it. No man can think without beiqf .'eonscioni: 'that he thin.hs. What men are not aoiiaCiona'Of, cannot therefore, with- out impropriety, 'bo called either |ierception. or thought of any kind And, if we will suppose operatlona of mind of which we ar« 'not consmous, and give a name to snch 'efeatures of onr 'imagination, that name must signify what we knownothmg about* fm'] 2. To rappose bodies oi|{anized or un* organ.i9»d,. 'to bo made np of indivisible monads which have no parts, m contrary to all that we know of body. It is essential 'to a 'body to have parte ; .and every part of a body k a ho%, .and has parts also. No numlier"Of 'paiis, without extension or figure^ not even an Inlnite number, if we may use that expreashm. can, by being put together, ;nia.ko a 'wholo that has extension and figure, 3. It is contfsry to all that we know of bodies, to ascribe to tho monads, of which they are supposed to be compounded, per- .thinhB praper to say, that a clod of earth 'both, -foneivoa' and .haa active force, let bun bring hia pioofe.. But he ought not to 'Oxpoct that men who have 'nnderstanding wii ao far give It up aa to' reeeive without -proof whatever hia Imagiwation may sog- 4. This system overturns all authority of onr senses, .and .leavce not tho .Icaat ground to believe the existence of the objecto of • Tb* .Imgiiagt In vliich Leibnits eiprantes bit dMiBiM of iaiaiil piodiflcatiotu of mind, wbidi. mil id^ooMeimMneM, maniteft their existeii'w In liilr citeli, i« oHcctionaldei t*ie doctrine itielf it not onlf trot but of the vtif h%btst importance in ;Plfisiiiigf |.t 'reiinre ifc .Lapgnago^' is^ .made to .senre fte purposes of o.ninary convetaa- tion ; and we have no reason to expect that It should make distinctions tlut are not of common use. Wmm it happens, that a '<|iijility ^perceived,, and th© .sensation cor- respending to that fenseption, ^oflen go under the same name. This malces the names of most of our sensations ambiguous, and this, ambiguitj hath very mueli 'perplexed, phihisophen. It will be necessary to gi:ve .soma instances, to illustnite the distinction between our sens- ations and the ©Meets of perception. When I smell a rose, there is in this operation both sensation .and perception. The agreeable odour I feel, considered by itself, without relation to any external ob- ject, Is merely a sensation. 12271 It. affects the mind in a certain way ; and this affection of the mind may be conceived, witliout a thought of the rose, or any other object. This sensation can be nothing else than it is felt to be., its very essence consists in i»»g felt t mid, when it is not felt, it is not. Tliere is no difference between the sensa- tion and the feeling of lt~they ate one and tlie .SB.Be thing. It Is for this 'reason that we before observed that, In sensation, there IS .no object distinct from that act of the mmd by which It is felt~.and this holds true with regard, to all wnsations. Let us next .attend, to' tho perception which wo ha.ve in meling a me. Percep- tion has al wap an external object ; and the ohjeet^ ai my perception, In this oase^ is that quality' In the mse which. I discem^ by the sense of smell. Observlnf 'that 'th» agwe- able sensation h nised when, the 'foao 'is near, .and oeasea when 'it is removed, I .am. led, by » mfure, to conclude' somo' quality CO bO' in fit' mse^ which is the came of th» [essav 1.1 iion. This quality in the rose Is the olffeet perceived ; and that act of my mind %' wUeh I have the €Ott.vietion and belief of this quaUty, Is what In this case I call pere^ptioiL'' .But it 'la here to be^ obserred, that the ienaation I feel, and the quality In the rose which I perceive, are both called by the same nuMi The smell of a rose is the name given to both : so that lliisname hath two meaninga; and the dlstnguishing Its different meanings removes all pe^rplexity, and enables us to give olear and distinct answers to questions about which philoso- phers have held much dispute.'t 'Thus, ;|f' 'it ia asked, whether the smell be in the rose, or in 'tie mind that feels It, the answer is obvious : That there are two different things signlied by the smell of a .rose ; one of whin is In. tie .mind, and can be in nothing but im a sentient being; tlie other is truly and properly in the rose. The sensation which I feel Is in my mind. Tlie muid is the sentient being ; and, as the rose is insentienS, there' can be no sensation, aor anything ;re»emblhig sensation in It [mi But this sensation in my mind Is occasioned by a certain quality In the rose, which la ealled. by the .samo' name 'with the sensationi not on account of any 'sim.i.litude, but he-' caiise of their constant ooncomitancy. All the names we have for smells, tastes, sounds, and for the various degrees of heat and cold,, have a. like ambiguity; and what has been :8aid of the smell of a rose may be applied to them. They signify both a sens- ation, and a quality perceived by means of that sensation. The irst Is the sign, the last the thing signiied. As both are con- joined by nature, and -as the purposes of common life do not require them to be dis- joined .in our thoughts, they are both ex- pressed by the same name t and this am- biguity is^ to be found, in all languages, be- cause the reason of it extends to all. The same ambiguity is found In the names of such diseases as are mdieated by a partienhur pa.in.ful sensation t such .as the tootliacbe, the headaciia Tlie toothache • Tliia psmfftaitli tfifiean to be an einllcit dim* voval or the dootrltie or an intuitive or immediate pereeiitiiin. If. fkan ■ certain tensible feel int. or wntattai, (wliloh it lUelf cognitive of no object,}! am onlf ddemliiMl. bf my nature tmtmMiui§ that there li M>m« txtariM) eiwlllf vliieli h llw mm of Ihia .lentatioa, .smI If ito^pMiti, Ih'iii. Qiiisalion or percep- tion as. you 'pleased.* I ••'»«•*•■*" I tir, Id tht' diftlnctloa of the [1138, 933] CHAP. XVII.] OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 313 Des Cartes and Locke, attending more t(i the operations of their own minds, say, that the sensations by which we have notice of secondary qualities have no resemblance to anything that pertains to body ; but they did not see that this might, with equal justice, be applied to the primary qualities. [234] Mr Locke maintains, that the sensations we have from primary qualities are resem- blances of those qualities. This shews how grossly the most ingenious men may err with regard to the operations of their minds. It must, indeed, be acknowledged, that it is much easier to have a distinct notion of the sensations that belong to secondary than of those that belong to the primary quali- ties.* The reason of this will appear in the next chapter. But, had Mr Locke attended with suffi- cient a'ccuracy to the sensationsf which he was every day and every hour receiving from primary qualities, he would have seen that they can as little resemble any quality of an inanimated being as pain can resemble a cube or a circle. What had escaped this ingenious philo- sopher, was clearly discerned by Bishop Berkeley. He had a just notion of sensa- tions, and saw that it was impossible that anything in an insentient being could re- semble them ; a thing so evident in itself, that it seems wonderful that it should have been so long unknown. But let us attend to the consequence of this discovery Philosophers, as well as the vulgar, had been accustomed to comprehend both sensation and perception under one name, and to consider them as one uncom- pounded operation. Philosophers, even more than the vulgar, gave the name of sensation to the whole operation of the soiises; and all the notions we have of ma- terial things were called ideas of sensation. This led Bishop Bericeley to take one in- gredient of a complex operation for tlie whole ; and, having clearly discovered the nature of sensation, taking it for granted that all that the senses present to the mind is sensation, which can have no resemblance to anything material, he concluded that there is no material world. [235] If the senses furnished us with no mate- rials of thought but sensations, his conclu- sion must be just ; for no sensation can give us the conception of material things, far less •pedes impretta and speciet expretsa, the distinc- tion of ienmtion and perception could be perceived ; but, in point of fact, many even of the Aristotelians, who admitted sppcies at alL allowed them only in one crtwo of the senses. See Notes D * and M — H. • The reader will observe that Rdd says, " dis- tinct notion qf the sensations that betnug to the se. condary qualities," and not distinct notion ot the secondary qualities themselves.— H. i Here again tlie reader will observe that the term IB sensations t and not ttofiont, of the primary quali. tie*. - H. [23t--236] any argument to prove their existence. But, if it is true that by our senses we have not only a variety of sensations, but likewise a conception and an immediate natural con- viction of external objects, he reasons from a false supposition, and his arguments fall to the ground.* CHAPTER XVII. OF THE OBJECTS OF PEaCBPTION ; AND, FIRST, OF PRIMARY ANI) SECONDARY QUALITIES. The objects of perception are the various qualities of bodies. Intending to treat of these only in general, and chiefly with a view to explain the notions which our senses give us of them, I begin with the distinction between primary and secondary qualities. These were distinguished very early. The Peripatetic system confounded them, and left no difference. The distinction was again revived by Des Cartes and Locke, and a second time abolished by Berkeley and Hume. If the real foundation of this dis- tinction can be pointed out, it will enable us to accor.nt for the various revolutions in the sentiments of jihilosophers concerning it Every one knows that extension, divisi- bility, figure, motion, solidity, hardness, softness, and fluidity, were by Mr Locke called primary ijualitics of budy ; and that sound, colour, taste, smell, and heat or cold, were called secondary qualities. Is there a just foundation for this distinction ? Is there anything connnon to the primary which belongs not to the secondary ? And what is it ? I answer, That there appears to me to be a real foundation for the distinction ; and it is this— that our senses give us a direct and a distinct notion of the primary qualities, and inform us what they are in theniselves.i* But of the secondary qualities, our senses give us only a relative and obscure notion. [236] They inform us only, that they are qualities that affect us in a certain manner — ^that is, produce in us a certain sensation ; but as to what they are in themselves, our senses leave us in the dark.:]: * On this whole distinction, see Note D. ^ .— H. t By the expression, " what Uiei/ are in themselves," in reference to the primary qualities, and of " rcla- tivt notion" in reference to the secondary, Reid cannot mean that the former are known to us afoso- lutdy and in themselves—that is, out of relation to our cognitive faculties ; for he elsewhere admits that all our knowledge is relative. Farther, if«*our senses give us a direct and distinct notion of the primary qualities, and tfi/brm » s what they are in them sd res," these qualities, as known, must resemble, or beideii. tical with, these qualities as oxistiiif;. — H. t The distinctions of perception aiid senfiation, and of primary and secondary qualities, may be reduced to one higher priiic pie. Knowledge is partly olffectm ive, partly subjective .• both these elements are essen. tial to every cognition, but in every cognition they ue always in the inverse ratio of each other. Now 314 ON THE INTILLICTUAL POWEES. [essay n. CHAP, xvii] OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 315 Etistj man i»|kaUe 'Of leieetlmi im^ easily Mitiiify kiaiHll' llmt he 'has a f^e§m^f dmr anil dimnel 'nulion ni extensioii., 4ivi»i- liilitj, figure, and motion. The soliditj of a hadj means no more but that it eiieludet other bodies ffom oeenpyiiif the aane |tee at the same lime. Bat^dnassi. «iflBiM% and fluidity are different degMfis- of' 'Ooheibn in the parts of a body. It is iiiid when it has no sensible cohesion ; soft, when the oohe- flion is weak. ; and. hard| when it is strong. Of the muse of this .known 'bean to someth.inf that .is known, may give a relative notion. 'Of it; ^and there are many objects of thought and of dis- course of which our faculties 'Can give no lietter than a rehitive notion* f'237 ] 'Haying prem.^ised. these thinga to expbin 'What is meant by .a relative notion, it is' evi- dent that our notion of primary qualities is not of this kind ; wo know what they are, and not barely what rdation they bear to .something else. It is otherwiao with secondary qualities. If you ask me, what is that quality or mo- diieation in a rose wliieh I call its smell, I am at a loss to answer directly. Upon re- fection, I find, that I have a distinct notion of the sensation which it produces in my But there can be nothing like to sensation in the rose, because it is in- ta: fwiwpfftm ami. timprimmf 'qoalltlM,. tlia^'iilMtive ttevctti 'ptifMMlvslci* wNnrttt.. tl»' mibjective de. nwvl pptiMMiiifalM In Mi'iMlte ami the •ecasMfaur} pailita lto>li«tit.Oind.D* .-«. mlimit. TIW' quality in the rose is some- thing whidi 'Oecaalons the sensation in me ; but what tliat something is, I know not My senses gtye me no information upon this point The only notion, therefore, mj senses give is this— -tnat smell in the rose is an unknowa quality or modification, which is th« cause or occamon of a sensation which I know well The relation which this un- known, quality bean to the sensation with, which, nature lath connected it, is all I learn, from the sense of smelling ; but this iS' evidently a relative notion. The same rea- soning will apply to every secondary quality. Thus, I think it appean that there is a real foundation for the distinction of pri- mary from seeondary qualities; and that they are di8tingui»hed by this — that of the primary we have by our sensea^a direct and utstinct' notion ; but of the :Beeondaiy only a rektive notion, which must, because it is only relative, be obscure; they are con- ceived only as the unknown causes or occa- siotts of 'Certain sensations with which we are well acquaint'Cd. The account I have given of this distine- tion is founded upon no hypothesis. [21111] Whether our notions of primary qualities are direct and distinct, those of the se- condary rektive and obscure, is a matter of fact, of which every man may have cer- tain knowledg® by attentive reflection upon them.. To this refleetion I appeali, as the proper lest of w.liat 'has'heen advanced', and proceed, to make some niectiona on this subject 1 . The primary qualities are neither sens- ations, nor are they resemblances of sens- atton.B. This appears to me self-evident. ^ I have a clear and distinct notion of each of the primary qualities.. I have a clear and distmet notion 'Of seoiation. I can. 'Com* pare the one with th« other ; and, when I do so, lam not able to discern a resembling feature. Sensation is the act or the feeling (I dispute not which) of a sentient being. .Figure, divbibility, solidity, are neither actS' nor feelings. Sensafaon .supposes a sentient being as .its subject ; for a senm- tionthat is not felt by some sentient being, is an abeurditv. Figure and divisibility supposes a auhjeet that is figured and divi- sible, but not a ■object 'that k sentient 2. We have no reason to think that any of the secondary qualities resemble any sens- ation. The absurdity of thk notion has been 'Clearly shewn by Des Cartes, Locke, and many modem philosophers. It was a tenet of the ancient philosophy, and is stilt by mwy unputed to' the vulgar, but 'Only as a vulgar error. It k too evident to need proof, that the vibrations of m ionndmg body do not resemble the sensation of sound, nor the eHuvk of an odorous body the seiia- ation of smell. ISST. 9381 3. The distinctness of our notions of pri- mary qualities prevents all questions and disputes about their nature. There are no different opinions about the nature of ex- tension, figure, or motion, or the nature of any primary quality. Their nature is man- ifest to our senses, and cannot be unknown to ar.y man, or mistaken by him, though their causes may admit of dispute. [239] The primary qualities are the object of the mathematical sciences; and the dis- tinctness of our notions of them enables us to reason demonstratively about them to a great extent. Their va rious modifications are precisely defined in the imagination, and thereby capable of being compared, and their relations determined with precision and cer- tainty. It k not so with secondary qualities. Tlieir nature not being manifest to the sense, may be a subject of dispute. Our feeling informs us that the fire is hot ; but it does not inform us what that licat of the fire is. But does it not appear a contradiction, to say we know that the fire is hot, but we know not what that heat is ? I answer, there is the same appearance of contradic- tion in many things that must be granted. We know that wine has an inebriating qua- lity ; but we know not what that quality is. It is true, indeed, that, if we had not some notion of what is meant by the heat of fire, and by an inebriating quality, we could aflirm nothing of either with understand- ing. We have a notion of both ; but it -is only a rektive notion. We know that they are the causes of certain known effects. 4. The nature of secondary qualities is a proper subject of philosophical disquisition ; and in this philosophy has made some pro- gress. It has been discovered, that the sensation of smell is occasioned by the eiluvia of bodies ; that of sound by their vibration. The disposition of bodies to re- flect a particular kind of light, occasions the sensation of colour. Very curious dis- coveries have been made of the nature of heat, and an ample field of discovery in these subjects remains. §. We may see why the sensations be- longing to secondary qualities are an object of our attention, while those which belong to the primary are not. The first are not only signs of the ob- ject perceived, but they bear a capital part in the notion we form of it. [240] We conceive it only as that which occasions such a sensation, and therefore cannot reflect upon it without thinking of the sensation which it occasions : we have no other mark whereby to distinguish it. The thought of a secondary quaUty, therefore, always car- ries us back to the sensation which it pro- duces. We give the same name to both, and are apt to confound them together. But, having a clear and distinct conception of primary qualities, we have no need, when we think of them, to recall their sensations. When a primary quality is perceived, the sensation immediately leads our thought to the quality signified by it, and is itself for- got. We have no occasion afterwards to reflect upon it ; and so we come to be as little acquainted with it as if we had never felt it. This is the case with the sensations of all primary qualities, when they are not so painful or pleasant as to draw our atten- tion. When a man moves his hand rudely against a pointed hard liody, he feels pain, and may easily be persuaded that this pain is a sensation, and that there is nothing resembling it in the hard body ; at the same time, he perceives the body to be hard and pointed, and he knows that these qualities belong to the body only. In this case, it is easy to distinguish what he feels from Avhat he perceives. Let him again touch the pointed body gently, so as to give him no pain ; and now you can hardly persuade him that he feels anything but the figure and hardness of the body : so difficult it is to attend to the sens- ations belonging to primary qualities, when they are neither pleasant nor painful. They carry the thought to the external object, and immediately disappear and are forgot. Nature intended them only as signs ; and when they have served that purpose they vanish. We are now to consider the opinions both of the vulgar and of philosophers upon this subject. [241] As to the former, it is not to be expected that they should make distinctions which have no connection with the common affairs of life; they do not, therefore, distinguish the primary from the secondary qualities, but speak of both as being equally qualities of the external ob- ject. Of the primary qualities they have a distinct notion, as they are immediately and distinctly, perceived by the senses ; of the secondary, their notions, as I apprehend, are confused and indistinct, rather than erroneous. A secondary quality is the unknown cause or occasion of a well-known effect ; and the same name is common to the cause and the eff"ect. Now, to dis- tinguish clearly the different ingredients of a complex notion, and, at the same time, the different meanings of an ambiguous word, is the work of a philosopher ; and is not to be expected of the vulgar, when their occasions*do not require it. I grant, therefore, that the notion which the vulgar have of secondary qualities, is indktinct and inaccurate. But there seems to be a contradiction between the vulgar and the philosopher upon this subject, and each charges the other with a gross ah- 316 ON THE INTELLECTUAL P0W1E8. l,li«A¥ II, ■U'rdily. Tli« Tukar my, tliat ire is liiit|, Mid Hiiiw' «d the Idm and the Feding ftmHmmt. $mscu Iria/ Oiiheprimm-y qualities in their doctrine we have Ideas { of the $ewndary. only Feehugg.— H. t This and t^ome of the folluwing strictures on lAefce are ruiher iiypereutioal.— H. [244-246] in us, as they are hi the snowball, I call qualities ; and, as they are sensations, or perceptions in our understandings, I call them ideas -4 which ideas, if I speak of them sometimes as in the things themselves, I would be understood to mean those quali- ties in the objects wliich produce them iii us." [245] These are the distinctions which Mr Locke thought convenient, in order to dis- cover the nature of our ideas of the quali- ties of matter the better, and to discourse of them intelligibly. I believe it will be difficult to find two other paragraphs in the essay so unintelligible. Whether this is to bo imputed to the intractable nature of ideas, or to an oscitancy of the author, with which he is very rarely chargeable, I leave the reader to judge. There are, indeed, seve- ral other passages in the same chapter, in which a like obscurity appears ; but I do not chuse to dwell upon them. The con- clusion drawn by him from the whole is, that primary and secondary qualities are distinguished by this, that the ideas of the former are resembknces or copies of them, but the ideas of the other are not resem- blances of them. Upon this doctrine, I beg leave to make two observations. First, Taking it for granted that, by the ideas of primary and secondary qualities, he means the sensations* they excite in us, I observe that it appears strange, that a sensation should be the idea of a quality hi body, to which it is acknowledged to bear no resemblance. If the sensation of sound be the idea of that vibration of the sound- ing body which occasions it, a surfeit may, for the same reason, be the idea of a feast. A second observation is, that, when Mr Locke affirms, that the ideas of primary qualities — that is, the sensations* they raise in us — are resemblances of those qualities, he seems neither to have given due atten- tion to those sensations, nor to the nature of sensation in general. [246] Let a man press his hand against a hard body, and let him attend to the sensatioii he feels, excluding from his thought every thing external, even the body that is the cause of his feeling. This abstraction, in- deed, is difficult, and seems to have been little, if at all practised. But it is not im- possible, and it is evidently the only way to understand the nature of the sensation. A due attention to this sensation will satisfy • Here, as formerly, {vide tupra, notes at pp 20H, 290, ftc.,) Reid will insist on jjiving a more limitfd meaning ro \he term Sensation than Locke did, and on criticising him by that imixwed meaning. 'Ihe Sentation of Locke wa» cquiv^ilent to the Semation and PercepUim of Reid. It is to be observed that Locke did not, like the Cartesians, distinguish the Idea (corresponding to Reid's Perception) frooi the Feeling (sttitimeal.sens-tio) corrwiKMiUing to Keid'l Sensation.— ii. 'P ON TUB INTEiLECTUAL PO'WEES. 3ie iiitn tuat it is no imm tike liavineis. in a hoij tliAU tlw seitmtion of 'HfMind .ii like' vibimtMn. in. tlia wmodiDg body. I know of no idmui but my conceptions ; unci my idea of 'budnewi in a body, is tlie Mnmption of mwlB a ediMeiiMi. ef iit farts as requins gi«at fiifce to diioiaee. ttem* I liave both tie conceiition andMief of this 'f|iiatity in tbe bod^, at the aanM time tlial I liave the seiiiation of pain, by nraesiiK nij liani against it The sensation and perception are closely conjoined by mj cofiittittition ; but I am sure they have no tintiitude ; I know no reason why the one should be called the idea of the othef, which dues not lead us to call every natarnl effect the idea of its ca^use. Neither did Mr Locke give due attention to tlie nataie of sensation tn .geneml, when be affi.nned that the idaat of fciinary fiia- Itties—that is, the seniatloiis* exeited by them ~ are lesemblances of those fwdi- That there can te notfikg lik» 'sensation in an inwntient bemf , or liko' 'thwnght in an unthinking being, is setf^vident, and has been shewn, to the conviction of all men tliat think, by Bishop Bei^eley; yet this wiisi unknown to Mr Locke. It is. .an humbling consideration, that, in subjects of Cliis kind, self-evident truths may be hid from the eyes of the most ingenious men. lliit we Iiave, withal, this consolation, that, when once disctivered, they shine by their own light : and that light can no more be put out. [247] Upon the whole, Mr Locke, in making secondary fualilies to he powers, in bodies to excite ce:rtain sentations in us, has. given a just and distinct analysis of what our senses iiecover concerning them ; hut, in applying the theory of ideas to them and to the primary oualities,. he^ .haS' been led to My things thai 'darken the nbjeet, and 'that will not hear eicamination. f Bishop Berkeley having adopted the sen- tinientS' common to 'phUosopheva, eonceni* .iitg the ideas, we 'have by onr . senses— to 'wit, tliat Ihey are^allsensations-^saw more. clea.r]y tlie necessary consequence of this doctrine; which :iB, that there is no material 'world— MO 'finalities 'primary or .secondary —. and, 'Consequently, no foundation for any dis- tinction between them.t He exposed the absurdity of a re8embkn.ce between our [essay It ©HAP. jcviii.] OF OTHER OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 319 * Noi Dot5'CnMt:MiMiii.Btlit'MiiMaiiti|f|.biit 'lie'mnllloBt wimMmmmB, J l5!i:"'"^ * 'w»! mHy tiis-twin 'Um m oar MMttaii ortlit'iMiiiMlwfjiialitltt..--.|l. t_«te'«l»Sf%p. I'**! '»"••■ ••.™ miff iMlMilloii ^•f pnniary' aiii|..iMiiiilirf aiiuilitte, of jitrMpllsB >.mI .itiMtiiiii...|g £aoiiii|Miii«Mt.aisiiiit. teaHmn.. iriiM' |»liiiiSff^'fiMlllli|i ■•. iMincdfslalf' .|icinitcii.« «. m kfowti to' fOMdmimcp^) ^^milf^€mKeptims, nn. Mam, 'OriMHlltcilifiM: of 'Hhid. Vlmk, 8c« f a.ll0'« li-.g semsatlona and. any fual.ity, primary or ■eaondary, of a subalaaee' that is supposed to be Inieutient. Incleed, if it is granted that the senses have no other office but to furnish us with sensations, it will be found irajMHsibie tO' make any distinction between. priinar|r and 'secondary qualities, or even to maintam the existence of a material world. From the account I have given of the various levolutbns in the opinuins of pliito- sopherS' about primary and secondary qua* Mties, I think It appears that all tlie dark- ness and intricacy that thinking men have found in this subject, and the errors they have fallen into, have been owing to tlie difficulty of distinguishing clearly sensa- tion from perception— what we feel from what we perceive. The external senses have a double pro- vince—to make us feel, and to make us perceive. They famish us with a variety of sensations, some pleasant, others painful, and others indifferent; at the same time, thejglve us a conception and. u invincible beliefof the existence of external objects. This concept'ion of external, objer ts is the work of nature. The belief of their exist- ence, which our senses give, is the work of nature; so likewise is the sensation that accompanies it This conception and be- lief which nature produces by means of the senses, we call perceptmn.* [248] The 'feelinig 'which g^iea along with the percep- tion, 'we 'CaU mma^mk The perception .and its correspondhig sensation are produced at tiiesame time. In our experience we never ind them disjoined* Hence, we are .led to consider them as one thing, to give them one name, and to confound their different attributes. It becomes very difficult to separate them in thought, to attend to each by itself, and to attribute nothing to it which belongs to the other. To d'9 this, requires a degree of attention to 'What 'passes in our own minds, and a talent of distinguishing thincs that differ* which is not to be expected m the vulgar, and is even rarely found in phiknophers; so that the 'pnvgress made in a just analysis of the operations of our senses has been 'very stow. The .hypothesis of ideas, so generally adopted, lath, as I apprehend, greatly ntanled thi8.proj;'re88, and wem.|ght lope for a quicker advance, if phioiophera. could so iar humble themselves as to be- lieve that, in every branch uf the philosophy of nature, the 'productions of human fancy .and eonjectnro wil be found to be dross ; and that the only pure metal that will en. dure the test, is what is discovered by 'patient ebeervation and chaste induction. * ir tile wm^0mt like tlie bdkf, he lublMitlve lB.praftitlmi,we have 'no raiite'.flnni Idiaiin 'in tiniloctftot. See aHote, tlieaolit.ai m HB-IM, las. lift, and Nots-C^£ f «4T, 248] CHAPTER XVIIL U¥ OTHER OBJXCTS OF PERCEPTION. Besides primary and secondary qualities of bodies, there are many otiier immediate objects of perception. Without pretending to a complete enumeration, I think they mostly fall under one or other of the follow- ing, classes. 1«', Certain states or condi- tions of our own bodios. 2«/, Mechanical powers or forcea .V, Cliemical powers. 4'A, Medical powers or virtues. 5th, Vege- table and animal powers. [249] That we perceive certain disorders in our own bodies by means of uneasy sensations, which nature hath conjoined with tliem, will not be disputed. Of this kind are toothache, headache, gout, and every distemper and hurt which we feel. The notions which our sense gives of these, have a strong analogy to our notions of secondary qualities. Both are similarly compounded, and may be similarly resolved, and they give light to each other. In the toothache, for instance, there is, ^ruty a painful feeling; and, secondly, a conception and belief of some disorder in the tooth, which is believed to be the cause of the uneasy feeling.* The first of these is a sensation, the second is perception ; for it includes a conception and belief of an external object. But these two things, though of different natures, are so con- stantly conjoined in our experience and in our imagination, that we consider them as one. We give the same name to both ; for the toothache is the proper name of the pain we feel ; and it is the proper name of the disorder in the tooth wliich causes that pain. If it should be made a quet^tion whether the toothache be in the mind that ^els it, or in the tooth that is affected, much might be said on both sides, while it is not observed that the word has two mean- ings. -f* But a little reflection satisfies us, that the pain is in the mind, and the dis- order in the tooth. If some philosopher should pretend to have made the discovery that the toothache, the gout, the headache, are only sensations m the mind, and that it is a vulgar error to conceive that they are distempers of the body, he might defend his system in the same manner as those who affirm that there is no sound, nor colour, nor taste in bodies, defend that para- dox. But both these systems, like most * There ic no such perception, properly bo called. The cognition is merely an inference from the feeling; and its object, at least, only some hypothe. tical representation of a really JoiMltitM quid. Here the subjective element prepndiialat ao greatly as almost to extinguish the ottfedlve.— M. f This is not correct See abof e, p. 905, col. b note^.aodKoteD.— H. [249, 250"! paradoxes, will be found to be only an abus 3 of words. We say that we feci the toothache, not that we perceive it. On the other hand, wo say that we perceive the colour of a body, not that we feel it. Can any reason le given for this difference of phraseology ? [250] In answer to this question, I apprehend that, both when we feel the toothache and when we see a coloured body, there is sensa- tion and perception conjoined. But, in the toothache, the sensation being very painful, engrosses the attention ; and therefore we speak of it as if it were felt only, and not perceived : whereas, in seeing a coloured body, the sensation is indifferent, and draws no attention. The quality in the body, which we call its colour, is the only object of attention ; and therefore we speak of it as if it were perceived and not felt. Though all philosophers agree that, in seeing colour there is sensation, it is not easy to persuade the vulgar that, in seeing a coloured body, when the light is not too strong nor the eye inflamed, they have any sensation or feeling at all. There are some sensations, which, though they are very often felt, are never attended to, nor reflected upon. We have no con- ception of them ; and, therefore, in language there is neither any name for them, nor any form of speech that supposes their existence. Such are the sensations of colour, and of all primary qualities ; and, therefore, those qualities are said to be perceived, but not to be felt. Taste and smell, and heat and cold, have sensations that are often agreeable or disagreeable, in such a degree as to draw our attention ; and they are sometimes said to be felt, and sometimes to be perceived. When disorders of the body occasion very acute pain, the uneasy sensa- ation engrosses the attention, and they are said to be felt, not to be perceived.* There is another question relating to phraseology, which this subject suggests. A man says, he feels pain in such a parti« cular part of his body ; in his toe for in- stance. Now, reason assures us that pain being a sensation, can only be in the sen- tient being, as its subject — that is, in the mind. And, though philosophers have dis- puted much about the place of the mind ; yet none of them ever placed it in the toe.-j- * As already repeatedly observed, the objective element (perception) and the subjective element (feeling, sensation) are always in the inverse ratio of each other. This is a law of which Keid and the philosophers were not aware — H. t Not m the loe>exclmively. But, both in ancient and modern times, the opinion has been held that the mind has as much a local presence in the toe as in the head. 'I he doctrine, indeed, long generally main, tained was, that, in relation to the body, OiesouUsall in th^ whole, and all in every part. On the question of the seat of the soul, which has been marvellously perplexed, I cannot enter. I shall only say, in gene, ral, that the first condition of the potiibility of as OM THI INTBLIilCTUAL POWERS. [llSAY IX. CHAP. XVIII.J OF OTHER OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 321 IlTTijE :\y. Wlial tliiill wm mv 'Hun. in. tlili mm^ f Bo nir^aemW' Milljr momvm tis, luidl make us believe a thins whieh our reason determines to be iiniMMfiible ? (2dl1 I Answer, ^r«^, Tkit, wheii.s man sais he mm |Miin. in. Mt^ lo% he b tierfeet] J uadttstodli hotli bj hiniMif ' ami those who hear him. This is all thai he intends. He really feels what he and all mim 'fsall a iiain in the toe { and there is BO deception in the' matter. Whether, therefore, there he any improfirietjr in the lihfase or not, is^ of no oonse^nenee in eoni* mon life. It answers all the ends of speech, lioth to the ispeaker' and. the hearers. In all bnguagies: there' are phrases which have a distinct meaning; while, at the same time, there may he something in the stractnre of them that dtsagiMS 'with, the anal(»y of gmmmar 'Or with 'Che prineiiibs of philbsoph J. And the reasoii iS| heeauK' langtiage is not made either by gramma- rians or pliilosonhen. Thus, we speak of feelipg piin, as if pn waa something dis- tinet Irom the feeling of it We .speak of patn coming and goii%, and removing from ime pkce to another. Such phrases are meant by^ those who isa^ them 'in .a. seme that is neither ebsnure 'Uor 'falser But the philosopher pnts them into his alembic. redi].oes them to tileir'init principles, draws out of them a sense that 'was never meant, .and so imagines, that he has discovered, an ernr of the 'iriigar. .1 observe, seomtdijff That,, when we con- .sider the sensation of pain 1^ itself with- eial .any :respect. to its 'Cause, we cannot say with propriety, that the tm m either the £hm or the eubjeet of it Bwt It (fnght^ 'to e remembered, that, when we speak of pain in the toe, the sensaimi.. m maHmmi m our thonght, with the caaW'Of It,, wiiich veally is ill 'the' toe. The cause and 'the effect are eomUned in one complex notion, and the same name serves for both. It is the busi- ness, of the pMlcsepher tn analyse thit^ eoui* |ibx notion, and. te: Mve' diffisrent names to Its different higfedisnta He gives the name of jioiii to thesemaUmi only, and tiM name ofSmnkr to the nnknowu eanse of it Then it is evident that the dismder only is in. 'the 'toe, and that it wonld he an. error to think that the paui is in It* Bnt we ought not to ascribe this error to the ..vulgar, who never made the diitiiiollMi, and. wh% nnder the' :name of pain, eonpiAend both the seaalioD' ;and its ean8e..t |lfiS] ie wa id l ilg, tatuWve, or ml perceptioa of fxtemtA 'ililiM|i, wbai oiit'ioiiaeioiimeM aanircf Mu ft. we pot. mmt m tHe lameiliie .ciiiiii«eiloii erfhC' fMniive' ;piliielpe Willi., cviif pnt 'Of iie eomPHi ^^ .pffinBipswnn.i «*• »oomldtrsd.Manifli« I sninuitlM prlndplCb— H. ,^_^^ ^._:^ - -.^-We'i|ta.Wlk,boww«r, thS' mmmam'Gmmm mm. We onlf fmd in .MiniMh lie Ht' :1a as oumIi m vt .hsfesiicl a :iMBilier« and ta «' Ch.i|f If Clw IW' be oomlde iMMLSiMl. apsrt: :llmi SB snim 't 'Umi fbt' peia '!■ 'Whore i|. I OMtfliio of' .common — »— ii 'CSkises. sometimes happen, 'which give oeeasion even to the vulgar to diKtinguUi the painful sensation from the disorder which is the cause of it A man who has had his leg cut off, many years after feels pain in a toe of that leg. The toe has now no existence ; and he perceives easily, that the toe can neither be the place nor the subject of the piui which he feels ; yet it is the same IWkg he used to Iiave from a hurl in the toe ; and, if he did not know that his leg was cut off, it would give him the same imaednte conviction of some hurt or dis- order in the toe." The same phenomenon may lead the philosopher, in all cases, to distinguish sens- ation from perception. We say, that the man had a deeeitinl feeling, when he felt a pain. 'In his toe' afler the .1^ was. cut off; ■ad we have a true meanhig In sayuig so. But, if we will speak accurately, our sensa- tions cannot be deceitful; they must be what we feel than to be, and can be no- thing else. Where, then, lies the deceit ? I answer, it lies not in the sensation, which is real, hitt in the seeming perception he ''had. of' a disordet .te .his toe. This peieeji- tkn, 'wiiMi. Mature 'had conjoined' with 'the sensatifMi, was, in this instance, fUhiclnus. The same reasoning may be applied to every phenomenon tliat can, with proprietyi te 'Called, .a deeejitioii of sensa As when one who has the jaundice sees a body yellow, which is really white ;t or when a man sees an object double, because his eyes are not both directed to it : in these, '•lii. 'Other like ciisi% the sensations we have .are .real, and tha' 'deee'ptlon is only in the perception which nature luis annexed to them. Mattua liaB 'Conneisted onr perception .of «3ct«fnal objeets 'with. eerta.in sensations. If the sensation is prodnced, the eorre- apottding perception follows even when there IS no object, and In that ease is apt to deceive nSk l^'^i In like manner, natnra. has ennaefltoi onr ;sensations with certain impressions that are made upon the nerves and bndnf and, when the impression is inade, ftmn whatevw cause, the cone- Sfondmg sensation and perception imme- diately foUow. Thus, in the man who feels pam ui his toe afler the hsg is cut off, the .nerve lha|. wwt tO' lliatiM;purt of which was 'Ont off 'Willi 'tbe kg, had tha: 'Same hnpres- ■ion naile npon the remaining 'ps.rt, which., in the natural state of his body, was caused m mmA m ^m 'aini, or Molioat prineipio. perTidfi. f^ .t.^f iSf ■yS!* *!*■ ft *t 'tee ai 'we iilnk in toth^i ioa ^^ Vmm eg|jp 'iht '>«Mi{iMNi vmm • Tbli ilkuiraliin It Bat CartMC. If eorrod, II only thewi that tie cenaeollmi of Bdad with oifan. iistion cxteodt tttm Ike ocDtre to the eiicumftraiice *^^^*^ iplMi. and !• not Uailtai to afiy Ml ffSMiBiiijii iiiiMkiAiiHi MJjfuiua' ■mmiJfei. jiynmj^ alkhjik .iHHiiijjkJjLayiK JL^^Hk^ ,aKjh lankM fts hy a hurt in the toe : and immediately this impression is followed by the sensation and perception which nature connected with it. ■ In like manner, if the same impressions which are made at present upon my optic nerves by the objects before me, could be made in the dark, 1 apprehend that I should have the same sensations and see the same objects which I now see. The im- pressions and sensations would in such a case be real, and the perception only fallacious.* Let us next consider the notions which our senses give us of those attributes of bodies called powers. This is the more necessary, because power seems to imply some activity ; yet we consider body as a dead inactive thing, which does not act, but may be acted upon. Of the mechanical powers ascribed to bodies, that which is called their vis insiia or inertia^ may first be considered. By this is meant, no more than that bodies never change their state of themselves, either from rest to motion, or from motion to rest, or from one degree of velocity or one direction to another. In order to produce any such change, there must be some force impressed upon them ; and the ohange produced is precisely proportioned to the force impressed, and in the direction of that force. That all bodies have this property, is a matter of fact, which we learn from daily obsefvation, as well as from the most accu- rate experiments.. [254] Now, it seems plain, that this does not imply any activity in body, but rather the contrary. A power in body to change its state, would much rather imply activity than its continuing in the same state : so that, although this property of bodies is called their vis irisiia, or vis imriiiB, it implies no proper activity. I f we consider, next, the power of gravity, it is a fact that all the bodies of our pla- netary system gravitate towards each other. Thk has been fully proved by the great Newton. But this gravitation is not con- ceived by that philosopher to be a power inherent in bodies, which they exert of themselves, but a force impressed upon them, to which they must necessarily yield. Whether this force be impressed by some subtile aether, or whether it be unpressed by the power of the Supreme Being, or of some subordinate spiritual being, we do not know; but all sound natural philosophy, particu- larly that of Newton, supposes it to be an Impressed force, and not inherent in bodies.f So that, when bodies gravitate, they do nat ict the 'Whlls M|^ at al £841-iW3] • Tbli ii a doctrine which cannot be reconciled with th«t of an intuitive or oliiective perceotion. All here is subjective.— H. t That all activity supposes an fffifiMilertal or n^ rituai agent, it an ancient doctrine. It li, liowtf ar, oaij an BfpotiMtis.<»H. [^8«4-SSdies, whether mechani- cal, chemical, medical, animalpor vegetable; or if there: he my other 'powers not compre- hended, nniaf these heads.^ OfaIl.theie'the etiitenee:'ismattilBat to sense, hnt 'the natnie' is occult ; and here the phUoeopher has an ample field*' W:hat ;is neeessaij for 'thO' coniiiel of 'Onr tnhnai. 1% Ihe 'bmrntaM Anther of Mature hath 'made manifest to all men- But there are many other choice secrets of Nature, the diwsoveij of which eidarges^ the power .and eialto 'the state of man.. These, are .lef|. to be discovered by the proper^ use of' our rational, powers.. They are hid, not that they 'may be alwap concealed from human. knowledge, but that we :mftir he excited, to iseaieh 'for them. 'Thia^ m the pMfer busi- ness 'Cf a philesopheiv and it is. tiie gtoiy of a man, and the best reward of his labour, to dimver what Nature baa thia con* ceaM.. |3&7J CHAFFEE XIX. or MATTIR AND OF SPACl. Tm objeeto of serase we have hitherto considered ate fualilies. But qualiiea must have m subject. We give the names of wmUmTf 'iMiferiel fiiAtlmiiff, and M^, to the Bubjed of sensible fuaities. | and it may bO' ■shed what this maifir is.. I 'pereeive in. a billiard ball, figure, colour, and. motion ; but the hall, .is not :figuiei .nor is. .it 'Colonr. nor 'motion, nor ai. these' taken 'together; it is something that has figure, and colour, and motion. This is. a dictate of nature, 'and the 'beief 'Of ' .aH. m a n k i nd. .. Aa 'to' 'the .nature of 'iiiS' ^something, I am afraid we 'Caa give litte' aeeMmt of it, but that it has the qualities which our diseoveik Bui liow do wt know that they aro' qua* lities, and cannot exist without a subject ? I confess I cannot exphtin how we know that they cannot exist without a subject, any more than I can ezphun. how 'we .know that they exist We have the information of BatufO'fnr their existence; and I tliin.k we have the mformation 'Of nature that tney .are uiial.itiea. The bdief thai figure, motion, and colour mio qualities, and require m .subject, m.u8t either be a judgment of nature^ or it must 'he discovered by .reason, or it must be n iiie|ndioe''thal'liaiB.nfi just'foundationa There arO' pminio pln* i i i 'who |w|fclOT*«tii tint it la a mere pnludlee .;. tbut a body is nothing but a collection of what we call sensible quali- ties; and that they neither have nor need any 8u.bjeet. This as. tho opinion of Bishop Berketey and Mr B.nme; 'and they were led to it by finding that they had not in their minds any idea of substenoe. [2d8] It could neither be an Idea of sensation nor 'Of .reiection. But to me nothing seems 'more .absurd than that thmre should be extension without anything extended, or motion without any- thing moved $ yet I 'Cannol give reasons for 'my 'Opkloi, because it seems to me self- evident,, and. .an immediate dictate of my nature. And that it Is the belief of all mankind, .appears .k.. tho structure of all knguages.$ .in.' which, we 'find adjective nouns used to ex'press':ienaibfe qualities. It Is well known that every adjective in language must belong to .some substantive expressed or under- stood—that is, every quality must belong to some siil#ci. 8«DMdble qualities make so great a part of the furniture of our minds, their kinds are so many, and. their number so^ great, that, ,jf pfii:Udi0%, and. not nature, teach us to .ascnw them 'all to a subject* it must have a great work to perform, which cannot be aeoomplished in a short time, nor carried on to thO' same pitch m 'Cvery individual. We shouM. 'ind .not indiviiuak only, but nations .and ^gei, 'dlUhiing from ^each other in 'the progms w'hkh this prejudice had made in. Iheii' sentimente ; but we fi.nd no liiflh'dlliiience among' men.. What one man .aocomto m quality, au men do, and 'ever did,. It seems, therefore, to be a judgment of nftture, that the things immediately per- ceived .are .qualities, 'which must belong to m sniieet t ^aad. ^ai the^ .mformation that our .aanseS' givo 'ua 'ahont this subject, is, that it is that to which such qualities beloui?. From this ii is evident, that our notion, of bo%' or mailer, as 'distui|u.islied from its qualltie% 'is ft rthtive notion;* and I am • nst ia—iNir notion of ctolMle twdy i* rektUwe, Tlitf. It liiooffftctlf' wpcMci. Wt can .know, w« osn afraid it must always be obscure until men have other faculties. [2d9] The philosopher. In this, seems to have no advantage above the vukar; for, as they porceive colour, and figurt, and motion by theur senses as well he does, and both are equally certain that there Is a subject of those qualities, so the notions which both have of this subject are equally ob- scure. When the philosopher calls it a substratum^ and a subject of inhesion, those learned words convey no meaning but what every man understands and expresses, by saying, in common language, tliat it is a thing extended, and solid, and movable. The relation which sensible qualities bear to their subject—that is, to body— is not, however, so dark but that it is easily dis- tinguished from all other rektions. Every man can distinguish it from the relation of an effect to its cause ; of a mean to its end ; or of a &ign to the tiling signified by it. I think it requires some ripeness of un- derstanding to distinguish the qualities of a body from the body. Perhaps this dis- tinction is not made by brutes, nor by in- finite ; and if any one thinks that this dis- tinction is not made by our senses, but by some other power of the mind, I will not dispute this point, provided it be granted that men, when their faculties are ripe, have a natural conviction that sensible qua- lities cannot exist by themselves without some subject to which they belong. I think, indeed, that some of the determ- inations we form concerning matter can- not be deduced solely from the testimony of sense, but must be referred to some other sourca There seems to be nothing more evident than that all bodies must consist of parts ; and that every part of a body is a body, and a distinct being, which may exist without the other parte ; and yet I apprehend this con- clusion is not deduced solely from the testi- mony of sense: for, besides that it Is a necessary truth, and, therefore, no object of sense,* there is a lunit beyond which we conceive, only what is relative. Uur knowlc?dge of quaUtM$ or fmenomena is necesaarily relative ; for flictecxiat only a« they exist inrelaiion to our/hcuU ttm. The knowledge, or even the conception, of a tubfttance in itself, and apart from any qualities in relation to, and therefore cognisable or conceivable by, our minds, involves a contradiction. Of such we can form only a luvathe notion ; that is, we can merely conceive it ax inconceivable. But to call this ne- fjjtlve notion a relative notion, is wrong ; l*», because all Dtir (positive) notions aie relative , ano i", because this is itself a negative notion— i. e., no notion at all— dimply because ihere is no r lation. The same im- proper application of the term lerative was also made byReid when speaking ot the secondary qualities.— H. * It is creditable to Reid that he perceived that the quality of necestity is the criterion which distin- gui^hes native from adventitiout notions or judg. inentt. He did noi, however, always make the proper Hie of it. Leibiiiti has the honour of first explicitly enouncing this oriierion, and Kant of first fully ap. (.259-2611 cannot perceive any division of a body. The parts become too small to be perceived by our senses; but we cannot believe that it becomes then incapable of being farther divided, or that such division would make It not to be a body. [260] We carry on the division and subdivision in our thought far beyond the reach of our senses, and we can find no end to it : nay, I think we plainly discern that there can be no limit beyond which the division can- not be carried. For, if there be any limit to this division, one of two things must necessarily happen : either we have come by division to a body which is extended, but has no parts, and is absolutely indivisible ; or this body is divi- sible, but, as soon as it is divided, it becomes no body. Both these positions seem to me absurd, and one or the other is the neces- sary consequence of supposing a limit to the divisibility of matter. On the other hand, if it is admitted that the divisibility of matter has no limit, it will follow that no body can be called one individual substance. You may as well call it two, or twenty, or two hundred. For, when it is divided uito parts, every part is a being or substance disthict from all the other parts, and was so even before the di- vision. Any one part may continue to exist, though all the other parts were an- nihilated. There Is, indeed, a principle long re- ceived as an axiom in metaphysics, which I cannot reconcile to the divisibility of mat- ter ; it is, that every being is one, omne ena est mwm. By which, I suppose, is meant, that everything that exists must either bo one indivisible being, or composed of a de- terminate number of indivisible beings. Thus, an army may be divided into regi- ments, a regiment Into companies, and a company into men. But here the division has its limit ; for you cannot divide a man without destroying him, because he is an individual; and everything, according to this axiom, must be an individual, or made up of individuals. [26 1 ] That this axiom will hold with regard to an army, and with regard to many other things, must be granted ; but I require the evidence of its being applicable to all beings whatsoever. Leibnitz, conceiving that all beings must have this metaphysical unity, was by thia led to maintain that matter, and, indeed, the whole uni/erse, is made up of monads that is, simple and indivisible substances. Perhaps, the same apprehension might lead Boscovich hito his hypothesis, wliicli seems much more ingenious— to wit, that plying it to the phienomena. In none hr^s Kant lieeo more successful than in this under consideratiou.-^ U. V 2 ON THE INTBLLICTUAL TOWIM. til: „,,l| ,f-*t:iii*i ' wiintii owloiMd^ 'Witt mama mmmm ^^ ■ttfwtioii aiii: 'MfttUm. 'Hi* difliliitf ^ mmlMm without mj liait, iiwiMi^to vm iiiote't«iimlil«tl»ii ««« of these li||Mitliiie» ; Tom do I J»y mmti ■tifiis npott tli«^' »«**|*3«™ 'f*^*!* *^ kI siitefiiiglliean. neither be mitensiim mt mo- tion, nor ignfo nor dlvfaiim,, mm mkmmm of parts, without space. ^ There are only two of onr tenses by which the notion of space enters into thO' mind — to wit,, touch and sight If w^^tippose; a man to have neither of these senses^ I 'do not see how he could ever have any concep- tion of spacebl Supposing him to have both, until he sees or faeta other objects, he can. have no notion of space. It has neither colour nor l|gnre to make it an object of sight : it has no tangiUo f nality to 'make it an object of 'tomh. But 'Other' objects of sight and toneh 'iitiy' the notion of spaoe ahing with iheni ; ^and not the notion only, but the behef of it ; for a body tmM 'not e3dsl if (here was no space to con- tain 'it It eoolA. not move if there 'was no space. Its aitaation, its distance, and every reboion it has to other hodieS) suppiee ■pace. ;But, though the notion of space se«ms flf0limmmmmmmimmmmmmmmmmmmmmm^^ 4<'lt»'latt,ii(ite.— H.. t See abote, p. It*, note f — H. t VMe iiipra, p. in, ml h, noln •, ! ; sai p. W^ ool- % note «—- H» mm •'■*' net tO' enlerriil' iialy into 'th« 'nhul, until ie is intfoduiwl by tlW' proper ob|Mla of sense, yet, being once introduced) it remains iu our conception and belief, though tha objeetii which intrdlwsed it be removed. W« soo no absurdity in supposing a \mdy to bo an- nibialed; but the space that contamed it remains ; and, to suppose that aanihikted, seenf' to ht ^ahmird. It fa so^ mieh .allied to BothinfOT emptiness, that it seema. m- capable of annihilation or of creation.* Space not only retains a firm hold of our belief even when we suppose all the objecta that intfodnoed it to be annihilated, but it swells to 'immensity. W© can set mo limits, to it, either of eateat or of duration. Hencf* we call it immense, eternal, immovable, and indestructible. But it fa only an im- m«nB% eternal, immovable, and indestruc- tibhi void or emptiness. Perhaps we may apply to it what the Peripatetics said of their irst matter, that, whatever it is, it fa potentfaUy only, not .actually. [2631 When, we .consider parts of space that have meamrt and figure, theife fa nothing we understand better, nothing about which we can reason so clearly, and to so great mtent £.xtett8iin. and flptre are circum- scribed parta of ipM», andfare the object of geometry, a seienie'hi which human reason has the most ample field, and can go deeper, and with mora certainty, than in any other. But, when we attempt to comprehend tho whole of space, and to trace it to its origin, we lose ourselves in the search. The pro- foiied specuktions of ingenious men upon this subject differ so widely as may lead us to suspect that the line of human under- standing fa too sliort to reach the bottom of It Bfahop Berkeley, I think, was the first who •binrved.that the extension, :figu,re, and spaee^ of which we^ speak in common lan- guage, and of which geometry treats, are originally perceived by the sense of touch only ; but thai there fa a notion of exten- sion, figuiei and space, 'which may be got by .light. 'wUhont any aid "tem 'touch. To distingpih these, he calls the fi.rst tangihlo extension, twigible llgure, and tangible ■pace. The 'mk he calls 'visible. Mm I think thfa distinction very import- ant k the philowphy of onr senses, I shall adopt the names used by the inventor to oxpreis. it t rememberimc what. has. been already observed— thaft. ipai% 'whether tan- gible or visible, fa not so properly an object of sense, as a necesaaiy concomitant of tho objects both of sight and touch.f 'MlMior-IlM: etilcAwi iif neoBwtty. iia'p, 'm 'm!*' 't' K Miiiiliillr requimi 'but Mltl« m ■AtA Eam% fiwrM''lliecoiBqitiop of ifMe. m m m 'wittti m mliva immm ilwiiilit--H. f SiC lAort, I. ISI» not* f .— H. [862,263] CHAP. XIX.J OF MATTER AND OF SPACE. 325 The reader may likewise be pleased to attend to this, that, when I use the names of tangible and vfaible space, I do not mean to adopt Bfahop Berkeley's opinion, so far as to thmk that they are really different things, and altogether unlike. I take them to be different conceptions of the same thing; the one very partial, and the other more complete ; but both distinct and just, as far as they reaeh. [264] Thus, when I see a sphre at a very great dfatance, it seems like the point of a bodkin ; there appears no vane at the top, no angles. But, when I view the same object at a small distance, I see a huge pyramid of several angles, with a vane on the top. Neither of these appearances is fallacious. Each of them fa what it ought to be, and wliat it must be, from such an object seen at such different distances. These different appear- ances of the same object may serve to illus- trate the different conceptions of space, according as they are drawn from the in- formation of sight alone, or as they are drawn from the additional information of touch. Our sight alone, unaided by touch, gives a very partfal notion of space, but yet a distinct one. When it is considered accord- ing to this partial notion, I call it visible space. The sense of touch gives a much more complete notion of space ; and, when it fa considered according to thfa notion, I call it tangible space. Perhaps there may be intelligent beings of a higher order, whose conceptions of space are much more com- plete than those we have from both senses. Another sense added to those of sight and touch, might, for what I know, give us con- ceptions of space as different from those we can now attain as tangible space fa from vfaible, and might resolve many knotty points concerning it, which, from the imper- fection of our faculties, we cannot, by any labour, untie. Berkeley acknowledges that there is an exact correspondence between the vfaible figure and magnitude of objects, and the tangible; and that every modification of the one has a modification of the other cor- responding. He acknowledges, likewise, that Nature has established such a con- nection between the visible figure and mag- nitude of an object, and the tangible, that w© learn by experience to know the tan- fihle figure and magnitude from the vfaible. And, liaving been accustomed to do so from infancy, we get the habit of doing it with such facility and quickness that we think we see the tangible figure, magnitude, and distance of bodies, when, in reality, we only collect those tangible qualities from the corresponding vfaible qualities, which are natural signs of them. [265] The correspondence and connection which 86i-2663 Berkeley shews to be between the visible figure and magnitude of objects, and their timgible figure and magnitude, is in some respects very simifar to that which we have observed between our sensations and the primary qualities with which they are con- nected. No sooner is the sensation felt, than immediately we have the conception and belief of the corresponding quality. We give no attention to the sensation ; it has not a name ; and it is difficult to per- suade us that there was any such thing. In like manner, no sooner is the visible figure and magnitude of an object seen, than immediately we have the conception and belief of the corresponding tangible figure and magnitude. We give no attention to the vfaible figure and magnitude. It is immediately forgot, as if it had never been perceived; and it has no name iu common language ; and, indeed, until Berkeley pointed it out as a subject of speculation, and gave it a name, it had none among philosophers, excepting in one instance, relating to the heavenly bodies, which are beyond the reach of touch. With regard to them, what Berkeley calls visible magni- tude was, by astronomers, called apparent magnitude. There is surely an apparent magnitude, and an apparent figure of terrestrial objects, as well as of celestial ; and this is what Berkeley calls their vfaible figure and mag- nitude. But this was never made an object of thought among philosophers, until that author gave it a name, and observed the correspondence and connection between it and tangible magnitude and figure, and how the mmd gets the habit of passing so in- stantaneously from the visible figure as a sign to the tangible figure as the thing signified by it, that the first is perfectly forgot as if it had never been perceived. [266] Visible figure, extension, and space, may be made a subject of mathematical specula- tion as well as the tangible. In the visible, we find two dimensions only ; in the tan- gible, three. In the one, magnitude is mea- sured by angles; in the other, by lines. Every part of vfaible space bears some pro- portion to the whole; but tangible space being immense, any part of it bears no pro- portion to the whole. Such differences in their properties led Bishop Berkeley to think that visible and tangible magnitude and figure are thmgs totally different and dissimikr, and cannot both belong to the same object. And upon thfa dissimiUtude fa grounded one of the strongest arguments by which liia system fa supported. For it may be said, if there be external objects which have a real extension and figure, it must be either tangible extension and figure, or visible, or I t 326 ON THE, INTBLLBCTUAIi POWERS. r Bsuiy Ua i botk* Hie last apiiMn m1i0urd ; nor was it ever inafataiiied by way man, that the ■MM' olfflot .liM two kinds of extension, and ifnie 'tvmljr dinilmilar.. Them is then only one of the two raally in the object i and the othermut be ideai But no fMson ean be .aasigmd. why the peNoptlons of one tmm shimM. 'he .Mil,. wMfo' uoie of' another ave only Ueal. ;' and lie. 'who is pemnaded that the objects of sight are ideas only, has equal reason to believe so of the objects of touch. ThiS' afgnment, 'however, loses all,.ita^ force, if it be true, as was formerly hintedi that visible figure and extension are only a fartial conception, and the taagihi* %nfe .and extension a move Qonpeie efmfleiitwQ of' that figure and extension' whicb 'it really in the objectf {W} It has been proved very fully by Bishop .Berketoy, thai sight alone, without .any aid from 'the Monnations of touch, .gives: 'la no perception, nor even. 'Ooneeption of 'llie dis* tancc' of any object firam the eye. But he 'Was not awara that thiS' very principle over* tnms^ the aminieni for Ms system, taken, from the dinennce 'between visible .and tangible extension and %ure. For, sup-' 'posing external objects to exist, and to have that tangible' exteuiMi and '%iire which we 'perceive, it follows 'tenomlfabljfi UNim the 'pri.DC'iple now mentioned, that their visible extension and figure must 'he just what we lee it to be. The rules 'Of penpedive, .and of the pn-^ jeetion of 'the sphere, which Is a bnndl of pempective, are' demonatfaUei. They sup- pose the existence of external otj eets, which have a tangible extension and fignrO' .; and, upon that sujpposition, they tenonitrate what must be 'thev isibleextension and. ignrt' of such ohjeet% when phMsed in. such a poai- tien .and at .sneli a distance. Hence, it is evident that the visible figure .and extension of objects .is so Iw from beiiig 'ineom'patible with the 'taiigible, thai 'the first is a necessary consequence from the last in beinffs that see' as. we do. The eorrespond- «nee 'belweem. them .is not arbitraij, like' that between words and the thing th^' irignU^,^ aa ..Berkefeythimghts bntit'rMilt8.neofl8iariy from the nature of the two senses ; and this correspondence being always found in ex- 'pertencc' to be exactly 'what the rules of per« .speetive shew 'that 'it onghl'lo bO'tf ''the senses give true information, is. .an arguiMBt of the truth of both* * Or fidlAer. And tiili oaiiaci tiwpHitlan. !• 'the true, For ntHlior ligfat ner toMi give mJIM and. «M»»ml».iiiiMpB|irtion to icgmi lo 'Hie noil csten^n iicctftvli.iiillifSMlMm to rapid .and. 'Sb 9QB| colt 'wL 'MMS' %^il« andcxtwnrion litonly*'a ...-.-, ftte., it amnottM'S'CQgiililiNi .and esiifnion.— H. #^ll A I>T1S«1> "Y'lT' 1/Jtl A.T^ 1 J!i.lb Ji A.. or TH'B BvioKnai or sbksb, arai or BSLiar IN eiNSRAI* Tnktaiitiin of nature ;fa the powera which we caU the external senses, is evident. They are intended to give us that informal tion of external objects which the Supreme Beuig saw to he proper for us in our pre- sent states and tl^y ,give to all manlind the infomai^on necessary for lilo, 'With'Out leaiomiig, without any art or investigation on our part. [2681 The most niins^ucted peasant has as distinct a conception and. as fi.rm a belief ef the imnadiate objects of his senses, as the greatest philosopher ; and with this he rests saluified, givmg hhnself no concern how he came by this, conception and belief. But the philosopher 'Is impatient to know how :|iis 'Conception of extenal objects, and his belief of their existence, is produced. 'This, .1 am afraid, is. hid in impenetrable Bnt where there' ia.no know- 1^ there is the more room for conjecture, of 'this, philoiopherB have always, been The 'dark aav«^■lld:8lladf»w• of Plato,* the .speciei"Of .AriBtiitk,t' 'Ae ihns of £picnms, mi the' Ideas, and 'hnpressionB of modem pMloiopher8,$are the productions of human mncy, snocessively invented to satisfy the 'Cager 'demre of knowing ^how we perceive external, objects i hut they aro' .all deicieut in the 'two essential. clianieten.'Of a true and phiosophical account of the phienomenon : for we neither have any evideiice of their existence, nor, if 'they did exist, can it be 'Shewn 'how they 'would produce perception. It was befoie obeervH that there are two ingredients in this operation of percep- tion I Jirst, the conception or notion of the object ; and, mmmdi^^ the belief of its pre- sent 'Cxistimce. Both, .are' unaccountable. That we can assign no adequate cause of our first conceptions of things, I think, is now .aeknowledged bv 'the most enlightened 'phlkMophers.. We know that Mwh is our constitution, that in certain drcnmatanees we have certain conceptions ; but how they are produced we know no more than how we onrselvea were 'produced. [269] When 'We''have got the conception of ex- ternal objects by our senses, we can ana- lyse them in our thought into their sim- ple ingredients; and we can compound those Ingredients into varions new forms, which 'the :senses never presented. Bnt it is "C 8c0 o. 9SM^^ K note ««>»'H. i if Idtoi. If' itpsilailf notiocd. Held 'andar itaiMM ilwaft 'Caitaln ii p ea t at t li Te cntitiet di«iwl fkiMii tlW'knovina'nilML CHAP. xx.J OF THE EVIDENCE OF SIWSE, &c. 327 beyond the power of human imagination to form any conception, whose simple ingre- dients have not been furnished by nature m a wanner unaccountable to our understanding. We have an immediate conception of the operations of our own minds, joined with a a belief of their existence ; and this we call consciousness. • But this is only giving a name to this source of our knowledge. It is not a discovery of its cause. In like man- ner, we have, by our external senses, a conception of external objects, joined with a belief of their existence ; and this we call perception. But this is only giving a name to another source of our knowledge, without discovering its cause. We know that, when certain impressions are made upon our organs, nerves, and br&in, certain corresponding sensations are felt, and certain objects are both conceived and believed to exist. But in this tram of operations nature works in the dark. We can neither discover the cause of any one of them, nor any necessary connection of one with another ; and, whether they are connected by any necessary tie, or only conjoined in our constitution by the will of heaven, we know notf That any kind of impression upon a body should be the efficient cause of sensation, ap- pears very absurd. Nor can we perceive any necessary connection between sensation and the conception and belief of an external object. For anything we can discover, we might have been so framed as to have all the sensations we now have by our senses, without any impressions upon our organs, and without any conception of any external object. For anything we know, we might have been so made as to perceive external objects, without any impressions on bodily organs, and without any of those sensa- tions which invariably accompany percep- tion in our present frame. [270] If our conception of external objects be unaccountable, the conviction and belief of their existence, which we get by our senses, is no less so.$ * Here eomdmsmss ii made to conaSit Incmcep' Hon. But. as Reid could hardly mean that con. JSousnesibonceim (i. e., represents) the operations 5Sut which it is conversant, and is not intuitive y Sgnisant of them, it would seem t^*' »l^ occas.onaHy enSploys conception forknowledge. This is of im- portance in explaining favourably Rf.***""** "/. 1^^ word Conception in relation to Perception. But then, how vague and vacillating is his language I— H. t 8ee p. 257, col. b, note *.--H. t If an immediate Icnowledge of external things— that if, a consciousness of the ouahties of the non. JJo-bi admitted, the belief of tlieir existence follows of course. On this supposition, therefore, such a belief would not be unaccountable; (« it would be accounted for by the fact of the knowledge in which It would necessarily be contained- Our belief, in this case, of the existence of external .^bjects, would_not lie more inexplicable than our belief that 2 +^ — «• ifi hSth caae. it would be iufllcient to say, u,e bdteve Smmmknmo! for belief Is only unaccountable iSrhen It is not the coniequent or concomitant of [270-271] Belief, a*«ent, conviction, are words which I do not think admit of logical defin- ition, because the operation of mind sig- nified by them is perfectly simple, and of its own kind. Nor do they need to be de- fined, because they are common words, and well understood. Belief must have an object For lie that believes must believe something ; and that which he believes, is called the object of his belief. Of this object of his belief, he must have some conception, clear or ob- scure ; for, although there may be the most clear and distinct conception of an object without any belief of its existence, there can be no belief without conception. * Belief is always expressed in language by a proposition, wherein something is affirmed or denied. This is the form of speech which in all languages is appropriated to that purpose, and without belief there could be neither affirmation nor denial, nor should we have any form of words to express either. Belief admits of all degrees, from the slightest suspicion to the fullest assur- ance. These things are so evident to every man that reflects, that it would be abusing the reader's patience to dwell upon them. I proceed to observe that there are many operations of mind in which, when we analyse them as far as we are able, we find belief to be an essential ingredient. A man cannot be conscious of his own thoughts, without believing that he thinks. He can- not perceive an object of sense, without be- lieving that it exists.t He cannot distinctly remember a past event, without believing that it did exist. Belief therefore is an ingredient in consciousness, in perception, and in remembrance. [271] Not only in most of our intellectual oper- ations, but in many of the active princi- ples of the human mind, belief enters as an ingredient. Joy and sorrow, hope and fear, imply a belief of good or ill, either pre sent or in expectation Esteem, gratitude, pity, and resentment, imply a behet ot cer- tain qualities in their objects. In every action that is done for an end, there must be a belief of its tendency to that end. ho large a share has belief in our intellectual knowledge. By this, however, I do not of cour^. mean to say that knowledge is not in itself marvti- SSJand unaccountable. This statement of Ked again tivours the opinion that his doctrine of i^jrcep. tion is not really immediate.— H. ^_ »« ♦ Is ^ccption here equivalent to knowkOge or to ^rti s7ew;rt {Elm. I., ch.ii... p. if »«"^,^ffi ThfsVurt- he hold, to be the result of <^/j;;''^„.^» combination with an oripnal pnncip e of our consu. tuiion, whereby we are determined to thieve m IM permanence qfm lam qfnature.—^ . OM THE INTILLBCTUAL POWJBIS. [liSAi' n. ^ .•fflniiiiiiii, i& our' mAw% |iiliMi|il«,, md. in 'Mr ^Mtiiiw tlMBiielvtty tlmt,, at 'iilli te liiimt dMiM U i«pf«Mil«l ■• Hi*" nMin ,i|Riinj| im tlw ili' dT ft CMitkii, no belkliE |piiiftl.fetle'iiiaiBtpriiigfatlie'lifiory is not limited by any bodily organ that I know, nor by light and dark- ness, though It lias its limitations of another kmd.* These differences are obvious to all men, and very reasonably lead them to consider seeing and remembering as operations spe- cifically different. But the nature of the evidence they give, has a great resemblance. * There is a more important difference than the«e omitted. In memory, we cannot possibly be con- Bcinu8 or immediately cognisant of any obj«;t beyond the modificationi of the ego iuelf. In perceplicn, (If an immediate perception' )ae allowed,) we mutt \m conscious, or immediately cognisaut, of lomcptiKtlO* menon of the non-ego.— H. tf 330 ON THE INTBLtlCTUAL P0WBE8. h CHAP. KI.1 OF THE IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSES. 331 ht A Bn iilfeniMse snd ft ilw MenMuM tliere 'is betfroen *1m» evidence of mmm and Unit rf eonseiiWHieas, which I Mm the loiiertotrice. .As to the fipinini. Hmt evidemse' coiiiiiitB in. m pereeptiM ef the agiwiiieiil or «f, by a due care of the organs of sense, that they be in a sound and natural state. This belongs to the de- partment of the medical faculty. Secondiffy By accurate attention to the objects of sense. The effects of such atten- tion in improving our senses, appear m every art The artist, by giving more attention to certain objects than others do, by that means perceives many things in those ob- jects which others do not. [286] Those who happen to be deprived of one sense, Ifcequently supply that defect in a great de- g«5«> l»y gi^*"S ™*'*"® ac^"*^*® attention to the objects of the senses they have. The blind have often been known to acquire un- common acuteness in distinguishing things by feelUig and hearing ; and the deaf are uncommonly quickmreadmgmen's thoughts in their countenance. , .. » A third way in which our senses admit of CJ28S-287] improvement, is, by additipnal organs, or in« struments contrived by art. By the inven- tion of optical glasses, and the gradual im- provement of "them, the natural power of vision is wonderfully improved, and a vast addition made to the stock of knowledge which we acquire by the eye. By speaking- trumpets and ear-trumpets some improve- ment has been made in the sense of hearing. Whether by similar inventions the other senses may be improved, seems uncertain. A fourlh method by which the informa- tion got by our senses may be improved, is, by discovering the connection which nature hath established between the sensible quali- ties of objects, and their more latent qualities. By the sensible qualities of bodies, I un- derstand those that are perceived immedi- ately by the senses, such as their colour, figure, feeling, sound, taste, smell. The various modifications and various combin- ations of these, are innumerable ; so that there are hardly two individual bodies in Nature that may not be distinguished by their sensible qualities. The latent qualities are such as are not immediately discovered by our senses ; but discovered sometimes by accident, some- times by experiment or observation. The most important part of our knowledge of bodies is the knowledge of the latent qua- lities of the several species, by which they are adapted to certain purposes, either for food, or medicine, or agriculture, or for the materials or utensils of some art or manu- facture. [2871 . . I am taught that certain species of bodies have certain latent qualities ; but how shall I know that this individual is of such a species ? This must be known by the sen- sible qualities which characterise the species. I must know that this is bread, and that wine, before I eat the one or drink the other. I must know that this is rhubarb, and that opium, before I use the one or the other for medicine. , , ^ It is one branch of human knowledge to know the names of the various species of natural and artificial bodies, and to know the sensible qualities by which they are ascertained to be of such a species, and by which they are distinguished from one an- other. It is another branch of knowledge to know the latent qualities of the several species, and the uses to which they are subservient. The man who possesses both these branches is informed, by his senses, of m- numerable things of real moment which aro hid from those who possess only one, or neither. This is an improvement m the information got by our senses, which must keep pace with the improvements made m natural history, in natural phUosophy, and m the arte* [mmaA'V w HBAP. Hii] OF THE FALLACY OF THE SENSES. 335 I If wouM bo^ .Ml ;iiiifnif«iiMiit itiE. lii^Mr t'liii' woffo ^iMi: to' JiiisiiiMr' mv' Mmsiciiciii lietwMNi iliii' ttmilile 'i|iiililiati m hoiSi&i toA tbeir latent qiialitifl% williiMt' knowing tho uptdit,. m what maj liaf • l»t«ii. 'ditoovofoil wiHi fMaMPd tn iL taiiii'|illllmcip]ii»e» isadb' MtenptB towaris tlili 'nulla inprova* nenti not without promising hopes of sue- MM. Thus, the oeMinited Linnaeus has attempted, to pint Ml certain sensihle <|iia- litieS' by whicfi a plant may very prohably be eondiided to be poisonoi^ without know- ing ito name or ^speoieB. He has given ae- vfwal other instaneesi wherein, certain ineiM* eal. and ieeonomieal i^rtneS' of plants ainter, by an exact imitation of that distribution of light and colour which I have been accustomed to see only in a real sphere, deceives me, so as to make me take that to be a real sphere which is only a IMimted one, the testimony of my e> e is true —the colour and visible figure of the object is truly what I see it to be : the error lies In the conclusion drawn from what I see — to wit, that the object has three dimensions and a spherical figure. The conclusion is false in this case; but, whatever be the origin of this conclusion, it is not properly the testimony of sense. To this class we must refer the judg- ments we are apt to form of the distance snd magnitude of the heavenly bodies, and of terrestrial objects seen on high The mistakes wfe make of the magnitude and distance of objects seen through optical gksses, or through an atmosphere uiicom- niouly clear or uncommonly foggy, belong likewise to this class. The errors we are led into in acquured perception are very rarely hurtful to us in the conduct of life ; they are gradually cor- rected by a more enkrged experience, and a more perfect knowledge of the laws of Nature : and the general laws of our con- stitution, by which we are sometimes led Into them, are of the greatest utility. We come into the world ignorant of everything, and by our ignorance exposed to many dangers and to many mistakes. The regular train of causes and effects, which divine wisdom has established, and which directs every step of our conduct in advanced life, is uuknown, until it is gradually dis- covered by experience. [297] We nmst learn much from experience before we can reason, and therefore must be liable to many errors. Indeed, I apprehend, that, iu the first part of life, reason would do us much more hurt than good. Were we sensible of our condition m that period, and capable of reflecting upon it, we snould be like a man in the dark, surrounded with dangers, where every step he takes may be into a pit. Reason would direct him to sit down, and wait till he could see about him. In like manner, if we suppose an infant endowed with reason, it would direct him to do nothing, till he knew what could be done with safety. This he can only know by experiment, and experiments are danger- ous. Reason directs, that experiments that are full of danger should not be made with- out a very urgent cause. It would there- fore make the infant unhappy, and hinder his improvement by experience. Nature has followed another plan. The child, unapprehensive of danger, is led by instinct to exert all his active powers, to try everything without the cautious admo- nitions of reason, and to believe everything that is told him. Sometimes he suffers by his rashness what reason would have pre- vented r but his sufll'ering proves a salutary discipline, and makes him for the future avoid the cause of it. Sometimes he is imposed upon by his credulity ; but it is of infinite benefit to him upon the whole. His activity and credulity are more useful qua- lities and better instructors than reason would be ; they teach him more in a day than reason would do in a year ; they furnish a stock of materials for reason to work upon ; they make him easy and happy in a period of his existence when reason could only serve to suggest a thousand tormenting anxieties and fears : and he acts agreeably to the constitution and intention of nature even when he does and believes what reason would not justify. So that the wisdom and goodness of the Author of uature is no less conspicuous in withholding the exercise of our reason in this period, than iu bestowing it when we are ripe for it. [298] A third class of errors, ascribed to the fallacy of the senses, proceeds from igno- rance of the laws of nature. The laws of nature (I mean not moral but physical laws) are learned, either from our own experience, or the experience of others, who have had occasion to observe the course of nature. Ignorance of those laws, or inattention to them, is apt to occasion false judgments with regard to the objects of sense, especial- ly those of hearing and of sight ; which false judgments are often, without good reason, called fallacies of sense. Sounds affect the ear diflerently, accord- ing as the sounding body is before or behind us, on the right hand or on the left, near or at a great distance. We learn, by the manner in which the sound affects the ear, on what hand we are to look for the sound- ing body ; and in most cases we judge right. But we are sometimes deceived by echoes, or by whispering galleries, or speaking trumpets, which return the sound, or alter its direction, or convey it to a distance with- out diminution. The deception is stiU greater, because 2 ON THE INTELLECTOAL POWEES. LlSSAT II. CHAP. xHi.] OF THE FALLACY OF THE SENSES. 329 wmn niieoiiiiiMiii wUei it mM to te pro- diieed lij OwtrilfMiiisto^iliat' is, fmamm who have acqiiifed the «rt «l nMwifjiiif lliiir voiise,.s0 that it ihai.aiiMst>tiM'i!«riil'th« 'Wsen,. at .if it fsaiM^ Itam. amthor ]itiw% OT' fwn the eloads,. mimm 'iniler Him narii. I never hacl. tto fortmie to be aaiuiiateil. with any of these artisls, m»A therefon caii:- aot isaj to what 4egm» iif feifeetinii tho^art may have hren carriecL I apprehend it to he only such aa im- perfect imitation as may deceive those who^ are inattentive, or undar a paie. For, .if it could hfi' caifM to piifMitMii^. a Chstiilo-' f nist 'wonid he at: daii||(«iiis a 'inaa. :iii so-^ eiety aa was. the shepherd Gyges.,* who, hy turning a riD|; upon his finger, could make heing the Mug*! shqilieHl, iMcanM' Kiag of' Lydia. [2M} If the Oastriloquists lave all been too irood men to use their talent to the detri- ment ^fotben,. it might at least beoicpeeled that some of them should apply it to thev own advantage. If it could be brought to any con»iderable degree of perfection, it ieems to bo ai'imper an engiue for draw- ing money by m exhibition 'Of it, as leger^- demain or rope-dancing. But I have never heard of any exhibition of this kind, and therefore am apt to think that it is too coarse an .imitation to bear exhibition, even, to tbe vulgar. Some arC' said to have the art' at imitat- ing the voice of another bo exactly that in the dark they might be taken for the peftou wbose voice they imitate. I am apt to think tbat this .art also, in the relations made of it, is magnified beyond the truth, as wonderful relations are apt to be, and that .an .attentive ear would bO' able to distinguish tbe copy from the otig inai It IS' indeed, a wonderflil instance of the aecuriey aa well as of the truth of our senses, in. thin.gB that .are of .real uae in. life, that we are able to dislin.guish. aU our' mqfimimm %j their countenance, by 'their voice, .and. hy their handwriting, when, al tbe same lime, we are often unable to say by what minute difference tbe 'distinction, .ia'. :made .{ .and that we are so very lanly deceit id. in. matters of this Jdnd, when we give proper attention to the informations of sense. However, if any case' should ^happen, in which sounds produced by diflbrent causes .are not distiuguishable' hy tbe ear, this may prove that our senses are imperfect, but not that they are falkcious. The ear may not be abb to draw tbe just conduaion, hut .it ;is only our ignoranw of the laws of sound 'that leads, us to .a wrong conclusion.. 13(10] Deception of right, «««»g fcom igno- • Sw C'iecro, Be (MeMi. The iiorf toli '111 ' Hfio.' -^-~"li.dift»iit— ML lanee of the laws of nature^ are more numer^ ous and more remarkable than those ot The .nyS' of light,, wbieh are 'the means of seiiiii^, paa in 'light lines from the object to tie eye, when they meet with no obstruc- tion ; and we are by nature led to conceive tbe visible ebject to be in the direction of tlM'im|a that comO' to the eye. But the i^ya may b« :ieiaeted, refracted, or inflected in their passage from the object to the eye, according to certain fixed laws of nature, by wbicb moani their' direction may be ehanged, and consequently the apparent place, figuK, or mjignitndo' of the object. Thua, a child seeing himself in a mirroi^ thinks he sees another child behind the .m.irror, that imitatea M Mm motions. But even, a chid soon gets 'the 'better of 'this de- ception, and knows that he sees himself only. All the deceptions made by telescopes, m.icroscopee, camera obseuras, magic lan- thoms, are' of the same kind, tlioiigh not so familiar to the vulgar. The ignorant may be deceived by them ; but to those who are acfuainted with the priMsifiles of optics, they fifej'uat' and tmeinlwiMttion.; and the laws 'Ol' nature by 'whiob they are produced, are of infinite benefit to m:ankiad» There remains another chiis of errors, commonly called deceptions of sense, anil the only one, .as I ap|irehend, to which that name can he given 'Wilh propriety : I mean such as proceed from some disorder or pre* temataiml state, either of the external organ or of the nerves and brain, which are in- ternal organs of peieeiition. In a delirium or m madness, perception, memory, imagination, and our reasoning powers, are strangely 'disofdiM and con- founded. There ate liksnisedisiirderS' which afi^ect 'Some of our senses, while others arO' sound. Thus, a man may feel pain in his toes after the leg is cut on. He may feel a little 'hail double by crossing hisfingen. [30 1 ] .He may 'see an object double, by not direct- both eyes proprly to it. By pressing the ball of his eye, he may see colours that ar« .not' real By the jaundice in his eyes, be 'mistake' eolonrs. TheeO' are moro' I'v 'deeflotiona 'Of sense than an.v of the before mentioned. We must acknowledge it to be the lot of human natufe, that all. the .hnman faeul^tiea .ace liable, hv accidental 'Causes, to he hurt and unittel for their natural functions, either wholly or in part : but as this hnper- fection is common to them all, it gives no luai iMMind for aceounting any of them. Upon the whole, it seems to have been a common error of philosophers to account the' senses laUaimis. And to this error they have added annt]ie.r— tbat one use of reiaon is to 'detect 'tho idlaaies of sense. [89t-30l] It appears, I think, from what has been ad, that there is no more reason to account ©ur senses fallacious, than our reason, our memory, or any other faculty of judging which nature hath given us. They are all limited and imperfect ; but wisely suited to the present condition of man. We are liable to error and wrong judgment hi the use of them all ; but as little in the inform- ations of sense as in the deductions of reasoning. And the errors we fall into with regard to objects of sense are not corrected by reason, but by more accurate attention to the informations we may receive by our senses themselves. Perhaps the pride of philosophers may have given occasion to this error. Reason is the faculty wherein they assume a supe- riority to the unlearned. The informations of sense are common to the philosopher and to the most illiterate : they put all men upon a level ; and therefore are apt to be undervalued. We must, however, be be- holden to the informations of sense for the greatest and most interesting pact of our knowledge. [-302] The wisdom of nature has made the most useful things most com- mon, and they ought not to be despised on that account. Nature likewise forces our belief in those informations, and all the attempts of philosophy to weaken it are fruitless and vain. I add only one observation to what has been said upon this subject. It is, that thei e seems to be a contradiction between what philosophers teach concerning ideas, and their doctrine of the fallaciousness of the senses. We are taught that the ofhee of the senses is only to give us the ideas of external objects. If this be so, there can be no fallacy in the senses. Ideas can neither be true nor false. If the senses testify nothing, they cannot give false testi- mony. If they are not judging faculties, no judgment can be imputed to tliem, whether false or true. There is, therefore, a contra- diction between the common doctrine con- cerning ideas and that of the fallaciousness of the senses. Both may be false, as I believe they are, but both cannot be true. [303] ESSAY ML OF MEMORY.. CHAPTER L T«INGS OBVIOUS ANO CERTAIN WITH REGARD TO MEMORV. In the gradual progress of man, from infancy to maturity, there is a certain order in which his faculties are unfolded, and this seems to be the best order we can follow in treating of them. The external senses appear first; me- mory soon follows — which we are now to consider. It is by memory that we have an imme- diate knowledge of things past.* The senses give us information of things only as they exist in the present moment ; and this information, if it were not preserved by memory, would vanish instantly, and leave us as ignorant as if it had never been. Memory must have an object. Every man who remembers must remember sonie- thing, and that which he remembers is called the object of his remembrance. In this, memory agrees with perception, but differs from sensation, which has no object but the feeling itself.* [304] Every man can distinguish the thing re- membered from the reniemlirance of it. We may remember anything which we have seen, or heard, or known, or done, or suf- fered ; but the remembrance of it is a par- ticular act of the mind which now exists, and of which we are conscious. To con- found these two is an absurdity, which a tlunking man could not be ltd into, but by some false hypothesis which hinders him from reflecting upon the thing which he would explain by it. In memory we do not find such a train of operations connected by our constitution as in perception. When we perceive an ol)ject by our senses, there is, first, some impression made by the object upon tlie organ of sense, either inmiediately, or by means of some medium. By this, an im- • An ^mfn«(fMif wi- have of the leal * " " ilf, for it 18 non- I ohiect in numory ? On Hcid's «rr<»r, touching the I nItWt nf memorv. sec. in Bcni rai, Noti- h.— II. what is past cannot It known in itself, existent.— H. object of memory, see, in gem rai. £302-304] /. 9. S40 ON THE INTILLECTUAL POWEES. [essay III ,„^. h "^^^ vpoB tiw' wEKfm wii linio» in mig«|iiiMe of which we fed ««nf «»»- tioD ; awl thiliMi»»ii»i li »ttiinded by th»t wkldi w«' laffl ftttipAiii. Thean' npis- tinn «» »o ■ooimicled in our •conslitotiMi, tlwt it m difficult to ii^n them in our «3on- eepttoni, and to »tt«iitii each withontcon- fiModiiiie it 'With th« otheni. But, m mt •pmtiniii III' ■wmmry. w© are free from, thia cmhanaMnMit $ 'ihey are easily^ dwtm- nished from all other acts olth© mmd, and the WMWis which denote them are free ftom .all amhipily. The object: nf memory, or thmg remem- hered, must be something that is past ; as the object of perception and of coosciotB- mim must be .sometliing which is present. What now is,, cannot be an objciit. of memory; neither can that which is past and gone be an object of perception or of eoiiHcioct8.ness» Memory is always accompanied with the belief of that which we remember, as per- ception is accompanied with the belief of that which we perceive, and consdonsnesB with the belief of that whereof we ave con- Mwns. PerhapB'imhiltaicy,orinadlBotdor of mind, things remembered may be con- fiineded with those which are merely ima- gined ; hnt in mature years, and in a sound state of 'mind, every man feels that he mnat Wieve what, he distinctly lemembers, though he can give no other leasom of his belief, but that he rememhers tlie thing ■dis- tinctly ; whereas,, when he^mewly iratafhies: n thing ever m distinctly, he has^ no belief ©f it upon that account. t80§| ^ Th.i8'belief, which we have from distmct memory, we account real knowledge, no leKs certain than, if it was grounded on de- iiioiiatration ; no man in his wits calls it in question, of will hear any argument agiiinst it..* The testimony of witnesses m causes ef life and death dcpeniS: upon it, snd aU fhe knowledge of mMiklmd rf 'past events .is built on this foundation. There are cases^ in which a man's me- morv is less d.istin.ct and determinate, and where he is :rea% to allow 'that It may have failed. him.; but this does not in thelewit weaken its credit, when it is perfectly die- lU'Ct* .Memory implies a, 'Conicpiioii ^and belief III past duration. ; for It is hn^poBslble that n man should remember » thing distinctly, without believing some interval of duration, iiio.re or less, to have pasMil between, the time It happened, and,lhe'pmeal>'iBiMiient; and I think, ft is impoasiMO' to :Sh0W 'how wC' could .aei]uire a notion of duration if we 'had lo memory, 'Thmgs remem'bered. 'be 'lUmS' formerly perceived or known. I remember the transit of Venus over the ann in the year 1769. I. must therefore have perceived It at the time it hi^ipened, otherwise I could not now re- member it. Our irst ac<|uaintance with any object of thought cannot be by remem- branee. Memory can only produce a con- iimuieeoff wiewal of a former acquaint- ■neei with. 'thC' thing remembered. Tb© remembrance of a past event is ne- eessarily acoompMiied with the convietion of onr own ewstenee' .at the tune the event bappened. .1 "eaanot remember a thmg thathappned a year ago, without a con- viction as strong as memory can give, that I, the same identical person who now re- member that event, did then exist [SOfiJ What I have hitherto said concerning memory, I consider as principles which ap- pear obvious and certain to every man who will take the pahisto reflect upon the oper- ations of his own mind. They are facts of which every man must judge by what ho feels ; and they admit of no other proof but an appeal to every man's own reflec- (ion, I shall therefore take them for granted k what follows, and shall, first, draw some conclusions from them, and then examine the theories of philoso- phers concerning memory, and concemmg duration, and our personal identity, of which we acquire the knowledge by me- mory. CHAPTER 11. If IMOAY AN OBIGINAL FACULTY. .PimsT, 'I think it appears, that memory is an origima faculty, given us by the Author of our being, of which we can give no account, but that we arc so made. The knowledge which I have of things past, by my memory, seems to me as unac- countable as an immediate knowledge would be of things to come ;* and I can give no reason why I should have the one and not the other, but that such is the will ef niv If alter. I iud in my mind a distinct conception, and a firm belief of a series of past events; but how this is produced I know not I call It memory, but this is only giving a nam© to It— it is not an ac- eount of its causes 1 believe most firmly, what I distmctly remember ; but I can • But tw licliiw, |b. .apt.— U. • An iMNiilisff Inowltdse otmm to come^ » ^™^ 'lA. .lit tie' fcit 'Hole 'iif lilt. I»«ie- B"""*» tilmiilff '■til— ., ■l ifi nin f iif" dnmi'd upon ccr» iftat .iAtilcNM' cCllie %mim, deicf 'iiil.iicJ and the thing that exists, because there is no such necessary agreement ; and there- fore no such agreement can lae perceived either immediately or by a chain of reason- ing. The thing does not exist necessarily, but by the will and power of him that made it ; and there is no contradiction follows from supposing it not to exist. Whence Ithink it follows, that our know- ledge of the existence of our own thoughts, of the existence of all the material objects about us, and of all past contingencies, must be derived, not from a perception of necessary relations or agreements, but from some other source. Our Maker has provided other means for giving us the knowledge of these things— meaife which perfectly answer their end, and produce the effect intended by them. But in what manner they do this, is, I fear, beyond our skill to explain. We know our own thoughts, and the operations of our minds, by a power which we call conscious- ness : but this is only giving a name to this part of our frame. It does not explain its fabric, nor how it produces in us an irre- sistible conviction of its informations. We perceive material objects and their sensible qualities by our senses ; but how they give us this information, and how they produce our belief in it, we know not. We know maiiy past events by memory ; but how it gives this information, I believe, is inex- plicable. It is well known what subtile disputes were held through all the scholastic ages, and are still carried on about the prescience of the Deity. [30!)] Aristotle had taught that there can be no certain foreknowledge of things contingent; and in this he has been very generally followed, upon no other grounds, as I apprehend, but that we can- not conceive how such things should be foreknown, and therefore conclude it to be impossible. Hence has arisen an opposi- tion and supposed inconsistency between divine prescience and human liberty. Some have given up the first in favour of the last, and others have given up the last in order to support the first. It is remarkable that these disputants have never appreliended that there is any difficulty in reconciling with liberty the knowledge of what is past, but only of what is future. It is prescience only, and not memory, that is supposed to be hostile to liberty, and hardly reconcileable to it. Yet I believe the difficulty is perfectly equal in the one case and in the other. I admit, that we cannot account for prescience of the actions of a free agent. But I main- tain that we can as little account for me- mory of the past actions of a free agent. If any man thinks he can prove that the actions of a firee agent cannot be foreknown. -«» ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWEEa 342 lis will ind tiM' f#rce to pnve liftt thtpMl ng^nt eAnnol be lemembered.* It is true, tiiil< wImI is pwt did iseitaii%' «3ciik ^ ^ it is iw Urn 'tfiM' tlial' wliat m MiiM' '«ii. mv- tsinlj' «xM. I 'inn w no feMiiiiii«' fimn. tlw eonsttftution of the afieiit, or ittm Mm oir- emnstances, tbat has 'not efual itmigtli, wlMtlwr it be 'an^M. tn liia,pit » te Ms fetvn sietloiis. ''Tlie inst wsa, 'Int now is not Tie ftititre will be, but now is not The present is equally eonneeted or un- eoiioeoted witt htA* Tie on|j rtisoa. why' 'men iave afipre- hended so'gmi dispiftty in eases so per- fectly like, I take to be this, That the faeiilty «f ' memory in onrsekes 'Convinees ns from fact,, that it is not .impoisiito thst an tn- 'tolligent being, ^even a iiiile' beipf ,. should have certain, knowledge' 'Of past aotioiia of free agents,, without tmeing them 'from any* 'thing neeessanly oonneeted 'with them. {311} ] But' having' no prascteiee' in aur- selveS' "Corresponding to 'OOf ' ;Bemoiy' of what is past, we indgreiit difficulty in admitting It to be possible even m the Snpfeme CmAY IIL 6HAP. III.l OF DURATION. 343 A faenlty wh'ieh we 'possess in some de- gree, we easily admit that the Supreme Being may possess in a more perfect degree ; 'hut a faculty which baS' nothing oorre- ■pooding to it in our constltiitioii, we will isnily allow to be possible. We are ao 'Constituted as^ to .hftve^ an intuitive Iraow- lei%e of many thingS' past ; but 'wehave no intuitive knowledge of 'the futm»*f ' We might perhap have been., so 'eonstitntod as^ to have an intuitive kwwU^ of 'the fiitirei hilt not of 'the past i nor wmild this eonsti- tation have been more unacconntahle than the present, 'though it might bC' niich more .Inconvenient Had this 'been, our eonsti- tution, we should have fou.ni no diiliiilty in sdm'itting that the Deity may know' all things future, but very much in admitting Mm knowledp of 'thinp 'that .are 'past 'Our onginal 'iMultieS'are all nmeeonnt- able. Of these nieniofy' is one. .Me only who raadethem, eomprehendsiully iowthey .are made, and how they produce in us not 0B.ly a 'ConeepHou, hut a irm. 'belief and a8su.tsaee' ^of tnings which It eoneens us to know. • Tlilt U a BiarvclliMit doctriiic. Tlie iWkniti is lie two OMM' it Ml tlW' tuiie. The pa$t» m pil« wiMllMf' It .liaa 'bMn, lie'ietion of a free ifcnl or not, fc iwmi f WJM Sitfjg ,|^ and, though veroaf m unable to thMii er if :itaintliniiMM' liiff«iftt no oontiadictifMi.. 'ClDi tie 'Contntf „ 'li«' .Anmrv aetton of a fkt agent it m ImftO^ not a niOMiafff Cfant. Mat an tvcnt caaaol bS' now onlaliilr l^mttm, mmpn. Ic H- mm 'CHtalnif ' tabt t tiid lotaf tial. what !■ eerMtO^ to be .it aot m mm mm to be,, aecnii a cont«adietKm.~ll. f irif Muime iMfiiMiat tamaitelc^ fiadi:* knew. llip»Miiii|MMiil4e4nfilitr«W| l»r wt' can. know ■fMier tie -jMifl iiiir:ilit4A|iii«'hi 'IhcmttlvM, 'iui 'Mlf In. lit fminil— liat H 'SMHialaiy^i-ll. i^th' a i>f*'i? o 'T r v %jm'MjrllitK .lit. or nUBATION. From the principles kid down in the first chi^ptor of this nsay, I thmk Itappears thai our notion, of dnnw nitude and prapoitlons 'Of'ifw various Inter* 'vals of duration, 'we'ind .itnfltessaiyto give a name 'to some known 'portion of it, such as an. hour, a 'd^y, a year. These 'we mn-' sider aa Biills, and, by tie number of them eentainei In » larger 'intarval, «u form a distinct oonceptten of ito magnitniie. [312 ] A.sfaillar'empedientwe'fiml''neeisiaiy"togive us a distinct conception of the magnitudes and proportions of things extended. Thus, number is found necessary, as a common measure of extension and duration. But this perhaps is owing to the weakness of our nnderstandbg. It has even been disco- vered, by the sagacity of mathematicians, that this expedient does not in all cases answer its intention. For there are pro- portions of continued quantity, which can- not be perfectly expressed by numbers; such as that between the diagonal and side of a square, and many others. The parts of duration have to other parts of it the relations of prior and posterior, and to the present they have the relations of past and future. The notion of past is Immediately suggested by memory, as has been before observed. And when we have got the notions of present and past, and of prior and posterior, we can from these frame a notion of the future ; for the future Is that which is posterior to the present. Nearness and distance are relations equally applicable to time and to place. Distance in time, and distance in place, are things so difierent in their nature and so like in their reiition, that it is difficult to determine whether the name of distance is applied to both m the same, or an analogical sense. The extension of bodies which we per- ceive by our senses, leads us necessarily to the conception and belief of a space which remains immoveable when the body is re- moved. And the duration of events which we remember leads us necessarily to the conception and belief of a duration which would have gone on uniformly though the event had never happened. • Without space there can be nothing that is extended. And without time there can be nothing that hath duration. This I think undeniable ; and yet we find that ex- tension and duration are not more clear and intelligible than space and time are dark and difficult objects of contemplation. [313] As there must be space wherever any- thing extended does or can exist, and time • Rililiint.ap|iafwnt]f main Jfmt m ainiiliiial. [310-3183 • If Awce and Time he neemmtfiffeneralizations titm CKperience, ihii i« contrary to Reid's own doc- tiine, that experience can give us no neccssarp know. Mge. If, again, they be necessary- and original nmom. the account of their origin here given, is In- correct It-should have been Mid that experience is not the source of their existence, but only the occa. mon of their manifestation. On thU subject, see, mstar omnium. Cousin on Locke, inh'« "Cou" de Philosophic," (t ii.. Lemons 17 and.l&) This admirable work has been well translated into hng. Ilsh,b7an American, philosopher, Mr Henry; but the eloquence and precision of the author can onlv be properly appreciated by those who study the work In the original language The reader may. however, consult likewise Stewart's " Philosophical Isjsaya" (Essay it, -chap. «.)^nd Royar Coflard's *• Frag, meots/' (ix. and x.) These authon, from their mo'e limited acquaintance with the speculations of the Oer. ■nan phUosophers, are,, however, las on a level with the problem.->H. [313, 314] when there is or can be anything that has duration, we can set no bounds to either, even in our imagination. They defy all limitation. The one swells in our concep- tion to immensity, the other to eternity. An eternity past is an object which we cannot comprehend; but a beginning of time, unless we take it in a figurative sense, is a contradiction. By a common figure of speech, we give the name of time to those motions and revolutions by which we mea- sure it, such as days and years. We can conceive a beginning of these sensible mea- sures of time, and say that there was a time when they were not, a time undistinguished by any motion or change ; but to say that there was a time before all time, is a con- tradiction. All limited duration is comprehended in time, and all limited extension in space. These, in their capacious womb, contain all finite existences, but are contained by none. Created things have their particular place m space, and their particular place in time ; but time is everywhere, and spaceat all times. They embrace each the other, and have that mysterious union which the schoolmen con- ceived between soul and body. The whole of each is in every part of the other. We are at a loss to what category or class of things we ought to refer them. They are not beings, but rather the receptacles of every created being, without which it could not have had the possibility of exist- ence. Philosophers have endeavoured to reduce all the objects of human thought to these three classes, of substances, modes, and relations. To which of them shall we refer time, space, and number, the most common objects of thought ? [314] Sir Isaac Newton thought that the Deity, by existing everywhere and at all times, constitutes time and space, immensity and eternity. This probably suggested to his great friend, Dr Clarke, what he calls the argument a priori for the existence of an immense and eternal Being. Space and time, he thought, are only abstract or par- tial conceptions of an immensity and eter- nity which forces itself upon our belief. And as immensity and eternity are not substances, they must be the attributes of a Being who is necessarily immense and eternal. These are the speculations of men of superior genius. But whether they be as solid as they are sublime, or whether they be the wanderings of imagination in a region beyond the limits of huinan under- standing, I am unable to determine. The schoolmen made eternity to be a nunc stam—ih&t is, a moment of time that stands still. This was to put a spoke into the wheel of time, and might give satisfac- tion to those who are to be satisfied by words without meaning. But I can aa !t1 •III' I i ninju Hl IIJ'I tFWU ON THE INTELLECTUAL FOWlEa [■HAT III' CHAP. IV.3 OF IDENTITY. 346 mmfy hfMtm » cifcte to 1m » nqiwn at time to t^bxd atiii Suiili 'pumiifixai md mmm if I ■""•J «> cal ilwn, 'OiMi mm iiimiliiiitarily M iato vim tlMiy mmm rnhut 'time •»*■ 'Bp««i uii •ttcniyt to flmniiteiwiid tlwir nalure. They are probaMy iMngB of wliieli ti© Im- Buiii fMulties give u. iniierfeel and .famle- 4|«ite' «i»s«ft£ii» Hews® MBoMm ariie 'wikli we in 'mM. .aHaiitfl to' mmsmm, and ionto whicli we are unable to resolve. PefbaiNi noroo' faculty which, we jwiniia no^ m neemnaiy to^ lemove the 'darfoieii. wliush hann mm them, .ani. matai. m m apt to ImwiierMimivaiwheii 'WO' :niiMiii aMwt them. CHA,PTBR IV. OP IDIKTITY. i|ueBtato|''iittt 'BafpMM' il to he hi» do- Tmb. oonvieiion. whkh every man 'haa of his Identity, aa far haelc as his memory reaches, needs no aid of phiosophy to strengthen it ; and no phUoeophy can weaken it, without £rst 'piodiMsing some degvee. of insanity. The philosopher, however, may very properly consider this conviction as a phf^ noaenon of human natiun worthy of hii attention. If he can discover ita^ cttiie^ an. addition is made to his stock of knowledge. If not, it must he held as a part of our ori- ginal constitution, or an. effect of that con- stitution produced ui a manner 'unknown to us. We may observe, first of all, that this con- viction is indispensably necessary to all ex- ercise' of reason. The openttiiBa of reason, whether in aotifin or in specnhition, are made up of :SUCflCtBlve 'parts. The antece- dent are the foundation of the consequent, and, without the conviction that^ the' :ante- cedent .have been seen, or done by me, I could have 'no reason to proceed to tlw' con- sec|uent, in any speenlatiofi, or in any active project whatever. There can. be no meniory 'Of wh«t: ia past' without the wnvietiai 'Ihiil we 'existed at the' time vemembetcd.^ 'There' nay he |(Ood arguments to eon.vince me that I existed before' the earliest thing I can 'ronember'; hut to suppose that my memory :reaehfla a 'moment 'Ikrther 'bade than, my beitf and conviction of my ejcistenee^ is a contiadie-' tion. The nmnenl a man Botes thit'cwvietion, aa^ If be had drunk. 'Ihe water' of 'Letht, past< ihhip are done .aways and, in biS' own belief, he then begins to exist [110] Whatever was tbonght, or said, or done, m .mlimied before taat period, may belong to .tsBM' etb^ peraon 1 but he can never' hBpiito 'it to himself, 'Of take any auhse- 'tiit il 'it tviilMit Ihst' we 'mnti have the 'Convietlon 'Of our' own eonthined existonoe and identity, as .soon as we .are capable of thinking or doing anything, on wsconnt of what we have thdught, or don% or sulfered before; thai i% fts soon as we are reasonable ereatmtea. That we may form as distinct a notion as weareahleof thit'^phewmenon of the human mind, it is proper to uonsider what is meant by identity in general, what by our own personal identity, and how we are led into that invincible belief and conviction which every 'man .has of hb 'Own 'Mrsonal identity, m far m his. 'memory reaches. Identity in general, I take to be a rela- tion between a thing which is known to exist at one time, and a thing which is known to have existed at another tim^* If you ask whether they are one and the same, or two different things, every man of common sense understands the meaning of your question perfectly. W.hence we may infer with certainty, that every man of common sense bat a clear and distinct no- tion of identity. If you ask a definition of identity, I con- fess .1 can. gi»o none.; .it is toO' sim.ple a no- twn to .admit of lineal definition. I can say it is a rektion ; but I cannot find words to express the tneoific .difference between this, .ami other rdations, though I am in no danger' of conloundmg it with any other. I can say that diversity is a contrary rela- 'tion, and. 'that similitude and di8si.ra..ilitude are aaelhcr couple of contrary relations, which every nan .easiydistmguishes in Im conception 'liwm. 'Identity .and diversity. 19171 I see evidently that identity suppses an nnintermpted continuance of existence*. That, which 'btlh. eeated to exist, cannot _be 'tho' .same with, 'tliat which afterwards begins to exist ; for this would be to suppose a being to exist after it ceased to exist, and to 'have 'had exittenoe before .it was. produced, whieh are manifest contrad'ustiens. Cou- "thined 'unhiterrupted existence is therefore necessarily implied in identity. Menct we may infer that, identity cannot, in its proper sense, be applied to our pains, o.ur pleaaunt,. 'Our 'thoughts, or any opera- tkin of our minds. The pain felt this day is not the same individual pain whkh 1 felt yesteniay, though they may bO' iilmilar in Hnd and 'degree, and have the same' eanse. The Mine may be said of every feeling and of every opewtion of mind : they are ail • Mentltf ' Is a a thing, and not ^^^^^ ^ ^^ Il III I' -fc mn ,m, jhJV snrcogiiiiioiif m J 'tbtlllttlVMk It ^.'iatiiii'Mnieiiesto ii'Mwiia a 'Hilnf «ff immm m a 'tMat «• Immm 'to •s.iit..st. [SlS-^Ifl tuecessive in their nature, like time itself, no two moments of which can be the same moment. It is otherwise with the parts of absolute space. They always are, and were, and will be the same. So far, I think, we pro- ceed upon clear ground in fixing the notion of identity in general. It is, perhaps, more difficult to ascertain with precision the meaning of Personality; but it is not necessary in the present sub- ject : it is sufficient for our purpose to observe, that all mankind place their per- sonality in something that cannot be divided, or consist of parts. A part of a person is a manifest absurdity. When a man loses his estate, his health, his strength, he is still the same person, and has lost nothing of his personality. If he has a leg or an arm cut off, he is the same person he was before. The amputated member is no part of his person, otherwise it would have a right to a part of his estate, and be liable for a part of his en- gagement8 ; it would be entitled to a share of his merit and demerit — which is manifestly absurd. A person is something indivisible, and is what Leibnitz calls a monad. [318] My personal identity, therefore, implies the continued existence of that indivisible thing which I call myself. Whatever this self may be, it is something which thinks, and deliberates, and resolves, and acts, and suffers. I am not thought, I am not action, I am not feeling; I am something that thinks, and acts, and suffers. My thoughts, and actions, and feelings, change every moment — they have no continued, but a successive existence ; but that self or /, to which they belong, is permanent, and has the tame relation to all the succeeding thoughts, actions, and feelings, which I call mine. Such are the notions that I have of my penonal identity. But perhaps it may be said, this may all be fancy without reality. How do you know ? — what evidence have you, that there is such a permanent self which has a claim to all the thoughts, actions, and feelings, which you call yours ? To this I answer, that the proper evi- dence I have of all this is remembrance. I remember that, twenty years ago, I conversed with such a person ; I remember several things that passed in that conversation; my memory testifies not only that this was done, but that it was done by me who now remember it. If it was done by me, I must have existed at that time, and continued to exist from that time to the present : if the identical person whom I call myself, had net a part in that conversation, my memory is fallacious— it gives a distinct and positive testimony of what is not true. Every man in his senses believes what he distinctly remembers, and everything he remembers [318-320] convinces him that he existed at the time remembered. Although memory gives the most irre- sistible evidence of my being the identical person that did such a thing, at such a time, I may have other good evidence of things which befel me, and which I do not remem- ber: I know who bare me and suckled me, but I do not remember these events. [319] It may here be observed, (though the observation would have been unnecessary if some great philosophers had not contra- dicted it,) that it is not my remembering any action of mine that makes me to be the person who did it. This remembrance makes me to know assuredly that I did it ; but I might have done it though I did not remember it. That relation to me, which is expressed by saying that I did it, would be the same though I had not the least re- membrance of it. To say that my remem- bering that I did such a thing, or, as some choose to express it, my being conscious that I did it, makes me to have done it, appears to me as great an absurdity as it would be to say, that my belief that the world was created made it to be created. When we pass judgment on the identity of other persons besides ourselves, we pro- ceed upon other grounds, and determine from a variety of circumstances, which sometimes produce the firmest assurance, and sometimes leave room for doubt. The identity of persons has often furnished mat- ter of serious litigation before tribunals of justice. But no man of a sound mind ever doubted of his own identity, as far as he distinctly remembered. The identity of a person is a perfect identity ; wherever it is real, it admits of no degrees ; and it is impossible that a person should be in part the same, and in part different ; because a person is a m^»»"** a man alive who then belonged to it. We say .a tree is the :8ame in Ihe aeed-hed and. m. 'the forest A8hipofwar,wWA.haasiis*>eailv^y changed, her anehois, her 'taoU% .hit attla, her masts^'her fhmks, and her tmihei%.'whlii ishe keeps, the same mam% is. Ao same, 'The kemli^, iierofore, whidi. we .ascnhe to hodiifc whrther natural or artificial, is not perfeel^ identity ; it is rather some-^ thing which, for the: coiveaieney of speech, we call identity. It admits 'Of a great diange of the subject, providing the change he gradual, aometimea. even, of a total ihaagp. And the ehanfiB which k com- CHAPTEB V. Iim lOCKl'S ACCOUNT OF TM ORIGIN OP 0U» WBAS, AND PAaTICIH.AELY OP THB IDIA OP nU'RATION. It waS' a very laudable attempt of Mr Locke ** to inquire into the original of those ideas, notions, or whatever you please to call them, which a man observes, and is coiaaions to himself he has m his mind, and the ways whereby the understanding comes to b© furnished with them." N« man was better 0»» 'Loekt, a MNirot of* .lirtori .fenew'liiliWh IM 'daw tarn tilt mmm, mm. - _ ,--- imteli tiw Intellecl Itielf coniaim^H. I, or .« fprldPi' eognitiont [321. mi\ diAP. V.J LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE IDEA OF DURATION. 34? understanding, by any quickness or variety of thought, to invent or frame one new simple idea in the mind, not taken in by the two ways before-mentioned. [323] That, as our power over the material world reaches only to the compounding, dividing, and putting together, in various forms, the matter which God has made, but reaches not to the production or annihilation of a single atom ; so we may compound, com- pare, and abstract the original and simple ideas which Nature has given us ; but are unable to fashion in our understanding any simple idea, not received in by our senses from external objects, or by reflection from the operations of our own mind about them." This account of the origin of all our ideas is adopted by Bishop Berkeley and Mr Hume; but some very ingenious philoso- phers, who have a high esteem of Locke's Essay, are dissatisfied with it. Dr Hutcheson of Glasgow, in his ** In- quiry into the Ideas of Beauty and Virtue," lias endeavoured to shew that these are original and simple ideas, furnished by original powers, which he calls the sense of beauty and the moral sense. Dr Price, in his " Review of the Principal Questions and Difficulties in Morals,'* has observed, very justly, that, if we take the words sensation and rrflection, as Mr Locke has defined them in the beginning of his excellent Essay, it will be impossible to derive some of the most important of our ideas from them ; and that, by the under- standing — that, is by our judging and reason- ing power — we are furnished with many simple and original notions. Mr Locke says that, by reflection, he would be understood to mean " the notice which the mind takes of its own operations, and the manner of them.** This, I think, we commonly call consciousness; from which, indeed, we derive all the notions we have of the operations of our own minds ; and he often speaks of the operations of our own minds, as the only objects of reflection. When reflection is taken in this confined sense, to say that all our ideas are ideas either of sensation or reflection, is to say thai every thing we can conceive is either some object of sense or some operation of our own minds, which is far from being true. [324] But the word reflection is commonly used in a much more extensive sense ; it is ap- plied to many operations of the mind, with more propriety than to that of conscious- ness* We reflect, when we remember, or eal! to mind what is past, and survey it with attention. We reflect, when we define, when we distinguish, when we judge, when we reason, whether about tilings material or intellectual. When reflection is taken m this sense, which is more common, and therefore more proper* than the sense which Mr Locke has put upon it, it may be justly said to be the only source of all our distinct and ac- curate notions of things. For, although our first notions of material things are got by the external senses, and our first notions of tihe operations of our own minds by con- sciousness, these first notions are neither simple nor clear. Our senses and our con- sciousness are continually shifting from one object to another ; their operations are tran- sient and momentary, and leave no distinct notion of their objects, until they are re- called by memory, examined with attention, and compared with other things. This reflection is not one power of the mind ; it comprehends many ; such as re- collection, attention, distinguishing, com- paring, j udging. By these powers our minds are furnished not only with many simple and original notions, but with all our notions, which are accurate and well defined, and which alone are the proper materials of reasoning. Many of these are neither no- tions of the objects of sense, nor of the operations of our own minds, .and therefore neither ideas of sensation, nor of reflection, in the sense that Mr Locke gives to reflec- tion. But, if any one cliooses to call them ideas of reflection, taking the word in the more common and proper sense, I have no objection. [325] Mr Locke seems to me to have used the word reflection sometimes in that limited sense which he has given to it in the defi- nition before mentioned, and sometimes to have fallen unawares into the common sense of the word ; and by this ambiguity his ac- count of the origin of our ideas is darkened and perplexed. Having premised these things in general of Mr Locke's theory of the origin of our ideas or notions, I proceed to some observ- ations on his account of the idea of dura- tion. " Reflection,** he says, " upon the train of ideas, which appear one after another in our minds, is that which furnishes us with the idea of succession ; and the distance between any two parts of that succession, is that we call duration.*' If it be meant that the idea of succession is prior to that of duration, either in time or in the order of nature, this, I think, is impossible, because succession, as Dr Price justly observes, presupposes duration, and can in no sense be prior to it ; and there- * Thia !• not correct ; and the employment of Reflection in another meaninR than that of irirf»0n wMt i«r^the reflex knowledge or consciousncM which the mind has of its own affection»— u wholly a ■econdary and lew proper •ignification. isee Note i. I may ag«n notice, that Reid vacillate* in the mean- ing he givei to the term R^ectim. Compare above^ p. 232, note *, Mid below, under p. 516.— H. %. , „ \ S'lH' ON THE INTELLlCTUAIi POWERS. [bssay lit CHAP, v.l LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE IDEA OF DURATION. 340 ffon it would b© 'miim^ fwiper to 4mhm Hm Mea 0^ suocei^fiii. hma 'that of 'dmstioii* But how do we gplIlM Mm^ ^.mmmdmk. t It .1% .IMS Im| by .liiiiiitinf ■ iipiii'llii^lMlii. nfiiM wliifiii aiiiNwr MIA iiiflraiwflMr^iii #ir unndbh Mdkctieg upon tlio titm of Mmm^ ma Im iiotlikglMtt«iii«»liei«iif:i%»ndfii*»g'i^ tion. to mMk mt mmmiy %tMBm^ mmmm- ing it$ for, 'if we MA not renciiilier It, we eonld not have a thought about it. So that it is evident that th» reieetiiiii 'ineliides^ 'vememh lawse, williiMil vbiffib there' ewiild be' 'BO .Miectlon on what h |>art, and eonwi-' iinently 'no idea of sneeetaion.. [3SI6J It may heie be obeerved, that, if we speak stiicti J and philfMopUea% no Mnd ^of ane- ibn ean. Um olf|eet'«iler ef the nemies or of 'oonseiiitiiineiia ; beomae 'the operations of both are eonined to the present point of time, and there can be no nueeeaeion in a point of time ; and on that .aeownt' the no-' tlon of a body, which isaraeeeailve' «hai|g» of phiee, OTuld not be obeerved by the e«iaet alono' withont the aid of memory. .Aa 'this obeervation seems- to eontmdiet the common :sen8e and 'eonunon. hu^gtiigeof' 'aankinl, when they ^ailnn that they see a body move, and bold motion to be an.objeet of the senses, it is proper to take notice, that this eontiadietion between tlio philoeopher and the vulgar is .appaieiit only , 'trnM not real. It ar£n from lUi, ilftt'^ll^ Md the vnlpir' differ k the meaning they put upon what is called, the' prmeni time, and are thereby M. to mkO'a different limit between, sense and nemoiy. PhiiMnpbefs 'fivo' 'thO' 'name of the prf. unt to that indivisible point of time, which divides the future from the past : but the vuloar ilud it more convenient in the aflkin of life, to give the 'name of prmmi to a por- tion of time, which extends more or less, aeeordiuf tO' circumstances, into the past or the future. Hence we say, the pmenl hour, the present year, the present contniy, 'tbongh one point ooIt 'Of these peffioda> can be present in the phuoaeiihiflal aen^se. It has been observed by grammarians, that the pieient tenso' in verbs m noti con-' ined. tO' an. indivisible 'potnt of thn% 'bnt is ■o far' esetended. as 'tO' have a bi^iiiiiilng, a 'middle, and an end; and that, .in the most oopioQs and .aecurate brngumfesi these dif*' 'leieiit partS'Of ibe';pMaiMl'.«»edistingni8hed by different limns 'Of the^ irerb. As the purposes of conversation make It convenient to extend 'whal is^ called the pre- sent, the SHie reason leads nun 'tO; osteiri. Ibe piovlnee of sense, and 'to^. eany ^ .Iniil musiR 'e"iii|pa. suwpbwbp^wi'' mi^v w^m^^^wf^^ ^wwpeijai^w ww^^p B)#^eih^iip^^^#^iw^pw li^f' ^nw'^^^'^'i^ m man m^ say, I saw snch a 'person Inst now : it inrald^ be^ ridieilons to find 4ult with this^ wmy of tpeiking.. 'beewaO' it' ii neaning. [3127] But, if we speak philoso- phically, the senssO' do not testiff 'what wo saw,, but only whpl 'we see ; 'wb«|. I saw .iMt' moment I consider as the testimony of sense, though it is now only the testimony of memory. There is no necessity in. common life of dividing accumtely tbe provinces of sense and of memory t and, therefore, we assign to sense, not an indivisible point of time, but that small portion of time which we call the present, which has a beginning, a middle, and an end. 'Hence, it is easy to .see that, though. In com.inon hmgnage, we speak with perfect propriety and truth, when we say that we iseo' a body move, .and thnt ;inotion is an ob- ject 'Of sensei. yet 'when, m 'philosophers,, we distinguish accurately the province of sense from tliat of memory, 'we can. no more see what h past, thongb but a moment ago, than 'we can remember what is present ; so that, speaking philosophie»lly, it is only by the aid of memory that we discern motion, or any snceetision 'whntsoover. We see the 'present 'phwe 'Of the body^^ ; we remember 'tbo' necesske advance Ik made to th.at nhMSO' t 'the first can then only give us m^ inception of motion when joined to the kst. Having eonsideied the account given by Mr Locke, of the .idea of succession, we shall next consider how, from the idea of successkm, he derives the idea of duration. '* The distance,** he says, " between any partS' of that soceesswn, or between, the appearance of any two idi«B< in. our minds, is that we call dnitttion.** To conceive thk the more distinctly, let us call the distance between an idea and that which imm.ediately auceeeds it, one ele- 'ment of duration ; the distance between an idea, and the second that succeeds it, two elements, and so on : if ten snch elements make dnrttioni. then one must make dura^ tloB|. otherwiioJiiNitionmust 'be made up of 'P«rti 'that have no 'duration, which is im'- possible. [328] For, suppose a succession of as many 'ideas as you please, if none of these ideas :iiave duration, nor .any interval of duration be between one and another, then it is perfectly evident there can be no interval of duration between the first and the last, bow gptt .soever theur ..number be. I con* ^einile, theiefovo, 'that' there must be dura- tion in. 'Ovenr .sistio interval or element of which the whole duration is made up. MotiiiM ittdOed|.ismoreeertahi, than that iivofj 'Slanisnliiy pnrt 'Of duration must imvo dnntloiii m mmj 'Olementaiy part of Now, it must be observed that, in these ielenmits of dnnitioii,.or ^singlo ;intorvsls of successive 'Ideas, there iS' bo iniMeision of ideas ; yet wtaoit eoneetvo them to have [32«-SS8] duration ; whence we may conclude with certainty, that there is a conception of du- ration, where there is no succession of ideas in the mind. We may measure duration by the suc- eession of thoughts m the mind, as we mea- sure length by inches or feet ; but the notion or idea of duration must be antecedent to the mensuration of it, as the notion of length is antecedent to its being measured. Mr Locke draws some conclusions from his account of the idea of duration, which may serve as a touchstone to discover how far it is genuine. One is, that, if it were possible for a waking man to keep only one idea in his mind without variation, or the succession of others, he would have no per- ception of duration at all ; and the moment he began to have this idea, would seem to have no distance from the moment he ceased to have it. Now, that one idea should seem to liave no duration, and that amultiplication of that no duration should seem to have duration, appears to me j»s impossible as that the multiplication of nothing should produce something. [329] Another conclusion which the author draws from this theory is, that the stime period of duration appears long to us wlien the succession of ideas in our mind is quick, and short when the succession is slow. There can be no doubt but the same length of duration appears in some circum- stances much longer than in others ; the tune appears lon^ when a man is impatient under any pain or distress, or when he is eager in the expectation of some happiness. On the other hand, when he is pleased and liappy in agreeable conversation, or delighted with a variety of agreeable objects that strike his senses or his imagination, tune Hies away, and appears short. According to Mr Locke's theory, in the first of these cases, the succession of ideas is very quick, and m the last very slow. I am rather inclined to think that the very contrary is the truth. When a man is racked with pain, or with expectation, he can hardly think of anything but his distress ; and the more his mind is occupied by that sole object, the longer the time appears. On the other hand, when he is entertained with cheerful music, with lively conversa- tion, and brisk sallies of wit, there seems to be the quickest succession of ideas, but the time appears shortest. I have heard a military officer, a man of candour and observation, say, that the time he was engaged in hot action alwaya ap- peared to him much shorter than it really was. Yet I think it cannot be supposed that the succession of ideas was then slower than usual. * * In travelling, tbe tiine«eeiiii lerjrihon while [;329, 330] If the idea of duration were got merely by the succession of ideas in our minds, that succession must, to ourselves, appear equally quick at all times, because the only measure of duration is the number of suc- ceeding ideas ; but I believe every man capable of reflection will be sensible, that at one time his thoughts come slowly and heavily, and at another time have a much quicker and livelier motion. [330] I know of no ideas or notions that have a better claim to be accounted simple and original than those of Space and Time. It is essential both to space and time to be made up of parts ; but every part is similar to the whole, and of the same nature. Dif- ferent parts of space, as it has three dimen- sions, may differ both in figure and in mag- nitude ; but time having only one dunen- sion, its parts can differ only in magnitude ; and, as it is one of the simplest objects of thought, the conception of it must be purely the effect of our constitution, and given us by some original power of the mind. The sense of seeing, by itself, gives us the conception and belief qf only two dimen- sions of extension, but the sense of touch discovers three ; and reason, from the con- templation of finite extend* d things, leads us necessarily to the belief of an immensity that contains them.* In like manner, me- mory gives us the conception and belief of finite intervals of duration. From the con- templation of these, reason leads us neces- sarily to the belief of an eternity, which comprehends all things that have a begin- ning and end.* Our conceptions, both of space and time, are probably partial and inadequatCj-f and, therefore, we are apt to lose ourselves, and to be embarrassed in our reasonings about them. Our understanding is no less puzzled when we consider the miimtest parts of time and space than when we consider the whole. We are forced to acknowledge that in their nature they are divisible with- out end or limit ; but there are limits be- yond which our faculties can divide neither the one nor the other. It may be determined by experiment, what is the least angle under which an object may be discerned by the eye, and what is the least interval of duration that may be discerned by the ear. I believe these may be different in diflerent persons : But surely there is a limit which no man can exceed: and what our faculties can no longer divide is still divisible in it- passing J wery long in retrospect. The cause is ob- vious.— H. * See above, p. 343, note ♦.— H. t They are not probably but nerestarilp r«'tla' and inadequaie. For we are unable positively tt conceive 1 ime or Space, either as infinite, (f. «., without limiU,} or a» not infinite (t. e., aft limited.) — H. 'SMI ON THE INTELLBCT0AL POWERS. [essay 111. ■elf, and, by lieiigs of iupriir 'pilMlitii,: nny be divicbd into tluiiwyids of' — "" I ham namm to believe,. Hiai m .gooi ep in the prime of life imy see an objeet iinctor w .anpe' nol exieedipg half a mliiiite of a d^giee^and I beliefe tleie' are some bumaii 9ym still more perfect, But even this de- gree of perfectioii will appear creal, if we consider bow amall a part of tbe retina of tbe eje it must be^ whieb aibteiids an angle -^ ■■■_ t# Mm * t... 'Off .lali a minute. Supposing tbe distance between the centre of the eje and tbe retina to be lix or seven lentils of an inch, the subtense of an angle 'Of' Uf a miniite to 'tliat' radius, or 'the breadth of tbe image of an object seen under that angle, will not be above tbe ten thou- sandth part of an Ineb. This shews such a 'wondetliil degree of ^aoouraev in. tbe^ re- fiaeting power ^of a good eye, iiat a pendl. of lajs comtng from one point of the object ■ball meet In one point of the retina, so as not tO' deviate from. 'that, point the ten thousandth part of -am. .ineb. It shews, likewise, 'that such a nuitai. of an object, as makes its image on tbe retina to move the t.nth«»«u«hr,«tof» i«h. Udi^em- iUe by the mind. In order tO' judlge to. what dc|pree of ae- 'Cnraey we can 'measure short, intervals of tune, it may be observed that one who has given attention to the motion of a Second pendulum, 'wil bO' ^ablO' to beat seconds for a minutO' witk. a 'very small error. When be continues this exercise long, as for five or ten minutes, be is apt te err, more even than in proportion to the time^for this .reason, as' I a|^rehend, thai it is difficult to attend long to the momenta as they pass, 'Without wandering alter some other object of thought I have found, by .Kune experiments, that .a man. may beat seeonda for one minute, without erring above one second in. the whole .sixty ; and I doubt not 'but by .long practice he mkbt do .It slOl more accurately. From this I thhik .it lullows, that the six- tieth part of a second of time is dlBoemible bv tbo' human, mind. [332] CH,4rrE» VI. OF ME LOCKB^S ICCOUN'T OP OUE. PaBiOII'1.1.' inSMTITY. In a long chapter upon Identity and .Diversity, Mr Locke has made many in- geaious and just obse'rvationa, and some 'Which I think, cannot be 'def«iidi«L I shall only take muMm of tbe .aeeonni 'be nvea of our own FmrMmmi i^tmti^ Hto loetrlne upon this flubfeet has been censured by Bisbop .Butter, in a short essay suMoined 'to his ^ Jkxukigfi* 'With whose .sentiments I perfectly agtve. Identity, as was observed. Chap. I¥. at this Essay, sopposcB the continued existence of tbe being' of which it is affinatd, and therefore can be ap^M only to th.inga 'wbich have a eonthiued existence.. WbilO' any being continues to exist, it is the same being : but two beings which have a different he- gittniug or a different 'ending of their exist- 'Cnee^, cannot' 'possiUy bO' 'the name. To this I think Mr Locke agrees. He observes, very justly, that to know what Is meant by the same person, we must consider what the word p§rmm stands for ; and., 'be deines .a person to be an intelligent being, endowed with reason and with con- sciousness, which kst he thinks inseparable tern thought 9nm this definition of a person, it m.ust necessarily follow, that, while tbe intelligent being continues to exist and to be intelli- gent, it must be tbe same person. To say that tbe iutelligent being is the person, and yet that the person ceases to exist, while the intoUigent being continues, or that the person continues while the intelligent bemg ceases to exist, is to my apprehension a One would think 'that the definition of' a person should perfectly ascertain tbe nature of personal identity, or wherein it consist8| though it might still bC' a f uestion how we come to know and 'he aSBuied 'Of our per^ sonal identity. Mr Locke tells us, however, " that per- 'Sonal identity— that is, the sameness of a ....rational, being— consisto in fiopiclQUpasB .alone, and, .as far as this coneeiousness can be extended backwards to any past action or thought, so far reaches the identity of that nenon So that, whatever hath tbe conselouaneHS' of present and 'past actions, is the same person to whom they belong/'* * See Etmp, (Book ti. ch. S7, $. 9.) The pnisage Cm at » ouotaton in the .text, it the •um of ke'l ioccrlne, but iiiiC.a.iurtly tn .hti wondti Loof bdbfft 'Butltr, to whom llie mtrlt liuiuaip afartlM," L ckifi doctriiM* of P«»m>iiiil Ideiitilf h»A been altsi kco ami refitted, lliii was done ct en by hit tatlMt. "Cff'ltk, John Sergeii.nt.. wtmm wm4t$ m he iijHi aiitlior whullf Uilkllliliiiloall blttorian»of phi. Umfltif, and hit MNta of the rarctt, I shall quote. .Me tlmtargiiet t— «* llie fornier dtiilnellMi Ibrelaid, llt(.L(icke}pt«cMdi lontakepcrwMMil'iiMi^'iaiiMm i»mmltimB$' mmdmmmr tkai wt mm m mm* mtMm m^ la ilprml. ^mm m4 fimm. He ptet •§ it, ^b eraoie c otitci otniMii it imeiwiraM e Jmm rerhii|M 'te 'ii^iwre kad tamnd thouitlitii. since he writ kM I9l.il ClMftarg «.|iti«>| 4,_he thmiilil it aiiW Vi^l|PliaaffS^Si HiPuStlSllw mP' iHM'ffiNUiHIIillWilHBji W^' ^pfflPw 'wiiHp'^p i^www— *'##J' IP'vffVP' PWIWH' •"ff"^*' 'I'll i'M'"M—*ii4 M.' iii> ' anv tn MMilve. 'wMlMiii. neieiivluK that he doca penstlfe,*' vlitch I baf c ihevn above to tie to iir Iron Impo-tiblei that the coiitiair|' it MKh. ■.jt, to speak to the point : Coutciouiiiesa of anf aetbo m ^oilier .aoe'ldaut «• liave imnv, «t 'liave bad. is'Doibtat but ear kWHiiidge thai, it btioafiid tn ut ; .and, .tfnce 'we 'boi.b ^"pwe tbat ve .haw itO'timiais kmowMgef, tt iiliciwi, 'Ibai alt,lioth aettial^ .simI babl. tual kiM«lei|fct» nh'ich we have, ar«.ae«|al*ed.orae. r»i^33jn CHAF. VI.] LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF OUR PERSONAL IDENTITY. 351 This doctrine hath some strange conse- quences, which the author was aware of, Such as, that, if the same consciousness can be tran^erred from one intelligent being to another, which he thinks we cannot shew to be impossible, then two or twenty intel- ligent beings may be the same person. And if the intelligent being may lose the con- sciousness of the actions done by him, which surely is possible, then ho is not the person that did those actions ; so that one intelli- gent being may be two or twenty different persons, if he shall so often lose the con- sciousness of his former' actions. There is another consequence of this doctrine, which follows no less necessarily, though Mr Locke probably did not see it. It is, that a man may be, and at the same tune not be, the person that did a particular action. Suppose a brave officer to have been logged when a boy at school, for robbing an orchard, to have taken a standard from the enemy in his first campaign, and to have been made a general in advanced life : Sup- pose also, which must be admitted to be possible, that, when he took the standard, ' cidental to the subject or knower. Wherxfbre^^lhe maUf or that thing u-hich is to be the knower, must have had indtviducdity or personcdity, from other principles t antecedenUy to- this knowledge, calkd consciousness: and, consequently, he will retain his identity, or continue the same man, or (which -is equivalent) the same person, as long as he has those individuating prrndptes. What those principles are which conttitute this man, or this knowing indivi. duum, I have thewn above, U 6, 7. It being then most evident, that a man must he the same, ere he can know or be conscious that he is the same, all his laborious descants and extravagant consequences which are built u()on this supposition, that conscious, ness individuates the person, can need no farther refbtatiot)." 'I he same objection was also made by I.eibniti in hii strictures on Locke's Essay. Inter alia, >ie says— •• Pour ce qui est du soi il sera bon de le Histinguer de Vapparence du soi et de la consciosite Le soi fait Fidentiti reeUe et physique, et lapparence du soi, accompagn&e de laverite, y joint ridentitepersonelle. Ainsi ne voulant point dire, que I'identitc personellc ne s'etend pas plus loin que le souvenir, jedirois encore moins que le soi ou I'ldentitS physique en depend. L'identite reele et personelleseprouve le plus certain, ment qu'il se.peut en mati^rc de fait, par la reflexion firisente et i mmediate ; elle te prouve Huffisament pour 'ordinaire par notre souvenir d'intervalle ou par le temeigiiage conspirant des autres. Mais si Dieu changeoit extraordinairment I'identite reele, la per. lonelle demeuroit, pourvu que rhomme conserv&t let apparencet d'identite, tant les internes, (c'estH dlfe delacontcience.) que leKpxternes, commecelles qui consistent dans ce qui paroit aux autres. Ainsi la conscience n'est pas ie seul moyen de constituer I'identite per«onelIe, et le rapport d'autrui ou meme d'autresmarqdesypeu vent supplier. Mais ily adela difficulty, s'il te trouve contradiction entre ces diver, •esapparei'ces. La conscience ce peut taire commc dans roubli ; maissi elle disoit bien clairmcnt des chosefl, qui lussent contraires aux autres apparences, on seroit embarass^ dans la deciition et coraroe sus. KndO quelques Tois entre deux (>o86ibilite!i, celle de rreur du notre souvenir et celie de quelque deoep. .Hon dans les apparences externes." ' For the best criticism of Locke's doctrine of Perso- nal Identity. I may, however, refer the reader to M. i Contin't " Qmrs de Fhilosophie," V ii., Lecon xviiL, p.|1»-lfla-H. [334, 3357 he was conscious of his having been flogged at school, and that when'made a general he was conscious of his taking the standard, but had absolutely lost the consciousness ot his flogging. [334] These things being supposed, it follows, from Mr Lockers doctrine, that he who was flogged at school is the same person who took the standard, and that he who took the standard is the same person who was made a general. Whence it follows, if there be any truth in logic, that the general is the same person with him who was flogged at school. But the generars consciousness does not reach so far back as his flogging — therefore, according to Mr Locke's doctrine, he is not the person who was flogged. Therefore, the general is, and at the same time is not the ^me person with him who was flogged at school.* Leaving the consequences of this doctrine to those who have leisure to trace them, we may observe, with regard to the doctrine itself — First, That Mr Locke attributes to con- sciousness the conviction we have of our past actions, as if a man may now be con- scious of what he did twenty years ago. It is impossible to understand the meaning of this, unless by consciousness be meant mjpmoiT, the only faculty by wh ich we have an immediate knowledge of our past actions.^ Sometimes, in popular discourse, a man says he is conscious that he did such a thing:, meaning that he distinctly remembers that he did it. It is unnecessary, in com- mon discourse, to fix accurately the limits between consciousness and memory. This was formerly shewn to be the case with re- gard to sense and memory : and, therefore, distinct remembrance is sometimes called sense, sometimes consciousness, without any inconvenience. But this ought to be avoided in philoso- phy, otherwise we confound the difi*erent powers of the mind, and ascribe to one what really belongs to another. If a man can be conscious of what he did twenty years or twenty minutes ago, there is no use for memory, nor ought we to allow that there is any such faculty. [335] The faculties of consciousness and memory are chiefly dis- tinguished by this, that the first is an im- mediate knowledge of the present, the second an immediate knowledge of the past.J When, therefore, Mr Locke's notion of * Compare Buffier's «• Traitides pr&mieres VMtez," (Rcmarques sur LockCt \ 6(j5,; who makesia similar critici8m.^H. t Locke, it. will be remembered, does not, like field, view contciousness as a co-ordinate faculty with memory ; but under consciousness he properly com- prehends the various faculties at to -many special modifications.— H. ^ As already frequently stated, an immcdials knowledge of the past is .contradictory. This ob- lervation I cannot again repeat. See Note B.— U. 352 ON THE INTBLLICTOAL POWERS. L in* fHiAP.VIl] THEORIES CONCERNING MEMORY. sua IMMml Mmtitf h m^fmmmd, it is m^ ''IMnmiftl. Mmmjf mmdm m dntmol nuMiiilmiiM ; fdv, even in the pupular' .HBie^ tfi say 'Oat I am eenseimis ef a 'iMst^ aetien, mmm untiling else tli^an tliat I dia-' tiiiell J nmemlier "fliat' I dM it StodiKlIf , It maj be observed, that, im this dectrine, net only is 'eonwimanMs^ enn- feunded. with mtnuiiy, 'but, whieli 'is atil 1 1 mm^iilUM^iit.fmmidiiimmjhm^^ ^t 'With 'th«' evMenee «Meb mm Mm m owe i pecBomil identity. It iS' wry true that my maenibiaiiee ^lat I did such m 'tUiig ia^ the^ evidenee I ham that I im thfl'ideiitiiial. fmmm who did it And 'this,. I bb apt tn 'Ihinl,, Mr Loeto Diimnt But, to say that my remenbmnoe that I did such a thing, or my comaaieus-' WMS,, makes^nW' the fsfsen. who did it, .is, in my appnhensioii, an. .abswdlty too^ gross to be entertained by any man who attends to the meaning of it ; for it is to attribute to memory or conseimisness, a strange; nagi^ eal. fower off pwdneinf ita^ object,, thnnch. that oli|eet> 'nnst have existed 'helDiii 'the inemoiy or eonseiousness wbieh prodlieed it Cbnseiousnesa is the testimony of one iiisulty; meBMwyiatbe' 'testimony of mmther faculty. And, u my 'iiat &•' 'testlaoiiy is the cause' of the thing' 'ttiliied, this surely is absurd, if anything be, and could not have been .said by Mr Loche, if he had 'not eonfonnded. the testimony with the 'thing When a horse that was^ itolein fa found and 'Cbimed. by the owner, the only evidence' he can have, or that a jw%e' or 'Witneiiei can have that thIS' h the venr ' idei^lMl'lMiiM' which 'waslis fnmrty, 'is ahiiiitiida. [SMI] But would it not lie ridieuloiis fkom this to kfer that the identity of a hoiae consists^ in .timilitude only ? The only evidanee' I have that I am thO' Identieal faiaon who dMsnch aeiions is, that I 'venemher distinctly I did them.; or, as Mr Locke expresses .it, I am. conscious I did them. To infer from this, that 'personal, ;identity eonsiits .in consoiooa-' nesB,.'is an aignmenl 'wMeh, 'if .it had .any 'force, wouM pravo the identity of m .atoten horse to consist .solely in similitudek Tiiri#%, Is it not .strange that' 'thC'Same- BOM' oT' lidentity of m person, ahmid 'Conaist in a thing 'whieb 'is eonthraally ehanghig, and. h not any two minutes^ the .same f 'Our 'Conseionsness, our memonr, and 'Ovan' opration of 'the mind, are stil. low* Im, liie 'tbo' 'Water 'Of a river,, or lihe 'time itsetf. 'The 'Consciousiiess I have thia moment can no more be the same eonsdMWS* ness I had last nuanent, than tUi iiWMMiit 'Can be the fast moment Idiiitit J iiit miy be .alB.rmed of things which havn a. Mntlnned. eiistence. Consotoaaness, and every kind of thonght, is transient and momentary, and 'has no eoatfanid. 'eaditeiiee; an.d,, th< fore, if personal identity conaiited in con* BciouanesB, it would certainly folow that no man fa th© lam© person any two moments of hfa life I and, as the right and justice of rewaid;. and. Faiishm.ent fa ftmnded on per- aonal. identity, m 'man 'Oould 'he responaihie for hfa actiona But, though I talce thfa to be the una- voldaUe' ^eonsoiinenQe^ 'Of .Mr Looked doc- tihie 'Coneemiiig 'personal identity, .and thoiigh some penens may liave liked the doctrine the better on this account, I am far :llNNn imputing aiiything of thfa Mnd to Mr Locke. He waa toO' good, .a 'man not to have' rejected with abhorrenoe a 'dnetrine which he believed to draw thfa consequence alter it [3371 FmrtMyf There arS' many expressions by .Mr Locke, in :speaMng 'Of 'personal identity, 'which, to me, are altogether unin- tei%ible, unless, we suppose that he con- founded, 'tiiat .sameness or identity which we ascribe to mt 'hidividnal,, with the identity which, fooommoB disoonrse,faoflen"a8erihed to many individuafa of the same species. When we say that pain and pleasure, conseionsneiS' and memory, are the aaBW' m all. men, 'tlifa sameness can only mean 'Shni- 'birity, or sameness of kind ; but, that tho pain of one man can be the same individual pak with that of another man, fa no less impoasibfe' than, tliat one man slwuld 'be anotlMr :BiaD s the pain felt by nie 'yester- dky' 'Ctn 'no more be the pain I feel to-day, than yesterday can be thfa day; and the sane thmg may be said of every passion and 'Of every 'Opeiati'On of the mmd. The :Bame kind or apeeies of operation, may he m different men, or .in 'the samo' man al different times ; but it is impossible that the same todividual operation should be in dif- :iMWDt :nen, or in 'the same mai> at different 'times* When Mr Locke^ therefore, speaks of " the same conseionsness bemg continued through a auffiiiesion of different .snbstances ;'' when .he ^ipenlis of « repeiAig the idea of a moA .aeliott, 'wilh the same^consei.ousneae welud. of it al the irst," and of ** the same con- scionsnciB' extendteg to actions past and to come**— these espressfans are to me nnhi- telliiible^ nnleta. be means not the same u- dividual eonaeionaness, but a consciousness that fa simifar, or of the same kind. If our personal 'identity 'Conabts in oon- 'Sefausness,' m thfa conseimisness cannot be 'the same individually anv 'twO' 'moments, but only of the same kind, it would follow 'that we aro' not .for any two moments the aaae individual persons, 'but the same Mnd la OUT' conieieiiineis siHMCimes ceasta^ to exist, as k sound sleep, our personal identity must cease with it Mr Locke aUowB, that the same thing cannot ]»vo [33«, »»7] two beginnings of existence ; so that our identity would be irrecoverably gone every time we cease to think, if it waa but for a m moment* [338] CHAPTER VIL THKORIES CONCERNING M£MORY. Tub common theory of ideas — that is, of images in the brain or in the mind, of all the objects of thought— has been very generally applied to account for the facul- ties of memory and imagination, as well m that of perception by the senses. The sentiments of the Peri|)ateties are expressed by Alexander Aphrodisiensis, one of the earliest Greek commentators on Aristotle, in these words, as they are trans- lated by Mr Harris in his " Hermes :" — " Now, what Pliancy or Imagination is, we may explain as follows :— We may conceive to be formed within us, from the tiperations of our senses about sensible objects, some Im- pression, as it were, or Picture, in our origi- nal Sensorium, being a relict of that motion caused within us by the external object ; a relict which, when the external object is no longer present, remains, and is still preserved, being, as it were, its Image, * It is here proper to insert Keid's remarks on Perconal tdentiiy, as published by Lord Karnes, in his •• Essays on the Principles of Morality and Natural Religion," (third edition, p. 204.) 'J'hese, perhaps, might have more appropriately (bund their place in the Correspondence of our Author. " To return to our subject," says his Lordship, ** Mr liocke, writing on personal identity, has fdllen short ofhis usual accuracy. He inadvertently jumbles together the identity that is nature'^ work, with nur knowledge of it. Nay, he expre8>ies himself some, times as if identity had nii other foundation than that knowledge. I am fuvoureii by Dr Reid with the following thoughtH on pergonal identity:— "* All men agiee that pirsonality is indivisible ; a part of a peisnn IS an absurdity. A man who loses his eoiate. his health, an arm, or a leg, conl nines sti I tubethe same person. Mv personal identity, thenfore, N theconlinui-d existence of that indivi»ible thing which lc»ll myself. lam not thought; I am not action : I rm nut feeling; but 1 think, and act, and feel. Thoughts, actions, feelitiKS. change every moment ; but jtcj/", to which they belong, is fierm m- ent. If it be asked how 1 know that it is perm nenr, the answer is, that I know it from memory. Every, thing 1 rememt>er to have seen, or heard, or done, or suttere , convinces me that I existed at the time rememhered. But, though it is from mrmor> that 1 have the knowledge ot my pergonal identity, yet |ier. soiial identity mu»t exist in nature, inHepcii'dent of memory ; otherwise, I should only be the same per. ■on as far as my memory nerves me j and what would btco.i e of my existence during the intervals wherein my manory has failed me ? My rememberance of any i>f my actions does not make me to be the person who did the action, but only makes me know that I was the person who did it. And yet it was Mr Lftcke's opinion, that my remembrance of an action is what makes me to be the person who did it ; a pregnant instance that even men of the greatest genius may aometimes «all into an absurdity. Is it not an obvious «>rollary, fkom Mr Locke's opinion, that he never t Imra r He could not rcneoilier his birth ; and, t, was not the person liorn at such a place and al such a time.' "~U. and which, by being thus preserved, be- comes the cause of our having Memory. Now, such a sort of relict, and, as it were, impression, they call Phancy or Imagina- tion.*'' Another passage from Alcinous Of the Doctrines (f P/a id J chap. 4, shews the agree- ment of the ancient Platonists and Peripa- tetics in this theory ; — " When the form or type of things is imprinted on the mind by the organs of the senses, and so impriutcil as not to be deleted by time, but preserved firm and lasting, its preservation is called Memory."* [339] Upon this principle, Aristotle imputes the shortness of inemorv in children to this cause — thar their brain is too moist and soft to retjiin impressions made upon it: and the defect of memory in old men he imputes, on the contrary, to the hardness and rigidity of the brain, which hinders its receiving any durable impression, f This ancient theory of the cause of memory is defective in two respects : First, If the cause assigned did really exist, it by no means accounts for the phsenomeuon ; and, sicondhj^ There is no evidence, nor even prububUity, that that cause exists. It is probable that in perception some impression is made upon the brain as well as upon the organ and nerves, because all the nerves terminate in the brain, and be- cause disorders and hurts of the brain are found to aftect our powers of perception when the external organ and nerve are found ; but we are totally ignorant of the nature of this impression upon the brain : it can have no resemblance to the object perceived, nor does it in any degree ac- count for that sensation and perception which are consequent upon it. These things have been argued in tlie second Essay, :uid shall now be taken for granted, to prevent repetition. If the impression upon the hrain he insuf- ficient to account for the perception of ob- jects that are ))resent, it can as little account for the memory of those that are past. So that, if it were certain that the im- pressions made on the brain in perception remain as long as there is any memory of the ol)ject, all that could be inferred from this, is, that, by the laws of Nature, there is a comiection established between that im- pression, and the rememberance of that ol»ject. But how the impression contributes * The inference founded on these passagetf it alto- gether erroneous, See Note K.— H. t In this whole statement Reid is wrong. In the frtt place, Aristotle did not impute the defect of 'memory in children and old persons to any const tu- tion of the Brain ; for, in his doctrine, the llearU and not the Brain, is the primary stnsnrium in which the imprestiion is made. In the iecond place, tha term impression (tmtm), is used by Aristotle in an analogical, not in a literal signification Sec Note K. -a 2 a 3M' ON THE IMTELLBCTOAL ■pOlfl'lS. [eBSAV 111 to 'fhii' 'miiiiiilmiM) we alioiild lie quite kiioniiit ; it being impMiile to diMsover liew HMmglii ef mj Mud ^mM he pro- ineMl, lif M inpmtioii en 'tiie biain, or uiMn my fmt of ■flie.' '!»%• 1340] To say that this imprefision is memory, ts rnhmad, if undentood literally. If it is only mesnltluil' tl is tlie emiie of memor}', it to 'lie tlieini 'htm it produces' this OB! ^offect, otherwise memory 'remains as niiac- iOiiiitable as before. If a philosopher should nndertalce to ao- flfwnt for the fonse of gunpowder' in the diseharge of' a m'nskely and then tell us gravely that the 'Cause of tbisphaenomenon k 'tiie^ drawing of the trigger, we should not be 'ra^ueb wiser by 'this ^aeeount. As little are 'we instmeted. In. 'fbe-'Oause of m^emory, by being told that It is caused by a certain impreBsion on the brain. For, supposing that impreiiiiiii.. on. the bcain were •■ neees- aary to memory asthe drawing of the trigger 'k to' 'tbe disfwrge' of the^ ransket, we are itill as ignorant as we were how memory is produced $ so that, if the cause of memory, assigned by thk tbeoiy, did .really exist, it doos not in. any 'degree laeeount for memory. Another defect in this theory is, that there is no evidence nor probahllity that the cause iiae%|ied does exist i 'that is, 'that the' .impreiiloii nude vmm 'the brain In per- ception lemalni after the ebjeet' is:reinoved* That impression, whatever be its nature, is. 'Caused by tbe im.pieiaiiin. made by 'the object upon the orgun of sense, and upon the nerve. Fhllosopbers suppose^ without any evidence, that, 'wben tbe 'Object is re- moved, and the impresdon npoii the organ and nerve ceases, 'the impniaion upon the 'brain, 'oontinnes, .and w pemaiieBl { 'that is, that, when, the cause k remnved,. 'the effMst continues. The brain surely does not ap- pear more fitted to retain an impression than, the organ and nerva Ipt,, granting that' the impmasion upM. 'the 'brain conttnnes .alter' Its^ cause is re- moved, Its effects ought to continue while it 'Continues; that is, the senantiin and perception should be m 'permanent as the 'impression upon the btaitt, wnicn w sup- posed to be thdr eanse. But here a^ain the philosopher makes a second supposition, 'With aS' little evideneeji but of a ooalfary aatiie— to wit, 'that, wbik the mmk re- 'inains, tbe effect' ceases. (341] If this should be granted, also, a third must be nude — That the same cause which at ii.rst produced isenaalien. .and. pereeption, doesaflerwardb 'produce memory-^an opeim> tioii essentiallv different, both from sensa- tion and pere^tion. A fourth supposition must be made— fhat thk 'Cause, though it be pemwuent, does not produce its 'e&et at all timt have two beginnings of existence ; and that things that liave different beginnings are not the same, but diverse. From this it follows, that an ability to revive our ideas or perceptions, after they have ceased to be, can signify no more but an ability to create new ideas or perceptions similar to those wo had before. They are said " to be revived, with this additional perception, that we have had them before." This surely would be a fallacious perception, since they could not have two beginnings of existence : nor could we be- lieve them to have two beginnings of exist- ence. We can only beUeve that we had formerly ideas or perceptions very like to them, though not identically the same. But whether we perceive them to be the same, or only like to those we had before, this perception^ one would think, supposes a remembrance of those we had before, other- wise the similitude or identity could not be perceived. Another phrase k used to explain this reviving of our perceptions — " I'he miml, as it were, paints them anew upon itself.*' [345] There may be something figurative in this ; but, making due allowance for that, it must imply that the -mind, which paints the things that have ceased to exist, must have the memory of what they were, since every painter must have a copy either before his eye, or in his imagination and memory. These remarks upon Mr Lookers account of memory are intended to shew that his system of ideas gives no light to this faculty, but rather tends to darken it ; as little does it make us understand how we remember, and by that means have the certain know- ledjie of things past. Every man knows wliat memory is, and has u distinct notion of it. But when Mi 2 aS SfiS ON TH,K. INTELLECTUAL P0WI18. [■»*¥ in Ijodie speaks of a power to reirwe in ilie fiiiiKl tlioee ideas whieh, afler iniprinting, iia¥e lious; but, in manv phices of the Essay, ideas are .said 'lo he the objects of perception, and that the mind, iu all its tlioughts and. reasoningSi has. no other im.- n'ied.iaie objeel which il does or cau con- tempkte hut its own ideas. Does it not appear from^thls, either that Mr 'Loeke Held the operations of the mmd to he the same thing with the objeeta of those openilioB8,.| or lliat lie need, 'the word idea' aomettmes hi one sense and sometimes in another, with- out any intimation, and probably wilhont any apprelienaion of its .ambknily ? It is an article 'Of Mr Hunie^ 'philosophy, tlmt there is no distinction between the opera- tions of tl'ie mind and their objects.! But I see no reason to impute this opinion to Mr Locke. I rather Ihuik that, notwith- of liw' pftnilinii iitiifliiim 'Cmi •■■•Ifi '♦ Te account, nf i plcaied.— 'I I t 'lliw t3tit.ln»iB onlf tlMVf lilt poprlftf of' Hit iUinctiiNi of ]Mn«|iliiifi simI iMiwpi Locke and dtlier^iliiliiMiiilicn me tbe wofd. per^0^ .1% Utor %he act or ihenltv nf perottvtiig ; )P,' rortlist Wbleli :|f "tbe Mia Ib. thdr 'duetrln«| mmI. :•*» tat llwff' Of ImkIi. tinllflbffinl^f^-li* .^ 'lo aiitiW '|ii. SKf. ht Hole' ' i '|^ .tHIk. .■• 'iifils4if»«li. I *11ie"teffin. tib^mt. M.i^ ilieit. mm .Hir tlW'iiisMh ' ' '"' "'i^fis., tlist. t4 «.li:leli «• ate oontcioui. •-M ■landhig hie great judgment and candour, his understanding was entangled by tlie anihigiiity of the word idea, and that most 'Of ihO' 'imperfeelioDa of his .Essay are owing to' 'that eamie. '"' Mr Hume saw farther into the conse- 4|uences of the common system concerning ideas than any author had done before him. He saw the aiaunlity'Of making every objeel of thought double, and splitting it into a remote ohjeo'l, which has a :sei>arate and 'permanent exlstone^. and an immediate objeel, called an idea or hnpression, which is an Image of the former, and has no ex- istence, but when we are conscious of it. According to this system, we have no in- tensomrse. 'with. the external world, but by means of the internal world of ideas, which represents the other to the mind. He saw it was necessary to reject one of these worlds as a fiction, and the question was, Which .should be rejected f— .whether all manki.nd, learned anil 'unlearned, had feigned the existence of the external world without good reason ; or whether pliiloso- pliers had feigned themtemal world of ideas, in order to aocouul for the intercourse of the mind with the external ? [347 J Mr Hume adopted the first of these opi ions, and employed his reason aud eloi|uence in supporli 'Of ' it ■ Btehop Berkeley had gone so far in the same Iraek as. to reject tlie 'material world as fictitious; hul it was left to Mr liumo to complete the system. According to his system, tliereforo, im- pressiO'ttS and ideas in his own mind are the only things, a man can know or can conceive* Nor are these idcaa representa- tives, as they were in the old syHteni. There is nothing el«^ in nature, or, ot least, wllhin 'fte .leaeh. of our faculties, to be re- presented. What the vulgar call the per- ception of an external object, is nothing but a strong impression upon the mind. W hat lie call the remenibrance of a past event, hi nothing but a present impret>hion or idea, weaker than the ionner. And what we call imagination, m still a 'presc'ttl idea, hut weaker 'than thai 'Of 'memory. Thai I may not do him injustice, these are his words m his " Treatise of Human Nature,"' [voi .L] page lOT. '<'* We find by experienee^ 'that, when any imprea»ion has. 'been present 'with the m.ind, il agahi makes ite api.»earauce there as an idea ; and this it may do after two difierent ways, either when in ite new appearance il retahis. a 'CO:nsidifipihhi depree of its first ▼ivadty and ia Mimewhat mtemiediate be- twixt an impression and aiiidea, or when it entirely hises thai Tivacity, and is a perfect idea. The fusully by wuoh. we .repeal our 'iinprsiiioni. in 'Iho nnl 'manner, w 'Called I enuBoiy, • ^^ oiu QUA p. VII. THEORIES CONCERNING MEMORY. 357 Upon this account of memory and imagi- nation, I shall make some remarks. [34tt] Fini, 1 wish to know what we are here to understand by experience ? It is said, we find all this by experience ; and I con- ceive nothing can be meant by this expe- rience hut memory — not that memory which our author defines, but memory in the common acceptation of the word. Ac- cording to vulgar apprehension, memory is an immediate knowledge of something past. Our author does not admit that there is any such knowledge in the human mind. He maintains that memory is nothing but a present idea or impression. But, in de- fining what he takes memory to be, he takes for granted that kind of memory which he rejects. For, can we find by experience, that an impression, after its first appearance to the mind, makes a second and a third, with different degrees of strength and vivacity, if we have not so distmct a^emembrance of its first appearance as enables us to know it upon its second and third, notwithstand- ing that, in the interval, it has undergone a very considerable change ?• ^ All experience supposes memory; and there can be no snch thing as experience, without trusting to our t»wn memory, or that of others. So that il appears, from Mr Hume^s account of this matter, that he found himself to have that kind of memory which he acknowledges and defines, by ex- ercising that kind which he rejects. Secondii/y What is it we find by expe- rience or memory ? It is, " That, when an impression has been present with the mind, il again makes its appearance there as an idea, and that after two different ways.'* If experience informs us of this, it cer- tainly deceives us ; for the thing is impos- sible, and the author shews it to be so. Impressions and ideas are fieeting, perish- able things, which have no existence but when we are conscious of them. If an im- pression could make a second and a third appearance to the mind, it must have a continued existence during the interval of these appearances, which Mr Hume ac- knowledges to be a gross absurdity. [349] It seems, then, that we find, by experience, a thing which is impossible. We arc im- posed upon by our experience, and made to believe contradictions. Perhaps il may be said, that these dif- ferent appearances of the impression are not to be understood literally, but figuratively ; that the impression is personified, and made to appear at different times and in different habits, when no more is meant but that an impression appears at one time ; afterwards a thing of a middle nature, between an im- pression andan idea, which we eaU memory; fSli-SSOl * Sm'NmtO^M, and, last of all, a perfect idea, which we call imagination : that this figurative meaning agrees best with the last sentence of the period, where we are told that memory and imagination are faculties, whereby we repeat our impresions in a more or less lively manner. To repeat an impression is a figur- ative way of speaking, which signifies making a new impression similar to the former. If, to avoid the absurdity implied in the literal meaning, we understand the philo- sopher in this figurative one, then his defini- tions of memory and imagination, when stripped of the figurative dress, will amount to this, That memory is the faculty of making a weak impression, and imagination the faculty of making an impression still weaker, after a corresponding strong one. These definitions of memory and imagina- tion labour under two defects : First, That they convey no notion of the thing defined ; and, Secondly^ That they may be applied to thuigs of a quite different nature from tlioso that are defined. When wo are said to have a faculty of making a weak impression after a corre- sponding strong one, it would not be easy to conjecture that this faculty is memory. Suppose a man strikes his head smartly against the wail, this is an impression ; now, he has a faculty by which he can repeat this impression with less force, so as not to hurt him : this, by Mr Hume's account, must be memory. [350] He has a faculty by which he can just touch the wall with his head, so that the impres- sion entirely loses its vivacity. This surely must be imagination ; at least, it comes as near to tlie definition given of it by Mr Hume as anything I can conceive. Thirdly, We may observe, that, when we are told that we have a faculty of repeating our impressions in a more or less lively manner, this implies that we are the effi- cient causes of our ideas of memory and imagination ; but this contradicts what the autlior says a little before, where he proves, by what he calls a convincing argument, that impressions are the cause of their cor- responding ideas. The argument that proves this had need, indeed, to be very con- vincing ; whether we make the idea to be a second appearance of the impression, or a new impression similar to the formeir. If the first be true, then the impression is the cause of itself. If the second then the impression, after it is gone and has no existence, produces the idea. Such are the mysteries of Mr Hume*s philosophy. It may be observed, that the common system, that ideas are the only immediate objects of thought, leads to scepticism with regard to memory, as well as with regard to the objects of sense, whether those ideaa are placed in the mind or in the brain. ON THE INTELLlCTUAIi POWIES. Ites mn mM to 1m ilungs interml ttwl preaent, which have no existence but ^injjjg the moment li«j »ie in 'the •niiiA Thj eimietii of mwm sn things mtenml, whiiih liiure' 11' corattiimeii. ejtistenc©. When it is rasintiiiiied lh»t all tliat we immediatelj perceive i* only Mc«s or phunlasms,, how Gttn we, from Mi* «dft«nce of those^ phwi- tasma, ooniiiiio Ae «iistence of an. external world cormponding to them ? This difficnlt question seems not^ to have .#ocnrred to the Peripatol^ica.* 3m Cartes saw thediffllcnlly, and. 'endiavonred U fnd oat afgnmenta by which, from the existence of our phantasms or ideas, we might infer the existence of extenml objeels.. |» 1 ] The same course was followed by Malebranche, Ajmuld, and Locke; but Berkeley and Hmme easily refuted all their arguments, «nd demonstrated tliat there' is no strength ill them. The same difficulty with regard, lo^ roero- my ■naturally aiiaes from the system of ideas ; and the only reason why it was not observed by philosophers, i%hecawBe they give less attention to the 'memory than to the senses ; for, since ideas are tilings pre- sent, how can we, from our having a certain idea presently in our mind, conclude that an event really hapwied, ten or twenty years ■go, 'Corresponding to it ? There is the same :need of arguments to prove, that the ideas of memory are pictures of things that really did happen, as that the ideas of sensC' are pietufes. of exteimal objects whieh. now exisL In both eases, it 'wlll he Impoisible to find any argument that has real weight So that this hypothesis kads us to absolute scepticism, with regard to those' things ^^^^ *« ™««* distkictly re- member, no leeS' thsn with :»gard to the external objecte of sense. It does not appear to have oeenrred either to 'Locke or to Berkeley, that their iqfstem has the same tendency to overturn the tes- timony of memory as the tatiniony of the ■enses. Mr Hume saw farther than both, and found this eonsif neniee of the syitem of ideas ■perfectly eonespondrng to his aim. of eatahlishing universal sceptidsm. II is sys-^ stem is tlierefore more consistent than theirs,, and the conclusions agree better with the prem.isesa. 'But,, if we should grant to Mr Hume that our Ideas of memory afftird no iust ground to believe the past existence of thinge which we remember, it may still be asked. How it • ■Tlili !■ iMl mum- 8»e abofSh J. fHi. jaole J. ta that ttcte I. mat tihl. Vtmt w iir#i*r €mm mM at m imam It w«t mlr tb« doctTin««f HWMMliilaiillflgloii: 'tiMt. iNnftntcd. ifalebrMiehe twm imwuMiaiirlac me theory of' Betfctlty mA. 'ColMtr, «liiii* «■■ te. fact liit own, wifli llie trauMtadtiil rttlity cf a Milvrial world left out,, at a 'Proti ttiiiit . iPV' d*iwvfWk 'This, it is cttrtoiti, liat net 'Cr imn. - iitliot«,P..-H. ITbiiat lit* comes to pias 'thai fene|ilion and menwr j are' aeeomnaidl, with 'belief, wbOe bare''hniip ginition. b 'nolf Though this belief can- 'MH'be jttlliied upon his. system, it ought to be accoimted for as a pbwnomenon of hu- 'man. nature. [Ml] This he has done^, by giving us a new theory of -belief fa :general..; a theory which suits very well with that of ideas, and seems to be a natural consequence of it, and whidi, .at the 'lame time, reconciles all the belief that' we find in human :natu.re to perfect scepticism. What, then, is this belief? It must either he an idea, or some modification of an idea ; we conceive many things which we do not believe, llie idea of an. object is the same whether' we believe it to exist, 'Or barely conceive it The belief adds no new idea to the conception ; it is, therefore, no* thing but a modification of the idea of the thing believed, or a different manner of conMiving it Hear himself :— " All the perceptions of the mind are of two kinds, imniesaiona. .and ideas, which d.iffer' from each 'Other only in their diferent degrees of force and vivacity. Our ideas are copied from our impressions, andrepre- lent them in all their parts. When you would 'vary the .idea 'Of a particular' object, you 'Can only Inofcaae or diminish ite force and vivacity. If you make any other change upon it, it represents a diflferent object or impression. The aase^ is the same as in colours. A particular shade of any colour nay aciiutre a new degree of liveliness or bfightness, without any other variation ; hut, when you produce any other variation, it is no longer the same sliade or colour. So that, as belief does nothing but vary the manner in which we conceive any object, it can only bestow on our ideas an additional .force and vivacity. An oiinion, 'therefore,, or belief, my 'bO' most accurately defined n livnly 'ide% 'lehited to or associated with a 'present impression.'* This theory of belief is very fruitful of cemniiiiincee, 'which. Mr Hume traces with h.is 'usnal anitaness^ and brings in.to the service of his^ syatem.. [ 3531 A great part. of 'his system, 'indeed, 'is built upon it ; and it is of itself aiilcient to prove what he calls his hypothesia, " that 'belief is more prO'perly an act of ' the sensitive than of the digllative part, of onr .natures.*' It is very difilcult to examine this ac- connl of belief with. 'th« same gravity with which it is proposed. It pute one in mind of the ingenious account given by Marlinus Scrihhsma of the power of syllo- gism, by 'making the 'iiii#»r' the nude, and the niiMir the female, 'whifili, being eonplea by the middle imm^ generate 'the conclusion. There is ;nirely no scieU'Ce 'in which m'cn of great 'parit and ingenuity 'have fallen into f3iil-3.33] CHjip. VII.] THEORIES CONCERNING MEMORY. 359 ■nch gross absurdities as in treating of the powers of the mind. I cannot help think- ing that never anything more absurd was gravely maintained by any philosopher, Mian this account of the nature of belief, and of the distinction of perception, memory, and imagination. The belief of a proposition is an opera- tion of mind of which every man is con- scions, and what it is he understands per- fectly, though, on account of its simplicity, he cannot give a logical definition of it. If he compares it with strength or vivacity of his ideas, or with any modification of ideas, they are so far from appearing to be one and the same, that they have not the least similitude. That a strong belief and a weak belief differ only in degree, I can easily compre- hend ; hut that belief and no belief should differ only in degree, no man can believe who understands what he speaks. For this is, in reality, to say that something and nothing differ only in degree; or, that nothing is a degree of something. Every proposition that may be the ob- ject of belief, has a contrary proposition that may be the object of a contrary belief. The ideas of both, according to Mr Hume, are the same, and differ only in degrees of vivacity— that is, contraries differ only in degree ; and so pleasure may be a degree of pain, and hatred a degree of love. [354] But it is to no purpose to tmce the absurd- ities that follow from this doctrine, for none of them can be more absurd than the doc- trine itsell Every man knows perfectly what it is to see an object with his eyes, what it is to remember a past event, and what it is to conceive a thing which has no existence. That these are quite different operations of his mind, he is as certain as that sound differs from colour, and both from taste ; and I can as easily believe that sound, and colour, and taste differ only in degree, as that seeing, and remembering, and imagin- ing, differ only in degree. Mr Hume, in the third volume of his ** Treatise of Human Nature," is sensible that his theory of belief is liable to strong objections, and seems, in some measure, to retract it ; but in what measure, it is not easy to say. He seems still to think that belief is only a modification of the idea ; but that vivacity is not a proper term to express that modification. Instead of it, he uses some analogical phrases, to explain that modification, such as " apprehending the idea more strongly, or taking fiister hold of it." There is nothing more meritorious in a philosopher than to retract an error upon conviction ; but, in this instance, I hum- bly apprehend Mr Hume claims that merit [354-3501 upon too Blight a ground. For I cannot perceive that the apprehending an idea more strongly, or taking faster hold of it, expresses any other modification of the idea than what was before expressed by its strength and vivacity, or even that it ex- presses the same modification more pro- perly. Whatever modification of the idea he makes belief to be, whether its vivacity, or some other without a name, to make perception, memory, and imagination to be the different degrees of that modification, is chargeable with the absurdities we havo mentioned. Before we leave this subject of memory, it is proper to take notice of a dbtinctiou which Aristotle makes between memory and reminiscence, because the distinction has a real foundation in nature, though in our language, I think, we do not distinguish them by different names. [355] Memory is a kind of habit which is not always in exercise with regard to things we remember, but is ready to suggest them when there is occasion. The most perfect degree of this habit is, when the thuig pre- sents itself to our remembrance spontane- ously, and without labour, as often as there is occasion. A second degree is, when the thing is forgot for a longer or shorter time, even when there is occasion to remember it ; yet, at last, some incident brings it to mind without any search. A third degree is, when we cast about and search for what we would remember, and so at last find it out. It is this last, I think, which Ari- stotle calls reminiscence, as distinguished from memory. Reminiscence, therefore, includes a will to recollect something past, and a search for it. But here a difiiculty occurs. It may be said, that what we will to remember we must conceive, as there can be no will with- out a conceptica of the thing willed. A will to reraeiiiber a thing, therefore, seems to imply that we remember it already, and have no occasion to search for it. But this difiiculty is easily removed. When we will to remember a thing, we must remember something relating to it, which gives us a relative conception of it ; but we may, at the same time, have no conception what the thing is, but only what relation it bears to something else. Thus, I remember that a friend charged me with a commission to be executed at such a place ; but I have forgot what the commission was. By applying my thought to what I remember concerning it, that it was given by such a person, upon such an occasion, in consequence of such a conversation, I am led, in a train of thought, to the very thing I had forgot, and recol- lect distinctly what the commission was. [356] Aristotle saysj that brutes have not re* M^ ON THE INTELLECTUAL FOWBRS. [bmay hf ininiieciiM f Mi ^m I tliiiilc fa pw>b»M« ! Weisd. to© doubted but they Imwe •omcthing wry like to it, and, 'm mmm MilMiees, in » wy gfwt ■degwe. Adi«'taiiiWiiltiii««t« .lifter long 9mmm> A hmm wil tmm mm a wad be iti «w» gone> »» wscmmt^y mi » iniin ; and tbiB k the mofe Btiange, that tb© train of thoiMbtwbtth :b« had in gpingnwit he reversed m 'Mm 'n^mm. It m Wfy like to some piDdlgbna mianiifiiwi we wad oi; whef© a perton, npon hearing an hnndr^ manes or unconnected words prewpniced, can begin at the htft, and go backwards to th© int, without losing or miiplacing on<& Brutes certainly may Team much from ex- perience, which seems to hnplf ' nMrnory. Yet, I ;se© nO' :rea«in to 'Ihinl that brutes raeasur© tin© as men io, by days, months, or years ; or that they have any distinct knowledge of th© interval between things which they rmsiBber, or of their distance fran. th© f iiSiBt moment If we could not recMtl transaelions .according to their dates, human memory would b© something very different from what it is, and, perhaps, re- iCBble more th© memory of brutes. [357] ESSAY IV. OF CONCEPTION. CHAPTEB. L •r CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLK APPRKHKNSION IN GKNEEAL, demlmmdlmg, kminff a mthm of a ikmg^ are .common words, used to express that opera- tion of th© understanding whicli^th© logi- cians call mmpk apprekmnm, Tb© 'kawktg ©II itiem »/» l^iiif, 'is, in common hmgiag©! used in the sam© sense, chiefly, I think, since BIr Lock©*s time.t Logicians deine Sini|)le Appreheneion to be the bare conception of a thing without any judgment or belief about it If this were intended for a strictly logical deflnition, it .might be a Just objection to .it, that con- ception a.nd apprehension are only synony- nious wonls i and that w© may as well define conception by appreheiisiuii, as appre- hension by conception ; but it ought to be * Tliii li. a mmkm wUch »«j lit diiltenHf ai^ ■wvred. according m we «t.iriljiite adiicrenlnictntiig to the tcrmf emplojed.— H* t JuiMifitn^iliouW not ti« comlwndfd with OwM- ivJtrlfM. Ikic. ; tbowli Mmit'itliiliwiiilif m, .siOatNiiill. hmm' Ml atttniW til itm ommmtk Tl» jwiji Cmmtmoh Qmetpi* Jfoltoa, •liorti hf ^^m^A to tte thmiflii of what ctniMl. tie ifptCMiitMl hi 'Ibt liM|lii- atimi. ■• tHe thouglklMiiratal. % a ffncnl 't«im' Tli« f.eiiMiittiai. taM m» ifMlMIM' to conitait to MifjifM' lni«il«li«.. llik !• IM mmmjin wbWi emmwtl0ma€mmilm liave been umm1I| and cor. rtctlw cMploycfl. 1i.r8lewtn, on tkt mm hsM, arUtraiilf limitg €oMt|it.lo© totlW'np«iii0tlon, tn lni«fi»«lioii,.of « olNM of .sen* ■■ acnially 'per- cd'Vfd See litniflnit, vol. K cb. ii. 1 annot Mtar 'On .» .iciwnl oiliieiiin. of Rekl'i' nonMiiaaliire, llMwIi I. nwy, Mf MmictMng more ot Ilito in lie ■MMl •••■■||tlow,iiniltr»ii.371,IS2— H. Tm mt' mm^ Aould l» ■*«. l-««ke on y tatiiMlMMl:iBlo.JhiilM piiltayflwrtlieteiBi idm m ill CntMlaa 'iialvaiiiliiy. Mot' to liiiii,. i.te votil mm m^ 'Uni'^vllh' lilii lit 'flatiinlc iteilicatta. IMffv Oct Cartes.. Oifld .BitClnnaii. « Hcoleb pblkk ■ofiitf . wlMi K#utMi''te italic^ tad. bowtf f , mi. 'fiipi. Mm la .aaciinl. Mltmie. am Mott ih^ U, remembered that the most simple operationt of lb© mind cannot be logically defined. To have a distinct notion of them, we must attend t© them as we feel them in our own minds. H© thai would have a distinct notion of a icarfat colour, will never attam it by a definition ; he must set it before his eye, attend to it, compare it with the colour* that come nearest to it, and observe tho specific diffcrenc©, which he will in vain attempt to define.* [BM] Every man is conscious that he can con- ceive a thousand thingii, of which h© believef nothing at all— aa^ a horse with wing^ a mountain of gold ; but, although concep- tion may be without any degree of belief, even th© smallest belief cannot be withoui conception, H© tb.at believes must hav© som© oftmception of what he believes. Without attempting a definition of this opomtion of tb© mind, I shall endeavour to explain some of its proprties ; consider th© theories about it t and tak© notice of som© mistakes of philosophers concerning it 1. It may be observed that conception enters as an ingredient in every operation of th© .mind. Onr senses cannot give us th© belief of any object, 'withont giiring^ som© conception of it at the same time. No man can either remember or reason about thingt of which h© hatli no onnception. When m© wil to exert any of our active powers, then must be some conception of what w© will to do. There can be no desire nor aversion, love nor hatred, without some con- ception of th© object. We cannot feel pain without conceiving it, though we can con- ceive it without feeling it. These things ar© Mlf-evidcDt. In ev©ry operation 'Of th© mind, th©rs- « We do not itefnc tMe ipcdic dilNveDcr. but w« dsitie by it.— H. ^ rs57 .laai CHAP. I.] OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION IN GENERAL. 361 fore, in everything we call thought, there must be oonceptiuu. When we analyse the various operations either of the understand- ing or of the will, we shall always find this at the bottom, like the captit mortuum of tlie chemists, or the materia prima of the Peripatetics ; but, though there is no opera- tion of mind without conception, yet it may be found naked, detached from all others, and then it is called simple appreheusioo, or the bare conception of a thing. As all the operations of our mind are ex- pressed by language, every one knows that it is one thing to understand what is said, to conceive or apprehend its meaning, whether it be a word, a sentence, or a dis- course; it is another thing to judge of it, to assent or dissent, to be persuaded or moved. The first is simple apprehension, and may be without the last ; but the last cannot be without the first. , [359] 2. In bare conception there can neither be truth nor falsehood, because it neither aflirnis nor denies. Every judgment, and every proposition by which judgment is expressed, must be true or false ; and the qualities of true and false, in their proper sense, can belong to nothing but to judg- ments, or to propositions which express judgment. In the bare conception of a thing there is no judgment, opinion, or be- lief included, and therefore it cannot be either true or false. But it may be said, Is there anything more certain than that men may have true or false conceptions, true or false appre- hensions, of things ? I answer, that such ways of speaking are indeed so common, and so well authorized by custom, the arbiter of language, that it would be presumption to censure them. It is hardly possible to avoid using them. But we ought to be upon our guard that we be not misled by thera, to confound things which, though often expressed by the same words, are really different. We must therefore re- member wliat was before observed. Essay I. chap. I — ^tliat all the words by which we signify the bare conception of a thing, are likewise used to signify our opinions, when we wish to express them with modesty and diffidence. And we shall always find, that, when we speak of true or false conceptions, we mean true or false opinions. An opinion, though ever so wavering, or ever so mo- destly expressed, must be either true or false ; but a bare conception, which ex- presses no opinion or judgment, can be neither. If we analyse those speeches in which men attribute truth or falsehood to our conceptions of things, we shall find in every case, that there is some opinion or judgment implied in what they call conce|)tion. [360] A child conceives the moon to be fiat, and a j [359-361] foot or two broad— that is, this is his opinion : and, when we say it is a false notion or a false conception, we mean that it is a false opinion, lie conceives the city of Londou to be like his country village — that is, he believes it to be so, till he is better instructed. He conceives a lion to have horns ; that is, he believes that the animal which men call a lion, has horns. Such opinions hmguago authorizes us to call conceptions ; and they may be true or false. But bare conception, or what the logicians call simple apprehen- sion, implies no opinion, however slight, and therefore can neither be true nor false. What Mr Locke says of ideas (by which word he very often means nothing but con- ceptions) is very just, when the word idea is so understood. Book II., chap, xxxii., § 1. " Though truth and falsehood belong in propriety of speech only to propositions, yet ideas are often termed true or false (as what words are there that are not used with great latitude, and with some deviation from their strict and proper signification ?) though I think that when ideas tl.emselves are termed true or false, there is still some secret or tacit proposition, which is tlie foundation of that denomination : as we shall see, if we examine the particular ofcasions wherein they come to be called true or false ; in all which we shall find some kind of affirmation or negation, which is the reason of that denomination ; for our ideas, being nothing but bare appearances, or perceptions in our minds, cannot properly and simply in themselves be said to be true or false, no more than a simple name of anything can be said to be true or false-** It may be here observed, by the way, that, in this passage, as in many others, Mr Locke uses the word percfptioitj as well as the word idea, to signify what I call con- ception, or simple apprehension. And in his chapter upon perception, Book II., chap, ix., he uses it in the same sense. Percep- tion, he says, "as it is the first faculty of the mind, exercised about our ideas, so it is the first and simplest idea we have from reflection, and is by some called thinking in general. [361] It seems to be that which puts tlie distinction betwixt the ani- mal kingdom and tlie inferior parts of nati re. It is the first operation of all our faculties, and the inlet of all knowled£;e into our minds.'* Mr Locke has followed the example given by Des Cartes, Gassendi, and other Carte- sians,* in giving the name of perception to the bare conception of things : and he has been followed in this by Bishop Berkeley, * Gassendhivat not a Cartesian, but an Anti-Car tesian, though he adupted iieveral pointa in his phi. losoiiby from Dei Cartes— for example, the emcloy. ment of the term Idea not in its Platonic limitation. -H. 362' ON THB INT1LLICT0AL POWERS. CNMAw rv OTAP. 1.1 OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION IN GENERAL. 3113 Mf Httmc, api many kte pli,iIo«>pli«8,. wlientlieyt»iitrf.iiiim^ Tliey l»i^« F"- ImMj Imii led into tills ImproFiety, by tho fsoniiiimi iiiMstrii» oonceming' ideaa, wnicli teiMsliesiiB, that coBceptiim, percep^n by tbe senses, and memory, are only ^meimit ways rf perceiving Weas in ®wr ©wn minis. If that tlieory be well foiindMl, il «iO in- deed be very difficult to find any specific diBtinction between conceptioiiiand percep- tion, f But tliefe^ is reason to distrust any pliioiopbical theory when it leads men to eomipt knguage, and to confound, under one name, operations of the mind which common sense and common language teach ■them to. distinguish. 1 grant that there are some states of the mtnC wherein a man may confound his conceptions with what he perceives or re- mmibers, and mistake the one for the other; as. in the delirium of a fever, in some cases. of lunacy and of' madness, in dreaming, and perlaps in some momentary transports of devotion, or of other itronj; emotions, which cloud his intelleetual faculties, and, for a time, earfy » man" out of himself, as. we usiially express it. Even in a sober and sound state of mind, the memory of a thing may be so very weak that we vmq be in doubt whether we only 'dreamed or imagined it It may be doubted whether children, when their imagination first begins to work, can distinguish what they barely eoneeive from what they, rem.cmber. 13681 I haw 'been told, by .a 'man,* of knowledge' andob- ■■ervation, that one of his .sons, when he began to .speak, very often told lies with great a8S.uranee, without any intoilifiii, as ht as. appeared, or any ooiiscionsneBa of guit. From which the father concluded, that it is natural to some children to lie. I am rather inclined to think that the child had no intention to deceive but miatook the rovings of his own imcf -lor thinp which he remembered.^ This, however, I take to be very uncommon, after children can communicate their sentiments by laiigmg^, though perhaps .not ao in .a wmm milj penod. Granting all this, if any man will affirm that they whose intellectual faculties um :sound, and sober, and ripe, cannot with certainty distinguish what they perceive or fomem'ber, from what they 'barely conceive, when those .operations have any degree of strength and dis.ttnctne88, he may ei^'oy his » But ice above, p. m a, note* el^iiiM^ll* f Yet RrU lilniMlf «lctiic« PeK«|pliMt, • 0m .IfM (InMglmtiMil accaupuiledwitlialwilfffiii ■KltlMic«oritt«bieGt; Mid Mr IStewart iMliicettlM ■MClifi. dUUiiMf ^ at iMsrt oalva ciwcciill«i>t» tojaii ,afciil«iitf liKiiiiiilance, In ftoUiitif ' that mm "tv- •piMlimNi aie ttotiBietvfa conjoiii«il' with a tfinpii. f»ff Wltf'liii llitir.«*if«tive»«falll|.— .M. { B.ut coiMNiie abcivr.. |). MIK ml a— .H.. opinion I I .toww not how to :!•««» witli him. Why tkmM ph'ilo«»phan oonfeniMl. those 'Operations in treating of ideas, when they would be ashamed to do it on other occarions? To distinguiah the various powen of onr minds, » certain degree of iBdefstiiidiBg fa necessary. And if some, through a defect of understanding, natural or accidental, or from unripeness of nnder- itanding, may be^ apt to confound 'different powers,, wil it follow that others cannot clearly distinguish them f Tijretumfromthis digression— into which the abuse of the word perception, by philo- 8opheri,-.ha8.lodnie— it appears evident that the bare conception of an object, which includes no opinion or judgment, can neither be true nor false. Those qualities, m their proper sense, are altogether inapplicable to this opemlion of the mind. X Of all the analogit s between the opera- tions of body and those of the mind, tliere is none so strong and so obvious to all man- kind .aa that whieh there' .is. between paint- ing, or other ptotic arts, and the power of conceiving objccta in the mind. Hence, in all knguages, the words by which this power of the mmd and its 'Viinoua modifications are expressed, are' an.al.ogical, and 'borrowed from those' .arts. IWBI We consider this power of the mind as a plastic power, by which we form to ourselves images of the objects of thought In vain «honld we attempt to avoid this analogical, hinguage, for we have no other language upon tlie subject ; yet it is danger- ous, and apt to mislead. All analogical and figi,rati»e 'Words have a double meaning; and, tf we are not very much upon ^ our guard, we slide Insensibljf from the bor* rowed and figurative meaning mto the pri- mitive. We are prone to-cairy thO' parallel between the' thinp compared, fcrfher than it wil hold, and tins very wtmally to fall 'into error. Tq avoid this aa Iwr as possible in the pre- sent subject, it is proper to attend to the disshniitude between conceiving a thing m tliemmd, and painting it to the eye, a» well as to their similitude. The similitude strikes and gives pleasure. The dissimilitude we are feis diaposedto observe ; but the philo- sopher ought to attend to it, and to carry it always in mind, in his reasonings on this subject, as a monitor, to warn him against the errors into which the analogical lan- gua«» 18 .apt to .draw him. When a man pdnls. there is some work done, which remains when his hand is taken off, and continues to eaii* though he should 'think no wore of it Every 'Stroke of his 'peneU producer an effect, and this effect is different from his. .action in making it .5 for it 'rem.aiiiB and continues to exist when the 'fhe action of painting is I :W«, 633"' one thing ; the picture produced is another thing. The first is the cause, the second is the effect. Let us next consider what is done when he only conceives this picture. He must have conceived it before he painted it ; for this is a maxim universally admitted, that every work of art must first be conceived in the mind of the operator. What is this conception ? It is an act of the mind, a kind of thought. This cannot be denied. [364] But does it produce any efiect besides the act itself ? Surely common sense answers this question in the negative; for every one knows that it is one thing to conceive, another thing to, bring forth into effect It is one thing to project, another to execute. A man may think for a long time what he is to do, and after all do nothing. Con- ceiving, as well as projecting or resolving, are what the schoolmen called immanent acts of the mind, which produce nothing beyond themselves. But painting is a transitive act, which produces an efiect distinct from the operation, and this effect is the jiicture. Let this, therefore, be always remembered, that what is commonly called the image of a thing iu the mind, is no more than the act or operation of the mind iu conceiving it That this is the common sense of men who are untutored by philosophy, appears from their language. If one ignorant of the language should ask. What is meant by conceiving a thing ? we should very natur- ally answer, that it is having an image of it in the mind— and perhaps we could not explain the word better. This shews that conception, and the image of a tiling in the mind, are synonymous expressions. The image in the mind, therefore, is not the object of conception, nor is it any effect produced by conception as a cause- It is conception itself. That very mode of think- ing which we call conception, is by another name called an image in the mind.* Nothing more readily gives the concep- tion of a thing than the seeing an image of it Hence, by a figure common in language, conception is called an image of the thing conceived. But to shew that it is not a real but a metaphorical image, it is called an image in the mind. We know notliing that is properly in the mind but thought ; and, when anything else is said to be in the mind, the expression must be figurative, and signify some kind of thought [365] I know that philosophers very unani- mously maintain, that in conception there * We ought, howf Ter, to distinguigh Imagination and ImoQe, Conception and Concept Imagination and Conception ought to be- employed in speaking of the mental modification, one and indivisible, con- aldercd as an act; Image and Concept, in speaking •fit, coniidered as a proiluct or immediate object.— H rsd4-3a6l is a real image in tlie mind, which is the immediate object of conception, and distinct from the act of conceiving it. I beg tho reader's indulgence to defer what may be said for or against this philosophical opinion to the next chapter ; intending in this only to explain what appears to me to belong to this operation of mind, without considering the theories about it. I think it appears, from what has been said, that the common language of those who have not imbibed any philosophical opinion upon this subject, authorizes us to understand the conception of a thing, and an image of it in the miw/, not as two different things, but as two dif- ferent expressions, to signify one and the same thing ; and I wish to use common words in their common acceptation. 4. Taking along with us what is said in the last article, to guard us against the se- duction of the analogical language used on this subject, we may observe a very strong analogy, not only between conceiving and painting in general, but between the dif- ferent kinds of our conceptions, and the difierent works of the painter. He either makes fancy pictures, or he copies from the painting of others, or he paints from the life ; that is, from real objects of art or nature which he has seen. I think our conceptions admit of a division very similar. Firsfy There are conceptions which may be called fancy pictures. They are com- monly called creatures of fancy, or of im- agination. They are not the copies of any original that exists, but are originals them- selves. Such was the conception which Swift formed of the island of Laputa, and of the country of the Lilliputians ; Cer- vantes of Don Quixote and his Squire; Harringt Th^ese are kinds and species of things ; such as man or elephant, which are species of substances; wisdom or couragie,. which an: apedes of qualities ; equality or similitude, whieh arC' ■peeies of relations-* It may be asked — From what' o:iigiHil an these 'Conceptions formed? And when are they said to be true or false' t [3671 It appears to me, that the original fbom which they are copied — that is, the thing «on«ei»ed-is the conception or me«.ing whieh other men, who understand the language, affix, to the isame words. 'Tlihigs are 'pareelM into kinds and sorts, not by nature, but by men. The indl v idual things we are 'Connected with, are so many, tliat to give a proper name to every indl- iridual would be im'possible.. We could never attain tlie knowledge of them thai is necesiary, nor ^converse Ind raason about them, without sorting them aecordhig to tlieir different attributes. Th'Ose'that agree ill certain att:riliu:tes are thrown into one ]iarcel, and have a general, name given them, which belongs ^equally to every 'indi- vidual in that parcel. This common name must therefore signify those attrihoteS: whieh have betn observed to be eomuion to every iudividtml in that parcel, and no- thing else. ThM such general wotds may aiawer their intentbn, all thai fs^ aaoesaary is, fliat those' who use them should affix the .same meaning or notion— that is, the same con- 'seption. to them. The common meiiiiiiig is the standard by which suckconeeptlmit are form'ed, and they are said to be trqe or * or all surli w«"iMlMve nO' Mieoitat* iuuiginatfon. A uiiivemll. £ieilSAY I'V* aeeofding as. they agree or disagres with it. Thus, my conceptioii. of felony ia 'true and just, when it .agrees with the meaning nf that word in the laws relatiug to it, and in authors who understand the law. The mcMiIng of the word is the thing conceived ; and that meaning is the eonseptiott affixed to it by those win best understand the hinguage. An individual is expressed in langnaga either by a proper name, or by a gpieral word joined to such circumstances as dis- ttnguish that individual from all others ; if it is unknown, it may, when an object of sense, and within resch, he pointed out to the senses I when beyond the reach of tlie senses, it may be asee'rtained by a descrip- tion, which, though very imperfect, may be true, and sufficient to distinguish it from eveiy other individual. Hence it is, that, in speaking of individuals, we are very little in danger of mistaking the ol ject, or tak- ing on! individual for another.'' [kn] Yet, as was before observed, our concep- tion of them is always inadequate and lame. They a.re the'Crealans of God, and tliere are many tilings belonging to them which we know not, and which cannot be deduced by reasoD'iug from what we know. They liave a real essence, or constitution of nature, from which all their qualities flow ; but this essence our faculties do not com* prebend. Tliey are therefore incapable of deinition; for a definitbn ought to com- prehend the whole natire or essence of the thing delined. Thus, Westminstor Bridge is an indi- vidual object; though I had never seen ur heard of it before, if I am only made to cuuceive that it is a bridge from West- minster over the Tlrnmes, this concep- tion, however imperfect, is true, and m sufficient to mike me distinguish it, when it is mentioned, from every other object that exists. The architect may have an adequate conception of its structure, which is the work of man ; hut of the materials, whidi. are the work of God, .no nwn has an. adequate eonoeption; and, therefore, though the object may be described, it cannot be 'deined.. Univeisab .are always expressed by gmm* ral words ; and all the words of hmgtia|e». .exeepting proper names, a.re general, wmm i they are the signs . of general concep- tions, or of some circumstance relating to them. These .p.ue'nil 'Conceptions vm fonwMl. for the juirpose of :huiguage and reasoning.! .and the object from which they are taken, and to which they are intended to' ngrse, h thft emiteptioii which. 'Other men join to m wmm wnris.; they may, there- fot«,. be' iief Mie^. and 'perfectly agree with the thing eonceived. This implies no more than that men who speak the same language £36?, 368J OTAr. I.] OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION IN GENERAL. 365 may perfectly agree in the meaning of many general words. Tiius mathematicians have conceived what they call a plane triangle. They have defined it accurately ; and, when I conceive it to be a plane surface, bounded by three right lines, I have both a true and an adequate conception of it. [369] There is nothing belonging to a plane triangle which is not comprehended in this conception of it, or deducible from it by just reasoning. This definition expresses the whole essence of the thing defined, as every just definition ought to do ; but this essence is only what Mr Locke very properly calls a nominal essence ; it is a general conception formed by the mind, and joined to a general word as its sign. If all the general words of a language had a precise meaning, and were perfectly un- derstood, as mathematical terms are, all verbal disputes would be at an end, and men would never seem to differ in opinion, but when they differ in reality ; but this is far from being the case. The meaning of most general words is not learned, like that of mathematical terms, by an accurate definition, but by the experience we happen to have, by hearing them used in conversa- tion. From such experience, we collect their meaning by a kind of induction ; and, as this induction is, for the most part, lame and imperfect, it happens that diti'erent per- sons join different conceptions to the same general wonl ; and, though we intend to give them the meiining which use, the arbiter of hinguaiie, has put upon them, this is difficult to find, and apt to be mis- taken, even by the candid and attentive. Hence, in innumerable disputes, men do not really differ in their judgraeuts, but in the way of expressing them. Our conceptions, tlierefore, appear to be of tkme kinds. They are either the concep- tions of individual tilings, the creatures of God ; or they aro conceptions of the mean- ing of general words ; or they are the crea- tures of our own imagination : and these different kinds have different properties, which we have endeavoured to describe. 5. Our conception of things may bo strong and lively, or it may be faint and languid in all degrees. These are qualities which pro- tierly belong to our conceptions, though we lave no names for them but such as are analogical. Every man is conscious of such a difference in his conceptions, and finds his lively conceptions most agreeable, when the object is not of such a nature as to give pain. [^70] Those who have lively conceptions, com- monly express them in a lively manner— that is, in such a manner as to raise lively conceptions and emotions in others Such persons are the most agreeable companions [169-371] in conversation, and the most acceptable in their writings. The liveliness of our conceptions proceeds from different causes. Some objects, from their own nature, or from accidental asso- ciations, are apt to raise strong emotions in the mind. Joy and hope, ambition, zeal, and resentment, tend to enliven our con- ceptions; disappointment, disgrace, grief, and envy, tend rather to flatten them. Men of keen passions are commonly lively and agreeable in conversation ; and dispassion- ate men often make dull companions. There is in some men a natural strengtlitand vigour of mind which gives strength to their con- ceptions on all subjects, and in all the occa- sional variations of temper. It seems easier to form a lively concep- tion of objects that are familiar, than of those tliat are not ; our conceptions of visible objects are commonly the most lively, when other circumstances are equal. Hence, poets not only delight in the description of visible objects, but find means, by meta- phor, analogy, and allu«ion, to clothe every object they describe with visible qualities. Tlie lively conception of these makes the oliject appear, as it were, before our eyes. Lord Kanies, in his Elements of Criticism, has shewn of what importance it is in works of taste, to give to objects described, what he calls ir/eal presence* To produce this in the mind, is, indeed, the capital aim of poetical and rhetorical description. It carries the man, as it were, out of himself, and makes him a spectator of the scene described. This ideal presence seems to me, to be nothing else but a lively conception of tlie appearance which the object would make if really present to the eye. [371] Abstract and general conceptions are never lively, though they may be distinct ; and, therefore, however necessary in philo- sophy, seldom enter into poetical descrip- tion without being particularised or clothed in some visible dress. -f* It may be observed, however, that our conceptions of visible objects become more lively by giving them motion, and more still by giving them life and intellectual qualities. Hence, in poetry, the whole crea- tion is animated, and endowed with sense and reflection. Imagination, when it is distinguished from conception, seems to me to signify one species of conception — to wit, the con- * The 'Evateytiett 'T^orvwrnrit, ^etpretrfaii "Oi^'ft EiiitKatr»iiei, Visioncs, of the ancient Kiietoriciaiiii — H. t They thus cease to be tiWfihiabttracttmAnmeral and become merely individual representations. !r> precise language, they are no longer «enu«reration of the mind. Of this we are conscious, and can have no doubt of its existence. But every such act m'ust^ have an object .;* 'for he tliat 'Conceives must' conceive .sonieth.ing. Suppose' he conceives a centaur, he may have a distinct conception of this object, Ihongli no centaur ever existed- I am afniid that, to those who are unac- i]uainted with the doctrine of philosophers upon this subject, I sliall appear in a very ridiculous light, for insisting upon a point ■o very evnleut as^ that m.en. 'may barely conceive 'things that 'never existed. They 'iril hardly believe that .any man In his wits donbted of it Indeed, I know no '■^ Sm ljdkiW| Pi S)0|. mt Mete Il.^«ll.. 'truth, more' evident to the common sense and to the experience of mankind. But, if the authority of phioMphy, ancient and modem, opposes It, as I thinJc it does, 1 wish not to treat tl»l aathorily so fastidiously as not 'to attend patiently to what may be said in iupport of it. [378] II THKORIBS CO'KCKBHI'KG CONCBPTIOIC. The theory of .ideas has haen>< applied to the conception of objects, as well as to per- ception and memory. Perhaps it w ill bo irksome to the reader, as it is to the writer, 'to return to that subject,, after m nweh has been aaid npon It .; but Ita applioition to the coniseption. 'Of 'Ob|eetSt whieli oonld 'not pro'- perly have been utroduced before, gives a more comprehensive view of it, and of tlie prejudices which have led philosophers so 'Unanimously into it. Tliere are two prejudices whieli seem to me to have given rise to the theory of ideas In all the various forms in which it has ap- peared in the course of above two thousand years i and, thou){h they have no support from the natural dictates of our fatuities, or from attentive reiection upon tlieu- oper- ations, they aws' nrejudioes which those who speeukte upn. this subject are very apt to he led into by ^analogy. The/r*/ Is— That, in all the operations of the understanding, there must be some im- mediate intercoune between the mind and its object, so that the one may act upon the other. The semmt, That, in all the opera- tions of understanding, there must be an object of thought, which really exists while we think of it ; or, as some philosophers have expressed it, thai 'whIch is not cannot be 'intelligiye*' Had philosophers perceived that these are pKJndifles grounded only upon analiigical reaaoning, we had never heard of ideas in the philosophical sense of that word. [379] The /r«l of these principles has led philo- sophers to think that, as the external objects of sense are too remote to act upon the mind immediately, there must be some image or shadow of them that is present to the mind, and is the immediate object of pe:rception.. That there is such .an imme- diate object of perception, distinct from the external object, has been very unani* mously held by philosophers, though they have differed much about the name, the * The reader will tiear in minci what hat been alnadf miA nf Hi* llntitiil' niMfiltit altaclwl lif Held to' llW' 'Itna Mm,, 'vla., 11111101.1111111 'In., or prsMoc to the iniiMli bul nm a nere modliiMliiMi' of' the ili|ii4l<-«iMl Mm mtm In RipiMiinf thai allphilmoplifn. ■iinlttfd Ihli crude hjiMiiiflila^ See Notes B, V, L, M, N. O, Ff tb^U. M W W W ^ iHgK [3T7-3f»1 CHAP. II.] THEORIES CONCERNING CONCEPTION. 369 nature, and the origin of those immediate objects. We have considered what has been said in the support of this principle. Essay II. chap. 14, to which the reader is referred, to prevent repetition. I shall only add to what is there said, That there appears no shadow of reason why the mind must have an object imme- diately present to it in its intellectual oper- ations, any more than in its aifections and passions. Philosophers have not said that ideas are the immediate objects of love or resentment, of esteem or disapprobation. It is, I think, acknowledged, that persons and not ideas, are the immediate objects of those affections; persons, who are as far from being iniraediately present to the mind as other external objects, and, sometimes, persons who have now no existence, in tliis world at least, and wlio can neither act upon the mind, nor be acted upon by it. The second principle, which I conceive to be likewise a prejudice of philosophers, grounded upon analogy, is now to be considered. It contradicts directly what was laid down in the last article of the preceding chapter —to wit, that we may have a distinct con- ce]>tlon of thuigs which never existed. This is undoubtedly the common belief of those who have not been instructed in philosophy ; and they will think it as ridiculous to defend it by reasoning, as to oppose it. [380] The philosopher says. Though there may be a remote object which does not ex- ist, there must be an immediate object which really exists ; for that which is not, cannot be an object of thought. The idea must be perceived by the mind, and, if it does not exist there, there can be no per- ception of it, no operation of the mind about it.* This principle deserves the more to be examined, because the other before men- tioned depends upon it ; for, although the last may be true, even if the first was false, yet, if the last be not true, neither can tlie first. If we can conceive objects which have no existence, it follows that there may be objects of thought which neither act upon the mind, nor are acted upon by it ; because that which has no existence can neither act nor be acted upon. It is by these principles that philosophers have been led to think that, in every act of memory and of conception, as well as of perception, there are two objects— the one, the immediate object, the idea, the species, the form ; the other, the mediate or external object The vulgar know oulj • In relation to this and what fbllowi , lee above. p. 298, b, note f i p^ *=». a« note \ j and Note a of one object, which, in perception, is some- thing external that exists; in memory, something that did exist ; and, in concep- tion, may be something that never existed.* But the immediate object of the philo- sophers, the idea, is said to exist, and to be perceived in all these operations. These principles have not only led philo- sophers to split objects into two, where others can find but one, but likewise have led tliem to reduce the three operations now mentioned to one, making memory and con- ception, as well as perception, to be the per- ception of ideas. But nothing appears more evident to the vulgar, than that what is only remembered, or only conceived, is not perceived ; and, to speak of the perceptions of memory, appears to them as absurd as to speak of the hearing of sight. [381 ] In a word, these two principles carry us into the whole philosophical theory of ideas, and furnish every argument that ever was used for their existence. If they are true, that system must be admitted with all its consequences. If they are only prejudices, grounded upon analogical reasoning, the whole system must fall to the ground with them. It is, therefore, of importance to trace those principles, as far as we are able, to their origin, and to see, if possible, whether they have any Just foundation in reason, or whether they are rash conclusions, drawn from a supposed analogy between matter and mind. The unlearned, who are guided by the dictates of nature, and express what they are conscious of concerning the operations of their own mind, believe that the object which they distinctly perceive certainly exists ; that the object which they distinctly remember certainly did exist, but now may not ; but as to things that are barely con- ceived, they know that they can conceive a thousand things that never existed, and that the bare conception of a thing does not so nmch .as afford a presum[)tion of its exist- ence. They give themselves no trouble to know how these operations are performed, or to account for them from general principles. But philosophers, who wish to discover the causes of things, and to account for these operations of mind, observing that in other operations there must be not only an agent, but something to act upon, have been led by analogy to conclude that it must be so in the operations of the mind. The relation between the mind and its conceptions bears a very strong and obvious analogy to the relation between a man and his work. Every scheme he forme, every discovery he makes by his reasoning powers, is very properly called the work of his mind. These works of the min d are sometimes "'*■ See refei-eiicef in preceding note.— H. am ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERa I^SlSAT !▼• gnwnil ruks of cwiidtiei f n^leed, we .iwe tliiil 'Himnj of lie teinan ipecies, to wlioin God liM given tbia fiower, make little use of it. Tliej act witlioot a plan, as the pas* akn or appetite' which, is etrongest at the time leadi them. jl. The 'laBt property I diaU mmtion of thia^ faculty, ia that whieh eesentially die- tiiigiiislies it from every other power of the Hind ; and it is, that il is not employed iolely ahout things which have existence. I can conceive a winged horse or acentanr, as easily and as distinctly as I can conceive a man whom I have seen. Hor does this distinct conception incline my Judgment in the least to 'the 'helief that a winged horse or a centaur ever existed. [371] It is not so with the other operations of our mindjB.. Tbey are employed about real existences, and carry with' them the belief of their objects. When I feel pain, I am compelled to believe that the pain that I feel has arealexisteiice. Wlien I perceive any external object, my belief of the real existence of the object m irresistible- Wh«i I distinctly remember any event, though that event may not now exist, I can have no doubt but it did exist. That conscious- ness whicli we have of the operations of ) Tne/r«< of these priiiciples has led philo- sophers to' think that, as. the external objects of .sense .are' 'too remote to act npon the mmd .immed.iately, there must be some Image or shadow of them that is present to the mind, and is the immediate object of perception. That there is such an iai.me> dhite' object of perception, distinct, from, the •extem.al object, has been very unani* mouslyheld by philosophers, though they have 'differed much about the name, the * Tlw nsdtff Wil hmx in mind what lias 'bcen^ BIWIp wSWplM wBPPIli' lii^. HlW.iiW •■ Ih^Sw Sill WMIBi ■■••••••■■lipi '^■•W^BfcilpPWiWB mw^ mM to the Istia JiMi 'Via« .MiiMthinf In, m piawnt to tlie nilml, but Ml a upte modiBcation of the ntMl-Mid hit 'tnor' tn iiMiMiif that all philnMiiiliert wimMm thb cnme iipiiciia tee Noie« bTc, l^ Mt M( C}| Ft ||C^«*& CHAP. 11.] THEORIES CONCERNING CONCEPTION. sag nature, and the origin of those immediate objects. We have considered what has been said in the support of this principle, Essay II. chap. 14, to which the reader is referred, to prevent repetition. I shall only add to what is there said, That there appears no shadow of reason why the mind must have an object imme- diately present to it in its intellectual oper- ations, any more than in its affections and passions. Philosophers have not said that ideas are the immediate objects of love or resentment, of esteem or disapprobation. It is, I think, acknowledged, that persons and not ideas, are the immediate objects of those affections; persons, who are as far from being immediately present to the mind as other external objects, and, sometimes, persons who have now no existence, in this world at least, and who can neither act upon the mind, nor be acted upon by it. The second principle, which I conceive to be likewise a prejudice of philosophers, grounded upon analogy, is now to be considered. It contradicts directly what was laid down in the last article of the preceding chapter —to wit, that we may have a distinct con- ception of things which never existed. This is undoubtedly the common belief of those who have not been instructed in philosophy ; and they will think it as ridiculous to defend it by reasoning, as to oppose it. [380] The philosopher says, Though there may be a remote object which does not ex- ist, there must be an immediate object which really exists ; for that which is not, cunnot be an object of thought. The idea must be perceived by the mind, and, if it does not exist there, there can be no per- ception of it, no operation of the mind about it.* This principle deserves the more to be examined, because the other before men- tioned depends upon it ; for, although the last may be true, even if the first was false, yet, if the last be not true, neither can the lirst. If we can conceive objects which have no existence, it follows that there may be objects of thought which neither act upon the mind, nor are acted upon by it ; because that which has no existence can neither act nor be acted upon. It is by these principles that philosophers have been led to think that, in every act of memory and of conception, as well as of perception, there are two objects— the one, the immediate object, the idea, the species, the form ; the other, the mediate or external object* The vulgar know oul} * In relation to thia and what followi. lee atwve, p. 8»e, b, note f j p. )f 78, a, note f j aud Note R 380,3811 of one object, which, in perception, is some- thing external that exists; in memory, something that did exist ; and, in concep- tion, may be something that never existed.* But the immediate object of the philo- sophers, the idea, is said to exist, and to be perceived in all these operations. These principles have not only led philo- sophers to split objects into two, where others can find but one, but likewise have led tliem to reduce the tliree operations now mentioned to one, making memory and con- ception, as well as perception, to be the per- ception of ideas. But nothing appears more evident to the vulgar, than that what is only remembered, or only conceived, is not perceived ; and, to speak of the perceptions of memory, appears to them as absurd as to speak of the hearing of sight. [381 ] In a word, these two principles carry us into the whole philosophical theory of ideas, and furnish every argument that ever was used for their existence. If they are true, that system must be admitted with all its consequences. If they are only prejudices, grounded upon analogical reasoning, the whole system must fall to the ground with them. It is, therefore, of importance to trace those principles, as far as we are able, to their origin, and to see, if possible, whether they have any just foundation in reason, or whether they are rash conclusions, drawn from a supposed analogy between matter and mind. The unlearned, who are guided by the dictates of nature, and express what they are conscious of concerning the operations of their own mind, believe that the object which they distinctly perceive certainly exists ; that the object which they distinctly remember certainly did exist, but now may not ; but as to things that are barely con- ceived, they know that they can conceive a thousand things that never existed, and that the bare conception of a thing does not so umch as afford a presumption of its exist- ence. They give themselves no trouble to know how these operations are performed, or to account for them from general principles. But philosophers, who wish to discover the causes of things, and to account for these operations of mind, observing that in other operations there must be not only an agent, but something to act upon, have been led by analogy to conclude that it must be so in the operations of the mind. The relation between the mind and its conceptions bears a very strong and obvious analogy to the relation between a man and his work. Every scheme he forme, every discovery he makes by his reasoning powers, is very properly called the work of his mind. These works of t he min d are sometimes ♦ Ste refeFeiicti~in preceding note.— H. fin ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. ['iSSiAY IT. tBAP, II.] THEORIES CONCERNING CONCEPTION. 371 ,gff«it and .imiMirtnl wmlm, and cinw tlie «tt«iitiiiii ami .aJBiiwition. nf ' meiL |SIB1 It it tlM pnnriDce nf the |iliiliiBO|ili«r to 'aoniider how iausli worlU' of' tlie niincl ftfo pudnoeii and of' 'Hilt :iMitotials tlioj an ^eonpiMd. B'« 'Caia Hie naterUs itew. Then Bmst thetefoie be 'Mais, which the mind ean arrange and form .into a regular stmctnre. Everything that is prodimed, mint' bO' frodueed. of something; ^and from aotMng, nothmg . can. 'he prodneed. SomO' such reaaoning as this seems to me to have given the first rise to the philoso- phical notiona^ of ideas.. Those nutioiia'Wefo formed, into a sjateni. 'hj ihe .Fytliapiiiaiii) two thouand. yean .ago; .and thia ■jatani. was adopted by Plato, and embellished with all the powers of a fine and lofty un^gina- tion. I shall,, in 'Compliaiim' with, enatom, mM it the Platonic system of idteas, thonglt. In reality it was the invention of the Pytha- piean school.* The most ardnons f nostion which em.- ployed. the wita^ of m«n. in. the infancy of the Greeian/phioio^y was— 'What was the origin of the world r— from what principles and eanses did it proceed ? To this <|ues- tiom. very diffcmt anaweia. were given in the d:ii!eienl schools. Most 'Of ' 'them apfiear ' to. m ■ray ridienlons. The 'Pythagorams, however, judged, very rationally, from the order and bcmutj 'Of the universe, that it must be the' woilmaiiship of an eternal, in- tdligont, .and good, 'being : and therefore tbey 'Condnded. the Deity 'to be one fint. 'principle or cause of the universe. .But they conceited thofO' must bO' move. The niffefse^ must bo made of something. Sveiy woflmaii 'must haire 'material to 'woric upon. That the world should be madO' out of nothing seemed to them abe.nrd, be- 'Of .something. Mulliiii nm e iiiM.lfi.fipil A lilt 'ii:ilillii 'iilkilt ill niimn nU iDC'Si ■IhMiHMJIhNPlll'wi .uim—uMMk, mP SM' iUj Mil 'This maxim never was. branght. into' doubt: even in Cicero's time it .contin:ued. to' bo' held by all pbilosonhers. [3831 What natural philosopher (says that aumr in his isecond. book of Divination) ever .asserted that anything eould take its rise from nothin.g, or m redneed to 'nothing f Be- cause men must have materials to work 'Upon, they concluded it must be so with the: Deity. This was;. feaBonii«'iram.a»iiogy: .From this it 'Mlo'Ped) 'taat' .an 'demal. mereated 'matter' was ao^other first prin- ciple of the universe. But this matter they believed had no form nor qiual.ity. It was. er no amaliigf tn I asve ili'iailj' •!!••»»».« ot'hcr. .fict amnre, p. fdl. %, MM' *i9»mB h* mm *^ii. the same with the mmimria pfimm or first matter of Aristotle, who borrowed this part of bis philosophy from his predecessors. To us it seomsi nova: vatiimal to think that the Deity eveatad matter with its qua- lities, than that the matter of the universo should be etomal and self-existent. But so strong was the prejudice of the ancient pMhMO|iiera against what we call creation, that 'iiey rather chose to 'have recourse to tbia eternal and unmtelligible matter, that the Deity might have materials to work upon. The .same anali^ which led them to think.lhst.'there' must be an eternal matter' of which the world was made, led them slso to conclude that there must be an eternal pattern or 'model aceord.ing 'to which it was made. Works of design and art must be distketly conceived hdfore they are made. The Deity, as an intelligent Being, about to execute a work of perfect beauty and regiiarity, 'must have had a 'distmct con- eeptlon of his work before it was made. Th.iB appears very rational. But this conception, being the work of the Divine intellect, something must have existed as .ita object This could only 'b©' .ideas, 'wbioh are the proper and immediate object of intellect |384] From this investigation of the principles or causes of the universe, those philoso- phers concluded them.'to be three 'mmmheff' —to wit, an ete'rmd matter .as the 'material, fsause, eternal ideas as the model or exem- flan' cause, and an 'Ctermd. .intelligent mind aa the 'efikieiit cause. As to Ihft nature of those eternal ideas, the philosophers of that sect ascribed to them the' most niagn.ii'Gent attributes. They werO' im.mu'table and uncreated ;* the object of the Divine inteUeel before the world, was made.; and 'the only ohjeet of mteUeet and of science to all intelligent beings. As far as intellect is superior to sense, so far .ai»' .ideaa superior to all the objeets of' sense. The objecto of sense bemg in a constant flux, 'Cannot properly be said to exist Ideas are the things which have a real and petmanent exist- ence. They arc as various as the species of th:ing8, there' behig 'One 'idea of every spe- cies^, hut none of iidividuals. The idea is the essence of the sfMecies, and existed be- fore any of the qpecies was made. It is entire in every individual of the s|>eciea, 'Without bemg either divided or multiplied.. In our present stete, we have but an hnperfeet conception of the eternal ideas ; but it is the highest feUcity and perfection of men to be able to contemplate them- :* WiMtbcf , in the Ptaifinle Mlan« litasi aiei or .m not. iiiec|icnfwiii. 'Or ins wiif 1 1 imvc airawiiF ■lalfd, it.. Mul alwsjn bai. brntt ■ nemla quoitta.^ White we are in this prison of the body, Keiise, as a dead weight, bears us down from the contemplation of the intellectual objects ; and it is only by a due purifica- tion of the soul, and abstraction from sense, that the intellectual eye is opened, and that we are enabled to mount upon the wings of intellect to the celestial world of ideas. Such was the most ancient system con- cerning ideas, of which we have any account And, however different from the modern, it appears to be built upon the prejudices we haie mentioned— to wit, that in every opemtion there must be something to work iiIKm; and that even in conception there must be an object which really exists. 1385J For, if those ancient philosophers had thought it possible that the Deity could operate without materials in the formation of the world, and that he could conceive the plan of it without a model, they could liave seen no reason to make matter and ideas eternal and necessarily existent prin- ciples, as well as the Deity himself. Whether they believed that the ideas were not only eternal, but eternally, and without a cause, arranged in that beautiful and perfect order which tliey ascribe to this intelligible world of ideas, I cannot say ; but this seems to be a necessary conse- quence of the system : for, if tlie Deity could not conceive the plan of the world which he made, without a model which really existed, that model could not be his work, nor contrived by his wisdom ; for, if he made it, he must have conceived it before it was made ; it must therefore have existed in all its beauty and order inde- pendent of the Deity; and this I think they acknowledged, by making the model and the matter of this world, first princi- ples, no less than the Deity. If the Platonic system be thus understood, (and I do not see how it can hang together otherwise,) it leads to two consequences that are unfavourable to it Firxl, Nothing is left to the Maker of this world but the skill to work after a model. The model had all the perfection and beauty that appears in the copy, and the Deity had only to copy after a pattern tliat existed independent of him. Indeed, the copy, if we believe those philosophers, falls very far short of the original ; but this they seem to have ascribed to the refracto- riness of matter of which it was made. Secondly, If the world of ideas, without* being the work of a perfectly wise and good intelligent being, could have so much beauty and perfection, how can we infer from the beauty and order of this world, which is but an imperfect copy of the other, that it ihust have been made by a perfectly wise and good being ? [.386] The force of this reasoning, from the beauty and order of the universe, to its being the work of a wise being, which appears invincible to every candid mind, and appeared so to those ancient philosophers, is entirely destroyed by the supposition of the existence of a world of ideas, of greater perfection and beauty, which never was made. Or, if the reasoning be good, it will apply to the world of ideas, which must, of consequence, have been made by a wise. and good intelligent being, and must have been conceived before it was made. It may farther be observed, that all that is mysterious and unintelligible in the Pla- tonic ideas, arises from attributing existence to them. Take away this one attribute, all the rest, however pompously expressed, are easily admitted and understood. What is a Platonic idea? It is the essence of a species. 1 1 is the exemplar, the model, according to which all the individuals of that species are made. It is entire in every individual of the species, without be- ing multiplied or divided. It was an object of the divine intellect from eternity, and is an object of contemplation and of science to every intelligent being. It is eternal, im- mutable, and uncreated ; and, to crown all, it not only exists, but has a more real and permanent existence than anything that ever God made. Take this description altogether, and it would require an (Edipus to unriddle it But take away the last part of it, and no- thing is more easy. It is easy to find fivo hundred things which answer to every article in the description except the last. Take, for an instance, the nature of a circle, as it is defined by Euclid— an object which every uitelligent being niay conceive distinctly, though no circle had ever existed ;, it is the exemplar, the model, according to which all the individual figures of that species that ever existed were made ; for they are all made according to the nature of a^ circle. [3t)7] It is entire in every individual: of the species, without being multiplied or divided. For every circle is an entire circle ; and all circles, in as far as they are circles, have one and the same nature. It was an object of the divine intellect from all eternity, and may be an object of coi.- templation and of science to every intelli- gent beuig. It is the essence of a sj)ecief-, and, like all other essences, it is eternal, immutable, and uncreated. 7'liis means no more but that a circle ahvuys was a circle, and can never be anything but a circle. It is the necessity of tlie thing, and not any act of creating power, that makes a circle to be a circle. The nature of every species, whether of substance, of quality, or €»f relati< n, and n general everything which the ancients callec^ s o a lilt «?72 ON THE INTELLECTUAL FOWEES. 1_E88AY IF. m miivtiml, mntwere to tb© duscription of •I Fhmm iAm, if' in that, dwisriptioii, you ham out ■MA Mt, spell tlM two unnt todMMmiiihri. aiJ,tli»tMMhat,'lM*iiaiiMfCcfi irjll«hl«r. liii ,W'iit«ny awefUliiiig: iiwii' te siliaittiii _ilia^, ■«•••- iMitlf • no iletetiaiiMl* .nils mm Iw trt iiilil i i lii i i i^ H. I take it to 'have been 'the opinion of Arts-' totle, that the intettigibhi foiBS in the hu- man intellect are derived irwn the sensible by abitBiction, and other operations of the mind Itself. As to the hitelligible forms in 'the' divine ktelhwt,. thqf ,muil .have .had another o^righi ,1 hut 1 do net mmemhef ' 'that 'he gi'ves 'any opiniom, about them. He cer- tainly maintMMd, however, that there is no intelleetion without intelligible species;* no memory or unaginat,ion without phan- tasms; no perception without sensible species. Treating 'Of ' m,e'm©ry, he proposes a iifioulty, and endeavours t*» resolve it — how a phantaHn. that is a present object in the mind, sh'ould Mpreaent a 'thing that is past [aillflll Thus, I think, it appears that the Per- ipatetic system of speci« and phantasms, as well as the Pktonie system of ideas, is f rounded upon this principle, that in every ind of thought there must be some object that really exists; in every operation of the mind, something to work upon. Whether this wimediato object be called, an idea with Pkto,t'iiraphaiitini or apeeles^ w,ith Aris- totle— whether it be eternal and uncreated, or produced by the impressions of external objeets— is of no 'conaefuence in the pre- :ient 'argument In 'both systems, it was thought 'hnpoesihle that the Beity could make the world without matter to work upon I in both, it was thought impossible that' an 'intellkent Being could conceive anything that 'did not exist, but by means of am.odel that really existed. 'The phil:ii«>pliers of tlie Alcxandnan school, commonly called the latter Plato- Biita,, coneeived 'the eternal ideas of things to' 'be In the "Divine 'ktellect, and thereby avoided the ablirdity of making them a principle distbct from and independent of the Deity ; but stiE they held them to exint reidly in the Divine' mind as the objects of conception, and aa the patterns aud arche- types of things that are made. Modem philosophers, still persuaded that of every thought there must be an imme- diate objeot that really exists, have not deemed it neeeeiary to distinguish by dif- iitent names the immediate objects of in- tolleet, of .imaginiitlon, and of the eensesi but liave given the' 'Comnion name of Mta 'to' ilwni alL Whether these ideas be m the sensorium, or in the mind, or partly in the one and partlly in the other 1 whether they exist wlien they are not' perceived, or only when * lliefe to.«imn !•■• rcaMn to attribute ludi • llMMtf In ArMMle In itlation to ihe iiiielleci tttm III .itlHlM le mm sad imagiiMitioii. 'See even hii otdHt' •■iMiitaliWt.llia A|*i«i«laa. Jlifi^^i'x^*. f. t,»i. Bi' m 'iMi. Ii,» :pwlir aiwihtr nf tboio IVri. thelMl*. wi«!ttd'4iiwi liir tie liitiii«.— M. t file Sbof f , i^ i»'4 h, uott *.— M. [288 SJ9l CHAP.ir. IHEORIES CONCERNING CONCEPTION. 373 they are perceived ; whether they are the workmanship of the Deity or of the mind itself, or of external natural causes — with regard to these points, different authors seem to have different opinions, and the same author sometimes to waver or be diffident ; but as to their existence, there seems to he great unanimity.* [390] So much is this opinion fixed in the minds of philosophers, that I doubt not but it will appear to most a very strange para- dox, or rather a contradiction, that men should think without ideas. That it has the appearance of a contra- diction, I confess. But this appearance arises from the ambiguity of the word idea. If theideaofa thing means only the thought of it, or the operation of the mind in think- ing about it, which is the most common meaning of the word, to think without ideas, is to think without thought, which is un- doubtedly a contradiction. But an idea, according to the definition given of it by philosophers, is not tliouglit, but an object of thought, wliich really exists and is perceived. Now, whether is it a contradiction to ssiy, that a man may think of an object that does not exist ? I acknowledge that a man cannot per- ceive an object that does not exist ; nor can he remember an object tliat did not exist ; but there appears to me no contradiction in his conceiving an object that neither does nor ever did exist. Let us take an example. I conceive a centaur. This conception is an operation of the mind, of which I am conscious, and to which I can attend. The sole object of it is a centaur, an animal which, I believe, never existed. I can see no contradiction in this.-!" Tlie philosopher says, I cannot conceive a centaur without having an idea of it in my mind. I am at a loss to understand what he means. He surely does not mean that I cannot conceive it without conceiving it. This would make me no wiser. What then is this idea f Is it an animal, half horse and half man ? No. Then I am certain it is not the thing I conceive. Per- haps he will say, that the idea is an image of the animal, and is the immediate object it is * Thit, ai alrawJy once and again stated, is not correct.— H. t See above, p. 29?, b, note U sud Note B— H. * On this, and the subseqiieiit reasoning in the fueienc chapter, see Note B.— H. 1 390-392] an animaL I know what it is to conceive an image of an animal, aud what it is to conceive an animal ; and I can distinguish the one of these from the other without any danger of mistake. The thing I con- ceive is a body of a certain figure and colour, having life and spontaneous motion. The philosopher sa>s, that the idea is an image of the animal ; but that it has neither body, nor colour, nor life, nor spontaneous motion. This I am not able to comprehend. Thirdly^ I wish to know how this idea comes to be an object of my thought, wht- 11 I cannot even conceive what it means; and, if I did conceive it, this would be no evidence of its existence, any more than my conception of a centaur is of its exist- ence. Philosophers sometimes say that we perceive ideas, sometimes that we are con- scious of them. I can have no doubt of the existence of anything which I either perceive or of which I am conscious ;• but I cannot find that I either perceive ideas or am conscious of them. Perception and consciousness are very different operations, and it is strange that philosophers have never determined by which of them ideas are discerned- f This is as if a man should positively affirm that he perceived an object ; but whether by his eyes, or his ears, or his touch, he could not say. But may not a man who conceives a centaur «iy, that he has a distinct image of it in his muid ? I think he may. And if he means by this way of speaking what the vulgar mean, who never heard of the phi- losophical theory of ideas, I find no fault with it. [392] By a distinct image in the mind, the vulgar mean a distinct concep- tion; and it is natural to call it so, on account of the analogy between an image of a thing and the conception of it. On ac- count of this analogy, obvious to all man- kind, this operation is called imagination, and an image in the mind is only a peri- phrasis for imagination. But to infer from tills that there is really an image in the mind, distinct from the operation of con- ceiving the object, is to be misled by an analogical expression ; as if, from the phrases of deliberating and balancing things in the mind, we should infer that there is really a balance existing in the mind for weighing motives and arguments. The analogical words and phrases used in all languages to express conception, do, no doubt, facilitate their being taken in a literal sense. But, if we only attend care- * This is not the case, unless it be admitted that wearecnnsciousorwhat we perceive— in other wordsb immediately cognitive of the non.ego. — H. t But the philosophers did not, ]ike Reld, make Consciousness one s|)ecial faculty, and Perception another ; nor did they and R«id mean by I'crceptiun the same thing.— H. ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWIES. Si% fullj to -what no an rnimimm of in tliia | operation, w« tliall find no more iwiion to fliiiik tiiit 'iam§m ilo "veftUjf tttitt in oiir 'iiini% "'|]»n timt tiAknces sad -otlier me- eltsnieil. isn'pnes do. We know of noHiing that is in the mind but by eonseionsnem, and we are conscious of notiing 'but varioiis modes of tbinldng ; inch ai' 'imdemtaii^ng, wUUng, affection, pMlon, doing, snffbring. If pMloaoiibero choose to give the name of an idea to any mode of thinking of which wvi^afe 'Oouaeioiis, I hUTO no objection to the name, bnt that it httfodnces a foreign word into our kn- gnage without necessity, and a word that is very ambiguous, and apt to mislead. But, if tliey give that name' to imafcs in the mind, which are not thoiigh;t, but only objects of thought, I can see no reason to think that there are such things in nature. If they be, their existence and their nature mmt be more evident than anything else, because' we know nothing but by their meana. I may add, that, if they he, we can. know nothing beidea them. For, from the existence of ima^^pea, we can never, by any just reasoning,, infer tbO' existence of anything else^ 'nnless^ perhaps 'iie exislenra of an intelligent Author of them. In this, Biiihop Berkeley reasoned right. |39SI] In every 'work of design, 'iie' work m'ust be conceived, 'before it is execnted'^that is, before it exista If a model, conshting of ideas, must exist in the mind, as the ob- ject of this conception, that model is a work 0f 'design, no less than. 'thi«|. odher, iif which .it is the model t snd therefore, as a work of design, it m.nst 'have been conceived before it existed. In every work of design, there- fore, the conception must go beifore the existence. Th» .aignmenl we app!M 1»o- fore to the Platonic syatem of eternal, and immutable ideas, and it may be applied, with eqial foree to all the systems of ideas. If now it should be asked. What is the idea of a circle ? I answer, It is the con- ception of a cirde. What is the tmm^ediate object of this conception f The immediate and the only obiect of it is a eirele. But where is this circle f It ia nowhere* If It was. an individual, and 'had a real ex- istence, it must have a place ; but, being an univeraiii, it has no existence, and therefore no pteee. Is it not in the mind of him that eonaeireS' it ? "The 'Conception, of it is in the: 'mhid, being an act of tie mind ; and in common kngnage, a 'thing 'being In the m.tnd2 is a iguntive expression, .signify- ing; 'tiiBt. the thing is. conceived or .remem- 'Iiere4 It may be asked, Whethw this concep- tion is an imi^ or resemblaiioe of a eirele ? lMiQ|C|. Ill •'igpiative aenie, 'Called, tte ina|n ft m cinto in the^ mind. If Hkm %iifitiiiii.la Lessay ir. meant in the literal sense, we must observe^ that the word tmmpiim hm two meanings. Properly it isignlfies that operation of the m.ind vmlch we have been endeavouring to expkin ; but sometimes it is put for the object of Mmeeption, or thing conceived. Now, if the ipiestion be understood in. the last of these senses, the object of this con- ception is not an image or resemblance of a circle; for it is a circle, and nothing can be an image of itself. [3941 If the question be- Whether the opera* tion of mmd in conceiving a eirele be an image or resemblance of a circle ? I think it is not; and that no two things can be more perfectly unlike, than a species of thought and a species of figure. Nor is. it more attange that conception should liave no resemblance to the object conceived, than that desire should have no resem- blance to the object iesired, or resentment to the object of resentment. I can likewise conceive an individual object that really exista, such as St Paul*ki Chureh in London. I have an idea of it ; that ia, I conceive it. Tho unmediato object of this conception is four hundred m:iie8' distant ; and I nave no .reason to think that it acts upon me, or that I act upon it ; but I can think of it notwithBtanding. I can think of the first year or the last year of the Julian neriod. If, alter all, it should 1 e thought that imaM in the m.ind serve to account for this faculty of coDoalvliif 'thlnp moat distant in time and place, and even things which do not exist, which otherwise would be alto- gether inconceivable; to this I answer, that accounts of things, grounded upon conjecture, have been the bane of true philosophy in all ages. Experience may satisfy us that it is an hundred times more pmbabfe' that they .are' false' than that tliey are true. This aeoount of the faculty of conception, by images in the mind or in the brain, will deserve' the regard of those who have a true taste kphimophy, when it is proveil by solid, arnunenita— .FiTfl, 'That there are Imag^' in 'trn'mind, or m the brain, of the ihliSs*we: eonedve. Secmdiy^ That there is a faculty in the mind of perceivmg such images. Tkirdijf, That the perception of aueh .images prodnisea the conception of 'Hiinp meal dlatauti and even of thmgs that have no existence; And, fmrthig, That the perception of individual images m tho muidt m ia. the^ 'bniu, slvet m the co'neep- tioii of mlvenals, wMeii are the attribntaa of man V 'Individuals. [SiOl Until this k done, the theory of in^gsa existhig in tho mind or mi the brain, oi^ht to be f teeed In 'the .■ana' Ofttegonr with the sensible speeie% malmritimhm of Aristotle, and the ■mrAsm of Des. 'Oifftat. 1 393— 39<» I ceAP. III.] MISTAKES CONCERNING CONCEPTION. 375 CHAPTER III. MISTAKBS CONCBaNlNG CONCEPTION. 1. Weitbrs on logic, after the example of Aristotle, divide the operations of the understanding into three : Simple Appre- heiision, (which is another word for Con- ception,) Judgment, and Reasoning. They teach us, that reasoning is expressed by a syllogism, judgment by a proposition, and simple apprehension by a term only— that is, by one or more words which do not make a full proposition, but only the sub- ject or predicate of a proposition. If, by this they mean, as I think they do, that a proposition, or even a syllogism, may not 1)6 simply apprehended,* I believe this is a mistake. In all judgment and in all reasoning, conception is included. We can neither judge of a proposition, nor reason about it, unless we conceive or apprehend it. We may distinctly conceive a proposition, with- out judging of it at all. We may have no evidence on one side or the other ; we may have no concern whether it be true or false. In these cases we commonly form no judji;- ment about it, though we perfectly under- stand its meaning, "f A man may discourse, or plead, or write, for other ends than to find the truth. His learning, and wit, and invention may be employed, while his judgment is not at all, or very little. When it is not truth, but some other end he pursues, judgment would be an impediment, unless for discovering the means of attaining his end ; and, there- fore, it is laid aside, or employed solely for that purpose. [396] The business of an orator is said to be, to find out what is fit to persuade. This a man may do with much ingenuity, who never took the trouble to examine whether it ought to persuade or not. Let it not be thought, therefore, that a man judges of the truth of every proposition he utters, or hears uttered. In our commerce with the world, judgment is not the talent that bears the greatest price ; and, therefore, those who are not sincere lovers of truth, lay up this talent where it rusts and corrupts, while they carry others to market, for which there is greater demand. 2. The division commonly made by logi- * Doet Reid here mean, by apprehending iimplv^ •pprrheoding in one simple and indivisible actt-'H. f There if no conception poi>sible without a Judg. nii^nt affirming its (ideal) existence. There is no eomdmuneu, in fact, possible without judgment. See above, p. 243, a, note *. It is to be observed. that Reid uses conception in the course of this chap. ter as convertible with understanding or comprehen- §kms and, therefore, as we shall see. in a vaguer or ni'-re extensive meaning than the philosophers whose opinion he controverts.— U. [396,397"! cians, of simpleapprehension, into Sensation, Imagination, and Pure Intellection, seems to me very improper in several respects. First^ Under the word sensation, they include not only what is properly so called, but the perception of external objects by the senses. These are very different opera- tions of the mind ; and, although they are commonly conjoined by nature, ought to bo carefully distinguished by philosophers. Secondly^ Neit her sensation nor the percep- tion of external objects, is simple apprehen- sion. Both include j udgment and belief, which are excluded from simple apprehension.* Thirdly, They distinguish imagination from pure intellection by this, that, in imagination, the image is in the brain ;-f in pure intellection, it is in the intellect. This is to ground a distinction upon an hypo- thesis. We have no evidence that there are images either in the brain or in the in- tellect. [397] I take imagination, in its most proper sense, to signify a lively conception of objects of sight. J This is a talent of im- portance to poets and orators, and deserves a proper name, on account of its coimection with those arts. According to this strict meaning of the word, imagination is dis- tinguished from conception as a part from the whole. We conceive the objects of the other senses, but it is not so proper to say that we imagine them. We conceive judg- ment, reasoning, propositions, and argu- ments ; but it is rather improper to say that we imagine these things. This distinction between imagination and conception, may' be illustrated by an ex- ample, which Des Cartes uses to illus- trate the distinction between imagination and pure intellection. We can imagine a triangle or a square so clearly as to distinguish them from every other figure. But we cannot imagine a figure of a ihou- sand equal sides and angles so clearly. The best eye, by looking at it, could not distin- guish it from every figure of more or fewer sides. And that conception of its appear- ance to the eye, which we properly call im- agination, cannot be more distinct than the appearance itself; yet we can conceive a figure of a thousand sides, and even can demonstrate the properties which distinguifsli it from all figures of more or fewer sides. It is not by the eye, but by a superior fa- culty, that we form the notion of a great * See the last note.— H.' t But not the image, of which the mind Is con. scious. By image or idea in the brain, species im. pressa, S^c, was meant only the unknown corporeal antecedent of- the known mental consequent, *the image.or idea in the mind, the species expressa, S[c. Reid here refers principally to the Cartesian doctrine —H. t See aliove, p. 366, a, note * i and. lielow, node, p. 48.^~ ti. dp \ h M on THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. L«»"ir i^- iiately, but mther by tlie power, of Mm- lysiwg and abntmctioii, tbat we gel the most ample Mid tbe most diBtinct notions even oftheobtaitiiifitniia Thin will b© more fully '«xplM]i:eil. :iii. anotber f bise. [3iM] 4 Tlwfe fmmim MioAer mistake con- eerning conception, which deserves to be notli^. It w— That our conception of typae it ft teal of thev poraibility, so that, wha* 'we can diittectly conoel»e, we may conclude to be possible ; and of what is im- ponihle, we can have no conception. This opinion has been held by philoso- phers for more than an hundred years, without contradiction or dissent, as far as I know; and, if it be an error, it may be of some use to inquire into its origin, and tho causes that il has been so generally le- oeived. as a maxim whose truth could not be brongibt into doubt. One of the ifnitless questions agitated among the saMiuitic philosophers in the dark, .ages* was-^What is the criterion of 'truth ? as if men. could have any other way to distingniih truth from error, but by the right use of that power of judging which God hia given., them.^ Des CtertM' endeavoured to^ put an end to this eoitioversy, by making it a fundamen- tal principk in bis system, that whatever we clearly and distiietly :peteeive, is tnicf To indefttaiid till principle of Des €artei| it must be observed, that he gave the name of perception to every power of the human understanding ; and in explain- ing this very maxim, he tells 'Us that sense,, imagination, .and ,pnte intelleetion, are only different modus of perceiving, and, so tlie maxim was understood by all his followers.:^ The learned Dr Cudworth seems also to have .adopted th.is principle :— " The cri- terion of true know'ledge, says he, is only to be looked for in our knowledge and con- 'Ceptions themselves : for the entity of all theoretical truth is nothing else but clear inteffigibility, and whatever is clearly con- ceived is an entity and a truth ; but that which is fahie, divine power itself cannot make it to be clearly and distinctly under- stood. 14«II A falsehood can never be clearly conceived or apprehended to be true."—" Eternal and Immntable Mora- lity," p. 172, Ac. This Cartesian maxim seems to me to have led the way to that now under con- sideration, whidi seems to have been adopted as the proper correction of the fonner. When the authority of Des Cartes declined, men 'hMan te^ 'seeithat we may dearly and distinetiy conceive what fa not true, but mnlMff, ■udias » thowwid. And* distmct iiiition of tto nnmher rf :iiii» 'net being to be got by the eye, it is not imagined, but it is distinctly conceived, and easily distin- Kuished from every othernumber.* 3. Simple apf rehenrion is commonly re- pTCsented as 'the irst operation of the iindefslwdtagi and, jw%ni«itj as being a Muposition or combmation of simple appro* 'iensions. , . , *i. This mistake has prdbftbly amen from the taMng sensation, and the perception ^ of ebjeeta by the senses, to be nnthmg hot simipie^ apprehension. Th«W' u% W F©- 'bdbkthe inn operations of' tliiiDind I but Ihej are not simple «ffreien8ioni.T |Jimj B is generally allowed, that we cannot ©onceive sounds if we have never heart, nor colours if we have never seen ; and the sane thing .mi^ be lald. of the objects of the other senwis. In llkO' manner, we must have Judged or reasoned before we have the conception or simple apprehension of judgmsnt and of reasoning. Siaiile apprdiension, therefore, ttongh it be the simplest, is not the int operation of the understanding i and. Instead of say- ing that the more complex operations.^ of the mind are fo.mied by compounding rim- ple apptehensionB, we ought mtier to .say, that. Mm.pte apprehensions are got by ana- lysing more eomplex operatfens, ^ A .similar mistake, which is 'Carried thfim# the' whde 'Of Mr .Locked Essay, may be heie 'mentioned. It .Is, that ow 8im.nlest ideas or conceptions aro' got im.- meiiiately by the senses, or by conscions- neis, K < i*4 the comple.x alterwiirds fomied by componnding thC'M. I apprehend, it is far otherwise^ Mature 'pfeienis no object to the senses, «r to consciousness, that is not oom|ilex. Thns, by our senses^ wo perceive^ bodies of various kmds; but every body" is. a com- plex 'Object; it has length, breadth, and thickness; it has figure, and colour, and vario'us other sensible qualities, which are 'blended together k. the. .same auhjeet ; .and I .apprehend that bmte animab, wU have the same senses that we have, cannot sepa- imte the different qnaitieB bekniging to the :same subject, and have 'Only^a complex and'Coniwed. notion 'Of' tiA whole. Such also would be our notions of the objects of sense, if we had not superior powers of understanding, by whiA we can analyse the .complex ohject, .abstract, every parti- enhuT' attribnte from, the rest, .and. form a distinct conception of' it 80 that :it 'ia not by the .senses ■nnme-. ♦ . Ihe'iist^fb 888, •, Bole l« m>pirfm^«^k. — llMt if. the okjecti are not Ineorapoitte. But tbla watiiot ItM meaning in whkh the expreMkm mu vma tf' Hie LofWaiia— H. • Thla 'WM 'mote' a fuetlion with the Greek philo-. io||MtSllMUi Willi the tcboolmen^U. [398*100 , OHiF. III.] MISTAKES CONCERNING CONCEPTION. 377 thought, that our conception, though not in all cases a test of truth, might be a test of possibility.* This indeed seems to be a necessary con- sequence of the received doctrine of ideas ; it being evident that there can be no dis- tinct image, either in the mind or anywhere else, of that which is impossible. -f The ambiguity of the word eonceiue, which we observed, Essay I. chap. 1, and the com- mon phraseology of saying we cannot con- ceive iuch a thing, when we would signify that we think it impossible, might likewise contribute to the reception of this doctrine. But, wliatever was the origin of this opinion, it seems to prevail universally, and to be received as a maxim. " The bare having an idea of the propo- sition proves the tiling not to be impossible ; for of an impossible proposition there can be no idea." — Da Samubl Clarke. "Of that which neither does nor can exist we can have no idea." — Lord Boling- B.ROKB. " The measure of impossibility to us is inconceivableness, that of which we can have no idea, but that reflecting upon it, it appears to be nothing, we pronounce to be impossible."— Abernethv. [401] " In every idea is implied the possibility of the existence of its (tbject, nothing being clearer than that there can be no idea of an impossibility, or conception of what can- not exist." — Dr Pricb. " Impossibile est cujus nuUam notionem formare possumus; possibile e contra, cui aliqua respondet notio." — Wolpii Ontolo- " It is an established maxim in metaphy- sics, that whatever the mind conceives, in- cludes the idea of possible existence, or, in other words, that nothing we imagine is absolutely impossible."— D. Hume. It were easy to nmster up many other respectable authorities for this maxim, and I have never found one that called it in question. If the maxim be true in the extent which * That is, of logical possibilitv— the absence of con. Iradiction.— H. t This is rather a strained inrerence.— H. ? These are not exactly Wolfs expressions. See •• Ontoloijia," ) \ 102, 103; •• Philosophia Raiionaiis;' \ \ bti, b'/%. 1 he same doctrine is held by Tschirri. hausen and others. In so far, however, as it is said that inconceivability is the criterion of impossibility, it is-manifcstly erroneous. Of many contradictories!, we are able to conceive neither; but, by the law of thought, called that of Excluded Middle, one of two contradictories must be admitted— must be true. For example, we can neither conceive, on the one hand, an ultimate minimum of space or of time; nor can we, on the other, conceive their inanitediviMbi- Hty. In like manner, we cannot conceive the absu. lutecommeacemeiitof time, or the utmost limit of Mpace, and are yet equally unable to conceive them without any commencement or limit. Tbeabsurdity that would result from the assertton, that all that is inconceivable is impossible, is thus obvious ; and so far Reid's criticism is Jusi, though not ucw.^H. [401, i02] the famous Wolfius has given it in the pas- sage above quoted, we shall have a short road to the determination of every question about the possibility or impossibility of things. We need only look into our own breast, and that, like the Urim and Thummim, will give an infallible answer. If we can conceive the thing, it is possible ; if not, it is impossible. And, surely, every man may know whether he can conceive what is affirmed or not. Other philosophers have been, satisfied with one half of the maxim of Wolfius. They say, that whatever we can conceive is possible ; but they do not say that wliatever we cannot conceive is impossible. I cannot help thinking even this to be a mistake, which philosophers have been un- warily led into, from the causes before men- tioned. My reasons are these : — [402] 1. Whatever is said to be possible or im- possible, is expressed by a proposition. Now, what is it to conceive a proposition ? I think it is no more than to understand distinctly its meaning.* I know no more * In this sense of the word Conception, I make bold to say that there is no philosopher who evtr held an opinion different from that of our author. The whole dispute arises from Reid giving a wider signification to this term than that which it has generally received. In his view, it has two mean, ings i in that of the philosophers whom he attacks. It has only one. To illustrate this, take the proposu tiori~a circle is square. Here we easily understand the meaning of the affirmation, because what is neces. sary to an act of judgment is merely that the subject and predicate should be brought into a unity qfrela. tion. A judgment is therefore possible, even where the two terms are contradictory. But the philosophers never expressed, l)y the term conce|)tioii, this under, standing of the purport of a proposition. What they meant by conception was not the unity of rclatiun, but the unify of representation ; and this unity of representation they made the t-riterion of logical pos. sibility. i o take the example already given : they did not say a circle may possibly be square, because we can understand the meaning of the proposition, a circle is square ; but, on the contrary, they said it is impossible that a circle can be square, and the pro. position affirming this is necessarily false, because we cannot, in consciousness, bring to a unity ofreprc^ sentation the re|>ugnant notions, circle and square— that IS, conceive the notion of square circle. Heid's mistake in this matter is »o palpable (hat it is not more surprising that he should have committed it, than that so many should not only have followed him in the opinion, but even have lauded it as the refuta. tion of an important error. To shew how com. pletely Reid mistook the philosophers, it will be sut. ficient to quote a pa»saKe from Wolf's vernacular Logic, which I take from the English translation, (one, by the by, of the lew tolerable versions we hava of German philosophical works,) published in 1770:— " It is carefully to be observed, that we have not always the notion of the thing present to us, or in view, when we speak or think of it ; but are satisfied when we imagine we sufficiently understand what we «peak, if we thinlc we recollect that we have had, at another time, the notion which is to be joined totbis or the other word; > and thus we represent to our. selves, as at a distance only, or ubficurely, the thing denoted by the term. •' Hence, it usually happens that, when wecombine words together, to each of which, apart, a meaning or notion answers, we imagine we understand i wiiat we.utter, though that which is denoted by such com. bineil words be impo«sit)le. and consequently can have no meaning. For that which is imposaibc w SJB ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWEES, [easAY !▼ OTAF..IV.J OF THE TRAIN OF THOUGHT IN THE MIND. -JJH Hial'mn 'Im meant hy siiiiple ftppteiieiiibii or wiietption, when affliiMl. to m^ |iny|Miti* twn. Tlie .axiom, tliei«fof%. amounts to litis :— Every pfOBOiltion, of wliieli you un- limlud the meaS^ distinctly, is possiite. I am persnaied that I imiMstaiiil. m dis- 'tinetlT 'tiie 'meaning' 'Of ' 'this^ 'popoaiifan, An^ Hm Mew &f m 'trkmffk mm i^ksr H/umi i& ik§ ihirdf as of this — Any itm side$ itf a triamffU mre ti^tikmt greater tkanjke third s yet tho' irst of 'these is limpossihla Perhap it wlU he said, ttat^ 'though, /on 'indeistiind the meaning of the. im.|iostihle proposition, yom cannot suppoee or conceive It to he true. Here we are to examtae the meaning of the phrases of smppmimff and cmmhfing a proposition to be true. I can certainly sup- pose it to he true, because I can draw con- sequences from it which I find to he impos- sible, as well as the proposition itself. If, by 'Conoei'ving it to he true, be mmnt giving some degree of assent to it, how- ever small, this, I confess, I cannot da But will it hemM that every proposition to which I can give any degree of assent, is possible ? This contradicts experience, and, therefore, the maxim cannot be tru« in this sense. Sometimes, when we say that 'tot mmot 0mai»e m ikmffio k: ime, we 'mean by that. expression, that we jtidge U to 4# impmMtde, I'U 'tills isenee I cii.nnot, indeed, conceive it 'to 'be troe, that two sides of a triangle are equal to the tliinL I judge it to he iiupoasible. If, then, we understand, in this sense, that maxim, that nothing we can conceive is impossible, the meaning will be, that nothing is imposuble which we^ judge to be possible. But does it not often liappen, tliat what one man judges to be possible, another man. judees to bo' .impos- sible ? The maxim, therefore, is not true .in this sense. I^ifltl I .am not :able U-md any other mean.iiig of nimceipinff a pmpmititinf or of emmi'dnff i'.| to fe trm, besideS' these I have men- lioned I know 'nothing that 'Can bO' meant by having the idea, of a proposition, but MlMiig at all, .ami: of nothing tb«re can it no hits. For instaBce, we have a notion of toM, mi alto of iron. But it li imfaHible that iron can at tlio tame time l-egold, comtfuently, ndlbercan we liaveany notion of Irai-iiill t 'Smi. 'fft «• 'uniieritand what. •'* I'll f IM' iMlanae .awi wM iii It ciitiiiin''iliiiwi. ever? rnm^M ititt that tts ncpiMom. 'ivon..toM: law anmty iohm .; iMt yet.tiierean.athouiandinaiaiMiia.:ia'«lm» itdoat not mi eaily Mrika. For fsx.aliiilib: -whtn. I. .•af a raei'ihiisl two^llnai ifnrt.. s flRnvoootainci!. tindk* two right lines, I aoa eqtialljr well undentood as wiicti I iaf , a righulined triangle, a figure e n. lainii nniftr llifas :Cl|ht linet. Ami tt •luwild wem we kai a ' AnIiMt noiiin of botii flgurai. .However, ai w ahew in Geometry that two right inn otn nevOT' contain rnaee, it it atoo Imimafttblt tO'fMrti.a ■lotitia or a retlft'MBsl two.hntd flgure ; awl ooiimi. MMiilf that cspnNilm is an aniily MnmL*'^'F. & either the understsnding its menniagj or the Judging of its truth. I can understand a propomloii that is fahie or impossible, as well as one that is true or possible ; and I find that menliavecontCBdietory judgments about ivhat^ is 'possible or iuposailhH: m 'well as about other things^ In what aeiise then can it he said, that the having an idea of a proposition gives certain evidence that it is possible ? If it be said, that the idea of a proposition Is an image of II In the mind, I think indeed there cannot he a distinct image, either in the mind or elsewhere, of that which ia hn'pOisi.ble i hut what is meant by the imsge of a 'proposition I .am .not able to oompre* bend, and I shall b© ghul to be informed. 2. Every proposition that is necessarily true stands opposed to a oontradietory pro- position that is impossible I and he that conceives one eonoeives 'both. Thus a man who believes that two and three necessarily make five, must beEeve it to be impossible that two and three should not make Ive. He conceiTcs both propositions when he believes onew Every proposition carries its contradictory in its hosom, and both are conceived at the same time. " It is con- fessed," says Mr Hume, " that, in all cases where we dissent from any person, we con- ceive both sides of the question ; but w© can believe only one." From this, it cer- tainly follows, that, when we dissent from any person about a necessary proixisition, we conceive one that is imposible ; yet I know no philosopher who has made so much use of the maxim, thai; whatever we conceive 'is possible, as. Mr H ume. A great part of his peculiar tenets is built upon it ; and, if it is true, they must be true. But he did not perceive that, in the passage now quoted, the truth of which is^ evident, he 'Contradi^ets it hmiself. [404] 3. MathematieianB have, in many ■eases, 'proved, some things 'to be possible, and others to be impossible, which, without dflmonstration, would not have been be- lieved. Yet I have never found that any mathematician has attempted to prove a thing to bO' possible, because it can he con- ceived.; or imjioielhle, heeauso' itcan.not be conceived.* Why is not this maxim applied to deteimme whither Ilia possible to square the circle ? a point about which very emi- nent mathematicians have dilfefed. It is easy to ■eimflelve 'that, in the infinito' series of mnmban, awl intermedhito fkmetims,. som« une 'mmlier, 'Iniegfal or fractional, may bear the same ratio to another, as the side of m square beat s to its diagenal ;t y et, • All iioniitff li. In fkt. founded on. 'Onr hilul.. tioin. of .ipacs-mit. :li| la .eomniftn language, on. otir coMMlieiii. of :ipaM' and lis relations.^ H . t We are aMS' lO' cnnerife 'nothing lalmilei ani '*«' naf .impw!, liur we «nnot «wiiu«lii». npmmtt or immim» the pasiUiltf ' In qncitioap-H. [403, *0*] however conceivable this may he, it may he demonstrated to be impossible. 4. Mathematicians often require us to eonceive things that are impossible, in order to prove them to be so. This is the case in all their demonstrations ad absurdum. Conceive, says Euclid, a right line drawn from one point of the circumference of a circle to another, to fall without the circle :* I conceive this — I reason from it, until I come to a consequence that is manifestly absurd ; and from thence conclude that the thing which I conceived is impossible^ Having said so much to shew that our power of conceiving a proposition is no criterion of its possibility or impossibility, 1 shall add a few observations on the extent of our knowledge of this kind. 1. There are many propositions which, by the faculties God has given us, we judj^e to be necessary, as well as true. All mathematical propositions are of this kind, and many others. The contradictories of Bucli propositions must be impossible. Our knowledge, therefore, of what is impossible, must, at least, be as extensive as our know- ledge of necessary truth. 2. By our senses, by memory, by testi- mony, and by other means, we know many things to be true which do not appear to be necessary. But whatever is true is pos- sible. Our knowledge, therefore, of what is possible must, at least, extend as far as our knowledge of truth. [405] 3. If a man pretends to determine the possibility or impossibility of things beyond these limits, let him bring proof. I do not say that no such proof can be brought. It has been brought in many cases, particu- larly in mathematics. But I say that his being able to conceive a thing, is no proof that it is possible. t Mathematics afford many instances of impossibilities in the nature of things, which no man would have believed if they had not been strictly de- monstrated. Perhaps, if we were able to reason demonstratively in other subjects, to as great extent as in mathematics, we might find many things to be impossible, which we eonclude without hesitation, to be pos- sible. It is possible, you say, that God might have made an universe of sensible and ra- tional creatures, into which neither natural nor moral evil should ever enter. It may he BO, for what I know. But how do you know that it is possible ? That you can conceive it, I grant ; but this is no proof. * Euclid docs not require us to amedve or imagine any such impossibility. The proposition to which Reid must refer, is the second of the third Book of tlie Elementit. — H. f Not« certainly, that it is reaUu postibkt ^^ ^^at It is probUmatically possiMC'-L e., involves no con. tradictinn— violates no law tf thought This latter IS that possibility alone in question.— H. [405, 406] I cannot admit, as an argument, or even as a pressing difficulty, what is grounded on the supposition that such a thing is possible, when there is no good evidence that it is possible, and, for anything we know, it may. in the nature of things, be impossible. CHAPTER IV. OP THB TRAIN OP THOUGIOT IN THE MIND. Every man is conscious of a succession of thoughts which pass in his mind while he is awake, even when they are not excited by external objects. [406] The mind, on this account, may be com- pared to liquor in the state of fermentation. When it is not in this state, being once at rest, it remains at rest, until it is moved by some external impulse. But, in the state of fermentation, it has some cause of motion in itself, which, even when there is no im- pulse from without, suffers it not to be at rest a moment, but produces a constant motion and ebullition, while it continues to ferment. There is surely no similitude between motion and thought; but there is an analogy, so obvious to all men, that the same words are often applied to both ; and many modi- fications of thought have no name but such as is borrowed from the modifications of motion. Many thoughts are excited by the senses. The causes or occasions of these may be considered as external. But, when such external causes do not operate upon us, we continue to think from some internal cause. From the constitution of the mind itself there is a constant ebullition of thought, a constant intestine motion ; not only of thoughts barely speculative, but of seuti- mentSjpassions, and afiections, which attend them. This continued succession of thought has, by modern philosophers, been called the imagination. * I think it was formerly called the fancijy or the phania.sy.'\ If the old name be laid aside, it were to be wished that it had got a name less ambiguous than that of imagination, a name which had two or three meanings besides. It is often called the train of ideas. This may lead one to think that it is a train of bare conceptions ; but this would surely le a mistake. It is made uj) of many other operations of mind, as well as of concep- tions, or ideas. * By some only, and that improperly.— H. t The Latin Imaffinatio, with its modifications In the vulgar languages* was employed both in ancient and modern times to express what the Greelcs >deno- minatcd ««vT«r/«. Phantasy, of which Pkonty or Fancy is a corruption, and now employed in. a more limited sense, was a common name for ImaginaUou with the old English writers.— H. 3M> ON THE lM>.LLI«iCrOAL ruiVKliS fiasAY IV. OBAP. rv.] OF THE TRAIN OF THOUGHT IN THE MIND. 381 MoiMiry, liidgiBCst, rMaoning . pusions, ali9«stioii% tmA ^mrpmm-^ia m word, «irery oiwimtaon of ilie muid, exc«|ilii|g ^mm of iemie-k exerted occasiomOly in tliui tnin of tkmgiili Mid. km its slum' as an ingw- dient : so ttaat^ wii' miist talco tho word tdcA in a very extensive seoae^ if we mske tlie tnin of onr tlioughts to be only a tmiu of idnaa. [407] Tb' pMB ffom the mmeyand enwidtr the thing, we 'may observe, that the timias of thought in the mind are of two Muds : they afe either such as iow spontaneously, like water from a fountain, without any exer- tion of a governing priraiii|ile to amngt them ; or titey are r^^littd and directed by an active effort, of the mind, with .some view and intention. Before we oonsider fhew in their order, it is proper to ptemiae that these' two kinds, however distinct in. their nature, am §m the most part mixed, in persons awake and 'Come to' years of undenlanidiBg. 'On the one' .hand, we are rarely so vacant nf all project and design as to lei O'ur tlwuglits take 'their own conme, without the least check or direction. Or if, at any time, we should be in this state, some object w'il pfosiHil itself, 'Wbieh. .is^ tm intenatiing not 'to engap the attention and rwise' the active or contemplative powers, that were On the otbtr 'handy when a imaa is giving the most intense' apiiieation. to^ai^y .specula- tifin, or to any ieh.enie of eoidnat, when ho wills to exclude every 'thought 'that is fo.- reign, to his present pnrpose, such thoughts will oAm inii.iie:rtinently intmde upon him, in. .sfiito' of his endenvoum. to the contrary, .and occupy, by a kind of vblenee, some part of the time' 'destined, 'to another pur^. puse.. One man may .hnve tbe 'Command of ..his thoiigh.ls. more than another' iii«%. snd the .sam« man mom at one time than at another. But, I apprehend, m the best trained 'mind, the thoughts will. .Bomethn.es be restive^ aometimes ea.priciou and self. 'Willed, when we wish 'to .have 'them most under co'mmand. 1408.} It has been observed very justly, that 'we must, not .ascnbo' to the 'mind the power of calMug up any thought, at pleasure, be- tsanse' such a. call or volition aupposos that. thought to be already m the mindi for, otherwise, how should it be the object off 'Volition F As this must' be granted on the 'One hand,, so it is no lasa metaim, m IhO' other, that a man hmik eonaidMmbl»p««er .in 'reguhiting.aiid disposing his own thoughts.. Of this mmv mm. is conscious, and I can no more doubt of it than I can. 'dO'Uht 'w.hetlier I.thhik..a*all We tMM to ^tf«Bt. the thonipits iiat pit-' sent themselves to the fancy in crowds, as ft great man treats those that attend his levee. They are all ambitious of his at- tention i he goes round the orcle, bi*stow. inff » bow npSn one, a smile upon another $ asks a short question of a third ; while a fourth is honoured with a particular con- ference { .and the' .givater 'part .have no par- tionlar 'mark of ' .attention,' but go as they came. It is true, he can give no mark of his attention to those who were not there but he has a suffieieut number for makiu*' a 'Choico and dist.mction. In like manner, a number of thought! present themselves to the fancy spontane- ously : but, if we py no attention to them, nor hold any conferenoe with them, they pass, with the crowd, and are i,m..niediately Ibrgnt, as if they had never appeared. But those to which we think proper to pay at- tention, may be stopped, examined, and arran|ped, for any partioukr purpose we have m view. It mav likewise be observed, that a train of thought, which was at first composed by application and. judgment, when it has. 'been 'Oll<». :n»eBtedy .and becomes fam.iliar, will present itself .spontaneously. Thus, when a man has composed an air in music, so as to please his own ear, after he has played or sung it often, the notes will arrange themselves in just order, and it rei]u.ires no effort to icgiJato their sucees-. skin. [.400'] Thus we see that the fancy is made up of trains, of thin.kiqg--some of' whieh are spontaneous,, others studied .and regukted, .and the greater part are m.ixed. of bo'th kinds, and take their denomination from that which is most prevalent i and that a train of thought whieli at 'first was studied and com'posedi 'may, by habit, present itself spontaneously. Having premised these things,, let us return to those trains of 'thoi^ht 'Which are .spontaneous, which must be first, in 'the' ord^r of 'nature When the work of the day is over, and a nan lies down to rehix his body and mind, he cannot cease from thinking, though he desires it. Something oceu.rs to his faney { that ;is followed by another thhig ; and'SO his. thoughts are carried on from one object to .auother, until sleep dosses the scene. In th.is. operat:km* of the 'mhid, it is 'not one Ihinltyoiily that'b'empkyed ; there are many that Join tigefher' m its prodnetinn. Sometimes tht tiansact.ions of the day are brought upon the stage, and acted over .i^pi% as it were, upon 'th.i8 theatre of 'the Imagiaation. In this esse, memory surely aets thft most ennsadsrable part, since the scenes ex.hiblted.are not fictions, but realities, which we rcneaber i yc't, m this ease, the l^wnilJiM. vouM4itMie.lta«i.:ibe mmi i£ .ae'tlvt" .ta -A flldUnUMS Amis' li MkiHIi It Bk^^ S i|Hn^| M,h^^ £407-40S] memory does not act alone, other powers are employed, and attend upon their proper objects. The transactions remembered will be more or less interesting ; and we cannot then review our own conduct, nor that of others, without passing some judgment upon it. This we approve, that we disapprove. This elevates, that bumbles and depresses us. Persons that are not absolutely indif- ferent to us, can hardly appear, even to the imagination, without some friendly or un- friendly emotion. We judge and reason abiiut things as well as persons in such reveries. We remember what a man said and did ; from this we pass to his designs and to his general character, and frame some hypothesis to make the wliole con- sistent. Such trains of thought we may call historical. [410] There are others which we may call ro- mantic, in which the plot is formed by the creative power of fancy, without any regard to what did or will happen. In these also, the powers of judgment, taste, moral senti- ment, as well as the passions and afiections, come in and take a share hi the execu- tion. In these scenes, the man himself com- monly acts a very distinguished part, and seldom does anything which he cannot ap- prove. Here the miser will be generous, the coward brave, and the knave honest. Mr Addison, in the ** Spectator," calls this plav of the fancy, castle-building. the young politician, who has turned his tlioughts to the affairs of government, be- comes, in his imagination, a minister of state. He examines every spring and wheel of the machine of government with the nicest eye and the most exact judgment. He finds a proper remedy for every disorder of the commonwealth, quickens trade and manufactures by salutary laws, encourages arts and sciences, and makes the nation happy at home and respected abroad. He feels the reward of his good administration, in that self-approbation which attends it, and is happy in acquiring, by his wise and patriotic conduct,the blessings of the present age, and the praises of those that are to come. It is probable that, upon the stage of imagination, more great exploits have been Iierformed in every age than have been upon the stage of life from the beginning of the world. An innate desire of self-appro- bation is undoubtedly a part of the human constitution. It is a powerful spur to worthy conduct, and is intended as such by the Author of our being. A man cannot be easy or happy, unless this desire be in some measure gratified. While he con- ceives himself worthless and base, he can relish no enjoyment The humiliating, Baortifying sentiment must be removed, and lilO-412] this natural desire of self-approbation will either produce a noble effort to acquire real worth, which is its proper direction, or it will lead into some of those arts of self- deceit, which create a false opinion of worth. [411] A castle-builder, in the fictitious scenes of his fancy, will figure, not according to his real character, but acct)rding to the highest opinion he has been able to form of himself, and perhaps far beyond that ophiion. For, in those imaginary conflicts, the passions easily yield to reason, and a man exerts the noblest efforts of virtue and macnanimitV' v^^th the same ease as, in his dreams, he flies through the air or plunges to the bot« torn of the ocean. The romantic scenes of fancy are most commonly the occupation of young minds, not yet so deeply engaged in life as to have their thoughts taken up by its real cares and business. Those active powers of the mind, wlii h are most luxuriant by constitution, or have been most cherished by education, im- patient to exert themselves, hurry tlie thought into scenes that give them play ; and the boy commences in imagination, according to the bent of his mind, a general or a statesman, a poet or an orator. When the fair ones become castle-build- ers, they use different materials ; and, whila the young soldier is carried into the field of Mars, where he pierces the thickest squad- roiis of the enemy, despising death in all its forms, the gay and lovely nymph, whose heart has never felt the tender passion, is transported into a brilliant assembly, where she draws the attention of every eye, and makes an impression on the noblest heart. But no sooner has Cupid's arrow found its way into her own heart, than the whole scenery of her imagination is changed. Balls and assemblies have now no charms. Woods and groves, the flowery bank and the crystal fountain, are the scenes slie frequents in imagination. She becomes an Arcadian shepherdess, feeding her flock beside that of her Strephon, and wants no more to complete her happiness. [412] In a few years the love-^ick maid is transformed into the solicitous mother. Her smiling offspring play around her. Shi views them with a parent's eye. Her ima- gination immediately raises them to man- hood, and brings them forth upon the stagu of life. One son makes a figure in the army, another shines at the bar; hei daughters are happily disposed of in mar- riage, and bring new alliances to the family. Her children's children rise up before her. and venerate her grey hairs. Thus the spontaneous sallies of fancy an as various as the cares and fears, the de* sires and hopes, of man. IM^ OK THK INTELLECTOAL POWERS. [essay !▼• CHAP. IV.] OF THE TRAIN OF THOUGHT IN THE MIND. 383 M.^plll: i li ii, 'timWi Ivif, f olti|ili% Tbete ill up tbe scenes bred man acquites by bemg much exercised in the various scenes of life. In the motniug he visits a friend ,in .afliotion. Here bis imagination brings forth ifom its store every topic of consola- tion! everything that is agreeable to the kwa of friendahip and sympathy, and no- thing that iS' not w. From thence .ho dttves to tie miniiter'a levee, whero' imftglnation leadily sugiiesta what is proper to be said or replied to every man, and in what man- ner, according to the degree of acquaint- •nee or familiarity, of rank or dependence. of onpoaition or oon.curtence 'Of intorests, of eonidence or distmat, that is between theni« Nor does all this employment hinder him from carrying on some design with much artiice^ and endeavouring to penettato mto 'the views 'of iitheta tlirongh tho' closest dis- guises. From the levee he goes to tho Hous«» of Commons, and speaks upon tho aliiira of 'tlie nation .$ from thenee to a ball or .««embiy, and, entertains the ladies. Mia hmgimitinn puts on, tlO' friend, the courtier, th*pattiot, the fine gentleman, with mote ease than wo put off one suit and put on anothet. 1430] This is the elliet of training and exer- cise. For a man of equal parts and know- ledge, but unaceustomed to those scenes of puUiii lili, fa quite 'disoonoerted when first brought hito them. His thoughta at© put to light, and he cannot tally tiem. There are feato of Imagination to bo hsamed by application and practice, as won- .deiful aa the' feato of balaiicets .and rope.- daiMef8,,.iiii.iilt4»asuMiaia.. When '» 'man can make a hundted versea .|itn m|i'fi| r on one foot, or pky three or four flunea at eheaa at the same time without wmim thu howfd, it is ptohahb he hath ,sp«illifalif«iii.Mqiiirii»g«>ei>»'<^t* ^^'^' ever, Mieb 'unusual phamomena shew what habits of IniMinaatkm, may be aoonired* Whtn such 'haUto aro' aoquirsd, .and. per- Ibeted, thay art exenaied withont any labo- [418-480J ciiAP. IV.] OF THE TRAIN OF THOUGHT IN THE MIND. 385 rious effort ; like the habit of playing upon an instrument of music. There are innu- merable motions of the fingers upon the stops or keys, which must be directed in one particular train or succession. There is only one arrangement of those motions that is right, while there are ten thousand that are wrong, and would spoil the music. The musician thinks not in the least of the arrangement of those motions ; he has a dis- tinct idea of the tune, and wills to play it. The motions of the fingers arrange them- selves so as to answer his intention. In like manner, when a man speaks upon a subject with which he is acquainted, there is a certain arrangement of his thoughts and words necessary to make his discourse sen- sible, pertinent, and grammatical. In every sentence there are more rules of grammar, logic, and rhetoric, that may be transgressed, than there are words and letters. He speaks without thinking of any of those rules, and yet observes them all, as if they were all in his eye. [421] This is a habit so similar to that of a player on an instrument, that I think both must be got in the same way — ^that is, by much practice, and the power of habit. When a man speaks well and metliodi- «aally upon a subject without study and with perfect ease, I believe we may take it for granted that his thoughts run in a beaten track. There is a mould in his mind — which has been formed by much practice, or by study— for this very subject, or for some other so similar and analogous that his discourse falls into this mould with ease, and takes its form from it. Hitherto we have considered the opera- tions of fancy that are either spontaneous, or, at least, require no laborious effort to guide and direct them, and have endeav- oured to account for that degree of regu- larity and arrangement which is found even ill them. The natural powers of judgment and invention, the pleasure that always attends the exercise of those powers, the means we have of improving them by imi- tation of others, and the effect of practice and habits, seem to me sufficiently to account for this pha^nomenon, without sup- posing any unaccountable attractions of ideas by which they arrange themselves. But we are able to direct our thoughts in a certain course, so as to perform a destined Every work of art has its model framed in the imagination. Here the " Iliad" of Homer, the " Republic" of Plato, the ** Principia" of Newton, were fabricated. Shall we believe that those works took the form in which they now appear of them- •elvea ? — that the sentiments, the manners, and the paasbns arranged themselves at once in the mind of Homer, so as to form the " Iliad ?" Was there no more effort in the composition than there is in telling a well-known tale, or singing a favourite song ? This cannot be believed. [422] Granting that some happy thought first suggested the design of singing the wrath of Achilles, yet, surely, it was a matter of judgment and choice where the narration should begm and where it should end. Granting that the fertility of the poet^s imagination suggested a variety of rich ma- terials, was not judgment necessary to select what was proper, to reject what was im- proper, to arrange the materials into a just composition, and to adapt them to each other, and to the design of the whole ? No man can believe that Homer's ideas, merely by certain sympathies and antipa- thies, by certain attractions and repulsions inherent in their natures, arranged them- selves according to the most perfect rules of epic poetry; and Newton's, according to the rules of mathematical composition' I should sooner believe that the poet, after he invoked his muse, did nothing at all but listen to the song of the goddess. Poets, indeed, and other artists, must make their works appear natural ; but nature is the perfection of art, and there can be no just imitation of nature without art. When the building is finished, the rubbish, the scaffolds, the tools and engines are carried out of sight ; but we know it could not have been reared without them. Thetrain of thinking, therefore, is capable of being guided and directed, much in the same manner as the horse we ride. The horse has his strength, his agility, and his mettle in himself; he has been taught cer- tain movements, and many useful habits, that make him more subservient to our purposes and obedient to our will ; but to accomplish a journey, he must be directed by the rider. In like manner, fancy has its original powers, which are very different in different persons ; it has likewise more regular mo- tions, to which it has been trained by along course of discipline and exercise, and by which it may, extempore, and without much effort, produce things that have a consid- erable degree of beauty, regularity, and design. [423] But the most perfect works of design are never extemporary. Our first thoughts are reviewed ; we plaice them at a proper dis- tance; examine eveiy part, and take a complex view of the whole. By our criti- cal faculties, we perceive this part to be redundant, that deficiotit : lu're is a want of nerves, there a want ot delicacy ; this is obscure, that too diffuse. Thmgsare mar- shalled anew, according to a second and more deUberate judgment ; what was defi- cient, is supplied ; what was dislocated, is do ON TEE INTELLICT0AL POWERS, [essay !▼« |mt in joint ; raiUiiitaees are lopped off, :aiid tlie wliole polislied. TiiMigli poets, of all artists, make tlie Mgiiitt'fllaini to^ :isM9»irataon j yet,, if we be- lieire' Honee, a competent |u%e^. no pro- duction in tliat art can have merit wMeli lias not coal tmsli labour as this in tlie Mrth. ••VoiO! FiMipillin HUiitiit. ctmcti' ifprtliMdlte quod non Mitlto mm^ m iMiia Uttira, awmiil,, aHiMe FfegiHtiini 4imlm mm taitigstll ail iimMm" TI10 Miidiiiiiiii I wonM draw from all tliat lias 'lieen said upon tlilS' sablect is,. Tbftt everything that is regular in that train of thought which we call fancy or imafination,. from, the Ittle designs and reverieS' of ehiMren to the gfaadest pro* doetions of human geniits, 'wii oiigiuallj the 'Offspring of judgment or taste, apnlied with, some effort greater oT' 'less.. What eoe penoQ cempoeed with ait. and judg- ment <> imitated hj another witt. great 'Case. What a man himself at trst eom- Bosed w.ith pains, becomes by 'habit so faniliar as to' offer itself :spon'taneo«tBly to his faney afterwards*. Bat ;nothinf 'that^ is refpilar was^ ever' .at Irst conceived without design, attention., and care. '[4JM] I. sluill now 'make a few refleettoos upon a theory whieh has been applied to aflcoint for' tw sueeessive train of thought hi the inin4 It was hinted by M.r H.obbe%. hut has drawn more attention since it was dis- tmctly explained bv Mr Hume. That .author* tliinkS' that the train, of thought in the mind is owing fO' » Mni of attraction whieh ideas 'haTo lor other ideas that, hear certain rehitlonii to them. He thinkS' the complex, 'ideaa^whleh ^are the common subjects of onr 'thoni^ts .and na* aoning— are owing to the aame eanae. The tehitions which produce' this, attraction of idiflis, he thinks, are these three only^to 'wit, causation, eentiguttgF' hi thne or pfause, .and simiHtnde. lie asserts that these are the only general principles that^ unite ideas. And having, in another place, occasion to take notice of contrariety as a principle of connection .among ideaa,. m order 'to ^n- file this to his sfstem, he tells us gravely, tlial contraricly may perhapS' be considered as a mixture of causation and 'resemyanee. 'That ideas which have any of these threO' rebtionS' do mutually attraet' 'Oidi othir, io^ 'that one of them 'behig presented to 'the fancy, the otiier 'is drawn along 'with it— this he .seems to 'think an original property of the mind, or rather of the ideas, and therefore inexplicabi&f '♦ HeibfmM have laid mk autbor, for Hianie .!■ icferred ta—H. I 5 • tfMtffi |i. S0t, K noie f. The hittory of tlw .Flr«f, I observe, with regard to this theory, that, although it is true that the thoncht of any ohjeet is apt to lead us to the thought of its cause or effect, of tMngs ctintiguous to it in time or place, or of thmgs resemblmg it, yet this enumeration of the rektions of things which are apt to kad ns from one object to another, ia very InaiMinite. The enumeration is too krge upon hk own principles j but it k by Ikr too scanty in reality. Causation, according to hk philo- sophy, hnpliea nothing more than a «on- .stant conjunetton observed between the oanse and the effect, and, therefore, conti- guity must indnde causation, and his three f'rinei'ples of attraction are reduced to two. 48S] But when we take all the three, the enu- meration k, in reality, very incomplete. Every rektion of things has a tendency, more' or lets,, to lead the thought, iu a thinking mkd, from one to the other ; and not only every reblion, but every kind of contrariety and opposition. What Mr Hume laya— that wntiariety may perha.ps be cO'niliwred .as a m.ixture " of 'Causation and resembknce** — I can as little compro- bend as if he had said that tgnre may per* haps be considered as a mixture of colour and .sound. O'ur thoughts pasa^ easily from the end to the means ; from any truth to the evi- dence on which it k founded, the conae- qnencea that^ may be dra.wn. from it, or the use that :niay he .made of it From a part we .are casiy .fed to think of the whok, from a Bubjeet to its qualities, or from thin^ rekted to the relation. Such transitions m thmking musl. .have been made 'thousands of times by every man who thinks and 'reasons, and thereby become, m it were, beaten 'tracks for the imagination. Hot only the rektio^na of objecta 'to each other .ininenee ma tram of 'thinking, but the rektion Ihey hear to the 'present tem- per and dkiiosltion of the mmd ; their re- iatkn to the habits we have acquired, whether' imnl. or hitolleetnal.; to the com- pany vt 'liave kept, and to the business in whieh '«e^ Mm 'been ehkiy empkyed. The same event will euggest very different re- iections to different persons, and to the same ,peiBon .at different times, accordmg ai' he la in good, or bad humour, as he 'k lively or dull, angry or pleased, melancholy or cheerful* Lord Kames, in his " Elements of Criti- cism," and. Br Gerard, m hk *^ .Essay on Genius,** have given a mnch fuller and juster enumeration of ^ the causes that in> ffuenoe our' trak. of 'thinking, and I have aMe tpeculgUiNH on Ibii O'f . thMW 1 flatty at Mmm .0 • •.. P • • f iifttttwiT— *^- Bee [424, 4851 tBAF. iv.J OF THE TRAIN OF THOUGHT IN T.lE MIND. 387 nothing to add to what they Imve said on this subject. Secondly, Let us consider how far this attraction of ideas must be resolved into original qualities of human nature. [426] I believe the original principles of the mind, of which we can give no account but that such is our constitution, are more in number than is coifimonly tliought. Rut we ought not to multiply them without necessily. That trains of thinking, which, by fre- quent repetition, have become familiar, should spontaneously offer themselves to our fancy, seems to require no other origi- ual quality but the power of habit.* In all rational thinking, and in all rational discourse, whether serious or facetious, the thought must have some relation to wliat went before. Every man, therefore, from the dawn of reason, must have beea accus- tomed to a train of related objects. These please the understanding, and, by custom, become like beaten tracks which invite the traveller. As far as it is in our power to give a direction to our thoughts, which it is un- doubtedly ill a great degree, they will be directed by the active principles common to men—by our appetites, our passions, our affections, our reason, and conscience. And that the trains of thinking in our minds are chiefly governed by these, according as one or another prevails at the time, every man will find in his experience. If the mind k at any time vacant from every passion and desire, there are still some objects that are more acceptable to us than others. The facetious man k pleased with surprising similitudes or con- trasts; the philosopher with the relations of things that are subservient to reasoning ; the merchant with what tends to profit; and the politickn with what may mend the state. A good writer of comedy or romance can feign a train of thinking for any of the per- sons of liis fable, which appears very natu- ral, and is approved by the best judges. Now, what is it that entitles such a fiction to approbation ? Is it that the author has given a nice attention to tlie relations of causation, contiguity, and similitude in the ideas? [427] This surely is the least part of its merit. But the chief part con- sists in this, that it corresponds perfectly with the general character, the rank, the . habits, the present situation and passions of the person. If this be a just way of judging in criticism, it follows necessarily, that the circumstances last mentioned have the chief mfliience in suggesting our trains of thought. • We can as well expTain Habit bf AtMiciation. I a« Aawciation by Habit.— H. f426-428] ' It cannot be denied, tliat the state of the body has an influence upon our imagination, according as a man is sober or drunk, as he is fatigued or refreshed. Crudities and indigestion are said to give uneasy dreams, and have probably a like effect upon the waking thoughts. Opium gives to some persons pleasing dreams and pleasing un- uginations when awake, and to others such as are horrible and distressing. These influences of the body upon the mind can only be known by experience, and I believe we can give no account of them. Nor can we, perhaps, give any reason why we must think without ceasing while we are awake. I believe we are likewise origi- nally disposed, in imagination, to pass from any one object of thought to others that are contiguous to it in time or place. This, I think, may be observed iu brutes and ia idiots, as well as in children, before any habit can be acquired that might account for it. The sight of an object is apt to suggest to the imagination what has been seen or felt in conjunction with it, even when the memory of that conjunction m gone. Such conjunctions of things influence not only the imagination, but the belief and the passions, especially in children and in brutes ; and perhaps all that we call memory in brutes is something of this kind. They expect events in the same order and succession in which they happened before ; and by this expectation, their actions and passions, as well as their thoughts, are re- gulated. [428] A horse takes fright at the place where some object frighted him before. We are apt to conclude from this that he remembers the former accident. But perhaps there is only an association formed in his mind between the place and the passion of fear, without any distinct reraenibrauce. Mr Locke has given us a very good chapter upon the association of ideas ; and by the examples he has given to illustrate this doctrine, I think it appears that very strong associations may be formed at once— not of ideas to ideas only, but of ideas to passions and emotions ; and that strong as- sociations are never formed at once, but wljen accom[)auied by some strong passion or emotion. I believe this must be resolved into the constitution of our nature. Mr Hume's opinion— that the complex ideas, which are the common ol)jocts of discourse and reasoning, are formed by those original attractions of ideas to which lie ascribes the train of thoughts in the niind^ will come under consideration in another place. To put an end to our remarks upon this theory of Mr Hume, I tliink he has nal merit iu bringing this curious subject under V r. 2 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. L^ssay m fm tlm iriew of pliiliMioplieni, aiicl carrying it a fwrtain length. But I ice nothing in tins thajrj ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWBEa [188 AY ?. OHAP. II.J OF GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. 391 tlieir iistiin*. Tliev wem eallad mmmntdM, lieeaiise tlie j miglit Mong efnall j to many iiiiiivkwil% 'Hii fO' 'HOI iMniiiM. to ona Tiiej won slao calM pmfyMm^ hmmum 'wlmtewr is prdlifiiteii, thafc i8| affl'miisd or denied of one inliject, may be of morCi and therefon is an univeraal, and ex|>re88ed liy a .pmeial. wonL A ffodicalib Iherafon sigitiies tbe 'Sanie iMng as an allriliiito, witli lliis difference only, that the irot is Latb. the last English.* The attributes we find eiAer in. the creatures of Ood or in the worfcS' of men, are' eommon to many indi- dnak.. We either ind it to be so, or pre* sume it may be so, and give them the same name in every subject to which they belong. There' are not only attribnteS' belonfttig to in^diviinal subjects, but there are lihewise attributes of attributes, which may ho called secondary attributes.. Most «ttnhut«i are capable of different degrfses and different niodiieations, whkli must be expressed by gemral words.. [434] Thus it is an attribute of many bodies to oe moved ; but motion may be in an endless 'Variety of directions. It may 'be ^uick or slowy rectilineal, or enrv.ilineiil. $ il may be «i|iiabk, or aeoelerated, or retarded. As all attributes, therefore, whether pri- mary or secondary, are expretmd by general words, it idlows that, in eveij proposition we express iu language, what m .ali:rmed or denied of the .subject of the preposiUon m.u8l be expressed by general words : and that the subject of the proposition may oflen be a ;g^neiml word, will appear from 'the next observation. nirdlf , The .same faculties by which we dbtinguish the different attributes belong- ing to the same subject, and give names to them, enable us Ii]ce'W.ise to' obierve, that manjr subjects, agree in certain attri- butes whie they difisr in others. B^ this means we are enabled to reduce individuals which .are tninite, to a limited, .unmher of classes, which are called loidS' .and 'iOfis $ and,. 'in the8ehfiliistiiehinguage,f#iiff« and O'hserving many 'indi.vidimhi 'to agree in certMU. attributes, 'we refer tliem all to one eliss,. and. give a name to 'the class. Th..is lume comprehends in its signification not one attribute only, hut all the aUributes %vhich distttiguish that, chss; and by affirm- iiig this, name of .any indlvid'ual, we afirm. it to have all the attributes which charac^' terise the class: thus men, dogs, horsei, elephaii.tB, are' so many different classes of .aniMds.*" In like manner" we' maisliai other MiiiMtatii i n it. Temta'ble and inanimate, 'into 'Cl *'11iiriiielnlli,iittmf'ijlB|>|YlfMl! in AVCSrV ■peoieii and 'holli^ geuiS' .and. iptffes of every .iMiviiaitl t# 'vhien It extonJs. m'ua* uf 'man it mav he affirmed, that h.o [i34-43ti| is an animal made up of body and mind ; tiiat he is of few dajs, and full of trouble ; that he is capable of various improvements in arts, in knowledge, and in virtue. In a word, everything common to the species may be affirmed of man ; and of all such propositions, wliich are innumerable, man is the subject. Again, of every nation and tribe, and of every individual of the human race that is, or was, or shall be, it may be affirmed tliat they are men. In all such propositions, which are innumerable, mau is the predi- cate of the proposition. We observed above an extension and a comprehension in general terms ; and that, in any subdivision of things, the name of tlie lowest species is most comprehensive, and that of the highest genus most exten- sive. I would now observe, that, by means of such general terms, tliere is also an ex- tension and comprehension of propositions, which is one of the noblest powers of lan- guage, and fits it for expressing, with great ease and expedition, the highest attainments in knowledge, of which the human under- standing is capable. W hen the predicate is a genus or a fipecies, the proposition is more or less comprehen- sive, according as the predicate is. Thus, when I say that this seal is gold, by this single proposition I affirm of it all the pro- perties which that metal is known to have. Wlten I siiy of any man that he is a mathematician, this appellation compre- bends all the attributes that belong to Itim as an animal, as a man, and as one who has studied mathematics. When 1 say that the orbit of the planet Mercury is an ellipsis, I thereby affirm of that orbit all the properties which Apollonius and other geometricians have discovered, or may discover, of that species of figure. [437J Again, when the subject of a proposition Is a genm or a species, the proposition is more or less extensive, according as the subject is. Thus, when I am taught that the three angles of a plane triangle are equal to two right angles, this properly ex- tends to every species of plane triangle, and to every individual plane triangle that did, or does, or can exist It is by means of such extensive and comprehensive propositions, that human knowledge is condensed, as it were, into a size adapted to the capacity of the human mlud, with great addition to its beauty, and without any diminution of its distinct- ness and perspicuity. General propositions in science may be compared to the seed of a pknt, which, ftccordmg to some philosophers, has not only the whole future plant inclosed within it, but the seeds of that plant, and the phmts [437-4391 that shall spring from them through all future generations. But the similitude falls short in this re- spect, that time and accidents, not in our power, must concur to disclose the contents of the seed, and bring them into our view ; whereas the contents of a general proposi- tion may be brought forth, ripened, and exposed to view at our pleasure, and iu an instant. Thus the wisdom of ages, and the most sublime theorems of science, may be laid up, like an Iliad in a nut-shelly and trans- mitted to future generations. And this noble purpose of language can only be ac- coniplislied by means of general words annexed to the divisions and subdivisions of things. [43«] What has been said in this chapter, I think, is sufficient to sliew that there can be no language, not so much as a single pro- position, without general words ; that they must make the greatest part of every lan- guage; and that it is by them only that language is fitted to express, with wonder- ful ease and expedition, all the treasures of human wisdom and knowledge. CHAPTER II. OF GKNKRAL CONCEPTIONS. As general words are so necessary in language, it is natural to conclude that there nmst be general conceptions, of which they are the signs. Words are empty sounds when they do not signify the thoughts of tlie speaker ; and it is only from their signification that they are denominated general. Every word that is spoken, considered merely as a sound, is an individual sound. And it can only bo called a general word, because that which it signifies is general. Now, that which it signifies, is conceived by the mind both of the speaker and hearer, if the word have a distinct meaning, and be distinctly under- stood. It is, therefore, impossible that words can have a general signification, un- less there be conceptions in the mind of the speaker and of the hearer, of things that are general. It is to such that I give the name of general conceptions ; and it ought to be observed, that they take this denomination, not from the act of the mind in conceiving, which is an individual act, but from the object or thing conceived, which is general. We are, therefore, here to consider whether we have such general conceptions, and how they are formed. [439] To begin with the conceptions expressed by general terms— that is, by such general words as may be the subject or the predi- ON' THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. £e8«ay ▼• •utA df ' m ppupoitfiiii* Hhiej an 'titliMr sttriimiw m iiinp. m tii^ »m gemm m §ptdm 'Of tbiiigp. It m mMm% witi timet to all the indi- ¥iiiialBW«af«a«Hiaiiitedwitli tliatwehave a mora' dear and diatiust 'C«iM«|itif» 'Of tlwir attrilnitea^ tliaii. of tlw aulleet to wMdi thoit attrilnitaa' 'Mong. Take, for iuatanec, any individiial body «e liaveaocMM to know — what eoneefitifiii. m we form of it f Every nan mm 'kmm 'tbia frail Ms eonaciouBneea. He wit ini tlal '1m emiMlvea it m a tMng that has length, 'tmsadth, .and 'thidaieaa, siicii a figiuw' and such a colour ; that it is hard, or aofl, or flaidi 'tliat it has such qualitiea, mi h fit lor Biieli. purposes If ii is a vepetahle, he may know where it grew, what w the form, of Its leaves, 'snd iower, and seed. If an animal, what are its natural instincts, its manner of Mfei and of rearing its young. Off these attrilmtes, belonging to this indi- vidual and numberless others, be rosy snrely have a distinct conception ; and he w'ill ind words :ta languHige' by wliicb he can dearly and distinetly expre8s"eaeh of them. If we consider, in like manner, the con- ception we form of any individual person of our acquaintance, we shall Isnd it to be made up of variowattribiiites, which we ascribe to liim ; sueb as, that he is the son of such a man, the brother of such another ;. that ha has such an employment or office ; has such a fortune ; that he is tall or short, well or ill made, comely or ill faironred, yoiing or old, married or unmarried ; to thii we may idd his temper, bis diaraeter, his abilities, and perhaps some anecdotes of bis historjf . Such is the conception we fo^rm of indi- 'Tidial persons of our aequalntnnM. By such attributes we describe them to ihoiie who know them not; and by such attri- butes historians ffve us a conception of the 'penMnageS' of former times. Mor is it pos- sible to' do it in any other way. '[4411] All the distinct knowledge we have or can attain of any individual is the know- W,ge of its attributes.; for we know not the 'essence' of any individnal. This :8eem8 to he beyond the reach of the human faenl- thal w»^ diatiwitly conceive about them. It la tni%«ft emeeiv* a subject to which the attrihtitea Wong i but of this subject, when its attributes are set aside, we have but an obsenreand relative* conception, whether it This WIS 'brfore-ohserved with regard to bodies, Essay II. chap. l», [p. 322] to which we refer; and it is no Jess evident with mgnid. to m:uids. What is it we call a ■indF Iti8»th:inkiag,inteUigent,active bemg. G'nwtlng 'that thinking, intelli. fince^ and activity, are attributes of mind, want to know what th© thmg or being is to which these attributes befenp f To this qnestion I can find no satlsfymg answer. The attributes of mind, and particularly its (ipefations, we know clearly ; but of the thing Itself we have only an obscure no- tion. [441] Kature teaches ns thai thinking and reasoning are attributes, which cannot exist without a subject ; but of that subject I be- lieve the best notion, we can form implies little 'mom than 'that it it' 'the subject of sueh n !l!!'i'*'P1 1'llf ''f'iWilL Whether other created beings may have the knowledge of the real essence of ^'Cieatod. things, so as to be' able to 'ded'ueo' 'thdr at- tribtttos from their essenco and constitution, or whether this be the prerogative of him who made them, we cannot tell ; but it is a knowledge which seems to be quite be- yond the reach of the human faculties. We know the essence of a triangle, and from that essence can deduce its properties. It is an universal, and might have been conceived by the human mind though no individual triangle bad ever existed. It has only what Mr Locke calk a nominal essence, which is expressed in its definition. But everything that exists, has a real essence, which is above our comprehension ; aiid, therefore, we cannot deduce its properties or attributes from its nature, as we do in 'the 'trkngle. We must take a contrary road 'in the knowkdwi'Of fiod's works, and satisfy ourselves with their attributes as faets, and with the general conviction that there is a subject to which those attributes Now, every attribute is 'What the ancienta. called an. nniversai It is, or may be, wm- miin to various indlvidnals. There is no attribute belonging to any creature of God which may not belong to others ; and, on lliis^aMonnt,. sttrihuiee, in all :bingnage% .are 'Oxpreaied. by general, wordsi. It appears,, llke'wlse^ from every' man*s experience, that, 'he may have as dear .aad 'distinct a conception of such attrHmtes ■■ we have named, and of innumeialile otiicii»: as he ean 'have 'Of say individnil m whiah Cli#>v liiilifiMniii''' liidwi 'tiw .attributes 'Of individnab-it' all Enough, I thinlc, haft been said, to sben-, not only that we 'may have clear and dis- tinct conceptions of attributes, but that thev .are the only things, with .regard to individnals, of whioh we have a dear and 'distinct eonoeptioD.. The other elaas of gtnoral terms are those that aignify the gmera^ and species into which we divide and subdivide thmga Andf If we bo .able in iiiin distinet ^conceptions of attiibntes. it .cannot Mrdy .'bo 'denied that we may have distlnot ooioeptions of getmrm I I Sbovt, p» Sit, nola^ H. [4W, CHAP. 11.3 OF GEXERAL CONCEPTIONS. 393 and species ; because they are only collec- tions of attributes which we conceive to exist in a subject, and to which we give a general name. [442] If the attributes comprehended under that general name be distinctly conceived, the thing meant by the name must be distinctly conceived. And the name may justly be attributed to every individual which has those attributes. Thus, I conceive distinctly what it is to have wings, to be covered with feathers, to ky eggs. Suppose then that we give the name of bird to every animal that has these three attributes. Here undoubtedly my conception of a bird is as distinct as my notion of the attributes which are common to this species : and, if this be admitted to be the definition of a bird, there is nothing I conceive more distinctly. If I had never seen a bird, and can but be made to under- stand the definition, I can easily apply it to every individual of the species, without danger of mistake. When things are divided and subdivided by men of science, and names given to the genera and species, those names are defined. Thus, the genera and species of plants, and of other natural bodies, are accurately de- fined by the writers in the various branches of natural history ; so that, to all future generations, the definition w ill convey a dis- tinct notion of the genus or species defined. There are, without doubt, many words siKtiif^iiig genera and species of things, which have a meaning somewhat vague and indistinct; so that those who si)cak the same language do not always use them in the same sense. But, if we attend to the cause of this indistinctness, we shall find that it is not owing to their being general terms, but to this, that there is no defini- tion of them that has authority. Their meaning, therefore, has not been learned by a definition, but by a kind of induction, by observing to what individuals they are appUed by those who understand the lan- guage. We learn by habit to use them as we see others do, even when we have not a precise meaning annexed to them. A.nian may know that to certain individuals they may be applied with propriety ; but whether they can be applied to certain other iudivi- duals, he may be uncertain, either from want of good authorities, or from havinj; contrary authorities, which leave him in doubt. [443]. Thus, a man may know that^ when he applies the name of beaist to a lion or a tiger, and the name of bird to an eagle or a turkey, he speaks properly. But whether a bat be a bird or a beast, he may be uncer- tain. If there was any accurate definition of a beast and of a bird, that was of suffi- cient authority, he could be at no loss. It is said to have been sometimes a mat- , [442-4441 ter of dispute, with regard to a monstrous birth of a woman, whether it was a man or not. Although this be, in reality, a ques- tion about the meaning of a word, it may be of importance, on account of the privi- leges which kws have annexed to the human character. To make such laws perfectly precise, the definition of a man would be necessary, which I believe legislators have seldom or never thougjit fit to give. It is, indeed, very difficult to fix a definition of so common a word ; and the cases wherein it would be of any use so rarely occur, that perhaps it may be better, when they do occur, to leave them to the determination of a judge or of a jury, than to give a defi- nition, which might be attended with un- foreseen consequences. A genus or species, being a collection of attributes conceived to exist in one subject, a definition is the only way to prevent any addition or diraiimtion of its ingredients in the conception of different persons; and when there is no definition that can be appealed to as a standard, the name will hardly retain the mopt perfect precision in its signification. From what has been said, I conceive it is evident that the words which signify genera and species of things have often as precise and definite a signification as any words whatsoever; and that, when it is otherwise, their want of precision is not owing to their being general words, but to other causes. [444] Having shewn tliat we may have a per- fectly clear and distinct conception of the meaning of general terms, we may, 1 think, talve it for granted, that the same may he said of other general words, such as prepo- sitions, conjunctions, articles. JVIy desi<;n at present being only to shew that we have general conceptions no less clear and dis- thict than those of individuals, it is sufficient for this purpose, if tliis appears with regard to the conceptions expressed by general terms. To conceive the meaning of a general word, and to conceive that which it signifies, is the same thing. We conceive distinctly the meaning of general terms, therefore we conceive distinctly that which they signify. But such terms do not sig- nify any individual, but what is common to many individuals; therefore, we have a distinct conception of things common to many individuals — that is, we have distinct general conceptions. We must here beware of the ambiguity of the word conception, which sometimes signifies the act of the mind in conceiving, sometimes the thing conceived, which is the object of that act.* If the word be taken **ThU last should be called (kmcept, which was a terai in use with the old English philoiopherfc<->U. m4 tm THE INTELLECTUAL P0W1II&, TtmAH ▼• tHAP.iii.] CONCEPTIONS FORMED BY ANALYSING OBJECTS. S95 il fe tli« iftt seiiK, I ^ncloiciwMge tlitl tmry net nff tbe mind i» an individiial actf tli0 unirenaliti', therefore, is nn% m tibe Ad of the mind, ' hut in the ohject or thing eon- eeiire4 The thing eoneeiired k m attri^ htite common to many subjectfl, or itiaa iwniia or apeeiea common to many indivl- Snppse I conceive a triangle^tliat i%.a 1>lain igtire, terminated by three ri^lit inet. Me that understands this definition distinctly, has a dittinet^ conccf taon of a 'triangle. But a 'triawele is not an indiri- dual « it is a speeiee. 'The act of my under- ■tBBiiing in conceiving it is an individual act, and has^ a real existence ; hut ttie^ thing conceived 'is general, and cannot exist with- out other attributes, which are^not Included m the ddlnition. [445] Every triangle that really exists must have a certain length of sides and measure of angles ; it roust have placO' tmi. time. But the definition of a triangle includes neither existence nor any of those attri- butes ; and, therefore, they are not included in the conce|ition of a triangle, which can- not he accurate if it comf rebend more than the definition. Thus, I think, it appears to be evident, that we have general conceptions that are ctear and distinct, both of attributes of tilings, and of genera and species of things. CHAPTER IIL nr ifBHIEAI. COKCBFTIONS FOmHBB Mf ANALTSING OBJ'ICTfi. We are next to consider the operations of the understanding, by which wc are enabled to form general, conceptions. These appear to me to be' three i— Fi«/,, The resolving or analysing a subject into its known attributes, and ginng a mam to eich attribute, which name shall signify that attribute, and nothing more. Sgmmfijff The observing one or more such attributes to be common to many sub- jects. The first is by philosopierS: 'CalM itef r^eiiofi ,* the seci^nd may be called fimmrtiiiMmff ; but both are commonly in- cluded under the name of ahgtrmsimn. It is difficult to My which of them gees 'first, or whether they arO' not. so ehinly ennneeted that neither 'Can chdm. "the 'BM»» deuce. For, on the one hand, to perceive an agreement between, two or more objects in the same .attribute, seems to refiiire' no-' thing more than, to' compare then, together. [44S] A .sair^ge, vp«» wtiiig :eitow and chalk, would find no difficulty in perceiv- ing that Ihey liave the same oolong Yet, on the other liMid,-tt seenwiUfiiMiUe that .he. should obwif • this.' ^agfotmant 'without abitiiition— that is, dialingmshing in hia conce'ption 'tht^ mitoif, wherein thoee tw© objeeta. agiee, twa the O'ther d'uaHtlea wherein 'they 'disagrea It seems, therefore, that we cannot gVBenlise 'without some degree of abstrae* tion ; but I .apprehend we may abstrsct w.itho.ut genetalising. For what hinders me from «tt«ilig to the whiteness of the paper before me, without applying that colour to any other object. The whiteneus of this individual object is an abstract con- ceptioOi but not a general one, while applied to one individual only. These two opera- tions, however, .are subservient 'to each other; for the more attributes we observe and .distinguish in anv one individual, the more agreements 'we .shall diaeover between It and other individuals. A ihird operation of the understanding, by which we form abstract conceptions, is the combining into one whole a certain number of those attributes of which we have formed abntnict notions, and giving a name to that combination. It is thus we form abstract notions of the genera and species of 'things. These three operations we shall consider in order. With regard to abstraction, strictly so called, I can perceive nothing in it that is difficult either to be understood or praetiMMl. What can be more easy than to distinguish the different attributes which we know to belong to a subject ? In a man, for in- stance, to distinguish hi« size, his com* plexion, his agOt ba fortune, his birth, his professton, and twenty other things that belong to him. To think and speak of these things with understanding, is surely within the reach of every man endowed with the human faculties, [447] There may be distinctions that require nice discernment, or an acquaintance with the subject that is not common. Thus, a critie in painting may discern the style of Raphael or Titian, when another man could not. A kwjer may be acquainted with many distinctions in crimes, and con- tracts, and actions, which never occurred to a man who has not studied law. One man mav excel another in the talent of dis- tinguishmg, as he may in memory or in reasoning i but there is a certain degree of this talent, without which a man would havo' no title to be considered .as a reasoi't- able creature. It ought likewise to be observed, that attributes niiiy, with perfect ease, be dis- tinguished and 'disjoined 'in our conception, which, cannot 'te aetually •epa.rated in the subject Thus, in a body, I can distinguish itssoliditv fiwnito extension, and its wei|ht Iram. betn. In extension I can distinguislt. length, breadth, and thidcneis; yet none of' these can 'he 8epai«.ted from the body, or [445-4471 from one another. There may be attri- butes belonging to a subject, and inseparable from it, of which we have no knowledge, and consequently no conception ; but this does not hinder our conceiving distinctly those of its attributes which we know. Thus, all the properties of a circle are inseparable from the nature of a circle, and may be demonstrated from its defini- tion ; yet a man may have a perfectly distinct notion of a circle, who knows very few of those properties of it which mathe- maticians have demonstrated ; and a circle probably has many properties which no mathematician ever dreamed of. It is therefore certain that attributes, which in their nature are absolutely inse- parable from their subject and from one another, may be disjoined in our conception ; one cannot exist without the other, but one can be conceived without the other. Having considered abstraction, strictly so called, let us next consider the operation c»f generalising, which is nothing but tlie observing one or more attributes to be common to many subjects. [448] If any man can doubt whether there be attributes that are really common to many individuals, let him consider whether there be not many men that are above six feet high, and many below it; whether there be not many men that are rich, and many more that are poor ; whether there be not many that were born in Britain, and many that were born in France. To multiply instances of this kind, would be to affront the reader's understanding. It is certain, there- fore, that there are innumerable attributes that are really common to many individuals ; and if this be what the schoolmen called universale a parte ret, we may affirm with certainty that there are such universals. There are some attributes expressed by general words, of which this may seem more doubtful. Such are the qualities which are inherent in their several subjects. It may be said that every subject hath its own qualities, and that which is the quality of one subject cannot be the quality of another subject. Thus the whiteness of the sheet of paper upon which I write, cannot be the whiteness of another sheet, though both are called white. The weight of one guinea is not the weight of another guinea, though both are said to have the same weight. To this I answer, that the whiteness of this sheet is one thing, whiteness is another ; the conceptions signified by these two forms of speech are as different as the expressions. The first signifies an individual quality really existing, and is not a general con- ception, though it be an abstract one : the second signifies a general conception, which implies no existence, but may be predicated of everything that is white, and in the f448-450] same sense. On this account, if one should say that the whiteness of this sheet is the whiteness of another sheet, every man per- ceives this to be absurd ; but when he says both sheets are white, this is true and per- fectly understood. The conception of whiter ness implies no existence ; it would remain the same though everything in the universe that is white were annihilated. [440] It appears, therefore, that the general names of qualities, as well as of other at- tributes, are applicable to many individuals in the same sense, which cannot be if there be not general conceptions signified by such names. If it should be asked, how early, or at what period of life men begin to form general conceptions ? I answer, As soon as a child can say, with understanding, that he has two brothers or two sisters— as soon as he can use the plural number — he must have general conceptions ; for no individual can have a plural number. As there are not two individuals in nature that agree in everything, so there are very few that do not agree in some things. We take pleasure from very early years in ob- serving such agreements. One great branch of what we call wit, which, when innocent, gives pleasure to every good-natured man, consists in discovering unexpected agree- ments in things. The author of liudibras could discern a property common to the morning and a boiled lobster — that both turn from black to red. Swift could see something common to wit and an old cheese. Such unexpected agreements may shew wit ; but there are innumerable agreements of things which cannot escape the notice of the lowest understanding ; such as agree- ments in colour, magnitude, figure, features, time, place, age, and so forth. These agree- ments are the foundation of so many com- mon attributes, which are found in the rudest languages. The ancient philosophers called these universals, or predicables, and endeavoured to reduce them to five classes — to wit. Genus, Species, Specific Difference, Pro- perties, and Accidents. Perhnps there may be more classes of universals or attributes — for enumerations, so very general, are sel- dom complete : but every attribute, common to several individuals, may be expressed by a general term, which is the sign of a general conception. [450] How prone men are to form general con- ceptions we may see from the use of meta- phor, and of the other figures of speech grounded on similitude. Similitude is no- thmg else than an agreement of the objects compared in one or more attributes , and if there be no attribute common to both, there can be no similitude. The sunilitudes and analogies between ON THE INTELLECTUAL POU'ER^. I^KSSAir V, I ' tiM milmia ohjmM tlMt mtam pnannte to v, .an ininile and intilmiililil*. Th9j m 'Wit in wmlm ti taste, 'Imt iSbej u M0fy 'IMfiil intlio: 'Ofdinary comiiiuiiicatioii.,of our tllMiglila And ■eatimenta' bj laiigiitgpb^ In. t!i« rade bi^gimiiw (if bavlaniiii iiiilifMHi' ■iiiiilitiite^.aiii iimilii|p«i.iit|ifl3r OoiMtft'^^ pni|iw vonia' to axi»eM 'iiieii*fi MiitiiMiit% M> much thai in such langni^gea Ihtre is liardly a Mntenoe without a ni«ii|ihMi of one person to another. If they are employed in hunting, they nnst have general ■•terms to express the Tarioua implements, and operations of the cbaie. Their houses, md ctothing, however stmf le, will femlah, anetber set of general terms, to express the materials, the work- manship, and the exoellencia and defects of those fah'rics. If they sail ipon rivers or upon the sea,, this 'wiB, give occasion to a great number' of general terms, which other- wise would never have •occurred to their thoujibls. , The same thing "mJ *» ■"•>' «« •gn»"- ture, of pnstu'ra.g«, of every art they prac- tise, and' of every branch of knowledge they at^toin. The necessity of general terms •for communicating our .sentiments is obvious ; and the invention of them, a« far m we ind them, necessary, 'reiinires no other talent tec that degree of understandmg which m common to men* 141121 The notions of debtor and creditor, of anil and loss, of acoouiit, 'balance,, stock fin 'hand, and many others, are owing to commerce. The notions of ktitude, longi- tude, course, distance, run, and those of ships, and of their various parts, fu:m.iture, and opwations, iire owing to navkatlon. The .anatomist must have names for the various simikr and diisimaur parts of the human body, and words to expresa^ their igure, portion, structwPC, and us*. The physician mMt have ■names for the ■varions^ diseases, of the body, their causes, sym.,p-' toms, and means of cure.. The like may be said of the^gtammarian, the l^iciaii, the witic, the .ihetorician:, the moralist, the naturalist, the mechanic, and every man tlttt professes any art or science. When any discovery is made in art or in Batiire,wbleli:fe(|uiresneW'eombinalM>ns and mm words to express it. properly, 'i» 'in.* venlion of these is easy to those who have a distinctnotion of the thingtobe eipreysed ; and such words will leadi^ he adopted, and leteive the fuUlc laneClMi. If, on the other band, any man of emi- nence, tbiongh vanity or want of judgment, shoulil invent new words, to express com. binatlons that have neither beauty nor utility, or which may as well be expressed in the current hinguage, his authority may give them cunwicy for a time with servile imitators or blkd admirers ; but the judi- ci0us wii langb at them, and they will soon lose their credit So true was the observa- lion made by Pomponius Marcellus, an aueient grammarian, to Tiberius dtesar t— " You,'?3iiBBr, 'have 'power to make a man a deniien of Eome, 'but not to^ make a word a dcniaen of the Roman language.*' • Among nations that are civilized, and hava intercourse with one another, the most necessary and useful arts will he common ; the important parts of human knowledge will be common; their seveial languagea will be atted to it, and conseiiuently to one another. [4C3] New mventions of general use give an easy birth to new complex notions and new names, which spread as far as tlie inven- tion does. How many .new complex notions have been formed, and names for thein invented in the hmguages of Europe, by the modern inventions of printing, of gun- powder, of the mariner's compass, of opti- cal ghisses? The simple ideas combined in those complex notinns, and the associat- ing qualities of those ideas, are very an- cient; but they never produced those com- plex notions until there was use for them. What is peculiar to a nation in its cu«. toms, manners, or laws, will give occasion to complex notions and words peculiar to the hinguage of that nation. Hence it is easy to see why an impeachment, and an attamder, in the English language, and ostracism in the Greek language, have not names answering to them in. other lan- guagest ■ I apprehend, therefore, that it is utility, and not the assocaling qualities of the ideas, that has led men to form only certain com- binations, and to give names to them m language, while they neglect an m^.-inito number that might be formed. The common occurrences of life, m the •.intercourse of men, and m their occupa- tions, give occasion to many complex no- tions. We see an mdividual occurrence, which draws our .attention more or less, and may be a subject of conversation. Other occurrences, simihir to tliisin many raspeets, have been observed, or may be exiie«tad. It is convenient that we should ha able to speak of what is common to tbam all, leaving out the unimportant cir- CHAP.iv.] CONCEPTIONS lORMED BY COMBINATION. 401 **f TU., ir, eivicaiein«dsie pottt Iwiiiinlbui, ^ See Suetoniui Hi /iliiit<7miii> f 162, 4631 cumstances of time, place, and persons. This we can do with great ease, by giving a name to what is common to all those mdividual occurrences. Such a name is a great aid to knguage, because it compre- hends, in one word, a great number of simple notions, which it would be very tedious to express in detail. [464] Thus, men have formed the complex notions of eating, drinking, sleeping, walk- ing, riding, running, buying, selling, plough- ing, sowmg, a dance, a feast, war, a battle, victory, triumph; and others, without number. Such things must frequently be the sub- ject of conversation ; and, if we had not a more compendious way of expressing them than by a detail of all the simple notions they comprehend, we should lose the benefit of speech. The different talents, dispositions, and habits of men in society, beinj; interesting to those who have to do with them, will in every hinguage have general names — such as wise, foolish, knowing, ignorant, plain, cunning. In every operative art, the tools. instruments, materials, the work produced, and the various excellencies and defects of these, must have general names. The various relations of persons, and of things which cannot escape tlie observation of men in society, lead us to many complex general notions; such as father, brother, friend, enemy, master, servant, property, theft, rebellion. The terms of art in the sciences make another class of general names of complex notions ; as in mathematics, axiom, defini- tion, problem, theorem, demonstration. 1 do not attempt a complete enumeration even of the classes of complex general con- ceptions. Those I have named as a speci- men, I think, are mostly comprehended under what Mr Locke calls mixed modes and relations ; which, he justly observes, have names given them in language, in preference to innumerable others that might be formed ; for this reason only, that they are useful for the purpose of communicat- ing our thoughts by language. [463] In all the languages of mankmd, not only the writings and discourses of the learned, but the conversation of the vulgar, is almost entirely made up of general words, which are the signs of general conceptions, either simple or complex. And in every language, we find the terras signifying complex no- tions to be such, and only such, as the use of language requires. There remains a very large class of com- plex general terms, on whidi I sliall make some observations ; I mean those by which we name the species, genera, and tribes of natural substances. It is utility, indeed, tlmt leads us to give [464-466] general names to the various species of na- tural substances; but, in combining the attributes which are included under the specific name, we are more aided and di- rected by nature than in forming other com- binations of mixed modes and relations. In the last, the ingredients are brought to- gether in the occurrences of life, or in the actions or thoughts of men. But, in the first, the mgredients are united by nature in many mdividual substances which God has made. We form a general notion of those attributes wherein many individuals agree. We give a specific name to this combina- tion, which name is common to all sub- stances having those attributes, which either do or may exist. The specific name comprehends neither more nor fewer attri- butes than we find proper to put into its definition. It comprehends not time, nor place, nor even existence, although there can be no individual without these. This work of the understanding is abso- lutely necessary for speaking intelligibly of the productions of nature, and for reaping the benefits we receive, and avoiduig the dangers we are exposed to from them. The individuals are so many, that to give a proper name to each would be beyond the power of language. If a good or bad qua- lity was observed in an individual, of how small use would this be, if there was not a species in whicli the same quaUty might be expected! [466] Without some general knowledge of the qualities of natural substances, human liib could not be preserved. And there can Le no general knowledge of this kind without reducing them to species under specific names. For this reason, among the rudest nations, we find names for fire, water, earth, air, mountains, fountains, rivers; for the kinds of vegetables they use ; of animals they hunt or tame, or that are found useful or hurtful. Each of those names signifies in general a substance having a certain combmation of attributes. The name, therefore, must be common to all substances in which those attributes are found. Such general names of substances being found in all vulgar languages, before philo- sophers began to make accurate divisions and less obvious distinctions, it is not to be expected that their meaning should be more precise than is necessary for the common purposes of life. As the knowledge of nature advances, more species of natural substances are observed, and their useful qualities dib- covered. In order that this important part of human knowledge may be communicated, and handed down to future generations, it is not sufiicient that the species have names. Such is the fluctuatmg state of language, So 103 ON TBI INTJELLECTUAL POWERa I K88AY ▼ tliat a .general nanie 'will not alwaji relaiii tlie .aiiiiie pcceiie^ ^aiiiiiieatiiiii, uraiesB il have •.cMiiiliMt la 'iiliWi, men are diBponed to was^ midioubtedij a great fund ef ' matoral knowlediro among the Greeks and Bemana a the tuiM of PMbj. There w a great fmnd in hiS' 'HatotBl Histoiy; but mieh of it is lost to us — for this reason an^ong others, that we .know not what •|MseieB' of' ^siiliBtaiMe he means bj such a iliillillliSp Hothing ecmld haw prevented this loss but an aeeurate deinition of the name, by which the species night have been distin- guished from .ai others as long m that name :and its deinition 'remained. [4i7"] To prevent such loss in ftituie times, modem philosophers have verj laudably attempted to give nameS'-and accurate dein« l;li(ms"of M the known n^weies of rnh* stances wheiewith. the 'homitiful 'Creator hath entiched our |^obe. This is necessary, in order to form a 'CopicnS' and distimt' language 'Concerning them, and, 'Corasef neutiy, tO' liMillitate our knowledge' of theni, and 'to convey it to future generations. Every :speeies 'that. ;is 'known to esust' 'Oi^ht to lave a name ; and that .name O'Ught to be' 'defined by .such attributes tm :serve best to dtstinguim the spedes from all others. Nature invites 'to this work^ by having' formed. thingS' so as to make it both easy and important. For, frsi. We perceive numbers of indi^ 'vidual substances so like in their obvious, f naitiesi that the most imunpfoved tribes. m mm .consider them, as 'Of one ispeeies,. .and .,glfe them one common name. Sewndlp, The more latent qualities of ■ubstanees.' are .geneial.ly 'the same in all thO' 'in'dl.viduals. 'of a :species ; so that 'whati by 'Observation or experiment, is fouii'd in. a few individuals of a species, h presumed and commonly found to belong to the whole.. By th.i8 we are enabied|. from, par* This kind of indnction 'is, hidtoed, the mas- ter-key to the knowledge of Nature, without 'wMch we could form no general 'Conclu- sions m that branch of phi&ophy. And, fiMff , By the very eonsti'tution of our nature, we are led, without reason* ing, to asofibe to the whole species what we have fbuud to 'behmg tO' the 'individuals. It is thus we come tO' now 'that, 'ire bums and water drowns. ; that bodies, .gravitate and bread nonrliiea* [468] n9:qpodni 'Of two of the Mngdons of Matnre-^to wit, tho' anhnal and m vm- 'taUe^-aeem. to be ixed. by H ature^ by 'iw' power they have of producing 'thieir lika. And, m these, men, m ai ages and nations, have accounted the parent and the progeny 'Of 'the .same' .species. The differences auionf .Natofilists, with regard to the iqiecies of these two kingdoms, are very inconsider- able, and may be occasioned by the changes produced by ifoil, climate, and culture, and sometimes by monstrous productions, which are comparatively :raie. In the inanimate' kin'udom we have not the same means of dividmg things into species, and, 'therefore,, the limits 'of species seem 'to bO' 'more .arbitra.ry. But, from 'the E regress already made, there is ground to ope that, even in this kingdom, as tho knowledge of it advances, the various species may he so well distinguished and deined as to answer every valuable pur- 'Hose. When the species arc' so numerous as. to by distributiDg'them into genera, 'the ^iiif«' .into tribes, the tribes into orders, and 'the orders into classes. Such a regular distribution of natural substances, by divisions, and subdivisions, has got thO' 'name of a system. It is not a system of truths, but a system of general terms, with their definitions; and it is not only a great help to memory, hut facilitates very much the definition of the terms. For the definitioii of the genus is common to all the species of that genus, and so ib understood in the definition of eaeh spueies, without the trouble of repeti- tion* In ike manner, the definition of a tribe 'iB.'aiderstood in the definition of every genus, and every species of that tribe ; and the same may be said of every .superior division* [49] The e0M!t 'Of .such a system.at'ical distri- bution of the productions of Nature is seen in our systems of zoology, botany, and min- enlogy; in which a species is commonly difined accurately in a line or two, which, without the systematica! a.rni.iigement, could hardly hedged in a page. With regard to the utility of systems of this .kind,, men. have gone .into contrary ex- tpem.et i :Bonit' have treated them with con- tempt, as a mere dictionary of words; others, perhaps, rest in such svstems .as all. that is worth knowing in the works of Hature. Ou the one hand, it is not the intention of such systems to communicate all that is known of the natural productions which Ihey describe. ThO' 'pfoperties. most, fit fof defining and diatingolshing 'the several speeies, are not always those that are most uaeful to be known. To discover and to eommnniciiie 'the uses of natural substances part' of 'the buiiness of a naturaist which is the most important ; and the systematical .arrangement of them, is chiefiy to be valued [461-4691 CHAP, v.] OF NAMES GIVEN TO GENERAL NOTIONS. 403 for its subserviency to this end. This every judicious naturalist will gmnt. But, on the other hand, the labour is not to be despised, by which the road to an use- ful and important branch of knowledge is made easy in. all time to come; especially when this labour requires both extensive knowledge and great abilities. The talent of arranging properly and defining accurately, is so. rare, and at the same time so useful, that it may very justly be considered as a proof of real genius, and as entitled to a high degree of praise. There is an intrinsic beauty in arrangement, which captivates the mind, and gives pleasure, even abstracting from its utility ; as in most other tilings, so in this particularly, Nature has joined beauty with utility. The arrange- ment of an army in the day of battle is a grand spectacle. The same men crowded in a fair, have no such effect. It is not more strange, therefore, that some men spend their days in studying systems of Nature, than that other men employ their lives in tlie study of languages. The most important end of those systems, surely, is to form a copious and an unambiguous lan- guage concerning the productions of Nature, by whidi every useful discovery concerning them may be communicated to the present, and transmitted to all future generations, without danger of mistake. [470] General terms, especially such as are complex in their signification, will never keep one precise meaning, without accurate definition ; and accurate definitions of such terms can in no way be formed so easily and advantageously as by reducing the things they signify into a regular system. ^ Very eminent men in the medical. profes- sion, in order to remove all ambiguity in the names of diseases, and to advance the healing art, have, of late, attempted to re- duce into a systematical order the diseases of the human body, and to give distinct names and accurate definitions of the seve- ral species, gemra, orders, and classes, into which they distribute them ; and I appre- hend that, in every art and science, where the terms of the art have any ambi<;uity that obstructs its progress, this method will be found the easiest and most successful for the remedy of that evil. It were even to be wished that the gene- ral terms which we find in common lan- guage, as well as those of the arts and seiences, could be reduced to a systematical arrangement, and defined so as that they might be free from ambiguity ; but, per- haps, tho obstacles to. this are insurmount- able. I know no man who has attempted it but Bishop Wilkins in his Essay towards a real character and a philosophical language. * « In this atteoft Wilkiui wu preceded Iqr our [470-472] The attempt was grand, and worthy of a man of genius. The formation of such systems, therefore, of the various productions of Nature, in- stead of bemg despised, ought to be ranked. among, the valuable improvements of modern ages, and to be the more esteemed that its utility reaches to the most distant future times, and, like the invention of writing, serves to embalm a most important branch of human knowledge, and to preserve it from being corrupted or lost. [471 ] CHAPTER V. OBSERyATIONS CONCERNING THE NAMES GIVEN TO OUR GENERAL NOTIONS. Having now explained, as well as I am able, those operations of the mind by which we analyse the objects which nature pre- sents to our observation, into their simple attributes, giving a general name to each, and by which we combine any number of such attributes into one whole, and give a general name to that combination, I shall offer some observations relating to our general notions, whether simple or complex. I apprehend that the names given to them by modern philosophers, have contri- buted to darken our speculations about them, and to render them difficult and abstruse. We call them general notions, concept tions, ideas. The words notion and con- ception, in their proper and most common sense, signify the act or operation of the iniud in conceiving an object. In a figura- tive sense, they are sometimes put for the object conceived. And I think they are rarely, if ever, used in this figurative sense, except when we speak of what we call general notions or general conceptions. I'ho word idea, as it is used in modern times, has the same ambiguity. Now, it is only in the last of these senses, and not in the first, that we can be said to have general notions or conceptions. The generality is in the object conceived, and not in the act of the mind by which it is conceived. Every act of the mind is an in- dividual act, which does or did exist. [472| But we have power to conceive things which neither do nor ever did exist. We have power to conceive attributes without regard to their existence. The conception of such an attribute is a real and individual act of the mind ; but the attribute conceived is common to many individuals that do or may exist. We are too apt to confound an ob- ject of conception with the conception of countryman Dalgarno: and froin Dalgarno it is highly protiable that Wilkins borrowed the idea. But even Dalgarno was not the first who conceived the project.— U. 2 d2 404 ON THE INTELLECTUAL ■POWERS. I^KSSAY T. II III thai object But the danger of cbiiig thia must he much greiiter when the object' of ifmeef tm m mhi m coneeptioii. The Peri|Mitetiea' ffswe to such objeots of eonceiitioii 'tho' nsmes of "SniveniilB, wd of preiiimbles.. Tlioee mamm had no ambi- guity, and I think were much more fit to expiesS' what waa meant b j tliem than the 'namw w© use. It is for thb reason that I have so often need the wo^rd. attribute, which 'has'tiw same meaning with pndicable. And,, for the same reason, I have tliought it necessary repeat- ■edlj to warm tbe reader, tliat when, iU'Com- plance with custom, I speak of general notions or general conceiitions, I always mean, thinga conceived, and not the act of the mind in eoneeiving them. The PjthagiiwaiiB and Platonkts ga« the name of iikm to such general objectii of conception, and to notbiiig eke. As we borrowed tlie word idea from them, so that It in Mw faraiiar in all the languages^ of Europe, I think it would have been happy if we had also borrowed their meaning, and had used it only to signify what tliey meant by it. I apprehend we want an. 'iinamhigu- Qua word to distiinguish things barely con- ceived from. th.ingS' that exist If the woid idea waa used fortliis purpose only, it would 'be 'restored, to its origmal meaning, and supply that want. We may surely .agree with the Platonists in the miani.iig of the woid idm^ without adopting their ^ theory 'Concerning ideas.^ We need not believe,, witli them, that ideas are eternal and self-existent, and that they have .a more real existence' tlian. the thingS' we see and feel, [473] They were led to give existence to ideas, from tlie eonimon prejudice that everything which is an object of conception must .really exist ; and, having once given exiS't* enco' tO' ideas,, the rest of their mysterious system about ideas followed of course .; for things merely conceived have neither be- gi.nn.irag nor end, time nor phioe' ; tli«y are: subjeet to no change 4 they are the^ pattenas and exempkrt .aeeoriing to wUeli the .Deity made everything that he made.;, for the work must 'be cdneeived by the .arlitcer before it is made. These are^ undeniable attribuiit' 'Of 'Hm ideaS' of .Pkto ; .and,, if we add to tliemthat of real, existence, we have the whole myste* rious system of Platonic ideas.. Take away the attribute, of existence, and suppose. them not to be Ihlnp that existy 'IibI f hmgs. thai .are barely omeeived, and ai. the mystery is removed; all that remaina is level to the human understanding. The word maenee came to be much nsed mnmag th». iielMMiliiien, .and what th«' Pla^ toniiia calM Iba Um of a speetea, they called iia esseooe. The word «Mfnli« is «aid to have been made by Cicero; hiil even his authority could not give it cur- rency, until long alter his time. It came at hst to be used, and the schoolmen fell into much the same opinions concerning essenoea,. .as the Phitmialt hM 'flonecming .idctti.. TiisesaeneearfAinp'WwaWdto te nnereated, 'ilenial, and ilnmutahlc. Mr Locke distinguishes two kinds of essence, the real and the nominal. By the real, etsenoe, hn meanS' 'tho conatitution of .an individual, 'wbleli wukm it Ut 'be what il is. Thia' essence most begin and end with the individual to which it belongs. It is not, therefore, a Phitjeet. 1 1 was thought that there can be no science, unless its object be something real and immutable ; and therefore those who paid homage to truth and science, maintained that ideas or universals have a real and immutable existence. The sceptics, on the contrary, (for there were sceptical philosophers in those early days,) maintained that all things are mu- table and in a perpetual fluctuation ; and, faim this principle, inferred that there ia [47^-471] no science, no truth ; that all is uncertain opinion. Plato, and his masters of the Pythagorean school, yielded this with regard to objects of sense, and acknowledged that there could be no science or certain knowledge con- cerning them. But they held that there are objects of intellect of a superior order and nature, which are permanent and im- mutable. These are ideas, or universal natures, of which the objects of sense are only the images and shadows. To these ideas they ascribed, as I have already observed, the most magnificent attributes. Of man, of a rose, of a circle, and of every species of things, they believed that there is one idea or form, which ex- isted from eternity, before any individual of the species was formed ; that this idea is the exemplar or pattern, according to which the Deity formed the individuals of the species ; that every individual of the species I>articii)ates of this idea, which constitutes its essence ; and that this idea is likewise an object of the human intellect, when, by due abstraction, we discern it to be one in all the individuals of the species. Thus the idea of every species, though one and immutable, might be considered in three diflerent views or respects : /r.v/. As having an eternal existence before there was any individual of the species ; secondly. As existing in every individual of that spe- cies, without division or nmltiplication, and making the essence of the species ; and, thirdly, Asan object of uitellect andofscieuce in man. [477] Such I take to be the doctrine of Plato, as far as I am able to comprehend it II is disciple Aristotle rejected the first of these views of ideas as visionary, but diflered little from his master witli regard to tlie two last, lie did not admit the existence of universal natures antecedent to the ex- istence of individuals : but he held that (Very individual consists of matter and form ; that the form (which I take to be what Plato calls the idea) is common to all the individuals of the species ; and that the human intellect is fitted to receive the forms of things as objects of contemplation. 8ncli jtrofound speculations about the nature of universals, we find even in the first ages of philosophy.* I wish I could make them more intelligible to myself and to tlie reader. The division of universals into five classes — ^to wit, genus, species, specific difference, properties, and accidents— is likewise very ancient, and I conceive was borrowed by the Peripatetics from the P ythagorean school, f * Different philosophers have maintained that Aristotle was a Realist, a Conceptualist, and a No. miiialist, in the ttriciest 8en! io«cU,u.s though « know not how ;it is l>niiiglit atoiit*' A^nil I tMnlc w» mi^ he eertun tliat nmveisals are not'Winteim hj mmoB of images of them in our minds, kec»a«, then, c» be BO imago of an nni. venal. X It seems to me, that on this question Mr Locke and his two antagonists have divided the truth between them. He saw very clearly, that the power of forming ab- alnust and gprnral. eonceptiona is ont of the moat diBiiiigiiisMi^ powen of tlie human mind, and puts a speeiie diierence between man and the brttte creation. But he did not nee that this power is perfectly irrccon- eileable to his doctrine coiicernhig ideas. Urn opponents saw this inconsistency ; but, instead of rejecting the hypothesis of ideas, they exphian away the 'power of ab- fltraetion, and leave no spedlie distinction 'between the human 'undetrtndiiif ^and that of brutes. 4. Berkeley,* in hia reasoning against abstract general ideas, seems unwillingly or unwarily to grant ml! that is necessary lo support abstract' and general concep- tions* *'*' A man,** be says, ** may 'Ooiildir a igure merely as trianfriilar, wiiioat attoid* iog to the particular tUitL of the mngles,. or relations of the sides- Bo far be may abatiaet Iktt ih.is will never prove that be nan ftmme an abstract ge:necai inconaist*' enl idea of a triangle/* If a man may consider a figure merely as tiungular, he must have some concep- tion of this object of his consideration ; for no man can 'Consider a thing whieh he does not conceive. He .haS' a conoeption, there- fore, of a triangular ign:re, merdy aa^ suek I know no more that is meant by an. abstract general conception of a triangle^ He thai eoiiiden m ^Zmfdj as tri- .angular, mnit' nndanianl what 'is 'meant by the word triangnkr. If, to the conception he Jouis to Ihifl 'wori, be adds any pa'rticn- kr f ualilj 'i»f anglea or rektion of aide^. 1m' mismdentands ft, and does 'not wwlier the ignro' 'merely as trian.gular. Whence, I think, it is evident, thai he who conaiden 'Coneeption of m lilaiigle|. ahatiMtlitt ftom. any fualltj of ^aiwte nr idalim. nf wfes.. 'The BiAop^ In like manner, grant% 'That 'we may consider Peter so far forth .man, or so far forth as .animal, without tincc OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVEIISALS. 409 conception of a triangle, without any conception or knuwleilge of many of the 'propeirties without which a triangle cannot exist. Let us next consider the Bishop*s notion of generalising.* He does not absolutely deny that there are general ideas, but only that there are abstract general ideas. "An idea,** he says, '^ which, considered in it- self, is parlicnlar, becomes general, by be- ing made to represent or stand for all other particular ideas of the same sort To make this plain by an example : Suppose a geo- metrician is demonstrating the method of cutting a line in tmo equal parts. He draws, for instance, a black line, of an inch in length. This, which is in iteelf a parti- cular line, is, nevertheless, with regard to ita stgiuHcation, general; since, as it is there used, It represents all particukr lines whatsoever; so ttiat what is demonstrated of it, is demonstrated of all lines, or, in other words, of a line in general And as that particular line becomes general by be- hig nude a sign, so the name line, which, lakai'.abBolBtMy, m parlieukrj by being a .lite, 'is madft' ,giiiiiiiii**' [ISftji Mmm I olMry% thai whan, a particukr idoft' k made .a skn to represent and stand for all of a Mirl, Ihk snpfMissaa distinction of 'ihiiip .into' .Mtto' nr qweies. To be of a iorl impliea 'having' 'tbose attributes which r, II pk ltSk)*^.||. [163-48^] characterise tlie sort, and are common to all the individuals that belong to it. There cannot, therefore, be a sort without general attributes, nor can there be any conception of a sort without a conception of those general attributes which distinguish it. The conception of a sort, therefore, in an ab- stract general conception. The particular idea cannot surely be made a sign of a thing of which we liave no con- ception. I do not say that you must have an idea of the sort, but burely jeu ought to understand or conceive what it means, when you make a particular idea a repre- sentative of it ; otherwise your particular idea represents, you know not what. When I demonstrate any general pro- perty of a triangle, such as, that the three angles are equal to two right angles, I must understand or conceive distinctly what is common to all triangles. I must distinguish the common attributes of all triangles from those wherein particular triangles may differ. And, if I conceive distinctly what is common to all triangles, without confounding it with what is not so, this is to form a general con- ception of a triangle. And without this, it is impossible to know that the demonstra- tion extends to all triangles. The Bishop takes particular notice of this argument, and makes this answer to it : •' Though the idea I have in view, whilst I make the demonstration, be, for instance, that of an isosceles rectangular triangle, whose sides are of a determinate length, I may nevertheless be certain that it extends to ail other rectilinear triangles, of what sort or bigness soever; and that because neither the right angle, nor the equality or determinate length of the sides, are at all concerned in the demonstration.'* [4«6*] But, if he do not, in the idea he has in view, clearly distinguish wiiat is common to all triangles from what is not, it would be impossible to discern whether something that is not common be concerned in the demonstratien or not. In order, therefore, to perceive that the demonstration extends to all triangles, it is necessary to have a distuict conception of what is common to all triangles, excluding from that concep- tion all that is not common. And tins is all I understand by an abstract general conception of a triangle* Berkeley catches an advantage to his side of the questiijn, from what Mr Locke ex- presses (^too strongly indeed) of the difficulty of framing abstract general ideas, and the pains and skill necessary for that purpose. From which the Bishop infers, that a thing so difficult cannot be necessary for com- munication by knguage, which k so easy and familkr to all sorts of men. There may be some abstract and general conceptions that are difficult, or evei» be- [486-488] yond the reach of persons of weak under- standing ; but there are innumerable which are not beyond the reach of children. It is impossible to learn language without acquiring general conceptions; for there cannot be a single sentence without them. I believe the forming these, and being able to articulate the sounds of language, make up the whole difficulty that children find in learning language at first. But this difficulty, we see, they are able to overcome so early as not to remember the pains it cost them. They have the strongest inducement to exert all their labour and skill, in order to ujiderstand and to be understood ; and they no doubt 'lo so. [487] The labour of forming abstract notions, is the labour of learning to spejik, and to understand what is spoken. As the words of every language, excepting a few projjer names, are general words, the minds of children are furnished with general coir ceptions, in proportion as they learn the nieaning of general words. I believe most men have hardly any general notions but those which are expressed by the general words they hear and use in conversation. The meaning of some of these is learned by a definition, which at once conveys a distinct and accurate general conception. The meaning of other general words we collect, by a kind of induction, from the way in which we see them used on various occasions by those who understand the language. Of these our conception is often less distinct, and in different persons is I^erhaps not perfectly the same. " Is it not a hard thing," says the Bishop, * that a couple of children cannot prate to- gether of their sugar-plumbs and rattles, and the rest of their little trinkets, till they have first tacked together numberless in- consistencies, and so formed in their minds abstract general ideas, and annexed them to every common name they make use of?" However hard a thing it may be, it is an evident truth, that a couple of children, even about their sugar- plumbs and their rattles, cannot prate so as to understand and be understood, until they Iiave learned to conceive the meaning of' many general words— and this, I think, is to have general conceptions. 5. Having considered the sentiments of Bishop Berkeley on this subject, let us next attend to those of Mr Hume, as they are expressed Part I. § 7, " Treatise of Human Nature.*' He agrees perfectly with the Bishop, « That all general ideas are nothing but particular ones annexed to a certain term, which gives them a more extensive signification, and makes them recall, upon occasion, other individuals which are similar to them. [488J A particukr *:H# ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. I B'SSAlf »• «HAP. VI III 1 UNI. iMiMiiiiiS' gmiiHil, by Wng mnemi to a ,geneml tuiiiii 'tiMil 1% to » toriii, wliieli, ffmn. M cmtomufy foniranctiim, lia« • »»- timi t© nMmy n &» to be one of the gri«t«t and moet vilimMe discoveriei timt hiis'been made of lateyeani in. the wpnhlic of letteni, it appewito he 110 other than the^ opinion of the nomiiM- 181%, »bont whieh m much dtamto w held ffom the beginning of the twelfth century 'down to' the Reformation, and which w,as aftewarda sni^rted hy Mr Hobbci. I ahall briefly consider' the argn- menta^ by which Mr Hume hopea to' 'b»¥« pnt it beyond all doubt and controTcny. Fini, He endeavours to prove, by three arguments, that it m utterly iapoaiihle to conceive any nuantity or qntity, withoni ferming a preciiC' 'Wtion of its degrees; Tlw is indeed a great undertaking ; but, if he conld prove it, it is not sufficient for his purpose^for two reasons. FiTMit Because there are many attributes of things,, besides ^'uantity and quality .; and it is incumbent upn hkn to prove that it Is impossible to 'Conceive any attribute, without forming a precise' notion of its deg'ree. Each of 'the ten categories' of .Amtotle is a .genus, and may be an attri- bute. And, if he •should prove of two of them— to wit, quantity and quality— that there can he no general con.ccption of them $ there remain eight 'behl.iid, of which, this 'must be p.roved. [489] ., The other reason is, because, though it 'Were im.possible to conceive any quantity or quality, without formhig a pi«ielse notion of its. degree, it does not follow that it is impossible to have a general, conception even of quantity and quality. The con- ception of a poimd troy is the' eonception of a quantity, and of the precise' degree of that qnaittity ; but it is an ahstfact gjeneral 'Conception notwithstanding, 'because it may bC' the .attribute of many 'indlviinal bodies, and of many kinds, of bodies. He ought, therefore, to have proved that 'We cannot conceive quantity or quality, or any other attribute, without joining it inseparably to ■ome 'individual nbjeei This remains to be 'proved, which w:ill be' fond no easy matter. For instance^ I conceive what m meant by a Japanese as distinctly as what is meant by an. .Bpgliah- 'man or a Frenchman.. It is true, a Japan- ese' is neither' quantity nor qualty, but 'it .is an attribute common to 'Cvery 'individual of a popnioua nation. I never saw an in- dividual of that nation ; and, if I can trust my consciousness, the general term does not lead me to imagine one individual of the sort as a wpresentative of ail others. 'ThnHfh Mr M.nme, therefore, undertakes much, yet, if he could prove all he under- takes to prove, it would by no means be sufficient to shew tbat we have no abstract mneral oenoeptiona. taiiii.ng thw, let ns attend to his argu- ments 'for 'proving this ext.raord.inary posi- tion, tliat it is hnpossihle to conceive any quantity or quality, without formmg a pre- eiseniitiou of its degree . The irst argument ;i8, that it is. .impossi- ble to distmguish things that are not ac- tnally separable. " The precise length of a line is not different 'Or distinguishable from the line." ['4Wl I have before endeavoured to shew, that Ibmgs inseparable m their nature may bi- distiiiguished in our conception. And we need go no farther to be convinced of this, than the instance here brought to prove the contrary. 'The precise length of a Imc, he says, is not distinguishable from the line. When I say, Tkk i* a line, I say and mean one thing. When I .say. It k m ims Hftkms ineheM, I say and mean another thing. If this be not to distinguish the precise length of the line from the hne, I know not what it is to dlsting niah. Second argument—** Every object 'Of 'Senie^^that £, every impression— is an in- dividual, having its determinate degrees of quantity and quality. But wlmtever is true of the hnpression is true of the idea, as th.ey differ In 'notlimg but their strength and vivacity.** The conclusion in this argument is, in- deed, justly drawn from the promises. If it be true that ideas differ in nothing from objects of sense, but in strength and viva- city, as it must be granted tliat all the ob- jects of sense are individuals, it will cer- tainly follow that all ideas aw individuals. .Granting, theroforo, the justness of this .conelusloB, I 'beg leave to draw two other oonelnstens from the same premises, wh.;ch will follow no less neceMarily. Firgi, If ideas differ from the objects of sense only in strongth and vivacity, it will follow, that the idea of a lion is a lion of less strength and vivacity. And hence may arise a very unportant question, Whether the idea of a lion may not tear in pieces, and devour the ideas of sheep, oxen, and horses, and even of men, women, and children ? AVrow/ff, If ideas differ only in strength •] OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. 411 and vlf aci^ from the objects of sense, it wil 'folhnr that 'Objecta. merely cl I '" 412 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [EigAY T. CM'^kr* 1* 1 OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. f II dean linen with snow, I perceive tliem m MgmB in colour ; and whim I apply tlie iiJiiiie of white to both, this name signifies neither mow nor clean linen, but the atlri- hiite whidi. is common tO' both. 2, The Mtthor mff that when we have fonnii a resemblance among several objects, we apply the same name^to all of tiem! It Lst he» be o^beerrei, that there are two kinds of names which ttie author seems to confound, though thejaM very different in nature, and in the power they have in language. There are proper names, and there' are common names or apiiellatives. The first are the names of Individuals. The same proper name is never applied to ■everal individuals on account of tlieirBimi- litude, because the very intention of a uro- per „Lme i, t. di»ti„g»feh ooe indivlal from all others ; and hence it is a maxim in grammar that proper names have no pinral num'ber. A proper name signifies nothing but the individual whose name it is ; and, when we apply it to the individual, we neither affirm nor deny anytliing con- ceniing him. A ciimnion name or appellative is not the imme of any indi¥idual, hut a general term, signifying something that is or may be common to several individuals. Common nunes, therefore, signify common attri- butes. Thus, when I apply the name of son or brother to several {lersons, this sig* niies and affirms that this attribute is common to all of them. From tills, it is evident that the apply- ing the same name to several individuals nn account of their resemblance, can, in consistence with grammar and common iC'nae, mean nothing else tlwn the express- ing, by a general term., something tliat is common to those individuals, and which, therefore, may be truly affirmed of them all. X The author says, " It is certain that wo form, the iden of individuals whenever we WW' anypmenl. term. The word mlses np an individual idea,, and makes, the ima- gination conceive it, with ai its particular cinsurastancefi and proi;>ort,iona.*'' Th,i9 ;ImI he takes a great deal of pains to aecoat for, from the effect of custom. But the fact should be ascertained before we take pains to account for it I can see no reason to believe the fact ; a,iid I 'th,ink a fa,rmer can ta.lk of his sheep and 'hiaUaek Qittle, without conceiving, in his imagina* tk.o, «H> indlTld«U, .iS all iu^^ stances ,and proportions. If this be tme, Hm wiiole of hIS' th«orj nf pneal idsM^bia to the ground. To me it appears, that when a general term is well understood, it is only by accident if it suggest some indi- vidual of the kind ; but this effect is by no I nndefstand perfectly what nmthemati- cians call a line of the fifth order ; yet I never conceived in my imagination any one of the kind in all its ciroumatanoes and pro- portions. Sir Isaac Newton first formed a distinct general conception of lines of the third order ; and afterwards, by groat labour and deep penetration, found out and de- scribed tiie particular species coniprohended under that general term. According to Mr Hume's theory, he must first have been acquainted with the particulars, and then have learned by custom to apply one general name to all of them. The author observes, " That the idea of an equilateral triangle of an inch perpen- dicultir, may serve us in talking of a figure, a KCtilinear figure, a regular figure, a tri- angle, and an equilateral triangle.'' I answer, the man that uses these general terms either understands their meaning, or he does not. If he does not understand their meaning, all his talk about them will be found only without sense, and the par- ticular idea mentioned cannot enable him to speak of them with understanding. If he understands tlie meaning of the general terms, he will Und no use for the particular idea,. 4 He tells us gravely, " That in a globe of white marble the figure and the colour are undiatinguishable, and are in effect the same." [4!l«i) How foolish have mankind lieen to give differont names, in all ages and in all huiguages, to things undistinguiBh- able, and in efiect the same ? Henceforth, in all books of science and of entertainment, we may substitute figure for etilour, and colour for figure. By this we shall make numberless curious discoveries, without danger of error. • [497 J 413 • The whotecontroveravof Nominalitm and Con- Gtpt,iial,iMn it fMndcii m. Ilie ,niili|gultf of tli« fcmis ifinployed. Tlie OfiMMlte partlit are tiilMtaiitlaliy at one. Had our British phitoaoplieri been aware of the I^ibiiitzkn distinction of intuitive and Sj/mbolt. col knowledg ; and had we, like the (itimans, diffiwiit temii, Uke J9!or# aiidJiiiieliiKun.a. to de notC'ittilireiit kinds M titiiilil, tiete would have lMen«,,lllltedilltreiice'iirii|iiniati in regard to the naliifeor fMWfBl nolloiii in Ihtt country as in the Empire, with in, tOm, Notion, Cmcepiim, ikc •le amiiiiiided, or applied by difffrent philosophers In dlimmnt sinses. 1 must put the reatter on his fusfd aftinst Ik Tboinaa ilmiwn'b spallations on tbia iiiliect. His own doeMat of aniveiwds. In so te M nil pfOittarritMitemiiailictorf I and nothing can bt' IMW erraMouitiMit his slatasnent of the doc- tniie lieW 1^' otiitffi., ^ciiMKially by the Nominalists. [49-1-4971 ESSAY VI. OF JUDGMENT CHAPTER I. OF JITDGIIENT IN GENERAL. JuoGiNG is an operation of the mind so faniiUar to every man who hath understand- ing, and its name is so common and so well understood, that it needs no definition. As it is impossible by a definition to give a notion of colour to a man who never saw colours ; so it is impossible by any defini- tion to give a distinct notion of judgment to a man who has not often judged, and who is not capable of reflecting attentively upon this act of his mind. The best use of a de- finition is to prompt him to that reflection ; and without it the best definition will be apt to mislead him. The definition commonly given of judg- ment, by the more ancient writers in logic, was, that it is an act of the mind, where/y mt» thing is affirmed or denied of another, I believe this is as good a definition of it as can be given. Why I prefer it to some later definitions, will afterwards appear. Without pretending to give any other, I shall make two remarks upon it, and then offer some general observations on this subject. [498] I. It is true that it is by affirmation or denial that we express our judgments ; but there may be judgment which is not ex- pressed. It is a solitary act of the mind, and the expression of it by affirmation or denial is not at all essential to it. It may | be tacit, and not expressed. Nay, it is well known that men may judge contrary to what they affirm or deny ; the definition therefore must be understood of mental af- firmation or denial, which indeed is only another name for judgment. 2. Affirmation and denial is very often the expression of testimony, wliich is a dif- ferent act of the mind, and ought to be distinguished from judgment A judge asks of a witness what he knows of such a matter to which he was an eye or ear-witness. He answers, by affirming or denying something But his answer does not express his judgment ; it is his testimony. Again, I ask a man his opinion in a matter of science or of criticism. His answer is not testimony ; it is the expres- •iom of his judgment. Testimony is a social act^ and it is essen [498, 499] tial to it to be expressed by words or signs. A tacit testimony is a contradiction : but there is no contradiction in a tacit judgment ; it is complete without being expressed. In testimony a man pledges his veracity for what he affirms ; so that a false testi- mony is a lie : but a wrong judgment is not a lie ; it is only an error. I believe, in all languages, testimony and judgment are expressed by the same form of speech. A proposition affirmative or negative, with a verb in what is called the indicative mood, expresses both. To dis- tinguish them by the form of speech, it would be necessary that verbs should have two indicative moods, one for testimony, and another to express judgment. [499] I know not that this is found in any lan- guage. And the reason is— not surely that the vulgar cannot distinguish the two, for every man knows the difference between a lie and an error of judgment — but that, from the matter and circumstances, we can easily see whether a man intends to give his tes- timony, or barely to express his judgment. Altiiougli men must have judged in many cases before tribunals of justice were erected, yet it is very probable that thero were tribunals before men began to specu- late about judgment, and that the word may be borrowed from the practice of tribunals. As a judge, after taking the proper evidence, passes sentence in a cause, and that sent- ence is called his judgment, so the mind, with regard to whatever is true or false, passes sentence, or determines according to the evidence that appears. Some kindis of evidence leave no room for doubt. Sent- ence is passed immediately, without seek- ing or hearing any contrary evidence, because the thing is certain and notorious. In other cases, there is room for weighing evidence on both sides, before sentence is passed. The analogy between a tribunal of justice, and tins inward tribunal of the mind, is too obvious to escape the notice of any man who ever api>eared before a judge. And it is probable that the word juih/menf^ as well as* many other words we use in speak- ing of this operation of mind, are grounded on this analogy. Having premised these things, that it may be clearly understood what I mean by iudgment, I proceed to make some general observations concerning it. 414 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWIES. [essay VI. CHAP* I* I OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 415 FiVf I, Judgiiiieiil b m act of tliit mind, ■pecifimllj different from iimple ftp|if«lien:- ■10% or the hm» mmeplMm 'of » ihing.* II wonld 'Iw ntuMMMafj' to observiai thii, if eome pMlo8(i|ili«n liad not been l«d by tb«ir tieories to a contnuy opinion. [500] Altboiigb tbera'Mn b« Mjiidgmeiil witb> onl a 'Cotwiptei of Urn iMup whrnxt whicli we j'iid;g% jet 'COMseption may be' wttbont any jndgmeiitf Judgment can b© expressed by a proposition only, and a pfoposition is a'compl^ientenoe; but simple appithen. sion may 'bo expresned by a irord or words, wbieb 'make no eompfete Mntence. When simple apprehenibn .is employed about a pnposition, every man. knows that it is one thing to apprehend a p ropositiom^'that is, to o^neeiTO w^hat. tl Bieam-bnt it !■ qmUm .another thing to judge' it to be true or false. It 'is self-evident that every jud^ent 'mutt be either true or fate'i but autple apprehension, or ^eoiiieplion, ean:,nMlher be true nor lysOi m wm^ mmm before. One judsment may be contradictory to another ; and it is impoMble for a man to have two judpienteat the same time^ 'which he 'perceives 'tO: be eontfiilictory. But eon> tnidictory propositions may be conceived.^ at the same timO' without any difficulty. That the sun is greater than the earth, and that the sun m 'not greater' 'than the earth, are eoiimdietory pn^MwitioiH. He that apprehends tbo' meaning of one, apprehends the raeafiin|; of both. But it Is imponlble for bun to jp%e. both, to be true.al'tlie.ianM' timiii. lie kaoim thai* if the- one ia. trae^ tlie 'Other must 'be Ifebfr. For thest: reasons, I hold it to be certain that judgment and simple ajpprehensioii are acts of the mind speeiieally diibreni ' Sm»M^f There' are notions or 'ideas that unglit to be .referred tO' the 'faculty of judg* 'Dent as 'their source ;.. because, if we had. not that faculty, they could not enter into 'Oor mi.ndS'.{.. and to those-- 'tbiit have that' 'faculty, and .are capable -of' 'reHeetiiig 'Upn. its operations, they are obvious and famitttr. Among these we may reckon the notion 'Of judgment itself ; tte notions ef a f rapoi-' ition~.of its subjecl, pndtete, and copula i ef .affirmation and. :neptio% of true and. false ; of knowledge, belief, 'di8bel.ief, opi^ atom, assent, evidence^ From no- aonree' mttld we ac<|tture these iiotion%. 'but 'from reiecting upon our indgments. Belatinna of things make one great ehss of our notions or ido^; and we ^nnot have the idea of any rehttion. without' somC' ex.erain of judg- ment, as 'wil appear affeerwaris. [Ml] TMinilgf In peisoM' 'Come to years of « W'ilebt boiftf er, ImfiiM. • Mpnciii. ts Mlicctlie ■iili'tf--«ii c9ililtiMal|iidpMM«— H. f 'See .butUilei iumI. idiof% p, ils)|.a, noCt' *, aiid p. |Sm .ilini%, ;|ih' Wn^ h, iiota.^Ii understanding, judgment necesHarily accom- panies all sensation, perception by the senses, consciousness, and memory, but not conception.*' I restrict this to persons come to the years of undeistanding, because it may be a ques- tion, whether inlant% in the first period of life, have- any judgment or belief at all* The same question may be put with regard to brutes and some idiots. This question is 'foreign 'to thO' present subject.; .and I say nothing 'here about it, but S|ieak only of persons who have the exercis-e-' of judg- luent. In them it is evident that a man who feels pain, judges and believes that he is really pained. The man who perceives an object, 'believes that it exists, and is what he distinctly perceives it to be ; nor is it in his power to avoid such judgment. And the like may be said of memory, and of consciousness. Whether judgment ought to be called a necessary concomitant of these operations, or rather a part or in- gredient of them, I do not dispute ; but it is certaui that all of them are accompanied with a determmatlon 'that something is true or false, and a consequent belief. If this determination be not judgment, it is an opeiatiott 'that has got. 'uo name ; for it is 'not simple apprehension, neither is it reaaonfaig; it is a mental sllirniation or negation ; it may be expressed by a propo- sition affirmative or negative, and it is .aceompanied 'with the firmest bel.ief. Tliese are 'the ehani'CteristicS' ^of judgment ;.. and I must call it judgment, tUl I can find another name to it.. The judgments we form a.re either of things necessary, or of things contingent. That three 'times three is nine, that the whole is greater than a part, are judg- ments about things necessary. [MI2] Our assent to inch necessary propositions is not grounded upon any operation of sense, of memory, or of consciousness, nor does it require their concurrence ; it is unaccom- panied by any other operation but that of mceptiott, wliicii must accomnany all judg- ment ;.. 'we may'tbefeforeeall tfala jndgiueut of thinga necessary pure judgment. Our judgment of thinn contingent must alwaya^ ':nit upon aome'Olher epention 'Of the mind, such as 'isense, 'Or .memory, or eonssiousness, or Cfsdit m teBihno.ny, w.hich is itself grounded upon sense. That I now write upon a table covered with green cloth, is a eontingent event, which I jU'dge to hts most 'undoubtedly true. My judgment is grounded upon my percep- tion, and is a necessary concomitant or in- gredient of my perception. That I dined lACfV' * la M !>>_ ■■• t bttt csa bt' CoiMeiiNt»i [500-502] with such a company yesterday, I judge to be true, because I remember it ; and my judgment necessarily goes along with this remembrance, or makes a part of it. Thero are many forms of speech in com- mon language which shew that the senses, memory and consciousness, are considered as judging faculties. We say that a man judges of colours by his eye, of sounds by his ear. We speak of the evidence of sense, the evidence of memory, the evidence of consciousness. Evidence is the ground of judgment ; and when we see evidence, it is impossible not to judge. When we speak of seeing or remember- ing anything, we, indeed, hardly ever add tliut we judge it to be true. But the rea- son of this appears to be, that such an addition would be mere superfluity of Speech, because every one knows that what I see or remember, I must judge to be true, and cannot do otherwise. And, for the same reason, in speaking of anything that is self-evident or strictly de- monstrated, we do not say that we judge it to be true. This would be superfluity of speech, because every man knows th it we must judge that to be true which we hold self evident or demonstrated. [503] When you say you saw such a thing, or that you distinctly remember it, or when you say of any proposition that it is self- evident, or strictly demonstrated, it would be ridiculous after this to ask whether you judge it to be true ; nor would it be less ridiculous m you to inform us that you do. It would be a superfluity of speech of the same kind as if, not content with saying that you saw such an object, you should add that you saw it with your eyes. There is, therefore, good reason why, in speaking or writing, judgment should not be expressly mentioned, when all men know it to be necessarily implied ; that is, when there can be no doubt. In such cases, we barely mention the evidence. But when the evidence mentioned leaves room for doubt, then, without any superfluity or tau- ^logy, we say we judge the thing to be so, because this is not implied in what was said before. A woman with child never says, that, going such a journey, she carried her child along with her. We know that, while it IS in her womb, she must carry it along with her. There are some opemtions of mind that may be said to carry judgment In their womb, and can no more leave it behind them than the pregnant woman can leave her child. Therefore, in speaking of such operations, it is not expressed. Perliaps this manner of speaking may have led pliilosophers into the opinion that, in perception by the senses, in memory, and in consciousness, there is no judgment at all. Because it is not mentioned in [503-505] speaking of these faculties, they conclude that it does not accompany them ; that they are only different modes of simple appre- hension, or of acquiring ideas ; and that it is no part of their office to judge. [504] I apprehend the same cause has led Mr Locke into a notion of judgment which I take to be peculiar to him. He thinks that the mind has two faculties conversant about truth and falsehood. First, knowledge; and, secondly, judgment. In the first, the perception of the agreement or disagree- ment of the ideas is certain. In the second, it is not certain, but probable only. According to this notion of judgment, it is not by judgment that I perceive that two and three make five ; it is by the faculty of knowledge. I apprehend there can be no knowledge without judgment, though there may be judgment without that certainty which we commonly call knowledge. Mr Locke, in another place of his Essay, tells us, *' That the notice we have by our senses of the existence of things without us, though not altogetlier so certain as our in- tuitive knowledge, or the deductions of our reason about abstract ideas, yet is an as- surance that deserves the name of know- ledge.'* I think, by this account of it, and by his definitions before given of knowledge and judgment, it deserves as well the name oijudgment. That I may avoid disputes about the meaning of words, I wish the reader to un- derstand, that I give the name of judgment to every determination of the mind con- cerning what is true or what is false. This, I think, is what logicians, from the days of Aristotle, have called judgment. Whether it be called one faculty, as I think it has . always been, or whether a philosopher chooses to split it into two, seems not very material. And, if it be granted that, by our senses, our memory, and consciousness, we not only have ideas or simple apprehen- sions, but form determinations concerning what is true and what is false — whether these determinations ought to be called knowledge or Judgment, is of small moment. [505] The judgments grounded upon the evi- dence of sense, of memory, and of conscious- ness, put all men upon a level- The phi- losopher, with regard to these, has no pre- rogative above the illiterate, or even above the savage. Their reliance upon the testimony of these faculties is as firm and as well grounded as his. His superiority is in judgments of another kind— in judgments about things abstract and necessary. And he is unwilling to give the name of judg- ment to that wherein the most ignorant and unimproved of the species are his equals. 4 Id iiM 1 tlJEi till 1 JiiliLiALrl UAIj I lyPWAlia. [essay fl* Bui pliiMioiilian Iisto m&vm hmm able te mm 'Ml J ilnfinilfoi 'Of jiiJniMftt wliMi 4iom not applj to tlie flatoniiiMiticiiis of' mm Moaes, our 'memorj, and oqumsious-' tiess* 'iiof ftny 'Cbftutioii of' siniBle appn*' ■>«>»» .Ueh a. enDp»fa«»d Ukw detar. i i i iinKt ii m it Our jiigiiiMits of this kind tre* purely tbe f ift of Nature, nor do they adinil of improTement by eulturo. Tlie meiiiorj of one miui warn be inoro' tenaeioiii' tbiii thiit' of snoCinr'; nl botb rely irilb efnal'Mmr^' .iineo upon wint' Ibey dbiinetly remember. One roiin*B sigbt maybe mow acute, or bis feeling more delieate, tban. tbaft of aiiotber; but both give equal credit to tbe dktiaet. tesiiroouy of tbeir sight and toueb. .And, as we 'have this belief by 'tie eon- Btitution of our nature, without any effort' of our own, so no effort of ours, can over- turn it The sceptics may perhaps pennade aelf, in .general, that be has. no> ground to believe hisitentes or hk m;eiiioiy s but, in particular eases that are iiite»Mtbi|, ' bis cliHlicIief vanishes, and 'bO' indi: himself nnder a lecessity of believing both. ['50i] These judgnents may, in the strictest sense, 'be ^caHedJudlf"''*^ afnaiun, Ma- ture' Ims snbjeeted 'US to' them, whether we will or not. They arc neither got, nor can they be lost by any use or abuse of our faculties $ and it 'is evidently neeessiuy Inr our presc'rvation that it ibould 'be' so. For, if belief in our aenaes iind. in our memory were to be leam^ed by culture, th& mce of men would perah before' they learned this lesson. It is neeenaiy to ai. men for their' 'being and preservation, and therefore is uneonditiomlly given to aU 'men by 'the Author of Nature. 1 acknowledge tliat, if we were to rest in those judgments of Matun of which we nov .speak, without building otlierS' upon them, they would not entitle us to the deno* niination of reasonable beings. But jet they ought not to be despised, for they are the foiindation upon wbieb 'tie grand super'- structure' of human knowledge nust' be raised. And, as in other .superotmctureS' the foundation is commonly overlool^d, so it has 'been in thid. The more sublinM iKltslnments of the human mind bsve at- traeted the attontion of pbilosophera, while 'they 'have bestowed but a careless gknce 'vpon 'the humble' foundation on which the whole fiibrie 'rests*. A fourth. observatioD is, tliat' some «xer- eiaO' of judgment is necessary in. the forma- tion 'Of aU abstract and general, conceptions^ whether more 'Simple or mo'ro' oomplex ; :in dividing, 'In defining, and, in .geneimL, :in. forni.ing ail clear and distinct cooflepMiH' of 'things, 'whieb are tho' only -it niaieiiais of 'reaionin|. NHi liMiii^iiiwiiP^ip ^wff ■P'iipiiifc'(iHiMBawi^ipBp™ 'flippiiiiiiip iBPSflMi'iSriiiii''^iai w'liF' npiBiii^*''ata ^i^ wShS'^^ a 4k and therefore 'I bring tbem mder one ob- servation. They are more allied to our ratiO'Ual natore 'than those mentioned in th« last' obsetn iti i n , and therefore are consi- dered bjT' 'themselves* 'Thttt I 'may not be mistaken, it may be observed that I do not say timt abstract notions, or other accurato notions of things, after they bavo' 'been formed, cannot be 'barely ^eoneelved' 'without ^any exercise of judgraient about 'them. I doubt not that they may : but what I say is, that, in their formation in the mind at irst, there must be aome -eiereise of judgment. [507] 'It m impotaible to distinguish the different attributes belonging to the same snbjict, without judging that they are really diflereiit and distinguishable, and that tlicy have tlmt nbilion to 'the subject which logicians ex- 'presB, 'by saybig tiat 'they may be predicated of it We cannot generalise, without judg- ing that the same attribute does or may be- long to 'many 'individmls* It has been shewn that our 'Simplest general notions are foraied by these two operations of dis- tinguishing and generalifiing t judgment therefore & exerciwd in forming the simplest general .notions. In tboao' 'that are more complex, and wbich have been shewn to be funned by combining the more simple, there is another act of the judgment required; for such oonMniitiMii' an not made at .random, but for 'an end. i and Judgment is^ 'employed in fitting them to that end. We form complex general notions for conveniency of arrang- 'ing OUT' thoughts in discourse and reasoning ; 'andi tbenfore, of 'an infinite number of com- binations that might be formed, wo choose only those tlmt are useful and necessary. That judgment must be employed in dividing as< weU as in d'ist'ingu.ishing, ap- pears evident. It is one thing to divide a subject properly, another to cut it in pieces. ifM'HOti mi ilteiilere, gedfmngere mit, said CSoero^ when be censured an improper lovvhifiiifwi iiik vCfiyuHti'iPii'flL flljpiiidii^ rum ii'iiijrtiii'ir^'irMrii'i rules of division, which .have been known to logicians more than two thousand years. There are rules likewise of definition of nO' .less .antiquity .and authority. A man n^gr' 'lo doubt divide or define 'properly with- out attendbig to the rules, or even without knowing then. But this can only be when h0i 'bat' Jndginant to pweeivt that to be right in a particular ease, 'wMeb tbe rule de- termines to bo' right m ai eases, I add in general, that, without some de- gree' of judgment, we can form nO' accurate and. diatittet notiona of things i so that one- pniviMie of jodgment is, to aid ns in form- .ng' dear' %— d: ^j fti'mii ooneeptions of IbiiigSf wmeh. are the only fit mteiitiB' for reason- iqg» ltii| 'C'HAPt I* I OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. This will probably appear to be a paradox to philosophers, who have always considered the formation of ideas of every kind as be- longing to simple apprehension ; and that the sole province of judgment is to put them together in affirmative or negative proposi- tions ;^ and therefore it requires some con- firmation. Fir*i, I think it necessarily follows, from what has been already said m this observa- tion. For if, without some degree of judg- ment, a man can neither distinguish, nor divide, nor define, nor form any general notion, simple or complex, he surely, with- out some degree of judgment, cannot have m his mind the materials necessary to reasoning. There cannot be any proposition in lan- guage which does not involve some general conception. The proposition, that I exist which Des Cartes thought the first of all truths, and the foundation of all knowledge, «cnot be conceived without the conception of existence, one of the most abstract general conceptions. A man cannot believe his own existence, or the existence of anything he sees or remembers, until he has so much judgment as to distinguish things that really exist from things which are only conceived. Me sees a man six feet high ; he conceives a man sixty feet high : he judges the first object to exist, because he sees it; the second he does not judge to exist, because he only conceives it. Now, I would ask, Whether he can attribute existence to the first object, and not to the second, without knowing what existence means ? It is im- possible^ How early the notion of existence enters into the mind, I cannot determine ; but it must certainly be in the mind as soon as we can affirm of anything, with understand- lug. that it exists. [609] In every other proposition, the predicate, at least, must be a general notion— a pre- oicable and an universal being one and the 8«me. Besides this, every proposition either atfarms or denies. And no man can have a distmct conception of a proposition, who ?!■"** understand distinctly the meaning of affirming or denying. But these are very general conceptions, and, as was before observed, are derived from judgment, as their source and origin. I am sensible that a strong objection may be made to this reasoning, and that it may seem to lead to an absurdity or a contra- oiction. It nmy be said, that every judg- ment is a mental affirmation or negation. It, therefore, some previous exercise of judgment be necessary to understand what M meant by affirmation or negation, the exercise of judgment must go before any judgment which is absurd. In like manner, every Judgment may be 417 expressed by a proposition, and a proposi- t.on must be conceived before we cTn jSdge ot It. If therefore, we cannot conceive the meaning of a proposition without a previous exercise of judgment, it foUows that judg- ment must be previous to the conception of any proposition, and at the same time that the conception of a proposition must be pre- vious to all judgment, which is a contra- uiction. The reader may please to observe, that 1 have limited what I have said to distinct conception, and some degree of judgment • and it 18 by this means I hope to avoid this Jabyrmth of absurdity and contradiction, llie taculties of conception and judgment w^ f T 1°^^"^^ ^^^ * maturity as man has. What I have said is limited to their mature state. I believe in their infant state they are very weak and indistinct; and that, bv imperceptible degrees, they grow to ma'- turity, each giving aid to the other, and receivmg aid from it. But which of them farst began this friendly intercourse, is be- yond my abUity to determine. It is like the question concerning the bird and the egg. [5 10 J In the present state of things, it is true that every bird comes from an egg, and every egg from a bird ; and each may be said to be previous to the other. But if we go back to the origin of things, there must have been some bird that did not come from any egg, or some egg that did not come from any bird. In like manner, in the mature state of man, distinct conception of a proposition sopposes some previous exercise of judg- ment, and distinct judgment supposes dis- tinct conception. Each may truly be said to come from the other, as the bird from the egg, and the egg from the bird. But, if we trace back this succession to its origin — that is, to the first proposition that was ever conceived by the man, and the first judgment he ever formed— I determine no- thing about them, nor do I know in what order, or how, they were produced, any more than how the bones grow in the womb of her that is with child. The first exercise of these faculties of conception and judgment is hid, like the sources of the Nile, in an unknown region. The necessity of some degree of judg- ment to clear and distinct conceptions of things, may, I think, be illustrated by thii similitude. An artist, suppose a carpenter, cannot work in his art without tools, and these tools must be made by art. The exercise of the art, therefore, is necessary to make the tools, and the tools are necessary to the exercise of the art. There is the same appearance of contradiction, as in what I have advanced concerning the necessity of SB ) I ilB ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. rmAT y «HAP. I.J Ml* dugfio. Of ji%-«l, ij. «i-r to f«ii dear ind 'iifiiMl' noniwptiimi' ttf 'tliiiiga Tbmt mm iw tuolfl wm must, 'iisfi in joking' m i4 ' in, .ntscmliig, and without them must main wmj baoj^og work; yet thcM took isanniil lie maie without aomo rnxmrnm of juAEMrai [5111 ne MMiiity of somii degiee of judg- ment in forming accurate and distinct no- tions of things will farther appear, if w consider attentively what notions we can form, without any aid of Judgment, of the ohjeets of senae, of the operations of our own mindsy or of the relalbna of things. To hegin with the oMeets of aensew It iS' acinowledgcd, on al hands, thal^ the first nntlfiiis we have of sensible objects are got by the external senses only, and probably 'befof«' judgment is broughllorth. ; but Ibese iist notions .are 'neitber smple, nor are they aecumte and distinrt : «hey are groes^ and Indistinct, and, like the cham^ a mik im^mtaqm mokt. Before we can have any distinct notion of thiS' wmmf U must, be .analysed s the hetewv*'^**" ■!>«••■»'■* ^ ■epaimtfld in ma coneeptlfn, andibe"Sunple elements, which 'before ky hid in the com- mon mass, must first be distinguished, and then put tugether intO' one wbrte* ^ In this way it is that we form distinct notions even of the objects of sense ; but this process of analysis and composition, by habit, becomes so easy, and is performed so readiy, thai we are apt to overlook It, and to impute the distinct notion we have fimned of the object to the senses alone ; And this we are the more prone to do Iweause, when once we have distinguished the .sensibto f nalities. of the object imm. one another, m sense gives testimony to each of them. You perceive, for instancy hi nlJMt whlte^ 'inund^ and a foot In dianiiMr. I grant 'that yon pereelve all these^ attflbutes «f the object by sense ; but, if yon had not been able to distinguish the colour from the igure, and both from the nagnitnde, yomr :Hnfle8. would: only have #v«n jou one eomptex and eonHtsed imntloii nf all. 'these mmgled 'together. A man who is able to aay with nidflf- ttiwpiii^g, or to determine in his om. m:ind, tb»t this object h white, must 'haw distln- fnlshed wMteness from other at'tributes. f he has not made this distinction, he does not understand what be says. [fil2] Suppose' a cube of' brass to 'be presented :al the ^aune Hme' to a chid of a vear' 'Old. and to a man. The fmltafity of the tene will attract the attention of both. Both hafe the senses of sight 'and. of tmeh hi ^eunal. perfeetlon; and, thewfow, M mj- " thing 'be dlswfend In HMm 'Oljeel by the nan, which cannot be diseovered by the flUd, it mnil. be owing, not to the but to some odwr iieulty whidi the 'Child, 'has not yet attained.^ First, then, the man can easily distin- guish tiie body from the surface which teiininateS' it; this the child cannot do. SiWMilf , The man can percdve that this suriuse is made up of aiz planes of the same figure and magnitude ; the child cannot dtaeoviir this. TMnH^, The man perceives that each of these phmea has four equal aides and four equal angles ; and that the opposite sides of each plane and the oppo- site planes are parallel. It wEl surely be allowed, that a man of ordinary judgment may observe ai this in a cube which he makes an object of con- templation, and takes time to consider; that he may give the name of a square to a phmii terminated by four equal sides and four equal angles ; and the name of a cube to a solid tormhiated by six equal squares ; all this is nothmg else but analysing the figure of the object presented to his senses .into: it8 ■unplest elements, and agpn com- ponnding it of those' elements.. By this analysis and composition two effects are produced. First, From the one complex object which his senses presented, though one of the most simple the senses ean present, he educes many simple and distinct notions of right lines, angles, plain surfiftce, solid, equaity, parallelism ; notions which the child has not yet faculties to attain. S§cmdly, When he considers the cube as compounded of these elements, put together in a certain order, he has then, and not before, a distinct and scientlfio notion of a cube. The child neither eon- emves thoae elements, nor in what order they must be put together in order to make a cube; and, therefore, has no accurate notion of a cube which can make it a sub- |eet0f;reaBoning. IfilS] Whence I think we may conclude, that the notkin which we have from the senses alone, even of the anoplcBt. objects of .aenae, is indistinct and uMapable of being either clescribed or reasoned upon, until it is ana- lysed into Its simple elements, and eon* isidersd aa^ eompouiicled of thoae^ elenenta. If we .ahonld apply this reasonkgto'more conpiex 'OUeetS' of senae, the conehialon wonM b© still more evident. A dog may bo taught to turn a Jack, but he ean never bo taught to have a disthict notion of a jack. He aeea. eveiy part m 'WtE •■ a man s 'but the 'rebllon of tbo paitS' to' one another and to the whole, he haa not judgment to 'Comprehend. A disthMt notion of an object, even of aenae, la nover ,got in an histant ; but the laenae'poilbnnBitsoilce In an instant Time is not reqniied to see it better, but to analyae it, to disuugitiah the difibront parts, and their nbtiMi to 'Ono anotbor and to the 'whole. £5.11— « 13 J OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL, Hence it is that, when any vehement passion or emotion hinders the cool applica- tion of judgment, we get no distinct notion of an object, even though the sense be long directed to it A man who is put into a panic, by thinking he sees a ghost, may stare at it long without having any distinct notion of it ; it is his understanding, and not his sense, that is disturbed by his horror. If he can lay that aside, judgment immedi- ately enters upon its office, and examines the length and breadth, the colour, and figure, and distance of the object. Of these, while his panic lasted, he had no distinct notion, though his eyes were open all the time. Wlien the eye of sense is open, but that of Judgment shut by a panic, or any violent emotion that engrosses the mind, we see things confusedly, and probably much in the same manner that brutes and perfect idiots do, and infants before the use of judgment lS14] There are, therefore, notions of the objects of sense which are gross and indistinct, and there are others that are distinct and scienti- fic. The former may be got from the senses alone, but the latter cannot be obtained with- out some degree of judgment. The clear and accurate notions which geometry presents to us of a point, a right line, an angle, a square, a circle, of ratios direct and inverse, and others of that kind, can find no admittance into a mind that has not some degree of judgment They are not properly ideas of the senses, nor are they got by compounding ideas of the senses, but by analysing the ideas or no- tions we get by the senses into their simplest elements, and again combining these ele- ments into various accurate and elegant forms, which the senses never did nor can cnchibit Had Mr Hume attended duly to this, it ought to have prevented a very bold attempt, which he has prosecuted through fourteen pages of his " Treatise of Human Nature,' to prove that geometry is founded upon ideas that are not exact, aud axioms that are not precisely true. A mathematician might be tempted to thmk that the man who seriously under, takes this has no great acquaintance with geometry ; but I apprehend it is to be im- puted to another cause, to a zeal for his own system. We see that even men of genius niay be drawn into strange paradoxes, by an attachment to a favourite idol of the understanding, when it demands bo costly a sacrifice. We Protestants think that the devotees of the Roman Church pay no small tribute to her authority when they renounce their five senses in obedience to her decrees. Mr Hume's devotion to his system carries him in even to trample upon mathematical demon- stration. [515] The fundamental articles of his system are, that all the perceptions of the human mmd are either impressions or ideas, and that Ideas are only faint copies of impres- sions. The idea of a right line, therefore, is only a faint copy of some line that haa been seen, or felt by touch ; and the faint copy cannot be more perfect than the original. Now of such right lines, it is evident that the axioms of geometry are not precisely true ; for two lines that are straight to our sight or touch may include a space, or they may meet in more points than one. If, therefore, we cannot form any notion of a straight line more accurate than that which we have from the senses of sight and touch, geometry has no soUd foundation. If, oii the other hand, the geometrical axioms are precisely true, the idea of a right line is not copied from any impression of sight or touch, but must have a different origin and a more perfect standard. As the geometrician, by reflecting only upon the extension and figure of matter, forms a set of notions more accurate and scientific than any which the senses exhi- bit, so the natural philosopher, reflecting upon other attributes of matter, form» another set, such as those of density, quan- tity of matter, velocity, momentum, fluidity, elasticity, centres of gravity, and of osciUa- tion. These notions are accurate and scientific ; but they cannot enter into a mind that has not some degree of judg- ment, nor can we make them intelligible to children, until they have some ripeness t)f understanding. In navigation, the notions of latitude, longitude, course, leeway, cannot be made intelligible to children ; and so it is with regard to the terms of every science, and of every art about which we can reason. They have had their five senses as perfect as men for years before tliey are capable of distinguishing, comparing, and perceiv- ing the relations of things, so as to 'be able to form such notions. They acquire the intellectual powers by a slow progress, and by imperceptible degrees ; and by means of them, learn to form distinct and accurate notions of things, which the senses could never have imparted. [516] Having said so much of the notions we get from the senses alone of the objects of sense, let us next consider what notions we can have from consciousness alone of th« operations of our minds. Mr Locke very properly calls conscious- ness an internal sense. It gives the like immediate knowledgeof things in the mind- that is, of our own thoughts jind feelings — as the senses give us of things external. There is this difference, ht»Hever, that an- 9 '■• 9 ' Aod, tbou^ DO science, foirly « citll lite levcii ; A l^M. whidi in younetf you mint perative, .!-«— — ^ 1^ U«iHn liave it not to pt ** 'This in.ward 'light or sense is given by heaven to different persons in different de- prees. Then' is a wrtain degree of it which li .leeaisaiy tu 'omr being subJeetS'Of kw .and government, 'Capable of' managing' our own affairs, and answerable for our conduct towards others : this is called common senset, beeanse: il .is eommon to .all. men with whom we' can. 'Iiwtaet business, or call to aecount for iiiehr eonduei The laws of all civilised nations disttn« Sish tlioMi who have this gift of heaven, have 'rights, 'whiefa ought not. to be violated, but, having no underBtanding in themselves to direct their actions, the laws appoint them tO' 'be pided by tbe: 'understanding of others. It is «Mly diieemed by its effects in men% actions, in their speeches, and even in their liHiflliMft * IlLVin 'wafli ffc.|r| ift'lf- I'll ITIJIjIlf^ SL iH lll*4it'lliilTllBI whether a man has this natural gift or not, a judge or a J'Uiji upon. .a .short conversation with him, can, for tbo most' 'part,, determine the f raestion with great assuraucew The same degree of understanding which makes a man eapahbof acting with com- mon prudence 'in thO' eondnet of life, makeS' him capable of diaeovering what is true and what is false in matters that are self-evident, and which he distinctly apprehends. [523] .AM. knowledge, and .all science, must be 'built upon, prtneiples that am self-evident .; and of such, principles every man who has common sense is a competent Judge, when he conceives them distinctly. Hence it is, that disputes very often 'terminate in .an. .appeal 'to eommon 'Sense. While the parties agree in the fi.rst pri.n- ciples.on wMcfi their aiguments are' ground- ed, them is room for 'reasoning ; but when one denies what to the other appeiurs too evident to meed or to admit of proof, 'rea- soning seemS' tO' 'be at .an end ; an appeal is made to common sense, and each party is left to 'O^jty biS' own opinion. There 'leemS' 'to be no remedy for 'this, nor .any way left to discuss sueh appeals, unless 'tbo: deeisionS' 'Of eommon sense can be: 'broaglit into a eodO' 'in. 'whieb aU nason- a Mn men .shall. .iMiilesee. This, 'indeed,, if ;it 'bO' poBiibl% 'woud 'be' very desirable, and would supply a desideratum in logic ; and wh| should it be thought impossible that reasonable men should agree in. Ihbigs tbal are nelt-evident f All that ii intended in thu chapter is to explain the imaning of common sense, that it 'may ...nol 'be treated, as it baa. 'be«m by .■oae, aS' a new' prhioiple, or as m word with- [521-&23] CHAP. II.] OF COMMON SENSE. 423 out any meaning. I have endeavoured to shew that sense, in its most common, and therefore its most proper meaning, signifies iudgment, though philosophers omn use it in another meaning. From this it is natural to think that common sense should mean common judgment; and so it really does. What the precise limits are which divide eommon judgment from what is beyond it on the one hand, and from what falls short of it on the other, may be difficult to de- termine ; and men may agree in the mean- lag of the word who have different opinions about those limits, or who even never thought of fixing them. This is as intel- ligible as, that all Englishmen should mean the same thing by the county of York, though perhaps not a hundredth part of them can point out its precise limits. [524] Indeed, it seems to me, that common sense is as unambiguous a word and as well understood as the county of York. We find it in innumerable places in good writers ; we hear it on innumerable occasions in con- versation ; and, as far as I am able to judge, always in the same meaning. And this is probably the reason why it is so seldom defined or explained. Dr Johnson, in the authorities he gives, to shew that the word seme signifies under- standing, soundness of faculties, strength of natural reason, quotes Dr Bentley for what may be called a definition of common sense, though probably not intended for that pur- nose, but mentioned accidentally : "God fiath endowed mankind with power and abilities, which we call natural light and reason, and common sense." It is true that common sense is a popular and not a scholastic word ; and by most of those who have treated systematically of the powers of the understanding, it is only occasionally mentioned, as it is by other writers. But I recollect two philosophical writers, who are exceptions to this remark. One is Huffier, who treated largely of com- mon sense, as a principle of knowledge, above fifty years ago. The other is Bishop Berkeley, who, I think, has laid as much stress upon common sense, in opposition to the doctrines of philosophers, as any philo- sopher that has come after him. If the reader chooses to look back to Essay II. chap. 10, he will be satisfied of this, from the quotations there made for another pur- pose, which it is unnecessary here to repeat. Men rarely ask what common sense is ; because every man believes himself pos- sessed of it, iiid would take it for an imput- ation upon hia understanding to be thought unacquainted with it Yet I remember two very eminent authors who have put this question ; and it is not improper to hear theu* sentiments upon a subjectso frequently ■ mentioned, and so rarely canvassed. [626] It is well known that Lord Shaftesbury gave to one of his Treatises the title of " Sensus Communis; an Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour, in a Letter to a Friend ;" in which he puts his friend in mind of a free conversation with some of their friends on the subjects of morality and religion. Amidst the different opinions started and maintained with great life and ingenuity, one or other would, every now and then, take the liberty to appeal to common sense. Every one allowed the appeal ; no one would offer to call the authority of the court in question, till a gentleman whose good onderstanding was never yet brought in doubt, desired the company, very gravely, that they would tell him what common sense was. " If," said he, ** by the word sense, we were to understand opinion and judgment, and by the word common, the generality or any considerable part of mankind, it would be hard to discover where the subject of common sense could lie; for that which was according to the sense of one part of mankind, was against the sense of another. And if the majority were to determine com- mon sense, it would change as often as men changed. That in religion, common sense was as hard to determine as catholic or orthodox. What to one was absurdity, to another was demonstration. *' In policy, if plain British or Dutch sense were right, Turkish and French must certainly be wrong. And as mere non- sense as passive obedience seemed, we found it to be the common sense of a great party amongst ourselves, a greater party in Europe, and perhaps the greatest part of all the world besides. As for morals, the diflerence was still wider ; for even the philosophers could never agree in one and the same system. And some even of our most admired modem philosophers had fairly told us that virtue and vice had no other law or measure than mere fashion and vogue." [626] This is the substance of the gentleman's speech, which, I apprehend, explains the meaning of the word perfectly, and contains all that has been said or can be said against the authority of common sense, and the propriety of appeals to it. As there is no mention of any answer immediately made to this speech, we might be apt to conclude that the noble autlior adopted the sentiments of the intelligent gentleman whose speech he recites. But the contrary is manifest, from the title of Sensus Communis given to his Essay, from his frequent use of the word, and from the whole tenor of the Essay. The author appears to have a double in- tention in that Essay, corresponding to the double title prefixed to it. One intentba 424 ON THE INTBLLKCTUAL POWEES. |-ESSJIY TI. CBAP. JI.J OF COMMON SENSE. i% 'to Jtiftiiy 'tiie me of wit,, humour, uid ■iiiimtiii- ill dJiifiimiTir .smomr firiendb tlio ,piiitt' wlijeeto. '* I cui very w«U iup- ftM,**' mm hOf " men may be firiglited oul 'of ' tlimr lile ; but I bave no appi^ii- ■iim tbejf alieiiU be buighed out of them. I ean luurily imagiit 'Wiii in a ptoaaant myi Ib^T'iboiiy ever be tMlml.oiit'Ol'ibeir .lofe iMf'MielityfOrrfMoned owtof iuaanity and common, ieme." "'Xbe other intentiony eigniied %' the title ii wiiiiii jfcMjJjfciiiMii jiM i»'JiiMih w. syiiiSftimitfbimii and eommon sense..** And, on taking 'leave^ he adds :-»" And now, my friend, should yon ind I had moralised in any tolerable manner, aoeoriinf to 'oonmun sense, and «-.«, .- • ^ ly •• ' my pinmnnance." Another 'Oninent writer who 'has put the Ssstion what common .sense is, is Fenelon, 'That 'ingenions and pbus^ anther, having liadaa.'eariyprepoesceBbn in iproar of the Cartesian idiifioophy, made an. attempt to Ehyslcal anrumenta whiih. tkoB Qirttn .had ivented to prove 'the' 'being '(>f "A* Deity. For this purpose, he begins with the Carte- .sian doubt Be proceeds to ini. out the 'truth of his own existence^ and. 'then 'to .es* amine wberetn tihe evidenee and. 'Owilainly 'Of thiij and othiff' m f ^ . ptinaiy tntht flon* nsted. This, aeeordinir to CSartesian nrin* eiples^ he pboes in the eleamess and dis- tinctneas of thO' ideas. On the eontmy, he pboes the absnrdily'ef tie eontiaiy pro* positions, in their bemg repngnant to his dear and diatinefldsas. To i fl n a trato this, he gives varions ex- amjfktoa of qne^iona manileBtly absurd and ridie n k m a, whiefa eveij man of eommon understanding would, at £rst sight, perceive aww iMlpiiif' .'SiWWf 'SI siuaa™"i. wwwwwiaiBi bj|Tiif^^wp iwHiWh 'np^i^ ipwwwwip up^^^"*' sf'^^P"""^'^^ ^ What ia it that 'maliaa. 'thase questions' ridieulona? Wherein doeS' 'th.is ridicule^ ppadiilly consist? It will, perhaps, be replied, that it consists in this, that they ■hoefc 'eommon sense. But what ia this same eommon s^ise ? It is not the irst notions thai all men have equally of the same things. [liWI] This common sense, whieh is always .and in all places the same ; which 'pieventa .iwtnury |. 'which .makes in- f nhnr in Mam eaaes' iiidienlous. ; whieh, in- •iP^BPiPSHiwya iiJFifc •NPii'^ha ^mtanii >aia^Bi|iS|i 'WBimipimiwici^ w^ wimiw^^wib •^^"P^gik ipi» 'Whether .he 'will or not ; which puts it out of a man*8 power 'to' doubt : thiS' sense, whieh onlv 'waits to be oousultod—which. ihewa';itaiif'at the irst glance, .and imme- 'dbtely discovers the evidence 'Or the absurd- ity of a question— ^is not this the same that .1 call, my .ideas. ? MMP^'iHipiBiH^^Mnavaia s^aeii'^ffiiaii'Sji! iiiiiia^i^W'''^ii'' ^1^1^^10'w^^^ ^iif» ^^■k^MVvi^ipiV' ■!■"* notions, 'whieh It is 'not in 'my power either to contradict or examine, and by which I examine and decide in every case, insomuch as. anything :ii 'proposed to 'me, which, isevi- deniy eontia^ to what these immutable ideas represent*'* I shall only observe upon this passage thai' 'thO' intoipretation it gives of Pes Oartcs* criterion of truth, whether just or not, is the most inteligiUe and the most favourable I 'have met with.. I beg leave to mention one paeeage from Cicero^ .and to add two or three from lato writers, whieh shew that this word is not b«<:^ .l»let«, nor h» changed iu 'meanmg. **'D© Oratoie," lib. 3.— **0.mnea enhn taeito quodan. ntpwi, sine wPa arto aut laMone, 'in afUhua' an .ratienihus, reeta ao' prava dijudicani Idque cum faciant in picturis,. et in .signis, et m aliis operibus, ad 'quorum. i B teHii*''*^'" .a natura .minus hah* jjiit 'inai'tni'tiaiiiHiMiS 'taiwi '■■iiiilji it«#imi1ift«t 'ii'uiJitlii in verbenm, nnmeramm, 'vocumque judi- cio; quod ea sint m communibus inixa senrihuS'S neque earum rerum quemquam iinditus natuia voluit experiem.^* ''' IImne*s *' Essays and 'Treatises,** vol. I. p. fi..."But a philosopher who proposes only to represent the common sense of mankind, in .more heantilul and .mere 'Cngag- ' iiig ' colomnk if bv aoddent he eommite a niMake, .gnes no farther, but, renewing .hia appeal to eommon sense, and the natural. : ff A i ff l i mmlf nf ' the mindi leturns into the ri|pit path, ud .secures himself from any dangerous illasion." [1129] . Iiume*k '* Enquiry concemmg the Prin- ciples of' .lfflnii%** p. % — " Those who have jh- Vfmk vHRM^MmMS' ^mipiBiip' ihii'^ipbwp^nw^^p ^i^hii iiHSHPWPai'Vaa' ^iiiassiipeMiisMiPi*^ii^iwMPPwapiF ■••^^j^r he^ "^i*^ tyw^f ^g 'Umi 'diainginnfMis 'dis- 'Xht e^ 'way of eonvertang an r^97-dss I 425 antagonist of this kind is to leave him to himself: for, finding that nobody keeps up the controversy with him, it is probable he will at last, of himself, from mere weariness, come over to the side of common sense and reason.** Priestley's " Institutes/* Preliminary bsay, vol I p. 27—" Because common sense is a sufficient guard agamst many errors in religion, it seems to have been taken for granted that that eommon sense is a sufficient instructor also, whereas in fact, without positive instruction, men would naturally have been mere savages with respect to religion ; as, without similar in- struction, they would be savages with re- spect to the arts of life and the sciences. Common sense can only be compared to a judge ; but what can a judge do without evidence and proper materials from which to form a judgment ?'* Priestley's *' Examination of Dr Reid,'* &c page 127.—" But should we, out of complaisance, admit that what has hitherto been called judgment may be called sense, n IS making too free with the established signification of words to call it common sense, which, in common acceptation, has long been appropriated to a very diflerent thmg— viz., to that capacity for judging of common things that persons of middling capacities are capable of. " Page 1 29 " 1 should, therefore, expect tliat, if a man was so totally deprived of common sense as not to be able to distinguish truth from false- hood iu one case, he would be equally in- capable of distinguishing it in another.** I,o30j From this cloud of testimonies, to which hundreds might be added, I apprehend, that whatever censure is thrown upon those who have spoke of common sense as a prin- ciple of knowledge, or who have appealed to jt m matters that are self-evident, will fall light, when there are so many to share in It. Indeed, the authority of this tribunal IS too sacred and venerable, and has pre- scription too long in its favour to be now wiselsf called m question. Those who are disposed to do so, may remember the shrewd aaying of Mr Hobbes— " When reason is •gainst a man, a man will be against rea- •on.** This is equally applicable to com- mon sense. From the account I nave given of the mewimg of this term, it is easy to judge both of the proper use and of the abuse of It. It is absurd to conceive that there can be any opposition between reason and com- tton sense.* It is mdeed the first-born of Meason ; and, as they are commonly joined - Ei2S«!?li.t '^^""^ * ' '"'* *" '**™''' r430,531J together in speech and in writing, they are inseparable in their nature. We ascribe to reason two offices, or two degrees. The first is to judge of things seit-evident ; the second to draw conclusions that are not self-evident from those that are. The first of these is the province, and the sole province, of common sense ; and, therefore, it coincides with reason in its whole extent, and is only another name for one branch or one degree of reason. Per- haps it may be said. Why then should you give it a particular name, since it is acknow. ledged to be only a degree of reason ? It would be a sufficient answer to this, Why do you abolish a name which is to be found m the language of all civilized nations, and has acquired a right by prescription ? Such an attempt is equally foolish and ineffectual. Every wise man will be apt to think that a name which is found in all languages as far back as we can trace them, is not with- out some use. [531] But there is an obvious reason why this degree of reason should Iiave a name ap- propriated to it ; and that is, that, in the greatest part of mankind, no other degree of reason is to be found. It is this degree that entitles them to the denomination of reasonable creatures. It is this degree of reason, and this only, that makes a man capable of managing his own affairs, and answerable for his conduct towards others. There is therefore the best reason why it should have a name appropriated to it. These two degrees of reason differ in otlier res[)ects, which would be sufficient to entitle them to distinct names. The first is purely the gift of Heaven. And where Heaven has not given it, no education can supply the want. The se- cond is learned by practice and rules, when the first is not wanting. A man who has common sense may be taught to reason. But, if he has not that gift, no teaching will make him able either to judge of first prin- ciples or to reason from them. I have only this fja,rther to observe, that the province of common sense is more ex- tensive in refutation tlian in confirmation. A conclusion drawn by a train of just rea- soning from true principles cannot possibly contradict any decision of common sense, because truth will always be consistent with itself. Neither can such a conclu- sion receive any confirmation from com- mon sense, because it is not within its juris- diction. But it h possible that, by setting out from false principles, or by an error in reasonmg, a man may be led to a conclu- sion that contradicts the decisions of com- mon sense. In this case, the conclusion is within the jurisdiction of common sense, though the reasoning on which it was ON THE INTlLIilCTOAIi POWllS. [bssait in. gnwiicM hn not i mai » naii of isommiiii :Miise' iii*j ISiiilf 'D^tot^ Hio 'ODiieliMioii..«itli^ Mt 'hmm ftUte lo mm %U mm 'Of ttttrai- ■miiig' Wit' M to it. [iSS] Tims, if a mftthenuitiisiaii, by s woiseM of iitriflttle demonstiAtioii, in which mtm Mm wktf wm nuuie, ilwitM be brought to litis coaelusioii, that two qiaiititifis, whieh are both equal to a third, are not efiual to each other, a man of common sense, with- out pnteodNii to be: a juclg^ ni 'HM' oenon- ■limtioB, is 'Vttll. entitM to' icf 'eel iw oon- elnsion, and to pmioiiiwe it absiifcL CHAPTER III. snmMi'HTs OF pHiLosorains ooKcamifO A miFwrnwrnM about tie nMaiing' of a word Mffbt noli to ooeasion diqpntet among fbiosoiiben ; but It is often verv proper to take notice of aneh differences, in ofder^to ■prevent verbal dispnics. Them .aie^ in- deed, no words in kngaage more laMe to amWgnity than those by which we express the operations of the mind ; and the most candid and Jndicions may sometimes be led into different opinions abowt their precise 'meaning. I hintod before what I take to be a 'peen- liarifcy in Mr Locke with regard to the meaning of the 'word jndgment, and men- 'tioned 'what, I apprehend, may have .led Mm mto it. But let us hear himself, Essay, liook iv. chap. 14:—" The Ikculty which God. has given to man to supply 'the want ■of clear and certain knowledge, 'where 'that cannot be bad, 'is judpnent ; wlewby the mind takes its ideas to agree or disagree ; or, which is the same, any proposition to be true or Wae,. without perceiving' a de- monstrative evidemwi in the proolk Tbns the wmai has two fcenlties .conversant about truth and fiasehood. First, Knowledge, whereby it certainly perceives, and is un- doubtedly .satisfiod of, the agreement or diBagieemettt 'Of .any ideas. Acwiifff, Judgment, which is the 'putting ideas to- gilher, or separating them from one an- other .in. tho' mind, when, their eeilain. .iigree- ment or ^disagreement 'is not peredved, but 'presumed, to'lw so-** [533j Knowledge, I think, sometimea lignilies thisn known. ? sometimes 'that aet. of the mAm by whiA we know tbsnn* .And- in like 'manner opinion 'sometimes. .signilMi things believed; .sometimes the act <^ the mind by whkh we believe them. But judgment is the faculty which, 'is. nwrciBed 'in both these aets rf 'th« niin4 In knowledge, we judge 'withont .douWmg'i In ophiion, wi.th mmm mixture of douM.. But I know no authority, besides thai nf Mr Iioekoi for •alini' knuwMpe a faculty, any mora thai 'tor 'Culing' opinion a faculty. Neither do I think that knowledge la confned within the narrow limits which Mr Iiodm assigns to it; because the far greatest part of what all men call human knowledfB,, is in things whieh neither ad- mit of intuitive nor of demonstrative proof. I have all along used the word judjliiiefi* in a more extended sense than Mr Locke does in the passage above-mentioned. I undentani by II that operation of mind by which we determine, concemmg anything that may be expressed by a proposition, whether it be true or lalse. Every propo- sltiott is oither true or false ; so is every jiwlgment. A proposition may be simply conceived without judging of it. But when there is not only a conception of the pro- position, but a mental aUrmation or .nega- tion, an assent or dissent of the understond- Ing, whether weak or strong, that Is judg- ment. I. think that, ime© the days of Aristotle^ logieians have taken the word m that sense, and other writers, for the most part, though there are other meanings, whicli there is no danger of confounding with thie. [fi34] We may take the authority of Dr Isaae Watts, as a logician, as a man who under stood English, and who had a just esteem of Mr Loeko% Essay. Logic Introd. page 5^**' JudpMsnl 'is. that operation of the mmd, wheiwn we join "two or more ideas. together by one aMrmation or nation t that is, we either affirm or deny tM§ to be ikaL So: iWflvw if %*; ifmimntiBmt Mwlfi ; th§ MiMl qfmm h « IftliiJrillf Mrngf mere mmlterkm m ifumght M/rngfiMff to it; GodisjuMi; good men mm q^eu miner able in ihi» wmid i a t^kttmi ff&mmm wiil make adigerenm Wwijr* tke mM aifclii* gmdf which sentences are the effect, of j'udgment, and are called propositions.** And, Part II* chap. E I 9^"' The evidence of sense Is, when 'we frame a 'proposition according to the dictate of any of our senses. So we judge Iftil fwiff li §r§m ; lAol a trumpet jtiiei a plemani imtmi; thatjire burmwoodi uraltfr if ' «# ; mtdwm'kmtL** In thia meamng, Judgment extends to every kind uf evidence, probable or certain and to every degree of assent or dissent. It extends to all knowledge as well as to all opinkin ; with this difference only, that in knowledge it Is more irm and steady, like a house founded upon a rock. In opinion It stands upon a weaker foundation, and Is mora 'liiUe' to to 'ihakBn and overturned. Thtat iilbmeee. .about the 'meanhig of words :are: not 'nentioned as if truth was on one side and error on the other, bM as an apology for devialiitt, in this instwee, from the phiraseokigi of Mr Locke, which is, for L532-534] oiiAP. m. J SENTIMENTS CONCERNING JUDGxMENT. 427 the moat part, accurate and distinct ; and because attention to the different meanings that are put upon words by different authors, is the best way to prevent our mistaking verbal differenoes for real differences of opinion. The common theory concerning ideas naturally leads to a theory concerning Judgment, which may be a proper test of its truth; for, as they are necessarily con- nected, they must stand or fall together. Their connection is thus expressed by Mr Locke, Book IV. chap. 1—" Since the mind, in all its thoughts and reasonings, hath no other immediate object but its own ideas, which it alone does or can con- template, It is evident that our knowledge is only conversant about them. Knowledge tlien seems to me to be nothing but the perception of the connection and agreement, or disagreement and repugnancy, of any of OUT idem. In this alone it consists.^* [5351 There can only be one objection to the justice of tliis inference ; and that is, that the antecedent proposition from which it is inferred seems to have some ambiguity; for, in the first clause of that proposition, the mind is said to have no other immediate object but Its own ideas; in the second, that it has no other object at all ; that it does or can contemplate ideas alone.* If the word immediate in the first clause be a mere expletive, and be not intended to limit the generality of the proposition, then the two clauses wUl be perfectly consistent, the second being only a repetition or expli- cation of the first ; and the inference that our knowledge is only conversant about ideas will be perfectly just and logical. But, if the word immediate in the first clause be intended to limit the general pro- position, and to imply that the mind has other objects besides its own ideas, though no other immediate objects, then it will not be true that it does or can contemplate ideas alone; nor will the inference be justly drawn that our knowledge is only conversant about ideas. Mr Locke must either have meant his antecedent proposition, without any limita- tion by the word immediate, or he must have meant to limit it by that word, and to signify that there are objects of the mind which are not ideas. The first of these suppositions appears to me most probable, for several reasons. [536] Fir«f, Because, when he purposely de- lines the word idea, in the introduction to the Essay, he says it is whatsoever is the * In reference to tbe polemic that follows, tee, for ■ MluUon, what hat been laid above in regard to the ambiguity of the term objed, and Note B. In regard to the doctrine of Ideat, as held by the philosophen, — abowe, and Note C, &c— H, [535-537] I object of the understanding when a man thinks, or whatever the mind can be era- ployed about in thinking. Here there is no room left for objects of the mind that are not ideas. The same definition is often repeated throughout the Essay. Some- times, indeed, the word immediate is added, as in the passage now under consideration ; hut there is no intimation made that it ought to be understood when it is not expressed. Now, if it had really been his opinion that there are objects of thought which are not ideas, this definition, which is the ground- work of the whole Essay, would have been very improper, and apt to mislead his reader. Secondly, He has never attempted to shew how there can be objects of thought which are not immediate objects; and, indeed, this seems impossible. For, what- ever the object be, the man either thinks of it, or he does not. There is no medium between these. If he thinks of it, it is an immediate object of thnugtit while he thinks of it. If he does not think of it, it is no object of thought at all. Every object of thought, therefore, is an immediate object of thought, and the word immediate, joined to objects of thought, seems to be a mere expletive, Thirdly,Though Malebranche and Bishop Berkeley believed that we have no ideas of minds, or of the operations of minds, and that we may think and reason about them without ideas, this was not the opinion of Mr Locke. He thought that there are ideas of minds, and of their operations, as well as of the objects of sense ; that the mind perceives nothing but its own ideas, and that all words are the signs of ideas. A fourth reason is, That to suppose that he intended to limit the antecedent proposi- tion by the word immediate, is to impute to him a blunder in reasoning, which I do not think Mr Locke could have committed; for what can be a more glaring paralogism than to infer that, since ideas are partly, though not solely, the objects of thought, it is evident that all our knowledge is only conversant about them. If, on the con- trary, he meant that ideas are the only ob- jects of thought, then the conclusion drawn is perfectly just and obvious ; and he might very well say, that, since it is ideas only that the mind does or can contemplate, it i* evi- dent that our knowledge ti only conversant about them. [537] As to the conclusion itself, I have only to observe, that, though he extends it only to what he calls knowledge, and not to what he calls judgment, there is the same reason for extending it to both. It is true of judgment, as well as of knowledge, that it can only be conversant about objects of the mind, or about things ON THE INTELLBCTUAL POWERS. [aaaAY m 111 'wliicii llw miaA mm mulkm^MB. Jii|- iMi'ti aS' will m kmwMi^ mpptmm tw '«4iiM0ption of the object aboiii wiMi; im jii%e ; and to jiul|o of objects timt never iWM nor can to objects of tbe mind, is evi- '11iiSa^iei«i»% WO' vmj 'take Ibr gmoted, tliaty if .kniMrMge to ooBvenaalabont ideas onljr, beeanse tbere^ is no ottor objeel of tbe mottt h oonvtaant about iieas^ onlj, for ito' isane reason* Mr Iioeto adifa, as the :nsiilt ^ his rea^ soning, " Knowledge, then, seems to me to he nO'thmg bnt tbe pere^tintt ui. tto eon* nectioD and agreement, or disagreement and repugnancj, of anj of our Ideas. In this alone it consists.** 'This is a verj imfiortant foinli not only on ito own aeconnt, bnt on^accomt of Its^ necessarj eonneetion. with hts^ i^ptiai. con- cerning ideas, which is such as that toth must stand or lull tiwether ; for, if there is anj part of human. kiiow;l«ige' which does not constBt in the pereefitlon of tbe^ .agree- ment or disagreement of ideas, it must fol- low that there are objects of thought and of contempbilion which are not ideas. IMS] This 'point,, therefore, deserves, to to care- fully examined. Wilh this view, let as first attend to its meaning, wbieb, I think, 'Can bardlj to mistaken, ttougb. it maj m^eed some cxptEct^on. Everj point of knowledge^ and eve:rj' judgment, :is expressed bj a proposition, wherein snmeHiiiig is aArmed Of denied of tto' subject of 'the nmpositbn. Bj 'perceiving tbe connection or' agree- Bent of two idea<$, I conceive, is meant per^ ceiving tbe truth of an affirnative proposi- tion, of wbieb. 'tto' tabJMt'indfiidiaite. .are Ideas. In tike mannsTi bjr 'pwceiving 'iie disagreement and rqiiifiiaiwjr 'Of any 'two ideas, I conceive is meant perceiving the tfitb of a :n«piT# pfupoafitoTof which HUfMlKHii' iMMMll%lUtUIIHll' M'HSJ'I 'lui^^ifcJll'Si^^ifciift jfc i i^^i^^^l X jJ|,^hW Ji' '■nPi'Sirii ™i'"lpr'WBiS« ■w'^iaai^flp^iP SI 'HPSill''iMl laPlSliilWlMBIPMSSraWP' '(BUSft^W' ■•Bliil^SPIBsaail ■■» MMMmf' I 'tato' 'to to 'tto" onlf meaiiimi tbe words, can bear, and it is oonirmed. % wtot Mr Locke sajs in a passage already quoted In this etopter, that *' Urn min^ taking its. 'ideas, 'to^ :agrM or disagree^ is tto eame as taking any popositlon to 'to' true or' false.** Tberwore, If tto definition of knowledge given by Mr Locto to a just on«, tbe sub- JeeL aa well, as 'tto piedittite of every pro- |NMitio% 'by 'wbidi ai^ 'pdnl ti know'Mie :is expMssed, must to an idea, 'Md can to nothing else i and tto same must, bold of •very proportllon by wbieb judgment Is cxniease4 W' toa^besn. 'itoum atove. "PWiniMi''^w^ w MflWW^K ^^ww^iP^iirti^ w^^^^iMV^^^^' wWlff^llF 4HIMIIFVMINMRillffifflH|N^a| 'HIpiiS' ™ii|(ilklSfSP definition of bumaB kMiwled|% '*•' aio aext to oonaider tow iir it 'ki just* Fmif I would dbMna that, if tto' wuid .at' ':finl .among tto Pytlia^reans and Pia» ' ^lynif ti ^ ^ , §^ .jf 'by knowledge to latunt only ^bstnet and g^ral knowled||e, |wMch I believe Mr Lme bad cbMy m his view,) I 'tbink tto propoaition Is true, that' such, knowledge mnslMs solely in pemiving tbe truth of propositions whose subject and pradioate are. ideas.. [I^SO] By ideas here I mean wiugs. conceived, abstractly, without :Mitd 'to thwrexistenoe* We commonly call 'tncm' abstiaet notions, abstract conceptions, abstract ideas— the Feripatetics called them universals ; and the FbiloniBl% whn knew no other ideas, cal.led 'them 'Ims without addition. Such ideas are both subject and predicate in every proposition which expresses ab* strac* Know.iecige* The whole 'body of pure mathematics is an abstract science ; and in every mathe- matical proposition, both subject and pre- dicate are ideas, in the benseatove explained. Thus,, when I say the side of a.iuiia*eisnot commen8n.ra.ble tO' its diagonid— In thb proposition the §id§ and the diafffmeU of a ff tfum are the subjects, (for, being a rela- tive proposition, it must have two subjects.) .A ii|uare. Its side, and its diagonal, are 'lIliflUHHL fl'P '11 111. VJIPBUBllllii f flllPi'V flftjMI llllilli''' lllifl'I'll'iHgi duak, but tbiugs predicable of many indi- viduals. Existence is not included in their defi.n.itioii, nor in 'tto 'Conception 'wo*fonn. of tbem. The predicate 'Of the proposilion Is coMifiisfuiifnMf, which must be an univer- sal, as tbe predicate of every proposition is BO. In other branches of knowledge, many most 'part, mixed 'Witb others ttot are not CHAP. Ill,] SENTIMENTS CONCERNING JUDGMENT. 429 I add, thati apprehend that what isstrictly .called demonstnitivo. evidence., la. to to 'Hound 'In abatraot knowledge only. 'This was. 'the opinioii of'itrisli>tl% of Plato, and, I think, of' all the ancient philosophers ;. and I to- lieve in this they judged right. It is true, wo often m.eet witn. finionstratiim.in. .aatfo- mony, .in. m:e«baiiiea,..aBd In 'Otbor hraaebea of natural pbilosopby s but, I believe, wo shall always find that such demonstrations are grounded upon principles of supposi- tions, wMeh tove neittor intuitive .nor 'demonstrative' 'evidence^ [.Mi] Thus, when we demonstrate that the path of a projectile' in vacuo m a psratok, we sunpaa ttot it Is acted, upon. with, tto .same mum :and in the same dhmitiiMi through its whole path by gravity. This la not inluitiveto' known, nor is it demon- ■trablet aiid,iBtto demimatratk»,werea* son from 'tba .bwa 'Of motion, which are prindplea nel' «itoble of demonstra'tion, hut gruwidid on a oifierent kind of evidence. I'deaa,. in tbe sense atove ex'pla.med. are eieaturci of tbe m.lnd ; 'tbey are 'fabricated by its rational powers ; we know their nature and their essence-^for they are nothing more than they are conceived to to ; — and, because they are perfectly known, we can reason about them with the highest degree of evidence. And, as they are not things that exist, but things conceived, they neither have place nor time, nor are they liable to change. When we say that they are in the mind, this can mean no more but that they are conceived by the mind, or that they are objects of thought. The act of conceiving them is, no doubt, in the mind ; the things conceived have no place, because they have not existence. Thus, a circle, considered abstractly, is said figuratively to be in the mind of him that conceives it ; but in no other sense than tlie city of London or the kingdom of France is said to be in his mind when he thinks of those objects. Place and time belong to finite things that exist, but not to things that are barely con- ceived. They may be objects of concep- tion to intelligent beings in every place and at all timea Hence the Pythagoreans and Platonists were led to think that they are eternal and omnipresent. If they had ex- istenee, they must be so ; for they have no relation to any one place or time, which they have not to every place and to every time* The natural prejudice of mankind, that what we conceive must have existence, led those ancient philosophers to attribute ex- istence to ideas ; and by this they were led into all the extravagant and mysterious parts of their system. When it is purged of these, I apprehend it to be the only in- telligible and rational system concerning '"^'wWwIPPBlP' 1 her had done 'before ; 'but be btS' not eonined it to the aneemenis :and disagreements of .ideaa And I cannot help thinking that a great 'part of Ibat book is an evident refutaidmi of the principles laid down in the beginning of it Mr lioeko did. not beieve that he himself was an idea ; that .Us 'Iriends^and '■fli|;uaint- anee veto ideaS't that tio Supreme 'Being, tO' speak with reTerenoOy is an. idea; or that the sun and moon, the earth and the wa,, and ot.ber oKteisial oMeets of' sense,, are ideas. He 'believed tbat lie bad some' cer- tain knowledge of all those objeets. His knowledge, therefore, did. not 'Consist soMy in perceiving the agreements .and 'disagree* ments of 'his ideas ;. for, surely, to percetire the existence, 'the attributes, and relations' of things, which are not ideas, is not to per- eeive the agreements and disagreements of Ideas. And, .if 'tbinp whieb. aro' not 'ideaS' bO' objeetS' 'Of 'knowledge, tbey nmst 'bO' objects of' tbcmght On the contnurj, if Meaa be the only objects of thought, there can be no knowle(%e, either of our own existence, or of the existence of external objocis, or of the existenctt' of .a Deitv* Fbis consof nenee^ as £ur la Mttciiiis tli« eiistence of external objects of sense, was allerwafds 'deduced from, tbo tbeo.ry of 'ideas^ by Bisb'Op' .Borhelej with, tbo dearest eri- 'dence; and 'thai author 'Chose nther to adopt the consequence than to reject tlie 'theory 'On which it was grounded. But,, 'wiih regard to 'the existence of our' O'Wn m.inds, of other 'm.inds,. and of a Su'preroe Mind, the Biabop, that he might avoid the 'Conseqnencei rejected a part 'Of the theory, and maintained, that we can think 'Of m.inds, of their' .attributes and relations^ without ideas; liiH] Mr Hume saw very clearly the conao- f nenees of lh:is 'tbeoij, isnd. adopted them in bit Bpeflolatife imoiniiitt i but candidly BiSi' of Hi, he found bunself und^a nc ai^ of believing with the vulgar. His " 'oeatise 'Of Human Na.tare**' la the only sysleai to wMcb the theo.ry of ideas leads ; and, 'in. 'Biy .appp tbf i ii oPi is, in all itS' part% the necessary comaiinence of tbat theory. Mr Iiocke, however, did not see all the consequences of that theory ; he adopted it without doubt or examinationi carried along by the stream, of nbioiopiwis that went before' him ; and 'nis judgment and good Mnse have led. him to say many things, and to believe many things, that cannot be re- conciled to it. He not only believed bis. own existence^. the existence of external things, and the existence of a Deity ; 'but be has. shewn verv' justly .bow we 'Come by thC' .knowledge of tbea«' existences.. It might htm be expected that he should have pointed ont the agreements and dis- agreements of ideas from which these exist- ences are ded.uced .; but this is impossible, and he 'has not even .attempted it. Our own existence, be observes, we knmif intuitweigi but this intuition is not a percep* tion of tte .agreanent or disagreement of .ideas ; for the snbjeet' of ths' proposition, i tski^ is not an idea, but a person.. The knowledge of external objects of sense, he observes, we c€m ham onlg bjfsemO' tkm, .JMti«fi«iis, we have the knowledge of the past existence of several things. But all conception of past exist- ence, as well as of external existence, is irreconcileable to the theory of ideas ; be- cause it supposes that there may be imme- diate objects of thought, which are not ideas presently existing ui the mind. I conclude, therefore, that, if we have any knowledge of our own existence, or of the existence of what we see about us, or of the existence of a Supreme Being, or if we have any knowledge of things past by memory, that knowledge cannot consist in |>ereeiving the agreements and disagree- ments of ideas. This conclusion, indeed, is evident of Itself. For, if knowledge consists solely in the perception of tlie agreement or disagree- ment of ideas, there can be no knowledge of any proposition, which does not express some agreement or disagreement of ideas ; consequently, there can be no knowledge of any proposition, which expresses either the existence, or the attributes or relations of ^""igs, which are not ideas. If, therefore, the theory of ideas be true, there can be no knowledge of anything but of ideas. And, on the other hand, if we have any know- ledge of any thing besides ideas, that theory must be false. ^ There can be no knowledge, no judgment or opmion about things which are not im- mediate objects of thought This I take to be self-evident. If, therefore, ideas be the only immediate objects of thought, they must be the only things m nature of which we can have any knowledge, and about [552-554] ' 433 which we can have any judgment or opmion. •/ J b wr This necessary consequence of the com- mon doctruie of ideas Mr Hume saw, and has made evident in his « Treatise of Human Nature ;" but the use he made of It was not to overturn the theoiy with which It IS necessarily connected, but to overturn all knowledge, and to leave no ground to beheve anything whatsoever. If Mr Locke had seen this consequence, there is reason to think that he would have made another use of it [553] That a man of Mr Locke's judgment and penetration did not perceive a consequence so evident, seems indeed very strange ; and 1 know no other account that can be given of It but this-that the ambiguity of the word idea has misled him in this, as in several other lustences. Having at first defined Ideas to be whatsoever is the object of the understanding when we think, he takes it very often in that unlimited sense; and so everything that can be an object of thought IS an idea. At other times, he uses the word to signify certain representative imajres of things in the mind, which philosophers Have supposed to be immediate objects of thouglit. At other times, things conceived abstractly, without regard to their exist- ence, are called ideas. Philosophy is much indebted to Mr Locke for his observations on the abuse of words. It is pity he did not apply these observations to the word »*«, the ambiguity and abuse of which has very much hurt his excellent Essay. There are some other opinions of philo- sophers concerning judgment, of which I think it unnecessary to say much. Mr Hume sometimes adopts Mr Locke's opinion, that it is the perception of the agreement or disagreement of our ideas ; sometinies he mainUins that judgment and reasoning resolve themselves into concep- tion, and are nothing but particular ways of conceiving objects ; and he says, that an opinion or belief may most accurately be defined, a lively idea related lo or asmciaied with a present impression Treatise of Hu- man Nature, vol. I. page I72. I have endeavoured before, in the first chapterof this Essay, to shewthat judgment IS an operation of mind specifically distinct from the bare conception of an object I have also considered his notion of belief, in treating of the theories concerning memory. [ 554 ] Dr Hartley says—" That assent and dis- sent must come under the notion of ideas, being only those very complex internal feelings which adhere by association to such clusters of words as are called propositions in general, or aflBrmations and negations in particular." This, if I understand its meaning, agrees with the opmion of Mr Hume, above men* 2^ ON THE IMTILLICTUAL POWEES. I^ESSAV W. 'fiMMd,. .Mi hm tlMWiltowi been Wow «oii- Br PmsHaj ImS' given anotlier Miiiitioii of' jidgiiieiit i—^* II is Don the basis 'Of self-evident 'frineipletL .lfii2] This ifebrfo' baa been carried «n by the .aceeasim of new diseoveries; but is no 'more subject to revolutions. Tbe disputes ahout maieria prima.f sub- stantial forms, flatnreli abhorring a m- cnum, and bodies b.atving no gravitation in their proper place, are 'now no m'Ore. Tbe builders in this work are not put to tlio necessitar of .holduig a weapon, in one band while they huiM with tbe otber ; their whole .enploynMnt ia to carry on the work. Yet It seema to be very probable, that, if natural philoaoiiijf had not been reared upon 'this aoliil iiimdation of self-evident princi- ples, 'it would 'have been to this day a field * See 9tmmi€§ •* EkaMnta," ii* p. 43.— H. [560, 568] oiiAP. IV.] OF FIRST PRINCIPLES IN GENERAL. 437 of battle, wherein every inch of ground would have been disputed, and notliing fixed and determined. I acknowledge that mathematics and na- tural philosophy, especially the former, have this advantage of most other sciences, that it is less difficult to form distinct and determinate conceptions of the objects ahout which they are employed ; but, as this difficulty is not insuperable, it affords ji good reason, indeed, why other sciences should have a longer infancy ; but no rea- son at all why they may not at las* arrive at maturity, by the some steps as those of quicker growth. The fiicts I have mentioned may there- fore lead us to conclude, that, if in otlier branches of philosophy the first principles were laid down, as has been done in ma- thematics and natural philosophy, and the subsequent conclusions grounded upon then], this would make it much more easy to dis- tinguish what is solid and well supported from the vain fictions of human fancy. [563] But, laying aside facts, the nature of the thing leads to the same conclusion. For, when any system is grounded upon first principles, and deduced regularly from them, we have a thread to lead us through the labyrinth. The j udgment has a distinct and determinate object. The heterogeneous parte being separated, can be examined each by itself. The whole system is reduced to axioms, deHnitious, and deductions. These are ma- terials of very different nature, and to be measured by a very different standard ; and it is much more easy to judge of each, taken by itself, than to judge of a mass wherein they are kneaded together without distinc- tion. Let us consider how we judge of each of them. Fir.sf, As to definitions, the matter is very easy. They relate only te words, and difiler- ences about them may produce different WBys of speaking, but can never produce difl'erent ways of thinking, while every man keeps to his own definitions. But, OS there is not a more plentiful source of fallacies in reasoning tliau men*8 using the same word sometimes in one sense and at otlier times in another, the best means of preventing such fallacies, or of detecting than when they are committed, is defi- nitions of words as accurate as can be given. JSeeondiff, As to deductions drawn from principles granted on both sides, I do not see how they can long be a matter of dis- pute among men who are not blinded by prejudice or partiality; for tbe rules of reasoning by which inferences may be drawn from premises have been for two thousand years fixed with great unanimity. No man pratonds to dispute the rules of reasonmg laid down by Aristotle and repeated by every writer in dialectics. [364] And we may observe by the way, that the reason why logicians have been so una- nimous in determining the rules of reason- ing, from Aristotle down to this day, seems to be, that they were by that great genius raised, in a scientific manner, from a few definitions and axioms. It may farther be observed, that, when men differ about a deduction, whether it follows from certain premises, this I think is always owing to their differing about some first principle. I shall explain this by an example. Suppose that, from a thing having begun to exist, one man infers that it must have had a cause ; another man does not admit the inference. Here it is evident, that the first takes it for a self-evident principle, that everything which begins to exist must have a cause. The other does not allow this to be self-evident. Let them settle this point, and the dispute will be at an end. Thus, I think, it appears, that, in matters of science, if the terms be properly ex[ilaine(l, the first principles upon which the reason- ing is grounded be laid down and exposed to examination, and the conclusions re- gularly deduced from them, it might be expected that men of candour and capacity, who love truth, and have [)atience to ex- amine things coolly, might oome to unani- mity with regard to the force of the deduc- tions, and that their differences might be reduced to those they may have about first principles. 4. A fourth proposition is, That Nature hath not left us destitute of means whereby the candid and honest part of mankind mriy be brought to unanimity when they happen to differ about first principles. [565] When men differ about things that are taken to be first principles or self-evident truths, reasoning seems to be at an end. J^^ch party appeals to common sense. When one man's common sense gives one deter- mination, another man^s a contrary deter- mination, there seems to be no remedy hut to leave every man to enjoy his own opinion. This is a common observation, and, I be- lieve, a just one, if it be rightly understood. It is in vain to reason with a man who denies the first principles on which the rea- soning is grounded. Thus, it would be in vain to attempt the proof of a proposition in Euclid to a man who denies the axioms. Indeed, we ought never to reason with men who deny first principles from obstinacy and unwillingness to yield to reason. But is it not possible, that men who really love truth, and are open to conviction, may differ about first principles ? I think it is possible, and that it cannot, without great want of charity, be denied te be possiblo. Jfllfl ON THE INTELLICTUAt TOWIES. I^ESSAY f* Wlitn. ■Hkk hammm cvcy n*a wlio be-' Mmm 'tlitt' ftete li s>Ni^: liitiBeliMi. betwwn tnitt ani «fr.s would be of no less consequence to the ad- vancement of knowledge in general, than the agreement of nnuheniaticians in the axioms of geometry has been to the ad- vancement of tliat science. The truths that full witliin the compass of human knowledge, whether they be self- evident, or deduced from those that are selt-evident, may be reduced to two classes. Ihey are either necessary and immutable truths, wJiose contrary is impossible; or they are contingent and nmtable, depend- uig upon some effect of will and power whieli had a begiuuing, and may have an end. That a cone is the third part of a cylin. der of the same base and the same altitude, IS a necessary truth. It depends not upon the will and power of any being. It is im- mutably true, and the contrary impossible. That the sun is the centre about which tho earth, and the other planets of our system perform their revolutions, is a truth ; but It is not a necessary truth. It depends upon the power and will of that Being who made the sun and all the planets, and wlio gave them those motions that seemed best to him. If all truths were necessary truths, there would be no occasion for different tenses in the verbs by which they are exj ressed. What IS true in the present time, would be true in the past and future; and there would be no change or variation of a,m thin** in nature. " We use the present tense in expressing necessary truths; but it is only because there is no flexion of the verb which in- j^Iudes all times. When I say that three is the half of six, I use the present tense v'*«mI' ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. [EiSAY' Tf, Mil/ 1 but I mmmn to express not onljr wlwt mm ;i% liiil wlislMiviif • wis, md alm^ vii lie ; mi m mmj fmpmMm is to to 'imisr^ fttodi' bj wliieli we mean to express a neees* sarj tntih. €oiitii|mt truths are of an- wtlMf ii«t«ni.. Mm mey tm nwiabH tbey :iiiagr' l» true M^ om 'tiiii%. ani: ;M»t at sji. otber; amly fbeffafbt% iie eipitMioB of them must include some point or period of time. [S|71 If language had 'been a eontrivMiM of pliilosopben,. Ibey would probably baw given some flexion to tbe indicative mood of verbs, wbicli 'Oictended to all times past, present, and future ; for iii«b.»'fl«sioii. only wonld to' fit to expreit^ :ii«Mniii7 'piopon- tkniB, wbieb bave i» relation to^ linie. But ttieffo is no language, as far as I know, in which such a flexion of verbs is to to found. Because' tbe 'thoughts and discourse of men areseMom. employed .atoat necessary 'Ifillbs^ but commonly about such as are oontin- St, langui^ges are fitted to exprees the < rather than the firat. Tto distinction commonly made totween. truths, and those that express mat- ters of fact, or real existences, coincides in a great measare, but not alti^gother, with thai totween neeeesaiy and. contingent tmtto. Tto neeessary Imtha that Mt within our Inowfedn .artt, Ibr tto^ :most part, abstract trutha We must except the ex- istence and nature of the Supreme Beii% which is necessary. Other existencea^ ^are the effects of will and power. Ttoy had., a beginning, and are mntaMa Their iwtnre h such aS' the Supreme Being was pletMd to give them. 'Th'ehr attributes and rda- tiouS' must' depend upon 'the nature Ckid. baS' given Itoou, the powers with which he baa^ endowed tliem, and the situation in which he haih phiced. them. The ^lusiona imkmi bj nasonhig from f:rst princi'ples, '«^ eommonly to' ne» ecssary or contingent, aoMrding as tbe firineiples are from which they are drawn. On the one hand, I take it to to certain, that wtotever can, by Just reasoning, to^ inferred fhim. a prinoipb that is necessary, 'must' to a neoeisary truth, and ttot no contingent truth can to iilmed. from prin- etplM that are necessary.* [5781 'Th:us, a«. 'tto axioms k miUhoniaiica. are all necesiaiy 'truths,, m- are^ al Ito 'Oonelii- saons drawn from them ; that is, the whole body of ttot wience. But from no 'mtim-' ;matieal. 'truth can. we deduce 'the 'existence of iiBytiiing' ; not even 'Of the objeeta of the On the other hand, I apprehend there' are very lew 'Casee in which 'we can, from 'prineiples 'ihat ^aro contingent, 'deduM' Inilto 'liat ^are noceisary. 1 can only leoollect. tno insMinee of this kind— namely—ttot, imiito exiitwM» of tbmgs contingent and ■utnbfe, we em infer tto^ existonee of an immutable and eternal cause of them. As the muds if men are occupied much wmm aboot tmtto thai are contingent tton about tfaooe tiwl an noeessai^, I shall first endeavour to point out the prmciplea of the 'Ibmaif' 'kind.' 1. .flrtli tton, I hold,, M'A fini' ;principle, tto Miiftoiico ol everything of 'whieh I am * Sw liltiratt*ki '• ii p. M la an operation of the midiMtandmgofitflown kkd, and einnot to h^gioally defined. The objects of it are our present pains, our pkasures, our hopes, our fears, our desires, our doubts, our thoughts of every kind ; in a word, all the pasiioDi, and all tto aetiona and operations of oar own minds,, whiethey arC' present, Wt may iwnember 'them 'when they are paati but we are conscious of them only while tbey are present Wton a man k oonseions of pain, he is cerfihi rf Mb 'eiiilenoet wton he is con- scioua thai ho doubts or tolieves, he is certain of tbe existence of those operationa But the irresistible oonviction he has of tto leallty of those o|>erations is not the eiltol' 'Of' reasoning; it ia^ im.mediate and hitlitive. The existence therefore of those passions and operations of our minds, of whieh we are oonseioas, is a first principle, 'whiih. mlnre lef nires na to believe upon her miioiity, WBJ If I am asked to prove tbol I cannot to deceived by consciousness— to prove that it fa not a'fiiUafliona'aenBO^^I can find nc proof. I 'Cannot' 'ini: My antecedent truth from whiA 'it ii' dedUMcl, or upon whieh its evi- dence depends. It seems to disdahi any such derived anthority, and to daim my If any man mm he found so frantic as to deny that he thinks, while he is conscious of it, I may wonder, I may laugh, or I may pity him, tot I eannot reason the matter with. him. We tovo no common prtnelpleS' from, which we 'may 'reason, .and therefore can never join issue in an .argument. This, I think, is the only piinciple of eommon iiense that baS' neror directly been called in question.* It seems to to so 'firmly rooted in the minds of men, as to retain its authority with the greatest sceptics. Mr ll:unio, alter aniiihilaling 'body and mkd, thno' .and space, action Md causation, and even. his own mind, acknowfeiiges'lto reality of the thoughts, sensations, and passions of which he is conscious. * ileoiii. mHjMMiibl f becalled in fiMStimi.^For, Is ihndiiliiMi 'tiie bci nf bli comtlo'iiiiiiii the loiiiile 'UNat :st' ^mm sllnn. th* IM of bb iMll i 'iMl to afflffB.. ;S'n the tgrs U te Ui bllWithCTiithat be wt a Bogmatut, He «•■ a loqpiw«-thM i$, he accepted the |irinei|ilct as. aefftM 1^ Che prevalent Doginatuin i ami only ilKved ., thai 'MOl •Ml Madi^ MMicluiiont verci on these -prtn. ;> el|Mflt, ImcvinMch 'n»alM unlitv waa^ not Mtame't, but r Imclie^ Thla it tbe kind 'Of criticbm, ho«evcr» wiCh 'whicli Hume ia genciallf aMailed.— H. iame lymwii l M^tjcd atum. if, iiia|iC' Cmmmnmmm. denicil We 'eannot, witliowl centiaiiictlon. deny the Cacttifmrniiory •• a pmenl comdeuciif^s ; but ws may, without cennwlistiiiii, twppme ihat ihe p«il glffta therein, li «al| ati tluiioii uf the prfteiit.«'H. memory i but he has laid down the premises by which its authority is overturned, leav- ing it to his reader to draw the conclu- sion. [585] He labours to shew that the belief or assent which always attends the memory and senses is nothing but the vivacity of those perceptions which th^ present. He shews very clearly, that this vivacity gives no ground to believe the existence of ex- ternal objects. And it Is obvious that it can give as little ground to believe the past existence of the objects of memory. Indeed the theory concerning ideas, so generally received by philosophers, destroys all the authority of memory, as well as the authority of the senses. Des Cartes, Ma- lebranche, and Locke, were aware that this theory maiie it necessary for them to find out arguments to prove the existence of ex- ternal objects, which the vulgar believe upon the* bare authority of their senses; but those philosophers were not aware that this theory made it equally necessary for them to find arguments to prove the exist- ence of things past, wliich we remember, and to support the authority of memory. All the arguments they advanced to sup- port the autliority of our senses, were easily refuted by Bishop Berkeley and Mr Hume, being indeed' very weak and inconclusive. And it would have been as easy to answer every argument they could have brought, consistent with their theory, to support the authority of memory. For, according to that theory, the im- mediate object of memory, as well as of every other operation of the understanding, is an idea present in tlie mind. And, from the present existence of this idea of me- mory I am left to infer, by reasoning, that, six months or sijf years ago, tliere did ex- ist an object similar to. this idea. [586] But what is there in the idea that can lead me to this conclusion ? What mark does it bear of the date of its arclietype ? Or what evidence have I that it had an archetype, and that it is not the first of its kind ? Periiaps it will be said, that this idea or Image in the mind must have had a cause. I admit that, if there is such an image in the mind, it must have had a cause, and a cause able to produce the effect ;. but what ran we infer from its having a cause ? Does it follow that the effect is a type, an image, a copy of its cause ? Then it will follow, that a picture is an image of the painter, and a coach of the coachmaker. A past event may be known by reasoning; but that is not remembering it. When I remember a thing distinctly, I disdain equally to hear reasons for it or against it. And so I thkk doea every man m his BCSIlscflL [485-5871 4. Another first principle is, Otir own per^ sonal identily and continued ejchtrnce, as far tack as we remember anylhify distirict/ij. This we know immediately, and not by reasoning. It seems, indeed, to be a part of the testimony of memory. Every- thing we remember has such a relation to ourselves as to imply necessarily our ex- istence at the time remembered. And there cannot be a more palpable absurdity than that a man should remember what happened before he existed. He must therefore have existed as far back as he re- members anything distinctly, if his memory be not fallacious. This principle, there- fore, is so connected with the last mention- ed, that it may be doubtful whetJier both ought not to be included in one. Let ev^ry one judge of this as hcsees reason. The proper notion of identity, and the sen- timents of Mr Locke on this subject, have been considered before, under the head of Memory. [587] 5. Another first principle is, That tho>e things do really ea^nt which, we disfincil// perceive by our senses, and are what we jterceive them to be. It is too evident to need proof, that all men are by nature led to give implicit foith to the distinct testimony of their senses, long before they are capable of any bias from prejudices of education or of philo- soi)hy. How came we at first to know that there are certain beings about us whom we call father, and mother, and sisters, and bro- thers, and nurse ? Was it not by the testimony of our senses ? How did these persons convey to us any information or instruction ? Was it not by means of our senses ? It is evident we can have no communi- cation, no correspondence or society with any created being, but by means of our senses. And, until we rely upon their testi- mony, we must consider ourselves as being alone in the universe, without any fellow- creature, living or inanimate, and be left to converse with our own thouglits. Bishop Berkeley surely did not duly con- sider that it is by means of the material world that we have any correspondence with thinking beings, or any kiiowledge of their existence ; and that, by depriving us of the material world, he deprived us, at tlie same time, of family, friends, country, and every human creature ; of every object of affection, esteem, or concern, except our selves. The good Bishop surely never intended this. He was too warm a friend, too zeal- ous a patriot, and too good a Christian to be capable of such a thought. He wafc not aware of the consequences of his system, and therefore they ought not to be imputed Hi ON THE INTELLBCTUAL POWERS. ,^8I8AV mit IWAP. v.] FIRST PRINCIPLES OF CONTINGENl TRUTHS. 447 ti> him ; l»ut W9 mist impute' tliem to tlM' iptani itaeE It utifles every genennis tad WMiU wfinciple. IHSSl Wte I »»id« «»««».».».> to man vim iiMr 'uw^ sm. em JiM|g« nf what I mjf I feel that respect which is dma to :iiich m audience. I feel an eiijojmeiit in with, canilfl and ingenifyn fUenda ; and my ,8iml hleiaia the Anthnr of my being, who ha! made me capable of this manly .and .ational entertainm'f^nt. Bit til® JliiilMip ahewa ne. 'that tbii Im all. a dream ; that' I see not a numan. §mm ; that ai the objects I see, and hear, and handle, Mxe only the ideas of my own mmd ; ideaS' an my only 'Companimiii» 'CSold com* pany, indeed! Every social affeetionlteeaea' at the thought ! But| my Lord: Bishops are there no minds left, in the universe but my own ? Yes, indeed; it is. only tho' material. world thai m .annihilated ; everything else remains as it was. This seems to promise some comfort in my forlorn solitude. Bit dt I see thoae ni.tnds? No, Do I seo' their ideas.? Mo* Nor do they see mo' or my ideas* They are, then, no more to me than the inliabit- anls of Solomoii*s isles, or of the moon i social tie is hrohen, .and oftiy .soeial. alFee- tion is stilled. Th.i8 dismal system, which, if it co.uId be helievedy would deprive m'cn of every .social comfort), a vety good Bishop, by stnet. and aeentato reasoning, deduced. Ikom. ^m prin-. ciples .commonly received by philosophers 'Concerning ideas.. The fault is not in. the Masanlnf , hot in the prineiplct from which .it .Ml drawn... All the .arpments vrg^ by Bedieley and Hnm% agai^nst the existence of .a 'material world, are gronnded npon this principle — that we do not 'petceive external, objects themselves, but certi^. images or ideas in 0!ir own ^nda* But thisto no dictate of common sense, but directiv contrary to the sense of all who have not iteen taugltt it by philosophy. [S8S] We have before exam.i:ned the reasons given by philosqihers to prove that ideas, .and not external objectSjare'the 'im.med.kte objects of perception:, and the instances, gi'ven 'to prove tbo'tensea. fUlacions.. With* out reiieat.ing what Ims before 'been .said upon those points, we .sludl only herO' ob« .serve, that, If oxtemal. objects, be pmcttved Immiediately, we have the same reason to • liaiillni, m aleMiiy iioliie4 imm. e^iNilIf «•«, if nel. iMttr.. on the bypothetit tliat wlwi *• ptiMif* (m tm iMMMdoiM of 111 iieKcpcisn) .it. m||'' s inedtttn. tton oT'inliMl, as. on Um hyiioiiimit'.'lbsl. In 'prnvicloii.. m irt' eiMMisiiiiit: M m :ie|MrtMntMive..tnWf iliittiiMl tnm aiiii la. ironii. tte^esioffiua reautf .— >ti. believe their exlatence aa philosophers have to believe the existence or ideas, while they hoM them to be the immediate objoots of pevMptton.* i. Jbrnther int principle, I thinh, is, 'Tkat w§ kmm amm degree of power over our mtmm, and iks determinatmm ^ our wiii. All power must be derived from tba fbnntain of power, and of every good jiift Upon His good pleasure its oontinuanctf a«- pends, anil it is always .subject to his con* 'troi Beings to whom. God has given any de- gree of power, and understanding to direct them to the proper use of it, must be ac- oonntabfe to thar Maker. But those who are' Intniated. witii no power can have no acoonnt 'to' 'make { for all good conduct con- sists in the fight use of power; aU l»d conduct in the abuse of it To call to account a being who never was :intru8ted with any degree of power, is an absurdity no less than it would be to call 'to account an inanimate being. We arO' nr% therefore^ if we have .any account to '■ahe to 'tbo .Anthor of our being, that we must Ittve mwM' degree of power, which, as far as it is properly used, entitles us to his approbation ; and, when abused, renders 'ua. obnoxiona to' his. dispkaanre* {§&&} II .la not oaay to 'say in what way we first get the notion or idea of power. It is neither an ohjeel of sense nor of conscious- ness. Wo .see ovents, one snceeedii^g an- other ; but 'WO see not the power 'by which they are produced. We are consdona of the operations of our minds ; but power is not au operation of mind. If we had no notions but such as are furnished by the external :Bcnse% .and by consciousness, it :te«ms to hO' mi'poflsihie 'that. 'We should ever have any conception of power. Accord- ingly, Mr Hume, who has reasoned the most aecurately upon, this hypothesis,. den.ie8 that wo have any 'Idea of powe'r, and. clearly refutes the account given by Mr Loclw m the origin of this idea. But it is in vain to reason from a hvno- 'tlieeis agahist a iMt|. the truth of winch •very 'man may see' by .attending to his own thoughts. It is evident that all men, very early in life, not only have an idea of power, but a conviction, 'twt th^y have some de- gree' of .it k. tbomaelves i ibr 'this convidion it neeeiiarily .imiplied in many opermtiona of 'mmd, which are familiar te'Cvery man, and without which no man 'Can act the part of a reasonable being. Firiif It is implied in every act of voli- tion. « VoUtion, it is phun," says Mr Locice, *' is an act of the mind, knowingly ♦ jHii .1 .■dmit'tlili. WO' WTO €)0IMCN4I# Of Wl^ll £688-^90 ^ .1 oxerting that dominion which it takes itself to have over any part of the man, by eni- ploying it m, or withholding it from any particukr action." Every volition, there- fore, implies a conviction of power to do the action willed. A man may desire to make a visit to the moon, or to the planet Jupi- ter ; but nothing but insanity could make him will to do 80. And, if even insanity produced this effect, it must be by making him think it to be in his power. Secondijf, This- conviction is implied in all deliberation ; for no man in his wits de- liberates whether he shall do what he be- lieves not to be in his power. Thirdly, The same conviction is implied in every resolution or purpose formed in consequence of deliberation. A man may as well form a resolution to pull the moon out of her sphere, as to do the most iiisigiiificant action which he believes not to be in his power. The same thing may be said of every pro- mise or contract wherein a man plights his faith ; for he is not an honest man who promises what he does nut believe he has power to perform. [591] As these operations imply a belief of some degree of power in ourselves ; so there are others equally common and familiar, which imply a like belief with regard to others. When we impute to a man any action or omission, as a ground of approbation or of blame, we must believe he had power to do otherwise. The same is implied in all advice, exhortation, command, and rebuke, and in every case in which we rely upon his fidelity in performing any engagement or executing any trust. It is not more evident that mankind have a conviction of the exis ence of a material world, than that they have the conviction of some degree of power in themselves and in others ; every one over his own actions, and the determinations of his will— a con- viction so early, so general, and so inter- woven with the whole of human conduct, that it must be the natural effect of ou^ constitution, and intended by tlie Author of our being to guide our actions. It resembles our conviction of the ex- istence of a material world in this respect also, that even those who reject it in specu- lation, find themselves under a necessity of being governed by it in their practice ; and thus it will always happen when philosophy contradicts first principles. 7. Another first principle is — Th^t the natural faculties, by which tvc dhtimmwh truth from error, are notfallaciom. If any man should demand a proof of this, it is impossible to satisfy liim. For, suppose it should be mathematically demonstrated, this would signify nothing in this case; because, to ju^e of a demonstration, a man [591-5931 must trust his faculties, and take f»r granted the very thing in question. [592] If a nian*s honesty were called in ques- tion, it would be ridiculous to refer it to the man's own word, whether he be honest or not. The same absurdity there is in at- tempting to prove, by any kind of reasoning, probable or demonstrative, that our reason is not fallacious, since the very point in question is, whether reasoning may bo trusted. If a sceptic should build his scepticism upon this foundation, that all our reasonin/; and judging powers are fallacious in their nature, or should resolve at least to with- hold assent until it be proved that they are not, it would be impossible by argument to beat him out of this stronghold ; and he must even be left to enjoy his scepticism. Des Cartes certainly made a false step in this matter, for having suggested this doubt among others — that whatever evidence he might have from his consciousness, his senses, his memory, or his reason, yet possibly some malignant being had given him those faculties on purpose to impose upon him ; and, therefore, that they are not to be trusted without a proper voucher. To remove this doubt, he endeavours to prove the being of a Deity who is no de- ceiver; whence he concludes, that the facul- ties he had given him are true and worthy to be trusted- It is strange that so acute a reasoner did not perceive that in this reasoning there is evidently a begi^ing of the question. For, if our faculties be fallacious, why may they not deceive us in this reasoning as well as in others ? And, if they are not to be trusted in this instance without a voucher, why not in others ? [593] Every kind of reasoning for the veracity of our faculties, amounts to no more than taking their own testimony for their vera- city ; and this we must do implicitly, until God give us new faculties to sit in judg- ment upon the old ; and the reason why Des Cartes satisfied himself with so weak an argument for the truth of his faculties, most probably was, that he never seriously doubted of it. If any truth can be said to be prior to all others in the order of nature, this seems to have the best claim-; because, in every instance of assent, whether upon intuitive, demonstrative, or probable evidence, the truth of our faculties is taken for granted, and is, as it were, one of the premises on which our assent is grounded.* How then come we to be assured of this * Therein apresiimpfion in favour of ibe veracity of rhe primary ' '■& ^^^ alai)— tlmt» a« SiiL viiidi iS' 'tiO' Mmmmm of' mil viaible Ji^ iliMovers itaelf at the same time, ■0 ev'klMiise, whioh is the voucher for all Inilh, Tnuiliea Ibr itaelf ' at the aanio time* 'Thill, hoirairer, h 'eertatn, that sueh is tho' eonstitiitioii m the hmnaia mind, that evidence diaoemed bj 11% forces a corre- spondins' degree of assent. And a m.aii. who ;pemetly nndeistooil. m just sylloffisiu, without helieviiig that the oondnsloii follows from the premises, would be a greater mon- ster than a man. bom. without hands or teet. We ar«' lioni^ ind«r a neceasitj' of Imst* ing to our nasoning awl jndgtng po'wers ; anitl a real, belief of their being Ikllaeious cannot be maintained for any considecable time h J tlw grifttist' SMftie,, because' it is doing violenee' to- our wnititutiim. It is lilce a man*s walking upon hii hands, a feat whieli. some men upon occasion can ejchibit; but no man ever made a long journey in this manno.r. Cease, to admire bis dexte* rity, and be will, like other' men, betake himself to his legs. [fHM 1 We may herO' take notieC' of a property of the principle nnder 'Comsidention, that .seems to bo common tO' it with .many other irst prindpies, and which can hardly be found in any principle that is built solely nipon .reasoning ; and that is, that in most men it produces its effeet without ever being attended to^ or made an object of tboiigbt No man ever thinks of th» principle, unless when he considers the grounds of scepticism ; yet it invariably governs his opinions. When a man. in the common wurae of life gives credit to the 'testimony of his^ lens^, his memory, or his reason, be does not put the question to himself, whether these faculties may deoMve .iiiii.} ,yet- the trust be reposes in them suppAtei-iiii' 'inwa:rd conviction, that, In. that instance at .least, they do not deceive him. It is ianolher 'property of this and of 'm.any irst prineipke, that they foiee. assent la. nar-. tieular Instances, more 'poweiAilly tlian when thej' are tum-ed into a general propo* sitlon.. Many seentieS' have 'denied every .mienil. 'principle of science, excepting per* hap the' eEistence of our pieaent 'thongbts $ yet 'these' men 'reason, and ;nillitei mnd prove, they .assent .and dissent In particular cases. They 'use reasoning to overturn, all reason- ing, and Ju%e 'that thej o-ugbt to have' no t'oignien^. and. see elearly that they aro' »l'ind.. Many have in gen.eral. maintained 'that the senses are fallacioiis, yet there never was found a man no ^^seeptieal as. net te trust hiS' simei In particuwr 'Imianees when, his lality ref uml it ; and. It may be 'fihserved of thoae who have profoased. :8cep- ticism., that, their scepticism lies, in generalsi wbiio' in 'partieulars they are .no leas dog* .Biftt;ieal than, others. IL Another' 'int principle rekting to ex- istence, is, Timi tiy^rehUfe and intelligenm in ourjelkm'men witkwkomim cimverse, A» soon as children are eipaUe of asking a f uestion, or of answering a f uestion, as soon as they shew the signs of love, of re* sentmeut, or of any other affection, they must be eoiivinced that those with whom they have this intercourse are intelligent beings. [50i] It is evident they are capable of such in- tercouree long before they can reason. Every one knows that the.re' .Is » social in- 'tereourse between the nurse and the child before 'it Is a year old... It can, at 'that age, understand many things that are said to it It can by signs ask and refuse, threaten and supplicate. It clings to its nurse in danger, enters into her grief and joy, is hap- py in her soothing and caresses, and un- happy in her displeasure. Tliat these things eannot be without a conviction in the child that the nurse is an intelligent being, I tliink must be granted. Now, I would ask how a child of a year old comes by this conviction ? Not by rea- soning surely, for children do not reason at that age. Nor is it by external senses, foe life and intelligence are not objects of the external .senses. By wl»t .means, or upon what 'Occaaion.s, Nature first pives this info.rni.ation to tho infant mind, is .net easy to determine. We are not capable of refit cting upon our own thoughts at thai period of life ; and before we .attain this capacity, we .have quite for- got how or on what occasion we first had this belief; wo perceive it in those who are horn hiind, and in others who are born deaf; and therefore Nature has not con- neeted it solely either with any object of sight, or with any object of hearing. When we grow u^ to the years of reason and re- flection, this belief remam& No man thinks of a^hig himself' 'whal reason he has to be- lieve 'tliat hia neighbowris a living creature. He would be wit a itile surprised if another fierson should ask liim so absurd a ques- tion ; and perhap. could not give any rea- son. 'Which wooM^t eqia% piove a watch. or a puppet te he a living ereatura Buty'ttMiugh you should :Batlsfy hhnof the weakness of the reasons be gives for his be- lief, you cannot make him in the least .douhtfui This belief stands, 'upon another fduniallon than that of ;reaiionlng; and theiiffofe, whether a man can give good reasons for it or not, It is not in hia power 'to .shake it oft [SM] Selthi| aside this, 'natnmi 'Conviction, I 'believe the best reason we can give, to prove that other men are living and intelli- [594-5961 t»AP. v.] FIRST PRINCIPLES OF CONTINGENT TRUTm. 449 gent, is, that their words and actions indi- cate like powers of understanding as we are conscious of in ourselves. The very same argument applied to the works of na- ture, leads us to «!onclude that there is an intelligent Author of nature, and appears equally strong and obvious in the last case as in the first ; so that it may be doubted whether men, by the mere exercise of rea- soning, might not as soon discover the ex- istence of a Deity, as that other men have life and intelligence. The knowledge of the last is absolutely necessary to our receiving any improve- ment by means of instruction and example ; and, without these means of improvement, there is no ground to think that we should ever be able to acquire the use of our rea- soning powers. Tliis knowledge, therefore, must be antecedent to reasoning, and there- fore must be a first principle. It cannot be said that the judjrments we form concerning life and intelligence in Other beings are at first free from error. But the errors of children in this matter lie on the safe side; they are prone to at- tribute intelligence to things inanimate. These errors are of small consequence, and are gradually corrected by experience and ripe judgment. But the belief of life and Intelligence in other men, is absolutely ne- cessary for us before we are capable of reasoning; and therefore the Author of our being hath given us this belief antece- dently to all reasoning. 9. Another first principle I take to be, Thai certain features of the amntenance, munds of the voice, and (jeslures if the body, indicate certain thoughts and disposithms tf mind. [597] That many operations of the mind have their natural signs in the countenance, voice, aiid gesture, I suppose every man will ad- mit Omnia enim moins animi, says Cicero, iuinti quemdam habet a nahtra vullum, et mmm et gestum. The only question is, whether we understand the signification of those signs, by the constitution of our na- ture, by a kind of natural perception simi- lar to the perceptions of sense ; or whether we gradually learn the signification of such signs from experience, as we learn that smoke is a sign of fire, or that the freezing of water is a sign of cold ? I take the first to be the truth. It seems to me incredible, that the no- tions men have of the expression of features, voice, and gesture, are entirely the fruit of experience. Children, almost assoon as born, niay be frighted, and thrown into fits by a threatening or angry tone of voice. I knew a nian who could make an infant cry, by whistling a melancholy tune in the same or in the next room ; and again, by alter- ing his key, and the strain of his music, [59T, 598J could make the child leap and dance for joy. It is not by experience surely that wo learn the expression of music ; for its opera- tion is commonly strongest the first time we hear it. One air expresses mirth and festi- vity—so that, when we hear it, it is with difficulty we can forbear to dance ; another is sorrowful and solemn. One inspires with tenderness and love ; another with rage and fury. •• Hecr how Tiraothcus varied lays surprise. And bid alternate passions fall and rise ; While at each change, the son of Lybiaii JoTe Now burns with glory, and then melts with love. Now his tierce eyes with sparkling fury glow. Now sighs steal. out, and tears begin to flow. Persians and Greeks, like turns of Nature, found, A ud the world's victor itood subdu'd by sound." It is not necessary that a man have studied either music or the passions, in order to Iiis feeling these effects. The most ignorant and unimproved, to whom Nature has given a good ear, feel them as strongly as the most knowing. [598] The countenance and gesture have an expression no less strong and natural than the voice. The first time one sees a stern and fierce look, a contracted brow, and a menacing posture, he concludes that the person is inflamed with anger. Shall we say, that, previous to experience, the most hostile countenance has as agreeable an appearance as the most gentle and benign ? This surely would contradict all experience ; for we know that an angry countenance will fright a child in the cradle. Who has not observed that children, very early, are able to distinguish what is said to them in jest from what is said in earnest, by the tone of the voice, and the features of the face ? They judge by these natural signs, even when they seem to contradict the arti- ficial. If it were by experience that we learn the meaning of features, and sound, and gesture, it might be expected that we should recollect the time when we first learned those lessons^ or, at least, some of such a multitude. Those who give attention to the opera- tions of children, can easily discover the time when they have their earliest notices from experience— such as that flame will burn, or that knives will cut. But no man is able to recollect in himself, or to observe in others, the time when the expres- sion of the face, voice, and gesture, were learned. Nay, I apprehend that it is impossible that this should be learned from experi- ence. When we see the sicn, and see the thing signified always conjoined with it, expe- rience may be the instructor, and teach us how that sign is to be inter}>reted. But 460 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. 1^ESand 'do not undentand mine ; 'but this fel- low wii make 'them all understand him. .For these reasons, I conceive, it must be giante^ not only tbat there' is a conneetion eatahlished by Nature between certain signs in. tbe ^eonntenanee^ 'voice, and gesture, and the thongbta and'passiona. of the mind ; but also, thM, by our e«>n8titutio% we under- stand the meaning of those signs, and from the sign, conclude tbe existenee' of tbe thing sioiified. [HOIJ I'H. Another fi.r8t principle appears to me to be — Thmi ikmr$ if a etriam regmd due io human t§$timimif m mailers ^ffaet, tmi €ven to human authont$t im maiiera ^ iSplfiloii. Before we are 'Capable of reasoning about testimony or authority, there are many tnings wnich it concerns us to know, for whidi we can have no other evidence. The wise Author of nature hath planted in the human m'ind .a propei|sity' to rely upon tbis evidence before 'we can give a reason fur doing so. This, indeed, puts our judgment .ahnoat' 'entirely in. the power of thoeo' who .are 'about 'ua in the first period of 'life ; but 'this iS' necessary both to our preservation and to our improvement If children were so framed as to pay no regard to testimony or to authority, they m.U8t., in the literal sense, perish for law of knowledge. It is not more necessary that they should be fed. before they can feed themselves, than that they should be instructed 'in 'many 'things before they can discover tlienn 'by tbehr own But, 'when our 'faculties ripen, we find reason to check tbat propensity to yield to wmmmtf and so natural 'in the first period of ilbw We learn to resson about the re« gard due to^ them, and see it to be a'Cbildisb weakness to ky more stress upon tbem than than reason justifies. Yet, 1 believe, to [599 601] WAP. V.} FIRST PRINCIPLES OF CONTINGENT TRUTHS. AM tlie end of life, most men are more apt to go into this extreme tlian into the contrary ; and the natural propensity still retains some force. The natural principles, by whioh our judgments and opinions are regulated before we come to the use of reason, seem to be no less necessary to such a being as man, than those natural instincts which the Author of nature hath given us to regulate our actions during that period. [602]. 11. There are many events depending upon ihe wili qf man, in which there is a aelf^vident probabiiitp, greater or iesn, ae- mrtting to circumstances. There may be in some individuals such a degree of frenzy and madness, tliat no man can say what they may or may not do. Such persons we find it necessary to put under restraint, that as far as possible they may be kept from doing harm to themselves or to others. They are not considered as reasonable creatures, or members of society. But, as to men who have a sound mind, we depend upon a certain dejjree of regularity in their conduct ; and could put a thousand different cases, wherein we could venture, ten to one, that tliey will act in such a way, and not in the contrary. If we had no confidence in our fellow-men that they will act such a part in such cir- cumstances, it would be impossible to live in society with them. For that which makes men capable of living in society, and uniting in a political body under government, is, that their actions will always be regu- lated, in a great measure, by the common principles of human nature. It may always be expected that they will regard their own interest and reputa- tion, and that of their families and friends ; that they will repel injuries, and have some sense of good oflices ; and that they will have some regard to truth and justice, so far at least as not to swerve from them without temptation. It is upon such principles as these, that all political reasoning is grounded. Such reasoning is never demonstrative; but it may have a very great degree of probability, especially when applied to great bodies of men. [G03] 12. The last principle of contingent truths I mention is, That, in the phofnomena of nature^ what is to be, will probably be like to what has been, in similar circumstances.* We must have this conviction as soon as we are capable of learning anythmg from evperience ; for all experience is grounded upon a belief that the future will be like the past Take away this principle, and the experience of an hundred years makes • Compare alMve. •• Inquiry." i*. tl. fM " Wement*-', i. p. 805. .. phllo«ifi|ik. p. 74, iq.— H. PhlioMplllcal EfmjB,'* US no wiser with regard to what is to come. This is one of those principles whioh, when we grow up and observe the course of nature, we can confirm by reasoning.. We perceive that Nature is governed by fixed laws, and that, if it were not so, there could be no such thing as prudence in human conduct ; there would be no fitness in any means to promote an end ; and what, ou one occasion, promoted it, might as pro- bably, on another occasion, obstruct it. But the principle is necessary for us be- fore we are able to discover it by reasoning, and therefore is made a part of uur consti- tution, and produces its effects before the use of reason. This principle remains in all its force when we como to the use of reason ; but we learn to be more cautious in the appli- cation of it. We observe more carefully the circumstances on which the past event depended, and learn to distinguish them from those which were accidentally con- joined with it In order to this, a number of experi- ments, varied in their circumstances, is often necessary.. Sometimes a single ex- periment is thouglit sufficient to establish a general conclusion. Thus, when it was once found, that, in a certain degree of cold, quicksilver became a hard and malleable metal, there was good reason to think that the same degree of cold will always produce this effect to the end of the worid. [604] I need hardly mention, that the whole fabric of natural philosophy is built upon this principle, and, if it be taken away, must tumble down to the foundation. Therefore the great Newton lays it down as an axiom, or as one of his laws of philo- sophising, in these words, Effectuumnatur- alium ejusdem generis easdem esse carnas. This is what every man assents to, as soon- as he understands it, and no man asks a reason for it. It has, therefore, the most genuine marks of a first principle. It is very remarkable, thatj although all our expectation of what is to happen in the course of nature is derived from the belief of this principle, yet no man thinks of ask- ing what is the ground of this belief. Mr Hume, I think, was the first* who put this question; and he has shewn clearlv and invincibly, that it is neither grounded upon reasoning, nor has that kind of intui- tive evidence which mathematical axioms have. It is not a necessary truth. He has endeavoured to account for it upon his own principles. It is not my business, at present, to examine the account he has given of this universal belief of raan- » HuBw was not the. firit : but on the varimit apiniont touching the ground of this expectancy, I \ cannot toucli.—H. 2o3 452 -ON '"THE INTELLECTUAL POU'ERS. [jMUlT n» miAP. VI.] FIRST PRINCIPLES OF NECESSARY TRUTHS. 4f)tJ Mrid ; hmsmm, whollier Vm wscoiirt of it Im just or Mt, (ftnd I tbink it is imiI,|' j«t, m^ thill lieliefu oiilTenal .anuiiif mmikiii^ vnA m :iiot groundlecl upon any imtMedbiit reii- ■onirag, Imt upon tlie 'eonstitution of tlie mind IImM, it most Iw aiteowtedgwl. to bo II imt principle,, in 'llie ^iease in. wfaioh I 1180' tlwt word. I do not at ail afiirai, tliat those I haTo mentioned an all the firot prineiplis f mn which we wmy reason '(Nncenainf ^o(nitin«fnt truths. Such onuiueratiisns,. even iraen «,ade after much roflecZIiy; seMoni per. foci 16051 fit APT'EW Vf FiaST' FRUfaPLXS OP N'SCKSSABT TftUTMS. About most of the first principles of ne* eessary truths there has been no dispute, and therefote It is the less 'necessary to dwell upon them. It will he snffieient to divide them into different classes ; to men- tion some, hy way of speeimen, in each class ; and to make some^mark^ on those of which the truth has been called in ques- tion. They may, I think, most properly be divided according to the scientses to vfaieh they belong. 1. There are .some fist prineiples 'that may be ealled ffrmmmmiiemi. such as, FA«I trnffy mil^eiive in a mnienm must belong to tmme mtbatatdive eMprtsud w uadergtml i Thai emrif e&mpide $eutmm mmsi haw a verk Those who have attended to the stno- lure of language, and formed distinct no- tio^ns of the natnie and nse of the variow fiarts of speech, perceive, without reasoning, that these^ ana 'many oUier such principles, are neeessariy Irui. 2. There are i«^kai axioms : such as, That anf etmiestmre of wonh which doe»ti»l. mmkg m pmpm^^m^MmUk$r irm nor/nliv .; Thmt.*mm^ pt^^m^am ii itUkr" irm§ or fmiw s TkM mo propoM§m mn b§ MA trme ii'iiif "/«!«# al Ub' «aiNf lliti# ; Thmi^ rcajoaiJif im m drcif ' pnmm notMuff ; Tkmi mhi^emr tififflf ht Irwf ■^firm$d ^f a ftiriit, miif im trmfpmjkrmui tf ^ tk§ gp^cigt; mnd tM li« imiimtiMtdi Selmffing to thai fifiM. [606] X Every oneknows there are matkmmtiiimi •«:lom«.* if athemntiisians have, tram the days of Enelld, very wisely laid down the aicioms or first principles on which they .reason. .And the dfect which this appears tO' :have had npon the atahiity .arid. Bappy p^f^gress of thia aeieBe% .givet' lo amall 'On^' •oniagement 'to^ ^atteniit'-tO' liy lh« 'fonada* tion cl other adenees la .a similar' man.ner| •8 far 'as we are abk* 1 let' fltewaf t*h •* lis.** li. u^ M. Mr Hume liath diseowivd, .«• hO' appro^ .bends, .a weak side, even in niathemalliial aidoinB.r aod 'thinlcS' that it is 'not strietly true, for instance, that two right lines can cut one anotlier in one point only. The principle .he reasons from Is^ That every ilnipie mm :1s .a copy of a 'preceding Impression ;. and tieMfbre in its precision and accuracy, can never go beyond its ori- .ginal* From 'which he reaaona in this man- ners Mo man ever saw or felt a line so straight 'that It might not cut another, equally straiglit, in two or more points. Therefore^, wre 'Can be no idea of such a .line. The ideas 'that are most essential to geo* inetry: — suA as^ th'Ose of equality, of a straight line, and of a square surface, are far, he says, from being distinct and deter- minate t and the definitions destroy the pretended demonstrations. Thus, matlie- matical demonstration is found to be a ropo of sand. I i^ree with this acute author, that, if we could form no notion of points, lines, and ■ttrbees, 'more ancurate than those we see and handle, tliere could be no mathematical demonstration. But eveiy nan. 'that' has understandiniir, by analysing, byabBlm'etmg,and compound- ing the rude materiahi eihibited by hia^ senses, can fabricate. In hk own mind, those ekpant and accurate forms of mathe- nateal. Inesi snrfiwes, .and Mlids. [607] If a man inds himself incapable of form- ing a precise and determinate notion of the figure which mathematicians call a cube, he not only is no mathematician, but is in- capable of being one. B'Ut, if he has a pre- cise and determinate notion of that figure, he must perceive that it is terminated by six mathematical surfaeea, perfectly square and perfectly 'Cfnai Be must perceive that these .sirfaeeS' .are' 'terminated by twelve ma.th.ematical lues, perfeetly straight and perfectly equal, and that those lines are ter- minated by eight mathematical points. When a 'man .is conscious of .having these 'Conceptions distinct' and determinate, m every mathtnatleian is,, it is in vain to brin;; metaphysical arguments to convince hint thai they are not distinct. You may as well bring .argumenta' to convince a nun nicked 'With pahi 'that he .leehi 'no 'pain. Every theory that is inconsistent with our liaving acenrate notions of matliematical lines, aniiweat 'and solids, must bo false. Therefore ft follows, that 'they are 'not copies TheMedicean Yenus 'is not a copy of the ''Moek of marble from, which it was made.. It :ia lauBf 'that the elegant statue was formed out' ef the nde Mock, and that, too, by 'a manual operation, which, in.aiteral lensei w« nay cnll .abstraction. M athe* matical notions are formed in the under- standing by an abstraction of another kind, out of the rude perceptions of our senses. As the truths of natural philosophy are not necessary truths, but contingent, de- pending upon the will of the Maker of the world, the principles from which they are deduced must be of the same nature, and, therefore, belong not to this class. [608] 4. I think there are axioms, even in matters of la^e. Notwithstanding the variety found among men, in taste, there sire, I apprehend, some common principles, even in matters of this kind. I never heard of any man who thought it a beauty in a human face to want a nose, or an eye, or to have the mouth on one side. How many ages have passed since the days of Homer ! Yet, in this long tract of ages, there never was found a man who took Thersites for a beauty. The /lie arts are very properly called the arts of taste, because the principles of both are the same; and, in the fine arts, we find no less agreement among those who practise them than among other artists. No work of taste can be either relished or understood by those who do not agree with the author in the prineiples of taste. Homer and Virgil, and Shakspeare and Milton, had the same taste ; and all men who have been acquainted with their writ- ings, and agree in the admiration of them, must have the same taste. The fundamental rules of poetry and music, and painting, and dramatic action and eloquence, have been always the same, and will be 80 to the end of the world. The variety we find among men in matters of taste, is easily accounted for, consistently with what we have advanced. There is a taste that is acquired, and a taste that is natural. This holds with re- spect both to the external sense of taste and the internaL Habit and fashion have a powerful influence upon both. Of tastes that are natural, there are some that may be called rational, others that are merely animal. Children are delighted with brilliant and gaudy colours, with romping and noisy mirth, with feats of agility, strength, or cunning ; and savages have much the same taS^e as children. [609] But there are tastes that are more intel- lectual. It is the dictate of our rational na- ture, that love and admiration are misplaced when there is no intrinsic worth in the object. In those operations of taste which are ra- tional, we judge of the real worth and ex- cellence of the object, and our love or admiration is gnided by that judgment In such operations there is judgment as well as feeling, and the feeling depends upon the judgment we form of the object. £608-610] I do not maintain that taste, so far as it is acquired, or so far as it is merely animal, can be reduced to principles. But, as far as it is founded on judgment, it certainly may. The virtues, the graces, the muses, have a beauty that is intrinsic. It lies not in the feelings of the spectator, but in the real excellence of the object. If we do not perceive their beauty, it is owing to the de- fect or to the perversion of our faculties. And, as there is an original beauty in cer- tain moral and intellectual qualities, so there is a borrowed and derived beauty in the natural signs and expressions of such qualities. Tlie features of the human face, the mo- dulations of the voice, and the pro[)ortions, attitudes, and gesture of the body, are all natural expressions of good or bad quali- ties of the person, and derive a beauty or a deformity from the qualities which they express. Works of art express some quality of the artist, and often derive an additional beauty from their utility or fitness for their end. Of such things there are some that ought to please, and others that oujjht to displease. If they do not, it is owing to some defect in the spectator. But what has real excellence will always pleas© those who have a correct judgment and a sound heart. [610] The sum of what has been said upon this subject is, that, setting aside the tastes which men acquire by habit and fashion, there is a natural taste, which is partly annual, and partly rational. Witli regard to the first, all we can say is, that the Author of nature, for wise rea- sons, has formed us so as to receive plea- sure from the contemplation of certain objects, and disgust from others, before we are capable of perceiving any real ex- cellence in one or defect in the other. But that taste which we may call ration- al, is that part of our constitution by which we are made to receive pleasure from the contemplation of what we con- ceive to be excellent in its kind, the plea- sure being annexed to this judgment, and regulated by it. This taste may be true or false, according as it is founded on a true or false judgmenL And, if it may be true or false, it must have first principles. There are also first principles in mo- rals. That an unjust action has more demerit than an ungenerous one : That a generous action has more merit than a merely just one : That no man ought to be blamed for what it was not in his power to hinder : That we ought not to do to others what we would think unjust or unfair to be done to vs m like circumstances. These are momi axioui% ■flU' tI ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWEES. [suit n •BAP. ri.J FIRST PRINCIPLES OF NECESSARY TRUTHS. 455 and many otlwrs miglit be nmiied which ap- pear to me to have no lew efidenee Ihan those of iDathenatics. :Soiiia fariap :iiiay Ihiiik that our de- teniiiiiKiwiii,--«iheri]i matten of taeite or in morala, ought not to be accounted ne- 'ceaaarj truths : That they are .grounded, upon the constitution of that iteultj which we mil taste, and of thai which we call the moral sense or conscience ; which fa- culties might have been so constituted as to have given determinations different, or even cfntrarj to those^ they now give i 'That, as there is nothing sweet or bitter in itself, but acco:rduig as it agrees or dis- agrees with the external sense caied taste ; so there is nothing beautiful or ugly in it- self, but according as it agrees or dis- .agrees with the internal sense, which we alio call taste ; and nothing niomlly good or ill in itself, but acco^rdlng as. it af^'reeS' or diiagraes with our moral, sense. [§1 1 ] This Weed is^ a ■ystem:, with legaid to monk and 'tasto, which hath been rapported in. roodeip. times by great authorities. And 'if this system be tnie, the consequence nnst be, that therO' can be no 'priiiciples,, either of taste or of mofals, that^ an neces-' sary truths. .For, according to this system., all our deterroinattons, both with. :regard to natters of taste, and with regard to ni.orals, are redueed to mattors of fact— I menu to such .as 'these, tlial by our constitution we have on such occasions certain agneaMe feelings,, and on other wcasions 'Certain, dis- agreeable feelings. But I cannot help being of a contrary opinion, being 'fersuaded 'that a ma.ii who determined, tut polite behaviour Ims great deformity, and that there is great beauty in rudeness and ill-breeding, would Judge wrong, whatever his feelings, 'were. In like manner, I cannot help thinking that a man who determined that there is 'more moral wo.rth in cruelty, 'poridj, and Ini'ustice, 'than. :in. generosity, Justice, nnt- d^ce, and temperance, wonli fudge w»ng, whatever his constitution was. .And, if it be true that there is Judgment In O'ur determinatinna' 'Of taste and of morals, it must be' grantad that what is trua m^ filM' in morals, or 'in matters of taste, .is 'necessarily m. For this reason, I have ranked the first princi|das d morab' aid. of taste under tho' ites m w&oemMj Imihs*. (i. The ksi^ 'dast' ,t metaphysical prin- ciple I mention, which is opposed by the same author, is. That desu/n and intelli- gence in the cause may be inftrred, ivith certainly y from marks or signs of it in the effect, ♦ See above, p. 444. note ♦. It !• the triumph ol •cepticism to shew that gpeeutatim and prtKtta aro irreconcilable.— H. 'v V i5B ON THE INTILLICTUAL POWERS. [k8sa¥ ru Iliillgeiic©, design, md skiU, iyr« not objects of tim external. scMnsSy nor 'Osn. we^ lie oonseimit ®f tlMm. in «wj pcredn tat'Wif - selves. Even in cmfselves, we ouinot, with propriety, be said to be corscioiis of tbe natural or acquired talents we fiosiess. We are oonselmis only of tbe 'i^nlions eff niml .in wUeb tbey .are exerted.. Indeedi. m 'tnaa eomes to 'know his own mental .aWlliie% just as he knows another man*s, by the effeets they produce, when there is ooeasion to put them to exerelse. A mau*s wisdom is known to us only by the signs of it in his conduct ; Iiis eloquence by the signs of it in his speech. In the same manner, we Judge of his virtue, of his forti- tude, and of all his talents and virtues. [622 ] Yet it is to be observed, that we judge of men*s talents with as little doubt or hesita- tion as we Judge of the immediate objects of sense. One person, we are sure, is a perfect idbt ; another, who feigns idiocy to screen liimsel from punishment, is found, upon trial, to have Uie nndev^anding of a man, and to be accountable for h» conduct We perceive one man to be open, another cun- ning; one to be ignorant, another very knowing ; one to be slow of understanding, another' quick. Every man forms sucli ludgnents: of those he .converses with ; and the common affairs of life depend upon such jo%ment8. We can as little avoid them as we can avoid s jeing what is before our eyes. From this it^ ap'pears,, that it is no less a^ part of the human, eonttitution, to Judge of mentis characters, and of their intellectual powers, from the signs of them in their actions and discourse, than to Jttd«s of cor- 'iMreal objects by our senses; that such judgmentB are com.mon to the whole human race that an endowed with understanding ; .and 'that they are absolutely necessary in. the conduct' of .life. How, every |udj|inent of this kind we form, is only a particuhir applicatbn of the general principle, that inteliigeuce, wisdom, and otiier mental, qualitaes .in the 'Canse, nmfM inferred, from their marks or aigiia. in the effect. The actions and discourses of men are effeets, of which the actors .and speaken are the causes.. The effects, .am piweeived by our senses ; but the. eauaes. are bdi.ind the scene. We only conclude theur exist- ence' and their degrees from our obs«ff»P' tion of the effects. From, wise eondwit, we infer wisdom in the cause: ; 1mm 'brave actions, we infw eounige ; and so in other cases. [623] This Inference is made with perfect secu- rity by all men. We cannot avoid It ; it Is necessary m the ordinary conduct of life ; it has therefore the itnmpMl. nwlv « Imui a ti»t principle. Perhaps some may think that. th:ia prin- .ciplii mq U teamed «Aer by reasonhig or by expneiiee^. and. therefore that there is no ground to think it a first principle. If it can he shewn to be got by reasonhig, by ai, or the gwater part of those who are Smami, by it, I shall very readily ac- owMgethat it ought not to be esteemed a first principle. But I apprehend the con- trary ai>pears from vfry convincing argu- ments. jWrjl, The principle is too universal to be the effect of reasoning. It is common to philosophers and to the vulgar ; to the learned and to the most illiterate ; to the civiliaed and to the savage. And of those who are governed by it, not one in ten thousand can give a reason for it. Smmdilff We find philosophers,, .ancient and modern, who can. reason excellently in subjects that admit of reasoning, when they have occasion to defend this principle, not offering reasons for it, or any mec^luwi of proof, but appealrag to the common sense of mankind ; mentioning particukr instan- ces, to make the absurdity of the contrary opinion more apparent, and sometimw using the weapons of wit and ridicule, which are very proper weapons for refuting ab- surdities, but altogether improper in points that are to be determined by reasoning. To confirm this observation, I shall quote two authors, an aMiient..and a modern, who have more .expressly undertaken the defence of this prineiple than any others I remem- ber to have met with, and whose good sense and ability to reason, where reasonmg Is propr, will not be doubted. [624] The first is Cicero, whose words, (i*b* I. cap. 13. i)tf JMvmatwne,) may be thus translated. *' Can anything done by chance have all the marks «f design P Four dice may by .chsDM' turn np four aces s but do you think that four hundred dice, thrown by chance, wiU turn up four hundred aces? Colours thrown upon canvas w.ithout design may have some' wniitude to a human face ; but do yon tWnk they might make as beautiful a pifltmn as that of the Coan Yenus ? A hog tnm.ing up the grtwnd with his nose^ m» make soraietliing of 'the form, of the let- tar A I hut do you thmk that a hog might describe on the ground the Andromache of Ennius ? Carneades ims|ined that, in the atonequarrieaat Chios, he- found, in^»»to«»; that was. mMf ft :npreietttation of the head of alttle iaii,4iriylvwi deity. I believe he might findafignre not unlikei but surely not such a one as you would say hail been formed by an exoeUent HJilptor like Scopas. For .80, ▼«%, the' mmt' Is, that chance never perlbetiy imitates desisn.** Thus Cicero.* • See ali« Cimto**Jk Matum Dmmm." I. U. c [6«-§24] IIHAP.VI.] FIRST PRINCIPLES OF NECESSARY TRUTHS. A'S Now, in all this discourse, I see very I good sense, and what is apt to convince every unprejudiced mind ; but I see not in the whole a single step of reasoning. It is barely an ap^wal to every man*s common sense. * Let us next see how the same point is handled by the excellent Archbishop Tillot- son. (1st Sermon, vol. i.) "For I appeal to any man of reason, whether anything can be more unreasonable than obstinately to impute an eflect to chance which carries in the face of it all the argu- ments and characters of design ? Was ever any considerable work, in which there was required a great variety of parts, and an orderly and regular adjustment of these parts, done by chance ? Will chance fit means to ends, and that in ten thousand instances, and not fail in any one ? [625] How often might a man, after he had j umbled a set of letters in a bag, tiing them out upon the ground before they would fall into an exact poem, yea, or so much as make a good discourse in prose ? And may not a little book be as easily made as this great volume of the world ? How long might a man sprinkle colours upon canvass with a careless hand, before they would make the exact picture of a man ? And is a man easier made by chance than his picture ? How long might twenty thousand blind men, which should be sent out from the remote parts of England, wander up and down be- fore they would all meet upon Salisbury plains, and fall into rank and file in the exact order of an army ? And yet tliis is much more easy to be imagined than liow the Innumerable blind parts of matter should rendezvous themselves into a word. A man that sees Henry Vll.'s chapel at West- minster might, with as good reason, main- tain, (yea, and much better, considering the last difference between that little structure and the huge fabric of the worid,) that it was never contrived or built by any man, but that the stones did by chance grow into those curious figures into which we see them to have been cut and graven ; and that, upon a time, (as tales usually begin,) tlie mate- rials of that building— the stone, mortar, timber, iron, lead, and glass— happily met terience informs ns only of what 'haS' heei| Int never of what mnst be.* Smmi^^ It may he oheer? ed, that ex- fNsrience can shew a conneeCion between, a ■ign and 'the thing sagniiBd. hj it, in those cases only where^ both the .sign and thing aigiiied are neiwtved. and have always heen; pereeived in conjnnetion. Bat,, if there' be any ease where the sign only is per- ceived, experience can never shew its con- MMStioa. with the thing signiicd. Thna, for example, thought is a sign of a thinlchig principle or mind. But how do we know that thought cannot be without a mind f If any man should say that he knows thb by experience, be deceives himseE It is im- possible he 'Caii' have any experience' of this i because, though, 'we have an immediate^ knowledge' of the existence of thought in 'Ourselves by con.8cionsne8s, yet we' have no lmmed.iate knowledge of a ni.in'd. The m.ind iS' not an immediate objeet either' of sense or of ccmseiousnesfi. We may, therefore, Justly conclude, that the nMcssaiy 'Con- nection between thought and a mmd, or thinking being, Is^ not^ learned from expe- rience; [as] 'The same reason.ing may he applied., to the connection 'betweek a work excellently itted for some purmse^. and .design in the author 'Or ca.U8e of 'thai work. One of these' '—to wit, the work— 'may 'bo 'an immediate object of perce'ption. But tho' design and purpose' of the author cannot he anlimnC'- dlate object of perception { and, thenfore, experience' can ne^^er inform ns 'Of any 'Con- nection between the one and the other, far leas, of a necessary connection. ^ Tims, I think,^^ it appears, that the prin- ciple we have been considering— to wit, tliat from certain signs or 'hidica&ttsin 'the 'effect, we may infer that there must have been. :in|eiigeneei wisdom, or other in.tol^ lectnal, or moftl f uaities .in the cause, m a lirineipfe which we get, neither by reason- ing nor by experience ; and, therefore, if it he a tme principle, it must be a first prin- 'Ciple. 'Tliere is in the human understand- ing a light, by wUeh " we see immediately the evidence of it, when there is occasion to apply it. Of how gr^t importance this pri.nciple h m common life^ we imm ahmuly 'Hbseived And I need hardly 'menthn its Impiirtance In. natural theobgy. The clear marks^ and. .signatures^ of wis- • .See sboftpi iiS| mi •« MUm Vmmm;'^, SI.-.M. dom, power, and goodness, In the const!* tution and government of the world, is, of all arguments that liave been advanced for the being and providence of the Deity, that which in. all. aaeS' .has made the strongest impressiim upon candid and thinking minds ; an argument, which has this peculiar ad- vantage, tliat it gathers strengtii as human knowle%e advances, and is more convii:cing at present 'than 'it was some centuries ago. King Alphonsusm.igbt8ay, that he could contrive a better phmetary system than that which astronomers held in his day.* Tlmt mtem. was not the work of God, but the 'ictionof'men. [039]' But since the true system of the sun, moon, and planets, has been discovered, no man, however atheistically disposed, has pretended, 'to .sh.ew how a better could bo enntrived. When we attend to the marks of good contrivance which appear in the morks of God, every discovery we make .in the con- stitution of 'the material 'Or intellectual system 'becomes a hymn of praise to 'the great Creator and Governor of the world. And a man who is possessed of the genuine sphrit of phitosnphy W'ill 'think it i.mpiety to eontammato 'the divine workinansnip, by mixing it with 'those ictions of human fanc^, 'Called theories' .and hypotheses, 'which will always bear the signatures of human folly, no less than the O'lher 'does^ of divine wis* dom. I know of no person who ever called in question the principle now under our ctmsi- deration, when it is applied to the actions and disoourses of men. For this would be to denj 'that we have any mea.n8 of discerning' a wiss^ m.an from an idiot, or a man that is illiterate in the highest 'degree' from a man. of knowled^ and .Itanmg, 'w.h.ich .no man "has the 'eAon.terv to den''v. B'Ut, in all ages, those who have heen nnfrieodly to the principles of reli;;ion, have made attempts to weaken the force of the 'argnmeat for the existence .and perfee- tirns 'of 'the Deity, which is founded on this principla That argument has got the name of the argument from final causes ; and as the mieauing 'Of this name is^ well understood, we snail use it. The argument from inal causes, when re- 'duced 'to a syllogism... has these two prem.iBes : ~^Firit, That design and intelligence in the cause, nu^y, with certainty, he inferred from marks or signs of ii in the effect. This is the principle we have heen considering, and * AlptMNMO X. of Caitite. He flourished in the thlrteentli centMrt — a grest matiiematiciaii and aa. 'tronomcr. To • lifai we 'Ows tlM A:l|ilioiiil!iie Tabltii. H u laying mm not ;MijploaS' mA fliloiwiiiiaal. ■• .Rdd lUtet; lMlt..tlWt. «" MadlM iMMfMOt Willi CM at Ins 'CStstliNif ae-c i ii nM . navs' .eupiilled wme uaenil L628. 6291 we may call it the majar prooosition of the argument The seconf, which we call the minor proposition, is, That there are in fact the clearest marks of design and wisdom in the works of nature ; and the conclusion is, That the works of nature are the effects of a wise and intelligent Cause. One must either assent to the conclusion, or deny one or other of the premises. [630] Those among the ancients who denied a God or a Providence, seem to me to have yielded the major proposition, and to have denied the minor; conceiving tliat there are not in the constitution of thmga such marks of wise contrivance as are sufficient to put the conclusion beyond doubt. Tliis, I think, we may learn, from the reasoning of Cotta the academic, in the third book of Cicero, of the Nature of the Gods. The gradual advancement made in the knowledge of nature, hath put this opinion quite out of countenance. When the structure of the human body was much less known than it is now, the famous Galen saw such evident marks of wise contrivance in it, that, though he had been educated an Epicurean, he renounced that system, and wrote his book of the use of the parts of the human body, on purpose to convince others of what appeared so clear to himself, that it was impossible that such admirable contrivance should be the effect of chance. Those, therefore, of later times, who are dissatisfied with this argument from final causes, have quitted the stronghold of the ancient atheists, which had become un- tenable, and have chosen rather to make a defence against the major proposition. Des Cartes seems to have led the way in this, though he was noatheist. But, having invented some new arguments for the being of God, he was, perhaps, led to disparage those that had been used before, that he might bring more credit to his own. Or periiaps he was offended with the Peripa- tetics, because they often mixed final causes with physical, in order to account for the phcenomena of nature. [631 ] ... He maintained, therefore, that physical causes only should be assigned for pliceno- mena ; that the philosopher has nothing to do with final causes; and that it is pre- sumption in us to pretend to determme for what end any work of nature is framed. Some of those who were great admirers of Des Cartes, and followed him in many points, differed from him m this, particu- larly Dr Henry More and the pious Arch- bishop Fenelon : but others, after the ex- ample of Des Cartes, have shewn a contempt of all reasoning from final causea. Among these, I think, we may reckon Maupertuis and Buffon. Bat the most direct attack hss been made upon this principle by Mr 1630-632] Hume, who puts an argument in the mouth of an Epicurean, on which he seems to lay great stress. The argument is, Tliat the universe is a singular effect, and, therefore, we can draw no conclusion from it, whether it may have been made by wisdom or not.* If I understand the force of this argu- ment, it amounts to this, That, if we had been accustomed to see worids produced, some by wisdom and others without it, and had observed that such a world as this which we inhabit was always the effect of wisdom, we might then, from past experi- ence, conclude that this world was made by wisdom; but, having no such experi- ence, we have no means of forming any conclusion about it. That this is the strength of the argument appears, because, if the marks of wisdom seen in one world be no evidence of wisdom, the like marks seen in ten thousand will give as little evidence, unless, in time past, we perceived wisdom itself conjoined with the tokens of it ; and, from their perceived conjunctiou in time past, conclude that, al- though, in the present world, we see only one of the two, the other must accompany it. [632] Whence it appears that this reasonmg of Mr Hume is built on the supposition that our inferring design from the strongest marks of it, is entirely owing to our past experience of having always found these two things conjoined- But I hoi)e I have made it evident that this is not the case. And, indeed, it is evident that, according to this reasoning, we can have no evidence of mmd or design in any of our fellow- men. How do I know that any man of my ac- quaintance has understanding ? I never saw his understanding. I see only cer- tam effects, which my judgment leads me to conclude to be marks and tokens of it. But, says the sceptical philosopher, you can conclude nothing from these tokens, un- less past experience has informed you that such tokens are always joined with under- standing. Alas ! sir, it is impossible I can ever have this experience. The understand- ing of another man is no immediate objeet of sight, or of any other faculty which God hath given me ; and unless I can conclude its existence from tokens that are visible, I have no evidence that there is understand- ing in any man. It seems, then, that the man who main- tains that there is no force in the argument from final causes, must, if he will be con- sistent, see no evidence of the existence of any intelligent being but himself. » Sec Stewarfi " Elements," ii. p sm-^L 162 ON THE INTBLLECTUAL POWERS, [essav vt. CHAF. vii] OPINIONS ABOUT FIRST PRINCIPLES. 463 CHAPTER VII. oriKioN% Mwctmr and mooskNi abovt riESr FBINCIPL18. I KNOW' no writer wlw 'liat troited «x- ftemly of 'int prineiplw htimm A.riiit4itle ; 'Ifnt ii 18 f rolml»k tlmt, in tlie ancient Fj- tliii|{orean school.,, from which, both Plato and Aristotk' borioiPfid. miidi, thw snhject had not 'iMen. Icfl untoitched. [ISi31 Before the lime of Aristotle, consideimhie pmpeBS had been made in the mathema- tioi sfsiencea,. particiiliirlj m pometry. Th© diwjovery of th© fofty-«?enlh f ro- pwition of 'the irst book of .Eneid, .and of the ive regular solids, is, by antiquity^ ascribed to PjlliiifOfaa himself; and it is .impossible he eoiud hiiTe made those dts- cowries without knowing roaii|r other pro* positions in. mathem.aiic8. Anatotlei' u.en:- tiona the incommensurability of the diagonal of a S4|uare tO' its side, and gives a .hint of the manner .in which it was demonatnited. We ind likewise some of the axioms of geometry montioned by Aristotle as axioms, and as iudemoiatmhle principles of mathe- It is probaMe, therelMe,. that, before the time of .Aristotle, ^am were dementary treatises, of ,gforaetry, which are now lost ; and that in them the axioms were distiii- guished from the proposition8' which require |VII0f« To suppose' that so perfect a system as that of EucM% '** Elements** was produced by one roan, without any preceding model or materiiils, wooM bO' to anppoee Euclid .iwwe' 'than a man. We ascribe tO' him as much as the weakness of human under- standing will permit, if we suppose that the inventions in. geometrj,^ 'which had been 'imde .in a tract 'Of ' premling aoes, 'were by Mm not only eiiXd mulXlher, but digested into so admirable a system that his work obscured all 'that went before it, and made then he .Ibffgot and. lost Perliap,.. in like manner, the writings of .A:ristotlo with regard to first principles, and with regard to many other abstract subjects^ may have occaaioiiMl the .loes< of what had hem written 'upon those subjects by more ancient philosophers. E'6341 Whatever may be in this, in hit aeeond book upon demonstration, 'he has treated very fully of first principles ; and, though he lias not attempted any enumeration. of tlem, he shews very dearly thai all 'demouatn* tion must be built upmi truths which are eviile.nt of timMelves, 'bit cannot be de- 'monstnited. Mm whd» doctrine of syllo- .gisms: .is. gmnnded upon, a few aaooms, 'irom which he endteavours to demonstrate the .pileS' of sylloigism in a matliemalical W'sy ; and in his topics he points out many of tlie int principles. 'Of pnibable^ reasoning. As long '.as the pMkiophy of Aristotle prevailed, il was held as a fixed point, that all proof must be drawn from principles alnady known, and granted. We must observe, however, that, in that philosophy, many things were assumed as first pnodples, which have no juat claim to that character : such as, that the earth that there is no change in the heavens above the spliere of the uiooii ; that the heavenly bodies move in circles, that beuig the miwt perfect figure ;... that bodies do. not gravita.te in. their proper place ; and many others. The .Peripatetic phUosophy, therefore^ instead of being deficient in first principles, was i¥>dundant ; instead of rejecting those that are truly such, it adopted, as first principles, many vulgar prejudices and rash Judgments : and tbk seen^ in general to have been the spirit of ancient philosophy.* It 18 true, there wero' am.oi^g theaneients sceptical, philosophers, who 'protiessed 'to 'have no 'principles, and held 'it to be the greatest virtue in a philosopher to withhold assent, and keep his judgment in a perfect equil - brium between, contiadicloiy opinions. But, though this. 8eet.'WaS'drfended by some per> sons of great erudition and acuteness, it died of itsellj and the dogmatic philosophy of Aristotle obtained a complete triumph over it- [6351 What Mr Hume says of those who ara sceptical with regard to moral distinctions seems to have md its accomplishment iu the ancient sect of Soeptios. ^ The only way," .iay§ he, "' of conveiting antagonists of this 'Uiid is to leave 'them, to tiMnselves s for, findmg that nob«)dy keeps up the con- troversy with them, it is probable they will at last of themselves, from. :mere' weariness, come over 'to 'the tide of common :Bense and reason.*' Setting .aside ti.iB small, sect of the Scep- tics, which was extinct many ages before the authority of Aristutle declined, I know of no opposition made to first principles among the ancients. The disposition was, as has been observed, not to oppose, but to mul* tinlv' them bi}%'iiud mcsimre M^i have always bwn prone, 'when they leave one extreme, to run into the opposite t and this spirit, in the ancient philosophy, to multiply first principles beyond reason, was a strong presi^p that, when the authority 'Of ' 'the Pwipatotie system was at au. end, * Tilt PcripltHc- plillioio|dif did .ii«i|.ai90iiie anj *udi nrlndptft ■■.•ripiial-aaa iiUlcvldcnl | but pro. frMed to ertaMUii 1MB. .ai ipm^'IndlMtlMi and gene» iniRht.te':lMMItfMti 'Still' '111 ItiltlllllitlW' .iNlin par. ticularo mil i 'IM IB ttnetf, at 'Ittit, It wat.correct. the next reigning system would diminish their number beyond reason. This, accordingly, happened in that great revolution of the philosophical republic brought about by Des Cartes. That truly great reformer in philosophy, cautious to ivoid the snare in which Aristotle was taken, of admitting things as first principles too rashly, resolved to doubt of every thmg, and to withhold his assent, until it was lorced by the clearest evidence.* Thus Des Cartes brought himself mto that very state of suspense which the an- cient Sceptics recommended as the highest perfection of a wise man, and the only road to tranquillity of mind. But he did not remain long in this state ; his doubt did not arise from despair of finding the truth, but from caution, that he might not be mi- posed upon, and embrace a cloud instead of a goddess. [636] His very doubting convinced hmi of his own existence ; for that which does not exist can neither doubt, nor believe, nor reason. Thus he emerged from universal scepti- cism by this short enthymeme, Coyiio, ergo sum, , This enthymeme consists of an antece- dent proposition, I think, and a conclusion drawn from it, therefore I exist. If it should be asked how Des Cartes came to be certain of the antecedent proposi- tion, it is evident that for this he trusted to the testimony of consciousness. He was con- scious that he thought, and needed no other argument. , . , , i * So that the first principle which he adopts in this famous enthymeme is this, That those doubts, and thoughts, and reasonings, ot which he was conscious, did certainly exist, and that his consciousness put their exist- ence beyond all doubt. i • c * It might have been objected to this nrst principle of Des Cartes, How do you know that your consciousness cannot deceive you ? You have supposed that all you see, and hear, and handle, may be an illusion. W hy, therefore, should the power of conscious- ness have this prerogative, to be believed implicitly, when all our other powers are supposed fallacious ? To this objection I know no other answer that can be made but that we find it im- possible to doubt of things of which we are conscious. The constitution of our nature forces this belief upon us irresistibly. This is true, and is sufficient to justify Des Cartes in assuming, as a first principle, the existence of thought, of which he was conscious. [637] , , ,,_, He ought, however, to have gone farther in this track, and to have considered whe- ther there may not be other first principles I which ought to be adopted for the same 1 T^ A 1 _ _1?J «. „»» Al«I tion of all our knowledge, at least of con- tingent tratlia. And m far' .liaa^ Iim anllwii^ imfmiM, tliat tiiose wlio came .ailer :iiiii :iiave almoet nnivenally followed, him. In 'tliis track Tiiis, therefore^ may lie eowidered m tile aprtt 'Of modem ixhiloiopliy, to allow of no int primipiet imF ' 'Contime&t tnitliB Iml 'tiiis one, lliat ilw tlioii#is sni. np«a- tionS' of oitr own mindS| m vMtk we an eonseiotia,. are sdf-evideutly nal. and tme ; bnt that everytiiing elM.Huii'is 'Contingent is to be pniYod by aigniMiit*. The existence of a matefU. world, and of what we perceive hy onr senses, Is not self-evident, aeeording' to this philosophy. XliS' Cartel' fonnded: it ipon. this ^iigiiment, that' Ood, who hath given ma onr seoBes, and aU our fiiealties, is no deceiver, and tberelnro Owy are^ not lalladMms. i^SSBJ I endeavoured to shew that, if it be not admitted, as a Erst principle, -that ourfaeulp' ties are not fallaeioits, notinng else 'Can 'be admitted ; and that it is impsesiMe to prove this by arritmeut, unless God shonld nve lis new Ikcnities to sit in Judgment upon the old. Father .Makbranche .i^greed. with .Dee Cartes, that the ejcistence #f a material world rei|uire8 proof; but, being dissatisfied with Bea Cartes*8 argument from the per- fection of the Betty, thought that the only Mild, proof Is from 'divine revektion. Amsuid, who was engaged in eontroveray with llaMiniiidi% approves of his anta- .gpnist .in offermg an argment to' prove the existunee' sf the material world,, but objects to' 'the solidity of his argument and 'Offers 'Other arguments of his own. .Mt' Morris,, a great admirer of Des Cartes 'and. of .IfalebBBimM,. .seems 'to have thomht ^■••r W'W'P™''' 'BSW' Jl^i ^llMiSIWWiWnlWillWff WriSiB'^P"ai^»irlBii 'BlPJf SWpSWiMWUI 'l^ppB^Mlii HiFW Ananld to be weah, and 'ConlBSBeB 'that 'we have, at best, only probable evidence of the existence of the material world. Mr Loeke ackno'wie%ea'lhal'the evidence we .have 'Hf this point Is neither intuitive nor demonstrative ; yet he thiinkS' It maf be called, knowledge, and distingnish.eS' it by the namo of .sensitive .taMiwiodfe'.| aid|, as th4i .gmmd of thk isenaititie .knowledge, he 'OiiirS'aoBe' weak aigiOMals,' which womd nther 'tempt one to doubt than 'to believe. At kst. Bishop Berkehv and .A.rthur 'Coiler, 'withiMit any knowledge 'Of eaeh 'Olber, as 'iw as appeait' 'If fhdr writing*, 'Undertook, to prove, that' tiwre: neither is nor can 'be 'a naalerial world. The excel- lent style and elmpit 'Oomposition of the 'former have :made' lis writings to be known 'Mid .read, and ii.is aystem to be attiibuled to him only, aa if' CoUitr had never m» isted. l§m} Both, Indeed, owe so much to Male-' branche, that, if we take out of his system 'the peenllarities of our seeing all thingp in Clod, and our learning the existence of an external world from divine revelation, what remaiiiB .is lust' the system of Bishop Berke* .ley. I SMUEe this observation, by 'the way, In justice to a foreign author, to whom British authors seem not to have allowed all that' iS' due* * Mr Hume hath adopted Bishop Berke- ley's arguttwntB against the exiitence of matter, and thinks them mianswerable. We may observe, that this great meta- pliysioiaa, though, in ,genenl he deolares .in .tavour of 'mivtfsal isceptieism, .and there- fore may seem 'to ^have no 'first prmciples at all, yet, with Bcs Cartes, he always acknow- hidgeS' the reality of those thoughts and 'Operations' of mind of which we are con- seioQ8>'f 80' tliai' he yields the antecedent of BeS' Oartes'k enthymeme a^o, but dttiies the conclusion erffo sum, the mind being, aecordln| to Mm, nothing but that train of .impressions and ideas of which we are 'Conscious.. Thus, we see that the modem philosophy, of which Bea Cartes may justly be ac- counted the founder, being built upon the .niins of tho: .Peripatetic, ImS' a 'Spirit f uito npMiait% .and 'runs Into a cthntrary 'extreme. The Peripatetic not only adopted as first prlneijples those which mankind have always .rested! 'um In ''their most .important tcans- ael:lons, hut, along 'wIth. then, wmuy vulgar 'prejodices '; so tbit'thfa system, 'was founded upon a wiiie bottom, but In many parts unsound.. The 'modem ayiitem has nar- rO'Wed tlie'>'-'.foundati(in so much, that every snperBtruetnRi raised upon it appears to]L heavy. From the' single pnnciple of the exist- ence of our own thoughts, very little, if any thhig, can be deduced by just reasoning, especially if we suppose that all our other faculties mi^ be 'MlaeiO'iia Aceoningly, we find that Mr Hume was not the 'first' that was M into seeptbiam by the 'Want 'Of 'first 'principles. For, soon, alter BeS' 'Carte^ thO'rO' .arose a .sect in France called Effmis, who maintained that we have DO"" 'evidence of tho' "existence of .any- tUng but ouiselveB».t IMl 1 TlftMrtlier th«» «g«to, like Mr Hume. * If I recolkct arighC, (I write tlits note st s dtK. lame .fkeit bockt,) Locke' eicpUeiUf aDilcipstM llie MwMtu Idealitm In li.it •'•..Buunlnanon of FMbar ^^^'^^^^^^^^^WttS#^|pB#^P' 'SP ^IhPBWIpSSIS^P'IHW* ■mm 'BJISSi W* •■■» SM*i^# SJI%f vS^v *"' jT BaflK In fwt. 'M'Sliiiaiiclic, ami mauy oCheri be. fore htm, wouM inetiudilf ha? c become Mealittt, had thef iiet.tMeii. CatimliGa. But an. Idciltil, aa .1 .hare alu siy dw tfidfc 'no can.iial«B|. 'Ckiiwiio '•could bt, 8te .aiofeb pk 18% nets f, smI |k 9aB« nota *. t ooa 4iew^ pfe'eiig % 'iifltcii-"'.li. I Sae timmpWk '% aolt 1 1 sad p 193, l)» note r63»-(i«] ^•■•lllliw believed themselves tobe nothing but a train of ideas and impressions, or to have a more Sermanent existence, I have not learned, aving never seen any of their writings ; nor do I know whether any of this sect did write in support of their principles. One would thmk they who did not believe that there was any person to read, could have little inducement to write, unless they were prompted by that inward monitor which Persius makes to be the source of genius and the teacher of arts. There can be no doubt, however, of the existence of such a sect, as they are mentioned by many authors, and refuted by some, particularly by Buftier, in his treatise of first principles. Those Egoists and Mr Hume seem to me to have reasoned more consequentially from Bes Cartes' principle than he did him- self ; and, indeed, I cannot help thinking, that all who have followed Bes Cartes* method, of requiring proof by argument of everything except the existence of their own thoughts, have escaped the abyss of scepticism by the help of %veak reasoning and strong faith more than by any other means. And they seem to me to act more consistently, wlio, having rejected the first principles on which belief must be grounded, have no belief, than they, who, like the others, rejecting first principles, must yet have a system of belief, without any solid foundation on which it may stand. The philosophers I have hitherto men- tioned, after the time of Bes Cartes, have all followed his method, in resting upon the truth of their own thoughts as a first principle, but requiring arguments for the proof of every other truth of a contingent nature ; but none of them, excepting Mr Locke, has expressly treated of first princi- ples, or given any opinion of their utility or inutility. We only collect their opinion from their following Bes Cartes in requir- ing proof, or pretending to offer proof of the existence of a material world, which surely ought to be received as a first princi- ple, if anything be, beyond what we are conscious of. [642] I proceed, therefore, to consider what Mr Locke has said on the subject of first principles or maxims. I have not the least doubt of this author's candour in what he somewhere says, that his essay was mostly spun out of his own thoughts. Yet, it is certain, that, in many of the notions which we are wont to ascribe to him, others were before him, particularly Bes Cartes, Gassendi, and Hobbes. Nor is it at all to be thought strange, that inge- nious men, when they are got into the same track, should hit upon the same things. But, in the definition which he gives of knowledge in genendi and in his notions concerning axioms or first principles, I know none that went before him, though he has been very generally followed in both. His definition of knowledge, that it con- sists solely in the perception of the agree- ment or disagreement of our ideas, has been already considered. But supposing it to be just, still it would be true, that some agree- ments and disagreements of ideas must be immediately perceived; and such agree- ments or disagreements, when they are expressed by affirmative or negative propo- sitions, are first principles, because their truth is immediately discerned as soon as they are underhtood. This, I think, is granted by Mr Locke, book 4, chap. 2. " There is a part of our knowledge," says he, " which we may call intuitive. In this the mind is at no pains of proving or examining, but perceives the truth as the eye does light, only by being directed toward it. And this kind of know- ledge is the clearest and most certain that imnian frailty is capable of. This part of knowledge is irresistible, and, like bright sunshine, forces itself immediately to be perceived, as soon as ever the mind turns its view that way." [C43] He farther observes — " That this intui- tive knowledge is necessary to connect all the steps of a demonstration."* From this, I think, it necessarily follows, that, in every branch of knowledge, we must make use of truths that are intuitively known, in order to deduce from them such as require proof. But I cannot reconcile this with what ho says, § 8, of the same chapter:—" The necessity of this intuitive knowledge in every step of scientifical or demonstrative reason- ing gave occasion, I imaj^nne, to that mis- taken axiom, that all reasoning wa& know the other;. Many authors have furnished useful ma- teriala for this piiffOS% and some have en- deavoured to r«diee 'tliiin tt. m system. I « im Mot* f ftteittef.*— H. f 'I OBAP. Till.] OF PREJUBICES. THE CAUSES OF ERROR. 469 like best the general division given of them by Lord Bacon, in his fifth book " De Aug^ mentis Scientiarum,''^ and more fully treated in his " Novum Orffanum.'* He divides them into four classes — idela iribusy idola speeuty idola furi, and idoia theatri. The names are perhaps fanciful ; but I think the division judicious, like most of the pro- ductions of that wonderful genius. And as this division was first made by him, he may be indulged the privilege of giving names to its several members. I propose in this chapter to explain the several members of this division, according to the meaning of the author, and to give instances of each, without confining myself to those which Lord Bacon has given, and without pretending to a complete enumera- tion. Toevery bias of the understanding, by which a man may be misled in judging, or drawn into error. Lord Bacon gives the name of an idol. The understanding, in its natural and best state, pays its homage to truth only. The causes of error are considered by him as so many fake deities, who receive the homage which is due only to truth. I6d3] A. The first class are the idda tnhus. Thet-e are such as beset the whole human spfcies ; so that every man is in danger from them. They arise from principles of the human constitution, which are highly useful and necessary in our present state ; but, by their excess or defect, or wrong direction, may lead us into error. As the active principles of the human frame are wisely contrived by the Author of our being for the direction of our ac- tions, and yet, without proper regulation and restrauit, are apt to lead us wrong, so it is also with regard to those parts of our constitution that have influence upon our opinions. Of this we may take the follow- ing instances : — 1. Fu»t, — Men are prome to be led too much by authority in their opinions. In the first part of life, we have no other guide ; and, without a disposition to receive implicitly what we are taught, we should bo incapable of uistruction, and incapable of improvement When judgment is ripe, there are many thmgs in which we are incompetent judges. In such matters, it is most reasonable to rely upon the judgment of those whom we believe to be competent and disinterested. The highest court of judicature in the nation relies upon the authority of lawyers and physicians in matters belonging to their respective professions. Even in matters which we have access to know, authority always will have, and ought to have, more or less weight, in pro- portion to the evidence on which our own (653-6541 judgment rests, and the opinion we have of the judgment and candour of those who differ from us, or agree with us. The modest man, conscious of his own fal- libility in judging, is in danger of giving too much to authority; the arrogant of giving too little. [654] In all matters belonging to our cog- nizance, every man must be determined by his own final judgment, otherwise he does not act the part of a rational being. Authority may add weight to one scale; but the man holds the balance, and judges what weight he ought to allow to authority. If a man should even claun infaUibility, we must judge of his title to that preroga- tive. If a man pretend to be an ambassa- dor from heaven, we must judge of his credentials. No claim can deprive us of this right, or excuse us for neglecting ia exercise it. As, therefore, our regard to authority m&y be either too great or too small, the bi;i8 of human nature seems to lean to the first of these extremes ; and I believe it is good for men in general that it should do so. When this bias concurs with an inditl'er- ence about truth, its operation will be the more powerful. The love of truth is natural to man, and strong in every well-disposed mind. But it may be overborne by party zeal, by vanity, by the desire of victory, or even by laziness. When it is superior to these, it is a manly virtue, and requires the exer- cise of industry, fortitude, self-denial, can- dour, and openness to conviction. As there are persons in the world of so mean and abject a spirit that they rather choose to owe their subsistence to the charity of others, than by mdustry to ac- quire some property of their own ; so there are many more who may be called niere beggars with regard to their opinions. Through laziness and indifference about truth, they leave to others the drudgery of digging for this commodity ; they can have enough at second hand to serve their occa- sions. Their concern is not to know what is true, but what is said and thought on such subjects; and their understanding, like their clothes, is cut according to the fashion. [C65] This distemper of the understanding has taken so deep root in a great part of man- kind, that it can liardly be said that they use their own judgment in things that do not concern their temporal interest. Nor is it peculiar to the ignorant; it infects all ranks. We may guess their opinions when w© know where they were born, of what parents, how educated, and what company they have kept. These circumstances de- termine theiropinionsm religion, m pohtics, and in philosophy. ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWEHa 470 f. A Memti gmmaiL pmlMm mthm tvm m •Samdtim to mmtmim lilnft km kmrnu mnd hm famiimr^ % ikoM thai tsr§ kemt' kmrnm^ mud wmmfmkUm, Tliis is tlie foindfttlfiii ni sialogieft]. ;imi- ■Mirogi to whkk we h&m a great proneneas % natiira, and to it indeed we owe a greal part of 'Oor ..ImowMlfe- It «iiiild.lie ftbeurd to lav aside tbiB'Und of .vwKMingaltiifether, .and. m h diiimlt to pal^ hum te ipe may ventnn upon it. The biiia of liiimiin nature is to judge from too alight analogiea. The olieetBiif aenae. ei|gnMs.cwir ih%0: nf iUi fc itu i,. Smm mm ifiiid to venture a stup out of tlio 'taitoii tnusk, and think il aalMl to go with the muHitQde | olhon aie fmiiif iiragiilari- "ties,and of evuTiiing tliat has tho air of 'imiiciox. ^Some are imO^ and itemgiahle in their opinions ; otheis undulj tanacions. If out' men have a prtdiection Ibr 'the tenets of their sect or party,, and stil 'Bwva iir ^mr own inventiona. C. The idda^frnti are the faikmm mkim§' fmm ihe imperfectiom ami iks aimm i|f loti- fiMf % which is an histninient of 'thonghl as wdl as of the wmmnniiiation ef our theiighta. [6®7] Whether it he the effect of oonstitntion or of habit, I will not take upon me to de» 'tennlne ; hut, irom one or 'hoth of tliesO' OMses, It hippens. 'tliat no man can pursue a tnuB of thought or reasoning without the use of language^ Words are the signs of our 'thonghts i and. the sign Is m assoeiatei with the thing ligniied, that the last can hMdly present itself to the ima|ination| without drawing the other along with it. A man who would compose In any h»- guage must think in that languafe. If he thkls in one kngnage^ what he wenld ex- press in another, he therehy doubles his iahour ; and, after all, his expressionB will have more the air of a translation than, of an original. This shews that our thoughts take their colour in some degree from the laqgnage we use .; and that, although language ongfit al.«a|S' to he suhsecwent to thou|^t, yet thfii#t 'iMBt'he, ,at8onMitiraies.aiid in. some degree, 'Suhsc'rvient to hingnage. As a servant that is extremely useftil and aeoessaij' 'to his^ master, hy 'degrees^ aef nhtes an .antfaority over him, so that the mait«r must often yield to the servant, sneh is the case with regard to knguage. Its inten- sion is to he a servant to the undefstanding ; but it is 80. usoihl. and .so neesssaiy 'that we eannot avoid: 'being isomethnes M by it 'when II ought to foiow. We cannot shake off this tmpediment_we must drag it along with us ; and, lherefa% 'BUsI dunet onr eouiM), and. lefpliito' 'Onr 'pMse, ■■ tt fermits. Language must 'have' 'many .hnpeireetions when, applied to philosophy, because' it was not made for that use. In the early periods of society, mde^ and ifwwant men »' tsr* tain, imna of speech, 't«'«ppiia.'tliair' wants, their fMns, and 'their 'tiaiMiilioiia 'with one another. Their langoagi^ 'Can leaeh. no faitiiaff' 'tlian.;«liilr ipieiiMioiia'and BotioMi the woids: by which, 'tiuf' espvei 'be .so like vim [MSAYFI. It was a grand and noble project of Bishop Wilkins* to invent a philosophiwl hmgosg^, which should be free from the impetliitioniof vulgar languages. Whether this attempt wll ever succeed, so far as to be geneially laaihl, I shall not pretend to detennfaM. The great pains taken by that excellent man in this design have hitherto produced no effect. Very few have ever entered minutely into his views ; far less have his philosophical hmguage and his real character been hwMfht into use. [em] He founds his phlfesophical language and real character upon a systematical division and ■wbdiviftion of all the things which may he expressed by language ; and, instead of 'tlie :aneient division Into 'ten: categories, has made forty categories, or mmma genera. But whether this division, though made by a very compiehenaive mind, will always suit the vatloiB systevs 'that 'may be introduced, and aU the real, improvements that may be made in human knowledge, may be doubted. The diilculty is still greater in the sub- dlviaions; so that it is to he feared that this nohk attempt of a great genius will pieve abortive, until philosophers have the same opinions and the same systems in the various branches of human knowledge. There la more reason to hope that the langnapa v^ hy philosophers may he giadnuly improved In copiousness and. in distinctness; and that unprovements in knowledge and in hmguage may go hand in hand and iMSilitate each other. But I fear the imperfections of language can never be perfectly remedied while our knowledge -.is imperfeet. However this maj U, it is evident that the imperfections of language, and mndi more the abuse of it, are the occasion of many errors ; and that in many disputes which have ei^gi^ leamedmen, the differ- ence has been pirtly, and In some wholly, about the 'mean.ing of words. Mr Locke found it necessary to employ a fourth part of his " Essay on Human Un- derrtanding'^ about words, their various kinds, their famperfection and abuse, and the remedies of loth ; and has made many observations upon these subjects well worthy of attentive perusal [ifli] B. The fourth ehnS'Of' 'prejudices are 'the. jiMi tJbffifrf, hy which are mmmtprejudiim midm/ from the $»*iemM or §mit B'fi« [«67-669 I Peripatetic, and an Epicurean, will think differently, not only in matters connected with his peculiar tenets, but even in things remote from them. A judicious history of the different sects of philosophers, and the different methods of nhilosophismg, which have obtained among mankind, would be of no small use to direct men in the search of truth. In such a history, what would be of the greatest mo- ment is not 80 much a minute detail of the dogmata of each sect, as a just delineation of the spirit of the sect, and of that point of view in which things appeared to its founder. This was perfectly understood, and, as far as concerns the theories of mo- rals, is executed with great judgment and candour by Dr Smith in his theory of moral sentiments. As there are certain temperaments of the body that dispose a man more to one class of diseases than to another, and, on the other hand, diseases of that kind, when they happen by accident, are apt to induce the temperament that is suited to them— there is something analogous to this in the dis- eases of the understanding. [670] A certain complexion of understanding may dispose a man to one system of opinions more than to another ; and, on the other hand, a system of opinions, fixed in the mind by education or otherwise, gives that com- plexion to the understanding which is suited to them. It were to be wished, that the different systems that have prevailed could be classed according to their spirit, as well as named from their founders. Lord Bacon has dis- tinguished false philosophy into the sophis- tical, the empirical, and the superstitious, and has made judicious observations upon each of these kinds. But I apprehend this sub- ject deserves to be treated more fully by such a hand, if such a hand can be found. [67 1 ] ESSAY VIL OF REASONING. CHAPTER I. • Itt iboffft ^' KB, OF REASONING IN GBNBRAL, AND OP DEMONSTRATION. Thb power of reasoning is very nearly allied to that of judging ; and it is of little consequence in the common affairs of life to distinguish them nicely. On this account, the same name is often given to both. We include both under the name of reason. • The assent we give to a proposition is called judgment, whether the proposition be self- evident, or derive its evidence by reasonmg from other propositions. Yet there is a distinction between rea- soning and judging. Reasoning is the pro- cess by which we pass from one judgment to another, which is the consequence of it. Accordingly our judgments are distinguished into intuitive, which are not grounded upon any preceding judgment, and discursive, which are deduced from some preceding judgment by reasoning. In aU reasoning, therefore, there must be a proposition inferred, and one or more from which it is inferred. And this power of inferring, or drawing a conclusion, is only another name for reasoning ; the proposi- tion inferred bemg cal led the co»g *«f'f»> ' 9 9m Stewart'i *• Elementi," li. p. 12.— M. l.ilO-672] and the proposition or propositions from which it is inferred, the premises. [672] Reasoning may consist of many steps ; the first conclusion being a premise to a second, that to a third, and so on, till we come to the last conclusion. A process consisting of many steps of this kind, is so easily distinguished from judgment, that it is never called by that name. But when there is only a single step to the conclusion, the distinction is less obvious, and the pro- cess is sometimes called judgment, some- times reasoning. It is not strange that, in common dis- course, judgment and reasoning should not be very nicely distinguished, since they are in some cases confounded even by logicians. We are taught in logic, that judgment is expressed by one proposition, but that rea- soning requires two or three. But so various are the modes of speech, that what in one mode is expressed by two or three propositions, may, in another mode, be ex- pressed by one. Thus I may say, God i* good ; therefore good rnen shall be happy. This is reasoning, of that kind which logi- cians call an enthymeme, consisting of an antecedent proposition, and a conclusion drawn from it.* But this reasonmg may * Theenthymeuieisamere abbreviation of exprej- •lon; in the mental proceii there if no eUlpiifc «# i7i ON THE INTBLLICTUAL POWEEE [ES8JIY Til. oiiAP. I,] OF REASONING, AND OF DEMONSTRATION. 477 Im expemi bj ■mm 'pffopiMitifni thwi— Mmmim Gmi m fowl, ' innmI ' 'iii«m fJlnlf §§ ktmrn/m Them m vliat tbev ta i H m 'CMISbI f roiNnition,. and tlieMibre ex^remm jii%- 'imnil ; y^^ 'I3tm tiitliyiiMiii}! wbicli is .naaon- lingi as niei. Mlidgmeiit, must'lM}' true f>r lUbe : liotli are grounded upon evi* dtniM' wliteli inaj be probable or daiiiiiiftia<- tiv% and both are accompanied wilb anent Mr bdieC, |673] 'The power of reanonuif is iustly aecoiinicd «ine df tbe prerogaliires off hunmn nature | becanaC' bj it manj important tmtba bave been, and may be diwuvited, whidi witb- ont it would be bqrond our reach ; jet it teenn to be only a Mnd of eruteb tn a limited undofvlanding. We can conceive .an undemlaiidiqg. superior to human, to wMcb that tnith. appears intuitively, wbicb we can only discover by reasoning. For this cause, though we must ascribe judg- ment to the Almighty, we do not aaeribe' :reaaoning' to him, became it implieS' .some defect or limitation 'Ofunderslaming. Even among men, to use reasoning in things that are .self-evident, is triiing 5 like a man going ^ upon, crutches when be can wali nfion his legs. W'hat reasoning is, can be' undemtood only by a man who baa reasoned, and who is capable of reiecting upon this operation of' h:ia own m.ind. We can. deine it only by synonymous words, or phrasas, .such as. in- ferrinf , drawing a conclusion, and the like. The very notion of reasoning, therefore, can enter into the mind, by .no 'Other channel. Ihan: 'that of .reflecting upon the opemtion of reasoning in our own minds «. and tbft notions ^of premises and conclusion, of a syllogiam and .ail. its constituent parts, of an en:thymem%. sorites, demonstration, ;pa^ tah^m, .and many otbota, have' 'the sana origin. It is natnrt, 'undonbiedly, that' fives us the capseity of reaaoning. When this is waiitinjs, no art nor education, can supply it But this 'Capacity may be dormant through life, like the seed of a plant, whidi, for want of beat .and nwiitnre, never veplttia-' Thia. 18 probacy the 'Caaa 'Of some mi Althonp. the o^iaeity he pnv%' the gift of nature, and probably given in veiy dif- ferent degrees to different persons ; yet the power el' 'taasaming 'seams to be got by habit,. as mneli aaifhe^power of walMng or running. Its first exertions we are not able to recol- hset in. ouiselvei, or clearly U discern in nthem They are^ very feebly, and .need to bO' led. by example, and sopported by antbn*' rit^* By dtopaes it aoquirei atiingii, chiefly by omuiS' of .imIlatioD and. exer> cise. [674] .A'llila* aim ncant .loiMl.liliig' vciy dlf. fMn wiitt :to vttl|nr:|y •ufpnni.^lK The exercise 'Of ;reaionlpf mt various suh« jeets. not only strenftbcna ti* faculty, but furnishes the mlwl with a store of materials. Every train of reasoning, which is familiar. Others. It lemovea many obstacles which lav in our way, and smooths many roads which we may have occasion to travel in 'iitwa diiqnisitlons.. wbni. men 'Of e«|nal natuial parts apply tbehr ;reaafnlng power to any snbiict, the man who has reasoned much on. the same or on similar subjects, has a like advantage over him who lias not,, m the inechanii»' who has store of tools for his work, has of him who has his tools to make, or even to invent. In a train of reasonuig, the evidence of every step, where nothing la left to be snp- plied by 'the reader or 'h«iref, must be nnn- niediately discernible to every man of ripe understanding who has a distinct compre- .henaion of the premises and conclusion, and who compares them together. To he able to comprehend, in one view, a combinatintt of steps of this kind, is more difficult, and seems to require a superior natural ability. In all, it maj be much improved by babit.. But 'the highest 'talent in reaioniiig;ia the invention of proofs; by which, tmlia re- mote from the premises are brought to light. In all works of understanding, invention has the h%heBt< praise 1 it rcfuires an ex- tensive view of 'What, 'relates to the subject, and a quickness in discerning those affinities and relations' which nmy be subservient t« 'tie pirnose. In all invention there must hC' seme end m viewi and sagacity in finding out the road that leads to this end, is, I tbiak, what we call invention. In this ehiefiy, as I ap- preb.eud, .and in clear and distinct concep- tiona,. consists that superiority of nnder^ standing which we call yenius, IW] In every chain of reasoning, the evidence of the last wncluaion 'ian he no greater than that of the weakest Ink of the chak, 'what- ever may be the strength of the rest The most remarkable distinction of rea- Msfaip .:ii, that some are probable, otbera demonstrative.. In every step ef demonstratlvw reason- in|, the infeiemce: .is ;iece8sary, and we per- ceive it to be impossible that the •oncluaion should :iiotfolkw from the prenlies. In probable icasening,, the oonneetiin 'between the premises and the efrndnsion is not neces-^^ sary, nor do we perceive it to be impossible that the first sbouM be true while the kst ia 'falscb Hence, demonstrative rtaaaninf baa no- degrees, nor can one denMHlntion h» stronger than another, though, in relation to mat iiHiltia% one mi^' be more easiiw eoMfiih«idii. 'than aasther. Every d». [i7S-fi24) monsiratton gives equal strength to the con- clusion, and leaves no possibUity of its being It was, I think, the opinion of all the ancients, that demonstrative reasoning can be applied only to truths that are necessary, and not to those that are contingent In this, I believe, they judged nght Of all created things, the existence, the attributes, and, consequently, the relations resulting from those attributes, are contingent They depend upon the will and power of Him who nifide them. These are matters of fact, and admit not of demonstration. The field of demonstrative reasoning, therefore, is the various relations of things abstract, that is, of things which we con- ceive, without regard to their existence. Of these, as they are conceived by the mind, and are nothing but what they are conceived to be we may have a clear and adequate comprehension. Their relations and attri- butes are necessary and immutable. They are the things to which the Pythagoreans and Platonists gave the name of ideas. I would beg leave to borrow this meaning ot the word idea from those ancient philoso- phers, and then I must agree with them, that ideas are the only objects about which we can reason demonstratively. [676] There are many even of our ideas about which we can carry on no considerable train of reasoning. Though they be ever so well defined and perfectly comprehended, yet Iheir agreements and disagreements are few, and these are discerned at once. We may go a step or two in forming a conclusion with regard to such objects, but can go no farther. There are others, about which we may, by a long train of demonstrative rea- soning, arrive at conclusions very remote and unexpected. The reasonings I have met with that can be called strictly demonstrative, may, I think, be reduced to two classes. They are either metaphysical, or they are mathe- matical. In metaphysical reasoning, the process is always short The conclusion is but a step or two, seldom more, from the first principle or axiom on which it is grounded, and the different conclusions depend not one upon another. . , It is otherwise in mathematical reason- ing. Here the field has no limits. One proposition leads on to another, that to a third, and so on without end. If it should be asked, why demonstrative reasoning has so wide a field in mathema- tics, while, in other abstract subjects, it is confined within very narrow limits, I con- ceive this is chiefly owing to the nature ot quantity, the object of mathematics. Every quantity, as it has nuigmtude, and is divisible into parte without cud, so, m [676-678] respect of its magnitude, it has a certain ratio to every quantity of the kind. The ratios of quantities are innumerable, such as, a half, a third, a tenth, double, triple. [677] All the powers of number are in- sufficient to express the variety of ratios. For there are innumerable ratios which cannot be perfectly expressed by numbers, such as, the ratio of the side to the diagonal of a square, or of the circumference of a circle to the diameter. Of this infinite variety of ratios, every one may be clearly conceived and distinctly expressed, so as to be in no danger of being mistaken for any other. Extended quantities, such as Imes, sur- faces, solids, besides the variety of relations they have in respect of magnitude, have no less variety in respect of figure ; and every mathematical figure may be accurately defined, so as to distinguish it from all others. , . , . .1 There is nothing of this kind m other objects of abstract reasoning. Some of them have various degrees ; but these are not capable of measure, nor can be said to have an assignable ratio to others of the kind. They are either simple, or com- pounded of a few indivisible parts; and tlierefore, if we may be allowed the expres- sion, can touch only in few points. But mathematical quantities being made up of parts without number, can touch m innu- merable points, and be compared in innu- merable different ways. There have been attempts made to mea- sure the merit of actions by the ratios of the affections and principles of action from which they proceed. This may perhaps, in the way of analogy, serve to illustrate what was before known ; but I do not think any truth can be discovered in this way. There are, no doubt, degrees of benevolence, self-love, and other affections ; but, when we apply ratios to them, I apprehend we have no distinct meaning. „ , ,. . Some demonstrations are called direct, others indirect. The first kind leads directly to the conclusion to be proved. Of tfie indirect, some are called demonstrations ad ahsurdmn. In these, the proposition con- tradictory to that which is to be proved is demonstrated to be false, or to lead to an absurdity ; whonce it follows, that its con- tradictory—that is, the proposition to be proved-is true. This inference is grounded upon an axiom in logic, that of two contra- dictory propositions, if one be false, the other must be true." [678] Another kind of indirect demonstration proceeds by enumerating all the supposi- tions that can possibly be made concerning the proposition to be proved, and then * This i« calletf the princlpl<' tif Excluded MidtM^ f ia, between two contradictoriet^ii ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. iitaijif VII. CHAP. I..] WHETHER MORALITY BE DEMONSTRABLE. 479 ioniiiiittratiiig' timi all of flieiii. eieqitiig thai which is to he proved, are false ; whence it follows, that the excepted ni|i|>o«itioii is 'ttiM.' Thus, one Jim m pmveA 'to 'he equal to sMiter, hy 'pmring 'ifst tiist it cannot be |reater, and then that it cannot he lees t for It must he either greater, or lens, or equal; .and two of theae.aii|i|Nialtiona being demmip .fitfsted to be''&tM, tie 'tUrd must he tnw. All these kinds of 'demonttntion are nsed. in mathematics, and perhaps some others. They have all equal stren^. The direct demonstration .is preferred, where it can be' 'liad,, for this reason 'Only, as I apprehend, 'because it is the shortest road to the con- clusion. The nature of the evid^ice, and its strength, is the same .in .ai. : only :afe 'Modneted to it bj different roads. CHAPTER II WUlTHim MORALITY »■ CAMBLI Of nSMONffiTRATION. W'h'AT has been said of reasoning, maj heln ns tO' judge of am. opi^ nion of Mr Lode, advsneed In .several phMs of .his .Eissy— to wit, "That morality .is ea:pahle of demonstration .as well as. mathe- 'inatics.** In book III., ^ehap. 11, .having obiirved that mixed media, eapeiiaiy 'thdbe' hdong- ing to moralitj, being such comhiuations of ideas as the m.ind puts 'tog^er' of its own ehoie%: the signification of their .names 'nay be 'perfectly .and. exactly deined, .he adds— 1179] Sect Ifil *' Upon this ground it is that I am. hoM to think that mo.rality.is capable .of demonstration as. well as mathematics ; since 'the precise real eawnee 'Of''the things, moral words stand for may be perfectly known, .and .so the eongruity or incongniity of the 'things themselvea te certainly diaeovefed, in wnieh consists perfeet ktrnwledge. If or let any one object, That the names of sub- stances are 'Often to be made use of in mo- 'mlity, as well as those of node% itom. whieh 'wiU arise ohaeiiritys Ibr, as to snih-. ■tancea,. when eooeemad in moral dis- ^eourses, their divers natures, are :not so^ much inquired into as supposed ; v. #• When wm .say that man. is .aulj.ect to .hiw, w mean netbing 'by man but a 'Cotpiiiisl rational, creature i what the teal enaiiee' or other ^naities. of that ' oeature are, 'in this ease, is no way considered.*' Agi^, in book IV., eh. Hi., j 18t— *' The idea, of a Supreme Being, wMit 'woikman- ihip we are, and the idea of ounelveS|. befag such as are' dear in us, 'would, I sunpoee, if duly .ewMidefed. and puraued,. allpffd' Mdh foundatioii of imr duly and. fiilBS. of aetion .■■. iilglil plB9 'wnallty anieiig' iit ifliaiiGea capable of demonstration. The relation of other modes may certainly he perceived, as well as those of number and extension ; and I eannnt see why they should not be cap- able of domomitration, if due methods were thought on to examine or pursue their agreement or disagreement.** .Me .alterwarda gives, as instances, two 'propositions,, as moral propositions 'Of which we may 'be as certain as of' any in mathe- maties i and considers at large what may have piven the advantage to the ideas of quantity, and made them be thought more ei^iable of certainty .anddemonstratiim. [680] Again, in the Itth. chapter of the same book, § 7i H : — '* This, I think, I may say, that, if other ideas that are the real as w^ as. nom.uMii esseniies oi tnev sC'Verai species were pursued 'in the' 'way liuniliar to mathe- iMticians, they would carry our thoughts farther, and with greater evidence and dtenii sfc 'than possibly we are apt to ima- tiiie. 'niB. gave me the conndence to advance that ^njectnre which I suggest, ehap iii— -viz., That morality is capable of dbmonstration as well as mathematics.** From. thesO' passages, it appears that this opinioii'was not a transient 'thought, but what he had revolved in his mind on dif- ferent occasiona He offers his reasons for It, ilnstiates. it by exam.ples, and considers .at leogti the causes that .have 'led 'men to i hipk :malliematles more capable of demon- stration than the principles of morals. Some of bis learned correspondeiits, par- tioniarly hie friend Mr MMjneux, urged and import.uned' Mm to compose a sptem of momis .according to the idea he had .ad- vanced in his Essav ; and, in his answer to these Holieitations, he only pleads other oc- en:pation8,. without suggostin^ any change of his opin.ion, or any great ddiculty :in the execution of what was desired. The reason he gives for this opinion is ingenious {. .and .bis regard, for virtue, the highest' prerpgallvo of' 'the hupmn species, made ii'im. 'fond of an opinion 'which seemed to he favoumble to virtue, and to have a just foundation in reason. We need not, however, be- afraid that the interest of virtue may suffer by a free and candid examination of this question, or in- deed .of any question whatever. For the .intcreeta of truth and of virtue can never bs 'iMmd .in opiioeition. Darkness .and 'Orror may 'beflfend vice, but can never bs'livonr-. able to virtue. [681] Those philosophers who think that our determinutiowi ii 'morals are not .real JQ%^ ments— that right d a j.»t ol»erv.tion, that the man of virtue plays a surer game in order to obtain his end than the man of the world. It is not, however, because he reasons 'better oonceming the means 'Of attaining his end ; for the children of this world are often wiser in their generation thantheehUdrenoflipbt. But the reason of the observation 'to, 'that involuntary errors, unforeseen accidents, and invincible ignorance, which affect deeply all the con- Mms of the present world, have no effect upon 'Virtue or its^ reward. In the eomnon ooonrrences of life, a 'man of integrity, who hath exercised bis moral faculty in judging what is right and what is wrong, sees his dnty without reasoning, as he .sees the highway. The cases that. require reasoning are few, compared with be very honest and virtuous whO' cannot reason, and 'who knowS' .not what' 'demon- atmtion meana The power 'Of .rea8on.iiig^ in. those, thai have it, may be abused in 'morals, .as k 'Other matten. To a man. who uses it with an upright heart, and a single eye to find what is his duty, it will be of great use ; hut when it is used to justify what a man |as a strong iuclination to do, it will only serve to deceive himself and others* When a man can reason, his piissions will reason, and they are the most cunning sophists we meet with. If the rules of virtue were left to be dis- covered by demonstrative reasoning, or by reasoning of any kind, sad would be the condition of the far greater part of men, who have not the means of cultivating the power of reasoning. As virtue is the busi- ness of all men, the first principles of it are written in their hearts, in characters so legible that no man can pretend ignorance of them, or of his obligation to practise them. [687] Some knowledge of duty and of moral obligation is necessary to all men. With- out it they could not be moral and account- mlile creatures, nor capable of being mem- bers of civil society. It may, therefore, be presumed that Nature has put this knowledge within the reach of all men. Beasouiug and demonstration are weapons which the greatest part of mankind never was able to wield. The knowledge that is necessary to all, must be attainable by all. We see it is so in what pertains to the natural life of man. Some knowledge of things that are useful and things that are hurtful, is so necessary to all men, that without it the species would soon perish. But it is not by reasoning that this knowledge is got, far less by de- monstrative reasoning. It is by our senses, by memory, by experience, by information ; means of knowledge that are open to all men, and put the learned and the unlearned, tltose who can reason and those who can- not, upon a level. It may, therefore, be expected, from the analogy of nature, tliat such a knowledge of morals as is necessary to all men should be had by means more suited to the abili- ties of all men than demonstrative reason- ing ia This, I apprehend, is in fact the case. When men's faculties are ripe, the first principles of morals, into whieh all moral reasoning may be resolved, are perceived intuitively, and in a manner more analogous lo the perc<^ptions of sense than to the con- clusions of demonstrative reasoning. [688] Upon the whole, I agree with Mr Locke, that propositions expressing the congruities and incongruities of things abstract, which nond wonls stand for, may have all the evidence of mathematical truths. But this is not peculiar to things which moral words for. It is coniuiun to abstract pro- ms of every kind. For instance, you eaaaot take from a man what he has not. £§87-669] A man cannot be bound and perfectly free at the same time. I think uo man will call these moral truths; but they are neces- sary truths, and as evident as any in mathe- matics. Indeed, they are very nearly allied to the two which Mr Locke gives as in- stances of moral propositions capable of demonstration. Of such abstract proposi- tions, I think it may more properly be said that they have the evidence of mathemati- cal axioms, than that they are capable of demonstration. There are propositions of another kind, which alone de^ierve the name of moral pro- positions. They are such as affirm some- thing to be the duty of persons that really exist. These are not abstract propositions ; and, therefore, Mr Locke's reasoning does not apply to them. The truth of all such propositions depends upon the constitution and circumstances of the persons to whom they are applied. Of such propositions, there are some that are self-evident to every man that has a conscience; and these are the principles from which all moral reasoning must be drawn. They may be called the axioms of morals. But our reasoning from these axioms to any duty that is not self-evident can very rarely be demonstrative. Nor is this any detriment to the cause of virtue, because to act against what appears most probable in a matter of duty, is as real a trespass against the first principles of morality, as to act against demonstration ; and, because he who has but one talent in reasoning, and makes the proper use of it, shall be ac- cepted, as well as he to whom God has given ten. [689] CHAPTER in. OF PROBJiBLB REASONING. The field of demonstration, as has been observed, is necessary truth : the field of probable reasoning is contingent truth— not what necessarily must be at all times, but what is, or was, or shall be. No contingent truth is capable of strict demonstration; but necessary truths may sometimes have probable evidence. Dr Wallis discovered many important mathematical truths, by that kind of induc- tion which draws a general conclusion from particular premises. This is not strict de- monstration, but, in some cases, gives as full conviction as demonstration itself; and a man may be certain, that a truth is de- monstrable before it ever has been demon- strated. In other cases, a mathematical proposition may have such probable evi- dence from induction or analogy as en- courages the mathematician to investigate ON THE INTELLECTUAL TOWllS. [^ssiir ni. mmm to matlMWMiticia, aodotte n«onmi^ 'pajpr to «iiitiiit«ii* t«iili%. h ?»■>»» '■MMHIIfVlliKKll^ Ttag© twn Itiiias of liMiflOTaiig ^^ "» ^dtlier wsipccta. In deilMiMrtWtiw^iiMom- Qm imamaini^m vmy U vmm diigmt tkm ■amAet'i it nmy be mow eialy coin- prcheBd«d,or it may be nMiM nabierTient to some fiUfiM ^3r«^ *• JS^SLve a any of tieMi' mmmwm it mig r^T®, * preferenee: but then it la Bufflcient by it- self: it needa no aid from another ; it can wseiirenoiie. To add more dj«»it»t»^^^^^ of tbe same condiMon, woidd b© a kind of tautology in wamonliig; **»»^, ^"•'.j^ numatratioti, clearly comprehended, gives all the evidence we are capable of receiv- inff- [690] . . The strength of probable reaioiiMig, for the most part, depends mot nwn any one affnment, but upon many, which nmie their foroe, and lead to the same ooBclinion. Any one of tbem by itself would be insnf- fieienfc to confinoe; but the whole taken toffether may hate a force that is irresistible, so that to desire more evidence would be absurd. Would any man seek new argn- rnenti to prove that there were such persons an Kini Charles I. or Oliver Cromwell ? SuA evidence may be compared to a rope madb up of many slender ihyments twwted toEether, The rope has utrength more than Milicient to bear the stress hiid uwn it, though no one of the fikmenta of wwcn it is composed would be mlWimt for that ^"it m a common observation, that it fa unreasonable to require' demonstration for things which do not admit of it It is no less unreasonable to require rwi80iiin|| of any kind for things wlii«h ai» known with- out reasoning. All reawiiii^g mwit be mndiid upon truths whmh are known without WMMwnlmg. In every branch of real knowledge there must be first principles whose truth fa kwiim intnitively, without veHMing, either piwbiilite'ordemoiijtnttm Thm are not gwundei on 'reasoning, but all reasoning fa grounded «*«":.]* ™ been shewn, that there are^ iist prmciplist ©f uecesaanr' truths, and, 'ifst prineiplea of wntingpnl truth* D«ouilr»tive reawn- ing fa gronndrf upon the former, and pro- hable reaaoning upon the latter. " That^ we may not be embamwaed. by the ambiguity of words,, it fa fmnm tear8 reasonable. If he should afterwards find reason to suspect his first Judgnient, and desires to have all the satisfaction his faculties can give, reason will direct him not to form such a series of estimations upon estima- tions, aa this author requires, but to examine the evidence ■of his fiwft Judgment carefally and coolly ; and this review may very reason- aWy, according to its result, cither strengthen or weaken, or totally overturn his first Judgment' [ 709 ] This infinite series of estimations, there- fore, is not the method that reason directs, in order to form our judgment in any case. It is introduced without necessity, without any use but to puzzle the under^tandiiig, and to make us think, tlmt to judge, eviu in the simplest and plainest cases, is a mat- ter of insurmountable difficulty and endlegs labour ; just aa the ancient Sceptic, to make a journey of two thousand paces appear endlcM, divided it into an infinite number 01 staiSesa ^ But we observed, that the estimation which our author wquires, may admit of another meming, whicli, indeed, is more agreeable to the expression, but inconsist- ent with what he advanced before. By the possibiity of error in the estima- tion of the troth and fidelity of our facultieii, may be meant, that we may err by esteem- ing our faculties tree and faithful, while they may btlUM and fallacious, even when used aflcordiig to tie niles. of reason and logic. If this be' meant, I anawer, /«/, That the tmii awl fiJelity of our faculty of judg- ing 1% and must be taken for granted m even jidgment and. ta evew eatimatioa. If iw Hiptie can Mtionsly doubt of the ^mA and fidelity of hie faculty of jndging when properly used, and suspend his judg- ment ipen llial JMilnl till he finda proof, his wsepticinn .aiinlla nf m mm by reasoning, awl he mill mm eenllnrae in it until he Imve new faisnltiea given him, wUeh iliall liave authority to sit in judgment upon the eld Nor la then Mj need ef an endless Mieeession of donbla npin thia aubleGt ; for the first puts an tnd to al jidgmeiil and 48e we have 'dircet evidence. 'The efect of an nnfavoumble pnaiini]ition should only be, tO' make us eiuimine the evidence with the ,gieater eare. [707] The setfitie urges, m the last pbee, that tUs 'estimation, must bO' subjected to another estimation, that to another, and so on, in ifi- fimtum ; and as every new estimation takes away from the evidence of the firet judg- ment, it must at kst^bO' totally annibiated. I answer, Jfrf<, It has been shewn above, that the first estimation, suppsmg it un- favourable, can only aff'ord a presumption against the first Judgment; the second, ttpon the same pipposition, will be only the presumption of a presumption; and the third, the presumption that there is a pre- namption of a presumption. This infinite series of presumptions resembles an infinite peries of quantities, decreasing in geome- trical pro|Mirtion, which amounts only to a finite sum. The infinite series of stages of Achilles*sJourney after the old man, amounts only to two thousand paces ; nor can this infinite series of presumptions outweigh one solid argnroent m favour of the first judg- ment, supposing them all to be unfavour* able to it. Stmmdfy, I have shewn, that the estima- tion of our first judgment may strengthen it ; and the same thing may be said of all the subsequent estimationa It would, there- fore, be as reasonable to conclude, that the first Judgment will be brought to infallible cerlainty when this series of estimations is wholly in its favour, as that its evidence wii be brouf lit to nothing by such a series supposed to he wholly unfavourable to it But, in reality, one serious and cool re-' examination of the evidence by which onr first judgment is supported, has, and in reason onght tohavemore forcetostrengthen or weaken it, than an infinite series of such estimations as our author requires. rAir%, 1 know no reason nor rule in logic, that requires that such a wries of "stimatious should foEow every faitieular judgment [708] A wise man, who has practised, 'reasoning, 'knows that he is^ faiiHe, and carries this conviction along with him in every Judg- meat he tmns. He knows likewise that 'be is more liable to err in some ^cases than in others. He has a scale in his mind, by wltieh he'CitiiMilea his iablenesa to err, and 'by Ma Im legniiiBthe' degvM'of hii' asMiit in his first jndgnieni upon any point The anther's reasoning supposes, that a I, when he ferns his^ irst^ judgniMit, CHAP. iv.J OF MR HUMES SCEPTICISM ABOUT REASON. 4m .eoiceivee himself to' bt' infUibto { tiwi 'bv m li Md iBnbieqienl jiidgpneBt, be ili-' mmm that he is not iniilibte ; and that b^ a thiri. jndgneiil, :siibseqaant to the ieflniii, he 'eithniaet 'liii' lUiilliii' to err k inch, m mm as tie reasoning, and to the possibility of convic- tion by that means. The sceptic has here got possession of a stronghold, which is im- pregnable to reasoning, and we must leave him in possession of it till Nature, by other means, makes him give it up. [7iO] Secondly, I observe, that this |j;round of scepticism, from the supposed infidelity of our faculties, contradicts what the author before advanced in this very argument — to wit, that " the rules of the demonstrative sciences are certain and infallible, and that truth is the natural effect of reason, and that error arises from the irrupuon oi other causes." But, perhaps, be made these concessions unwarily. He is, therefore, at liberty to retract them, and to rest his scepticism upon this sole foundation, That no reasoning can prove the truth and fidelity of our faculties. Here he stands upon firm ground ; for it is evident that every argument offered to prove the truth and fidelity of our faculties, takes for granted the tiling in question, and is, therefore, that kind of sophism which logicians call pititin prineipii. All we would ask of this kind of sceptic IS, that he would be uniform and consistent, and that his practice in lile do not belie his profession of scepticism, with regard to the fidelity of his faculties ; for the want of faith, as well as faith itself, is best shewn by works. If a sceptic avoid the fire as much as those who believe it dangerous to go into it, we can hardly avoid thinking his scepticism to be feigned, and not real. Our author, indeed, was aware, that neither his scepticism nor that of any other person, was able to endure this trial, and, therefore, enters a caveat against it. " Neither I," says he, " nor any other per- son was ever sincerely and constantly of that opinion. Nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us to judge, as well as to breathe and feel. My intention, therefore," says he, " in display- ing so carefully the argumeuts of that fan- tastic sect, is only to make the reader sen- sible of the truth of my liypothesis, that all our reasonings concerning causes and efiects, are derived from nothing but custom, and that belief is more properly an act of the [710-713] sensitive than of the cogitative part of our nature." [711] We have before considered the first part of this hypothesis, Whether our reasoning about causes be derived only from custom ? The other part of the author's hypothesis here mentioned is darkly expressed, though the expression seems to be studied, as it is put in Italics. It cannot, surely, mean that belief is not an act of thinking. It is not, therefore, the power of tlunking that he calls the cogitative part of our nature. Neither can it be the power of judging, for all belief implies judgment ; and to believe a proposition means the same thing as to judge it to be true. It seems, therefore, to be the power of reasoning that he .calls the cogitative part of our nature. If this be tlie meaning, I agree to it in part. The belief of first principles is not an act of the reasoning power ; for all rea- soning must be grounded. uj)on them. We judge them to be true, and believe tliein without reasoning. But why this power of judging of first principles should be called the sensitive part of our nature, I do not understand. As our belief of first principles is an act of pure judgment without reasoning; so our belief of the conclusions drawn by rea- soning from first principles, may, I think, be called an act of the reasoning faculty. [712] Upon the whole, I see only two conclu- sions that can be fairly drawn from this profound and intricate reasoning against reason. The first is, That we are fallible in all our judgments and in all our reason- ings. The second. That the truth and fidelity of our faculties can never be proved by reasoning ; and, therefore, our belief of it cannot be founded on reasoning. If the last be what the author calls his hypothesis, I subscribe to it, and think it not an hypo- thesis, but a manifest truth ; tliough I con- ceive it to be very improperly expressed, by saying that belief is more properly an ace of the sensitive than of the cogitative part of our nature. • [713] * In the preceding strictures, the Scepti " •tiiiiain too often aoiiuiled a-> a Dogmatut. See nbu^'e. y. 4M note *.— H. ( IH IIP < V l!IO DN THE INTELLICTCAL P0W1E8. Liway wut. CHAP. I.'] OF TASTE IN GENERAL. 491 SSAY VIII. OF TASTE. CHirTEE !• #7 TA8TB IN OXNBEAIi* That power of the mirad by wMili wo ftn capable of diseeininf and nlUiiiig the beanlies of Nature, and wbateirer is excel- lent in. tbe ine a.rt% ii 'Oalled tmie. The external sense of tHto, by which we diitiiifiiish and relish the various kiii.ds of food, las .given oecasion to a meta|>borical application of its name to this inltnal. 'powtr of' the mind,: hy which we perealve whst is beantifnl and wbal is^ defo.nned or defective in the Tarions objects that we contemplate. Lilce the teste of the 'pabte, it ;reiisbeS' :sonM things, is disgnsted. with others i with regard to many, is indifferent or dubious ; and is considemhly Iniuenced by habit, by aasoeiatioii% and hy opinion. These obvious aiiali#Biritetween external and internal taste, have led men, in all ages,, and. in ail or most polished languages.* to .give the name of the external sense to this powerof discerning what is beautiful with pleanre^ and what fa ugly and faulty in its kind with disgust [71 ^] In treating of this as mn intellectual power of the mind, I intend only to make some observations, Irst on its nature, and then on its objects. 1. In the external sense of taste, we are led hy reason and reflection to distingnish between the agreeable sensation we feel, and the foality in 'tho' object which occasions it Both have the .same .name, .and on that .ac- count are apt to be confounded by the vulgar, and even by philosophers. The sensation I feel, when I 'taste mj Mpid body fa in my mind.; bnt there fa m^ real qnalltj in 'the body which is the canse 'Of thfa ieniation. These two things have the same name in knguage, not from any similitude in their nature, but becanse the one is the sign, of' the other, and because there is littto 'Oeea- ■ion in 'Oommcn life to distinguish them. This was fully exfhined in treating of the secondary qualities' of bodies* The reason of 'taking notica' 'Of ' it mw is, 'that the in- 'temal: power of taste bearS' a great analogy in 'this lespeet to the external. When, a beantifnl object w before ns, w% JWiiii i w "I ■ ■ ■■ ■ ■ ■■■■■■—■— J - -I w ■ * Ih'M la harilf corroet.— H. ■ay disiiiipifali *© agreeable emotien it Inoos in ns, fbom the fuality of the ob- .ji which eames 'that emotion.. W.hen. I lear an air in musio'tbat pleasea^'BO, I sa^, it fa fine, it fa excellent Thfa excellence is not in me ; it is in the music. But tbe pleasure it gives^ fa .not in tbe music ; it is in .ma .Perhaps I cannot say 'what it fa in tb« tune that pleases my ear, as I cannot ■ay what it fa in a sapid body that pleases my palate ; but there fa a quality in the sapid body which pleases .my palate, and I call it a delieious tastes and there fa a quality in the tune that pleases my taste, and I call it .a fine or an excellent air. Thfa ought the rather to be observed, because it is become a fashion among mo- dem philosophers, to resolve all our percep- tions mto mere feelings or sensations in th© person that perceives, without anything corresponding to those feelings in the ex- ternal object [.71S1 Acoofding to those pMlosopbers, there fa no heal' in the fire, no taste in a sapid body ; the taste and the heat being only in the person that feefa th:em.* In like man.ner, there is no beauty in any object whatsoever ; it fa only a sens- ation or feeling in the person that per- ceives it The langn^go nnd the common senw of mankind conlradict'Afa 'theory. Even 'those who 'liold ii, ind themselves obliged to use a lanipiaae that contradicts it I had occa* sion to^ew, that there fa no solid founda- tbn for it when applfad to the secondary qualities of body t and the same arguments shew equally, that it has no solid foundation when applied to the beauty of objects, or to any of those qualities that are perceived by a good taste. But, though wme of the qualities that please a good taste resemble the secondary quaities of body, and therefore may be calliMl occult qualities, as we only feel their '•flett, sni. lave no more 'knowledge of the eanie, hut that it is someAhig which is adapted hy nature to produce that effect-* tifa is not always tbe case. Our judgment of beauty is in many cases 'more enlightened. A work of art may appear beaatiflll to the most ignorant, even to a ehild. It pIcBScs, but he knows not I • .But iM, ttomv, p, 805, b, note «, ma^ p, Sid, K I note ^.i"»'W. £714, IISJ why. To one who understands it perfectly, and perceives how every part is fitted with exact judgment to its ei'id, the beauty is not mysterious ; it is perfectly comprehended ; and he knows wherein it consists, as well aa how it affects him. % We may observe, that, though all the tastes- we perceive by the palate are either agreeable or disagreeable, or indifferent; yet, among those that are agreeable, there is great diversity, not in degree only, but in kind. And, as we have not generical names for all the different kinds of taste, we dis- tingufah them by the bodies in which they are found. [716] In like manner, all the objects of our internal taste are either beautiful, or dis- agreeable, or indifferent ; yet of beauty there is a great diversity, not only of degree, but of kind. The beauty of a dumonstnition, the beauty of a poem, the beauty of a palace, the beauty of a piece of music, the beauty of a fine woman, and many more that might be named, are different kinds of beauty ; and we have no. names to distinguish them but the names of the different objects to which they belong. As there is sucli diversity in the kmds of beauty as well as in the degrees, we need not think it strange that philosophers have ^oiie into different systems in analysing it, and enumerating its simple ingredients. They have made many just observations on the subje6t ; but, from the love of simplicity, have reduced it to fewer princii)les than the nature of tlie thing will permit, having had in their eye some i)articular kinds of beauty, while they overlooked others. There are moral beauties as well as na- tural ; beauties in the objects of sense, and in intellectual objects ; in the works of men, and in the works of God ; in things inani- mate, in brute animals, and in rational beings; in the constitution of the body of man, and in the constitution of his mind. There is no real excellence which has not its beauty to a dfacerning eye, when placed in a proper point of view ; and it is as difli- cult to enumerate the ingredients of beauty as the ingredients of real excellence. 3. The taste of the palate may be accounted most just and perfect, uhen we relish the tilings that are f.t for the nourishment of the body, and are dfagusted with things of a contrary nature. The manifest intention of nature in giving us ihfa sense, is, that we may discern what it is fit for us to eat and to drink, and what it is not Brute animals are directed in the choice of their food merely by their taste. [717] Led by this guide, they choose the food that nature mtended for them, and seldom make mfa- takes, unless they be pinched by hunger, or deceived by artificml compositions. In in- fants likewise the taste fa commonly sound rne-Tisj and uncorrupted, and of the sunple produc- tions of nature they relfah the things that are most wholesome. In like manner, our internal taste ought to be accounted most just and perfect, when we are pleased with things that are most excellent in their kind, and displeased with the contrary. The intention of nature is no less evident in this internal taste than in the external. Every excellence has a real beauty and charm that makes it an agreeable object to those who have the faculty of discerning its beauty ; and this faculty fa what we call a good taste. A man who, by any disorder in his mental powers, or by bad habits, has contracted a relish for what has no real excellence, or what is deformed and defective, has a de- praved taste, like one who finds a more agreeable relish in ashes or cinders than in the most wholesome food. As we must ac- knowledge the taste of the palate to be de- praved in this case, there is the same reason to think the taste of the mind depraved in the oflier. There is therefore a just and rational taste, and there is a depraved and corrupted taste. For it is too evident, that, by bad education, bad habits, and wrong associii- tions, men may acquire a relish for misti- ness, for rudeness, and ill-breeding, and for many other deformities. To say that such a taste is not vitiated, is no less absurd than to say, that the sickly girl who delights iu eating charcoal and tobacco-pipes, has m just and natural a taste as when she is m perfect health. 4. The force of custom, of fancy, and of casual associations, is very great both upon the external and internal taste. An E.ski- maux can regale himself with a draught of whale-oil, and a Canadian can feast upon a dog. A Kamschatkadale lives upon putnd fish, and fa sometimes reduced to eat tli*j bark of trees. The taste of rum, or of green tea, is at first as nauseous as that of ipeca- cuan, to some persons, who may be brouglit by use to relish what they once fountl so disagreeable. [718] When we see such varieties in the tasta of the palate produced by custom and as- sociatioiis, and some, perhaps, by constitu- tion, we may be the less surprised that the same causes should produce like varieties in the taste of beauty ; that the Atricau should esteem thick lips and a flat nose ; that other nations should draw out their ears, till they hang over their shoulders j that in one nation ladies should paint their faces, and m another should make them shine with grease. 6 Those who conceive that there is no standard in nature by which taste may bo regulated, and that the common proverb « That there ought to be no dispute about .— '• I I9S ON THE INTELLECTUAL F0WER3. [bssay wi. SBAP. nJ] OF NOVELTY. 493 lute,,*' m to hf> tftken if the ntmoflt^ ktituie, <;o upon slender and insnffiioienl grouii4 The same argnments might be need with equal t&rm agauist au jr ataadard. M tnith. Wlwle nalionS' h j lam trnm^ M fvejudiee an hnight to Miefo f ha gniaeit' atmrdi- ^m i fni why should it he thought that the taste IS less capahle of being perverted than the Judgmenl ? It must indeed be aekuow- Mged, that men. differ more' in 'th«' fMSultj' of taste' than in what we ooramoulj call jodgment , ««lthe«foreitma, be exacted that they should he more liable to have their liifte' eorrupted in malters of 'beauty and deformity, than their judgment in mattem of truth and error. If wO' make due allowance for this, we sliall see that it is as easy to account for the variety of tastes, though there be in nature a standard of true beauty, and cou- ■equeutly of good taste, as it is to account for the variety and contrariety of opinions, though there be in nature a standard of of truth, and, consequently, of right judg- ment, nw} B* Hay, if we speak, accurately and strictly, we shall find that, in every opera- tion of taste, there is judgment implied. When a man oronounces a poem or a palace to bo beautiful, he affirms something of that poem or that palace ; and every affi.raatton or 'denial expresses' judgment. For we cannot better deine judgment, than by saying that it is an ailrmation or denial of one thing concerning another. I had occasion to shew, when treating of Judg- ment, that it is implied in every perception of our external senses. There is an imme- diate conviction and belief of the existence of the quality perceived, whether it he colour, or .sound, or figure ;. and the same fbing holds In the perception of beauty or defo^rmity. If it be said that the perception of beauty is merely a feeling in the mind that per- ceives, without any belief of excellence hi the object, the necessary ccmsequence of this opinion is, that when I say Virgil^ " Georgics** isabeaottful poem, I mean not to say anything 'Of the poem, but only Mme-"" fling mnoeniiiig nyMsif aiid my feeings. Why should I use' a language 'that expiesiea the 'Contrary of what I m'can ? My language, according to the necessary •rules of coastruetioiiy can bear no other meaiiing hut this, thai thim fe something in the poem, and not in me, which I eall beauty. ' Even those who 'hiiM. heauty to be merely a feeling' in the penoii 'tliat 'pep*' oeives it» iud. ^bammAwm lader a ucoesaity of espraatiiif 'Uteniselvei'aa. If beauty were toMy a quaily of the object^ and im4 of the Mo reason can be given why all man- kind should express themselves thus, butthat they beheve what they say. It is there- forei eontrary to' die universal sense of mankind, expressed by their language, that beauty is not really in the object, but is merely a feeling In the person who is said to^ perceive it. Philosophers should be very cautious in opposing the common senso of mankind ; for, when they do, they rarely miss going wrong. 1720]'' Our judgment of beauty is not indeed a dry anil wiaffecting judgment, like that- of a mathematical or metaphysical truth. By the constitution of our nature, it is accom- panied with an agreeble feeling or emotion, for which we have no other name but the sense of beauty. This tense of beauty, like the perceptions of our other senses, implies not only a feeling, but an opinion of some quality in the object which occasions that In objects that please the taste, we alwi^'s judge that there is some real excellenoe, some superiority to those that do not please. In some oases, that superior ex- cellence h distinctly perceived, and can toe pointed out; in other cases, we have only a general notion of some excellence which we cannot describe. Beauties of the former kind may be compared to the primary qualities perceived by the external senses ; those of the latter kind, to the secondary. 7. Beauty or deformity in an object, re- sults from its nature or structure. To per- ceive the beauty, therefore, we must per- ceive the nature or structure from M-hich it results. In this the internal sense differs from the external. Our external senses may disoover qualities whieh do not depend upon any antecedent perception. Thus, I can hear the sound of a hell, though I never Strceived anything else belonging to it. ut it is impoaslhle to perceive the beauty of an object without peroeivhig the object, or, at least, conceiving it. On this account, Dr Hutcheson called the senses of beauty and harmony reies or secondary senses ; because 'the , beauty cannot be perceived unless the objeot^ tot' perceived by some other power of the mind. Th.U8, the sense of harmony and nekmy in sounds supposes the external fanie of heari.ng, and is a kind of eeeoMlaiy' to it. ▲' man bom deaf may be a fiooil Judge 'Of* tiMutiea of anwuet .ilMli b«t Sri™ no »>ti<» of melody » 1«,1 mony. The like may be said of beau- tiea .itt' iolourinf .and in figure, whieh can never be fereei:v«d without the senses W which 'Colour and ijnii« are perceived. 17211 [719-721J CHAPTER IL ©F THE OBJECTS OF TA8TB ; AND, FIRW, OF NOVELTY. A PHILOSOPHICAL analysis of the objects of taste is like applying the anatomical knife to a fine face. The design of the philoso- pher, as well as of the anatomist, is not to Gratify taste, but to improve knowled},'e. The reader ought to be aware of this, that he may not entertain an expectation in which he will be disappointed. By the objects of taste, I mean those qualities or attributes of things which are, by Nature, adapted to please a good taste. BIr Addison, and Dr Akenside after him, have reduced them to three-to wit, novelty, grandeur, and beauty. This division is sufficient for all I intend to say upon the subject, and therefore I shall adopt it— observing only, that beauty is often taken m 80 extensive a sense as to comprehend all the objects of taste ; yet all the authors I have met with, who have given a division of the objects of taste, make beauty one species. I take the reason of this to be, that we have specific names for some of the quali- ties that please the taste, but not for all ; and therefore all those fall under tlie gene- ral name of beauty, for which there is no specific name in the division. There are, indeed, so ma'iy species ol beauty, that it would be as difficult to enu- merate them perfectly, as to enumerate all the tastes we perceive by the palate. Nor does there appear to me sufficient reason for making, as some very ingenious authors have done, as many different internal senses as there are different species of heauty or deformity. [722] The division of our external senses is taken from the organs of perception and not from the qualities perceived. We liave not the same means of dividing the inter- nal ; because, though some kinds of beauty belong only to objects of the eye, and others to objects of the ear, there are many which we cannot refer to any bodily organ ; and therefore I conceive every division that has been made of our hiternal senses to be 111 some degree arbitrary. They may be made more or fewer, according as we have (lis- tinct names for the various kinds of beauty and deformity; and I suspect the most copious languages have not names for tliem alL Novelty is not properly a quality of the thing to which we attribute it, far less is it a sensation in the mind to which it is new ; it is a relation which the thing has to the knowledge of the person. What is mew to one man, may not be so to another ; [722, 723] what is new this moment, may be familiar to the same person some time hence. When an object is first brought to our know- ledge, it is new, whether it be agreeable or not. It is evident, therefore, with regard to novelty, (whatever may be said of other objects of taste,) that it is not merely a sensatioH in the mind of him to whom tho thing is new ; it is a real relation which the thing has to his knowledge at that time. 1 J. • But we are so constituted, that what is new to us commonly gives pleasure upon that account, if it be not in itself disagree- able. It rouses our attention, and occa- sions an agreeable exertion of our facul- The pleasure we receive from novflty in objects has so great influence in human life, that it well deserves the attention of philosophers ; and several ingenious authors -particularly Dr Gerard, in his « Essay on Taste"— have, I think, successfully account- ed for it, from the principles of the human constitution. 1723] . We can perhaps conceive a being so made, that his happiness consists in a con- tinuance of the same unvaried sensations or feelings, without any active exertion on his part. Whether this be possible or not, it is evident that man is not such a being ; his good consists in the vigorous exertion of his active and intellective powers upon their proper objects ; he is made for action and progress, and cannot be happy without it ; his enjoyments seem to be given by Nature, not so much for their own sake, as to encourage the exercise of his various powers. That tranquillity of soul m which some place human happiness, is not a dead rest, but a regular progressive motion. Such is the constitution of man by the appointment of Nature. This constitution is perhaps a part of the imperfection oi our nature ; but it is wisely adapted to our state, which is not intended to be stationary, but progressive. The eye is not satiated with seeing, nor the ear with hearmg; something is always wanted. Desire and hope never cease, but remain to spur us 011 to something yet to be acquired; and, it they could cease, human happiness must end with them. That our desire and hope be properly directed, is our part ; that they can never be extinguished, is the work of lt"is this that makes human life so busy a scene. Man must be doing something, good or bad, trifling or in^P^/^^V ^Tfiu must vary the employment of his facu - Ts or their exerci^ will *>«jr« ^»«"^^i and the pleasure that attends it sicken of *"*" The notions of enjoy ment, and of activity, »il4 OK THE UTELLECTUAL POWEIS. [iiway \iii. I'liAP* lU* I OF GRANDEUR. 495 ©niMidered alistractlj, are no iHoubt ver j differeniy and we emmm. perceive a meces- urj c*oimec6oii tielweeii tbt-nL But, in our Cf>nstitution, tbey are so coiinectecl bj the wnddm of Mature, tliat Ihej niit go Mincl in 'band ; and tbe firit mimt be' Ml and supported hy tbe last [724] An object at first, perhaps, gave mucb pleasure, while attention was directed to it with vigour. But attention cannot be long eonliaed to ot.e unvaried object, nor ean it be carried round in the same narrow circle. Curiosity is a capital principle in the human isonatituiion, and its food mmtt Be what ia in, aono' :reapeei new. W'bil k 9M nf 'tie Atbeiiiians may, in some degiw, 'be applied to all mankind '^^^^ ^i®*' ^i^D® ^ ^P^i^^ in hearing, or telling, or doing some new Into' this part of the human constitution, I tliink, we may resolve the pkas'uie we have from novelty in objects. Curiosity is commonly strongest in child* fen and. in young persona,, and .aceoidingly novelty flmmm them moal In ^ai ages, In proportion as novelty .gratiieS' cu;riosityi and oceisioBB a vigorous exertion of any of our mental powers in attending to.the new ob- ject, iu the samo' proportion It glves^ plea- sun^ In .aivaneed life, the indolent and inactive have the strongest pa^ion for news, as a relief from a painful vacuity of thought. But the pleasure derivedfnin new objc«ts, in many 'Caaes, is not owing solely nr ehleiy to their 'being new, but to somC' other cir- cumatance that gives them valu& The new faab.bn in d'ress, furniture, equlpge, and other aoeonimodations of life, gives^ plea,- anre, not so much, as^ I apprehend,, heesase it is new, as. because it is^ a sign, of rank, and 'distiijguishes a, roan from the vulgar^ In some things novelty .is^ du% and tlw want 'Of It' a veal imperfection. Ti'oa, .if au ,anthor .adds to the number of books with wliich the public is already overloaded^ we ex|)ect from Mm something new; and, if he says noth,ing but wliat has been said, before in aa agiecaUe a. manner, we .are Jua%' diigusted. [7S!i] W.bem novelty .is altupdier M|Miiated from the conception of worth, .and utility, it makes 'but » al|ptt tepression upon a tra,ly eoneot' 'taate., ESveiy diseovery In nature. In the arts, and in the sdenisea, liaa a real value, and gives a rational pleasure' to a good taste. .Bit. things 'that> have iioihing to nwommind limm 'but novelty, are m only to entertain ehidren, or tbnw who are distressed from n vacuity of thought This quality of obj'eets may therefore 'bo 'Coui- pired, to thO' cypher m, arlthmotie, wlbieb .adds, .greatly to the value of .signiieant igurM; hut, wten put by itself, siguiHes inothiug at alL CHAPTER III. OF OBANninm. The qutllties which please the taste are not more various in themselves than are the emotions and feelings with which they aft'ect our .minds. TMnp new and uncommon alfect us witli a pleasing surprise, which rouses and invi- gorates our attention to the object But this emotion soon iags, if there is notltinf? but novelty to give it continuance, and leaveS' no effect upon the mind. The emotion raised by grand objects is awful, solemn, .and aerloufi. Of all objects of 'Contemplation, the Su- preme Being, is the most grand. His eternityt his immensity, his irresistible power, his iniaite knowledge and unerring wisdom, hia iniesihle justiM and netitude, his su- preme gjovenunent, conducting all the movements of 'tils vast universe to the no- blest ends and in the wisest manner — are ohjeets which fill the utmost capacity of the soul, and reach far beyond itscompnheiuion. The emotion wMcb this grandest of all objeeta raises in the human mind, is what we call devotion ; a serious recollected tem- per, which inspires magnanimity, and dis- poses to the most heroie acts of virtue.. (726] The 'Cmotion produced by otiier objects which may be odled grand, thougli iii an inferior degree, is, in its nature and in Its effects, similar to that of devotion. It dis- poses to seriousness, elevates the m.ind above its usual 'State, to a kind of enth'usi- asm, and inspires magnanimity, and a con- tempt uf what is mean. Sncb, I conceive, is the emotion which the contempbtion of grand objects raises in ua.. We aro next to consider what this grandeur In objects is. To me it seems to be notliing else but such a deg;ree of excellence, in one kind or another, as merits our adm.imtion. Then arC' :some attributes of mind which have a real and intrinsic excellence, com- pared with their' contraries, and w.hieh, in every degree, an the .natural objecta ol csteom, 'but, in an mneommon degrc'C, are ob- jects of admiration. We put a value upn them because they an intri.n8ically valuable and ejicellant. The spirit of modem philosophy would indeed, lead utf to' think, that the worth and value we put upon things is only a sensation in our minds, and not anything inbennt in theoljeet .; and that we mi|;ht have been so 'Oonstitnted as to put the highest value uiion the things which we now despise, and to despise ihe qualities which we now highly flUi-'IWj I It gives me pleasure to observe, that Dr Price, in his " Review of the Questions concerning Morals," strenuously opposes this opinion, as well as that which resolves moral right and wrong into a sensation in the mind of the spectator. That judicious iiuthor saw the consequences which these opinions draw after them, and has traced them to their source — to wit, the account given by Mr Locke, and adopted by the gen- erality of modern philosophers, of the ori- gin of all our ideas, which account he shews to be very defective. [727] This pronenessto resolve everything into feelings and sensations, is an extreme into which we have been led by the desire of Avoidmg an opposite extreme, as common iu the ancient philosophy. At first, men are prone by nature and by habit to give all their attention to things external. Their notions of the mind, and its operations, are formed from some analogy they bear to objects of sense ; and an ex- ternal existence is ascribed to things which are only conceptions or feelings of the mind. This spirit prevailed much in the philo- sophy both of Plato and of Aristotle, and produced the mysterious notions of eternal and self-existent ideas, of materia prima, of substantial forms, and others of the like nature. From the time of Des Cartes, philosophy took a contrary turn. That great man dis- covered, that many things supposed to have an external existence, were only conceptions or feelings of the mind. This track has been pursued by his successors to such an extreme as to resolve everything into sens- ations, feelings, and ideas m the mind, and to leave nothing external at all. The Peripatetics thought that heat and cold which we feel to be qualities of external objects. The moderns make heat and cold to he sensations only, and allow no real quality of body to be called by that name : and the same judgment they have formed with regard to all secondary qualities. So far Des Cartes and Mr Locke went. Their successors being put into this track of convertmg into feelings things that were believed to have an external existence, found that extension, solidity, figure, and all the {iriniary qualities of body, are sensations or eelings of the mind ; and that the material world is a phsenomenon only, and 1ms no existence but in our mind. [728] It was then a very natural progress to con- ceive, that beauty, harmony, and grandeur, the objects of taste, as well as right and wrong, the objects of the moral faculty, are nothing but feelings of the mind. Those who are acquainted with the writings of modem philosophers, can easily Inee this doctrine of feelings, from Des [727-789] Cartes down to Mr Hume, who put the finishing stroke to it, by making truth and error to be feelings of the mind, and belief to be an operation of the sensitive part of our nature. To return to our subject, if we hearken to the dictates of common sense, we must be convinced that there is real excellence in some things, whatever our feelings or our constitution be. It depends no doubt upon our constitu- tion, whether we do or do not perceive ex- cellence where it really is : but the object has its excellence from its own constitution, and not from ours. The common judgment of mankind in this matter sufficiently appears in tlie language of all nations, which uniformly ascribes ex- cellence, grandeur, and beauty to the object, and not to the mind that perceives it. And I believe in this, as in most other things, we shall find the common judgment of man- kind and true philosophy not to be at va- riance. Is not power in its nature more excel- lent than weakness ; knowledge than igno- rance ; wisdom than folly ; fortitude than pusillanimity ? Is there no intrinsic excellence in self- command, in generosity, in public spirit ? Is not friendship a better affection of mind than hatred, a noble emulation than envy ? [729] Let us suppose, if possible, a being so constituted as to have a high respect for ignorance, weakness, and folly ; to venerate cowardice, malice, and envy, and to hold the contrary qualities in contempt ; to have an esteem for lying and falsehood ; and to love most those who imposed upon him, and used him worst. Could we believe such a constitution to be anything else than madness and delirium ? It is impossible. We can as easily conceive a constitution, by wliich one should perceive two and three to make fifteen, or a part to be greater than the whole. Every one who attends to the operations of his own mind will find it to be certainly true, as it is the common belief of mankind, that esteem is led by opinion, and that every person draws our esteem, as far only as lie appears either to reason or fancy to be amiable and worthy. There is therefore a real intrinsic excel- lence in some qualities of mind, as in power, knowledge, wisdom, virtue, magnanimity. These, in every degree, merit esteem ; but in an unconunon degree they merit admir- ation ; and that which merits admiration we call grand. In the contemplation of uncommon ex- cellence, the mind feels a noble enthusiasm, which disposes it to the imitatbn of what it admires. 496 ON THE INTILLECTUAL POWEEa [may yhi. And uM. Tli'Ui br atcud, thus fhr tlif bomiit « I1iii lie tlif M. diwinsfcf «nc«, O »otIA" Wlitn. we cimlaiiphte the world of Epi- cii.ni% find emweive the univerae to be^ m forliltiw JmnM© of fttomii, thete is .iwtliiiig ftfititd in tiiia idet. The chuiliiiif of atoms hj Mind ehance hm .notMiig initilto^niMi' our eonMptiiinsy m tii detste' 'tli« 'HiiiML' But the Ngilftr' itnieliiM ^ef ' a vaiit syatcm of heinp,. pwdmsed bj cfeating power, and governed by Ae 'heat taws whieh perfect. w:t«ion wd jpodneia. could etmtiive, is a ipeetaele whieh elefates^ the'umdaittaadingy .and ilk the 'Sonl wilh devout admhration. A gnat work is a work of gnat power, great wisdom, and great goodness, well con- triiwd for sone important end. Bat pwer, wisdom, and ^fmimm, are properly the at- trihntes of mhid only. They are ascribed to the workipimtively, bit are realy inherent in the authors and by the same ■figure, the grandeur is .ascribed to^ the wnfk,, but ia pmperly inherent in the mM that made it. Siome igures of speech are so natural and so common in all knguages, that we are led to think them literal and proper expressions.. 'Thus. an. action is. called bra«, irirtnous, geneKMi; but it u evident, that iralonr, virtue, generosity, are the attributes of per- sons only, and not of actions. In the action considered abstractly, there ,is neither val- our, mat 'vlftie, nor genewwty. The same action domi fn» a'different motive may deserve none ef those epithets. [732] The change in this ease Is not in the aetim, but m the agent; yeLin all hinguages,.gpMnsity .and ether moral qualiti^es .ave ascribed to When, we eontanfiBlt th# ehaimcter of Cato—his greatness ef Mul, his superiority to pleasure* to toil, and to ^dangeri his .ar- deiit seal for the liberty of Ui 'Comtry ; when we see htm standiugnmnvad kmk- fortunea, the hst pllkr of 'the liberty of Rome, and falling nobly in his eountry's rain—who would not. wish to beCato .rather than CiBsar fa. .all his triumph f |7M] Such a .spectacle of a .great wM strug* gling with misfortune, 'Seneca thought not ui.worthy of the attention of Jupiter' him- 'self, " EccS' speetaeukn. .Deo dijpium, ad f uod resp'idat . Jupter' sue nperi. 'fatentus,. vir 'fortis eum mala fortuna 'Com'positus.**' As the Deity is, of all objects of thought, the most grand,, 'the deseript'ions given in My writ of 'his .attributes .and wori% even, when ehitbed in simple exprtMiion, .are acknowledged to be sublime. The expres- sion of Moses, " And 'Oed said, ^Let there 'he .light, and there was. lighC* ^ "»* esca|»d the .notice of Longinus, a .liMtlien eritie, as .an exanphi of the subime. What we call sublime in description, or in speech of any kind, is a proper expres- sion of the admiration, .and enthusiafaii whieh the subject prod^uces In the 'mhid of the speaker. If this admiration and entlm- snism appea.r8 to be just, it carries, the hearer along with it involuntarily, and by a kind of violence rather than by cool con^ victiott : for no passions are 8o:infeetiMia.as. those which hold of enthusiasm. Bnt, on the other hand, if the passion of 'the speaker appears tO' he in no .degree jus- tiied.by the subject or the occasion, it p.ro-. duces fa the judicious hearer no other emo-. tion hut ridicule and contempt 'The 'true suMfaie cannot he produced aohily by art. fa. the composition i It must take its. rise from grandeur .in the subject,, and a .co'rresponding emotion raised in the mind of the speaker. A proper exhibition (if these, though it should be artless^ is irresistible, like Ire thrown, fato the midst .of .combustible matter. [731] When, we contemplate the earth, the sea, the 'phmetary system, the universe, these are vast' objects; It 'requires a stretdi. of imagination to grasp them, in our minds. But they appear truly grand,, and 'merit the highest admhration, when we consider them as the' work of 'God, who, in the .simple styfe of scriptun, .stretched O'ut theheavens, and Ud the foundation of the earth ; or, in the poetical 'language of Milton — «•' 'In Ills IWBd lit tiMik.'liie pidtn .cuiB piiw, fitprV. In. 'eoif!i.cieriisl''ilaiV| tt cfmuiMAt *l1ili. BBimi«'.anid. ai csitleil tMiipi One mm te.cMlili, anil Hie «4lwr tumid. Mound ilito" tlic vart 'pofliiMlllf otMCUWi .« Battiv 9e there' tifbt, and ll|.bt aotiona. By a figure, we assign to the effect a f ual'ity which is inherent .only fa the causes By th« same fi.gure, we ascribe to a work that grandeur which property is inherent in the mind of the author. When we consider the " Iliad" as the work of the poet, 'Its .sublimity was really fa the mmd of Homer. He conceived great characters, great actions, and great events, in a manner suitable to their nature, and with thoeti emotions which they are naturally fitted to produce ; and he conveys I his eoneeptions and his emotions by the most proper signs. The grandeur of his thoughts is reflected to our eye by his work, and, therefore, it is justly called a grand work. When we consider 'the things presented to our mfad in th® " Iliad'* without regard to the poet, the grandeur is properly in .Hector .sad Aehibs, and the other great peramagea, human and divme,. brought upon the .stage.. Next 'to the: Deity .and hli. wmlis, we ad- mim grsal. taltnts and hcmle vinne in men, whether' represented fa historv or in fiction. The virtues of Ckto, Aristidss, Socrates, ' [730-732] eu'Ap. in. OF GRANDEUR. 497 Marcus Aurelius, are truly grand. Extm- firdinary talents and genius, whether in poets, orators, philosophers, or lawgivers, are objects of admiration, and therefore grand. We find writers of taste seized with a kind of enthusiasm in the description of sueh personages. What a grand idea does Virgil give of the power of eloquence, when he compares the tempest of the sea, suddenly calmed by tlie command of Neptune, to a furious sedition in a great city, quelled at once by a man of ** Sic ait. ac dicto citius tiimkla M|uor;« placat ; Ac veluti magno in iwpulo, ti forte ooorta e&t SiHlitio, Ka>viiquc anitnis ignobile vulgus ; Jatnque faces et saxa volant, furor arma miniatrat ; 'i'uir. pietate gravem, et meritis, si forte viriim quem Cimi>pexere, silent, arrectisque auribus adstanu lUe regit dictis animot, et jwctora mulcet. Sic cunctui pelagi cecidiC Hngor.** The wonderful genius of Sir Isaac New- ton, and his sagacity in discovering the laws of Nature, is admirably expressed in that short but sublime epitaph by Pope : — ** Nature and Nature's lawa lay hid in night ; Ood said. Let Newton be—and all was UghL" Hitherto we have found grandeur only in qualities of mind ; but, it may be asked, Is there no real grandeur in material objects ? It will, |>erhaps, appear extravagant to deny that there is ; yet it deserves to be censidered, whether all the grandeur we ascribe to objects of sense be not derived from something intellectual, of which they are the elfeets or signs, or to whieh they bear some relation or analogy. Besides the relations of effect and cause, of sign and thing signified, there are innu- merable similitudes and analogies between things of very different nature, which lead U8 to connect them in our imagination, and to ascribe to the one what properly belongs to the other. Every metaphor in language is an instance of this ; and it must be remembered, that a very great part of language, which we now account jiroper, wasoriginally metaphorical ; for the metaphorical meaning becomes the proper, as soon as it becomes the most usual ; much more, when that which was at Urst the proper meaning falls into disuse. 1734] The poverty of language, no doubt, con- tributes in part to the use of metaphor ; and, therefore, we find the roost barren and uncultivated languages the most metaphori- cal. But the most copious language may be called barren, compared with the fertility of human conceptions, and can neve-r, with- out the use of figures, keep pace with the variety of their delicate modifications. But another cause of the use of metaphor is, that we find pleasure ui discovering rela- tions, similitudes, analogies, and even con- trssts, that are not obvious to every eye. [7S.1-TS4'' All figurative speecli presents something of this kind ; and the beauty of poetical lan> guage seems to be derived in a great mea- sure from this source. Of all figurative language, that i»the most common, the most natural, and the most agreeable, which either gives a body, if we may so speak, to things intellectual, and clothes them with visible qualities; or which, on the other hand, gives intellectual qualities to the objects of sense. To beings of more exalted faculties, intel- lectual objects may, jjerhaps, appear to most advantage in their naked simplicity. But we can hardly conceive them but by meana of some analogy they bear to the objects of sense. The names we give them are almost all metaphorical or analogical. Thus, the names of grand and sublime, a» well as their opposites, mean and low, are- evidently borrowed from the dimensions of l>ody ; yet, it must be acknowledged, that many things are truly grand and sublime, to which we cannot ascribe the dhnensioiis of height and extension. Some analogy there is, without doubt, be- tween greatness of dimension, which is an object of external sense, and that grandeur which is an object of taste. On account of this analogy, the last borrows its name from the first ; and, the name being common, leads us to conceive that there is something common in the nature of the things. [735] But we shall find many qualities of mind, denoted by names taken from some quality of body to which they have some analog}-, without anythmg conunon in their nature. Sweetness and austerity, simplicity and duplicity, rectitude and crookedness. ar» names common to certain qualities of mind, and to qualities of body to which they have some analogy ; yet he would err greatly who ascribed to a body that sweetness or that simplicity which are the qualities of mind. In like manner, greatness and meaimess are names common to qualities perceived by the external sense, and to qualities perceived by taste ; yet he may be in my error, who ascribes to the objects of sense that greatness or that meanness which is only an object of taste. As intellectual objects are made more level to our apprehension by giving them a visible form ; so the objects of sense are dignified and made more august, by ascrib- ing to them intellectual qualities which have* some analogy to tliose they really possess. The sea rages, the sky lowers, the meadows smile, the rivulets murnmr, the breezes whisperj the soil is grateful n>- jfferty. *btaiily ptatly «iiliamoiiii sense of beauty, to contemplate objects, I see not how they could be called beautiful.'* There is no doubt an analogy between the external senses of touch and taste, and the internal sense of beauty. This analogy led Dr Hutcheson, and other modem phi- losophers, to apply to beauty what Des Cartes and Locke had taught concerning the secondary qualities perceived by the external senses. Mr LockeV doctrine concerning tbe se- oondary qualities of body, is not so much an error in Judgment as an abuse of words. He distinguished very properly between the sensations we have of heat and cold, and that quality or structure in the body which is adapted by Nature to fn-oduce those sensations in us. He observed very justly, that there can be no similitude be- tween one of these and the other. They have the relation of an effect to its cause, but no similitude. This was a very just and proper correction of the doctrine of the Peripatetics, who taught, that all our sens- ations are the very form and image of the quality iu the object by which they are produced. [741] What remained to be determined was, whether the words, lieat and cold, in com- n. mon language, signify the sensations we " feel, or the qualities of the object which are the cause of these sensations- Mr Locke made heat and cold to signify only the sensations we feel, and not the qualities whicli are the cause of them. And in this, 1 apprehend, lay his niistiike. For it is evident, from the use ol language, that hot and cold, sweet and bitter, are attributes of external objects, and not of the person who perceives them. Hence, it appears a mon- strous paradox to say, tliere is no heat in the fire, no sweetness in sugar ; but, when explained according to Mr Locke's meaning, it is only, like most other paradoxes, an abuse of words.* The sense of beauty may be analysed in a manner very similar to the sense of sweet- ness. 1 1 is an agreeable feeling or emotion, accompanied with an opinion or judgment of some excellence in the object, which is fitted by Nature to produce that feeling. The feeling is, no doubt, in tlie mind, and BO also is the judgment we form of tlie object : but this judgment, like all otherp, must be true or false. If it be a true judg- ment, there is some real excellence in the object. And the use of all languages shews that the name of beauty belongs to this ex- \ \ ♦ See »bo»e, p. 805, b, note *.— II 2k2 ON THE INTBLLECTUAL POWERS [bisay vm. ftMomm of tlit ©bpet, .ind b©I to the lw>I^ | •» imiitartai ImiitH. wliWi, «io. mcovbI ints 'Of A© mmemm, \ «f ' <»' 'ignomnct, ••■ ■••■iiiinto to foittttt- ■' 'To my tlial thmm is,, in twJIIf , m Iwwty Siiiierior beings may tee mow thmn wo ; but • •'■ - * H© only wbo mdte them, and, upon m w 'iriew, pnmoiiiiiiMl. iiwn all to be very good, ean lee ail liieif beantyii Onr detetiiiinatioiMi witli regard to^ tbe beanty off objects, may, I tMnk, be distin- guisied into two Mode; the firat w© may 'Cai. tnatinetiv©, tbe otber' rationaL Some oMenta atrilce' is at raee,. and. ap-^ pear beaitiM at toit right, withoiit any re- fection, without our being able to iay why we call them beautiffnl, or hmm able to spe • eify wy jerfNtion wbieli jnstiiea our judg. rneni Something of thto Mnd there aeenu to be in brute aninmla, and in children before the us© of reason ; nor does it end with infaney, but 'Continues through Kfe. ''^ I n the plumage of birds and of 'butteriies, in the coloun and form of ioweis, of shells, and of many otber objects, we perceife a in those olfects in which al mmi fanetve beauty, is to attribute to man irilMiimt isenses. But we have no ground to tkinic. ■o dlsrespeirtfnlly of the Author of' onr being ; the faeulties he hatli given ns^ are not iahioious ; nor is that beauty which he hath so liberally diffused over aB the works, rflia ..hands, a mere imey in us, but a teal eieellnice In bis worlcs, which expren the perfection of their Divine Author. We have reason to believe, not only that the beauties we .see in .natun are .real, and. not ffau'ciful, hut that thew are thousands wbioh our fkeultles are too dnll to perceive. W© see many beauties, both of human and divine art, which the brute animals are in- espable .of perceiving .« and wperior beings mav excel us as. far in their d^iseemment of true beauty as we excetth© bru.tes. f742] i^ The man who is skilled in pdnting or Ibeauty that delights ; but cannot say whai statuary sees more of the beauty of a fine lit :is in the object that should produce that picture' or statue than n common specta^s *ep»otion, , tor. The same thing 'holds in all the fine- i"'^ The beauty of the objert may in such a.rt8. The most perfect worls of art liave " cases. be«Iled.an. occult quality. We know a beauty that strikes even the wide and ig- well how it affects our senses ; but what it nqmnt ; but they see only a small part of is in itself we know not. But this, as well that beauty which is seen in. such wo^rks by those who understand them perfectly, .and can produce them. This maybe applied., with no less lostice,. to the wurks of ' Nature. They have a beauty that strikes even the ignorant and inattentive. But the more wo d.isctiver of their structure, of their mutual relations, and of tho la.ws by whkh they are goverU'Cd, the greater beau^, and the more deightful niarls of art, wisdom, and goodness^, we BBI:. Thus the expert anatomist sees number- less beautiful contrivauices in the structttr© of the human body, which are. unknown to the ignora.iil Althouich tho vulgar eye sees much beanty in the 'face of the heavais, and in the 'varions. motions .and chaQges.of ' the heiivenly bodies,, the expert .astronomer, who knows their order .and distances,, their 'periods, the orbits they describe in the vast regions of spam, and the simple and beautiful laws by which their motions are governed, .and all the appeamnces ^of their stations, progressions, and retwgradations, their eclipses, occulta- tions, and tmnsits are produced— sees a beanty, order, .and. bannoiiy reign tbrmgh 'the wMo 'phnetaif iwlem, which M'ighta. 'the 'inhid.. 'Th©' ed^ica. of the sun .and moon, and the bhming tails of oomeia,. 'Which strl.ke terror Into harbaroui .Mitliiii%. fki.mMh the meet pleanng MtertainnMnl. tn^ hif« eve, and » 'least to his. nndentanidlnf . 1743] In tveiy part nf Katnre** works, 'them as other occult qu.alities, is a proper snbjecft of philosophical disquisition ; and, by a care- ful examiiiatiou of the objecte t«> which Na- 'tnro hath given this am.iable qual.ity, we may perhaps discover some real ©xoellenco in the object, or, at least, some valuable {lurpose that is served by the effect which. t produces upon us. This instinctive sons© of beanty, in differ- Mt species, of anhnab, 'may differ as much .as the external isens©' rf taste, and in each species be adapted to its manner of life. By this perhaps 'the varions tribes. arC' led. to. assocmte w.ith their .kind, to dwell among certain objects rstier 'than others, and 'to construct their habitation m a particular j^manner. [744] There seem likewise to 'be 'varieties in the sense of beauty in the individuals of the same species, by which they are directed in the choice of a mate, and in the love and eare of tbehr offspring. <'*Wo :se%**' »ys Mr Addison, guished in speculation, yet, in passing judg- ment upon particular objects, they are often BO mixed and confounded, that it is difficult [ to assign t(i each its own province. Nay, it [n& 74J] may often happen, that a judgment of the beauty of an object, which was at first merely instinctive, shall afterwards become rational, when we discover some latent per- fection of which that beauty in the object is a sign. As the sense of beauty may be distin- guished into instinctive and rational ; so I think beauty itself may be distinguished into original and derived. As some objects shine by their own light, and many more by light that is borrowed and reflected ; so I conceive the lustre of beauty in some objects is inherent and original, and in many others is borrowed and reflected. There is nothing more common in the sentiments of all mankind, and in the lan- guage of all nations, than what may be called a communication of attributes ; that is, transferring an attribute, from the sub- ject to which it properly belongs, to some related or resembling subject. The various objects which nature pre- sents to our view, even those that are most different in kind, have innumerable simili- tudes, relations, and analogies, which wo contemplate with pleasure, and which lead us naturally to borrow words and attributes from one object to express what belongs to another. The greatest part of every lan- guage under heaven is made up of words borrowed from one thing, and applifed to something sui»posed to have some relation ■or analogy to their first signification. [7471 The attributes of body we ascribe to mind, and the attributes of mind to material ob- jects. To inanimate things we ascribe life, and even intellectual and moral qualities. And, although the qualities that are thus made common belong to one of the subjects in the proper sense, and to the other nieta' phorically, these different senses are often so mixed in our imagination, as to produce the same sentiment with regard to both. It is therefore natural, and agreeable to the strain of human sentiments and of^ human language, that in many cases the' ' beauty which originally and properly is in the thing signified, should be transferred to the sign ; that which is in the cause to the effect ; that which is in the end to the means ; and that which is in the agent to the instrument. If what was said in the last chapter of the distinction between the grandeur which we ascribe to qualities of mind, and that which we ascribe to material objects, be well founded, this distinction of the beauty of objects will easily be admitted as per- fectly analagous to it. I shall therefore only illustrate it by an example. There is nothing in the exterior of a mas more lovely and more attractive than per- fect good breeaing. But what is this good MM fix THE IMLLLECTUAL POWEIiS. [bssay viii„ CHAP. IV. J OF BJSAUTY. 503 Iwteding f U MMtota nf A Mm^ eilfiotl sigii8' of duA fcflpifl 'til WBBC iiiiMHrioni) mb* villi wlmn we mmerm or liave toi%, Joiiiedl in tlio fmr aex willi tluMl deUmogr off ootwafd beluivifiiir wiiidli 'Immmmms taeni. And how eonwi it to' Inivt mdi. iIimmhi in tlio ®jet of aU miiikiad; for Ait iwuKm mAjf m I i^prdbeaii tiuil lit^iS'-* aMtiml i mj l ■f wrtiw i w iti iillli iMpidl to otiMWii, wi th regardi to #iiiitfif<% wUeli wt^ 1% tluNHMlves tml j> aniMble and benntiftil* Tut' ii (hO''«tl||^W, of' wltleii. good breed- * 'IliO' oilginai tiist. m rdfeotod to our moso hy 1M fieliife. Tbo iMftnly of good, breed- iu Mfj fbereforet ii im^ oiteiMitlj to tbo ox— toiwli bdumMv to vbiililt' ooMiil%: bnt m difivod. 'Hmn tiiO' flpdUis of'nlitd wiiMi. il <0K|ir«fl8es*' And ilMMii^. there may bo good. br«eding without tho amiable qualitioH iif mind,. » bemitj h ttiU derived from what, it natnmlly expMMi. ,[|4i} Having eicplatoisd 'tietO' 'WiiMfiont' of our senae of beauty toto instinctive and rational, and of beauty itaelf toto original a general view^ 'of tbowi 4|uauti« in obJMtii, to which we may Justly and rationally ascribe beauty, whether origin.al or 'deriveif.. But here some emhainuitfnent ^aiises fran tiM' VMIW' meaning m um word beauty, whidi I 'had ooeasion before to observe. Sometimes it is extonded, so as to include •verything that pleases a ,good. taste, and ■O' comprehends grandeur and novelty, as woi. aS' what "in a more restricted sense is calM beauty* At other times, it is even by good writers confined to the objects of 'Sight, when tbey^are either seen, orrem'Cm* bered, or imagined. Yet' it is admitted by all .mon, that there are beauties in nusiei 'that' there is beauty .as well as sublimity in composition, both in verse and in prose ; 'thai them .is beauty to 'diaiictois, to .affec- timii . j i i d to 'MsttaHt 'These arO'-not ob- leete of sight .} and a ;man 'may be a good judge of boiuty of various ktocla, 'who .has not the faculty' of sight. 'To' glvC' a detemiiiato iiMii'iitoig to a word ■o variously extended and ;icslrieted, .1 .know no better way than what is «U|sgeatod by the common division of the objoets of tosto' mto novelty, grandeur, and'boani}*. Hovelty, it is plain, is no quality ol.. the 'now object, but merely a reliMtien which il haS' to tho^ Imowledge of tlie prson to witam. it is new. Therefore, if this general divi- ^ eviiy i|Mility' to aii' ol^eet that ■pNid tiNtoi, ' i n mt| to ona ^g y ^ aiMllior. have ^tnor ■w.iiili'iwiP ' n* beantv. limit betwixt grandeur mA beauty ; but they must togeiier' fompveiieiid evaiy thiof itlod^ by ito' laim to 'pleaM' a food tasted thai ii| avoty'tiH 'pofffMWMi and. excalMiM to. the objecta' we conlemplatcw [740] In a poem, to a picture, in a piece of music^ .il .is real excellence that pleaseS' a good taito. In a peiwin, every 'perfection of the mind, moial or totellectual, and every perfection ojf the body, gives pleasure to the ' kSpectator, as wei as to the owner, when l^p, ta»o -n, «« ™Hg«U, to d«teoy It \ therelMre, to the scale of' perlBotion *"** Ttft! •'lltl'Tf* ^^ ^"'^ mmst look for "wnat IS "either" giand or beantitol. to. objects. What .i»'tht 'P«|ier object' of admiration is gmii4i ^ani' «w ■* the proper object of love and eatein is beaiiiitoL 'Th.is, I think,, h the only 'notion of beauty thai corresponds with the division 'Of the objects of taste 'which, has been geneialy received bv philosophen. And this con- neetion of .'beauty with real 'perfection, was^ a capital 'doctrine of the Soeratic schooL It iS' often ascribed to 'Socrates, to the dia- logues of .Pbto a.nd of Xenophon. We may^ therefore, take a view, first, of those qualities of mind to which we may Jpstly and rationally ascribe beauty, and then of the 'beauty 'we perceive in the objects of sense. We shall find, if I mistake unt, that, in the first, original beauty is to be fou'iid, and that the beautieS' of the second class .arO' derived from. Mme relation they bear to m.ind, m the signs or expressions of some amiable mental quality, or as the effecta of deslpi, art, and wise contriyanoe. As grandeur :iaatuially' produces adniira- 'lion, heanty naturally produees love. We may, therefore, justly aaeribei beauty to those qualities which are the natural objects of fove and kind affection. ^ Of this kind ohiefiy are' somo of the moral virtues, wh.ioh, in a peculiar manner, con* stitute' .a .lovely character. Innocence, gen* tleness, oond^cension, humanity, natural affedioni pu.hlic spirit^ and the whole train of .tlio..'aoil and gentle virtues : these qualities are amiaMo' 'from 'their very nature^ 'and on. account of their intrinsic worth. [7^] There are other virtues that .raise admira* tion, and ar% 'therefore, grand; such as magnanifliitf, tortitude, self-comnian'd, su- penorit2.to 'pain and hibour, superiority tO' pteiiii^. anTto the smiiles of Fortune sa well 9M 'to her fipowns.. Thiia ftwftil 'virlnct WMtHnto' what 'is Cttofirtnes, W'hal is most beautiful and »ly.. As they are virtues, they draw the approuwien of our moral laeulty $ aa tn^ .are 'beoomng ^and amiable^ they affeel' odr gitBii^ of btanty. Next 'to the ft—^Mi^ noial viitoes, there SMHa'Wp iBlSiiHflBBllSiSiiJP 'iMSa'WVp'BHniP''airW^MIMPIRv WaaS''^*'^SMS'SHHP' " aiW''Wwii ■■ ■"•W^ " ^w W^Ww |"i4s-»i''dii| to those who possess them. Such are, knowledge, good sense, wit, humour, cheer- fulness, good taste, excellence in any of the fine arts, in eloquence, in dramatic action.; and, we may add, excellence in every art of peace or war that is useful in society. There are likewise talents which we refer to tlie body, which have an original beauty and comeliness ; such as health, strength, and agility, the usual attendants of youth ; skill in bodUy exercises, and skill in the meclmnic arts. These are real perfections of the man, as they increase his power, and render the body a fit instrument for the mind. I apprehend, therefore, that it is in the moral and intellectual perfections of mind, and in its active powers, that beauty origin- ally dwells ; and that from this as the foun- tain, all the beauty which we perceive in the visible world is derived. [761] This, I think, was the opinion of the ancient philosophers before-named ; and it has been adopted by Lord Shaftesbury and Dr Akeiiside among the moderns. •• Mind, mind^lone. bear witness, earth and kesv'n I 1 he livinK fountains in itself containa *--il^r^'^l''^i'uJLZ7J Ot beauteous and sublime. Here hand in hand < -" Tf *^® **' oeauty. V. J C)Jit paramount the graces. Here enthron'd, CelestialVenut, with divincit air«, v. Invites the soul to never-fading joy."— il&eiw/cfe. "^ * But neither mind, nor any of its qualities or powers, is an immediate object of per- cepti.tn to man. We are, indeed, innne- diately conscious of the operations of our own mind ; and every degree of perfection in them gives the purest pleasure, with a proportional degree of self-esteem, so flat- tering to self-love, that tlie great difficulty is to keep it within just bounds, so that we may not think of ourselves above what we ought to think. Other minds we perceive only through the medium of material objects, on which their signatures are impressed. It is through this medium that we perceive life, activity, wisdom, and every moral and in- tellectual quality in other beings. The signs of those qualities are immediately perceived by the senses ; by them the qua- •lilies themselves are reflected to our under- ^•tonding.;.and we are very apt to attribute 4o the sign the beauty or the grandeur which is properly and originally in the thiufcs signified. The invisible Creator, the Fountain of all perfection, hath stomped upon all his works signatures of his divine wisdom, In every species of animals, we perceivo by visible signs their instincts, their appe- tites, their affections, their sagacity. Even in the inanimate world,, there are many things analogous to the qualities of mind ; so that there is hardly anything belonging to muid which may not be represented by images taken from the objects of sense; and, on the other liand, every object of sense is beautified, by borrowing attire from the attributes of mind- Thus, the beauties of mind, though invi- sible in themselves, are perceived in the objects of seuse, on which their image is impressed. If we consider, on the other hand, the qualities in sensible objects to which we ascribe beauty, I apprehend we shall find in all of them some relation to mind, and the greatest in those that are most beau- tiful. When we consider inanimate matter abstractly, as a substance endowed with the qualities of extension, solidity, divisi- bility, .and mobility, there seems to be nothing in these qualities that affects our ^ - . . ij^j. ^^.j^gjj ^yg contem- power, and benignity, which are visible to all men. The works of men in science, in the arts of taste, and in the mechanical arts, bear the signatures of those qualities of mind which were employed m their pro- duction. Thev external behaviour and •onduet in life expresses the good or bad aualities of their mud. [75aj i^fSl— 753J fi^ plate the globe which we inhabit, as fitted ^ 'Til by its form, by its motions, and by its fur- niture, for the habitation and support of an infinity of various orders of living creatures, from the lowest reptile up to man, we have a glorious spectacle indeed I with which the grandest and the most beautiful struc- tures of human art can bear no compa- rison. The only perfection of dead matter is its being, by its various forms and qualities, so admirably fitted for the purposes of ani- mal life, and chiefly that of man. It fur- nishes the materials of every art that tends to the support or the embellishment of human life. By the Supreme Artist, it is organized in the various tribes of the veget- able kingdom, and endowed with a kind of life ; a work which human art cannot imi- tate, nor human understanding compre- hend. [753] In the bodies and various organs of the animal tribes, there is a composition of matter still more wonderful and more mys- terious, though we see it to be admirably adapted to the purposes and manner of life of every i^pecies. But in every form, unor- ganized, vegetable, or animal, it derives its beauty from the purposes to which it is subservient, or from the signs of wisdom or of other mental qualities which it ex- hibits. The qualities of inanimate matter, in which we perceive beauty, are — sound, colour, form, and motion ; the first an ol>- jeot of hearing, the other three of sight ; which we may consider in order. In a single note, sounded by a very fine 501 ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWJBES. t«««AY viii. Ulie, tliiw » a lw«wty wlitcli w© ii* mot. 'pereeiirtt 'in tte' iMic noH wniwW by a bad voice or an imperfect instminenL I need iiol attempt to enniiisnite tii» petfBOliiiiw ill a iiiigto mtm, ■^Mtk ||if». iKiMty 'to it- Some of" tli««, iMit* ii«iii«i 'in w 'wwiet' m nuaie, and thei© peiiiapa aw otliera wbidi Itave no names. But I tbink it will be allowed, tbat every qnalHy wbicb pves beauty to a single note, is a sign of ^sonie perfeetlon, either in the organ, whether it he the human voice or an instnimerat, oT' in the execution. The beauty of the ^aomiid is 'both -the sign and the effect of Ihit' 'fw- fecttoni and the ptrfMtinii of the 'Omimi h the only reason weean assign for the beauty of the effect. In a composition of sounds, or a piece of ntnsie^ the beauty is either in the harmony, the melody, or the exprosslon. The beauty of expression must be derived, either from^ shew, that the beauty of harmony is derived from the reliition It has to agreeable afle©- tions of mind. With .regard to Miody. J leave it to the adepts, in 'li*- aeience of music, to determme whether mnsio, composed according to the eitiMihed rutos of Imrmony and melody, can b© altogether void of expressioB; and whether mnsi© that has no expression «n hav© aiy beauty. To me it seems, that every strain in melody tliat is ngreeable, is an imitation of the tones of the humMi voice in the expression of some sentiment or passion, or an imitation of some other ob- ject in nature; and that music, as well as poetry, is an imitative art. [ISfi] *^he sense of beauty in the colours, and Tn the motions of inanimate objects, is, I I believe, in some ©aset inatinctive. We see fthat children and savages are pleased with brilliant colours and sprightly motions. In . % . .11 1° .J ;.. ^«.».a<.<.;.i.» iy themaremanv soireeBfrom wnicn colours the art and skill emplof ed in expressing W properly. In harmony, the very names of concord and discord are metaphorical, and suppose some analogy between the relatimis of sound, ■to. which they at© igw«tif©ly' apdiod, and 'th© lehitiont of' minds :and aibcioms, which thoM are many sonnses from which colours ad motions may deriv© their beauty. They, is T»eil as the forms of objects, admit of .egularity and variety. The motions pro- dwsed by machinery, indicate the 'perfection or impcffbctlon of 'the mechanism, and may be better or worse adapted to their end, and In di Ihev orlfinaiy and^prop^Iy si^ify7 [764ii/ro«n that derive their beauty or defomnty. •TlSTl'can j^dTb; mTA Ueii ^^:^::Z^^^ two or more persons, of a good voi« anil mnnlj signs «f «*>*?« S**°^*»'^*^ car, conveB»%sether In amity and frIendJ f» ?%«* ; ^r they may »»m^ ^ *^ 3ip,thotonesTtheirdiibfi4tvolc©a«f© imagmiition something agreeable or dis- eciienrilsnt, but become discordant when aafccable. they give vent to angry paewons; so that, p without hearing what is. siiad, on©: may know by th© ttnes ^©f lb© ditemk't voioes, 'whether they fuarrel or 'Converse amicably. Thi%i|: indeed, is not so easily perceived in those who have been taught, hy good-breeding, to suppPiiB aagiy tones of voice, «v«n when they an ingry, as In th© lowest rank, who express, thchr apgiy piiSMins without any restraint. , ,, ^ When discofi aiiies ©cittiiiiiiiiy Im ctin- v©fBBti©% but a©©ii ..toimlmtos in 'firlBet amity, w© receiv©' 'inur©' pteasmi© Ihao' 'f nwn. perfect unanhnity. In like manner, in the harmony of music, discordant sounds ar© ©ccarioniaiy introduced, but it is .alw^.s in order 'to. #v© a i©llsh to the most 'p©ilwjt. coB'Cord list 'fbiewB.. Whether these aualogiflB, 'between ■*bm harmony of a piece of musi©!. and hafiniiii^. in. 'th© 'intownmse of minis,, b©' m«ii|r fcneiri f nl, m have any .red iwndatlon in 'fc«t, V „^ and. Imfn.ltnre, fashiem has awn- Ininenceon the pieference wc give to one eoloiir abov© .another. A number ef clouds of different and ever- changing hue, seen on the ground of aiserene azure sky, at the gowg down of 'the sun, present to the eye of evity man a glorious ■Mcincle. It i» bard to say, whether w© should call it grand or beautiful It is both in a high d«pee. Clouds towering above 'Clouds, vationsty' tNged, .according as they .apP'roaeh nearer to' the direct rays of ^ the son, enkrge our wnceptions of the regions above us. They give us a view of the fur- 'ultur©' of 'thoet .regions, wh:ioh, in an un- 'douded. ahr, seem to 'be a perliet. 'Void ; but .are' 'now 'Seen to' 'Contain the stores of wind and rain, bound up for the present, but to be poured down 'Ufon the earth .in 'due sea- Nllftinl^M ^^^^Bi^toiV^k iMMbMi 'M^HlfllllNUlk' M flia 1^ '^wiwaw'Si "^W' pnwiii^ipwiii^ji 'ippasiwW^w^'wiwiif^' 'swff™ '^■'''wi' 'Bhwiw^"' ■p'^wii'Wi' ii <8tffcfif. biit liii tnM flilarflvwiiNn liacfiC 'iioC'Cfiiiilaraa tMr kx Ml' 0pMl Mmi-lii For c»iilaiiii|italSai kit, ani valnir ;liiniiii. Ibr MilliieH ahe, ami awcei attractive gr<.ce** In thiS' wdl-known paasapt of Milton, we see that this great' |oet derives the heautj of the. irst pair' m. Paradise from those esprcasiima of moral and intdkctnal f ualitiM whieh appeared in 'th«r ontwiurd tan. and. 'deoMMioiir. The moat mnmte .ana ajatemalical ae- iriiikjdllfeLflih^^^ Jihi .d^Lflr Ski — > liii MiliM iMl MMil— AilHHi JnBllii JHM, lillllk,.MiiiaiHilHIIII^ uMh lyHh, ,«BdWfeL dBki^lLdh dikiMHb idKi WMk Mm' tmmt m toeanty in tie iimaa. speaes^ and 'parfiflitlarlj in the fair sex, 1, have met with, ia. in **' Crito ; or,, a B'ialogue' on 'Beauty,**' iaid to be written, hy the aathor of' '*'' Polymetist***' .and repnhlialied. hy.ElodB> ley in. itia eoUeetion m ;liKitive pimani Ifw] .1 shaU. horrow from 'that author some ohaervstions^, wihieh., I think, tend to ^shew 'thai the 'heauty of the human body ia derived from the signs it ex.hihit8 of some 'y- ^^perfeetimi of the mind, or person. All that can he called beauty in the r. '-' human, mcies may be redueed tO' thes* ^ lMr''lieaas:s 'Ooiour, form, 'Oxpreaiiotty and. Cm. The two former may be calldl the y, the two ktter the soul of beauty. The 'beauty, of colour is not owiiig' solely to tho' natural liveliness, of' 'iesh:<4olonr .and .fed, 'nor to 'tibe mudi greater eharms they jreeetve 'from being properly blended, toge- 'ther .| bnt is. alW' owing,, in some degree^ tO' the 'idea. ..they carry w.ith them m good ,j health, without 'wiieh al heauty grows t .languid and less engaging, and with which it always recovers an widitional. strength si^. hislfe^ This is supported, hy the .autto- tity 'Of €ieero> VmuMlm M prnkktHmk' '■mrporw- amend mm pia$$i m wiieimfym* iM. Vltia Here I observe, that, as the colour 'Of the 'body is 'Very diiTe^t k diCmnt ellmiites, every nation, ptefeiring the colour of' its eimate, wd as, among us, one man prefers. a fair beauty, another a brunette, without being aUe to give any reason for this pre- ference I this diversity of taste has no aland* ard in the oommon principles of human nature, but must arise from something that is different in different nations, andnn dif- ferent individnals of 'the same nation. I observed 'before^ 'ttat 'fhsbion, .habit* .aasociationa,. and perhap iiome peculiarity of constitution, may have great influence npon this latetnal sense, as well as upon the external. Setting aside the judgments .ariaing from imsh. causes,, there seems to remain notUng Miat, according to the com- mon Judgment of mankind, can he called heauty in the colour of the species, but what expresses perfect health and livcti* neas, and 'in. the fair sex softness, and deli- cacv ; and nothing that can be called deform* ity but what indicates disease and decline. And 'if 'thia be :iOw. it follows, that the beauty of' edour is dmved tnm the perfections which it 'expresses. 'This, however, of all the ingredients of beauty, is the least. [761] The next in order is form, or proportion of parta The most beantillil Ibim, aa the author thmks, is that which indieates deli- eaiiw' .and. Mftnesa in the fair sex, and in the male either strength or agility. The beau* ly of form, thorelore^ lieO' .all. .in expression. The 'third ingredient, which has. more power than, either 'Colour or form, he calla expression, and observes, that it is only the expression of the tender and kind passions that .gives beauty; that all the cruel and nnfcind onea .add 'to^ deformity ; and th.at, on this account, good nature may very justly be said to be the best feature, even in the flneat lace. Modesty, sensibility, and sweetness, blended 'together, sii' .aa either to eniven or to correct each 'Other, give al- Hlfiftll^ JUL ' infi tiiiri flLtti*iidCt,iciti am filio iiAfiRifiiiR ikf*d capable ^of adding to a very pretty face. II Ibi owing, saya the author, to the great 'Ibnse of pleasingneas which attends all the kinder naasiona, that lovers not only seem, but really are, more beautiful to each other than they are to the rest of the 'world ; he* cause, when they are together, the mostpleaa* 'ing passions are more frequently exerted in each of their faces than they are in either before the rest of the world. There is then, aa a .French, author very well expresses it, A soul upon their eountenances, which does not appear' when they are 'absent from, one another, or even in company that lays a re- straint npon their fratu m t , 'There aa a ,paai 'difhrenee in the same faee^. .aMordliig' aa 'the person 'ia 'in a 'hettet' or a worse humoiur, or more or less lively. ThO'heit eompleilon, 'the inest features, CHAP. IV.] OF BEAUTY. 5(»7 III and the exactest shape, without anything of the mind expressed in the face, is insipid and unmoving. The finest eyes in the world, with an excess of malice or rage in them, will grow shocking. The passions can give beauty without the assistance of colour or form, and take it away where these have united most strongly to give it ; and therefore this part of beauty is greatly superior to the other two. [762] The last and noblest part of beauty is grace, which the author thinks undefin- able. Nothing causes love so generally and ir- resistibly as grace. Therefore, in the my- thology of the Greeks and Romans, the Graces were the constant attendants of Venus the goddess of love. Grace is like the cestus of the same goddess, which was supposed to comprehend everything that was Winning and engaging, and to create love by a secret and inexplicable force, like that of some magical charm. ^ There are two kinds of grace — the majes- tic and the familiar; the first more coin- maiiding, the last more delightful and en- gaging. The Grecian painters and sculp- tors used to express the formermost strongly in the looks and attitudes of their Miner- vaa, and the latter in those of Venus. This distinction is marked in the description of the personages of Virtue and Pleasure in the ancient fable of the Choice of Hercules. UOraceftil, bui each with diflbrent grace they move. Tftw ttriking aacred awe, that lofter winning love." In the persons of Adam and Eve in Pa- radise, Milton has made the same distinc- tion — " For Gontemnlation he. and valour formed. For sottneM she, and tweet attractive grace." [7631 Tliough grace be so difficult to be defined, there are two things that hold universally with relation to it. First, There ia no grace without motion; some genteel or pleasing motion, either of the whole body or of some limb, or at least some feature. Hence, in the face, grace appears only on those features that are movable, and change with the various emotions and sentiments of the mind, such as the eyes and eye- brows, the mouth and parts adjacent When Venus appeared to her son ^neas in disguise, and, after some conversation with liim, retired, it was by the grace of her motion in retiring that he discovered her be to truly a goddess. " Dixit, et avertens rotea cervice reful«lt, AmbnMia^econM divinum vertice o rsj 0% rO gl M " • 192R27 13 OJ JUN 12 1952 \. Cdumtna ®nit)ti«ftp intljfCttpomtmgork THE UBRARIES t'i THE WORKS OF THOMAS EEID, D.D. WITH NOTES AND SUPPLEMENTAEY DISSERTATIONS BY SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON, BART., COKBESPONDINO MBMBBB OF THB IVSTITITTE OV VBAKOE; HONOBABT MBMBBB OF TH8 ▲MBRICAN ACADEHT OF ARTS AND 8CIBNCBS ; OF THB LATIN SOCIETY OF jena; etc.; pbofessor of logic and mbtaphtsics in THB UNIYIB8ITT OF BDIHBUBOH, BTO. VOL. 11. EIGHTH EDITION EDINBURGH: JAMES THIN LONDON: L0NGM4\S, GKEEN & CO. > f • J ' i » UDCOSK^J It i '■ ,1 > jP ' I' i ■' * I I lA- OH lARTH. THERE IS NOTHINO OllAT BUT MAHf IM MAM, THERE Ig NOTHINO GREAT BUT MIND. Cr' t.. 1* 1 ^ . H % ^ , M * > ESSAYS ON THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN, By THOMAS REID, D.D., F.R.S.E.. PBOFESSOB OF KOBAL FHIL030PHT IK THB UNIVEB8ITI OF OLASaOir. " He bath (hewed thee, O Man, whit is good."— Mioah. • !■ • t - . . ;'niiuififi4. A»J>Ji|uypk vumtbk;^ ispimuiGii • • • I t - 1 " • « I • • . t • « • • |» T1i0 oriy iniiMtli liliim of lh« •* Ewap on th« iii4to;uidfroiiitlMiledilaoiithepnHiithlriMi. The puget of the original impressioii M9 bme tdm iMirfhii, and by them all preiffiilM w i i liimi made.— H. INTRODUCTION. Thk division of the faculties of the hu- man mind into Understanding and Will* is very ancient, and has been very generally adopted ; the former comprehending all our Speculative, the latter all our Active powers."!' It is evidently the intention of our Ma- ker, that man should be an active and not merely a speculative being. For this pur- pose, certain active powers have been given bim. limited indeed in many respects, but suited to his rank and place in the crea- tion. Our business is to manage these powers, by proposing to ourselves the best ends, planning the most proper system of con- duct that is in our power, and executing it with industry and zeal. This is true wis- dom; this is the very intention of our being. Everything virtuous and praiseworthy must lie in the right use of our power ; everything vicious and blameable in the abuse of it. What is not within the sphere « See above, p. 242, a, note f. The division of the powers into those of the Uiu derstanding and those of the WUlt ij very objection, able. It is, as I have before observed, taken from the Peripatetic distinction of these into gnostic or cognU tivBt and orectic or appetmt ; but the original division is far preferable to the borrowed ; for, in the first place, the term Understanding usually and properly denotes only a part—the higher part— of the cognitive faculties, and is then exclusive of sense, imagination, memory, ftc, which it is now intended to include. Ill the second place, the term Will is also usually and properly limited to our higher appetencies, or rational determinations, as opposed to our lower ap. |)etencie8, or irrational desires, which l&st, however, it is here employed to comprehend. In the third place, both the original and borrowed divisions are improper, inasmuch as they either exclude or impro. perly include a third great class of mental pbsno. mena— the phsnomena of Feeling.— H. f The distribution of our powers into Speculative and AetivCt is also very objectionable. Independently of the objection common to it with that into the powers of the understanding and the powers of the will— that the Feelings are excluded or improperly Included— it is liable to objections peculiar to itself. In the first place. Speculation, or "Hieorp, is a certain kind or certain application of knowledge : therefore, SpeaUation is not a pr(^r term by which to denote the c(^nitive operations in general. In the second place, speculation and knou^edge are not opposed to action, out to pracHee or doing^ or, as it is best ex. pressed in German, (ituffamfeln. Speculative povien ought not, therefore, to have been opposed to euMve. In the third place, the distinction ot active powers Is In itself vicious, because it does not distinguish, or distingulsbet wrongly. Ad^ is opposed to tnactive ; but it is not here Intended to be said, that the cogni. Uve powers are Inactive ; but merely that the acticn of the powers of appetency Is different in kind from the action of the powers of knowledge. The term adive does not, therefore, express what was meant, or rather does express what was not meaiiL It is to be observed, however. Chat the English language Is very defeetite in terms requisite to denote the die tinctions in questlon.«H. of our power cannot be imputed to us either for blame or praise. These are self-evi- dent truths, to which every unprejudiced mind yields an inmiediate and invincible assent [2] Knowledge derives its value from this, that it enlarges our power, and directs ua in the application of it. For, in the right employment of our active power consists all the honour, dignity, and worth, of a man, and, in the abuse and perversion of it, all vice, corruption, and depravity. We are distinguished from the brute ani- mals, not less by our active than by our speculative powers. The brutes are stimulated to various ac- tions by their instincts, by their appetites, by their passions. But they seem to be necessarily determined by the strongest im- pulse, without any capacity of self-govern- ment. Therefore we do not blame them for what they do ; nor have we any reason to think that they blame themselves. They may be trained up by discipline, but cannot be governed by law. There is no evidence that they have the conception of a law, or of its obligation. Man is capable of acting from motives of a higher nature. He perceives a dignity and worth in one course of conduct, a demerit and turpitude in another, which brutes have not the capacity to discern. He perceives it to be his duty to act the worthy and the honourable part, whether his appetites and passions incite him to it or to the contrary. When he sacrifices the gratification of the strongest appetites or passions to duty, this is so far from di- minishing the merit of his conduct, that it greatly increases it, and affords, upon re- flection, an inward satisfaction and triumph, of which brute-animals are not susceptible. When he acts a contrary part, he has a consciousness of demerit, to which they are no less strangers. [3] Since, therefore, the active powers of man make so important a part of his con- stitution, and distinguish him so eminently from his fellow-animals, they deserve no less to be the subject of philosophical dis- quisition than his intellectual powers. A just knowledge of our powers, whether intellectual or active, is so far of real im- portance to us, as it aids us in the exer- cise of them. And every man must ac- knowledge, that to act properly is much more valuable than to thmk justly or son acutely. [4] ESSAYS ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. EQ C A V I OF ACriVB POWER IN GENERAL. OBIFTBR I* or warn wmoax or siaavm m To iijr gtrnvoly' wliat if PmifW, majwmm altoielliir 'im- ' and. to Iw intie ttifliwg. It ■ :«* ft toiiii of »ftf tout » «oiiiiiioii woii in mw 'iMUpico, iw>d. « wry *iy •*». ii^Jiifti •▼«« Jy|h;';algput. WefindworfiofHioiMiio iMtilii«iiiaU otlMrlMigua«eii; uidilifm IiiboiSmobi to think. tl»l .il mtmt pemetiy ,,,,lj,,,rtood iy lU. ■-• »i««' ■* riSkiro ill «• it tni% maiJkaM^m ■ttinpt. to tiliWii » wofi m wii mder- ■looa, aid to' .iliiir 'Hm^^ » liM » nawugi """fSraJSogy i% mt thk t«fi% ■jwdl by philoioplini, wlM% ii «■ •» to n«f oii^ iiiiitiiiieet» iMiw 'fcoiiigfwt mad- Had, seems wnmAy dear. 'Ais. bag' Deen tlw mom mmj mmmm, •teit 'Of m legieu. ieiiiitioii. 16] It is well known thfti tlioffe we mmnv «|iiiilii pefftetiy 'iwlewlowl, and of wHen wftluiTO 'deaff' anil 'diMtoot mmtfmmp vliMi «iino|.bo:k#«%'l«iiiaA If^ mm altomptiid to mm ina|*idi| y«t iioie ii BO wofd whoee meamng ta 'inofe ,diatinfl% or 'inoie genetally nndetstood. -|f««iagilt^4logiiialdefinitionofthougbt, «r^dniaifliii of number, or of molioii- flflliii lien atleamt to deAne^'ilm iii^Pk mmTmKA or phnsK, tat it ™^probj- Wy be ft wowe for » tattf- « ZZJS miion a 'l^HoihedB, or it will dafken tno TlieAiiatotoliattdflinition of motion— thai it ii << Ji§§m mlit in potm^ gmmlmm$ in poUnH^** kaa been justly censured by mo- dtnifbioeopliers;* yet 1 think it is matched by what a cetebwtod modern philosopher has given ub, as the most accurate definition of heliof-to wit, « That it is a Uvely idea lelated to or associated with a present im- preasion.** (** Treatise of Human Nature," vol i pw 172.) " Memory," according to the iW««M* ' pUloiOpher, " b the faculty by which wo repeat our impressions, so as that they retain a considerable degree of their int vivacity, and are somewhat interme- diate betwixt an Idea and an impression.'* Euclid, if Wsiditoii have not done him iniuBtice, has attenptod to define a right Mne, to define unity, ratio, and number. But thcK deinitiona are good for nothing. Wo moy indeed suspect them not to be ■naid'at because they are never once footed to Iho Elements, and are of no use. I shall not therefore attempt to define Active Fewer, that I may not be liable to the sano censure ; but shall offer some ob- ■ervaiiens that may lead ns to attend to tlie ceneeption we have of it in onr own minds. 1. Power is not an object of any of our eslenat sanieiL nor oven an object of con- sdimniiiiiiBiiii' o1 Thalit Ii mot seen, nor heard, nor touche*!, nor tasted, nor smelt, needs no proof. That we are not conscious of it, in the proper sense of that word, wiU be no lew evident, if «•' foflect, that consciousness is that power of the mind by which It has an im- nwdiaio knowledge of its own operations. Power is not an operation of tlie nund, and therefcMO no object of eoBsoionaneaB. In- deed, ovoty operation of the mmd is the exertion of aomo power of the mind j but • WlMilMr Jmttf. Msj to di^twL^H. t Inatntidiiiitlf eontclowiiiw, R«M ■»«»• <»» - -' ' — (, to* l» right— M. iMMillaie lutaiasl ^ w|Mrjitic», Les^av I. -CHAP. I.] OF THE NOTION OF ACTIVE POWER. 513 we are conscious of the operation only — the* power lies behiiid the scene ; and, though we may justly infer the power from the operation, it must be remembered, that inferring is not the province of conscious- ness, but of reason. I acknowledge, therefore, that our having any conception or idea of power is repug- nant to Mr Locke's theory, that all our simple ideas are got either by the external senses, or by consciousness. Both cannot be true. Mr Hume perceived this repug- nancy, and consistently maintained, that we have no idea of power. Mr Locke did not perceive it. If he had, it might have led him to suspect his theory ; for when theory is repugnant to fact, it is easy to see which ought to yield. I am conscious that I have a cmceplion or idea* of power ; but, strictly speaking, I am not conscious that I have pvwer. I shall have occasion to shew, that we have very early, from our constitution, a conviction or belief of some degree of active power in ourselves. This belief, however, is not consciousness —for we may be deceived in it ; but the testimony of consciousness can never deceive. Thus, a man who is struck with a palsy in the night, commonly knows not that he has lost the power of speech till he attempts to speak : he knows iiot whether he can move his hands and amis till he makes the trial ; and if, with- out making trial, he consults his conscious- ness ever so attentively, it will give him no information whether he has lost these powers, or still retains them. [8] From this we must conclude, that the powers we have are not an object of con- sciousness, though it would be foolish to censure this way of speaking in popular discourse, which requires not accurate at- tention to the different provinces of our various faculties. The testimony of con- sciousness is always unerring, nor was it ever called in question by the greatest sceptics, ancient or modern. 2. A swon litfteeii, inUitv, and the lilw. Of these we have a difteraad Inmiediate knowledge' Iwiiii,. w i tatf, To thw elaifl' belong aha m the .MMwiiiiui of muid of wMeh '*©• m ejn- tdmia. I Imow n^ial thoiight la, what BieiiMiijy wfaata pirpoee, what a piomiie. [101 TheM am eeiiie thkgi 'Ol' whieh wo ean have^ 'Mh a'diieet and a rabitfeeoneeptioii. I can difeetly eoneeive ten thousand men, or ten thousand 'pounds, heoause both are' ^obJMts^of sense, 'and mm hS' se«L^ .Biit, whether' I see sneh an objee^ or direeti^v eoBeeive it, my notion of it is indistinct : it is only that of a great mnltitade of men, or of a great heap of money ; and a small ,addiliin. or diminiition makes no pertniitiWe ^uaiie m the: netion I form. m. this way. Il5l CM form a rehitive notion of the Mine ammber of men or of pounos, by at- tending to the relations whieh this nnmber 'has tO' other nnmben, gieftter or lei* 'Tlien I perceive thai the wtottte notion isdistmct and scientific ; for the addition of a single man, or a single fenadi or even of a penny, iS' fniPy peieeiviect iBBtomaimer, I am form a direct notion of a polyviii of a thousand equal sides and cqnai angles. This direct notioiuMmi^ he more dinncl, when, emienved a the'miiiil, than, 'that wWch I v^ by sight, when the object is before me i and I ind. it se indis- tinct, that it has the same appearance to my eye, or to my direct coneeptlon, as a poly- Mm of a thoniand and ene, or of nine hnnd- 'nd and Binety-nhie sides. But, when I imn a relative conception of It, by attend- hif to the letaHon it bears to polygeia ^ a greater or less number of sides, my notion Sf it becomes diilhict and sdentiio, ai^ I ian, demonstwte- the properties by which it Is iiHiiiiiiisbdl from aU other polvgons,' From these hiatMices, it apptawi that onr relative «iiiiii|itl«isrf thrngs^aw^aet^ less distinct,, wmt hmM materials fir accn- rate reasoning than those that an* diiedi and that the contrary may happen ni a nmarkable degree. , . . .. Oar «inaepti«n ef fmm h lilative to its exertions 'Of tilMta. Wmm U 'Wie^ thing ; ill exertiiB. 'is^ another thhi|. It is true, there can 'be no exertion, without power'; but there may be power' that, .is^ 'net exerted. Th,us, a man^ may have power to speak when he is^ 'Silont |. he may have nower to rise and walk when he sits atill [1 1 1 But, though it be one tUng to speak, and another to. iaveithe 'power of spealilnft I .apprehend, we 'Ooneelve of tho' power at •omethuig which .has a cortam rekition to the efflfect. And of every power we form our notion by the effect which it is able to produce^ .8, It h ewid«it that Power is a qwlitv, .and cannot exbt. wiimiil a nihjoet to which itbelongp* That power may exist without any being orsnbieet to which that power may be at» 'tribnted,, 'is m absurdity, shocMng to every mnnefeommoniindeistandhig. ^ It is a quality which may he vaned, not only k degree, but also in Mnd ; and we distinguish both the kinds and degrees by the effects which they ate able to pro- Thus a power to fly, and a power to rea- aen, are different kinds of power, their eihsts being different in kind. But a power to carry one hundred weight, and a power to earry two hundred, are different degrees of th© same kind. 4. Wecannotcondidethewantofpower fKim its not behig exerted ; nor from the exertion of a less degree of power, can wo conclude that there is no greater degree m the subject. Thus, though a man on a patellar ocearionsald notMng, we cannot ceneinde irom that eircumstaace, that he had not the power of speech ; nor from a man's carrying ten pound weight, can we eondnde that lie had not power to carry twenty. Ik Tiiere are some qualities that have a conlraif , others that have not i Power is a qnaity of the .hitter' .Und. VioO' ia eonHary to virtue, misew to bappineiSy'liaifed to love, negation to afflnn'-' ation ; but there la no contraiy to power. WealmesB' or impotence are delBOts or pri- vatlona of power, but not eontraifaa to it. If what baa been said of power be easily understood, and readily assented to, by all who understand our tenguagei aa I believe iti%'WO'niay'i«imthlsJiiitiycowinde, That we have a 'fistfawt 'notion, of power, and majf reason about it with under»tandui|, though we ean give no logical definition of it. If power were a thing of which we have no .idea, aa some phitoeophers have taken mudi pJtba'to: prove— that is, if power were a word without any meamng— we could neither ailrm nor deny anyAIni eoneernrng it with, 'nideiatanding. We lioiiM have *"*llit^ tf Hit' .raipm. IS takin. frani. Dm eqnal 'reason, to aay that it 'Is. a substance, as that It is a quaity $ that it does not admit of degiees as that it does. If the under* ttannng immeilately assents to one of these aasevti«%, and., 'revolts, from 'the contrary, we' 'may eondnde 'wltb 'Ceftahi.ty, that we put some meanhig upon the word poi»er^ that is, that we have some Idea of it. And it IS chiefly for the sake of this concluwon, that I have enumerated so many obvloua thinga eoneoiHing' :it Tie term ocliiflifMwia'uaed, I conceive. ["10-181 •mi#.ii.] OF THE NOTION OF ACTIVE POWER. 515 to distinguish it firom speculative powers. As all languages distinguish action from speculation, the same distinction is applied to the powers by which they are produced. The powers of seeing, hearing, remembering, distinguishing, judging, reasoning, are spe- culative powers ; the power of executmg any work of art or labour is active power. There are many things related to power, in such a manner that we can have no no- tion of them if we have none of power. { 13] The exertion of active power we call action ;f and, as every action produces some change, so every change must be caused by some exertion, or by the cessation of some exertion of power. That which produces a change by the exertion of its power we call the cause of that change; and the change produced, the effect of that cause. When one being, by its active power, produces any change upon another, the last is said to be passive, or to be acted upoiL Thus we see that action and passion, cause and effect, exertion and operation, have such a relation to active power, that, if it be understood, they are understood of con- eequence ; but if power be a word without any meaning, all those words which are re- lated to it, must be words without any mean- ing. They are, however, common words in our language ; and equivalent words have always been common in all languages. It would be very strange indeed, if man- kind had always used these words so fami- liarly, without perceiving that they had no meatiing ; and that this discovery should have been first made by a philosopher of the present age. With equal reason it might be maintain- ed, that though there are words in all lan- guages to express sight, and words to sig- nify the various colours which are objects of sight; yet that all mankind, from the beginning of the world, had been blind, and never had an idea of sight or of colour. But there are no absurdities so gross as those which philosophers have advanced con- oeming ideas. CHAPTER II. TH'B aAMa SmUBCT. Thirb are, I believe, no abstract no- tions, that are to be found more early, or more universally, in the minds of men, than those of actitMi and being acted upon. Every child that understands the distinction be- ♦ No: fiom jMSsive Power. See above, p. ftllj note t ,«nd below, p, 23. note * — H. f AIM openmon and mmgif {wtyu*, the being in work.) Enern; li often lffno»ntly UMd in English Ihr Ibfte. In Latin, fUne^, /iinctio munertg, cor. retponds to operation or performance; with ut/unc tim denotei wmcthing to be performed.— H. [13^15] tween striking and being struck, must liav^e the conception of action and passion. 1 14] We find accordingly, that there is no lan- guage so imperfect but tliat it has active and passive verbs and participles ; the one signifying some kind of action ; the other be- ing acted upon. This distinction enters into the original contexture of all lan- guages. Active verbs have a form and construc- tion proper to themselves ; passive verbs a different form and a different construction. In all languages, the nominative to an ac- tive verb is the agent ; the thing acted up- on is put in an oblique case. In passive verbs, the thing acted upon is the nomina- tive, and the agent, if expressed, must be in an oblique case ; as in this example — Raphael drew the Cartoons ; the Cartoons were drawn by Raphael. Every distinction which we find in the structure of all languages, must have been familiar to those who framed the languages at first, and to all who speak them with understanding. It may be objected to this argument, taken from the structure of language, in the use of active and passive verbs, that active verbs are not always used to denote an ac- tion, nor is the nominative before an ac- tive verb, conceived in all cases to be au agent, in the strict sense of that word ; that there are many passive verbs which have an active signification, and active verbs which have a passive. From these facts, it may be thought a just conclusion, that, in contriv- ing the different forms of active and passive verbs, and their different construction, men have not been governed by a regard to any distinction between action and passion, but by chance, or some accidental cause. [15] In answer to this objection, the fact on which it is founded must be admitted; but I think the conclusion not justly drawn from it, for the following reasons i— 1. It seems contrary to reason to attri- bute to chance or accident what is subject to rules, even though there may be excep- tions to the rule. The exceptions may, in such a case, be attributed to accident, but the rule cannot. There is perhaps hardly anything in language so general as not to admit of exceptions. It cannot be denied to be a general rule, that verbs and parti- ciples have an active and a passive voice ; and, as this is a general rule, not in on© language only, but in all the languages we are acquainted with, it shews evidently that men, in the earliest stages, and in all periods of society, have distinguished action from passion. 2. It is to be observed, that the forms of language are often applied to purposes dif- ferent from those for which they were ori- ginally mtended. The varieties of a iau-. BW ON THE ACTIVE POWERS. [BSB'A'T niAF. i:.] OF THE NOTION OF ACTIVE POWER. 517 guiiM, tven. the most perfect, am iieir«r te BiMe rauiil to all the variety of tomu eimeeptiona. Tlie forms and moiifkaitioiis «Kf langunge mint' Iw emiiii«4 wiHini. eertwn. limitsi tbit' 'Hiej may not memi Hm'^ eafa* eity of imnan memory. Tlwrefore, in all la]i0iage% there must be a kind of frugality imei,. t0 ^maie one farm of expreesimi Mnre many different pitrpoees,. lilce Sir Hadilinia* dagger,, which, thmigh made to stab or hrcftk a head, was^ put to many other uses. Many exampte might hB f rodueed of thk frugality in kngna^ge. Thus, the Latins and QreelcB had Ive or eu, cases of nouns,, to expiesB the varions relallMii tliat one thing 'eould h«ar to ano^ther.* The 'gpni- tiire case must .have been at first intended to expiesi' Mine one capital leh^ion, sieh. .aa that of posHenioii or of pfuperty ; but It iviiiid he very dilienlt to enumerate .all the iiil«tMns which, in the progress of hiimn.g9, it was used to express^ The same ohserv- atien. nay 'he applied to other eases of The slightest sunilittide or analogy is thought sufficient to justifv the exteiiHion of a form of speech beyond its ptopiff mean- ing, whenever the .hmgiiaM does^^net' aHhid a mom proper form.. In the moods ef verbs, a few of those which occur most fre- <|uentiy are distinguished by different forma, Md these are made to supply ^ai. the forms thut are wanting. The same ehservatbn may he^ applied to what is^ called, the vmees of verbs. An active and a pasmve are the capital, ones ; some hinguilgfis ba^e mon, hut BO kngui^ so many as to ^answer to aU the 'variatiomi of human thouglit We cannot always coin new ones, and there- fore must use some' one or other of those tliat are to^ be found in the kngnage, 'though at fiist int:ended .lor another pur- Hise. X A tliird observation in answer to the objection is, that we can point out a 'Cauie ef 'the frequent mtBapplicat.ion of aetive verbs, to thing^' 'whieh have 'no proper acti* vity— a cause which extends to the greater imrt of such misspplieatiofis, and which cenfirms tht' account I have gives, of the 'pnmer klentien of active and passive verbs. As there is no principle that appears to be more nnivenally aeknowledged by man- .Mad, 'finm lim itst dawn of reaaiw,. than thut evefy 'Ohanp' we observe 'in nature must have a cause ; so this is no sooner perceived, than then arises in the human mind a strong' desire 'to know the emises of those ehances that fall witMn our #hseffva. *11it8aii«rit.if I to,'.|j^ii 'the nWinnS'iif .flilftdliMfttiiMii^ '•' Ittv iSlhkiiMMiH'Ul ImmImi. limit wliite ,^ iHSly Iff* .ftCtf ■!• COII» ofliilMnMtf called tiie •iMImit Slltt.lCMM STff' 'tien. FtliJt pd pMuii rentm mgnmcer* eauifif, is the voice of nature in sll men. Nor is there anything that more early dtsl.ingukhes. the rational 'from the brute ereatiou, than 'this avidity to know the causes of things, of which I see no sign in hrute-animate. [17] It must surely he admitted, that, in those periodS' wherein 'hmgnages .are formed, men are hut poorly furnished for carrying on this invistlption 'With success.. We see that the experience of thousands of yean is :ueeessaiy to briiM men hito 'the 'ri|»lit tmck lu this lnf eatmpitien,, 'If iwfeed they can yet he said to he irMiglit into it What innn- merabk erro'vs rude am must fall into 'With ngard to eamesi fram impatience to judc9, und inability to judge right, we may Mnjecture' from 'reason, and may see froiii experience; from which I think it Is evi- dent, that, supposing active verbs to have heen originally inteiided to express what is 'properly calM .aetloiii and their nomina- ti.Tee to express: 'th«' a^ent ; yet, in the rod© and barbarous state wherein hinguages are formed, there must he innumerable iiiisap- plications ef aueh. verbs and nom.uMiave8, and many tbinp spoken of as active which have 'no ;real .activity. To this we may add, that it is a genenl prejudice of our early years, and of rude natiens, when we perceive anything to be changed, and do not perceive any other thing which we can believe to he the cause of that change^ to impute it to tlie thinj; itself, and conceive it to be .active and :ani- mated, so far as to have the power of pro- ducing that change in itself. Hence, to a child, or to a savage, all nature seems to be animated ; the sea, the earth, the air, the sn%. moon,, .and stars, rivers, fountains and groves,: are 'Ooneeived to be active and Mi^ mated beings. As this is a sentiment natural to man in his rude state, it has, on that. SMOunt, even in polished, nations, the veristmifitnde' that .:is :n!» or 'HM' oilier object, .as we wilL And this way of forming the idea of power he attri- butes to refiemon^ as he refers the former 'On ihli' .iMMiiuit off the origin of onr idea {mAP. III.] MR LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF POWER. 519 ( of power, I would beg leave to maka two remarks, with the respect that is most justly due to so great a philosopher and sj good a man. 1. Whereas he distinguishes power into aetive and passive, I conceive passive power is no power at all. He means by it, the possibility of being changed. To call this power, seems to be a misapplication of the word. I do not remember to liave met with the phrase passive power in any other good author. Mr Locke seems to have been unlucky in inventing it; and it de- serves not to be retained in our language.* Perhaps he was unwarily led into it, as an opposite to active power. But I con- ceive we call certain powers active, to db- tineuish them from other powers that are called speeulalive.f As all mankind distin- guish action from speculation, it is very proper to distinguish the powers by which those different operations are performed into active and speculative. Mr Locke, indeed, acknowledges that active power is more properly called power ; but I see no propriety at all in passive power; it is a powerless power, and a contradiction in terms. 2. I would observe, that Mr Locke seems to have imposed upon himself, in attempt- ing to reconcile this account of the idea of power to his favourite doctrine, that all our simple ideas are ideas of sensation, or of reflection. There are two steps, according to his account, which the mind takes in forming this idea of power : Jirstj It observes changes in things ; and, secondly , From these changes it infers a cause of them, and a power to produce them> If both these steps are operations of the external senses, or of consciousness, then the idea of power may be called an idea of sensation, or of reflection. But, if either of those steps requires the co-operation of other powers of the mind, it will follow, ^ This paragraph is erroneous in almost all its state- ments. Locke did not invent the phrase passim power. Tba distinction ofiwu/jus t«S miuv ( i. ivtf- yvn*^) potentia activa, and Swoc/ui; rev ^etrxuv (f-m^nrizii) potentia passiva, was established, if not invented, by Aristotle ; and, subsequently to him, it became one not only common but classical. So far, therefore, is the phr&^e passive pH. KM vMM ON THE ACTIVE POWERS. [1W,1¥ I, an A P. IV.] MR HUME'S OPINION OF POWER. 521 ' II tbe province of ooiiseloii«i»s ? If tho leont em imv on* 'Ooodwitoii f wwi pw- misefl, ihtfj mmj dww iv« Imndred, md demoBBtnto Hi« wliolo ©tenente of U^iiclici. ^^hns, I think, it mmmj^ ^^^ mmMiwMA Mr Locke fc«elf gites^tto nrkin of our Wea of power, «sannotb© re- ismeiei to his fniroarite doctnno--TI»t all 0iir ainiiie iAsm Imvo their origin from :8«iifllilinii.or feiii«iiHi;.Md,thiit» ui ■•ttenipt- iiif ' to' *!flw thO' Men.©! 'po«« from .these ti^ tOMWit onl J, he unawares bnngs in our memory, and ouf reasoning power, for a •hare in its. origin* CHAPTER lY. or MR HUMi^s onmofi or thb wma. m mia wry imi«iiio» author adopts the prineiple of Mr lioeke before mentioned— ilMl. Ill ■mm ■•inifto' Mem^.m dewed, either from'Semationor'ieiMiin. This he seems to understand ewm :in a stricter sens©' than Mr Locke did. For he will have all our ■imple ideas to be copies of preceding im- mceiinnSk 'eithwf of our e»tenial senses or tf eonseiiMBiiess. '** After IhO' most accu- Este cxaminatioii," says he, « of wl«i«h I am capable, I venture to afltrm, that tie rule here holds witboul any excention, and that every aimple idea has a almpfe ':in^pie8- ilmi which resembles it, and ©very siropte imffesssion a correiqponient idea. ^ Every one may ^satisfy biUBelf in this point, by running over .sa many as he ?!«•«••' I observe here, by the way, tiat tli» conelision is iwned by the author rashly Md unphilosophieally . For it is a conclu- sion that admits of no proof but by induc- tion; and it is upon this ground that he himself founds it. The induction cannot he petlfect till every simple wlea that can enter into the human mind be examined, ini. ba. shewn to he. 'COiiei. trail « resemy mg iiApi«iBionolseB8e.orof'eiiiseiousttOiB. .lio man can pretend to have made this examin- ation of all our simple ideas without ex- etption; and, therefore, «f«Sf **??i*''"" i4iiilly 'With the .rales ff tM^fWf"*'*"*? » .aMUM 'US., that tUi ^eendnsioii Iomb witu* irtiany exccptioo. |27| ., .,.. ^_^. The author professes, m Ms title Pl^ to introduce into mmmk mmm, th«. «peri- .niantal. 'ineiiiod of rewwutofr This was a mm 'MMM attempt ; but he^ouiht to Iiav« biowii tlwl it is a rale in the experi- mental metliod of .reaaowiiig— That condu- ■ieiia^ 'eMiiiiiffl by Inijjtion ouf Jl jevjr to' ewliie eineptions, If mxj mm. mmm ..aHerwatds appear iwii. observation or ex- pwiment. Sir Isaac Newton, speakmg of | t such conclusions, says, " Et si quando m ' experinndo poetea reperiatnr aliquid, quod a part© contraria faciat; tnm demum, iion Bine istis •mceptionihus.ailriiiotnr couclusio opportebil" *' But," ■"*!• «•*' «»thor, " I 'lii ventuw to affirm that the rule here holds without aoy exception.'* Accordingly, throughout the whole trea- tiae, this genial rule is considered as of sufieienl authority, in itself, to exclude, ©venffom ahearing, everythinR that appears to be an exception to it. This is contraiy to the fundamental principles of Ihecxpen- mental method of reasoning, and, therefore, nay bo called rath and nnphiloaophical. HavlDg this established this general Srinciple, the author does great execution y it among our ideas. Me finds, that we have no idea of tuManmt material or apiritual ; that body and mind are only cer- tain trains of related impressions and idess i that we have no idea of space or duratim, and no idea of pomr, active or mtellectual. [281 Mr liOcke used his principle of eensatioii and leiection with greater moderation and mercy. Being unmlling to thrust the ideas we have .meitiomei. .into tlie kmkt of non- existenee, be fUetehes .sen»tion and leflec- tion to the very utmost, m order to receive these ideas within the pale; and drawa them into it, as it were, bir violence. But this author, instead of shewing them any favour, seems fond to get rid of them. Of the ideas mentbned, it is only that of wmiT tliat concerns our ptesont subject. And, with regard to this, the author boldly affirms, "That we never have any idea of Power ; tlmt we deceive ourselves when we iii|a|i 'w« we are possessed of any idea, of this kind.*' He begiin with ob«irving, "That tlie torms #oii«f , •F«f » P^^^ ff^* *^^^' are all i«irly synonymous; and, therefore, it is an absurdity to emplw any of them m deining the rest By this observation, saya ht, " we reject at once all the vulgar deinitions which philoiopheis have given of|MiP#rMicl'rJlii«Mif,'* , c^urely this author was not ignorant that then are many things of whicli we have a clear iwl iiitinct conception, which are so simpit In their nature, that they cannot be defined any other way than by synonymoua words. It is true that this is not a l^cal diinition ; but that there is, as he affirms, an absurdity in iirfng It, when no better can be had, I cannot perceive. He might here have applied to pomrmnA t:fi§mm whit he lays, in another place, of ^ and iiiiiilJ%. " The passions of ]pMt and ilii«il%," he says, " bemg simple and uniform impressions, it ui impossible wo can ever give a just definition of them. ^ As the words are of general use, and the thmgp they represent the most common of any, every one, of himself, will be able to form a just notion of them without danger of mistake." [29] He mentions Mr Locke's account of the idea of Power— that, observing various changes in things, we conclude that there must be somewhere a power capable of producing them, and so arrive at last, by this reasoning, at the idea of Power and Efficacy; " But," says he, " to be satisfied that this explication is more popular than philoso- phical, we need but reflect on two very obvious principles : first. That Reason alone can never give rise to anp original idea ;* and, secondly. That Reason, as distinguished /f&m Experience^ can never make us con- clude that a cause, or productive quality, is absolutely requisite to every beginning of ^jtzsi^^ftci^ *T' Before we consider the two principles which our author opposes to the popular opinion of Mr Locke, I observe — First, That there are some popular opi- nions, which, on that very account, deserve more rej;«ard from philosophers than this author is willing to bestow. That things cannot begin to exist, nor undergo any change, without a cause that hath power to produce that change, is in- deed so popular an opinion that, I believe, this author is the first of mankmd that ever called it in question. It is so popular that there is not a man of common prudence who does not act from this opinion, and rely upon it every day of his life. And any man who should conduct himself by the contrary opinion, would soon be con- fined as insane, and continue in that state till a sufficient cause was found for his enlargement. [30] Such a popular opinion as this stands upon a higher authority than that of phi- losophy ; and philosophy must strike sail to it, if she would not render herself con- temptible to every man of common under- etanding. For though, in matters of deep specula- tion, the umltitude must be guided by phi- losophers, yet, in things that are within the reach of every man's understanding, and Upon which the whole conduct of human life turns, the philosopher must follow the multitude, or make himself perfectly ridi- culous. Secondly, I observe, that whether this popular opinion be true or false, it follows, from men's having this opinion, that they « In other wonls— there are no native or a priori notions in the intellect ; all are iutmediaie or mediate educts from experience. — H. t In oiher words, that we cannot, on the Princi- ple (^Contradiction, iheWi that fbrevervthing which bvgini to be, a cause muni hmt been.— H. have an idea of power. A false opinion about power, no less than a true, implies an idea of power; for how can men have any opinion, true or false, about a thing of which they have no idea ? The first of the very obvious principles which the author opposes to Mr Locke's account of the idea of power, is^ that Rea- son alone can never give rise to any original idea. This appears to me so far from being a very obvious principle, that the contrary is very obvious. Is it not our reasoning faculty that gives rise to the idea of reasoning itself ?* As our idea of sight takes its rise from our be- ing endowed with that faculty, so does our idea of reasoning. Do not the ideas of demonstration, of probability, our ideas of a syllogism, of major, minor and conclu- sion, of an enthymeme, dilemma, sorites, and all the various modes of reasoning, take their rise from the faculty of reason ? Or is it possible that a being, not endowed with the faculty of reasoning, should have these ideas ? This principle, therefore, is so far from being obviously true, that it appears to be obviously false. [31] The second obvious principle is, Thai Reason, as distinguishrd from Experience, can never make us conclude, that a cause, or productive quality, is absolutely requisite to every beginning of existence. t^Q-sn In some " Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man," I had occasion to treat of this principle,— That every change in nature must have a cause ; and, to pre- vent repetition, I beg leave to refer the reader to what is said upon this subject, Essay vi. Chap. C. I endeavoured to shew that it is a first principle, evident to all men come to years of understand- ing. Besides its having been universally received, without the least doubt, from the beginning of the world, it has this sure mark of a first principle, that the belief of it is absolutely necessary in the ordinary afi'airs of life, and, without it, no man could act with common prudence, or avoid the imputation of insanity. Yet a philosopher, who acted upon the firm belief of it every day of his life, thinks fit, in his closet, to call it in question. He insinuates here that we may know it from experience. [?] I endeavoured to shew, that we do not learn it from expe- rience, for two reasons. First Because it is a necessary truth, and has always been received as a necessary truth. Experience gives no information oj what is necessary, or of what must be.-^ We may know from experience, what is, • Mr Hiunesajti." reason a/ that of M. Maine de »'"l'. »,V, Cousin— H. of it that of his friend and editor, M. L.ou»in. n. ON THE ACTIVE POWEES. [essay 1. CHAP, VI.] OF THE PHENOMENA OF NATURE. 525 Ewmy man to W by nature to attrilmt* to liimself the free determtiuitions of ito own will, iMi to WbTO those events to be In bw f9wm vbieb depend upon bit will Os'die'otbiir''b«iii, it is self-evident,, thai nothing is in our power that is not subjeil to our wili We grow from childhood to mtnbooiii we digest our food, our blood ctreubites, our heart and arteries beat, we arO' aometiniefl' ■iek and sometimes in health; all these^ thinp mutt b* done by the :power of lom© S^nt ; but 'th«y .aw* not done-by our power, ow do we know this f Beeause the^ are not Bubj^ecC to our will. This to the miil^ liiife criterion by which we dtotingntoh what to our 'doing' itoni' what to not ; what to' :in our power wmm what to not ['38]^ Huiiiaa 'power, therefore, can only be eierted by will, and we are unable to con- ceive any active power to be exerted with- out will Every :nian kno'ws inMlihly that what to done by bto conieious wii and in- tention, to to be imputed to him, as the agent or cause ; and that whatever to done 'wiibout hto. will and intontion, eannot b© imputed, to bim. 'witb 'truth. We jnig© of tbe^ actions and conduct of other' men by the tame rule a» we judge of fiiir own. In morals, it to self-evident lliat no 'man can be the object either of approba- tion or of bknie for W'hat he did not ^ But how shall we know whether it is hto doing or not ? If the action depended upon his will, and if be 'intondMl. and willed it, it is hto action 'in the Ju%ment of all nianMn4 Bnt If it was done without bis knowledgo, or without bto will and. intention, it is as c«rtain that be did it not, and thu't it ought not to be .imputed 'to' bim aS' tbO' agent.' When there to any doubt to^ 'wbom a'par^^ tieu:kr action ought to be imputed, tlw 'doubt arises only from ou.r' igno^rance of facts 5 when the facts retoting to it aro .known, no man of undeistanding has any doubt to' w.hiom' 'the .aetion oagbt to b« .im- puted. Tb© general rules of imputat.lon. are self- evident.' They .have been the same in all ages, .and. mmmg all 'Civiliied nations. No man blames: 'another 'for being bkek or fair, for Imving a fever or the faliiug stokuess; beaanae these tlilnp .are^ bi!l.W'ved not to be in hto' 'power; 'and they art' Wtoved not to he 'M hto power, beeausO' thoy depend not upon his will. W© canr never 'O0'nc©ive that a man's duty goes beyond bis pwer, or that his power goes btyond what dspends 'upon hto will. |3i] Reason leads us 'to aserib© vnimited mower to 'th© Suprem©' .B©iug- But what do w© mean by tmlimilsd. 'power f It to' ,pow«r to do whatsowwT' ho wills. To sup- rs© Mm to do what 'b© 'diMs not will, to do, abmtid. Th© only distinct eonception I can form of active power is,, tliat it to an attribute in a being by which he can do certain things if h© wllh, Thto, alter all, to only a rela- tive conception It to relative to the effect, and to the will til proiieing it Take away tliese, and tb© 'CO'Ucaptton vantobes. They ai©' th© 'handles by wbksb th© mmd takes boM of It When they are taken away, our bold to gona The :Bame .is the case 'with Mod to other rektive coneeptiotts. Thus ¥©6city to a .wal state of a body, about which pbilosopbers reason with the force of de- monstration ; but our conception of it to rektive to space and time. What to velo- city in a body? It is a state in which it passes 'throng, a certain space in a certain time- Space .and time are very different from velocity ; bnt we cannot conceive it but by ita rektwn to them. The effect produced, ani th© will to produce it, are tbiits diflbrent from active power, but we can have no conception of it, but by its re- ktion to them. Whether the conception of an efHc'eut cause, and of real activity, could ever havo entered, into tb© mind of man, if we had not had the experience of activity in our- selves, I am notable to determine with cor- tai.nty. Th© origin of many of our concep- 'tions, and mm of many of our judgments, to not so easily traced as philosophers have generally conceived. No man can recol- lect th© tim©' w;h©n be irst got the concep- tion of an. 'CActottt cause, or the tim© when h© ti'fst .got tbe'bolkf thatan efficient cause is necessary to every change in nature. [4(1] The conception of an efficient cause may very pro'bably l»© derived from the expe- ri«nc«' we bav©-liail'in very ea.rly life of our own 'power to produce certain effects.. But the belief, tliatnoevent can happen without an effietont 'Caus©^ 'eannot.b©' derived from experience:. We may 'kam. from experience what l«, or what wm, but no experience can teach us what nem$mniy musi he,* In like manner, we probably derive th® concoption of pain 'from, th©' esferknc©' w© have had of it '.in oarselvea.|. hut our 'belief that pain can only exist in a being that hath life, can.not be got 'by experience, because it is a necessary truth ; and no necessary truth can liave its attestation from expe- rtonee. If it be so that the conception of an effi- cient cause enters into the mind, only from the early convktion w© have that we aro the efficients of ©or ©wn voluntary actions, (which. I think'to'-moei probable,) the notion of effifltoii^ will b© reduced to 'thto, That it to a vslaliai. between th© 'Caus© and the effect, slmiar to 'tliat whfcb Is 'between us and our foinitary actions. Thto is surely t the most distinct notion, andj I think, the only notion we can form of real effi- ciency. Now it to evident, that, to constitute the relation between me and my action, my con- ception of the action, and will to do it, are essential. For what I never conceived nor willed, I never did. If any man, therefore, affirms, that a being maybe the efficient cause of an action, and have power to produce it, which that being can neither conceive nor will, he speaks a language which I do not under- stand. If he has a meaning, hto notion of power and efficiency must be essentially different from mine ; and, until lie conveys hto notion of efficiency to my understand- ing, I can no more assent to hto opinion than if he should affirm that a being with- out life may feel pain. [41] It seems, therefore, to me most probable, that such beings only as have some degree of understanding and will, can possess ac- tive power ; and that inanimate beings must b© merely passive, and have no real activity. Nothing we perceive without us affords any good ground for ascribing active power to any inanimate being ; and everything we can discover in our own constitution, leads us to think that active power cannot be ex- erted without wUl and mtelligeuce. CHAPTER VI. •r THB BFPICIBNT CAUSES OF THE PH«NO- IIBXA OP NATURE. vdM ■Ajui^ggi j|g&_|JH|||-g|m|^ |A9i!l,S|4a&,l»i 4lM»,ai Ml.bj tnd £38-411] If active power, in its proper meaning, requires a subject endowed with will and in- telligence, what shall we say of those active powers which philosophers teach us to ascribe to matter— the powers of corpuscu- lar attraction, magnettom, electricity, gra- vitation, and others ? Is it not universally allowed, that heavy bodies descend to the earth by the power of gravity ; that, by the same power, the moon, and all the planets and comets, are retained in their orbits ? Have the most eminent natural philosophers been miposing upon us, and giving us words instead of real causes ? In answer to this, I apprehend, that the principles of natural philosophy have, in modern times, been built upon a foundation that cannot be shaken, and that they can be called in question only by those who do not understand the evidenceon which they stand. But the ambiguity of the words came, m/feneif, active power, and the other words related to these, has led many to understand them, when used in natural philosophy, in a wrong sense, and in a sense which to neither necessary for establishing the true principles of natural philosoihy, nor was [41-43] ever meant by the most enlightened in that science. [42 J To be oonvinced of this, we may observe that those very philosophers who attribute to matter the power of gravitation, and other active powers, teach us, at the same time, that matter is a substance altogether inert, and merely passive ; that gravitation, and the other attractive or repulsive powers which they ascribe to it, are not inherent in its nature, but impressed upon it by some external cause, which they do not pre- tend to know or to explain. Now, when we find wise men ascribing action and active power to a substance which they expressly teach us to consider as merely passive and acted upon by some unknown cause, wo must conclude that the action and active power ascribed to it are not to be understood strictly, but in some popular sense. It ought likewise to be observed, that although philosophers, for the sake of being understood, must speak the language of the vulgar— as when they say, the sun rises and sets, and goes through all the signs of the zodiac— yet they often think differently from the vulgar. Let us hear what the greatest of natural philosophers says, in the eighth definition prefixed to his " Principia :"— « Voces autem attractionis, impulsus, velpro- pensionis cujuscunque in centrum, indiffer- enter et pro se mutuo proniiscue usurpo ; has voces non physice sed mathematice con- biderando. Unde caveat lector, ne per hujus modi voces cogitet me speciem vel modum aetion is, causamve aut rationem physicara, alicubi definire ; vel centris (qme sunt puncta mathematica) vires vere et physice tribuere, si forte centra trahere, aut vires centrorum esse, dixero." In all languages, action is attributed to many things which all men of common un- derstanding believe to be merely passive. Thus, we say the wind blows, the rivers flow, the sea rages, the fire burns, bodies move, and impel other bodies. [43] Every object which undergoes any change must be either active or passive in that change. Thto to self-evident to all men from the first dawn of reason ; and, there- fore, the change is always expressed in language, either by an active or a passive verb. Nor do I know any verb, expressive of a change, which does not imply either action or passion. The thing either changes, or it is changed. But it to remarkable in knguage, that when an external cause of the change to not obvious, the change is always imputed to the thing changed, as if it were animated, and had active power to produce the change in itself. So we say, the moon changes, the sun rtoes and goes down. Thus active verbs are very often applied, and active power imputed to things, which B'SII' ON THE ACTIVE POWEEa *i l ft Hit .ftivBUflo in knowledge, and exporwnm liftdiM m to te merely pitBstve. This wmmtjf isommon to all. .lai^WM I en- itaMrauni to aceoitnt for in tte Meoud tlia|vter of 'tliis Ensaj, to whicli ^ nador 'la A like ifrafiiwitj may lie oImt? ed. In the iiae of the void, aigiiiryiif mmm. In all .latifiiaM,. and. of th»' wmm mMaA to It diir'icwivledge 'Of eaniia fa wmj wemtv in the moel advanced :»tato of noeiety, mncli moM is it so in that eaily |)eriod in which kagnage is lamid. A attong desuw' to know the eamea' if thin|i|, is ofnnmon to all men in every slate; 'hut: the experienee of all ages shews, that this keen appetite, father than go empty, wil feed upon the hnakt of teal kno wkdgo where the f mit 'Can- not ht' Ibnnd. While' wn' are vefy mnch in the dark with ngaid to the real ^uU or eausea whkh BiiMiiMe the phaenomena 'Of^ nature^ and 'nave^. at^ the same time, an avidly to .know them, ingenious, mm 'frame eon|eetnrei,. which those of weaker understandmg take for truth. The fare is coara^ but appetite Thna, hi a very ancient ayatem, love .and Strife were 'made the 'Canaci' 'Of things.* Plato made the causes of things to he mat- ter, ideas, and an efficient ar«iitect ; Aris- tetle^ 'matter, form, and jpilvatM .; Des CMes 'thnnght matter, and a certain quan- tity of mcition given it by the Almighty at Erst, to be all that is necessary to make the naliiiial world ; Leihnita conceived the whi^: 'iBiveise, even the material. Mrt ef it,, 'to he- 'made 'Up of mouadeM^ each, el 'which is active and mtolligent, and produces m Itself, by its own .active power, .ail. tlw changes it 'undeiigocfl from, the begtniiiig'Ofiti existence In connwn 'huigiMie, we give 'the namC' of a eauM to a reason, a motive, an end, to any circmstanee whkh is. connected with. the effect,, and floet before' Ik .Aristotle, and the sehodmeft aller hhn., distingnishad four khids of 'Canscs^the Ef- icien^ the Material, the Formal, and the FhiaL Thhi, .like wmaj of Aristotle^ 'dis- 'thMliiMii,. .11 Mly .11 diithMlioa of the various Bicatilngf' nf .an amhiguona wnrd .; 'for the Eileient, the Matter, the Form, and the End, have nothmg common in their nature, by which 'they .may he aeeouited..spceisa'Of thc' ■ani»jptiitif';f tat the' Greek, woid which urn 'tcanalate emm^ had these' four diHaivnt meanings in Ariatotte's days,, and we have added 'Mier meanings.^ We io not 'indeed. call the 'natter or the 'Ibrm 'Of a thing', ita ca.u8e ; but we have inal. 'Canses, 'kstru- • 'IhtifitnnofEiniMdoelca.— 11. t They all Have tills in caamoii— that cadi la an .ttitacedeiit.,. whicli. not bein^ tlM e«mM4iien.l, — •i. e cflcct, wouUI not te.— H. 1 9m aboteb f^ 'Sfts 'Mov« Insf IV..«e 't* at^'H* [taSAY I. mental caoies, oecasioiial causes, and I kuow not how many others. Thns the word eamg has been sO' hack- neyed, and 'made to have so many' dUferent meanings in the 'writings of 'nliioiophen, and in the diecoune of the vulgar, 'that Its^ original .and proper raca.ning is lost. .In the crowd. [4i'] With icgurd 'to the pbMnomena of nature, the lm;portant 'Cnd of knowing 'their causes, besidos gmtifymg our curiosity, is, that we may know when, to expect them, or how to bring them abouk "f his Is very often of real imprtanee hi life t and this purpose is served hy knO'Wing what, by tlw 'COursC' of nature, goes before them and is connected with them $ and this, therefore, we call the cuMM of such a niMMwmenon* If a maanet he. himiidtt 'near to a mariner*s compass, the needle, which was before at rest, .immediately begins. 'to move, and bends itS' coune towards the mi|gni% m 'perhaps the. Mitiary wi|y. If an 'unMmed sailor IB' asked the cause 'Of this molicn of tbe needl% he is at no loss for an answer. He tells you it is the magnet ; and the proof is clear ;; for, remove mm .magnet, .and the ef-' feet, ceases. .;. bring It 'near, .and the .etSeet 'is again prodnoed. It is, therefore, evident to sense, that the magnet is the cause of this, effect A Carteshin.. 'phil.oiopher enters deeper into the cause ef this phsenomenon. He observes, that the magnet does not toudi the needle, and therefore can give it noim* pulsa. .He ;|iltieB'the ignorance of the sailor. The effect is produced| says he, by magna-' tic effluvia, or subtile matter, which passes from tbe magnet to the needle, and forces it from Ite place. He can even shew you. In a igure, where these: imagnetiC' effluvia. Issue from the 'magnet, what 'Wnnd they take, and what way they retuni home again. And thns he thinks he comprehends per- fectly how, and by what cause, the motion of the needle is. pradnced. A Mewtwhrn. philosopher mquires what proof can be offered for the existence of magnetic effluvia, and can find none. He therefore holds it as a ictienia hypothesis ; and he has^ learned thai hypotheses 'Ought to have no phce in the phihisophy of nature. He confesses his ignorance of the real cause of this motion, and thinks that his boal* nesS|, .as a philcaenliert is only to find from experiment the' lawS' by which it is regu- kted' hi aircises.. (46) These three persons differ much in their senthnento with regard to the real cause of thisphanomenon { and the man who knows most is he who Is sensible that he knows nothing of the matter. Yet aU the three sneak the :same ^hmgnigSi and acknowledge 'that the cause of this motion, la the attraet- 'Ivs or repnfaivs pewer of the mag'nct. {"44 I § ■■ CHAP, vil] of THE EXTENT OF HUMAN POWER. 527 What has been said of this, may be ap- l^ied to every phfienomenon that falls with- bthe compass of natural philosophy. We deceive ourselves if we conceive that we can point out the real efficient cause of any tne of them. . The grandest discovery ever made in na- tural philosophy, was that of the law of gravitation, which opens such a view of our planetary system that it looks like some- thing divine. But the author of this disco- very was perfectly aware, that he discovered IK) real cause, but only the law or rule, according to which the unknown cause ope- rates. Natural philosophers, who think accu- rately, have a precise meaning to the terras they use in the science ; and, when they pretend to shew the cause of any phaenome- non of nature, they mean by the cause, a law of nature of which that phienomenon is a necessary consequence. The whole object of natural philosophy, as Newton expressly teaches, is reducible to these two heads : first, by just induction from experiment and observation, to disco- ver the laws of nature ; and then, to apply those laws to the solution of the phaenome- na of nature. This was all that this great philosopher attempted, and all that he thought attainable. And this indeed he at- tained in a great measure, with regard to the motions of our planetary system, and with regard to the rays of light. [47] But supposing that all the phoenomena that fall within the reach of our senses, were accounted for from general laws of nature, justly deduced from experience— that is, supposing natural philosophy brought to its ■Utmost perfection— it does not discover the efficient cause of any one phsenomenou in nature. The laws of nature are the rules accord- ing to which the effects are produced ; but there must be a cause which operates ac- cording to these rules. The rules of navi- gation never navigated a ship; the rules of architecture never built a house. Natural philosophers, by great attention to the course of nature, have discovered many of her laws, and have very happily appUed them to account for many phaeno- mena ; but they have never discovered the efficient cause of any one phanomenon; nor do tliose who have distinct notions of the principles of the science make any such pretence. Upon the theatre of nature we see innu- merable effecte, which require an agent endowed with active power ; but the agent is behind the scene. Whether it be the Supreme Cause alone, or a subordinate cause or causes ; and if subordinate causes be employed by the Almighty, what their nature, their number, and their different [47-49] offices may be-are things hid, for wise reasons without doubt, from the human eye. ' It is only in human actions, that may be imputed for praise or blame, that it is neces- sary for us to know who is the agent ; and in this, nature has given us all the light that is necessary for our conduct. [48] CHAPTER VII. OP THB KXTKNT OP HUMAN POWBR. Every thing laudable and praiseworthy in man, must consist in the proper exercise of that power which is given him by his Maker. This is the talent which he is required to occupy, and of which he must give an account to Him who committed it to his trust. To some persons more power is given than to others ; and to the same person, more at one time and less at another. Its existence, its extent, and its continuance, depend solely upon the pleasure of the Almighty ; but every man that is account- able must have more or less of it. For, to call a person to account, to approve or dis- approve of his conduct, who had no power to do good or ill, is absurd. No axiom of Euclid appears more evident than this. As power is a valuable gift, to under- rate it is ingratitude to the giver ; to over- rate it, begets pride and presumption, and leads to unsuccessful attempts. It is there- fore, in every man, a point of wisdom to make a just estimate of his own power. Quid ferre recusent, quid valeant humeri. We can only speak of the power of man in general ; and as our notion of power ia relative to its effects, we can estimate its extent only by the eH'ects which it is able to produce. It would be wrong to estimate the extent of human power by the effects which it has actually produced. For every man had power to do many things which he did not, and not to do many things which he did; otherwise he could not be an object either of approbation or of disapprobation to any rational being. [49] The effects of human power are either immediate, or they are more remote. The immediate effects, I think, are re- ducible to two heads. We can give certain motions to our own bodies; find we can give a certain direction to our own thoughts. Whatever we can do beyond this, must be done by one of these means, or both. We can produce no motion in any body in the universe, but by moving first, our own body as an instrument. Nor can we pro* duce thought m any other person, but by thought and motion in ourselves. §28 OX THK ACTI¥,E POWERS, Onr pow»r to more mst own, 'liodv, m not oiilj limiteil in, ita extent, but in ite naturo li Mbject to mechimiaU laws. It may he c«ii:|«ired, to. a spring eniioweil with tlio pnwiif of coatiactmf or etpaniing itself, mt which QaniMtoontract wtlhont iimwinff equally at lioth ea^a, nor expand wiihoni pwliing e®*» *lM»' motions, is a ^■.taown^bytipeiieneii, ■'rh.is voli&m la !L*?l™^^^® -ny I^Ad tlfeet upon the«»fn ujd .iBiMcleai or wliether'it^ only an oeejiliii of their Wiig aotJunZ [bosay I l,HAP.Tiii;j OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN POWER. 529 established hiws of nature, is hid from m So dtek is our conception of our own power when WO' tiw» it to its origin. [51] We have good reason to believe, that matter had its origin from mind, as well as all its motions I but how, or in what man- ner, it Is moved, by mind, we know as little aS' bow it 'Was created. It is nossible, therefore, for any thing we know, that what we call the immediate ef- lecta of our power, may not be .so in the rtrictest sense. Between tlie will to^ pro- duce the effect, and the production of it, there' may be agents or instruments, of which we aro' .ignorant. This may .leave some doubt, whether we he, m the strieteat sense, the efficient cause of the voluntary motions of our own body. But It can produce no doubt with regard to the moral estimation of our actions The man who knows that such an. event depends upon biS' will, and who deiberateiy wills to produce it .is, in the strictest moral, sense, the cause of the event; and it is Justly imputed to liim, whatever physical oiuses may have concurred in its produc- tion. Thus, he who maliciously intends to shoot his neighbonr dead, and voluntarily does it, is undoubtedly the cause of his dbath, though he did no more to occasion It than draw the trigger of the gun. He neither gave to the hall its velocity, nor to the powder its expansive force, nor to th« flint and steel the power to strike firej but he knew that what he did must be fol- lowed by the man's death, and did it with that mtention ; and therefore he is justly ehajpahle with the murder. p21 P idosopbers may therefore' dispitte' .inno- etsiitly, whether we he the proper efficient causes of the voluntary motions of our own body ; or whether we be only, as Malebrancho tlimks, the occasional causes. The detennin- atwof this question, if it can be deter- mined, can have noeffeet on human conduct The other branch of what is immediately in our powefc is it give a cenain direction toourown'tlowhts. This> as weU as the irst branch, .ia linited in vaiions 'Ways. It is iwtter In some persons than in others, •mi in the aame person is very dij!ferent •swwlmg to tie health of .his body and the state or bis mind But that men, when fwe from disease of body and of mind, have a •■«f«iUe difree of power of tliis kind, mi that It may be grca% ImnMed by niaetiee .and babit, Is m&m^ w^Mm .from experien0% .aai .im. iM'.iiatiiinl 'Oon. ViDtionofallnankind '*^*5!.'**'»*® wmmine inhmtelylnto the «iwij»tiiii. between our volitions, an.d tiM oammm .nf onr thoughts which obeyi thsit' volitions— were we to consider bow we-ait »W© to give attintiOB to nn object for a cer- tun time, and turn our attention to another when we choose, we migbt perhaps find it difficult to determine whether the mind it- self be the sole efficient cause of the volun- tary changes in the direction of our thoughts, or whether it requires the aid of other effi- dent causes. I see no good reason why the dispute about efficient and occasional causes, may not be applied to the power of directing our thoughts, as well as to the power of moving our bodies. In both cases, I apprehend, the dispute is endless, and, if it could be brought to an issue, would be fruitless. Nothing appears more evident to our rea- aon, than that there must be an efficient cause of every change that happens in na- ture. But when I attempt to comprehend the manner in which an efficient cause ope- rates, either upon body or upon mind, there is a darkness which my fscultics are not able to penetrate. [53] However small the immediate effects of human power seem to be, its more remote effects are very considerable. In this respect, the power of man may be compared to the Nile, the Ganges, and other great rivers, which make a figure up- on the globe of the earth, and, traversing vast regions, bring sometimes great benefit, at other times great mischief, to many na- tions : yet, when we trace those rivers to their source, we find them to rise from in- considerable fountains and rills. The command of a mighty prince, what is it but the sound of his breath, modified by his organs of speech ? But it may have great consequences : it may raise armies, equip fleets, and spread war and desoktion over a great part of the earth. The meanest of mankind has considerable power to do good, and more to hurt him- self and others. From this I think we noay conclude, that, although the degeneracy of mankind be groat, and justly to be lamented, yet men, in general, are more disposed to employ their power in doing good, than in doing hurt, to their fellow-men. The kstismuch more in their power than the first ; and, if they were as much disposed to it, human society could not subsist, and the species must soon perish from the earth. We may first consider the effects which may be produced by human power upon the material system. It is confined indeed to the planet which we inhabit ; we cannot remove to another ; nor can we produce any change in the an- nual or diurnal motions of our own. [54] But, by human power, great changes may be made upon the face of the earth ; and those treasures of metals and minerals that are stored up in its bowels, may be disco- vered and brought fofth> The Supreme Being could, no doubt, hav9 made the earth to supply the wants of man, without any cultivation by human labour. Many inferior animals, who neither plant, nor sow, nor spin, are provided for by the bounty of Heaven. But this is not the case with man. He has active powers and ingenuity given him, by which he can do much for supply- ing his wants ; and his labour is made ne- cessary for that purpose. His wants are more than those of any other animal that inhabits this globe; and his resources are proportioned to them, and put within the sphere of his power. The earth is left by nature in such a state as to require cultivation for the accommo- dation of man. It is capable of cultivation, in most places, to such a degree, that, by human labour, it may afford subsistence to an hundred times the number of men it could in its natural state. Every tribe of men, in every climate, must labour for their subsistence and ac- commodation ; and their supply is more or less comfortable, in proportion to the labour properly employed for that purpose. It is evidently the intention of Nature, that man should be laborious, and that he should exert his powers of body and mind for his own, and for the common, good. And, by his power properly applied, be may make great improvement upon the fer- tility of the earth, and a great addition to his own accommodation and comfortable state. [55] By clearing, tilling, and manuring the ground, by planting and sowing, by build- ing cities and harbours, draining marshes and lakes, making rivers navigable, and joining them by canals, by manufacturing the rude materials which the earth, duly cultivated, produces in abundance, by the mutual exchange of commodities and of labour, he may make the barren wilderness the habitation of rich and populous states. If we compare the city of Venice, the province of Holland, the empire of China, with those places of the earth which never felt the hand of industry, we may form some conception of the extent of human power upon the material system, in changing the face of the earth, and furnishing the accom- modations of human life. But, in order to produce those happy changes, man hunself must be improved. His animal faculties are sufficient for the preservation of the species ; they grow up of themselves, like the trees of the forest, which require only the force of nature and the influences of Heaven. His rational and moral faculties, like the earth itself, are rude and barren by nature, bat capable of a high degree of culture ; and 2m ll I #%^' fi«|v|ji j||^'*|*|'vr|ii 'POIATRIIJI. [espaf II. llMi. 'Iiiilfiiiliii% 'Hnhh tlmsO' Willi wImiiii m ilwtij. If wo mmMtat the cluiipi ihftt^ imy be pxodooed by i w n " npon his fiwn. mim ^ i and upon the mmSk of 'Othen, they apiMMr to be Upon hi* own 'mind, be nay malco great^ tepiOfOinont, in acqiiirin|; the tfeiiiiini of 'MMil kninrlo^Oi Ibo' habits of skill/in artS|, mand, and every other virlne. It is the eonstitntioii of nature, that such qnalilaes as omit Bi i4 'dfanify human' .nature' aiV' to iw.a0i|iiMii iy pnpor '•SMRinii'S ^anHs, ny A osfitniiy ' ' gff iwl^wflt i ' ffi fli' qnalitiw aS' liiibaiMi it below the condition of bmtea. Even. upon, tho minds of others, ipeat e0Mts 'may be prodnced by means, within the oompass of human power i by means of good, edwsation, of proper instmetion, of Mrsnasion,. of' good, example, and by tho diseUine of bwa :and. .government. Tmit' these .hate eHen .had. gnat, and good eites ott.'tlw eiviliialiim and improvement of individoals and of natton.B, ean.not be donbted. But what happy eHiectS' they might .havoi if af^lied. nnivonaUy with the ■Ul and address that^ is^ with.in 'the leaoh of human, wisdom, and powor,. is not easily coneeivedy or to what pitoh the happiness of' hninan :iMMty, and the improvement of ' AO' sMeia% mignt be^ ouried. What a'ttoUe, what a divine employment of human power is here assipned us I How ontht it to rouse the ambition of parents, of Instnetiiis, 'Of lawgivers;, of magistrates, of 'Sveiy'man. in his sta^on, to'eontribute his nart' towards the acGomnliahmeiit of' oo liorions an end ! 'The power of man. over hia^ own and olher minds, when we tmce it to its «rigiu, is involved .in d«iiniei% 'uo less than his power to mofo ^his. own .and other .How iur we are 'PMpiily flflMent how §m oeeaslonal 'Oanses, I cannot 'pre- 'tend 'to^ 'determine, [il] Wo know that haiiit produces great ehanges in the mind ; but how it does so, we know not Wo know that example has a powerful, and,, in. the early periiid of liie,' almost an umsioibie eibet i bnt we know not how it prodoees this effect The com- munication of thought, sentiment, and pas- ric, from (..mmd to another, b» soWl thing in it as mysterious as the communi- catinn of':nioticn. ;llrom one body to another.. We perceive one event to 'follow another, according to established laws of nature, and we are aeeustomed '" to 'Call. the first the cause, and the hwt the:.eliM, without know- ing what is the 'bond, that nitea. 'them. In order to |irodnce a certain event, we use meams which, by laws of nature, are con* neeted with, 'that 'Ovent.; and we call our- selves the' cause 'Of ' that event, though other eiicient causes may have had the ^chief hand in its production. Upon tho whol% human power, in ita existence,, m .its extant^ and in its exertions is entirely 'dependint upon Ood, and npon the kws of nature which he has established. This ought to banish pride and arrogance from. thO' most mighty of 'the .sons of men. At the same time, that d^grae of power which we have received frsm. the 'bounty of Heaven, is one of the noblest gifts of CM to man; of whieb we ought not to be in. sensible, thai 'we may 'not 'be 'ungiatefnl, and. that we 'may be^ exeitsd to' 'make the proper use-of it The extent of human power is perfectly suited to the state of man, aa a stete of inpiovement .and disoiplma .It .is suificient to Minate' us^ to tlis noblest exertionB. By the' proper exercise of this gift of 'God, humaB.:nalni%.te.'.hidividnalsand in societies, warn be oxalted. to a h|gh^ degree of 'd%nity .and 'Midty, .and. 'the. earth become n';pani* jHiw|Kd{Hk wlfiiSi 'dl''niiiiMBi i|{||k||MWB|i|{ib^^^K^ i^AJBiai iEJLjm abuse 'la 'the eanse if iml 'Of the evia that liibi ESSAY IL OF TH.B WILL. 'CBAfTIR 'I. .TjiTioiiS' ^cmnaioiiMO m:B mu. EvauT man is. oonsdons 'Of a power to iMerm.ine^ hi. tb:ings 'whidi he eonoeivea 'to' mUttMttt^M^kJm ■■M^hllSllii iHilli^ ijUljmiAjhi^MiML.tiiL.^iJlii i i' ''-'' ■- IW A.L. *"' pwar wegifia 'the .name of' WiU ; and, as il 'is 'uaual, .in the operations' of the mmd, to give the same name to the power and to the ail. of tbat'jpower, the term mill m often pal to' 'iigiilir' the act .'Of determining, which •re pr^iiiiy 'is 'Called oeiilioii.. '¥illliiii| iierefore, :BignilleS' 'the act of I' imm ij OBSERVATIONS CONCERNING THE WILL. willing and determining, and Will is put indifferently to signify either the power of willing or the act But the term wUl has very often, espe- cially in the writings of philosophers, a more extensive meaning, which we must care- fully distinguish from that which we have now given. In the general division of our faculties into Understanding and Will, our {Missions, appetites, and affections are comprehended under the will ; and so it is made to signify, not only our determination to act or not to act, but every motive and incitement to action. [60] It is this, probably, that has led some philosophers to represent desire, aversion, hope, fear, joy, sorrow, all our appetites, passions, and affections, as different modi- fications of the will,* which, I think, tends to confound things which are very different in their nature. 531 The advice given to a man, and his de- termination conseq^uent to that advice, are things so different in their nature, that it would be improper to call thera modifica- tbns of one and the same thing. In like manner, the motives to action, and the de- termination to act or not to act, are things that have no common nature, and, there- fore, ought not to be confounded under one name, or represented as different modifica- tions of the same thing* For this reason,, in speaking of the will in this Essay, I do not comprehend under that term any of the incitements or motives which may have an influence upon our de- terminations, but solely the determination itself, and the power to determine. Mr Locke has considered this operation of the mind more attentively, and dis- tinguished it more accurately, than some very ingenious authors who wrote after him. He defines volition to be, " An act of the mind knowingly exerting that dominion it lakes itself to nave over any part of the man, by employing it in, or withholding it from any particular action.** It may more briefly be defined— The de- termmationof the mind to do, or not to do, sometliine which we conceive to be in our power. [61] If thb were given as a strictly logical de- finition, it would be liable to this objection, that the determination of the mind is only another term for volition. But it ought to be observed, that the most simple acts of the mind do not admit of a logical defini- tion. The way to form a clear notion of them is, to reflect attentively upon them as we feel them in ourselves. Without this reflection, no definition can give us a distinct conception of them. [60-62] Sselbllowing note.— H. For this reason, rather than sift any de- finition of the will, I shall make some ob- servations upon it, which may lead us to re-^ fleet upon it, and to distinguish it from other acte of mind, which, from the ambiguity of words, are apt to be confounded with it First, Every act of will must have an< object. He that wills must will something ; and that which he wills is called the object of his voHtion. As a man cannot think without thinking of something, nor remem- ber without remembering something, so neither can he will vdthout willing some- thing. Every act of will, therefore, must have an object ; and the person who wills must have some conception, more or less distinct, of what he wills. By this, things done voluntarily are dis- tinguished from things done merely from instinct, or merely from habit. A healthy child, some hoursafter its birth, feels the sensation of hunger, and, if applied to the breast, sucks and swallows its food very perfectly. We have no reason to- think, that, before it ever sucked, it has any conception of that complex, operation, or how it is performed. It cannot, there- fore, with propriety, be said that it wills to suck. [62] Numberless instances might be given of things done by animals without any previous conception of what they are to do, without the intention. of doing it. They act by some inward blind impulse, of which the efficient cause is hid from us ; and, though there is an end evidently intended by the action,, this intention is not in the animal, but in its Maker. Other things are done by habit, which cannot properly be called voluntary. We shut our eyes several times every minute while we are awake ; no man is conscious of willing this every time he does it A secotid observation is, That the imme- diate object of will must be some action of our own. By this, will is distinguished from two acts of the mind, which sometimes takes ite name, and thereby are apt to be confounded with it These are desire and command. The distinction between will and desire,, has been well expUiined by Mr Locke ; yet many later writers have overlooked it, and. have represented desire as a modification of will,* Desire and will agree in this, that botli. must have an object, of which we must have some conception ; and, therefore, both must be accompanied with some degree of understanding. But they differ in several things. ♦ R ather— Will as a modiflration of Desire. Thit bM been done.tince Keid, (to say nothing of others.) also by Dr Thomas Btown, in whoue scheme there ii Chui virtua'ly abolished all rational freedom, all rcsponilble agency, all moral distiiicrums.— H. '2 m2 i f ON THl ACTI¥B POWBEi. [■•■AY It; TIm oljeet^ «r tein may W mnjlliiiiji' viMi. apiMtito, 'fMniiiii, or ttffeetioD hm^ m to fommi II umij !»• mj •wml wliWt »•' 'iiiik §Md iirii% or foT' tilow to^ whom we are iroll afleoted. I may deiiro meat, or ilriiiic,.or eaae 'fimn 'Paim.; 'Iwt» to mf 'tial I 'wil wamlk ^ ^"^ ariak, or' «9 eaae f mni nail!, h 'not. Sagiisli.. Tmm k,. Hwre-^ fore, adbiiiietioii in eommon laMWge be- twmm imiM and wiE And the diitiuetbn .% nat what' we will mim 'be an, action, ami oBr-owra'auliini; whatw© detire 'may not te our own aetim..; it may he no action at all. [Ci] A man desires that his ehildieo. may be Jia|>|iy, and that they may behaiW' welL Their being happy is no ^aetion atd t their bebmring w«i 6 not Us^ aetion 'kit theirs. With regpird to our own actions, we may 'desire, what we do not wil.1,^ and'«wii what we do 'not dasuPOi .nay, what we have a great atenfon ta A man a-thir»t has a strong 'desira to drink, hut, for some particidar reason, he determines: not to gntify his desire. A judge, from a :iegHd to Jistloe, .and 'to the duty of his oile%, doomi' a eriminal to die, whik ffom. hnmantly or psrticubr affee- tion, he desties that he should live. A man, for health, may 'laha a nanseoiS: 'dmngbt, 'for 'wbieh he 'has. ao 'deiire^ 'hut a.greal aver- sion. I>esi.re> therefore, even when its objeet is some aetbn of o may be no action .at all. Jm^'IHm ■%" V aSSIIi VB' ^ii'"™ili'iSiaiSiBBiaiHBiWp'iiSW '•■Wa Wiaa'w""''™*' m^mf^^llm ^mwrnWrni cilr s and, as tbay .gO' topther, it .is^ not un- common in language to pve to one the name' 'Which, properly betougS' to another. A command being a voluntary aaiioni there must he a wil to .give tht' 'eommand. &ime desire .is 'oommonly tlMtootfve tolhal: act 'Of will, and the command, is tlie effect of it. [64] .PiiliiipS' it nu^ be 't]ioi||ht. 'tiwl a oonip inaBd'iscmly a.dotirt''isiMSMd Iv hymafaL iif"'lieinf kiM 'if' ho' geeS' on. The man liii...paiied. by 'Contimrj' fotaes, and It requites .neither jndgment nor ex- ertion to yield to ihe stroiqsesi A hnngiy doc .acts. by'Ae"ianM:pfliMip]e, if meat is ^lel 'helire hhn. 'Wlii. a 'thi«aiciiiag to beat .him -if he touch 'it Hnmger' 'ntshea him. forward, 'fear pushes him baok with more: 'foree, and thO' strongest 'foree pfevallfc. 'Tbns 'we :ie% that, in. many eiren. of' our vol.untary actions, we may act fkom the' impnlse of appetite, affection, or passion, W'ith.O'Ut any exercise of Jndgmeiit, and mnch.. m the .same 'manner as hmto ^fi^ift . i iiii t iSomelinei, ^however, there la a 'Cain in. Ihe mind. fam. tho' (nleB of passion or ap» tpelite, and the man is lell to wo A his way, 'In 'the voyage 'Of life, 'without those .im^ pulM'«hlif'thev',gi'vii. Then lie cahnly welipiB: goods .and. evils, which .jure at too great a distsnce to cxdto .any passion. Me Mfaig any 'biaa ' dravhig. :Um. to 'Ona tide. He iidgBS fbr himself aa he wouM: do 'for anotlier in hia .situation ; and 'the determin- ation, is wholly tmpntahle to the man, and .not hi any degree to his passinn. Every man eomc'to ywis of understand^' inZk who haS' siwi anv attention 'to US'inin conduct, and to that of diieiS, has, ui hit mind, a scale or measure of oooda and evils, more or less aiael.. He :nialEaB< an aatimato of the Tihw: nf .health., 'of ' reputation, of liahei, 'Of''plaaanm,. of virtue, of aeU-appro- batkm, andoftbe«ppiobation of his ifiker. These thingp%. and their eontraries, .have a comparative iinpiirlaMe'-iB. :hia cool, and de- tlbers'to |udgpnent. When a man considers whether health ought to be preferred to bodily strength, fametorMiii..| whether a good^mMMnee and 'the approbation 'Of.:hlB.llalfer| to every* thing that can come ht competition with It; this appears to me to be an exercise of judgment, and not any impulse of passion or appetite. Iprerything 'worthy of pursuit, must be so, either intrinsically, and upon its own ac- count, or as the means of procuring some- thhig that la Intr in s ic a lly valuable. Tlut it is by jnd^entthat we disoem the fitness of means for attaining an end, is self-evi- dent ; and in this, I think, aU philosophers agree. But that it is the office of judgment •f|liPiHli'^iii"S^i^JI ^v^^HnlirWi' ^iBilllliiliP' IP'WP^ ^Ir'VM^w '"'liiP'WiHP^lw '^W^IF^I" " ^p WSHhB™p'lF'S*^y'''Sh e Spv not granted by some pb.ioiopherB. [71 1 In determining what is good or ill, and, of different goods, which is best, they tUnlc we must he guided, not by judgment, but by some natnral m .aoqnired. taste, which makes us relish one thing and dislike an- other. 'Thus, if one man p leCna 'Cheese to lob- .itofi, .another kbste'rs 'to cheese, it :is vain, :say they, to apply judrro I 'think we may .form a jndgPMnty ■both in the question .abont/\llTl!iiic! [aSSAY If* tUtel, nun tlm to any «>(licr : aid 'Hilt stteiitidii. more, but fhiiu Mm» impuie 'Or prapmiilft gniiiiiitd. iin.iiatim' nr iiaML It h vei :iiio«ii. Unl. Hiiiip :iimp ^ani viip iMUf'iMMi'llMiMk'MI' ^'MraWftiriMB MMAiVHJV lA'Wftjfl jaSHiS|H|M,jBH, AsHMiJili" .^^^^ beantifali diaw our .attonliiiiii boI in. |iro- nortion. to' tlio inttreat we Imve, or tliinic we laW' :iii them, lMit;tii a niMli groator fni-' fortwn. ti«i% ilniiiB our attentiiHi, '▼eijfoileiii.'iiMive 'tbu. we wiak You deBire a man not if» Hitiilc of an nn- furtttiiate event whkli 'lofiaenta 'him. It admits of' no 'nmedj. 'The thought of it anaweiB no pimioee but to heep the wound bleeding. He u ^iMilieetljr 'Ooovinoed of all jon. eaj. Me hnowa that .he would not^ feel 'the aiBetion, if he eonld onijr'not 'think of it I yet he hardly thinks of anything ehew. Strange' I when .haminem and misery stand befire 'HPi ^and 'oMieiid. i im b .Ma^ ■dioiae- be ebotnaS' WMtantm wj id nieelS' ban* pbMiB with bis eyes open.''! Yet be wiabeS' to' be 'hap|»y, as^ all inen do. How .shall we leeoneie this oontra- dietion between bis judgvant' and biS' eon* duelf The aeoonnt of it seems to me to be this : The ailieting event draws his .atton- 'tlon. so strongly, by a natural, -and. Mind 'force,, that be eilber .hatb not tiO''pow«r, 'Or bath not the vigour of mind to resist its impulse, though he knows that to yield to it is 'misery, without any good to habui:0e.iL US'] Aeuie bodily 'paln draws, nmr .attention, and makes, it imry diilleu',lt' to^ attend to' 'any thing else, even when attention to the pain seirves: nO' other purpose but to aggravate it 'tenfold- 'The nan who played a gaPie' at diess in the .agony of' 'the gonl, to engsga bis atten-' tion to another ohjeet, aeted the reason- nenS' $ ' bat it 'required a great eibrt to give that attention to his game wbidi was ne- cessary to produee tlw eHwt' iiteadid. 'hgr .Even. when, there is 'no partieular objeet 'tikat draws away out' attention, there is a desultoriness of thoa|pit 'In. ;nian, and in soflM 'moro' than 'in etlMn,. 'wbieb. 'makes 'it vety diinilt to^..,give 'that Ised attentioB to' teportaat' aljeelB' 'wbieb. :iiaai». m niiea. It wpean^ I 'tibk, ipon. 'what baS' been :8Bid, tnat the attention, we give to objeeto is. for tho 'most 'part voluntary $ that a great .part nf ' wisdom, .and. virtno' omsiste in, gmng' m proper dhnetion to' our attention' |. m. thai, :how«v«r laaaonalle this appears te the ludgment of evefy nan, yet, 'm wmm easiea, 'it :rei|nlras. an eibrt of iSMf-eomnand no .lam than thO' must beroio vutnaa* f . . Awitber D|ifefaliiNi that may he called tPof«atery> is DsHt^erttlaon about what wo are to dio or to forbear* B'very man knows that it is. in. his 'power to deliberate: .or not to. deMbenite about au'V pari, of' 'Ms aandBol:! 'to deUbecate for a shorter' or a longer time, 'more earelessly or moro' iiiiiNisIyi and, when be has reason wniP' wiP'aasirBi"ii"ip'W' WiBiBimwa iswiaap 'mBnn^B^wwwip'iBB •■H^^wyp bp^^^w^ ••■^p jidgmant, be 'maf 'either honestly use the best meaaS' it his power to fo.rm an impar- tial judgment, or he nay yield to-his bias, and o.nFy :Mdi avmelite to justify what inclination leada. 'Ini. to^ do. In ai. those points, be detormlnes, he wills the right or the wrong. [83] The general rules of deliberatton are ''perfeetly evident to reason, when we con- 'ilPili^llS'^lP 11' WBta^WIWIilii 'SSPlilPWiFWS*''Wii^lFWW!a|Jr e' *M* ••^■^^^W ■^•' ^BF ^^^mmtW^^i^mMMmm ••t™. 'morals* We ought not to deliberate in cases that are perfectly dear. No man dolibarateo whether he ought to' ehoose .happiness or niierj. ' No 'honest 'man MibeiateS' whether be shall steal bis neighbour's property. Whan the ease is not clear, when it ia of 'importance, and when, there is time fur deiberation, wa 'Oqght to deliberate with m.ore or losa earei, :in 'proportion to the in* portenoe of the action. In deliberation we ought to weigh things in an even balance, and to allow to every consideration the weight 'Which, 'in sober judgment, we think it ought to have, and. no 'mor& This is to deliberate impartially. Our deliberation should 'he brought to an issue in due time, .SO' that wa .may not hise the opport'unity of aeliqg whUa wa 'deliberate. Tm axioms of Euclid do not appear to' ne to have a greater dmee of self-evidenoe 'than these .rues 'Of delibemtion. And aS' liMwt. apuoves of him, .and he has confi- dence of the approbation of the Searcher of 'But though thO' namer' in which we ought to del&erate' 'be evidant 'to 'reason, it is not atwaya easy to follow it. Our appe- tites, our ilfection and passions, oppose all dililieration, h«t that' whwh is employad .:in. tbaM mm 'the neauB 'Of their irratticalion* Avarice nay lead te deliberate upon the ways of nattig money, but it does not dimignish between the honest and the dis- Wa 'Oqghl fuvsly te deliberate bow far appetite :and pwion^ 'may bO' in- dulged, and what limito should be eet to it Bat 'OUT .appetites, and psssions^push ^us on to: ths' attaanmiut of their 'Obiects. in tha 'UPSSIWlpilia WtIpBWW SI' ^■PSa^'Sliiii WHNS WW iHrt^wBf'P'l^ ^ ^W^P'ffWWj w ■ ^i^Tw ■ Thus it happens, that. If we yield to their impulse, wo shall, often 'transgress thoso " of 'deliberation wilehMimapprovei^ this eoniict 'between the dictates of [82-84 1 Oil Af. III-l OF VOLUNTARY OPERATIONS. 539 fCASon, and the blind impulse of passion, we must voluntarily determine. When we take part with our reason, though in oppo- sition to passion, we approve of our own oondoct. What we call a fault of ignorance, is always owing to the want of due delibera- tion. When we do not toke due pains to be rightly informed, there is a fault, not indeed in acting according to the light we have, but in not using the proper means to get light For if we judge wrong, after using the proper means of information, there is no fault in acting according to that wrong judgment ; the error is invincible. The natural consequence of deliberation on any part of our conduct, is a determina- tion how we shall act; and if it is not brought to this issue it is lost labour. Thero are two cases in which a deter- mination may take place— when the oppor- tunity of putting it in execution is present, and when it is at a distance. When the opportunity ia present, the determination to act is immediately fol- lowed by the action. Thus, if a man de- termine to rise and walk, he immediately does it, unless he is hindered by force, or has lost the power of walking. And if he sit still when he has power to walk, we conclude infallibly that he has not deter- mined or willed to walk immediately. Our determination or will to act, is not always the result of deliberation, it may be the effect of some passion or appetite, with- out any judgment interposed. And when judgment is interposed, we may determine and act either according to that judgment or contrary to it [85] When a man sits down hungry to dme, he eate from appetite, very often without exercising his judgment stall; nature in vites, and he obeys the call, as the ox, or the horse, or as an infant does. When we converse with persons whom we love or respect, we say and do civil things merely from affection or from re- spect. They flow spontaneously from the heart, without requiring any judgment. In such cases we act as brute-animals do, or as children before the use of reason. We feel an impulse in our nature, and we yield to it When a man eats merely from appetite, he does not consider the pleasure of eating, or its tendency to health. These considera- tions are not in his thoughts. But we can suppose a man who eats with a view to en- joy the pleasure of eating. Such a man rea- sons and judges. He will take care to use the proper means of procuring an appetite. He will be a critic in tastes, and make nice dis- crimmations. This man uses his rational faculties even in eating. And however contemptible this application of them may [85-871 be, it is an exercise of which, I apprehend, brute-animals are not capable. In like manner, a man may say or do ci- vil thmgs to another, not from affection, but in order to serve some end by it, or be- cause he thinks it his duty. To act with a view to some distant rate- rest, or to act from a sense of duty, seems to be proper to man as a reasonable being ; but to act merely from passion, from appe- tite, or from affection, is common to him with the brute-animals. In the last case there is no judgment required, but in the first there is. [86] To act against what one judges to be for his real good, upon the whole, is folly. To act against what he judges to be his duty, is immorality. It cannot be denied that there are too many instances of both m hu- man life. Video mcliora probcgae, deterif.ra sequor, is neither an impossible nor an un- frequent case. While a man does what he really thmks wisest and best to be done, the more his appetites, his affections, and passions draw him the contrary way, the more he ap- proves of his own conduct, and the more he is entitled to the approbation of every rational being. 3. The third (operation of mmd I men- tioned, which may be called voluntary, is, a Fixed Purpose or Resolution with regard to our future conduct This naturally takes place, when any ac- tion, or course of action, about which we have deliberated, is not immediately to be executed, the occasion of acting bemg at some distance. . A fixed purpose to do, some time hence, something which we believe shall then be in our power, is strictly and properly a de- termination of will, no less than a deter- mination to do it instantly. Every defini- tion of volition agrees to it. Whether the opportunity of doing what we bave deter- mined to do be present or at some distance, is an accidental circumstance which does not affect the nature of the determination, and no good reason can be assigned why it should not be called volition in the one case, as well as in the other. A purpose or re- solution, therefore, is truly and properly an act of will. Our purposes are of two kinds. wo may call the one par/icw/ar, the other gene- ral. By a particular purpose, I mean that which has for its object an individual action, lunited to one time and place ; by a general purpose, that of a course or train of action, intended for some general end, or regulated by some general rule. [87] Thus, I may purpose to go to London next winter. When the time comes, I exe- cute my purpose, if I continue of the san e mind ; and the purpose, when executed, la O.V THE ACTIVE POWEEa 1»A:Y m CHAP. IV J COROLLARIES. 541 tm tmn, .TliiiS' il w witli mmj pMrtieukr ptifOie. A pMnl^ pnrpow mmj eontiiiiie hr life | and, alter wmmy puFtieulsr aetioM liaTO Immi lione in eimM|iwiii0 fif it, may ;t«iiiaiM. :MmI. vmtlato 'iilim' aeHmiB. Thus, a jtyung nian froposes to follow tlie pnifemioii of law, of medietne, or of theoingy. TIlii' .aeneial, futpoae directs tlM eoiime of iis lealli^' aii stiidj. II direela him in the ehoiee of his eompuy and eon- panions, and even of hisdiveOMiia.. Il de- termines his travels and the phMe of his ahdtoi. It has .inflneniie upon niS' dress and 'Mamers, and a «onsidecahlb elfeot in form- ing his. ehaiwiter. There are other £xed pirpoees which have a still, greater eUset in forming the eharaeter. I mean, sneh as regard our auk lal eondnet. Suppose a man to have ejcerdsed his in* teUeetnal and moral faculties, so far as to have diilinet' nutions of justice' and injus- lice,, .and 'Of Hie 'Cwnsequences of both, .and,, after in«' delheiation, to' have fomieda fixed purpose to .adtere iniex.ibly to^ inslice, and never to handle the wages of ;ini|iit7* Is not this the man. whnm. w% ahimld etll a just 'man? We'Onnaiderthe'nioiBlvirtnes as .inherent in the mhid.of a good man, even when thero is mo opportunity of exercising thera. And wiMt is it in tihe mind which we can. call the virtue of justicci when it is not ezereiiedf It can m notlilng but a fixed purpose^ or determination, to act ao* flordii^ to' tlw rules of justice, when there is opportuaily. [88] The Roman kw defined jnsticey j|'.jri0ia% amd ptrpiimai mMl 10 fiiw to tmrry imm. 'mi dm. When the opportunity nf doing jus- lice' is not present, this can mean, mihing' '•Ise' thaoa stedhr' 'porpoee, n^hich is very pro-, perly 'Caied wuL »uch a purpoee, m it hi steady, will infallibly produce jusl con- 'dud. .;. for every known transgressloii. of jus- tice' 'demonstnites.a change of pirpose^. at .least' tuf 'tiiat time* What 'has 'been said of justice, may be so 'Casiy^appied..'to 'every other moral virtue, thai it is nnneeessary to give instances. Th«r .am ai. fi.xed. puriMMea of' .actii^f .ae^ cormng to a certain rule.* • .Mr Stc«art| f • PUloMfliy 'OT fie Active spd Metal Wvmwt" i. v^ MtHh} la adeiiiliig' titedSfT' " ■•It—'* AgfteiUf to flili vww of lit ini||ist, andent ]*fttMflM«BM iici:iiei vifHat to Im * wm liiif«f',. tit'OUeit dei.iii.bii 'Of virtiwof' 'vilcfe 'we bavc anf .acmU'iil. ami 'one of tit niMi 111^ exceptiomalile'if Mtli to ;f«t lo be fSm'tid, In anf .tftiaai fftin»-*A'.AfiiA«. 'ftff' «lff :i»ti 'wS''lii » wi p | g ' that tin. dtr 'ttie 'oaiDt of 'I'hfaaet. Ilie-titlllllt-attritiutad tO' 'thia 'idilliiMiDlict II. nomnut. lifet' >!■* other P«. gLib||jiiiig_iy_iiiiiii^^ ,jipi_iu||^|||||g|B|||ir|||ii^^ jiiiigiyii^|ijHu||yiuii^^ '^Pllluiiii idlljayiWMliflMLMaft vvk luatHoiik 'WtfhlSriraMiit niotai ipioffliiof lta.'prataiMM 'tiitkor.'«iaii ^N^wnt apitooit 'Of ' AMotle, wliOb.«iii' lillt Ikilli tM iImm* i W — 'i— .... Ilm li^n .camnuiiilit By this, the virtues may be eastlv dis. tinguished. in thought at least, from nMural afi'ectiuns that bear the same name. Thus, benevolonoe .Is a 'Capital virtue, which, thongh 'Wit iH necessa^ 'to the being of .so- eiety, fe 'entitled to a hi||her deg'ree orappro- bation than, even justice. But there is a natural affection of benevolence, common to' mod and bad men, 'to' tlw virtuous and to tlie vieiouSa' .How sliall 'thesc' be distin- guished? In practice^ indeed, we cannot distinguish th'em. 'in utiier men, ^aiid with 'dittenlty in ourselves 1 but, in. llieevy, aotbiii^ b rn'ore^ easy. The 'vhrlne' of' benevolsnca' is a fixed purpose or resolution to do good when we have opprtunity, from a conviction that it :is righL and la our duty. The afiieetion. of beneviilMM«»'is a pmpeiimy to do good, 'il*om ■»lnlm>titii^«r bbit, witl^ n>gud 'to' reetitode or duty. There .are good 'temperS' and bad, which arO' .a part of the eoBstitulion of' the' man, and are really iuvolmtar^, tbongh th'ey of- ten lead to voluntary actions. A good na- tural temper is not virtue, nor is^ a bad 'One vice. Hard would it be indeed to think, that a man. ^mwM ^be honi' ■■dor a decree of'rcprobal'li»,beeans«: be .has'lbe 'misfor- tune of a 'bad. 'natural temper. [89] The physiognom.i0l saw, in the features of Socrates, the 8ign.atures of many bad tlisposilioM, which that good man acknow lodged, he fell withhi h'iai.| but the trium.ph of his virtue was the gieater in having con- quered them. In men who have no fixed rules of con. dMll,'Wi'Self-govemment|.tbe natural temper man. who it Mk of albction and benevolence thiS' hour, when .a eross accident happens to rufile .hn% 'Or' perhaps when an easterly wind 'bl#w% ;fMis '■ Miaiige' 'revolution in his temper. Tlit 'hind and benevolent ^j%f f: | imif giT0 place to the jealons and malignant, which are as readily indulged in he 'feels a 'pwpeMilj to indnlge' 'tbem. We .may observe^ thai .men. who have exercised tiieir rational powers, are generally governed la their upiBions by fiited. prin* ciples 'Of' 'belief 't and 'men who have 'made the greatest advance in self-government, are fovemed, in their practice, by general fixed pnifCies. Without the former, there 'WouM''he: .M> ^sleadinaes and consistence in our 'belief .{ 'nor witiMml the latter, in our When a 'man. Is eeme 'to years of under- j, from. :iiia' ednoilioni firm his^oom* 'pany, m 'from bis islndy, 'bo liums to hi'S'- seifaiil of general principles, a creed, which viewed aa hiimseir 'the plaglarM. Eihitt, I wmj ob- «ff% Sit ti:iii mi 'dtutisiiiiated Jkmmm^K 1 governs his Judgment in particular points that occur. . , .:, ^ - ,. .• u If new evidence is laid before hira which tends to overthrow any of his received principles, it requires in him a great degree of candour and love of truth, to give it an impartml examination, and to form a new judgment. Most men, wlien they are fixed in their principles, upon what they account sufficient evidence, can hardly be drawn into a new and serious examination of them. [90] They get a habit of believing them, which is strengthened by repeated acts, and re- mains immoveable, even when the evidence upon which their belief was at first grounded, is forgot. . It is this that makes conversions, either from religious or political principles, so difficult. . . 1 ^ . A mere prejudice of education sticks fast, as a proposition of Euclid does with a man who hath long ago forgot the proof. Both indeed are upon a similar footing. We rest in both, because we have long done so, and think we received them at first upon good evidence, though that evidence be quite forgot. When we know a man's principles, we judge by them, rather than by the degree of his understanding, how he will deter- mine in any point which is connected with Thus, the judgment of most men who Judge for themselves is governed by fixed principles ; and I apprehend that the con- duct of most men who liave any self-govern- ment, and any consistency of conduct, is governed by fixed purposes. A man of breedmg may, in his natural temper, be proud, passionate, revengeful, and in his morals a very bad man ; yet, in good company, he can stifle every passion that is inconsistent with good breeding, and be humane, modest, complaisant, even to those whom in his heart he despises or hates. Why is this man, who can com- mand all his passions before company, a slave to them in private? The reason is plain : He has a fixed resolution to be a man of breeding, but hath no such resolu- tion to be a man of virtue. He hath com- bated his most violent passions a thousand times before he became master of them in company. The same resolution and per- sc%'erance would have given him the com- mand of them when alone. [91] A fixed resolution retains its influence upon the conduct, even when the motives te it are not in view, in the same manner as a fixed principle retains its influence upon the belief, when the evidence of it la forgot. The former may be called a habit of the wUlj the hitter a habit of the under- jttttwHnff, By such habits chiefly, men are [90-92] governed in their opinions and in their practice. A man who has no general fixed pur- poses, may be said, as Pope says of most women, (I hope unjustly,) to have no cha- racter at all. He will be honest or dis- honest, benevolent or malicious, compas- sionate or cruel, as the tide of his passions and affections drives him. This, however, I believe, is the case of but a few m ad- vanced life, and these, with regard to con- duct, the weakest and most contemptible of the species. A man of some constancy may change his general purposes once or twice in life, seldom more. From the pursuit of pleasure in early life, he may change to that of am- bition, and from ambition to avarice. But every man who uses his reason in the con- duct of life, wi;i have some end, to which he gives a preference above all others. To this he steers his course; his projects and his actions will be regulated by it. With- out this, there would be no consistency m his conduct. He would be like a ship in the ocean, which is bound to no port, under r,o government, but left to the ifiercy of winds and tides We observed before, that there are moral rules respecting the attention we ought to give to objects, and respecting our delibe- rations, which are no less evident than mathematical axioms. The same thing may be observed with respect to our fixed purposes, whether particular or general. Is it not self-evident, that, after due de- liberation, we ought to resolve upon that conduct, or that course of conduct, which, to our sober judgment, appears to he best and most approvable ?— that we ought to be firm and steady in adhering to such re- solutions, while we are persuaded that they are right ; but open to conviction, and ready to change our course, when we have good evidence that it is wrong ? Fickleness, inconstancy, facility, on tne one hand, wilfuUiess, inflexibihty, and ob- stinacy, on the other, are moral qualities, respecting our purposes, which every one sees to be wrong. A manly firmness, grounded upon rational conviction, is the proper mean which every man approves and reveres. CHAPTER IV. CUROLLABISS. From what has been said concerning tha will, it appears— First, That as some acts of the will are transient and momentary, so others are j^r- manent, and may ctutiuue for a long tune. 1 '^401' ON THl ACTIVE TOWMM. f IISAY 'Hi mMW. IV.] OF THE PRINCIPLES OF ACFION. 54S i 'Of' •Tcn, tlmiigli tlie whole count of war ntifiMiI 'lile. Whan I wii. to .itretcli. nut mj liui4 tlisi will. 18 M ftn end iia wioii as fhe aetion i« done. li is m act of the wiU which be- guW' and. tnda in a moment. But when I win to atttnd to a mathcnatical |iiw»i^ tion:, to examine the dennmalniiiii, aai the enMe^nemxa that may he drawn from it, thia wii maj tBontinne for hours. It must ewtia^ue aa .iMif m nj .attention eontimia i fer no man atteadb. to' a nathiaatiCBl pii- I>08ition longer than he willi. The aame thing may be said nf dillbtia^ lliiw, with, regard, either to .any point of 'Conduct, or with, rmrd to ■mtj general cnuite' 'Of conduct We wii to deibento aalongaawe dodelibetato; and that may he for days or for 'weein. [i!} A imrpoee or rtsolutien, vhich we have shewn to he .an .act. of tie wi% 'may con- tinue for a gnsat part of life, or for the whole, aHer we an of age to form a resolu. 'Tha% a nerehaat may nsolffi^, 'tliat,. aUtr he haS' Hide mdk a ;iirtune by 'tnih, 'he will give it up, and retire to a country life. Me may continue' this resolution for ■Ibhfly or 'forty jutn,, and eseeuto it at fast ; hut he continues it no' 'hngtr 'than, lie wills, for he may at any time duu^ Ma umIu- tion«. There aro' theicfore .acts of the wiU. which .are npt tian^nl and mumentaiy, which ma^ continue' 'hmg, and grow into' a habit This deserves the mure to be observed, be- cause a very eminent pMlowipher' has ad- vancid. a euntiaiy 'prineiplto.— to wit, 'That •II "the acts of' Itw 'wH art tranaien.t and momentary ; and from that principle has. drawn very important conclusions, with n«pwd to what eonatitutes tbC' mural eha-' A MMMtf eorolkrj is— That nothing hi a man, idierein the will is not coneemei, can Justly be accounted either virtuous or im- moral* That no blame can he imputed, to m man «w^h»t » rit^Wsther invohmtaiy, la^ m evidtani in itself, 'that no ai|umiiiit ^ tm make it more evident. The practice' of all ■eiiiMnrf 'Courts, in all enlightened, nations, IS, fMmded upon it If it should be thought an ollMliiMi to ibis maxim, that, by the laws of all nf^jti n, ehiiTCn: oitansiifferforthecfimeS'Of parents, .in 'whleh 'they had no. hand, the answer is 'Casy. [M] For, >*#, Such is the connection between farents and children, that the punishment 'Of a parent mist hurt, hia 'eUUnn whethw the law 'Will .or not If a 'man h Mned, or imiprisoned— if he loses MIb, or^ Ihnb,, or uiiftte, or reputation, bythe hand of justice— .bik'Chddren luibr by necessary consequence. St9§n^f Whtn laws intond to appoint any MBishment of innocent children for the 'lither% crime, such kws arv' 'dtlier' unjust,, or they are to he considered as aetaof police, and not of jurisprudence^ and are intended is aa expediont to' deter parents more ef. iMstually ;imm the commiiBion of the crime. The inntwenl «hidttii| In this case, are sacrificed to thepuUiegood,in like manner as, to prevent the spreading of the plague* tiM aonnd are. sh,ut nn with, the inlMitod .m a house or ship that has the mfection. By the kw of Enghmd, if a man is killed b^ an ox goring him, or a cart running over him, thoi^ there be no fault or neglect ui the owner, the ox or the cart is a timdand^ wA is confiscated to the church. The i^gishitnre surely did not intend to punish the ox as a criminal, far less the cart The intontion evidently was, to inspure the peopfe with a sacred regard to the life of When the Parliament of Paris, with a similar intention, ordained the house in which Ravilhae was bom, to be raaed to the ground, and never to ho wbuit, it would be frcat' veakaosa 'to 'Condndo, that the wise judicature intended to punish the houscb If any judicature sliould, in any instance, find a man luiltv, and an object of punish- ment, for whattlii^ allowed to be altogether involuntary, all the world would condemn tliem as men who knew nothing of the firot and most fundamtatal rules of justleob mi I have endeavoured to shew, that, in our attention to objects, in order to form a right judgment of them; in our deliberation about particukr actions, or about general rules or conduct ; in our purposes and leso- lutions, aa well as in the execution of them, the will has a principal sliare. If any man could bo found, who, in the whole course of his life, had riven due attention to things that concern hhn, had deliberated du|y and impartially about his conduct, had formed his resolutions, and executed them accord- .mg' 'to' his best. Jui%menl and capacity, surely such a man 'ml^t hold up his face before Qod and man, and plead innocence. He must be acquitted by the impartial Judge, whatever his natural, 'temper was, whatever hia. passions aid alleetions, as lar as they 'wwe Involuntanf. A thw4 coroiary is, Tliat all virtuous habits, when we distinguish them from vir^ tnous actions, consist in fi.xed nuifiosoo of aetuig aoeording to the rules of virtue, aa often as 'wO' :have opportunity. We can. conceive in a mtiu a greater or a .liai dMTM of steadiness, to his purposes or .resohitlona„| 'but that the general tenor of hiS' condnol shonM ho coatniry to them, is im'possible.. The man who has a icteraiined rcsok- [93- 95 J tion to do his duty in every instance, and who adheres steadily to his resolution, is a perfect man. The man who has a deter- nimed purpose of carrying on a course of action which he knows to be wrong, is a hardened offender. Between these extremes there are many intermediate degrees of virtue and vice, [i^fij ESSAY III. OF THE PRINCIPLES OF ACTION. PART I. OF THB MECHANICAL PRINCIPLES OP ACTION. CHAPTER I. Of THS PRINCIPLIS OP ACTION IN 6BNSRAL. In the strict philosophical sense, nothing can be called the action of a man, but what he previously conceived and willed or de- termined to do. In morals we commonly employ the word in this sense, and never impute anything to a man as his doing, in which his will was not interposed. But when moral imputation is not concerned, we call many things actions of the man, which he neither previously conceived nor willed. Hence the actions of men have been dis- tinguished into three classes— the voluntaii/y the involuntary, and the mixed. By the last are meant such actions as are under the command of the will, but are conamonly performed without any interposition of will. We cannot avoid using the word action In this popular sense, without deviating too much from the common use of language ; and it is in this sense we use it when we inquire into the principles* of action in the human mmd. By principles* of action, I understand everything that incites us to act* [98] If there were no incitements to action, active power would be given us in vain. Having no motive to direct our active ex- ertions, the mind would, in all cases, he in a state of perfect indifference, to do this or that, or nothing at all. The active power would either not be exerted at all, or its ex- ertions would be perfectly unmeaning and frivolous, neither wise nor foolish, neither good nor bad. To every action that is of the smallest importance, there must be some incitement, some motive, some rea- son. • It would have been tietter to have here subiti. tuted another word (aa CauM) for the aBbigvout 9e--99] It is therefore a most important part of the philosophy of the human mind, to have a distinct and just view of the various prin- ciples of action, which the Author of our being hath planted in our nature, to ar- range them properly, and to assign to every one its rank. By this it is, that we may discover the end of our being, and the part which is as- signed us upon the theatre of life. In this part of the human constitution, the noblest work of God that falls within our notice, we may discern most clearly the character of Him who made us, and how he would have us to employ that active power which he hath given us. I cannot, without great diffidence, enter upon this subject, observing that almost every author of reputation, who has giveu attention to it, has a system of his own ; and that no man has been so happy as to give general satisfaction to those who came after him. There is a branch of knowledge much valued, and very justly, which we call know- ledge of the world, knowledge of mankind, knowledge of human nature. This, I think, consists in knowing from what principles men generally act ; and it is commonly the fruit of natural sagacity joined with expe- rience. [99] , , , J A man of sagacity, who has had occasion to deal in interesting matters, with a great variety of persons of different age, sex, rank, and profession, learns to judge what may be expected from men in given cmium- stances; and how they may be most effec- tually induced to act the part which he de- sires. To know this is of so great import- ance to men m active life, that it b called knowing men, and knowing human nature. This knowledge may be of considerable use to a man who would speculate upon the subject we have proposed, but is not, by it- self, sufficient for that purpose. The man «f the worid conjectures, per- haps with great probability, how a man will act in certain given circumstances ; and this is all he wants to know. To enter m- to a detail of the various principles whush . influence the actions of men, to give thsm U^ I.IIIS At/ 1 I VIS FilW««*«5» LmAY m.— PABT It distnot' 11M1081. to dtiiM Umb,. ftnd to ai- wrtoin 'tiMir iifennt |iiwriiiM%. is tlw buH- iMt of A pliiliisoplier, and not of a iiian of tlie world ; andj/iiidced, tl m a matter atteiidMl F'in^ On. aMoumt'Of tiiO' gnal ntunlMr of aeitvo prbei|ilM ttial Inineneo ^Im ^aAtfens. of tmm, Ma^ii iks, not without nsason, been «aUed. an epitiiine of the univene. .Hit bodj, bj wbieli bis mwd is greatly alfeeted, 'being » lurt of' thtt 'material ajstem, la aubteet to all the laws of inan:imate matter. During mnm part of his^ exbtemei bii state' it very like that of m T^getaUa. ' Me 'fiM% 'bjr im- 'peree|ftilile de|feea, to the animal, .and, at .last, to the rational 'life, and ban the princi- ptoS' lliat belong to all. J'.iiiifi«r cause of the diieulty 'Of "tiaduf tb«' variouS' pirinei|ile8' of aetion lii. man, is, That the sameaelioii, nay, the aame'COurae and train of action may proceed from very dtffeioni nrimiplei. |1IMI1 Mim mm afiO' fend of a hypothesis, com- nonl|r seek, no ntbcr' pvoof or its truth, but that, il seinres to' aeeount for the appear- ances which it is brought to expbin. This is * vm slippeqr .kind of proof in 'every part ofphiiowiphy, .and never to be trusted ; but, 'least' of al.l, when the appeamwes to bo' laeeounted for are 'human actions. Most .actionS' proceed Irom a variety of prindples eoneiirring in their direction $ and. .aeoordhig as we "are disposed to judge favourably or unfavourably of the person, or of human nature' k general, we impute thflm. wholly to th« bes^ |iffj'lif, MiiliM, ^ffhiitm^ tfi- iifmit fMuofi, cannot 'bt' said to have one deliniteaigniiiiiien.. ^ They are taken some- tinea 'in. n hnnr, and aonietimes in a more liiirited.:ieniKr' The :iaiiie principle Is aome. times 'Called 'bv one ^of ' 'those names, some- tunes by aonther ; and principles of a very [100-1081 CHAP. I'li] INSTINCT. 545 m To remedy this confusion of names, it might, perhaps, seem proper to invent new ones. But there are so few entitled to this privilege, that I shall not lay claim to it ; but shall endeavour to class the various principles of human action as distinctly as I am able, and to point out their specific differences; giving them such names as may deviate from the common use of the words as little as possible. There are some principles of action which require no attention, no deliberation, no will. Tliese, for distinction's sake, we shall call mechanical. Another class we may call animal f as they seem common to man with other animals. A third class we majr call rational, being proper to man as a rational creature.* 1103] CHAPTER I INSTINCT. The mechanical principles of action may, I think, be reduced to two species— t»»*/i/ic/s and ftaltitx. By Instinct, I mean a natural blind im- pulse to certain actions, without having any end in view, without deliberation, and very often without any conception of what we do. . Thus, a man breathes while he is alive, by the alternate contraction and relaxation of certain muscles, by which the chest, and of consequence the lungs, are contracted and dikted. There is no reason to think that an infant new-born knows that breath- ing is necessary to life in its new state, that he knows how it must be performed, or even that he has any thought or conception of that operation ; yet he breathes, as soon as he is born, with perfect regularity, as if he hjvl been taught, and got the habit by long practice. By the same kind of principle, a new- born child, when its stomach is emptied, and nature has brought milk into the mo- ther's breast, sucks and swallows its food as perfectly as if it knew the principles of that operation, and had got the habit of working according to them. Sucking and swallowing are very complex operations. Anatomists describe about thirty pairs of muscles that must be era- ployed in every draught. Of those muscles, every one must be served by its proper nerve, and can make no exertion but by some influence communicated by the nerve. The exertion of all those museles and nerves is nut simultaneous. They must succeed each • On this elMtlfl^olion of R»id. •« Mr Stewart'ii •triotnm, m bit •• Philowiplif «f the Acuve fowera, I. pik l«, W. Hwdititfon I would i-refer, is difler- Cfit fhmi that oTtttlier pbaoMpber.— H. [103-105] other in a certain order, and their order is no less necessary than the exertion itself. [104] This regukr train of operations is carried on according to the nicest rules of art, by the infant, who has neither art, nor science, nor experience, nor habit. That the infant feels the uneasy sensation of hunger, I admit ; and that it sucks no longer than till this sensation be removed. But who informed it that this uneasy sensa- tion might be removed, or by what means ? That it knows nothing of this is evident ; for it will as readily suck a finger, or a bit of stick, as the nipple. By a like principle it is, that infants cry when thev are pained or hurt ; that they are afraid when left alone, especially in the dark ; that they start when in danger of falling ; that they are terrified by an angry counte- nance, or an angry tone of voice, and are soothed and comforted by a pkcid counte- nance, and by soft and gentle tones of voice. In the animals we are best acquainted with, and which we look upon as the more perfect of the brute creation, we see much the same instincts as in the human kind, or very similar ones, suited to the particular state and manner of life of the animal. Besides these, there are in brute animals instincts peculiar to each tribe, by which they are fitted for defence, for ofi'ence, or for providing for themselves, and for their ofi-spring. It is not more certain that nature hath furnished various animals with various weapons of offence and defence, than that the same nature hath taught them how to use them : the bull and the ram to butt, the horse to kick, the dog to bite, the lion to use his paws, the boar his tusks, the serpent his fangs, and the bee and wasp their sting. [ 105] The manufactures of animals, if we may call them by that name, present us with a wonderful variety of instincts, belonging tc particular species, whether of the social or of the solitary kind ; the nests of birds, so simikr in their situation and architecture in the same kind, so various in different kinds ; the webs of spiders, and of other spinning animals ; the ball of the silkworm ; the nests of ants and other mining animals ; the combs of wasps, hornets, and bees ; the dams and houses of beavers. The instinct of animals is one of the most delightful and instructive parts of a most pleasant study, ihat oi natural history ; and deserves to be more cultivated than it has yet been. Every manufacturing art among men was invented by some man, improved by others, and brought to perfection by time and experience. Men learn te work in it by long practice, which produces a habit. I C fit. on THE ACTIVE KIW1E8. [riisay hi.— rAitt i. CIIAF II.] INSTINCT. B47 ■'1 mi Tho arte iif imi. vary In ^tv«rj nfsp and in ewwj tmAm^ and are foiind oiilj aa. tfinaa Witt :tiav» 'Imbh. 'tiii|lit 'IIimii, Tli« mamlheliim dr ' 'tniiiiala diibf inm tlmM' Df ' iumi in inai^y :itfiiiiig' 'faifkiilan. Ho aO'imal of Him wmmm mn claim tbe imrention. No animal, over intiodiimd anj new inproTvraent,. or'^aiijr varialion IInmii. tfaa fcinmir patflice. Wmn omi of llio wpmkm hm efial. skill from tlie |}iplning» wlth- otil 'leadiiti|9 itittoni oxpenen^ce or lialiit Evmy one laa its art by a Iciad. of' iiia|iiia- tioii., I^donotmmMi'tlialilia'inaiilrdlwItli tiM 'frinolf ks or mlea. 'Of 'HM' af%. Iiiit witli the ability and ineinatfiiii 'Of ' vorkiiig in il to 'perfection, witlioat any knowledge of ita f rin^li%, .nilcia or ond.^ [ l#0] Ho' 'iMiia aapdoui .aninali .may 'bt taegll'to dO' nanj thiiiiii. whMi. 'tiiaj do not. by .inatanet' wbat 'iiey aio tapght to do, tbey do witb non or mm ikill^ aoeord- .ing to their i^gaeity and. tlMir 'tcainiofc Bnf ^ in their own .arts, the^r need, no 'teaw- ing nor tnining^ nor is the .art ever im- proved or lost BeeS: gaiher their honey and. their wnx, they 'fabricate thehr combs, better nor «ona.'iiaB they did when. Tirgil ao' sweetly nmg' 'tbeir''«ofik The woik of every animal, is indeed like tbt' works of nalnroi perfect 'in 'Its kind, and can bear' the most, critical examination of tbcmeehanieor the mathema.tictan. One eianple fmm the animal kst 'mentioned, mm watte to illustrate this.. mm, it is w^. .known, constraet 'their combs 'With. smai."Cells on both. .sids% it both. for lioUhig' 'tfie^ :slon> 'Of honay, and 'for .rearing their yonng; There arc only three possibwignresof iieeel]% which can make them., ai. cfial and simitar, without .anv 'ueleaS' haterstieea. 'These are the e^u- ktotal trianiehL the smari!. and HhB lecwar hexagw. there .is not. a. 'fonrth. way fustible, 'in which a phUM may be m 'into little spaees that ahall 'be eiinal, simihir .and 'regular, without leaving any interstices. Of we three, the 'venieney .and; stren||th.' ^Bees, as if th.ey knew i bifi mu l^ f ' tJ iei f fieHf nmlar hesa* gone. ^ the^ celis^ ma^r 'dther be^ 'Oxaelk 'Ofpoilt% haviiig. 'partmott apinsl. 'parttunii 'or' 'the bottom of a oell may rest, upon the peti- tions between the cells on the other side, 'Which will serve m a 'buttress tostnugthaii It The bat' 'way "is best^ for strength s ac^ eordingly, the bottom of each cell 'rests .ngjiinst the point where th.ree' partitions meet on the other mde, which gives it all 'the strength possible.' {till] The btitom 'Of a ^eei. may Mther be one pkne perpendicular to the side-partitions, or it may bo composed of sevwal phuies, meet- ing in a solid angle in the middle point It ia only in one of these two wavs, that all the colli en be itaiiar without losing room. And, lor the same intention, the pknes of which 'the bettem is ooBiposcd, if there lie more than 'One, mnst bO' ihreo' k number, :and neither 'morC' nor fewer. It has been demonstrated, that, by mak- ing the bottoms of the eells to consist of three phuiea meeting in a pint, there is a saving of material and labour no way in. eonsiderabte. The bees, as if acquMnted with these principles of solid geometry, fol- low them most accurately | the bottiim of '•aeh. cell bsh« 'Cemposed of three 'pkines, which make obtuse angles with the side- partitions, and with one another, and meet m a point in the middle of the bottom ; the three angles of this bottom being supported by three .partitions on the other side of the eomb, 'and the pehit of .it by the eommon intersection of tliose three mrtitions. One instance more of tlie mathematical .skill, 'disideyed. .hi the structure of a .honey- eonk deaerves 'to 'he :nientioned. .It Is n cnrioos mathematical problem, at what precise angb the three planes which compose the bottom of a cell ought to meet, in order to make the greatest possible sav- ing, or the kast expense, of material and labour. This is one of those problems, belonging 'to the higher parts of 'mathematies, which are. called proUemi' of mmlwm and 'iiitMifra#. It haa been resolved by some mathemati- cians, particukrly bv the ingenious Mr Maeknrin, by a fluxionary calculation, whieh is to be found in the ** Transactions 'Of' 'tlM' .Boyal. :8ociety of London.''* He ..has determined mecisely the angle reifnired; and he found, by the most exact mensura- tion the subject could admit, that it is the tety .anglei m which the three planes in the hottomof thO'Cellof' a honey-comb do ac tually 'meet. [Ii8] Shall we ask her% who taught the bee the properties of .edidik and. to 'resolvO' prob- lema. 'Of •••i.oio and mnkm f If a honey- comb 'were a work, of 'human, art, every 'man of common sense would conclude, without hesitation, that he who invented the con- stnidion. m'ust have underst:Ood the pri'n* etplee on. which. It 'Is constru:cted. We need wit say that bees know none cC theio things. They work most geometri- cally, without any knowledge of geometry ; ,imne«h«t .likO' a child, who, by turning tno handle tf 'an. oigan, inakes |oed music, 'with- out any 'knowledge of m.ustc The art is not k the child, but in him who made the organ, in like manner, wihen a 'beC' ;niakie its 'Oomb so geometrically, tho' geometry is^ not. 'hi the 'hec, but in that 1^106 108] greet Geometrician who made the bee, and | yiiaA* ail thmgs In number, weight, and measure.* To return to inatmcts in man ; those are most remarkable whksh appear in infancy, when we are ignorant of everything neces- sary to our preservation, and therefore must perish, if we had not an mvisible guide, who tads ns blindfold in the way we should takCi if we had eyes to see it Besides the instincts which appear only in infancy, and are intended to supply the want ot understanding in that early period, there are many which continue through life, and which supply the defects of our intel- lectual powers in every period. Of these we may observe three classes' Firsti There are many things necessary to be done for our preservation, which, even when we will to do, we know not the means by which they must be done. [ 109] A man knows that he must swallow his food before it can nourish him. But this action requires the co-operation of many nerves and muscles, of which he knows no- thing ; and if it were to be directed solely by his understanding and will, he would starve before he learned how to perform it Here instinct conies in to his aid. He needs do no more than will to swallow. All the requisite motions of nerves and mus- cles unmediately take place in their proper order, without his knowmg or willmg any- thing about them. If we ask here, whose will do these nerves and muscles obey ? Not his, surely, to whom they belong. He knows neither tlieir names, nor nature, nor office; he never thought of them. They are moved by some impulse, of which the cause is un- known, without any thought, will, or inten- tion on his part— that is, they are moved instinctively. This is the case, in some degree, in every voluntary motion of our body. Thus, I will to stretch out my arm. The effect im- mediately follows. But we know that the arm is stretched out by the contraction of certam muscles ; and that the muscles are contracted by the influence of the nerves, I know nothing, I think nothing, either of nerves or muscles, when I stretch out my arm : yet this nervous influence, and this contraction of the muscles, uncalled by me, immediately produce the effect which I willed. This is as if a weight were to be raised, which can be raised only by a com- plication of levers, puUies, and other me- chanical powers, that are behind the ciur- tain, and altogether unknown to me. I will to raise the weight ; and no sooner is this volition exerted, than the machinery * *' Omnia in menaura. et numero, et potideie dii. fomlMtV— f Wisdom tt/Sokmum). 1 foiget bow it ia tendeted in our Jriigliih veriion.— H. >-lll3 behind the curtain falls to work and raises the weight [UO) If such a case should happen, we would conclude that there is some person behind the curtain who knew my will, and put the machine in motion to execute it The case of my willing to stretch out my arm, or to swallow my food, has evidently a great simihirity to this. But who it is that stands behind the curtain, and sets the internal machinery a-going, is hid from us; so strangely and wonderfully are we made. This, however, is evident, that those in- ternal motions are not willed nor intended by us, and therefore are instinctive. A second case in which we have need of instinct, even in advanced life, is, When the action must be so frequently repeated, that to intend ^nd will it every time it is done,*would occupy too much of our thought, and leave no room for other necessary em- ployments of the mind. We must breathe often every minute whether awake or asleep. We must often close the eye-lids, in order to preserve the lustre of the eye, H these things required particular attention and volition every time they are done, they would occupy all our thought Nature, therefore, gives an im- pulse to do them as often as is necessary, without any thought at all. They consume no time, thoy give not the least interrup- tion to any exercise of the mind ; because they are done by instinct A third case, in which we need the aid of histinct, is. When the action must be done so suddenly that there is no time to think and determine. When a man loses his hahince, either on foot or on horseback, he makes an instantaneous effort to recover it by instinct The effort would be in vain, if it waited the determination of reason and will. [Ill] When anything threatens our eyes, we wink hard, by instinct, and can hardly avoid doing so, even when we know that the stroke is aimed in jest, and that we aro perfectly safe from danger. I have seeA this tried upon a wager, which a man was to gain if he could keep his eyes open, while another lumed a stroke at them in jest The difficulty of doing this shews that there may be a struggle between instinct and will ; and that it is not easy to resist the impulse of mstinct, even by a strong reso- lution not to yield to it Thus the merciful Author of our nature hath adapted our instincts to the defects and to the weakness of our understanding. In infancy we are ignorant of everything ; yet many things must be done by us for our preservation : These are done by in- stinct. When we grow up there are many motions of our limbs and Invhw necessary, which can be performed t>f : ! v a cuiioua •/ f «PC«* ON THE ACTIVE fOWltta [ii»atiii.-pa«t» cniPt til J INSTINCT. (49 mi mm^m M&md ■■iiiiiiMii«if-» ■mm- diinMy rf wW*. lim Mfc rf iwwItlBil «• tutaif ifp«mmt,'«iii"iKliiili «li» mm^ 'ilcilfiil aafttoatfet to©w» but Imperfectly. All thia mieliiiierj i» ■«* »-fOini l»y ni»»iiM*- We need only to will, me eiteiW' iwiliiin, ud all the intenal mottet,. furnkmHj .neises- mry to tiie^ eOwt, talie idace of Hiemielf «% witfeont our wOl or oonimand. ;8oiiiii aotionB must 'be m oflen/feptteil, tlifoiidi «iw whole of Ufe, -iliat, if tl^ey re- f|ulrel attention' and will, we' aioiild lie aMe to do nothing else: These go on regnkrly by Inatinet. Our preserf atiom 'iromi, danger' oHen. »- quint raeh sudden, exertions, i»t 'there 'is no time to think, and to determine : ^Ae« eordingly we nmke such exertions by instinct. Another thing in the nature of man, which. I tale to be^ partly,thongh not wholly, instinctiTe, is^ his f roneneiS' to 'imitation. 11121 Aristotle observed, long ago, that man is an imitotiire animal. He Is so in more respectS' than ona He is disposed total- tato what he approves. In dl arts men learn more and more agreeably, by example than by rules. Imitation by the chiiael, by the pencil, by 'dcaer^tion 'proeaac and ;poet- ical, and by aeion and ;gestare, 'have been favourito and elegant entortainments of the wliole species. In all these cases, however, the imitation is intended and wiM, and therefore .cannot be said to be inttinictive- But I apprehend 'that hnman -nature disposes us to the imitation of those among whom we live, 'When we ineltlMr deshre nor will it Let an Bnglishroan, of ni:iddfe' tm, ^^ im^ his residence :iii. S&ibnigh/Or Gla^w ; aftkmgh he has 'not the Mat mtention to use the Scots dialect, but a firm Knolutien to preserve his own pure and nnmiiced, he 'Will find It very dWcull to malse good his intention. He will, 'in a course m yours, fall msensibly, and without intention, into the tone and, accent,, and even :into the words aid phiases of thoM' he oonverseO' 'with ,; and 'nothing can preserve hhn from 'tliis, hut a strong disgust to' every Sootticisni, which perhaps may overcome the natural instinct. It is commonly thought that children often learn to stammer by imitation ; yet I believe no person ever desired, or willed to leam: that ouality* I ,|||||,.,^|f mi^ ||g| iiig(i||0tive"imstattion-'has ;nO' small hifiuenfln' in 'form,ing the peeulia- rities of provincial dialects, the pecidiantiea of voice, gmiwm* and manner which we see in some finfllka, the manners peculiar to'difcnnt ranks and difierent profeasiont'S and, 'pefli^pe even in forming nalional dba» ffacteni, and the human, ihanwler ill gin- £113] The imlances Hmt history fiimiahca ef wild men,, Imnght 'Uf ikom early years, 'wi'lhoit 'tM •odety 'Of any of their own spe-' cies, are so few, that we cannot build con- clusiena upon them with great certainty. But ai, I have heard of agroed in this, that the wiM nan gave but very slender Indica* tions of the rational faculties ; and, with regard to his 'm,ind, was hardly distin- .gmluihle from, the more iagadous 'Of the brutes. There is a considerable part of the lowest rank in every nation, of whom It cannot be 'thiiiaelvcsi^ or by others, to cultivato' their 'Understanding, or to form their manners i yet we see an immense diflbrence between them and the wild man. Th:is difference' :ia wholly 'the e'ffect of society s a»wer& Children have a thousand things to leam, and they learn many things every day ; more than will be easily believed by those who have never given attention to their progress. [115] Oportet disceiUem credere is a common adage. Children have everything to learn ; and, in order to leam, they must believe their instructors. They need a greater fitock of faith from infancy to twelve or fourteen, than ever after. But how sliall they get this stock so necessary to them ? if their iaith depend upon evidence, tlie Btock of evidence, real or apparent, must bear proportion to their faith. But such, in reality, is their situation, that when their faith must be greatest, the evidence is least. They believe a thousand things before they ever spend a thought upon evidence. Na- iute mppiiea the want of evidence^ and gims them an imtinctwe kimi of faith with- mii evidence,* They believe implicitly whatever they are told, and receive with assurance the tostimony of every one, without ever think- ing of a reason why they should do so. A paront or a master might command them to believe, but in vain, for belief is not in our power ; but, in the first part of life, it is governed by mere testimony i:i matters of fact, and by mere authority in all other mattcra, no less than by evidence in riper years. It is not the words of the testifier, but his belief, that produces this belief in a child : for children soon learn to distmguish what is said in jest, from what is saul in good earnest. What appears to them to be said in jest, produces no belief. They gloiy in sliewing that they are not to be • See Stewart-f " PhHo«i>hy of the Active Powew. iL p. 341. Keid ia n«, howeirer, tlie fint *52.fS wived the credulitf of diildreii into an oriimal Brtncipie. See alMtte. pp. ill^ I»i.— "- imposed on. When the signs of belief m the speaker are ambiguous, it is pleasant to observe with what sagacity they pry into his features, to discern whether he really believes what he says, or only counterfeits belief. As soon as this point is determined, their belief is regukted by his. If he be doubtful, they are doubtful ; if he be as- sured, they are also assured. [116] It is well known what a deep impression religious principles, zealously inculcated, make upon the minds of children. The absurdities of ghosts and hobgoblins, early impressed, have been known to stick so fast, even in enlightened minds, as to baffte all rational conviction. When we grow up to the use of reason, testimony, attended with certain circum- stances, or even authority, may afibrd a rational ground of belief ; but with children, without any regard to circumstances, either of them operates like demonstration. And as they seek no reason, nor can give any reason, for this regard to testimony and to authority, it is the effect of a natural hii- pulse, and may be called instinct. [2ol Another instance of belief which appears to be instinctive, is tliat which children shew even in infancy. Thai an eveiU which they have observed in certain circum- stances, wUl happen again in like circum- stances, A child of half a year old, who has once burned his finger by putting it in the candle, wUl not put it there again. And if you make a shew of putting it in the candle by force, you see the most manifest signs that he believes he slmll meet with the same calamity. Mr Hume hath shewn very clearly, that this belief is not the effect either of Reason or Experience. He endeavours to account for it by the Association of Ideas. Though I am not satisfied with his account of this plwenomenon, I shall not now examine it ; because it is suflicient for the present argu- ment, that this belief is not grounded on evidence, real or apparent, which I tliink he clearly proves. . A person who has lived so long in the world as to observe that nature is governed by fixed laws, may have some rational ground to expect similar events in similar circumstances ; but this cannot be the case ofthechiki His belief, tlierefore, is not grounded on evidence. It is the result of his constitution. [117] , . ^ ^^ , Nor is it the less so, though it should arise from the association of ideas. For what is called the association of ideas is a law of nature in our constitution ; which produces its effects without any operation of reason on our part, and in a manner of which wo are entirely ignorant* ^ i ON THE ACTIVB POWEES, [hiay in.— faiit i. 11.AKT duien Iran imciiiciy not ib its liiliii% but .in ili origiiii tlw .l«tt«f being IHBLiI^ W'MHi iMBi I AiBoi JWk jBJMlfciiiMliMlilfc iiJlfciiMii ,j|||j||H|M||M|||i||^^^ li8jtfhiA''llli itfUHIUkl^^Ki'lM^iflk >WiMrii wvBM idffkMikMP' K^^#« H ^K^JtKk wWi^lBi'iriAiAMi 4mIIiJHHiIIINH |g_||_|^yjAjH||||^ JH^ni^jiM/lllf JplH^ i#kMW ^imI% ^ ^■iJ. . tJiim niimii if-i t |i0. ftjUnJ IMldlttlilSiil IM>ail« m M- jiniiMilHlHIlMi' dahiff m fJUiif I Mfiiwifiil fif ilaviiif' iIm* U Ififfiiiinw* iHH 'iHfiiiiiiiii. ■ 1110010111 for inlMlt 'Of >wt| tat m» htm» wMA 'wrn^, MiMt .c|v9 nofo tluui. A iMJlitJi tllMf mitt' gifi0' .an intiiuitifHi or impiilMi to do liie ikifiii^ and tbst, in mnv cmm, iabito liave this l»roe, euinoi be donblMl. How mwi^ awkwnnl ha b i t a, b j 'lipi|pmt* im improper oonpuiji mn^ eliildnnt apt tO' .laafii) in inair' adcbeasL notiony .bokai wa 'tma*, M*^ pwEWHwatiflitui TImu" .j wwilf f' ani instinetife inita&n,. before thej 'Oan }n%e '«f wbal: ia proper .aiul becoming. Wlien tlii;y' are a Utile :ailfanflaaBd It is certain, that the alatei and i^gnbir performance of what we i^ppvove, not only 'makcs^ it easy, bat makea m niaaiy in the iniaiien of IL TMb Is fie cast, em when the action derlvca all •■^* nt^'^WBiBe^i^^^p •■■^ifwaiB' wnas'w' ^PBPHPiiHiiiiiiiii IPH 'VMmPIp' BPIIPw WJ^Wfc^fci^ A dHMMHll' SlllillllltfHBlHLlliiJk 'jB|||i'^^ iiir%MJIii1lniiivJilJlijfli (•^pe ^Hwiia tp' 'iM" ■ im isiwww'i 'aia'^a''w^''w''Bwi'w' JBvWHiiiBiniiiii iiyMiiRMipiBflWffliiiap 'iocS' "nil abcii-iMnii .if ie gosa to 'bii. with* ant' ' ♦ • Hl F ig h it beada. and, mriaiinif 'maveia whidh. he doca not nnderstmid* Ariatolto' makaa Wiadomj, Fradance, Good ry Sdenoai and Art, aa well as the mofal virtues and vicesp to be haidis. It ta meant no nMii% bv giving' this name to ai iboii' intaiialnal and moral quaMties, than, that they are all sttengthened. .and. con- irmed by repcatod acts, this is undoubtedly true* I take the word in a less extensive sense, when. I consider' habits as priniMea of action. I aoneeiva' it^ to be m 'purt-of our ooastitution, 'that what we 'have 'been ac- euatomed to do, we acquire, not only a iMiily, but a proneness to do on like occa- sions I so that it rea nifci a paiticnbv 'wil and effort' to ^Surbiar it, but to do it| requires ▼erv oflen^ mm liii. at all. We are carried by habit aa by a atream in awimming, if we make nO' rialBlance. [ 1 10] Every iBtI' ;iiniiahoa eaan|ile8 both of thO' power at haUta and of' thev utility 1 no one moie thai' the most common, of all'artSy the art of speaking* Articukto language ia spoken, not by eh l Hpttt to Isam. the simple 'Sounds of Ian* giagC'i I :nia% to learn to' 'pranounce the.. vom%ls and eonsonants* It would be much more difficult) if they were not led by inatlnet to' .imllato the aonwia 'they bear; in.g thO'deaf'to 'pronounce the letters and. words, though experience shews that can hedo^e. ^ What ia' it 'that' makaa' thiajivonuneiation '■o easy at last' wbidi ' waa :so dimeiilt at 'irst 'f It is habit. But from what cause does it happen, tliat » good speaker no sooner conceives what he iPMild aKprei%' than the leltci% syllables, and: words aimMe 'thamadvca ^aoaording to innumerable rules of speech, while he never thinks of these rules f Me neana to ex- •ertain son,limanto'i lO' order to do ibb 'pMprijfi 'ft-selietion must be made of the 'naieiialBa ont'Cf manv tliouaandSk. He makea this sdeetlfin without any expense of tineor' thonghi The inatoria« selected nmal ta artanged in a partisnkr order, latfterding to innmeialle mlea of grani'- mar, log^ and rliitori% and accompanied doca' 'all' thia aa it were hj inspiration, with* w4 lilnUng of any 'Off these rules, and aritlmnt breali:ing one of then- |i20'| This art, if it were not more common, would appear mors 'wonderfbl than, 'that a man should danea' Ulndfold 'amidst a thousand biimhig 'pliiwhshafea, without being bnmt; yet ai this nay be done by It appears evident, 'thai ai| without in- iiiiMt, the iaihnt eould 'MC' live tO' 'become Sy VP0S flvHM^ neov— lO'Vhil IIsIiI'"'SINI oUiftt nsn cidicii iMnng' liie Imiltf of ptiinarf' trui'lit— LI 1 8— '180 1 eiiAP. 111*1 OF HABIT. 551 a man, so, without habit, man would re- main an infant through life, and would be as helpless, as unhandy, as speechless, and as much a child in understanding at three- score as at three. . . , ,, ^ 1 u I see no reaaon to think that we shall ever be able to assign the physical cause, either of instinct, or of the power of habit. Both seem to be parts of our original constitution. Their end and use is evi- dent ; but we can assign no cause of them, but the will of Him who made us. With regard to instinct, which is a na- tural propensity, this will perhaps be easily irranted ; but it is no less true with regard to that power and inclination which we ac- quire by habit. No man can shew a reason why our do- ing a thing frequently should produce either facility or inclination to do it. The fact is so notorious, and so con- stantly in our eye, that we are apt to think no reaaon should be sought for it, any more than why the sun shines. But there must be a cause of the sun's shining, and there must be a cause of the power of habit. We see nothing analogous to it in inani- mate mattor, or in things made by human art. A clock or a watch, a waggon or a plough, by the custom of going, does not learn to go better, or require less moving force. The earth does not increase m fer- tility by the custom of liearing crops. 1 1 2 1 J It is said, that trees and other vegetables, by growing long in an unkindly soil or climate, sometimes acquire qualities by which they can bear its inclemency witu less hurt. This, in the vegetable kingdom, has some resemblance to the power of habit ; but, in inanimate matter, I know nothing that resembles it. .1^1. A stone loses nothing of its weight by being long supported, or made to move up- ward. A body, by being tossed about ever so long, or ever so vblently, loses nothing of its inertia, nor acquires the least dispo- silion to change its state. * Mr StewMt hM made «n in8«?i?^ •"^IJff *** esnlain ■undry of the pNeiioincna referred to the oc- SS^riiSple of habitrin his chapter on Attennon. iirtheflr.t\olumeof his "P«S»«»H«*1« rtrr«toi •ophvofthe Human Mind." »**•*» If -f**!!^? thatKehadnotstudi«iChee»en ««•«»,'*«*"*=;;: ceivttMe)the Leibnitian doctrine o^^.^b^t hM not welllie€Odenominatcd,o6»cu«pm:f Inngisr. 'Bit ivlMtt «i|i«rifiiM inn eon- .■odM, in tMr imaiinntidn, tlw nnansy ;wniftiinn.. wiii tlw neMUi of nnmving' it, «lio 'tein^ ©f ' tlw bat comiMi tn to m :ifi0- ilnlni witli Hw fint, thnt tlwf wtmm 'tlifnqg^. lit' intcfinrabte. Ami «n pvB 'die 'wmm «f im^fw to the prinist|ite Hint if inadA up of both. [123] nil 'HW' ffttiM^ Hi hungpr inolnte' tlw two ingmilMiit I htm 'nMnlinwri. irill nott I nppiiiMDi,. 'iw f iiMltei4. I tdie notiet' ^nf it tiw nther heeame we may, if I mis- talce not, ind a mmiar m appetites by this I That there is not an uneasy sensa- tion proper to each, and always accompany- ing it ; and that they are not periodiaal, but constant, not beiug sated with their ob- jects 'for a tune, as .appetites are. The desires I have m view, are chiefly these three— the desire of power, the de- sire of esteem, and the desire of knowledge. 'We may, I tfiink^ 'peroelve 'Some degree of these principles m. brute-animals of the more sagacious kind ; but in man they are much, more conspicuous, and .have a laiger sphere. In a herd of bbck eattle, there is a rank and subordination. When a straneer is in- trodneed into the herd, he must '§mt every one till his rank, is settled. Then be yields. to the stronger Md assumes authority over thewiahnr. The ease is much the same in the crewof a ship of war. desire of supefMlf^ discovers itself. In barbarous tribes, aa^ 'wei. as among the |re- garkms kinds- of ^animals,, rank is detitnned. by strength, -courage, swilness, or such other fnalittos. Among civilized nationS|, niapy things of a different kind give power md rank^nboes in government, titles of honour, riches, wisdom, eloquence, virtue, and even the reputation of these. All these either dlSwent species of power, or of acquhrbg it : and when they are [*«0-13l"l «,«ght for that end, must be considered as instances of the desire of power. Lif*] The desire of esteem is not peculiar to man. A dog exults in the approbation and applause of his master, and is humbled by his displeasure. But in man this desire is much more conspicuous, and operates m a thousand different ways. Hence it is that so very few are proof against flattery, when it is not very gross. We wish to be well in the opinion of others, and therefore are prone to mter- pret in our own favour, the signs of their good opinion, even when they are ambi- guous. . X. X * There are few injuries that are noi more easy to be borne than contempt We cannot always avoid seeing, in the conduct of others, things that move con- tempt ; but, in all polite circles, the signs of it must be suppressed, otherwise men could not converse together. As there is no quality, common to good and bad men, more esteemed than courage, nor anything in a man more the object of contempt than cowardice, hence every man desires to be thought a man of cou- rage; and the reputation of cowardice is worse than death. How many have died to avoid being thought cowards ? How many, for the same reason, have done what made them unhappy to the end of their lives. ., x j I believe many a tragical event, if traced to its source in human nature, might be referred to the desire of esteem, or the dread of contempt [133] In brute animals there is so little that can be called knowledge, that the desire of it can make no considerable figure in them. Yet I have seen a cat, when brought into a new habitation, examine with care every comer of it, and anxious to know every lurking place, and the avenues to it And I believe the same thing may be observed in many other species, especially in those that are liable to be hunted by man or by other animals. But the desire of knowledge m the human species, is a principle that cannot escape our observation. . The curiosity of children is €lie principle that occupies most of their time while they are awake. What they can handle they examine on all sides, and often break in pieces, m order to discover what is within. When men grow up, their curiosity does not cease, but is emptoyed upon other ob- jects. Novelty is considered as one great source of the pleasures of taste, and indeed is necessary, in one degree or other, to give a relisli to them all* When we speak of the desire of know- ledge SB a principle of action in man, we must not confine it to the pursuits of the | [188-135] philosopher, or of the literary man. The desire of knowledge discovers itself, in one person, by an avidity to know the scandal of the village, and who makes love, and to whom; in another, to know the economy of the next family ; in another, to know what the post brings ; and, in another, to trace the path of a new comet. When men shew an anxiety, and take pains to know what is of no moment, and can be of no use to themselves or to others, this is trifling, and vain curiosity. It is a culpable weakness and folly; but still it is the wrong direction of a natural principle, and shews the force of that principle more than when it is directed to matters worthy to be known. [184] I think it unnecessary to use arguments to shew that the desires of power, of esteem, and of knowledge, are natural principles in the constitution of man. Those who are not convinced of this by reflecting apoii their own feelings and sentiments, will not easily be convinced by arguments. Power, esteem, and knowledge, are so useful for many purposes, that it is easy to resolve the desire of them into other prin- ciples. Those who do so must maintain, that we never desire these objects for their own sakes, but as means only of procuring pleasure, ur something which is a natural object of desire. This, indeed, was the doctrine of Epicurus : and it has had its votaries in modern times. But it has been observed, that men desire posthumous fame, which can procure no pleasure. Epicurus himself, though he believed that he should have no existence after death, was so desirous to be remembered with esteem, that, by his last will, he appointed his heirs to commemorate his birth annually, and to give a monthly feast to his disciples, upon the twentieth day of the moon. What pleasure could this give to Epicurus when he had no existence ? On this account, Cicero justly observes, that his doctrme waa refuted by his own practice. Innumerable instances occur in lile, ot men who sacrifice ease, pleasure, and every- thing else, to the lust of power, of fame, or evenof knowledge. It is absurd to sup- pose that men should sacrifice the end to what they desire only as the means of pro- moting tliat end. [135] , The natural desires I have mentioned are, in themselves, neither virtuous nor vicious. They are parts of our constitu- tion, and ought to be regulated and re- strained, when they stand in competition with more important principles. But to eradicate them, if it were possible, (and I believe it is not,) would only be like cuttmg off a leg or an arm-that is, making our- selves other creatures than God has made us. w '* WtUF %iim Hiej euiiMit with prtiprlilj, he 'CalM: iMslisli 'pfiaeiiilas, tliough thm liavo com- mmly hmalSmMted. md». "Whim power it disiiwd. :l(ir its own tako, ami. not m tie .mesnt k. order to obtain 'MMaelkinf db% this desiro k neither aeiieli nor eoeiaL When a man desires power aa tio' 'means of ddinr ,food. tO' othersi thk h iMiwviilinM. Wimlie desires it mfy as 'thovBeaiis 'Of 'pmiiMiling hiso^wn gobdi this iS' salf-lova 'Bat vhon. lis deahpes it for its own sake, this mlj can properlv he caied the' desire^ 'Of power' ;. ^and it tmplies< :iMither self-love ;mir' MMviilanMi. Xfa«iBaaM"tliiiw luaj be applied, 'to-tte deaifit'Ol esteem and of Mnowle«%^ The wise intention of natnre in giving us these: desires,, is nn less, evident than in giviiMT' imr 'nattifal aMMtiteB» Withont the 'nataral'tnietiteii ;ieason:,aS' was before observed, would be insnfilcietit, either for the preservation of the individual or the iiontin.iiation of the speeieS'f and wiiliont the 'natural dedves 'we have 'men- tioned, humui virtue would be insuileient to iniueiiee nmnkiud to a tolerable condoct in. soeietj. To these' natural 'dswe%.. common to .good and to bad. men, it is owing, that m nan, who has littie or no regard, to virtue, maj notwithstandinf be n pmd 'member' of so- eietj. It is true, indeed, 'that perfect virtue, C' ' led 'With, perfect .knowledge^ would make h our appetites and imkm nnneeesaaiy incumbrances of our nature ; but, as human knowledge and human virtue are both very impeffeiiy these appetites and. 'desires are^ neeessarj supplements to our imperfBttious.. EkMsiety, .among men, could not .subsist without a 'Certain degree of thai regnkrit j of conduct 'whieh virtue preserl'bes. To this regubritj of oonduet,' 'men who have .no virtue are induced bj m regard to cha- .neter, sometimes by a. 'regard to interest.. Even in. those 'who are not destitute of virtue, a rsgpml to cliacaeter' :is oien. an 'Useful Mxi'iafj' to it, when 'both principles coneur in their dhreciion. The pursuits of power, of lame, and of knowledge, req'uhre .a aelf-eommand nO' less^ than vurlne doss*. Inonrbehiiviour towards mm ieHew-ctnlnres, tlMf gin«is% lead, to 'that very conduel^ whidi virtue rsiiuhres. I say gmendlif^ for this, no doubt, admits 'Of eiccption% espeeially .in the case of am* Mtien., or tht' 'derare of newer. The evils which amfitiun. 'Ins^ produced, in the worhi ars.a eemmon topic of dtebm» Btiea But it ought to bO' 'Observed thai, where it has led to one action hurtfal to iseeiety, it has :led 'to^ ten thousand that are Imiileial. to .It. And we Justly look upon the 'want of ^amMtion as one of 'the most '■olkvenfable synptoms :in. a 'naii% tinner. O.X THB ACTIVE TOWEIta [way iii - paet w. The desires of esteem and of knowledm are highly useful to society, as well as the deshre of power, and, at the same time, are less dangpnms In their excesses. Althunii iitioiiijirocfeding 'merely from the love of power, ofreputatiun, or of know- ledge, cannot be accounted virtnous, or be entitled to moral approbation ; yet we allow them to be manly, it^gpnuous, and suited to the dknitynf human natnre; and, there- lore, they are entitled, to a degree of esti- mation, superior to those which proceed imm mere appetite. [137] Aleisnder 'the Qrsst 'deserved, that epi- thet in. the early part of hia life, 'when ease: and pleasure^ ami every appc'tite, were sac« rificed to the love of glory and power. But when we view him conquered by oriental luxury, and usiii| his power to gratify his passions .and .appetites, he sinks in our esteem, and seems to forfeit the title which he had acquired. 'iardanapalus, 'who is said to have pa.rh sued pleasure' as eagerly m Alexander nur- sued glory, never obtained from mankmd the appellation of the Grmt* Affwtite is the principk of most of the aelimis^ of brutes, and we account it brutal in n man. to employ .hknaelf diieiy in the gmfiieallMi of his appetites. The desuws of power, of esteem, and of knowledge, are capital, parts in the constitution of man ; and tlieafltluns/pnMeediqgfiiinthemi'though not propetlgp' virtuous, ars' human and manly ; and they ckim a just stmeriority over those that pmeeed from appetie. This, I think, is the 'universal nai unbiassed iudgment of mankind. 0pon what ground this judg- ment is founded maar deserve to be consi- dered k its proper plaee. The' desbes we have 'mentioned .are not only highly useful in society, and in their nature .nMire...nobk than our appetites— thej are likewise' 'tie meet proper engines 'that can be uaed in the education and discipline of men. .In 'trafaing' hrnte^nlmals 'to such habits m they are capaUu' of, the fear of punkh* ment k the chief instrument to be used. But, in tialnhig men of ingenuous diBposi- tion, ambition to excel, and the love of esteem, are much nobkr and more pwer- ful engines, by which they may be led to worthy conduct and trained to good habits. 1188] To thk' we 'may add, that' the desirea we have mentioned are vary 'tten'dly 'to real 'Virtue, and naks' it more essy to be ao- uulred. A man that k not fpdte abandoned must behave so in aoeietf m to preserve somn degree of' reputation. 'Tms every man desires to do, and the neater part actually do It In order to this, he must acquire the habit of leslrainhig hk appetites and 1,136-138] cnxv. II."] OF DE&IRES. Sfi? psasion!? within the bounds which common decency requires, and so as to make himself a tolerable member of society, if not an use- ful and agreeable one. It cannot be doubted that many, from a regard to character and to the opinion of others, are led to make themselves both useful and agreeable members of society, in whom a sense "Of duty has but a small in- fluence. Thus men, living in society, especially in polished society, are tamed and civilized by the principles that are common to good and bad men. They are taught to bring their appetites and passions under due restraint before the eyes of men, which makes it more easy to bring them under the rein of virtue. As a horse that is broken is more easily managed than an unbroken colt, so the man who has undergone the discipline of society is more tractable, and is in an excellent state of preparation for the discipline of virtue ; and that self-command, which is necessary in the raceof ambition and honour, is an attainment of no small importance in the course of virtue. [139] For this reason, I apprehend, they err very grossly who conceive the life of a her- mit to be favourable to a course of virtue. The hermit, no doubt, is free from some temptations to vice, but he is deprived of many strong inducements to self-govern- ment, as well as of every opportunity of exercising the social virtues.* A very ingenious authorf has resolved our moral sentiments respecting the virtues of self-government, into a regard to the opin- ion of men. This, I think, is giving a great deal too much to the love of esteem, and putting the shadow of virtue in place of the substance ; but that a regard to the opinion of others is, in most instances of our exter- nal behaviour, a great inducement to good conduct, cannot be doubted. For, whatever men may practice themselves, they will al- ways approve of that in others which they think right. It was before observed, that, besides the appetites which nature has given us, we may acquire appetites which, by indulgence, become as importunate as the natural. The same thing may be applied to desires. One of the most remarkable acquired de- sires is that of money, which, in commer- cial states, will be found in most men, in one degree or other, and, in some men, swallows up every other desire, appetite, and I'sssion. The desire of money can then only be ac- counted a principle of action, when it is de- * The Mlitary (tafi AritKicle) if dtlier • nod or a t Adam Smith.— H. [139-141] sired for its own sake, and not merely as the means of procuring something else. It is evident that there is in misers such a desire of money ; und, I suppose, no man will say that it is natural, or a part of our original constitution. It seems to be the effect of habit [140] In commercial nations, money is an in- strument by which almost everything may be procured that is desired. Being useful for many different purposes as the means, some men lose sight of the end, and termi- nate their desire upon the means. Money is also a species of power, putting a man in condition to do many things which he could not do without it ; and power is a natural object of desire, even when it is not exer- cised. In like manner, a man may acquire the desire of a title of honour, of an equipage, of an estate. Although our natural desires are highly beneficial to society, and even aiding to vir- tue, yet acquired desires are not only use- less, but hurtful and even disgraceful. No man is ashamed to own that he loves power, that he loves esteem, that he loves knowledge, for their own sake. There may be an excess in the love of these things, which is a blemish ; but there is a degree of it which is natural, and is no blemish. To love money, titles, or equipage, on any other account than as they are useful or or- namental, is allowed by all to be weakness and folly. The natural desires I have been consi- dering, though they cannot be called social princii)les of action in the common sense of that word, since it is not their object to procure any good or benefit to others, yet they have such a relation to society as to shew most evidently the intention of Natuie to be, that man should live in society. The desire of knowledge is not more na- trral than is the desire of communicating our knowledge.* Even power would be less valued if there were no opportunity of shewing it to others. It derives half its value from that circumstance. And as to the desire of esteem, it can have no possible gratification but in society. [141] These parts of our constitution, therefore, are evidently intended for Focial life ; and it is not more evident that birds were made for flying and fishes for swimming, than that man, endowed with a natural desire of power, of esteem, and of knowledge, is made, not for the savage and solitary state, but for living in society.f * Scire tiium nihil e.t, nisi te scire hoc Bciat alter. Pctviw, after Luciliu8.—H. _ ^ .^ . t On this subject, what has been best said has been said by Aristotle. See hit Polilict, loos Jrirsl.— H. i5i ON THE ACTIVE POWlRa [««"» iii—p^rt n. CHAPTEE III. or B'Blt.lV(||.B!«T APPBCTION IN OIHIEAI. Wb' 1i*t« tmn how, by itistinet^ aod lift^ Mt--» Mnd of them have thinp,. wl psiaons, for their ob- ject. They neither imply .any good nor ill sffMtion towards any 'Other person, nor even towards oursclvefr They cannot, therefore, with propriety, be eaUed either mff^ or «•- eioL But there are various principles of action in man, which have persons for their immediate object, and imply, in their very nature^ our bemg well or ill aft«ted.to some prson, or, at least, to some animated be- ug. [143] Such principles, I slmll call by the gen- eral name of njlnf lOfit, whether they dis- pose na to do good or hurt to others. Perhaps, in .giving them thk general name, I extend the meaning of the word 0jlieliiii..bojond Its common um in discourse. .Indctd^ 'OUT' kngiiagO' seemS' in this, to .have departed m .little irnn aeali^' i for we 'Use the verb i|||Srrf, and the participle affectml. in an indifferent seme, so that they Imf b^ jomed otther with good or ill A man may be said to 'he ill. aibcted. towards, anolbei man, or W'Cli aiSwIed. But tho'word offms Hm^ which, according to analogy, ought to have the same latitude of signification with that fkun. which it is derived,, and, there* fore, ought to' 'be: .applicable to lit .alfeetlons .aS' well as to good.,, seems, by custom, to be limited to good affections. When we speal of .having affection for any person, it is al- ways understood to he a benevolent affeo. tion. .Malevolsnt principbS'— 'Sudi. as anger, resentment, envy— .are not com.mon.ly oiled .<#Kliiifif , but mther' jMfulMi. f toko the reason of tte to 'he^. Aat the m'Slevolent affectiims are' alm.ost. al:wayB' ae-' companied with that perturbation of mkd whidi we properly call pmmm ; and this 'passion, bemg the .most conspicuous ingre- dient, givis. ito wnie to' the whole. Even love, when It goes beyond a certain degree, is called a jMiMtton. But it gets not that' .name, when it is so m.odenite as not to discompose.! 'man's mind, nor deprive him in anymeaaun'of the government of him- self. [144] As we ,give the name 'Of fmmom^ even to bcneToknt aAotion when .it is. sO' vehement as to diseomposo' the mhid,. ao, I think 'Wtthont trespassing much agidnst 'propricly of words, we may give the name of affection even to malevolent principles, when unat- tended: w.ith that distBrhmce of min'd which eommonly, though not .alwap, goes along with them, and which has made them gel the name of jNUfliMif. The principles which lead 'us .unmediately [142-llftl BBBiai mAw. III.1 OF BENEVOLENT APFECTION IN GENERAL. fiSft to desire the good of others, and those that lesd us to desire their hurt, agree in this, that persons, and not things, are their im- mediato object Both imply our being some way affected towards the person. They ought, therefore, to have some common name to express what is common in their nature ; and I know no name more proper for this than affeetiom. Taking affection, therefore, in this exten- sive sense, our affections are very naturally divided into benevolent and malevolent, according as they imply our being well or ill affected towards their object. There are some things common to all benevolent affections, others wherein they differ. They differ both in the feeling or sensa- tion, which is an ingredient In all of them, and in the objects to which they are directed. They all agree in two things— to wit, That the feeling which accompanies them ia agreeable ; and. That they imply a desire of good and happiness to their object. The affection we bear to a parent, to a child, to a benefactor, to a person in dis- tress, to a mistress, differ not more in their object, than in the feelings they produce in the mind. We have not names to ex- press the differences of these feelings, but every man is conscious of a difference. Yet, with all this difference, they agree in being agreeable feelings. [145] I know no exception to this rule, if we distinguish, as we ought, the feeling which naturally and necessarily attends the kind affection, from those which accidentally, in certain circumstances, it may produce. The parental affection is an agreeable feeling ; but it makes the misfortune or mis- behaviour of a child give a deeper wound to the mind. Pity is an agreeable feeling, yet distress, which we are not able to relieve, may give a painful sympathy. Love to one of the other sex is an agreeable feeling ; but, where it does not meet with a proper return, it may give the most pungent dis- tress. The joy and comfort of human life con- aist in the reciprocal exercise of kind affec- tions, and without them life would be undesirable. It has been observed by Lord Shaftesbury, and bymany other judicious moralists. That even the epicure and the debauchee, who are thought to place all their happiness in the gratifications of sense, and to pursue these as their only object, can find no relish in solitary indulgences of this kind, but in those only that are mixed with social inter- course, and a reciprocal exchange of kind affections. Cicero has observed that the word convi- vtum, which in Latin signifies a feast, b not borrowed from eating or from drinking, [UJ-147] but from that social intereourse which, being the chief part of such an entertain- ment, gives the name to the whole. Mut'ial kind affections are undoubtedly the balm of life, and of all the enjoyments common to good and bad men, are the chief. If a man had no person whom he loved or esteemed, no person who loved or esteemed him, how wretched must his condition be ! iSurely a man capable of reflection would choose to pass out of existence, rather than to live in such a state. [146] It has been, by the poets, represented as the state of some bloody and barbarous tyrants ; but poets are allowed to paint a little beyond the life. Atreus is represented as saying OJerirtt dum metnarii — ^" I care not for their hatred, provided they dread my power.** I believe there never was a man so disposed towards all mankind. The most odious tyrant that ever was, will have his favourites, whose affection he endeavours to deserve or to bribe, and to whom he bears some good will. We may, therefore, lay it down as a prin- ciple, that all benevolent affections are, in their nature, agreeable ; and that, next to a good conscience, to which they are al- ways frieiidly, and never can be adverse, they make the capital part of human hap- puiess. Another ingredient essential to every benevolent affection, and from which it takes the name, is a desire of the good and happi- ness of the object. The object of benevolent affection, there- fore, must be some being capable of hapi>i- ness. When we speak of affection to a house, or to any inanimate thing, the word lias a different meaning ; for that which has no capacity of enjoyment or of suffering, may be an object of liking or disgust, but cannot possibly be an object either of bene- volent or malevolent affection. A thing may be desired either on its own account, or as the means in order to some- thing else. That only can properly be called an object of desire, which is desired upon its own account ; and it is only such desires that I call principles of action. When anything is desired as the means only, there must be an end for which it is desired ; and the desire of the end is, in this case, the principle of action. The means are desired only as they tend to that end ; and, if dif- ferent, or even contrary means, tended to the same end, they would be equally de- sired. [147] On this account, I consider tho^e affec- tions only as benevolent, where the good of the object is desired ultimately, and not as the means only, in order to something else. To say that we desire the good of others, only in order to procure some pleasure or ON THE ACTITl FOITIES. [m tA¥ III, PA«t Ik good to ourselves, is to mj that tlioro ii no lieraevolent alfeotioa io luiniaii Mtore. 'I1ii% 'iwieed, has Imoii 'the ofinioii of somo fihiliti^iiMi,. both in aiMieiit and in hittr timet. IfatendnottoexamhiethMOiiiiifon, in thia^ phuso, ooneeiving it proper tO" gIfO' that view of the prinoiples of action in nun, irhieh appeals to me to be jnat, hafom I emnino tht s|Btena wherein thej have heen ntistaloen or niiarepresenled. I observe only at present, that it appears as nnreasfinahle to resolve all oir benevo- lent affections into self-love, as it would he to resolve hun||er and thirst kto self- love. These ^appetitea are necessaij for the preservation of ihe individual. Benevolent aihetions are no less necessary for the pre- servation of ioeiety among men, without which man 'Wonii hecomo' an easy prey to the beasts of the field. We are placed in this world by the Author , of' OUT' 'faoi^i,. aanonndod with many objeota that art nMsasaiy or 'meiil to us,, Md with. :iMiiiy that, nay hurt, 'ua.' We .are led, not hy reason and self-love only, hut by many instincts, and appetites, and natural desires, to seek the former and to avoid the lattor, .But of all the thinp of this world, man may be the most useful or the most hurtful to man. Evety man is in the power of every man witli whom he lives. .Every man lias power to do much good to Itb fellow-men, and to do more hurt. We cannot live without the society of men ; and it would be impossibk to live in society, if men were not disposed to do much of that good to men, and hot little of that hurt, which it is ui their power to oo. But how .shall this end, .so neeesaary to the existence' of human .society, .and coise- queiitly to the existence of the hmnan spe- cies, be accomplished ? .If we j'wlp from. 'Wakgy, we must con- clude' that in this, as. in. other padi'Of our conduct, our rational prhicipki. .ate' .aided by pniiciples of an inferior order, sluikr to those hy which many brute anunals live in :Bociety with 'their .speeies.; and 'that, by means 'Of such prindplesi ihal deme of re* gu.larity .is observed, which we ind .hi ai societies of men, whether wise or foolish, vi.rtaous or vieioua. The benevobni alfcetiona^ 'planted, in human nature,, appear therefore .no .less necessary for the preservation of the human 'SPMies, than the appetites^ .of hnger and UHArTER IV. or TBS riiTicuLAm ]ui:«btoi.int' Arrii> vioBia. Haitino premised these things in general concemhig benevolent affections, I shall now attempt some enumeration of them. [Hi] 1. The /rsl I mention is, ikat ffpmtmtit tmd e^MMnm^ amd oiher near trlnliofi.*.* This we commonly call noJnm/ affection. Every kngnago has a name for it It is common to m with moat of the hrute-ani- mala I and Is variously modiied m differ- ent animals, according as it is more or less neoeasary for the preservation of the spe- Many of the insect tribe need no other caro of parents, than that the eggs be hud in a proper |ihM3e, whero they shall have neither too httle nor too much heat, and wlieni' the .animal,, aa .ioon as it as. hatched, shall find ito. oatufal foo4 Th.is. can the parent takes, and no mora In other tribe% the young must be lodgea in some sceret phoe, where they cannot bo easily diaoovered. hy their enemies. They 'must be cherished hy the wannth of tl,ie parentis body. They must be suckled, and fed at first with tender food ; attended in their excuiaions, .and guarded from danger, 'till they have leBmed, hy experience, and hj the example of their parents, to provide for their own subsistence and safety. With what amiduity and tender affection this is done hy the parental, in every species th.at .reouins it, is wei kno'wn. The eggs of the feathered tribe are com- monly hatched by incubation of the daiu, who leaves off .at on.ce: .her sprightly motionf and migrations, and confines herself to her solitaiy ana pawful task, cheered by the song of her mate npn a neighbouring bough, and. sometimes fed by him, 'sometimes, re- lieved in her incubation, whUe she gathers a8cantymca1,and with the greatest &patoh returns to her poet [IIW] The young birds of many species are so veiy tender and delicate, that man, with all hii wisdom awl expeiiimse, would not be ahb to .tear one to 'maturity. But the parents, without any experience, know per- iwtly bow to roar sometimes a dozen or :moro .at 'One brood, and to give every one ito nortion hi due season. They .know 'the food 'hast suited, to thev deieate constitu- tion, which is somethnes afforded by nature, ■onethiHi Bist be cooked and half digested .in the iStomaeh. of the parent In some .aaioials, nata.re hath furnished the female with a kind of second womb, into [II8-ISD] iiiiAr. iv.J OF PARTICULAR BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. d61 which the young retire occasionally, for food, warmth, and the conveniency of being carried about with the mother. It would be endless to recount all the various ways in which the parental affection is expressed by brute-anunals. He must, in my apprehension, have a very strange complexion of understanding, who can survey the various ways in which the young of the various species are reared, without wonder, without pious admiration of that manifold wisdom which hath so skilfully fitted means to ends, in such an infinite variety of ways. In all the brute-animals we are ac- quainted with, the end of the parental affec- tion is completely answered in a short time ; and then it ceases as if it had never been. The infancy of man is longer and more helpless than that of any other animal. The parental affection is necessary for many years ; it is highly useful through life ; and therefore it terminates only with life. It extends to children's children, without any diminution of its force. How common ia it to see a young woman, in the gayest period of life, who has spent her days in mirth, and her nights in pro- found sleep, without solicitude or care, all at once transformed into the careful, the solicitous, the watehful nurse of her dear infant: doing nothing by day but gazing upon it, and serving it in the meanest offices ; by night, depriving herself of sound sleep for months, that it may lie safe in her arms. Forgetful of herself, her whole care is centred in this little object. [161] Such a sudden transformation of her whole habits, and occupation, and turn of mind, if we did not see it every day, would appear a more wonderful metamorphosis than any that Ovid has described. This, however, is the work of nature, and not the effect of reason and reflection. For we see it in the good and in the bad, in the most thoughtless as well as in the thoughtful. Nature has assigned different depart- ments to the father and mother in rearing their offspring. This may be seen in many brute animals ; and that it is so in the hu- man species, was long ago observed by So- crates, and most beautifully illustrated by him, as we learn from Xenophon's (Econo- micks. The parental affection in the dif- ferent sexes is exactly adapted to the office assigned to each. The father would make an awkward nurse to a new-born child, and the mother too indulgent a guardian. But both act with propriety and grace m their proper sphere. It is very remarkable that, when the office of rearing a child is transferred from the parent to another person, nature seems to transfer the afiiBOtiim along with the [141-153] office. A wet nurse, or even a dry nurse, has commonly the same affection for hev nursling as if she had borne it. The fact is so well known that nothing needs be said to confirm it ; and it seems to be the work of nature. Our affections are not immediately in our power, as our outward actions are. Nature has directed them to certain objects. We may do kind offices without affection ; but we cannot create an affection which nature has not given. [152] Reason might teach a man that his children are particularly committed to his care by the providence of God, and, on that account, that he ought to attend to them as his particular charge ; but reason could not teach him to love them more than other child- ren of equal merit, or to be more afflicted for their misfortunes or misbehaviour. It is evident, therefore, that that peculiar sensibility of affection, with regard to his own children, is not the effect of reasoning or reflection, but the effect of that constitu- tion which nature has given him. There are some affections which we may call rational, because they are grounded upon an opinion of merit in the object. The parental affection is not of this kind. For, though a man's affection to his child may be increased by merit, and diminished by demerit, I think no man will say, that it took its rise from an opinion of merit It is not opinion that creates the affection, but affection often creates opinion. It is apt to pervert the judgment, and create an opinion of merit where there is none The absolute necessity of this parental affection, in order to the continuance of the human species, is so apparent that there is no need of arguments to prove it. The rearing of a child from its birth to maturity requires so much tune and care, and such infinite attentions, that, if it were to be done merely from considerations of reason and duty, and were not sweetened by affection in parents, nurses, and guardians, there is reason to doubt whether one child in tep thousand would ever be reared. [153] Beside the absolute necessity of this part of the human constitution to the preserva- tion of the species, ite utility is very great, for tempering the giddiness and impetuosity of youth, and improving ite knowledge by the prudence and experience of age, for en- couragmg industry and frugality m the parente, in order to provide for their child- ren, for the solace and support of parents under the infirmities of old age ; not to mention that it probably gave rise to the first civil governments. It does not appear that the parental, and other family affections, are, in general, either too strong or too weak for answer- mg their end. If they were too weak. OK Till ACTIVE POWmS. [mafiii—fabii,. pwento would be woMt mpC to err on the •ide «r iiiiiio Mvtrily 5 if too strong, of «*iiie iiiiliil^^ A« they •» in fiiSt, I believe no nuui can mj thai the eiranan iiM^ pnei^ on one ifde than on the other. When theee aJTectione are eieilei ae^ jwptof to their intention, omier 'the: dine- *wn. of wieiioni. and pmdene% tte eoo-^ mmy of mich a fiunily is a most delightful 4>MtMK 'tnd^ IbiBiihes the' nioet .im^ ,*2*;f»^ '"*M to ^wfeniif .of the prfiter,, and. to the pm ^of the^ onloT' ^and poet. *• ^ ?*J! '^*' 5®'w***"* aUbdion I men- IMW, »: Gmmtm le Mma^i^mm. That^ md mem are, % fhs' wmy mm^ ■tijition of our nature, apt to pvoiuee: .good wii towards the benefaetor, in good and nail aeni in the savage and in the ctvili«ed. The danger of perverting a man*s jodfr JMmt hy good 4m^ where he onglit to Mm m bte, is so well known that It is dfahononimhle hi JoSges, in witnesses, in eieetora to ofHees of tmst, to aeeept of then$ .and, m all eiviiied. 'nafieii^lhey •re, in sneh eases, prohibited, as the means rfjBorniftlon. [IM] ' ^^ Theae who. wonM ^eoffnipt 'the ^senienee' of ajodge^ (he testimony of a 'witness, or the vote of an elector, know well, that they ihmsI not maie a hairgain, or st^mlate whs t » to he. done m return. This woold aheok eveiy man who 'has the least pntensioB tn 'MOfato.. .If the person ^ean only be pra- vaiM upon, to aeeept the good, oilee, as a IS???5f ' Ir* *?? dM»t<»t«i*ed friend. ^Pilliiirfl to woilc upon his gialitnde. He inds himietf mider a kind df SM»al. ehUptMO to eonsider the ^eanse 'Of his "bene- ftctor ^d friend in the most favoumMe hf ht He ^nds it easier to justify his con- di^ to himself, by favouring the interest of hhi henefiustor, than by oppodng 11 Thus the principle of graHtode Is sup- ;posed, even in the^ .nature of a hri.bei. BmA ;ineii know how to .make this natunil piin. «ple the most eA»etual means of' eoniiii. tfan. The very best thhigs may be tnm^ iSli^'^. ®"* *^« «»*«»* tendeney J^ this pihieiije, and the mtentien. of 1^^ "..PMtipg it m the human bieait^ .are, evidently to promote good-wiU among man, •..*^ J"^ f® «^ ®*<» ^ Powor of ™* Wnf tiehf kind, like seed' :Sown In the earth, which brings a return, with in- external action only. A brute-animal wil be as kindly ateeted to him who feeds it in M(*r to .MM pd eat It, as to him who dees itftom..allwtion. A man may be Justly entitled to our gw- Wjide, for an oilce that is useful, though it be, at the same time, disagreeable ; and not onjy for doing, but for forbearing what he had a right to dow Among men, it is not every booeielal office that claims our gratitude, but such only as are not due to »»>»*«€* lla»l A Ikvour alone gives a .elate/to gratitude 1 and a iivour' must be mitlhittg more than Justiee requires. It does not apjwar that brutes have any con- ••ption of justiee. They can. neither dis-^ nugiiih. .hsrt fhom iiij.ni7, nor a favour from, a good once thatl» due. , ^A *^^ natural benevolent affection is FUg and Compmdm Imemtdg ikg Big-' trmmi Of aU persons, those in distivsa stand most in need of our good offices. And, .fiir that reason, the Author of natnro hath planted in the breast of every human crea. turo a pwerful advocate to plead their Whether there 'be, or 'be not, ;in. 'the »■* .asgaeioiis bru.tes, :Somethinfr tliat mav be^eaiOp^ ^J ^^,1S^f^^«A 'ihat^^itohumaii. Wnd,: that, m 'the last, the mind of the 'b< iKtor is 4di]e% regarded, hi the fist, In man, and .hi some other animals, them ■*"»«««• "«m to use, and taught all JJJi lo 'indeiatand without aiw' .Inleipieter. These nilntal :signs aro more eloquent than wiiguage ; thev move our hearts, and pro- duce a sympatly, mA m desin to give re.^ Ikf. © * •« ne»s ani few hearts so hard, 'but great dMtwBs. will wniiner their' anger, thew in. «wllii% .and. 'every malevolent affection. We synpthise even with the traitor and with., 'the assassin, when we see him led to '•awsiwii. It 'is only self-preservation and the puUie good, that makes us relnctan% •••inl to his being out off from amone men. ^ The piMilee .ff the Chmadian. mtions tO'Wards^ their nisoners would tempt one to think that tney have been able to root out the principle of compassion ima their nature. But 'this, I apprehend,, would bO' a rash condusien. It is only a part of the prisoners of war that they devote to a wuel death. This gratlies the revenge of the women and ehiliien who have lost their iusbandS' ^and. fiithen in the war. The other prisoners are kmdly used, andadopted M brethren. [IftS] Compyeion with bodily pahi lino doubt •••••lied, among these savages, 'because they^are trained from their hilaney to be superior to death, and to every degree of pam ; and he is thought unworthy of the nuiue of a man. who cannot defy his tor- ■Jitoi^ and sing his death-song in the midst of the most eniel tortures. He who '•an. do this, is honowed as a brave man, CHAP. IV.] OF PAETICULAR BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. n63 though an enemy. But he must perish in the experiment A Canadian has the most perfect con- tempt for every man who thinks pain an intolerable evil. And nothmg is so apt to stifle compassion as contempt, and an ap- prehension that the evil suffered is nothing but what ought to be manfully borne. It must also be observed, that savages set no bounds to their revenge. Those who find no protection in kws and government never think themselves safe, but in the destruction of their enemy. And one of the chief advantages of civil government is, that it tempers the cruel passion of re- venge, and opens the heart to compassion with every human wo. It seems to be false religion only, that is able to check the tear of compassion. We are told, that, in Portugal and Spain, a man condemned to be burned as an ob- stinate heretic, meets with no compassion, even from the multitude. It is true, they are taught to look upon him as an enemy to God, and doomed to hell-fire. But should not this very circumstance move compas- sion ? Surely it would, if they were not taught that, in this case, it is a cruue to shew eompassion, or even to feel it. 4. kfmrth benevolent affection is, Esteem ef the Wise and the- Good. [167] The worst men cannot avoid feeling this in some degree. Esteem, veneration, de- votion, are different degrees of the same affection. The perfection of wisdom, power, and goodness, which belongs only to the Almighty, is the object of the last. It may be a doubt whether this principle of esteem, as well as that of gratitude, ought to be ranked in the order of animal prin- ciples, or if they ought not rather to be pkced in a higher order.* They are cer- tainly more allied to the rational nature than. the others that have been named; nor is it evident that there is anything in brute animals that deserves the same name. There is indeed a subordination in a herd of cattle, and in a flock of sheep, which, I believe, is determined by strength and courage, as it is among savage tribes of men. I have been intbrmed that, in a pack of hounds, a stanch hound acquires a degree of esteem in the pack ; so that, when the dogs are wandering in quest of the scent. If lie opens, the pack iramedmtely closes in with him, when they would not regard the opening of a dog of no reputation. This is Bomething like a respect to wisdom. But I have placed esteem of the wise and good in the order of animal principles, not from any persuasion that it is to be found in brute-animals, but because, I think, it appears in the most unimproved and in the • Seeatx>ve*p i&l, b, aote *.— 'H. [157-159] most degenerate part of our speeies, even in those in whom we hardly perceive any ex- ertion, either of reason or virtue^ I will not, however, dispute with any man who thinks that it deserves a more honourable name than that of an animal principle. It is of small importance what name we give it, if we are satisfied that that there is such a principle in the human constitution. [158] 5. Friendship is another benevolent affection. Of this we have some instances famous in history — few indeed, but sufficient to shew that human nature is susceptible of that extraordinary attachment, sympathy, and affection, to one or a few persons, which the ancients thought alone worthy of the name of friendship. The Epicureans found it very difficult to reconcile the existence of friendship to the principles of their sect. They were not so bold as to deny its existence. They even boasted that there had been more attach- ments of that kind between Epicureans than in any other sect. But the difficulty was, to account for real friendship upon Epicu- rean principles. They went into different hypotheses upon this point, three of which are explained by Torquatus the Epicurean, in Cicero's book, " De Finibus." Cicero, in his reply to Torquatus, ex- amines all the three, and shews them alL to be either inconsistent with the nature of true friendship, or inconsistent with the fundamental principles of the Epicureau sect. As to the friendship which the Epicu- reans boasted of among those of their sect, Cicero does not question the fact, but ob-. serves that, as there are many whose prac- tice is worse than their principles, so there are some whose principles are worse than* their practice, and that the bad principles of these Epicureans were overcome by the goodness of their nature. 6. Among the benevolent affections, tho passion of Love between the Sexes cannot be overlooked. Although it is commonly the theme of poets, it is not unworthy of the pen of the philosopher, as it is a most important part of the human constitution. [ 159] It is no doubt made up of various in- gredients, as many other principles of action are ; but it certainly cannot exist without a very strong benevolent affection towards its object, in whom it finds, or conceives, everything that is amiable and excellent, and even something more than human. I con- sider it here only as a J enevolent affection natural to man. And that it is so, no man can doubt who ever felt its force. It is evidently intended by nature to direct a man in the choice *.f a mate, witU 4*64: ■lie ^mkm to M w, and to niir an off- II mm diMliiall J ateiireil Urn eui k all I^IIM, Hid in ennj ttoto of Meielj. imp •W^p Bp'HI^^^^PVIWMp ^(f** w'^' w ^■■"J WWB^A ■wwW^iP BhPHBV' ^ip VLH VHIlMi wSBm^mmf'Um mmatmfmetB to fladi oliari ■iMi.wliiii 'ilMf' mm 'CmMiiiiitod wtlli fri^ 4mmmf hkI: 'nMt^ wlii. * 'iRKi|«r fetam, tat the 9omm ^ :•!! itonMate felieity, II10 flmilMlL 'nmt to tlwl of a MmA ^makaJiLmtm. wliieli ' ttis immM aAivdiB A% in file' pnaenl alate of tlilii|% ;|Miiii 'Oflen dwdUs nmr to pleaaure, mmwmtmw to joy, il noods not be thought ilnuige '|:|i«t''»;MiWiii«:illttoi iod intended hy nature 'to yield 'the^ gieataat 'imiiidlj' 'iellei^, .ahonld, % heinf iM^gnlatod m wrong direeted, prove' the oeeation of tte moat piingent CiN TiIE AtJTIwE rOwERS. .[.essaw ni.— pi«t n; Tlie oljeet extends as 'Oiir -eonneetionfl riea the .aibetion along with il to every eommunity to which we can apply the pro- nonnB iiw and our. "iM«Ml, parmt, nekhlUHrt f nt tt will wmj if a jp ^ flBAP. it.l OF PARTICULAE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 565 But it* joya and ito grieli,, ito 'diffeitnt nmdiieatione .in. the 'different aeieai and Ito Iniienoe upon the e^haraetor of 'both, thoig h 'Very important BufaiectSy. are' Ittor to be anng' than laid 1 anil I leave then, to tlioae who have .ekft upon the two-topped fto^ naanis. [IIRI] I. The lof I benevolent affection I shall, nenlion ia, what we eommonly call Puftik iif^ntf Ikal i% nil' ti]fie^tm to mt^ Mann 11.11% to ■wMek w§. lilMif. If 'there he ^any man. quite deotituto of tbb affection, he muathe aa^ groat a monster aS' a asu bom 'witb two heala* .Ito effeete mm ;nianifest 'in the whole of' hninan. life,. and in the history of all natiana. ThO' ei'tnalion of a ,gr«at 'parC^ of mankind, ind«ied, is such, that their thoughts and views must be ooained within a very nar- low sphere, and lie very 'mueh ei^^eaaei by their privato oon.cem8. With v^iywl. 'to .an 'oxtensiire' puitlic, sU'Cb as n .atato or natioi, they are lilce a drop to the ocean, ■0 'that they have 'rarely an. opportunity of aeli.nf 'with a view to :it. In many, whose' actions may affeet the public, and whosO' 'rank and station lead "" mpiP mw ^^w wMMPiBei^S' ^w'lSt ''"'^■i 'jpai '9' V e^iw^*"^ j^wwwpar^if' BiBiii ■hbhof Wr^i' ■hWI #|LlHMHMII|ikA4!liilHlk 'VwlMi WHIHalliTlMa MMieVlSlN^' jk"'llB "lil>'life'Miilll'" JaA.'aMii be inferred, fteni 'this ia, that thait" imbliit '■iiirlt iS' 'weak, not that it does not eiSai' If a man 'wislios well to the paUie, and ia. leadv 'to' 'dO' .food to .it "rather 'than, .hurt, 'When It costo bim :nothin|L. hO' baa .^lone affection to it, thongh. it mayboi aeindaloasly wvvVlllH' mim- lICnOrQMEili' I believe eveiy 'man has it in oim. .'d«ree or' ano'ther. What man ia there who doen. not. resent salhrieal relleetions npon his. 'Country, or npon any eommunity of whicii he is a member? Whether' the .affeetion bo< to • 'Ool^i' « to a ohiistor, to a elui or to' m 'ptiiMaion, to a party' or to a wition, It 'is. .publle. apirit fbiie>.aliieltoniiif|hr, not in kind, but in 'the eticnt of lliir olflect. Even in the misanthrope, this, affectbn is not extingui^lie I. It is overpowered by 'the .apprehension .he has of the woflhleia- neeo, the 'haseneaai and the ingratitoik of 'mannd*. -CSonvinee :liim. that there' ia any amiable quality in the species, and irome* dhlely his philan'thropy revives, and r^oioea. ' to .:ind aa object, on whieb it 'Can '«xert .it-' self. Public spirit has 'this, .in common with every subordinato principle4>f action— thai, wlien it .is not under the government of reason and virtue, .it may produce much evil as. well .as good. Tel, 'whem 'there ia ':leaatef nason and virtue to .r^golite' it, ito good ikr 'overliabnose ito ill. aities between eennnuniliea. nr contonding ' 'partiea, and makes 'then treat each 'Other with little regard to justice. It kindles wars between nations, and makes them destroy one another for' triiii^..eanaeai. .But, without it, society could not subsist, and every community would be a rope of sand. when nnder the direction of reason and virtue, it is the very image of God in the -soul. It diiliaes ito ben.ign influence as far as .ito. power extends, and partietpates in the happiness of God, and of the whole ereatioii. These are the benevolent affections which a|ipear to me to be parts of the human con- etit'ution. [lit] If any one thinks the enumeration in- completo, and that there are natural bene- volent affoeliona,. which are not included under any of those' that have been named, I shall very ieadi% listen to such a cor- rection, being sensible that such enumera- tions are very often uicomplete. If others .should think that any, or all, the aibfltiona I have named, an ' acquired by education, or by habita and aaaoeiationa grounded on self-love, and are not original parte of our 'Constitation i this ia a pomt upon, which, indeed, thcte -baa beoi much anhtile' disputotion .in aneient. and 'modem timasi and wbieh, I believe, must be 'de- tarmiiied Irom what a man, by carefhl re- fleetion, nnv feel in himself, rather than from wbaft. be obser'ves .in 'Others. But I decline enterinc into 'liiia dispute, till I .shall have exfiiinei that' princi|ile of action. 'Wbieb we eommonly call ie//4mie, I ^sball eoiidnda tbia ■nb}eot witb some The Jraf' m, That, .all 'Of them, in as far as they aie benevolent, in which view only I consider 'them, agree veij mueh .in the •(induct they dispose us to, with regard to their objects. They dispose us to do them good as far as we have power and opportunity ; to wish them well, when we can do them no good ; to judge favourably, and often partially, of them I to sympathise with them in their afflictions and calamities i and to rejoice with them in their happiness and good fortune. It is impossible that there can be bene- volent affection without sympathy both with l^e good and bad fortune of the object ; and it appears to be impossible that there nan be sympathy without benevolent affec- tion. Men do not sympathise with one whom they hate; nor even with one to whose good or ill they are perfectly indif- ferent. [163) We may sympathise with a perfect stranger, or even with an enemy whom we see in distress; but this is the effect of pity s and, if we did not pity him, we should not sympathise with him. I take notice of this the rather, because a very ingenious author," in his " Theory of Moral Sentunents," gives a very differ- ent account of the origin of Sympathy. It appears to me to be the effect of benevolent affection, and to be inseparable from it. A second reflection is, That the constitu- tion of our nature very powerfully invites us to cherish and cukivato in our minds the benevolent affections. The agreeable feeling which always at- tends them as a present reward, appears to be intended by nature for this purpose. Benevolence, from ite nature, composes the mind, warms the heart, enlivens the whole frame, and brightens every feature of the countenance. It may justly be said to be medicmal both to soul and body. We are bound to it by duty ; we are invited to it by interest ; and because both these cords are often feeble, we have natural kind affec- tions to aid them in their operation, and supply their defects; and tliese affections are joined with a manly pleasure in their exertion. A third reflection is, That the natural benevolent affections furnish the most irre- sistible proof that the Author of our nature intended that we should live in society, and do good to our fellow-men as we have oppor- tunity ; since this great and importont part of the human constitution has a manifest relation to society, and can have no exer- cise nor use in a solitary state. The last reflection is, That the different principles of action have different degrees of dignity, and rise one above another in our estimation, when we make them objects nfeontemphition. [164] fl63-l6S] e Aiiim 8initlL~>Ha We ascribe no dignity to instincts or to habitsr They lead us only to admire the wisdom of the Greater, in adapting them so perfectly to the manner of life of the dif- ferent animals in which they are found. Much the same may be said of appetites; They serve rather for use than ornament. The desires of knowledge, of power, and of esteem, rise higher in our estimation, and we consider them as giving dignity and ornament to man. The actions proceeding from them, though not properly virtuous, are manly and respectable, and claim a just superiority over those that proceed merely from appetite. This, I think, is the uni- form judgment of mankind. If we apply the same kind of judgment to our benevolent affections, they appear not only manly and respectable, but amiable in a high degree. They are amiable even in brute animals. We love the meekness of the lamb, the gentleness of the dove, the affection of a dog to his master. We cannot, without pleasure, observe the timid ewe, who never shewed the least degree of courage in her own de- fence, become valiant and intrepid in de- fence of her lamb, and boldly assault those enemies, the very sight of whom was wont to put her to flight How pleasant is it to see the family eco- nomy of a pair of little birds in rearing their tender offspring ; the conjugal aflection and fidelity of the parents ; their cheerful toil and industry in providing food to tkeir family; tlieir sagacity in concealing their habitation ; the arts they use, often at the peril of their own lives, to decoy hawks, and other enemies, from then- dwellingplace ; and the affliction they feel when some un- lucky boy has robbed them of the dear pledges of their affection, and frustrated all their hopes of their rising famUy ? [165] . . If kmd aflection be amiable m brutes, it is not less bo in our own species- Even the external signs of it have a powerful charm. Every one knows that a person of ac- complished good breeding charms every one he converses with. And what is this good breeding ? If we analyze it, we shall find it to be made up of looks, gestures, and speeches, which are the natural signs of benevolence and good affection. He who has got the habit of using these signs with propriety, and without meanness, is a well- bred and a polite man. What is that beauty in the featores of the face, particularly of the fair sex, which all men love and admire ? I beUeve it conr sists chiefly in the features which indicate good affections. Every indication of meek- ness, gentleness, and benignity, is a beauty. On the contrary, every feature that mdi- 5IKf ON THX ACTlYfi POWfiR&. [hiay tii.--'i»i.BT' m eates pride, pMNon,. «iivj, tnil mi^iiity, .KM affectioiiiy 'iMMimi .ut .smialife k Dnnes* jbTen. im' .M|ps Mn 'iiitiMiifS eies. Inde^ tlwj mm tlie joy and the com- fert 4xf Imimii lile^ met to good mem only, Imti 'evem. to' Hie vieimis amd. dlae(ilmto.> Witlioiil .■oeielyi, amd. tiie intovaettine of Had. aflMtiMii niMi ie aglooiny, mekneholy, amd joykaa^ 'beiiig; ilis mimd opfiieesed Willi, eana and ISmib, lie can'ool enjoy the Mai. 'Of' MMuid. .alfMfis in eonstaiit dread 'Of limpfliidIiig"iBiKer, ^lie alarta at the rust* ling' of «. .leaf. His ears^ ate MmtiiiuaUy npom. the stretch, and. every lephyr iiii^p MMM' MMmd. that' aianis .Mm. Whm he 'entem into loeiely, and heh '•eenrity In. the good affecHiiii of ifieadto.and meiriilMiars, it is them only that his fear TaaUies, and his mimd. is at ease. His eoonige' m raised, Us. mndetBlamding is enMieaed,, and. his heart dilates with joy. Human aoeiety nay te eemfiared. to a .ieap^of embers, whieh when plaeed. asunder, ean. retain nather their light nor heal, :amidsl the summmding'eiflmemts; hut, when 'bmughl tog^her, th^ mntaally give heat and%httoeaeh other; the iaraw 'hreaks iMh, and. not only deinids itself, hut inb- dues^ 'everything anmnd il The 'seeurity, "the happhiess, 'and. the strength of human soeiely, spring solely f lom the reeiproaa benevolent affections of '■ll>'iai 'WMfcJi ii 'iwtBfcaiifliMBi 'ThO' benevolent affections, though they be all lionourable and lovely, are not all enually so. There is a subordination among llieni I and the honour ve pay to them generally eorresponds to 'the eatentiif their ebjed The. good.' husband,, 'the -good lnher, the good friend, the good neighbour, we honour as a good man, worthy i^ our love and af- iMtiM. ..But the man" in whom these' more private .afflMstions are swaUowed up in .aeal for' the good, of his «ountiy and le " " aU% 'by Mb mional iMnMe% of ' ON THE ACTIVE .fOWLRS. ['Emay hi pawt w- ing between hurt, and injury ; a distinction which, 'no bnite<»animal can make. Both. 'theae'^Mnda of resentment are raised, whether tta hurt or injury be done to our- selres, or to thoee we are interosted in. [ 1 73] Wherever ttare is any tanevolent affec- tion towards others, we resent their wrongs in proportion to the strength of our affec- tion. Pity and sympathy with the sufferer produce nsentment against the author of the sullbring, as naturally as concern fur ourselves produces resentment of our own wmngt. I shall irst consider that resentment which I call aw'nie/, which Butler calls Mudfkn^ and Lord .Kamea inM^iwiim, In every animal to which nature Iiaili given tta power of hurting its enemy, we see .an 'endeavour to' retalhito 'the ill that is done to 'it Bven a 'mouse will bite wtan it cannot mn .away. Pertaps there 'may be 'Some animals to whom natarehathg|7ennooffensive weapon. To such, anger' .and naentment would be uf no use ; and I bdieve we shall ind that they never staw any sign of it But there .are' few of this km4 ta provoked to ieree anger, and. .retain it lonft Many of tbem shew greM animosity hi 'irfni'diiig 'ttair' young, who hardly shew any in defending themselves. Others resist everv .aaianlt imim 'upoa the flock or herd to wbifih 'ttay belon|f. .Bees defend their hive, 'wiM beasts tbetr den, and birds their nest. This sudden resentment operates in a similar 'manner in men. and in brutes, and appears to ta given by 'nature to tath for the same end — ^namely, for defence, even in 'Cases, wtare there is no time for deliberation. It may ta eompared 'to that nalnral 'inatinct ny wnten a mani wiin wui^ mm his. Balaraee and. 'beghH' 'to &i, makes a sudden, and violent effort to recover himself, without any intention or deiheratiou. [174] In such «iEDrt%. men. 'Often exert a degree of muscular .strength 'hnrond what they .aro' able to exert by a cahn determhiation of the will, and thereby save themaelvea from maiQr .a dangnwa falL By a lUie ' 'violent and, ^andden .impulse, 'nature prompts 'na 'to :repel hurl 'upon the cause of 'it, whether it ta man or beast. The instinct before mentioned is solely de- Isnaive, and 'ia prom'pted. by fear. 'This sud- den resentment is offensive^ and is prompted 1^ anpr. but with., a view to defence. Man, in his nreaent state, ia surrounded with ao many oMunii 'fhon. M§ 'Own. MMwIf i i 'ftfom lii'ii'liii aiilniaii, from, everything around :Wm., that ta has need 'Of aome defenmve armour that ahall alwaya ta ready in the monerat of daaqfar. 'II.ie reaaon ia of great nan wot thia 'pvpoaci when there is timc' to [I7«-If4] QV.Ara ...J OF MALEVOLENT AFFECTION. &m apply it Butj in many cases, the mischief would ta done before reason could think of the means of preventing it The wisdom of nature hath provided two means to supply this defect of our reason. One of these is the instinct* before men- tioned, by which the body, upon the appear- ance of danger, is instantly, and without thought or intention, put in that posture which b proper for preventing the danger, or lessening it Thus, we wink hard when our eyes are threatened ; we bend the body to avoid a stroke ; we make a sudden effort to recover our balance, when in danger of falling. By such means we are guarded from many dangers which our reason would come too late to prevent But, as offensive arms are often the surest means of defence, by deterring the enemy from an assault, nature hath also provided man, and other animals, with this kind of defence, by that sudden resentment of which we now speak, which outruns the quickest determinations of reason, and takes fire in an instant, threatening the enemy with re- taliation. [175] The first of these principle operates upon the defender only ; but this operates both upon the defender and the assaiknt, inspir- ing the former with courage and animosity, and striking terror into the latter. It pro- claims to all assailants, what our ancient Scottbh kings did upon their coins, by the emblem of a thistle, with this motto, N^emo me impune lace.sset. By this, in innumeraole cases, men and beasts are deterred from do- ing hurt, and others thereby secured from suffering it. But, as resentment supposes an object on whom we naay retaliate, how comes it to pass, that in brutes, very often, and some- times in our own species, we see it wreaked upon inanimate things, which are incapable of suffering by it ? Perhaps it might be a sufficient answer to this question — That nature acts by gen- eral laws, which, in some particukr cases, may go beyond or fall short of their inten- tion, though they ta ever so well adapted to it in general. But I confess it seems to me impossible that there should be resentment against a thing which at that very moment is con- « See Mr Stewart, in •• Philoflophical Etsayi," Note (I), whocen«ure« Reid for applying the term imtinct to an acquired dexterity. Reid may be defended, however, on llie ground that, though in man there ■uy be primm facie reason on which to explain the motions in question as the results of practice, that this is not, at least in a great measure, the case. We see many of the brutes performing these actions from the moment of birth in full perfection ; those, to wit, as I have ascertained, who have the cerebellum pro. fortlonally to the brain proper, then fully developed ; and it is only with the proporttonal developement of this part of the cncephalns. that children obtain the ftill command of their Hums, the oomfilete power of regulated movement.-- U. p 75-1773 sidered as inanimate, and consequently in- capable either of intending hurt, or of being punished. For what can be more absiird than to ta angry with the knife for cutting me, or with the weight for falling upon my toes ? There must, therefore, 1 conceive, be some momentary notion or conception that the object of our resentment is capable of punishment ; and, if it be natural, before refiection, to be angry with things iuanunate, it seems to be a necessary consequence, that it is natural to think that they have life and feeling. Several phaenomena in human nature lead us to conjecture that, in the earliest period of life, we are apt to think every object about us to be animated. Judging of them by ourselves, we ascribe to thera the feelings we are conscious of in ourselves. So we see a little girl judges of her doll and of her playthings. And so we see rude nations judge of the heavenly bodies, of the elements, and of the sea, rivers, and fountains. L^^l If this be so, it ought not to be said, that by reason and experience, we learn to ascribe life and intelligence to things which we be- fore considered as inanimate. It ought rather to be said— That by reason and ex- perience we learn that certain things are inanimate, to which at first we ascribed life andinteUigence. If this be true, it is less surprising that, before reflection, we should for a moment relapse into this prejudice of our early years, and treat things as if they had life, which we once believed to have it. It does not much afiect our present argu- ment, whether this be or be not the cause why a dog pursues and gnashes at the stone that hurt hun ; and why a man, in a passion for losing, at play, sometimes wreaks his vengeance on the cards or dice. It is not strange that a blind animal im- pulse should sometimes lose its proper di- rection. In brutes this has no bad conse- quence ; in men the least ray of reflection corrects it. and shews its absurdity. It is sufficiently evident, upon the whole, that this sudden or animal resentment, is intended by nature for our defence. It pre- vents mischief by tta fear of punishment. It is a kind of penal statute, promulgated by nature, the executwn of which is com- mitted to the sufferer. It may ta expected, indeed, that one who judges in bis own cause, will be disposed to seek more ttan an equitable redress. But this disposition is checked by the resent- ment of the other party. [ 177] Yet, in the stote of nature, injuries once begun will often ta reciprocated between the parties, until mortal enmity is produced, and each party thinks himself safe only m the destruction of his enemy. This right of redressmg and punishmg i7i ON THE ACTIVB POWlia [kmay hi far* t iMrii«ii.'iiiiiiigp, Ml apt to iM almttdly It OM 'Of'liiMii' .iMiliinl righto wiidi,, to Mlitiial. Bodel J, it givra. up to ilM !»«% Mi to 'tiw eivil niMMtnto ; and tUii, tMtOmd, is one of 'Hm «wti. nliBiitafet wm 'tmm §nm tlw IMiilM. 'iniM,. ttoil 'tlia mm mUkig §Mm 'imgiivefMi nMii.toiiiitai«' to • gimit dhfiM fnvmtod Aitlwii2ii^d«ll»enito rawntoiciit doot not f fMMrljr' 'Mom '^ ^ '(tei '<>f ' aaiiHil 'ptin- etfilw ; y«l, •• 'Mh, bivo tiiiO' :iHiie- imt, and mm diatiii|piiied onlj by pliitoMpi0i% mod m in reat life tliejan «ommonlj intef^ mizod, I :sl»M liene nake aome remarkf' 'U|IOI|. it* A small degiM of' iMaaon :aml. rdtoetim leadiea a man tbat toj'wrj' inly, and. not :iiMn- hut, it a jnat ol>j«ct^'or nmtment to » .iBtioiial Cfftttnfb A man may snlsr giimmiiiy 'l>y tte liand of anotlmr, not only witliiml iiil'iiry, tet witli the 'most friendly totontion ; as in the case of a painful ehtr- uigM operation. Every man of common :iania mm, that to iweut neh. nibiinf , ii: 'not the part, of a. man, but 'Of « hint*.. Mr Loek« :mailifiiit a genthmaii who^ having' heen ^enred of .madaeia hv a very harsh, and. offensive operation, with great MMi-of|talitiide| owned tiW' cure' aa. the gnaleil ohiigalion he eoahi. 'have .received, hut could never hear the aighl of the^ 'Oper- ator, because it brought back the idea of 'that .affMiar 'wli:ieh. he had endured from his In thb case, we see distinctly the opera-' tiim both of the animal and of the rational principle. The first produced an aversion to the opeiator, 'whiflh. reason, wai^ not .abto to overcome' ; and pPohaMy to.« 'waak. m.lnd, might have produeed 'tosting ' nsentment .and hatred. But, in this gentienun, reason so far pratalM as to nSike him ^siMe that griit.itnde| and not resentment was Suibring .may give a bias to the judg- ment, and make us apprehend inj'ury whert' no injury is done. But, I think, without an apprehension of injury, there can he no ddiheiato resentment. .Henccjamong enlgiitaMd'natioiM, hostile amries' ight wiiiont anger or resentment, 'fho' vanquished aro'iwl'tisated as'0fltedoi%, toit as brave' 'men whO' 'have tondht Hv'-tlieir' emntry unsuocessfiniiy, and mm mtt m^ titled to every ofliee of humanity eonalBtont 'With, 'the safity ofthe eonfueiors. If w«' analyat' that. dMtomto. .nssentmaiit which 'is. ptepiff' to 'tiioiial «Matures, w .shall find that, though it mgnm with that^ wUdi is merely animal In. aome' leapeets. M 'differs to others.. Both, at*' aocompanisd with, an 'iimi^ .aeasatioii, vHih: 'iitaihs 'li»'paaea"of''the'mtod.> Both 'pmmpt' ns to seek rednsss 'Of onr aoihiipgSk and. ieenrity from barm. But, to. deliberate resentment. then nwst. bf an opinion of mjni7'.."doiM or Mitowiea.. ami. sdnusness. of the 'frailty of human nature, and that he has often stood in need of for- giveness himseil the pleasure of renewing good onderstandiig alter it has been in- terrupted, the toward .approbation of a ,generous and fotfiving disposition, and even the itksonwness. and uneasiness of a mtod mllled. by :roientnien.t, plead strongly against Upon the whole, when we consider, That, on the one hand, every benevolent affection .is pleasant to 'its. 'nature, is health to the soul, an.d a coid«|. to the .spirito'.| That nature' has m.adto even 'the outward «xpres- sion of benevolent affections in the counte- nance, pleasant to evory beholder, .and the 'Chief 'togredient 'Of 'beauty m the kmmmfam tiMn0f That,, on the other hand, every malevolent affection, not only in its faulty exeeisee, hnt in its moderate degrees, is vexation .and disquiet to the mind, and even gives, deibimity to the couutenanoe— it is evident that, by these signals, natniie loudly admonishes us to use the former as our daily bread, both for health and pleasure, but 'to consider the totter as a 'nauseous medicme^ which is never to be taken with- ont necessity ; and even then in no greater quantity than the necessity rsquires. [100] CHAPTER VI. #V t ASSION. .Bi^fCNis I proceed, to consider' the rational principles, of' action. It to proper to observe that there are aome things belongtog to the mind, which have great influence upon human eondnct, by excittog or allaytoff. Tkrm of this Mnd deserve particular eon- ri7«-iflt»i ■ft* CHAP. VI.] OF PASSION. 671 stderation. I shall call them hy the names of i'atnofi, HifpoAt/ton, and Opinion. The meanmgof the word Passion is not precisely ascertained, either in common discourse, or in the writings of philosophers. I think it is commonly put to signify some sgitation of mind, which is opposed to that stote of tranquillity and composure Jn which a man is most master of himself. The word «•««, which answers to it in the Greek language, is, by Cicero, rendered by the word perturbatio. It has always been conceived to bear analogy to a storm at sea,* or to a tempest in the air.f It does not therefore signify anything in the mind that is constant and prmanent, but something that is occa- aioual, and has a limited duration, like a storm or tempest. Passion commonly produces sensible effects even upon the body. It changes the voice, the features, and the gesture. The external signs of passion have, in some cases, a great resemblance to those of madness ; in others, to those of melancholy. It gives often a degree of muscular force and agility to the body, far beyond what it possesses in calm moments. il8l] The effects of passion upon the mind are not less remarkable. It turns the thoughts tovoluntarily to the objects related to it, ao that a man can hardly think of any- thing else. It gives often a strange bias to the judgment, making a man quick- sighted in everything that tends to inflame his passion, and to justify it, but blind to everything that tends to moderate and • ••. Sape mihl humane medilsnU incommoda vile Speaque Icvet, trepidoique metua, vanoaquelatx>rci, Oaudiaque inttabUi lempertucntaaereno, Won aecus ac navia lato jactata proftindo, Quam venti, violen»queaMtui, canusque magister rndiveMatrahui.t,"&c— BucHANANUB. Montaiane alludea to these versci m the tenth •hapter of hn third book, but without naming his IMiter. He haa thua pussled by cdnunentatora. *• Nubibus atris Condita uullum Fundere potaunt Sidera lumen. m mare volvena Tutbidua Auater Miaceat aatum. Vitrea dudum, Parque screnia Unda diebus. Blox reaoluto Soidida cmio Viaibus olMtat . . . • • Tu quoque ai via Lumiiie ciaro Cernete verum, Tramite recto Carpetecallam; OaudiapeUe. Fdletimorcm, Spemque AieatOp Ncc dolor mat. Nubria mens cat, VinctaquefVaBiiw Uacubi regnant.— BoEruiin'.—H. allay it. Like a magic lanthom, it raises up spectres and apparitions that have no reality, and throws false colours upon every object. It can turn deformity into beauty, vi6e into virtue, and virtue into vice. The sentiments of a man under its m- fluence will appear absurd and ridiculous, not only to other men, but even to himself, wnen the storm is spent and is succeeded by a calm. Passion often gives a violent impulse to the will, and makes a man do what he knows he 'shall repent as long as he lives. That such are the effects of passion, I think all men agree. They have been described in lively colours by poets, ora- tors, and moralists, in all ages.* But men have given more attention to the effects of passion than to its nature ; and, while they have copiously and elegantly described the former, they have not precisely defined the latter. The controversy between the ancient Peripatetics and the Stoics, with regard to the passions, was probably owing U> their affixing different meanings to the word. The one sect maintained that the passions are good and useful parts of our constitu- tion, while they are held under the govern- ment of reason. The other sect, con- ceiving that nothing is to be called passion which does not, in some degree, cloud and darken the understanding, considered all passion as hostile to reason, and therefore mamtained that, in the wise man, passion should have no existence, but be utterly exterminated. [182] If both sects had agreed about the defini- tion of passion, they would probably have had no difference. But while one con- sidered passion only as the cause of those bad effects which it often produces, and the other considered it as fitted by nature to produce good effects, while it is under subjection to reason, it does not appear that what one sect justified, was the same thmg which the other condemned. Both allowed that no dictate of passion ought to be followed in opposition to reason. Their difference therefore was verbal more than real, and was owing to their giving different meanmgs to the same word. The precise meaning of this word seems not to be more clearly ascertained among modem philosophers, Mr Hume gives the name of possum to every principle of -action in the human mmd ; and, in consequence of this, main- tains that every man is and ought to be led by his passions, and that the use of reason is to be subservient to the passions. Dr Hutcheson, considering all the prm- ciples of action as s o many determination a * See particularly Ari8totle;a drijn'fjion °f JJ* PaBsiona inthe aecond book of hU " Bhrtoru:. — li» ••>7» ON THE ACTIVE FOWBRa [msait iii.-FiBT «• or molionfl of «lie wlUy dividiit fhMn Into tli« fo/in and the iwrMemi, The tiirlmleiit, ha ^im. .«»' our mpimilm^ •»! ov jMMliftt. Of' '!!•' 'pmiMM, M^ Wei. mi ef the oan delemniiinti, m iaj% ikit <''' Miiiie^ ;■■« Aattfoolbil, others are m^fttk ; thai anger, •mm indteiiirtiora,:. and .some otiMii|.:inif ' he^ mkar ndM m lienevoleiit, Mmdlng: m they ^ariw' ftmn eome oppoiicion' to- nor oira.. iiiteiesto, or to those of our friendi, or fei^ ■mi. Moved or esteemed** II •f^mmf therefoie^ thnt^ thin miflellmt ttuthor i^wm 1k9 'Wune of' pmmmf 'Mil' te' every principle of aetton, but to mmm, mi to those only when, they are tnihnfetic and Yeiiement,. not wheni they are^ ealm and deliherste. ItfiS] Onr 'natinil desires and aiSMstionii 'may he eo' calm, as to leave room for .reieelion, so that we ind no difficnltj in deliber. ating 'eoollir, whether, .in mm a partienJar luatanee, they o^glii to be gfatiied^ or not On other oeeaafoosi they nay 'be so im- portnute as to malEe deiberation very dif- ienll, nrging' u% by a Mnd of violenee, to 'tWr .iminediate patiication. Thns, a 'man may be sensible of an. in- jniy without being inflamed. He judges coolly of the injttry, and of the proper means ■of redresa. Thk is resentment without ■passion. It leaves to the^ nan the wtiie command of himelf. On another 'Oecas^ion, the same principle of leeenlment rises into' aiane. His blood hois within him ; his looks, his voice, and his gesturo are" changed; he can think of noth.mg hut immediate revenge, and feels a stmng hnpolse, without repird to conse. f uenesa,. to say and do things which biS' ■«Booi 'reaaoB' violeiil as to pMdMtt 'these- eibrts upon; the body and upon the mind, is a passion, or, as CSeero ver^ p>periy calk .it, a peitarbatioii.. It. M evid«ii» that' tiiS' neaiii^' gf ' the vonl pm$im anewii nneh 'hsUsf' 'wlth Its 'eommin.'n8t in hmguage^ thni'^ 'that: which Mr Hume gives ii^ flii] When he say% 'ihal men ougbl to- be- Mvamsd by their' jpassions only, and. that the nss -of .lesson fe to be sulssvtieal to 'the jpisioii% this, at fiisl 'bsaiinf, .appssrs a abscfcing paradox, tepugnaal to md ^"^'ils^ and to esmman. sense |. hnl, Ike- i-misr 'paradoxes, when explahied ae^ lUi to his meaning, it is nothing but an iIbisH' m ^' " * ^^^W^H^tnm WHS .For, if we give the name of pamiion to every prinoiple of action, in •very degree, sad. pvs tha name of' rmmm mmy to the power of di8oefn.ing' 'tis 'itnsss- of nsans to ends, it wEI be 'true that 'the 'uss^ of iea8o.ii is to be .subservient to the- passions. la I wish to use words as igreeably as pOBsihls to- their ^cwnnnn. -use .in knguage,* I shall, by the- werd^ Mfieii: 'mean, not an j prinei|Me- of action dasthici- 'Ikim tfa-osa de- aiffvs and aibetions before explained, but «HeA m ikfffm if wtktmtme in them, or in mm of tismf . m m apt to produce those •HeetS'' 'Upon 'the- body or upon the 'm.ind which have bean above described. Our appetUetf even when vehement, are not, .1 think, veifoommmily called pciMmmt'; .yet tbey .are -capable of being iniaiued 'to rage, and .m that -ease Ihehf 'eiMts are very nmilar to thoes of the passions ; and 'what is said of one may be applied to both. ^ Having explained what 1 mean bv pas. sions, I tlmk 'it unneofsnipy to enter into any enumeration of them, since thev differ, not in kind, Itut nither in degree, Irom the principles, ^slready -enumeffated. 'The com.nMn divisfan of the passions .mto desire and amrai&% k&pe and /rffli-j^jr and ffrirf, has been mentioned almost by every author who has treated of them, and needs no explication. But we may observe, that these are ingredients or modiflcations, not of the passions only, but of every principle of action) aninml and mtional [ 1 85] All ef them imply the desire of some ohjeet ; and the desire of an object cannot be 'Without aversion to its contrary ; and, according as the object is present or absent, desire .and aversion^^ will be variously modt- ied into' toy or |rief, hope -or fear. .It is evident that- desire and aversion, joy and grief, hope and fear, may he either cahn and sedate, or vehement and passionate. ffcssing thcs% thetelDre, as common to ai. ^prin^piis. nf .action, whetlif^r ralm or 'vehenisnl, I .shall. mHy make some observa- tions on 'paioa 'la. genciai, 'Whieh. 'tend to shew its niuence on human conduct. Ftrtl, ItispasBioa that makes us liable to Strang tenptalinns.. .Indeed, if we had no passions, we shouM hardly be under any temptation to wrong eondnct. For, when we view things cahnly, and free from any of the false enliMns whieh passion throws upon them, we ean hardly lail to see the right and the wrong, and to see that the irst is more eligible than the kst I believe- a cool and delibemto preference of iU. to geod is never-the flrst stop into 'VieSh ** When, the woman, saw that the tree was good for food, and Hat it was pleasant to 'the -sye% and, a ties to be desired to- laal Bdd't limitation of lent aitctioiM* V It if not In aV _ the term ptmi^m to _„ Wi.il ind a ««rraa.:t<«»ll. CHAP, vi.*] OF PASSION. make one wise, she tooTc of the fruit thereof and did eat, and gave also to her husband with her, and he did eat ; and the eyes of them both were opened.'* Inflamed desire had blinded the eyes of their understand- ing. [180] •• Fixed on the fruit the gai'd. which tn Ijehold Might tempt alone ; and in her ears the«iund Yet rung of hU persuasive wonla. impregn'd With reanon to her aeeming. and with truth. Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste. Of virtue to make wise— what hinders, then. To reach, and feed at once both body and mind F MUUm. Thus our first parents were tempted to disobey their Maker, and all their posterity are liable to temptation from the same cause. Passion, or violent appetite, first blinds the understanding, and then perverts the will. It is passion, therefore, and the vehement motions of appetite, that make us liable, in our present state, to strong temptations to deviate from our duty. This is the lot of human nature in the present period of our existence. Human virtue must gather strength by struggle and effort- As infants, before they can walk without stumbling, must be ex- posed to many a fall and bruise ; as wrest- lers acquire their strength and agility by many a combat and violent exiertion ; so it is in the noblest powers of human nature, as well as the meanest, and even in virtue ifiseti. It is not only made manifest by tempta- tion and trial, but by tliese means it ac- quires its strength and vigour. Men must acquire patience by suffering, and fortitude by being exposed to danger, and every other virtue by situations that put it to trial and exercise. This, for anything we know, may be ne- cessary in the nature of things. It is cer- tainly *a law of nature with regard to man. [187] Whether there may be orders of intelli- gent and moral creatures who never were subject to any temptation, nor had their virtue put to any trial, we cannot without presumption determine. But it is evident that this neither is, nor ever was the lot of man, not even in the state of innocence. Sad, indeed, would be the condition of man, if the temptations to which, by the constitution of his nature, and by his cir- cumstances, he is liable, were irresistible. Such a state would not at all be a state of trial and discipline. Our condition here is such that, on the one hand, passion often tempts and solicits us to do wrong ; on the other hand, reaaon and conscience oppose the dictates of pas- sisn. The flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh. And upon the issue of mis conflict, the character of the man and his fate depend. If reason be victorious, his virtue is strengthened ; he has the inward satisfac- tion of having fought a good fight in behalf of his duty, and the peace of his mind is preserved. If, on the other hand, passion prevail against the sense of duty, the man is con- scious of having done what he ought not and might not have done. His own heart condemns him, and he is guilty to himself. This conflict between the passions of our animal nature and the calm dictates of rea- son and conscience, is not a theory invented to solve the phsenomena of human conduct ; it is a fact, of which every man who attends to his own conduct is conscious. In the most ancient philosophy of which we have any account — I mean that of the Pythagorean school* — the mind of man was compared to a state or commo nwealth, iu which there are various powers, some that ought to govern and others that ought to be subordinate. [188] The good of the whole, which is the su- preme law in this, as in every common- wealth, requires that this subordination be preserved, and that the governing powers have always the ascendant over the appe- tites and passions. All wise and good con- duct consists in this 4 all folly and vice in the prevalence of passion over the dictates of reason. This philosophy was adopted by Plato; and it is so agreeable to wliat every man feels in himself, tliat it must always prevail with men who think without bias to a system. The governing powers, of which these ancient philosophers speak, are the same which I call the rartowa/ principles of action, and which I shall have occasion to explain. I only mention them here, because, with- out a regard to them, the influence of the passions, and their rank in our constitution, cannot be distinctly understood. A second observation is. That the impulse of passion is not always to what is bad, but very often to what is good, and what oui reason approves. There are some passions, as Dr Hutcheson observes, that are bene- volent, as well as others that are selfish. Tlie afiections of resentment and emula- tion, with those that spring from thenii from their very nature, disturb and disquiet the mind, though they be not carried beyond the bounds which reason prescribes; and therefore they are commonly called passions, even in their moderate degrees. From a eir.iiiar cause, the benevolent affectionh, which are placid in their nature, and are * Of the Pythagorean school ai J Iti partwdar doctrinef. we know very little "'t'l •"y,St!^'i°*J; The artkuiaUs accounU we have from the lower Platonistt are recent and fabulous, and the trcaiise* under the names of the Pythagorean philosQpnen themselves, spurious.— U. #71 ON THE ACTIVE POWEta [wtAY m.^,Aut m CHAP. VII.] OF DISPOSITION. 575 ririlj mrtkA htjmi tte Imitiidt'iif kami, '•ft Terj ioldiiiii oiM. |iiiaifMM. W« do imt gi¥0 the luune of niiaBioii to boMvo- mmt ..giitltiiiie, or fneii na iirong. Faesion is very properly said to be blind. It loois not beyond tbe present gratifica- 'lloii. It belongs tO' reason to attend to the 'amdental ^einmmstanees wbieli. nuiv aooie. tenes maite tbat gratiieatioO: iapKipar or linrtfa]. When there is^ no .impioiiiiety in It, miieh more when it is our duty, pas- mm aids .reason, and gives, additional force^ U its dielalssb Sympathy with the disliiiBed may bring them a charitable relief, when a cahn senseof duty 'wmM be''too weak, to pniduee' the effeet. 0bjeets, .either good ot' ill, 'Ooneeived. to he very ditent, when th^' am efMiiidered. coollv, have not that iniuanee upon men wiieh m reason they ought ta have. Ima- gination, like the eve, dimtaisheth its^ohjeels in proportion to their distanee. The pas- simis of hope and fear must be raised, in order to give such objeets their due magni- tade in the imagination, and tiieir due in- flnenee npon our conduet* •nio dread of di^graoe and nf tho civil maiistnte, and the apprebeaaion of' fhtire Miiishment, prevent many crimes, which bad men, wiiiiiil HmM' .nstiaii%. 'wmld. 'Commit, and Mniribute gieatly to the peaee and good^mder of society, f 190] _ There m no bad. action which, .some pas*' sion may nut prevent; nor ia^ there any extomal .good actmi, of whieh .sunt piBiiom may not Is tho^ aahi sprfagi. and :it ||.'V«7 pro'baMe that even, the 'paasteis ^nf 'imi^ vpon. thawhole,, do .mora good, to society than. hnrl. The ill that is done draws our attention .more, and ia^ imputed solely to human pas- sioiia. The ,poi*i may have better motives, and chanty leads m to think that it ha8.t but., as we see not the 'heart, It is 'hnpovible la detemime what sha.re' men*b passioBs may haire in its piodnction. ^ The /mi oheer«atian.ii— That, if «• dis- tingu'ish, in the effects of our nasrioii% tbcae wh.ich are al'together involnnta^yand witiont the' isphere of mm pawar, fami the 'Offieta whiei. m^y he prevented by an. ex- ertion, peiiiaiia a great exertion, of :Belf. .gavemment; we shai ind the lliat. to^ be goi^and h%hlyii8efy, and the hMtonly Hot to qicak. of' iit allBcts of moderafe pasaifina upon, 'the health 'Of the booy, to which. aoBM^agllatioB at this kind eeems to be no kss usdrul than storms and tempests to the salubrity of the air ; every passion aatirally draws our attention to its object, 'andhiterestawkii. The mind of man is naturallv desultory, and when it has no interastiug object iu view, roves from one to another, without :it.h^ te attention upon .any one. A tran- ■iant'.aiid: 'eaidass glance is all that we be- stow upon objects in which we take no cciWNtn. It requires a strong degree of curiosity, OT' some more important passion, to give ns that interest in an object whieh is neoessafj to our giving attention to it. And, without attention, we can form no true and stable Judgment of any object. Ilill Take awav the passions, and it is not easy to say how great a part of mankind would resemlile those frivolous mortals, who never had a thought that engsged. them 'in good earnest It is not mere judgment or intellectual ability that enables a man to excel in any 'art. Of aeiance. He must have a love and .admkation .of it horderiiig upon enthusiasm, or a passMinate deshv of the lune, or of some other advantage to he got by tliat excellence. Without this, he would not uudeigo 'the kbonr .and latigne of his facul- ties, which It reauiica. So 'that,. I tUnk, we may with justice allow no small merit to the passions, even in the discoveries and i.m.nro¥emMita of the arts a.nd sciences. If the passions for hm% and distinction were extinguished, it wouM he dlAcnlt to find men ready to undertake the cares and toUs of goverainent ; and few perhaps would uakO' thfl. exerticn leceisary to raisO' them.- lelvai above tho. Ignobla: 'Vilgar. 'The involnntanr' .signs c? the passions and dispositions of the 'mmd, m the voice, features, and action, are a part of the human constitatioB. whieh. deserves .admiration. The. a%tt;iiiation of these" signa' ;is known to all men. 'by nature, and. previous to all expe- ney an .so niaiiy open.ing8 into the souls 'Of our 'iilhiw*men, by wb.ich their eenti- nttta 'beeome visible 'to the eye. Thev ate^ a natural hui.guaga' eammon to mankind, withont which it would have been irapos- •ible 'to have kvented any art.i.lictal Ian- guaiie. It ;ia from the iiataral signs of the 'pas- .sionS' and dispositions of the mind that the human form derives its beauty ; that paint- ing, 'pcatry, .and bum deiive their expres- aioni 'that dofaanae derives its greatest force, and oonivaiiatioii. its greatest charm. it] The ;pas8ions, 'whan 'kept withm their proper bounds, give life and vigour to the whole man. Without them man would be a slug. We see what polish and anima- tion the passion of love, when honourable and not unsuccessful, gives to both -sexes. The passion for military glory raises the brave commander, in the day of battle, far above himself, making his countenance to shine, and his eyes to sparkle. The glory of old England warms the heart even of the British tar, and makes him despise every danger. As to the bad efiucts of passion, it must be acknowledged that it often gives a strong ^ impulse to what is bad, and what a man condemns himself for, as soon as it is done. But he must be conscious that the impulse, though strong, was not irresistible, other- wise he could not condemn himself. We allow that a sudden and violent pas- sion, into which a man is surprised, alle- viates a bad action ; but, if it was irresist- ible, it would not only alleviate, but totally exculpate, which it never does, either in the judgment of the man himself, or of others. To sum up all, passion furnishes a very strong instance of the truth of the common maxim, "That the corruption of the best things is worst. ~ »fi CHAPTER VII. or OISPOSITION. By Disposition I 'mean a state of mind which, while it lasts, gives a tendency, or proneness, to be moved by certain animal principles, rather than by others ; while, at another time, another state of mind, in the same person, may give the ascendant to Other animal principles. [ 193] It was before observed, tliat it is a pro- perty of our appetites to be periodical, ceasuig for a time, when sated by their objects, and returning regularly after cer- tain periods. Even those principles which are not peri- odioal, have their ebbs and flows occasion- ally, according to the present disposition of the mind. Among some of the principles of action, there is a natural affinity, so that one of the tribe naturally disposes to those which are allied to it Such an affinity has been observed by many good authors to be among all the benevolent affections. The exereise of one benevolent affection gives a proneness to the exercise of others. There is a certain placid and agreeable vOwTuptio opt^ni pmtma. From Arittotle; who uMt It when speaking of pure mon«rchy-.a taim of nolitjr wbich may either be the best or the tone of mind which is common to them all. which seems to be the bond of that connec- tion and affinity they have with one another. The malevolent affections have also an affinity, and mutually dispose to each other, by means, perhaps, of that disagreeable feeling common to them all, which makes the mind sore and uneasy. As far as we can trace the causes of the different dispositions of the mind, they seem to be in some cases owing to those associat- ing powers of the principles of action which have a natural affinity, and are prone to keep company with one another; sometimes to accidents of good or bad fortune ; and sometimes, no doubt, the state of the body may have influence upon the disposition uf the mind. At one time, the state of the mind, like a serene unclouded sky, shews everything in the most agreeable light Then a man is prone to benevolence, compassion, and every kind affection ; unsuspicious, not easily provoked. [194] The poets have observed that men have their molUa tempora fundi,* when they are averse from saying or doing a harsh thing ; and artful men watch these occasions, and know how to improve them to promote their ends. This disposition, I think, we commonly c&Wf/ood humour ; of which, in the fair sex, Mr Pope says — •« Good humour only teache* charmi lo last. Still makes new conquests, and maintains the past. There is no disposition more comfortable to the person himself, or more agreeable to others, than good humour. It is to the mind, what good health is to the body, put- ting a man in the capacity of enjoying everything that is agreeable in life, and of using every faculty without clog or impedi- ment It disposes to contentment with our lot, to benevolence to all men, to sympathy with the distressed. It presents every object in the most favourable light, and dis- poses us to avoid giving or taking offence. This happy disposition seems to be the natural fruit of a good conscience, and a firm belief that the world is under a wise and benevolent administration; and, when it springs from this root, it is an habitual sentiment of piety. Grood humour is likewise apt to be pro- duced by happy success, or unexpected good fortune. Joy and hope are favourable to it; vexation and disappomtment are un- favourable. The only danger of this disposition seems to be— That, if we are not upon our guard, it may degenerate into levity, and indispose us to a proper degree of caution, and of at- * MolliBslmafaiidi Tempora.— Viboiud* Sola f iri moUes sdltiw et tempora noras, la^H. £193, 19i] 676 ON THE ACTIVE POWERS, [h-av hi._,a»t ,u of' OUT' tatfon to tlM futam ■ttifiaa [1W| * 'Tlttn h ft cliiiioiitiiB ofi^to to good linottr wliei ira calllmf kmmmtr, 'Of whieh IIW''taidmcy'kdim!ay'Csoiitfiit7,aad'i^ mm its ioiuimco is m 'inil%iiaiil m 'tlwl of tM otior w ealiitftrj. Bftd bunMMr alono h sdieitiil to mlcA ft niBii unliftpiij t it tinges mery olkJ«ict' willi its own dismal colour ; and, like a part that it tpmd, is hurt by everytiung tliat toiiclies it It takes offencm vlMpe hum «■■' OMHiti: and diiqioses to discoiitaiii, . Jwlnisy, oity, and, in general, to maleiroleiMt, Another coupk of opposito dispositions If© fteisft of Mind, on tk mm liand, and diprmtkm^ m. tlio 'Otber. Theso' 'eontiBiy 'dispositions^ aro 'liotii of an. amlbipo w naturo : tMr Iniiaenee may be good or bad, aooovding as tliey are grounded on tnie or ;fidse opinion, and ac- ooniinf as tliey are 'rMnlated* Tliat elation of 'iniiid viioli. ftrises: Ibm a jnst sense of tbe dknity of our naSnro, and of tbe powers and fiieufties willi wMeh God liatli endow'ed. ns,. is true nagnwiniity, nd disposes ft man tO' tbe moUwt viitiM%. and the 'most heroio aetions and. enterpfiini. ^The« is also' an. elation of mind, whi ch 'Srises from a conscionsness of our worth •"■^ »«*mf>*Ji 8Mch as Job felt, when be 'said— **Till I die, I will not: remove my integrity from me. My rigitteoiHiiees I hold last, and will not let it go; my heart .shaM not rep.roaefa me while I live.*'* This may be called, the .pride of virt^uo' .; but it k ft noble pride. It makes a man diMftia to do what is base or mean. This is th« true ■enio of honour. [ 196] .But there is an elation, of 'mind arising 'from ft irain opinion of onr haTiqg talents,. or worth, whieh we liave nM; orlmn. ;pii't- ting an undue value upon any of our endow- ments of mind, body, or fortune. This is pride, the parent of numy odious timsj such asftnoganeii, undue :Contenptofiithe.ri, self-partiality, and vicious saif4m. The opposito disposition to ehtion of mind, is .depmssbn, 'whieh also 'has good or bad: outlets, aeeonitng as it is grounded, upon true or lulse opinion. A j'ust sense of the weakness .and .impe'r- fictions of human .nature, and of our O'wn .pcMonal liiuitaaad defects, is. trua .humility. It is,, mn m mm ifmmihm aime mkai mm onfkt to iftiwlt— a most salntaiy and amiable dispositM»n, of great price in the sight of God, .and: .nan. Nor is it inaonsistant 'with fsal. magnanmii.ty .and greatness of sonl. They may dwdl together with groat advan- tsge and ornament to both, and be Ikithftil monttofsagpinstthe extremes to whieh each 'Bo*' there is: a dep'iession of mind whieh. is the opposito to mugnanJBiiiy, wUch ~ CHAP. VIII.J OF OPINION. 577 bililates the springs of action, and freeaet every sentiment that should lead to any aobfe eaertion or 'Ontcnirise. Supposa ft iniftn. to tftve no belief of a good sdmhiiatratioi of' the world, no con- ception of the dignity of lirtue, no hope of happiness hi another state. Suppose him, at' iie wmam 'tise^ in a state of extmne poverty and 'depeudenee, and that he "has no higher ahn than to supply his bodily wants, or to mmister to the pleasure, or istter the pride of some being as worthless as. himself, .la not the soul of snch a ' iwai depressed as n:neh as his body w his for* tune ? And, if fortune should smie upon him white heretahis the same eentunento he is only the slave of fortune. His mind Is deprsnod to tht ilato of a brute ; and his hnaian ;iimiiai. wrva only to make .him feel that depnssion* [197] BopNision of mind may be O'wing to mebimioly, a distemper of m.ind whieh pnceeda from, tho' ^stato^ of 'the hodj, which throws, ft 'dismal gloom 'upon every object of thought, cuts all the sinews of action, and often gives rise to strange and absurd opinions .in nllgioni or in other intanstinf matteifc Tet, where tliere is real worth at bottom, same rays of it will break forth even in this depressed state of mind. A remarkable uistance of 'this, was e]i« hibited. ..hi. Ifr Simon Brown, a dissentimi Arwrmen. in 'Bnghind, 'who^, by mehmcholi^ was led mto the belief that his imtional soul had grsdnally decayed within him, and at last was totally extinet. From this belief he flavo up his ministerial funetion, and WMM. not even join with others, in any act of worsliip, conceiving it to be a profana- tion to womhip God without a soui In this dismal, state of m.ind, he wrote an excellent delmee of 'tho' Christian reli'. gion, tgainst Tmdal*i *< CMstianlty as^ old as the Creation.** To the book ho pre- fixed ail epistle dediastory to Queen Cam* Ime, wherein he mentions—** That he was once a man ; but, by the unmediate hand of God, for his sins, his very thhiking sub- stance has, for mora than seven years, been oofttliiuaUy wasthig away, till it is whoUj IMciAid. out of'hiin, if .it bO' not wttatlr •"»J« 'OO^Wng.'* And, havhig :haard. of "ff *W«itys eminent piety, ho begs the aid 'or':her nrayen.. The book was published afler his death without the dediifttion. which, however, having been pitsarvad (n "msnnsoript, was afterwards prfntad in the *« Adventurer,** No. 88. [1118] Thus, this good, man, 'when he believed 'that ha had. 'no seal, shewed a 'most gene-' rous and disinterested concern for those who had souls. As depression of mind may prodnca strange opmions, cspeeially in thecasa of mekncboly, so our opinions may have a very considerable influence, either to ele- vate or to depress the mind, even where there is no melancholy. Suppose, on one hand, a man who be- lieves that he is destined to an eternal existenoe; that He who made and who governs the world, maketh account of him, and hath furnished him with the means of attaining a high degree of perfection and glory. With this man, compare, on the other hand, the man who believes nothing at aU, or who believes that his existence is only the play of atoms, and that, after he hath been tossed about by blind fortune for a few years, he shall again return to nothing. Can it be doubted, that the former opinion leads to elevation and great- ness of mind, the ktter to meanness and depression ? CHAPTER VIII. OF OPINION. When we come to explain the rational principles of action, it will appear that Opinion is an essential ingredient in them. T^ere we are only to consider its influence upon the animal principles. Some of those I have ranked in that class cannot, I think, exist in the human mind without it Gratitude supposes the opinion of a favour done or intended; resentment the opinion of an injury ; esteem the opinion of merit ; the passion of love supposes the opinion of uncommon merit and perfection in its object. [199] Although natural affection to parents, children, and near relations is not grounded tm the opinion of their merit, it is nmch increased by that consideration. So is every benevolent affection. On the con- trary, real malevolence can hardly exist without the opinion of demerit in the ob- ject. There is no natural desire or aversion which may not be restrained by opinion. Thus, if a man were a-thirst, and had a strong desire to drink, the opmion that there was poison in the cup would make him forbear. It is evident that hope and fear, which every natural desire or affection may create, depend upon the opmion of future good or ill. Thus it appears, that our passions, our dispositions, and our opinions, have great influence upon our animal principles, to strengthen or weaken, to excite or restrain them; and, by that means, have great Influence upon human actions and charac- ters. That brute-anhnals have both passions fl»9-201J and dispositions similar, in many respects, to those of men, cannot be doubted. Whe- ther they have opinions is not so clear. I thmk they have not, in the proper sense of the word. But, waving all dispute upon this point, it will be granted that opinion in men has a much wider field than in brutes. No nmn will say that they have systems of theology, morals, jurisprudence, or politics ; or that they can reason from the laws of nature, in mechanics, medicine, or agricul- ture. They feel the evils or enjoyments that are present ; probably they imagine those which experience has associated with what they feel But they can take no large pros- pect either of the past or of the future, nor see through a train of consequences. [200] A dog may be deterred from eating what is before him by the fear of immediate punishment, which he has felt on like occa- sions ; but he is never deterred by the con- sideration of health, or of any distant good. I have been credibly informed, that a monkey, having once been intoxicated with strong drink, in consequence of which it burnt its foot in the fire, and had a severe fit of sickness, could never after be induced to drink anything but pure water. I be- lieve this is the utmost pitch which the faculties of brutes can reach. From the influence of opinion upon the conduct of mankind, we may learn that it is one of the chief instruments to be used in the discipline and government of men. All men, in the early part of life, must be under the discipline and government of pa- rents and tutors. Men who live in society must be under the government of laws and magistrates through life. The government of men is undoubtedly one of the noblest exertions of human power. And it is of great importance that those who have any share, either in domestic or civil govern- ment, should know the nature of man, and how he is to be trained and governed. Of all instruments of government, opmion is the sweetest, and the most agreeable to the nature of man. Obedience that flows from opinion is real freedom, which every man desires. That which is extorted by fear of punishment is slavery, a yoke which is always galling, and which every man will shake off" when it is in his power. The opinions of the bulk of mankind have always been, and will always be, what they are taught by those whom they esteem to be wise and good ; and, therefore, in a con- sideratile degree, are in the power of those who govern them. [201] Man, uncorrupted by bad habits and bad opinions, is of all animals the most tract- able ; corrupted by these, he is of all ani- mals the most untractable. 1 apprehend, therefore, that, if ever civil 570 ON THl ACTIVE mWERS. [mawhi—fjiiit ii. pf«iillii«il"tiiill bO' lnOTglil to iwtlMtioii, It nmst' 'Im the piiiwipil. mm of tii« :iteto to .imIm gpMl diimm ^ywm§m^ tiiMiiliflii, and 'wliidli ■tmqpMi»'tii«''«iMtitiilifiii,. tmi f n- iwnto liiteiMM li j fodl v^gimn ; tlie real is .aoniMliit^ tts f nif|iiiig « wimmam hkm '■l,gfMft.«99aM%MitolililtiNiriioM. Tlie art nf giiventiiMiil is 'flw .nedieiiie of the muii, and the most aaeM fart of it la that whieh prevemta enmea .ami 'bad. iaiilta, and tiaiM* nMii to 'virtw' and, pod hahito^ hj 'Tho end «if govemneitt ' la to malce the aoeietj happj, which caa only be done by maklaf It pod. and virtooiia That men .in. nenonl. irii he good or 'had nenbatB of looiet*, aMoidiaif to tie edn^' ;eation and ^leipliie by wblA. 'they have 'hoen trained, experiianae nmj ooaviiioe ua.. 'The pment age haa made gMat.advam!es in the .art' of 'traininf 'men. to' niiitaiy' duty. .It wii not, 'he laid that 'thoao' who 'Ontor into that aerrioe are more traotahla than their' Mkiw«eiA»jeet8 of other 'pcofmioni. .And I hnov not. why it ahould bt' 'Ihought .impotaihhi to train, men to equal jperfee- tion k the other dnties of good eitiaena. fiisii Vlat' an. imnieniedlirerenoe is there, for the pirpoMi of war, between an., army pn-> periy trained,, and a miltia haatij 'dtawn out of tho' mnltitnde ? W hat .dMnild 'hinder ua fimn thinking that, for eveij fwDooe of dvi .p¥em.Bent, there: may be a lila dif^^ .ieveaee between a elvil aooiety properly imhied. to lirtne,. good, hahite, and riglit ■entinenta, and those eivil societies which WO' now behold ? Bmt I fear I. shall be thonght to' digress, from, my inhjett^ Into Utopian specniation. To make an end of what I have to say npon the animal principka of action, we may tale a eomplts. view of 'their' 'Sibet in | life, by supposbg a 'behig .actuated 'liy prin- ciplea of no hi^ier onkr, to have no eon* sdeoee or sense of duty, only let na allow iihn that superiority of understanding and that power of adf-pvemment which man 'actually haa,. Iiot us speeuhUe a littlO' upon thiS' .Inaginaff - lieinir, and eon.8ider 'Wlat * It it nnt 'CTtil' th»CwtM«siwiii to RfilitalilC' to tiMr pm^ 'Of' fl'tcM Brllaln liMl 'lilt' :iMl .PsUoii or .tarapt, if not iMt'OfHicWt, SI iMMt. to oarrf it Into 'llbfl^ M^Hfftit iHT deBiM%. no man ever de- nied. Bit ^aome philoaophefa, pnriienhiriy Mr Hume, thinh that it i» no imrt of the tjJBee of reaeon to determine 'tlw' 'ends we ought to pnrane, or 'the prifawnee due to nne end aiMive anniier. This,, he thinka, is not the eilee of reason, bit of tasto or feeling. if this be 'i% MMon cannot, with any pro-' priety, be called n prinemle of action. Its office can only be to minMer to the princi. pies of action, by discovering the means of 'their gratification, leoordingb, Mr Hnme maintains, that^ ;reaaon is no principle of ac- tion t bnt that It i% and ought to be^ the isenrant of the passiona I shai endeavour to shew that, among the mrions ends of human actions, there are some, of which, withont reason, wt could not 'even form n conception i and that, as soon .as. they ars' ccnceiyed, a regard to 'them ii, by our constitution, not only a principle of a«lion, bnt m .leading and go-' vemiQff prindpfe, to' vhieh .iM our .animal. princi.ples are^ snbordinato, and to 'which thrnr ought to be subject, iwmj These I shall call 'iwHiNMlprineiplcs ; be- cause they can.eiciat-on|r^ln 'bel^gS' 'endowed with reaaon, and 'because, to' 'aot:';tom 'thaaS' principles, is what has always been meant. by adiiig' according 'to .reason. - The endB' of human, actions I .bnvn 'in. 'View, are 'two— to 'wit, Wkm k ftstf Jlr m fipMt ike whofe, and, Wkai apfmmg m fa m»4mif. Thqr are veij strictly conneeled, lead, to' the'saiW' eourae of eoninet, and oo-' •"«{peEale 'witii eadi ether } and,, on. that' ^ae- oont, .have commonly "hoMi. ooinpnhemdtod. , under one name*->that of fvoMMi. But, as 'Aqr may be ifisjoiBed, and :are really dia- iinet ;piinciples of aetioii, .1 .ehai 'WHld'er ii.|llrl.J!i.JK il« 'Or RMAEO TO 'OIIB OOOII ON TMM WBOLB. It w'il not bC' doM. that man, when be comes to years of understanding, is led, by hia fatinnal natore, to fonn the conception 'nf what is. good for him upon the whole. How 'Carly in life tbia .meral. :notion 'Of good entera into the 'mind, I cannot pre* te'nd to detemine. It is one of the most neneral .^mi abstmct i mtiiMMi . 'wc' ibrm*. 'Whatever makes a. man 'mora 'happy or more perfect, is good, and iS' an object of desire aa soon as we are capable of forming the eoncaptinn 'Of .it. The contrary ia ill, .and is an object nf aversion. In the first part of life, we have many en|oynient8 of various Mnds t but very si- milar to those of brute-animals. IMB] They consist in the exercise of our sensea and ,power8 'Of melion, the gratification ef our apwtileiL and the exert:ions of onr hind allMilona.. lliese are chequered with many evila of pain, and fear, and disappouitment, and. mmpathy 'with the aufiMnga of others. ^ .But thO' .goods and 'Ovila of this .period of The mind, being :iegardleis of the 'past, and unconcerned, .about the future, we have then no other raiessure of good, but the .pre-' sent desire.; no otlier measireof evil. 'but ttlA 'iriilM'liiiiiiiiii .^.M^i^^i^h... [n of good without the desire of it, or the notion of ill without aversion to it Perhaps there may lie other necessary connections between un- deralanding and the best principles of action. 1^210-SlSj which our faculties are too weak to discern. That they are necessarily connected in him who is perfect in understanding, we have good reason to believe. To prefer a greater good, though distant, to a less that is present ; to choose a pre- sent evil, in order to avoid a greater evil, or to obtain a greater good, is, in the judg- ment of all men, wise and reasonable con- duct ; and, when a man acts the contrary part, all men will acknowledge that he acts foolishly and unreasonably. Nor will it be denied, that, in innumerable cases in com- mon life, our animal principles draw us one way, while a regard to what is good on the whole, draws us the contrary way. Thus the flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh, and these two are contrary. That in every conflict of this kind the rational principle ought to prevail, and the animal to be subordinate, is too evident to need, or to admit of proof. [212 J Thus, I think, it appears, that, to pursue what is good upon the whole, and to avoid what is ill upon the whole, is a rational prin- ciple of action grounded upon our constitu- tion as reasonable creatures. It appears that it is not without justcause, that this principle of action has in all ages been called reason^ in opposition to our animal principles, which in common lan- guage are called by the general name of the passions. The first not only operates in a calm and cool manner, like reason, but implies real judgment in all itsoperations. The second- to wit, the passions— are blind desires of some particular object, without any judg- ment or consideration, whether it be good for us upon the whole, or iU. It appears also, that the fundamental maxim of prudence, and of all good morals — That the passions ought, in all cases, to be under the dominion of reason— is not only self-evident, when rightly understood, but is expressed according to the common use and propriety of language. . . .. The contrary maxim maintained by Mr Hume, can only be defended by a gross and palpable abuse of words. For, in order to defend it, he must include under the pas- sions that very principle which has always, in all languages, been called reason, and never was, in any language, called a passion. And from the meaning of the word reason he must exclude the most important part of it, by which we are able to discern and to pursue what appears to be good upon the whole. And thus, including the most im- portant part of reason under passion, and making the least important part of reason to be the whole, he defends his favourite paradox. That reason is, and ought to be, the servant of the passions. [213] To judge of what is true or false in ^ecu- » Mtiw iNMi, b liMi mm if iiifeiilaliTe WW* I ini to jidp of iflM IiIm or iU tm m ip» mmjh^ k the olB^ of pM. msM ivtaoi. 'Of 'tun ^aml jklie tlion aiO' BO dMMs I but Of gooi and il tlmm am :iiiaii J mgmm^ amd many Muds { anii 'Imi. •!» iW' ftpt to fonn ertooMiH 'OpinioHi !»_*•■ miiOBty of Clio multitiiife, aul by ?^!r "f » "* •** •«•■» ''•^ reckoiMd it •■™»foiii*of wtadtai, to make « right Jjtiiiwto of tho good! and tvils of &. rii0¥ havo UbMind to 'diteover the errors «fiHiiiiiity' of ^another, who bean it as »e. M of hiimanity,.and.. as the dlsd'pine of a wise .and' mowlful .lather In heaven. ,He flies Mperior to adversity, .and 'ii made ««^ better by it, and, consequently, #ii* *■ ?!f'!T./ ** ^^ importance, hi tlie^oondQct of lili, to have just oninions with Kspeet to good and evi i and, surely, n ■ the iiiovuM of reason to correct wronff opiuon% aid to lead us into those that aie lost. 'Bad true. It .» trae, indeed, that m«n% passions and appetites^ too often, diaw 'them to .act con- tijiy to their cool ju^ment and npinion. of vhat IS best^for them. WMm'wm&m pm^ iofiij, d(l«rtona stfuwr, is the 'Case m. every wilHil 'deviation Ihim our 'tmo' intetest and mu duty. Whon 'ills iS' ft« esse, the man :ii self- •««ljiiii«l' I bo M that he aetiid. 'the mrt^ of a brute when he ou|^t to have a«t«iiie pwrt of a man. Me is eonvineed that •B^ to InvviiitMiiied his passion, ON THE ACTI¥15 TOITIIIS. [essay iiL-PAm- iii. duet,, bn inpntes^ then to himself, .and would be stong with lomofse for his folly, though he had no aotiint to make to a superior Bemg. He has sinned againM himself, and brought upon his own head the punishment whieh his .Itilly deserved Aon tUs wo may see that this rational pnnciple of a regard to our good upon the whole, gives ns the oonoeplion of a riffhi and a «imoPt^ in human conduct, at least of a •;<«» and a/eolwA. It pioduces a kind of self^pprobation, when the passions and appetites an kept in their due subjection to it ; and a kind of remorse and compunction when it yieUs to them, [till] In these respects, this principle is so similar to the moral principle, or Aiueimee^ nnd so intorwoven with it, that both are commonly compnhended under the name of BeaaoiK TUb aimiittity led many of the ancient philoBOplhefSi and some among the modems, to resolve conscience, or a sense of duty, entMy into a regard to what is good for us upon the whole. That thev an distinct principles of action, though both lead to the same conduct in life, I shall have occasion to shew when I com* to treat of emMcienee, CHAPTER III. THl TawniNCT m TMM PmiKCPl:l. If has been the opinion of the wisest men, in all ages, that this principle, of a regard to our good upon the whole, m a man duly enlightened, kads to the pncttce df every virtue. Thi« was acknowledged, even by Epi- curus ; .and. the best moralists, among the anciento derived all the virtues from this principle. For, smong tliem, the whole of morals wis reduced to this question ? Whut it m irrwitosi j«NMf9 w, Whai emtrm c/ mmlmi k km^ m ^pm .fAt inAolf f In of*»^to inioive' 'ibis ipestion, 'they CHAP. 111.] THE TENDENCY OF THIS PRINCIPLE. 583 «d not to ha:ve given the nin to^ it W.hen he ibeis the bad 'badeffeetaofhiS'Con. divided gooda into lArw ehMses t the iru„„. tifthe Mp^ihtt §mi$ of fwtnns or #*- Iffiw/ gmd§^^mi the ffrnds o/ the mM. »«f«>^f • I>J A* laMp •wjiosi and ijiriiic Comparing' tlisie'dlferentcksses of goods, they shewed, with convincing evidence, that the goods of the mind are, in many respects, superior to those of the body and of for^ tone, not only as they have moro dignity, an moro dntahl% and less exposed to the strokes of fortune, but chlciy as they aro the only giods hi onr power, and which depend wholly on onr condoel I2I«1 Epieuraa hhnself maintained, that the wise man may be ham in the trannnillity of his mind, even when, racked widi pain and atnggliiig 'wiith. adveni^. ■They observed, very Justly, that the goodi' rS14-8lb] of fortune, and even those of the body, de- pend much on opinion ; and that, when our opinion of them is duly corrected by reason, we shall find them of small value in them- selves. How can he be happy who places his happiness in things which it is not in his power to attain, or in things from which, when attained, a fit of sickness, or a stroke of fortune, may tear him asunder ? The value we put upon things, and our uneasiness in the want of them, depend upon the strength of our desires ; correct the desire, and tlie uneasiness ceases. The fear of the evils of body and of for- tune, is often a greater evil than the things we fear. As the wise man moderates his desires by temperance, so, to real or ima- ginary dangers, he opposes the shield of fortitude and magnanimity, which raises him above himself, and makes him happy and triumphant in thoiie moments wherein others are most miserable. These oracles of reason led the Stoics so far as to maintain— That all desires and fears, with regard to things not in our power, ought to be totally eradicated ; that virtue is the only good; that what we call the goods of the body and of fortune, are really things indifferent, which may, accord- ing to circumstances, prove good or ill, and, therefore, have no intrinsic goodness in themselves; that our sole business ought to be, to act our part well, and to do what is right, without the least concern about things, not in our power, which we ought, with oerfect acquiescence, to leave to the care of Him who governs the world. [217] This noble and elevated conception of human wisdom and duty was taught by Socrates, free from the extravagancies which the Stoics afterwards joined with it. We see it in the '* Alcibiades*' of Plato,* from which Juvenal hath taken it in his tenth satire, and adorned it with the graces of poetry. «* OmnllHii in tsrrit qua sunt a Oadibus uique [i] Auroram et Oangen. pauci dignuwere poMunt Vera bona atque illis roultum diveraa, remota Errorw nebula. Quid enim ratione timemut Aui cupimui ? Quid «am dextro pede concipiii ut te Conatiu uon poeniteat votique peracti ? • • • • • • • * Nil ergo opt«t>unt homines f Si contilium vii, p W] Fermittes iftsis expendere numinibus, quid Cfnveniat nobis rebusque iit utile nostria. Nam pro jucundu aptiasima qusque dabunt Dl. Carior ett illis homo quam «ibi. Noa animorum Impulsu, et c»ca magnaque cupidine ducti, C'unjugium petimus partumque uxoria ; at lUli Notum, qui puerl qualisque lutura cit uxor. iOraiidum est, ut «it men* lana in corpore ian&j I'ortem peace animum, mortis terrore caien-em. Qui spatium vit« extremum inter munera pouat Nature, qui ferre queat quoM:unque labores. Nesctat irasci. cupiat nihil, et iwiioret HMCUlia arumnas credat aw«que laborw Bt Venere, et c«nla. et plumis, aanianapalL Monstro, quod ipse tibi poMli dare : temlU certe Tranquilte per virtutem patet unica viia^ Nullum Dumen abest ai iit piudentia ; not te Noa facimui, Fortuna, Oeam, coeloque locamus.* Even Horace, in his serious moments, falls into this system. [218] •• Nil admirarl, prope res eat una, Numid, Solaque que posait facere et servare beatum. We cannot but admire the Stoical system of morals, even when we think that, in some points, it went beyond the pitch of human nature. The virtue, the temperance, the fortitude, and magnanimity of some who sincerely embraced it, amidst all the flattery of sovereign power and the luxury of a court, will be everlasting monuments to the honour of that system, and to the honour of human nature. That a due regard to what is best for us upon the whole, in an enlightened mind, leads to the practice of every virtue, may be argued from considering what we think best for those for whom we have the strongest afiection, and whose good we tender as our own. In judging for our- selves, our passions and appetites are apt to bias our judgment ; but when we judge for others, this bias is removed, and we judge impartially. What is it, then, that a wise man would wish as the greatest good to a brother, a son, or a friend ? Is it that he may spend his life in a con- stant round of the pleasures of sense, and fare sumptuously every day ? No, surely ; we wish him to be a man of real virtue and worth. We may wish for him an honourable station in life ; but only with this condition, that he acquit himself honourably in it, and acquire just reputa- tion, by being useful to his country and to mankind. We would a thousand times rather wish him honourably to undergo the labours of Hercules, than to dissolve m pleasure with Sardauapalus. [219] Such would be the wish of every man of understanding for the friend whom he loves as his own soul. Such things, therefore, he judges to be best for him upon the whole ; and if he judges otherwise for himself, it is only because his judgment is perverted by animal passions and desires. The sum of what has been said m these three chapters amounts to this : — There is a principle of action in men that are adult and of a sound mind, which, in all ages, has been called reason, and set iii opposition to the animal principles which we call the passions. The ultimate object of this principle is what we judge to bo good upon the whole. This is not the ob- iect« of any of our animal principles; they being all directed to particuhtr objects, » The Second Alcibiadet : which la not Plato'a ; as ^.n^,^^^,M^.uauld not be used for aim or m«4 [817-SlV] ON' THE ACTIVE POWEBS. [essay ,ui.-pakt hi. CHAP. IV.] DEFECTS OF THIS PRINCIPLE. 5V5 t witlmit wMi cfiniiMriiciii' wl& 'OllMni or an J oomliiefsliiiii 'of 'tlMir 'bting good or ill upon, 'tile wiiole. Wliai is good aiioii. tlie wliofo' 'MbioI mm. bo' mmmkrei vitlioiit the exercise of' rea- ■on, and therefore eannot be mn object* to Wnp tliat have notsono d<«reeof Aa ioon aa we kive the eouception of this object,* we are led, by our eoDstitti- tion» 'to desive And. pnisne it. It justlj ebiiM m preferenee 'tO' ni^objeots of ptimiit 'that. 'Oan eome in eoiipetltion 'with. .it. In preferring it to any gn^tion that op- poses It, or in snbmitting to any pain or mortifieatioii 'wUdi. it .lof itrea, we aist ae- aeeompanied 'Vitii :aeif*a{qprohatlon :aiid. 'the approbation of mankind. The contrary ac- tions are aooompanled with shame and self- 'eottdenuMtion m the agpit, and with. 'Oon- reoflonable. |&0] 'Oto right apptieatioii 'Of ' this ptineiple to onr ' eti idiwl leoiiirts an. ffi l tnii^ ^ prospect of hniiaii. Ilk and a eotrett" jndgintnl and eetiinato ui' its goods and 'eiils, 'with rc'- sMct to their intrinne worth aiid d^ity , »eir oenstancy and dniation, and their at- tain able nfliiWi He — wit . 'Iia & 'wise man 'in* deed|. 'if any .sncb 'mail' 'ibiva' b% 'wbo 'Can ncneive. in evmrv instance. 'CT'efMi 'in everv nnportant instance, what Is best for mm 'Upon the whole, if he have no other rule to 'direct' his oondnei' However, according to the 'best judgment wbleh. wise men have been able to form, this 'principle leads to the pmetice of every 'vhrtua It leadS' direotly to^ the virtues m Aad|. wImBi we eonMcT' oufsdlvie' as ^soihil. 'ereatnies,. whose happiness or misery is^ very 'uneh connected witn that ^of our feUow. :men{ 'wbaii 'we eonaider that there are BMWSf benevolent' tiffiwi^jiffl i f ' ri^ii* * m in ouf eottstitntion, whoso eiertions nakii a eapl- these if titi^ ' i i t it Bffj this principle' leadS" uS' als%. 'thimipi: mote Indireetly, 'tO' f i i up .|if fc u fiif iii v humanityi #m t .all 'tbO' It is true, that a regard to our own good «aamit|, of itself, produce a»' benevolent iiiiMiioii*> .jmty. if socn aiieraoin' ne a pan of' our eenstitwtkMi. .—mI W 'tile' emeiae of a Maid to our own good omfht to Mad us to^Svate andenen&ithei? asevety be- mpmlnnl alfeotion ' wnk^w the good ^of ' to be ov own. [221 1 eScetlMlMt 'CH.APTER ,IV. •aiwjts 'OP 'inis pbii«cifi..i. Hjunnn eapWned the nature of this prinslple of action, 'and shewn in general the tenor of conduct to which it leads, f shall eondnde what fektes^ to it, 'by point- ing out aone of its defects, if it be supposed, as it has been by wnie philosophers, to be the only ^^reguhttlng' principle 'Of human conduct. Upon that supposition, it would neither be a suilciently plain rule of conduct, nor would it raise the .hnman character to that degree of perfecliMi. of which it is capable, nor wonM It yield ao mncb real happiness as when it is joined with another rational principle of action— to wit, a disinterested regard tO' duty. Firxf , I apprehend the greater part of mankind can never attain such extensive views of human ife, and so correct a judg- ment of good and ill, as the risht applica- tion of this principle requires. The .authority of the 'poet before quoted,* is of weight in this point " Pauci dignos- eerei' nossunt vera bona, renio^ti errorts nebula.''* The .Ignoianeo' of the bulk of mankind concurs with the stn.upth of their passions to lead them into error in this most important point. Every man, in bis calm moments, wiihes to kno'W what is< best for him on the 'wholi.-. and to do It, But 'the diileulty of' 'diaeover^ ing it c]«irly, amidst such variety of opbiona and the importunity of present desires, temnt men tO' give over' the ^search, and to yield 'tO' the ptesent 'inelnation. |222 ] Though pbilcsoplMas and moralists have taken m.ucb. 'laudable pains to correct the errors of mankind in this great point, their instruetiona are known to few ; they have little inineaee upon the greater part of those to whom they are known, and some- times littk even upon the philosopher himself. 'Irani tho' knowing to the 'ignotent, and dif- fuse themselveo over all ; so that, with re- gard to them, the world, it may be hoped, will still bi: growing wiser. But the .errors of men, witii ngianl tO' iibat Is truly good evenr ^ag^ ^are still prevalent Men 'fllaiid in need of a 'Shamer monitor w^iP^ weiiif^ip'ipa waiwaw^jp •weieiippatii ew ^■'••iwi^wi''i^^wbw' w ^'^p' w* ^ifiib ^wivhivuhwaa w iflillrfhjMlillll y J *IBl >..iJiki ^»iWfc IiM| |Hj|u|| ,NB|JllbM| It JMh ]MUH|SllUn||HWURk «»t «p,5ve. «J| 'JBIm rQafi_c|oo1 than the bare apprehension of having mis- taken our true interest. The brave soldier, in exposing himself to danger and death, is animated, not by a cold computation of the oood and the ill, but by a noble and elevated sense of military duty. A philosopher shews, by a copious and just induction^ what is our real good, and what our ill But this kind of reasoning is not easily apprehended by the bulk of men. It has too little force upon their minds to resist the sophistry of the passions. They are apt to think that, if such rules be good in the general, they may admit of particu- lar exceptions, and that what is good for the greater part, may, to some persons, on account of particular circumstances, be ill. Thus, I apprehend, that, if we had no plainer rule to direct our conduct in life than a regard to our greatest good, the greatest part of mankind would be fatally misled, even by ignorance of the road to it [223] Secondiy, Though a steady pursuit of our own real good may, in an enlightened mind, produce a kind of virtue which is entitled to some degree of approbation, yet it can never produce the noblest kind of virtue which claims our highest love and esteem. We account him a wise man who is wise for himself; and, if he prosecutes this end through difficulties and temptations that lie in his way, his character is far superior to that of the man who, having the same end in view, is continually starting out of the road to it from an attachment to his appe- tites and passions, and doing every day what he knows he shall heartily repent. Yet, after all, this wise man, whose thoughts and cares are all centred ulti- mately in himself, who indulges even his social affections only with a view to his own good, is not the man whom we cordially love and esteem. Like a cunning merchant, he carries his goods to the best market, and watches every opportunity of putting them off to the best account. He does well and wisely. But it is for himself. We owe him nothing upon this account. Even when he does good to others, he means only to serve himself; and, therefore, has no just chiim to their grati- tude or affection. This surely, if it be virtue, is not the noblest kmd, but a low and mercenary spe- cies of it It can neither give a noble ele- vation to the mind that possesses it, nor attract the esteem and love of others. [224) Our cordial love and esteem is due only to the man whose soul is not contracted within itself, but embraces a more exten- sive object : who loves vurtue, not for her dowry only, but for her own sake : whose benevolence is not selfish, but generous and disinterested : who, forgetful of himself, has the common good at heart, not as the means only, but as the end : who abhors what is base, though he were to be a gainer by it ; and loves that which is right, although he should suffer by it. Such a man we esteem the perfect man, compared with whom he who has no other aim but good to himself is a mean and des- picable character. Disinterested goodness and rectitude is the glory of the Divine Nature, without which he might bean object of fear or hope, but not of true devotion. And it is the image of this divine attribute in the human character that is the glory of man. To serve God and be useful to mankind, without any concern about our own good and happiness, is, I believe, beyond the pitch of human nature. But to serve God and be useful to men, merely to obtain good to ourselves, or to avoid ill, is servility, and not that liberal service which true de- votion and real virtue require. Thirdly, Though one might be apt to think that he has the best chance for hap- piness who has no other end of his deliber- ate actions but his own good, yet a little consideration may satisfy us of the con- trary. A concern for our own good is not a prin- ciple that, of itself, gives any enjoyment. On the contrary, it is apt to fill the mind with fear, and care, and anxiety. And these concomitants of this principle often give pain and uneasiness, that overbalance the good they have in view. [225] We may here compare, in point of pre- sent happiness, two imaginary characters : The first, of the man who has no other ulti- mate end of his deliberate actions but his own good ; and who has no regard to virtue or duty, but as the means to that end. The second character is that of the man who is not indififerent with regard to his own good, but has another ultimate end perfectly consistent with it — to wit, a dis- interested love of virtue, for its own sake, or a regard to duty as an end. Comparing these two characters in point of happiness, that we may give all possible advantage to the selfish principle, we shall suppose the man who is actuated solely by it, to be so far enlightened as to see it his interest to live soberly, righteously, and godly in the world, and that he follows the same course of conduct from the motive of his own good only, which the other does, in a great measure, or in some measure, from a sense of duty and rectitude We put the case so as that the difference between these two persons may be, not in what they do, but in the motive from which they do it ; and, I think, there can be no doubt that he who acts from the noblest ON THE ACTIVE FOWltS.^ [imay hi.— part in. OUAI*. V.J OF THE NOTION OF DUTY, &c. 587 ■ni moil ^gBBinwM motivi, 'wiU. hme mtM liapplnen in has eoodoet The one lalNMiii' mnty for liiii%. vitliciitt any lore to tlie worL The other low 'the work. Mid thklu it the noblest^ uid moot ilHVmffW!lilffVWH<'i^VWPH^i' •""■*' ^wlWUHi BHp ^fpVHfllfflPliiPJF ^BWIBi llwiMI Jii '•' lAiB HiiJih ''flBMUMB wMkJHk MMhrf'hflMvwi^BdHiAi'iiftlljJIkiiflllh liki'ikMLial' 'litauwl'ilr jfliJuw^Biaijiih I vh^A the oomM' 'Of ' 'vlrliie iMiilriti it • .gfWonS' talk, whkb he enhBite to only thfongh .neeenity. ^ To Urn other it 'is Yio» teiy sitd. 'tri:iiiii|ih| in the inoel honoimhle' wsrltre, [8M| It ought fiyrther to be considered— That althnwfS witO' 'uen have eo'oeloded that wifftiie is the only road, to ha|i|i{iies% thb eoMteion is foumied 'Oliieiy 'nfon 'the 'ttatmal lesstect tnen liave' for virtue, and the good or happiness that is intrinsic to it and .arises from the love of ii. If we sup- pose a 'man,, as we now dO|..aitogetiMt des-^ 'titnte^ of this prinei'ple, who «in^ileffdl virtue only as the means to another end, there is no reason to think that he would ever 'take it to he the^ road to happiness, but 'wo'uM. 'waader' 'for' ever seeking 'tUs oUeet,. 'where it is not to be found. The 'road of duty is so plain that t % Iw most observe that others an' sasetptiUe^ of' lifce impres. aioaa.. The 'On.ly way, thanfore^ of con- vimelnf an antagonist of tbw kind, is to,|;ftvo him to :hiniae]f . For, finding that 'nobody keiiiB np the eontrovenjy with him, it is pfolaUit he will at' last, of himself, Irom mtio 'Weariness, eome over to the .side of eonimott sense and reason.** iPHmdpktrf JfuMli, 1 1.] What we cal rigki and hommmlde in human eondact, was, by theiandents, ealled kmMfi^mmf «■ maiAt fyi'lii' hmj iiiiyliiii.,'anid saJU mifmiml | of whieh Tnlly isay% '*• <|nod vere dicimne, ethwisi a nollo landetur, natura 'Oose kndabie.*' ID§ QPct'lji, L.. I. c iv.l All tiie undent seats, except the Epi- ranaas, distinpiisiied the kormimm imn the' nMr, as we distingmish what is a :mian% dnty from what is his interest. The word fi^mn, mt^Snmm, extendtd both tO' tho: kmm^mm and the milr f ao that every .MsaoH^lo aetion, proeeeding eithor from, a 'Semso' of duty or a sense of intorcat, was ealfed i#0iiffii. * It is doined by Cieero to bo—" Id quod ear iKtnm sit ratio proba- bilis.reddipote8fc'*t W»aommonlyieniler it by th« 'wotd. nty, or Moral Obligation, it appears to be neither any real quality of the action con- aiiered by itself, nor of the agent con- sidered without respect to the action, but a certain relation between the one and the other. When we say a man ought to do such a thing, the ouglit^ which expresses the moral obligation, has a respect, on the one hand, to the person who ought ; and, on the other, to the action which he ought to do. Those two correlates are essential to every moral obligation ; take away either, and it has no existence. So that, if we seek the place of moral obligation among the categories, it belongs to the category of relation.* There are many relations of things, of which we have the most distinct conception, without being able to define them logically. Equality and proportion are relations be- tween quantities, which every man under- stands, but no man can define. Moral obligation is a relation of its own kind, which every man understands, but is, perhaps, too simple to admit of logical de- finition. Like all other relations, it may be changed or annihilated by a change in any of the two related things— I mean the agent or the action. [235] Perhaps it may not be improper to point out briefiy the circumstances, both in the action and in the agent, which are neces- sary to constitute moral obligation. The universal agreement of men in these, shews that they have one and the same notion of it. With regard to the action, it must be a voluntary action, or prestation of the per- son obliged, and not of another. There can be no moral obligation upon a man to be six feet high. Nor can I be under a moral obligation that another person should do such a thing. His actions must be im- puted to himself, and mine only to me, either for praise or blame. I need hardly mention, that a person can he under a moral obligation, only to things within the sphere of his natural power. As to the party obliged, it is evident there can be no moral obligation upon an limnimate thing. To speak of moral obli- gation upon a stone or a tree is ridiculous, because it contradicts every man's notion of moral obligation. The person obliged must have under- standing and will, and some degree of sctive power. He must not only have the natural tikculty of understanding, but the means of knowing his obligation. An invincible ignorance of this destroys all moral obligation. The opinion of the agent in doing the * Tlie Uieieiits rightly foundeil tlie m^w or honestum m the 9dwm or dtcorum, ; thai if. they considered an action to be vlrtuout which w«i performed in har- mony with the rclalioni necessary and accidental of the agent.— M. L«35-237j action gives it its moral denomination. If he does a materially good action, without any belief of its being good, but from some other principle, it is no good action in him. And if he does it with the belief of its being ill, it is ill in him. L^^^^] Thus, if a man should give to his neigh- bour a potion which he really believes will poison him, but which, in the event, proves salutary, and does much good; in moral estimation, he is a poisoner, and not a bene- factor. These qualifications of the action and of the agent, in moral obligation, are self- evident ; and the agreement of all men in them shews that all men have the same notion, and a distinct notion of moral obli- gation. CHAPTER VL OP THK SENSE OP DUTV. We are next to consider, how we learn to judge and determine, tiiat this is right, and that is wrong. The abstract notion of moral good and ill would be of no use to direct our life, if we liad not the power of applying it to par- ticular actions, and determining what is morally good, and what is morally ilL Some philosophers, with whom I agree, ascribe this to an original power or faculty in matt, which they call the Moral Seme, the Moral Faculty J Conscience, Others thmk that our moral sentiments may be account- ed for without supposing any original sense or faculty appropriated to that purpose, and go into very different systems to account for them. I am not, at present, to take any notice of those systems, because the opinion first mentioned seems to me to be the truth ; to wit, That, by an original power of the mind, when we come to years of understanding and reflection, we not only have the notions of right and wrong in conduct, but perceive certain things to be right, and others to be wrong. [237] The name of the Moral Sensr, though more frequently given to Conscience since Lord Shaftesbury and Dr Hutcheson wrote, is not new. The sensus recti et honesti^ is a phrase not unfrequent among the ancients ; neither as the seme of duty, among us. It has got this name of sense, no doubt, from some analogy which it is conceived to bear to the external senses. And, if we have just notions of the office of the exter- nal senses, the analogy is very evident, and I see no reason to take ofience, as some have done, at the name of the moral sense. • .* On the term Sam tor JntOligence, ice Note A sm OM THI ACTIVl POWima [iBSAir m.-PAit iii. CHAP. VI. I ON THE SENSE OF DUTY. 501 4 Tim fMmm 'taken at tbis mim wmum to %• owing 'to this, Tliat' pliiloiiiiilMit tai¥0' 'degncM 'tlw aoiiait too 'much, and deprivid, tlieiii of tlw 'imil Imiiortmiit pari of tlicir 'OfBisea. W« .an taught, that, liy the aenaea, we have onlj eertain ideas whleh we couM not WHP' v HP' IVIMmMHWi' WW .HP^iP'i' 4h> AVIr V ■hJKUD' BjlH^y|BTB^HHMa|aJWpJa i^KHi Swell % which wn have ..laiiaatioiM' ^and saa> loti aa'powtii' tf' whidi 'we Jidiv^ 'Thia. .Mlioii, of the aenaea I take to he vwy lame, and toconttadict what natunand 'aMNinite reiection teaeh eoneefiiiii|| them. A man. who has totaUy hut tho aemee of aaeiiiK, nay letain very diatinet notioBB' of thevBffioiiieolfiiifi} hatheeamiotj'udgeof coloiira, becaute he has loci the sense by which alme' he eoold jadge. By my eyes I not mfy have the ideas of a tqiiaie and a cufcle^ hnt I perceive this surface to he a ofnare, thattoheacitelev [:888] By mv ear, I not only have 'the idea of aounds, loud >ani. aoft, acute and grave, hut I .immediately 'peraeive andjndge this aoind to be loud, that to be soft, this to he acutc^ that to be grave. Two or mom synchron- mm aonndi' I pevedve tO' 'he MiiMnluit, others to 'he diieordant These are Jiukments of the isensei.* They have always been called and accounted ■leh, hy those whoMi minda jife< 'not^ tin^ tiiftd. hy ';philiMiophieal 'theoiics.^ They are 'ihC' immediate testimony of' nat'un: 'hy onr wnaes; and we arc' so constitiited. by itatnie, that we must receive their testi- noiy, for no other reason but becainse' it is^ given by our senses. Ira vain do soept'ics endeavour im oterw turn this evidence by metaph|iieal reason- ing. Thoujih we should not be able to answer 'their atftmownta, we believe our MnseS'Stii, and .rest our most important concerns upon their testinMiy. If this be a just notion of our ejcteruil •ense& aa I conceive it is, our moral faculty may, 1 Ihini, withoBtimpmprioty, becalled the Jliifvl Smm> In its dignity it is, without doubt, lar su- C trior to eveij other power of the mind ; ut 'then .ig.thia^ .analogy between il .ami the external :ieiisei| 'That, as by thera we have not only the ordinal conceptions of the yariona qualities of bodies, but the oiiglnml Indgpienl that this bo^y has Buch..a f uality, 'thai BUih wother .;. ao by our' 'moial .iusulty, we have 'both the or«kal eonceptaons of' • Raibtr;. line' wn MpMHn, nf whteb Iht twli^ tioB wltlMiii. Jnilpmil. hcuitie ilMit'eaii., in te. Iw ■nsw^witliotitjiMipaiBt -jtwk hktmA .._ ■W?*®**'^»*'i''"""»*''hJ*iP»«»t,lifc. tie' 9mmfr oinnoc nUM witliout an ad. uf 'Ite Mttff. 'fian it would te to idootif j teTldM '"iS'Sg!" ^ • ««tl»«inalkail fliwe. tommm tldi* — -1 mmtm eiat aimt twm. «m1i oil«f.- M. nght and wrong in 'Condncf, of merll and demerit, aid 'the original JudgoMnta tlial thia condnel is right, that is wrong i thai this character has worth, that demerit The testimony of our mmal .iicultv, .liha' thai of the extetnal. senses, 'is the tesfamony of nalim, ani'-we^havo the .same reason to »ly upon it. [nij The truths ianediaiely testified by the ex- ternal senses are the first principles from which we reason, with regpurd to^ the material world, and from which ai our knowledge of it is deduced. 'The 'Imths ininediatoly testified by our moral fimhy, .avc: the first prineiples of all moral rcasonitig, from which all our know. ledge of our duty must be deduced. By moial reasoning, I understand all reaaonhig that is hmighl 'to prove that such conduct is^ right, .and dia«rving of moral' approbations orthat itis wwng; or that il is mdiihient, and, in itself, neither morally good MT' ili 1 Ihkk, all we can properly call moial Ji%Mtits, are reducible to one or other of 'thiie, as all human action^, considered, an a moral view, are either good, or bad, or iU'dilTerent. I know the term wmmi tmumA^ k often, used, hy good writers in a mom extensive Muse ; but,, as. the reasoning I now speak uf is of a peculiar kmd, dntinet from all others, and, therefore, ought to have a dis- tinct name, I take the Iberty to limit the name of mmrai rgoinning to this kind. Let it be understood, therefore, that in the reasoning' I call morat, the conclusion alwajrs i%. Ilat iomething in the conduct of moral agents la good or had, in a greater or a less degree, or indifferent. .Ill .reasoning' must bO' grounded on first .piindplca T&a^ holds .in^ moral, nasoningk as in all other Unda The» must, there- fore, be in morahi, aa k all other sciences, first or aelf-evident principles, on which all moial reaaoniiv is grounded, and on which it nltimatefy' mts.. From such.. sclf^vidMil 'prhicipkis, 'Conclusions raagr' be dwwn ayn- thetieally with lepii lo the moral conduct of life; and nortieuhu* duties or virtues m^' be tiaeed hack. ..to such principle^ ana- .IJrHcally. Bnl» 'withont .such principles, we can ao 'morS' eotaUiah any conclusion in morals, than we can build a castle in the air, without any foundation. |M1] An cjuuiple or two will aerve to illustrate this. It is a first principle m morals, That we cughl not to do to another what we shonid think wrong to be done to us in like cir- cumstances. If a nan 'ia not capable of perceiving' this In his cool moments, 'When he reiects seriously, he is not a moral agent, nor is he capable of being convinced of it by reasoning. [888-2101 From what topic can yon reason with such a man ? You may possibly convince him by reasoning, that it is his interest to observe this rule ; but this is not to convince him that it is his duty. To reason about justice with a man who sees nothing to be just or unjust, or about benevolence with a man who sees nothing in benevolence preferable to malice, is like reasoning with a blind man about colour, or with a deaf man about sound. It is a question in morals that admits of reasoning, Whether, by the kw of nature, a nan, ought to have only one wife ? We reason upon this question, by Iml- ancing the advantages and disadvantages to the family, and to society in general, that are naturally consequent both upon monogamy and polygamy. And, if it can be shewn that the advantages are greatly upon the side of monogamy, we think the point is determined. But, if a man does not perceive that he ought to regard the good of society, and the good of his wife and children, the reasoning can have no effect upon him, because he denies the first principle upon which it is grounded. Suppose, again, that we reason for mono- gamy from the intention of nature, dis- covered by the proportion of males and of females that are born- a proportion which corresponds perfectly with monogamy, but by no means with polygamy— this argu- ment can have no weight with a man who does not perceive that he ought to have a regard to the intention of nature. [241] Thus we shall find that all moral reason- ingo rest upon one or more first principles of morals, whose truth is immediately per- ceived without reasoning, by all men come to years of understanding. And this indeed is common to every branch of human knowledge that deserves the name of science. There must be first principles proper to that science, by which the whole superstructure is supported. The first principles of all the sciences, must be the immediate dictates of our na- tural faculties ; nor ia it possible that we should have any other evidence of their truth. And m different iciences the facul- ties which dictate their first principles are very different Thus, in astronomy and in optics, in which such wonderful discoveries have been made, that the unlearned can hardly be- lieve them to be within the reach of human capacity, the first principles are phsenome- na attested solely by that little organ the human eye. If we disbelieve its report, the whole of those two noble fabrics of sci- ence, falls to pieces like the visions of the Bight. f«*I-243] The principles of music all depend upon the testimouy of the ear. The principles of natural philosophy, upon the facts at- tested by the senses. The principles of mathematics, upon the necessary relations of quantities considered abstractly — such as. That equal quantities added to equal quantities make equal sums, and the like ; which necessary relations are immediately perceived by the understanding. [242] The science of politics borrows its prin>> ciples from what we know by experience of the character and conduct of man. We consider not what he ought to be, but what he is, and thence conclude what part he will act in different situations and circum- stances. From such principles we reason concerning the causes and effects of differ- ent forms of government, laws, customs, and manners. If man were either a more perfect or a more imperfect, a better or a worse, creature than he is, politics would be a different science from what it is. The first principles of morals are the im- mediate dictates of the moral faculty. They shew us, not what man is, but what he ought to be. Whatever is immediately perceived to be just, honest, and honour- able, in human conduct, carries moral ob- ligation along with it, and the contrary car- ries demerit and hhime ; and, from those moral obligations that are immediately per- ceived, all other moral obligations must Le deduced by reasoning. He that will judge of the colour of an object, must consult his eyes, in a good light, when there is no medium or contigu- ous objects that may give it a false tinge. But in vain will he consult every other fa- culty in this matter. In like manner, he that will judge of the first principles of morals, must consult his conscience, or moral faculty, when he is calm and dispassionate, unbiassed by inter- est, affection, or fashion. [243] As we rely upon the clear and distinct testimony of our eyes, concerning the colours and figures of the bodies about us, we have the same reason to rely with security upon the clear and unbiassed testimony of our conscience, with regard to what we ought and ought not to do. In many cases mo- ral worth and demerit are discerned no less clearly by the last of those natural faculties, than figure and colour by the first. The faculties which nature hath given us, are the only engines we can use to find out the truth. We cannot indeed prove that those faculties are not fallacious, un- less God should give us new faculties to sit m judgment upon the old. But we are bom under a necessity of trusting them. Everyman in his senses believes his eyes, his ears, and his other senses. He belie v es his consciousness with respect to his own W3 ON THE ACTIVE POWEBS. [uiiiiY iii.-paiit.iii. OF MORAL APPROBATION, &a. 59a ttmigiite and pariMMMi' liii. iMiiory, witli mffud to what is past ; lila 'iiiilafataiidui|, «itli ngard. to alMtiMt^ idatkiia of tilings i anil .liii^ 'taste, witlt naamtto wiiat is degant awl. iMantifuL AimI m hm Hm. sanM reap' son, aiui, iniieed, it "nwfar tlie aama naoes- «ty of' believing Hie elsar and uubiasaeii lifetates 'Of bis oonseienee, with segMil. to viiat ..iS' ionmiiabie ^and wfaal^ is base. Bie SEU •of irbat. Iim^ been aaiil. M tbis 'fHapter is,. That, by an ordinal 'power of the inind^ whieb we eall mmseknm, or the •jiifiil fmmiiif, urn have the eoneeptkMs of right and wrong m human eondnet,. ef 'merit and denwiil, of doty wd moral obligation, and onr other moral oonoeptioiis ; and that, by the same faenlty, we perceive some thinp in hnmau. oondnet. to be nght, and otben to be wrouff'i that the irst nniieiplta: of 'morals, •are the dielates ^of thw teilly | and: that we ha.ve the same' reason to rely npon those, .dietates, .as npon the dotemtbaiions of onr Mases, or #f onr other .natural fa- enltiM..* [lid] CHAPTER VII. OF MoaaL APPaomATiOM amo DISAPPROBATION, Oiia moml judgments' are- not like those we form in speeuktive 'matters, dry and tEnaibcting, but, from 'tb«r' nature, .ars' neoissarily accompauied wtih affections and feelings ; whieh we .an now to' .eoniider. It 'Was before.obierfed| thai every human. action, considersd in a mmml view, appears to us, good, or bad, or indifferent. When we judge the.aetion to be indifferent, neltber good .nor bad, though tbis^ bea .mwal jndg^ inent, it 'produces, no affection nor feelhig, any more than our judgments in specubip tive matters*. Bit we .approve ^of good, aetlmis, and dis- apnofO'Of badi :andlh.is approbation Md dtsapprobation, when we analyse It, m^ pears to hiclude, not on]y a menu Judgment of theaetiou, but some aibetlon, favourable or' unlivourable, towards tbo agen.t,, .and •one feeling in oniadves. Nothi.ng is more evident than 'Ibis,, That moral worth., even in a stranger, 'witb whom wo'^ have' .not 'the .least eonaeoiion, never wm to 'podnco' some degree of 'esteem miaed. with. good. will. The esteem which we have for a man en .amsomt of Ua .mnal 'worth, la dilbient :iMi thai whleh. ia^ nniwlid. 'upon his; to. teieetual .aeeompisEmenla, his. 'biitb, 'for^ tnne, and eonneetlon with. ns. » fllit llMMy il VlltlliUf tlM femAiaMinilltf on. Intflllgvnoe. m.flff'iittitii mmmebim A:thiar--.H. himself* For, if his heart condemns him mot, he has coDlidence towards Qod ; and he ean more easUy bear the lasti of tongues than the repro^li of his own mind. The sense of honour, so much spoken of, and so often misapplied, is nothing else, when rightly understood, but the disdain which a man of worth feels to do a dis- hourable action, though it should never be known nor suspected. A good man will have a much greater abhorrence against doing a bad action, than even against having it unjustly im- puted to him. The last may give a wound to his reputation, but the first gives a wound to his conscience, which is more difficult to heal, and more painful to endure. Let us, on the other hand, consider how we are affected by disapprobation, either of the conduct of others, or of our own. Everythiog we disapprove in the conduct of a man lessens him in our esteem. There ate, indeed, brilliant faults, which, having a mixture of good and ill in them, may have a v^ different aspect, according to the side on which we view them. [247] In such faults of our friends, and much more of ourselves, we are disposed to view them on the best side, and on the contrary side in those to whom we are ill affected. This partiality, in taking things by the best or by the worst handle, is the chief cause of wrong judgment with regard to the charact^ of others, and of self-deceit with regard to our own. But when we take complex actions to pieces, and view every part by itself, ill conduct of every kind lessens our esteem of a man, as much as good conduct increases it It is apt to turn love into indifference, indifference into contempt, and contempt into aversion and abhorrence. When a man is conscious of immoral conduct in himself, it lessens his self-esteem. It depresses and humbles his spirit, and makes his countenance to fall. He could even punish himself for his misbehaviour, i£ timt could wipe out the stain. There is a sense df dishonour and worthlessness arising from guilt, as well as a sense of honour and worth arising from worthy con- duct And this is the case, even if a man oould conceal his guilt from all the world. We are next to consider the agreeable or uneasy feelings, in the breast of the spec- totor or judge, which naturally accompany moral approbation and disapprobation. lliere is no affection that is not accom- panied with some agreeable or uneasy emo- tion. It has often been observed, that ill the benevolent affections ^ve pleasure, and the contrary ones pain, m one degree or another. [248] When we contomplato a noble character, though but in ancient history, or even in ficti&n ; like a beautiful object, it gives » lively and pleasant emotion to the spirits. It warms the heart, and mvigorates the whole frame. Like the beams of the sun, it enlivens the face of nature, and diffuses heat and light all around. We feel a sympathy with every noble and worthy character that is represented to us. We rejoice in his prosperity, we are afilicted in his distress. We even catch some sparks of that celestial fire that animated his con- duct, and feel the glow of his virtue and magnanimity. This sympathy is the necessary effect of our judgment of his conduct, and of the approbation and esteem due to it ; for real sympathy is always the effect of some bene- volent affection, such as esteem, love, pity, or humanity. When the person whom we approve is connected with us by acquaintance, friend- ship, or blood, the pleasure we derive front his conduct is greatly increased. We claim some property in his worth, and are apt to value ourselves on account of it This shews a stronger degree of sympathy, which gathers strength from every social tie. But the highest pleasure of all is, when we are conscious of good conduct in our- selves. This, in sacred scripture, is called the testimony of a good conscience ; and it is represented, not only in the sacred writings, but in the writings of all moralists, of every age and sect, as the purest, the most noble and valuable of all human enjoyments. Surely, were we to place the chief hap- piness of this life (a thing that has been so much sought after^ in any one kind of enjoyment, that which arises from the con- sciousness of integrity, and a uniform en- deavour to act the best part in our station, would most justly claim the preference to all other enjoyments the human mind is capable of, on account of its dignity, the intenseness of the happiness it affords, ite stability and duration, its being in our power, and its being proof against all accidents of time and fortune. [249] On the other hand, the view of a vicious character, like that of an ugly and deformed object, is disagreeable. It gives disgust and abhorrence. If the unworthy person be nearly con- nected with us, we have a very painful sympathy indeed. We blush even for the smaller faults of those we are connected with, and feel ourselves, as it were, dis- honoured by their ill conduct But, when there is a high degree of de- pravity in any person connected with us, we are deeply humbled and depressed by it. The sympathetic feeling has some re- sembknoe to that of guilt, though it be free from all gtiilt. We are ashamed to see our acquaintance ; we would, if possible^ 2il X tm ON TB£ ACTI¥£ POIFEES. [satAY' iti.— part 1:1. ■OB* Wtt villi to toKt"'liiii 'teni imi' lm t ft » | . ■iod to' 'Mot' UiD out' of wot NmcmbniioOh Tilll% IhoWOVlBy iUotittlOS tlUMO'^FBIM* Hiilie :MiMini 'wiiidb ariw firaoi bai. Ima* " Hi. mif" •f l fi i i i n Bh oiui. eoiiiieetaoii%. if' MMioBi tint' iPi' luid 110 disio b tH wi if 'Hm' viidoiii of Ooi| In. tlio 'OniiitiUitioD of 'Onf mtaiO| liBtii intoiiilod Asl' 'tbit qnoo^ pUMlle iialraU' alioiiy intonit W'-flit' 'noffo 'iMfilj in tlio good belw^ioar, MwcUasin iiwnby firiendeliiii, mitMtmmmi mmy mmk tie, ohoiild be amag to vimi% ami 'iiii£ip 'n?'JS^i.«, «»!.,««.,► :TCnla, to be lieeplj alffieted wImii. -tiieic ebiifen m into tbete oonneo in iriiidi, perhmpi 'ttef' iuiiro lone before them, muif hw tbeir ciaBfiie, :ehe«ii tbeni Ihm imj. to 'HiMMgr fttw i |i*iii'M| it liM WMB we ftie 'fsoiiMiioiit' 01 u in ill' iaii langiiagea. We eaXk it retmrm. It liis 'been, deeetibed aa. eiiflli fkigbtfbl. mOmm, tar wwtoM amM awl |wota% bj vnen. of ovoiy i§B and of eveiy pmEena* iioiii ofen bj %iiiii«aiii| "tbat> 1 will not attonmt tbe deMciiilioii of' it» fsflliiig tiat bad men take lo nmeb 'paiiia to get M of it, and to hide, even from tbeir ^gl^JHT 4BiBtti iJIbSi^B j^BiJMlIMHi jiHttni^Hlflp'' ^^^F^jjb^te ^uujg^ ji^ yg|||_ff^|||||j||^^ din ail' iiA lilliiilKk MH'flHHiHi 'liiwa' iiPBenwNBiiiii' ^ip^iwHeiwatMw^pWPe" ^iiNiif^'^tff^i'^p^ f^w*^ i^wp^p i^^^mb '■■■^■' i^mhi' '^^b* of iMHMMoeiti oy wnnn. .nmi iwniiii imv olniat' oir endimiiiif " to' 'iiadb. out' 'tiMi altoiii of .gnil Henoe tbo 'vanona metlioda of cxpition. wiiieb saperstatioB baa .infonted,, to' :Hiaeo tbo: eonseienoo' 'Of tbe eriminal:| eMMHMMl ,BHai •^nff' aiPrPaawBr ^iw#i»F*w w%0 ■ekBei^p' ■■^^■^•■■'■■■^ mpB'^^^^^piwbi' HtB.JBVMilVivp miaawJP 'Msa^a^wwi w wwa jr ^piaw^#Ba* ^■■^f ^ppwipw '^^p ^PBf men of bad bearta to excel in aome amiable qnaltty, «diidi may bo a Mod of eoontor- poise to their vieei, botb in tbo iqiinion of of odiem and in tlieir own. For no man can. bear tbO' tiioiigbt of be* ing 'abooloio^' deititato of all wortb. Tbe f5>fiff|i f j igii(Hig. ^mf ' ' ||i^ vonM. :malMi W — i 'dotitt him— It. iiiiie 'Hiii Maiii of tbe am*, and. 'iy« I baio now cndeaTonred to deinoato tlW' natual opeiationaoftbatpiniiilO' of action in man. wMA «e eall the Jf «f«l Smm. 'tlw Jforof .Faeii%y Cmmimm, We know ;no-' tbing of our' natniai. Ibenltiaiy but by tbeir' opoiatiiiiia witbin na. Of their' o|iiialiiiiia onr 'Own litincui wo' are eomeMMai. ami. wo ■ei''tlie' aigpis of tbeir opeiationa bn the 'minds of oiboia. Of this ikea%, tbe opoiationa apfear to be, the Jndgingnitimaiely of what' Is lyit, wnat ia' wrong, and what' ia^ indif* bation of bad,' ^ ooasaqnenee of that j'uds. mentf and tlie agroeanle emotiona whicti attend obedieiice, and di8S||reeable, which attend disobedience to ito dietate& [251 ] The Supreme Beings who baa given us eyea to disoern what may be nseflil and what hurtful to our natoral life, bath also given 'US thia' light within, to diieet our .me- nd, oondiwt* Monl' oondnct ia the bnsineso of every nuudf and therelbre tbe knowledge of it ought to he within th< reach of alL .KphRma .nasoned. acutely a nd Justly to shew, thai a reoaid. to our oresent happi- :nesa' should Induee ns to tae praotiee of tompetanoe^ Joatice, and humanity. But 'the Imlfc of 'inaiihind. cannot follow long tnina 'Of .rsasoningii The loud voice of the passioiia orowna tnO' 'Caim ana stui voice of VMAjyiiiri 1 n IIP'' ConsSneo oommands and fofbida with more .antnoniyyi 'anil, in toe inoii: 'Oommon 'Ond .most important pointo of oonduct, with- onl the kbonr of reasoning* Its voice is heard by every man, and cannot be diaie- ,gar(hid with .impunity. Xbe sense dP guilt .nalieB a w*wi at var* ianee with himself. He sees that be is what he ought not to be^ He has lallen from the dignity of bia nature, and hsa sold bis real worth mr a tiling of no value* He la oonoeiovi"Oi 'Oomeiit, .and cannot avoia the dread, of ''VMOting' with. itS' reward. On the otbor band, he who paya a sa^ ered. regsrd to tbe dieliites of his conseienoe, 'Ward proMrifliied to the oierlion .ie|uifed In doing nla duty. [252] The man who^ in oppoeition to strong temptation, oy a nome enrt, maintains .nis integrity, is the happiest man on earth. '»ie- more aevMMi' his conflict has been, the gmater is bis. timmplL. Tne consciousness of inward wortb givea strength to bia heart, and: fp^if— hia oonntenanoe to shine. Ttai- pesia may beat and floods roar, but in atonda :lliin aa a rodi In tbo joy of n good conaeionce, and confidenee of divine appro- To thia I shall only add, wliat oveiy man^B^consci'Snce 'dictates,. That he who doea bis dutv fiom An ' Muwletion 'that it ia r%bt and honourable, and what be ought to d% .aeto' from a nobwr principle, and with more .inward sa t ia f a et ioii, than be who is bribed 'to dO' it' merely from the considera- tion of 'a :r«wavd present or future.. CM APT'ER ww-|'v « OBaiByATWifi ooMcanif iNo 'OONicnitcs*' I BiAU' now 'Oondudo this coeay with . vui.] OBSERVATIONS CONCERNING CONSCIENCE. 595: very much upon their being duly ouUivated and properly exercised. It is BO with the power o£ reasoning, which all acknowledge to be one of the most eminent natural faculties of man. It ap- pears not in infancy. It springs up, by in- sensible degrees, as we grow to maturity. But its strength and vigour depend so much upon its being duly cultivated ^d exercised, that we see many individuals, nay, many nations, in which it is hardly to be per- ceived. Our intellectual discernment is not so strong and vigorous by nature as to secure us from errors in speculation. On the con- trary, we see a great part of mankind, in every age, sunk in gross ignorance of things that are obvious to the more enlightened, and fettered by errors and false notions, which the human understanding, duly im- proved, easily throws oft It would be extremely absurd, from the errors and ignorance of mankind, to con- clude that there is no such thing as truth ; or that man has not a natural faculty of di«eming it. »nd dUtinguistog it Ln, error. In like manner, our moral discernment of what we ought, and what we ought not to do, is not so strong and vigorous by nature as to secure us from very gross mistakes with regard to our duty. [.255] In matters of conduct, as well as in mat- ters of speculation, we are liable to be misled by prejudices of education, or by wrong in- struction. But, in matters of conduct, we are also very liable to have our judgment warped by our appetites and passions, by fashion, and by the contagion of evil ex- ample. We must not therefore think, because man has the natural power of discerning what is right and. what is wrong, that he has no need of instruction ;. that this power has no need of cultivation and improvement ; that he may safely rely upon the suggestions of. his mind, or upon opinions he has got, he knows not how. What should we think of a. man who^ because he has by nature the power of moving all his limbs should therefore con- clude that he needs not he taught to dance, or to fence, to ride, or to swim ? All these exercises are performed by that power of, moving our limbs which we have by nature ; but they will be performed very awkwardly and imperfectly, by those who have not been trained to them, and practised in them. What should we think of the man who, because he has the power by nature of dis- tinguishmg what is true from what is false, should conclude that he has no need to be tought mathematics, or natural philosophy, or other sciences? It is by the natural power of human understanding that every- 2q9 ■omo observations conoeming this power of the mind which we call Comeience, by which its nature may bo bettor under- stood. The/r«/ is. That, like all our other powers, it comes to maturity by insensible degrees, and may be much tMm in ita strength and vigour by proper coltura All the human faculties have their in- flincy and their state of maturity. [253] The faculties which we have in common with the brutes, appear first, and have the <]oickest growth. In the first period of life, ehildren are not capable of distinguish- iog right from wrong in human conduct ; neither are they capable of abstract reason- ing in matters of science. Their judgment of moral oonduct, as well as their judgment of truth, advances by insensible degrees, like the eom and the grass. In vegetables, first the blade or the leaf appears, then the flower, and last of all the fruit, the noblest production of the three, and that for which the others were produced. These succeed one another in a regular order. They require moisture, and heat, and air, and shelter to bring them to matu- rity, and may be muoh improved by culture. Aosording to the variations of soil, season, and culture, some plants are brought to much greater perfection than others of the same species. But no variation of culture, or season, or soil, can make grapes grow from thorns, or figs from thistles. We may observe a similar progress in the Inoulties of the mind : for there is a wonder- ful analogy among all the works of God, from the least even to the greatest. The faculties of man unfold themselves in a certain order, appointed by the great Creator. In their gradual progress, they may be greatly assisted or retarded, im- proved or corrupted, by education, instruc- tion, example, exercise,, and b^.the society and conversation of men, which, like soil and culture in phuits, may produce great ehanges to the better or to the worse. But these means can never produce any new faculties, nor any other than were originally planted in the mind by the Author of nature. And what is common to the whole species, m all the varieties of instruc- tion and education, of improvement, and degeneracy, is the work of God, and not the operation of second causes. [254] Such we may justly account conscience, or the faoulty of distuiguishmg right con- duct from wrong ; since it appears, and in all nations and ages, has appeared, in men that are come to maturity. The seeds, as it were, of moral discern, ment are phmted in the mind by him that madO us. They grow up in theur proper season, and are at first tender and delicate, and easily warped. Theur progress depends I So3— vooj ox THE ICTIVB 'POWEIS. [wiAT .ih.-:.pi»» •*•. oiijiP. viu.j OB8BRVATIONS CONCERNING CONSCIENCE. 597 thmg m llMiM' leiiiiiees'liftslMmi aiacoTOoi,. mi tlial tho trutlis fbejr Mntein urn dm- wmmd. Bui «lw nnderotftmilQi, Ml to itMif,witlMiii»tliii::aM'Of.ii»tittelwiii,:i^ htm,, sni mm^m, wmM nait mitfmam wmmm, m ermy mm ■««•, in fotrnm rao- 'imtriieted in ihxm nmttera.. riglit .ani 'Wtmni* ■iiMgatl»ca hy 'whiek wa .aia .lafaai-akove them. Brute aniraab have many faiultieS' M • conmoB witk:-'Ufc, They 'aeckand.'hiar, Md tastaani-iSiiwIlf/aiidfeeL. They ''kawtheir ^mmm and 'paina. 'They have various Ltincts and Imiilei. They have an affection §m mm olbnring, and soma -of them for their 'keid. -or 'lock. Bogs have a 'wonderftil attackment 'to' their masters, 'and Ive manifest signs of sympathy with thorn. fivei fiitt .. . • 'sae^ in hmto' anfanfa, anger and fniflg^fi^ prido.-.aiid.-ihaBe. Some -of them .aia'-'«a|ililii''of' 'hofartiakied, by habit, and by rewardsandfiiiiimnts, to many tkinga uiefiii.-to'4Ban* All 'thfa 'muslka gianted ; and, if our per- «#ptkn. '■••of' "Whal ^wo ought, and what 'Wo oiigktnot to do, could be resolved into any uflhese principles, or into any combination 'Oftkom, :it woiiid.folkiw, tkatsome brutes. art moral agenta, and. aoconntokle Ibr 'tkeir -oondmi But common sense revolto against this conclusion. A man wko aeriottBly charged a :brato^ 'witk • .-ctima,. 'wcnld ha fanghed at. 'Wmf may do 'antiona^ 'hoAlkl to 'themselves, or 'to 'man. They may have 'fnaities, or acquifo hahita, that lead to such aetiona ; and. tkfa fa .ai 'wa ''ineaii' «ben we call them ^vicfaoa. ^BattkeycamottehnmonU; nor can they 'bo 'virlnoaa. They aia-'BOt •capabki •of adf-fovemmenti and, when^ tke^ act. .aaeoffdim' to the passion or habit which fa strongest at tho^ 'tkn%. they- act aceording to the nature that ''CM 'kaa given 'tkem, 'and m&wmm can ka 'lafuired of thorn. They cannot fay down a rule to tbem- aelvos, which thev are not to tranagicsa, thongh 'prompted, by .appetite^, or ruiied. I>j passion. Wo '"BSt" no mson to 'think tkat tkey can Ibrm the ooneeption of a general '::'iiik«-'** Hmdo vliiiiit iumtlltim^ ct. ptr ^-..^. -.a p ttu mt t cul id MHiani vftnai mi tiUoocm habtm, quod liabtnl JiMtilisai t flrifnt oSMiibiu hvinaiiw vitUi iiinMiiili» mspci ibminuii In $uu poCMUtc babuit.'*.-!]. t But, ia limmummnm. Pud !• '■■■■■■iHf lood | inr, imc tManae, or could DMone, tvlli ht would no looprbtOod. Ai lurliildM baiti It— II fkai m ifSfn fl2#xfM mm uVIt 0mS.— H. CHAP. I.] THE NOTIONS OF MORAL LIBERTY, &c. 801 lends to every action for which he is ac- countable. This power is given by his Maker, and at his pleasure whose gift it is it may be en- larged or diminished, continued or with- drawn. No power in the creature can be independent of the Creator. His hook is in its nose ; he can give it line as far as he sees fit, and, when he pleases, can restrain it, or turn it whithersoever he will. Let this be always understood when we as- cribe liberty to man, or to any created being. Supposing it therefore to be true, That man is a free agent, it may be true, at the same time, that his liberty may be impaired or lost, by disorder of body or mind, as iu melancholy, or in nmdness ; it may be im- paired or lost by vicious habits ; it may, in particular cases, be restrained by divine interposition. [ 2? 1 ] We call man a free agent in the same way as we call him a reaaonaMe agent. In many things he is not guided by reasnn, but by principles similar to those of the brutes. His reason is weak at best. It is liable to be impaired or lost, by hb own fault, or by other means. In like manner, he may be a free sgent, though his freedom of action may have many similar limita- tions. The liberty I have described has been represented by some philosophers as incon- ceivable, and as involving an absurdity. *' Liberty, they say, consists only in a power to act as we will ; and it is impossible to conceive in any being a greater liberty than this. Hence it follows, that liberty does not extend to the determinations of the will, but only to the actions consequent to ito determination, and depending upon the wilL To say that we have power to will such an action, is to say, that we may wUl it, if we will. This supposes the will to be determined by a prior will ; and, for the same reason, that will must be deter- mined by a will prior to it, and so on in an infinite series of wills, which is absurd. To net freely, therefore, can mean nothing more than to act voluntarily ; and this is all the liberty that can be conceived in man, or in any bemg.** Thisreasoning— first, I think, advanced by Hobbes* — has been very generally adopted by the defenders of neee^ity. It is grounded upon a definition of liberty totally different from that which I havo given, and there- fore does not apply to moral liberty, as above defined. -f- * To Hobbn ii generally ascribed the honour of fint enouncing tbe modem doctrine of Determinism, in ContradUttnction to the ancient doctrine of Fatalism : but most erroneously. Hobbes wa< not the author of «bii scheme of Neeeiritj, nor Is thU icbeme of Neces. ■itr itself modem.— H. f But how does that definition avoid this ab- MUdity t See above, p. SM, note - H. [«7 1-873] But it is said that this is the only Irb^rty that is possible, that is conceivable, that does not involve an absurdity. [272] It is strange, indeed, if the word Liberty has no meaning but this one. I shall men- tion three, all very common. The objection applies to one of them, but to neither of the other two. Liberty is sometimes opposed to external force or confinement of the body. Some- times it is opposed to obligation by law, or by lawful authority. Sometimes it is op- posed to necessity. 1. It is opposed to confinement of tho body by superior force. So we say a pri- soner is set at liberty when his fetters are knocked off, and he is discharged from con- finement. This is the liberty defined in the objection ; and I grant that this liberty extends not to the will, neither does the confinement, because the will cannot be confined l»y external force. • 2. Liberty is opposed to obligation by law, or lawful authority. This liberty is a right to act one way or another, in things which the law has neither commanded nor forbid- den ; and thisliberty is meant when we speak of a man's natural liberty, his civil liberty, his Christian liberty. It is evident that this liberty, as well as the obligation opposed to it, extends to the will : For it is tlie will to obey that makes obedience; the will to transgress that makes a transgression of the law. Without will there can be neither obedience nor transgression. Law supposes a power to obey or to transgress ; it does not take away this power, but proposes the motives of dulty an/of int'erestrierving the power to yield to them, or to take the con- sequence of transgression. -f* 3. Liberty is opposed to Necessity, and in this sense it extends to the determina- tions of the will onlv, and not to what is conaequenttothewm.'t [273] * This it called the Liberty from Coaction or Via- fence— the Liberty of Spontaneity— Spontaneity— ^ 'Exturm. In the present question, this species of liberty ought to be thrown altogether out of ^iccount : it is admitr^l by all parties ; is common equally to brutes and men ; is not a peculiar quality of the will ; and is, in fact, essential to It, fur the will cannot possibly be forced. The greaiest spontaneity is. in fact, the greatest necessity. Thus, a hungry horse, who turns of necessity to fooi. is said, on this definition of lilierty, to do »o with freedom, because hedoes so spomaneouslv ; and, in general, the desire ot happiness, which is the most necessary tendency, will, on this application of the term, be the most flree. I may observe, that, among others, the de(ii^;^vmu7i.^ut estfi_i«uii. I til - r .—^ interminatito eon- ■leL llo doettlne of Moral Litofty cannolbcmade •ooertvable. tor w can eolf eanedtethe d«canBin«i and the rtiativs. Ai alfiiadf italmi, ail that oan to im% bto •h«w-l«, -lHai, Ibr tto^M' of Litottf, inpniad'to 'Um, whothur it bO' good or bad.' 1111%. n anoniir noing was tno cause of tills dilomiimtioni either % producing it im- mediately, or bj tteana and instruments under his direetion, then the determination is tho act and deed of that being, and is solely impntabte to him. But it is said— '* That nothing is ia our power but what depends upon the will, and therefore^ the will itself cannot be in our power.'"* I anewer — ^That IhiS' is a Mbey arising from, talcing a oonunon. saying in a lenso' w'Uch. it Mverwns intended to 'Convey, and m a sense contiaiy to what il neoMUfily hnpUes. lUiJ In common Ife, when men speak of what is^ or is not, m a man's power, they attend onlv to tho extomal and visible effects, 'Whicb only can. be p«nei«ed, .and 'which only iiai .alToet tbem. Of thoaoi it is true that 'nothing' is 'hi a man*a 'powtr bat what depends upon his wil, and this Is all that is meant by thiS' oonmoB. 'SayiiM. But this is .10^ iw' 'from ejcdudkg his will from behig in :hi8. power, that it necessariy implies it. For to say that what depends upon tht wil.. .is in a man's 'power, but tho will :ii' not: in Ms 'power, 'is to say that the •nd. 'iS'ln hit power, but 'the meana necessary 'to that end are :not in his power, wbich is a contradiction.* In many propwitlons which '«o oipreaB universally, thero' is wm oiMion neoes- tarily'lmpuod, and, therefore, tiways nnder- stood. Thus, when we say that all things depend upon God, God himself is necessarily eacepted. In lilie nanaor, when we say, 'that all that is 'in onr power dependS' upon tho will,, tho will itMlf " b necoasarily ex- cepted t for, if t|ie wil be not, nothing else oan be in our power. Evtryoffect must be in the power of .its cause. Thn dotomiina- tton of 'the wil is an effeet, .and, therefore^ must be in the power of its cause, whether 'that, canso' 'bO' the agent himself or some #lher tieing. Ffom. 'What' has been, enid fa. ihischaptor, I hopo' Iho 'notion 'Of' 'moial. 'Ilhctty 'Will bo distinctly understood, and that it appears that this notion is neither inconceivahle, nor involves any absurdity or ooDtradic- tion. [f751 w« have, immcdiataifor mediatHy, the evidence of eofMdooiiMifi andtl*. That there are, amonK the pteoomena ormiml, many facto which we muat ad. nit as actual, bat of wboM ponibility we are wholly unable to form any notion. 1 may merely observe, that the fact of Motion can be shewn to be impossible, on grounds not leu ftroni; than thoiie on which It it attempted to diiprove the tact of Liberty ; to say Boll rin g of Bumy contradictorie*. neither of whira can to Moi^. but one of which must, on tlw laws of Contradiction and Excluded Middle, necea. •arilv ht, Tbia phiiosopby— tto PkOotopkp ^ Oi OMMiftfiMiMi— iiaa ooC* however, either in ItMif. er In rdatten^lo .lla caiii«|pliD«ea, as fct been dcf^ <|n|WaL IS. * See ibovtp Silia iMiia.<»E. mm. u-l OF THE WORDS CAISE AND EFFECT, &c 603 CHAPTER II. OF THE woans CAosn anh nPFncT, Acwoif, ANO ACTIVX POWBR. Tan writbgs upon Liberty and Necessity have been much darkened by the ambigu- ity of the words used in reasoning upon that subject. The words datiM and effects ac- tion and active powers liberty and necessity^ are related to each other : The meaning of one determines the meaning of the rest. When we attempt to define them, we can only do it by synonymous words which need definition as much. There is a strict sense in which those wprda must be used, if we speak and reason clearly about moral liber- ty ; but to keep to this strict sense is difl&- cult, because, in all languages, they have, by custom, got a great latitude of significa- tion* As we cannot reason about moral liberty without usmg those ambiguous words, it is proper to point out, as distinctly as possible, their proper and original meaning in which they ought to be understood in treating of this subject, and to shew from what causes they have become so ambiguous in all lan>- guages as to darken and embarrass our reasonings upon it. Everything that begins to exist, must liave a cause of its existence, which had power to give it existence. And everything that undergoes any change, must have some cause of that change. That neither existence, mtr any mode of existence, can begin without an efficient muse^ is a principle that appears very early in the mind of man ; and it is so universal, and so firmly rooted in human nature, that the most determined scepticism cannot era- dicate it 127«1 It is upon this principle that we ground the rational belief of a deity. But that is not the only use to which we apply it. Every man's conduct is governed by it, every day, and almost every hour, of his life. And if it were possible for any man to root out this principle from his mind, he must give up everything that is called com- mon prudence, and be fit only to be con- fined as insane. From this principle it follows, That every. iMftff whkhnndergoeitany<^ange^ mmi either be ike i^fficienl catue of that change in iteelf, or it must be changed by some other being. In the jSret case, it is said to have active power, and to act in producing that change. In the second case, it is merely passive, or is acted upon, and the active power is in that being only which produces the change. The name of a caw«« and of an agent, is properly given to that being only, which, by Its active power, produces some change in [876, 277] itself, or in some other being. The change, whether it be of thought, of will, or of mo- tion, is tho effecL Active power, therefore, is a quality in the cause, which enables it to produce the effect. And the exertion of that active power in producing the effect, is called action, agency^ efficiency. In order to the production of any effect, there must be in the cause, not only power, but the exertion of that power; for power that is not exerted produces no effect. All that is necessary to the production of any effect, is power in an efficient cause to produce the effect, and the exertion of that power ; for it is a contradiction to say, that the cause has power to produce the effect, and exerts that power, and yet the effect is not produced. The effect cannot be in his power unless all the means necessary to its production be in his power. [277 ] It is no less a contradiction to say, that a cause has power to produce a certain ef- fect, but that he cannot exert that power ; for power which cannot be exerted is no power, and is a contradiction in terms. To prevent mistake, it is proper to ob- serve, That a being may have a power at one time which it has not at another. It may commonly have a power, which, at a particular time, it has not. Thus, a man may commonly have power to walk or to run ; but he has not this power when asleep, or when ho is confined by superior force. In common language, he may be said to have a power which he caimot then exert. But this popular expression means only that he commonly has this power, and will have it when the cause is removed which at present deprives him of it ; for, when we speak strictly and philosophically, it is a contradiction to say that he has this power, at that moment when he is deprived of it These, I think, are necessary consequen- ces from the principle first mentioned— That every change which happens in na- ture must have an efficient cause which had power to produce it Another principle, which appears very early in the mind of man, is, Thai we are efficient causes in our deliberate and volun- tary actiom. We are conscious of making an exertion, sometimes with difficulty, in «>rder to pro- duce certain effects. An exertion made de- liberately and voluntarily, m order to pro- duce an effect, implies a conviction that die effect is in our power. No man can deli- berately attempt what he does not believe to be m his power. The language of all mankind, and their ordinary conduct inhfe, demonstrate that they have a conviction of some active power in themselves to produce certain motions in their own and in other bo- dies, and to regulate and direct their own thoughts. This conviction we have so I l« 604 ON THE ACTIVE POWERa [KaSAY I¥. CHAP. III.] OF THE AMBIGUITY OF THOSE WORDS. 605 mrlj in life^, UmI we liaire 110 ranitiiilifWMMi whiMi^ or in w]iat way, we ao^utfed it. [278] Thai miisii a oonvieaon ia at fiiat the m* isemarj icmlt of oor eonatHiitioii, and flial *t.*T "®''®'^ ** entirely obliteiated, is, I tliiiilCi.a4toowledged'by one of 'iiwimal' gfal- mm iiffiBdero of Necearity." « Free Bi»- ^mtim,. An./' p 20a **9mik 9m tlie in- »!•«»■' tw wiieh 'all iianliiiiil,. vitliMi im- tMiiloii, are exposed that they meeeaianly Wfiw Mtima (I mean reCnr them ultimately) int ef att: to th«mselvea and othais |. and it fc a Imv 'tima before they begin, to OMiiider themaelvei .and otheni as instnnieiiti. in the handofasopeiior agent OfiDse<|iiently, the aflsoeiatioiia< wMeh ftfer aetiimi to fhem- 'idfes ,fet. 80' 'OHiiiiied that they tm never '•etlMy oUHeiatad. { .and therefbie 'tho^^-^eoai. mon Immn^ and the eommon Minp. of :iiMnlcinii, 'WiU. 'be ^adapted to (he Sist,. tha.Mm- Ited. and^ imperfect, or rather ciniitoii% 'tlewolthii^'* It iS' ireiy pmbable that the very eoneep- tkn or idea of active power, and ctf efficient '••liSis, is derived, from our voluntary ex- mtimm »pioducing effects. ; and thaL if we ■wewv-not. eenseiotts of anoh 'Oxviiii. we should have no ^eoiiiepiion at ai. of' a eauie^ or of aelive power, and oonsef lently no convietion of the neeessity of a eause of •vwj^ehango whieh we^ observe iB:natiin.t It IB eerlaia. that we ean eoneeive m kind of active power but what is simihir or anahigNMs to that, which we attribute to oiiffaefwi that % a«iie»' which. Is^enftMl by will atid with nnieratending* Our' no- tion, even of Almighty power, is derived from the notion of human power, by re* novhif from the former those impei^eetions and limitations to which 'the hitter is snb- It may be difficult to explain the origin of onr eonceptienB and belief concerning ef- Seicnt^^ 'OanaeS' and active power. The eom- iion 'theory,., that :all onr ideas are ideas of Sensation, or BeieetioD., and that, ai our' be- lief is a pereeption of the agreaneiit or the disagreement of ^ those ideas, appears to be i«piigiiant» both to the idea of .an effieient cans% and to the^ 'belief of its neeeiiity. An attachment 'to that thewy 'iaa^ bd ■ome phikaophers to dea^' that we have any conoeption of an efficient cause, or of active power, because eQeienflgr .and aeive power are not 'ideas, either of' sensation or f If'tlili Hm) tm% mat mMm at 'mwU ieiil m smpirlcaldtrivslioiii. .sod without tb» ''^ *^^ (^' '*^ '•%• ct alibi,) where It |g wimmi fSA^SffSJ^f ■»•**»• PtlncWft See n. SKXiwi mm% It'it tm^ lMMrtw,TiMt ih« conMAmMiir iJlBl«« UliiBiBaii* tlM dMa noliiM. or mniwtitisi I. toncclvt, tnmur hMwcsiice ._. •ST •*• Pf^iWItF «r m abolut* fiomsuMwe. sjtiit,„.iai ralMs it ftosi 'IIm' tsguc aiMl n^ftilTc Into reflection. They maintam, therefore, that a Cause is only MiMlAmf pri&r le ike effecL mod emmimt^ mi^aimi witk it 'This is .Mr :Mnni«*k :iittion of a cause, and seems to be adopted by Dr Priestley," who says, " That a cause cannot be defined to be any thing, but 11104 previmts ckmmlmee§ as am mmiam% .^dimmd Itp a eermin §ff§cL the eoMiiii^ of 'tha. .lesult making us eon- elude that thars' nuit be a mj^nifmsm, in the nature of the things, why it should Jmi prodneed in those circurasUnces.'' IBaelnmnfFMiomphieai Ntmml^, p. 1 1. 1 But theory ought to stoop to fact, and not fact to theory. Etery man who under- stands the huipage knows that neither pnonty, nor constant couniction, nor both taken. t<^ther, imply eiUeney. Every ■an, m% flmn. prejndiee^ must assent to what Cicero has said, t ita^m 'mm ijf: cwuau. inteMffi tkbei^ ut quod cmqm mtteedatf id li mmm sk, md quod cuiom ejfficknter aj9l«« c^dmt, [De ,flai%, c .li. j 'The very dispute» 'whether we 'have the eoneeption 'Of an efficient cause, shews, that we hav^ For, though men may dispute about things which have no existence^ they 'Oaanot disputo about th.inga ol which they iiave no coneeptioii.. IW&\ What has been said in this chapter is in- tended to shew—That the conception of •MittSi. of action and of active power, in the .strict and pnptT' .sense' 'of these words, ts fou'ud .hi the minds of ai :nieu 'very eariiL oven in the dawn of their rational life. It IS therslire 'pmhahk, that, in all kngniM^ tho 'wovda.' by whieh. these coneeptkins were expressed wen' at' iiat. distinct .and unam. biguous, yet it is. eertain 'that,, among' the ■Mstenligbtened nations, these words areap- phed to so many things of different natures, and used in so vague a manner, that it is vegr difficult to reason about them distinctly. Itiis phmnomenon, at first view, seema very nnMcountahla .But a ittle reflection mV latlrtr us,, tliat .it .is^ a natural, conse- quence of 'thO'istow. .and gradual, ptegress ol human knowledgpi. And since tlie ambiguity of these words hya m great iniuenee npon our .reasoning about moml iberty, and furnishes the Jtrongeat oljeetionB against it, it is not fore^ to our subject to shew whence it arises. Whan we know the causes that have produced this amhignlty, we shaU be 1«" m daBfar of being misled by it, and the proper and atriet meaning of the words will more evidently appear [281 ] ♦ Tbe SMse doctriM hm tmad an ailf ocate ia Or ThooMiBrowii. In tMt Itacory, the ptenomeoon to bs Mvtd li aiteiitly or ia tftcc e«iicu.ted^fia rau problem U to «splaiB how it It that «• mimai M think that aU which bcgiM to be hS ImSX Millie hut only a tilitive eoninieiicML Tb ^ ~ ~'~ dO' mt, mmtmidm hue trmmm^ H.. •I [21»-28l] CHAPTEE III. CA1T818 OP THE AMBIGUITY OF THOSE WORnS. When we turn onr attention to external Objects, and begm to exercise our rational faculties about them, we find that there are Bome motions and changes in them, which we have power to produce, and that they have many which must have some other cause. Either the objects must have life and active power, as we have, or they must be moved or changed by something that has life and active power, as external objects are moved by us. Our first thoughts seem to be, That the objects in which we perceive such motion have understanding and active power as we have. " Savages," says the Abbd Raynal, " wherever they see motion which they can- not account for, there they suppose a soul." AU men may be considered as savages in this respect, untU they are capable of in- struction, and of using theur faculties in a more perfect manner than savages do. The rational conversations of birds and beasts in JEsop's " Fables*' do not shock the belief of children. They have that pro- bability in them which we requure in an epic poem. Poets give us a great deal of pleasure, by clothing every object with in- tellectual and moral attributes, in metaphor and in other figures. May not the pleasure which we take m this poetical language, arise, in part, from its correspondence with our earliest sentiments ? [282] However this may be, the Abbe Raynal's observation is sufficiently confirmed, both from fiict, and from the structure of all languages. Rude nations do really believe sun, moon, and stars, earth, sea, and an-, fountains and Idces, to have understanding and active power. To pay homage to them and im- plore their favour, is a kind of idolatry natural to savages. All languages carry in their structure the marks of their being formed when this be- lief prevailed. The distinction of verbs and participles into active and passive, which is found in all languages, must have been originally intended to distinguish what is really active from what is merely passive ; and, in all languages, we find active verbs applied to those objects, in which, accord- ing to the Abb^ Raynal*s observation, savi^ea suppose a souL Thus we say, the sun rises and sets, and omnes to the meridian ; the moon changes ; the se* ebbs and flows; the winds blow. Languages were formed by men who be- lieved these objeots to have life and active power in tliiiiiMlvet. It was therefore proper and natural to express their motions and changes by active verbs. There is no surer way of tracing the sentiments of nations before they have re- cords, than by the structure of their lan- guage, which, notwithstanding the changes produced in it by tune, will always retain some signatures of the thoughts of those by whom it was invented. When we find the same sentiments indicated in the structure of all languages, those sentiments must have been common to the human species when languages were invented. { 283] When a few of superior intellectual abili- ties find leisure for speculation, they begin to philosophize, and soon discover that many of those objects which, at first, they believed to be intelligent and active, are really lifeless and passive. This is a very important discovery. It elevates the mind, emancipates from many vulgar supersti- tions, and invites to farther discoveries of the same kind. As philosophy advances, life and activity in natural objects retires, and leaves them dead and inactive. Instead of moving voluntarily, we find them to be moved neces- sarily ; instead of acting, we find them to be acted upon ; and nature appears as one great machine, where one wheel is turned by another, that by a third ; and how far this necessary succession may reach, the philosopher does not know. The weakness of human reason makes men prone, when they leave one extreme, to rush into the opposite ; and thus philo- sophy, even in its infancy, may lead men from idolatry and polytheism into atheism, and from ascribing active power to inani- mate beings, to conclude all things to be carried on by necessity. Whatever origin we ascribe to the doc- trines of atheism and of fatal necessity, it is certain that both may be traced almost as far back as philosophy ; and both appear to be the opposites of the earliest sentiments of men. It must have been by the observation and reasoning of the speculative /oaoan.e|Rcienteauae^and «audO'mithhig"witliontit {292] Wecannot, without abowiity, suppoee a niotive either to act, or to be acted upon ; it is equally iO'Capablo of aelion and 'Of pamion |. heoause it is not a thing that esMa, but a thing that is ooneai»Kr« it is what the schoohnen 'Called^an #n» .nsKofut. Motives, thereiMre, n^y MiMiuv to action, but they do not act.| They may te compared to advice, • A iiiotlv% alMraetly contidcNd. ii calM an out - *— ' 'wmm. It wm well denominatMl in the Greek lif,f» Hmm^^'-Uua M Ot€ mke qf which. wJm ilscmicrete realitj, ii nothing '1 1 onhr a mental tendencj.— H. if If the tcrni catue be limitad to »#dM ■'■—"••• -^w^ BBw Mji», wu Reid's owii vtov, la tHlf ffdatioii.4Miiiir. and 0eient cauiet. It if of no eoRMqucnce in ilia arfument whether ■MNivw Iwaald todctcffOBiDea man to act or to in. auance (tiiat i4 to determine) him to determine him* "''•i*?*' *l^*»«"n<**'*»«««»i«tis«n«»niiitentio •Bf tial Bni.iTM ai« tui ■emmt, and that they 4§ mimt* 9m MtHila* fuoted btkiw, under p. 8IM. or e^^l ortation, which leaves a man still at literty. For in vain is advice given when there is not a power either to do or to for- bear what it recommends. In like manner, motives suppose liberty in the agent, other- wise they have no influence at all. It is a law of nature with respect to matter, That every motion and change of motion, is proportional to the force im- pressed, and in the direction of that force. Tile scheme of necessity supposes a similar law to obtain in all the actions of intelligent teings; which, with little alteration, may te expressed thus i — Every action, or change of action, in an intelligent being, is proportional to the force of motives im- pressed, and in the direction of that force. The law of nature respecting matter, is grounded upon this principle : That matter is an inert, inactive substance, which does nut act, but is acted upon ; and the law of necessity must he grounded upon the sup- position, That an intelligent being is an in- ert, inactive substance, which does not act, but is acted upon. 2. Rational beings, in proportion as they nm wise and good, will act according to the best motives ; and every rational being who does otherwise, abuses his literty. The most perfect being, in everything where there is a right and a wrong, a better and a worse, always infallibly acts according to the beat motives. This, indeed, is little else than an identical proposition ; for it is a contradiction to say, That a perfect being does what is wrong or unreasonable. But, to say that he does not act freely, tecause he always does what is best, is to say. That the proper use of liberty destroys literty, and that liberty consists only in its abuse. [2»3] The moral perfection of the Deity con- sists, not in having no power to do ill, otherwise, as Dr Chtrlce justly observes, there would be no ground to thank him for his goodness to us, any more than for his eternity or immensity ; but his moral per- fection consists in this, that, when he has power to do everything,* a power which cannot te resisted, he exerts that power only in doing what is wisest and best To te subject to necessity, is to have no power at all ; for power and necessity are oppo- aites. We grant, therefore, that motives have influence, similar to that of advice or persuasion ; but this influence is perfectly consistent with literty, and, indeed, sup- poses liberty. 3. Whether every deliberate action must * To do everything conaiitent with hit perfection. Bat here one of the Inaoluble contradictions in the fuetiion ariies) for if. on the one hand, we attribute to the Deltjr the power of moral evil, we detract from bis essential goodness ; and ii, on the other, we 'deny him this power, we detract from hit omnipotence.— H. [?93, 294] have a motive, depends on tbe meaning wo put upon the word deliberate. If, by a deliberate action, we mean an action wherein motives are weighed, which seems to te the original meaning of the word, surely there must be motives, and contrary mo- tives, otherwise they could not be weighed. But, if a deliterate action means only, as it commonly does, an action done by a cool and calm determination of the mind, with forethought and will, I believe there are innumerable such actions done without a motive.* This must be appealed to every man*i consciousness. I do many trifling actions every day, in which, upon the most careful reflection, I am conscious of no motive; and to say that I may be influenced by a niotive of which I am not conscious, is, in the flrst place, an arbitrary supposition without any evidence, [?] and then, it is to say, that I may te convinced by an argu- ment which never entered into my thought. [294] Cases frequently occur, in which an end that is of some iniportance, may be an- swered equally well by any one of several dif- ferent means. In such cases, a man who intends the end finds not the least difficulty in taking one of these means, though he te firmly persuaded that it has no title to be preferred to any of the others. To say that this is a case that cannot hap- pen, is to contradict the experience of man- kind ; for surely a man who has occasion to lay out a shilling, or a guinea, may have two hundred that are of equal value, both to the giver and to the receiver, any one of which will answer his purpose equally well. To say, that, if such a case should happen, the man could not execute his purpose, is still more ridiculous, though it have the authority of some of the schoolmen, who determined that the ass, between two equal bundles of hay, would stand still till it died ofhunger.f If a man could not act without a motive,^ he would have no power at all ; for motives are not in our power ; and he that has not power over a necessary mean, has not power over the end. That an action, done without any motive, can neither have merit nor demerit, is much insisted on by the writers for necessity, and triumphantly, as if it were the very hinge * Mr Stewart (" Active andMoral Powers," pp. 481 and 495} it disposed to conceda (hat no action is per. formed without some motive ; and thinks that Keid has not strengthened his argument by denying thia. f Joannes Buridanui. See above, p. s>98, note.— H. j: Can we conceive any act of which there was not a ■ufficient cause or concourse of causes, why the man performed it, and no other ? It not, call this cause, or these concauses, the niotire, and there it no longer a dispute. See the three tollowing note*.— ! H* S B 610 ON THE ACTIVE FOWIM 'it cMf ' tiM mmtrnvvmy. I gmat it to lie » talf- '•fidtut' pnpnitiiiiit and I hum no uitlior 'tlMl Wit' ' IHB it t Hii Hk litioii, the actUMis mmj be wMcli are done vlthont any motive, they are of momeiit in if 'tlMPO!' WW ma anv action of ftwi ' fc i iid. , «iMiii«a ^ari' not' the tole 'Canses of hnman ^iiou. And, if we have tte power of act- ing without a motive, that power, joined to ■■ IHUMKBMf WMKJtlWJ^., 1I|AV 1*011 Tl till TJ^I ill llf Hi :lfc, .ttomnir. [SW] 4. It can never hO' proved, That when there is a motive on one^ tido onljr, that mo- 'tive .nnat determine the aetion.^ A«eofding to the hiw* of Maioning, the pvoof u ineunherat on thon who^ hold 'tho' affirmative ; and I have never seen a sha- dow of argument, whidb does not take for f ranted tte thin^ in f nostion— to^ wit, that aotivw^ ate' 'the mIo eaiiaes 'Of aetions^ Is there no such thing as wilfuhiess, caprice, or obstinacy, among maniund ?* If AerO' he not, it is woadetM. that 'th«r; •houid have namea in all :hii|pips. If theitt 'be such thihttL a sindA' "niotive> or even many motives,, may he .reslstid* & When it is said, that of contrary mo- tives 'the stiwusitialwajni' piwillii. *"■ , dm .neither be affinned noff ifcu'itd 'with, 'undar- standing, until, we hnow' dhrtinotly what .ia meant by the strongest motive* I do not ind t&t those W'ho have ad- ever' attempted "to «x|dahi what 'they mean by the strongest mo'tive, or have given any rule by which we may judge which of two nwlives .istho' strongest. .Bow:Bhall 'we know whether the strongest motive always prevails, if we know not which is. strongest ? There^ must, be some 'test by which their' strength, is to be tried, :Mne baknee in which they nuyr ho wtigiitd. ; otherwise, to say that the strongest: mo-^ tive always prevails, is to speak without any moanrng; We must therefore search for '«hia tast' or haknee, liiMa thif who have laid 'SO BtMsh stnss' imi 'fhis aximny .have .left us whdly m'tho' dark. ». to itamicanlng. I grant, that, when, the contrary motives an of the same kind, and differ only in fiian%, it may 'be ea^to say which isthe itiOBMSt. Thus a 'briho' of a thousand pounds is a stmnger motive than a bribe of a hundred poinds. But when the motives .are of different kinds— as .money and fame, • Hot sir not thtw all teiHtendai^, mmI fiMsl.teiii. iBtif%lO'aat'fMrMi.ioict'l B» mmmMn^lgmBMk. 'lag' mish. iCMltiteitt ffean moilvtt, m&^mmtA m rsliontl ImpilMn. «e do not Mlvaiice • aintto MiMrtm ntlfii Tbt .imii# asy I» mM ef all tUt iM:iMr atimia iO'tliii"fWl.i bnc in itsani. to'ihcw m .ifMisL. I mmtm It uaatesMari to mg «nf tliiiig '[essay IV. duty and worldly in.to'rest, Imaitli and ■jg^ingthj riehea .and hwouf— by 'what rule shall wo judflo whMi. ii tho itrongost mti- 'tlvtf [2M]' Eillier we measure' thO' strength of m^o- tives merely by their prevslenoe, or by some 'Other standard distin.ct from their prevalence* If wo measure their strength merely by their prevalence, and by the strongest mo- tive mean only the motive that prevails, it will be true indeod that the strongest mo- 'tive prevaila t 'but. 'tto proposition will be idontioal, and mean no more than that the strongest motive ia the Btrongest moti've. From thia auiely no conduSon can be drawn. If it should be said, That by the strength of a motive is not meant its prevalence, but the cause of its pnvalonce ; that we mea- sure 'the eanso' by 'the elfccty and. from the superiority of the 'eibet ooneludo tte supe- riority of the cause, as we eonelude that to be ihe heamit weight which bears down oipiMtion. 'Of the axiom,. .It takes lor ,gran.ted that: mollvoa are 'the amsci, and lie sole ean sa s i of actions* Nothing ia left to the agent, hut to be acted upn by the motives, aa tho 'bahmce is l^y the weights. The aaiom .supposes, thai the agent does not act, hut ia acted upon ; and, from this sup- position. It 'is concluded that he does not aoi Thia ia to reason in a circle, or rather it is. not faBSon.ing hut 'begg'ing the ques- tion.* * On tliia miIImI, I .ilisll qnoH' m iMMMf « Drom the esntioviiigr hftsstn UMIt smI Cfarlui t— **' 1 '■hai MMI** (Mivlhe iinner) •* cmne to in idijec. tiiin. fSliiid htftk .iCMnit 'Sly compa ring' llie weights of " '-"'-' — with Uit molivM of the Will. It it ot:^ed. CHAP. .I'T. I OF THE INFLUENCE OF MOTIVES. Oil lllflt.slMlBn(» !• OMMly iMMaive. and moved by the wfllgbii t whtiaas .sgtiila inttlliient 'Siid mdmHi with will* aic active. To thia I antwer, that tho prloelpla .'Offtiewani of a lulicient rewon. Is common both to sgtnti ami patients, lliey want a sufficieni sdo not ast lipoa the mind as weighu do upon a •i but It is rather the mind that acu by vinue one of 'than, cannot .iO:gs are absolutely indifferent, as the author explains himself here— >this, I say, is a manifest contradiction ; for, if the mind has good reasons for taking the part it titkes, then the things are not imiifferent to the mmd."— Collection qf Papen, Sec, Leibnitz's Fifth Fauer. \S i^i& The death of I^ibnits terminated his controversy with Clarke ; but a defence of the fifth and la&t paper of Leibnits against the answer of Clarke, by Thurainig, was published, who, in relation to the uoint in question, says—'* The simile of the balance is very unjustly interpreted. No resemblance is in. tended between scales and motives. .... It is of no consequence whether. In their reciprocal rela- tions, the tcalc4 are jmssivCt while the mind it active, since, in this respect, there is no comparison at. tempted. But, in so far as the principle of Sufficient Keason is concerned, that principle applies equally to actiont and pastions, as has been noticed by Baron Leibnits. It is to philosophise very crudely concernmg mind, and to image everything in a corporeal manner, to conceive that aciuating roations are something external, which make an im- pression on the mind, and todisiingLish motiva from Ihe active principle (principio actioms) itkelf." (/» Koehler's German Translation qf these Papers.— H. * But was the man determined by no motive to that determination t Was his specific volition to this or to that without a cause ? On the supposition that the sum of influences (motives, dispositions, tendencies) to volition A, is equal to 1;^, and the sum of influences to counter volition B, equal to 6— «an tte conceive that the determination of volition A should not be necessary ? — We can only conceive the volition B to be determined by supposing that the man creaie* (calls from non.eaisteuce into existence) a certain supplement of influences. But this creation as actual, or. in itself, is inconceivable, and even to conceive the possibility of tliis inconceivable act, we must suppose some cause by which the man is determined to exert it. We thus, <>» tfivahr. never escape determination and necessity . It vrill be ob. served, tliat I do not consider this inability to the motion, any disproof of the fact of Free Will.— H. i 2^7, wtq ' is it in a man. According to the strength of the appetite, it gives a stronger or a weaker impulse to eat And the same thing may be said of every other appetite and passion. Such animal motives give an impulse to the agent, to which he yields with ease ; and, if the impulse be strong, it cannot be resisted without an effort which requires a greater or a less degree of self- command. Such motives are not addressed to the rational powers. Their influence is immediately upon the will. • We feel their influence, and judge of their strength, by the conscious effort which is necessary to resist them. When a man is acted upon by contrary motives of this kuid, he finds it easy to yield to the strongest. Tliey are like two forces pushing him in contrary directions. To yield to the strongest, he needs only to be passive. By exerting his own force, he may resist ; but this requires an effort of which he is conscious. [298] The strength of motives of this kind is perceived, not by our judgment, but by our feeling; and that is the strongest of contrary motives, to which he can yield with ease, or which it requires an efl'ort of self-command to resist ; and this we may call the animal test of the strength of motives. If it be asked, whether, in motives of this kind, the strongest always prevails, I would answer, that in brute-animals I bf-. lieve it does. They do not appear to have any self-command ; an appetite or passion in them is overcome only by a stronger contrary one. On this account, they are not accountable for their actions, nor cau they be the subjects of law. But in men who are able to exercise their rational powers, and liave any degree of self-command, the strongest animal moi tive does not always prevail. The flesh does not always prevail against the spirit, though too often it does. And if men were necessarily determined by the strongest animal motive, they could no more be ac<« countable, or capable of being governed by law, than brutes are. Let us next consider rational motives, to which the name of motive is more commonly and more properly given. Their influence is upon the judgment, by convincing us that such an action ought to be done ; that it is our duty, or conducive to our real good, or to some end which we have determined to pursue. They do not give a blind imfnilse to the will,-f- as animal motives do. They con- vince, but tiiey do not impel, unless, as may often liappen, they excite some passion * This is virtually to Identify Desire and Will, which if contrary to truth and our author's owe dn< triiu'.— H. ♦ See ih« l tional motive is always th« strongest A.nd now, I think, it appears,. Iliat. the strongest motive, according to either of the teste I have mioitioiiiili 'doea .not' '^always ptevail. {300] In every 'wiee and virtuous aet.ion, the motive that previuls is the strongest ae- eordi.ng' to the rational test, but «« pitetl/ 'With aedtanical SovamnHni Hit knd ^of .government ia moil iieifMt when the governor .is the sole agent ,; eventhiinr done' :ia the doing of the governor only. The praise of evervthinir well done ls.his:.iolel]r'i andhis^ ii'thehhyne If thera le ai^lhing 11 done, heeame he is the .iflle .i^ieiit. It is tme ^at, m common 'hmgnMie, mm or ^dispiaise' is oHen metaphorieall j pven. to the workj bnt, in pfopriety, it be- hags soldy to the author. Every work- man nnderstands this perfectly, and tales to huttsdf very justly the praise or dispmlae of h» own ■wort On the other hand, it is no less evident, that, on the supposition of necessity in the .governed, there can 'he no monl govern- ment .There can he neither wisdom nor maitf in nreacribing laws that cannot 'he obeyed ^ There can. he no 'monl, oUlgiitloa open bemga 'that have nO' aeive' 'gSwer. There can be no crime in not doing what it wia impossiye to dit ; nor can there be Instice' mi pinishing each omission. If we wpij these theoretical prineiplea to the imdS'of government wbiei. do aeliiatly exist, whether hmnan or divine, we ahaU ™ , "**»- •«»§' »«» •»«. Bonliiiiiial govefumenl^ m hnperiiet Men do not make the matter' they work npon. Its various kinds, and the qualities J??*!! *® **** ^^**^ •» *l>® w«k of tied. The kws of natute, to which it is sui^ are the work of Cted. The motions of the atmosphere and of the sea, the heat and cold of the air, the rain and wind, which art' usefUinstmmentsin moat human fiiei«tiona,,a» not in 'Our power. So that, 111 all the mcehanical productions of men, tlt^rr ** •sllwliw..to Mwit"i«..iocta: it in erii' the work Is more to bo ascribed to Gbd 'than to man. |9illlJ Gvl govonuBent'anongmen isa species of moral government, hut imperfect, as its lawiivon and ill judges an. Human hiws ■•y bi' 'nnwise or unjust.; human judges mar li«' 'pwtisl or unskiiUy. But, in. all eqm:table civU governments^, the 'maxima of moral government above mentioned, areae. knowl«%od aa rules which ought never to be violated. Indeed the rules of justice are so evident to ai men, that the most tyran- mcal govenments profess to be guided by them, and endeavour to palliato what is contrary to them by the plea of necessity. That a man cannot be under an oblieii. tion to what hi impossible ; that he cannot be criminal in Yielding to necessity, nor justly puniahed Ibr what he could not avoid, are mwdms admitted, m all criminal courts! IS fundamentel rules nf Jistice. In opposition to thi% k has been said, by *w» «■ '*• nwit abte defmdera of neeesl lity, That .bnmaii. .hiwa le^nire no more to 'Constitute niirfm%. bit that it be voluntary; whence it is hiiemd that the criminamy consists in the determination of the will, whether that determination be free or neceasary. This, I think, adted; is the only pMsihIe plea by which erimhiaUty can S® JT^ consistent with necessity, and, therefore, it deserves to be considered. I aeknowbitae that a crime must be vol- T^^Kr'* ^^ ^ ^^ voluntaiy, it is no deed of the man, nor can be justly imputed to him 5 but It IS no less necessary that the enminal have moral liberty.* In men that mm adult and of a sound mkd, thk liberty is. presumed. .But, in every ease where it cannot be presumed, no enmlnality is im- puted, even to voluntary actions. faoTi This w evident from the following in. itances j— Fir*/, The .aetiona of brutM .at». pw to bo voluntary; yet they an nevei conceived to be edminal, though they may be neiioua. NMmd/p, Children m nonase «t votantarily, hut they aro not chai«. sWe with crimes. FAInflf, Madmen tfve both uttderstandrng and will, but they have not mon^ hberty, and, therefore, are not chargeable with crimes. Fmrthiy, Even "J?? ^ •? •**«'* *n^ ^^ • •«aeigat. Hiclapissane, quandoquidem sui tantummodo conatus est conscius et minimeindif. ferens, se liberrimum esse et nulla alia dc causa in mo. lu perse verare crrdet quam quia vM\i.—Atque hacKu. jmana ilia libertas est quam omnes habere Jactantt et flMe in hoc solo consistit—quod homines sui appetitus sunt conscii, et causarum a quibus deUrmitiantur w- narL" Chrysippus'sToporCylinder isthesource— H. * It can easily be proved to those who are able and Dot afraid to reason, that the doctrine ot Necessity la subversive of religion, natural and revealed ; and. Fatalism involving Atheism, the Necessitarian who intrepidly follows out his scheme lo its consequences, however monstrous, will consistently rifect every argument which proceeds upon the kupposit.OD of a Deity and divine attributes.* M- £ni3-3l5] we perceive not the chain that binds them together. The notion of power and causa- tion, therefore, cannot be got from external objects. Yet the notion of causes, and the belief that every event must have a cause which had power to produce it, is found in every human mind so firmly established, that it cannot be rooted out. This notion and this belief must have its origin from something in our constitution ; and that it is natural to man, appears from the following observations. 1. We are conscious of many voluntary exertions, some easy, others more difficulty some requiring a great effort. These are exertions of power. And, though a man may be unconscious of his power when he does not exert it, he must have both the conception ana the belief of it, when he knowingly and will'ugly exerts it, with in- tention to produce some effect. [3 14 J 2. Deliberation about an action of mo- ment, whether we shall do it or not, implies a conviction that it is in our power. To de- liberate about an end, we must be con- vinced that the means are in our power ; and to deliberate about the means, we must be convinced that we have power to choose the most proper. 3. Suppose our deliberation brought to an issue, and that we resolve to do what appeared proper, can we form such a reso- lution or purpose, without any conviction of power to execute it? No; it is impossible. A man cannot resolve to lay out a sum of money which he neither has nor hopes ever to have. 4. Again, when I plight my faith in any promise or contract, I must believe tlmt I shall have power to perform what I pro- mise. Without this persuasion, a promise would be downright fraud. There is a condition implied in every promise, if we live B,nd if God canfinue tritk us the power which he hath given us. Our conviction, therefore, of this power dero- gates not in the least from our dependence upon God. The rudest savage is taught by nature to admit this condition in all pro- mises, whether it be expressed or not. For it is a dictate of common sense, that we can be under no obligation to do what it is im- possible for us to do. If we act upon the system of necessity, there must be another condition implied in all deliberation, in every resolution, and in every promise ; and that is, if we shall be willing. But the will not being in our power, we cannot engage for it. 1315] It this condition be understood, as it must be understood if we act upon the system of necessity, there can be no deliberation, or resolution, nor any obligation in a promise. A man might as well deUberate, resolve, aud V H ON THE ACTIVE POWJSES. §18 Iiff«iiiiii% ipon the ^MliMii of i»tlMff 'npm ^if mm» UUmhm em^mt tlwl w© haire a con- vMtiMi. 'Hf '|Mi««r' in 'Otlwr lueiiy whm we mMm,. #r fMaMii^ or 'MNiiiiiMidy m mm- 06lf«' 'Hmhi'Io be uiiifer oUkHtifin hj tlieir promiaes. S. Is it poMiiile for any men to blame Mnadf for jieWini to .neceiwiiy ? Then he ;iMl|' ^Uaae liinsei' for d jing, or for being a man. Bkme siipposes a wrong use of power ; awl, when a man does as well as it was pos^ ■ibie for btm to fit, wbeniii k iia to be Uamed? Tlieni«,ai.ei»ffiitl«i.'Ofwmng ^oondnety. ai 'lemonw and seif-eomlsBnation, imply a convietion of our power to have done better. Take away Mils conviction, wd there nay be a lenae' of misery,, or a dread, of evil to 'Oome ; hut there ean be no sensS' of' gnilt or resolution to do bettor. Many who hold the doctrine of necessity, disown, these eonsef nenees of it,, and think to' evadO' them. To mch, they mAi not to bo Impiilod ; but tbeir inBepaiahwi eon- nectiom with that doctrine app^MS self-evi- dent ; and, tberefore, some kte patrons of it*' havo' :haii. 'the boldaess 'to avow them. ** Tbey 'Cannot^ acense themselves of ^having done anything wrong, in the ulthnate' sense of the words. In a strict sense, thmr have nothing to do with repentance, conMssion, and 'pardon— these being adapted, to aWhi- eions view of things.** 'Itese who ean. adopt' these' sentiments, ^lay, indeed, cokbrate, with high encomiums, ^ ik§ ffrmn mad §krimi* Ateirim **/ ii«ccf - iilf .'* It restoieS' 'then, ui their O'wn wn- .eeit, to the state of 'innoeenccb It 'dellveis them from all the pangs of gnilt and re- morse, and tom all fear about theur future .conduct,, 'thoiqgli not about 'their fita^ They nay 'he- as 'seenw thai th^' shall dv nothing 'Wrong aS' those 'who have inished.. 'tbeir course. A doctrine so flattorinf to the mind of a sinner, is^ veryapt to give strength to weak, aifinienta. |3lf ] After all, 'it iS' admowlednd, by thkise who 'boast of this glorious doctnne, *'* 'That, every man, let him use what efforte be csn, will neeessariiy fed the sentimento 'Of swuie, remorse^ and fepentenee, and, oppressed with a sense of guilt, 'will have leeonise to^ that mercy of which he stuids in need.** TtiC' meaning of 'this seems 'to me to be, 'Tbaty. alth'OO'gb 'the doctrine of necessity be .sufporled by invincible amimentSi and in the world; yet no man, 'in his 'most .settouS' nomentSi 'Whon. he aiste. Mmself 'be- fore' 'the throne m his 'Midier, can possibly believe it, but must then necessarily lay aside' thiS' gitrioua cbciiiiie, and. aU. 'ito iat- teiing consequences,, .iuid return to the L humiliating conviction of his having made a had use of the power which Ood had given If the belief of our having active power be necessarily hnpHed in those rational operations we have mentioned, it must be coeval with our reason ; it must be as uni- ""■ Hk e HRMIiS4HpJVw ■■iff^P'WBWtW^WilP'P' ipSP Ww'WiS.l ■'■■■■"■ ■al* «j| men,. and as .necessaiy in the conduct of 'lis, as^' those operations .are^ We cannot recollect by memory when it began. It cannot be a prejudice of educa- tion, or of false philosophy. It must be a part of our constitution, or the ncMssary result of our constitution and theieforo the work of Ckni It resembles, in this respect, our belief of the eilitonee of a material world; our be- lief that thoao' we converse with are living and intelligpit beings t our belief that those things did feaiy happen, which we distinctly remem.her ; and our belief that we 'Continue the samoJdenMcal persons. 13171 We ind dllicnity in .accounting for our belief of 'these things; and some pMloso- phers think that they have discovered good reasons for throwing it off. But it sticks fast, and the greatest .sceptiC: Bnds^ that he must yield to it 'in his praetiee, 'w.hile he war with it in speculation. If it be objected to this argument. That the belief of our acting freely cannot be implied in the operations we have men- tioned, because thioee operations .are 'per- formed by them who believe that we are, in all our actions, governed by necessity — tho .answer to 'this objection is, That men in 'theur practiee may he governed by a be-' lief which in specuktion liey reject. However :Stninge and unaccountable this, may appear, 'there are .many well-known iastanoeS' of it I knew a 'man 'who was 'as much cou'vinced as any man of the folly of the popular bu- lief of apparitions in the dark; yet he could not sleep in a room alone, nor go alone into a .room in the dark. Can It be said,, thai hiS' HhufW. not hnply a'belief of dangorf ' This is tmpossihie. Yet his philosophy convinced him that he was in no more danger in the dark when alone, than with company* Mere an unreasonable belief, which waS' merely a prejudice of the nursery, stuck so 'fast as to govein. hia conduct, 'in omwsition to his specuklive belief as a philosopMf and m iHMl HI' WnWm* Tb.ere are 'few personS' who can look down from the battlement of a very high tower without fHW, while theur reason, convinces. 'them, 'that 'twy ' nn in n# mors dancer th.an 'When, .standing upon th« ground. [318] In tbiatlie modeni' Nm». tlie'iarlmi raiailat.. ii«.ly .adsidlS'— JMSll ML 9l§ CHAP. VI.l FIRST ARGUMENT. 619 [31C 318] There have been persona who professed to believe that there is no distinction be- tween virtue and vice, yet in their practice they resented injuries, and esteemed noble and virtuous actions. There have been sceptics who professed to disbelieve their senses and every human iMulty; but no sceptic was ever known, who did not, in practice, pay a regard to hia senses and to his other faculties. There are some points of belief so ne- cessary, that, without them, a man would not be the being which God made him. These may be opposed in speculation, but it is impossible to root them out. In a speculative hour they seem to vanish, but in practice they resume their authority. This seems to be the ease of those who hold the doctrine of necessity, and yet act as if they were free. This natural conviction of some degree of power in ourselves and in other men, re- spects voluntary actions only- For, as all our power is directed by our will, we can form no conception of power, properly so called, that is not under the direction of will.' And therefore our exertions, our deliberations, our purposes, our promises, are only in things that depend upon our will. Our advices, exhortations, and com- mands, are only in things that depend upon the will of those to whom they are addressed. We impute no guilt to ourselves, nor to others, in thmgs where the will is not con- ocrned. But it deserves our notice, that we do not conceive everything, without exception, to be in a man's power which depends upon his will. There are many exceptions to this general rule. The most obvious of these I shall mention, because they both serve to illustrate the rule, and are of im- portance in the question concerning the liberty of man. [319] In the rage of madness, men are abso- lutely deprived of the power of self-govern- ment. They act voluntarily, but their will is driven as by a tempest, which, in lucid intervals, they resolve to oppose with all their might, but are overcome when the fit of madness returns. Idiots are like men walking in the dark, who cannot be said to have the power of choosing their way, because they cannot distinguish the good road from the bad. Having no light in their understanding, they must either sit still, or be carried on by some blind impulse. Between the darkness of infancy, which is equal to that of idiots, and the maturity of reason, there is a long twilight, which, by insensible degrees, advances to the per- fect day. * This explicitly admita what (though Moniniily de- aM) was stated f undeniable. In note at p. Sm.— U. [■319, 320] In this period of life, man has but little of the power of self government. His actions, by nature, as well as by the laws of society, are in the power of others more than in his own. His folly and indiscretion, his levity and inconstancy, are considered 83 the fault of youth, rather than of the man. We consider him as half a man and half a child, and expect that each by turns should play its part. He would be thought a severe and unequitable censor of manners, who required the same cool deliberation, the same steady conduct, and the same mastery over himself, in a boy of thirteen, as in a man of thirty. It is an old adage. That violent anger is a short fit of madness.* If this be literally true in any case, a man, in such a fit of passion, cannot be said to have the com- mand of himself. If real madness could be proved, it must have the effect of mad- ness while it lasts, whether it be for an hour or for life. But the madness of a short fit of passion, if it be really madness, is ui- capalile of proof; and therefore is not ad- mitted in human tribunals as an exculpa- tion. And, I believe, there is no case where a man can satisfy his own mind that hia passion, both in its beginning and in its progress, was irresistible. Tlie Searcher of hearts alone knows infallibly what allow- ance is due in cases of this kind. [320] But a violent passion, though it may not be irresistible, is difficult to be resisted: And a man, surely, has not the same power over himself in passion, as when he is cool. On this account it is allowed by all men to alleviate, when it cannot exculpate; and has its weight in criminal courts, as well as in private judgment. It ought likewise to be observed, That he who has accustomed himself to restrain his passions, enlarges by habit his power over them, and consequently over himself. When we consider that a Canadian savage can acquire the power of defying death in its most dreadful forms, and of braving the most exquisite torment for many long hours, without losing the command of himself; we may learn from this, that, in the con- stitution of human nature, there is ample scope for the enlargement of that power of self-command without which there can be no virtue nor magnanimity. There are cases, however, in which a man*s voluntary actions are thought to be very little, if at all, in his power, on ac- count of the violence of the motive that impels him. The magnanimity of a hero, or of a nuirtyr, is not expected in every man, and on all occasions. If a man trusted by the government with a seeret which it is high treason to disclose. ♦ Ira furor breirii at— H. 'i20' ON THE ACTIVE POWEIia [fssativ. rr.\r. vii.'l SECOND ARGUIVIENT. 621 4 » it 'lie pnvail«a ii|M1' 1^ ft ImOm, wt liftv« lo mmm §n .iini, tai^'liavilY allf»ir ^ gmHait WlM to Iw an J altevmtmiof hit crime. Bii% on tlie other hftii4 tf tile Moral ho f»'*toffM hy the nMsb, or hj the dread of wiMiil death, we pt^' him mom 'than wo blame .Mm, and would 'tiiiik: il leven and uneonitahlo to eondmui chilli at • traitor. isnij Ww m 'tho' iiaeiM tliat ai. umbi .agnt-in irst place, and, in the huit, either excul- pate him, or think hk fault grentlj allevi- ated? If heactedneeeaiariljinho&ieaMe, •ompolled bj ^an irresistilile motive^ I can •ee iiii':ieaiOB. whj we ehould .not pass the eame judgment on both. menta ia mdently tiiia-<»11st' the ^loire of monmri and of wwit la ^ealM. ft '■Mi*lt late* .rest, 18 ft cool molivoi whieh leaves to^ ft nun the entire power ever himielfi hut tlie tor- death, are ao violeiit molivea. tliat: nwi who have not uncommon strength of ».hi4 are not masteia of 'themadn; in aneh a «itufttio% ftnd, thoriftini what ibMr do ia not impi»fctd» or^ ii: 'tlwight :le«' eriinliial If a man leaiit .meh motlvea, wo adm;ire' his fortitude^ :and think hk conduct heroical rather than human*. If he yields, we iui- 'pole it to human fniltgr, .and think htm lather to \m nitiMl tliKii sovoimIw' jMUMni'Pjyl Inveterate UHlft ftre ftdknowlidged to diminish 'verj eonsiderftbly the power ft mftii lias over hiniseE Although we may think him h%hly litemefthle hi: aeqairing them, yet, when, they am eonHmed to' a certain degree, we consider him as no longer master of himself, and hardly rechumaUe without a miraeie. Thus we see thsl tho 'power whieh we aro' M, hy eonmon. sense, to 'ftserihe' to man tespoeto hk voluntary actions only, and that it has various limitations even with regard, to them.^ Some actions ihal^ depend open, our wii, are' easy, others very dlBeult,. .ftnd .some, peiiftp% beyond our power. In 'diierent men, the power of .self-govenmieut is dillNent, ad. in the sftme nun ftt dif- ferent times.' Il..:maf hO' dim.in.iahed9. or perhaps lost, 'Iw 'had. 'habits.; il may 'he greatly incieftsed by good hsbits. [322} These' are 'laeto ftttested by experience, ^•■■iiisk ■sp^BiwI'inifTiPft' 'SWiii*i»si. ftF Jr W#b*# wP^iPwRVvHIRiillll J'^lllwi|l |||^ |llliH^^ IpB VHkMIIMlil'Vlilrfifl m 1 wiii%eik Aaifc .jfc, ^u^|^|^|J|l^^^^u^ auw ' I SlL^MiiwIkiiiMt they ^ftre perfectly intoU^i'Ue t hut. I thmk, irreeoneilBfthle to' that of Meeesaitvt for* How can thrret he .an easy and ft difficult in aetiona. oinally snhjeet to' neeessity P—or, Hnw flftit 'power be .giiftter 'Or lesa in> crsitea. or ofimamqi m iImmw w.no have Wff 'powwr f Thift' natural, eonvietion of our aetii^ lm%, wileh. ii aekno'wlmiged by many who held the doctrine' of necessity, ought to throw the whole bn:rdea of proof 'upon 'that side { for, hy this, the side of liberty has what lawyers call a jus qwmmttm^ or* right good til it' 'be overturned. If it 'CKmol he p.roved thai we ftlwftys sot from neeessity, there k no need of arguments on the other side to convince vm tiut we are free ageuta To 'illustnito' 'Ihk 'hy a satnikr case i^^ If ft philosopher would petmade me that mj fdlow-men 'with w:hem I converse are not thinking, .lntelligpBl beings, but mere maeliiiie%. thMigh. .1 'Hdght he .at a loss to fi.nd ftfgiaieita-agftiiiat tbk strange opinion, I showd. 'think 9 :reaaonahle to hold the lielief which :nalure gave me before I was 'Cspftlde of weighing evidence, until con- vindng proof k brought against it [323 J CHAPTER VII. SnCONO AMillllSNT. That there k a real and essentml diatine* tion between right and wrong conduct, bt» tween Just and u&|nst— Thftt'tbe immt perfect .moml. reetitnde' 'k to be eseribed to the Deity -—That .nun. 'k ft moral and accountable 'being, capaUe of acting 'right and wrong and amsiiecftkle' 'ler ^hk conduct to Him who 'nude hia,. .and. ^aaslgU'ed hun a part to act upon the stage' '«f lie; are principles prO'- ckinied by evety man's conscience— princi- ples upon which the systems of morality and natural religion, as well as the systom of revektioni, are grounded, and which have been generally acknowledged by those who hold eontrarj opinions on the subject of .hmnftn.. liberty. 1 shall therefore here takO' them, for imntsd, 'These 'princf|ile8 ftibrd an obvious, and, I think, an invmcible argument, that man k endowed with Moral Liberty. 'Two things are implied in the notion of a moral, and. aecountiible beings — Under- timmMmff and jictim Power, Ftnif Me must tmdergtmnd the law i& wMdk Ac It 'AoniM^ 'OiMiAls ^oM^Mfio'n to ok§g it If oral oibedience 'must hO' voluntary, and must regard 'the anthorily of the law. I may command my hone to eat when he hungers, and drmk when he thirsts. He does 10' .; 'but .hk doing it m 'sm moral obedi* enea Ho does, not understand my com* man4 wd therefore can have no will to obey it. Ho has not the conception of mo- ral eMIgalioii, and therefore cannot act Ikom. the eonvielion of' it In eating .and dria^king, ho 'k moved by hk 'Own .appetite oaly, and not by my authority. |S24] llgatloa, beeanse Ihey have not that degree '111 11 llfliil'tl * 'WP'^S^WwSie^lWPlPP jI^i ** iHOflMiPHaiO' mk'9 flB#t#t* B"^ ■"•^■i^'^* ^* 9W^^^^w £331-3841 have not the conception of a rule of conduct, and of obligation to obey it, and therefore, though they may be noxious, they cannot be criminal. , Man, by his rational nature, is capable both of understanding the law that is pre- scribed to him, and of perceiving its obli- gation. He knows what it k to he just and honest, to injure no man, and to obey his I^Iaker. From hk constitution, he has an immediate conviction of his obligation to these things. He has the approbation of his conscience when he acts by these rules; and he is conscious of guilt and demerit when he transgresses them. And, without tbk knowledge of his duty and his obliga- tion, he would not be a moral and account- able being. . , Secondly, Another thing implied in the notion of a iroral and accountable being, is power, to do what he is accountable for. That no man can be under a moral obli- gation to do what it k imposftible for him to do, or to forbear what it k impossible for him to forbear, is an axiom as self-evident as any in mathematics. It cannot be con- tradicted, without overturning all notion of mcml obligation ; nor can there be any ex- ception to it, when it k rightly understood. Some moralists have mentioned what they conceived to be an exception to this maxim. The exception is this. When a^ man, by hk own fault, has disabled himself from doing his duty, hk obligation, they say, remains, though he k now unable to dkcharge it. Thus, if a man by sumptu- ous living has become bankrupt, his inabil- ity to pav hk debt does not take away his obligation. [325] To judge whether, in this and similar eases, there be any exception to the axiom above mentioued, they must be stated accurately.* . . No doubt a man k highly criminal in living above his fortune, and his crime is greatly aggravated by the circumstance of hk being thereby unable to pay his just debt. Let us suppose, therefore, that he is punkhed for this crime as much as it de- serves ; that his goods are fairly distributed among hk creditors, and that one half re- msiins unpaid. Let us suppose also, that he adds no new crime to what is past, that he becomes a new man, and not only sup- ports himself by honest industry, but does all in hk power to pay what he still owes; I would now ask, Is he further punish- able, and really guilty for not paying more than he k able ? Let every man consult his eonseience, and say whether he can blame this man for not doing more than he is able to do. Hk guUt before his bank- ♦ Such caiet are eoniidered jind •olwd on broader froiindt by Aristotle. S«e Hie. Eth. L. iii. c. a.— »i. 1 325, 326] niptcy k out of the question, as he has received the punkhment due for it. But that hk subsequent conduct k unblameable, every man must allow ; and that, in hk present state, he k accountable for no more than he is able to do. Hk obligation k not cancelled, it returns with hk ability, and can go no farther. Suppose a sailor, employed m the navy of his country, and longing for the ease of a public hospital as an invalid, to cut off his fingers, so as to disable him from doing the duty of a sailor ; he k guilty of a great crime; but, after he has been punished according to the demerit of his crime, will his captain insist that he shall still do the duty of a sailor ? Will he command him to go aloft when it is impossible for him to do it, and punish him as guilty of disobe- dience ? Surely, if there \>e any such thing fts justice and injustice, thk would be un- just and wanton cruelty. I326j Suppose a servant, through neghgence and inattention, mistakes the orders given him by his master, and, from this inktake, does what he was ordered not to do. It w commonly said that culpable ignorance does not excuse a fault. This decision is uiac- curate, because it does not shew where the fault lies. The fault was solely in that in- attention, or negligence, which was the occasion of his mistake. There was no subsequent fault. Thk becomes evident, wlien we vary the case so far as to suppose that he was un- avoidably led into the mistake without any fault on hk part. Hk mktake is now in- vincible, and, in the opinion of all moralists, takes away all blame ; yet thk new case supposes no change, but in the cause of his mistake. His subsequent conduct was the same in both cases. The fault therefore lay solely in the negligence and inattention which was the cause of his mistake. The axiom, That invincible ignorance takes away all blame, is only a particular case of the general axiom, That there can be no moral obligation to what is impossible ; the former is grounded upon the latter, and can have no other foundation. I shall put only one case more. Suppose that a man, by excess and intemperance, has entirely destroyed his rational faculties, so as to have become perfectly mad or idiotical ; suppose him forewarned ot his danger, and that, though he foresaw that tins must I e the consequence, he went on still in hk criminal indulgence. A greater crime can hardly be supposed, or more de- serving of severe punishment ? feupposo him punished as he deserves ; will it be said, that the duty of a man is incumbent upon him now, when he has not the iaculties of a man, or that he incurs new guilt when he k not a moral agent ? Surely we may as I masm O '■« n M ^m I • » n 'imiijir a .11 A [ ESSAY !▼ CHAP. VIII.] THIRD ARGUMENT. 623 ««ll miMM Si f iMit. or m. ^ki. of' :tvtli, to to s aimel ni 'wmd iatf, [SS7] 'Hm JoeUoM I liAiro: given of ^mm cum, sra groimiled iipoa tiie fimtenental prin- ei|>los of momlti tio most immediate die- givo'ii of). «i iiioivl reasoning! it st an onil, Md no distuMtion is :lcil Mtnreen what is jiist and what is unjust And it is evident 'Vepiioii to tlie .axiom ahove mtiitioned. No 'BMial oy%atioB. mmM eonaiitiiil with im- INMsihtlttj in th« 'performance. j|0|ifc p&mer^ thereforoi is neoeiiiuril^' imiilied. in. tlio veij .notion of a 'Boiml. ma^ flountalile 'heing. And if man he sueh a 'hoing, be m'ost have a degree of aolive flower proportioned to the oooount he is to Bialco. .Mo may have a model of 'perfeetion set bdbie Mm. whioh. he .is itn«.ble to. reach ; hut, if 'ho doeo' to' Ihe^ 'Wtmost of his power, th.i8 is .all he ean be answerable for. To^ foeur guilt, hj not going bejrond his power, ii imnoBSible. .. 'Wlirt' 'Was. aaidy .in the Urst aigmenti of li'M limitatioii of our power, ^tddi' .mueii strength to the present argument. A niaii*s power, it 'was^ oboerved, extends onl v to' his '^intari Mti«iii%^aiidbiis..many .limitati^^^^ oven, wiiii :»esp0el 'to thorn. Mm memuHtaidemm has the .same ox'tent and. 'the .same limitstioiis.. In the rage of madness he has no power capablO' nf ' moiat ohligntlon.' .In .lipe age, '■IAmMHWMHi mBNV ■HIP^BWilFTlp^WiliWIS''lWWP^i^W'^lp' ■h#iBi IHP JH|.'""' ^•'"iWrWTMPlll' "IIWiWI[H|tlSi' ^IP^iP 'WW"i"iiasa in non^age, because his power over himself m gisator. ¥.iol«iit ptssions and.* violent moivei .iiaviato what is done tlmngh thei.r iniuoMSe, In the same proportion as 'they dim.iiii8li the po^wer of resistanee. [388] There is, therefore, a piifoet correspond- eneo' between 'pommr, on. the one handy .and wiml oMf «fio» and «eroiiiilaMifieif| .on the oilier. They not only correspond in gene- ral, as they respect volontaiy actions only, ■^•■■W ^p V TiPMii jr ■••••■'■i^^WWWwpaSi 'Wa ■iiaa'%11' 'aHHVW ■PB' ^irlBBBflli'^PlH* wKf eoffes|iondiitf' liniiiitiora. of 'tho^'two last.. TOa, 't.ndee4 anonntS'to'iiolliing'nore'than that maadm of common sense, confirmed 'b^ .Divine authority, '''That to w'hom. .mneh is given, of him. much will be required.** The sum of th:is argu:ment is— that a cer- tain degree of active power .is the talent which 'Ood. hath given to^ eveij' rational •ooomtahlii cnsiure, .and of w'hich he will. iwHiM' .an acoouni If man 'had .no power, Iw' "wonid have, nothing to account for. .All wise .and all foolish 'Conduct, all virtue .and vice, consist in the rif^ht nse or in the ahnsO' of that' power which CM. .hath given ns. ^If .man. had. bO' powor,. .ho 'Oonll. '.neither bO' wise ':iiiir' 'iiolish, viftocms. 'nor vidons. * If we adopt the system of ncMsUj, 'tho mwrai oM^im and rnxmuitmUemMi, IfTolif "Mid Mimr, merii and Oimgni, jutiin sad imjmiimf rewtrd and .fMnifAniAi/, w s- thm .and/(i%, oirfiit and olof, ought to be disused, or to have new meanings given to them when they are used In relizion, in monk, or in civil gowmmant ; for, upon thai system, there can he no sudi thinga as they liave been always used to signify. {9ml CHAPTER VIII. TUIItn AEGUMBNT. TtU'r man. 'hss jiower over his own .ac* 'tto.n8 and volitions .appears, because he is capable of carrying iin, wisely and prudent- ly, a system 'Of conduct, w.h.ich he has be- fore' conceived 'k his mind, .and resolved lo proseento, I take it for granted, that, among the var- ious characters <^ men, there have been, some who, after they came to years of uii- deistandiiig, deliberately laid down a plan of condnct, which they resolve to pursue through life $ and that uf the»e, some have alaaduy puiMied the end they had in view, by 'the proper ineans. It ii of no conse^nrace in this argument, 'Whether 'Ono has made the best choice of his main end or not ; whether his end b«i ricbeoi or power, or iMnOi or the approha- 'tion of his .Maker. I suppose only, that he has. pnidontly and steadiCv purttid it ; that, in a long course of deliberate actions, he has taken the meant tliat appeared most conducive to .his end, .and avoided whatever That inch 'Condoct hi a man demonslratea a certain degree of wisdom and underBtand- Ine, no man ever doubted : and I sav it diLutrntM, wHh e^ual fon», a «rtai» digvet'Of 'power over his voluntaij' detefmiu- ations. This will appear evident, if we consider, ject, but can. execute nothuig. A regular plan ^of condnct, as it cannot be contrived without understanding, so it cannot he car^ ried Into execution without power; and, therefore, the execution, as an effect, demonstrates, with equal force, both power and understanding in tlie cause. [390] Every indioition of wisdom, taken from the effect, is equally au indication of power to execute what 'wtadom planned. .And, if we have any evidence 'that, 'the wisdom which formed the plan is in the man, we have the very same evidence that the power which executed, it Is ui him also. In thii' argument, we reason 'from the same prinotpTes as in demonstrating tho being and perfectioni of the First Cause of ail tuiugi* The eflects we observe in the course of nature require a cause. Effects wisely ad- apted to an end, require a wise cause. Every indication of the wisdom of the Crea- ttir is equally an indication of His power. His wisdom appears only in the worla done by his power ; for wisdom without power may speculate, but it cannot act ; it may plan, but it cannot execute its plans. The same reasoning we apply to the works of men. In a stately palace we see the wisdom of the architect His wisdom contrived it, and wisdom could do no more. The execution required both a distinct con- ception of the plan, and power to operate according to that plan. Let us apply these principles to the sup- position we have made— That a man, in a long course of conduct, has determined and acted prudently in the prosecution of a cer- tain end. If the man had both the wisdom to plan this course of conduct, and that power over his own actions that was necessary to carry it into execution, he is a free agent, and used his liberty, in this instance, with understanding. [ 33 1 ] But, if all his particular determinations, which concurred in the execution of this plan were produced, not by himself, but by some cause acting necessarily upon him, then there is no evidence left that he con- trived this plan, or that he ever spent a thought about it. The cause that directed all these determ- inations -so wisely, whatever it was, must be a wise and intelligent cause; it must have understood tiie plan, and have intended the execution of it. If it be said that all this course of de- termination wa« produced by Motives, mo- tives, surely, have not understanding to conceive a plan, and intend its execution.* We must, therefore, go back beyond motives to some intelligent being who had the power of arranging those motives, and applying them in their proper order and season, so as to bring about the end. This intelligent being must have under- stood the plan, and intended to execute it. If this be so, as the man had no hand in the execution, we have not any evidence left that he had any hand in the contrivance, or aven that he is a thinking being. If we can believe that an extensive series of means may conspire to promote an end without a cause that intended the end, and had power to choose and apply those means for the purpose, we may as well believe that this world was made by a fortuitous con- course of atoms, without an intelligent and powerful cause. If a lucky concourse of motives could • On the tnie lignificition of Moiivci, tee abof e* p. WW, note *, and p. «I0, iioie *.— H. produce the conduct of an Alexander or a Julius Caesar, no reason can be given why a lucky concourse of atoms might not pro- duce the planetary system. If, therefore, wise conduct in a man de- monstrafes that he has some degree of wis- dom, it demonstrates, with equal force and evidence, that he has some degree of power over his own determinations. [332] All the reason we can assign for believ- ing that our fellow-men think and reason, is grounded upon their actions and speeches. If they are not the cause of these, there is no reason left to conclude that they think and reason. Des Cartes thought that the human body is merely an engine, and that all its motions and actions are produced by mechanism. If such a machine could be made to speak and to act rationally, we might, indeed, conclude with certainty, that the maker of it had both reason and active power ; but, if we once knew that all the motions of the machine were purely mechanical, we should have no reason to conclude that the man had reason or thought. The conclusion of this argument is — ^That, if the actions and speeches of other men give us sufficient evidence that they are reasonable beings, they give us the same evidence, and the same degree of evidence, that they are free agents. There is another conclusion that may be drawn from this reasoning, which it is pro- per to mention. Suppose a Fatalist, rather than give up the scheme of necessity, should acknow- ledge that he has no evidence that there is thought and reason in any of his fellow- men, and that they may be mechanical engines for all that he knows, he will be forced to acknowledge that there must be active power, as well as understanding, in the maker of those engines, and that the first cause is a free agent. We have the same reason to believe this as to believe his existence and his wisdom. And, if the the Deity acts freely, every argument brought to prove that freedom of action is impossible, must fall to the ground. [333\ The First Cause gives us evidence of his power by every efiect that gives us evidence of his wisdom. And, if he is pleased to communicate to the work of his hands some degree of his wisdom, no reason can be assigned why he may not communciate some degree of his power, as the talent which wisdom ii to employ. That the first motion, or the first effect, whatever it be, cannot be produced neces- sarily, and, consequently, that the First Cause must be a free agent, has been de- monstrated so clearly and unanswerably bv Dr Clarke, both in his " Demonstra- tion of the Being and AttriLutes of God/* ON THE ACTIVE POWEES. T^mAw IV CM-. .X.J OF ARGUMENTS FOR NECESSITY. 625 4 mnd in the end of hia *' lenwrlci on Collins's Philoeopiiiiiil Enquiry eonmraing Hunuui Hi 2 Lk jHUk.lH^lb iMii« W JbniHl.^ JLi. W jJMuBHu. ^Ik. «>Bi JM jA MMl H»l Jit Blj I IMl liMJl Alj ,||_, lAi. Kit jjjjk Ubenji UH' 1 dtn Ma notmiiig w vnit m Imi< 'MM. I WMF' htkwe I Ibnndl mmw tib§9th- tioi' maiie to liw reasoning, by any off' tlM^ defenders of nofeaaity.* Soul' of the argnmentt lliit liiivt been offteed for Nooesaity w«i«' aliiia% con* iii«lered in tUo eesay. It hm been laid, That human Liheri$ f€§pmi» mt!§ tk§ aeiiom thaimmrnkm^mmi i& V&iiiim i and ikat pmmr mmr lAf --«pe' mmfim, at we art mma afcnls j 'Itor no. rSlity intiilvti' Mbmtj at Its mwemial OMiltioii— ■■ to 'MA m$mM. But this docttine I cwiiioc nov t nwjttacipte or the MMM' Mmmm^ (p. m^ liMl 'MllWnlif,/--ealleit« Ifiwtn^bf' ieiliiiils,tliat' of' liM mi»mlfm$ Mmm^ (p, rtomlt Mtrmmm^ (p, jWMlMli-^MMii of' tiw Oifiitr qf SgitL am. to isf ' .auliigimM, diafioter. for tt b ' '!»' iMMMte, ooitjiiMtlf and rnmat^jt tlie flipieallor itai friiiclfim-l*. Wliy a 'lliiiif fr, fprtmgMmm^m nm» mamMt^ #• Wli'va tlilM|'<|fieiiMf" 'Of iiflVMlHCiMft (p- or y\/MMli «•) and, 3°t ilw fofkid. or Warn ptlnci|>le» Why a thlag ii kimm bdng a play of unmeaning words, to be a rational and demonstrative science. On this aMonmt il^ deserves to be oonsidefed. A 'veij 'Obvloiis oljoetion to^ titis prin- 'dplo was— Tint two or noie nesnt 'may be equally fit for the same end ; and that, in •nch a case, there may be a snIBeient reason for taking one of the number, though there be no reason for preferring one to inother, To obviate this objection Leibnitz main- tainodi that the case supposed could not* happen; or, if it did, that none of the means could be used, for want of a sufficient rea- son to prefer one to the rest Therefore he determined, with some of the schoohnen— That, if an ass eould he placed, between two bundles of hay, or two fields of grass equally mviting, the poor beast woiSd certainly stand still and starve $ but the case, he says, could not happen without a miracle. [33d] When, it 'was ohjoeted to^ tUa.'peinciple, That 'thaiV' conM 'be .nO' .letioii but the will of Ctod why 'the naterial world was placed in one part of unimited space rather than another, or created at one point of un- luniiad duration rather than another, or why 'the phuiels should move from, west to east, rather than in a contrary direction i 'these objeetions Leibnitz obviated by main- taining, That there is^ no such thing as un- oocn|M. .spMSt' or duration ; that space is 'uothmg but the order of things coexisting, and duration is nothing but the order of things successive i that all motion is relat- ive^ 10' that|, :if there were only one body in the iniverB% it would he .immovable ; that it is inconsistent 'with the perfection of the Deity, that there should be anv part of space unoccupied by body; and, I sup* 'Of 'duration, io 'tha.t, according 'tO' this sys- tem, the world, like its Author, must be infinite, eternal, and immovable; or, at least,, as great .in extent .and duration as it is possible for it to he. When .it was objeel'ed to the principle of .a aufilcient reason. That of two particles of matter perfectly simisr, 'there can bO' 'no reason hut the will 'Of God. 'ISw plaetng tkk here and ihai there { this oljeetion Leib-^ niti' obviated by malntahiing, that it is un- poisibk that there can be two particles of matter, or any two things, perfectly simi- lar* And this seems to have led him to 'another of his grand principles, which he calls, Th§ liemiitif t(f ImiiscernihkK* When the principle of a Sufficient Rea- son .had nrodnced .so many surprising dis-' coverieS'. m phihisophy, it .is no wonder that it .should 'dfiennine 'the long disputed quea* tion about human liberty. This it does in * llilt prindiilc I ind enouncwl In pte to £eilMilis.<~il. ralantlNSB [334, 335] a moment. The determination of the will is an event for which there must be a suffi- cient reason— that is, something previous, which was necessarily followed by that de- termination, and could not be followed by any other determination ; therefore it was necessary. [336] ... - ^. Thus we see, that this prmciple of the necessity of a Sufficient Reason for every- thing, is very fruitful of consequences ; and by its fruits we may judge of it. Those who will adopt it, must adopt all the conse- quences that hang upon it. To fix them all beyond dispute, no more is necessary but to prove the truth of the principle on which they depend. I know of no argument offered by Leib- nitz in proof of this principle, but the authority of Archimedes, who, he says, makes use of it to prove that a balance loaded with equal weights on both ends will continue at rest. I grant it to be good reasoning with re- gard to a balance, or with regard to any machine, That, when there is no external cause of its motion, it must remain at rest, because the machine has no power of movuig itself. But to apply this reasoning to a man, is to take for granted that the man is a machine, which is the very point in question. • Leibnitz and his followers would have us to take this principle of the necessity of a sufficient reason lor every existence, for every event, for every truth, as a first principle, without proof, without explana- tion ; though it be evidently a vague pro- poRition, capable of various meanings, as the word reason is. It must have diflerent meanings when applied to things of so dif- ferent nature as an event and a truth ; and it may have different meanings when ap- plied to the same thing. We cannot, there- fore, form a distinct judgment of it m the gross, but only by taking it to pieces, and applying it to different things, m a precise and distinct meaning. It can have no connection with the dis- pute about liberty, except when it is .applied to the determinations of the will. Let us, therefore, suppose a voluntary action of a man ; and that the question is put, Whether was there a sufficient reason for this action or not ? [337] , ... The natural and obvious meanmg of this nuestion ia— Was there a motive to the action sufficient to justify it to be wise and good, or, at least, innocent? Surely, in this sense, there is not a sufficient reason for every human action, because there are many that are foolish, unreasonable, and an justifiable, t libnUs.ly«?-" Nonwrniierfequiniur judicium uU imum inleUectui practid. du» •A voleiidum not de- L33<>-3383 If the meaning of the question l;e— Was there a cause of the action ? U ndoul tedly there was. Of every event there must be a cause that had power sufficient to produce it, and that exerted that power for the pur- pose. In the present case, either the man was the cause of the action, and then it was a free action, and is justly imputed to him* • or it must have had another cause, and cannot justly be imputed to the man.* In this sense, therefore, it is granted that there was a sufficient reason for the action ; but the question about liberty is not in the least affected by this concession. If, again, the meaning of the question he —Was there semetbing previous to the action which made it to be necessarily pro- duced ?— every man who believes that the action was free, will answer to this question in tlie negative-t . ^, , . I know no other meaning that can i»e put upon the principle of a sufficient rea- 8(m, when applied to the determinations of the human will, besides the three I have mentioned. In the first, it is evidently false ; in the second, it is true, but does not affect the question about liberty ; in the third, it is a mere assertion of necessity without proof. , ... Before we leave this boasted principle, we may see how it applies to events of another kind. When we say that a philo- sopher has assigned a sufficient reason tor such a phenomenon, what is the meaning of this ? The meaning surely is, tJiat ho has accounted for it from the known laws of nature. The sufficient reason of a phse- nomenon of nature must therefore be some law or laws of nature, of which the phseno- menon is a necessary consequence, lint are we sure that, in this sense, there is a sufficient reason for every phienomenon of nature? I think we are not. i6S\i\ For, not to speak of miraculous events in which the laws of nature are suspended or counteracted, we know not but that, m the ordinary course of God^s providence, there may be particular acts of his adminis- tration that do not come under any general law of nature. Established laws of nature are necessary for enabling intelligent creatures to conduct their affairs with wisdom and prudence, and prosecute their ends by proper means ; but still it may be fit that some particular events should not be fixed by general laws, tcrminaiDUs ; at ubi vo'uimu.. »^'"P^/ ««'"\'Srt'e m-' lectionem omnium ^"clmationum tarn a PJ'te ra. * s4e above. Jv 608. b, note %, and p. bli. a, note» previous to the action which made '' *° *;i"^*_[J'' woduced." For, posita cau$a, pon^r cTecfta—W. ^ Si ON THE ACTIVE POWERS. [K88AY !▼. CHAP. IX.3 OF ARGUMENTS FOR NECESSITY. 627 I' I luit 1m dimsted lij psrtkiikr mik rf «Im Bivine govtmnieiit, thai so kis nMonlifo crmturet nmy hme sufficient mdiioement to lufiplieiite Us aid, his proteetion and dtrwtifiis, Hid. to" 'de|Miid.«i>on".hiiii for the ■UMiss of' their hmmk designs. We see that, in hmnan gOTernmeiits, tiren those that are most legal, it is impos- sihle that everj act of the administniCion :ihut a cauM.** It ought here to bO' observed,, that there aro' two kinds of kws, both very proiierly called (mm 'et'tio piincipn ; and such, in my apprehension, are sll the arguments 'Offerad to prove that liberty of action k im- ponlhle., [340] It 'may farther be observed, 'that every argument of this class, if it wero really con- elusive, 'must oatend, to the .D'oity, as^ well as to all created, 'beinp f and necessary ex- istence, which has always been considered as tlie prerogative of the Supreme Being, most belong' 'Ciinally to every ereatare and 'to every event,, even the m^ost. trifling. This I take to IW' tte system of Si'iinosa, and of those among the ancients who carried ktaity to the highest pitoh< ,1 bdbre referrw the 'reader to Dr 'Ckrke^s argument, whleb 'professes to demonstrate that the First Cause k a free agent. Until that argument shall be shewn to be fallaci- ous, a tiling which I have not seen at- tempted, such weak aigunients as have been brouglit to prove the eontrary, ought to have little weight.* iPWMMMMiWWWMMWMWWi^^ J ■ ■ — - ■! ■ —, * M .1 iiftve 'hefort otaerved, the adtoctlca ef UlW'rty and. of Ktcaialty an Mterally smmwllil 'in pnmnc the itocMiM' 'CflMr antagnniKts to be, und'ff ilie law of eaineawl tlHeti :fli,n.claineiitally incomiire. ,btiiitble. it' not, iSIC«r^piBianl| Imt M aemaim to he ■iNnrn,, on theverf 'eMiilitattf of himian thouBlit, SiiiiiiiS-^.''''*' ««, ' ' m . on.. IPU, S4li3 OIIJIP. xJ\ OF ARGUMENTS FOR NECESSITF. 629 CHAPTER X* THB SAME SUBJECT. [B.] With regard to the second class of arguments for necessity, which are intended to prove ihat liberty of action would ie hurtful to man, I have only to observe, that It is a fact too evident to be denied, whether we adopt the system of Liberty or that of Necessity, that men actually receive hurt from their own voluntary actions, and from the voluntary actions of other men ; nor can it be pretended, that this fact is .iucon- sistent with the doctrine of liberty, or that it is more unaccountable upon tliis system tlian upon that of necessity. [347] In order, therefore, to draw any solid argument against liberty, from its hurtful- ness, it ought to be proved — That, if man were a free agent, he would do more hurt to himself, or to others, than he actually does. To this purpose, it has been said, That liberty would make men's actions caprici- ous ; that it wciuld destroy the influence of motives ; that it would take away the effect of rewards and punishments ; and that it would make man absolutely ungovernable. [C] These arguments have been al- ready considered in the fourth and fiftli chapters of this Essay ; and, therefore, I slmll now proceed to the third class of ar- guments for necessity, which are intended to prove, that, in foci, men are not fee 4jgpnt&, The most formidable argument of this class, and, I think, the only one that has not been considered in some of the preced- ing chapters, k taken from the prescience if the Deity.. God foresees every dftermination of the hmnan mind. It must, therefore, be what he foresees it shall be ; and, therefore, must be necessary. Tlik argument may be understood three different ways, each of which we shall con- iiider, that we may see all its force. The necessity of the event may be thought to be a just consequence, either barely fnm its bevig certainly future— or lately from its beimi forci'een— or from the impossibility of its being foreseen if ii was not neces- aary. Firsl, It may l»e tliought, that, at no. ihinf can be known to be future which is not certainly future; sn, if it be certuirdy future, it must be necessary. [348] Thk opinion has no less authority in its favour than that of Arktotle, who indeed held the doctrine of liberty, but believing, at the same time, that whatever k certainly future must be necessary, in order to defend the liberty of human actions, maintained. That contingent evenis have no certain [347-348] futurity ,•• but I know of no modern advo- cate for liberty who has put the defence oi it upon that issue. It must be granted, that, as whatever was, certainly was, and whatever is, certainly is, so whatever shall be, certainly shall be. These are identical propositions, and can- not be doubted by those who conceive them distinctly. But I know no rule of reasoning by which it can be inferred, that, because an event certainly shall be, therefore its production must be necessary. The manner of its pro- duction, whether free or necessary, cannot be concluded from the time of its i)rodue- tion, whether it be past, present, or future. That it shall be, no more implies tliat it shall be necessarily than that it shall be freely produced ; for neither present, past, nor future, have any more connection with necessity than they have with freedom. I grant, therefore, that, from events be- ing foreseen, it may be justly concluded, that they are certainly future ; but from their being certainly future, it does not fol- low that they are necessary. Secondly^ If it be meant by this argu- ment, that an event. must be nectssary, merely because it is foreseen, neither is this a just consequence ; for it has often been observed, That prescience and knowledge of every kind, being an immanent act, has iki effect upon the thing known. Its mode ol existence, whether it be free or necessary, is not in the least affected by its being known to be future, any more than by its being known to be past or present. The Deity foresees hk own future free actions, but neither hk foresight nor liis jmrpose makes them necessary. I'lie argument^ therefore, taken in this view, as well as in tlie former, is inconclusive. [341*] A /Airrf way in which this argument may be understood, is this— ii is impossible thai an event which is not necessary should be foreseen ; therefore every event that is cer- tainly foreseen must be nevessaiy. Here the conclusion certainly follows from the antecedent proposition, and therefore the whole stress of the argument lies upon the proof of that proposition. Let us consider, therefore, whether it can be proved — That no free action can be cer- toinly foreseen. If this can be proved, it will follow, either tliat all actions are ne- ce8sary,orthat all actions cannot be foreseen . *iiee Ihs Interpretation^ c. Ik. ; and there the commentary of Aramonius. By contingent is meant what 4nay or may not happen. On tlu» definition, Aristotle, therefore, justly aigued, that, of any pro- position concerning future contingent*, we can onJy say indefinitely that it may or may not be true; nor iii it possible for the human mind to conceive how, without contradiction, a ftjture event can be at «r.ce viewed a« certain, (ihat is, which cannot, by not hap. pening, possibly falsify .the affirmation that it will happei),) and contingmt^ (that is, which mayor maj iiot OafiiieD.} See Note U.- U. o:n the active,,,, powi,es. []i88AT nr. '! Wiii, repxd to tlra general propotitlwi — n«f ' if i» mmmmM9 tmttamif/ree mti&m -mm ^ e«rlaii%'ilmitfii, I otiaerve — F»9ip Tliat mmy iumi wlm twlieret tte Beitj to 'be a free ,ageitt, miist 'believe tliat tlik priop, Beiia(qiiod.]iiiMi. itt) Mpra prae. laiiun faiufuniiii 3 ,8ii 'atnmqw Mnplecta- mm, iitnimqiw fiietiter el vemctter con- itemar: lUod, ui (mho ii.;lniii«l. eounirynuiti Foii. . It WM 'ifpiiil: to ■iwliier theory, touching which had a little before l)een introduced among the teaukti iblutely actiudTiMt «■• a iKi know.. hdl^lMI, to wit, of eoMlitioaal cviiita— M«liiis aiii«elvfilllMil this aflmled an intermediate know. Mt»;.«iilfii|le' •Mlla.4Mt.wcen Vii.|on and .Simpls IntdlteMii. A MlelMted example of the mkmim whether tlMiMi«r Kellah would deliter him to SmiI, if a«ii ^nane ioMi" ■mim the city, i-he WOUlf Ml driver him ; upon ., Into K«i. ii:"^ ^--^ -. .•- "— "— •• •*" *>• ••«• that Reid i« not altogether tsset in hia itatement *■ '"•^g*g?(<« ^«ft»j not It liti «riticuiD oiigwu aaiii. If aaal mm ^mm mikm the ci SMwpjM ilial''lliMP ■mmUm deliver h vUcli Oefffd. who liMl iotciMlMl retiring Wi, adopted other pl«na.-FlmD this It w 1 [355. 3511 •M In like manner, I can conceive a being who has power to do an indifferent action or not to do it. It is not true that he would do it, nor is it true that he would not do It, because neither Is Implied In my con- ception, nor follows from It; and what is not true cannot be known. Though I do not perceive any fallacy in this argument against a scientia media, I am sensible how apt we are to err in apply- ing what belongs to our conceptions and our knowledge, to the conceptions and knowledge of the Supreme Being; and, therefore, without pretending to determine for or against a scientia media, I only ob- serve, that, to suppose that the Deity pre* vents what he foresees by his prescience, is a contradiction, and that to know that a contingent event which he sees fit not to permit would certainly happen if permitted, is not prescience, but the scientia media, whose exbtence or possibility we are under no necessity of admitting. Waving all dispute about scientia media, we acknowledge that nothing can happen under the administration of the Deity, which he does not see fit to permit. The permission of natural and moral evil, is a pho^nomenon which cannot be disputed. To account for this phaenomenon under the government of a Being of infinite goodness, justice, wisdom, and power, has. in all ages, been considered as difficult to human reason, whether we embrace the system of liberty or that of necessity. But, if the difficulty of accounting for this pheenunienon upon the S} stem of necessity, be as great as it is upon the system of liberty, it can have no weight when used as an argument against liberty. [358] The defenders of necessity, to reconcile it to the principles of Theism, find them- selves obliged to give up all the moral at- tributes of God, excepting that of goodness, or a desire to produce happiness. This they hold to be the sole motive of his makingand governing the universe. Justice, veracity, faithfulness, are only modifica- tions of goodness, the means of promoting ita purposes, and are exercised only so far as they serve that end. Virtue is accept- able to him and vice displeasing, viuly tis the first tends to produce happiness and the last misery. He is the proper cause and agent of all moral evil as well as good ; but it is for a good end, to produce the greater happiness to his creatures. He does evil that good may come, and this end sanctifies the worst actions that contribute to it. All the wickedness of men being the work of God, he must, when he surveys it, pro- nounce it, as well as all his other works, to be very good. This view of the Divhie nature, the only one consistent with the scheme of necessity, f3a8-360] appears to me much more shocking than the permission of evil upon tlie scheme of liberty. It is said, that it requires only strength of mind to embrace it : to me it seems to re- quire much strength of countenance to pro- fess it. In this system, as In Cleanthes' Tabla- ture of the Epicurean System, Pleasure or Happiness ie placed upon the throne as the queen, to whom all the virtues bear the humble office of menial servants. — [Cic. Fin. ii. 21. J As the end of the Deity, in all his actions, is not his own good, which can receive no addition, but the good of his creatures ; and, as his creatures are capable of this disposi- tion in some degree, is he not pleased witli this image of himself in his creatures, and displeased with the contrary ? Why then should he be the author of malice, envy, revenge, tyranny, and oppression, in their hearts ? Other vices that have no malevo- lence In them may please such a Deity, but surely malevolence cannot please him. [359] If we form our notions of the moral attri- butes of the Deity from what we see of his government of the world, from the dictates of reason and conscience, or from 4,he doc- trine of revelation— justice, veracity, faith- fulness, the love of virtue and the dislike of vice, appear to be no less essential attri- butes of his nature than goodness. In man, who is made after the image of God, goodness or benevolence is indeed an essential part of virtue, but it is not the whole. I am at a loss what arguments can be brought to prove goodness to be essential to tlie Deity, which will not, with equal force, prove other moral attributes to be so ; or what objections can be brought against the latter, which have not equal strength against the former, unless it be admitted to be an objection against other moral attributes that they do not accord with the doctrine of necessity. If other moral evils may be attributed to the Deity as the means of promoting gen- eral good, why may not false declarations and false promises ? And then what ground have we left to believe the truth of what he reveals, or to rely upon what he promises ? Supposing this strange view of the Divine nature were to be adopted in favour of the doctrine of necessity, there is still a great difficulty to be resolved. [360] Since it is supposed that the Supreme Being had no other end In making and governing the universe but t<» produce the greatest degree of happiness to his crea- tures in general, how comes it to pass that there is so much misery in a system made and governed bymfinite wisdom and powei for a contrary purpose ? Iw4 ON THE ACTIVI JPOWllS. I BSBAir mW» I TIm .wliitiMi.. ^. tita mknUf Inula ■• iMiiiKij to amoilier li3niiiiliflsit-.!Elat. m tlw nmmtj md ▼ic© thftt k in tlie world is a MciMaar/ ingredient in timl system whkk ptiNiiieeB tiM gfwtesl siini iif liippincss upon file whole. 'Tliii 'eonn«etnii 'iMtwiiil tlm gvetticiit sum 'Of :bif pnesii snil al AnmAmy tlal is in the nniverse must be fatal and iMeeiiary in like nature of things, eo that mma Alffli%htj power cannot hnalc. it ; for h«»irolenee.can, ninrer leiul to .iniiot^miaery without neoessitj. This necessary connection between the greatest sun. of happiness^ upon the whole, mai^m the natural anl, monl. evil that is, or hat been, or shall H Wi^ once esta- blished, it is impossible for mortal eyes, to diseeni how far this evil may extend, or on whom, it najr .happen to lall ; whether this fatal connection maj be^ temporary or 'Oler^ nal, or what propoftloa of the happiness may be bakiiced. l>y it. A^ world :niade' by 'perfect wisdom and Al- mighty power, for no othweni hut to nuke it happy, presents the most pleasing pro- spect that oin be imagined. We expect nothing but uninterrupted happiness to pre- vail for ever. But, ahm ! when wo con- sliler that,, .in 'thk happiest, system, there must: hc' necessarily all the :niisery ani vice we .see, and how much more we now not, how is the prospect darkened ! These two hypotheses,, the one 'limiting the mora! chanuiter of ^ the Deity, the other limiting his power, seem to me to te the necessary oonseqnenoes of necessity, when it is joined with Theism ; and thev have, aeeordiugly, been aiopted by the* ablest defiindfers of that dotitrhie. [Ml] If some defenders of liberty, by limiting too rashly the Divine prescleuee, in order to defend that system, have raised high in- dignation in their opponents; have they not equal ground of indignatwn against those who, to defend 'neoessitj, Imit the moral perfection of the Deity, and his A.lmighty power ? Let ns consider, on the 'Other hand, what 'Conseque'noes. may be fjurly drawn from. God's permitting the abuse of liberty in agents on whom he has bestowed it. It it be asked, Why does God permit so much sin in his creation ? I confess, I can- not answer the question, but must ky my hand upon my mouth. He giveth no ac- count of bis eomiuct to the children of 'men.. It is our part^ to obey his^ com- mands, and not to say 'unto him, Why dost thou thus ? Hypotheses might bO' 'flramed. .; hut, while' 'we have gnmnd to 'be satiafed that ha iocs. nothing but what is. right, it .it. mon 'be- eomhig' UB^ to. aiicnowledge that fhii endi' and 'reasoM of Ms universal government are hoyond our knowhwlgo, and, perhapS|. 'be- yond the comprehemicwi. of fanman. mder^ Standing. We<«aniiot -Mnetnte m fiur into the counsel of tlM Almighty as to know all the ressons why it became him, of whom are all things, and to whom are all things, to create, not only machines, which are solelj moved by his hand, hut servants and ehildl ren, wh% by obiiyiiig his 'Oonmands, and imitating his moral perfections, might rise to a high degree of gloiy and happ&ess In his &vour ; or, by pervene disobedience, m.ight incur guilt and just 'punishment. I n this he appears to us awful in his justice, as well as .amiabte in his goodness. But, as he disdains not to appeal to men for the equity of his proceedings towards them when his character is impeached, we may, with humble reverence, plead for God, and vindicate that moral excellence which is tbe glory of his nature^,, .and -of which the imsge is the glory and the perfection of 'man. [302] Let us observe, first of all, that m permit hath two meanings- It signifies not to for- bid ; and it signiies not to bmder by supe- rior power. In the first of these senses, God. .never perm'its sin. His. hiw forbids every moral evM. By his kws and by bis government, lie gives every encouragement to good conduct, and every discouragement to Dad. But he does not always, by his BUjierior power, hinder it from being com- mitted. This is the ground of the accu- sation ; and this, it is said, is the very same 'thing as directly 'to will and to cause it. As this is asserted witliout proof, and is far from being self-evident, it might be suf- ficient to deny it until it be proved. But, 'Without .resting; barely on the defensive, we 'may observe 'that the only moral attributes' that can be supposed inconsistent with tite permission of sin, are either goodness or Justice. The defenders of necessity, with whom we have to do in this point, as they main- tain that goodness is the only essential moral attribute of the Deity, and the motive of all his actions, must, if they will be con- sistent maintain, That to will, and directly to caoM sin, much more not to hinder it, is consistenc with perfect goodness, nay, that goodness is a suiieient motive to justify the w;illm{k.. and diieetly causing it With vegaiid. 'to 'tbem, 'therefore, it is surely unnecessary to attempt to reconcile the permission of sin with the goodness of God, sinee .an imMmsistcney hetween that attri- bute and the etuiing of .sin '"would overturn 'their whols system. If the causing of moral evil, and being the real author of it, be consistent with per- fect, giwdness, what pretenco can. th'Cra be to say, that not to hhider' It Is ;hieoiiiiit«nl with perfect goodness f [.3118] What is incumbent upon them, therc- f 361-363] CHAP. XI.] OF THE PERMISSION OF EVIL. 633 fore, to prove, is, That the permission of sill is inconsistent with justice ; and, upon this point, we are ready to join issue with them. But what pretence can there he to say, that the permission of sin is perfectly con- sistent with goodness in the Deity, but in- consistent with justice ? Is it not as easy to conceive that he should permit sin though virtue be his de- light, as that he inflicts misery when his sole delight is to bestow happiness ? Should it appear incredible, that the permission of sin may tend to promote virtue, to them who believe that the intlictioii of misery is necessary to promote happiness ? The justice, as well as the goodness of God*8 moral government of mankind ap- pears in this— that his laws are not arbi- trary nor grievous, as it is only by the obe- dience of them that our nature can be per- fected and qualified for future happiness ; that he is ready to aid our weakness, to help our infirmities, and not to suffer us to he tempted above what we are able to bear; that he is not strict to mark iniquity, or to execute judgment speedily against an evil work, but is long-sutfering, and waits to be gracious; that he is ready to receive the humble penitent to his favour ; that he is no respecter of persons, but in every na- tion, he that fears God and works righteous- ness is accepted of him ; that of every man he will require an account proportioned to the talents he hath received ; that he de- lights in mercy, but hath no pleasure in the death of the wicked; and, therefore, in punishing, will never go beyond the de- merit of the criminal, nor beyond what the rules of hb universal government require. [364] There were, in ancient ages, some who said, the way of the Lord ia not equal ; to whom the Prophet, in the name of God, makes this reply, which, in all ages, is sufficient to repel this accusation. " Hear now, O house of Israel, is not my way equal, are not your ways unequal ? When a righteous man turneth away from his righteousness, and committeth iniquity, for his iniquity which he hath done shall he die. Again, When a wicked man turneth away from his wickedness that he hath committed, and doth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive. O house of Israel, are not my ways equal, are not your ways unequal ? Repent, and turn from all your transgressions, so ini- quity shall not be your ruin. Cast away from you all your transgressions whereby you have transgressed, and make you a new heart and a new spirit, for why will ye die, O house of Israel ? For I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth, saith the Lord God." l^U, 365] Another argument for necessity has been lately offered, which we si all very briefly consider. It has been maintained that the power of thinking is the result of a ceiUin modifica- tion of matter, and that a certain configura- tion of brain niakesa«oul; and, if man be wholly a material being, it is said that it will not be denied that he must be a me- chanical being ; that the doctrine of neces- sity is a direct inference from that of ma- terialism, and its undoubted conset;iience. As this argument can have no weight with those who do not see reason to embrace this system of materialism ; so, even with those who do, it seems to me to be a mere sophism. Philosophers have been wont to conceive matter to be an inert passive being, and to have certain properties inconsistent with the power of thinking or of acting. But a philosopher arises,* who proves, we shall suppose, that we were quite mistaken in our notion of matter ; that it has not the pro- perties we supposed, and, in fact, has no properties but those of attraction and re- pulsion ; but still he thinks, that, being iiuitter, it will not be denied that it is a mechanical being, and that the doctrine of necessity is a direct inference from that of materialism. [365] Herein, however, he deceives himself. If matter be what we conceived it to be, it is equally incapable of thinking and of act- ing freely. But, if the properties from which we drew this conclusion, have no reality, as he thinks he has proved— if it have the powers of attraction and repulsion, and require only a certain configuration to make it think rationally— it will be impos- sible to shew any good reason why the same configuration may not make it act rationally and freely. If its reproach of solidity, in- ertness, and sluggishness be wiped oft"; and if it be raised in our esteem to a nearer approach to the nature of what we call spiritual and immaterial beings, why should it still be nothing but a mechanical being ? Is its solidity, inertness, and sluggishness to be first removed to make it ca[)abie of thinking, and then restored in order to make it incapable of acting ? Those, therefore, who reason justly from this system of materialism, will easily per- ceive that the doctrine of necessity is so far from being a direct inference, that it can receive no support from it. To conclude this Essay :— Extremes of all kinds ought to be avoided ; yet men are pnme to run into them ; and, to shun one extreme, we often run into the contrary. Of all extremes of opinion, none are more dangerous than those that exalt the powers # PriesUejr ii intended.— IL i3i ON Til ACTIVE POWERS. [iigAw if—coap. xi. [ebsav v.— chap, i.l OF THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 63? af man too Ugtu on tlie one hand, or sink tlieni too low, on the other.* [Mi] By tainng them too high, we §mA. mMiB luA ningliirj, we toee the ■eme of our iii|iendence upon Ood, and engife in at* toni'iits beirond oor aMIitiea. By depressing ihsn too low,, we cut the siraeira. of action and of ohilgalion, and an teniiled to think 'thai, as we can do nothing, we 'have nothing to do, bnt to be carried passtTelj along by IIM' atfcam of necesetty. Smne good, men, apprehendii^ thai to' kill pride and vainglory, oar active 'powers cannot be too much depressed, have been led, by xeal for feligion, to deprive is of all active power. Other good men, by a like leal, havO' betn led to dep^raniate the human nnderstanding, and to put out the light of nature and rea- ion, in order to exalt that of revehHion. Those' weapons which were taken up in .support of religion, are now employed, to overturn it; and what was, by some, ac- counted the bulwark of orthodoxy, is be- come the stronghold of atheism and infi- Atheisis join hands with Theologians in depriving man of all active power, that they may destroy all mo»l obipliou, and all sense of right and wrongi They join hands wilh. Theologians in depredaliiK the human understanding, that Aey may Jead us into absolute scepticism. Ood, In mercy to the human ram, has. .made^ us of such a frame that no specnhi. liveopiuion whatsoever can rool'Oul the sense of guilt and demerit when wo do wrong, nor the peace and Joy of a good conscience when 'we do whal .is right No speculative opinion can root out a regard to the testi- mony of our senses, of our memory, and of our rational faculties. But we have reason to be jealous of opinions which run eountor to^hoso .natural sentiments of the human mind, and Iwid. to. shake though they never' can eradicate them. [.MJ] There is lit'tle reason to fear thai the conduct of men, with regard, to the concerns of 'the present life, will ever be much affect- ed, either by the 'doctrine of necessity, or liy scepticism. It were to bo wislied that men's conduct, with .regard to the concerns of another life, were in as little danger from those opinions. * Could Reid Have had th« thouglit nf the grvat PiMcal in his view f-" II m 4mmmmM. 4» tf»|i inn wmr i rhommc oomMen il est Isai aw M«. laMlul lul _ . ^ .. :'<§■!: 'SWHl*l«,.«IIISlU:i wwiitwf m giMMlMir. II. ait awMvilBiigereux da lui .It itt. ■itan. 7.) trap 'vair m » pkm daap ram .nan. ii .att ttm avaniMpu. da Ml nprCa ••t rua et raiitfft- ,Pkiuraf.Tfartie. Ait. iv. § In 'the present stato, we see some who zealously maintain the doctrine of necessity, others who as leakinsly maintain that of libertpr. One would be apt to think, that a praetical belief of these contrary systoma should produce very different conduct in them that hold them ; yet we see no such difference in the aikirs of common life. The Fatalist deliberates, and resolves, and plights his iiith. Me lays down a phin of conduct, and prosecutes it with vigour and industry. He exhorts and commands, and holds those to be answerable for their eondnel to whom he hath committed any charge. Me bhtmes those that are false or unfaithful to him, as other men do. He pemives dignity and worth in some clia- incters and actions, and in others demerit and turpitude.. Me resents injuries, and is grateful for good offices. If any man should plead the doctrine of necessity to exculpate murder, theft, or robbery, or even wiful negligence in the disehai^ of his duty, fib judge, though a Fatalist, if he had common sense, would hingh at such a plea, and would not allow it even to alleviato the crime. In all such eases, be sees that it would be absurd not to act and to judge as those ought to do who believe themselves and other men to be freo Jigents, just as the Sceptic, to avoid^absurdity, must, when he goes into the world, act and judge like other men who are not Sceptics. [368f If the Fatalist be as little influenced bv the opinion of necessity in his moral and religious concerns, and in his expectations concerning another world, as he is in the common affairs of life, his speculative opi- nion will probably do him little hurt. But, if he truKt so far to the doctrine .»f neces- sity, as to indulge sloth and inactivity in his dutv, and hope to exculpate himself to his Maker by that doctrine, let him coii- .s.id«r whether he sustains this, excuse froni his .servants and dependants,, when they are" negligent or unfaithful iu whal iS'Winimitted to' their charge. Bishop Butler, in his « Analogy," has an excellent 'Chapter upon .36il Ijj o o X*. 1 V • OF MORALS. CHAPTER I. 07 THX FIRST PRINCIPLES OP MORALS. MoRA»,x, like aM other sciences, must have >V«« principlent on which all moral reasoning is grounded. In everv branch of knowledge where dis- putes have been raised, it is useful to dis- tinguish the first principles from the super- structure. They are the foundation on which the whole fabric of the science leans ; and whatever is not supported by this foundation can have no stability. In all rational belief, the thing believed is either itself a first principle, or it is by iust reasoning deduced from first principles. When men differ about deductions of rea- soning, the appeal must be to the rules of reasoning, which have been very unani- mously fixed from the days of Aristotle. But when they differ about a first principle, the appeal is made to another tribunal— to that of Common Sense. [370] How the genuine decisions of Common Sense may be distinguished from the coun- terfeit, has been considered in Essay Sixth, on the intellectual Powers of Man, chapter fourth, to which the reader is referred. What I would here observe is, That, as first principles differ from deductions m reasoning in the nature of their evidence, and must be tried by a different standard when they are called in question, it is of importance to know to which of these two classes a truth which we would examine, belongs. When they are not distinguished, nien are apt to demand proof for everything they think fit to deny. And when we attempt to prove, by direct argument, what is really self-evident, the reasonmg will always be incfmclusive ; for it will either take for granted the thing to be proved, or something not more evident; and so, in- stead of giving stength to the conclusion, will rather tempt those to doubt of it who never did so before. . . , ^ I propose, therefore, in this chapter, to point out some of the first principles oi morals, without pretending to a coniplete enumeration. . The principles I am to mention, relate either [A) to virtue in general, or [B] to the different particuiar brancha ofvirtue, ''S70, 3711 or [C] to the comparison of virtues where they seem to interfere. [A] 1. There are some things in humia conduct that merit approbation and praise, others that merit blame and punishment; and different degrees either of approhation or of blame, are due to different actions, % What is in no denree voluntary, can neither deserve moral approbation nor blame. 3. What is done from unnvoi'iable neces- sity may be agreeahle or disagreeable, useful or hurtful, hut cannot be ih" object either of bianie or (if moral approbation. 4. Men map be highhj cul/able in on,iU ting what they ought to have done, as wall as in doing what key ought not. [^71] 5. We ought to use the brst means we ran t> be well informed of our duty— hy ser- ious attention to moral instruction ; by ob- serving what we approve, and what we dis- approve, in other men, whether our acquaint- ance, or those whose actions are recorded in history ; by reflecting often, iu a calm and dispassionate hour, on our own past conduct, tliat we may discern what was wrong, what was right, and what might have been better; by deliberating coolly and impartially upon our future conduct, as far as we can foresee the opportunities we may have of doing good, or the tempta- tions to do wrong; and by having this principle deeply fixed in our minds, that, as moral excellence is the true worth and glory of a man, so the knowledge of our duty is to every man, in every station of life, the most iniportant of all knowledge. C // outjht to be our mast serious con- cern to do our duty as far as we know it and to fortify our minds against every temptation to deviate from t<— by main- taining a lively sense of the beauty of right conduct, and of its present and future reward, of the turpitude of vice, and of its bad conse- quences here and hereafter ; by havmg al- wa\s in our eye the noblest examples; by the habit of subjecting our passions to the government of reason ; by firm purposes and resolutions with regard to our conduct ; by avoiding occasions of temptation wlini we can ; and by imploring the aid of Hmi who made us, in every hour of temptation. These principles concerning virtue an. vice in general, must appear self-evident to every man who hath a conscience, and who hath taken pains to exercise this iia- ON THE ACTI¥E POWERa [iwaw nr.-ceiP xi. "wmAH v.— €HAP. i.l OF THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 637 ■ i u «f niJiii too Ugli, 011 ilie one band, or iM^ llinii too low, on tiio otiier.* [3661 ' feed. By nising tlmii too li%i, we feed 'piiile and iraingloiy, 'we low the i«Me of our dte|ieii.cleiice upon 'Qod, and 'Oiipp in at- tempts bejond onr abiittes. By depnating litem too low, we eat the sinews of action and of obligation, and are 'temnted. to tbink 'that, as we 'Oan do notbing,. 'we lavt lotbing to do, but to bO' carried, pasmnl j along bj the stream of necessity. ^ ;8onie^ good men, ap|>rebeiidinf that to bill pride and yainglory, our actite powon< cannot be too much depressed, have been led, by aeal for religion, to deprive us of all active power. Other good, men, Walike xeal, have been kd. to d«preciat« the human undcnitaMling, and to put out the light of natnie and lea- son, in order to exalt that of retehillon. Those weapons which were tahen up in ■npporl of reltgio.n, are now empbiyed to overturn it ; and what was, by some, ac- counted the bulwark of orthodoiy, is be- come the stronghold of atheism and infi- 'deiity. Atheists join bands^ with. Tbeotcfiaiis in '*»pri'iring 'man of all actiim 'power, 'thai, 'they may destroy all moral obligation, and all ■wise of right and wrong. They join bands with Theologians in depreciating the human iindentandmg, that tbey may lead us into absolute aceptieism. God, in mercy to the human race, has made' us of such a frame that no specula- tlveopinioB 'Whatsoever can. root out the sense' of fnill and demerit when we^ do wrong, nor' -f< Ckm Deot ^m^fm^jmmmmiimm pfemM, oinnia Aito «gi.- ffc m) Aid|_ aiMg' oiliM. AMCbiiii hag ihewn, SJS2?* •**!i!!!rf'?'*» ^ 'mmm.2 operate ie welfaiiiernaalM bmibfCfMI. T^tt^ bnEm.. ESSAY V. OF MORALS. CHAPTER L 07 TH« FIRST PRINCIPLBS OP MORALS. MoRAi-s., like a' I other sciences, must have first principle^ on which all moral reasoning is grounded. In every branch of knowledge where dis- putes have been raised, it is useful to dis- tinguish the first principles from the super- structure. They are the foundation on which the whole fabric of the science leans ; and whatever is not supported by this foundation can have no stability. In all rational belief, the thing believed is either itself a first principle, or it is by just reasoning deduced from first principles. When men differ about deductions of rea- soning, the appeal must be to the rules of reasoning, which have been very unani- mously fixed from the days of Aristotle. But when they differ about a first principle, the appeal is made to another tribunal— to that of Common Sense. [370] How the genuine decisions of Common Sense may be distinguished from the coun- terfeit, has been considered in Essay Sixth, on the Intellectual Powers of Man, chapter fourth, to which the reader is referred. What I would here observe is, That, as first principles differ from deductions 01 reasoning in the nature of their evidence, and must be tried by a different standard when they are called in question, it is of importance to know to which of these two cksses a truth which we would examine, belongs. W hen they are not distinguislied, men are apt to demand proof for everything they think fit to deny. And when we attempt to prove, by direct argument, what is really self-evident, the reasoning will always be inconclusive; for it will either take for granted the thing to be proved, or something not more evident; and so, m- Btead of giving stength to the conclusion, will rather tempt those to doubt of it who never did so before. I propose, therefore, iu this chapter, to point out some of the first principles 01 morals, without pretending to a complete enumeration. , The principles I am to mention, rehite either [A] to virtue in general, or [B] to the diflerent particular branchet of virtue, ^"370, 871] or [C] to the comparison of virtues where they seem to interfere. [A] 1. There are some things in hnmm conduct that merit approbation and praise, others that merit blame and punishment; and different degrees either of approbation or of blame, are due to different actions, 2. What is in no deuree voluntary, can neither deserve moral approbation nor blame, 3. What is done from univoi'lable neces- sity mag be agreeable or disai/reeable, useful or hurtful, but cannot be th" object either of blame or of moral approbation. 4. Men may be high'y cut/ able in omit" ting what they ought to hove done, as well as in doing what they ought not. [371] 5. We ought to use the best means we can t') be well informed of onr duty— hy ser- ious attention to moral instruction ; by ob- serving' what we approve, and what we dis- approve, in other men, whether our acquaint- ance, or those whose actions are recorded in history ; by reflecting often, in a calm and dispassionate hour, on our own past conduct, that we may discern what was wrong, what was right, and what might have been better; by deliberating coolly and impartially upon our future conduct, as far as we can foresee the opportunities we may have of doing good, or the tempta- tions to do wrong; and by having this principle deeply fixed in our minds, that, as moral excellence is the true worth and glory of a man, so the knowledge of our duty is to every man, in every station of life, the most important of all kno^yledge. C. // ou(fht to be onr most serious con- eern to do oor duttf as far as we know it, and to fortify onr minds against every temptcdion to deviate from i7— by main- taining a lively sense of the beauty of right conduct, and of its present and future reward, of the turpitude of vice, and of its bad conse- quences here and hereafter; by having al- wa\s in our eye the noblest examples; by the habit of subjecting our passions to the government of reason ; by firm purposes and resolutions with regard to our conduct ; by avoiding occasions of temptation win u we can ; and by imploring the aid of Hmi who made us, in every hour of temptation. These principles concerning virtue and vice t« general, must appear self-evident to every man who hath a conscience, and who hath taken pains to exercise this na- tSB ON THE ACTIVE POWERS. I KMIAV ▼ CHAF.i.] OF THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 639 to tent power of liit mini I prooMd otiiera that are imort parimmhn [B] I. We mgM i& pr^gr m §rfatmt' gm/f tkmij^. MfifV' ■^iairn^ l# m km ; mad a Ifw #iif ' i& m §ma^. f 379] A mgagd. to our own good, tliough we lad no conscieiuie, dktatee tliis principle ; and we cannot Iielp diaaf|ifO¥ing the man. Iliat .aeta eontrarj to it» M^^'dcewviiiig to^loiO' the good. 'Wbifsli hO' wantonly threw awaj, and to auier the evi which he knowii]|;iir hiought upon his own bead. We obienred Wow, that the ancient iiwiiil»t% and. many among th# modern, have dedmsed tho' whole of mocab ironi thii principle, and that, when we make a right estimate of goods and evils according to their diigree, their dignity, their dnration, and aeoording aa they aro' more or lees in our power, it leads to the practice of every virtue. More direc%, indeed, to the vir- tues. «f aetf^govemment, to prudence, to tem,picano% .and. to fortitude ; and, though more indireetljr, even to justice, humanity, and all the sooal virtues, when their influ- ence upon our happiness is well ondersfood. Tliou#. it be not 'the noblest ptineiplo of conduct, it has this peculiar advanli^, that Its force is felt by the most Ignorant, aud even by the most abandoned. Let a man's moral Jadgment be ever so little improved by ojciiiQlse, or ever so^mudi corrupted by bad haUtii he cannot be in- different to his own happiness or misery. W.ben be is^ 'become insensible to every no* bhr motive to right 'Coniitet, ho cannot be inMnsibfeto'this.. And thon^. to act. from this motive solely may be called pmimm WtAeat than virtw^ jet this prudence de- ^■eriit some regard upon its own account, and. much more' as it k the :iriend .and. .ally of virtae, and 'the enemy of all vice ;. and as it gives a favourable testimonv of virtue to those who are deaf to mery other recom- mendation. If m 'man can be indnced. to' do km dniy oven from a regaii. to bis own happiness, he wiU soon find reason to love virtue for ber own sake, and to act Irom motives leas mercenary. [373] I cannot therefore approve of those 'moralists who would banish all peranasi^es to virtue taken from the consideration of ;privato goo4 In the present stato of human ■atttro' these are not useless, to' tho' bea*,, 'Mi 'tbey are the only means leH of ;f«ciaim- ing the abandoned. 38. Aafmr m ike imigntmn nf nature ap pmam m IA# tmuiituiion ^ wutHf we 0mgki m mmwfy mm thai imimiioH, oiuf i& octf i^retmijf to it. The Author of our being hath given is Ml only tie.pow«r'Of:actiiig within a limited. •plisf% but fmieas. pcinepes or springs of m^km, of ^diftMOl. natu» .and dignity, to direct us. in tbc' exercise of our act.ive From 'tlie constitution of every species of the inferior animals, and especially from the active principles which natuni basgtvnt them, we easily perceive the manner of life fur which nature intended them ; and they unifonnly act the part to which they are led by their constatittioii, without any reflec- tion upon it, or intention of obeying its dic- tates. Man only, of tho inliabitants of this world, is made capable of observing his own constitution, what kind of life it is made for, and of acting, aecorduig to that intention, or contrary to it. Be onlj is capable of yield- ing an intentional obedience to 'the dictates. of liis nature, or of rebelling against them. In treatinjF of the principles of action in man, it has been shewn, that, as his natural instincts and bodily appetites are well adapted to tlie preservation of his natural life, and to the continuance of the species ; .so bis natural desires, affections, and pas- sions, when nncormpted by vicious habits, and 'under 'the government of the leading principles of reason and conscience, are ex- cellently fitted for the rational and social life. Every vicions.actionBlMwa'an. excess.. or defocti or wnng direction of 'Some 'natural spring of action, and therefore may, very justly, he said to he unnatural. Every virtuous action agrees with the nncormpted principles of .Iranian ;nat.u.re. [374 ] 'The Stoles dcin^ed ¥vtue to be » Ife a^ mmiiBff to mtum, Some of them more ac- curately, a life mmrdmg lo ike nature i/ wen, 'Im «# /nr me ii is supmor in that nj hrmUM, Tho life of a brute is according to the nature of the brute ; but it is neither virtuous nor vicious. The life of a moral .agfiit cannot he accord.iiig to h.is nature, unless it bo virtoous. That conscience whieb is In eveiy man's breast, is the law of Ood written in his heart, which be can not disobey without acting unnaturally, and being, adf^^ondemncd.. Tm in'tention. of nature, in the various .active priieiples of man—in the desires ol power, of knowledge, and of esteem, in the affection to children, to near rektions, and to the commnnitias to which we belong, in gratitude, iu compassion, and even in re- sentment and emuktion— is very obvious, and has been pointed out in treating of those principles. Mor' is it less evident, thai reason and .Qonseienee are. given ns to regu- lato the .inferioff' principl.es, so that they niaf conspire, hi a regular and consistent }>lau of life, in pursuit of seme worthy end. 3. Mo mtm k lorn for himgi If mi^. Every man, therefore, ought to consider bhnself as a member of the eommon society of mankind, and of those subordinate socie- ties to which he betongs, such as family, friends, neighbourboo4 country, and to do as much good as he can, and as little hurt to the societies of which he is a part. This axiom leads directly to the practice of every social virtue, and indirectly to the virtues of self-government, by which ^nly we can be qualified for discharging the duty we owe to society. [375] 4. In every case^ we ought to act that p'lrt towards antthery which we would judge tt be right in him to act totvard w.?, if we were in his circumsianeet and he in ours ; or, more generally — What we approve in others, that we ought to practise in like cir- cumstanceSy and what we condemn in othets we ought not to do. If there be any such thing as right and wrong in the conduct of raoral agents, it must be the same to all in the same circum- stances. We stand all in the same reUtion to Him who made us, and will call us to account for tmr conduct ; for with Him there is no respect of persons. We stand in the same relation to one another as members of the great community of mankind. The duties consequent upon the different ranks aud offices and relations of men are the same to all in the same circumstances. It is not want of judgment, but want of candour and impartiality, that hinders men from discerning what they owe to others. They are quicksighted enough in discerning wliat is due to themselves. When they are injured, or ill-treated, they see it, and feel resentment It is the want of candour that makes men use one measure for the duty they owe to others, and another measure for the duty that others owe to them in like circumstances. That men ought to judge with candour, as in all other cases, so espe- cially iu what concerns their moral conduct, is surely self-evident to every intelligent being. The man who takes offence when he is injured iu his person, in his property, in his good name, pronounces judgment against Mmself if he act so toward his neighbour. As the equity and obligation of this rule of conduct is self-evident to every man who bath a conscience ; so it is, of all the rules of morality, the most comprehensive, and truly deserves the encomium given it by the highest authority, that *' it is the law mnd the prophets.*' [376] It comprehends every rule of justice without exception. It comprehends all the relative duties, arising either from the more permanent relations of parent and child, of master and servant, of magistrate and sub- ject, of husband and wife, or from the more transient relations of rich and poor, of buyer and seller, of debtor and creditor, of benefactor and beneficiary, of friend and enemy. It comprehends every duty of charity and humanity, and even of courtesy and good manners 1875-377] Nay, I think, that, without any force or straining, it extends even to the duties of self-government. For, as every man ap- proves in others the virtues of prudence, temperance, self-command, and fortituae, he must perceive that what is right in others must be right in himself in like cir- cumstances. To sum up all, he who acts invariably by this rule will never deviate from the path of his duty, but from an error of judg- ment. And, as he feels the obligation that he and all men are under to use the best means in his power to have his judgment well-ia termed in matters of duty, his errors will only be such as are invincible. It may be observed, that this axiom sup- poses a faculty in man by which he can distinguish right conduct from wrong. It supposes also, that, by this faculty, we easily perceive the right and the wrong in other men that are indifferent to us ; but are very apt to be blinded by the partiality of selfish j>assions when the case concerns ourselves. Every claim we have against others is apt to be magnified by self-love, when viewed directly. A change of persons removes this prejudice, and brings the claim to appear in its just magnitude. [3771 5. To every man who believes the esist- ence, the perfections, and the providence */ God, the veneration and submission we one to him is self-evident. Right sentiments of the Deity and of his works, not only make the duty we owe to him obvious to every intelligent being, but likewise add the au- thority of a Divine law to every rule of right conduct. [C] There is another class of axioms m morals, by which, when there seems to be an opposition between the actions that dif- ferent virtues lead to, we determine to which the preference is due. Between the several virtues, as they are dispositions of mind, or determinations of will, to act according to a certain general rule, there can be no opposition. They dwell together most amicably, and give mutual aid and ornament, without the pos- sibility of hostility or opposition, and, taken altogether, make one uniform and consist- ent rule of conduct. But, between par- ticular external actions, which ditt'erent virtues would lead to, there may be an oppo- sition. Thus, the same man may be m his heart, generous, grateful, and just. These dispositions strengthen, but never can weaken one another. Yet it may happen, that an external action which generosity or gratitude solicits, justice majr forbid. ,^ J That in all such cases, unmerited gene* rosity should yield to gratitude, and both to justice, is self-evident. Nor is it less so, that unmerited beneficence to those who ar§ ON THE ACTIVE POWERS. [b«8ay itHAP. n.J OF SYSTEMS OP MORALS. 641 •I mm *kmM $leM lo empamm i/> IA«? mmm^aikt ni m^nmi mis of mtiw to workM fmmm. hmmm God kfc ««y wmm 'tniQ ■Mriiisi^ 4t iiie mmm linie, we peteeiTe, tlwt tlifiee •©to of virtue which ought to jield in the '©••tof ft eompetition, have moel intriuic worth when thetC' w m compelition. Thus, it is evident that there is more worth in pire and unmerited benevolence' than in ooiii|iiiaaioii, mow in compftasion than, in ffatitiide, and nion^ ..in gcatitude' than in Jiutiee. [37i] I call these Jlrfl pHndfdm, hecanse thej appear to me to have in themselves an iiituitiire evidence which I cannot resist. I ind I mn expiess them, m otkif worda I can^Jllostrato tliem hj examples and authorities, and perhaps can deduce one of 'tiiem from another i hut I am not able to ded'uce them from, other f rtneipka 'that are^ more evidemi And I ind ^im beet moral reasonings of authors I am acquainted with, ancient and modern, Heathen and Christian, to be gronuded upon one or more of them. The evidence of .mathenuitiail, asdoms is^ nnt discerned till men come to a certain degree of maturity of understanding. A hoy must have formed the', general conception of ^f«iu»%, and of mmm and lm$ and «f im/, of 'MM and diffkrenetf f and he must have been aecustom'ed to judge of these rcktions iu matters of common life, before he can perceive the evidence of the mathematiail ,aai©'m— that equal f uantities, added to equal '(I'uantities, make equal, sums. In like manner, our Moral Judgment or CO'Uscfcnce, .grows to^ maturity from an im- perceptible seed, phinted hy our Creator, when we are capable of ooutemphittng the ,actiO'tts 'Of other men, or of reiecting upon our own calmly and dispassionately, we Nsin. tO' perceive in them the qualities of honest and dishonest, of honourable and base, of right and wwng, and to feel the Bentimmts of moral approbation «D4i.disap- pra'batton. Tliese^ sentiments are at first feeble, easily warped by- pasamns Md prejndicea, and apt to yield to authority. By usC' and time, the judgmeu'ti in morals,, .as in other matter% gathen^ strength, and feels, mom wigmir.^ We begiu to distinguish the die-. tateS' of passion irom, those of cool, reason, and to perceive that it is not always safe to rely upon the judgment of othera. By an impube of nature, we venture to judge fof onnelvea, as we venture' to walk hy onrw miwm, [37i] There is a strong anidogy between Him ptogress of the body from inimcy to matur- ity, and the pnigresa of all the powers of the mind. 'This pp^giession to, btlli, ,!• tie ■woric of natui%, .,aiii. in both wmjU gmfir' ■ided or httrt by proper' eiiiiMiiiiii., It b natind to a man to be able to walk, or mn, or leap ; but, if his limbs had been kept in fetteis from his hurth, be would have none of these povera. It ,ii mo less ,uitural to a man trained in. isodiitj, .and .aceiiBtomed to judge of his own actiona and those of other men, to perceive a right and a wrong, an, 'wttouiahle and a btB% ,jn, ,h'uman 'Conduet ; and to such a man, I think, the prineiplea of morals. I have ,ahove ,mentioned will ap- pear aelf-evident Yet there may be indi- viduals of the human species so little accus- tomed to think or Judge of anything but of gratifying their animal appetites, aa to have hardly any conception of right or wrong in conduct, or any moral judgment ; aa there, eartain,ly ,aro 'aome who have not the ewfliiptlons and the judgment ,nece88ary to undsfstand the axinma if^geometiy. From the principles above mentioned| the whole system 'Of moral conduct 'follows ,so esaily, and 'with so little aid of reason- ing, that every man of common nnderstand- iiig, who wisiies to know his duty, may know it. The path of duty is a plain path, which the npriglit :hi ,heart can raiely m'is. 'take. Qmk it must hik since every man ,ia bound to walk In ii 'There- .are some hitri'- eate cases in morals which admit of disputa- tion ; hot these seldom occur in practice ^ and, when they do, the leaniieil disputant lias no ffreat .advantage s for the u,nlea,rned man, who uses the best means in his power to know his duty, and acts according to his knowledge, is ininlpable in the sight of Clod and man. He may err, but he is not guilty ofimmoraUty. flib] CHAPTER ,11. or SVSTXMB OP MoaAis. Ip the knowledge of oar duty be so level to the apprehension of all men as has been represented m thekst .chapter, it may seem hardly to deserve the name of a Science. It may seem that there is no need for in atru:etion in mo.m,la. From, what eauie then has it happened, that we have many large and learned ays- terns of Moral Philosopliy, and systems of Katural Jurisprudence, or the Law of Na- ture' and Nawinst and, that,, in modem, 'times, publio 'professions* have been imti- tuted in most places of education for in- stractlttg youth in these hranchea of know- ledge,? This event, I think, may be accounted fo.r, and the utillt-y of such .systems and pfiifesaions* justtied, witlmuf supposing any difficulty or intricacy m the knowledge .of .our duty. il| fc'^iH. [3T8-380] I am far from thinking instruction in morals unnecessary. Men may, to the end of life, be ignorant of self-evident truths. They may, to the end of life, entertain gross absurdities. Experience shews that this happens often in matters that are indif- ferent. Much more may it happen in mat- ters where interest, passion, prejudice, and fashion, are so apt to pervert the judgment. The most obvious truths are not per- ceived without some ripeness of judgment. For we see that children may be made to believe anything, though ever so absurd. Our judgment of things is ripened, not by time only, but chiefly by being exercised about things of the same or of a similar Mnd. [aSi] Judguient, even in things self-evident, re- quires a clear, distinct, and steady concep- tion of the things about which we judge. Our conceptions are at first obscure and wavering. The habit of attending to them is necessary to make them distinct and steady ; and this habit requires an exertion of mind to which many ot our animal principles are unfriendly. The love of truth calls for it; but its still voice is often drowned by the louder call of some passion, or we are hindered from listening to it by kziness and desultoriness. Thus men often remain through life ignorant of things which they needed but to open their eyes to see, and which they would have seen if their atten- tion had been turned to them. The most knowing derive the greatest part of their knowledge, even in things ob- vious, from instruction and information, and from being taught to exercise their natural faculties, which, without instruc- tion, would lie dormant I am very apt to think, that, if a man could be reared from infancy, without any society of his fellow-creatures, he would liardly ever shew any sign, either of moral judgment, or of the power of reason- ing. His own actions would be directed by his animal a|>petites and passions, without cool reflection, and he would have no access to improve, by observing the conduct of other bemgs like himself. The power of vegetation in the seed of a plant, without heat and moisture, would for ever lie dormant. The rational and moral powers of man would perhaps lie dormant without instruction and example. Yet these powers are a part, and the noblest part, of his constitution ; as the power of vegetation is of the seed. [382] Our first moral conceptions* are proba- bly got by attending coolly to the conduct of others, and observing what moves our approbation, what oi*r indignation. These sentiments* spring from our moral faculty * Moral CweeptUms and Moral SenHma^t though telatcd, ought not to be tucd convertlUly.— H- 381-3831 as naturally as the sensations of sweet and bitter from the faculty of taste. They have their natural objects. But most human actions are of a mixed nature, and have various colours, according as they are viewed on diflerent sides. Prejudice against or in favour of the person, is apt to warp our opinion. It requires attention and candour to distinguish the good from the ill, and, without favour or prejudice, to form a clear and impartial judgment. In this we may be greatly aided by instruction. He must be very ignorant of human nature, who does not perceive that the seed of virtue in the mind of man, like that of a tender plant in an unkindly soil, requires care and culture iu the first period of life, as well as our own exertion when we come to maturity. If the irregularities of passion and appe- tite be timely checked, and good habits planted ; if we be excited by good examples, and bad examples be shewn in their proper colour; if the attention be prudently di- rected to the precepts of wisdom and virtue, as the mind is capable of receiving them— a man thus trained will rarely be at a loss to distinguish good from ill in his own con- duct, without the labour of reasoning. The bulk of mankind have but little of this culture in the proper season ; and what they have is often unskilfully applied ; by which means bad hatits gather strength, and false notions of pleasure, of honour, and of interest occupy the mind. They give little attention to what is right and honest. Conscience is seldom consulted, and so little exercised that its decisions are weak and wavering. Although, therefore, to a ripe understanding, free from prejudice, and accustomed to judge of the morality of actions, most truths in morals will appear self-evident, it does not f«)llow that moral instruction is unnecessary in the first part of life, or that it may not be very profitable in its more advanced period. [383] The history of past ages shews that na- tions, highly civilized and greatly enlight- ened in many arts and sciences, may, for ages, not only hold the grossest absurdities with regard to the Deity and his worship, but with regard to the duty we owe to our fellow-men, particularly to children, to ser- vants, to strangers, to enemies, and to those who differ from us in religious opin- ions. Such corruptions in religion and in mor- als had spread so wide among mankind, and were so confirmed by custom, as to require a light from heaven to correct them. Re- velation was not intended to supersede, but to aid tlie use of our natural faculties ; and I doubt not but the attention given to moral tmths, in such systems as we have men- tioned, has contributed much to correct the m Hill ON' THE ACTIYB POWERS. " mmm awl 'pKJiiiees of fowmm age% ind 'MBf aoatiiiie tO' hmm tlw lutMi good eikit Iii.tiiiietoeoiiM. It needa Ml mtm ttnngo that mliiiia rf mwab may iirai tn gmt magutuda, If ve coiiiider 'tiiat, .attlmtth the .gcnnal prindiilM lie few and simple, tbeir applica. tioii, axttttda to^ oveij' part of .himaii 'con- iliiei, in avtijr'Ciiiiditifiii, mmy lelaliai, and evefy tianiaetion of life. Tliey .an tiw' nw of life to tlie magistrate and to tlie siib- jeety to the aurater and to the wrrani, to the 'iiamil and to^ the AM, to the fellow- dtiaen and tn the alieny to the friend and to the enemy, to the hnyee and to the aeller, to the borrower and to the lender. Eteiy biiiian mmimm kanhjeet to their anthority m hia aotiona and. vordi,. ud mm in his thoiighta. They :mayy in thii: Mstiecty be eoa'pand' to the lawa of motion in the nattt- lal world which, thoii|pifewaiidiimple,ierTe to vipdatO' an ininite fatiely of' onenitionB 'thMii|hoil 'the nnirerae. [Isi] And iw the beanty of the laws of motion IS displayed in the most striking manner, when we txaee them thtongh all the variety of their eteeta; so the fiiine beauty and sanctity of tho' 'principles of morals, appew moat aigust when we lake a conifteLn- rife view of their application to every ■con- 'diiion. .and nhition, and to every transaetlon of human sodely. This is, or oi^t to be, the de8%n of sys- tems of morals. They may be made more or less extensive, having no limits fixed by natait, 'Iml the wide circle <^ human., limns- ■etionsi When 'the principles are appied to these in detail, the detail is pleasant and profitable. It requires no pro^und reason. in|, (ejteepting, periwps, m a few disput- .able phita.) It adnntt ^of the most agree- ^alile lUustiation. .Hmoi. 'eiamples .and au^o* ri.tiea .; it serves to exercise, and thereby to strengthen, moral judgment. .And one who lias given 'mwsh. attention to the duty of man, in all the 'variona rehlions .and cir- Mustanees of life, wgl probaMy be more' 'enlightened in his own. duty, and more able te^eni||iten.otherB» Bio .fcsl' writers in .monh, we are ae- fiainted. with, 'delivered their moral instrue- laona, not .in systems, but in short uneon* leotod sentences, or aphorisms., 'They saw JO need for dedietioni of .reasoning, because lije^ 'tmths 'they ddlvered could mot but he admitted by the candid and. attentive. Suhae^nent writers, m hnpiove tlie way of matii^' this, subject, gave method, and •fiangeiiient to moral truths, by .reducing them under wrtaw. dirisiona .and subdivi. «<»% as. parts of ^one wholt* By these' JMMis 'the 'Whole is more easiy comp.re- .lended. and ieneni.beffed, and from this 'atxanmnent geta^ the name of a system and, of a science. ""''•'■'' [essay ¥. A system of monda is not tiko a sysleni of ,|[eonietry, wherO' the .Bnbsei]nent 'partO' denve their evidence from the preceding, and one ahak of reasonhig is carried on from the beginning i sO'.'thaC if the arrange- ment is changed, the chain is broken, md the evidence ia lost II resembles more a system of botany, or mineralogy, where the subsequent parts depend not for their evi- dence upon the preceding, and the arrange- ment ie made to facilitate apprehena&n and memory, and not to give evidence. Moimla have been methodised in diflfer- enl 'Ways.. The ancients commonly .ar- ranged them under Iho four cardinal vir^ lues of Prudence, Tempeiance^ Fortitude^ and Justice;* Christian writera, I think more properly, nnder the three heads of the Duty we owe to God— to Ourselves— and to our If eigibour. One division may be more comprehensive, or more natuml, than another ; but the truths arranged are the same, and theur evidence the same in ttJJL I shall onlv farther observe, with regard to mrstema of monihi, that Ihey have been made more voluminous and more intricate, panly by mixing political questions with 'inotalB, 'Which I think .improper, because Ihey behing to a different science, and mm grounded on different principles ; partly by makinf what is commonly, but I think im- properly, called fA# Tkmrp *./ Mimal», a part of the system. By the Theory of Morals is meant a josi account of the structuro of our moral powers^^that is, of those powers of the mmd by which we have our moral concep. tions, and disthigaiah right from wrong in human actions. This, indeed, is an intri- oite in.bjeet, and there have been various theories and mndi controveiay about It in ancient and in modem times. But it has little connection with the knowhsdge of our dutyt and those who differ most in the theorjr of our noial powers^ agree in the pnuitieal. ruloB of 'moeab: which they dictate. As a man. may he^a good^ Judge of' colou.n, and of the other viaible qualitiea of objects, without any knowiodge of the anatomy of the ^qre, and of the theoiw .of vision ; so a »an. nay have a very cwar and compre- hensive knowledge of what is right and what is wrong in human: conduct, who never studied the struet'ure of 'Our moral powers. :pffti(iialHr 'iMiiiiilicNii vat iniKtitiimi |w tbtaMci,aiii^adii|iii«'|liiBi.llMiii. If'tlcem But A doctrine of four ntMlainffatal "'* • - 'filtuct ia. to be traced to Plato, aiMl «««i '10 Mmmm 'lli«t,ai»i(tiiig 'lO' tbt ktlcr, arw-nei'jr' ('iMCilii) ,SfilKMrafiii {it»tjnm)^ Fortliuiie {Jt»lfm\ and Justice {h mmmrmt) .|.«seordmg to tbefiHSMH— Wiadoin (#«f ;«). TcniMtaiice (#*fc«'^). I'lowllude («>?' expected that m «ivilan,^liitendfag to give a detailed system iiiui ^Tobiaik^n. J^Sr^ «Wiin,latendhig toglvo a ditaikd sys em -nn Of ow^auona of duty (although the j of moBOs, would use lany ^ At tZl S '■PflHi' III .^M R I CHAP. Ill] OF SYSTEMS OF NATURAL JURISPRUDENCE. 645 great authority. And, 6, To say no more upon this point, it is of great use to sove- reigns and states who are above all human laws, to be solemnly admonished of the conduct they are bound to observe to their own subjects, to the subjects of other states, and to one another, in peace and in war. The better and tlie more generally the law of nature is understood, the greater dis- honour, in public estimation, will follow every violation of it. [394] Some authors have imagined that sys- tems of natural jurisprudence ought to be confined to the perfect rights of men, be- cause the duties which correspond to the imperfect rights, the duties of charity and humanity, cannot be enforced by human kws, but must be left to the judgment and conscience of men, free from compulsion. But the systems whicli have had tlie great- est applause of the public, have not followed this plan, and, I conceive, for good reasons. First J Because a system of i>erfect rights could by no means serve the purpose of a system of morals, which surely is an im- portant purpose. Secondly, liecause, in many cases, it is hardly possible to fix the precise limit between justice and humanity, between perfect and imperfect right. Like the colours in a prismatic image, they run into each other, so that the best eye cjinnot fix the precise boundary between them. Thirdly, As wise legislators and magistrates ought to have it as their end to make tlu^ citizens good as well as just, we find, in all civilized nations, laws that are intended lo encourage the duties of humanity. Where human laws cannot enforce them by punish- ments, they may encourage them by re- wards. Of this the wisest legislators liave given examples ; and how far this branch of legislation may be carried, no man can foresee. The substance of the four following chap- ters was wrote long ago, and read in a lite- rary society,* with a view to justify some points of morals from metaphysical objec- tions urged against them in the writings of David Hume, Esq. If they answer that end, and, at the same time, serve to illus- trate the account I have given of our moral powers, it is hoped that the reader will not think them improperly placed here; and that he will forgive some repetitions, and perhaps anachronisms, occasioned by tb( if being wrote at different times, and on dif- ferent occasions. [395] eivil law, and mould it, as far as it can be done, into the form of a system of law, or of the rights of mankind. The necessary and close relation of right to duty, which we before observed, justified this. And Moral Duty had long been con- sidered as a law of nature ; a kw, not wroto on tables of stone or brass, but on the heart of man ; a law of greater anti- quity and higher authority than the laws of particular states ; a hiw which is binding upon all men of all nations, and, therefore, is called by Cicero the law of nature and of %atiom. The idea of a system of this law was worthy of the genius of the immortal Hugo Grotius, and he was the first who executed it in such a manner as to draw the attention of the learned in all the European nations ; and to give occasion to several princes and states to establish public professions for the teaching of this law. The multitude of commentators and an- notators upon this work of Grotius, and the public establishments to which it gave occa- tjiciM, are sufficient vouchers of its merit. It is, indeed, a work so well designed, and so skilfully executed ; so free from the achokstic jargon which infected the learned at that time; so much addressed to the common sense and moral judgment of man- kind; and so agreeably illustrated by ex- smples from ancient history, and authorities from the sentiments of ancient authors, heathen and Christian, that it must always be esteemed as the capital work of a great genius upon a most important subject. 13931 The utility of a just system of natural jurisprudence appears— 1. As it is a system of the moral duty we owe to men, which, by the aid they have taken from the terms and divisions of the civil law, has been given more in detail and more systematic- ally by writers in natural jurisprudence than it was formerly. 2. As it is the best preimration for the study of law, being, as It were, cast in the mould, and using and explaining many of the terms of the civil law, on which the law of most of the Euro- pean nations is grounded. 3. It is of use to lawgivers, who ought to make their laws as agreeable as possible to the law of nature. And as laws made by men, like all human works, must be imperfect, it points out the errors and imperfections of human laws. 4. To judges and interpreters of the law it 18 of use, because that interpretation ought to be preferred which is founded in the kw of nature. 5. It is of use in civil contro- versies between states, or between indivi- duals who have no common superior. In such controversies, the appeal must be made to tlie Uw of nature ; and the standard sys- tems of it, particukrly that of Grotius, have £393-395] » Probably the Philosophical Society in Aberdeen » and, if so, these chapters were wrilleu before l.ofc See above, pp. 7, a, *i, b.— H. ON THE ACTIVE POWERa rmAT T« CHIFTH IV. WHiTHiR Alt jmmm wmmmmmmAL aw^^ PEOBATION, If^lllT' BE DONS WWM VmM Bl- LIKP OF ITS' BMNO liORAUY OOOD. Thwii if no pirt of pliiiMopIiy mora mil), tile ami ;iiilriesto tlm lliat wMdi m mUimI »• ■f%cff # Jfiwal*. Not It dMini"' mj more plam ani level to theanmlMiigtei of man than tlie pmctioi] part of moiak In the former, the Epicurean, the Peri- patetic, and the Stoic, had each his dlffeMnt sjitem of old ; and ahnost etety miodem author of reputation has a syatm of Mi oirn. At the same time there is no hranch of hn- ■man, knowledfe^ in which there is lo gen- eml an .agreement among .amsients and mo- derna, learned and nnleanied,. ai m the pnetieal. rales of morals. From this discord in the theory, aidhar- mony in the practical part, we may Judge that the rules of morahty stand npon an- otlier and a firmer fon:ndation than the theory. And of this it is eaay U perceive the roasim. For, in order to know what, ii right and what is wrong in human 'Condnet, we need. only listen to the dictates of our conscience when the mind is oalm and nnniffled. or at- tend to the judgment we form of others, in like oireumstjMcea. Bnt, to judge of the various theories of morals, we must hc' .able to .analyie and dissect, as it were, the ac- tive powers of the human mind, and e«ije- cially to analyie accurately that conscience or moral power hy which we discern right from wrong. [31m] The conseienee may be 'Oom'pared to the ;eye in this as in .many other 're^ieets. The ^fesru'ed. and the unieaned see objects with e<|ual distioc|.|iess. The former liave no title to dictate to the latter, as far as the eye is judge, nor is there any disagreement about such matters. But, to disseist the eye, and to explain the theory of vision, is. a difficult point, wherein the most skilful have diflered. .From this .remarkable disprlty lietween. our decisions in the theory of mo^nli .and. in the rules of morality, we may, I thbk, draw this conclusion, That wherever we find any disagreement between the practi- cal rules of morality, whieh. havo' been re- eeived in all ages, .and. the prinei|iles 'Of any of the theories advanced upon this snb- |ect, tho pnetical rales ought to 'be the •tasdard. 1^ which the theory is to bO' cor- .rictod, and that it is. both unsafe and mu- BhilMcipltltti to warp tho prwitieal rules, in order to mak* then tally with a favour- ilstliaiiiy. Tho oneilioB to 'be considered, in this eiiapler Mongp to the piaistiMl. part of mo. :iiIb, and therelbie is.ttpali]o of a more mm and 'Uore eortain ^dotefnihtttion. .AndTit it be detennined ui the affirmative, I con- eeivo that it nay serve as a touchstone to try iOiiM} 'eelehcated theories which, are in- conslsteBl 'with 'that 'detennination, and which have led the theorists to oppose it by vtfy mbtio metaphysical arguments. Every f nestion about what is or is not th«' proper object 'of moml approbation, be- loop to practical m.onils, and such is the question now under consideration :_frAe- 1^ mctioiu dmermnff metal appm^Ham ■mmi h iJom wUk tkg .tefii^o/ tkdr keimg ■■mam^0md$ m, Wkiifier m aeimn^ ilme wUkmi My nfiml to duiff mt lo li« MetateM !»/ mamem§, mm Im eniUkd to wmrai ap. pm^iimf [W!} In every action of a moral agent, his conseienee is either altogether silent, or it pronounces the action to be ffmdf or Aa*/, or inSgmrmt, This, I think, is a complete enumeration. If it be perfectly silent, the action mist 'bo very triiitig, or appear' so. For' ooQselence, in thoso' 'who have exer- cised it, is a very pragmatical faculty, and meddles with every part of our conduct, whether we desire: its counsel or .not. And what a .man does in perfect simplicity, without 'the 'least suspicion of its being bad, his heart cannot condemn him for, nor will He that knows the heart condemn him. If there was. any previous culpable negli. geuM or inattention which led him to a wrong judgment, or hindered his forming a right one, that I do not exculpate. I only eonrider tho .action done, and the disposi- tion with which it was done, without its previous olreumstances. And in this there appears nothing that merits disapproba- tion. As little can it merit any degree of moralapprohation, because there was neither good, nor ill intended. And the .same may e .said when 'Conscience prano^utiees the action to be indifferent If, in the memid place, I do what my conseienee pronounces to be bad or dubi- ous, I am guilty to myself, and justly de- serve the disapprobation of others. Nor am I less guilty in this ease, though what I judgpd to be bad should happen to be good or lindiflBient I did it believing it to bo "bad, and 'this is an imm.orality. Lmifyf If I do what my conscience prtn nounoes to be right and my duty, either I have some rogaid to duty, or I have none. The h»t .is :»it sup|Ni6able .; for I believe there is no man so abandoned but that he does what he believes to be his duty, with more asiuimnce and ahusrity upon that ac- tonnt TIm wmm 'weight the rectitude of 'tho aeHoB.. :has in. detemiiiirag me to do it, tho more I approve of my own conduct. And if my worldly interest my appetites, 'Or Inclinations draw mo mmm^j 'tho' eon- [SM,.Sil] CHAP. IV.J OBJECT OF MORAL APPROBATION. 647 trary way, my following the dictates of my conscience, in opposition to these motives, adds to the moral worth of the action. [398] When a man acts from an erroneous judgment, if his error be invincible, all agree that he is inculpable. But if liis error be owing to some previous negligence or inattention, there seems to be some dif- ference among moralists. This difference, however, is only seeming, and not reaK For wherein lies the fault in this case ? It must be granted by all, that the fault lies in this and solely in this, that he was not at due pains to have his judgment weU in- formed. Those moralists, therefore, who consider the action and the previous couduct that led to it as one whole, find something to blame in the whole; and they do so most justly. But those who take this whole to pieces, and consider what is blameable and what is right in each part, find all that is blameable in what preceded this wrong judgment, and nothing but what is up- provable in what followed it. Let us suppose, fur instance, that a man believes that God has indispensably re- quired him to observe a very rigorous fast in Lent ; and that, from a regard to this supposed divine command, he fasts in such manner as is not only a great mortification to hb appetite, but even hurtful to his liealth. His superstitious opinion may be the effect of a culpable negligence, for which lie can by no means be justified. Let him, therefore, bear all the blame upon this ac- count that he deserves. But now, having this opinion fixed in his mind, shall he act according to it or against it ? Surely we cannot hesitate a moment iu this case. It is evident that, in following the light of his judgment, he acts the part of a good and pious man ; whereas, in acting contrary to his judgment, he would be guilty of wil- ful disobedience to his Maker. If my servant, by mistaking my orders, does the contrary of what I commanded, believing, at the same time, that lie obeys my orders, there may be some fault in his mistake, but to charge him with the crime of disobedience, would be inhuman and un- just [399] These determinations appear to me to have intuitive evidence, no less than that of mathematical axioms. A man who is come to years of understanding, and who has exercised his facilities in judging of right and wrong, sees their truth as he sees daylight Metaphysical arguments brought against them have the same effect as when brought against the evidence of sense : they may puzzle and confound, but they do not Oiinvince. It appears, evident, therefore, that those actions only can truly be called [398-400] virtuous, or deserving of moral approba- tion, which the agent believed to be right, and to wliich he was influenced, more or less, by that belief. If it should be objected. That this prin- ciple makes it to be of no consequence to a man's morals, what hb opinions may be, providing he acts agreeably to them, the answer is easy. Morality requires, not only that a man should act according to his judgment, but that he should use the best means in his power that his judgment be according to truth. If he fail in either of these points, he is worthy of blame ; but, if he fail in neither, I see not wherein he can be blamed. When a man must act, and has no longer time to deliberate, he ought to act accord- ing to the light of his conscience, even when he is in an error. But, when he has time to deliberate, he ought surely to use all the means in his power to be rightly informed. When he has done so, he may still be iu an error ; but it is an invincible error, and and cannot justly be imputed to him as a fault [400J A second objection is. That we imme- diately approve of benevolence, gratitude, and other primary virtues, without inquiring whether they are [)ractised from a per- suasion that they are our duty. And tho laws of God place the sum of virtue in loving God and our neighbour, without any jtrovision that we do it from a persuasion that we ought to do so. The answer to this objection is, That tho love of God, the love of our neighbour, justice, gratitude, and other primary vir- tues, are, by the constitution of human nature, necessarily accompanied with a con- viction of their being morally good. Wo may, therefore, safely presume, that tlu'so things are never disjoined, and that every man who practises these virtues does it with a good conscience. In judging of men's conduct, we do not suppose things which cannot happen, nor do the laws of God give decisions upon impossible cases, as they must have done if they supposed the case of a man who thought it contrary to his duty to love God or to love mankind. But if we wish to know how the laws of God determine the point in question, we ought to observe their decision with regard to such actions as may appear good to one man and ill to another. And here the decisions of scripture are clear : " Let tverj/ man be persuaded in Ms own mind ;*'— " //« that doublelh is condemned if he eat^ hecaus>'- he eateth not of faith, for whatsoever is not of faith is sin ;" " To him that esteemeth anything to be unclean, it is unclean.'** The Scripture often placeth the sum of virtue iu " livinff in all tpod consciences^'* in actmg 80 " that our hearts condemn us noV* MB ON THE ACl 1 VE POWlia fiintAv Tli« :kit' olijeclioii. I ahall maitifm k a :iMli^]niml. mm^ mged hy Mr Himw. Il i» a favourite point in his sjatcm of ■imali|. Tkat^jmHm kmoia natmml bui am m^^M ifirtmk To pmwe m^, he Mb ex- «rtei tii0' wliolo sliength of his reason and doqttenee. And as the principle we are eoiaiteiiii ^itood. iii' lili'iraiji lie takes paim 'toreiiil».li |4il] " Suppose**' la^. ie^. « a person to Iiave lent tne a sum of moiiegf, on eondition tliat ;ii b© restored In a few days. After the expira- tion of thuteni, he demands the :nia.^ I^aalc, what reaMB ©r .inetive ha»© I to reetoie 'the nwaej' f It will 'pethaps^ he .laii^ That n j regard to justice and abhorrence of filanj and knav^ are snffieient reasons tm neJ* And ItetSi he aeknowled'ges, wonld. bO' a ■BtillMloij answer to a man in his dvUiaed ■tatOi. and when trained up according tO' a eertaib. discipline and education. ** But, in his rade and more natural condition,*' mym he, *< if jou are pleased to call .such a eondithw. 'natural, thii. answer would 'be re* Jected as perfeetlytminteUigibieand sophis- tiettl. *'^For wherein eniiidits Ihis^ honesty and justice' ? M'ot Binijr fa the external aetien. It 'must, therefore^ 'Oonsist. m the notice from which the external action is derived.. This motive can never be a regard to the honest J of the action- For it is a phun iilhi^^ to: tajr, Thai a virtuous motive hi .requisite to render .an aetion bonesi,. and, at the same time, that a regard to tlie honestj is the 'motive' to the aetion. We can. never have • .mgaril to the virtue' of an. amioii. 'unlesS' the .aetion hovantoeefaitlv virtuoua*'"" And, in another pkce— " To suppose tha* the mere regard, to the vhrtue of the .action m that whieh rendsnd itvivtueas, .is 'to reason, .iu a eirele.. An aetion. most' 'he 'Virtuous 'before 'w© ca.n have a 'regard, 'to its virtue. Some virtuous motive, thereiare, inust he anteeedeal to thai .retard. H'ot' IS tbis merely a melaphjaical s«htilty/» && (TmmiiM qf Hmmm WMmf, Book III. Bwt.E.Sect. 1.) I. am .not ^ to consider, at this tim% bow this, nasonuig' is appltod to support the author^ 'opbion, That justice is not a na- tuial but an artiieial' 'virtue. I eoniiisr' il pears to lie in this, and in this only, That it is an action which ought to be done i»y those who have the power and oppor- tunity, and the capacity of perceiving their obligation to do it I would gladly know of any man, what other moral goodness can be fa an action considered abstractly. And this goodness is inherent in its nature, and inieparable from it. No opinion or judg- ment of an agent can in the least alter its nature. Suppose the action to be that of reliev- ing an innocent person out of great distress. This surely has all the moral goodness that Ml action, considered abstractly, can have. Yet, il is evident that an agenl^ in relieving a person fa distress, may have no moral EMiness, may have «reat merit, or may ve great demerit. {4^] [404-406] Suppose, /r«f. Thai mice cut the cords which bound the distressed person, and so bring him relief. Is there moral goodness fa this act of the mice ? Suppose, secondly J That a man maliciously relieves the distressed person, in order to plunge him into greater distress. In this action, there is surely no moral goodness, but much malice and inhumanity. If, in the last place, we suppose a person, from real sympathy and humanity, to bring relief to the distressed person, with consider- able expense or danger to himself^here is an action of real worth, which every heart approves and every tongue praises. But wherein lies the worth ? Not in the action considered by itself, which was common to all the three, but in the man who, on this occasion, acted the part which became a good man. He did what his heart aj iproved, and therefore he is approved by God and man. Upon the whole, if we distinguish between that goodness which may be ascribed to an action considered by itself, and that good- ness which we ascribe to a man when he puts it in execution, we shall find a key to this metaphysical lock. We admit that the goodness of an action, considered ab- stractly, can have no dependence upon the opinion or belief of an agent, any more than the truth of a proposition depends upon our believing it to be true. But, when a man exerts his active power well or ill, there is a moral goodness or turpitude which we figuratively impute to the action, but which is truly and properly imputable to the man only ; and this goodness or turjjitude de- pends very much* upon the intention of the agent, and the opinion he had of his action. [400] This distinction has been understood in all ages by those who gave any attention to morals, though it has been variously ex- pressed. The Greek moralists gave the name of kx^^xov to an action good in itself ; such an action might be done by the most worthless. But an action done with a riglit intention, which implies real worth in the agent, they called xarii^mfjM. The distinc- tion is explained by Cicero in his " Offices." He calls the first officlum medium, and the second offidum pe^ecttimy or rectum. -f In the scholastic ages, an action good in itself was said to be materially good, and an action done with a right intention was called /orw- * It ahould have been »aid— •* dependB altogether." &c.-- H. t The *«3-««M fdrw or qffidum, medium, was never called simply either »«5^i!*ev or offiaum ;y\\fMi frequently merely /m-cVm., Reid was probably led iiiio the mistake by an erroneous reading, (uncounte nanced by any MS., and contrary to the unlver-al analogy of the Stoical language), wmch Fearce, in his edition, introduced into the third chapter ot th4 first book of Cicero's Offices.— H. 650 ON' THE ACTIVE POWERS. [EJ«HAYir. 0% pt«od. This lasl way ©f expfcamnf tlw 4U] ■' mm ON TMl ACTIVI POWlRa [■•■AY Wm 0DAP ^•1 OF JUSTICE. B5B ■8' B'iil M tliiMn of tbe i]i!iid| should not htkve a plaM ftoiong mo^rml virtUM ia tlik sntnii* 'Tlwj htuvm th» tumiot of vir- ti6| Hiai ill Mnmililaieft and ntilitj— 1412] Bit, to' oomiM»«ite' tliis adiitioii. to' tlit Mid. viftiifl%;m^ thm MMM to 'in'tniMie im u l t , Th^ umIIiI viitasii m wbs aJbmm-ohmmed, vm uniy niiiiitotii^' aer- vsnto 'Of tlio agrecftlilo^ «im1. 'ptrvejort for tlioiii t they umil^ 'tboMfort, ho m lar in* letinr ia agnit j '•■ 'btfdlj to' ifeiervo tlie .■Mio lume. Mr Mame, howeirer, gives tlio nanio of •If Ittf to boih ; and, to' ^diftiiigiiirii' tbtnii calto tlio agnoaUe qualities mifiinil virtUM,. and tli0' aMfal: arfpno/l The natmal virtues are those latu^ral aibctioaB of the human constitution which glf e imm^ediato 'pleasnve ia. their exerdse. Such ^ate .ai the henevoleat affectio'ns. Hatpro' disfNiscs to' them, and from 'their O'Wn. nature 'thejr are .agreeable, both when we exercise them ourselves, .and when we 'Centemiilato their 'Oxtveise' in others. The '.artiieial virtiieS' are such as are esteemed solelj on account of tlietr utility, either to promote the good of societj— as |BBtice, fidelity, honour, vemcitj, allegian.ce, eliastity i or oa aeooant of their atility to tio 'pHsessor-^as Industry, daserelion, fru- gality, secrecy, order, perseverance, fore* thought, judgment, and others, of which, he .says, many pgics 'Could not contain the catal:tigae. 'Th;is' gffiefal. view of Mr Huroe.% system eonceming the foundation of morals, seemed necenary, in order to understand distinctly the amaaing of that tiri.nei|il«of his, which is to he tlie subject m this chapter, and on which he lias bestowed much labour — to wit, that justice is not a natural, bat an .art.licial virtue. [413] This system, of the foundstion of virtue is so contniictory in many of its. essential points, to the account we have before given of the active powers of human nature, that, if the one lie true, tlie other must lie fake. If Oo'l has given to auin a power which «e call mnsciefice, the morai facuiigf the mme ofduiiff by which, when he comes to years 'Of understaadingi .he^ perceives certain thiB'gs that 'dopead on. his' wil to be his duty, and other things to^ bC' base' and un- worthy ; if the notion of duty lie a simple .«oaMf4aoa, of its^ own. Had,: aad. of .a differ- 'Ciit :natafe' fmm the coaeeptioaa «f " utility .Mii''affMaMeaei% of 'interest or .lepatation ; if thk aioral faculty be the prero^tive of ;iaa% aad no vealige tf it' 'he found in brute 'aaiamhii if it hO' givea. 'as 'by ^Qod to .regu- laie all. aw »i^i«»ft i .^ifm i »f i A i>« ff^ii' ipiifitiit i if to be foveraed by it, be the glory of ma« and the iaiage of God ia hitf eoul, and to disregard .itS' dictstes be his. dishonour and depravity— I :iay, tf thesO' tbiap 'be so, to ;ieek 'tie imadhion of morality in the affec* tiona which we have in common with the brutei, is to seek the living among the dead, and to diaqge the ghiiy of man, and the image of God. m his mwiI, into the simi- litude of an ox that eateth grass. If virtue and vice he a matter of choice^ they m.ust 'Consist: ia volaataty actions, or ia tied, 'pnrpoees of anting 'MSMcding to a eertab ru.le whea there is 'Oppoftuaity, and not in qualities of mind which are involun- ft k troe 'thai every virtue is both agree- able and 'aseiil :iii. the .highest degree ; .and that ^every quality that 'is^ agreeable 'Or aie- ful, 'has a merit upon 'that account But virtue has a merit peculiar to itself, a merit which doai .aot^ .arise from, its being useful or agreeable, but ilrom its Iteing virtue. This merit is discerned by the same faculty by wh'ich we discern it to 'be virtue, .and by ao O'ther. [414] We give the laime 'Of ' ci'tomi both to' the regard we 'have for tfaiap-nseful and agree- able, and to the regard we have for virtue ; but these are different kinds of esteem. I esteem a nu.n for his ingenaity and learn- iag— I esteem bim for his moral worth. The souad of eateem in both these speeches is the same, but its meaning is very dif- 'ferent. Good breeding is a very amiable quality ; and even if I knew that the man had iio motive to it hut its pleasure and utility to himself and others, I should like it still ; but I would not m that case call it a moral virtue. A dog' has a tender concern for her pup- pies s so lias a man for his children. The natural affection is the same in lioth, and is amiable in both* But why do we impute moral virtue to the man on account of this concern, and not to the dog ? The reason surely is, Tliat, in the man, the natural .affedioa iS' accompanied with a sense of dnly.{ bat 'ia the dog it is not The isama thhig 'aiay 'be said of all the kind affections common to us with the brutes. They are amiable qualities; but they are not What baa been said rektes to Mr Hume's system ia general. We are now to con- sider his notion of the particular virtue of justice— That its merit consists wholly in ita utl.llty to society. That lasUce is highly useful and neces, sary m society, and, on that account, ought to be loved and asteemed by all that leva maaMad, wil readily be granted. And as laslica is a soeial virtue, it is true also, that there coaM. ha ai axMniit' of it, and, per^ [♦18-4U;| laPPi we should have no conception of it, witlout society. But this is equally true of ^he natural affections of benevolence, gratitude, friendship, and compassion, which Mr hume makes to be the natural virtues. 1416] It may be granted to Mr Hume, that men have no conception of the virtue of jus- tice till they have lived some time in so- ciety. It is purely a moral conception, and our moral conceptions and moral judgments are not born witli us. They grow up by degrees, as our reason does. Nor do I pre- tend to know how early, or in what order, we acquire the conception of the several vir- tues. The conception of justice supposes some exercise of the moral faculty, which, being the noblest part of tlie human con- stitution, and that to which all its other parts are subservient, appears latest. It may likewise be granted, that there is no animal affection in human nature that prompts us immediately to acts of justice, as such. We have natural affections of the aaimal kind, which immediately prompt us to acts of kindness ; but none, that I know, that has the same relation to justice. The very conception of justice supposes a moral faculty ; but our natural kind affections do not ; otherwise we must allow that brutes have this faculty. What I maintain ia, first. That when men come to the exercise of their moral faculty, they perceive a turpitude in injustice, as they do in other crimes, and consequently an obligation to justice, abstracting from the consideration of its utility. And, secondly, That, as soon as men have any rational con- ception of a favour, and of an injury, they must have the conception of justice, and perceive its obligation distinct from its util- ity. The first of these points hardly admits of any other proof but an appeal to the sent- iments of every honest man and every man of honour. Whether his indignation is not immediately inflamed against an atro- cious act of yillany, without the cool consi- deration of its distant consequences upon the good of society ? [416] We might appeal even to robbers and pi- rates, whether they have not had great strug- gles with their conscience, when they first resolved to break through all the rules of justice ; and whether, in a solitary and ser- ious hour, they have not frequently felt the pangs of guilt They have very often con- fessed this at a time when all disguise is kid aside. The common good of society, though a pleasing object to all men, when presented to their view, hardly ever enters into the thoughts of the far greatest part of mankind ; and, if a regard to it were the sole motive to justice, the number of honest men must be ^415-417] small indeed. It would be confined to tlie higher ranks, who, by their educa- tion or by their office, are led to make the public good an object ; but that it is so confined, I believe no man will venture to affirm. The temptations to injustice are strong- est in the lowest class of men ; and, if na- ture had provided no motive to oppose those temptations, but a sense of public good, there would not be found an honest man in that class. To all men that are not greatly corrupt- ed, injustice, as well as cruelty and ingra- titude, is an object of disapprobation on its own account There is a voice within us that proclaims it to be base, unworthy, and deserving of punishment. That there is, in all ingenuous natures, an antipathy to roj^uery and treachery, a reluctance to the tlioughts of villany and baseness, we have the testimony of Mr Hume himself; who, as I doubt not but ho felt it, has expressed it very strongly in the conclusion to his " Enquiry," and acknow- ledged that, in some cases, without this re- luctance and antipathy to dishonesty, a sen- sible knave would find no sufficient motive from public good to be honest. [417] I shall give the passage at large from the " Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals," Section 9, near the end. "Treating vice with the greatest can- dour, and making it all possible concessions, we must acknowledge that there is not, in any instance, the smallest pretext for giv- ing it the preference above virtue, with a view to self-interest; except, perhaps, in the case of justice, where a man, taking things in a certain light, may often seem to be a loser by his integrity. And, though it . is allowed that, without a regard to property, no society could subsist ; yet, according to the imperfect way in which human af- fairs are conducted, a sensible knave, in particular incidents, may think that an act of iniquity or infidelity will make a consider- able addition to his fortune, without causing any considerable breach in the social union and confederacy. That honesty is the hrst policy, may be a good general rule, but it is liable to many exceptions ; and he, it may perhaps be thought, conducts himself with most wisdom, who observes the general rule, and takes advantage of all the exce|i- tions. " I must confess that, if a man think that this reasoning much requires an answer, it will be a little difficult to find any which will to him appear satisfactory and con- vincing. If his heart rebel not against such pernicious maxims, if he feel no reluctau* e to the thoughts of vilkny and baseness, he has indeed lost a considerable motive to vir- tue, and we may expect that his pructioo mi ON THE ACTIVE POWERS. [BiSAT r" €RAF v.] OF JUSTICE. 653 :! will be ana^wtmlito txt his .ipeenltttioiL Bit, in ail iiigeiiwiiis nfttaresy the antipftthj iA tnaehofy siifl teguery is too strong to be 'OOiiiitMilMlMMed bj any views of proJit or ;|wciiiiiaigr 'ftiiHiiime. Inmmi peace of aiiifly eoBiriiiiKiiesS' «atl8eof Human Na- tnre/* tmi therefore it is no wondte* that the author should find it a little diileolt to give any .aniwar whieh/wwilii appear aatis> faetory .and 'eonvineing to sneh a 'man. To 'eonnterbahnee. this ;na8iiiihig, ha puts in the other scale a reluctance, an antipathy, a rebellion of the heart agahisl such pemi- eions maiims, which u lelt by ingennous natures. Let 18 consider a little the force of Hr Hume's answer to this sensible knave^ who reasons upon his own principles. I thuik it 'is eitlier .an, .adcnowledgment that there m a natural judHnttit'of eousctence in man, that hijustiee and treachery is a base and unworthy practice— which is the point I would establish $ or it has no force to eonvinca' either the knave or an honest A dear' and intuitive judgment, .resulting om the constitution of human nature, is sufficient to overbalance a train of snbtife reasoning on the other side^ Thus the test- imony of ow senses 'is suiWeit to over- balance all the subtile arguments brought ilgainst thehr testinmij. .And, if there be a ike' 'testhnopy ^of mimmm in favour of .honealy, .ai. the sn'btile 'reasoning of the knave against II ought to be rejected with- out eiammation, as laUadons and sophlsl- .ical> beeanse it .cewihidea .^gainst .a Baft*evi. dent principle t JnatM we .reject 'the 'Subtile reasoning of the metaphysician agahist' 'the evidence of sense. If, therefore, 'the rv/sela'itcc, the J*#*« •ippflflu netbipg of thfa kind. When a man'b nalunl rights are viofated, he perceives intuitively, and lie feels that he fa injured. The feeling of hfa heart arises from the judgment of hfa understandmg ; for, if he did not believe that the hurt intended, and uniustiy intended, lie would not have that feeling. He perceives **»■! injury fa done to himself, and that he has a right to redress. The natural principle of resentment 'fa roused by the 'view of its pro- per object, and excites him to defend hfa right. K'ven the injurious person fa'Con- sdouB of hfa doing injury ; he dreads a just rotaiation .; and, if it be m th« power of the injund petsuu, he expects it as 'due and de- served. That these sentiments spring up in tho mind of mm .as .nat«al.ly as lifa body grows to its proper stature ; that they are not the birth of instruction, either of parents, priests, pbOosophers, or politicians, but the pini growth of nature— cannot, I think, without effcontery, be denied. We find them equally strong m the most savage and in the most civilixed tribes of mankind 1 and nothing can weaken them but an invito* [425, 4m\ 'CHAP, v.] OF JUSTICE. rate habit of rapine and bloofahed, which benumbs the conscience, and turns men into wild beasts. The public good Is very properly con- sidered by the judge who punishes a private injury, but seldom enters into the thought of the injured person. In all criminal law, the redress due to the private sufferer is dfatinguished from that which is due to the Jmblic ; a distinction which could have no oundation, if the demerit of injustice arose solely from its hurting the public. And every man fa consciousof a specific differ- ence between the resentment he feels for an injury done to himself, and his indignation against a wrong done to the public. [427] I think, therefore, it is evident that, of the six branches of justice we mentioned, four are natural, in the strictest sense, being founded upon the constitution of man, and antecedent to all deeds and conventions of society ; so that, if there were but two men upon the earth, one might be unjust and injurious, and the other injured. But does Mr Hume maintain the con- trary ? To this question I answer, That his doc- trine seems to imply it ; but I hope he meant It not He affirms, in general, that justice is not a natural virtue ; that it derives its origin solely from publie utility ; and that reflec- tioiH on the beneficial consequences of this virtue, are the sole foundation of its merit He mentions no particular branch of just- ice as an exception to this general rule ; yet justioe, in common language, and in all the writers on j urisprudence I am acquainted with, comprehends the four branches above mentioned. His doctrine, therefore, ac- cording to the common construction of words, extends to these four, as well as to the two other branches of justice. On the other hand, if we attend to his long and laboured proof of this doctrine, it appears evident that he had in his eye only two particular branches of justice. No Srt of his reasoning applies to the other ir. He seems, I know not why, to have taken up a confined notion of justice, and to have restricted it to a regard to property and fidelity in contracts. As to other branches he fa silent. He nowhere says, that it is not naturally criminal to rob an innocent man of his life, of his children, of hfa liberty, or of hfa reputation ; and I am apt to think he«never meant it. [428] The only philosopher I know who has had the assurance to maintain thfa, fa Mr Hobbes, who makes the state of nature to be a state of war, of every man against mwerf inan t and of such a war m which every man has a right to do and to acquire whatever hfa power can, by any means, ac- •ompliah— that in, a state wherein neither I right nor injury, justice nor injustice, can possibly exfat. Mr Hume mentions this system of Hobbes, but without adopting it, though he allows it the authority of Cicero in its favour. He says, in a note, " This fiction of a state of nature as a state of war was not first started by Mr Hobbes, as is commonly imagined. Plato endeavours to refute an hypothesis very like it, in the 2d, 3d, and 4th books, ' De Republica.' Cicero, on the contrary, supposes it certain and uni- versally acknowledged, in the following pas- sage," &c — Pro Seatio, § 42. The passage, which he quotes at large from one of Cicero's orations, seems to mo to require some straining to make it tally with the system of Mr Hobbes. Be this as it may, Mr Hume might have added, That Cicero, in his orations, ^like many other pleaders, sometimes says not what he be- lieved, but what was fit to support the cause of his client. That Cicero*s opinion, with regard to the natural obligation of justice, was very different from that of Mr Hobbes, and even from Mr Hume's, fa very well known. [429] 3. As Mr Hume, therefore, has said nothing to prove the four branches of just- ice which relate to the innate rights of men, to be artificial, or to derive their ori- gin solely from public utility, I proceed to the fifth branch, which requires us not to invade another man's property. The right of property is not innate, but acquired. It is not grounded upon the con- stitution ol man ; but upon hfa actions. Writers on jurisprudence have explained its origin in a manner that may satfafy every man of common understanding.^ The earth is given to men in common for the purposes of life, by the bounty of Heaven. But, to divide it, and appropriate one part of its produce to one, another part to another, must be the work of men who have power and understanding given them, by which every man may accommodate him- self without hurt to any other. This common right of every man to what the earth produces, before it be occupied and appropriated by others, was, by ancient moralfats, very properly compared to the right which every citizen had to the pubhc theatre, where every man that came might occupy an empty seat, and thereby acquire a right to it while the entertainment lasted , but no man had a right to dfapossess an- other. The earth is a great theatre, furnished by the Almighty, with perfect wisdom and goodness, for the entertainment and employ- ment of all mankind. Here every man has a right to accommodate himself as a spec- tator, and to perform hfa part as an actor, but without hurt to others. 20 OSi ON THE ACTIVE POWEES. riSfiS'AV ^ Ho vliO' 4oM tO' ie » }ait 'Hum, ^snd i1i«i«1iir «ntitM iO' mtm itogem of nionil appra'lm^' tioD ; and he vim not only does no linii, 'but enif torn Ms^ fmme lO' dO',good, ii'».,goiid. ma% aiM » tiMnlf anlitM to ft li]|^ mm wf nonl. .apf lolMilioik .But nO' who Miite Mid 'iiiii l iii t it his neizhhour, who do*' fiiwm him of any .aeooaniodfttion wMtk tm :indniti7 hm provided, without hurt to 9titmm, m wajwM^ ao^' * fioiier ohjoet: of 'Mnntmenl* 14901 It is 'trae, thmiire, 'thst pioiwrty has ft beginning lioiii the lottons of mee, oceii|iy* lug, ftnd, perhftpi improving by their in- dnstiy, whst wm eommon by nature. It is tni% ■li%"thft% 'belli*' property exists, that branch of jtistioe and injustlM whioh re- .gpyrds nroperly eamot mm* But it ;is alsO' truoi 'that^ '«^seit' there^ .are men, there will 'Twy .soon, 'be pvoperty of one hind or an- oliwry and, eoMMqnently, there will be that braneh of jostiee which attends property as its guardian. There .are iwo kinds tf'pimpm^ which we may 4Si& abundance of external goods, that every man, without care or industry, finds himself pro- vided of whatever he can wish or desire. Xi is evident, says he, that, in such a state, the cautious, jealous virtue of justice would never once have been dreamed of. It may be observed, >>*/, That this argu- ment applies only to one of the six branches of justice before mentioned. The other five are not in the least affected by it ; and the reader will easily perceive that this observation applies to almost all his argu- ments, so that it needs not be repeated. Secondly, All that this argument proves is, That a state of the human race may lie conceived wherein no property exists, and where, of consequence, there can be no exercise of that branch of justice which re- spects property. But does it follow from this, that where property exists, and must exist, that no regard ought to be had to it ? He next supposes tliat the necessities of the human race continuing the same as at present, the mind is so enlarged with friend- ship and generosity, that every man feels as much tenderness and concern for the interest of every man, as for his own. It seems evident, he says, that the use of justice would be suspended by such an extensive benevolence, nor would the divisions and barriers of property and obligation have ever been thought of. [435] I answer. The conduct which thisextensive benevolence leads to, is either perfectly con- sistent with justice, or it is not. First, If there be any case where this benevolence would lead us to do injustice, the use of just- ice is nat suspended. Its obligation is super- ior to that of benevolence ; and, to shew be- nevolence to one, at the expense of injustice to another, is immoral. Secondly, Supposing no such case could happen, the use of just- ice would not be suspended, because by it we must distinguish good offices to which we had a right, from those to which ho had no right, and which therefore require a return of gratitude. ThirdU, Suppos- ing the use of justice to be suspended, as it must be in every case where it cannot be exercised, Will it follow, that its obliga- tion is suspended, where there is access t» exercise it ? A third supposition is, the reverse of the first. That a society falls into extreme want of the necessaries of life : The question is put. Whether, in such a case, an equal part- ition of bread, without regard to private property, though effected by power, and even by violence, would be regarded as cri- minal and injurious ? And the author con- ceives that this would lie a suspension of the strict laws of justice. I answer, That such an equal partition as Mr Hume mentions, is so far fnmi be- ing criminal or injurious, that justice re- S V9 I i €60 f nirit it t sii OTrdy-'Hiat 'tviiiiit te a fmidm i»f ^ ^m Iwra of Jnstii*;, wiMi. U an :ict (if' Jwtioe* All tlial atM :flriefwt' JiiiliM leqnires in sn^ s ease, h, Thtt tlie nutn whose lif» h piCMTVei. at tlie tiptnao of anotlier, ani wiHnmt lib coiiiaiil, 'iliiinlil. iii and at the -'•HWi ''thne"Sii|uitalUe| senis to me a eontra-' •dielion. il m -pmsihle that equity nrny ia- teiftn with the letter' of human bws, he* 'Canse-all the cases 'that mav Ml nnter'them., caaMil he-'iMiieen i "hnl that equity -■honld infeerfete with Justiee iS' imipoaMUe^* It U ■tfMige that Mr H'ume ahoiuld "think that Justice requireS' 'that a criminal dbonld^ he treated in thC' eams' wi&v mm ah "innocent •ON TH» ACTIVE TOWEMB. Another argmient is 'taken 'from 'public war. What is IL aavs he. but a susneusion «f justice among %e warring parties ? The hiwB of war, which then, siicoeed to those of equity and justiee» are ruIeS' caleukted Ibr the^ wivantaM and. ntUity of that parti* cuiaT' 'Stat* :in mAA 'men are 'now 'plaeed. I answer, 'wien. war is undertaken for self- defence, or forrepiBtion of intolerable in- jorieia, |uatiee.auiiotiie8 it The kwsof 'tiar, 'Which have been dtoserihed. by many judicious moralisto, are all drawn, from the fountain of justice and equity ] and every- thing contrary 'to' justice, is enntiaigr to the laiMB of war. Hal' jnstioo wUApiweiibea one n^ of eoudnet' to a master, another to a servant ; one to a parent, aLother to a child-'pnseribeS' .also one rule 'Of conduct, towards a friend*, another' tewardS' an. eMni. 'I ' 'do aol' mdteitaiid what. 'Mr Hnme meana' bj the mkMmiagf^'imi. mMi^ of a stato' of war, for whidi. 'lie says tie kwa of war ^arc' ^ealoikted. andaueeLl'to those of Justice and eqpity» I know no laws of war' that •Pi 04^ cslMiktod for justice land 'Squlty. i k 'tUa— WeiV' tlmri a 'The next ai '[43«S l»«l ▼• speeiat"Of'ciwliiii :iiitorniingM'«lth men, .wlUh. thougli. 'laHoial, 'were poawiSMHl ^ol iuflh mferior strength, both of body and mind, that ihey were Ineapabk 4if all re- 'Sistance^ and could nefer, upon, the 'highest pRivoeation, -make us 'foel the effeets of tteir lessntment; the necessary conso- quenoe, I think, is, that we should be bound, hy the kws of humanity, to give gentle usage to these creatures, but should not, properly speaking, Ik under any restraint of Juatiee with' icgM to' them, nor could they poesesS' any right or property, exclu- sive of .sneh-aiMtiary lords. If lir Hume had not owned this senti- ment as a consequence of his Theory of Morak, I should have thought it very un- charitable to impute it to him. However, we may Jl^I» ®f the Theory by its avowed consequence Per there cannot be better evidence that a theory of morak, or of any partieukr virtue, b Ikke, than when it subverts the practical ruks of morale Thk defenceless species of rational crea- tures, k doomed hy Mr Hume to have no rights. Why ? Because they have no power to defend themselves. Is not tJik to nay— That right has its origin from power;. whiA, indeed, was the doctrine of Mr Hobbes. And to illustrate thb doc- trine, Mr Hume adds— That, as no incon- irenienee ever results fro'm the exercise of a Mifar so irmly estahlivhed in natuiUi the ivetrainto of jastice and 'property bei.nf totally nsdeas^ eould never have nkee in so unequal a confederacy j and, to the same purpose, he says, that the female part of our own apeciea. owe 'the share they have k the fktts of socibtv, to the power which their adiress and theup charms give them. If thk be sound morak, Mr Hnme'a Theory •of Justice nay te true^ [ 438] Wemay hers obserf% that, though, in other places Mr 'Hume ifonnds the obliga- tion of justice upon its utility to mrmims or to olAfrf, it k here loamded aolely upon utility to mamrimm, For surely to be treatetl with justice would be bifhly useful to the defonoekss species he heru' supposes 'to ex- wL But, as no inconvenknce to ourselves can ever lesult from, our 'treatnwnt of them, he concludes, that justice would be useless, and tliercforo can. have no place. Mr HUbhes could have said no more. He supposes, hi the tost place, a state of human natum wherein all society and iatenouiae: k Mt df 'between man and man*. .It' 'k evident, he says, 'tiiat so so- 'litaif a'heinf"W«ild'he:as m:uch incapable if jnstke^ai' rf'Soeialdkcourse and'Conrora- ation Aud wonid not so solitary a being be as ineapabk of friendship, generosity, and com- paHisB, as of justice f If thk argumei.1 prove justice to be an aitificial virtue, it CRAP, v."! OF JUSTICE. 661 I' III will, with equal force, prove every social virtue to be artiiickL These are the arguments which Mr Hume has advanced in hk " Enquiry,*^ in the first part of a long section upon justice. In the second part, the arguments are not so clearly distinguished, nor can they be easily collected. I shall offer some re- marks upon what seems most specious in thk second part. He begins with observing — ''That, if we examine the partieukr kws by which justice k directed and property determined, they present us with the same conclusion. The good of mankind k the only object of all those laws and regulations.** [42H91 It k not easy to perceive where the stress of thk argument liea The good of man- kind is the object of ail the tuws and regula- (^ms by which Justice is directed and pro- perty determined ; therefore, justice is not a iMiltcra/ virtue, but has its origin solely ft om puhHc utUity, and its beneficial consequences are the sole foundation of Us merit Some step seems to be wanting to connect the antecedent proposition with the conclu- uion, which, I think, must be one or other of these two propositions—first, All. the rules qf justice tend to public vtilUy ;. or, eecondly. Public utility is the only standard Hf jusUcCy from which alone all its rules must be deduced. If the argument be, That justice must have its origin solely from public utility, because all its rules tend to public utility, I cannot admit the consequence ; nor can Mr Unme admit it without overturning his own l^tem ; for the rules of benevolence and humanity do all tend to the public utility ; and vet, in his system, they have another fountMblf have been found the same unanimity. The relection of a. Taffue abctraction ia very diArent fiom tbat oT aapeafic reality.— U. ON THE ACTi¥i ■ro'in:!^. [mAT ▼• «HAP. ¥1,] OF THE NATURE OF A CONTRACT. 663 ^p-mitj, m well as themselvtSi to'tebm, 'laiiiMil either aoqitiesee in. what tlwkirs iiiecmiite, or leave the sooiety. But JihI- koy mad even that partieiikr hrsnch of it wliili our author always stippoees to be the whole, is .utecedeiit to political .sooetieS' :aiid to tWif Um ; ani ^e .intentiiiit "Off^'tiitM' kws 1% to he 'iie guaviiam nf jiftioei 'tiii to rtidreas injuries. As ai 'the woiIes of men aro' hnperfeeti^ hmnan laws nay he nnjosl; whieh eotiM never he^ if Jnstioe had its^otkin 'iMB bw, ai^the .author seema: hai«' to imimMittti [442] Juatiee .requires that a member of a .state' ^loaM mhmit to the kws of 'thO' atata^ 'When tiiMp' lof nive nothing unjoat or im- fimii.. Titefe' nay, therefore, m statutory i^ti and •tatnto.ry crimes. .A statute may create a right which did not before exist, or make tha^ to he criminal whidi. was not. ao hdbta But this eouU never he, 'if there' were not .an anteoedent obligation" npon the snbjeds to obey the atatntes. In Iwe manner, the command of a master nay make that to he the .aervant*s dity which, before, 'waa. .not his. dotjr, and. the servant 'Day be chaqiMhlo with .injustice if he dis- obeys, became he was under an antModent oUigpilion to obey hiS' master in lawful We grant, therefore, 'that particular bws may dinct justice and d^ermine property, and sometimes .even npon 'very slight rea- sons and anidogies, or even for no other nason but thai it is better that such a point anouia. oe aeteivnineii. ny law tnan tnat ti should he left a dubious subject of conten- tion. But this, far from pnaMinting us with the condnaion which the author would establish, pnaenta us with a contrary con- clusion. For all 'tibese particular .laws and atatntes. derive thdrwhdie obligation and force from a general rule of justice antece- dent to them — to wit, That, subjects onght to obey' 'the 'laws, ^of ' Ihehr" eouitry. The author compares the rules of justice with the most frivolous suprotitions, and can find no founda^on ibr moral sentiment in the one more than in the other, except- Ine that joattoa i|.'re|iiiBito'IO'thewell-beuf It ia 'veiy 'true that, if we examine Mtlnff ani Mm by the .senses of «i|p^% mmH, or foHcAy 'Or scntHnisO' 'them, by the 'seieneea of trndkine^ ektmkirjf. orph^gk^^ we perceive .nodiimiea. But the season is, that none 'Of 'theso ienaeo ^or :seienees are the judges of r%ht OT' wrong, or eaa tive any conception of them any more than mt ear of colour, or 'the eye of sound. .Every man. 'Of common nndiiataniiiii .and. every savag«>, when he 'percaivaa a difference' aa. deiffly' aa ha per- 'Ceives^day-%ht. When, that Muse or lb-' suit every 'Other, in a '^neation of r^ght ami wroBC 14491 To' peneivo' that j'Uiliaf''itiiiia to the good of mankind, would ky no moral obligation upon ua to be jnsi, nnkeo we be conscious of a moral ob%2in to do what teuda to the good of mankind* If such a moral obli- gation be admlttod, whv may we not admit a rtronger obligation to do injury to no man ? The .hat oU^ation. is as easily conceived aa the ;ii!st» and theft m m clear evidence' of ita 'txistenoe ;in human 'nature* The last argument is a dilemma, and ia thus expressed )»-'** 'The dilemma seems obvious.. As justice evidently tends to pro- mote pnblm ntiity, and to support civi society, the sentiment of justice is either derived from omr .reiecting on that tend- ency, or, like hmgcr, thirst, and other ap- petitesi. ieaantmant| love of life^. attachment to QTOpfttig, 'awl. otner'pasBion8| arisca from breast, which natuio Imis implanted for like ■fmi I'lpiji JIftjigi 'j piiiiy villa pw|j|j^^ la 'iLlil'il Mfct.'ttf*!' 11 A tlslA ilBUUi* it folkiws, That property, which is the ob- ject of jnstico^ is idso dbtinguisbed by a simple origimai instinct, and is not ascer- tained by any argumeiit or reflection. But who is there that ever heard of such .an instinct,**' Ao. I doubt not hot Mr Hume has heard of a principle called commenm^ which nature has implanted in the human breast. Wheth:er .he will, call 'it a simple original insthiet I .know not, as. he^ gives 'that name to all 'Our .appetites, and. to all our passions. From this principle, I think, we derive the sentiment of justice. [444] Ai the eye not only gives 'US the 'ConcefN tiott of oolonrs, but makes, us psreelve one body to have one colour, and another body another I and as our reason not only given us the conception of true and false, hut makea 'ua ;pereeive one proposition to bo true and another to be false .{ so our 'Oon- science, or moral faculty, not only gives ua the conception of honest and dishonest, but makea us perceive onoi kind of eonduct to bo honest, .another" to bO' dishonest. By this fiwulty 'we 'pereeive a merit in honest conduct, and a danerit in dishonest, with- out regi^ to puhlio utiity. That these sentimento are not the^ effect of education or of acquired habits, wo have |M«eption of what is true and what false, ia not the effect of educatbn or of acquired hahita. There have been men who pro- fessed, 'to 'hdiove' that there is no ground to assent to any one proposition rather than its contmry ; but I never yet heard of a nan wiiO' .had too effrontery to prnfMS'. mm- aalf to he under no obligation of honour' or 'honesty, of truth or j'ustice, in his 'jt ' liw . g'i with men. r442-'444l mm- 'm ^ Nor does this faculty of conscience re- quire innate ideas of properly, and of the variouM ways of acquiring and transferring it, or innate ideas of kings and senators, tf prmtors, and chancellors, and juries, any more than the fEiculty of seeing requires in- nato ideas of colours, or than the faculty of reasoning requires innate ideas of cones, cylinders, and spheres. [445] CHAPTER VI. OF THE NATURE AND OBLIOATIOX OF A CONTRACT. The obligation of Contracts and Promises m a matter so sacred, and of such conse- quence to human society, that speculations which have a tendency to weaken that obli- gation, and to perplex men^s notions on a subject so plain and so important, ought to meet with the disapprobation of all honest men. Some such speculations, I think, we have in the third volume of Mr Hume*s " Trea- tise of Human Nature,'* and in his " En- quiry into the Principles of Morals;** and my design in this chapter is, to offer some observations on the nature of a contract or promise, and on two passages of that author on this subject. I am far from saying or thinking that Mr Hume meant to weaken men's obliga- tions to honesty and fair dealing, or that he had not a sense of these obligations himself. It is not the man I impeach, but his writ- ings. Let us think of the first as charitably as we can, while we freely examine the im- port and tendency of the last. Although the nature of a contract and of a promise is perfectly understood by all men of common understanding ; yet, by atten- tion to the operations of mind signified by these words, we shall be better enabled to judge of the metaphysical subtilties which have been raised about them. A promise and a contract differ so little in what con- cerns the present disquisition, that the same reasoning (as Mr Hume justly observes) extends to both. In a promise, one party only comes under the obligation, the other acquires a right to the prestation promised. But we give the name of a contract to a transaction in which each party comes under an obligation to the other, and each recipro- cally acquires a right to what is promised by the other. [446] The Latin word Pactum seems to extend to both : and the definition given of it in the Civil Law, and borrowed from Ulpian, is, Duorum pluriwnve in idem placitum consensus. Titius, a modem Civilian, has endeavoured to make this definition more eompleto, by adding the words, obiigationis [445-447] licit^ cmuAtuenicB vel tollendm causa datus. With this addition, the definition is, that a Contract is the consent of two or more per* sons in the same thing, given with the intenm tion of constituting or dissolving lawfully some obligation. This definition \% perhaps, as good as any other that can be given; yet, I believe, every man will acknowledge that it gives him no clearer or more distinct notion of a contract than he had before. If it is con- sidered as a strictly logical definition, I be- lieve some objections might be made to it ; hut I forbear to mention them, because I believe that similar objections might be made to any definition of a contract that can be given. Nor can it be inferred from this, that the notion of a contract is not perfectly clear in every man come to years of understand- ing. For this is common to many opera- tions of the mind, that, although we under- stand them perfectly, and are in no danger of confounding them with anything else; yet we cannot define them according to the rules of logic, by a genus and a specific dif- ference. And when we attempt it, we rather darken than give light to them. Is there anything more distinctly under- stood by all men, than what it is to see, to hear, to remember, to judge ? Yet it is the most difiicult thing in the world to define these operations according to the rules of logical definition. But it is not more diffi- cult than it is useless. [447] Sometimes philosophers attempt to de- fine them ; but, if we examine their defin- itions, we shall find that they amount to no more than giving one synonymous word for another, and commonly a worse for a better. So, when we define a contract, by calling it a consent, a convention, an agreement, what is this but giving a synonymous word for it, and a word that is neither more expressive nor better understood ? One boy has a top, another a scourge ; says the first to the other, If you will lend me your scourge as long as I can keep up my top with it, you shall next have the top as long as you can keep it up. Agreed, says the other. This is a contract perfectly understood by both parties, though they never heard of the definition given by Ulpian or by Titius. And each of them knows that he is injured if the other breaks the bargain, and that he does wrong if he breaks it himself. The operations of the human mind may be divided into two classes, the Solitary Sind the Social. As promises and contracts be- long to the last class, it may be proper to explain this division. I call those operations solitary which may he performed by a man in solitude, without intercourse with any other intelligent being. \ UH 1 n A Al^ I 1 ¥ JCj IrU lY Alio* t » T. •HAF. ¥I,] OF THE NATURE OF A CONTRACT. 663 if^ m well m 'fItMiwlvct, to te !««% dttoffiniiie, or leave tbe mmty. But jast- km, ftod even tliat partieiikr bnuieh of it whieli Mr author always sapposes to be the whole, ia antecedent to political .societies and to 'theif ' Imw ; and Ibe .tntantiiv: 'Of 'tliew laws is, to be the gnaniiana of jostice, and lo reonsa ininvioBb As aE. Ihe ivofhs of neii afO' itni hmnaa 'laws 'may bO' unjust t which 'Oould never be, if j'nstlce had its 'Origin, from law, .as the anthor seems here to insinnala [442] Instioe' nfuiies. that a member of a state should submit to the laws of the state, whan, 'thtw .require nothing unjust or im- ;pioii8. There ;may, theiefiiiiei be statutory ruihts and statutory crimea A statute iZiy'ereatearigbtwt^'didnot/b^^^^ or malie that. to. be criminal 'Which was 'not so before. But this could never be^ if there 'were not an .antecedent obikation upon the subjects to obi^ ^)>« itatutcTln like manner, the command of a master may .make that 'tO' be the iservant's duty 'whieh, before, was not his duty, and the servant may be chaipable with injustice if he dis- oliejs, because he was under an. an.tecedent thligition. to obey .hiS' 'master .in lawful. m all ™'' W Ininip*. iCgraut, therefore, that particular kws :may' direct justice and' determine jHro|ierty, and .sometimes even upon veij sngbt' :psa*' ions and. .analogies, or even 'for no other .reason but that it is better that such a point should be determined by hiw than that it siuMild he left a dubious subject of conten- tion. But this, far from presenting us with the eondusion which the authw would establisb, presents us with a contrary eon- 'dusion.. For all these partieukr' laws and statutes derive their whole obikation .and force' 'ffom a general .rule 'Ol" jnsice anteee*' 'dent to them — 'to wit, That subjects ought to obey tbe laws of their oountiy. 'The author comoares 'the mlaB. of"iusliee with the most frivolous: nperstitions, wd can find no foundation iir moral sentiment in the one more than in the other, except- ine 'thai Jnstiee is re4|uisite 'to the 'weli-bemg and ea i ttt iiW' of .society* It 'is. vary' true that, if we examme mime and iMm by tbe senses of i ijgf^t, mmU^ or t&mchf or Bcrutiniaie them by the sciences of '••iiicjiif, .eftiaijfify. orp%siefl, wejiereelve 'HU. 'HHhiwiiea. But :are die judgea of '.lUrt or 'Wicfii^, 'Or 'eaD.give any conaepilon of them any more than the ear of colour, or 'the ^ye 'Ol isound. Every 'man 'Of com.mon nniefitaniiig, and. every savage, when be applies his m'oral &eolty tO' those objects, pcffoelves a difference as dearly as he per^ 'daylight When that sense or ii- lljiaiiiit oonralted» in vain do wo eon- 1 suit every other, in a question, of rigjbt and. VHMlMt' f^^iSI To perceive that justiee tends to the good of mankind, would lay no moral obligation upon us to be just, unless we be conscious of a moral oMigation to do what tends to the good of maumidp If such a moral obli- gation be admitted, whv mav we not admit a The isBt dblcBtiion is as. cadlv conceived as the 'iiil, .and there is as dear evidence of its existence in human naturoh The last argument is a dilemma, and ia thus eap resse d &—** The dilemma seems obvious. As justice evidently tends to pro- mote public uUUty, and to support civil society, the eentiment of justice is either derived from our leieeting on that tend- enoy, or, like h'Unger, thirst, and other ap- petttaBi reseu'tment, love of Ufe, attaehment to oftpring, and other passions, arises from a ai.mple original instinct in the human breast, whieh nature baa implanted, for like salutary purposes. If the latter be the case, it follows. That property, whieh is the ob- ject of justiee, is dso distinguished by a simple original instinct, and is not ascer- tained., by i^y .atgnmeiit or lefleeCionb. Bui 'Who is. 'thero' that ever heard 'Of saeh an instinct,** Slo- I doubt not but Mr Hume hns heard of aprindple called eomcience, which nature baa imphnted in tbe human breast Whether he wiU call it a simple original instinct I know 'not, as he gives that name to all our appetites, and to all our passions.. From this prindple, I think, we derive the sentiment 'Of justice. [444] Ai 'the eye not only gives us the conocp*' body to have one colour, and another body another ; and aa our lei^n not only giv«; 'US "the 'Conceptinn 'Of true' and lalse, hut makes us perceive one proposition to be true and another to be false ; so our cou- sdenee, or moral, .faculty, not only rives 'UO' the conception ^of honest and diwonest, nut makeS' ua perceive one kind of eowtnet to be honest, another to be dishonest By this iumlty we perceive a merit in honest oonduet, and a demeril in dishonest, with- out ri^ipud to public utility. That these sentiments are not the eiieet of education or of acquired habits, we have tlM same reason to condndO' aa tb.at our 'peiosiition of what is 'true and what fiil8% ia ''not 'tie dfeet of' education or of acquired, habits. There have been men who pro- fessed to bdieve that there is no ground to assent to any one propodtion rather than its contrary ; but I never yet heard of a man who had the effrontery to profess him- sdf to be under no obligation of honour or honesty, of truth or juatiec^ in his dealings with men. []448— 444J Nor does this faculty of conscience re- quire inrrnie idetu of property, ami of the wmom ways of acquiring and transferring i/, or innate idem of kings and tenatorsj r/ prmlors, and ehaneelhre, and juries, any more than the faculty of seeing requires in- nate ideas of colours, or than the faculty of feasoning requires innate ideas of cones, cylinders, and spheres. [445] CHAPTER VI. OF THB NATORB AND OBLIOATIOX OF A CONTRACT. Thb obligation of Contracts and Promises is a matter so sacred, and of such conse- quence to human society, that speculations which have a tendency to weaken that obli- gation, and to perplex men*B notions on a subject so plain and so important, ought to meet with the disapprobation of all honest men. Some such speculations, I think, we have in the third volume of Mr Hume's « Trea- tise of Human Nature,'* and in his " En- quiry into the Principles of Morals ;** and my design in this cliapter is, to offer some observations on the nature of a contract or promise, and on two passages of that author on this subject. I am far from saying or thinking that Mr Hume meant to weaken men's obliga- tions to honesty and fair dealing, or that he had not a sense of these obligations himself. It is not the man I impeach, but his writ- ings. Let us think of the first as charitably as we can, while we freely examine the im- port and tendency of the last. Although the nature of a contract and of a promise is perfectly understood by all men of common understanding ; yet, by atten- tion to the operations of mind signified by these words, we shall be better enabled to judge of the metaphysical subtilties which have been raised about them. A promise and a contract differ so little in what con- cerns the present disquisition, that the same reasoning (as Mr Hume justly observes) extends to both. In a promise, one party only comes under the obligation, the other acquires a right to the prestation promised. But we give the name of a contract to a transaction in which each party comes under an obligation to the other, and each recipro- cally acquires a right to what is promised by the other. [446] Tbe Latin word Pactum seems to extend to both : and the definition given of it in the Civil Law, and borrowed from Ulpian, is, Duorum pluriumve in idem placitum emuensus. Titius, a modem Civilian, has endeavoured to make this definition mors complete, by adding the words, obtigationis [44S~447] UHtk eonsiituen'la wi iollenda causa datus. With this addition, the definition is, that a Contract is the consent of two or more per* sons in the same thing, given with the inten- tion of constituHng or dissolving lawfully some obligation. This definition h, perhaps, as good as any other that can be given; yet, I believe, every man will acknowledge that it gives him no clearer or more distinct notion of a contract than he had before. If it is con- sidered as a strictly logical definition, I be- lieve some objections might be made to it ; but I forbear to mention them, because I believe that similar objections might be made to any definition of a contract that can be given. Nor can it be inferred from this, that the notion of a contract is not perfectly clear in every man come to years of understand- ing. For this is common to many opera- tions of the mind, that, although we under- stand them perfectly, and are in no danger of confounding them with anything else; yet we cannot define them according to the rules of logic, by a genus and a specific dif- ference. And when we attempt it, we rather darken than give light to them. Is there anything more distinctly under- stood by all men, than what it is to see, to hear, to remember, to judge ? Yet it is the most difiicult thing in the world to define these operations according to the rules of logical definition. But it is not more diffi- cult than it is useless. [447] Sometimes philosophers attempt to de- fine them ; but, if we examine their defin- itions, we shall find that they amount to no more than giving one s3naonymous word for another, and commonly a worse for a better. So, when we define a contract, by calling it a consent, a convention, an agreement, what is this but giving a synonymous word for it, and a word that is neither more expressive nor better understood ? One boy has a top, another a scourge ; says the first to the other. If you will lend me your scourge as long as I can keep up my top with it, you shall next have the top as long as you can keep it up. Agreed, says the other. This is a contract perfectly understood by both parties, though they never heard of the definition given by Ulpian or by Titius. And each of them knows that he is injured if the other breaks the bargain, and that he does wrong if ho breaks it himself. The operations of the human mind may be divided into two classes, the Solitary and the Social. As promises and contracts be» long to the last class, it may be proper to explain this division. I call those operations *o/itery which may be performed by a man in solitude, without intercourse with any other intelligent being. \ ON THE ACTIVE POWERS. I JbWwiJIl V ▼ ft mftf' ii i iil jy iMMiU ii rtmx Pimi 'wttli. miho otliar iil#i y iii lieiiig wbo bcifB a ptft .in 'tlMiii.^ [4411] ma. JiiHt8*!» ''uta tcmmiii:| M' mnjjf iwiiMiiiiO jnn^ fimn 'pnpoiii|''Wi^ n nH w itff ■ 'fl w un i with- out tbe interfentimdfaiy other inteUifcent lifii^* Th«y 'am solitary aets.^ But. whan. ItiliiM' m fact, whm ho i^rm a wnniMMii to baa topran^t, when he nuikea a promiae, or onieni into a eontraet, theee are soeial aeti' ipr'™' '■■■■■■.■■A ■■■V'lMl' '■'■■■■t MH^V W ^P iW^iP '^IINfW^W^Sfi^fWIfWHn^^m ' WW 'Vw^mH^WlMlf thu intertwimi: of aome other inteN^ont hiisgy who aisia' • fiart' in Ihein. Between the operationa of the mind, which, for want of a more nraper name, I have called f oli- tevy, awl tlMMe I have called mdmi^. therO' 'lhe:«ilitarj,tlie«ipree8ionoif then, 'hf ^wovii,. or my other sen^hle sign, i. ae^ental Thej raaj eidst, and be complete^ without 'heiiig ex|ifeaiied« wiUiont limng known to ^anf other 'feraon. Bat, in the aoeial opera- tion% the expression is essential They cannot exist without being expressed by words or stgn^ and known, to the other audi social operations of mind, and fnr- liislied him with a Umguage to express 'Chem, he inighl think, and reason, ami' do-' liberai%. and will ; he might have 'diiiris and aversions, joy and sorrow i n a word, he might exert all those operations of mind whieli 'tiiO' writers' .In logic and pneimiatoloiv have ao «OMMi||r'^ 'deaertbed.! but,, at tie even when in. a crowd i it 'would. Im impos- sible for him to put a question, or give a oonmaiid, to ask a iivoiir, or 'testify .a faet,. to' 'make a promise, m a baigaiii.' .1 take it to bo' the commoii opinioii' of philoeophers, That the social operationa of the human, mind are not speeimiif ' iilln^ out Ikora the; soitaiyf ^aml that' 'the^r are only varioua modifiei^itaa or 'oonipositions of our aoilaiy operations;, and may be re- aapwci mto tnein* ft ia Imr thia^ reason, 'probably, that. In 'Onnmeniting the operations' of the mind, tiW' solitary only are 'mentioiied, and. -no notice at aU 'taken of the soeial, ibongb they are familiar to every man, and have names in all. .lapguageSk [44§] I .apprehend, however, li will., ho iMnd '•BifiiMly dilicnlt, if not tepossiye, to resdive mat soctiyi operatiiMlB^into 'ai^ inodi- Si to do this would pmve aa e i^tMipta that have been leacifta .an mir social awsctwun iiiwi the asliiii. Tha aoeial operaliiMa appear' Jk^gjk ikgik aimii ^||jmg|^|_|||^n^^ XtfiB di'sfajaaiMi 'Wi.iBiidiaai^^& ^tajH iAbk,^^ Mijikilliiii tary. The^ are found in every individ'oal of the 8peeie% 'Ovaii beibre the use of rea- The Miwar wMA 'imi baa of Imidhiff so- ciai. .mteroouTse witit .nia .wwi| oy asii.ing and refusing, threatening aii.'SiiMlicating, prnZSZTmust either be a distinrLdty given by our Maker, and a part of our con- stitation, liko'tbo powers ^of seeing and hear- ':lng, or it m.nst bC' a human invention.. If men have invented this art of social inter- course, it must follow, that every individual of 'the spccieS' must .have invented it for himself. .It 'Canno* he taught; for, though, when ottiC' carried 'to a certain pitch, it may be improved by teaching ; yet it is impossi- ble it can 'begin 'in that way, 'because all f w ^hj ig aupposes a social 'luterconiae and. .language ahnady establish.ed 'between the ieaeller and 'thc' learner. 'This intercourse must, from the very first, be carried on by sensible signs ; for the thoughts of other men can bC' discovered, in no other way, I think it is lUiewlae evident, thai this .inter- course. In its beginning at least, must be earried on by natural signs, whose meaning is 'nudeiatood. by both 'partie% previeua to' all coapaal 'Or'agreemenl. For there' can be no eompaet without signs, nor without .so- cial intercourse. I apprehend, therefore, that the social intaroounMi 'Ofnanliwl, 'Oousiatug of thoao 'Boeial' 'eperations 'which I have .naii'ttoned, is 'the exercise of a faculty appriMriated to that purpose, which ia the gift of God, no 'less 'Wan. the powers 'Of seeing ^and hearing,, ikud 'that, in 'Oidef to' 'Carry on. this 'iO'tar^ coarse, CM 'baa iginn to man a natural language, 'by which bis social operations are exproBsed, and without which, the artificial knguagea of artieuhite sonnd% and of writ- ing^ cciid. 'never 'have been invented by hu- man art*. '[41111]' 'The .signa in this natural la.ngnage .are tooks,. ehuiges of the features, miMiulationa men 'understand 'thia lan.gaMEe 'Without in- struction, and all men can use it in some dagree. But they are most expert in it "Wlfell' IMUI IIL ' IHIyfili iL Til llflftlifj l*MBI tt, flWABJlL nWHt; fif the bnguigo 'Of 'Savagei, and therelbre' 'they .are more ex'peit 'in. tie use of aalunl. aignS' The lapgnagC' of dumb persons 'is meetly Ibrmed of natuial signs « and they are all great adepto In this bmguage of nature. Ai that we cai aetioD and pronunciation, in the moat' perfect orator, and the most admired .astor, ia nothing else bnl'inperadd- ing the language 'Of nature to the Slanguage of artleukto .sounds. The pantominea amnng the Romana earried it to the high- eal. pieli of perleetion.. For they eauld act parts of eoiMdiii'.'aiii tugedies in dumb- [lili-4MIJ •HAF. VI.] OF THE NATURE OF A CONTRACT. tS65 show, so as to be understood, not only by thoee who were accustomed to this enter- tainment, but by all the strangers that came to Rome, from all the corners of the earth. For it may be observed of this natural language, (and nothing more clearly de- monstrates it to be a part of the human con- atitution,) that, although it require practice and study to enable a man to express his eentimente by it in the most perfect man- ner ; yet it requires neither study nor prac- tice in the spectator to understand it. The knowledge of it was before latent in the mind, and we no sooner see it than we im- mediately recognise it, as we do an acquaint- ance whom we had long forgot, and could not have described ; but no sooner do we see him, than we know for certain that he is the very man. [451] This knowledge, in all mankind, of the natural signs of men's thoughts and senti- ments, is indeed so like to reminiscence that it seems to have led Plato to conceive all human knowledge to be of that kind. It is not by reasDuing that all mankind know that an open countenance and a placid eye is a sign of amity ; that a con- tracted brow and a fierce look is the sign of anger. It is not from reason that we learn to know the natural signs of consent- ing and refusing, of affirming and denying, of threatening and supplicating. No man can perceive any necessary con- nection between the signs of such opera- tions, and the things signified by them. But we are so formed by the Author of our nature, that the operations themselves be- come visible, as it were, by their natural sigua. This knowledge resembles reminis- cence, in this respect, that it is immediate. We form the conclusion with great assur- ance, without knowing any premises from which it may be drawn by reasoning. It would lead us too far from the inten- tion of the present inquiry, to consider, more particularly, in what degree the social intercourse is natural, and a part of our constitution; how far it is of human inven- tion. It is sufficient to observe, that this in- tercourse of human minds, by which their thoughts and sentiments are exchanged, and their souk mingle together, as it were, is eonimon to the whole species from infancy. like our other powers, its first beginnings are weak, and scarcely perceptible. But it is a certain fact, that we can perceive nome oommunication of sentiments between Ae nuf ae and her nursling, before it b a month old. And I doubt not but that, if lioth had grown out of the earth, and had never seen another human face, they would be able in a few years to converse together. [45 1-441] There appears, indeed, to be some degree of social intercourse among brute^nimals, and between some of them and man. A dog exults in the caresses of his master, and is humbled at his displeasure. But there are two operations of the social kind, of which the brute-animals seem to be alto- gether incapable. They can neither plight their veracity by testimony, nor their fide- lity by any engagement or promise If nature had made them capable of these operations, they would have had a language to express them by, as man has : But of this we see no appearance. A fox is said to use stratagems, but he cannot lie ; because he cannot give his test- imony, or plight his veracity. A dog is said to be faithful to his master; but no more is meant but that he is afieotionate, for he never came under any engagement. I see no evidence that any brute-animal is capable of either giving testimony, or mak- ing a promise. A dumb man cannot speak any more than a fox or a dog ; but he can give his testimony by signs as early in life as other men can do by words, lie knows what a lie is as early as other men, and hates it as much.. He can plight his faith, and is sen- sible of the obligation of a promise or con- tract.. It is therefore a prerogative of man, that he can communicate his knowledge of facts by testimony, and enter into engagements by promise or contract. God has given him these powers by a part of his constitu- tion, which distinguishes him from all brute- animals. And whether they are original powers, or resolvable into other original powers, it is evident that they spring up in the human mind at an early period of life, and are found in every individual of the species, whether savage or civilized. These prerogative powers of man, like all his other powers, must be given for some end, and for a good end- And if we con- sider a little farther the economy of nature, in relation to this part of tlie human con- stitution, we shall perceive the wisdom of nature in the structure of it, and discover clearly our duty in consequence of it. [45H] It is evident, in the Jirst place, that, if no credit was given te testimony, if there was no reliance upon promises, they would answer no end at all, not even that of de- ceiving. Secondly, Supposing men disposed by some principle in their nature to rely on declarations and promises ; yet, if men found in experience that there was no fidelity on the other part in making and in keeping them, no man of common understanding would trust to them, and so they would be- come uselesa Hence it appears, thirdly. That thia ♦ ON THE ACTIVE POWEia b ,» V. power 'i»f .giviiif "tMliiiMiiy, aM of ptmiiWiig, oiii mmmt no mad in mmlff vmm l^lmm ho: ft mmtUmaMB d^pne» both of iielitj on tlM mm pit. aaii: wf trust on the otiior llflM two moft mmA or fiOl tomOm, awl MW'^iif 'tlmn etnnot' poanbly'iiiliiiit'ivillifitil llM. oilier. Fma-ik^^ It wmj be obeerved thftt fidelit j kiiniliiffitwiii^ MM DromieeeB .mmI. i*i» . iwmii-. 'ierprt, trust, ami reiknoe i|ioii 'Hhiiii imn. ft sjstrai of sociftl interDoiini% tbo most ftiniftbl% Ibo most nsefiil, that can be among men. Withont fidelity and trust, there eao be no hnmansodety. There never was a so- eietj, even/of aaviigeo— nay, even of robbers or pirates — in wMek thfere was not ft great degree of ▼efaoItT and of fidelity among tlMiMelvia* WIiImii^ it maa would be the .nosl 'dinorfal ' a nim a l 'that Ckid 'has made* Mis state would be in reality what Hobbes conceived the state of nature to be a state of war of' every man. ^against every man ; nor could this war' ever terminate in peace. It may be observed, in the filth phice, that man is evidently made for livup in society. Mm social' alfections shew this as evidently as that the eye was made for see* ing. Mis aocial operations, particnlarlv tiMie of ^testifying and promisiiig, male 'It no less evident. [454 1 From 'these obeervaHona: It Mows, that,, 'if no provision went' ttadi' by nature, to esp gage men to fideity in. declarations and. promises, human nature would be a con- tndiccion to itself, made for an end, yet 'withoitt the .necessary means of attaining ii As 'if the species had been furnished with good eyes, but without tlie power of opim- ing their eyelids. There are no bluncters of :th.is .hind in the wwia of God. 'Where* ever there' is an 'Cnd :lmtended, the meana are admirably 'fitted lir tbO' attainment of it ; and so we find it to be in the case be* fore US* For we seC' that cJii idrtP, aa. 'Mmm. aa< they .aro' capaUe of' snderstandlnf dedbifilioiia and promises, are led. by their oonstitntimi. to rely upon. them. T^y are no leas led 'their own part. Her dO' they ever devmte from this road of troth, .and. 'liiiieiity, until 'eomi;pted by bad. eiample and bad company. This disposition to sincerity in themselves, and Co ipve credit to others, whether we^ call .11 'insfiiiel, or''«liatev!er mmie 'we give it, most be considered .as. the effect of their constitution. So tbit thO' thiiMp ; 'MMMHiil 'In b ipi^p society—- 1 mean, good 'fi^h on 'the one' part, and trust on theother— are formed bvnature In tha minds of children, before they ara 'Capable of knowing thdr ntilitv, or being .inUened. by eoniMtoifttiona either 'Of duty WW' mtmKw9amm 'When we grow up ao Ikr .as to have tba^ conception of a right and a wrong in con* dnct, the turpitude of lying, fidsehood, and dishonesty, w dlsoeme^. not by any train of'reaaonlng^ 'but by an immediate percept tion* For we see that every man disap- pRives 'it k. otheni, even those who are con- Ncious of it .in themselves. Every man thinks himself tii|nted and ill 'naedf and. feels resentment, when .he .is im* pooed mnon 'by itt Every man. takes it m a reproadi. when faiiehooa le tmputed'IO'hni. These are the dearesl evidences, that all men disapprove of iisebood, when their judgment is not biaaied. [465] I know of no evidence that has been given of any nation so rude as not to have these sentiments. It is certain that dumb people have then, and discover them about the same period of life m which they ap- pear in tiMie 'Who speak And it may rea- sonably be thought, that dumb persons, at that time of life, have had as little ad- vantage, with regard to morals, from their education, aS' 'the greatest savages. Every man, come to years of reflection, when he pledges his vemcity or fidelity, thinks he has a right to be credited, and is aftonted if he is not But there cannot be a shadow of ri|j^t to be credited, unless there be an obligation to good faitii. For right on one hmid, necessarily implies ob- ligation on the other. When we see thai, 'in the most savage state that ever was known of the human rmOf men have always lived in societies greater or leas, this of itself is a proof from fact, that they have had thai sense of their obligation to fidelity without which no human soeiety can subsist. From these observations, I thmk, it ap- pearo very evident, that, aa fideity on one part, and trust on the other, are essential to that intercourse of men which we call human society ; ao the Author of our nature has made wise provision for perpetnating them anmng .me% .in that degree that is. ne- cessary tO' hnman society, in all the different periods of human life, and in all the atagea of human improvement and degeneracy. .In earfy' years, w« have an innate dis- 'position 'to then. In riper years, we feel our obligation to fideity as much as to any moral dutjf whatsoever. |456] Nor is it necessary to mention the col- lateral indncementa to this virtue, from considerations of'pmdeooe, which are obvi* tins to every man that reflects. Such aa, thai it creates trust, the most efiectual enipne of human power ; that it requires no artifice or concealments dreads no detec- tion; that It inspires courage and mag^ nanimity, and is the natural ally of every virtue ; ao that there is no virtue whatso- ever, to which onr natural obligation ap« ,peai« more strong or 'more .apparent [454-456] OIIAP. VI.] OF THE NATURE OF A CONTRACT. 667 An observation or two, with regard to the nature of a contract, wOl be sufficient lor the present purpose. It is obvious that the prestation pro- mised must be understood by both parties. One party engages to do such a thing, an- other accepts of this engagement. An en- gagement to do, one does not know what, can neither be made nor accepted. It is no less obvious, that a contract is a voluntary transaction. But it ought to be observed, that the will, which is essential to a contract, is only a will to engage, or to become bound. We must beware of confounding this will with a will to perform what we have en- gaged. The last can signify nothing else than an intention and fixed purpose to do what we have engaged to do. The will to become bound, and to confer a right upon the other party, is indeed the very essence of a contract ; but the purpose of fulfilling our engagement, is no part of the contract at all. A purpose is a solitary act of mind, which lays no obligation on the person, nor con- fers any right on another. A fraudulent person may contract with a fixed purpose of not performing his engagement. But this purpose makes no change with regard to his obligation. He is as much bound as the honest man, who contracts with a fixed purpose of performing. [457 ] As the contract is binding without any regard to the purpose, so there may be a purpose without any contract. A purpose is no contract, even when it is declared to the person for whose benefit it is intended. I may say to a man, I intend to do such a thing for your benefit, but I come under no engagement. Every man understands the meaning of this speech, and sees no contradiction in it : whereas, if a purpose declared were the same thing with a con- tract, such a speech would be a contradic- tion, and would be the same as if one should say, I promise to do such a thing, but I do uoc promise* All thb is so plain to every man of com- mon sense, that it would have been unne- cessary to be mentioned, had not so acute a man as Mr Hume grounded some of the contradictions he finds in a contract, upon confounding a will to engage in a contract with a will or purpose to perform the en- gagement. I come now to consider the speculations of that author with regard to contracts* III order to support a favourite notion of his own. That justice is not a natural but an artificial virtue, and that it derives its whole merit from its utility, he has laid down some principles which, I think, have a tendency to subvert all faith and fair- dealing among mankind. 1457-459] In the third -volume of the " Treatise of Human Nature,** p. 40, he lays it down as an undoubted maxun, That no action can be virtuous or morally good, unless there be in human nature, some motive to pro- duce it, distinct from its morality. Let us apply this undoubted maxim in an instance or two. If a man keeps his word, from this sole motive, that he ought to do so, this is no virtuous or morally good action. If a man pays his debt from this motive, that justice requires this of him, this is no vir- tuous or morally good action. If a judge or an arbiter gives a sentence in a cause, from no other motive but regard to justice, this is no virtuous or morally good action. These appear to me to be shocking absurd- ities, which no metaphysical subtilty can ever justify. [458] Nothing is more evident than that every human action takes its denomination and its moral nature from the motive from which it is performed. That is a benevolent ac- tion which is done from benevolence. That is an act of gratitude which is done from a sentiment of gratitude That is an act of obedience to God, which is done from a regard to his command. And, in general, that is an act of virtue which is done from a regard to virtue. Virtuous actions are so far from needing other motives, besides their being virtuous, to give them merit, that tlieir merit is then greatest and most conspicuous, when every motive that can be put in the opposite scale is outweighed by the sole consideration of their being our duty. This maxim, therefore, of Mr Hume, That no action can be virtuous or morally good, unless there be some motive to produce it distinct from its morality, is so far from being undoubtedly true, that it is undoubt- edly false. It was never, so far as I know, maintained by any moralist, but by the Epicureans ; and it savours of the very dregs of that sect. It agrees well with the prin- ciples of those who maintained, that virtue is an empty name, and that it is entitled to no regard but in as far as it ministers to pleasure or profit. I believe the author of this maxim acted upon better moral principles than he wrote ; and that what Cicero says of Epicurus, may be applied to him : — Redarguitur ipse a sese, vineunturque scripia fjns probitate ipsius et moribus ; et ut alii existimantur dicere melius guam facere, sic il/e tnihi videtur facere melius guam dicere. [459] But let us see how he applies this maxim to contracts. I give you his words from the place formerly cited :— " I suppose," says he, " a person to have lent me a sum of money, on condition that it be restored in a few days ; and, after the expiration of the term agreed on, he demands the sum. 668 ON THE ACTIVE POWERS. ;t^ll8AY ▼.. on A p. VI.] OF THE NATURE OF A CONTRACT. em J I I I I I I aik, wliat. :MfiMm. or motive: ]»to I to rattom tli« nMMgrP Itwili, ]i«iiia|ig, te ■aid, thftl my regard to jitstiee, and abhor- renco of vaiany and knavery, are snffieient reaaons for me, if I have the least train of honesty, or lenae of duty and obli|aition. And till answer, no donbt, is just andsatis- faetoiy to man in his civilized state, and when trained. np.>aMoidinf to a certain dis-^ cipine and 'edni«tiim. But, in bis mde and more natnrai 'Condition, if yon. a» pleased to call sneh a condition natural, this answer would be rejected as perfectly unintelligible and sophistical.** The doctrine we are taught in. this pass- age is this, That, thoi^ a man, in a civil- ixed state, and when trained up aecording to a certain dieeipline and ednoation, may have a .legard to justice and .an. .abhorrence of vilhmy and knavery, .and some sensO' of duty and obligation ; yet, to a man in his mdb and more natural condition, the consi- deiationS' 'Ol. .honesty, jpstiee, duty, and o^b- ligatioii, vii be peitetly nninteUigible and 8<9histicai. And this is buought as an argu- ment to shew that justice is not a natuml hut .an artiicial virtue. I shall oifer some observatbns on this a.rgumenL I, Although it may be true that what is .unintelligible to man in his rude state may be .intell%ihle to him in. his. dvilised state, I cannot conceive that whal. Is^ isophistieal in the rude state should change te inatnTC^ and become Just reasoning v^en man is more improved. What is a sophism, wii always he so; nor can any dtange in the state of the person who judges miOte that to be just reasoning which before was sophist- ical. [4fi0] Mr Httm«*8 argument re- iiuiras' that' to man, in his .mde state, the motives to justice and honesly should not onlv appear to be sophistiea], hut should really be so. If the motives were just in themselves, then justice would be a natural virtue, .although the mde Bun, by an error of' hit jodgmen't, thmight otherwise. But .if Jusiiee. he not a natuml virtue, which ia^ the point Mr Home intends to prove, then evenr ai|^ment, by which man in hk na- twat state: may he niged to it, mnit he^ a aoDiiim in leaJity, ,and. not m appearance 01^.; and the elfeet. of diseipline and edu- eation in the civilised state can only be to make those motives to iustiee appear just and satisfactory, which, m thar own nature, ate aophtstical 2. It were to he wished that this higen- ions author had shewn us why that state of JBiiiy in which the obligation, to honesty, :ani an aMiorrenee of vikny, appear 'per- fMstl| unhiteligible and sophkieal, should he his mor& maimni siaie. It isthO' nature of human society to be Wm§fmm% m mueh aa^ it is^ the nature of the individual. In the individnali the state of' .inin^ .leads to that 'Of eMMhood, ehild* hood to youth, youth to manhood, msnhood to old ag^ If one should say that the state of infMi^ is a more natural .state than that of manhood or of old age, I am apt to think tiat 'this would 'be worm without any mean* ing. In like manner, in human society, there is a natural progress from rudeness to civil- iaation, 'from, .ignittanee 'to knowledge. What period of this 'pNcress shall 'We^ cai man*s natnrai state? To me they appear all eqpdly natural Every state of society is e4|uaiy natural, wherein, men have access to exert their natural powers about their proper objects, and to improve those powers by the means which their situation aUbtds. [41111 Mr Hume, indeed, shews some timidity in aflrmhig the rude stato to be the more natnrai state of man { and, therefore, adds this qualifying parenthesis, If you are pleased to call such a condition natural Bht it ought to be observed, That, if the premises of his argument be weakened by this cbuse, the same weakness must be communicated to the conclusion ; and the conclusion, according to the mles of good reasoning, ought to be, Hnt juntice is an artiichd virtue, i^you be pfeased to call it artiicial. B. It were likewise to be wished, that Mr ..Hnme had. diewn, from fact, that thero ever did exist such a state of man as that which .he cal.ls bis more nataral state. It is a state wherein a man borrows a sum of monejrv on the condition that he is to re- store it in a few days; yet, when the time of payment comes, his obligation to repay what he borrowed is perfectly unintelligible and sophistical It would have been pro- per to .have .given, at least, aeingle instance of some tribe of the human, race that waa found to be in this natural state. Tf no such instance can be given, it. is, prcbably, a. state 'merelv Imaginaiyt like 'that state, whidi. .some have imagined, wherein men wefO' enreii oviaiif #, or wherein tliey werO' ishes with tails. Indeed, such a sta.te seems 'im'possible. That a man should lend without any con- ception of his having a right to be repaid ; or that a man should borrow on the condi- tion of paying in a few days, and yet have no conception of his obligat io n s ee ms to me to Involve Steontradiction. I grant that .a humane man may lendl 'with.out any expectation of 'being repaid ; but that he should lend withoutany conoep- tion of a right to be repaid, is a eontiadio- taouk In llie manner, a iraudalent man may borrow without an intention of paying hadi ; but that he oouM borrow, while an oMiaatiM to repay is perfectly unintelligible The same author, in his " Enquiry into the Principles of Morals,** § 3j treating of the same subject, has the following note: — " *Tis evident that the will or consent alone, never transfers property, nor causes the obligation of a promise ; (for the same reasoning extends to both ;) but the will must be expressed by words or signs, in order to impose a tie upon any man. The expression being once brought in as subser- vient to the will, soon becomes the princi- pal part of the promise; nor will a man be less bound by his word, though he secretly give a different direction to his intention, and withhold the assent of his mind. But, though the expression makes, on most occa- sions, the whole of the promise ; yet it does not always so ; and one who should make «« of Jyexpre«,io„ of which he knows not the meaning, and which he uses with< out any sense of the consequences, would not certainly be bound by it. Nay, though he know its meaning, yet, if he uses it in jest only, and with such signs as shew evidently he has no serious intention of binding himself, he would not be under any obligation of performance ; but it is neces- sary that the words be a perfect expression of the will, without any contrary signs ; nay, even this we must not carry so far as to imagine that one whom, from our quickness of understanding, we conjectured te have an intention of deceiving us, is not bound by his expression or verbal promise. If we accept of it ; but must limit this con- clusion to those cases where the signs are of a different nature from those of deceit. All these contradictions are easily accounted for, if justice arises entirely from its useful- ness to society, but will never be explained on any other hypothesis.** [463] Here we have the opinion of this grave moralist and acute metaphjsician, that the principles of honesty and fidelity are at bottom a bundle of contradictions. This is one part of his moral system which, I can- not help thinking, borders upon licentious- ness. It surely tends to give a very un- fovourable notion of that cardinal virtue without which no man has a title to be called an honest man. What regard can a man pay to the virtue of fidelity, who be- lieves that its essential rules contradict each other ? Can a man be bound by contra- dictory rules of conduct ? No more, surely, than he can be bound to believe contradict- ory principles. He tells us, "that all these contradic- tions are easily accounted for, if justice arises entirely from its usefulness to society, but will never be explained upon any other hypothesis.** I know not, indeed, what Is meant by accounting for oontradictions, or expkining '♦«S,464] them. I apprehend that no hypothesis can make that which is a contradiction to be no contradict ion. However, without attempt- ing to account for these contradictions upnn his own hypothesis, he pronounces, in a decisive tone, that they will never be ex- plained upon any other hyi»othesis. What if it shall appear that the contra- dictious mentioned in this paragraph do all take their rise from two capital mistakes the author has made with regard to the nature of promises and contracts; and if, when these are corrected, there shall not appear a shadow of contradiction in the cases put hy him ? The first mistake is, That a promise is some kind of will, consent, or intention, which may be expressed, or may not be expressed. This is to mistake the nature of a promise. For no will, no consent, or intention, that is not expressed, is a pro- mise, A promise, being a social transac- tion between two parties, without being ex- pressed can have no existence. [46*4] Another capital mistake that runs through the passage cited is, That this will, consent, or intention, which makes a promise, is a will or intention to perform what we pro- mise. Every man knows that there may be a fraudulent promise, made without in- tention of performing. But the intention to perform the promise, or not to perform it, whether the intention be known to the other party or not, makes no part of the promise — it is a solitary act of the mind, and can neither constitute nor dissolve an obli- gation. What makes a promise is, that it be expressed to the other party with under- standing, and with an intention to become bound, and that it be accepted by him. Carrying these remarks along with us, let us review the passage cited. First, He observes, that the will or con- sent alone does not cause the obligation of a promise, but it must be expressed. I answer. The will not expressed is not a promise ; and is it a contradiction that that which is not a promise should not cause the obligation of a promise ? He goes on, The expression being once brought in as subservient to the will, soon beameg a principal part of the promise. Here it is supposed, that the expression was not originally a constituent part of the promise, but it soon becomes such. It is brought in to aid and be subservient to tho promise which was made before by the will. If Mr Hume had considered that it is the expression accompanied with understanding and will to become hound, that constitutos a promise, he would never have said, that the expression soon becomes a part, and is brought in as subservient. He adds, Nor will a man be less hound by his word, though he secretly gives a difr K m ON THE ACTIVE POWlia [RSSAy ▼. CHAP. VII.J APPROBATION IMPLIES JUDGMENT. (i7l I I 11 1 1 ■I 'ilmelion to bit iitotbn, mid witli- 'tlie mmmt nf Ills mirnL. [4lift] Hm fliM'lieitfiitiiMdi'MMiieexpluxiioii. ISillHff' :tt wmam, HhaJt Hm' warn kmviiiglj and. voiiBlviy mm hw wiiii, viUmit mj intontiiiii of giviiig Mi mird ; or tluil lio gives it without the intontioii of lietpii|jl^ and perfomuiig wh«t be promiseo. The last of them is indeed a pofisible csie^ and is, I apprebeady what Mr Hume means^ But the iutenlioii of keeping his promise is mo part of the promise, nor does it in the ^Icaat aibet the. obligatioii of' it, as we have oHoB' 'Oleerfed. If the author meant that the man may kiowingly and voluntarilj give his word, without the intention 'Of fi:iring bis word, tbia iS' ini|ioi8i.bleis For mmk m the nature of'ai 'ioeial aels' of the nindy tbai» ai: tbej cannot he without being expressed, so thej cannot he expressed haowingly and will- iiii^i but 'tbejT' mist: bo. If a man mita a f laation .kmwiiiglir 'and wiliinglj, St m ira- foetible "tliat/'be' .siiould .at Ae sane tune will not to put it If be gives a eomRiand knowinglj .and wiiingljr, it is impossihie that he should at Ibe same time wil not to give it We cannet have eontrarj' wills at 'the same time. And, in like' manner, if a man knowingljr and. wilinglj beeoniee bound by a promise, It is hnpitssible that be should at the same time will not to be bound. To suppose, therefore, that, when a man inowlBMy and wilingly gives bis word, he wiUiolii that wiU and inmiion. wbicb 'makee^ a pmniise, is indeed a eontradietion ; but the ooniradietiott ;is not hi the nature of ^ ibe^ pioittise, hut in the caso' snpposed. by Mr Hume* .He add%. tbomgb the ejcpressioni §m the MMt part, DMiMa iie wbofe^of tbo' pnmlse, it does not always .so. I answer, That the expression, tf .it is not' aMonipanied. with underatanmig .and 'vii. tO' wgage, never mak'Ss a promise. The ■mAor here assumes a postubte, wfaieb nobody ever gnwted, and whieb can only be grounded on the impoesiUe snpposi- 'tioB. .made in the imMr aentemee.. .And MM 'there ean he no 'proHise without know- .ledge .and will to engage, is it manrellous 'that words wbieh am not understood, or voidi' spoken' in jest, and without .any in. lintion. to 'beeome' bound, should :not. nave 'thO' 'Oiliet' of a 'promm f (400] The hti ease put by ll.r Mume, it 'that. of a man who promises fraudulantly 'witb^ an. intention .not to perfoni, and whose fffa'uduient intention is diseoveied. by the other party, who, notwithstandmi, aoflflptt the prumise. He is bound, says Mr Hume, ^f his 'Vaibat f romite. Undoubtedly he is '■oand^" b e c a u s e ' an intenfion not to perform the pramiM, whether known to the other party or not, makes no part of the promise, nor affects its obligation, .aa .has 'been re- peatedly observed.. .Kmn. what' baa. been said, I think it ofident, that to one who attends to the natun of a promise' or contract, thero is mot the least appearance of contradiction in the principles of morality rekting to contracts*. It would, indeed, appear wonderful that such a man .as Mr H'ume sbimld have im- posed upon himself in so pkiu a matter, if we did not see frof oent instances of inge- nious men, whose teal k supporting a ?»• vourite hypothesis darkens their under standing, and binders them from seeing what is befora their eyes. [407] 'Ca.A.rrER vii. THAT IfOaAI. APPROBATION IMPLIES A RKAL Turn approbation of good actions, and disapprobation of bad, aro so fumiliar to eveiy man come to years of understanding, that 'il seems strange there :shouM be any dimte' about tbek nature. whether we roiect upon our own con duct, or attend to the conduct of others W'tth whom we live, or uf whom. we hear or read, we cannot help approving of some things, disapproving of others, and regard- ing many with perfect indifferonre. These operations of our minds we sTO' conscious 'Of ' Bwry day and ahnost every hour we live. Men of ripe understanding aro callable of reflecting upon them, and of attending to what passes in their own thoughts on such occasions ; yet, for half a oentunr, it has been a serioua dispute aawnifhilosopbers, what this approbation and aiaapprohation is, Whethmr mere be m riaijmdgmetit imcimkd In •/, whit^ iike aii oikerjmf^w»en$§t^ an**! ^ irm or /aim ; or^ Wkeikmr ii iaefiiifi no more Aaltomfo^se- aide or mne&t§ ft€i^§^ la ihe permm who apptmet or tUmpfmiWM, Mr Hume obaarves very justly, that tbb ia a controveisgr .iterlnf i^ late, Beforo the modem system of Ideas and Impressions was introduced, nothing would have ap- peared more absnid than to say, that when I. eoadenni .a 'man. for' what .he has done, I 'psiB no jujfgnMUt at^ all about the man, but y only 'oxprsii. amnO' nnoasy feeling in my- self. [468] Nor did the new system prmluce this dis- covery at oneo, but gradually, by several .steps, aeeordinf aa its conse4|uences 'wero mora aceuratdj tiaeed, and ita spirit mora thoroiigbly imbibed by successive philoso- :ilei Oartca.. and Mr Locke went no far- [465-4118] ther than to mamtain that the Secondary Qualities of body— Heat and Cold, Sound, Colour, Taste, and Smell— which we per- oelve and judge to be in the external ob- ject, are mere feelings or sensations in our minds, there being nothing in bodies them- selves to which these names can be applied ; and that the office of the external senses is not to judge of external things, but only to give us ideas of sensations, from which we are by reasoning to deduce the existence of a material world without us, as well as we can. Arthur Collier and Bishop Berkeley dis- covered, from the same principles, that the Prunary, as well as the Secondary, Quali- ties of bodies, such as Extension, Figure, Solidity, Motion, are only sensations in our minds ; and, therefore, that there is no ma- terial world without us at all. The same philosophy, when it came to be applied to matters of taste, discovered that beauty and deformity are not anything in the objects, to which men, from the be- ginning of the world, ascribed them, but certain feelings in the mind of the spec- . tator. \, The next step was an easy consequence from all the preceding, that Moral Appro- bation and Disapprobation are not Judg- ments, which must be true or false, but barely agreeable and uneasy Feelings or Sensations. S^ Mr Hume made the kst step in this pro- gress, and crt)wned the system by what he calb his hypothesis— to wit. That Belief is more properly an act of the Sensitive than of the Cogitative part of our nature. [469] Beyond this I think no man can go in this track ; sensation or feeling is all, and what is left to the cogitative part of our na- ture, I am not able to comprehend. I have had occasion to consider each of these paradoxes, excepting that which re- ktes to morals, in " Essays on the Intel- leetual Powers of Man;" and, though they be strictly connected with each other, and with the system which has produced them, I have attempted to shew that they are in- consistent with just notions of our intellec- tual powers, no less than they are with the common sense and common language of mankind. And this, I think, will likewise ap- pear with regard to the conclusion relating to morals to wit. That moral approbation is only an agreeable feelmg, and not a real judgment To prevent ambiguity as much as possi- ble, let us attend to the meaning of Feeling and of JuffgmenL These operations of the mind, perhaps, cannot be logically defined ; but they are well anderstood, and easily distinguished, by their properties and ad- juncta. Feelmg, or sensation, seems to be the t4«»-47l] lowest degree of animation we can conceive. We give the name of animal to every be- ing that feels pain and pleasure ; and this seems to be the boundary between the in- animate and animal creation. Wo know no being of so low a rank in the creation of God as to possess this ani- mal power only without any other. We commonly distinguish Feeling from Thinking, because it hardly deserves the name ; and though it be, in a more general sense, a species of thought, is least removed from the passive and inert state of things inanimate. [470] A feeling must be agreeable, or uneasy, or indifferent. It may be weak or strong. It is expressed in language either by a sin- gle word, or by such a contexture of words as may be the subject or predicate of a pro- position, but such as cannot by themselves make a proposition. For it implies neither affirmation nor negation; and therefore cannot have the qualities of true or false, which distinguish propositions from all other forms of speech, and judgments from all other acts of the mind. y That I have such a feeling, is indeed an '^ affirmative proposition, and expresses tes- timony grounded upon an intuitive judg- ment. But the feeling is only one term of this proposition ; and it can only make a proposition when joined with another term, by a verb affirming or denying. As feeling distinguishes the animal na- ture from the inanimate ; so judging seems to distinguish the rational nature from the merely animal. Though judgment in general is express- ed by one word in language, as the most complex operations of the mind may be ; yet a particular judgment can only be ex- pressed by a sentence, and by that kind of sentence which logicians call a proposition, in which there must necessarily be a verb in the indicative mood, either expressed or understood. Every judgment must necessarily he true or false, and the same may be said of the proposition which expresses it. It is a de- termination of the understanding, with re- gard to what is true, or false, or dubious. In judgment, we can distinguish the ob- ject about which we judge, from the act of the mind in judging of that object. In mere feeling there is no such distinction. The object of judgment must be expressed by a proposition; and belief, disbelief, or doubt, always accompanies the judgment we form. If we judge the proposition to be true, we must believe it ; if we judge it to be false, we must disbelieve it ; and if we be uncertain whether it be true or false, we must doubL The toothache, the headache, are words which express uneasy feelings ; but to say 172 GN THB ACTIVE POWIHI. t CHAP.vii] APPROBATION IMPLIES JUDGMENT. 673 'I '! ! ; t ! f 1 I lint' 'ilMgr exf rem » Judgment wwilil lie ridi- miimm, Tkmi 1^' MM 'iff ■frmiar ■Aon He ^arik, h m. f niiMiiiitiiiii, inil tiMMinie tlie object of Ji^ineiit; and, when ■fi'med or denied, Wieved or dieMieved, or doubted, it ex- preiice j'ii%n»:t: but to my tlmt it ex- piwaet only* iBeliog' in the niad of Mm ttiftt believee it, wmm 'be ridienlonn* 'Tbew' two oiwimtions of mind, wli«i we^ misider tbem emisielj, are wmrj differ- mt, and easily diatingiiyied. Wben we 'ImI witionl judging, 'Or.iiidp wttbont feel- ing, it is wpoMible, witMil 'veiy groea in- attention, to mistalie tlie one for iw other. Bnt in many opetslioiia of tbe mind, botli are insepaiftbly conjoined nndter one Bane i .and wiien we are not awarei 'tbat the operation is complex, we may take one ingredient to be 'the whole, and. 'Overlook, the olhei'* In Iwmer agee,* that moral power by whieh. hnnan .aetio^ne ought to be regulated, imui ealled Heoffom, and eontid^ed, both by phihwiphers and by the vulgar, aa the power of" Indging. what 'we ought and. what we 0.U At not 'to do.. This is very fully eipiested by Mr Hnme, in,, his "Trent'isc' of finman. Nature,** Book 1 1. Fart ML I 3. <« Nothing is. more usnal f n phioeophy, and even in eommon ife, 'tlian. tO' taili of the 'Oomhai 'Of ' passion and reason, to give the piefeienee to leoaon, .and. assert 'tliat men are imly so 'far virtuous "as th(9' eoiAnn themselves, to its dictates. £very istloMil. eteatve, 'tis said, iS' obliged to r^gukte hts actions by reason ; and, if mj other motive or principle challenge the iiiection'of his eondiiet, he 'On^t to oppcie it,, till it bO' en.thraly snbiiued, or, at'..l«Mt^ bmugbt to a eoalbrmity to that superior prineiple. On this method of thinking, the greatest part of moral philosophy, ancient moA 'modem, :8eent 'to. fae:fbunded.** |.471] That '«k»e' phioeophen attended chieiy to the judging power of our moral faculty, appears from the names thev gave to its opeimtion% and from the whole of their fauiCinge 'WoioL Authors who place moral approbation In 'fetlinf only, very oflen use the word Sent" iiNMl, to express feeing without judgment This I take likewise to be an lUbuse of a word. Our moral determinations may, with propriety, be called mutrai smHmeni$, For the word itfiflaMil^ in the English lan- guage, never, •• I ooiicelve, siguites 'mere feeling, but §miffm§mi aeeomptmied wilh fMi^*f It was wont to signify opinion or judgment of any kind, but, of late, is appro- priated to signify an opinion or judgment, that atrikes, and praduces some agreeable ;• .Wm^tim; p. 390, note.— 1 1 ___ £478, 4lt] 4 AF. VII.] APPROBATION IMPLIES JUDGMENT. 075 or uneasy emotion. So we speak of senti- meats of respect, of esteem, of gratitude ; but I never heard the pain of the gout, or any other mere feeling, called a sentiment. Even the word Sm^mt hss been used by Mr Hume to express what he maintains to be only a feeling. " Treatise of Human Nature, part iii., page 3 :— " The term per- eepiim is no less applicable to thorn judv- menU by which we distinguish moral good and evil than to every other operation of the mind.** Perhaps he used this word inadvertently ; for I think there cannot be m greater abuse of words than to put judg- ment for what he held to be mere feel- ing. • All the words raost commonly used, both by philosophers and by the vulgar, to ex- press the operations of our mond faculty- ouch as, decuiony determitmiion^ aenlencef appr^mtion^ disapprobation, applause, cen- 9nr0, praise, 6/iime— necessarily imply judg- ment in their meaning. When, therefore, they are used by Mr Hume, and others who bold his opinion, to signify feelings only, this is an abuse of words. If these philo- aophers wish to speiik plainly and properly, Ibey must, in discoursing of morals, discard these words altogether, because their esta- blished signification in the language is con- trary to what they would express by them. They must likewise discard from morals Uhe words ou(/ht and ou^hi noi, which very ^perly express judgment, but cannot be 7plied to mere feelmgs. Upon these words tr Hume has made a particular observa- tion in the conclusion of his first section above mentioned. I shall give if in his own words, and make some remarks upon It. ** I camiot forbear adding to these rea- sonings an observation whicli may, perhaps, bo found of some importance. In every system of morality which I have hitherto met with, I have always remarked that the author proceeds for some time in the ordin- ary way of reasoning, and establishes the being of a God, or makes observations oon- eeming human affairs ; when, of a sud- den, I am surprised to find that, instead of the usual copulations of propositions, is, and •» not, I meet with no proposition that is not connected with an mtght or an ouffhl not. [481 1 This change is imperceptible, but is, however, of the last consequence. For, as this ouf/ht or ouffhf nnt expresses some new relation or affirmation, 'tis necessary that it should be observed and expUined ; and, at the same time, that a reason should be given for what seems altogether incon- oeivable— how this new rektion can be a deduction from others which are entirely * Mr Hume could easily be defended.^H. [480-482] different from it. But, as authors io net commonly use this precaution, I shall pre- sume to recommend it to the readers ; and am persuaded that this small attention would subvert all the vulgar systems of morality, and let us see that the distinction of vico and virtue is not founded merely on the relations of objects, nor is perceived by rea- son.'* We may here observe, that it is acknow- ledged that the words ought and ought mi express some relation or affirmation ; but a relation or affirmation which Mr Hume thought inexplicable, or, at least, inconsist- ent with his system of morals. He must, therefore, have thought that they ought not to be used in treating of that subject. He likewise makes two demands, and, taking it for granted that they cannot be satisfied, is persuaded tliat an attention to this is sufficient to subvert all the vulgar systems of morals. The Jirst demand is, that o«y*/and ou^hi twi be ej^plained. To a man that understands English, there are surely no words that recjuire explana, tion less. Are not all men tauglit, from their early years, that they ought not tu lie, nor steal, nor swear falsely ? But Mr Hume thinks, that men never understood what these precepts mean, or rather that they are unintelligible. If this be so, I think indeed it will follow, that all tho vulgar systems of morals are subverted. 1482] Dr Johnson, in his Dictionary, explains the word ought to signify, /teiag obliged hi dutffi and I know no better explication that can be given of it. The reader will see what I tliought necessary to say concerning the moral relation expressed by this word in Essay III., part iii., chap. 5. The second demand is. That a reason should be given why this relation should be a deduction from others which are entirely different from it. This is to demand a reason for what doe» not exist The first principles of morale are not deductions. They are self-evident j and their truth, like that of other axioms, is perceived without reasoning or deduction. And moral truths that are not self-evident are deduced, not froni relations quite differ. ent from them, but from the first principles of morals. In a matter so interesting to mankind, and so frequently the subject of conversa- tion among the learned and the unlearned as morals is, it may surely be expected that men will express both their jud>;raents and their feelings with propriety, and consist- ently with the rules of language. An opi- nion, therefore, which makes the language of all ages and nations, upon this subject, to be improper, contmry to all rules of kn- 2x% ) ■PJo ON THE ACTIVE POWERa [[RSiAV enAP. VII.] APPROBATION IMPLIES JUDGMENT. 677 \ \j gmgf, ffind fifc to be dkesiMl, Deedb no otber 'fefbtiitliiti. As mftildiid have, in all agiii mtoeitiMid Ffatm to mean tlio power bj 'wiick mot only our speetiklive opinions, but onr ae- tions onglit to be regulated, we may say, with peiiect pfopriely, tbat all vice Is con- trary to r«iiMii, I Imt by .reason, we are^ to Judge of wbal we on^it to do^. as^ well m of wliat we ought to believe. [483] But, though all vice be contrary to rea^ son, I conceive that it would not be a pro- Iier definition of vice to lay that it ia a con- duct contrary to reason, because' this^d^n* ition would apply equally to folly, wltich all men distinguSli from vice. Thetti are other phrases, whim have been used, m the mam tm^ of 'ihe § ueitloE, which I ■acB no reasoii. iir'aidb|ifhig,siieii m^acitng cmtrarsf to the reiaiimts nfthinffg^-^mmimrp ia the remm tttm§ is a feeling only, without judgment ; or, seeondljf, That whatever is excited by the 'partieular fabric and struc- ture' of ihe liltd. must bO' feeling only, and not judgment But I cannot grant either tlie one or the other. For, as to the JirsI, it seems evident to me, that both mnUmeni and A/omf imply judgment ; and, therefore, that the §eniu ment of blame is a judgment accompanied with feeling, and not mere feeling without judipnent The i«i»ii4 can at little bO' granted ; for no operatien off mind, whether jU'dgment or feeling, can be excited but by that parti- cular structure and fabric of the mmd which makei: wm eapaUe' of that operation. By that part of O'ur fabric which we call ike fmuity t>f ue'mg, we judge of visible objects ;* by lot /«, another part of ourfabric, we Judfs of beauty and deformity ; by that nait «f ewritbric which enables us to form Sstnwt emeeptions, to compare them, and perceive thelrfliehitifin% we judge of abstract truths t and by that part of our fabric which we call the m»r«l fimiigf we judge of vir- tue and vice. If we nippose a being with- out any moral fkenlty In lit iihrie, I grant that he could not have the sentiments of blame and moral, approliation. [48&] Thers' are, theffMr% judgpenta, aa. well aa feelings,, that are excited by the particu- htrsHneture and fabric of the mind. But there is this remarkable difference between them, That every judgment is, in its own natiiAs true or iiike i an4 though it de- Ends, upon the Ikhrie of a "mind, whether it ve such a Judgment or not, it depends not upon that idiric whether the judg- ment be trot or not. A true judgment will be true, whatever bo the fabric of the mind ; but a particular structure and fabric is necessary, in order to our per- ceiving that truth. Nothing like this can be say of mere feelings, because the at- tributes itf true or false do not belong to .1 tnem* Thus I think it appears, tbat the hy- pothesis wliich Mr Efume opposes is not uuintei.%ihle,, "Wlien .applied to the partic- nhur instance' ef ' ingfatllade' ; because the aecount of kgratitiide which he himself thinks true and intelligible, is perfectly agfeeahlBto.it* The Mimmd argument am.ounte to this i That, in moral deliheiation, we must be sequaintcd before-hand with all the ob- jecto and all their rehitiona. After these things are known , the nnderttanding has •' .8m itof t, p. m» note.- H. [483-485] 'ill :'1|| no farther room to operator Nothing re- mains but to feel, on our part, some sen- timent of blame or approbation. Let us apply this reasoning to the of- fice of a judge. In a cause that comes before him, he must oe made acquainted with all the objects, and all their rela- lationa After thb, his understanding has no farther room to operate. Nothing re- mains, on his part, but to feel the right or the wrong : and mankmd have, very ab- surdly, called him a j^dffe — he ought to be called a. feeler. [486 J To answer this argument more directly : The man who deliberates, after all the objects and relations mentioned by Mr Hume are known to him, has a point to determine ; and that is, whether the action under his deliberation ought to be done or ought not. Id most cases, this point will appear self-evident to a man who has been accustomed to exercise his moral judg- ment ; in some cases it may require reason- ing. In like manner, the judge, after all the circumstances of the cause are known, has to judge whether the plaintiff has a just plea or not. The third argument is taken from the analogy between moral beauty and natural, between moral sentiment and taste. As beauty is not a quality of the object, but a certain feeling of the spectator, so virtue and vice are not qualities in the persons to whom language ascribes them, but feelings of the spectator. But is it certain that beauty is not any quality of the object ? This is indeed a |iaradox of modern philosophy, built u]>on a philosophical theory ; but a paradox so contrary to the common language and com- mon sense of mankind, that it ought rather to overturn the theory on which it stands, than receive any support from it. And if beauty be really a quality of Che object, and not merely a feeling of the spectator, the whole force of this argument goes over Co the other side of the question. ** Euclid,** he says, " has fully explained all the qualities of tlie circle, but has not, in any proposition, said a word of its beauty. The reason is evident. The beauty is not A quality of the circle. *' [487 ) By the qualitiet of the circle^ he must mean Its properties ; and tliere are here two mistakes. Firsts Euclid has not fully explained all the properties of the circle. Many have been discovered and demonstrated which he never dreamt of. S€comdly, The reason why Euclid has not iaid a word of the beauty of the circle, is not, that beauty is not a quaiity of the circle ; the reason is, that Euclid never digresses from his subject His purpose was to de- 1.486-488] monstrate the mathematical properties of the eircle.r Beauty is a quality of the circle, not demonstrable by mathematical reason- ing, but immediately perceived l>y a good taste. To speak of it would have been a digression from his sultject ; and tliat is a fault he is never guilty of. The fourth argument is, That inanimate objects may bear to each other all the same relations which we observe in moral agents. If this were true, it would be very mucli to the purpose ; but it seems to be thrown out rashly, without any attention to its evidence. Had Mr Hume reflected but a very little upon this dogmatical assertion, a thousand instances would have occurred to him in direct contradiction to it. May not one animal be more tame, or more docile, or more cunning, or more fierce, or more ravenous, than another ? Am these relations to be found in inanimate ob- jects ? May not one man be a better painter, or sculptor, or ship-builder, or tailor, or shoemaker, than another ? Are these re- lations to be found in inanimate objects, or even in brute animals ? May not one moral agent be more just, more pious, more atten- tive to any moral duty, or more eminent in any moral virtue, than another ? Are not these relations peculiar to moral agents ? But to come to the relations most essential to morality. [488] When I say that / ou" evident from his^ ;reasoiiing in conimaation of it. ** Ask a man, i»Af he itsm emnim f he will answer, becmme hedmwei tn ke^kk kmiik. If yon then in<]uire, wk§ k€ thdmi ktaMk9 he will readily reply, Beeaum siolr- ii#if l» pailful If you push your inquiries further, and desire a reason why he hates pain, ii is unposaihk he can ever give any. This iS' am nltiniato and,, and is MTtr n- forred to any 'Othor object" To aMont by reason for an end, therefore, is to liiew another end, for the sake of whidi that end iS' 'desimd. aoil^piirsued. And that, in this senta^, .an. 'idtiinitO' end can .never bo .ao^ eouintoii §m by reason, is eortaim, bieaiiio that 'Cannot be an nltimaie' ond which is pursued only for the sake of another end. I agreo therefore with Mr Hume in this eecond proposition, which indeed is implied in the Irsl |dii] The ihird proposition in. That ultimate enda recommend themselves entirely to the soBtimonte and .affections of mankind, with- oQlanydeponienoe'OB Iho intelleclual .la- eultiefr' By awalJiMiilf he must hero mean fed- inp wihoiit judgment, and by agkHmm, isnoh. alfoeiioma'ai Imply no jud^gment For aanly Myopotslion'that implies judgment, cannot be independent of the inteUectual faculties. This hemg 'mdetstood, I cannot to^ this ^ TlW' .Miiiiff .mma 'to think it impied in kneeeiaarv oonieuuenoe ON THiJ ACTIVE POWERS. iii ▼• fHAP. VII.] APPROBATION IMPLIES JUDGMENT. 679 I from it, that because an ultimate end can. not be aoooniited for by reason — ^that is, eanaot be pursued merely for the sake of another end—thoisfore it can have no dependence on the intellectual faculties. I deny this consequence, and can see no force in it I think it not only does not follow from the preeeding proposition, but that it is contraij to trutk A man may act from gratitude as an ultimate end ; but gratitude implies a judg- ment and belief of favours received, and therefore is dependent on the inteUectual facultiea A man may act from respect to a worthy character as an ultimate end ; but this respect necessarily implies a judg- ment of worth in the {lerson, and thereforo is dependent on the intellectual faculties. I have endeavoured, in the third Essay before mentioned, to shew that, beside the animal principles of our nature, which require wil and intention, but not judg- ment, there are aleo in human nature ra« tional principles of action, or ultimate end% whieh have, in all ages, been called rationaL and have a just title to that name, not only from the authority of language, but because they can have no existence but in beings endowed with reason, and because, in all their oxertions, they require not only inten- tion and will, but judgment or reason. [4911 ThereHmk until it can be proved that an ultimato end cannot be dependent on the intellectnal iMilties, this third proposition, and all that hangs upon it, must fall to the ground. The iasi piopoaition assnmes, with very good reaio% That virtue is an ultimate end, and deslfithto on its own account From which, if the third proposition were true, the conclusion would undoubtedly fol- low, That virtno has no dependence on the intollectual faenlliea. But, as that proposi- tion is not granted, nor proved, this conclu- sion is left without any support from the whole of the argument I should not nave thought it worth whilo to insist so lon|f upon this controversy, if I did not conceive that the consequences which tho eoBtrary opinions draw after them are important If what we call m&ml jwlffment he no real IndpMnt, but motely a feeling, it follows that tho prhliifiaesof moiahi which we have boon tanght to consider as an immutable law to all intelligent beings, have no other foundation but an arbitrary structure and fabric in the constitution of the human mind So that, by a change in our struct- ure, what is immoral mi^ht become moral, virtue might be turned mto vice, and vico into virtue. And beings of a different structure, aooording to t£i fwioty of their f«89-491] J L feelings, may have different, nay opposite measures of moral good and evil [492] It follows that, from our notions of morals, we can conclude nothing concern- ing a moral character in the Deity, whieh is the foundation of all religion, and the strongest support of virtue. Nay, this opinion seems to conclude strongly against a moral character in the Deity, since nothing arbitrary or mutable can be conceived to enter into the descrip- tion of a nature eternal, immutable, and necessarily existent. Mr Hume seems per- fectly consistent with himself, in allowing of no evidence for the moral attributes of the Supreme Being, whatever there may be for his natural attributes. On the other hand, if moral judgment be a true and real judgment, the principles of morals stand upon the immutable founda- tion of truth, and can undergo no change by any difference of fabric, or structure of those who judge of them. There may be, and there are, beings, who have not the faculty of conceiving moral truths, or per- ceiving the excellence of moral worth, as there are beings incapable of perceiving mathematical truths ; but no defect, no error of understanding, can make what is true to be false. [492, 493] If it be true that piety, justice, benevo- lence, wisdom, temperance, fortitude, are, in their own nature, the most excellent and most amiable qualities of a human creature ; that vice has an inherent turpitude, which merits disapprobation and dislike; these truths cannot be hid from Him whose under- standing is infinite, whose judgment is always according to truth, and who must esteem everything according to its real value. The Judge of all the earth, we are sore, will do right. He has given to men the faculty of perceiving the right and the wrong in conduct, as far as is necessary to our pre- sent state, and of perceiving the dignity of the one, and the demerit of the other ; and surely there can be no real knowledge or real excellence in man, which is not in his Maker. [493] We may therefore justly conclude, That what we know in part, and see in part, of right and wrong, he sees perfectly ; that the moral excellence, which we see and admire in some of our fellow-creatures is a faint but true copy of that moral excellence whieh is essential to his nature ; and that to tread the path of virtue, is the true dignity of our nature, an imitation of God, and the way to obtain his favour. I BRIEF ACCOUNT i OP *. If- :i#:J ygylll l Mill I'M ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC,* WITH REMARKS. CHAPTER I. t 07 TH8 FIRST THREE TREATISES. Section I, OF THE AUTHOR. Aristotle had very uncommon advan- tages : born in an age when the philoso- phical spirit in Greece had long flourished, and was in its greatest vigour ; brought up in the court of Macedon, where his father was the king*s physician ; twenty years a favourite scholar of Plato; and tutor to Alexander the Great, who both honoured him with his friendship, and supplied him with everything necessary for the prosecu- tion of hia inquiries. * This treatise originaily appeared in the second volume of Ix)rd Karnes's « Sketches of the History of Man," published in the year 1774. It was written nt the earnest solicitation of his Lordship, and forms an appendix to the sketch which he has entitled *• Principles and Progress of Reason." From Reid's Corres|M>ndence, (tupra, p. 49, b,) it would appear that he had begun the execution of his task towards the close of the year 1757. Since Reid's death, this work has been once and again published, apart and in the series of the author's philosophical writings, under the title, " Analysis of Aristotle's Ix)gic." But, as the term AruUysUviits applied to it only by the fiat of the bookseller, and may tend to convey an erro. ncous conception of its purport, I have adhered to the original title, which, not only, good or bad, has a right of occupancy, but is, in fact, far more appro, priate to the real character of the work, which is at once more and less than an analysis of the Organcn. From the number of errors, es()ecially in the pro. per names and terms of art, with which this treatise IS deformed, as well in the original as in all the sub. sequent editions, it is probable that the first impres. •ion was not revised by the author, who was, how. ever, it must be owned, at all times rather negligent in this respect. These I shall, in this treatise, siUntly correct. This I have, indeed, frequently taken the Utierty of doing in the other works; but I nerd not say that such corrections are, in all cases, only of palpable inaccuracies or oversights, and do not extend to a change of even the smallest pecuiarity of ex. IM'«s>lon.— U. These advantages he improved by inde- fatigable study, and immense reading. * Ho was the first we know,+ says Strabo, who composed a library ; and in this the Egyp- tian and Pergameiiian kings copied his ex- ample. As to his genius, it would be dis- respectful to mankind not to allow an un- common share to a man who governed the opinions of the most enlightened part of the species near two thousand years. :J: If his talents had been laid out solely for the discovery of truth and the good of mankind, his laurels would have remained for ever fresh ; but he seems to have had a greater passion for fame than for truth, and to have wanted rather to be admired as the prince of piiilosophers than to be useful ; so that it is dubious whether there be in his character most of the philosopher or of tiie sophist.^ The opinion of Lord Bacon is * If we take circumstances into account, his acti- vity and research, his erudition and universality, have never been equalled. •• For the ma>ter of the learned," says Hegel, himself a kindreti genius, " the criminal jurisprudence of the O^caii Cuma or a my- thical fable of the founding of a city, were not less attractive than speculations regarding first causes and supreme ends, than discussions on the laws of animal life or the principles of iKjetry."— H. \ Strabo says, " As far as we know" («* irf/.t*:) but even this qualification does not render the asscr. tion correct.— H. ^ This is a very scanty allowance. Others have not been so niggardly. As a specimen :—" Aristotle," saysJohaiin von Mueller, "teas tfie clearest intellect tJi'at ever iUuminated Oie world," his own rival, Campanella, styles him " Natune Genius " and the ( hristian rigour of St J« rome confesses him Miractdum Mundi, and Uumani lutellectus Finit.-^ \ In reference to this antithesis, 1 have great ploa. sure in quoting a passage Irom an excellent iiifro. ductory lecture to a first course «)f Greek and Latin Philosophy in the ColUge Royal de France, by M Barth^lemy Saint- Hilaire, to whom we owe an ad- mirable edition, translation, and criticism of^ the Politics of Aristotle. M. Saint-Hilaire and M. Havaisson are remarkable manifestations of ttje spirit of philosophical scholarship, now auspiciously awakened in France by the discipline, example, aiid ,/" 683 A BRIEF ACCOUNT OP I 'BOt' witlKNil fiiilMyi%, Tlwt M§ nabitioii tli« out' aapiriiif al imiTeraal monareliy over tltt bodiM and fortunes ui mum, tm aiiiilijHiM ft' &frwMH ijilji^faiM^iiAMiiMaaiH' MrfMAit IHI' Baia a jbMi' a t lAaliaifl' ■& la ■onaiak aiaianv aauM' atinaiiffaif oana mi siapa ou aapendant lis n* afaianl 'piiis ni i«. nl m^mc dt atgnl. litis itnottha plaoa In aniit' tat*' a 'Vlatfealion af ' Iha vdantilk Intagrttf of ArMotle. I ahall sinplf iiMarTe, tbat his arorks aflbrd no valid ground on wliicii to oondnda lliat lie was aver actnatad Iqr any other iluui lilt .ftnarous sanlioiaat arhlcli lia pro. ill iht' 'CMisa a* Itaiilif it larata all cn'or, it Hw trror or lilaMcir or of its frlandst im* 'Ibsiif i .IMeiMli lit dear,, it to still bis hailoMd Ailf to fivt &m ililiat' ravarenea to 'Dtulh t Jiitfmw 'fiikf 'A«H» f/X«ir, SriM 9fnft^» Tit* AXiiAMf.— rl. *** VortlilsaaceUant oMaon. Arislotl% 1 ail iMiili jtsaanMlii. Iia did ff'iiiul.ata tlia'ionata OHMpat .ali~n|iiiloa% aa 'ifet. ochar to conqpiar all MtliMis. Wherein. navaitMbsit It may be, na ^naft III aoaia men's hands, that aw of a bitter disfosUlon, gat a Itka mia 'ta. .Iiis 'Melitlar d d :— AMMf €sceni|ilHii, 4a. •• Advancement of Learning," Book II. •• Ot Augmentls aeientiarum." lib. 111. a. 4 t In fact, weit such his aim, ha aoeoaipililwd II villi flur snptrior success. The monaifllir ef Alsa. .aaiaf'''linimMtedwitb his death i wbaraas of Aria> inHt'la.iMbaminanilf tnia. what hai baaui. aol BMia ■mi d^'laaSiaa ■iituisa''HiHa)i a^ASHMi iSiur allaiidb ^^||||^|^^h^^^^,j|^ 'llm^ ^^^^ ^iP' wP^^MipB ^jipi^^^p^Hv H itM^^v ^pti t*mpaF asmwaPtNapwpiapF leani ^apti^* His tut flPHkijH jg^ig^^js j/kJlrJiiM/M jp fit dtad 6«il jc«i>to^ aoaraas, witoiMI rail Atinaili joiama the apbdoaa af nan .joiiiiiottt or their allagMiet to' tba SUglrite. havanadlatalf or ImnadliMr datermined ti oseoT all subsequent thinltcn. Arlslotla and Plato are as the l«o potea of human Intelligence, betwcan vhlcfa fht various systems of philosophy stIU couttnua to [chap. I. 'that' fUleaoflilflal pide^ fBiitf. and mvj, wMm. have ellaii. miliad iha iharaeter of the Ikamed He detenninea boldly things above all human knowledge; and enters upn the DMwt diiieult queitiona, as his fupil entered 'On a hattl%.wilh Ml assur- anaa 'Of 'Sneecia. He deivers his decisions oraeuhurljry and wKheut any fear of mk- take.* Rather than eonfess his ignorance, he hides it under hard words and arahignoiu expressions, of whlefa his interpreters can make what pieasei them. There is even reason to suspect that he wrote often with affected obsearity ; either that the air of myatery might nrecure greater veneration,-!' or that his hooks might be understood only by the adepts who had been initiated in his philosophy. His conduct towards the writero that went betee him haa been much censured. After tlM' maniwr of the Ottoman princes, says Lord Tendam, be thought his throne could not be ieemre unkss he killed all hb brethren.^ Ludovicus VIvea ehaiges hhn with detracting from all philosophers, that he misht derbe that glory to himself of which he robbed them.| He rarely quotes an author but with a view to censure, and is not veiy &ir III representmg the opinions which he ceiiBiiiei. The faults we have mentioned are such as might be expected in a man who had the daring aahitioii la he transmitted to all futuTO^affteM'tfia' ffeinee of Philosophe^rs, aa one whkU«trmMrpmdi aUot, aav^^ai^^B^sw K^^w aa^as#aaa^ a^ar sbp^wif aiai^MapMW^F aWHPBiPHarwPaaPiWw ■■■ww Civ. Dei, L. vii. c. 12. The accusation of unfairness in his rcprcaantatios of the opinions of others, which owed its origin to tha lower Platonists, hss now been very gencvallv aban. doiied.*IL » iBCTS. II., III. ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC. 6(3 and what he had by report.* And, even in abstract philosophy, it would be unfair to impute to Aristotle all the faults, all the obscurities, and all the contradictions that are to be found in his writings. The greatest part, and perhaps the best part, of his writ- ings is loBt.t There is reason to doubt whether some of those we ascribe to him be really his ; and whether what are his be not much vitiated and interpolated. These suspicions are justified by the fate of Aris- totle's writings, which is judiciously re- lated, from the best authorities, in Bayle's Dictionary, under the article Tgrannioiiy to which I refer.$ His books in Logic, which remain, are, 1. One book of the Categories. 2. One of Interpretation. 3. First Analytics, two books. 4. Last Analytics, two books. 6. Topics, eight books. 6. Of Sophisms, one book. Diogenes Laertius mentions many others that are k>8t.§ Those I have mentioned have commonly been published together, under the name of Aristotle's Organon, or his Logic ; and, for many ages, Porphyry's II Introduction to the Cate- gories has been prefixed to them. Seelum 11. Of P0RrHYRY*8 INTROOUCTIUN. In this introduction, which is addressed to Chrysaorius, the author ol -serves. That, in order to understand Aristotle's doctrine concerning the Categories, it is necessary to know what a Genua is, what a Species, what a Specific Difference^ what a Property, and what an Accident ; that the knowledge of these is also very useful in Definition, in Division, and even in Demonstration; therefore, lie proposes, in this little tract, to deliver shortly and simply the doctrine of the ancients, and chiefly of the Peripate- tics, concerning these five Predicables, * To this, far more than this, ample testimony is borne, among others, by Bacon, Buflbn, and Cuvier. But, if so disinterested and indefatigable a worshipper ol Truth in the lower walks of science, is it probable tbat he would 8acri6ce Truth to Vanity in the higher? "— H t This to incorrect— H. X The recent critical examination of the testi. monies of Strabo, Plutarch, Athencus, Suidas. &c^ in regard to the fortune of the Aristotelic writings, by Schneider, Brandis, Kopp, and Stahr. has thrown a new light upon this question. It is now proved that various of his most important works were pub. lifthed by Aristotle during his lifetime ; and that, at lea«r, the greater number of those now exUnt were K reserved and patent dunng the two centuries and a alf intervening between the death of Aristotle and theirpreCended publication by Tyrannioii.^H. S Wa are not, however, to suppose that Aristotle was the author of all the writings under bis name in the lists of Laertius, Suidas. the Anonymus Men. aieii. Ac, -or that these wwe all in reality distinct works.— H. I Poqihyry flourished tnm tha middle of the third acotury.— H. avoiding the more intricate questions con- cerning them ; such as, Whether genet a and species do really exist in nature ? or. Whether, they are only conceptions of the human mind? If they exist in nature, Whether they are corporeal or incorporeal ? and. Whether they are inherent in the ob- jects of sense, or disjoined from them ? These, he says, are very diflficult questions, and require accurate discussion ; but that he is not to meddle with them. After this preface, he explains very minutely each of the "y»rc words'^ above mentioned, divides and subdivides each of them, and then pursues all the agreements and differences between one and another through sixteen [seventeen] cliapters.* Section ill, OF THB CATBGORIKS.f The book begins with an explication of what is meant by [synonymousX or] univO' cal words, what by [homonymous^ or] equi- fMtcal, and what by [pnronymous, or] de- nominative. Then it is observed, that what we say is either simple, without composition or structure, as man, horse, [fights, runs ,•] or it has composition and structure, as a man fights, the horse runs. Next comes a distinction between a «mA>c/ of p. edicatiou ; that is, a subject of which anything is affirmed or denied, and a subject of inhesion. Tliese things are said to be inherent in a subject, which, although they are not a part of the subject,§ cannot possibly exist with- out it, as figure in the thing figured. Of things that are, says Aristotle, [1°] some may be predicated of a subject, but are in no subject ;|| as man may be predicated of James or John, but is not in any subject. (2°I Some again are in a subject, but can be predicated rf no mbject.% Thus my knowledge in grammar is in me as its sub- ject, but it can be predicated of no subject ; because it is an individual thing. [3°] Some are both in a subject, and may be predicated of a subject,** as science, which is in the mind as its subject, and may be predicated of geometry. [4°] Lastly, A'owi^ ///m^« cwn neither be in a subject nor be predicated of any subject.ff Such are all individual sub- stances, which cannot be predicated, because * Reid follows the Paeian distribution of the Or- ganon into chnpters. There are two older.— H. t The book of Categorieg is rather a metaphysical than a logical treatise; and has therefore improperly been introduced into the Organon.— H. $ Synonymes in Logic and Synonymes in Oram- mer are not the same.- H. . \ K should have been, •« which are in a thing, but not in it as a part."— H. II Universal substance*.- H. f Individual or Singular Accidents.— H. »* Universal Accidents.- H. ft Individual or Singular Substances.— *i. 1184 A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF [chap. I. SECT. IT.] ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC. 685 ) Hmv un buSMitu^ ; irf 4raijit< te in • iiilpet» hmamm tbey mm snbstaneea. . AHar ■mit otiber fnbtletim about Fredtettas and ialJMta, wo eoDM to the Catofpiiis them- mmm t ikB ^tSam aliov» nentloiied being MafirJifM.' jEinqf w#nirTeo,iiOwiiver| iiun| nmlvilbsiaiidiqg the distinetioQ now •&• pIluiMid, the bting tit o n^Jt§if and tbo •"'"•Pl^ai' KFw VrWimi^aMMijiiHB'' 'WiF 'UPWWf J '■O' '•''■B'MOp ■*W^We| 'BHia^Pljji 'WUi •■■nBP Analjftieis. used w^ aynonynioiii phfaMs;* and tb^' 'irafiation of atyle baa led aome per- • Vint tlite ■latMMnt, Reii iMw iNwn Mtlirlf rat proarhed by tht leamcd Or Ullllft, and various Enf. lUb wrtt«n In hit wake* wlilto Mr Stewart only at. traqiii to palliate the error, Imlnot to vlndlctle llMi Mtui'scyt of bit friend* «« The Mriiiect." obwrvvt llie''imMff In bit •• New Anatjnii of Ariatotle^a Wurfei,* *< liailiiMi •tmnfelj perplexed lif mistaking ArMoflrfi bwpuige. witan ^ Mtakr perapiMMML. IS II b SuS '^ teimiipnakatea^mtmtrimatMi extern ^U» mSMtowMekeupredkiaeaoanotapp^' Ibb rtmark, wMdi m tlie foundation of all Arliloilo% loKlet hoa iMon tidif niauken bf vwnf. Amonf otnen, tlio leamod and truly respcetabi* Dr Reid wrUci ai folkiwa :— ^ Ttio lieing in a lufejeet, and tlw being truly predlcalid of a Mlfeet, ore uaed by Aria, fotle in hit Analytica aa iynonymoua phraiea.' But tbe two phraaea of * hmiff in a mOifeci,' and * behtg prtiicattdttfU,* are to fkr Ikma bainf uaed at tyno. nymout, that ||« mmmlm t^tkt mmti direea^ Mf nuantng rent in fact, had wt a certain degree of reaenbiaiice or afflnity, iii by no means impossible ; but it It toaroely conceivable that he could be to cardeat at to aoento him of contounding two thing* which he invariably states In iHreeC iqiposiiion to each other. I have not a doubt, thf«eiNrt^ that Reid's idea waa, Ibil AUt. totlo used at.mionymaua phrasea, tho Mna In a 'il%a. and the feiiv a m^M n or oversignt. have imagined that Reid's st'te. ment was tantamount totheabsurdi'y of raying, that a species being in a genu*, and a species being predt- taUd qfagmus,min used by Anstotle as synonJ^ mous phrases. To vindicate Aristotle's consistency in this matter, the prcaent is not the occasion. The exposition of this elementary blunder. Is a good illustration of the maxim— 7'0 take nothing upon trust ; nothing upon authority. Mr Stewart was one of the most acute and cautions of reasonerS| yet we here find him painfully admitting one erro- neous sutement, in reliance on the learned accuracf of l>r Gillies ; and it mny be added, that in the note Immedistely preceding the one in which the i^esent it conuined, we And him accepting another, in defer, ence to the authority of Lord Monbodda 'lite priiw ciple on which his Lonhhip supposes the whole truth of the syllogism to depend, and the discovery ol which he marvellously attributes to a then living author, is one that may be found stated as a cnmmoe doctrine In almost every system of lo;:ic, woriliy af the naiM, for tbe last lAcon ccntuiics.— H. The most remarkable property of substance is, that one and the same substance may, by some change in itself, become the sub- ject of things that are contrary. Thus the same liody may be at one time hot, at another cold.* Let this ser\'e as a specimen of Aristotle's manner of treating the categories. After them, we have some chapters, which the schoolmen call pnstpradicamenta ; wherein, tirst, the four kinds of opposition of terms are explained ; to wit, relative^ privative of contrariety, and of contradiction. This is repeated in all systems of logic. -f- Last of all, we have distinctions of the four Greek words which answer to the Latin ones — prim, «tmu/, moius, and habere. Section IV. OF THE BOOK CONCBRNING INTERPRKTA- TION.$ We are to consider, says Aristotle, what a Noun is, what a V'erb, what Affirmation, what Negation, [what ^Munftcr/ion,] what Speech. Words are the signs of what pass- eth m the mind; Writing is the sign of words.§ The signs both of writing and of words are different in different nations, but the operations of mind signified by them are the same. There are some operations of thought which are neither true nor false. These are expressed by nouns or verbs singly, and without composition. A Noun is a sound, which, by compact, signifies something without respect to time, and of which no part has signification by itself. The cries of beasts may have a natural signification, but they are not nouns : we give that name only to soimds which have their signification by compact. The cases of a noun, as the genitive, dative, are not nouns. Non homo is not a noun, but, for distinction's sake, may be called a Nomen Infinitum.W A Verb signifies something by compact with relation to time. Thus, valet v& a verb ; but valetudo is a noun, because its signifi- cation has no relation to time. It is only the present tense of the indicative that is properly called a verb ; the other tenses * These are not all the properties enumerated by Aristotle. Two others are omitted.— H. t Thisis hardly correct— H % I'he IxM k ITif) 'Efii4,*!*t!x( is abourdly translated De Interpretatione. It should l>e styled in Latin, De Entinciandi ratione. In !• nglish. we might ren- der it— On the doctrine qf Enmncement^Enunda. Hon— ox the like.— H. \ ** Rerte Aristotelee— OiNTifiiffomim teSKraer«r6a, Verborum Litierae." Bscu De At^fm. ScienL L. V L I More properly, Nomen Ind^Httim—*»st*M ki^i- ffw. lliis mistranslation of Boethiut hat bren the t of error, among othert, to Kaoc— U. and moods are variations* of the verb. ATon vakt may be called a verbum ivfini' tum.\ Speech is sound significant by compact, of which some part is also significant And it is either enunciative, or not enunciative. Enunciative speech is that which affirms or denies. As te speech which is not enuncia- tive, such as a prayer or wish, the consi- deration of it belongs to oratory or poetry. Every enunciative speech must have a verb, or some variation of a verb. Affirmation is the enunciation of one thing concerning another. Negation is the enunciation of one thing from another. Contradiction is an affirmation and negation that are oppo- site. Thb is a summary of the first six chapters. The seventh and eighth treat of the vari- ous kinds of enunciations or propositions, unioersal, particular, indefinite, and singu- lar ; and of the various kinds */ opposition in propositions, and the axioms concerning them. These things are repeated in every system of logic. In the ninth chapter, he endeavours to prove, by a long metaphysi- cal reasoning, that propositions respecting future contingencies are not, detenninately, either true or false ; and that, if they were, it would follow that all things happen neces- sarily, and could not have been otherwise than as they are. The remaining [five] chapters contain many minute observations concerning the eeqiiipullency of propositions both pure and modal. CHAPTER II. aiMARKS. Section I, ON TH£ FIVE PRKOICABLES. The writers on logic have borrowed their materials almost entirely from Aristotle*s Organon, and Porphyry's Introduction. Tho Organon, however, was not written by Aristotle as one work. It comprehends various tracts, written without the view of making them parts of one whole, and after- wards thrown together by his editors under one name, on account of their affinity. Many of his books that are lost would have made a part of the Organon, if they had been saved. The three treatises, of which we have given a brief account, are unconnected with each other, and with those that follow. And although the first was undoubtedly compiled by Porphyry, and the two last * Tiniftif'. cas»Mi, Hexiont.— H. f See penult note.— H. A BRlEf ACXTOUri X 0« fcHAF. m |n«iM% bj JkAMSkf. mi I oomider tben m Urn mmmkUm wmamam of a piilMophy more ancient than Aristotle^ Anl^jtM of Tarentum, an enunent maHMnatkiaii and phUosopher of tlie Pythagoram tdiool, k ■aid to iiaTe wrote upon the ten eat^goms{* and the live predicttliiet pnbalilgr had their origin in the iameiMhooL Afiiloll%, 'tliooah abundan'tly caMlot to do ImUm to hinaelf, does not claim the invwiwii of eHher* And Porphyry, without ascribing the ktter to Aristotle, profesBes only to deliver the doc- trino of 'the Meieiit% and chiefly of the P^^rtpaletica, ooneeming them. The writers on logic hare divided that neience into ihree parts | the iiat treating of Simpk jtf^mkmdm and. of Tmmm ; 'tlie ;aeoond9 of Iit^gmmt tmi id FmmmHms ; 'and the third, of' Mtmm»in§' mm of S^o- fjf ««. The materials of the flrst part are takan from. Porphyry's Introdaaiwn and the Oaiepiries; and those of the second from the hook dT Interprotatioii. A Fredkttbte, accordlB| to the gramma- tical form of tlie word, might seem to sig- nify whatover mkht be prraicated, that is, affinnedi or denied, of a subject * and in this sensO' eveiy^ piedleato would be a predicable. But the li^eians give a different meaning to the word. They divide propositions into 'Cittain clasaesi. aeeording. to the relation wMeh the preiiaite' 'of iho' proposition bears to the subject. The ini 'dass m that wherein the predtoato is the gemuM of Hm Mibject, as when we say, " This is a triangle,** ** Jupiter is a phinet.'*^ In the second class, the prodieato .is a fjMewf of' 'the subject $ as whoi wesay, "Thui triangle i8righi«n|led.** A third class is when the predicato is the Mpeiifie Mffhrenm of the subject ; as when WO' say, '" Every triangle has three sidea and three'aii^e&** Afouryi,when thepredteto' is a pt^mrttf of the subject ; as when we say, *' The angles of every triangle are equal to two right angles.'* And a ifllh ckss is when the predicate is something iimMmiml to the subject' I Mwhen we^ my, **■ This tri> angle is neatly drawn.** fiadi of these dasaei eomprshends a great variety of pro'positions, having differ- out subjects and different predicates ; but in each daas the relati(m between the pre- dicate and the subject is the same. Now, it is to this relation that logicians have given * Aicliytas Is imly Mid to luive vrittan npan the tsO'CSlMiKfait liccmiie'tliere|f'an'aqM«lti«iii«rilitie in llw' imate on tbe ** Nsuite sf tie 'U'MMm;* aaicr lil« name, tttm wiMi eifiotM. isiracts wn ftmmwM lif sjinmiiciui. In Uto Cimnnwilariei on the Catnioriil. smI Ibt Pitfrici of' Arittot^le. 'Jlictt sa. tfMi% .liiWffsr. iMT tlitniidv«k .sUbud. sufletot tvU i fif u m f 'tlmt 'tMf triaUw it| lllce the rail of tliS' Fi'IImi- Flragmentih llw fidirlcatloii nf ■■; ! img MliMquent to Artoifltla Tlie 'UMitiiMeting ■n '9riiiir, or rattar^lgnoraiice. 4I ii:tildi' SU IrltMi wPtant'On Lntto'Sad. i'biloKtdbf, viioteffeltMl the name of • pm^mftie. Hence it is, that, although the number of predicates be infln* ite, yet the number of predicables can Is no greater than that of the different rela- tions which may be in propositions between the pradicato and the subject. And if all proiMisitions belong to one or other of the five clasaia ahova mentioned, there can be but five paiicahles— to wit, ffenuM, spedet, differentia^ pmprim»f and accident. These might, with more proiiriety perhaps, have been called th$ Jim cim»e» of premcatcs ; but use has determined them to be called ik§Jm§ prmikaMeM^ It may also ba observed, that, as some ob- jects of thought an Individuals, such as, Jw- livg Cteaar, the c% ^f R&me ; so others are common to many Individ ua^ls, as jfiMid^ j^rfo/, virtmm, efeiitva. Of this last kind are all things that aro expresfed by adjectives. Things common to many individuals were by the aneiente called unimrmk. All predi- cat« are univwaals, for they all. have the natanofadieetivea; and,on 4eother hand, all universais may be predicatea On this ac- count, uni versals may be dividcdinto thesame classes as predicates ; and as the five chwses of predicates above mentioned have been called the five predieables, so, by the same kind of phraaeolegy, they have been called the fim m^mftak ; althoufli they may 'more pro- 'periy be called 1ikmJim€h$m9*fmHimrmh, The doctrine of the Five Universais, or Predieables, makes an essential part of every sjfstem of logic, and has been banded down without any change to this day. The very name of prtMmms shews, that the author of this division, whoever he was, in- tended it as a complete enumeration of all theltindsofthingiB that can be affirmed of any subject ; and so it has always been under* stood. It is aeoordingly implied in this division, that all that can be aliirmed of ai^ytbing whatsoeveri is either the genus ul the thing, or Its spedety or its gpm^ ^ff^' met, or some propewig or uccMgni belong* ing to it. Burgeisdyk, a very acute writer in logic, seems to have been aware that strong ob- jections mkht he made to the five pr^lica- bles, considered as a complete enumera- tion t But, unwilling to aiow any imperfec- tion in this ancient division, he endeavours to restrain the aeaning of the wordpref/^ra- 6lr, so as to obviate objections. Those thiiigi only, says he, aro to be accounted prcdica- blei, whteh maybe ajfrim«(i— of many im.im viduah — Iwulif — properijf — [ naiuraU^\ -~ and iiMiiiidiali%< The consequence of pat- ting iodi 'Ihnitations. upon the word predu caM§ ii, that, in many propositions, periiaps in most, the predicate is not a pr«dicabie. But, admitting all his limitations, the enu* meration wiU still be very incomplete ; for of many things we may affirm, truly, prop ■EOT. il.] ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC. fSR7 perly, and immediately, their existence, their end, their cause, theur effect, and var- ious rolations which they bear to other things. These, and perhaps many more, are predicables in the strict sense of the word, no less than the five which have been so long famous.* Although Porphyry, and all subsequent writers make the predicables to be in num- ber five, yet Aristotle himself, in the begin- ning of the topics, reduces them to four, and demonstrates that there can be no more.'f We shall give his demonstration when we come to the topics,^: and shall only hero observe, that, as Burgersdyk justifies the fivefold division, by restraining the meaning of the word predicable, so Aristo- tle justifies the fourfold division, by enlarg- ing the meanuig of the words property and tKciffent, After all, I apprehend that this ancient division of predicables, with all its imper- fections, will bear a comparison with those which have been substituted in its stead by the most celebrated modern philosophers. Locke, in his *' Essay on the Human Understanding,** having laid it down as a principle, That all our knowledge consists in perceiving certain agreements and dis- agreements between our ideas, reduces these agreements and disagreements to four heads — to wit, 1, Identity and Diversity ; 2, lieia- Hon f 3, Ct«-di. cate of a proposition, as entia rationis and twtinnes secundee ; while others transcend the classification altogether, as being, one, whole, the infinite, liC la fact, as already noticed, the classification is of a me- taphysical, not a logical, purport.— H. II The ten Aristotelic Categories may be thus methodically deduced and simpliied :— They are all diTisitins of Being— Ens. Being if divided into Enspcr se and Ens per aceidens. Ens iter se, corresponds to Substance— ^efmX of the Aristotelic CaiqioriM: \i A lEIEP ACCOUNT OF I I {I 1 I I lii ' n TIm '|«rf«eli0ii of tli«' divimon of oate- pmm into ten heads has l»€«ii •Irenuously defenied by tho followers of Aristotle, as well as that of the ive f redicahlea. Thej are^. imdeedi of .kin. to «a^ ollief i thej hraatliO' ' Ae aanie 'Siiirtl^ and. fnliaM j hai. the ame origiii. By the one we are taught to marshal every term, that ean eratar into ft inoMHitioit wAm m mbjeet or predicate ; aBd, ty the other, we are taogit all the poiaihle rehitions which the iiihject can Live to the predicate. Thus the whole fm* iBMmm of the human mind is presented to US. at one view, and contracted, as it weroi into a nutshelL To attempt, in so early s pedod, a methodical delineation of the vast n|^n of human knowledge, aetnal and piMrilile, and to point ont the limits of every 'district, was indeed, 'magnanimous in ft higli 'degree, and deserves our adminliMii while we hunent that the human powers are unequal to so bold a light* A regular 'distribation of things nnder proper claasee or headS' 1% 'wiiMmt doubt,. » great help both to memory and judgment. And as the phioeopber's province includes all thiiiBi, human and divine, ihat can be ob- jeels oflntuiiqfjhe is naturally led to attempt .iume genoral litvmon like that of the eate* gonea. And the invention of a division of this kind, which the speculative part of mankind aof uaseed in for two thousand yean, 'marka • iuperiortty of genius 'in the inventor, 'whoever' 'he wia. Nor does it appear that the general divisions which, since the decine of the Peripatetie philoso- 'phy,. 'hftvo' been iuhstituted m pbce of the ten' eategorfeS' are more perfect Locke has reduced all things to ihrm ca* Ivories— viz., tuAclaiicrt, mod^g, and reim' imt*. In this division, liMf 9 ^MWfi and nwn- ter, three great objeets 'Of binmi tiiought, ar«' mnitted.* The author of the *< Treatise of Human lfatuie**t has reduced all thinge to im^ if. comiNriaa Uw otlwr niMik 9m 11 ■oniblliiiig oAfolkitff or 'MuwlMit' nil. Mnt aiiMiiiite» It either eninstM in mil* IT il.Mnt 'ike: Ml __„ „ Mbttanise* and it dl' , lip, ArMnfM iMond CaieH'Orv ] or In l|e..^rn, aiNl laliidfvWM»--QHalJ(y, Aristotk''ktliMCiiiinf^ .If ■onMililiif ' nl«iv% it coiiMitutet Jlfioliim. 'tl»e ^iMirili 'Cmmfi m> to Sdation the other six majr mMf iiiiiiMi. For tli» JUIh, Whtm ilenottt the rata. init-lMtlPWii."illhraiit olieettta ifaot, or the re^ia- ttom. biliMii.. ilMe"«id the tMot paeA Tht •l.xth, Wnitm 'itiMlM'tiie'ltlallon mmm oliaiM l.n mic 1, m mm .nlati.on bctwcer ttint ami. a tMiog 1lM Mventh, Poamtt It the irlMlom of the nana of a ImmI| to ■«* otlw. l^e eiffhili. B^oipIw. iitiM ftlatlMi of ttetHiDf liavlnf. md tlie thlnt tiM i «|iitetlMiiinlk.aMl tenth. Aettm and J>l(Hf<0)i, an tlM^MClpMMil 'lilaANit betwem 'the iftnt and ike .._, on. thlt ^ ^.. two at the Atit dMeeU't— JBkM mt four at tlic Af»t and mnm M,,,„...,i, 1Mmiit$, QiM/i•>"<• 'Ot«|ort. 9m tbom, p. Wt *75kthtll.*ltoinr E.ldt^.thojMh in thai it 'M aictt iMailf ' and tKloiialvclr a|iplkd.*ll. that such or such a thing is not good ware, because there is no place in his wareroom that fits it. We are apt to yield to this argument in philosophy, but it would appear ridiculous in any other trafiic. Peter Ramus, who had the spirit of a reformer in philosophy, and who liad a force of genius sufficient to shake the Aristotelian fabric in many parts, but insufiicient to erect anything more solid in its place, tried to remedy the imperfection of philosophical divisions, by introducing a new manner of dividing.* His divisions always consisted of two members, one of which was contra- dictory of the other, as if one should divide England into Middlesex and what is not Middlesex. It is evident that these two members comprehend all England ; for the Logicians observe, that a term along with its contradictory compfehend all things. In the same manner, we may divide what Is not Middlesex into Kent and what is not Kent. Thus one may go on by divisions and subdivisions that are absolutely complete. This example may serve to give an idea of the spirit of Kamean divisions, which were in no small reputation about two hundred years ago. Aristotle was not ignorant of this kind of division. But he used it only as a touch- fetone to prove by induction the perfection of some other division, which indeed is the best use that can be made of it. When applied to the common purpose of division, it is both inelegant and burdensome to the me- mory ; and, after it has put one out of breath by endless subdivisions, there is still a nega- tive term left behind, which shews that you are no nearer the end of your journey than when you began. Until some more eflfectual remedy be fotaid for the imperfection of divisions, I beg leave to propose one more simple than that of Ramus. 1 1 is this — When you meet with a division of any subject imperfectly comprehended) add to the last member an ei cettera. That this ct ctetera makes the division complete, is undeniable ; and there- fore it ought to hold its phice as a member, and to be always understood, whether ex- pressed or not, until clear and positive proof be brought that the division is com- plete without it. And this same et aetera shall be the repository of all members that may in any future time shew a good aud valid right to a property in the subject-j* * There It nothing new whatever in Ratnui'i Pichotomy by contradiction. It was, In partiru. lart a favourite with l-lata Among others, see Ammoniui ou the Categoriei, f. 26, a. ed. Aid. 1546. , * Il thia '* iiroteitatioo to add and eke" lerioui or lli|oice?>U. Ssciion III, ON OISTINCTIONS. Having said so much of logical divisions, we shall next make &ome remarks upon distinctions. ' Since the philosophy of Aristotle fell into disrepute, it has been a common topic of wit and raillery to inveigh against meta- physical distinctions. Indeed the abuse of them, in the scholastic ages, seems to justify a general prejudice against them; anc/ shallow thinkers and writers have good reason to be jealous of distinctions, because they make sad work when applied to their flimsy compositions. But every man of true judgment, while he condemns distinctions that have no foundation in the nature of things, must perceive, that indiscrinnnately to decry distinctions, is to renounce all pretensions to just reasoning : for, as false reasoning commonly proceeds from con- founding things that are different, so, with- out distinguishing such things, it is impos- sible to avoid error or detect sophistry. The authority of Aquinas, or Suarez, or even of Aristotle, can neither stamp a real value upon distinctions of base metal, nor hinder the currency of those that have intrinsic value. Some distinctions are verbal^ others are real. The first kind distinguish the various meanings of a word, whether proper or me- taphorical. Distinctions of this kind make a part of the grammar of a language, and are often absurd when translated into another language. Real distinctions are equally good in all languages, and suffer no hurt by translation. They distinguish the different species contained under some general notion, or the different parts con- tained in one whole. Many of Aristotle's distinctions are verbal merely, and therefore more proper mate- rials for a dictionary of the Greek language, than for a philosophical treatise. At least^ they ought never to have been translated into other languages, when the idiom of the language will not justify them : for this is to adulterate the language, to introduce fo- reign idioms into it without necessity or use, and to make it ambiguous where it was not. The distinctions in the end of the categories of the four words, prius, shnut, motusj and habere, are all verbal.* The modes or species of frttt*, accord- ing to Aristotle, are five. One thing may be prior to another—first, in point of time ,• secondly, in point of dignity ; thirdly, in point of order ; and so fortht The modes * These distinctions are ail founded on the anukt. gies of real ex>!>ti nee, and are ail equally valid in other langt ages as in Greek.— H. f More accurately : One tiling if jrrtor to anotiicf 2 V oOli A lllEF ACCOUNT OF leuAB m •I I II •f ffnitif ' ti«^ only tlifeo^ II mmoA this word was nol used in the Greek with m gtmt Mtiie m the other, although thi^ an The hmmIm 'Hr ' :a|Meiea. of' Mi^im he inalset to lie lix — ^viz., gmeratim, eormptimtf in- mrnm* itermm^ aitmroHtm, and ckanff§ qf The medee or :s|ir*«ee of HmM§ mm [prineiplij] eight 1. Having a gti«^ or hahityt ^as having 'Wiidoin. f. Having fiMiilSlf or fmiffilitiifr. 3^ Having l4titf « Mpcviil, m having" a sword. 4. Having filMf m part*, m having hands or feet & liaving in a part or on »paft^ as having a ring m one's Unger. 6. CmioMmg, as a casic is said to have wine. 7. FMrnumg, as having knds or houses. 8. Having a wife [or AufAontf.]* Another distinction of this kind is Aris- totle*s distinction of Camm ; of wbieh he makes four kinds, iifimmif iii«l»rial| fmwmlf nd pml These distinellotti nagr deserve apbee in a dictionary of the Greek Ian- gnaise ; bnt, in Engiisn or Latin, they add- erate the language. $ Yet so fond were the sdMiohnen. of distinctions of this kind, that they added to Aristotle's enumeration an liii|»iij«iirf cause,! an exempiarg Gatt8e,|| and. I don*t know how 'many more. We seem to have adopted, into Eiiglish a Jhmi eause s hut il is. merely a term of art, bor- wmmi from the Pori'patelic philosophy, without necessity or use ; for the English word €nd h as good as Jf iml mvu, though not so long nor so learned. In the ofilcr of 3Ym<<— of Nature— tii Jrramffemmi-- 'Hf .Af^aily— of Cama^mL This lasit, which was adiiil. 'bf AiModc^ nsy be well reduced to the * The iMNiult 'iMite applta lo thiWd— M- t It •biwld have beeii^*' Habit, Bmimlllfm, or oi.her '(|iMil%i»*' The othero aret in Hie maiitMir,. nittiiw aecurMttlf nor' aiteuaielf atalail t mi mm Willi.— H. I '1 hi* itatenieiit, that Arisiotle'k quadriiple dis. lneliMi 'Of' eaiaaa 'wai' one not ektabiiiiied on the c«Mllal Bitais nf 'Hillim. but founded on. a verbal I Bitafs nT 'Hillimi pmiliarlty of tbo dveck Iniftiivt, RtM ha«, in his :iid««vi<»t«tig|n|p,.onco|iw i«ain repested.. (see ^bov^ClprnM Hb a, and 711, b; Jclftw xiUMiVt 1^ MSf 9LJ it ta notf however^ ooneot* ^ne |thicat ditcrtminationi. In itielf the divitkoii IS not merely ▼erlial^ but firoeeedi on the natural difibrencet of real tbinp* lltlf, however, la not the |il.acO' 'to shew tiiat A'riilalle had. taken a 'fir jBfter »n4 more coni|»ebtnam view of' this lub* Ject than. «he great mtjorilf. 1 not. Cbc w^hote. of our neent p^tHoaophcfi.— H. I Th.la. is • 'Wltiake. IM ■rhoOl.inm .added no isijwiffiit tmm iinliiet tfim tbejlMI and 0ekM I HO' «M»#iiifir tame was IntrodncMNi bf Flito/ ' ■« not .adofled bf' the $ammm aa. • ifw SECT. r.J ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC. mi Seciim iV. OB mriNtTIONS. It remains that we make some remarks on Aristotle*a Deimitionsi whicli have ex- posed him to much censure and ridicule. Xet I think it must be allowed, that, in thimp whkh need definition, and admit of it, Ins definitions are commonly judicious and aeeunte | and, had he attempted to deHne^ aneh "things only, .his enemies had wanted great matter of triumph. I believe it may likewise be said in his favour, that, until Locked essay was wrote, there was nothing of importance delivered by philo- sopbers with regard to definition,* beyond what Aristotle has said upon that subject He considers a Definition as a spfteh dmktrtM0 whai a thing is. Every thing tfamifiiil to tlte tiling defined, and nothing more, m'ust be contained in the definition. Now, the essence of a thing consists of these two parts t first, Whai i« cammim fo t'l WJIA o^ir things of lAe lanMr kind; and, secondly, Wkmt disiiaguiikes it from other lilinf ff lif .He iMiff 'Mm/, 'The first is called the Genus of the thing, the second its Spe^ c^fie B^ermce, The definition, therefore, consists of these two parts. And, for find- ing them, we must have recourse to the ten categories ;-f- in one or other of which everything in nature is to be found. Each category is a genuSf and is divided into so many ^speeies, whidi are distinguished by their' ispedifle diliefences. Each of these species is again subdivided mto so many species, with regard to which it is a genus. This division and snbdivision continues nnti we come to the lowest species, which can only be divided into individuals distin- guished from one .another, not by^any spe- of lime, |ilae% and other eireu.m'Stances. The category itself, being the highest gennsy is in no respect a species, and the lowest species is in no respect a genus ; but every Intermediate order is a genus com- pared with those that are below it, and a spedes compared with those above it To find the definition of anything, therefore, «Tbia If coBMMNiIjr but erroneously asserted. Loeite aava Ittio or nothing on the subiect of Deftti. iikm wblch. bad. 'not 'boeii nieviooiif 'Mid bv' 'ph'ilnsn. fibett bcffMe biaii, and with wiboie worlts he ran Iw proved to have been aoqtaatnled. See above, i>. W3, aanoie''t.'"H* f fftam thla and what follows, ft would seem that RMUMaght 'that 'the .Anstotrlic doc'rineof Defini. tlom It afciiiBiilf rdatite to the ten Categories ; and that, to Indthedcinltloo of a thing, we must de. iMMlirmi the catiiory to the i[eitu<« ami specific <" it: fiefenetaoiafht 1li|... however, ia not the^csM. For. acc«MNing to AriatotlC', there torn iW9 aiotliods oi •• hunting up" the m|uired deliaifiont toe one by iiMMmi smd. dMSsnl, the 'Ot.h«r by 'indiidfon and you must take the genus which is imme- uiately above its place in the category, and the specific difference by which it is distin- guished from other species of the same genus. These two make a perfect defini- tion. This I take to be the substance of Aristotle*8 sjrstem, and probably the system of the Pythagorean school,* before Aristotle, concerning definition. But, notwithstanding the specious appear- ance of this system, it has its defects^ Not to repeat what was before said of the im- perfection of the division of things into ten categories, the subdivisions of each category are no less imperfect. Aristotle lias given some subdivisions of a few of them ; and, as far as he goes, his followers pretty unani- mously take the same road. But, when they attempt to go farther, they take very difterent roada It ia evident, that, if the series of each category could be completed, and the division of things into categories could be made perfect, still the highest genus in each category could not be defined, be- cause it is not a species ; nor could indivi- duals be defined, because they have no specific difference.-f There are also many species of things, whose specific difference cannot be expressed in language, even when it is evident to sense, or to the understand- ing. Thus, green, red, and blue, are very distinct species of colour ; but who can ex- press in words wherein green differs from red or blue ?$ Without borrowing light from the ancient system, we may perceive that every defini- tion must consist of words that need no definition ; and that to define the common words of a language that have no ambiguity is triflinpf, if it could be done ; the only use of a definition being to give a clear and adequateconceptionoftbemeaningofaword. Tlie logicians indeed distinguish between the definition of a word and the dffinition of a thing ; considering the former as the mean office of a lexicographer, but the last as the grand work of a philosopher. But what they have said about the definition of a thing, if it has a meaning, is beyond my compre- hension. All the rules of definition agree to the definition of a word : and if they mean, by the definition of a thing, the giv- ing an adequate conception of the nature and essence of anything that exists, this is impossible, and is the vain boast of men unconscious of the weakness of human un- derstanding. § * See above, p. 686, note.— H. + Thi9,of courtie, is stated by Ari'totle hinoiielf and other logicians : and it does not aflfect his doctrine of Uefiniiion. but marks the necessary limits of Defini- tion in general.— H. i Hence it was expressly stated by the o'd logicians — 0.lini> intnitiva notitia est dt'finUio.—'H. f By a real, in contrast to a verbal or nominal de- imtion, the logicians do not intend " the piving an mtte^/uati cone^ion of the nature and mence (if a The works of God are all imperfectly known by us. We see their outside, or perhaps we discover some of their qualities and relations, by observation and experi. nient, assisted by reasoning: but we can give no definition of the meanest of them which comprehends its real essence. It is justly observed by Locke, that nominal essrnces only, which are the creatures of our own minds, are perfectly comprehended by us, or can be properly defined ;• and even of these there are many too simple in their nature to admit of definition. When we cannot give precision to our notions by a definition, we must endeavour to do it by attentive reflection upon them, by observing minutely their agreements and differences, and especially by a right understanding of the powers of our own minds by which such notions are formed. The principles laid down by Locke, with. regard to definition, and with regard to the abuse of words, carry conviction along with them : and I take them to be one of the mos important improvements made in logic, since the days of Aristotle ; not so much be- cause they enlarge our knowledge, as be- cause they make us sensible of our igno- rance, and shew that a great part of what speculative men have admired as profound philosophy, is only a darkening of know- ledge by words without understanding.*]* Section V. ON THB STRUCTURE OF SPEBCIf. The few hints contained in the beginning of the book concerning Interpretation re- lating to the structure of speech, have been left out in treatises of logic, as belonging rather to grammar ; yet I apprehend this is a rich field of philosophical speculation. Language being the express image of human thinff'—that is, of a thing considered in ittelf, and apart from the conceptions rd* to notions ; the other ot notions to Otiiujs. ihesubstitu- tion ol notional for real would, perlijip-s remove the ambiguity. But, if we retain the teriii real, »he aim of a verbal definition being to specify tJie thotii/ht denoted bp the word, such definition oupht to be called notional, on the priiicip!e on which the riefint. tion of a notion is called real; for this definition is the cxpusition of what Utings are comprchauled in a thov>«/ hook of the First Analt/tics-, con- sisting oi furty-six ch'tp'ersj may be divided into four parts ,• the first f A] treating of the conversion of propositions f the second, [B,] of the structure of syllogisms y in all the difl*erent figures and modes; the third, [C,] of the invention of a mid He term ; and the last, [D,] of the rrg-^itition of si/ilof/isms. We shall give a brief account of each. [A] To convert a propositi on is to infer from it another proposition, whose subject is the predicate of the firsts and whose preli- cate is the subject of the first, f This is re- duced by Aristotle to three rules : — I. An universal negative may be converted into an universal nejL^ative : thus, " No man is a quadruped ;" therefore, " No quadruped is a man.'* 2. An universal affirmative can be converted only into a particular affirmative : thus, " All men are mortal ;" therefore, "Some mortal beings are men.'* 3. A particu- lar affirmative may be converted i/ito a par- ticular affirmative: as, **Some men are just;" therefore, "Some just persons are men '* When a proposition may be con- verted without changing its quantity, this is called simplt' conversion ; but when the quan- tity is diminished, as in the universal af- firmative, it is called conversion per accident. There is another kind of conversion * Thia is urtjusL Aristotle attempts no proof ot these general propositions, ; he oniy thetoi that trcir denial involven a contradiction.— Ii. t It might he added, " the «}uaiit]r remaiiiing al. ways tile same."— H. 6M. A BEIIF ACCOUNT OF II* .,p«„.^ in tliis place by Arktotk, Ini lup- ' f Hei lijr Ml feltoifaw,, miM mmerdm % tm^n^mimm, in wMA 'Oft tmn that m ciiiitniiliiitoi:y to fte prdtoln is fit for the ■iiUeel, 'MiA ill© quality of the propositiiim m elttiged ;* as, " All aniniiils .are semtlent i** tiienfoi^ ** What m inaMtaftnl ia Mt .an animal** A fourth rule of' iwnveniontlifn*' fore is. That an nniTeraal affitmative, and a {Ntrtieular^^nogpiliire, inajbe' conTerled by Seeimm IX '«r TUB riGUElS AND MOBB OP' FUmS SV ItMAMi ISJIS*' [B] A lYixooisM if an arffim€nif or wm3mimff,fcondiiin0 [nlwaji'i, ta^lMl^ or mpikiii^,} of three pmpmitmMj fi# iaM «f wkukf emiied the conclusion, U {memmri' If 1 imfmrretifr&m Ik* [vtrf tiatemeni of tk§\ two preemUmff, wkkkareeatiedltht paaJiiSBS* The condnsifiii having tiro terns, asuhjeet ud a fmlleate, its. pnilmtii is^ ealM th« 'iiMjbr Irrni, and itS' anlijeet 'the Minor terim. In order to prove the coiielusion, each of 'Is 'terms .is, .in the premises, compared W'ith Iho third term, ealled the tmMlf itmK By 'thismea'ns oce of Ihefremiaes wil hsvo'for Its two terms the major term and the mid- dle term-.; .and tl.ii8 premise' is oalled the 'MfflUV premiie, op the wM^mt profmUi^m^oi 'the sviogism. The other' premise' must ihiive for 'Its two terms the m.iner term and the middle term, and it is called the minor proposUUu. Thus the sjUi^m. consists of three jpfopoiiitioiia,. diitimiiislied lijthe nam'ti' of the m^, the wdmr, .and the eomimmti ; and, although each of 'these has two terms, a subject and a predicate, jet 'there are only three different terms .in all 'The ni4er term, is alwiijs the .^predicate of 'the eottclnsion. and is abo either the sub- feet or f reiicate of the major proposition. The minor term is always the subject of the conelusion, and is also either the subjeet or predicate of 'tlie minor proposition. The middis term, never enters into the oonek- ston, but stands in both premises, either in the position of subject or of predicate^ Jcewtiinff to ike mmom potitiom 'iiii«A ik§ MMik' Tmrm wmif htm In tk§premki9$ $ .fliyiiiiif OHV mdd Ulm^f iwrlMi.« #ijpr«ir Now, all the possible positions of the mid- dle term are only /our ; for, irst, it may be thesnhjeel. of the 'major piopMitioii, and the 'preiieate of the min.or,. nd then 'the (•yllogism. is of the irst %nre t or it nay IQ: liit ttHiffniMi. waanam ampsi lan neoi- sil*'' m 'ihiiiid lam wAt i»iilnidiof:ii mous Galen,* and is often called ih§ Gakn^ imi Figure, Tbrnm is another divisioii 'Of ' sylogisms^ acending to their Modm Tks Mod» of m iiflh^m Iff ikiermmed bg iho Quality tmd Qmniitg ff4h§ propomHonMtifwhiek U MbdM> Of idl k!n?^BnaUi» and nepttlve, inlf eieal and particokr. The moomi f^mm has also four legiti- mate modes. Ito mi^or proposition must be universal, and one of the prembes must be n^gpitive. It yields conclusions both mlvenal and partienkr, 'hut all negative. • impnitiiit, if believed.— li» SECTS. III. — v.] ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC. 69S The third fiqute has six legitimate modes. Its minor must always be affirmative ; and it yields conclusions both affirmative and negative, but all particular. Besides the rules that are proper to each figure, Aristotle has given some that are common to all, by which the legitimacy of syllogisms may be tried. These may, I think, be reduced to five. 1. There must be only three terms in a syllogism. As each term occurs in two of tlies propositions, it must be precisely the same in both : If it be not, the syllogism is said to have four terms, which makes a vitious syllogism. 2. The middle term must be taken uni- versally in one of the premises. 3- Both premises must not be particular proposi- tions, nor both negative. 4. The conclu- sion must be particular, if either of the premises l>e particular; and negative, if cither of the premises be negative. 6. No term can be taken universally in the con- dusion, if it be not taken universally in the premises. For understanding the second and fifth of these rules, it is necessary to observe, that a term is said to be taken universally, not only when it is the subject of an universal proposition, but when it is the predicate of a negative proposition ; on the other hand, a term is said to be taken particukrly, when it is either the subject of a particular, or the predicate of an affirmative proposition. Seciion III, or TUB INVENTION OF A MIDDLK TERM. [ C] The third part of this book contains rules, general and special, for the invention [ffiscovery] of a middle term ; and this the author conceives to be of great utility. The general rules amount to this — That you are to consider well both terms of the proposi- tion to be proved; their definition, their properties, the things which may be affirmed or denied of them, and those of which they may be affirmed or denied ; these things, collected together, are the materials from which your middle term is to be taken. The special rules require you to consider the quantity and quality of the proposition to be proved, that you may discover in what mode and figuro of syllogism the proof is to proceed. Then, from the materials before collected, you must seek a middle term which has that rektion to the subject and predicate of the proposition to be proved, which the nature of the syllogism requires. Thus, suppose the proposition I would prove is an universal affirmative, I know, by the rules of syllogisms, that there is only one legitimate mode in which an universal affirmative proposition can be proved ; and that is the first mode of the first figure. I know likewise that, in this mode, both thti premises must be universal affirmatives; and that the middle term must be the sub- ject of the major, and the predicate of the minor. Therefore, of the terms collected according to the general rule, I seek out one or more which have these two proper- ties ; first, That the predicate of the pro- position to be proved can be universally affirmed of it ; and, secondly, That it can be universally affirmed of the subject of the proposition to be proved. Every term you can find, which has those two properties, will serve you as a middle term, but no other. In this way, the author gives spe- cial rules for all the various kinds of pro- positions to be proved ; points out the vari- ous modes in which they may be proved, and the properties which the middle term must have to make it fit for answering that end. And the rules are illustrated, or ra- ther, in my opinion, purposely darkened, by putting letters of the alphabet for the several terms.* Section I F*. Ot THE REMAINING PART OF THE FIRST HUUK. The resolution of syllogisms requires no other principles but those before laid down for constructing them. However, it ia treated of large!}', and rules laid down for reducing reasoning to syllogisms, by sup- plying one of the premises when it is under- stood, by rectifying inversions, and putting the propositions in the proper order. Here he speaks also of hypothetical syl- logisms ;"f* which he acknowledges cannot be resolved into any of the figures, although there be many kinds of them that ought diligently to be observed, and which he promises to handle afterwards. But this promise is not fulfilled, as far as I know, in any of his works that are extant. Seciion F, OP THE SECOND BOOK OF THE FIRST ANALYTICS. The second book treats of the pou:ers of * The purely /omua character of logic requires an abstraction from all determinate matter; which ia belt shewn through the application of universal and oiherwiie unmeaning symboU. This ia admirably stated by the Aphrodisian. > It would, indeed, have been well had Aristotle always- rigidly excluded everything not formal from his logical treatines.— H. r The hypotnetical syllogisms of Aristotle were diffierent from our hypothetical sy:Jogisms>-which, with the term Catmorwa in its pretmt sense, are ao Hiheritauce from iWiphra&tus and Eudemus.— H. CMI A BRIEF ACCOUNT OP rCHAP. IF. :^jrii||iiiiM, Mid Amm^ fa immiiiM'mm cAap- fif% Iwv we may ferform many feats by 'tiwn, and whal fgunt and modM' tm^ •dallied to eaeh. Tlin% m. aoiM nfllf«iimi|. ■■fwal diBtind otmuliHiont may De drawn Ikmi the name fveniaes; in s totie hitrodneed in his own. sehml die"pr»i^ tieo' of sylliiKifelieal disputation, ;inst«ad« iie rhetorical ii^ntatlons whieh the Sophists were wont to uso' fa more amsient times.* CHAPTER IV. Seeiim L or THE CONTSRSIOM' OP FROPOtlTIOKS. Ws have given a .nmnary view of the theory of pnre irjrllogims M delivered by ArisloUe^ a theory of which he claims the sole invention. And I believe it will be difienll, in any setence., to' find so large a •ystem of truths of so very abstract asl m general a nature, all fortified by demonstra- tion, and all invented and perfected by one nan. It shews a force of genius, and la- bour 'Of fa.vestigation, equal to the most arduous, .attempts. I :sliall now make some remarks upon k As to the conversion of propomtiona, the writerS' on logio 'eommonly aaiisfy them- telveS' with iUustniti:ngeadt of the rules by an. example, 'Cowselvmi Ihcm to 'ho Self- evident, when applied to parlieular cases. But Aristotle has given demonstrations of the rules he meulions.. As a specimen., I :8iiall give his dem.onstmtlon of the irst .rule. ''* Let .A B 'be an universal negative r position ; I say, that if A is fa no B, fill follow that B is in no A. If jou 'deny this: 'Oiiisef uence, let B 'be fa .some A, lor eaiample^ in C ; then the first sup- MSltion W'lll^noi be true ; for C is of ihe Bi.'* In th.is dMMMlnition, if I nnder-' ■nmedt llal, |f .H i» ^mm J, MtmJt mw9t .Af In i0si.f Ji, whidi indeed is 'Contniry to' t Mmr, unfertile tranilaltoii tli0"fimt supposition. If 'tlie third rule b« assumed for proof of the first, the proof of all 'the three goes round in a circle ; for the .second and uiird rules .are ^proved by the fiirsi. This, is a iwll fa 'leasontng which AfiBt#t.le oondeniis, .and which I would be very unwillmg to charge him with, if I could find any better meaning in his de- moustration* But it is indeed a fault very difficult to be avoided, when men attempt to prove things that are self-evident.* * Tlili diiection doet credit to Heid's acutenesa • M Init, it materially afflecu the logical impeccability of Aristotle ; and, what ii remarkable, it is one lalim liy aome of tiie o)d«t of th« CIreek logicians tlMsaiclfea. It It not. iMmtVirf valid. Alexandc^r flf c<^ wrfilif ikW' 'OMaaiiltlai atwiiiild...violBlloni of lh« Itani of MMontof^l*. In 'iHlng as a'iiicd.lon of imof vbat iisd not v«t itic1.riiieii|irMred ; and, 20, In tbiia inployliiM wliat waa tiaalf subsequently pratad tiimigli the vMryeaaon 'wkUh il li .bare applied to esta. bMi. Beildci.tlitie cluupa oi tfcifit rfin^ and Ml3ii|Juc, Philoponiii neord* also another } but, aa tUt Is, to itself, or little weiRht, and not relevant to tiN niiMei Ib hand, I will simply translate (with OMWtaial Slllldpiimit and emendation, fur t fie text :fS' f«rf nrrapt,) llit aatiKfaclori' answer 'which Alex. ander gives to tlW' (*i«tiiin staled. It is as foU •• This mode of procGdnre Is confeiwedly viaoui. But Arittotle has not been guilty of it, as they be- lieve, to llie sequel, he will undoubtedly manlfeit (liiiii) the oonireffiWIity of part'icular' aliffniai.lves through that of unlfanal 'negatives, t bttltie does not, at 'present, evince' Ihe eonvertiJilily of unlveisal n.e. gativcB,by assuming that of particular affirmatives. HeMrlfdenioiiBtratcs (iumvvm) histhetia, aiiddoM ■Ml enipwf M ts a OMweMiiion ; lur, on iirinciplet al. ready settled, be sheirs It manifested and esta- blished. These principles are v« xM-rw wmnris and -r) mmrm mhttist [the dictum de omni and the dktum de 'iiiiaii.l '<**"! '** '■* '^ '*''*^' *^ ''" />*«'**'• Cthe.ilMKm te tOt» aM dWuM. in Nwlfo ;] and., by the application of tliew^ does be evince the cunvertibilit v of pure u niver. sti negatives. * It being auiiiiosed/ n • says, * that A Is ta [or is predicable of] no B, It follows from this llist B is In for Is i^redlCid^ of] no A ; lor. If B k in some A, let It he In €. Mow, C is contained under the lofleal. whole, A, (!i>.8Af, la .Mo, A;) A. will, thenlNe, bi^ univsiaaif pedicaiid of It, (mmtk mifvif , A eimif.) But. C la a rait, of B' ; A, tliete^ Ibre. will he (iriilicated of a prt of B, But Ihe prim- aty hypothesis was that A is predicable of no B {dg imtti B :) and the dk^mmdt ntdh is, that there is no part of .JB of which A can bS' ucdieated. •• Fartber, from the verf imw. .of Ihe ex.pretBion. 'It Is :aianilkit 'that tiie^ 'danomvlration does not pro. ceeil. tM. tlie eonvettibltltf of iwitleu'lar affirmatives For :!»' deti' not when .bt ienioMiiaics the convenibiiiif •f'pan.ieuiMr.allnniliff«k be employs to ihai end the^ eonvifftiliiiitf of 'unlveful neistlvea For.hieasyt->* B 'it la no J* J 'to il no B/ 'IbWi' eniiioyliic 'tie irv t 'rule as ettablilshed and. comlkiscd.} wheieaa, 'la now dmonitrating tbat rule itself, lie doca not aaniM aa eUSUMwd tbt'Coavertllyility of pavtloibir aflmiatlves. But* tberebaini holdout In a concteie' Individual es. iiB^plil, ihMmm,} C as. a part of A, he ,pMinda. on tMB: bli.imMNiitrallon— B. not. bci.nf |iteillcii|t4.'0f C 'SS a pvUMUr, int. aa a ftapuiar. il caniMl, 'llMro. iMTC, be mal'Blal:Mdi"'.'lliai. he employed trie iecl| 'H^'iiMSMi svdf*' *fc^iiMdi'lliJh*'aH'^ia>' iMjlHM|M||gMk'liMjBMI VMjI'IF' ftl%A i'f ^i*ll'U'BH i jgbjyaki ■EOT. II.] ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC. 697 The rules of conversion cannot be applied to all projjositions, but only to those that are categorical, and we are left to the di- rection of common sense in the conversion of other* propositions. To give an ex- ample : " Alexander was the son of Philip ;" therefore, " Philip was the father of Alex- ander :** •' A is greater than B ;»' therefore, " B is less than A.f *' These are conversions which, as far as I know, do not fall within any rule in logic ;t nor do we find any loss for want of a rule in such cases. Even in the conversion of categorical propositions, it is not enough to transpose the subject and predicate. Both must un- dergo some change, in order to fit them for their new station ; for, in every propo- pition, the subject nmst be a substantive, or have the force of a substantive ; and the predicate must be an adjective, or have the force of an adjective. Hence it follows, that when the subject is an individual, the proposition admitsnot of con version. § How, for instance, shall we convert this proposi- tion, " God is omniscient" ?|| These observations shew, [?] that the and the dictum in Mo, as his medium of dcmonstra. lion. •• it is, however, better perhaps, and more agreeable to the contexr, to hold, that Aristotle made his de- monstratiun to seme through the holding up or expo- gition of an individual lixOKris, exposiiio—heTur, sin- gular propositions and sylldgisms are called exposi- torpjt and not in the manner »>reviously stated, nor sylfogistically. 1-or the expository mode of demon, stration is brought to bear through *erife, and not syllogistic »Ily. For C is taken as some exposed and Knsiblepart of A, and al«o as an individual part of B. C is thus a part at once of A and of B ; is con. tained under both these logical wholes; and when A is predicated of C, as its own part, it will also be predicated of a part of fi . • • . . . Thus, if it be agreed that Jfdiw If fft no Horse, [(hat no Horse is a Man2 ; and if It be not admitted, e cotiverso, that Horse is in no Man, (ihalw Jfan is a Horsed ; ht us suppose that Horse w t'fi mme Man, [that some Man is a HorseJ, and let this Man be J'henn. Man will therefore be in some Horse, [some Horse will be a Man], for •Jlieon is, ex hp/iotlu-si, both a Man and a Iwnc. But this is, as contradictory, impos.«ible ; for it was originally agreed, that Man !■» in no Horse, fthat no Horse is a Man]," g{C, It is to be noticed, that the terms which I have Usually translated demonstrate and demonstration, are only Zuxwfju and 3i«^if, and never iwtlhuxvufju and ««ro3(i|if . I may notice, before concluding this note, the simpler process by which 'i'hco|.hra8tus and Eudemus formally evinced the first rule of conversion; this also is recorded iiy Alexander. " Let it be 6Up|JOsed that A can be predicated of no B. Now, if not pre- dicable of, it in disjoined from, B. U, therclore, is also disjoined fi-om A ; and if disjoined from, is not pndicauleof, A."— H. * This is incorrect. IT'jypofAitffcal propositions can be converted p/r contrajjotitimiem ; and Di^unctive, per contraposttionem and per accident.-^U. t 'I'hese propositions are categorical; they cannot therefore be given as examples of profiositioRs, " other" than categorical.~H. ^ But this simply because they are bevond the sphere of logic, being moferialnot ^rntol convcr. sions.— H. 4 1 his is erroneous.— H. f By saying—** An, or the, omniscient, la God." doctrine of the conversion of propositions is not so complete as it appears. The rules are laid down without any limitation ; yet they are fitted only to one class of propo- sitions—viz., the categorical ; and of these only to such as have a general term for their subject. Section II, ON ADDITIONS MADE TO ARISTOTLE's THEORY. Although the logicians have enlarged the first and second jiarts of logic, by explain- ing some technical words and distinctions which Aristotle had omitted, and by giving names to some kinds of propositions which lie overlooks, yet, in what concerns the tlieory of categorical syllogisms, he is more full, more minute and particular, than any of them ; so that they seem to have thought this capital part of the Organon rather redundant than deficient. It is true that Galen [?] added a fourth figure to the three nientitmed by Aristotle. But there is reason to think that Aristotle omitted the fourth figure, not through ig- norance or inattention, but of design, as containing only some indirect modes, which, when properly expressed, fall into the first figure. It is true also that Peter Ramus, a pro- fessed enemy of Aristotle, introduced some new modes that are adapted to siiiguhir propositions ; and that Aristotle takes no notice of singular propositions, either in his rules of conversion, or in the modes of syl- logism. But the friends of Aristotle have shewn that this imprtivement of Ramus is more specious than useful. Singular pro- positions have the force of universal propo- sitions, and are subject to the same rules. The definition given by Aristotle of an universal proposition applies to them ; and therefore he might think, that there was no occasion to multiply the modes of syllogism upon their account.* These attempts, therefore, shew rather inclination than power to discover any ma- terial defect in Aristotle's theory. The most valuable addition made to tlje theory of categorical syllogisms seems to be the invention of those technical names given to the legitimate modes, by which they may be easily remembered, and which have been comprised in these barbarous verses : — Barbara, Celarent,I>arii, Ferio, dato primae ; Cesare, Camestres, Festino, Baroco, secnndc ; 'J^rtia grandesonans recitat Baropti, Fdapton, Adjuiigens Dtsamis, Batisi, Bocardo, Fcrison-f * There are other and better reasons fnrtheomia. sion : but they are not unnoticed by Aristotle.— H. t I'his is one of the many variations ol these veraca but not the original idition.— H. WB A BEIEP ACCOUNT OF [chap. it. cECT. IV.J ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC. 699 I'm tkmB wmnm^ mmy tegilinuito modo 'be- Inngiiig to the three igitfec has a name gi^en to it, by which it maj beilistingiiished and reneinliered. And this name :i8 m eo^riwed as to denote' its Mlnfe i for the IMM' 'baS' three ▼owel% whieh denote the hind of each of its propositions. Thus, a syllogism in Boearth nrast be made up of the propositions denoted by the three ¥owehi,. O, A,, O' ; that ]•• ito maior ^and ooneliislon m'ost bO' partienltt n^gntwe propositions, and its minor an universal •lirmative ; and, being in the third igure, the middle term must be the subject of both IfXlS'UtlotJD* This is the mystery contained in the vowels of those barbarous words. But there are other mysteriw eontaiaed. in their eon- wwMits { for, by their nMn% a child may be tanght to reduce any syic^sm of the second or third figure to one of the first. So that the four modes of the first figure being 'directly proved to lie emiclusiTe, all the inodes of iho' 'Other tvO' are proYed at the same time, 'by means of this operation of reduction. For the rules and manner of this reduetion, and the different species of it, called [uttwlor] mifmim, md [iuMmei or] per itttprndBt^^ ' I refer to the Logidans, that I may not disclose all their mysteries. The invention contained, in 'these' verses is so ingenious, and m ,gieal an adminicle tO' the dexterous management of sjUoffiams, that I think it very probable that Amtotle had some contrivance of this kind, which was kept .as one of the secret doctrines of his school, mnd handed down 'by tradition, until some person bronpht it to light This is offered only as a conjecture, leaving it to thooe who are better acqwunted. with the 'most ancient commentaion on 'the Ann- lytici, either to refute or coni..rm it* &N MXAMvum mmi to iLLiJirrm.iTB tb'IS 'Te'BOEY. We may observe, that Aristotle liwdly ever gives exam.pki of real syHogisiiia to^ tllmtntte his rules. In demonstrating 'the legitimate 'modes, he takes. A, B, C, for the terns of the s/llivsm. Thu, the first mode of the first fipiro' 'is denMiisliited. by nim in tuit' naiiner t— ** For, wtM .1% * if A is attributed lO' mmv 'B, .and B ie^ 'Cvery C, it follows neceanly, that A may te attributed, to every €.^' .For disproving the iiifitniate' modeii. k/^^ '■■§■ tM ssme .manners with tliia iHiMiiiti. Ihst 'he'eoii- monlv. fbr aa ^i^'i iii ri tii dvii 'llnee^ real •'Tlilf'flNHilMliin, Irafffit'loiuiffitiioctMinuioub. ifUei temuL Mich as^ Aemisi, kaUiuMf prudmtia t of which three terms you are to make up a sylloiiim of the figure and mode in questiim, which will appear to be inconclusive. The commeniatori and systematical writers in logle have supplied this defect, and given us real exampks of every legiti- mate mode in all the temres. We acknow- ledged this to be chantably 4mm, in order to assist the conception in matters so very abstract ; but whether it was prudently done for the honour of the art, may be doubted. I am afraid thia was to uncover the naked- ness of the theory. It has undoubtedly 'eontribnted iO' 'bring it into contempt ; .foi when one considers the silly and uninstruc- tive reasonings* that have been brought forth, 'bjr thiS' .grand 'Organ of science,, he can hardly forbear erying out— *• FmtmF^mi wumtt$i ntueeiur rMictOm i Many of the writers of logic are acute and ingenious, and much practised in the syllogistical art ; and there must be some reason why the examples they have given of .sTiofisms ^are m ImnKf We shall speak of the;reBSon afterwards $ • Tili mint wlfcf to the (soncrete examplm gi»«i tar Loftalanf, In lltmlntion of their nitet. Had they lifts, 'W .ilttlllilcil. le fl»e instrucfitototfiind iha \mt «ifiilie«Bi»«rili«e ml w, they w«iW havfbcm Indeed wff •• lilf .* 9m next notn. LorIc ain, it may be obMivcd. h m*'mmm¥Kknee,'' miming by till, an liMminient ofdlicotery.— H. t Why, thMe exainplet, inrtead of being merely .liMi. '<»iiiit to ham Imm tan «•"«#.•«* »*>'• '^»- 'ChMit Mfflt tlM' nprai* of iuivtnt MM In 'mak'inc tMr iMMow :iil. iif ■sitjfcipttof to aiw thcra a framltam of ifMhi MsIL Ho 'lie ■yiabiilii of' Arititotle they sbwH iMie itiielt. I4if tc « the tclmm # m knm # AomM' «•' HMMM^iutt ia.. of tbO' nMOMary Qondliioiitlir WMch tliiiii|lit, mmmmi In lta«K 'it aultfeet. Thlalttedinliiif cslMlta Jbrn.. .Ifiic, thefefbfft, aupiioMfl' SB .iliitfiiilKiii ima all eoniiicr. ation «ie noi .aa 'tiimtne, or of tlM omus scHftk, He thtia. raiiroaehea tbaisg iOiiiething otber tlian what 'It ia t •w, p«.lnBiaf what it never profeaacd t nay, not piliMatng what no alngle acience 'Can tf. _.jm«S, toll. hail. and. bamn '*irtfiu»-be it m. But thia^Sraadh' iidf' aHHa 'Iba^ lilance through its ■llieLllow. Ihia oMcct la thelegialallon of tbought j awMf the ftwaand pfwaaf *•»»«!»« ^^f* be 'UBlnuiortant and ualniaifiraMpt , tasf ^ait the lawi. and sScanetiiT aad.lll«iitifh' wiMi»aMl."Whifih alnna, wlMrli: 'SMMii to uiaii ' Wi il i il In 'Sitaileii 'tsccutea Ma 'iaiivf#k *'« On earth, tfaaie la Milling' great but Maai la llsm, there u nothing gnat but Mlnd.- II la Ml. aotily. *f«l»5«* ««« «»•" "• °*»f '*•' and' 'piiiot--aea of 'thought eoniMtent to the buniaa IntelMl, baMea thoae of whieh £«gie la fba axi»ort. lion. AM ••diaooiir* of ■«»«".'«^«d ."»•»• •>• •flligiliei 'Whit b itpml the «yllofliai Is beyoml Ult-^M.. |. WmOB can. mm luny ufhcu m§ 'li, that 'ilMy hare 'never tea li. Miil 'heiiif . hr ndining It raleait fhet: 'ihei' have 'never ] 'U ftaii tiie ■Miiiiriil .iliM out eni the cdisr haod. aad. that of Many othera, it, th i^m In 'aot'Wheif' a SMMal adeneej 'that It MTiii. 'hmt— ifni,„of ehlemife .jlaeefetjMjhat 1 and shall now give a syllogism in each figure as an example. No work of God is bad ; The natural passions and appetites of men are the work of God ; Therefore, none of them is bad. In this syllogism, the middle term, " work of God,'* is the subject of the major, and the predicate of the minor ; so that the syllogism is of the first figure. The mode is that called Celarent ; the major and con- clusion being both universal negatives, and the minor an universal affirmative. It agrees to the rules of the figure, as the major is universal, and the minor affirma- tive ; it is also agreeable to all the general rules ; so that it maintains its character in every trial. And to shew of what ductile materials syllogisms are made, we may^ by converting simply the major proposition, reduce it to a good syllogism of the second figure, and of the mode Cesare, thus :— Whatever is bad is not the work of God ; All the natural passions and appetites of men are the work of God ; Therefore, they are not bad. Another example : Every thing virtuous is praiseworthy ; Some pleasures are not praiseworthy ; Therefore, some pleasures are not vir- tuous. Here the middle term, " praiseworthy," being the predicate of both premises, the syllogism is of the second figure ; and see- ing it is made up of the propositions, A, O, O, the mode is Baroco. It will be found to agree both with the general and special rules ; and it may be reduced into a good syllogism of the first figure, upon convert- ing the major by contraposition, thus :— Whatfever] is not praiseworthy is not virtuous ; Some pleasures are not praiseworthy ; Therefore, some pleasures are not vir- tuous. That this syllogism is conclusive, common sense pronounces, and all Logicians must allow; but it is somewhat unpliable to rules, and requires a little straining to make it tally with them. That it is of the first figure is beyond dis- pute ; but to what mode of that figure shall we refer it ? Thb ia a question of some difficulty ; for, in the first place, the premises seem to be both negative, which contradicts the third general rule ; and, moreover, it is contrary to a special rule of the first figure. That the minor should lie negative. These are the difficulties to be removed. Some Logicians think that the two nega- tive particles in the major are equivalent to an affirmative; and that, therefore, the malor proposition, " What[ever] is not praiseworthy is not virtuous," is to be ac- coimted an affirmative proposition. This, if granted, solves one difficulty ; but the other remains. The most ingenious solu- tion, therefore, is this, Let the middle term be " not-praiseworthy." Thus, making the negative particle a part of the middle term, the syllogism stands thus : — Whatever is not'praiseworthy is not virtuous ; Some pleasures are not-praiseworthy ; Therefore, some pleasures are not vir- tuous. By this analysis, the major becomes an universal negative, the minor a particular affirmative, and the conclusion a particular negative, and so we have a just syllogism in Feiio, We see, by this example, that the quality of propositions is not so invariable, but that, when occasion requires, an affirmative may be degraded into a negative, or a negative exalted to an affirmative.* Another example : All Africans are black ; All Africans are men ; Therefore, some men are black. This is of the third figure, and of the mode Darapti ; and it may be reduced to Darii in the first figure, by converting tho minor. All Africans are black ; Some men are Africans ; Therefore, some men are black. By this time I apprehend the reader has got as many examples of syllogisms as will stay his appetite for that kiud of entertaiu- ment. Section IV, ON THB DKMONSTEATION OF THB THEOItY. Aristotle and all his followers have thought it necessary, in order to bring this theory of categorical syllogisms to a science, to de- monstrate both that the fourteen authorised modes conclude justly, and that none of the rest do. Let us now see how this has been A Y.#a/ai1 tU^Mi As to the legitimate modes, Aristotle and those who follow him the most closely, de- monstrate the four modes of tlie first figure directly from an axiom called the Dictum de omni et nullo. The amount of the axiom is. That what is affirmed of a whole gemtn may be affirmed of all the species and indi^ mduals belonging to that genus ; and thai what i» denied of the whole genm may be de- nted of {all] its species and individuals. The four modes of the first figure are evidently included in this axiom. And as to the le- gitimate modes of the other figures, they are proved by reducing them to some mode ♦ ITiii ia net, in realUif^y^*i ca»^.— H. jm A BlIEF ACCOONT OF [chap. ir« •EC r. v.] ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC. 701 of tilt ini Mm is then imy otlwr principle '-n'mudl ;iii Ihete 'nduetions but the axioms '<»ncern'iig the eomvefsion of |inipoii:iaiii:s, ttody in Mine eiaeii,. the mjcionis eniieenitif the opposition of propositioiM.. As to the illegitinmte modes, Aristotle has taken the labour to try and condemn then. one by onev all the three ignm : Bit this is^ done in neb a manner tiial it it^ very poanfol to follow him.*' To fivea speelmen s in order to poire thai thooe miodes^ of the tirat figure, in wbich 'tho naior is^ particnkr, do not eonehi^de, M proceeds tb:ns i— " If A i% or is not,, in isimie B, and B in every C, no conclusion follows. Take for the terms in the aflirraatiTe eu^gmdf kaMi, jim- deme i in the negative, .jpoif, kaUt, ii/fior- mm,** This .beonio styl% the use of sym- bols .not fam:iliar,t .aid, in ptoeo' ©f giving an eiample, bis leavmg m to form one from three- assigned terms, give snch emi* bairnisment to a .reader, that he is .likO' one xmMt^ a look 'Of riddles. Having thus aaeertained. tbe true and false modes uf a %ure, besnMoinsthe par- ticukr rales of that igur%. whieb seem to be deduced from tlie parlteiilar cases btlbre' determined. TIm' general rules come lust of all, as. a general comlkry from what goes bcfo'fe. I know not whether It is from a diffidence of A..ristotle*s dcmoiwtiations, or from an apprehensbn of 'their olfscurity, or from a desire of improving upon liis^ method, that almost all tbe writers in logic I have met with have .inverted his order, beginning where he ends, and ending where be 'begins. Tliey first demonstrate the general rules,, wbich belong to all the iguree, from tliree aidonss then, from the general rules< and the nature' of caeb igute, they demonstmie the special rules of eadi figure. When th.ia^ is done, nothing remains but to apply these general and special rales, and to reject every .mode which contradicts'' tbem.t: Tliia method has' a very seieiitiic .appear^ anee ; an.d when we conrader that, by a few rules once deinonstmted, an hundred and seventy-eight false modes, are destroyed at * It mtiat bt iwf»II«cta#' ttel. ..A:rlatiitte «•• tbt ^mder of' iIm ■mimm i sml llM. k '«•■. 'PMplaiit m Mm te 'Am artictilaidy what, la coMequeiioe of i.li.»t jmtlfbtiitiiiii, ill* MiccaMin iMvt' brai wii. nelei In .■■uiiiliig.^-.If . f Ffum tli« natiirw •im flexiim of flieprvpoMve ar. tick III 6redK. fuelitymtiolt are far IcM vague tiMi III Miff lanpiagiifMrlii Ijitlat atllie»aineiime, itsbouM te MMliiiafii, tliSl tUMt t« ulioin AriitoUe addre*. Mi liliimli;.««ie' atrtaiy fjnninr villi tlit tupiication. 'iir.Mai. MMMlaiM'Matlicniatiat Mm liw iiat Imiicli •rjuvsnieiiiitruitfimanmitlbamtlia Itisnwiv. m, ttat time^toiten weie iflsttfe 'to itispam, tie Ml m 'iMali hb latrr comm.«iilalfflW SwetniMriMiftdi J» •3Pf*«f thO' Intrtiiaic profNrfeejr of 'Wflwt • tpa. ■•««il: astanan m JLngie, 1 hm9 eucwlMie .ipimen. it aSsSSlt**"' ^ *y"**'«"«= f"'' *e tearhiiif ' one Mow, which Arislotte bad the trouble to put to death one by one, it seems to be a , preat improvemcn.t. I .have only one ob- jeetion to' the three axioms.* Th« 'three ».ionis are theses 1. Things which agree with the same t].iird agree' with one another. % When one agrees with the third, and tlie other does not, Ihoy do .not ^gree with one another. X When iflither agrees with tlic third, you cannot thenee conclude, eitlier tliat they do, or do not agree with one another. If these axioms .are applied to mathematical (luantities, to wbteh they seem to relate when ''taken. it«rally, they have all the evi- dence that an axiom ought to have ; but the Logicians apply them in an analogical sense to tbings^ of .anolb«r' nature. 1 n order, therefore, 'to Judge w'betber th'ey are truly axioms, we ought to strip them of their igiirative dress, and to set 'them down in jtliiin English, as the Logicians understand tbem. Thev amount, therefore, to this :— I. If^ two th.iiigs. be affirmed of a third, or the third be affirmed of them ; or if one be alE.rmed. of tbe third, and 'the third affirmed of tbe other; then they may be affiraied one of the other. 2. If one is affirmed of the third, or tbe third of It, and the other denied of the third, or the tliird of it, they may be deiifd one of the other. 3. If both are denied of the third, or the third of them, or if one Is denied of the third, and the third denied of the othei, nothing can be inferred. Whi»n the three axioms are thus put in plain .English, they seem not to have that 'isgvie of evidence which axioms ought to have ; and, if there is any defect of evidence in the axioms, this defect will beeonimuni- •atedtothe whole edifice raised upon them. It may even be suspected, that an at- tomnt, by any method, to demonstrate that a syllofiBm is conclusive, is an imprttpriety somewhat like that of attempting to demon- strate' an. ax.iom. In a just syllogism, the 'Conncotion between the pre'mtras and the conclusion is not only real, but immediate ; so that no proposition can come between them to make their connection more appar- ent. 'The 'Very intention of a ByllogiKni is to leave 'nothing to be supplied that is neces- sary to a complete demonstration, lliere- fore, a man of common understanding, who .baa a .perieet comprehension of the pre- mises, inds himself nnder a necessity of admitting the conclusion, supposing the premises to be trae ; and the conclusion is •onneeted with the premises with all the 'foMo^ |)lk%iliiia of Maihcoialaail knguaie to t4%kal Dotlooa.~il« tubes by the light of common sense ; and, where that is wanting, no kind of reasoning will supply its phice. * Sect'im r. ON THIS THBORY, CONSmSRED AS AN ENGINK OF hCIKNCK.*!- Tlie slow progress of useful knoivledge, during the many aj^es in which the syllo- gistic art was most highly cultivated as the only guide to science, and its quick progress since that art was disused, suggest a pre- sumption against it ; and this presumption is strengthened by the puerility of the ex- amples which have always been brought to illustrate its rules. :^ The ancients seem to have had too high notions, both of the force of the reasoning power in man, and of the art of syllogism as its guide. Mere reasoning can carry us but a very little way in most suhjects.§ By observation, and experiments properly conducted, the stock of human knowledge may be enlarged without end ; but the power of reasoning alone, applied with vig- S«r throagh . lon| life, woGm only carry\ man round like a horse in a mill, who la- bours hard but makes no progress. There is indeed an exception to this observation in * The obsprvstions contained in this paragraph, Hhich have been adopted andexp nded by Mr S ew- att, are, in my opinion, without application. .There in no Lojjician lam avareof who has attempt! d to demonstrate that a sj/Uogism isconcltmves though many have taken different modei of scientifically stating the principles which constitute its native evi. deuce and ncces^ity Aristotle's definition of the ■vUogism, which has been generally adopted, of itself shews bnw superfluous are these remarks. As this definition is not given by Rtid, Uhall quote it :— " A syllogism is a speech, in which certain things [the pre> inisesj being supposed, something different iiom what is »uppo^ed nhe conclusion] follows (^ necesrilj/i and this solely in virtue of the supjiositions them. selvet." And Alexander, in his commentary on this deinltion, thus explains— what no logician ever dreamt of doubting— the/ormal neccssitp qf the con- tequmce in all syllogisms .— " But when A ristotle says, '/(Mows qf necessity ^' this does not mean that the conclusion, as a proposition in itst If. i>hould neces. ••rily be true ; for this is the case only in syllogisms of necessary matter ; but thai tlte conclusion, be its matter what it may-actual, contingent, or necessary '^must /oUow of necessity front the premises ; for, even if the conclusion be (matirially considered) con- tingent, Mill it cannot but result from prop sitions ■•tandingin syllogisiieal connection. liis words do not, therefore, denote that the conclusion should be a necessarv proposition ; imt the nature of the rela- lion in which the conclusion stands, to the pre^ inises."— (0» First Book of the Prior Analytics, f. 8, a. ed. Aid.}— Into Logic ought never to have been introduced a consideration of the diflferences of Matter at all ; it should- have been limited exclu. ■ivelf toihe Form ; and tl.us wi uld have been a*oidod the mistalies sopievalent in regard to its object and end.— H. t As an mgim* of science, an instrument qf^dis- tlivery, logic never, even by the scboolmen, was pro. posed.— H. t See above, p. f98. b, notes.— H. § Doct •* mere 'reasoning * mean reasoning apart ini me couditiona of an object waitur f— U. the mathematical sciences. The relations of quantity are so various, and so suscep- tible of exact mensuration, that long trains of accurate reasoning on that subject may be formed, and conclusions drawn, very remote from the first principles. It is in this science, and those which depend upon it, that the power of reasoning triumphs ;* in other matters, its trophies are inconsider- able. If any man doubt this, let him pro- duce, in any subject unconnected with ma- thematics, a train of reasoning of some length, leading to a conclusion which, with- out this train of reasoning, would never have been brought within human sight. Every man acquainted with mathematics can produce thousands of such trains of reasoning. I do not say that none such can be produced in other sciences ; but I be- lieve they are few, and not easily found ; and that, if they are found, it will not be in subjects that can be expressed by categori- cal propositions, to which alone the theory of figure and mode extends. In matters to which that theory extends, a man of good sense, who can distinguisli things that differ, who can avoid the snares of ambiguous words, and who is moderately practised in such matters, sees at once all that can be inferred from the preniises, or finds that there is but a very short step to the conclusion. When the power of reasoning is so feeble by nature, especially in subjects to which this theory can be applied, it would be un- reasonable to expect great effects from it. And hence we see the reason why the ex- amples brought to illustrate it by the most ingenious Logicians have rather tended to bring it into contempt. If it should be thought that the syllo- gistic art may be an useful er.gine in mathe- matics, in which pure reasoning has aniplo scope : First, it may be observed, That facts are unfavourable to this opinion : For it does not appear that Euclid, or Apol- lonius, or Archimedes, or Huygens, or New- ton, ever made the least use of this art ; and I am even of opinion that no use can be made of it in mathematics. -j- I would not wish to advance this rashly, since Ari- * If, by "poiiwr uf reasoning." be understood mental /07>Je, that iiless exerted in mathematics than in any other intellectual puisuit. As Warburton truly says, " Mathanatical demonstration is theeasiat exercise (/reason." In another sense, Reid's observ- ation is correct. — H. t Mathematical, like all other reasoning, issyllo. gistic; but, here, the perspicuous necessity of the mat. ter necessitates the correctness o/ the form .- we cannot reason wrong. I.<)gic, wlietlu-r natural or acquired^ Is thus less exercised in mathematics than m any nther department ot science ; ai'd on this accoui t it is that mathematical study is the very worst gymnas. tic of the intellect— the very worst preparative lor reasoning correctly on matters (and these are orly not all the ol Jects of human concernment) in which ttie mind must actively pret'edc, and not possiveilf tullow the evolution of its oljicts. — H. AMllf U'l? A.pmTTMT A# 7W» ■iQfle lias mill, tlmt nuitlMiiMtiGuiiis nsiiMii for the wmm. mk in the tel tore. Wlinl '(Mifar fiilit 'Miwiiiiiaiit that m nntvemil. : ^n4 'iiiRmiliv% .^if i 4 lite eondliiiioiii' of ma- tlieiiialiee are eonnnonly of that' kind. But it is to he ohwtved, that the propoiitiMis of iiiatheiiiati«: an not eat^fotiial f nipoei- lionii eoniltliiig of one iiiili|eet and one piredieatiiik. nej expreea tome lehttion whiffih one quantity heart to another, and on that aeeonnt mnst have three tenni. 'The fnantitias comiiared 'make two, and the fdation 'between them is a third. ' How, to meh profMwitions we can neither apply the rales eonoeming the conTersion of propo- sitions,, nor can. thej enter into^ m syllc^m. of any of the %urw or modes. We oh- served 'hefore, diat this, eonirerabn, A. is prmtmr' t&im H, therefore B h ku ikan A^ does not fall within the mles of conversion .given. % Aristotle or the L<^.cians|* and WO' now .adi, that this aimple reasoning, jf is equtd So M., ami B i& €, therefore jC h «f tf«l' U C, cannot he brought into any syl- .ledhm. in inve and mo iTJIcI mm ipMi in lie mmtB mm ^mit to [OHAP. !▼• nm^km, A iMl' C mm mmi to endl 9i&mr. llr lteidcoci.lcl tate §imm a raw wmk in tiie Col., .togc .LiliKavf nf' filaigww, wlileli it mlplic Mva hmn pMiMli« te Min 'tO' emwnlt^via.., an 'elitkin of tho InH .•!«. iMoki' 'OrBudid, liy .HttliiiiM .and Dwypo. ct.lia% .111 wlildi etifff dfiaoiiftiilitii 'li AL .SVLL0G1S]IS>' Categorical propositions, besides their quantity and quality, liave another afiec- tlon, by which they are divided into pure and wmM*^ In a pure proposition, the '*■ .l%V' ** anriiinfiif isjmm,^ 'Ac read, •* pmurf- wudimtM^fm tokldk. liipfiliMili»."->H. t 'ftic end of mil icience it the reduction of tht many to the one. Is l^gic. then, to be iteridrd lor aoiOiapMiliia this end f Astronomy it not an empty, fNimi. mr oaTitg .rmiiu int im.vefiw a ntit iicy for in phmtiMMi' tf 'lilt tf ngle prlntljilt tf gravitation. Bui tet Stwvtf pb 'flM| 'b,. iiote t.n>'I^ .$ The iiind.artif 'Off' ipiiipitliiont and iflliiiClinN It ■ flwif or MtiawlliitlitA. **«^ mit .■ ibntiMt or I^oIimI •EOT. VI.] ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC. 703 predicate is barely affirmed or denied of the subject; but, in* a modal proposition, the affirmation or negation is modified, by being declared to be necessary^ or contingeniy or posdble^ or impossible. These are the four modes observed by Aristotle,* from which he denominates a proposition modaL His genuine disciples maintain, that these are all the modes that can affect an affirmation or negation, and that the enumeration is complete. Others maintain, that this enu- meration is incomplete ; and that, when an affirmation or negation is said to be certain or uncertain, probable or improbable, this makes a modal proposition, no less than the four mode? of Aristotle. We shall not enter into this dispute, but proceed to ob- serve, that the epithets of pure and modal are applied to syllogisms as well as to pro- positions. A pure syllogism is that in which both premises are pure propositions. A modal syllogism is that in which either of the premises is a modal proposition. The syllogisms of which we have already said so much, are those only which are pure as well as categorical. But, when we con- sider, that, through all the figures and modes, a syllogism may have one premise modal of any of the four modes, while the other is pure, or it may liave both premises modal, and that they may be either of the same mode, or of different modes, what prodigious variety arises from all these combinations ? Kow, it is the business of a Logician to shew how the conclusion is affected in all this variety of cases. Aristotle has done this in his first Analytics with immense labour ; and it will not be thought strange that, when he had employed only four chapters in discussing one hundred and ninety-two modes, true and false, of pure syllogisms, he should employ fifteen upt)n modal syllogisms. I am very willuig to excuse myself from entering upon this great branch of logic, by the judgment and example of those who cannot be charged either with want of re- spect to Aristotle, or with a low esteem of the syllogistic art. Keckermann, a famous Dantiscan pro- fessor, who spent his life in teaching and writing logic,t in his huge folio system of that science, published anno 1000, calls tlie doctrine of the modals the crux Logicorum. nfTectian. It might, tbereforc, as I hare shewn, on princiide, to be wholly excladed from l^ogic. bee mMbur^Eivtew, vol. Ivii. p. 315, tq — H. • Aristotle hat two enumeralioni of the Modes ,— the one now mentioned, and another in the same chapter, comprehending, besides the funr stated, alto the true and Xhe/alse^ Mod«« are indefinite in num- ber ; and his Greek expositors contend that Aristotle did not mean lo enumerate aU, but only to signalize the more important. — H. t Keckermann died at the age of thirty.aeven. and, t)e«>idti Systems of Ixigic, a greater and less. left Systems of tkirtem other sciences, with various Other tieatisea m pattltiilar CLtjcttt.— Ii. With regard to the scholastic doctors, among wliora this was a proverb, De modali nan gustabit asinus, he thinks it very dubi- ous whether they tortured most the modal syllogisms, or were most tortured by them. But those crabbed geniuses, says he, made this doctrine so very thorny that it is fitter to tear a man^s wits in pieces than to give them solidity. He desires it to be ob- served, that the doctrine of the modals is adapted to the Greek language. The modal terras were frequently used by the Greeks in their disputations, and, on that account, are so fully handled by Aristotle ; but, in (disputations in] the Latin tongue, you shall hardly ever meet with them. Nor do I remember, in all my experience, says he, to have obs-rved any man in danger of being foiled in a dispute, through his ignor* ance of the modals.* Tlu.'s author, however, out of respect to Aristotle, treats pretty fully of modal pro- positions, shewing how to distinguish tlieir subject and predicate, their quantity and quality. But the modal syllogisms he passes over altogether. Ludovicus Vives, whom I mention, not as a devotee of Aristotle, but on account of his own judgment and learning, thinks that the doctrine of modals ought to be banished out of logic, and remitted to grammar ; and that, if the grammar of the Greek tongue had been brought to a system in the time of Aristotle, that most acute philosopher would have saved the great labour he has bestowed on this subject.f Burgersdyk, after enumerating five classes of modal syllogisms, observes, that they re- quire many rules and cautions, which Aris- totle hath handled diligently ; but that, as the use of them is not great, and their rules difficult, he thinks it not worth while to enter into the discussion of them ; recom- mending to those who would understand them, the most learned paraphrase of Jo- annes Monlorius upon the first book of the First Analytics.^ All the writers of logic for two hundred years back, that have fallen into my hands, have passed over the rules of modal syllo- gisms with as little ceremony. § So that this great branch of the doctrine of syllo- gism, so diligently handled by Aristotle, fell into neglect, if not contempt, even while the doctrine of pure syllogisms con- tinued in the highest esteem. Moved by these authorities, I shall let this doctrine rest in peace, without giving the least dis- turbance to its ashes. * Systema Plenius, h. i. c. 3. Opera, i. p 7 3.— H. t Vives De Cavsis Comtpt Artitim, I~ id.— H- t Hurgersdicii, InstituL Log. L. u. c. 14 —H. 4 Modals have, indeed, been frequently treated with neglect by Logical writers, but never, at b-am till lately, formally expelled from the science.— H. 701 A BEllF AOCO0NT OP [CUAP. IV, I [chap. 1 —SECT. I.] ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC. 705 SmUm VII, 091 If LlOfllSMS THAT DO NOT BSLONO TO PUiURB AND MODS. Aristotio giiriis wmm obturvfttiiin Mpm iniperfiKt ftjllogiHnis | .mmIi M«tlio iTnllf ^ meme^ in whieh one of Hie pramises is not mLftmrnAt but ii]idei8too4 •* Imlmiim^ wiiertin mm eolket^ an nnivecnl. from m full ennmentton of piurlienliiro ; .hmI Emm^pie, wMek is an imperfect imliMlion. Ttie Logiisiiins have ^copied A^ristolle, upon these kinds of naaoningi without any consider- ahle impmrement. But, to eomponsate 'the modal sylfegismis, whieh they have laid aaidc', they havo' given rules for several kinds of syllogism, of which Aristotle takes no notice. These' may he reduced to' lino The Jir§i class 'Comprehends the ajllo- gisins into which any exciumee, rfMtticiim^f extepiimf or reduplicatimf proposition enters. Such propositions are by eonie culled E^vpauihle, by others Imjmrfeeiip [or Seeondariiff} Modai. The rules given with regiiwl to these are obvious, from a Just in- terpretation of the propositions. The Mmmd eimm "m that of M§p§iktiimi syllogisms,, whieh take that denomination fnim having a hypothetical proposition for one or both premises. Most Loffieians give the name of kMpotketicai to all complei propositions which have more terms than one subject and one predicate.^ I use the word in this large sense, and mean, by hy- pothetical syllogisms, all those in which «ither of the pnsmiseS' consists' of roon terms than twa How manjr^ varioas kinds there may be of such syllogisms, 'has never been asccHaiued' The Ijogieiaos have given names tO' mme ; such as the ropitMiiif , the mmHUmml^^ (by some called %|ioliflJcii/,) and the di^fmmmm. Such syllogisms cannot bO' tried, by the rules of figure and mode. Every kind would require' rules peculiar to' itself. Lo- gicians have .given mte for some kinds ; but there art' 'many that have not so much tm the nam'e;. The Uilf immi is considered by most Lo- gicians as a species of the disjunetive syllo- gism.! A remarkable property of this Mud • 'rtt'it it the vulgar opi'iiion n^anHnf Ari'itolM liilllhnMine, bm, as I htve r-.liewf;i. iwt the rorrwi. fle« Wlaliifiil' Jlcojfwf.. vol. Ivit. p. ttl, aq.-.li. » .lleiltiiiilMffw, anil. l|w6tfMilt^ an'tnecpcilitiif JlcflriMiiW' pm|»«ttinia.«»ti. miiclii to bt uted m coitvartiWs tmtm.. Em JMIn. iwDi: Matkw, vol. Ivil. p. KIH'—Il. t ">'»*•' i« lw#y Meuuta TUtfietltrsii'inljerof Laiie'>am oowlitar' it m m kfimciwikal f coiitlitioiiall iflfiififii j tint,, la 'tet. 'it is :iioib. bipiiiliciiail aai ii, that it may sometimes he happily tartad. i 'it m m seens, like a .hand-gienade, 'wUeh, by 'dntnnia :nianagem'en:t|. may bo thrown hack, lo as to spend its foiM upon the aasaihut.* Wo shall conclude this tedious account of syllogisms with a di« letmna mentioned by Aulus Oellius, and Ibon Mm by manv Logicians, as insoluble in any other way.Y *otlietloo..Omaoelive >y tlog ism.— 11. * WtiButt noi ciinfouiid the Dilemma, or Hyfioili. i*i».IJiiancii»e %/%i*jM. and ihe Sopkim ctikd the Pileimi)tl Tisiai. The ptuslcd fudgca. In lieu of a decision on Ike case, ai.grlly {ironounceU of i.laitttiir and defend. aat~:K«is«w mimmm mmtm JAr :.:stotiy em of m CHAPTER V. AOOOUKT OP THE RBMAIXmo BOOKS OF THE OfUlAMOM. Section L OP THE LAST ANALYTICS. Im the First Analytics, syllogisms are considered in respect of their form ; they are now to be considered in respect of their matter. The form lies in the necessary connection between the premises and the conclusion ; and, where such a connection is wanting, they are said to be informal, or vicious in point of form. But; where there is no fault in the form, there may be in the matter — that is, in the propositions of which they are composed, which may be true at false j probaUe or «m- probaijfe. When the premises are certain, • and the conclusion drawn from them in due form, this is demonstration^ and produces science. Such syllogisms are called apodiclical, and are handled in the two books of the Last A naly tics. When the premises are not cer- tain, but probable only, such syllogisms are called dialectical ; and of them he treats in the eight books of the Topics. But there are some syllogisms which seem to be per- fect both in matter and form, when they are not really so; as, a face may seem beautiful which is but painted. These being apt to deceive, and produce a false opinion, are called sophistkal ; and they are the subject of the book concerning So)iIiisms. To return to the Last Analytics, which treat of demonstration and of science : We shall not pretend to abridge those books, for Aristotle*s writings do not admit of abridgement ; no man, in fewer words, can say what he says ; and he is not often guilty of repetition. We shall only give some of his capital conclusions, omitting his long reasonings and nice distinctions, of which liis genius was wonderfully productive. All demonstration must be built upon principles already known, and these upon others of the same kind ; until we come at last to first principles, which neither can be demonstrated, nor need to be, being evident of themselves. We cannot demonstrate things in a circle, supporting the conclusion by the premises, and the premises by the conclusion. Nor can there be an infinite number of middle terms between the first principle and the conclusion. • In Demonstration, the premises must not only btlnie and certain, but meetmrilif ta^il. In all demonstration, the first principles, the conclusion, and all the intermediate propositions, must be necessary, general, and eternal truths ; for, of things fortuitous, contingent, or mutable, or of individual things, there is no demonstration. Some demonstrations prove only, that the thing is thus affected ; others prove, wh^ it is thus affected. The former may be drawn from a remote cause, or from an effect ; but the latter must be drawn from an immediate cause, and are the most per- fect. The first figure is best adapted to demon- stration, because it affords conclusions uni- versally affirmative ; and this figure is com- monly used by the mathematicians. The demonstration of an affirmative pro- position is preferable to that of a negative ; the demonstration of an universal to that of a particular; and direct demonstration to that ad absurdum. The principles are more certain than the conclusion. There cannot be opinion and science of tlie same thing at the same time. In the second book, we are taught, that the questions that may be put with regard to any thing are four : 1. Whether the thing he thus affected, 2. Why it is thus affected. 3. Whether it exists, 4. What it is.* The last of these questions, Aristotle, in good Greek, calls the What is it of a thing The schoolmen, in very barbarous Latin, called this the quiddity of a thing. This quiddity, he proves by many arguments, cannot be demonstrated, but must be fixed by a definition. This gives occasion to treat of definition, and how a right definition should be fo rmed. As an example, he gives a definition of the number three, and de- fines it to be the first odd number. In this book he treats also of the four kinds of causes — efficient^ material, formal, Siud final. Another thing treated of in this book is, the manner in which we acquire first prin- ciples, which are the foundation of all de- monstration. These are not innate, be- cause we may be, for a great part of life, ignorant of them : nor can they be deduced demonstratively from any antecedent know- ledge, otherwise they would not be first prmciples. Therefore he concludes, that first principles are got by induction, from the informations of sense. The senses give us informations of individual things, and from these by induction we draw general conclusions ; for it is a maxim with Aris- totle, That there is nothing in the under' standing which was not befure in some senscf * The natural order of the four quettlODS, and as they are-oommonly enounced, 'u:—AnsU^Qiuid *U ^QucUe til— Cur jrft.- H. t Whether Aristotle admitted the virtual or po. tential existence of any a priori or native judg. A BEIEP ACCOUNT OF [chap. v. The InovM^ of first prindples, u it it not^ .aei|iiifei! Iiy iMMiiitnitioa« oosht not to^ 1m iilM. iOMiioo^ t mi 'thenfote be aJh 'HW' miiltllltt\mKMII^mKmJKM^IIMU^MIk^lllk! 'I 'flf' H SuMmii. or TUB TOMOfc 'TiiO' piofesied ^bmgn of' Ao Topiet i%, to. •Iiiv ft' method lij wliieh m. man IMJ lie •Ue to feaaoii with frolmliiilj ftnd con. aisteiicy upon every questioii that ciin oeeur. B f ThO' tastnunents by which we may .sup- ply' ouieeives with..] tie fumituRi' proper L'fit a 'man, for Jg^ dialectieally may he rednced to these four heads t I. [To ;niake choice' of], probable propositions of all sorts, which may on occasion he assumed .in .an. argument. % |To tahe'l diatine.* tiens of words, which are nearly of tliO: :iaae' nUncation. Hk llO'marKtiiejaiitlBisiMins 'Off thingpi which are not so hit asunder bnt that, they 'may he taken, for ono' .and tho' iaae« 4. |To oonslderl 'Similitndet. The second and the five fblowinf boolcs am tahen up in ennmera^ng the fq»ict or 'Of argument that may hC' mied. in. about the genns, the dellnitien., , and "the aecidemto of 'a th^inc t «nd~oee»sionally he introduces the topws 'for proving things to be 'the same or dlner- •at| and the topics for pniviM mm tbiqg' to 'he better or wmm 'than, anotlif. In this enumeration of topics, Aristotle shewn more the fertility of his genius ^JI^^I^II^^^JJlll^^^ll^^ll^Hl^^^^ jgl^^^^^^^ ^1^^ VRnBc VW . . __.„,_ _ _ setudly :g»ttiii*Mltaiii %' rtaiOTk It. a vmttn^puumo mumm^ warn nmr bt invNl'iiccd oo l»olli t 'Wiiflit 'Hie .Miiw, pp. lUt b, ■mBtft m Ifl» 'than the aeeniaqr ef .nethed. The writen of logic aeem. to 'he of this opinion; for I know none of them, that has. followed him closely upon, this snIiMi. They have con* •id«^ thTtopics oniignnentM^^ aa re-' fliMiliit'W certain .auoDiSf Jfw matawiei when. 'the' fnestim. la. ahonC 'the genus of a 'thiif I it must he determined by some axiom .aboni ,genus and species ; when it .is about a deinttion, it must be determined by some .axiom, .rektiug to' definition, .and thingS' de* fi.iied I and so of other qnestloni. ''They have thoiefore reduced the doctrine of the topics to' certain, axioms or canons, and dis« noeed these axioms in order under certain This method seems to 'hC' m.ore eomm^od- lons and elegant than tliat of Aristotle. Yet it must be acknowledged that Aristotle has 'logWans have borrowed, their doctrine of tcmica.{ and. even Cicero, 'Quintilian, and other rhetorical writers, have been much indebted to the topics of Aristotle. He was< the first, as. far as I know, who made an attempt of this, kind ; and in this he acted up to the magnanimity of his own fninS|. and that of' .ancient philosophy. very ambject of human thought .had. 'been 'Can 'be attribnted. 'to' any subject, to five pred.icaMes | .he attempted to reduce all the 'forms of reasoning to fixed rules of fi.gure' .and midiw.and to reduce all the topics of argumeBtotiOn under certain heads; and by 'that means to collect, as it were, into' one store, all that can l»e said on one side or the other of every question, .and to pro* Tide a grand .areena( fnia. which, .all f utuM' eomiiiatants mignt 'oe lum'isiieii witu arms, oiSmsive and defensive, in every cause, so. as to leave no room to fbture generations to invent .apythliig new* The last 'book 'Of the Topics, is. a code of tfaO' 'hiwt' .aeeordhig 'to which a syllogist- ical disputation ought to hc' managed, both on 'the part of the asaaiknt and defendant. From 'Which it is evidenl,. that, this^ philoso- pher trained, his disciples 'to' contend, not for truth merely, but for victory.* • TIM .|in|illcgtlon li^ere 'is 'uniMiiMlcil« siid.^0Dtilii iarill3r'l»'.dlli«a te'beu.fijittt.— .Inwy Dot'toS'tlMCtliera li: :Ml:biat la 'ifpMNi to which. nocio.na 'Cnnler,. nar. fomt,. m mam mmmttmu piivall, than in resard to DlipinafliMit 'Iti nat'ure, its iil|ttts« .and its eiid« % pnaiiKf ' .Ilia, tfae 'ImtaliwiitBl vtimar of youth loal ttim% liia through the dnurtude into which, during thift lHliff afft, Dispitatiofii as a regular ami daily iSflcllt'lu. our unlfcnltta*, iaa iilMi.. Before thf Invtulinti of prtntlnf , when unlveniiles could vin. ciM. mM :IIM|Mltali«m to 'pSTttCBlar, was still' tsoof. niMd.ai.'tlMir'paiiiiiiilitiiiwnt of education: wLecies mentioned by Aristotle, find very often you may take your choice of two nr three. Besides the enumeration of the various kinds of sophisms, there are many other tliingi in this troatiie concerning tbe art of mani^ging a Byllogistical dispute with an antagonist. And indeed, if tbe passion for tliis kind of litigation, which reigned for so many ages, slionld ever again lift up its head, we may predict, 'that the Organon of Aristotle will then becom© a fasbionahle study; for it nmtains such admirable mate- rials and documents for this art, that it may be said to haw© brought it to a seic-mee. The coneliKfiim, of this treatise ought not to he overloO'iced ; it manifestly relates, not to tbe prescri'<*t treatise only, but also to tbe whole analytics and topics of tlie autlior. I sbal tbenfof©' nve the substance of it . — '^' 'Of tboW' who may be^ called inveu.to.rs, ■ome have made important additions to things long before began and carried on 'tlirougb .a 'Coursc' of ages ; otherS' have given m 'Small begi.nning' to thinp wbieb,, in suc- ceeding ti.me oh- served, that our rational faculty is the gilt of God, given to men in very different measure. Some have a larger portion, some ai less; and where there is a remarkable defect of the natural power, it cannot be supplied by any culture. But this natural power, even where it is the strongest, may lie dead for want of the means of improve- ment ! a savage may have been born with as good faculties as a Bacon or a Newton : but his talent was buried, being never put to use ; while theirs was cultivated to the best advantaj^e. It may likewise be observed, that the chief meun of improving our rational power, is the vi;;orou8 exercise of it, in various ways and in different subjects, by which the liabit is ac(|uircd of exercising it properly. Without such exercise, and good sense over and above, a man who has studied logic all his life may, after all, be only a petulant wrangler, without true judgment or skill of reasoning in any science. I take this to be Locke's meaning, when, in his ** Thoufjhts on Education," he says, *' If you would have your son to reason well, let him read Chillingworth." The state of things ia much altered since Locke wrote. Logic has been much imjjroved, chiefly by his writings ; and yet much less stress is laid upon it, and less time con- sumed in it. His counsel, therefore, was judicious and seasonable — to wit, That the imprt>vemcnt of our reasoning power is to be exiK'cted mueli more from an intimate acquaintance with the authors who reason the best, than from studying voluminous eystems of logic. But if he had meant that the study of logic was of no use, nor de- ■eerved any attention, he surely would not have taken the pains to have made so con- siderable an addition to it by his " Essay on the Human Understanding" and by his ** Thoughts on the Conduct of the Under- standing.** Nor would he have remitted bis pupil to Chillingworth, the acuteKt logician as well as the best reasoner of his age ; and one who, in innumera'ile jilaces of his excellent book, without pedantry even in that iiedantic age, makes tbe happiest application of the rules of logic, for unravel- ling the sophistical reasoning of his anta- Kouist Our reasoning power makes no appear- ance in infancy ; but as we grow up, it unfolds itself by degrees, like the bud of a tree. When a child first draws an infer- ence, or perceives the force of an inference drawn by another, we may call this tfrn hirlh of his reason; but it is yet like a new- born babe, weak and tender; it must bo cherished, carried in arms, and have fooU of easy digestion, till it gathers strength. I believe no man remembers the birth of his reason : but it is probable that his de- cisions are at first weak and wavering ; and, compared with that steady conviction which he acquires in ripe years, are like the dawn of the morning compared with noon-day. We see that the reason of children yields to authority, as a reed to the wind ; nay, that it clings to it, and leans u|>ou it, as if conscious of its own wt^akness. When reason acquires such strengtb- i\n to stand on its own Ijottom, without the aid of autlu>rity, or even in opposition to uti- thority, this may be called its mania aally confessed, the eaxi(\st o/nll sciences ,- their perspicuity is excessive; and thus they only conduce to exercise the patience and attention. Mr Stewart, who was an eminent mathematician before he was a distinguished philosopher, in the admirable chapter of his " Philo- sophy of the Human Mind," entitled *• The Mathe- matician," limits the benefit to be derived from the studv of mathematics, in the cultivation of the men- tal (acuities, to the power of continuous attention which it contributes to exercise ; and this to the rx- i-reKs rxclu«ion of the mechanical process of the al- ifebraic calculua. *• This command ot attention," 7W A BtlEF ACCOUNT OF fcojir. wir Booiim, ia mailsiiiiiliai Hicie h im mum f itr aitiorilj, iiir lor imtjii^oe nf' any Mocl, wiiieh 'nny gi? « fiyU '!»» t#. As judg. iMnt** W'lwi ft youth of nwilttate' pttrtt iMgiu to ttudv EiMslidy iv«iftliiiig M' Hnn is now to him, Hitft|mrdieiiaioii'isiipatift%'| lih I'lulgiiieutfe 'iSwiiie, mod rests pvlljf'ii|M»ii tli0 evilenee of the Mmg, and mrtiy upon IIm authority of his teacher. Brat, every time be goes overtba^ deHnitioiis, tlieajuoiiiSi the ekmotary pw|MNtionii» mora l%^t hnsalcs in itpon' Mm; the hmgnage'beeemes faiailiar, and conveys clear and steady 'Con- ceptions : the Judgnient is conirmed 2 he it Is Imfiosslhle to see if without being charmed with It He perceives it to be a kind of evidence that has no need of au- thoritjr to strenglhen it. He inds himself emanciMted: from that bdndaA. and. eanlts BO 'n»4» in. thiS' new state of indepenienee^ that be spurns at authority, and would have demonstration for everything, until ex- pefien.ce teacheS' him, that this IS' a bind of eviitnee which 'Canniit 'be ^baii iii:most^ things; and that, in bis most important 'ewwms, be muRt rest contented with pnibabiity. As be goes on in mathematics, the road of demonstration becomes smooth and. easy i he earn valb 'in il firmly, and talM' wider steps; and at .biat' hea«(|nirca the' babit, not only of understanding a demonstration, bat of discovering and demonstrating ma- thematical truths. Thus a man, without rules of logic, may aconite a habit of 'reasoning justly' in ma- 'tbematicS';f -and I believe he may, by like means, anpuire a habii of reasoning j'ustly in 'mechanics, in jiirtKpmdence, in politics, or in any other science. Good seiiae, good eicamples, and asisiduoua eiiereise,, may bring 'Im mm, •• It may M profier In add. U to be Mctilrecl, 'not % practteoff' ilW' nuHlini mctimia, btit n tlie axmiftii tte' Ofarft^jmniitrf ; mnrt |»srtteii'larlv. Ikf 'i<»iiit«iiiiqg ouneiffct to Mrtiie long trains of ie. aoMtistion, «it.|ioiit availing otiraehm of the aid of' Miy iCMlUc dlagramt: tbe tlMNigllta Mng diractMl. wMf to ilMin UmI. Mineaflonawlileli tlit powtia of m ami 'Of ' mawiff' cmMc tia to •iinn.'*' oiMfiitian. ma likcviit. ia wiliat'lw 'iw* aayt In 'ivmm of Matbrawtioi. aa an. Intdlcot'ital asMcf**, 'Honieak 'platraasCtaaivcIf tUc' Menslve or igcomelrlo iiici:iioil Tli» If' maolfiM, not 'Oni| from tlie McanHirf meaii. inf of hit word*, but aim fttm Ilia •• Emaj m Cuaotity,"'' in which he sap: ••Lcwg did'lictionii'n •If fhra are, for ti»e rooit pmrt, inadfet »<« •«■ ■»«* tir a train of niaaoning in tte mind, at hy a fciMl. of aitiicnl C'lnechBOlcal f} operatioii wMeli 'li hirtit on aJnr plndpcf,**'*!:. On the pernldoui Infueaee 'Of Iht'iniMiara ^HMdyai^ in an cd'ucat'iomil: iMtot 'Of view, 'SMMiv 'nUoMiiilian .and practical Inktructors 'havo tmomm tiiair' eniplialic tf«iinoni«» On this wi-lcct* am .JSUMiiyl: iMbm Ka IM, art 7.- 11. *■ Tlwce If, In fact, no loon. te dtiaitnce of oaia. km.. Bat It ia dlBcutt tn ••• how we cm te iniiMdi 'to s«iioii"if||l^. hy • idmce' in which tiici* la .no 'loaioalBg nif'miMi it_ f A man. tomiMiO'*«loifaion |uaily in malhemallei'.** •n theMinr mmmt iii which « nan tS' .iiMi« to wait ww#sai|||jpiiia' ijMNi mB ■iaiiiiiiiiijiHi'"'''^ jKmMii' A nan 'to iwumi jiilly 'Snd amttly in his Biit 'if any nan fMiiii, that| fram this 'Ooncession, he may infer the inotility of lo- gic, he betrays 'a great want of that art by Ilia mference 1 .for .11 iS' no oetter .leaiMMiing lb§ .ii ^b ' i iii T hat because' a mini, 'may go fton fidinbnrgh to London by Urn way of Paris, therefore any other road is useless. There is perhaps 'uo practical art' which may :iiot be aiM|iiir«d,, .in.a''TeryaimBideimbhi 'degree, by example .and piantiee, without 're- dncmg it to ruci. But practice, joined with mles, may carry a man on .in hiS' art' farther, and. more quickly, than practice without 'rules.' Every iiigen.iou8 .artist. knows the 'utiity of having his art reduced 'to ni.le8, and by that 'mea'us made a science. He is ibereliy eDlightened in his practice, and works with more assurance* By rulen, .be .sometimes corrects his own errors,, and often detects the errors of otiiers ;. be 'findS' them of great ose. to confirm his jodgmenti to justify wbal is right, and to condemn what iS' 'Wrong- Is it 'Of no use In reasoning 'to be well acqiainted with the various powers of the human understanding, by which we reason ? Is it of no use to resolve the various kinds of reasoning .into thetf simple elements, and 'to diseover, aS' far as we are able, the rules by which these' elements are 'Combined in j'udging and in 'reasoning ? Is it of no use 'to mark, the 'various fsilbcies in .reasonmg,. by which even the mo.Ht ingeniiotts men baTO: 'been led into orror ? It m'ust surely betray great want of understanding, to think these things useless or unimportant These are the things which Logicians have at- tem.pted, and 'which they liave executed. 1 not, indeed, so completely as to leave no room for improvement, but in such a man- ner as to give very considerable aid to our reasoning powers* That the principles' .la.id down with, 'regard to definition and division, with regard to the conversion and opposi- tion of propositions, and the general rules of reasoning, are not without use, is suffi- ciently apparent from the blunders com.* mitled by those 'who disda.in any acquaint- ance with them.* ■■I I Si'lliiai HklHII'iMiilPlO ' mMitlng tilt IIM'III. 'O lata Baron Dfgerando, ** that in Minatr' theprlnary and essential 'Of leaao'nlngt 1 luin enunlcr to the opntona of name of ^Uo^mm la 'Ciioiilf lo these ftepomm^ 1 am not a.nnMi'tO'0|»oie B.yieir lo these prtpMifa.. '"^^■wwSsaaiHiPirW'ipi wfiPPir JipIF 'VHaVfVS"WM"Si^^ 'SF iWMSi'waii'' VMiapHSMuPiviiJNHir' apB^aws*' €w^a'aaii'#w 'have fMiiUcrwl leaionlng only In. tlio oaiimsl. and' aanaiMe torms t*t ill I tho anCitnte hs'te dtiiefVfd It .as It ex.ifta in th« mind. Hit aliiiie that has been matte of sy.llo|.lam. provea 'nothing agalnat ita ncoi«i*ilf the cuoaMtloo. of .iliBB to not eiuMgi Is •**j • h] AlISTOTLE'S LOGIC. 711 Although the art of categorical syllogism is better fitted for scholastfc litigation than for real improvement in knowledge, it is a venerable piece of antiquity, and a great effort of human genius. We admire the pyramids of Egypt, and the wall of China, though useless burdens upon the earth ; we can bear the most minute description of them, and travel hundreds of leagues to see them : If any person should, with sac- rilegious hands, destroy or deface them, his memory would be had In abhorrence. The predicaments and predieables, the rules of syllogism, and the topics, have a like title to our veneration as antiquities ; they are uncommon efforts, not of human power, but of human genius; and they make a remarkable period in the progress of human reason. The prejudice against logic has probably been strengthened by its being taught too early in life. Boys are often taught logic as they are taught their creed, when it is an exercise of memory only, without under- standing. One may as well expect to un- derstand grammar before he can speak, as to understand loj^ie before he can reason. It must even be acknowledged, that com- monly we are capable of reasoning in mathe- matics more early than in logic. The objects presented to the mind in this science are of a very abstract nature, and can be distinctly conceived only when we are capa- ble of attentive reflection upon the opera- tions of our own understanding, and after we have been accustomed to reason. There may be an elementary logic, level to the capacity of those who have been but little exercised in reasoning ; but the most im- portant parts of this science require a ripe understanding, capable of reflecting upon its own operations. Therefore, to make logic the first branch of science that is to lie taught, is an old error that ougbt to be corrected. • guarantee the concatenation of Ideas, and thus, as we are about to see, the mind may err in a reasoning the best conformed to rule. Ti^ugb it may be use. less to enounce, in terms, a proposition in itself evident and simple, this doe* not prove that such pro. position ought not to be presented to the mind when reasoning, in order toeMablish the connection ot the notions which it compares. Let those who would reduce all reasoning to the Enthymeme, ask them- selves how a fir^t proposition could conduct them to a second, if the understanding did not, by a secret operat ion , apprehend the nexus of thei r terms. Let them propose their enthymeme to a child, or a man of limited understanding, and they will soon, by being compelled to restore, in their discourse, the omitted proposition, he made to see that its presence in the intellect was necessary all along, and that, though not exprei-sed by them, it was always understood." I quote this acknowledgment as valuable trom a phlloaopher of the school of Condillac. 'lo adduce teatimonies from the followers ot Leibnita or Kant, would be superfluous. lu Germany, Logic has aU ways been estimated at its proper value.— H. • On the alMiirdity of enteimgon the Hudy of the •ciencrsof r^ection before concluding the study of those of dmrmtim^ tee above, p. 4si0, a, uote \. To Seeiion IL OP THE IMPHOVaaiBNT Of LOflIC In compositions of human thought, ex- pressed by speech or by writing, whatever is excellent and whatever is faulty fall with- in the province, either of grammar, or of rhetoric, or of logic. Propriety of expres- sion is the province of grammar ; grace, elegance, and force, in thought and in ex- pression, are the province of rhetoric ; just- ness and accuracy of thought are the pro- vince of logic. The faults in composition, therefore, which fall under the censure of logic, are obscure and Indistinct conceptions, false judgment, inconclusive reasoning, and all Improprieties in distinctions, definitions, division, or method. To aid our rational powers in avoiding these faults, and in at- taining the opposite excellencies, is the end of logic ; and whatever there is in it that has no tendency to promote this end, ought to be thrown out. The rules of logic being of a very abstract nature, ought to be illustrated by a variety of real and striking examples taken from the writings of good authors. It is both instructive and entertainmg to observe the virtues of accurate composition in writers of fame : we cannot see them without being drawn to the imitation of them, in a more powerful manner than we can be by dry rules. Nor are the faults of such writers less instructive or less powerful monitors. A wreck left upon a shoal, or upon a rock, is not more useful to the sailor than the faults of good writers, when set up to view, are to those who come after them. It was a happy thought in a late ingenious writer of English grammar, to collect under the several rules examples of bad English found in the most approved authors. It were to be wished that the rules of logic were Illus- trated in the same manner. By this means, a system of logic would become a reposi- tory, wherein whatever is most acute in judging and in reasoning, whatever is most accurate in dividing, distinguishing, and defining, should be laid up and disposed in order for our imitation, and wherein the false steps of eminent authors should be recorded for our admonition. After men had laboured in the search of truth near two thousand years by the help of syllogisms, Lord Bacon proposed the method of induction, as a more effectual engine for that purpose. His " Novum Organum" gave a new turn to the thoughts Mr Stewart** teMimony there quoted, might be added that « f almost every competent authority m educa- tion. See Note W.— H 712 A BIIIP ACCOUNT OF and 'lalwfin of tlie inquuitive, moK re- nuirlcaUe and mofe mefal tkan. tlMit which the ** Orgnnon*'* of A:viiti>tle 1mA gtTen he- fon, and may be eonsidered as a second gftad era in ftne proneas of liuman reason.* Tim art of sjUogwn prodnoed ranmber- leea disputes, and nnnberleiS' sects who fdagM :againit each other with much ant* mosity, without gaining or Iosiim; ground, hut did nothing considerable for m beneil of human life. 'The art of induttbn, Irst delineated by Ijord. Bacon, produced num:* berless laboratories and ote^riratories, in which nature has been put to the question by thouiandS' of 0E|iertinenti, and fo'reod. to confess many ^of her'seerets that before' were hid from mortals : and, by these^ arts^ have been unproved, and human knowledge won- derfully incroased. In reasoning by syllogism from general principles,: we descend to a conclusion vir- tually contained in them. The process of induction Is more arduous, beingln aaeent from particular premises to a r»eral con. eIusion.f The evidence of such general conclusions is probable only, not demon* strative ; but when the induction is suffi- ciently copious, and carried on according to the rules of art, it forceS: conviction no ^_kss than deracmstntion itself does. ^The greatest part of human knowledge rests upon evidence of thb kind. Indeed ,/ we caifhiive no other' for peneral truths '' vliieh aro contingent in their naturo, and N depend upon the will and ordination of the 7 Maker of the world- He governs the world j lie lias made by general laws t The effects^ .,' of these .laws In 'particular pliienonienii. ara ! open to our observation { and, by observing , a Uain of oniform effect, with due caution* 'I we :may at last decipher the law of nature s Jby which they are regulated. Lord Bacon has dispbyed no lesS' foroe of geniw in .reducing tO' rales this method of reasoning, than Aristotle did in the me- thod of syllogism. [?] His *' Novum Or- etinum** ought therefore to be held as a S«»»importi.t»Mitio»toibe.«ie„t k^J 'Those who understand it, .and 'Cnter into its spirit, will be able to distinguifih the chaff from the wheat in phiiosopliical dis- 'C|nisitions into the works of Q'od. They wil learn to hold in due contempt all by- * The Organon of Aristotle snd the Orffaimiii of BMoa .ftiiiMl. in relatlfin, tat tlie nlatton of con* trarlityi the one 'CunMtn tlie ]«»i muter 'wihieli AffifiiieCtliinlts; tlieotber llie Isws uiMlCff wMbIi lll«''iiipiiil It to bo kmiw'n. To 'Conparo tiiMn. topllitr it tli«nfiMe|. 'In leaiiv, to oitin.|Mir« tiiietlier' 'Mn.tl. ties of dlitettnt titeclMi. EacIi profMiMi a difieient end: iMtii, in dlffiwent ways, are uidlil; andtotb QUi'lit to 'lit' mMmmdf stuilcd.'- M. f twtaelliiii to d««fs m ■yHogtan. B:iit ire nutt dliClngiilili two Ind^iMtMiM-Nayiriiiiil' aiMla wudtfUL TIW' conteloa of IImso fits M to fMi|:oonflisloii.. Ilainfllil«not Itere.— >H. 1 it to not of a lofeical arvusnenlat all.. If we HnlS tliO' 'ilomalo or log'ic to ttoejbrm i/lliNpll.^M* [OHAP. Vf. potheaes and theories, the creatures of hu- man 'imagiuition, nnd 'to respect nothing but facts suneiently ▼ouebed, or conclusions drawn from them by a fair and chaste in^ terpretation of nature. Moat arts' have been redueed to rules, .after they 'had been brought 'tO' a consider- able degree of perfection by the natural sa- gacity of artists ; and the rules have been drawn from the best examples of the art that had been before exhitiited ; but the art of phitisophical induction was delineated by Lord Bacon in a very ample manner, before the world had seen any tolerable eiampto of it.* This, although it adds greatly to the merit of the author, must have produced some obscurity in the work^ and a defect of proper examples for illus- tration. This defect may now be easily supplied from those authors who, in their philosophical dtsiiuisitions, have the most strictly pursued the path pointed out in the ** Novum Organum.** Among these, Sir Isaac Newton appears to hold the first rank; 'having, .in the third book of his *'* 'Prinolpia,** and in his ** O'ptics," had the rules of the " Novum Organum** constantly in his eye. I think LorS Bacon was also the first who endeavoured to reduce to a system the prejudices or biasses of the miml, which are the causes of false judgment, and which he calls ike idofa of the human nmterstawi' •11//. Some late writers of logic have very properly introduced this into their system ; but it deserves to be more copiously hand- led, and to be illustrated by real examples. It is of great consequence to aeeiirate reasoi'iing to dbtmguish irst principles^ which are to be taken for granted, from propositions which require proof. All the real knowledge of mankuid may be divided into two parts : The first consisting of self- evident propositions ; the second, of those which are deduced by just reasoning from self-evident propositions. The line that divides these two parts ought to be marked as diBtinctly as possible ; and the principles that are .ielf-evident reduced, as far as can Iw done, to general axioma This has been done in mathematics from the beginning, and has tended greatly to the emolument of that seience. It Ims lately been done in natural philosophy : and by this means that science has advanced more in an hun- dred and iftv years, than it had done be- fore in two thousand. Every Bcience is in an unformed state until its first principles are ascertained; after which, it advances ngnbdy, and Mcures the ground it has eecT. II.] ARISTOTLE'S LOGIC. 711 Although first principles do not admit of direct proof, yet there must be certain marks and cnaracters by which those that are truly such may be distinguished from coun- terfeits. These marks ought to be described and applied to distinguish the genuine from the spurious. In the ancient philosophy, there is a redundance, rather than a defect, of first principles. Many things were assumed under that character without a just title. That nature abhors a vacuum ; that bodies do not gravitate in their proper place ; that the heavenly bodies undergo no change ; that they move in perfect circles, an of parts, whieli bear pro- ptiftion to each other, and to the whole ; so that it may be increased by addition of like parts, and diminished by subtraction, may be multiplied and divided, and, in short, may bear any proportion to another quan- tity of the same kind, that one line or num- ber can bear to another. That this is es- sential to all mathematical quantity, is evi- dent from the first elements of algebra, which treats of quantity in general, or of those relations and properties which are common to all kinds of quantity. Every algebraical quantity is supposed capable, not only of being increased and diminished, but of being exactly doubled, tripled, halved, or of bearing any assignable proportion to another quantity of the same kind. This, then, is the characteristic of quantity ; whatever has this property may be adopted into mathematics ; and its quantity and re- lations may be measured with mathematical accuracy and certainty. » This Eway waa originally published in the Transactions of the Royal Society of London, vol. xlv., anno, 174a On the occasion of the paper, see above, p. 5 ; and Stewart's Elements, II. 539. This is Keid's earliest publiration : and it is curious that Kant should, in the preceding year, have also ushertHi into the world his first regular work, and on a similar subiect ; that work, too, containing a refuta- tion of the Leibnitxian estimate of velocity. I refer to his " Thoughts on the True Measure of Living iPorct:^ ** This is not the only parallel between the two philosophers, who, with sundry striking contrasts, presented still more remarkable simii-.rities. I he doct- ines of Iwth , however different in external character and in particu. lar opinions, were of a kindred spirit : thev had a common origin, as recoils against the scepticism of Hume; the same dominant result, in the etstabli^hraent of certain ultimate laws of speculation and practice; and the fame tendency, in restraining the intellectual pride, and elevating the moral dignity ot man. t-acn, in a different sphere, was at the he d < f a great scientific determination; both were jiistinpuished rather for nhilosophiral oricinality a».d independence, than for the extent of their philosophical learning ; and, finally, imay i ada !*) both were Scotchmtn-Uciu by biith, Kant (Cant) by proximate oescent.-H. £a^ il6 AN ESSAY ON QUANTITY. Tliere are some quantities wliich may be called pmper, and others imprnper. Tliis distinction is^ 'taken notice of 'by Aristotle i Iwt it deserves .some explanation.. That pritperly is iinantity which is mmmred % tl« nwn *j/i,|,. or which, of its own nature, is eapihlo of heinf doubled or tripled, witli- mi takinf in any quantity of a different kind as. a measura of it impr&per quantity is that which mnmi be memured % t/« owm kind; but to which w© assign a niemnre by the means of some proper quantity that is related to it. Thus velocity of motion, when wo consider it by itself, cannot be measured. We may per- eeifo one body to more faster, another slower; but we can hmm nO'dislinci idea of a proportion or ratio between their ¥eloct- tiiis, without taking in some quantity of an- other kind to measure them by. Having, therefore, observed, that by a greater vclo- city a greater space is passed over in the same time, by a less velocity a less space, aiid by an equal velocity an equal space ; we hence learn to measure velocity by the space passed over in a given time, and to reckon it to be in exact proportion to that space ; and liaving once .assign^ed this mea- sure to it, we can then, and not till then, conceive one velocity to be exactly double, or half, or in any other proprtion lo another i we may then introduce it into mathematical reasoning without diingor of confusion or error, and' may also use it as a measure of other improper quantities. All the kinds of proper quantity we know, may perhaps be reduced to these four, ftifeiijfiwi, duraimn^ number, and pm. pttriioiK Though prufmrihn be nieasu rable m Its own nature, and, therefore^ has pro- per quantity, yet as things cannot have proportion which have not quantity of some titlier kind, it follows, that whatever lias quantity must have it in one or other of these three kinds, esieuMmn^ dumtion^ or numfMr. These arc the ml£*-ii. AN ESSAY ON QUANTITY. 717 mits of a nmcli greater variety of relations than any other subject of human reasoning ; and, at the same time, every relation or proportion of quantities may, by the help of lines and numbers, be so distinctly defined as to be easily distinguished from all others, without any danger of mistake. Hence it is that we are able to trace its relations through a long process of reasoning, and with a perspicuity and accuracy which we in vain expect in subjects not capable of mensura- tion. Extended quantities, such as lines, sur- fiices, and solids, besides what they have in common with all other quantities, have this peculiar, that their parts have a particular place and disposition among themselves : a line may not only bear any assignable pro- portion to another, in length or magnitude, but Ihies of the same length may vary in the disposition of their parts ; one may be straight, another may be part of a curve of any kind or dimension, of whicli there is an endless variety. The like may be said of surfaces and solids. So that extended quantities admit of no less variety with re- gard to their form, tlian with regard to their inagnitude ; and as their various forms may lie exactly defined and measured, no less than their magnitudes, hence it is that geo- metry, which treats of extended quantity, leads us into a much greater compass and variety of reasoning than any other branch of mathematics. Loug deductions in alge- bra, for the most part, are made, not so much by a train of reasoning in the mind, as by an artificial kind of operation, which is built on a few very simple principles ; but in geometry we may build one proposi- tion on another, a third upon that, and so on, without ever coming to a limit whicli we cannot exceed. The properties of the luore simple figures can hardly be exhausted, much less those of the more complex ones. It may be deduced from what lias been said above, that mathematical evidence is nn evidence sui (jeneris, not competent to any proposition which does not express a relation of things measurable by lines or numbers. All proper quantity may be measured by these, and improper quantities must be measured by those that are proper. Tliere are many things capable of more and less, which, perhaps, are not capable of mensuration. Tastes, smells, the sensa- tions of heat and cold, beauty, pleasure, all the affections and appetites of the mind, wisdom, folly, and most kinds of proba- liility, with many other things too tedious to enumerate, admit of degrees, bnt have not yet been reduced to measure, nor, per- haps, ever can be.* I say, most kinds of probability, beca use one kind of it~viz., the • What would Beid now tsf to the HerMrUan fiydiohigf I— H. probability of chances — is properly measur- able by number, as observed above. Though attempts have been made to apply mathematical reasoning to some of these things, and the quantity of virtue and merit in actions has been measured by simple and compound ratios ; yet Dr M. does not think that any real knowledge has been struck out this way ; it may, perhaps, if discreetly used, be a help to discourse on these subjects, by pleasing the imagination, and illustrating what is already known ; but till our affections and appetites shall them- selves be reduced to quantity, and exact measures of their various degrees be as- signed, in vain shall we essay to measure vir- tue and merit by them. This is only to ring changes on words, and to make a show of mathematical reasoning, without advancing one step in real knowledge. Dr M. apprehends that the account given of the nature of proper and improper quan- tity, may also throw some light on the controversy about the force of moving bodies, which loug exercised the pens of many mathematicians, and, perhaps, is rather dropped than ended, to the no small scandal of mathematics, which has always boasted of a degree of evidence inconsistent with debates that can be brought to no issue. Though philosophers on both sides agree with each other and with the vulgar in this, that the force of a moving body is the same while its velocity is the same, is increased when its velocity is increased, and dimi- nished when that is diminislied : but this vague notion of force, in which both sides agree, though perhaps sufficient for com- mon discourse, yet is not sufficient to make it a subject of mathematical reasoning : in order to that, it must be more accurately defined, and so defined as to give us a measure of it, that we may understand wliat is meant by a double or a tri|>le force. The ratio of one force to another cannot be per- ceived but by a measure ; and that measure must be settled, not by mathematical reason- ing, but by a definition. Let any one con- sider force without relation to any other quantity, and see whether he can conceive one force exactly double to another ; I am sure I cannot, says he, nor shall, till I shall be endowed with some new faculty ; for I know nothing « f force but by its effects, and tlierefore can measure it only by its effects. Till force then is defined, and by that de- finition a measure of it assigned, we fight in the dark about a vague idea, which is not sufficiently determined to lie admitted into any mathematical proposition. And when such a definition is given, the controversy will presently be ended. Of the Newtonian M omre of Fo^ee.^^ You say, the force of a body in motion is aa 718 AN ESSAY ON QUANTITY. its velocity : eitlier you meiiii. to lay this down m a ddinition, m Newton, Mmaelf litis dtee; or yon uieMi U affirm it as a 'pn>po- sttton capable of proof. If you mean to lay it down as a ddinitioii, it w tm more tlian if yon ahouM say, I eall tlial a double force vliicli. gives^ a double velocity to the same body, a triple force wliieb gives a triple velocity, and m on in proportion. Tliis be entirely agrees, to ; no matbematieal defini- tion of force can be given that is more' dear and 8lni[>le,. none tbat is more agreeable to the common use of the word in language. For, since all men agree that the force of the body being the same, the velocity must also be the same ; the fofce^ being increased or diminished, the velocity must m m^ alio what can be more natural or proper than to take the velocity for the measure of the force ? Several other things might he^ advMieed to shew that this deinition agrees bait with the common popular notion of the word force. If two bodies meet directly with a shock, which mutually dcstnys their motion, without producing any other sensible dfect, the vulgar would pronounce, without hesi- tation, that they met with eoual force ; and 80 they do, according to the measure of force above laid down ; for we find by ex- ;perience, that in thk case their velocities are reciprocally as their quantities of matter. In mechanics, where by a machine two 'pmnmrn weights, are kept tit m^Brh, the Tnlgar would reekoD that these powers act with .equal force, and m by Aia defini- tinn they do. The power of gravity being ecnsiant and uniform, any one would expect ibal il should nve 'equal degrees of force to a 'body In equal times, and so by this .defini- tion it does. So that this definition is not oiilv clear and simple, hut it agrees best with the use of the word force In common langujige, and this, is aB that ^oan be desired in a definition* But if yon are nut. satisfied with laying it 4own as a definitim, that the force of a body .is m its velocity, but wil needs, prove it by demonstration or experiment, I ' miiat hcg .of ■*!», before yom tale one step in the pmf, to let me know what yon mean by force, .and what by a double or a triple force. This you must do by a definition, which .con- tains a m.easure' of force.. Some primary measure of force' U'ust. be taken forgisnle4 or laid down by way of definition ; other- wise we' can. never reason about its quantity. .And why tiien. majrieu net take' the velocity for the Mhmuw mcMnn as well as any other ? Ten will fl.nd none that Is more aimpfe, more distinct, or more agreeable to the common lae 'Of tlw' wcrd force, i and he that re|ecta. mm 'deinilicn that has these pn')pertie% has equal right to reject any ether. I sif then, that it is impossible, by mathematical reasoning or experiment, to prove that the force of a body is as its ve. locity, without taking for granted the thing you would prove, or something else that is no more evident than the thing to be proved. €f ike LiBnitxian Measurg of Forte,-^ Let us next hear the Leibnitzian, who says, that the force of a bf>dy is as the square of its velocity. If he lays this down as a definition, I shall rather a^ree to it than quarrel about words, and for the future shall understand him, by a quadruple force to mean that which gives a double velocity ; by nine tiroes the force, that which gives three times the velocity ; and so on in duplicate |iro|iortion. While he keeps by his defini- tion, it will not necessarily lead him into any error in mathematics or mechanics. For, however paradoxical his conclusions may appar, however difierent in words from theirs who measure force by the simple ratio of the velocity, they will in their meaning be the same : just as he who would call a foot twenty-four inches, withoutchang- iiig other measures of length, when he says a yard contsins a foot and u half, means the very same as you do, when you say a yard contains three feet. But, though I allow this measure of force to be distinct, and cannot charge it with falsehood, for no definition can be false, yet I say, in the >V*I phice. It is less simple than the other : for why should a duplicate ratio he used where the simple ratio will do as well ? In the nejti pkce, This mea- sure of force is less agreeable to the com- mon use of the word force, as has been shewn above; and this indeed is all that the many laboured arguments and experi- ments, brought to overturn it, do prove. This also is evident, from the paradoxes into which it has led its defenders. We are next to consider the pretences of the Leibnitiaan, who will undertake to prove by demenitmtMiior experiment, that force is as the square ef the velocity. I ask him first, what he lays down for the first mea- sure of force ? The only measure I re- member to have been, given by the phi- losophers of that aiil% and which seems first of all to liave M Leibnitz into his notion of force, is this i the height to which a body is impelled by any impressed force, 1%, .sajs' he, the whole effect of that force, Mitherefbrs'Siiiat 'he proportional to the cause : but this hei|ht is found to be as the square of the velocity which tiie body had mt the beginnlnf of its motion. In 'tliig'.aifanient I apprehend that great man .has been extremely nnlbrtunate. For, Jirti, whereas all proof should be taken from |»rinciplcs that are common to both sides, u order to move a thing we deny, he as- sumes a principle which we think farther from the truths nmelj, that tiie height to AN ESSAV ON QUANT IT Y. 71S) which the- body rises is the whole effect of the impulse, and ought to be the whole measure of it. Secondly, His reasoning serves as well against him as for him : for may I not plead with as good reason at least thus ? The velocity given by an im- pressed force is the whole effect of that impressed force; and therefore the force must be as the velocity. Thirdly, Sup- posing the height to which the body is raised to be the measure of the force, this principle overturns the conclusion he would establish by it, as well as that which he opposes. For, supposing the first velocity of the body to be still the same ; the height to which it rises will be increased, if the power of gravity is diminished; and di- minished, if the power of gravity is increased. Bodies descend slower at the equator, and faster towards the [)oles, as is found by experiments made on pendulums. If then a body is driven upwards at the equator with a given velocity, and the same body is afterwards driven upwards at Leipsic with the same velocity, the height to which it rises in the former case will be greater than in the latter ; and therefore, according to his reasoning, its force was greater in the former ease ; but the velocity in both was the same; consequently the force is not as the square of the velocity any more than as the velocity. Refiectinns on thin Controversy. — On the whole, I cannot but think the controvertists on both sides have had a very hard task ; the one to prove, by mathematical reason- ing and ex[)eriraent, what ought to be taken for granted ; the other by the same means to prove what might be granted, making some allowance for impropriety of expression, but can never be proved. If some mathematician should take it in his head to affirm that the velocity of a body is not as the space it passes over in a given time, but as the square of that space ; you might bring mathematical arguments Ld exp'erimentf to confute him, lut jou would never by these force him to yield, if he was ingenious in his way ; because you have no common principles left you to argue from, and you differ from each other not in a mathematical proposition, but in a mathematical definition. Suppose a philosopher has considered only that measure of centripetal force which is proportional to the velocity generated by it in a given time, and from this measure deduces several propositions Another phi- losopher in a distant country, who has the same general notion of centrii>etal force, takes the velocity generated by it, and the quantity of matter together, as the measure of it. From this he deduces several conclusions, that Feem directly contrary to those of the other. Thereupon a serious controvery is begun, whether centripetal force be as the velocity, or as the velocity and quantity of matter taken together. Much mathematical and experimental dust is raised, and yet neither party can ever be brought to yield ; for they are both in the right, only they have been unlucky in giv- ing the same name to different mathema- tical conceptions. Had they distinguished these measures of centripetal force as New- ton has done, calling the one vis centripelm quantitatis acccleratrix, the other, quanti» talis matrix; all appearance of contradic- tion » had ceased, and their pro])ositions, which seem so contrary, had exactly tal- lied. STATISTICAL ACCOUNT OF THB UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW.* INTRODUCTION. To give a distinct account of the Uni- versity of Glasgow, it is necessary to dis- tinguish two periods of its existence, in which its constitution and appearance were extremely different — the period before the reformation from Popery, and that which followed it; to which may be su^»joined, . the present state of the University, with such alterations in the mode of conducting education as the improvements in litera- ture, and the state of society, have sug- gested. I. HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSITY BEFORE THB REFORMATION. Orhfin At the request ©f King James II., Pope Nicolas V. granted a Bull, con- stituting a " sludium generate, tarn in theO' ioyia, ucjure canonico et civili, quani in arti- * This Account was published In the last or 21st vnlume of the •• Statistical Account of Scotland," in 1799, three years alter the death of Reid. It was not communicated by the author himself to Sir John Sinclair, nor probably during his life, but, as the title bears, was •« Iransmiiteil by Professor Jardine in Name of the Principal and Professors of the Uni- versity." In the " Stat'stical Account," there is no indication aflTorded in regard to the writer : but it has always been attributed to our auihor. It exhibits his character of thought and style, and even various of his peculiarities of expression (as prrjA»«o»w for pro- /estorshipa) ; and, a» I am infcinned by my learned friend, Dr l.ee, was produced and f unded on as the work of Keid, in an action maintained, some thirty years ago, by sundry of his colleagues, (Mr Jardine among the nun.ber,) in regard to their collegiate pri- vileges. From internal evidence, it appears thai the Account itself was drawn up in 1794, two years be- fore Heid's death ; l)ut the •* Additions and Correc- tions" are of a more recent date, and probably by a dift'e'fnt hand- Betbre I became aware that this Account was the work of Reid, I had ^een stiuck by the singular cor. rectness of the view that is here taken of the consti. tution of the ancient University, and thi», as it ap- pears, not from any analogical knowledge of the his. tory of the European universities in general, but abstracted fh>m the records of the Glasgow Facullj of Aru a!on&— U. bus, et quavis alia licita facullaie*'* to continue in all time to come in the city of Glasgow, as being a notable place, and fit for the purpose, by the temperature of thO air, and the plenty of all kinds of provisions for human life; and, by his apostolical authority, ordained. That its doctors, mas- ters, readers, aud students, shall enjoy all the privileges, liberties, honours, exemp- tions, and immunities granted to the stu^ dium generale of his city of Bononia [Bo- logna.] He likewise appointed William Turnbull, then Bishop of Glasgow, and his successors in that see, to be the Rector8,*f* called Chancellors, of the said studium ; and to have the same authority over the doctors, masters, and scholars, as the Rec- tors [of the schools] have in the Sludium Bononierise.X This Bull is dated at Rome the 7th of the month of January 1450, and the fourth year of his pontificate. Estaulishment. — By the care of the bishop and his chapter, a body of statutes was pre- pared, and an university established in the year 1451 : consisting, besides the Chancel- lor, of a Rector, Doctors, and Masters of the four faculties, who had taken their degrees in other universities ; and students, who, after a course of study and examination, prescribed by their several faculties, might be promoted to academical degrees. That this institution might open with the greater celebrity, the bishop had procured and published a Bull from the Pope, grant- ing an universal indulgence to all faithful * This quotation has been corrected from the Bull.— H. , . „ mi. t The term Rector is here used generically. The Rector, the pmper head of the University, was by the University elected.— H. 1 The origin and nature of the office of Chancellor, in ) elation to the ancient universities, is a very curu ous subject, and one not at all knrwn ; but, as it can. not be explained in a few words, I mu»i not speak of i at present —I may observe, in general, that there is nothing in the privileges and regulations of the University ot i lasgow but what is common. Imay say, to aU the older UniversiUes.-- H. 3 A IV'lMEI'll' A STATISTICAL ACCOUNT OF CSIiffiiiiaiii, who should visit the cathdlnl •IiiikIi of 'Qiamow, in lb* ,jrf»r l#l. We liiivt M wMsnniil'iif 'ilia iMMiiiiiilyiiid oen- nmj" nf 'iie Int «eteliliiliiiMiii ; but it a|i- pom tlial David Cadzow, licentiate in can- non-law, and canon of Olamow, was llie iial rector, dwobalilj ^apfMiiited. by tlie 'biibop;) and ' that he «a% bj eleet:ion, eoHif^d in 1452. Then aM more than lOi merabem mentioned, as incorporated by him in these two years 4 and must of ttem. B(»lyonpg;neB| bnlseeohror 'Vi^iar 'Ceelesiasms,. 'cawins, netora, vieam, and presbyters, abbots, priors, and monies.* Andrew Stewart, brother to Kin^ James II., was tiMMifiioiated in 1456, bemg Ihen inb-dcan. of Cllamw> .JbMMfifliiM.— Theelergy would perhaps be the more disposed to attend the Univer- ■ity, as, while they were inoorpoisted mem- 1MB, tliey wm% by vpspl ebarteni' ^and acts. 'Of Ftetiamenty •iMnptcd 'iran all taxes and pnMie 'biirdens*' And ^Bishop Turn- bull, in the year 1453, ordained. That the 'benoiced dfrargy .in. .bis diocese^ who. were regents or students in his 'uniTCfslty, or wiliinf to study while they were, teachable, should, upon asfcligbis.:iiflMise, he exempted from residence in their cures, providing they took, care to have the reigio'us offices duly performed. ilofiil C^rlirr.— King James II., in fbe year 14521, at the request of Bishop Turn- bull, granted a charter in favour of the Univer8i.ty of QhMgov 1 by wbiA^the Aee- tor, the Deans 'Of Ae Faeultlea, 'Ibe^ l^roenra- tors of the famr im^mi^ the Masters, Ee- genta, and Seholars, studying in the said univenity, providing' lb»' be. .not prelates, as well .aS' the .Baadsls, Writers,, Stationers,. and ;PluEehm«iit-niaker8,t are' exempted n^ mmtdbm tnbu^ wmmribu*^ tsaetmnibmf lAMliofiJtet, «olteil«t i%W«f. tl pmla§m, mlimm wmAf i^frm fmtmm nrntrum Mimtma' 'HIV' ei wmiiiiiisb Frivii^m and Fiiwirrt..— The same pri- vilege' waa. 'venewed by subseqpenl sove- 'CeigttB,...aiid. eonimed by .aetS' of'PaAnnent And even .in taxwi of an ei|^th part of al. 'eeelc«iast..ical Bvings, for the defenee 'Of 'Ihe nation against an invasion of the Englih, the clergy in the University of Gbsgow, "* Tliitcifttiimtaiice was pcnlMililf tiw eamt'Wlif tlie dictiiMi of .ftNUMr was coMsiWi. 'In .■ll''liMi' 'nwiii* IMM of' ilW' tl'UivMWiif |. ani^ im|. liaifiad to the pa. lISUwi ■eliiiiilt.'imi pMrrad. 'lo 'tlial of Paris, bf the namiilt «f WMei: 'inait' 'Of the transaliiliie unlf er. •itict were r^pitolid. This, with tbt 'CiiVii:iMia:iiot iliai only one mtkm wom vitMii tlie llrtftfiltri enaMcd liie nya'ts of that eoUeP' 'iBfMNi' caally to iisti.rp from, the iiadiialca at targe iImi fiflila of ■«■.. ileinical temGhlng .ind lcfWalioii-4o sink tbS' 'piWte 'iniiffciiiljr ia iIm iirivatC' p-cdagoftnaih^M.. f These watS'tll'tlieooinmon •n|i|KMli.(attlipiMiltl} ef a unlvera ty ; and the fiiltowiaf aie only m» im. H, jiHuiJbiaiiiu jiiiuiiiL !H. MiiuMi. uMiJiuM mifci.jiu]— jya .d^L. . . ,Mn.iflr' m '■■.idiiK. 'IttiiiEiiHH.idiiBI ^^^»^^am ^^lifc ■ iHiiaiiiiiai fai^ ami 'ILB Ml pleading 'iieir'ptivilfp^ were exempted. This fight of' exenptim 'from, taxation, was pleaded by thia*UniverBity before the Lords of Couaei and Session, on the 20th of No- vember 1633, and was sustained. To these privil«pi, which the bishops of Qhmw obtained from the Crown and .Fariuiinent, 'they added others which were in tbeir own power, in consequence of the ample eivil and criminal jurisdiction which they possessed within their own diocese— 'to^ wit| The pri.V'alecre of buying, 'Sellini^, and tMU|Mrtiiig provisions, within the Jnivdic- tion of the bishop, free of tolls and cus- toms; the fixing the rent of houses or lod- S'sgs, possessed by persons belonging to e nniverslty, by a jury, the one half citi- zens, the other half persons belonging to the university ; the obliging the magistrates of Glasgow, upon their election, to swear that they shall observe, and cause to be obeerveo, the immunities, liberties, and sta- tutes of the university ; the granting the reetor the next 'phMse, in precedence to the 'bishop, in .all eerenioniea .and processions ;. the granting the privileges of inoorporated members to all the servants of the univer- sity ; the Mlf'detiifitig clause in the chancel- lor*s oath, [ i*| and which still mahes a ekuse in it— '^ S» miM lit ma^mim negotUg dm wmimn^wmmei mofftMirmmm OMsentione .f#it* fnfiiniM'*— and particularly, the granting to the Sector, at first, the jurisdiction in all eivil and 'pecuniary questions, respecting 'BieDbera of 'tbe nn.iveiBityi and in crimes less .alMMtouB .|: and afterwards, tbe extend- ing it to all causes and crimes whatsoever ; the power ako, of infiicting eoelesiastieal censuire, even, that of'exeomm'unication. rnpiiil TViei^There is, however, only one instance on record of a capital triil before the rector's court, and that so late as the year l&llk That year, Robert Bar- toune, a .student, was iniueted. for murder, before Sir William Flemings rector ; but acquitted by the jury. M. AWCmifT CONSTITUTION. The constitution of this learned body will appear, by takinji a view of the parts into which it was. divided, and the powers and obligations of eachr I. Ekcimn qf OMce-Bearerat Ste. — ^The whole Incorporated members, students, as wellaB..'doetom and masters, were divided inta.) fmriparta, called the Q:ifa.|iior Naiianesf acoording to tbe pkce of their nativity. The whole reabn of Scotland, and the Isles, was distlngnlsiied :intO' four districts, uu'der the rauttsa 'Of ' Cii kf T^moidalef Albamt^ and Jlofi«M!f. A 'iieeting of the whole University waa annually eiuled, on the day next afkr St Crispin's day. This meeting THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW. 723 was called the Cmrfregallo UniversHalU : luid, being divided into the four Nations, each nation, by itself, chose a Procurator and an Intrant ; and the intrants, meeting by themselves, made choice of a Rector and a Deputatm of each nation, who were assistants and Assessors to the Rector.* Functions. — Tlie Hector and Depuiaii had several functions. 1st, They were judges in all civil and criminal causes, wherein any member of the University was a party. Every mem- who either sued or answered before any otlier court, was guilty of perjury, and in- curred the penalty of expulsion The eccle- siastics in tbe University, to whatever dio- cese they belonged, could not be called be- fore their rural deans. 2dly, All members were incorporated by the rector and deputafi, after taking an oath to obey the rector and his successors, to observe the statutes, and preserve the privileges of the University, and not to reveal its secrets to its prejudice, to what- ever station they should arive. 3dly, The rector and deputali were the council of the University ; who deliberated upon, and digested all matters to be brought before tlie congregation of doctors and mas- ters. And the determinations of tbe doctors and masters, in such cases, were accounted, m respect of authority, next to the statutes Sometimes the congtetiatio univers talis was called occasionally for weighty matters; such as tbe making or repealing of statutes, or for an embassy to the higher powers, in name of the University. In such cases, each nation chose three or four deputati^ who were joined with the rector and bis deputatij to transact the busiuess commilted to them. Two other ofiice-liearers were chosen annually, on the morrow after St Crispin's day ; a Burjiarius, who kept the university purse, and accounted for what he received and expended ; and a Promatory whose office was to see that the statutes were observed, and to bring delinquents before the Rector's court, which had power to enforce the sta- tutes, or to dispense with them in cases that were not declared to be iudispensible. 1 1. Facul ies—A. second division of the University was into its different FacuUies. The Pope's Bull mentions four by name— to wit, Theohgy, Oinon Law, Civil Law, and IA# Arts. All others are comprehended in a general clause, ei in quavis aiiu licHa f (levitate In the dark ages, t!ie profes- sions of theology, canon, and civil law, were called the three learned professions; as being the only professions in which learning was expected or thought necessary. They fitted men for the most honourable and lu- * iice above, note, lil, b.— H. crativc employments ; for the highest digni- ties in tbe church ; for the councils of kings ; for the offices of judges at home ; and of ambassadors to foreign courts. To train men to eminence in these professions, was the first intention of universities. The Arts, under which was comprehended logic, physics, and morals, were considered as a necessary introduction to tbe learned pro- fessions, and, therefore, a necessary part of study in every univtvsity. Their Plan — The plan upon which uni- versities were incorporated by the Popes, was very like to that of incorporated towns and boroughs, and perhaps was borrowed from it. Tlie miiversity corresponds to the whole incorporation of tbe borough ; the different faculties to the different companies of the trades or crafts into which the borough is divided. A company is a smaller incorporation, subordinate to that of the borough ; has the power of choosing its own head, or deacon ; and an authority over those who are in the course of being trained to the same craft. The companies in the incorporated towns were anciently called collegium or colleges ; and the whole incor- poration, comprehending all the companies, was called the uuiver.sitas of that town. These names were, by analogy, apjilied lo corporations of the learned prof essious, and at last approjiriated to them. The word used in Pope Nicolas' Bull is npt universi- ias but studium general: ; and the univer- sity of Bononia he calls Sludium Bouon' iense: but, in the charter of King Jam ca II. in 1453, we have — Ahna universitax Gla^gutnsiSj Jifia nostra dilecta.* Government,. — The government of a fa- culty was very similar to that of the Uni- versity. Each faculty had its own statutes, determining the time of study, and the ex- ercises and examinations requisite for at- taining degrees in that faculty. Each chose annually its own dean, its own Awr- sarius, and sonietinieB four deputali as a council to the dean. We know very little of the three higher faculties in this Uni- versity, as there is no record extant, either of their statutes or of their transactions. There are only two memorandmns relating to them in the University record. In the first, we are told, that, on the 29tli of July 1400, the venerable David Cadzow, tben reetor of the University, began, in the chapter house of tbe predicant friars, the clergy and masters being tliere convened, to read the rul»ric in the canon law, de via et honestalH cliricortim ; and that be con- * Vnwrrsitas^ as oriRinally used, i« simply a word for an incorporated Ketiorahty. It has nothing to tlo with any cuiiiplemcnt of studies. Collegium is am. biguous ill its aca t< mical employment ; soinetinii-a being applied to denote the public sub-iiicorporatiun of a faculty; lometimcs a private incorporatiun of certain individuals of the university.— H. 3 A 2 '7S4 A fiTATISTICAL ACCOUNT OF iiiiued. tetiMPdiif fte m» fkmm ©f t]i« newen s anil tliat,.(iii the snmi'iliij, ami in Ihe Mune ptaw, Wiiimn de LeTenax l»egan .* tillo in tiM eivil law. But we an .nol mm hmr In^ it ftleaaed tlm. hmmm tlial •Amm Imtmm tiimM h» Mntimiid In 'MotliwnMiMmHiiiiin. we' .aw mid, that, on ithe rjd of March, in the jear IMl, Rohert Li|% laeheitr in theoloffj, and prior of the mttim^ ^' ■mmMmmt Im' im Qiainw, Ai«a», pro/fflrimi, to ;read a leetafe"mi/ti* Jonrth. book of the sentences,, in the mouMw ileryi in presence of the reetor, dean of Jkenltj, and the test of the masters ; John Aile, PfofcMwiif tliBiA^,«nd,piitincial.rf the order .in 8i»ihuid,|iniUinf at 'the line. III. Btfrm*.^A third division was ae- •cerdim; to' 'tlie aeaileinical degice of every :inenher. The hlghwit .diyiee in theolocj^ . canon, and civil law, waS' 'that rf mSrl and in the arta, that of Mastir, In seme imiventitifa, Mmiers &fjtri$ta9mlMBws ^^yPMimopkifS but in most they are iisltngnlsiied bj"the name'ef Mmier, from :tho»e whe have the highest degree in any ofthehigherfaeMlties.* A master, however, m,|ght he ehoaen to be rector, or a i aMuiy oilier siai '^ei wawp ,llMIMWlM>,|lBd 4|l|l0iDllIieUt» .a THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW. •791; |iermiii«ion. There was no salary for this office for many years ; and the fees paid by tlie hearers were very small. Twice we tiud a regent presented by the chancellor, and one of these he turned off for iiisufh- cieiicy in two or three years. Once, the f:u:ulty turned one out for insufficiency, and |iut two in his place, witii power to chooBe H third, with the consent of the faculty, if they found it proper. All that had this iifiiee, excepting two, continued in it but a few years ; and very often one who was not m member of the faculty was called to this office, and made a regent immediately upon Ijeing incorporated. From these parti ;u- lars, it is probable that there was no cf m- petition either for this office or for the pa- tronage of it ; but rather some difficulty to find persons qualified who were willing to take it. B<^9. — The books which students were obliged to hear read, before taking the de- gree of Bachelor, were prescribed by sta- tute. They were, " Porphirie's Introduc- tion to certain books of Aristotle," and *' Peirus Hispaiius '* The fee to be paid for hearing each was also fixed • When ♦ Ihk lee was called the PaMm It was exigible by all unaalaried groduates for their prelections, fiut when the custom of giving palaries to certain gradu- ttef, ic. of endowing certain chairs, was introduced, no fee could be leqally demanded; the endowment wai in lieu of ihe'pastuc, a boon to the public and ttiepooTt and it wasonly after these salaried gradu- »ite*, who in time carae to be called prqfessora, had, by their gratuitous instruction, rendered the lect.ies of me graduates at large a prufitless vocation— 1 say it was only when other lectures were discontinued, (-ompetition thus removed, and the whole instrur- tion, and often even the whole regulation, of the university allowed to tail into their hands, that, IM- slow and imperceptible degrees, fee* were again Introduced, and in dittierent schools and coun. tries, by different means, sometimes legally, more Irequently illegalh. raised to the footing of coinpul. •ory exacUoiis. J he records of the University ot «tlasgow shew the progress ul the innovation in that institution. In the earlier ages, and when the sal- uried graduates— the regents of the psedagogium— were very inadequately provided for, honoraria, or voluntary offerings, i-y the richer students, were naturally mada These gradually in came cii-stomary ; were, in time, lookittrti MB IB WM prafWIllMI JIIMIMff1|.i|. I— ■ — . .11,. iipi - .. — w -.r^m- .-.— _. __™.-. .___-___, ~..|gj, J^F» ■ WPpii MPlliWB ll ■■■•■■• dwfliig the ymn of ntctwaiy rfgencf.. Iici.tlitir ivrMipi of iMKlilut *>*«■>' that ■ at an mia, wtnt oriM voliioiiii' iipiit^ •~ltt ftt««iti»S»iitii.Jlf4WMri^ vmam, ■amtttim til*, b, *. TUk psctlflS' «f irniiing' the Iwoki to iwdictcd on m mmmm («iPiinwlt)lif tlw tvprnt tal. tu 'the rurapein icttooli. W« tiiUt «r «Imi iMMAt. ami or tlie var. .^_. raltt of' fMliif St whiGli the lecture* on tHem wfietltnitiai 'w tlW' 'liMmiet «r tHe iraivenfiitt et' C ■avlcMt founder and his friends I for which he had a amalliannntty. ThesO' ehaplainries. were •oomiMily given to .some rf the^ regents of the eeiiege of arts ; perhaps because they were the pooiest off tiie sacerdotal order in the university. Th.is patronapi' and this pnne, a» lar aa 'appears, 'were all the pro- Mfty whi* tliO' 'wnlTersity ever possessed. Nor doii It appear that the faculties of theology, canon or civil law, ever had any property. He individuals had rich livings through all patta of the nation— abbacies, priories,, preheeda, 'rectories, and vicarages : but the community had nothing. ' Its privi- leges were the inducement to bring rich ecdeaiaitica into a society, in which they lived at ease, free of all taxes, and subject to ne authority but that of their own rector. The Coiiegs t*f dri»j however, being per- haps thought the most useful part of the whole, *nd entitled to public favour, as eu- trusled with the education of youth, toon came to have some property. In the year 1430, James Lord Hamilton bequeathed to Mr Dunain Bunch, principal regent of the Collego of Arts, and his successors, regents, for the use of the said College— a tenement, with the pertinents, lying on the north side of the church and convent of the Predicatorst together with four acres of laud in the Dow hili* From this time we find the purse of the faculty of arts, which ap- liears, to have been heavier than that of the University, employed in repairing and add- ing to the buildings of the College ; furnish- ing rooms for the regents and students ; and things necessary for the kitchen, and a common table. In the year 1410, another tenement, ad* joining to the Colhige, 'was 'bequeathed by Mr Thomas Arlhurlie. By this time, many of the students of arts were the youth of the nation, whose good edicntion was a matter 'Of Impoilanee 'to' 'the public They were diatingu,ished, icoording to their rank, Into sons of noblemen, of gentlemen, and of tliose of meaner rank ; and, in the expense of their edncattoni 'wece taxed aceordinglT. 8ueh, "as far as we ^ean learn, was tho constitution of the University of Gksgow before tho Reformation. There is reason to think, that, wlien the zeal in favour of 11 new instltutioa bcfan to cool, the three higher lM»ltles gradually decluied mto m- activity. BffmtM^Fmm the year 1490, we ind ikeqnent eon|ilaint% of maaters not .attend- ;ing onlversity 'meeliiwa 1 of statutes having laien into disuse.; ofbaehelors and licenti- • latliltdMil, the Slfii, even 'dsr >'tfi .MliiP'Sni'Psr'fi'"' ■■'■I —"IW m •— w ^■"n"' ■'"*' w ■ 'SPSSSa HrSnHHMrVjpSill W^ ■vW "v '^ ^ ■ftfT'dlnncr sad after Ripper, to m^mmm m SmI 'MS? ^ ^^ ^'Oli.li df' Jaiiief 1 4m Hmh- ilion, S»iMl«r''Of 'tlie«lll«ii» 1 of Euphemia hlaapnuir, Counlewof Ooufist* j of hiianwrtoit and luccwwit* ; iitd cif mil fmm wiom lie haa recel»fd any benefit, loi Wikti he toaa not aUMlC' a inoptr return. ates not pro(toeding in their degrees ; of the Jurisdiction of the University not being re- spected. Sometimes, at the election of a rector, not one of the natiorCof Albany was present ; and once, none either of Albany or of Teviotdafe. There seems only to have been one dean iu the University for some time before the Reformation, to wit, the dean of the faculty of arts ; and, therefore, it is probable the other faculties had no meetings. In the later minutes of the Uni- versity he is called Decanua FacultatiSy without addition ; whereas, more early, he is always Decanus Facultatis Artium* This style, of Dean 0/ Faculty of the University y which we see was a considerable time be- fore the Reformation, continues to be used to this day ; there being only one dean of faculty in that University, who is considered not as the head of one particular faculty, liut in the light of an university officer, as the rector is. Tliere seem to have been two obvious defects in the ancient constitution of the University. The first, that no salaries were provided for regular lectures in the high faculties. It was not to be expected, that the laborious work of teaching should he performed by those who could not live by it ; and who could not, by their industry and eminence in their profession, rise to some degree of respect proportioned to what their talents and learning might have raised them in another line of life. The second defect — That there was not sufficient power over tlie University to remedy disorders, when these became general, and infected the whole body. The chancellor had, by his oath already mentioned, divested himself t>f the power which the Pope's Bull gave liini ; and neither royal nor parliamentary visitations, so frequent afterwards, were then introduced.+ * This conjecture is conllnned by a notarial in- srrumentof the foundation of a chaplainry, by Mr Thomai Lel««, while he was on a sick-bed, but sound in his mind. , This instrument was taken, the fith day of March, In the year 15^, before respectable witnes-es. five of whom signed it with the notary. In it tlie notary mys—ConstUuit dmtinum rectoran VniversitatU Glasijuensis et deeamtm facultatis tyus- (f<7H, iuduhitatos patronos. From this, it appears, that only one dean existed at that time in the Uni. versity, or was expected to exist ; and we know that a dean of the faculty of arts was chosen annually, till the year 1555. [See p. IsftJ, note.— H.lj t Whatever were the causes of declension In this University before the Reformation, the annals of litetaiiire mention very few of its members who made any considerable tigure in the learned world. One, however, deserves to be mentioned. William Elphinston, who had been a canon ol ower. to be exercised occasionally according to the report of the visiters. James Beaton, the last Popish Aronbishop of Glas. gow, deserves also to te mentioned with honour. His fidelity in depositing everything he carried away, that belonged to the Archbishopric or to the liniver, sity, in the Convent of the Carthusians, or in the Sco'ch College at Paris, was never questioned. His political abihty appears by his having been appointed one of the Scottish ambassadors, at the court of France, for settling the articles of the Queen's mar- riage with the Dauphin ; his having been again ap> pointed her ambassador at that court, and continuing m that office from the time of the Reformation till her death : and, after that tragical event, his being appointed King James's amt)as8ador at the same court, and holding that office till the time of his own death in 1603, when King James came to be King of England. This archbishop left several monuments of his learning in manuscript, which are preserved \\\ the Scotch College at Paris, to which he bequeathed the greatest part of his effects at his death. * Not synonymous. See above, p. 7^:3, b, nots * — -H. '728 A STATISTICAL ACCOUNT OF THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGO^V. 729 the wreck. Tlie crown, ihe nobility, and tbe cities, w«r6 emriciied by it; aome ermnh 4ii«Mi Jiify*t Cmrlgr, — ^TliO' Ural' wlio hai. 'flOttiMisaimi on th© Unlviarsity of' Glae-^^ ,gow, in its dqiressed state, was tlw im- ous and the ui^ortnnate %mm Mary. In «. 'diarter granted by ber, and to whteb ber f rivy' ami is appended, dated tbo ISft of July iMIi^ tliete is the foltowing nam- tiTe : — " Forasmndb as, within tbe citie of Glasgow, ane oolii%». and 'iinivetaitie was 'davyiil to h9 lmi»f &e.| of tbe wbil&e col- 'MgO' aW' paft of' tlio seoles and cIialmeEs being A^l, tbe rest tbaarof, alsweil dwel- lings as provision for tbe poor bursars and aMiiatiiis- tetoaoba^oeasiCi iswa^ that 'the samyn appesrod. nfher' to be 'ihe decay of ane uni- versity, mm oniewajs to be reckonit ane establisht foundation.*' Therefore, for the led sbo 'bote to' letters, Ike, sbe:loiinds ive poor 'cUidmi. bnnaii' 'wi^itB' tbe :Baid 'eol- lege, to be- oaliej, in. '•!: "times to 'Oonie^ 5fir- «if r« qf A#r /pMidliilioti ; and for their f ««• ttHimimm^ she gives to tbe Masters of the said cniegO' and mveisity tbe manse and kirk of tbe Friars Fredlisi^iirB, with thirteen rents and .annuities therein named, wbieb bad belonged to tbe said friars.*' Mmr§h Chmtter* — ^Tbe noxt benoiMtion made to this college is. 'ContabMd M a char- 'ter^ granted, by m John Btowart of Mynto, provost, with tbe bailies, council, and com- mmity of tbe city of Gbi^w, in the year 1S79, .and ratified by tbe nurliament tlie lano. year. They, oonsideffing that,, besides. other detrimenl'lbeir town sustained, their seboob and cdlle^ were utterly ruined | and their youth, who were wont to be trained to' probity and good, motali, left to be cor- rupt'cd by idlenesa. and 'Wsnton.ne8s ; and, being earnestly desirous to rem.edy so great an evil, by the exhortation, counsel, and aid of tbe most respectable Master Andrew il.ay, Rector of tbe 'Cburch of Renfrew, and Vice-Superintendent, and Rectur for tbe time, of their Univcmity of Gksgow^re- ■olved to restore, renew, and give a new foundation to the Prndt^fOf^m 'Cvtefuf m t , fmd pm tmmpitium mogim. pm§ cartmmmtf €i in qmoj pm 'fil'nla pmpUFMty dimpim* arum. Mtmlia gstineta Jacekml For this purpose, they annex to the said college, «id to' ibe regents .and .students aftor- 'oamed, residing within it, being fflH. t 1 lie 'liMon wily doiiatkiiif, in apiwaianoe Ubefalg, luraid eot lo mi mMU acoornit* wai, iMfftly^ tliat 'the FopWi' teeMatticfl, Mcular ami 'regular. 'Ihougli their form of worship was totally aholivhed throuiii the wholt' astlMii eonitautfl 'to enjoy their tenponiil.. ties for Itli, suhpet to a taaslKin of a third iiart to the Crown, out of which the clergy ot the rerormed church were to he malmalncd ; p rtly. that those In. cuinb«>nts. tluritig tbilr lllB, pi4Ctiscjins.. wMdi their privilt Imlffeit, 'thdr 'Ngari to relations, or their hatred of the new religion, sug. gested. Some of these pretemlcd a]'ien.atloi>S) in.ade to the hurt of tlie colleiei wft*' afterwards reduced .and annulled' 'hf the courti oT'lswi. some hf arblttat'lon. that vcfff' oilea Ih*' .aiMpcl 'was fie fsieff to 'hear the espcnis of • lawniltf mt tbe 'Man in poimiio.ii fiN* ^^^■l^^l^wubdHLj|jl|l Nl|iijH|h|| Biii^jjL ^t^mjam^M 'ILji^m i||l|laijah js^ihlHSk^^JlLL Regent of the kingdom. That was the rec- tory and vicarage of the parish of Govau, of which the incumbent was ktely dead, and the value reckoned about twenty-four chalders. It was found, however, that the late incumbent had, before his death, given a nineteen years' lease of the temporality to a friend, and that friend had transferred his right to a man in power. By this, and some other incumbrances, all that the Col- lege could draw from it, for about twenty years, was only 300 merks yearly. TV. MonnaN constitution. JVeio Royal Charter. — With this gift, King James gave a chatier nf foundation to the College, which, in its most essential articles, has continued in force to this day. It is commonly called the nova erectio .• all subsequent changes being superstructures upon this foundation. Tbe charter proceeds upon this narrative ■.^Intellitfentes quod annua prqficua et reditus collefjii, seu Padu- ftuyii Glasffuensih tarn exigua sunt, ut hoc nnstra mtate miuime sufficientia sint ad MUSteniandum principalem, magistros rc- yenteSy bunurioSf et officiarios necessarios in quovii coliegio; nee ad adminicu'andnm mtMlentationi et repaiaiumi ejmdeni. And afterwards — Dum animum nostrum adjecur' imuM ad cdliaendae reliqaias acidemia Gtasguensis { quam pra inop'ia languesoen- tffn, ac jam pene confectam reperimus. — The persons founded by this charter are twelve; a Principal, three Regents, four Bursars, an (Economus or Steward, a v)ook, a Porter, and a Servant to the Principal. Estaffiiehment. — The Principal was to teach Theology one day, and Hebrew and Syriac the next alternately, through the week; and to preach in the church of Govan on Sunday. Of the Regents, one was to teach Greek and Rhetoric ; another. Dialectics, Morals, and Politics, with the dements of Arithmetic and Geometry ; and the third, who was also Sub-Principal, was to teach all the branches of Physiology and Geography, Chronology and Antrologg. The Principal to be presented by the Crown; the Regents to be elected by the Hector, Dean of Faculty, and the Prin- cipal. The Regents were not, as was the custom of other Scottisli universities, to carry on their students through the three years* course ; but to keep by one profes- sion ; so that the student had a new Regent every year. The Bursars were to be main- tained for three years and a half within the College; that being the time required in the Scottish universities for acquiring the degree of Master of Arts. The Steward was to collt'ct the whole revenues, and to provide all necessaries for the College table ; and to give an account, every day, to the Principail and Regents, of his disburse- ments. The Rector, the Dean of Faculty, and the Minister of Glasgow, are author- ized to visit the College four times in the year, to examine and authenticate the pub- lic accounts, and to see that all things be carried on according to the intention of this foundation, and to correct what was not. Privileges and Exempii.ns. — All dona- tions formerly made to the College, by what- soever person or persons, of whatsoever rank, are ratified. And the whole revenue formerly belonging to, or now granted, the King declares and ordains, for him and his successors, shall be enjoyed by the said College, free from any taxation of a third part, or any other taxation whatsoever; any law, custom, act, or ordinance of Par- liament, notwithstanding. Finally, he wills and declares. That the College and Uni- versity of Glasgow shall enjoy all the pri- vileges and immunities, by his ancestors, by him, or any other way, granted to any university in his kingdom, as freely, peace- ably, and quietly as if it had enjoyed them from ancient times before the memory of men. This charter was ratified by the King, after he came to the years of major- ity, and confirmed by act of Parliament, in the year 1587. Government — In Glasgow, the whole property and revenue pertaining to thu University, is vested in the college, and is administrated by a meeting of the Principal and Professors, commonly called the College Meeting, and very often, though perhaps with less propriety, the Faculty Meeting. The record of this meeting is visited and authenticated by the Rector, Dean of Faculty, and the Minister of the High Church of Glasgow. Other business of the University, besides matters of revenue, and the discipline of the students, is managed in what is called an University' Meeting, or Senate ; in which the Rector and Dean of Faculty sit, along with the Principal and Professors. Indeed, besides the College, all that remains of the Univer- sity is a Chancellor, Rector, and Dean. We see that the JV^ooa Erectio supposes their existence ; but makes no change with regard to their powers, except in giving to the two last, together with the Minister of Glasgow, a visitorial power over the College. The Rector and Dean are chosen annually much in the same manner as they wen. from the first foundation of the University.* The Rector always names the Principal and * The I>ean— ttie Dean of the Faculty of Arts, he is not. He wa^originally, and, on the constitutional principle of the University, he oujjht note, to bi ekHJted bv the whole body of graduates of this 1- a- cultv of Arts, (»or they constitute that faculty whico i- an uimrrgilv, not a to//«y/ein(or|.oration.) n»o "'OJ by the FroaMior.s only, i. e., the collcjjiate or taiaiiuf A 'STATISTICAL ACX»IJNT Of rmmmm to li© nis Mmmmm^'i mm,, mm lliMit ^MCMifmlijr' Ibfiiit » emn of kw, Ibr jiAEillff S 'MIBIWiilfT QUmtioOBi ftlld l6M 'StnMlow aniit% 'itiMrtiii. any mcsnlwr of tb0 lJiiiv«raity was pttrty. no Unifonity .nw MiiMFs pitiimintw iii' ajonptfoii ifon^ alt juiMietifiii rotaMiiali.i|» who It aot. a ptiiwlB: in ibe niMiM -Cmlty. In like nmner.. the oi''licr liieultiet ooglit aefwtMf Co have their own Deam tteeteit In the same wmf hf thftr gradualm at large ; a Dean qf Facvmet w an acaJcnical aoleeiiniL £aeli Faculty al M^amlne, it wai found neott. ■ary, in caafMrsilly coprlndpleand practice, (not then fOfintlcnJ Co mNnion a Congregation ot (iraduatai, ltt.oiiierto'lefiii»l:lieiialu:te«pro|KiMd by the Vbtia. 'ioS' of' that 'int. All constittittonalMineifItt .bate, ilMwrver, in this at in oiir other BiltMi a.nivciii. Itiei, hern ao 'Ioiiir 'tMited. with impiiity, thai lliry ■i 'Ihhv eomeienttoiiilf' luiioieil '— H. 'iMwe who wefe in the lower Win mmmmidjf advanced, a step ; and the new 'tiifiitii Re- gent had the profession of Greek Ibr his Xr^.UH.Cn.ge^n.inuedf.,. long lime I excepting tlmt, in the year 1021, bv a meeting of the viailers, in which the Archbisliop was pretent, the principal was freed from the duty of pveaehimr in the church of Govan. A ministlrwTappointed to have Che 'pastoral. ehaigO' of' 'that parisl:i| to w'hom a t%eml was provided out of the tein^ds of tlW' 'paiish. ; 'the patronage of the church being reserved to the University, and the minister being obliged ** to .read some publie .ketnre in the ^eommon iidiools by tie ofleem of the University, and Mm* ters of the College." This change they were enabled to mice, from having, by an act of Parliamenty in the year 1616, been vested in the tithes of the parishes of Kil- bride and Renfrew; burdened with the payment of stipends to the ministers of these 'two ;paffi8hes, whieh are modified by the act; and likewise burdened 'with the liferent of the persons who were at tliat lime titulars of these tithes. In the year 1637, it appears that a Master or Profesi^or, Humanioriim ititeraruni, commonly calletl Prafemorof IInman.ity, had been founded* In the year 1641, Charles I., by his sig- nature, gave to the College the temporality of the bishopric of Galloway ; reserving to himself the power of burdening it with the sum of £lfO sterling, to any person he should name. This gift was confirmed by an act of .Pkuiamenl the same year. The 'Offiee of Chancellor of the 'University be- 'Ooming 'vaeani 'by the abolition of Episco- pal govemnienl In tho' ohnrch, James. Mar- quis of Hamilton was chosen chancellor, and 'was 'the fint laym.an W'ho bore: that of- iesh .Alter .him, Will.iam Earl of Gleii- •aim waa^ chosen, .in the year 1660. 'Though the greatest part of the M'asters submitted with reluctance to the govern- ment of Oliver Cromwell, and wish^ a re- storation of themonaiehy, under proper lim- itotions, the Prinopal, Mr .Patrick Gillespie, 'Was a zealous 'republican $ and,, by the in- terest he had with Oliver, obtained greiil IsvoniS' .fof the Univeitily. The Protector and his eounsd taMiwed' ^all. .its immunities' a.nd privileges .f adding that of printing bi- bles, and all sorts of books belonging to the liberal sciences, and licensed by the Uni- versity. Me confirmed all former fouiida- * In the year Ifl3l« a meeting of the Vlaltera, the Archbishop Mes pfitent, apJMiinted Mr AOhcrt Mayne, then I^Bf— llT'Of Logic» to be Prolbtor of Medicine, tnd to gits tofltlifit la that kcience. At the tame time, tie PtolMior of flieek wat advunred to the Mfilbielon of liigic ; the Proieuor of Human. a"' J iwimf a'iP'i''^ii app Wp'iTOMiiw^iSS™pia mifW' ^iiiP"ei w— ■ ^i^ a ^apeti ^b ataw "^e 4* ^ — wfan^^^^^ai M^Jr' III ui irai aiMiti Akiitii'Mli"iH ihiuh^ii^^. yiujjjk Miiiiiiii^wiaiL THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW. 731 lions, mortifications, and donations marde ill its favour, particularly that of the bishop- ric of Galloway ; to which he added tlie va- cant stipends of the parishes wbidi had been in the patronage of the bishop of Gal- loway, for seven years to corner and also, in perpetuity, the revenues of the deanery and sub-deanery of Glasgow. This last gift, however, was accompanied with several lim- itations and restrictions, by which the Col- lege had not the possession of the subjects while his power lasted ; and, his acts being rescinded at the Restoration, it fell, of course, and had no effect The re-establishment of Episcopal gov- ernment in the church after the restoration of Charles II. gave a severe check to the prosperity of the University ; by depriving it at once of the best part of its revenue — to wit, that of the bishopric of Galloway. Before arrangements could be made, suited to this impoverished state, a great debt was contracted- Of the eight professions which had been estafdished. three were sunk ; and those that remained were reduced to a very short allowance. The College now consist- cil of a Principal, a Professor of Theology, and four Regents ; a very scanty revenue, sunk in debt ; and a large fabric unfinished. A visitation of the universities was ap- pointed by Parliament, in the year 1664. The noblemen, gentlemen, and clergy, who visited the College of Glasgow, after a strict examination of their revenue, report — " That the sum of three thousand nine hun- dred and forty-one pounds Scotch, yearly, will be necessar to be speedily provided for unto the University, or otherways it must quickly decay and mine "• Besides this, they found it had a great load of debt ; and that many professions were wanting which it ought to have, but cannot for the pre- sent possibly have for want of revenue. In this report the visiters were unanimous. In this state the University remained till after the Revolution. It is true that, in this interval, it received several consider- able donations and mortifications ; but these were all appropriated, by the donors, either to the carrying on of the building, or to the foundation of bursars ; and were faithfully applied to these purposes. So that it must have required great economy in the professors, as well as great lenity in their creditors, to preserve them from bank- ruptcy, during this long interval. In the year 1693, each of the Scottish universities obtained a gift of 1*300 a-year out of the bishops* rents in Scotland. The sum payable to the University of Glasgow, was allocated upon the income of the arcli- « The vititert of thc ot Galloway : of the Mobi'i'v, Hamiltnn. MoMtro.e, Arjtyle, Kilmar- aock, loihran j tictidci giiitlemen and clergy. bishopric of Glasgow ; and soon after, still better to secure the payment, the College obtained a lease of the whole rent of tlie archbishopric for nineteen years, which lease has from time to time been renewed by the Crown. The University began now to raise her head, after a hmg period of depression, by debt and poverty, and by the diminution of her professors. The exertions which were made about this time were encouraged by the great number of her students. Princi- pal Stirling, in his diary, says, that in the year 1 702 the students of Tlteology, Greek, and Philosophy, amounted to upwards of four hundred and two. The great demand for clergymen, to fill the vacant benefices, immediately after the establishment of the Presbyterian government, occasioned the attendance of a greater number of students about the beginning of this century, than at any tormer period. In the year I7O6, the profession of Hu- manity was revived ; and 31 r Andrew Ross was appointed professor. In the year 1708, her Majesty Queen Anne was pleased to grant tlie Univers- ity £210 sterling yearly, payable out of the Exchequer; one part of which was appropriated for salaries to a Professor of Anatomy and Botany, and to a Pro- fessor of Oriental Languages ; and an- other part of it for augmenting the salaries of the Principal and Professors, according to a scheme of division mentioned in the deed. This gift has been renewed by all the subsequent sovereigns. The gilt of £300 per annum, by King William, was for some time directed to be applied for extinj^uishing the college debts, and supporting four Bursars. By a subse- quent deed of Queen Anne, in the year 1713, part of it was continued for the said j)urposes ; and the remainder appropriate*! for salaries to a Professor of Civil Law, ami a Professor of Medicine. Hie Majesty King George I, was pleased to grant, out of the rents of the ai>chbisliop- ric, a new gift of i:l70 per annum; which was appropriated for a salary to a Professor of Ecclesiastical History, and for augmenting the smaller salaries of the other professors. By these royal donations, the whole of the rent paid by the College, for ilie lease of the archbishopric, is exhausted ; and regu- lar accompts thereof are transmitted to the Exchequer. Since that tune, there lias been one pro- fession added to this University, by the bounty of King George 11. Alexander Maefarlane, Esq., of Jamaica, had erected an astronomical observatory iu that island for his own use. At his death, he bequeathed liis astronomical apparatus to the College of Glasgow, on condition that TM A STATISTICAL ACCOUNT OF THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW. V3-5 I Ill i Ibtj' tliiMili teiil fti; olmrvato'rj, snd «||. ;|Miiiit:.sii 'Oliisrver* Tim CUieg^ very miiij m«5f!«|ilMl tte'flUBiitidiii ■ai'lmUlati dbwnr- Jitory ; and, in the jmr 176(1, his Maleitj WM pletsed to grant a preaentatkn to Dr .Alesainier Wikon, to be JPwfeaaor of- Ftao*' lioiil Aatumoinj and Observer, wttb a .aalaij of MS§ jrearly out of the Eielieqiier,. It wul not be expected that we ihould eniimerate the donations made bj^sub^eote t of boofei or prints to the piblie library, or immey to purchase bo«ihs— nf' money fur p^riset' to the more deterviuf tliidMits in the WTeial ehMses— -of money for carrying on tlM' bwildiiip— of money, or knd, for the fonndatiora of iifaaft' in; phiosopfayi in the* olf^, and In medidns. Tbe nainea of' many of 'these 'benefiiolon are^ now little known bat in the annak of the University nf Qb^pw, whem. they 'wiU alwi^ya 'be pre- innred. Mmm ;may be mentioned, whose .ttttentbn to the' i'ntentt of 'tbk society doea them honour. Among these are, Anne JDuchees of Hamilton ;, Mabina, Countess of ForffiM*; Wiiiam £afl of' lltandonald; the Buke of €h«ndoa:| tiiO' Duke 'Of Mon- trose ; Br Robert Leigbton, Archbishop of Gksgow ; and Boulter, Afcbbishoii of Ar^' inagh. Of mmummmm-^f Snell, Dr Wil- liaa%. Br Walton,, and«iho^ teto' Br William Hunter, arO' distingnished^-by 'the 'lafjgeness cf ibetr' donationM* From the foregoing ■tateroent, it appears that the ancient eonatitntion of the UtiiverH- ity of Gbi^go»| in the distribu'lion of Keien;ces and. nodes i^ teaching, aS' well as^ iti the form 'Of its poTemment,. was very simibtr to 'that, of all the other universities of Snopii 'The allenitions which it has unifargioiMi, In later' 'tiines, aiH' aneh m miiclit tm ex:pected from the ehangea of opinion with respect to literary objects, and from other varying eireumstanees. The 'pro- gress of knowlid|e^. and the 'lncf«asing de- mand for ItiiataM^ 'have fmduoed 'many additional dqiarlments of seieiiee, to' those whieb were originally thought worthy of a 'paitienhir teacher. What is ealled the iw.rrliiiliiiii, or ordmanr «nrse* of public 'education, coraprehenda at present ive branches — ^tbe Latin and Greek lan.gnaie% L^^e, llotal. Fhiosophy, and Natural nSL osopby. 'Tiise' bimnehea are nndetstood to .femire' thO' sta^ of ive separato :se8Bion8. Burinf their attendance upon these eouraea of lanfrngea and phUoeophy, and larticnkrlyberoie they enter thecSua of na. tural philosopliy, tho' .atndents are expeeted to aei|uufe' a noirlite' of Matliematlca'and Algebra, for wbicb' 'tiiere is aMoarato Pro- teiwor, and wbloh la understood to be rah- itrvient to natural phUosopby, and to many of the practical arts. There is also a Pro* fessor of PfaeHeal Astronomy, whoee busi- ness is to make oliservations, for the im- provement of that great branch of physics, Aftor the course of general educatioii, above-mentioned|. a pnvision Is made tor what' are called tlie< tbre*' 'learned 'profei*' sions — Divinity, Law, and Medicine. For the peculiar education of Churchmen, there are four Professors: the Principal, who la Primarius Professor of Theology, and baa, 'beeide% 'thO' Mperiniendence of tiie whole University; and the respective Pro. fesson of Theolotv, of Oriental Languages, and of'.' Ch^nreh . History. Tbia hut ' is. .ako .kotnrer 'b Civil Histo'ry. In Law there is only one professor. There are, by. the constitution, no more than two pfofeemiB allotted to the faculty of AfedieiiifNtfto wit. a professor of the Theory and Practice of Medicine, and a professor of Anatomy and Botany. But the University, out of its funds, and with the aaa.istance 'Of vrivata danation% baa made .an annual provisioii. .for 'tb'ine additional 'leeturers..inCh'eniiatry»itt.]fatoria M.edica.. and in Midwifery. The University, has now the prospect of a great, .and. lm:portaa.l« ..addition being soon made to .'iba Hieulty nf ' 'Medicine. The late Rev. Dr Walton, of Upton, in Huntlng- doiislitre, about twenty years ago, in a tour to Seotbmd, vMteil the University of Glaif gow; Bnd,.«ppiovuig of ito. constitution and modftof 'Coiinetbg'edneatlMi, gave to the University £400 sterling ; the iutereet of which, at hia death, he appropriated for tlio support of a .medieal. .student during the course of his 'ed.iaalionb. .About ive jeam. ago, the sanagenoMma^beiMfaetormortiied the additional sum of £1000 sterling, at his death, to the University, for the purpose of supporting a lecturer in any branch of me- dicine, or of seienee connected with medi- cine, which the Uu i%*ersity should judge most expedient or necessary. By the Due- tor's death., whidi bafpeued^aboutth^reeveara ago, both these donations low' take effect. Miss Christian Brishane, sister of the kto Dr Brisbane, Professor of Medicine in this University, mortified the sum of £1000 sterling I the Intercit of which she .appropriated for the support of a medical ^student, two years at tltis University, and other two years at any other celebrated school of medicine in .Bri.toin, or on the Continent, aa the University shall direct. - The Inte eelebrated Dr William Hunter, of Loudon, formerly an alumnus of thia UniYemity, and, during the whole of his life, waiin.ly attached to ito lntereat% be* SiMitlied' to the Unlveiiity, at bis dteth^. e whole of hu Mnneum, one of the most valuable euUectiont in Europe, of Mfttural History, Medals, Anatomical Preparations, Bwks, &c. When this coUectiou has con- tinued a certain number of years at Lon- don, he has, by his will, directed it to be carried to the University of Glasgow. And, for the purpose of building a house for the reception of this noble donation, and esta- blishing such new professions in medicine as the University should judge expedient, he bequeathed £8000 sterling, bearing interest from liis death ; the one-half of which he directed to be applied for the support of the said Musseum, while it continues in London — the other, to increase the principal sum, till the period arrive when both principal and interest shall be appropriated, by the University, for the above-mentioned pur- poses specified in the deed of donation. Infirmary, — The progress of a medical school, in this University, has been hitherto much retarded by the want of an infirmary in Glasgow. But there is at present a prospect of that obstacle being immediately removed. A very considerable sum of money has been lately raised, by voluntary subscription, for the . purpose of erecting and supporting an infirmary in Glasgow. A royal charter has been obtained, and a grant from the Crown, of the site of the Archbishop's Castle, for the buildings ; which, according to a beautiful design, given by the late Robert Adam, Esq., are now finished. Appointments of the Profigsors — The Principal, and the Professors of Church History, Lav% Medicine, Anatomy and Botany, and Astronomy, are nominated by the King. The Professors of Theology, Oriental Languages, Humanity, Greek, Logic, Moral Philosophy, Natural Philoso- phy, and Mathematics, and the Lecturers on Chemistry, Materia Medica, and Mid- wifery, are nominated by the College. The average number of students, of all deno- minations, attending the different classes, is considerably above six hundred. Salaries^ S^c — From the state of the uni- versity funds, the professors are allowed very moderate salaries; so as to depend chiefly for subsistence upon the honorariums^ or fees of their students. This, it is be- lieved, has greatly promoted their zeal and their diUgeuce in their several professions. In seminaries of literature, possessed of rich endowments, and where there is access to large ecclesiastical benefices, by seniority, the busmess of lecturing haa generally gone into disuse, or been reduced to a mere mat- tor of form ; as few persons are willing to labour, who, by doing little, or by following their amusement, find themselves in easy and eomfortable curcumstanoes. The de- partment of teaching is likely, m such a case, to be devolved upon the junior mem- bers of the society, who discharge the office { of private tutors ; and who, from the mo- ment they enter upon their office, are ready to consider it as a passing state, and to look forward to that period when they shall, in their turn, be freed from the drudgery of teaching. In such circumstances, when neither the tutor nor pupil is under the im- mediate eye of the public, instead of strug- gling for distinction and superiority in their respective stations, they will be too apt to indulge the laziness, and to gratify the pe- culiar humour of each other. In the Scot- tish universities, and particularly that of Glasgow, where the professors have no be- nefices in the church, nor any emoluments of any kind independent of their labour, nor anything that can be called preferment within their reach, that radical defect in the conduct of education is altogether re- moved. There is likely to grow up with them, in these circumstances, a habitual liking to their olijects and occupations, and that interest and zeal in the discharge of their duty, which are most likely to call forth the activity and industry of their pupils. It may be thought, perhaps, that, as ne- cessity is the parent of labour, it would be a still greater improvement, that professors in colleges should have no salaries at all. This would be indisputable, if all other em- ployments were left to the natural profit which they can produce, and were not pe- culiarly rewarded by fixed appointments from the public. But tf one trade, or art, is allowed a bounty, another must, upon this account, have also some compensation. The poculiar premiums given by Govern- ment to other professions, particularly to the church and the law, seem to require, that, for maintaining some kind of balance, a degree of -similar encouragement should be given to the teaching of the liberal arts and sciences. Without this, a private aca- demy can seldom collect a sufficient number of well qualified teachers, so as to prevent a single individual from undertaking too many branches, and becoming what is vuU garly called a Jack of all trades. Time of Lecturing^ ^c. — The uniforn'r assiduity of the professors in the University of Glasgow, and the length of time which they employ in lecturing, will afford an illustration of these remarks. The annual session for teaching, in the university, be- gins, in the ordinary curriculum^ on tho tenth of October ; and ends, in some of tho classes, about the middle of May, and in others continues to the tenth of June. The lectures, in all the other branches, com- mence on the first of November, and end " about the beginning of May. The clam of Botany begins on the first of May. During this period, the business of the College continues without interruption. Tho Profe^rs of Humanity, or Latin, and of ♦ tf€% I A STATISTICAL ACCOUNT OF THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW. I QimIc, hetam %td. examine tlwir sludentei iMsei'te mA isonmst exer judioes of a fomer period, may he repro- bated, as a dangewm inmmatimK The distribution of science, and the eonrse of lectures, formerly established in all the universities of Europ, were almost exclu- sively adapted to the education of church- men, and proeeeded upon a much mure l.im.ited state of knowkdge than that whieu obtains at present To accommodate in- struction, thererore, to the purposes and viewS' 'Of the nation at large, .and to render the academical 'Course useful in every situ- ation, it is frequently necessary, in those universities where any part of the old plan is retained, that tlw professors should now treat their respective «.hjects in a 'different manner, and that what is comprehended under 'particular branches should be greatly varied and extended. Iji.|tit.— In the University of Gla^W, the students* who attend the Humanity lectures, are supposed to have acquired the elements of the Latin tongue, in public or private schools; and the Professor is em- ployed in reading, explatnug, .and prelect- u^g upon .such loman authors as are most siileo. to carry 'On 'their pragress in that language. To a chiss of more advanced students, the Professor reads a course bf lectures on tbe .peeuliari'tiesand beau'ties. of the Roman hinguage, on the principles of ohuisical composition, and on Roman anti- quities. GiY«lr.— In the aneient state of the Uni- versity, it was probably not usual for any person to study under the professor of Greek, until he liad acquired some previous knowledge of the Greek knguage. But, as Greek is now iehfami lepihvly taught in public sehoohi dW' PmiDssor Is under the ne- cessity of instrueilig a. great number m the wry elements of that knguage. To a second set, who have made some proficiency in 'that .respect^ he ..k em:ployed.. n readiuf, ex- pkinhig, and prel^eeting ^npon 'those 'Classical authom from, an .ncqualntsnee with whom Ilk hearero are most likely to imbibe a knowledge of Greek, and, at the same thne, to improve their taste .in literary 'Composi- tion. To a eiill more advan^ced set of stu- dents, he also delivers a course of lectures on the higher branches of Greek literature, 'inirodueiii||' a varkty of disquisitions on the general ptueiples of grsmnar, of 'which the regukr "Struetun 'Of thai knguage affords such copious illustration. FkiioBophif, ^In the threefold distribu- tion of .PMlosopby, in t]ie.academieal.eottrae, Lo^ 'has, m ,geneaal« preceded tie iithet two 'in 'the order" of ieaohmg, and has been considered aS' a necessary preparation fot-* them. Before the student entered upon the Stthjects of moral and natural philuso- phy, it was thought proper to instruct him in the art of reasoning and disputation ; and the syllogsitic art, taken from the Ana- lytics of Aristotle, was, for many ages, con- sidered as the most effectual and infallible instrument for that purpose. It was sup- posed to afford a mechanical mode of rea- soning, by which, in all cases, truth and falsehood might be accurately distinguish- ed. [?] But the change of opinions un the subjects of literature, and on the means uf comprehending them, has occasioned a correspondent alteration in the manner of treating this part of the academical course. The present Professor, after a short analysis of the powers of the understanding, and an explanation of the terms necessary to com- prehend the subjects of his course, gives a historical view of the rise and progress of the art of reasoning, and particularly of the syllogistic method, which is rendered a matter of curiosity by the universal influence which for a long time it obtained over the learned world ; and then dedicates the greater part of hk time to an illustration of the various mental operations, as they are expressed by the several modifications of speech and writing; whicli leads him to deliver a system of lectures on general grammar, rhetoric, and belles lettres. This course, accompanied with suitable exercises and specimens, on the part of the students, is properly placed at the entrance to phi- losophy : no subjects are likely to he more interesting to young minds, at a time when their taste and feelings are beginning to open, and have naturally disposed them to the readins of such authors as are neces- sary to supply them with facts and mate- rials for beginning and carrying on tbe im- portant habits of reflection and investiga- tion. Moral Philosophi/. —The lectures in the Mwral Philosophy class consist of three principal divisions. Tbe first comprehends natural theology ; or the knowledge, con- firmed by human reason, concerning the being, perfections, and operations of God. The second comprehends ethics; or in- quiries concerning the active powers of man, and the regulation of them, both in the pursuit of happiness, and in the prac- tice uf virtue; and, consequently, those questions that have been agitated concern- ing good and evil, right and wrong. Tiie third comprehends natural jurisprudence, or the general rules of justice, which are founded upon the rights and the condition of man ; whether considered as an indivi- dual, or as.a member of a family, or as a member of some of those various forms of government which have arisen from the social combinations of mankind. Natural Philr.sophy —The lectures in Natural Phi'osophy comprehend a gene- ral system oi physics ; and are calcukted, i|l like manner, to keep pace with those lead- ing improvements and discoveries, in that branch of science, by which the present age is so much distinguished. The theo- retical and experimental parts make the subjects of two separate courses. The ap- paratus for conducting the latter is believed not to be inferior to any in Europe. M.ithematics, — The Professor of Mathe^ mattes has three separate courses. The first comprehends the elements of geometry and algebra ; the second, the higher parts of those sciences; the third, the general principles of geometry and astronomy. To teach the application of the speculative doc- trines to the various practical arts, makes a very important object in this useful de- partment of education. Theology.— In the faculty of Theology, the respective Professors of Theoloiiy, Church History^ and Oriental Languages, deliver a system of lectures on natural and revealed religion, on the history of the church, and on the Hebrew language. In this faculty, no honorarium or fee is paid by the students.* If this regulation had been extended to all the sciences, it would probably have been fatal to academical ac- tivity ; but, being limited to a single branch, it has been counteracted by the influence of the general industry and exertion which pervade the society. No deficiency, there- fore, is imputable to the professors in this department, either with respect to their zeal in teaching, or with respect to those liberal and tolerating principles which are so conformable to the spirit and genius of Christianity. Law — The improvement of Low in this university, seems to have excited less at- tention from government than that of the other sciences, as this profession was not established till a late period, and as no pro- vision has hitherto been made for dividing this branch of education among separate professors. The want of competition ap- pears to have had the usual efi'ects ; and the custom of lecturing in Latin was longer re- tained in this than in the other sciences. The predecessor of the present professor was the first who prelected on Justinian's " Institutes,** in English ; and this example has, for many years, been followed in the prelections upon the pandects. It may be mentioned, as a strong instance of pre- possession in favour of ancient usages, that, upon this last innovation, the Faculty of Advocates made application to the Univer- sity of Glasgow, requesting " that the old practice of teaching the civil law in Latin • Why, Me above, p. 725, aj note *.--il i I' P6 A STATISTICAL ACCOUNT OF THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW. 737 migiit Im ffstivmi** Tlie Profeasor of Lftw, Immm leetUiriitf regularly u|>on the In- ititatOTmni Faalectftof Jiistiii.ijiii, dttiveis anniiiillj a r 4icttifil 'iMiiilitaftoiif, ani lliciif' Miwmt^ mam mnmtnd at testmomm to th« tmtk iffwH$ begtmd tkmr mmpkomommui fw- Vleivdl indiirtlM' teller liiiitati«f«in*f, Med.,ii., pp. 13, and iil., p. 16, ed. 1658;— ifiiiwr, Treatise on Hu- nan Nature, volJ., pp. 123, 370, et alibi, orif. ed..; — Sekuhe, Aene^dmiii>». p< M, Kritik, vol. i., p. 61 i—PhUmr, Apbor,, ▼oi i. S 708;— JWW11I4 Theorie, p. 190; — Sci«l,in Fichte's PUlos. Jour., vol, x., p. 270. See also A. jlifjftn, Contra Am* dera., I*, ffi., e. 11; Be Trin. L. xt., c. 112;— iSteolMS, in Sent., L. i., dist. 3, qn. 4, 10;— JftiJIfr, Prem. Verit., § 9— 11, 40 ;— Jf8iw|tlah: -iehool, constituting the second veinme of his " Course 'On the History of the Moral Philosophy of the Eighteenth Century," delivered in the years 1819, 1820, but enly recently published by M. Yacherot. '< It is not (he observer te rc- .ference to the preceding strictures of Beii upon .Descartes) as a iiet -attested by ecu* icioiiBiesi, that Daicartii declares hit personal existence beyond a doubt; it is because the negation of this fact would in> volve a contradiction." And after quot- ing the relative passage from Descartes: — " It is thus by a reasoning that Descartes establishes the existence of the thinking subjoct ; if he admit this existence, it is not because it is guaranteed by consciousness; it is for this reason, that when he thinks — let him deceive himself or not — he ex- ists in so far as he thinks." P. 236. See also p. 219, ^• It is therefore manifest that we may throw wholly out of account the phaeno- mena of consciousness, considered merely In themselves; seeing that scepticism in regard to them, under this limitation, is confessedly impossible ; and that it is only requisite to consider the argument from Common Sense, as it enables us to vindi- cate the truth of these phaenomena, viewed as attestations of more than their own existence, seeing that they are not, in this respect, placed beyond the possibility of doubt. When, for example, consciousness as- sures us that, in perception, we are imme- diately cognizant of an external and ex- tended non-ego ; or that, in remembrance, through the imagination, of which we are immediately cognizant, we obtain a medi- ate knowledge of a real past ; bow shall we repel the doubt — in the former case, that what is given as the extended reality itself is not merely a representation of matter by mind ; — in the latter, that what is given as a mediate knowledge of the past, is not a mere present phantasm, con- taining an illusive reference to an unreal past ? We can do this only in one way. The legitimacy of such gratuitous doubt necessarily supposes that the deliverance of consciousness is not to be presumed true. If therefore it can be shown, on the one hand, that the deliverances of conscious- ness must philosophically be accepted, until their certain or probable falsehood has been positively evinced; and if, on the other hand, it cannot be shown that any attempt to discredit the veracity of con- sciousness has ever yet succeeded; it fol- lows that, as philosophy now stands, the testimony of consciousness must be viewed as high above suspicion, and its declara- tions entitled to demand prompt and un- conditional assent} In the first place, as has been said, it cannot but be acknowledged that the ve- racity of consciousness must, at least in the first instance, be conceded. " Neganti tncumbit probatio." Nature is not gra- tuitously to be assumed to work, not only in vain, but in counteraction of herself; our faculty of knowledge is not, without a ground, to be supposed an instrument of illusion; man, unless the melancholy fact be proved, is not to be held organized for the attainment, and actuated by the love, of truth, only to become the dupe and •victim of a perfidious creator. But, in the second place, though the veracity of tbft primary convictions of con- sciousness must, in the outset, be admitted, it still remains competent to lead a proof that they are undeserving of credit But how is this to be done ? As the ultimate grounds of knowledge, these convictions cannot be redargued from any higher knowledge; and as original beliefs, they are paramount in certainty to every de- rivative assurance. But they are manv; they are, in authority, co-ordinate; and their testimony is clear and precise. It is therefore competent for us to view them in correlation; to compare their declara- tions; and to consider whether they con- tradict, and, by contradicting, invalidate each other. This mutual contradiction is possible, in two ways. 1**, It may be that the primary data themselves are di- rectly or immediately contradictory of each other ; 2°, it may be that they are mediately or indirectly contradictory, in as much as the consequences to which they necessarily lead, and for the truth or falsehood of which they are therefore re- sponsible, are mutually repugnant. By evincing either of these, the veracity of consciousness will be disproved; for in either case consciousness is shown to be inconsistent with itself, and consequently inconsistent with the unity of truth. But by no other process of demonstration is this possible. For it will argue nothing against the trustworthiness of conscious- ness, that all or any of its deliverances are inexplicable — are incomprehensible; that is, that we are unable to conceive through a higher notion, how that is possible, which the deliverance avouches actually to be. To make the comprehensibility of a datum / of consciousness the criterion of its truth, would be indeed the climax of absurdity. For the primary data of consciousness, as themselves the conditions under which all else is comprehended, are necessarily themselves incomprehensible. We know, and can know, only — Thai they are, not — How they can be. \ To ask how an imme* diate fact of consciousness is possible, is to ask how consciousness is possible; and t«> ask how consciousness is possible, is to suppose that we have another conscious- ness, before and above that human consci' •4w OB THE FHILOSOPHT I 9, etmcmtwhig wkom nmle of ope- .nliom we inquire. Could we aniwer' IM% "▼wily we mmM l» ••■ ,fal»aiiiuteiy'wilhdrawa, asafufliidilen 'P^Mem,. inai. j^Skmophy^^Sm Pr<^m f On tbeie terms, see In the sequel of this { p. 7i&liiBq. and Note C^ f 1. \.]I0T« A. 3. Consciouiiwiils to be presumed trust- worthy, until proved 'mendamons. 4. The mendacity of consciousness' la y" proved, if its data, immediately in theni« selves, or mediately in their necessary con- sequences, be shown to stand in mutual contradiotiora. & 'The 'immediate or nedhite repug« nance of any two of its data being est*. Uished, the presumption in favour of thp general veraeity of consciousness is abol. ished, or rather reversed. For while, on tho on*' hand* ai. that is not contradictory Is not therefore true; on the other, a posi- tive proof of falsehood, in one instance, establishes a presumption of probable false- hood in all ; for the maxim, "falsm in uno, fiimm ill mmibm,** must determine the eredlbiBty of wniciouness, as^ the credi- 'bility of every other 'witness. 6. No attempt to show that the data of . a w" consciousness are (either in themselves, or in their necessary consequences) mutually eontradi'Ctory, has yet suecO'eded: and the presumptioa in favour of the 'truth of con- sdnumesB and the possibility of philosophy has, therefore, ncverbeen redargued. In other words, an original, universal, doj»- matic subversion of knowledge haS' hitherto been fo'und imiposiible:* 7. No philosopher has ever formally de- nied the truth or disclaimed the authority of consciousness; but few or none have been content implicitly to accept and coii. sistently to follow out its dictates. Instead' of hum'bly resorting to consciousness,, to draw from thence his doctrines and their proof, each dogmatic specuktor looked only into consciousMMS, there to discover his preadopted opinions. In philosophy^ men have abused the code of natural, as In theology, the code of positive, revelation ; and the epigraph of a great protestant divine, on the book of script iire, is cer- tainly not less applicable to the book of oonselousni 14 OF COMMON SENSE. 70 *^Mie Wmr praifas ham nralj Un b to be met witli. 'Bonwi inecwpiiysieiii ifieas are eomnoi tnlli% wliiei every one appmlMiida^ 'Imt wMcli few have the talent to develope. 8ii MIcult §8' it on any :gtil||ect: to make our own what belongs to every one.** (Ifelaiigesy t. iv. § 6. ) Or, to employ the wotiIB' nf tie ingeraioiis lichtenberg — ^ Philosophy, twist the matter as we may, is always a sort of chemistry (Selidde. knnst.) The peasant employs al the prindplea. of alwtracl phileaophj» 'Only In- ■9d$p§i, t^mi, Aipfi^y as the men of fihysicd science express it ; the Philoso- fher exhibits the jwrs principle." (Hln- terlasstne' Schrlfteny voL li., p. 67.) /tim :irtst problem of Phi.losophy-»and it is on*' of no easy ^aeeonpilshmint— beinf this to seek out*, purify, ani eataUah, by intellectual analyms and criticism, the ele^ nentary feelings or beliefs, in which are given the elementary tmths of which all are' In possession; and the argument from eommon sense 'being the allegatlon'Of these iieingi or beliefs as^ explicated and ascer- tained, in proof of the rehitive tmths and their necessary consequences;— this arm* ment is .manilpstly dependent on philo- sophy, as ^an. art, 'at' tm ^iMdred dexterity, and cannot, notwifistaMDiig the errors wMeh. they have so frei]nently committed, be taken out of the hands of the philoso- phers. Oomnon Sense. Is Ike Common ijiw. \ Bach 'ttay' h» MA down, as the ge- neral rule of dedsion; hot In the^ one case It must be left to the Jurist, in the other to the philosopher, to ascertain what are the contents of the role ; and though in hotb instaneeS' 'the' common man may be fited as a witness, for the custom or the fact, in neither can he be allowed to offi- ciate as advo'Cate or as. jndge. Mi|lf«-erf K^imw Sm^mrmf Jtlfii; PnoO'VMnii. -It must 'be recollected, also, that In ap-' 'paing to the consciousness of mankind in general, we only appeal to the conscl- fact recognised by all, 'but only by snf b as are of a sound understanding ; just as' in saying absolutely, that a thing is whole* some, we must be held to mean, to such as are of a hale constitution.** (Top. L. vi., 0. 4, § 7.) — We may, in short, say of the true Philoeopher what Erasmus, in an epistle to' Mntten, .said of Sir' Thomas More : — " Memo minus dudtur vu^i JU' dido; sed mrsus nemo minus abest a ■jg nsti oommwni. When rightly understood, therefore, no valid lAtjeeioB can be taken to the argu. ment of common sense^. 'Considered in itself. Bnt it must be allowed that the way in which it has been sometimes applied was calculated to bring it into not unreason- able disfavour with the learned. ( See C. L. Eeinhold's Beytrsge sur leichtern IJebetsieht des ...Zustandes der Philosophic, 1. p. 61 ; and Niethhammer in his Journal, i p^ 43 so.) In this country in particular, some of those who opposed it to the scep- tical oonelnslons of Hnme did not suffi- of those not dlsquahied to pro- nounce a decision. \ " In .saying (to use the words of Jlrislot.le) imply .and with- 'Mi iMdieation. that tMs ot' 'that f*f m hmm^ miA, w« do not mean that It is in dently counteract the notion which the name might naturally suggest; they did not emphatically proclaim that it was no appeal to the undeveloped beliefs of the unreflective many; and they did not in. oulcate that It presupposed a critical ana- lysis of these beliefs by the philosophers themselves. On the contrary, their lan- guage and procedure might even, some- tImeSf warrant an .opposite conclusion. This muat be admitted 'without reserve of the writings of Beattie, and more es- pecially, of Oswald. But even Keid, in Ms earlier work, was not so explicit as to prevent Ms being occasionally classed In the same categorj. That the strictures on the '* Scottish Philosophy of Common Sense*' by Feder, Lambert, Tetens, Eber- hard, Kant, lllricb, Jacob, &c., were inap- plicable 'to ..Bel4 iS' ^snffidentlf proved by 'the 'more irtlnnhtt' exposition of his doe- trine, afterwardk given In Ms Essays on the Intellectual and Active Powers. But these oritleisms having been once recorded, we need not wonder at their subsequent 'repetition, without, qualification or exce[>- 'tlon, by pMlosophers and historians of philosophy. To take, as an example, the judgment of the most celebrated of these critics. " It Is not (si^a .Eant, in the preface to Ma PMlegomena) 'without a certain pain- ful feeling, that we behold how completely Bume*s opponents* Beid, Oswald, Beattie, and, at last, Priestley, missed the point of his problem ; and whilst thejr , on the one 'hand, constantly assumed the very posl« tioni wMeh'te did not^ allow, and on tba • other, demonstrated warmly, and often with great intemperaoce, what he had never dreamt of calling into question, they so little profited by the hint which he had given towards better things, that all re- mained in the same position as if the mat- ter had never been agitated at all. The question mooted, was not — Whether the notion of Cause wererightf applicable, and, in rdalion to all natural knmdedje, indis- pensable i for of this Hume had never insin- uated a doubt; but — Whether this notion were 6y the mind excogitated a priori, whether it thus possessed an intrinsic U-uth, md^endent of all experience, and conse- qmntly a more extensive applicability, one not limited merely to objects of exper if nee : on this Hume awaited a disclosure. In fact, the whole dispute regarded the origin of this notion, and not its indispen- sability in use. If the former be made out, all that respects the conditions of its use, and the sphere within which it can be validly applied, follow as corollaries, of themselves. In order satisfactorily to solve the problem, it behoved the oppo- nents of this illustrious man to have pene- trated deeply into the nature of the mind, considered as exclusively occupied in pure thinking : but this did not suit them. They, therefore, discovered a more convenient method, in an appeal to the common un- derstanding of mankind (gemeiner Men- schenverstand)** — and so forth; showing that Kant understood by the common tense of the Scottish philosophers, only good sense, sound understanding, &c. ( Prole;; omena, p. 10.) I will not object to the general truth of the statements in this passage; nor to their bearing in so far as they are applied to the Brit ish philosophers in general. For Reid, however, I must claim an exemp- tion; and this I shall establish with regard to the very notion of Cause to wMch Kant refers. That from the limited scope of his earlier work the " Inquiry," Reid had not occasion to institute a critical analysis of the notion of Causality, affords no ground for holding that he did not consider such analysis to be necessary in the establish- ment of that and the other principles of common sense. This, indeed, he in that very work, once and again, explicitly de- clares. " We have taken notice of several original principles of belief in the course of this inquiry ; and when of Aer faculties of the mind are examined we shall find more, * ♦ * A clear explication and miumeration of the principles of common ■emie, is one of the chief desidemtam Logic. We have only considered such of them as occurred in the examination of the five senses:* p. 209 ab. See also p. 96 a. And accordingly in his subsequent and more extensive work, the " Essays on the In- tellectual Powers," published within two years after Kant's " Prolegomena,'* we find the notion of Causality, among others, investigated by the very same critical pro- cess which the philosopher of Koeuigsberg so successfully employed; though there be no reason whatever for surmising that Reid had ever heard the name, far less seen the works, of his illustrious censor /The criterion— the index by which Kant discriminates the notions of pure or a priori , > origin from those elaborated from expe- rience, is their quality of necessity; and its quality of necessity is precisely the cha- racteristic by which Reid proves that, among others, the notion of causality can ' not be an eduet of experience, but must form a part of the native cognitions of the mind itself.\ It is doubtful indeed whether Reid, like Kant, was even indebted to Leibnitz for his knowledge of this touch- stone; but the fact of its familiar employ- ment by him in the discrimination and establishment of the fundamental principles of thought, more especially in his later works, sufficiently shows, that the reproach of an uncritical application of the argu- ment from common sense, made against the Scottish philosophers in general, was, at least in reference to him, unfounded. Reid however — and to his honour be it spoken — stands alone among the philoso- phers of this country in his appreciation and employment of the criterion of neces- sity. See Note T. [Since writing the above, I have met with the following passage in the " Lettere Philosophiche" of Baron Galluppi, one of the two most distinguished of the present metaphysicians of Italy. ** The philosopher of Koenigsberg makes Hume thus reason : — * Metaphysical Cau- sality is not in the objects observed ; it is, therefore, a product of imagination engendered upon custom.' — This reason- ing, says Kant, is inexact. It ought to have proceeded thus * Causality is not in the things observed; it is therefore in the observer.' But here Kant does not apprehend Hume's meaning, whose rea- soning, as I have stated in the eighth let- ter, is altogether different. Metaphysical causality, he argues, is not in the things observed; it cannot therefore be in the observer, in whom all is derived from the things observed. Reid fully underst:inds the purport of Hume s ai'gumcnt, and 3 u 01' THE IIIILOSOPHY £]|I1VI At { 5 IV. T.] OF COMMON SENSE. in fW I E wmdmif mA ■mmarnkwds witli 'tlib ^wwiitir-fMiiiiiiif;— *li«»iff^^^ CSlHMBty h ft UmI' in <>vur^ intellect f it is not iirired from the tiling* olraerfedt wd ii "tiitrefore a ambjeotiTe hm of tbe obstr? «r.* Sam iilt}fiet% tliafc Belli Iim not iltMiAiil, te'lHiMtiteof tli«ni«tion. Hmfe^ijiio Mm^lm, h» »|t, dMMl'llio exiitenise of the ;iwSon of inetftplijAiftl canaiKtj ; the only donht regards its origin. This is altoge- ther erroneoiis. Hunw Mmff nntlife to imd the. origin of the notion in «»ferlen«e, denied. Its exiitenoe. Kvit% mtieian of 'Beliis therefore m^ast.*' F. 225. Kant, I think, Is here hut hardl j dealt with. Hume did not, certainly, deny the eziit:en«i of the notion of canstfty, inean- ing tierehy Its existence as amenta! phn- vomenont he only (on the hypothesis of the then dominant doctrine of .smwnalsm) shewed that it had no iA|iMtlire lalldity-- mo lifitiiiate genesis. In 'iMtoftnt. points, of ?leif, therefore, Hmme may he ^srid to deny, and not to deny. Its naigr. J^ dispnte is a mere logomachy. See Note Q^ Kant also .stands clear of iii|iiilliBO to- wards Reld, when it 'is considered thai., .his ilfict.tfeS'On.tlie8i»ttlshpMlosoph.efawer« prior to the .appewmiie of the " Essays on the Intellectnal Powers," the work in which Eeld first expounded Ms dodnne of .causaiitT.l I IV, On Urn Mamiwd Ckmmtmr» by wMA m prheiplm of Comwm Smm mt€ SacfwmuMied. It now remains to consider what aro' IhO' essential notes, or characters % *|Wi we af« enaWed. to dlstingi^sh out' ofMial, 'Ikn oir ■deritall'fe, convictions. These characters.. I think, may be reduced to four;^!®, their JmrnurnkmrnbiMy^^t Ihtir' Jiiii^iie%— 3^f their Neemiiy and flifiliiff .0iiJiif«il%--4«, their comjMm- m§ SMmm and orlotnly. 1. In reference to the llrst;— Aeon- 'vIctloD ii ino«n.prthenslble when there k merely .given us in ••onioiousness— Tto m #i«0« tf {im l#«.) ; »A whin vt are ' maUe to. compwihimd thwmgh a Mirher 'WHim or 'helef, iWlf or Mm M u ^dn^ Irw). When we are ahk to compfehend, why or how a iWng Is,, the helef of the txislenee of that thli« h not. m primary dslnm of consdonsnessi. hit a '^tahinniptloii under the cognltloa or heiof which, affords its reason. 2. As to the second;— It is manifest that if a cognition or helef he made up of, and can he expicated into^ a plnralitjr of 'Otgnstions or beliefs, that| as oompoin^ il 'CftHMt be originai a. Touching the third i—Kecesdty and 'Unit erialty may be rtgiwded as. coinci- dent For when a 'helef is. 'neccisary it i% 00 t>fO, unif ersal ; arid that a belief is univeinali '^' n certain, 'index that it must bO' 'necessary. (SeO' 'Lelbnitx, HouTeanx Sisals, L. i. $ 4. p. 32.) To prove the necessity, the unit ersallty must, howefer, be absolute; for a relative unlvenallty 'indloatis 'no. .more than •cust.om and ednea-. tloa, hiwbilt the •:i«lj«cts. themselves may fl f ftf i. '(iat. thif' follow only tbn dictates of matiro. As St Jerome hss it — "Una- ipaeque gens hoc legem naturae putat, .quod dUlot" It is to b«' observed, thai the necessity here spoken of, is of two Mnds. There Is one necessity, when we cannot construo it to our minds m possibly that the deli- verance of consciousness should not be true. TMi logical Imposriblily occurs in the case of what are called necessary truths— trathi of reason or intelligence ; as in the law of causaity, the law of substance, and still more in the laws of identity, contra^ diction, and excluded middle. There is another necessity, when it is not unthlnk. able, that ttw duliverance of consciousness may possibly be fahie, but at the samii time, when we cannot but admit, that this deiveranoe is of such or such a purport. Tiia 'ii seen In tho^ ease of what are called contingent 'Imfiia or 'truths of fact. Thus, for example, I can theoretically suppose thai the external oHect I wn conscious of in porctptlon, nay bti in reality, nothing but a mode of mind or seE I am unabki however to think that It does not appear to me — that consciousness does not com- pi me to regard it — m oxternal—os a 'mode of matter or not*self. And such bdng the case, I 'cannot praotlcilly believe tbO' Mfpedtlon I am able speculatively to 'nmlmfllf. For I cannot believe this ■apposltloD, wHbont beleving that the last gfumd of all belief is not to be beloved ; whiek is self-oontiadictiiry. '•* Nalnr%** says Pascal, «««iinlbuniithe .Pyrrhoniil;* and, among' man V similar 'confessions, thost of Hnutf of :Flchte,'Of Bommelinay sollce for an acknowledgvnflnt of the Im^pnliN^ Ity which the aSeptic, the Idealist, the Ittaist finds in practically beleving the admm wMch hO' "viowa ai 'theoretically domonilMlad.— The argument from com- mon sense, it may be observed, is of prin. eipal Importance in reference to the class of eontlngeni trmths. The others, from their converse being' ilhitliittly incogitable, sufficiently gnard. inniselves. As tMi eritarion of Necessity and Uni- f ariiitf li 'ignalsed by nearly the 'wbola 7£A series of authorities sAfluced in the sequel, it would be idle to refer to any in particu- lar. See however Reid, p. 233, a.; and on the quality of Neoesdty as a criterion of the originality of a cognition. Note T, with the relative places. Buffier's second and third essential qualities of primary truths may be reduced to this. See in Testimonies n. 63. 4. The fourth and last character of our original beliefs is their comparative Evi- dence and Certainty. This along with the third is well stated by Aristotle. — ** What appears to all that we affirm to be; and he who rejects this belief will assured- ly advance nothing better deeermnff of ere- dtmee.** And again: — "If we know and believe through certain original princi- ples, wc must know and beleve these with pm'amount certaiuti/, for the very reason that we know and believe all else through them.** And such are the truths in regard to which the Aphrodisian says, — " though some men may verbally dissent, all men are in their hearts agreed.*' This con- stitutes the first of Buffier*s essential qua- lities of primary truths, which is, as he expresses it, — " to be so clear, that if we attempt to prove or to disprove them, this can be done only by propositions which are manifestly neither more evident nor more certain.** Testimonies nn. 3, 10, 63. Compare the others, passim. A good illustration of this character is afforded by the assurance — to which we have already so frequently referred — that in perception mind is immediately cogni- sant of matter. How self can be con- scious of not-self, how mind can be cog- nisant of matter, we do not know ; but we know as little how mind can be percipient of itself. In both cases we only know the fact, on the authority of consciousness;, and when the conditions of the problem are rightly understood— when it is esta- blished that it is only the j>nmary qualities of body which are apprehended in them- selves, and this only in so far as they are in immediate relation to the organ of sense, the difficulty in the one case is not more than m the other. This in opposition to the simple Idealists. But the Cosmothe tic Idealists — the Hypothetical Realists are far less reasonable; who, in the teeth of consciousness, on the ground of incon- ceivability, deny to mind all cognisance of matter, yet bestow on it the more inconceivable power of representing, and truly representing, to itself the external world which, ex hypothesi, it does not know. These theorists do not %ubstitute, in placo of the simple fact which they repu* diate, anolhin more easy and intelligible* On the contrary they gratuitously involve themselves ia a maze of unwarrantable postuhtes,. difficulties, improbabilities, and self-contradictions, of such a character, that we well may wonder, how the doc- trine of Cosmothetic Idealism has been able to enlist under Its banners, not a few merely, but the immense majority of mo- dern philosophers. The Cosmothetic Idealists, in truth, violate in their hypo- thesis every condition of a legitimate hy- pothesis. But for the illustration of this, I must again refer to the article on the Philosophy of Perception, Edinburgh Re- view, vol. lii. p. 178-181. § ¥. — The Nomenclature, that is the var>- ous appellations by which the principles of Common Sense have been designated. It is evident that the foundations of our knowledge cannot properly be themselves the objects of our knowledge; for as by them we know all else, by nought else can they themselves be known. We know them indeed, but only in the fact, that with and through them we know. This it is which has so generally induced philo- sophers to bestow on them appellations marking out the circumstance, that in dif- ferent points of view, they may and they may not, be regarded as cognitions. They appear as cognitions, in so far as wc are conscious that (ot<) they actually/ are; they do not appear as cognitions, in so far as in them we are not conscious how (hony they possibly can he. Philosophers ac- cordingly, even when they view and desig- nate them as cognitions, are wont to qua- lify their appellation, under this character, by some restrictive epithet. For exam- ple, Cicero stylng them intelligentia: does not do so simply ; but 2. inchoatas, t. ad- umbratcB, i. obscurce, &c. A similar limi- tation is seen in the terms ultimate facts* primary data, &c. of consciousness ; for these and the analogous expressions are in- tended to show, that while their existence is within our appreltension, the reason or ground of their existence is beyond our comprehension. On the other hand we see the preva- lence of the opposite point of view in the nomenclatures which seem to regard them not as cognitions wholly within conscious- ness, but as the bases of cognition, and therefore partly without, and partly with- in, consciousness. Such is the scope of the analogical designations applied to them of Senses, Feelings, Instincts, Bevela^ tions, Inspirations, Suggestions, Beliefs^ Assents, Holdings, &c. It is the inexpii* fn OW. 'THE. PHILOSOFIIf' [son i* ,,f §v.] OF COMMON SENSE. 757 'Mlilt and equivocal eliaracter wMdi the rooli of our kiiowMgie llitis exMliity to wlidi we ought 10 attriiiiite tlio inailo. Smj, the f acillalioti. and tim anlilpiit j of tmnB bj wMch it haa bean altemiitad to denote them; and it is with am Indul- gent recollection of this, that we ought to criticis© all and each of these denomi- natlons^— whieh, alter this general ob- •ervation, I proceed to consider in de- tail. In doing this I shall group them ac- cording to the principal points of iriew from which it would seem, they were Im- I. .iTIm first' condition,, the consideration of which seems to have determined a cer- tain chas. of names,, is that of Immedmj, In our primitive cognitions we apprehend eiistence at^ mim, and 'Wl;thoul thi' Inter- Yention of ai^ht. between the: apuMhimd. ing mind and the existence apprehended.. finder this head the fi:rst. appellations are those which, with some qualifying at- tribute, apply to these cognitions the name of — Seme, It Is hardly .necessary to observe that the words ooiinesponding to tlie term Sens© and its conjugates have in no language been limited to our perceptions of the ©x- temal world, or to the feeling of our bodily ' aflfections. In ©very language they have been extended to the operations of the higher faculties j — indeed it can be shown, in almosit every Instance, tliat the names which ultimately came to lie appropriated to the purest acts of intelligcnc© were, In their origin, significant of on© or other of the fimclions of our organic sensibility. Such among others is the rationale of th* terms mtmd tmm (mmm bmij Ugkd 9mM (mmma wrij metthOimi iemm (emmu pii Wrij, which; even In modem pMloso- phy, have bc©n very commonly employed, though not employed to denote any thing lo%%er than the apprehensif © faunlty of in- f.oIligcnce in these dit«rent rekHona. On. t.his transference of th© term Sens©, so® AriMi&iie, (De Anima, L. iii. c. 3) — ^^iiifi- li.'wfi, (Instit. L. viii. c. 5)— BuAkwi, (in Fand«»ctas. Tit. I.)— 5a/fiMi«iiif, (ad Soli- num, p. 141.)— Uroeiiij, (ad Acta Aposto- lorum, vii. 32, and I. Petri, i. 12.)— Cl«iftsr- mus, (Exci'citationes, 83-88)— ^urwian- ititf, (ad Phaedrum, L. ii. Ep. 13)— Gro- novim, (IMatribead Statium, c.43.)— XjI. Fahridmi, (Programma. D© Gustatu .Pul- cri, p. §•) 9t^' ^*i* this being, in general, premised wt liave now tocpropriately applied to denote an original source of knowledge common to all mankind — a fountain of truths intelligible indeed, but like those of the senses revealed immediately as facts to be believed, but not as possibilities to be explained and understood. On this ground the term Sense has found favour, in this application, with the most ancient and the most recent philosophers. For example— Aristotle (Eth. Nic L. vi. c. 11. and Eth. Eud. L. V. c. 11) says that »oSs, Intelli- gence proper, the faculty of first princi- ples is, in certain respects, a Sense; and the ancient Scholiast, Eustratius, in his commentary on the former work (f. 110,b) explains it by observing, "that Intelli- gence and Sense have this exclusively in common — they are both immediate coffni- tions." Hence it is that Aristotle (Me- taph. xii. 7), Theophrastus (see Test. No. 4), and Plotinus (En. vi. L. vii.cc 36, Si>, L.ix.c. 7) assimilate intellection, the noetic energy, to touching in particular.* In • Among the Greeks the expression "Com- mon Intellect" was, however, raiely, if ever, used for Common Sense in this its second, or philosophical, meaning. The learned Mr Har- ris (in a note on his Dialogue concerning Hap- piness) in stating the doctrine of the Greek philosophers, says—" The recognition of self evident truths, or at least the ability to recog- nize them is called Jtoivoc vaDf , " common sense,** as being a sense common to all, except lunatics and idiots." This is inaccurate j for bis state- ment of what was usual among the Greeks is founded (I presume, for he does not allege any authority,) on a single, and singular, example ef such usage. It is that of Epictetus (DiSS. Arriani, L. iii. c. 6). This philosopher seems in that passage to give the name of coniniou intellect i*otvos levs which H. Wolfius and Up- ton translate by sensus communis) to the faculty of those common notions possessed by all who are of sound mind. Now were the epithet common here applied to intellect because intel- lect Is the repository of such common notions or in as much as it is common to all men— this, however likely a usage, is, I am confident, tlie only, or almost the only, example to be foun** in antiquity of such a nomenclature j for thou<,'h the expression in question is frequent among the Greek writers, I do not recollect to have elsewhere met with it in a simUai import. It is employed in two significations.— 1°, with nv$ in its stricter meaning, for the highest faculty of mind* »«*h is used to mark its Impcrsoa. tl \ ON THE PHttOSO: [SOTI OF COMMON SENSE. 75a I ip i ill I i nlercnce to the mpprelieBdon of primrj' trutH ' the mmii mm Br John Snitli 'has Hs 'semei, 'in 'likO' namier am the ho%* (Select PiteeiBtei) ; tnd his^ friend Dr'Boirj' Miire deipiatei ^m wune, by the Bimie of iiil«lli0fiMl mm§> (Test, n, 46.) immM lieiiiet TennmH, liis flusiilt j of 'iateieetiivl. Intoitiona* as ^ 'the leiiie' of theniwiieMiile.* (Test ii.''87.) Be k Iffnuii eenld not find a -more suitable eipreesion whereb j to designate his theo- logical system of umvened canmni or ^em- tm wmmmt than^ that of ■Commtm Semei wd BorpT' In .Ui dmical work ' Be M ystieismo' 'preferi' mtmm' m the least es* eeptionable word by which to ^criminate those notions, of which, while we are con- seiouS' of the existeiioe, wtaf«' knorant of 'the reason and origin. * Ciiii. igitiir, qui has. aotiones sefoitnr, iUmt muimi leqii ■1%, 'tis unity, 'Its feneral Identity in n«n , m in nan and €k»d. 2*>,Witli itm, In its looser iBMMMiiw fgg ■projfui in. f ononyL itileMies a Mnn* iranlty of Hfdnleii. or' • eoMnMDiiy"''Of social. sentinient, correspending to S^sns Commonis auMi^gthe llonuuia,to be spoken of as the fourth idgnlioallM. The only second Instance, I be. ikifei-that can be brought, is firom the Aphro- lislan. (On the Sonl, f. 138 ed. Aid.) But there' Hie ^iiUhel coewum ;is ,||liMi. tO' the nala* ff«I in epposltieii to the 'aetairei;iiiliieet|. 'Ox- einslvely from the cfreunistanee that the for. mar U fossessed by al. of sound mind, the latter' yisynent of the esffesiloa. led MptdOm umI. k Is :ii :lhet 'by nO' 'mesne hmpr^bable thai ^Iplc tetoa here uses the expression only In the first of 'Its two ordiaaiy riipaiicaHoiis as.' a^Sloic, tO' deneto' the 'indttldMit iuMleeli eeaslteed as a fottlele' of ,the' untveisal; and this ^even 'the^ eonuuentatofs are inclined -to believe. Bee %tea,,.«i'lMim. 'XDillnstratlon'OftblS']— Vli* taich in 'Mi 'treatitoe ^'Dn OowiMiit MeMms af ainst the Mdos,' nses (alter ttmfik or mmwik) rvff siitqff I'ffftfMf' m mkt nMfir ivMMf at least. tmmUjf'tkrm tiines^. and wifhoat^'llMi. aiQeetlfe' .«i» Ivmai or «|y hmmt at least fun^^^uf'tllMi; which last, by tiie bye, llyhinder alwaye 'renden by * ■€««■ C9rannunls7 How ho'W many tinies does ftutsrdti. usO' as. a synonyni% mmm^imkf Hot' iiioe. Be dees. Indeed, once eniploy it and imwh f f tt«f (p. 1077 of the folio edltlons)| bat' te 'tbo' sense of .an. agrewDMBt. In. tlMwiigM '«i|h>'OttMi»— fhO' sense 'wMch It oblahis 'Slso in idkmHiJi^ JlbilinllilSl'' jriiUiaAHlil^llito' ^h^tf'iMlMMhflklij^ rfhiv' Ji^ Mfc i^m ^^i|||^iidjW)ih|iHi^^^|H^teil jlk|H|| Jbi^lk Sh^jk apewPiBP' w^'SHajf ^binasHiHBpa ^wiM™aaHiiWBKawiip ^ifH' »■•'•# ^tf^/^K-w^mk ifcPBRapn'WPaiai n^w ai^^iip found In his wiHings. (P. /S29B.) XiBAuH 'aDRlMiaiuiktfulBliMiiia ■iMhMiJiiitfk ■■^wkB!Wija'\ life sk si' wuikVldMsa '■leMtiJi'h ,aiaynere siiMil CPe.Aa.i S. I i)' does 1011.88' * of thS' eem fo sl te/ made w^ of sonl and dieinitil.. hoc dieiiniis, illas notionee non esse raliMie [rstioeinationej (|iiaMita% .ied 'Onnl aifiiMiitatloiie antiqiiiorei. Bo an. ten. 'Bujori jure eos sfnitit roealiilo com- plectimnr, craod, adeo obaonrae aunt, ut leonun ne dlstincte quidem nobis conscii alinuB, 'Std eas esss, ''ex effieaeia earum in- teligamna, 1. e. ex id qm animini alBciunt' ( P. 2S0, -ed. 2,) See also of Testimonies the numbers already specified. o.-In the third rimifieation. Common Sense 'may be naed ^wfth emphasia on the aJUeetive or on^'the substantive* In the Ibrmer easoi 'it denotes snob an ofdinary complement of intelligenoe, that, if a person be doielefit therein, he is ao* eonnted. ;mad. o; fooBsb. . Anfui mtmmmk is thns used in Phae- dnis, L. i. 7 i^-bnt Soraee, Serm. I. iii. 66^ and Juvenal Sat. viE 73, are erroneously, though usually, interpreted in this signi- ieation.. In modem Latlnity (as in Miteon eontra' Salmaslum, 0. 8) and 'in most of fbi'f ' iii^ nini.flg in 80 'i^niriill^p. 'U^ it WOUM. be Mia to adduce examples. -Sir Jamea Mackintosh (Biaaertations, &c., p. 387 of eoiiKited. editloB} indeed, imaginei' that this is the only 'meaning 'Of cotntwifi 9tnttf and on this gnmnd eensnres Idd finr the adoption of the term; and even Mr Stew- art's oljwtions to it seem to proceed on the aappoaitiMif thai lUa is 'its proper or mor» 'aoflfvditid atgtiiioation. See Ele- ments 'IL oh. 1, aeo. .2} ^et anm 27 b. 'Thia Is 'Wrong; but Raid Umael.r» it 'most be ac- '.kiwiriid^'ed, does not sufficiently distin- gnisb between the second and tliird accep- tationa; aa may be seen from the tenor of .the Boeond chapter of the sixth Essay on the Intellectual Powers, but espedally irom the concluding chapter of the In- *f uiry. (p. 209 b.) In the latter ease, it espreaiea native, praotieal intelligence, natural pnidencet m^otber wit,, tact in behaviour, acutenesa 'in the observation of character, &c., in contrast to habits of «ci]nired learning, or of qpeenlation away from the affairs of ill. I reooHeet no unambiguous exam- ple of the phnae, Im this precise accepta- 'tlon, in any andent anther. In the mo- dern hu^gnases, and more particuhirly in French and English, it is of ordinary oc- oumBOt.. Thus, 'Voltaire's saying, 'I40 aena: 'Ooinmun. n'est pas si commun;': — whiobf I may notice, was stolen irom Bif- ier. (Metaphysiiiue, § 69.) With either emphasb it corresponds to the .aaffs; ^ayieitaf of the Oreelc% and eaiiajBB^iPiBw'Bai W'^ar^iiiiaaisii iIsp^ip^ newwiiii ^m^T '^^^•Br ^'^^jf '^ifB' ^w^'e*' W"Ww^ip w 9m^ iosi to t he jftt W Hili' ilftiiirJlsiiiiii'"iiiiiiil of 'Iht Gemuus, to the Bom Sens of the French, and to the Gowi Sense of the English. The two emphases enable us to reconcile the following contradictions: — *Le bon sens (says Descartes) est la chose du monde la mieux partagee;* * Good sense (says Gibbon) is a quality of mind hardly less rare than genius/ d. — In the fourth and last signification. Common Sense is no longer a natural quality; it denotes an acquired perception or feeling of the common duties and pro- prieties expected from each member of society, — a gravitation of opinion— a sense of conventional decorum — communional sympathy — general biensiance — public spi- rit, &c. In this signification — at least as absolutely used — it is limited to the lan- guage of ancient Rome. This is the mean- ing in which it occurs in Cicero, De Or at. i. 3, ii. 16— Or. pro Domo 37-- in Ho- race, Serm. i. iii. 66— in Juvenal, Sat. viii. 73 — ^in Quintilian, Instit. i. 2 — and in Se- neca, Epp. 5, 105, whose words in ano- ther place (which I cannot at the moment recover) are — 'Sic in beneficio sensus communis J locum, tempus, personam ob- servet.* Shaftesbury and others, misled probably by Casaubon, do not seize the central notion in their interpretation of several of these texts. In this meaning the Greeks sometimes employed Mivig vavs ^-an ambiguons expression, for which An- toninus seems to have coined as a substi- tute, MiVQPO^fAMvyTn.—To this head may be referred Hutcheson*s employment of Sen- sus Communis for Sympathy. Synopsis Aletaphysicae, P. ii. c. 1. 2. — Sense inmostf interior, internal, (gmms intimus, int rior, intemus, sens wtime, interne.) This was introduced, as a convertible term with Conscious- ness in general, by the philosophers of the Cartesian school; and thus came to be frequently applied to denote the source, complement, or revelation of immediate truths. It is however not only in itself vague, but liable to be confounded with interned sense, in other very different sig- nifications. We need not therefore re- gret, that in this relation, it has »:ot (though Uutcheson set an example) been natural- ised in British Philosophy. The third appellation determined by the condition of Immediacy is that of 3. — Intuitions — Intuitive cognitions, notions, judgments, (imuttiones — Jntuitus -^eognitio Jntuitiva — Intuitions —faculty Intuitive — Anschaum^en. We may add, iwtQoh»l — yvufftc xMTii %g«riii' fx/CoX^y.) In this sense «^o«T/»oV, l«e«T«tOf are rare. The term Intuition is not unambiguous. Besides its original and proper meaning (as a visual perception), it has been em- ployed to denote a kind of apprehension, and a kind of judgment. Under the former head. Intuition, or in- tuitive knowledge, has been used in the six following significations: — a. — To denote a perception of the ac tual and present, in opposition to the ' ab- stractive* knowledge which we have of the possible in imagination, and of the past in memory. b. — To denote an immediate appre- hension of a thing in itself, in contrast to a representative, vicarious, or mediate, ap- prehension of it, in or through something else. (Hence by Fichte, Schelling, and others. Intuition is employed to designate the cognition, as opposed to the conception, of the Absolute.) c. — To denote the knowledge which we can adequately represent in imagina- tion, in contradistinction to the * symbo- lical' knowledge which we cannot image, but only think or conceive, through and under a sign or word. (Hence probably Kant's application of the term to the forma of the Sensibility — the imaginations of Space and Time — in contrast to the forms or categories of the Understanding). d.— To denote perception proper (the objective), in contrast to sensation proper (the subjective), in our sensitive consci- ousness. e. — To denote the simple apprehension of a notion, in contradistinction to the complex apprehension of the terms of a proposition. Under the latter head, it has only a single signification; viz. f. To denote the immediate affirma- tion by the intellect, tl at the predicate does or does not pertain to the subject, in what are called self-evident propositions. All these meanings, however, with the exception of the fourth, have this in com- mon, that they express the condition of an immediate, in opposition to a mediate, knowledge. It is therefore easy to see, how the term was suggested in its appli- cation to our original cognitions; and how far it marks out their distinctive character. It has been employed in this relation by Descartes, Leibnitz, Locke, Hemsterhuis, Beattie, Jacobi, Ancillon, Degerando, Thurot, and many others. II. The second condition, which, along with their Immediacy, seems to have de- termined a ckss of names, is the Inc&m- prehensihility or JnexplicabUity of our original cognitions. Under this head there are two an- fin OH THE PHILOSOPHY [aOTB A. §▼•] OF COMMON SENSE. 761 1 I 1 ptiiliiHM nMfsh irti pMMnl. tiiiiwlvw — JMiy and BeU^; and thiM mitit Im A 'tU^f ' 'ndBatelj known h ' 'OfiiwelTad. under • repesentation or niitifin» and therafom only 'known, aa. poi^M j cxiit'ing ; a tMi« 'imitcialtly known is appreliend. 'Od 'in. Mtlft and tliorefore' known as as. tnally ' fy J ttlffl gr Tiia^ 'Mnf 'nndffiftood«. M ns suppose an act of inini«iBal« knowledge. By ex- ternal or internal perception I apprehend a ptyenomenon, of mind or matteri as .existing I I therefore affirm it to be. Bow irasked how I know, or am assured, Ihat what I apprehend as a mode of mind, may not be, in reaUty, a mode of matter, or that what I apprehend as a mode of matter, may .not, in reality, be a .iWMle' of .mind; .1 can only say, using tlie simplest tegnage, * I. know it to he true, beimuse IJW and cannot hut feel,' nr * beoause I mimm and eannoC hut betiere, it so to be.* And if %rther' interrogated^ how .1 know or am assured, that 1 thus fid, or thus hdkm, I ean 'make no better answer than, in the one case, ' because I hdkm that I iml,* in the other, ' because 1 fiel that I Mtsft.* It thus appears, that when push- ed 'tO' OUT' last refuge, we must, retire either upon .Feeling, or upon Belief, or upon both Indjierently. And accordingly, among .'pUlosopherSf we find that a great many employ one or other of these terms by 'Wiilih to indicate the nature of the ulti- male' .grooid to which our cognitions aro' reducible; while some employ both, eren though they may accord a preference to 'One. 1.— Feeliho in EngUsh {as iSsnlliiiiiif in'Ftauob, Cr^^dll in German, lie*) is^ .am^ bignonS'':^ — And In Its present application (to say nothing of its original meaning in relation to Touch) we must discharge that signification of the word by which we .denote the phfnom'ena of pain and. plea- sure.. Peeing It a 'term preferable to ConseiiMiness, In so far as the latter does not mark so well the simplicity, ultimaey, and incomprehensibility of our original apprtkemienB, suggesting, as it does, al- waya "something of thought .and refiection. In other reapeets, ^Consdonineia-«t 'leail with a determini'ng epithet — may be the nferahle: enpeasion. In the .sense' now jnesti'On, Peeftif is^ 'emMeyed. by Aris- 'totle, 'Tlieofihristus!, Pasod, Malelranekef Bossnety LeIbnICs, Bnffier, D'Aguessean, .JBerkelvft Hume^ Ifamiij. Bemsterhuis, Jacobi, Schulze, Boulerweck, Fries, Kop- Mn,. AndUon, Qerlaeh,. Itanke, and. a iiiffdred. othenk In thli' Mffiiiit g' It has been 'Sald, and truly, that. ''.Eeason 'is only a dereloped Feeling.' 2. — .Bai'tiv or FAitH, (Il/m;,. Fidei, OoyofiM, JW, GimtH, 4c.) Simply, or with one or other of the epithets naturrd^ prhmnf, imtmetim, kc, and some other expressions of a similar import as Conme^ Hmtf AfSftif. Trust, Adhem'onf Jffoidinfffor irm or rmd &o. (Ivyjmvmimit, ABmmm, AifiiKiAr^itml-iittrMc^Aiite^ Ike.) have, though not 'nnobjeetlonable, found favow with a great number of philosophers, aa terms whereby to designate the original warrants of cognition. Among the:»e may bo mentioned Aristotle, Lucretius, Alex- ander, Clement of Alexandria, Proclus, Algazel, Luther, Hume, Reid, Beattie, Hemsterhuis, Kant, Heidenrcich, Fichte, Jacobi, Bouterweok, Koppen, Ancillon, HemMsif .Binnde, Esser, Elvanich, &c. 4c, If or can any valid objection be taken to the expression. — St Austin accurately says — ** We know, what rests upon reamn ; we h^eWf what rests upon muthorittf.** But roason itself must rest at last upon authority ; for the original data of reason do not rest on reason, but are necessarily accepted by reason on the authority of what is beyond itself. These data are, therefbre, in rigid propriety. Beliefs or Ttaiti. Thus it is, that in the hist resort', we must, perforce, philosophically admit, that belief is the primary condition of reason, and not reason the ultimate ground of belief. We are compelled to surrender the proud Imi^^ iil tmdas of Abelaird, to content ourselves with the humble Omfs ul ifOdii^m of Anselm. 3. — A third denomination, under this head, is that of IifSTiifOTs, mtiomil or tiif^{7«elifiil f Jii- ttinetut, Impetm spotUemmt ImMimtm tn- tdi^fentim, raiummm*) Irstinotivb Miifo, cognitions, judg^ '■Milt, ^, These tenn are intended to express not so mneh the igbt as the dark side which the elementary facts of conscious- ness exhibit. They therefore stand o|i- posed to the conceivable, the understoodi the known. 'Metre. 'lUlile Bslson se trouble ei ie con* ilMdl oi«w, htm^ftmrMf vwifimrm, w^ .^fij^ift niitionety oonoeptione^ conoef tus, 4e.) 'sonietiiiies simply, bet more usually imited by the same attributes; though these' terms were frequently extended to complex cognitions likewise. If viewed .as e&mpks .cognitions, they lu:ve been 'designated, either by the gene- ral name of 4. — JunOM B.MT8, PuOPOSl'TlOlf'i (judlcii, dw^mmuf, wmifmmtSf elfata, pronunciata, enunciata,. &a} quatiied by such .w^eclives m mif-mi^tmi, mmtwe, natm«d, mmmm, ajirtorl, 9m,i — or by some peotliar name. Of these last there are two which deserve special notice — Axiom .and Maaisn. 5 Axioms, (dimfitmrm, i^itatss, jwontffidata kmummm, ttfimta /cfe digna, pmpmitimmt' &luMire», tm^m M^m, miw, ^rwMM BemieMim, Ice.) The tern. .Axiom is ambiguous; the h!f:« tory of its employment obscure, and unin- vestigated; and the received accounts of itS' .signiieatio% and the reasons of iti^'ilg^ iiiieirtion, veij erroneous -I am.aif«re of ^ ikrm very different meaiungs in which it has been used.. 'Of these the first .and se*' cond are of ancient, the third of modem, usurpation. The verb d^dm, originally .an.d nropef ly, neons (o mfe a tkinff &i m e«!it«fi ■wmik mt 'waime, to ajj^premate, to ««- lff«a<0. Now it is evident, that from this eentroi. .sagnlication it might very easily bO' dei.eeted into two coUaCeral. meanings. a.p-To rate a thing at Its ? alue» s«ens .to presuppose that it has some vatuo to., 'be' rated; hence the verb came very naturally to signify—! «?#« worthy, &c. From it in tiiis.Kgnifiiiatioii we have d^fm, wofik^ if^%« mtAmr^; and, applied in a logi. cat .naitfoB, a wortk^f an tmthoritatim, prmmMiom, .But why worthy! — why autlofitative! Either' because a propo. lit ion wo/thy of acceptanco (w^mmg d^tmFmm) .; or became a proposition com. ttiandioK and. obtaiiinf acoeptanee' (m^im liim, pronunciatum honorarium, illustre.) .But of what nature are the propositions worthy of, or which command, univenal credence? Manifestly not, at least pri- marily, those which, though trne^ and even admitted to be true, shine in a re- iectfil ight of truth, as dependent on other prO'positionS' for their evidence; but those out of 'Which the truth beams di* rectly and immediately, which borrow not the proof from any which they afford to all, which are deserving of credit on their own anthority— In. a word, mff-mmhrni propom- timu (v^Svmmtf murvrimm,} 'Bence the appEoation of the term to judgments true^ primary, immediate, common. To this result converge the authorities of Aris. totte, Theophrastus, Alexander, Them- 'istius,. Froc'lus, Anunonius Mermiae, and Philoponus. In this signification,as lean recolIect,the dldest example of the word is to be found in Aiistotfe. That this pliilosopher li- mited, tlw' expression Axiom to those judg- ments which, on occasion of ezptrlence« arise naiurally and necessarily in the con- scious mind, and which are therefore vir- tnaEy prior to experience, cannot, I think, be teaaouably doubted. • Of the imme- 'diata 'principles,* he says, 'of syllogi^im, thai wMcb cannot be demou&trate4 b'ut which it is not necessary to possess as the prerequisite of all learning, I call Tk$m; and lliat Ammth which he who would liam aught must himaell bring, [and not ceeeive from his inttmator]. .For some such principles there are; and it is to these that we are aecustomed to apply this name.* (.AnaL Post., L. i. c. 1, § 14- ) And again, , diitii|fulslii.nf 'the Axiom from the IIy[io-' t.he8i.s and Postulate, of the two latter be says — * Neither of theseof itself necessarily exist8|. and nicessarily manifests its. exis- tence in thougiL ' ( Ibid. c. 10, § 7.) He, oonseqiiMitlyi. topposes that an Axiom is not only Minathuig true, but something that we cdMiiif tat'fMfil;: to b€ trut. All this is confirmed by sundry other passages. '(Of t.he8e,8ome will be seen in Testimonies,, n. 8.; where .also,.. In a note, k .given a so- hitioii #f whal nay bO' 'Said in opposition to 'the altribntion nf tMs doctrine to the Stagirite.) The same is confirmed, also, by the ancient interpreters of the Poste- rior' Analytics — Thenistius, (f. 2. a. ed. Aid.) .awl Phi.lo|Minus, or rather A.mmo« nlus Hemiae, (f. Ik b., ed. Aid.) Theso harbour no doubt in regard to the pur* port of the texts now quoted; — and the same construetioii h given to Aristotle's doctrine on 'this 'point, by Alexander, else- where, but esfeuially in hit 'Oummeutarf §v.] OF COMMOIS SENSE. 765 on the Topics (p. 12, cd. Aid.), and by Proclus in his Commentaries on Euclid. (Libb. ii. iii.) The following definition by Theophras- tus is preserved by Themistius (I. c.) I translate the context, cautioning the rea- der that it is impossible to determine whether the latter part of the passage belongs to Theophrastus,or, what is more probable, to Themistius himself. * Theo- phrastusthus defines an Axiom: — An ax- iom is a certain kind of opinion [or judg- ment,] one species of which is { valid] of all things of the isame class, as [under the category, Quantity] — If equals be taken from equahf the remainders are eqval ; while another is [valid] of all things indif- ferently, as — Between affirmation and ne- gation there is no medium. For these are, as it were, connate and common to all. Whence also the reason of the denomina- tion Axiom, [worth, dignity, authority.] For what is set over, either all things absolutely, or certain classes of things universally, that we judge to have prece- dence, authority, by reference to them.' In this sense the word is universally supposed to have been technically employ- ed by the mathematicians, from a very an- cient period. But whether it was so prior to Aristotle, I should be vehemently dis- posed to doubt; both from the tenor of the former passage of the Posterior Ana- lytics, just quoted, in which the philosopher seems to attribute to himself this applica- tion of the term, and from the absence of all evidence to prove its earlier introduc- tion. I am aware indeed of a passage in the Metaphysics, (L. iii. [iv.] c. 3,) which, at first sight, and as it has always been understood, might appear unfavourable to tills surmise ; for mention is there made of * what in mathematics (ly rotg fAet^v}- ftaai) are called Axioms.* But this text i.S I suspect, misunderstood, and that it ought to be translated — *what in our " Mathematics** are calked Axionas.* But did Aristotle write on this subject? He did, one, if not two treatises; as appears from the lists of liaertius (L. v. § 24) and the Anonymus Menagii. In the former we have M«^n^T/»ojf, «, * On Mathema- tieSf one book;* in the hitter — n«gl r^e iv Toif fA»6nf*,i»at» avffi^Sf * On tli£ existence treated of in Mathematics.' Nay, the term Is not to be found in the writings we pos- sess of those geometrkians who ascend the nearest to the age of Aristotle. Euclid, what may surprise the reader, does not employ it. There it stands, certainly, in •U the editions and transhitions of the Ele- ■mits, in ordinary me. But this is only one of the many tamperings with his text, for which the perfidious editors and trans- lators of Euclid are responsible; and in th*. present instance the Aristotelizing com- mentary of Proclus seems to have origi- nally determined the conversion of * Com- mon Notions* into * Axioms.' Archime- des ( De Sphaera et Cylindro, sub initio) is, after Aristotle, the oldest authority extant for the term, in a mathematical re- lation; though Archimedes, who only once employs it, does not apply it in the Aris- totelic limitation, as equivalent to the Common Notions of Euclid, and exclusive of Postulates and Definitions. On the contrary, with him axiom is, if not con- vertible with definition, used only in the second or Stcical sense, for an enunciation in general. Turning indeed to the works of the other Greek Mathematicians which I have at hand, I cannot find the term in Apollonius of Perga, in Serenus, Dio- phantus. Pappus, Eutocius, Hero, or the Samian Aristarchus. Sextus Empiricus, in ail his controversy with the Mathema- ticians, knows it not ; nor, except in the second technical moaning, is it to be found in Plutarch. Its application in mathema- tics was therefore, I surmise, compara- tively late, and determined by the influence of Aristotle. This is not the only instance by which it might be shown that the Ma- thematicians are indebted to the Stagirite for their language ; who, if he borrowed a part of his Logical nomenclature from Geometry, amply repaid the obligation. This first meaning is that which Ax- iom almost exclusively obtains in the writings of the Aristotelian, and (though Plato does not philosophically employ the term) of the Platonic school. b. — To rate a thing at its value, that is, to attribute or not to attribute to it a certain worth, is a meaning which would easily slide into denoting the affirmation or negation of qualities in regard to a subject; for its qualities determine, posi- tively or negatively, the value of any thing. Hence, in general, to be of opinion, to think so and so, tojud<;e. (In like man- ner, among other analogical examples, the Latin verb existimo (that is ex-wstimo), its primary meaning falling into desuetude, was at last almost exclusively employed in the secondary, as — / think tha', or I opine ) From this signification of thi verb flowed a second logical meaning of the substantive; Axiom being applied to denote, in general, an enunciation orjnv position, (properly a categorical), whther true or false. In this sense it was used» sometimes by Aristotle (v. Top. L. viii WB fXfS pwwngt Dii'Tf |^.Q#%iyiT'ijr '[k«>ti a. !▼•] OF COMMON SENSE. 7€7 m, l,a~if tMs work 'be Iiia — et ibi» Alex:- anannn) , •ml, as far as I am awari», to la j notMng of tlio Epieuroana and Sceptics, fllniiiMt hy tlie Stoics—though Simplicius ('•Ai' BnifiL' .Ench. c. 58} asserts, that thev 'Ooearfiiiwli 'Miijilojred it, lice 'the. Aristo* teiaiis, 'im tho irsl. Ladiiia, ITarro, Ci- mm, Sergius, Agellius, Apuleius, Dona^ Ins, Martknus Capelb, &c., render it hy ▼ariouS' .Latin terms,, in all of i»;Miih. .how- eter tk» present meaning, eiclnii:? elj, is emhodled; and in the same aigniieation the Greelc term amema itself was, in mo- dem times, adopted by Ramus and Ms iohool, as their common logical expression for * propoi^:tlon.' ThnS' in 'neither of its logical, signilea- tiODs, I make bold to say, is the word Axiom to be found in any writing extant, prior to Aristotle; and in its second, only I word which all employ, but of whosi Stoical meanlnfr— has 'been the cause of cottdderahle error and confusi^on an^ong subseonent logicians, who, nnable to resort to tlie one r^ edition of the original, were thus led to suppose that the nomen- ckture of Theojphrastus and Themistins were' different irom that of Ari:stotle. The authority of Muretus has obtained, however, for his mistake a universal accep- tation; and what is curious, Nicolaus Loen- sis (Misc. Epiph. L. i. c. 1.) in his criti- cism of the very chapter in which it oc- curs, omitting this solitary error, stupidly or peridionsly inculpates Muretus for aa- aerlions, which that IllustriouM schokr as* anredly never dreamt of h.azard.inf.. '6.. Maums — {mcucimas, mpmiiionm mtmimm, mtpremm, prindpma, 4^c.) In Maxim we have the example of a .In ft work, the Topics, 'which is not virith absolute certainty the production of the Stagirite.— I may observe, that there la another account given of the logical ap- pifstions of the word, but to this I think it wholly needless to advert. c— The third and. last meaning is 'that imposed upon the word by Bacm. Me contorted Axiom to designate any higher proposition, obtained by generalisation and induction from the observation of indivi- dual instances — the enunciation of a ge- neral fact — an empirical law. So mneh for the meanings of the term Axiom itself—now for its translation. I^msiiaM was employed by Boethios to render Axioma in its first or AristoteUc meaning; and. from .him came, in this ap-^ pEcalion, intO' geniral use among the Latin schoolmen. But before Boethius, and as a translation of the term in its second or Stoical, «eaiiii|||i I find Digmtm employed bipVW Ja ■■Si asjpiiriaaaiisya'ip «, jbmiiipibfwmp 'w* ^h^ * ■•■•••■iw^ww^b' ropo«ttto (max- ima he never uses absolutely) is thus only a synonyme for axiom or self-evident judgment. He however applies the term specially to denote those dialectical prin- ciples, axioms, or canons, those catholic judgments which constitute what in Logic and Rhetoric have since Aristotle been called common places; that is, the sources or receptacles of arguments applicable to every matter, and proper to none. Such propositions, he says, are styled maximae GT greatest, because as universal and pri- mary they implicitly contain the other propositions, (minoresposterioresque,) and determine the whole inference of a rea- soning; (reliquas in se propesitiones com- plectuntur, et per eas tit consequens et rata conclusio.) * But he also sometimes indicates that they are entitled to this epi- thet, because, as evident in themselves and independent of all others, they afford to the unintuitive judgments they support, their primary proof, (antiquissimam pro- bationom,) and their greatest certainty, (maximam fidem.) Compare In Top. Cic. • Thus in arguing, lAa« a leise, U not an tn- tamperate, man, by the syllofcism — He is wise who controls his passions; He is intemperate who does not control his passions; Therefore a wise, is not an intemperate, man ; the whole reasoning is contained under, and therefore presupposes, the proposition -To mkai the definition is inapplicdble, to that is aiap- pHeoMe the thing defined, (cui non convenit dejini. tto, non convenit definitum.) This proposition (one of six co-ordinates which malce up the common place called of Definition) as contain ing under it a multitude of others (e. g. Cui non convenit definitio sapientisy nee convenit no- men; cui non convenit definitio justi, pulekrif ^mlMj &c. &c., nee nomen) is not inappro- priately styled p. maxima. I may observe, however, that, as thus employed, masima can only, in strict propriety, qualify a proposition relatively, not absolutely, greatest. For every maxim of every dialectical Place is itself con. tained within the sphere of one or other of tlie four logical laws of Identity, Contradiction, Excluded Middle, and Reason and Consequent, of which it is only a subordinate modification. Thus the maxim adduced, is only a special ap- plication of the law of Contradiction. To the ^ur laws therefore the name of prt^potittones maximae should be exclusively applicable, if tliis expression were intended to denote an un- eondWifllsd universality. ' L. i. Op. p. 765— De Diff. Top. L. i. p. 859 L. ii. p. 866 sq. Boethius had likewise perhaps Aristotle*s saying in his thought — 'that principles, though what are least in magnitude, are what are greatest in power.* Maxima propositio, as a dialectical ex- pression, was adopted from Boethius by his friend and brother consul, the patrician Cassiodorus; and from these 'ultimi Ro- manorum' it passed to the schoolmen, with whom so soon as it became established a? a conmion term of art, propositio was very naturally dropt, and maxima thus came to be employed as a substantive — by many at last, who were not aware of the origin and rationale of its meaning. Finally, from the Latinity and philosophical no- menclature of the schools, it subsided, as a household word, into all the vernacular languages of Europe; with this restriction however — that in them it is not usually applied except in a practical relation; de- noting a mural apophthegm, a rule of con- duct, an ethical, a political, a legal, canon, &c., and this too, enouncing, not so much what is always and necessarily, but what is for the most part and probably, true. It sounds strange in our ears to hear of a mathematical or logical maxim, in the sense of axiom, self-evident principle, or law — though this is the sense in which it was commonly employed, among others, by Locke and Leibnitz. To this restric- tion, its special employment in Dialectic (the logic of contingent matter) probably prepared the way ; though by the school- men, as by Boethius, it continued to be used as convertible with axiom. * Dignitas dicitur (says Albertus Magnus) quia om- nibus dignior est, eo quod omnibus influit cognitionem et veritatem ; et dicitur Max-^ tma, eo quod virtute influentiae lucis et veritatis omnia excedit ioomediata princi- pia.* (Ini. Post. Anal. c. 1.) St Thomas and Scotus, might be adduced to the same effect; see also P. Hispanus (Summulae, tr. V. c. 3, et ibi Versor.) At an early period, it was borrowed as a term of art, into the Common T^w of England; Max^ ims there denoting what by the civilians were technically denominated Regulae Juris. (Fortescue, De Laudibus legum Angliae c. 8. — Doctor and Student, c. 8.) By Kant Maxim was employed to desig- nate a subjective principle, theoretical or practical, i. e. one not of objective validity, being exclusively relative to some interest of the subject. Maxim and Regulative prmciple are, in the Critical philosophy, opposed to Law and Constitutive prin- ciple. Is lis dw^ limeS' been fory commonly 'emijoyod, like Mmdmimm& and MO^ei.t^J^^ Lmtte lower cognitive faimltli^ imasiimtion, memory— bnt aiwayfi mn empLtlcally, m in contralto the feellnf • :tildeiifes. In this sl:gnlication, to fol- low the Arlstotelic division, it compre- kmshn (i»mi», mmif 'r^" mmmm, conceptns, conceptio,»iir«*»«™>™^"*j Mmtim mwmf Afirmatim and Ne^m, wi(. indicium) ;-3% Mmmmmg or the Jhf €mmm /««% {hmm», Uth*^ ^7'T T wi mmnrii^^h ascnrsns, ratioclwitlo|; -4«», lulilfoce or Intdkgmm proper, either as the intnition, or as the place, of principles or self-evident troths (wff, in- lellectws, intelligeniia, mens.) b.^ln close connexion with the pre- ceding signiieatton, from wMch perhaps it onght not to be separated, is that mean- ing In which rwioii, the mtimmi, tho re« mmabk, is used to characterlw! the I^ti- nale employmentof our familSei !»■ §^ t^ fa, ennirailstinotion to the Itregmlar m Iwsiiliwiinate action of one or more even of enr rational Ikcwitleii which, if •xerciiied out of their proper ipherti may 'be viewed as oppoeoci to rmttm, Twm the p«n mw of one of MelliWt charwi- ten complaint— 'B,, |.iitii^ - Mt I*eiiipl«l d» tonte ma maisen, '■t: li f^mmmmm m bannlt la raimm, e.— It has not mfrequently been em- ployed to comprehend the third aMfimrm of the special functions above enumerated —to wit, the dianoedc and noetic In this meaning it is taken by »««* ,in his filler works. Thus In the Intellectual Powers (p. 425 ab.) he states, that Bm- son, in its irst office or degre% [the noetic,J is identical with Common Sense, in its se- cond, [the dianoetic,] with Reasoning. d,— It has very generally, both in an- cient and modern philosophy, been em- ployed for the third of the above special functions ;—3y>y»f md Xcyijrptfo Eatio and Raliodaatio, BiMOii and Eeasonfag being thnt oonfoiided. Reid thus applied it in his mrlim' work the Inquiry. See pp. lO0,b., 108,a., 127,a.b. e— In the ancient iyst«raa it was very rarely used exeliilfely Ibrthe/wrfA spe- cial function, the noetic, in ©ontj^* *«^f* dianoetic. Aristotle, indeed, (Ltn. «ic. L. vi. c. 11 (12), Eth. End. L. v.c.8) ex- pressly says that Reason is not the taculty k principles, that faculty being Intelli- gence proper. Boethius (De Cons. rhiL L. V. Pr. 5) states that Reason or Discnr. sive IntelliCt belongs to roan, while In- telligence or Intuitive Intellect is the ex- clwive attribute of Divinity. * MMm hu- Mtft l tantum. generis est, sicuti inliii^^- 4l^' •«i1« iltirlnt-' while Pornhvry somewhere llct sola divinif while Porphyry somewhere says * that we have Intelligence in common with the Gods, and Reason in common with the bmteii.' Sometimes however it was appar«tly so employed. ThiM St Augustine seems to view Rcasonas the fa- culty of intuitive truths, and as opposed to Reasoning :—*ilffl«to est quidam mentis tdipectus, quo, per seipsam non pr cor- pus, verum Intuetur; JlatfediMilfo witem est ratiowi inquisitio. a certis ad incert- ommindtgitlonemnitenscogitatio. (i>e Quant. An. § 53— Be Immort. An. & §1, 10.) This, however, is almost a singukr eicoption. , ^ ^, in modem tiroes, though we frequently neel with letiot, as a general faculty, distinguislied from Reasoning, asaparti- culariyct ™t»i Kant, I am not aware that Reason (Venmna) was ever exclusively, or even emptatlcally, used in a sigmica- tion corretponding to the noetic faimlty, In Its strict and special meaning, and op- posedto understanding { Verstand) viewed is comprehimding the other functions of thought— iill«« CrmAus (Weg, Ac. § 62 ia>majlit ftfjiwW as Kantsforenm ncf in this innovation Indeed the Ver- nunilb of Kant, in its special signitication, (for he also uses it for Reason in the first or more general meaniog, as indeed nothing can be more vague and various than his employment of the word,) cannot without considerable qualification be considered anilogous to Not};, far less to Common Sense; though his usurpation of the term for the faculty of principles, probably de- ter xiined Jacobi (who had originally, like phi iosophers in general, confounded Ver- nuijft with Verstand, Reason with Rea- soning.) to appropriate the term Reason to what he had at first opposed to it, under the name of Belief (Glaube. ) Accordingly inlttsmaturer writings, ' Vemunft, Rea- son — ' Vemunft- Glaube^* Belief of Reason ~* Vernunft'GefueMj Feeling of Reason — * Rationale AnKcAauun^,^ Rational Intui- tion — * Simif Organ fuer das Uebermnn- IkhB* Sense or Organ of the Supersen- sible, &c. are the terms by which we may roundly say that Jacobi denominates the no€ tic faculty or common sense. Kant's abusive employment of the terra Reu^on, for the faculty of the Uncondi- iioned, determined also its adoption, under the same signification, in the philosophy or* Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel; though No2if, Intellectus, Intelligentia, which had been applied by the Platouists in a similar sense, were (through Verstand, by which they liad been always rendered into Ger- man) the only words suitable to express that cognition of the Absolute, in whicn subject and object, knowledge and exis- tence, God and man, are supposed to be identified. But even in this, to add to the confusion, no consistency was maintained. For thouprh that absolute cognition was emphatically the act of Reason^ it was yet by Fichte and Schelling denominated the Intuition of Intellect (intellectuale An- schauung.) F. Schlegel was therefore jus- tified in his attempt to reverse the relative superiority of Vemunft and Verstand. Wliat were his reasons 1 know not; but as they have excited no attention, they were probably of Uttle weight. Though Common Sense be not there- fore opposed to Reason, except perhaps in its fourth signification, still the term Rea^ son is of so general and ambiguous an im- port, that its employment in so determi- nate a meaning as a synonyme of Common Sense ought to be avoided. It is only, we have seen, as an expression for the noetic faculty, or Intellect proper, that Reason can be substituted for Common Sense; and as the former is hardly allowable, still less ii the latter. Besides the more precise employment of Reason as a synonyme for Common Sense by the recent German philosophers, it .vill be found more vaguely applied in the same meaning — usually, however, with some restrictive epithet, like common^ uni- versal, fundamental, &c,- by many older authorities, of whom Heraclitus, the Stoics, Turretin, Lyons, Bentley, Shaftesbury. De LaMennaJs,are among the Testimonic;" adduced in the sequel. 8. — Intellect, Intelligence, (vovg,* intellectus, intellyjentiay mens, entendement, intelligence, intellect, Verstand,) truths, principles, axiofm, dicta, intuitions, &c., of. Intellections, (vovjasig, intellectiones, intelligentice, intellectionsjintelligences,) pri- mary, natural, common, &c. By Aristotle, from whom it finally ob- tained the import which it subsequently re- tained, the term Noi/f is used in two prin- cipal significations. In the one (like Reason in its first meaning) it denotes, in general, our higher faculties of thought and know- ledge ; in the other it denotes, in special, the faculty, habit, place, of principles, that \% of self-evident and self evidencing no- tions and judgments. The schoolmen, following Boethius, translated it by intel- lectus and intelligentia ;f and some of thtm appropriated the former of these terms to its first, or general, signification, the latter to its second or special. Cicero does not employ the term intellectus ; and the Cice- ronian epidemic prevalent after the revival of letters, probably induced the Latin trans- lators of the Greek philosophers to render it more usually by the term m£ns. In ono and all of our modern languages the words derived from, or corresponding to, Intel- lectus, Intellectio, Intelligentia, have been so loosely and variously employed, that they offer no temptation to substitute them for that of Common Sense. The case is dif- ferent with the adjective noetic. The cor- relatives noetic and dianoetic would afford the best philosophical designations — the former for an intuitive principle, or truth at first hand; the latter for a demonstra- • See above, p 767 b, note. f Intelligentia (like IwteUectio) properly de notes the act or energy of JnieUectus. IIow it came that the term JnteUigentiae was lat. tcrly applied to denote the higher order of created existences, as angels, &c., is explained by Aquinas (S. Th. P. !., qu. 70, art. 10,) as an innovation introduced by certain translations from the Arabic. I shall not commemorate the distinction of Intellectus and Intelligentia given in the contradictory fiurago attributed to St Augustine, under the title D« SpUritu «t Anima Seecc37,m S 2 J Wtt fllflTS h I ▼«1 OF COMMON SENSE. ni I tiftjropositiiiii, or Imlli ^ sooond liftnd Mmmf snd Nodo^iecd, IHanmohff^ and JliaiiiiMlflftel would Im also teclmical tcnnt of mmh eonvenienco m Tariom de- liartiiiiiiti off phllffliophy. On %h» doctrime of irti 'principlet m m de|Murliiieiit of ' Qnoslologj/ tki pbilo8ii|ilij of know- ledge, we havo indeed during the seTen- teenth oontiry, by Genniwi anthora alone, a seriw of epeeial lriatiM%.iiidir lliolitlea ^-of ' Nod^a,' by CatoYi'ii% liily lfrt||e- rns, 1662, Wagnerus, 1670, and ZddleniSt 1680r-and of * Jntelligentim/ by Gutkius, 1625, and Geilfnssius, 1662. ' AreMiiffia,* againi waa the ^tl© preferred for their works npon the aana anldectby Alstediiis, li20, and Micraeliiis, 1658. Of these tmatises,. in so far as I have seen them, the execution disappoints the curiosity awak- ened by the title and attempt. In this sense, besides the ordinary «m- ployment of imOeetm «'»(! Imfifiv***^ by the ancient and. miodem Aristotelians; Cicero, St Austin, and others, in like man- ner, use Mdli§fmiim, either simply, or witb some differential epithet, as inekmim, mt* wfAmm, em^ieaim; imdutaej pnmm, mmmimm, lie.; as is done likewise bv Paaoil and other French philosophers with the terms ImeMffmm and Inteiligmem, X. The tenth and last circumstance is, that the native contribntions by the mind itself to our concrete 'Cognitions have, prior to their eicitatiori into consciousness through experience, only a jeofail i«l, and In actnal experience only an appUmt, «ii- §ag€tL or implimte, existenca Hence thdr designation of— Habits, (possessions,) BisrosHiows, YiETUALiTiss &c., wlth souw discriminat- ing epithet. Thus, by Aristotle, noetic Intelhgenoe Is called the (mtnral) MaM$ iffprmdj^m {i^srm d^m»)i ^aiid prin- ciples themwlves are charactttrlsed by Leibniti, as matmei Metbim, i>tfpofilioiK, VirtvuditieM. As prior to experience, Ga- len stylec them things occult or dditet* call (mji^tiftfdwm,) in contrast to the ma- nifestations' made in experience itstif (fnf f ^if p% ^Cmmmm^Bmmj wM$mimmi r«. .fipilitMi la MmM^ md im Mmm, ikmm bjf mekimukGffieai i§rim of Tew* tifMMMMfJrom the dmm of speetdation to 'tke pmmt day.* 1 HtsioD thui' torminatea .fail WorkS' and Bays :— - #f^K 'l*ofairff 9'mfAvmw dwoA^vrm f» Ami 'i!iiiiituil parti of mnirj of tm following paotf w, see foot-note at p. 328. ». — Top. L. L c. 1. S 6.—* First tmtlw «r«' siicli aa^ .are ■belie¥ed, not throigli auglit else, but through themselvea alone. iFor in regard to the principles of selence we ought not to require the reason Whj^ [but only the fact That they are given] ; •for each snch principle behoves to be itself « bdiff in and of itself.' h. — Pr. Analyt. I* i c. 3. § 4.— Main- taining against one party, that demonstra- tive science Is eomi>etcnt to man. and f. 63. m , ed. Aid. In Elh. Hie. f SB h., ed. Aid. Of the 1 atio expositors, among many, Fonsecu, la Metaph. L. i. c. 1, q. 4-CoiiimbriceMM, Off. Post. Anal. L, i. c. 1. f. 1— SoBcrus in •Metaph. L. i. c. 1, p. 67, »q. Of Terttaionies .tnfka, >K» mm. 10, S», 21, 22. On IMs later, pretation, Aiistetle Jnsaj views our knowle.'dlf. frrtritt from what It is with the .itoics; t.to witoni, it may be noticed, and. mot, as to 'UMaipy avpposed, to tins Slagirlte, are we*.to fafer-fhe: ifBt' eiioo.ncement ef tlie brocard^ In .AHilfacm •ia.tl. «if, fwod now priiiM/iMTil la Samrn. in.mafclni. Inlcllect asonrco-of knowledge, ffjf lflPii vat fKoeded by Fli^. Bat tht5 BatOBle deinltlea ef * Jiil«riwloii'' Is ' TM pHn- €M§^aammf aail'.jyrlstolle¥.m«iil'it.aoi'lhe .■MltliMi off 'Inliiiiet aa aaeli, 'liii|...ila'ffediieltoB. mm a 'iMit !• a cvBlnact priaclple of r»OTX A.. that this scienca cannot itself ha femidad on propositions which admit of demonstration, Aristotle says — * Wo assert not only that science does ex« 1st, bat also that there is given a certain .beginning or principle, of seiance, tii so ft»r m [or on another inttrpretation of the term ^-^^ bjf which*} we recogmzethe im- port of the terms.* On the one interpre- tatio.ii the meaning of tlie paiiageis— * Wo assert not only that [demonstrative] sci- ence doDi exist, but also that there is given a certain [indemonstrable] beginnhig or principle of science, [that is. Intellect which comes into operation] so soon as we ap- prehend the meaning of the terms.* For example, when we once become awi&re o! the sense of the terms whole and jwrl, then the intellect of itself spontaneously enoun- ees the axiom — The whole is greater than lis part—On the other interpretation ; — • We assert not only that [demonstrative scier.ce does exist, but also that there is given a certain [indemonstrable] begin. ning or principle of science [viz. intellect] by which we recognize the import of the* terms,' i. e. recognize them in their ne- cessary rektion, and tliereupon explicitly enounce the axiom which that /rebtion implies. c.-.Anal J*osl. L.i. c. 2. § 16.,— ' But it is not only necessary that we should be endowed with. an antecedent knowledge of irst principles — all or some — but that this knowledge should, likewise, be of pa- ramount certainty. For whatever com- mnaicates a quality to ether things must itself potseaS' that quality in a still .higher degree j as that on account of which we love all objects that |>artahe of it, cannot .but bo itself, pre-eminently, an object o! our love. Hence if we know and believe through certain first principles, we must ...know and 'believe these themselves in a siperlitive degree, for the very reason that we know and believe [all] secondary truths tlirough them.* in connexion herewith, eomi>are tho passages quoted above, p. 764 b. ..d.— aiiet. L, ic. 1.— *By nature man Is competently organiied for truth; and truth, lit general, is not beyond his reach.* e. — Metaph. L. ii. (A minor) c. 1. — ' The theory of Truth is in one respect dllicult, in another easy; as shown indeed by.tMs^that while enough has .been de- nied to any, some has been conceded to all.* f. — Eth, Nic. L. X. c. 2 — Arguing 'ii|pil.n.st a paradox of certain Pkionists, in regard 't# llw Fltifiireilile,"lie-iay8^* But they who o'ppose ..themselves to .EudoxiiSt ■s If .wlMi .ai mmm,immimtmmmr9 nal §^] OF COMMON SENSE. I tit a good, talk idly. For what appears to ' nU, that we affirm to be; and he who would subvert this belief, wll himself assuredly advance nothing more deserving of credit.* —Compare also L. vii. c. 13 (14 Zuing.) In his paraphrase of the above passage th«» Pseudo-Andronicus(Heliodorus Prus- ensis) in one place uses the expression eommof^ opinion^ and in another all but uses (what indeed he could hardly do in this meaning as an Aristotelian, if indeed In Greek at all) the expression common gmse, which D. Heinsius in his Latin ver- sion actually employs. * But, that what all beings desire is a good, this is manifest to every one endowed with sense' — (^doi roif h etiff09]ffii, * omnibus communi sensu prae- ditis.*) See No. 31. g.— Eth. Eud. L. i. c. 6.— 'But of all these we must endeavour to seek out ra- tional grounds of belief, by adducing mani- fest testimonies and examples. For it is the strongest evidence of a doctrine, if all men can be adduced as the manifest con- f«>s&ars of its positions; because every in- dividual has in him a kind of private organ of the truth. . . Hence we ought not always to look only to the conclusions of reasoning, but frequently rather to what appears [and is belie vedj to be.' See Nos. 10, 30. h Ibid. T,. v'i. e. 14.—' The problem 18 this;— What is the beginning or j.rin- triple of motion in the soul ? Now it is fsvident. that as God is in the universe, and the universe in God, that [I read jt/v- ih KAt] the divinity in us is also, in a certain sort, the universal mover of the mind. For the principle of Reason is not Reason, but something better. Now what can we say is better than even science, ex- cept God?'— The import of this singukr passage is very obscure. It has excited, I see, the attention, and exercised the in- genuity, of Pomponatius, J. C. Scaliger, Be Raei, l^jibnitz, Leidenfrost, Jaeobi, &c. But without viewing it as of pan- theistic tendency, as Leibnitz is inclined to do, it may be interpreted as a declara- tion, tliat Intellect, which Aristotle else- where allows to be pre-existent and im • mortal, is a spark of the Divinity ; whilst Its data (from which, as principles more certain than their deductions. Reason, De- monstration, Science must depart) are to be reverenced as the revehition of truths, which would otherwise lie hid from man. *l'liat, in short, • file voice of Nature is the voice of God.' By the bye, it is remarkable that this text was not employed by any of those Aristo- telians who endeavoured to identify the Active Intellect with the Deity. i. — Phys. L. viii. c. 3. — Speaking ol those who from the contradictions in our conception of the possibility, denied the fact, of motion: — * But to assert that all things are at rest, and to attempt a proof of this by reasoning, throwing the testi- mony of sense out of account, is a sign not of any strength, but of a certain imbecility of reason.* And in the same chapter— ' Against all these reasonings there suffices the belief [of sense | alone-* See Simplicius ad locum, ed. Aid. ff. 276, 277. k. — De Gen. Anim. L. iii. c. 10. — ' We ought to accord our belief to sense, in pre- ference to reasoning; and of reasonings, especially to those whose conclusions are in conformity with the phasnomena.' And somewhere in the same work he also says, * Sense is equivalent to, or has the force of, science.' 1. — See also De Cieio L. i. c. 3, text 22. m. — Il)i(l. L. iii. e. 7, text 61. n. — Meteor., L. i. e. 13. 4. — Theopukastus.— a. — Metaph. e. 8, (ed. Sylb. p. 260, Brand, p. 319.) Tlie following testimony of this philosopher (if tlie treatise be indeed his) is important both in itself, and as illustrative of the original peripatetic doctrine touching t he cognition of first principles, which he clearly refuses to Sense and induction, and asserts to Intelligence and intuition. It has however been wholly oyerlooketl ; probably in consequence of being nearly unintelligible in the original from the coi-- ruption of the common text, and in the version of Bessarion — also from a misap- prehension of his author's meaning, Having observed that it was difficult to determine up to what point and in regard to what things the investigation of causes or reasons is legitimate; — that this diffi- culty applies to the objects both of Sense and of Intelligence, in reference to either of which a regress to infinity is at once a negation of them as objects of understand- ing and of philosophy;— that Sense and Intelligence, severally furnish a point of departure, a principle, the one relative, or to us, the other absolute, or in nature;— and tliat each is the converse of the other, the first in nature being the last to us;— he goes on to state what these counter processes severally avail in the researcli, or, as hecalls it, after Aristotle, the specu- lation, of principles. • Up to a certain point, taking our departure from the Senses, we are able, rising from reason to f reason, to carry on the specuhition of pna* 174 0» THE PfllLOSOPHl f irOTE ill I VI.] OF COMMON SENSE. 775 I ctpliis; but when we arrire mi those whicli are [not merely comparatively prior but] absoliitely supreme and primary, we «ii no more; because, either that a reason is no longer to be founcl, or of our own im- becility, unable, as it were to look from mere excess of light. [Compare Arist. Metaph. A minor, c. 1; which supports the reading, §tm»irmr».2 But the other prooeclure is probably the more authentic, which accords the speculation of principles to the tmtchf as it majf^ be called, and /eeZ- imff of Intelligence (ff m itywri tml tuo» Mxl/i^fjff.) [Comp. Aristot. Metaph. xii. 7.J For in this case there is no room for illusion in regard to these.* He then ob- ierves — *' That it is even in the sciences of detail, of great, but in the universal sci- ences, of paramount, importance« to deter- mine wherein, and at what point the limit to a research of reasons should be ixed.* And why ! * Becawm iJbf who reqaim « rmaonfor emrp llttt^, mbmrtf at omcBf ik§ f&mmjktiwm &f mamm tmd &/ kmmd»^l0ik* b. — See awive, p. 766 a, where from his doctrine in regard to first principles it ap- pears that Theopbrastus, like Aristotle, founds knowledge on natural Belief. 6^ — LucEETi'us.— De Eerum Hatura, 'L. i V. 423, sq. ' Corpus enim per se ctoimMiitif deliqual esse ,iBfiifHc#" qao nisi prlina,jUM' fudata valeM;!, liaiMl. cfit, eeciultls de reims quo reirawitei, Smmi CmmmmA here mieans Sense, Btrietly so called, as testifying not only in all men, but in ail animals. It is a trans- lation of the expression of Epicurus — If mivimif M vmwrmw (Ijiert. x. W)i and IS in the Epicurean philosophy all our kn^ltledge Is merely an educt of Sense, the truth of the derived, dependg wholly upon the truth of the original evidence. See Ij. iv., vv. 480, sq, <5. — CicBEO. — a.— Be Fin, Ij. It. c,19. — Speaking of the Stoical paradoxes, {* recte facta omnia aiff|;ualiay— omnia peccata pa- ria,* &c.) ho says — ' Quae cum. magniice primo did videntur, considerata» minus, probantur. Smmm m&m mjmtqm, Ike* H. communis] et natnra rerun, atiiuo' Ipsa, /eritas clamat, quonam. m.odo, non posse aiiduci, nt inter eas res quas Zeno exae* quaret, nihil interesset.* (See No. 7.) b. — Tusc. Bisp. L. i c. 13. — *' Omni au- temin re consensio omnium gentium, lex naturae putanda eat* Compare' alsO' e lA. .f*. — Be Nat.. Beor., L. i. e» M:— The 'Ep|:curean Yelleiui there speaUnf th« doctrine of Ma seet :— < Intelllgi necass* potius innatas cognltiones habemus.* Jk qm m the many .remarkable' .readiags to ho flmad exclusively in then, must, In aU :piid»illty, 'have perished— periMps In. 'Ilw Immiation by which Cantcrl celebrated Ubrary was^ In a great measure, da- 0. — Ep. 120. * Natnra semina nobis sci- entiae dedit, scientiam non dedit.' 9. — Plini the Younger. — Paneg. e. 64. — * Melius omnibus quam singulis creditur. Singuli enim decipere et decipi possunt : memo omnes, neminem omnes fefellerunt.* 9* — QuiNTiLiAN. — Inst., L. v. c. 10. § 12. — * Pro certis habemus ea, in quae com- muni opinione consensum est.* 10. — Ai.KXANDEn OF Apiirodisias, the oldest and ablest of the interpreters of Aristotle whose writings have come down to us, follows his master, in restiog truth and philosophy on the natural convictions of mankind. a. — On Fate, § 2, edd. Lond. et Orell. TfiJv dv^^u'TTuu (flufftgy x.T.X. * The common nature of man is neither itself void ot truth, nor is it an erring index of the true ; * in virtue whereof all men are on certain points mutually agreed, those only ex- cepted, who, through preconceived opin- ions, and a desire to follow these out con- sistently, find themselves compelled verbal- ly f to dissent.* And he adds, that * An- axagoras of Clazomene, however otherwise distinguished as a physical philosoi)her, is undeserving of credit, in opposing his tes- timony touching fate to the common belief of mankind.* This he elsewhere calls their • common presumptions,' their * common and natural notions.' See §§ 8, 14, 2G, of the same work, and the chapter on Fate in the second book of his treatise On the Soul, f. 16 Led. Aid. 1534. b.— On the Topics of Aristotle, (p. 48, ed. Aid.) ' The induction useful in the employment of axioms is useful for illus- trating the application to particulars of the axiomatic rule, [read wigi AetfA^otvofAeya,'] but not in demonstrating its universality ; for this, as an object of intellect, is self-evi- dent, nor can it, in propriety, be proved by induction at all.* Compare also p. 12. 11. — Clement or Alexandria — Stro- .•nata. After stating (1#. v. Op. ed. 1G88, p. 544,) that there is neither knowledge without belief, nor belief without know- ledge, and having shown (L. viii. p. 771,) after Aristotle and others, that the sup- position of proof or demonstration being founded on propositions themselves capable of being proved, involves the absurdity of an infinite regress, and therefore subverts the possibility of demonstration, he says — 'Thus the philosophers confess that the • See Aristotle, No. 3, d. f VerbaUp, not menially. He has Aristotle CAnal. Post L. I. c. 10. § 7,) in view. Sea Buf- ier, No. 63. beginnings, the principles of all knowledge, are indemonstrable; consequently if de- monstration there be, it is necessary that there should be something prior, believable of itself, something first and indemonstrable. All demonstration is thus ultimately re- solved into an indemonstrable b lief 12.— Tertullian — a. — DeTestimonio Animae adversus Gentes, c. 5. — * Haec testimonia animae, quanto vera tanto sim- plicia, quanto simplicia tanto vulgaria, quanto vulgaria tanto coramunia, quanto communia tanto naturalia, quanto natura- lia tanto divina ; non putem cuiquam fri- volura et frigidura videri posse, si recogi- tet naturae majestatem, ex qua censetur anctoritas animae. Quantum dederis ma- gistrae, tantum adjudicabis discipulaj Ma- gistra natura, anima discipula. Quicquid aut ilia edocuit, aut ista perdidicit, a Deo traditum est, magistro scilicet ipsius ma- gi strae. Quid anima possit de principali institutore praesumere, in te est aesti- mare de ea quae in te est. . . . J5«*d qui ejusmodi eruptiones animae non puta- vit doctrinam esse naturae, et congenitae et ingenitae conscientiae * tacita commissa, dicet potius de ventilatis in vulgus opi- nionibus, publicatarura litterarum usmn jam, et quasi vitium, corroboratum taliter sermocinani i Certe prior anima quam littera, et prior sermo quam liber, et prior sensus quam stylus, et prior homo ipso quam philosophus et poeta. Nunquid ergo credendum est ante litteraturam et divul- gationem ejus, mutos absque hujusmodi pronunciationibus homines vixisse ? . . . Et unde ordo ipsis litteris contigit, nossc, et in usum loquelae disseminare, quce nulla unquam mens conceperat, aut lingua pro- tulerat, aut auris exceperat ? ' — He alludes to I. Corinthians ii. 9, &c. b. — De Resurrectione Carnis, c. 3. — ' Est quidem et de communibus sensibm sapere in Dei rebus. . . . Utar et coH' scientia * populi, contestantis Deum Deo- rum ; utar et reliquis commanibiis sensibus, etc. . . Communes enim sensus simplicitas ipsa commendat, et compassio sententia- rura, et farailiaritas opinionuni, eoque quid igitur principiis hujusmodi contrarium est, est divinae sapientiae contrarium : non igitur a Beo esse potest. Ea igitur quae ex revelatione divina per fidcm tenen- tur, non possunt uaturali cognitioni> esse contraria.* b. — Expositio in Libb. Metaph. Aristot. Lect. V. — * Et quia talis cognitio princi- piorum (those of Contradiction and of Ex- eluded Middle) inest nobis statim a natui^aj concludit,' &c. c. — Sumroa Theologiae, P. i. Partis ii. Qu. 51, art. 1. — ' Intellectus principiorum dicitur esse habitus naturcdis. Ex ipsa enim uatura animae intellect ualis convenit homini, quod, statim cognito quid est to- tum et quid est pars, cognoscat quod omne totnm «t majus sua parte, et simile in caeteris. Sed quid sit totura et quid sit pars cognoscere non potest, nisi per species tntelligibiles a phantasraatibus acceptas, et propter hoc Philosophus, in fine Posterio- rum, ostendit quod cognitio principiorum provenit ex sensu.' d. — Be Veritate. Qu. xi. Be Magistro, conclusio — * Bicendum est similiter de seicntiae acquisitione, quod pr^eexistunt in nobis principia quae statim lumine intellec- tus agentis cognoscuiitur, per species a uensibilibus abstractas, sive sint complexa ut dignitateSf sive incomplexa sicut entis et unius et hujusmodi quae statim intellec- tus apprehendit. Ex istis autem principiis universalibus omnia principia sequuntur, sicut ex quibusdam rationibus seminalibusj 4o. e. — Suroma Theologiae, P. i. Partis ii. Qu, 5. art. 3. * Quod ab omnibus dicitur non potest totaliter falsum esse. Videtur euim naturale quod in pluribus est ; natura autem non totaliter detieit,* Compare Nos. 1 and 3, f. 21. — Joannes Buns Scot us holds a doctrine of Common Sense, with reference, more especially, to necessary truths, in which the genuine doctrine of A-ristotle is iidmirably enounced, and cogently de- fended. On the one hand, he maintains (^igmnst Averroes) that principles are not, in a cer- tain sense, innate in the Intellect ; t. e. not as actual cognitions chronologically ante- rior to experience. — * Bicendum quod non habet aliquam cognitioniini mituralem se- ] cundum naturam suam, neque simplicium, neque complexorum, quia umnis nostra cojf- nitio ortum habet ex sensu. Prime enim movetur scnsus ab aliquo simplici non com- plexo, et a sensu moto movetur intellectus et intelligit simplicia, quod est primus actus in- tellectus; deinde post apprehensionem sim- plicium, sequitur alius actus, qui est com- ponere simplicia ad invicem ; post illani autem compositionem, habet intellectus ex lumine naturali quod assentiat illi veritati complexorum, si illud complexum sit prin- cipium primum.' Quaestt. super libros Metaph. L. ii. q. 1. § 2. On the other hand, he maintains (against Henry of Ghent) that, in a different sense, principles are naturally inherent in the mind. For he shews that the intellect is not dependent upon sense and experience, except accidentally, in so far as these are requisite, in affording a knowledge of the terms, to afford the occasion on which, by its native and proper lights (in other words, by the suggestion of common sense,) it actually manifests the principles which it potentially contaiued ; and that these prin- ciples are certain, even were those phieno- mena of sense illusive, in reference to which they are elicited. * Respondeo, quod quantum ad istara notitiam, (principiorum sc.) intellectus non habet sensus pro causa [vel origin", as he elsewhere has it,] sed tantum pro occasione : quia intellectus noii potest habere notitiam simplicium nisi ac- ceptara a &enslbus,illa tamen accepta potest simplicia virtute sua componere et, si ex ratione taliura simplicium sit comiilcxio evidenter vera, intellectus virtute propria et terminoniai assontiet illi complexioni, non virtute sensus, a quo accipit terrainos exterius. Exemplum ;— si ratio lotius et ratio majoritatis accipiantur a sensu, et intellectus componat istam— Owne totum est maius sua parte, intellectus virtute sui et istorum terminorum assent ietind libit an- ter isti complexioni, et non tantum quia vidit terminos conjunctos in re, sicut assen- tit isti — Socrates est albus, quia vidit ter- minos in re uniri. Immo dico, quod si omnes sensus essent falsi,' &c. In libros Sent. Comm. Oxon. L. i., Bist. 3, qu. 4, § 8.~See also §§ 12, 23; and Quaestt. super Metaph., L. i. qu. 4. §§ 3, 4, 5, 11, 12, 14, 16; L. ii. qu. 1. §§ 2, 3, et alibi; where it is frequently repeated that sense and experience arc not the cause or origin, but only the occasion on which the natural light of Intellect reveals its principles or first truths. I may observe, that like Locke, the Sub* tie Doctor divides our acquisition of know- ledge between two sources. Sense aud 178 ON THE PHILOSOPHY [wOtH A* i VI.] OF COMMON SENSE. m h t^fmtim rmhl m in imldketu quin_ primfmrit in irfiatt, vera est de eo quod i«t primum intenigibile, scilicet qmod quid fif [t© mj rei maleriiilis, nofi autem de wmiiibiis per se imtdliglMIIbiis; nam multa per se inketigiintur, non quia speciem fa- ciunt in Smxu, awl per Mefieximmn inteHee- tm,^ Qoaestt. super Univ. Porph. q 3. But what Locke was sometlines compelled virtuallj to confess, in opposition to the genenl teiwr of his doctrine, (see No. 61,) Scotus professedlj lays down as the ver j foundation of his— that Reflection linds In the mind, or i:it«ll®ot itself, principles, or necenaary cognitions, wMeh arU' not the ednctt of experience, howbeii not actually manifested prior to, or except on occasion of, some empirical act of knowledge.* 22. — Aptowius Aw'dreas, an imine- diate disciple of 8cotiSr7t,h© Boctor Bul- ciions. 4«ae8«. super tibroi Melaph. L. ii. qu 1 * Ee^pondeo, et dico dtio. * Priii'ijm; — Quwi motititt Primmrmm Principimtm now est noimm mtura ; quia omnis nostra cognitio intellectifahiihet or- lum a sensu, et, per consequens, non inesta natmra. . . Primo enim motn movetur sen- sus abohjecto siroplici non complexo j et m wnsu moto movetur intellectus, et intelligit wmplicia, qui eirt primni. actus intellectus, Deinde post apprebeoioiiein simplicium sequilur aliwi actus, qui est componcre sim- plicia ad invicem ; et post istam composi- lionem haliet intellectus, tm Imtim natu- mli ut asscnliat illi verifati complexae, si illud coroplexum sit primum princli»ium. * Secuwotjm ;— ■Qii«I' noHtim Frmimtm Primeipimim [r«rrt#] Scitwr mi/ig inmm mtinmiiier, quatenus, -' Snppeno, cwn Mayso In nioate hoc vio'- yatff ecKhai v(ih7\.(kKtg fJt,ocXhoy Toig (potivof-t- imig. Convertam haec in Latinura ser- monem, utinanique possem in omnes om- nium populorum linguas convertere, atque in omnium hominum animis, ita ut nun- • Cic. De Sen. c. 2. Quid enim est aliud gigantum more bellare cura diis, nisi naturao rcpu^narc? f Had Muretus the following passage of Bes- sarion in his eye? — ' Intelkctum defuns adrm. ire, [Aristotle's dictum,] Theophrastus, Alex- andcr, Theraistius, Averroes, ita accipiunt, ut jam quisque ortus, illico intellectus sibi api>li. catam excipiat portionem, ita extinctus rclin. quat in commune ; non alitor, ac si quis inicantem? Illain, igitor, qiismirit liiitsi. tain, videliatlsi neqti© tamem f|iiiii(iiiaiii, Im itio Iwago, interjecio inter 'Oi»liiiii 'Yetlnini' '•t. faMni., AmdB obsito tenebrii' it|Nitio» vi- §tm 'puterslit. Idem pitatoto aiimis^ ae- eidere. Sae|w .aninui noster veritatein alMliiia enuieiatioiif lampMi eminus ful- gaitem m eollnoenteni videt, itiaiiiii pruptOT iilaniy f mi cinmnifiieiia w I, calif - fiwiiit. iride^n m. ^pm intenntdia suit, «l ptr f naf ad etni |i«'rY«iiitiir, non potest. . . . Si iter aliqiiod ingressitrus, duas^ vl- dtres Tias, quae eodrai femat; unam ex- peditam, plaiiaiiif tiit«iii> d' m^ qtw DMttl- tiiiswf, mm via tmitioiw, dnMntaiii. ai-' twani' torluosani, aipcmii, .{wriisiilfiiaiii:, nt^ quam qid stqiierentwr, propter vanoa rt mulliplices anfractos, sa«p© aberrarent ;— dubitares utrasn. 'poUus el%«re8t Duae tiinl Yiaii qtiibtis boaliies^ ^ad aliquam mtg- iiiticfiieiii Dei. el aninii. ltd. peirrenire pome m putaat. Arat enini eo eontendunt di«- pnlando, et cur qidcquani kmMt subtiliter iiiquirendo; ant sine dubitaliooe ullaassen- tiendo its, qno mijorei auMiiio Mnaenstt, "parHiB. iialvrali lumine iM^ta, partim difinitiss inipinita, tradidenuit. Ilkm qui. seeiill sunt, omnibiis saeeiilis-in multiplices errores incideniiil. At haec^ iUonin aig- nata est 'vwtigiift, qims in ooeiim tiblates venerainiir et coliMiiis.**' 31.— OiPiiAiiius..— Comwiiitarii in li- • Of none of tlie great Milieiini of tlie 16t1i century— the second golden age of LaUm .letters — liave tie vorks. Iieen so Awfuosllf :ref abliali- ed, 10' :ieainieii|]r' aaaotated^ eo lainrtrloiisly col. leeted,. •■ tbesO' of -flie pattern, tamo, 'lie tmoin. puralile If mrrtiit. Tliere liowever irttB rtnuilns wMw of 'Some' t«pe:iit|'' soaltered' AMWtlifiy in immmm aadYerse^in Greek, Latin, mnd Frencli,wbleli, If tie exoeient edition, (axedtont, eten. after tliat el Buimkeniut) of' tile 0jp«m Ommlm, 'by :i»releB. ier .Frotsciier ni leiiMie, oov uratirtanately telefnifted,. be not 'inally alnnioneA, .I.^thoaM. 'hate gnat pleainre. In .iTffl iiBff»«| w*iatiiig' to' tlie iMnei 'editor^— Sov Is it, tliat viiift Itoly, fitemany, and Hollaaid bave. for' eentnriof, been eantating"'tMii'Oth«' in paying bomsge to tbe geaing of limlasi fkaaoe hm done absolutely ^Bfillilng to toilillr' iar tteMInn of so lUos- Uieni a son.! bros Ekhicomiii ad Kicomachum, L. x. c. 2 ' Quod. 'OBniiiiii 'fidtlw, id (inqiiit A.riil4itelfla)'fiifft'diciiiiiis. Wmnemimmii liMiimiii WMW 'M judicium, est tanqnain lex. naturae.* See n. 3. f. 82 M.AniAKA. Be lege et Kegis in- stitution©, L. 1. c. 6. • Bt est commnmM MUMq»iiT« [lex!] menfibus 'nnstrla indita, airlbns insonans leX|. [vox ?] qua a turpi' ilmiiestum itC'Cer* iiim.us> 33 Sin Joiiit Davirs. Of the Im- mortality of tbe Soul, 1 ed. 15999 pp. 6% 97. ' .if' tlien. aU. sen]% beHi good' and bod, do teecli, until, fonornl 'voloe, ttat soule 'oan. Mirer '<" 'Tis not man's iattering gloss, but nuturo^s WMeh, like CtoCs oraele,. can never lie.' ''But' lov itn flHit' be ftln, idiloli 'Overy tongue Or^ evifr 'mortal, man: alinnt' Ibr true? Wliieli.traili.iBi. In '.al. 'afts ^stoed. ao strong, Tbaty loadstoneJIke, .all "bearts tt ever drew. fOT' .not' 'tlie ^CMitian. or tbe. #ew alone. Tie Ferilan. 'Or 'fie fnrk, acknowledge tbls| TbliS m.yslery to tbe wild Indian 'k:nown, And to tbe Cannibal and Tartar Is..*' Theie' ktter stanaas were probably sug- gested, by a pasmge in the iirat Disserta- tion of iHaximia- Tyrius. Tiiis 'learned poet* requires, and eminently deserves, a eom.mentary. 34.— KBcainieAiiKiia., .(Systema Logi- eum, L. iil. c, 13..) treating nf Necessary Teatimonv:— • Testimonium naeesaarium ei>t vet. .Dei vel Sensunm.' .Bavliif apolcen oi the fnrmer, he procaeds: '* lestattestimo- niniiiiiliiiiiM,quodsuus cuiqueHonsusdictat. Eslque vel«rfertiitm vel intermtm. Internum est, -quod leges, naturae, tam thmr^km quaM.',mieltMedict.ant ; itemque eomiefot- la<|j Sxtenmm est, quod sensus extern!, ut viiUB, aii'dilua, lie., recte dispositi, adeo-' que ipsa leosuaiis observatio, et experieu- tia ooBipwibat.* In illustration of the tes- timony O'f Internal. S«pse, €oM«tMlta, he sa.ys : .< MagMesI f'is4ertimonli Conscien- tiae in utrmiique paBticn ; et sicut leges sen principia naturae dupUcia sunt— theo- retica, ut. Mum cit wmjor ma parte — et "piaetica, ...ut, qmi'^ tiMJieri mmw, alterim fimm: it* 'duplex, est Consclentia, tkn^ mim nimiiMin it prmetiea, per quam con- cluai'Omei' theoreticae et practic.ae tirmiter 'nobis probantur.* Theemptoyment her© of Conadmiia, for the noetic faculty or faculty of principles, is (if we except the single precedent of Tertullian). unexampled« as far as I have observed, previous to the extension given to tne word by Descartes. The mttrntd tuui mtmrmai mim of Keokennaim aiv^ taken together, nearly equivalent to the expression common sensej in the meanin«- under consideration ; an expression, it may be added, which this author had himself, in the same work, previously employed. (L. i. c. 5.) 35. — Lord Hbrbbut of Chebburt In 1624, at Paris and f^ondon, was first published his work * De Veritate ;' aud to the third edition, London, 1645, was an- nexed his correlative treatise ' De Causis Krrorum." These works, especially the furmer, contain a more formal and articu- late enouncement of the doctrine of com- mon sense, than had ( I might almost say than has) hitherto appeared. It is truly marvellous, that the speculations of so able and original a thinker, and other wis>e of so remarkable a man, should have escaped the observation of those, who, subsequent- ly, in Great Britain, philosophized in a congenial spirit ; yet he is noticed by Locke, and carefully criticised by Gassendi. The following is an abstract of his doctrine — strictly in reference to our present sub- ject. The edition I use is the third, that of 1645. Lord Herbert makes a fourfold distribu- tion of the human faculties ; — into Natu- rtd Instinct — Internal Sense — External Seme — and the Discursive faeultij, (Dis- cursus) p. 37. These names he employs in significations often peculiar to himself. Each of these powers is the guarantee of a certain class of truths ; and there is given no truth, which is not made known to us through one or other of these attesting faculties. Let us not, therefore, be wise beyond our powers. (Ne sapiamm ultra facilitates,) But of these there is one whose truths are of a relatively higher order, as com- manding universal assent, and therefore of iidubitable certainty. This faculty, which he calls Natural Instinct, (Instinct us Na- turaliw,) might with more discriminative .propriety have been styled Intellectual In- ifiiici ; and it corresponds, as is manifest, ^with.the NoiJff of Aristotle, the Intelligen- lia of the schoolmen, and the Common Sense of philosophers in general. Natural Instinct may be considered, either as a fa- culty, or as thft manifestation of a faculty. In the former signification, .Instinct or the Noetic faculty is the proximate instrument of the universal intelligence of God ; in /act, a certain portion thereof ingrafted on the mind of man. In the latter signi> lication. Natural Instincts are those Catho- lic Cognitions or Common Notions, (koiuuI hmmi, notitiae communes,) which exist. in mw&Tf human being of sound and entire mind ; and with which we are naturally or divinely furnished, to the end that we may truly decide touching the objects with which we are conversant during the pre- sent life, (pp. 27, 29, 44.) These Instincts or Common Notions, he denominates also Primary Truths— Common Principles- Received Principles of Demonstration-^ Sacred Principles against which it is unlaw- ful to contend, &c. These are so far from being mere products of experience and observation, that, without some of them, no experience or observation is possible, (pp. 28, 48, 54.) But, unless excited by an object, they remain silent ; have then a virtual, not an actual, existence, (pp. 3i), 42.) The comparison of the mind to a tabula rasa ^r blank book, on which ob- jects inscribe themselves, must bo rejected; but it may be resembled to a closed book, only opened on the presentation of objects, (p. 54.) The sole criterion by which we can discriminate principles, natural or di- vine, is univer.al agreement ; though, at the same time, the higher and more neces- sary the truth, the more liable is it to be alloyed with error, (p. 52.) Our Natural Instincts operate irrationally ; that is, they operate without reasoning or discursion ; and Reason, (Ratio,) which is the deduc- tion of these common notions to their lower and lowest applications, has no other ap- peal, in the last resort, except to them, (p. 42.) The primary truths, or truths of In- stinct, are discriminated from secondary truths, (those, to wit, which are not ob- tained without the intervention of the Dis- cursive faculty,) by six characters. lo. By their Priority. For Natural In- stinct is the first, Discursion the last, of our faculties. -2o. By their Independence. For if a truth depend upon a common notion, it is only secondary ; whereas a truth is pri- mary, which itself hanging upon no supe- rior truth, affords dependence to a chain of subordinate propositions. 3'\ By their Universality. Univers:il consent is indeed the most unequivocal cri- terion of an instinctive truth. The Par- ticular is always to be suspected as false, or, at least, as partially erroneous ; where- as Common Notions, drawn as it wero from the very wisdom of nature, are, in themselves, universal, howbeit, in reasou- 'ing, they may be brought down and ap- .pliedtoparticukirs. 4o. By their Certainty. I'or such is their authority, that he who should call them into doubt, would disturb the whole constitution of things, and, in a certain tat ON THE PHILOSOPHY ImftE 4. |vi] OF COMMON SENSE. 783 III IB' i«rt, immAn Mmself of ESs hanmaity. It " .in, tlierefore,, unlawful to dbpute agwiist i tliew principles, whkli, if elwrly 'laclar- stood, cannot postiibly be gainsaid. (Com- pare Ho. 25, d.) ©o. By their Nmmii^. For ther© Is none wliicli does not eondnoe to the con- ser¥ation of man. 6«>. By the Marmmt of tkmr Fmrmation ifr Mmmfe9tatim, For they are eliciteci, instantiiiwoiisly and without hesitation, so soon as we apprehend the algnifcanco' of the rektive objects or words. The dis- cursive understanding, on the other hand, is in its operations slow and vaciiating— adf aneing only to recede— exposed to in- numerable errors — in frequent confliction with sense — attributing to one faculty what is of the province of anothei'5 and not ob- serving that each has its legitimate boun- daries, tmnscending which, its deliverances are incoraipetent or null, (pp. 60, 61.) * 36.— JoAMBS Cambron, the celebrated theologian.— De Ecclesia iv., Op. ed, 1642, p, . * Smms Commumis sen Katio/ &e. 37.— Descabtes prockims as the lead- ing maxim of philosophy a principle which it would have been well for his own doc- trine had he always faithfully applied, (v. p. 749 a.) * Certum autem est, nihil noa uniinam falsum pro vero admissuros, si tantum ii* assensum praebeamus qimedare et 'ditiimcie percipiemus. Certum, inquam, quia cmm 3eu» nm mtfailaStfamUmper- dpiendi, quam nobis dedit Imm Lvmm Natftrae'], non po:€M tenders in falmm; ut neque etiam facultas assentiendi, cum tantum ad ea, quae ckre percipimntur, se extendit. £t quamvis hoc nulk ratione probaretur, it a omnium animis a natura iropressum est, ut quoties aliquid ckre liercipimus, ei sponte assontiamur, et nullo modo possimus dubltar« qnin sit verum.' Prine. i. §43, with f|30, 45— Be Meth, § 4 — Med. iii. and iv — Resp. ad Obj. il. pas.*iim. What Descartes, after the school- men, calls the * Light of Nature* is only an- other term for Common Sense (see Nos. 20, 21,22,25} ; and Common Sense Is the name which Descartes* illustrious disciple, Fene- • I was surprised to flail an eloquent and very Just apprecktton td Herbert (for lie il .li who is referred to,) 1»y a learned ^and cwOedox' tbielo. gimn of Cambridge — ^Kathaniel Culverwdl, In his. ' Biscmirse of tlie .Light of Hatare,' written i;i 1646, p. !^. Cnlverwell does not deserve tbe oblivion into which he has fallen; for he is a compeer' worthy of More, Spmeer, tmltli, €ud- w^orth, and Tailor— the Uitaitfloiia and. conge. bIM 'hand by w^liioh that nniveml^' waa 'itaatra- toil, durlBf tiia latter half of 'tin sefenteeBti century. Ion, subsequently gave it. See No. 60. There are some good observations on Des- cartes* XijiM &fNature,&c. in Gravii Speci- mina Philoanphke Veteris, L. ii. c. 16; and in Befit, Ifetapliyslque, L. i. P. i. ch. 12, who identiiea it with consciousness. That Descartes did not hold the crude and very erroneous doctrine of innate ideas which Locke took the trouble to refute, I may have another opportunity of more fiillj showing. • Nunquam scrips! vel judicavi (be says) mentem indigere ideis inratis, quae sint (iliquid diversum mb 0jm famiigm mgUmidV Notae in Programma. C'Kegi) S 12* — Compare § 13 with Besponslonmct ObjeetiiMies. iii. rr. 5, 10. By innate ideas in general, Descartes means simply the innate faculty we pos- sess of forming or eliciting certain mani- festations in consciousness (whether of necessary or contingent truths) on occa- sion of, but wholly different from, both the qualities of the reality affecting, and iho movements of the organism affected ; these maniff>stations or ideas being nothing else than states of the conscious substance it- self. On this ground he occasionally calls the teamd&fj qualities innate ; in so far as they are, actually, mere modes of mind, and, potentially, subjective predispositions to being thus or thus modiied. His doctrine in regard to principles, when fully considered, seems identical with that of Aristotle, as adopted and expound- ed by the schoohnen ; and I have no doubt that had he and Locke expressed them- selves with the clearness and precision of Scotus. their opinions on this subject would have been found coincident both with each other and with the truth. 38. — 8m Thomas Bbowm (Beligio Medici, First Part, sect. 36.) has * Commm Senm/ word and thing. 30. — Balzao in Le Barbon, (Sallengre Histoire de Pierre de Montmaur, t. ii. p. 88, and (Euvres de Balzac,) ' Sens Commun,* word and thing. 40.— Cmambt, (TraitI de F Esprit, p. IB) notices that the term Comwum Sense had in French a meaning different from its Schokatic or Aristoteltc signiicatioii, * being equivalent to common or nnwermil reason, and by some denuminated natural loffie,* 41.— P. Ikcnabus a Sanoto JACOB^o,a Thomist philosopher, and Professor of Theology at Eennes, — In tegra Philosophia, 16S5 ; .ligica c. iv. sectio 4. § 2.— In re- ference to tlie question, ' Quid sit habitus illo jwlifionifn principtorum t * he says — 'Prohabilior apparet senteotk dleontium men naturale, sen naturalitcr inditum (in- tellectus sc.) . . . Favet communis om- nium sensus, qui diffiteri nequit aliqua esse naturaliter et seipsis cognoscibilia ; ergo principium talis cognitionis debet censeri signatum super nos naturae iumen.* 42. — Lescalopier. — Humanitas Theo- logiea, &c. L. i. p. 87. — ' Quid gravius in sentiendo, quod sequamur, habere po&su- mus, quam constans naturae judicium, aetatum omnium cana sapientia et per* petuo suffragio coniirmatum ? Possunt errare singuli; labi possunt viri sapientes sibi suoque arbitrio permissi; at totara hominis naturam tanta erroris contagio invadere non potest. . . . Quod in com- munibus hominum sensibus positum, id quoque in ipsa natura situm atque fixuni esse, vel ipse Orator coram judice non dif- iitetur. [Pro Cluentio, c. 6.] Itaqne com- munis ille sensus, naturae certissima vox est ; immo, * vox Populi,* ut trito fertur adagio, * vox Dei.' 43. — Pascal. — Pensces ; editions of Bossut and Reuouard. a. — Partie i. art. x. § 4. (eh. 31 old edi- tions,) * Tout notre raisonnement se reduit a c^der au Sentiment. ' This feeling he, be- fore and after, calls * Sens Commun.^ Art. vi. § 17, (ch. 25) — art. xi. § 2, (wanting in old editions.) b. — Partie ii. art.i. § 1 (ch 21.) Speak- ing the doctrine of the Sceptics — * Nous n' avons aucun certitude de la verite des principes (hors la foi et la revelation) sinon en ce que nous les sentons naturelle- ment en nous.* .... And having stated their principal arguments why this is not conclusive, he takes up the doctrine of the Dogmatists. * L' unique fort des Dogmatistes, c'est qu' en parlant de bonne foi et sincerement, on ne pent douter des principes naturels. Nous connoissons, disent-ils, k verite, non fieulement par raisonnement, mais aussi par wmtiment, et par uwe intelligence vive et lu- mineuse; et c*est de cette derniere sorte que nous connoissons les premiers prin- cipes, C'i'St en vain que le raisonnement, qui n'y a point de part, essaie de les com- battre. Les Pyrrlioniens, qui n'ont que cela pour objet, y travaillent inutilement. Nous Savons que nous ne revons point, quelque impuissance ou nous soyons de le prouver par raison [which he uses con- vertibly with raisonnement.'] Cette ira- puiaeance ne conelut autre chose que la foiblesse de notre raison, mais non pas Tincertitude de toutes nos connoissances, oomme ils le pretendent : car la connois- sance des premiers principes, comrae, par •xemple, qu* il y a espem, temps, mouve- ment, nomhre, matltrc, est aussi ferma qu' aucune de celles que nos raisonnemeiita nous donnent. Et c'est sur ces connois- sances dHntelUgence et de sentimnJt qu' il faut que la raison s'appuie, et qu' elle fonde tout son discours. Je sens qu' il y a trois dimensions dans Tespace, et que les nombres sont infinis ; et la raison demon- tre ensuite qu' il n'y a point deux nombres carres dont I'un suit double de l' autre. Ijes principes se sentent; les proposi- tions se concluent ; le tout avec certitude, quoique par differentes voies. Et il est aussi ridicule que la raison demande au senti- ment et a I' intelligenc, des preuves de ce-i premiers principes pour y consontir, qu' il seroit ridicule que Vinteiligemyi deraandat a k raison un sentiment de toutes les pro- positions qu' elle demontre. Cette im- puissance ne pent done servir qu' a hurai- lier k raison qui voudroit juj^er de tout, mais non pas a combattre niitre certitude, commes'il n'y avoit que la raison call- able de nous instruire. Plut a Dieu que nous n' en eussions au contraire jamais besoiu, et que nous connussions touiea choses par instinct et par sentiment ! Mais la nature nous a refuse ce bien et elle ne nous a donne que trcs peu de connoissaueea de cette sorte; toutes les autres ne peu- vent etre acquises que par le raisonne- ment.' « . . * Qui demelera cet embrouillement I La nature confond les Pyrrhoniens, et la raison confond les Dogmatistes. Que de- viendrez vousdonc, 6 homme, qui cherchez votre veritable condition par voire raison naturelle ? Vous ne pouvez fuir une do ces sectes, ni subsister dans aucune. Voila ce qu' est i'homme a I'egard de k verite.' 44. — La CiiAMBRE. — Systeniedo I'Ame, L. ii. c. 3. — ^ Hens Commun word and thinfif. 45. — Henby Moke. — Confutatio Cab-* balae; Opera Omnia, p. 528. * Hoc Ex- ternus Sensus, corporeave Imaginatio non dictat, sed Sensus Intellectualis, imiataque ipdus mentis sagacitas, inter cujus no- tiones communes seu axiomata, noeraatice vel immediate vera, supra numeral um est.' — Compare Epistola H. Mori, ad. V. C. § 17, Opera, p. 117, and Enchiridion Ethicum, L. i. cc. 4, 5. 46 Rapin. — Comparaison de Platon et d'Aristote. ch. vii. § 11.—* Ceconsente- ment general de tous les peuples, est un instinct de la nature qui ne pent estre faux, estant si universel.' 47. — Duhamel.— Philosophia Burgun- diae. t. i. Disp. ii. in Categ. qu. 4, art. 2. * Communis Sensus,' mme and thing. ON THE peiLOsoraf If III lU 48 MAi.EintAiiCBi.-lfeelwf®Im * h, Veritlt—Eiitretietti sur U ll«ti|iliyiiq«e ^Traile de MoniH ice fMnliii. He lioMii, I**, that ther© is a supreme ■Iwoliite essential Reason or Intelligence, m eternal light iMiiiiil:n«tiog all other 'iiiio.cb, wmtMiiiiig' in itself wdreiriediif t© them the necessary primclples. of sdenee and of duty ; and manifesting also to ns the contingent existence of ^an external, extended universe. This Inteligence' is the Deity; these revektions, these ♦mani- feitations, are Ideas. He holds, 2**, that there ii: a natural leason common -to^all men— an eye, as It were, fitted to receive the light, and to attend to the ideas in the supreme Intelligence ; in so far therefore an infallible and * Cmmm .Senm.* Snt, S*>, at the same time, this Boason is ob- noxious to the intrusions, deceptions, and solicitations of the senses, the imngiwition, and the passions ; and, in so far, is per* ional, fallible, and factitious. He opposes , objective knowledge, *par id4e, to snb- Jective knowledge, * par conseience/ or • sentiment interieur.* To the latter be- long all the Beliefs; which, when iieces- iBiiry, as determined, by IdeaS' in the Su- pernal Eeaaoii, are^ always veraclons.— It could, however, easily be shown that, m so far as regards the representative percep- tion of I he external world, his principles would refute his theory. — A similar doc- trine in regard to the infallihility and di- vinity of our Intelligence or Common Sense was held by Bossuet. 49.— PoiRET.— The objects of our cog- nitions are either things themselvesi-r®- uiities; or the representations of realities, their shadows,, pictures,— wfoat. -Realities are divided into two classes; corpomd things, and spirituai things. Each of these species of object has an afpropAte faculty by which it is cognised- 1®, Cor. pcireal realitifs are perceived by the am- wmi or §mmud IntiUeet — in a word .by Semm; this is merely passive. 2«*, %i- ritujil realities— original truths— are per- ceived by the pmsive or receptive Jnjettct which may be called in, inmn ldiiiiqa«.|lnL' _ ., ^ , . j ®§;— Fbiiblon.— De 1 Existence de Dieu. F*rtie ii. ch. 2.-* Mait qn* est-oe que le Sens Owiiiwi« f N* est-cepasf lei premieres notionf. q«e tons !es homiies ont 6imlcment 'ies mtoes cboses ? Le Sena Commnn qui est toujours et par-tout lam^me, qui pr^vientf toutexamen, qil lend V examen. m&me de certaliii mm- tioni ridicule, qui r^uit 1* homme I ne MiiToir doutert quelque effort qu il nt poor se mettre dans un irral doute; ce Sens Commun qui est celoi de tout bomme 5 ce Sens, qui n* attend me d ctre eonsnlt'^, qui m mmtre an .F««f «:f "P" ■d'ceil, rt qui dkontr© wissitM I evidence m V dMiMlti de la question ; n est-ce pas ©e que j* appelle mes iMmf hm Tuitt don© ces idtes ou notiona gtniralei que je ne puis ni contredir© ni examiner, tnlvaal tosquelles au oontraire J examine •I je dield© tout ; en sort que je ns au lieu de r^pondre, toutes les fois qu' on me propoet ©e qni est clairement offest a ce ^ iwi, idte. imniiiaiki mm reffewmteifc. * Ce principe est constant, et il n'y au- roit que son apnHcation qui pourroit etre faulife: o* estrt-dire qu' il faut sanshesi- ter suif re toutes mes id^ dairet j mais qn* il faut bien prendre garde de ne prendre jamais pour idee clsir celle qui renferme quelqne chose d* obscur. Auasl veux-je suivre exactement cette r%te dans les choses que je vais mediter.' Omiiiioti Smt$ is declared by Fenelon to be identical witb the Matwml Liflht of De:scarte8. See No 37. The preceding paanwe is partly quoted by Eeid from agarliedand blundering translation, (p. 424) The obeli mark the places where the principal errors have heen committed. Like Melanchthon, Held, 4c. (Nos. 20, 79,) Fenelon calls what is contrary t may clalin thehono:nr' of .having been the trstte-re- eof uize, to erolve, and even to designate, this celebrated distinction, ahnost as precisely ..as the philosopher who erected •on It m splendid •u edifice of speculation. I cannot now do more than merely indicate the fact of the anti- cipation; mentioning only thal,leaflni to Kant's fliwlfifc Judgment..itS' previous title of M«ia»cat, Buffiw preoccupies Kant*s designation of *4«i. iketic ill that of eonjmctim (or lojrical) Juiiipneat, which he himself ■proposes. Those interested iu the question ".will, tnd the exposition in the •f Writes de Consequence,* Log. ii. Art. xxl. I may ftather, 'however, when on this mut- ter,, notice, that 'before .Kant, another phUoio. pher had also sigaillsed the same distludtai. I refer to Principal Campbell of Aberdeen, In the chapter on intnltive evidence, of Mi PMIo- sophy of Khctoric (B. I. c.5. 8. 1. P. 1.)— irst ptthished in 1776, and therefore four years prior to the Critique on Pure Keason.;, for the dlstlactteii in question is to he fonnj at least expleltly, neither In the treatise * 5«hcr die Evidcns,* nor in the Dissertation •^ile' imndl fUmsibllis atquo Intelllgibilis '•»»»«* !»*■«*: •|)|ls,» wMch appeared In .lliS 'aBi. im But .|3kiii|Ml 'manifestly only re^pcats Burner, (with vphoso' 'Works hft'waS' laHmilelf aequainle^f Md from which he ll»qiienlly borrows,) and -with Inferior precision; so that, if we may respect the shrewdness, wMeh took note, and apprn. .elated the value, of the ohser'vatiMi, we mast •oftdemii the ^dhingemilty whtoh ■primed 'll"On the vorld as Ms own. CnmphelFS doctrine, I ■Mr 'tatiy ohserve, sMmeted the :ittentlon of Siltinrt' m>^9*^ n-Yf hatha was 'not ■■«•' itfliir of 'iti^ 'ftliileii 'to Bmfitr m of Its misrepresentations of the anonymous Eng* lish transhitor of his Treatise on Primary Truths; for not only have these never heen exposed, but Mr Stewart has be- stowed on that individual an adventitious importance, by kuding his 'acuteness and intelligiiiioe,* while acqiiies4iiiig in his 'se- vere bnt Juit iMiimadveraions on Dr Beat- tie, (Elements vol. ii. c. 1, sect. 3, p. 87, 89, 2 ed.) , ^ . ^ Buffier does not reduce Reason (winch he employs for the complement of our higher faculties in general) to Reasoning j he does not contra-distinguish Common Sense from Reason, of which it is con- stituent ; but while he views the former as a natural sentiment, he views it as a sentiment of our rational nature ; and he only requires, as the condition of the exer- else of common sense in particular, the actual possession of Reason or under- standing in geiieral, and of the object re- quisite to call that Reason into use. Com- mon Sense, on Buffier's doctrine, ia thus the primary, spontaneous, unreasoning, and, as it were, instinctive, energy of our rational constitution. Compare Pr. Vcr. §§ 41, m-n, J>3. Met. §§ 65, 72, 73. The translator to his version, which ap- peared in 1780, has annexed an elaborate Preface, the sole purport of which is to inveigh against Reid, Beattie, and Oswald — ^more especially the two kst — for at once tkaliuff and ipmlmg the doctrine of the learned Jesuit. In regard to the spoiling, the translator is the only culprit. According to him. Buffier's * Common Sense is a disposition of mind not natural but acquired by ago and time,* (pp. iv. xxxiv.) * Those first truths which arc its object require expe- rience and meditation to be conceived, and the judgments thence derived are the re- sult of exercising reason,* (p. v.) • The 1190' of .Rits*n is Reasoning ;' and * Com.- mon Sons© is that degree of understand- ing in all things to which the generality of mankind are capable of attaining by the exertion of their rational faculty.' (p. xvii.) In fact Buffier s/rsf truths, on hit tranahitor's showing, are /a»f truths; for when • by time we arrive at the know- ledge of an Infinitude of things, and by the we of reason (i. e. by reasoning) form onr judgment on them, thorn ^M^' mmt§ am' then justi^ to h$ eomiekml m Jfrif m^hi ' / / / (p. xviii.) But how, it will b© asked, does he givo any colour to io unparalleled a perver- sion? Byth© irery easy process of— !• throwing out of aceouit* or prverting, •what ..hii.aiitlior iammf :j— l^^f 'Inttrpo- lating what his author not only does not saiv, but what is in the very teeth of his as- sertions; and 3- by founcUng on these per- versions and interpolations as on the au- thentic words of his author. As to the plagiarlsmy I may take this opportunity of putting down, once and for ever, this imputation, although the character of the man mi^^ht liave well exempted Reid from all suspicion of so unworthy an act. It applies only to the * Inquiry ;' and there the internal evi- dence is almost of itself sufficient to prove that Reid could not, prior to that publi- cation, have been acquainted with Buf- fier's Treatise. The strongest, indeed the sole, presumption arises from the em- ployment, by both philosophers, of the term Common Sense, which, strange to say, sounded to many in this country as mngular and new; whilst it was even commonly believed, that before Reid Buf- lier was the first, indeed the only philo- so[>her, who had taken notice of this prin- ciple, as one of the genuine sources of our knowledge. See Beattie, n. 82 ; Camp- bell's Philosophy of Rhetoric, B. i. c. 5, ;|iart 3; and Stewart's Account of Reid, supra, p. 27 b. Aflor the testimonies now adduced, and to be atlduced, it would be the apex of absurdity to presume that none but Buf- fier could have suggested to Reid eitlier the principle or its designation. Here are ^\\en forty- igM authorities, ancient and modern, for the philosophical employment of the terra Common Sense, previous to Meid, and from any of these Reid may be ■aid to have borrowed it with equal jus- tice as from Buifier ; but, taken togetiier, they concur in proving that the expres- sion, in the application in question, was one in general us sicque ad ^w- fifffi Cmmmmem reducere licebit,' . . . § 245. ... * Nemo miretur, quod notiones primas, qnas fundamentales me- rit© dijceris, cum omnis tandem nostra co^ilio iisdem Innitatur, notionibus vulgi conformes probemiis. Mirandum potiua eiset, quod non dudum de reductione phi- losopbiae ad notiones communes cogitave- rint pMloeopbi, nisi eonstaret sliigulare requiri acumen, ut, quid notionibus com- immibns insit, dislincte et perjidere, et verbis minime ambiguis enunciare vale- amus, quod nonnisi pecoliari et continuo quodam exercitio obtinetur in Psjcholo- gia exponendo.' — See also a curious letter of Wolf among the * Epistolae Pbysicae' of Krazenstein, regarding Common Sense. 70.— HoBiB.— In 1732 appeared tbe first edition of Irf Monde Pou prefer© au Monde Sage. This treatise is anonymous, but known to be the work of Mademoiselle Huber. Ita intrinsic merit, independently ®f its interest as the production of a Lady, might have saved it from the oblition into which it .seems to have fallen.-- Con- .•donsness (conscience) is considered as the faculty of * uncreated, primary, simple, and universal truths,* in contrast to Hniths oreated, particnkr, distinct, limited,* (i. pp. 180, 220.) Consciousness is smperior to Eeasoning; and as primitive is above all diinltion, (i. pp. 103, 130, 140). - Les Y^rites les plus simples sont, par leur re- gion avec k verite primitive si fort au- iessus des preuves, qn' ©Ilea ne paroiwtnt douteuies qn© »•«» q»* on ©ntrtpend. m lei pronveri leuridfe seule, on I© 'senti- ment que r on en a, prouve qu* elles exis- tent ; r ©xistence de la Conscience* par example, est prouve par son kngajjn mt^me; clle se fait entendre, done ello est; son temoignage est invariablement droit, done II est infaillible, done les veri- te« partienlic>res qu* il adopte sent indu- bitables, par cek seul qu' elles n' out pas besoin d' autres preuves, (i. p. 189.) 71 GBworitsi Elementorum Meta- physicae, Pars Prior, p. 94. In reference to our moral liberty, he says—* Appello ad Mtuiiiii, lion plebciorum modo, ne tantas res judicio imiieritornm judicari quis oppo- nat, sed philosophorum maxime. eoinwiM- iMfH, quem qui erroris reprehendere non veretur, is vecors sit oportet.* See also Pars Altera, p. 160, et alibi. 72.— Hume.— Quoted by Reid, p. 424 b. * Common Seme,* word and thing. 73.— Cbosics.— a.— Weg xur Gewiss- heit, § 266, et alibi. ' The highest prin- ciple of all knowledge and reasoning is — That which w$ ctmnot bmi think to be true, ii true ; and that which we abmlutebf cam' not think at all, [?J or cannot but tMnk l# be false f is false.* b. Entwurf nothwendigen VernunH- wahrheiten, Pref. 2 ed. * The Leibnitio- Wolfian system does not quadrate with the common sense of mankind (sensuscom- ronnis.)* His German expression is * g©- meiner Menschensinn.' 74._I>'Alembeht holds that philoso- phy Is an evolution from, and must, if le- gitimate, be conformed to, the primary truths of which all men are naturally in possession. The complement of these truths is * f«tf cowwiwi.' Compare Me- knges. t. i V. §§ 4, 6, pp. 28, 46 1. v. § 76, p. 269, ed. Amst. 1763. 75— Oetinoeb.— Inquiiitio in Senstim Communem et Eationem, neonon utriusqu© reguhis, pro dijndlcandis philosophorum theoriis, 4c. Tubingae, ll53.—*Senmm Commmit'h defined {§ 11), * Viva etpe- netrans perceptio objectorum, toti hunia- nitati obviomm, ex immediato KkIm et iro- tuitu eorum, quae sunt simpliclsslma, uti- lissimaet maxime necessaria,' 4c.— § 18* . . « Oyecta Sensui Communis tunt veri- tates omni tempore et loco omnibus utiles, apprehenw faciles, ad quas consorv aiidai Dens Illos secret© Impukn indeslnentiir urget, ut sunt moraia,' 4c. 4c.— So far, so well. The book however turns out but a vagn© and mystical farrago. The au- thor appitrs to have had no knowledge of Buiicr'i treatise on First Truths. Solo- mon and Confucius are his staple autho- rillM. The former affords him all hia rufes; and even materials for a separate jiublieation on the same subject, in the same year — * Die Wahrheit des Sensns Communis in den erklaerten Spruechen Salomonis.* This I have not seen. 76. -EscHENBACi. - Sammlung, 4c. 1756. In the appendix to his translation of the English Idealists Berkeley and Collier, after showing that the previous attempts of philosophers to demonstrate the existence of an external world were inconclusive, the learned Professor gives us his own, which is one of common sense. —* How is the idealist to prove his cxis- tence as a thinking reality ? He can only say — I know that I so exist, because I fel that J so exist,* This feeling being thus the only ground on which the Idealist can justify the conviction he has of his exis- tence, as a mind, our author goes on to show, that the same feeling, if allowed to be veracious, will likewise prove the ex- istence, immediately, of our bodily organ- ism, and, through that, of a material world, p. 549-652. 77.— Gesneb, prelecting on his 'Isa- goge in Eruditionem Universalem,' § 808, speaking of Grotius, says : — * De jure gen- tium eleganter scripsit, et auctor classicus ost. Imprimis, quod reprehendunt impe- riti, laudandum in eo libro est hoc, quod omnia veterum auctorum locis ac testimo- niis probat. Nam ita provocatur quasi ad totum genus humanum. Nam si vidcmus, illos viros laudari, et afferri eorum testi- ■nonia, qui dicuntur sensum communem omnium hominum habuisse; si posteri di- cant, se ita sentire, ut illi ©lira scripserint: est hoc citare genus humanum. Profer- untur enim illi in medium, quos omnes pro sapientibus habuerunt. Verum est, potest unusquisque stultus dicere liabeo sensum communem:* sed communis est, quod consensu humano dic- tum sit per ommia saecula. Ita etiam in religione naturali videndum est, quid olim homines communi consensu dixerint : i*c ea ad religionem et theologiam na- turalem referenda sunt, quae aliunde ac- cepimus. Sic egit Grotius in opere praestantissimo. Ostendit, hoc Romano- I um, hoc Gallorum, legatos dixisse ; hoc ab omni tempore fuisse jus gentium, hoc est, illud jus, ex quo totae gentes judicari, et agi secum, voluerint. Sermo est de eo jure quod toti populi et illi sapientissimi scriptures nomine et consensu populorum totorum, pro jur© gentium habuere ; de eo, quo gentes inter se teneantur ; non de jure putative, quod unusquisque sibi excogitavit. Haec enim est labes, hoc est vitium saeculi nostri. quod unusquisque 'Ego sensus ponit principium, ex quo deducit deinde conclusiones. Bene est, et laudandi sunt, quod in hoc cavent sibi, ut in fine con- veniant in condusionibus; quod ex diversis principiis efficiunt easdem conclusiones: Sed Grotius provocat simpliciter ad con- sensuni generis humani et sensum comunem.* 78. — Price, in his Review of the prin- cipal Questions on Morals, 1 od. 1758, speaking of the necessity of supposing a cause for every event, and having stated examples, says — * I know nothing that can be said or done to a person who professes to deny these things, besides referring him to common sense and reason,^ p. 35. And again; * Were the question — whether our ideas of number, diversity, causation, proportion, &c., represent truth and reality perceived by the understanding, or particular impressions made by the object to which we ascribe them on our minds ; — were this, I say, the question; would it not be sufficient to appeal to common sense, and to leave it to be determined by every person's liriv&te consciousness ?* p. 65. See also 2 ed. p. 81 note ; * Common sense, the faculty of self-evident truths.' 79. — REin. — a. — Inquiry, &c., p. 108 b. — * If there be certain principles, as I think there arc, which the constitution of our nature leads us to believe, and which we are under a necessity to take for granted in the common concerns of life, C without being able to give a reason for them ; these are what we call the prin- ciples of common sense ; and what is mani- festly contrary to them is what we call absurds — See also p. 209, b. Compare Melanchthon n. 25, c, Fenelon, n. 60, Buffier n. 63. b — Intellectual Powers, p. 425, a. b. — *It is absurd to conceive that there can be any opposition between Reason and Com- mon Sense. Common Sense is indeed the first-born of Reason ; and they are inseparable in their nature, — We ascribe to Reason two offices or two degrees. The first is to judge of things self-evidmt ; [this is Intellect, vovg.'] The second is to draw conclusions that are not self-evident from those that are ; [this is Reasoning, or S/«>o/flc] The first of these is the pro- vince, and the sole province of Common Sense ; and therefore it coincides with Reason in its whole extent, and is only another name for one branch or one de- gree of Reason.' — I have already observed that of these offices, the former ( Common Sense) might be well denominated the noetic function of Reason, or rather In- tellect, and the latter (Reasoning) ita dianoetic or discursive. See p. 7C9 bi .1 ■* V._From the Dialogue entitled * David Hume upon Belief, or Idealism and Eeal- i«m,' which appeared two years kter (1787), Werke, vol. ii. p. 143, sq. < /.— That things appear m external to ms, requires no argum«L But that these tilings are not mere appearaneiw m m — are not mere modifications of our proper eelf, and consequently null « nprmmOa" timM &/ mgU eMtemal to mrselttss hut thii, m repretmtmtiimt m m, they have f till, reference to something really exter- nal and self. existent, which they express, and from which they are taken — in the face of this, not only is doubt possible, it has been even often satisfactorily demon- strated, that such doubt cannot b© solved by any process of reasoning strictly so de- nominated. Your immediate certainty of external things would, therefore, on the analogy of my Belief, bo a Mimd eer- (After defending the propri^ety of the term Oi€mb§ employed by him in his pre- vious writings (whleh, in consequence of the word denoting in German both posi- tive faith and general, belief, had exposed, him to the accusation of mysticism,) hy examples. Af a simikr usage of the word Belief, in tho philosophical writings of Hume, Beid, ^c. ; he proceeds to vindi- Mte another term he had employed— 'Cj/- fmlmnmff, revelation.) < 1. — In go far as the universal usage of htnguage is concerned, is there required any special examples or authorities ! We ■ay commonly in German, that objects ojfeft&arffit, reveal, !• e. manifest, themselvM through the senses. The same expression is pre:Valeiii in French, English, Latin, and many . c. f., and p. 771, b. f As will be seen from -what follows, Jacobi applies the terms Feeling and Belief to both Sense and Reason. Sensation, as properly the mere consciousness of a subjective sensual itate, — of the agreeable or disagreeable iu our OM THE PHILOS0f : [hotb * The power of Feeling, 1 maintiiiiy it file power in man paramount to every trachtimgen, 4c., P. i. p. 213, 227.—* In as much m the conviction of certain cog- nitions (as of our own existence, of the existence of an external world, kc ,) does not depend upon an apprehension of rea- sons, but i» exclusivelf an immediate in- nate reluince of the subject on self and nature, i call it mitimiU belief (Natur- glaube). Every other cognition, notion, and demonstration, reposes upon this na- tural belief, and without it cannot be brought to bear.' 89. — L. G.EEIJ11E. — Skeptische Be- trachtungen, Jio., p. 110. — * We accord reaEty to th© external world because our consciousness impels us so to do. . . . That we ar© unable to explain, conceive, justify all this, argues nothing against it« truth. OuD whole knowledge rests uUi- mately on facta of consciousness, of which w© not only cannot assign the reason, bnt cannot even think the possibility^' Hi» does not however rise above Hypothetical Realism ; see p. 108. 90. — Fl AT » BR. — Philosophische Apho- rismen, 2d ed- Pref. p. vl. — * There is, I am pertuailed, only one philosophy ; and that the trie; which in the outset ot its inquiries departs from the principle, that the certainty of human knowledge is demonstrable, only relatively to our fa- culty of knowing, and which, at the end of its speculative career, returns within the thoughts — Experience, Conmion Stme, and Morality — the best results of o»up whole earthly wisdom.* 91. — FicMTB is a more remarkable, be- cause a more reluctant, confessor of the paramount authority of Belief than even Kant. Departing from the principle common to Kant and philosophers in general, that the mind cannot transcend itself, Fichte developed, with the most ad- mirable rigour of demonstration, a scheme of idealism, the purest, simplest, and most consistent which the history of phi- losophy exhibits. And so confident was Fichte In the necessity of his proof, that on one oecaaiion. 'li© was provoked to im- precat© etenul 'damnation on his head* should he ever swerve from any» even thii § VI.] OF COMMON SEKSE. 707 least of the doctrines which he had so victoriously established. But even Fichte in the end confesses that natural belief is paramount to every logical proof; and that his own idealism he could not be- lieve. In the foot note at page 129 b, I have given the result as stated by himself of his theoretical philosophy — Nihilism. After the passage there quoted, he thus pro- ceeds : — * All cognition strictly so called (Wissen) is only an effigiation (Abbild- ung), and there is always in it some- thing wanted, that to which the image or effigies (Bild) corresponds. This want can be supplied through no cognition; and a system of cognitions is necessarily a system of mere images, destitute of rea- lity, significance, or aim.* These passages are from the conclusion of the second book of his * Bestimmung des Menschen,' entitled * Wissen,' pp. 130, 132, ed. 1825. But in his Practical Philosophy Fichte became convinced that he had found an organ by which to lay hold on the inter- nal and external worlds, which had escaped from him In his Theoretical. * I have discovered, he says, the instrument by which to seize on this Reality, and therewith, in all likelihood, on every other. Knowledge (das Wissen) Is not this in- etrument : no cognition can be its own baisis, and its own proof; every cognition supposes another still higher, as its reason, and this ascent has no termination. The instrument I mean, is Beliff (Glaube).* (lb. book third, entitled* Glaube,' p. 146 ) — * All my conviction is only Belief, and it proceeds from Feeling or Sentiment (Gesinnung),not from the discursive Un- derstanding (Verstand).* (lb. p. 147). *I possess, when once i am aware of this, the touchstone of all truth and of all con- viction. The root of truth is in the Con- science (Gewissen) alone.' (lb. p. 148). Compare St Austin, supra, No. 15, b. — See also to the same effect Fiehte's ' Sys- tem der Sittenlehre,' p. 18;— his work • Ueber den Begriff der Wissenschafts- lehre, p. 21, sq.; — and the 'Philoso- phische Journal, vol. x. p. 7. Still more explicit is the recognition of * internal sense' and •' belief as an irrecusable testi- mony of the reality of our perception of external realities, subseciuently given by Fichte in his lectures at Eriangen in 1805, and reported by Gley in his *Essai sur les Elements do la Philosophic,' p. 141, iq., and in his * Philosophia Turonensis,' ToL I. p. 237.— I regret that I have not yet ■een Fichte's < Hinterlassene Schriften,' lately published by his soe. After these admissions it need not 8ur. prise us to find Fichte confessing, that * How evident soever may be the demon- stration that every object of conscious- ness (Vorstellung) is only illusion and dream, 1 am unable to believe it ;' and in like manner maintaining, that Spinoza never could have believed the system which he deduced with so logical a neces- sity. (Philos. Journ. vii. p. 35.) 93. — Krijg. — The Transcendental Syn- thetism of this philosopher is a scheme of dualism founded on the acceptance of tho original datum of consciousness, that we are immediately cognisant, at once, of an internal, and of an external world. It is thusa scheme of philosophy, really. though not professedly, founded on Common Sense. Krug is a Kantian; and as origi- nally promulgated in his * Entwurf eines neuen Organons,' 1801, (§ 5), his system was, like Kant's, a mere Cosmothetic Ideal • ism ; for while he allowed a knowledge of the internal world, he only allowed a be- lief of the external. The polemic of Schulze against the common theory of sensitive representation, and in professed conformity with Reid's doctrine of per- ception, was published in the same year; and it was probably the consideration of this that determined Krug to a fundamen- tal change in his system. For in his trea- tise * Ueber die verschiedenen Methoden,' &c. 1802 (p. 44), and still more explicitly in his * Fundamental Philosophic,' 1803 (§ 68), the mere belief in the unknown existence of external things is commuted into a cognition, and an immediate percep- tion apparently allowed, as well of the phaenomena of matter, as of the phaeno- mena of mind. Sec also his pamphlet * Ueber das Verhaeltniss der Philosophia zura gesunden Menschenverstande,' 1835, in reference to Hegel's paradox, — * That the world of Common Sense, and the world of Philosophy, are, to each other, worlds upside down.' 94. — Degerando. — Histoire comparce des Systemes de Philosophic t. iii. p, 343, original edition. 'Concluous: la realite de nos connaissances [of the external world] ne se demontre pas; elle se recon- nait. Elle se reconnait, par Teffet de cette meme conscience qui nous revcle notre connaissance elle-meme. Tel est le pri- vilege de r intelligence humaine. Elle aperyoit les objets, elle s'aper^oit ensuito elle-meme, elle aper9oit quelle a apercju. Elle est toute lumiere, mais une lumicrti qui reflechit indefiniment sur elle-mtme. On nous opposera ce principe abstrait: qu'um unsation ne pent nous instruire que fit' 01 THE PHILOSOPHY f»OTS ki i^l OF COMMON SENSE. fffS 'ilfi motm prcfTf 'i«t*i(«iie«. . . Sara imAm loffiqii' on, eoiniiiciM' pr oonfmdre Im m- mtHm^ mm hipmtmtmh p«r definir celle- ci mm mtmiire d*€tn ^i'),bywhich,mour natural judgments, we are preserved from error. I did not, however, find the state- ment sufficiently generaliaed to quote the context as a testimony. _ ^ . _ 15«._-TiiBODOUET.— The Curative of Greek Affections, Sermon i., On Belief. (Opera, ed, Sirmondi, t. iv. p. 478.;— •Belief [or Faith], therefore, is a matter ©fthe greaiesl moment For, auciirdlng to the Pythagorean Epiclitfii«%. Jftjtil, it Meethf Mind, U hmretht All hexUie is deaf and hUnd: and Heraclitus, in Uke manner, exhorts us to submit to the guidance of belief, m these words;— I/nte«« y« hope, ye thali mt/nd the imhopedfor, which is tmerut- abk and w^perwm>M§, . • • And let none of you, my friends, say aught in dis- rgement of belief. For belief is called Aristotle the Criterion of Science; whilst Epicurus says, that it is th© Jrolid- rmtion of Meamm, and that anticiMtion, having indued Knowledge, retnlts m Comprehension.- But, as we define it. Be- lief Is— a ipontamouM mami or adhenon of ike mind,—ov the intuition of the miiijipa- «ti«,— or the taking poaeedmqf the real (iFt^l TO h imrmts — v. Bid. in Pand. et Com. L. G.), andnat%aral apprehmion of the unperceimMe,^oram wnmcitlatinff pro- jmimoH eitcMished in the mind of tlie be- liei'tsr.— But f on the one hand, BeUef re- quires knowledge, as on the other, Know- ledge requires belief. For there can sub- sist, neither belief without knowledge, nor knowledge without belief. Belief pre- cedes knowledge, knowledge followi be- lief; while desire is attendant upon know- ledge, and action consequent upon desire. For it is necessary,— to believe first ; then to learn; knowing, to desire ; and desiring, toact —Belief, therefore, my fHends, is a concern, common to all.; . • • ON THE PBILOSOPHY fHon A for all who would learn any thing must first beEeve. [So Aristotle.] Belief is, therefore, the foundation and basis of Sci- ence. For your philosophers have defined Belief a voluntary assent or adhesion of the mind; and Science— an immutable habit, accompanied with recwon.'- This is a testimony which I should regret to have totally forgotten. Compare Nos. 3, 11, 15, 16, 18, 19, 24, 81, 86, 87, 91, 96, 97, 99 &c. 17 ♦'—SiMPLicius, — Commentary on the Manual of Epictetus; and there speak- ing in the language of the Porch, rather than in that of the Lyceum or the Aca- diimy. _, a.— C, 33, Heins.23, Schweigh— * The Common Notions of men concerning the nature of things, according to which, in fllMe of varying from each other, they are III npinion mutually agreed, (as, that tlie §md is useful, and the useful good, that all things desiderate the good, that the equalis neither surpassing nor surpassed, that twice two w/owr^— these notions, and the Uke, Bugg«ited in us by right reason, and tested by exMflwil!© and time, are true, and m accordance with the nature of things; whereas the notions proper to individual men are frequently fallacious.' b.— C. 72, Heins.48, Schweigh.— * But RcAwn, according to the proverb, is a Mercury coinmim to all ; for, although, as in us individually, reasons are plural, or numerically different, they are in species one and the name ; so that, by reason all men follow after the same things as good, and eschew the same things as bad, and think the same things to be true or to be false.* In these pMlf es, Reason, in the vaguer meaning of the Stoics, is employed, where Intellect, in the precise acceptation of the Aristotelians and Platonists, might have been expected from Simplicius. But he is here speaking by accommodation to hia author. As a chronological Table was luckily omitted at the head of the Series, I here append, ethnographically subarranged, the following— LIST OF THE PRECEDING TESTIMONIES. G««E.-1, Hesiod; 2, Hencitns; 8, ^^^t^^^ "^S^'rtZ^iwI^^^^^^ Arlstides, see at end ; 10, Alexander AphrodiAnds; 11, C*!'"^"^ ^ ^^"*^Vi">^^^ M7Theodoret,ieeatend5 16, Proclus; 17. Ammomus Hermiae; 17*, Simplicius, lee at end. § VI.] OF COMMON SENSE. 803 Roman.— 6, Wetius; 6, Cicero; 7, Horace; 8, Seneca; 9, Pliny, younger; 9». Qumtihaji; 12. TertuUian; 13, Arnobius; 14, Lactantius; 16, St Augiwtin. Aribian — 19, Algazel. Italian --18. St Anselm (ambiguously French); 20, Aquinas; 26, Julius Csesar Scaliger ; 67, Vulpius ; 68, Vico ; 71, Genovesi. Spanish— 22, Antonius Andreas; 28, Antonius Goveanus (Portuguese): 29. Nunnesius; 32, Mariana. ^ /***'» ^"^A^'^iT^^' Budaeus; 27, Omphalius; 30, Muretus ; 37, Descartes; 39, Bal zac; 40, Chanet; 41, Irenaeus a Sancto Jacobo ; 42, Lescalopier ; 43, Pascal- 44, h& Chambre ; 46, Le I»ere Rapin ; 47, Du Hamel ; 48, Malebranche ; 49, Poiret • 50, Bossuet; 59, John Alphonso Turretini (Genevese) ; 60, Fenelon; 62, D'Affues- seau; 63, Buffier ; 70, Huber; 74, D'Alembert ; 94, Degerando ; 100, Cousin: 101. De La Mennais. BR1TI8H.--21, Duns Scotus ; 33, Sir John Davies ; 35, Lord Herbert • 36 German — 24, Luther ; 25, Melanchthon ; 34, Keckermann ; 64, Leibnitz ; 56, Chris- tian rhomasius ; 57, Ridiger ; 58, Feuerlin ; 69, Christian Wolf ; 73, Crusius ; 75, Oetin- ger; 76, Eschenbach; 77, John Matthew Gesner ; 80, Killer; 83, Storchenau; 84, Stattler; 86, Kant; 87, Jacobi; 88, Heidenreich; 89, Leonhard Creuzer; 90, Plat, ner; 91, Fichte; 93, Krug ; 95, Fries ; 96, Koeppen; 97, Ancillon, the son: 98.Gerb lach ; 99, George Hermes. Bkloian.- 31, Giphanius; 81, Hemsterhuis; 86, Hennert. In all one hnndred and six WitnesfiM ROTB B. § 1.] SPECIES OF KNOWLEDGE. 805 NOTE B. Hr ' ftwgwW ATlYK AND BMPWMmKfAWm nowucMi. i L— «#■ dlrtfaclMW of Frmmtaiim, Ii^nMrn or Iwmm^tm, md of Jl^fMWwrtaftw mmikm. m^miiomi iM tks wmrtma i^piilfaw of m mm Oftjfcf, itt Ml^iytifef ami laomffuflift. I IL— Jrnwf of Mdd and otkmt j^lmOflim, m mfimm to tMpmedit^ dMnctiont. [lif©rfliMm-r^!ii Inq. 106 1, from I. P. 226 b, 213 % 202 a b, 203 b> 208 b, m % 130 b, 351 b, 357 % 368 b» 360 a b, 373 a, 427 a.] 1 1.— The Mitimiion of Frmmtatm, Jm- ■ twHsm or IwumdiaU, and of Jtepra Jtfila- fiiw or M§diat§ ■m^mitiomj w&k iktmri- mmm^ifemtiom of tU 'mnm^ Oljjtei, its 'Comj^^mtm ami' eorreMims, The correlative terms, liiiiii« whkli wmm at. fMMiit' flonoeniedt lea 'Within .and sub- divides what constitutes, In the foregoing division, the branch of tmniiiitato cogni- tion; for wo are only hero to deal with the knowledge of kdivldnd objects abso- lutely considered, and not viewed in rek- tlon to aught beyond themselves. TAif distinetlon of immediate and me- diato of^tlon it is of the highest impor- tanee to ettabHib ; for It Is one without which the whole philosophy of knowledge must remain involved in ambiguities. What, for example, can be more various, vacillating, and contradletory, than the employment of the all-important terms olijfCl and objectim, in contrast to mbject and mthjeefMrn, in the writings of Kant ?— though the same is true of those of other 'recent 'pMlosoiibera.. This arose from tliewait of a freimlniiry determination of the various, and even opposite, mean- ings of which these terms are susceptible, —a selection of the one proper meaning, —and a rigorous adherence to the mean- ing thus preferred. But, in particular, the doctrine of Natural Beaism cannot, without this distinction, be adequately un- derstood, developed, and discriminated. Eeld, accordingly, in consequence of the want of l|, has not only failed in giving to hia phliowiiihy its preolie and appro* priate expreijsion, he has failed even in withdrawing it from equivocation and confusion; — in so much, that it even remains a question, whether his doc- trine be one of Natural Realism at all. — The following is a more articulate deve- lopement of this important distinction than that which I gave, some ten years ago ; and since, by more than one philosopher adopted. See Edinburgh Review, vol. lii. p. 166, sq.; Cross's Selections from Ed. Rev. vol. iii. p. 200 sq. ; Peisse, Fragments Philosopbiques, p. 76 sq. For the sake of distinctness, I shall state the different momenta of the dis- tinction in separate Propositions; and these for more convenient reference I shall number. 1. — A thing is known immediately/ or proximately, when we cognise it in itself; mediateli/ or remotely, when we cognise it in or through something numerically diffe- rent from itself. Immediate cognition, thus the knowledge of a thing in itself, in- volves the /art of its existence; mediate cognition, thus the knowledge of a thing in or through something not itself, involves only the possibility of its existence. 2. — An immediate cognition, in as much as the thing known is itself presented to observation, may be called a presentative ; and in as much as the thing presented, is, as it were, viewed by th^ mind face to face, may be called an intuitive,* cognition. — A mediate cognition, in as much as the thing known is held up or mirrored to the mind in a vicarious representation, may be called a representative f cognition. 3. — A thing known is called an object of knowledge. 4. — In a presentative or immediate cog- nition there is one sole object; the thing (immediately) known and the thing exist- ing being one and the same. — In a repre- sentative or mediate cognition there may je discriminated two objects; the thing (immediately) known, and the thing ex- isting being numerically diflTerent. • On the application of the term Intuitive, In this seusc, see in the sequel of this Excursus, p. 812 a b. f The term JJ«j?r«««i«atton I employ always strictly, as in contrast to PremOation, and, therefore, with exclusive reference to indivi- dual objects, and not in the vague generality of RepramiaXio or VortUMwng in the Leibni- tian and subsequent philosophies of Germany, where It is used for any cognitive act, consider, ed, not in reUtion to what knows, but to what is known ; that is, as the genus including under it Intuitions, Perceptions, Sensations, Concep- tions, Notions, Thouirbts proper, &c. as spe- cies. ^ 5. — A thing known in itself is the (sole) presentative or intuitive object of know- ledge, or the (sole) object of a presen- tative or intuitive knowledge. — A thing known in and through something else is the primary, mediate, remote, * real, f existent, or represented, object of (medi- ate) knowledge, — objtctum quod; and a thing through which something else is known is the secondary, immediate, proximate,* • The distinction of proximate and remote ob- ject is sometimes applied to perception in a different manner. Thus Colour (the White of the Wall, for instance,) is said to be the proxi- mate object of vision, because it is seen imme- diately; the coloured thing (the Wall itself for instance) is said to be the remote object of vision, because it is seen only through the me- diation of the colour. This however is inaccu- rate. For the Wall, that in which the colour inheres, however mediately Jbiotm, is never me- diately seen. It is not indeed an object of per- ception at all ; it is only the subject of such an object, and is reached by a cognitive process, different firom the merely perceptive. f On the :rm Real. — The term Real (realis), though always importing the existent, is used in various significations and oppositions. The following occur to me : — 1. As denoting existence, in contrast to the nomenclature of existence, — the thing, as con- tradistinguished from its name. Thus we have definitions and divisions real, and definitions and divisions nominal or verbal. 2. As expressing the existent opposed to the non-existent, — ak something in contrast to a nothing. In this sense the diminutions of existence, to which reality, in the following significations, is counterposed, are all real. 3. As denoting material or external, In con- trast to mental, spiritual or internal, existence. This meaning is improper; so, therefore, is the term Realism, as equivalent to Materialism, in the nomenclature of some recent philo- sophers. 4. As synonymous with actual ; and this a.) as opposed to potential, b.) as opposed to poi- sible, existence. 5. As denoting absolute or irrespective, in op- position to phamomenal or relative, existence; in other words, as denoting things in them, selves and out of relation to all else, in con- trast to things in relation to, and as known by, intelligences, like men, who know only under the conditions of plurality and difference. In this sense, which is rarely employed and may be neglected, the Real is only another term for the Unconditioned or Absolute,— to Ivrue o». 6. As indicating existence considered as a vuhnttanM in nature, {fins extra animam, ens tui« turae,) it stands counter to an existence con- sidered as a representation in thought. In this sense, reale, in the language of the older phi- losophy (Scholastic, Cartesian, Oassendian,) as applied to e$$e or ens, is opposed to intentionale, notionale, eoneeptOnle, imaginarium, rationis, cog- nitionis, in anima, in {ntelZeetu, prma cognitum, ideal*, jre. j and corresponds with a parU rd. OF PEESENTATIVE AHB' ifMI idmd,* piearimti or r«premiialim, &tj€et perqwod. 'Tim iatmm may l»«w»o^ °® '^^T^&Ego'^tlwTXject of thcmgM ■nd taiowlcdg© is now commonly styled by Philosophers simply The Subject j and Mjeetim is m familiar exp ression for what i«ppoiiedto«F-;l«««^ itorldf li«ii, In Hi® tMfflMi«i **52S*1 oar mora mmA fWoiopliy, "f WJ™***** tou but is liardly conwrtiWo witli, o^^«efi«^ in 7. la dose coanamloa with the dxth mean- lac, «iil, III tlia tail ftalie^ iaiiot^ aa ideatitj wimmim §mmm m m condmoas of the exIstuM Hf a mm in it»«*^» *» f on^'*** ^ f" Identity «'«ff*"«*r^rS.*TiS!i Zli lie foiardsdliylhft thinking subject. IiitMs ■ease It Is opposed to logk^ ©r ttmmmf m» turns Wing here •'•wgfff* *« • H!SfLTI2f Umm and Indi^Wlile may M««% (wiIIoim) by tbe mind !»• coasldeied, w diTOTs a^aad pli ftf, ai4 Tke< versa, wliat 'are twHr *wwt M fitanl. may liftoillf be irlewed, as •one and »- dlvislMo. As an example of the iM»er r-4M sltei. .and. angles. ^■^^'^'^JS,i^;SZi'!^ fie ssme simple fignre-aad sj, "^^^J^ itmetloa of tliat tgare, actaslly Ins^w^Me framlt. imdipom eMih other, are fwi% m%i tat In sf mncli as tbey hate peeiillar relattonsr which may, la ttoeagM, he """"^^'^^ .•iiil;iir"tiMiMMl«et, theysrj' IofH»a%' ^oM. In Ike msnaer take apprehension aM Jndg- ment. These sre f^oBy one, sa eaeli Involires the other, (tir wii: apprthand inlf is we Jndf e ««Mthing to be, and we Jnige «*if i •• we •»■ pehend the exMenee of the terms eompu'ed), aid. m iigeihar tliay 'eeiistitate a ^liillj**"*"- vMHa :iiet 'Of eegiitlen} bat «>ff ■■■J*.'*»5?5' iimbia, In as maeh as, by mental itostraetion, tiey may bo viewed eaeh for Itself, and as a ifgfliigiiWiablo element of thought. As an •sample of the hitter ;— indliridnal thiags, as lohn, lames, Blohard, M., are rm^' ipimj^ deilly) dUBweat, as eo-exlatlng In natare m^ wdir the eoniWen of plurality j biit, as re- MBlillilg thjeets eenstitnting a sJagiedass or Mllon (man) tliey art, IjflOflWy eonaldered,, (ge- ■srlealli^or' speiiteall]^ "^^S^^lS^'tha • I •Bchair,laien«fil, 'thi' ••mflflpMiil m the words I4m and J^ee (objectum, id quod objicitur cognitionl, &o ,) involves a twofold element of meaning. 1", It expresses something abso- lute, something in itself that is ; for before a thing can be pri^sented to cognition, it must be supposed to exist. 2®, It expresses some- thing relatiw ; for in so far as it is presented to cognition, it is supposed to be only as it is known to exist. Now if the equipoise be not preserved, if either of these elements be al- lowed to preponderaf e, the word will assume a meaning precisely opposite to that which it would obtain from the preponderance of the other. If the first element prevail, object and o6ieett«e will denote that which exists of its own nature, in contrast to tliat which exists only under the conditions of our faculties ; — the real in opposition to the ideal. If the se- cond element prevail, object and objective will denote what exists only as it exists in thought; «-the ideal in contrast to the reaL Now both of these counter meanings of the terms object and objective have obtained in the nomenclature of diflferent times and different philosophies, — nay in the nomenclature of the same time and even the same pliilosopUy. Hence great confusion and ambiguity. In the Scholastic philosophy in which, as al- ready said, object and objective, subject and sub- §sctive, were first employed In their high ab- Btractlon, and as absolute terms, and, among the systems immediately subsequent, in the Cartesian and Gassendian schools, the -latter meaning was the one exclusively prevalent. In these older philosophies, oZ^eettvum, as ap plied to eiM or esse, was opposed ^prm»le and mi^ectiwm f and corresponded with intemtio«iaU, tlsiriuta, representativuM, rationale or rationis, isdeOeetuale or m inteUectu, prout eognitum, ideate, iiCy as opposed to reale,proprium, prind- pale, fundamentaU, prout in stnpso. ^. In these schools the esse subjectivum, in con. trast to the esse ot^ctivmn, denoted a thing con- •idered as inhering in its subject, whether that subject were mind or matter, as contra- distinguished from a thing considered as pre- sent to the mind only as an accidental object of thought. Thus the faculty of imagination, for example, and its acts, were said to have a sub- heltm existence In the mind j while its several to^ges or representations had, gua images or posed (according to another) something numerically different from the conscious mind or self, it may be distinguished as, Non- Egoistical, See Note C. The former objects of consciousness, only an objective. Again, a material thing, say a horse, qua exist- ing, was said to have a subjective being out of the mind ; qua conceived or known, it was said to have an objective being in the mind. Every thought had thus a subjective and an objective phasis;— of which more pai-ticularly as fol lows : — i. The esse subjectivum, formale, or proprium of a notion, concept, species, idea, fc, denoted it as considered absolutely for itself, and as dis- tinguished from the thing, the real object, of which it is the notion, species, he. j that is, simply as a mode inherent in the mind as a subject, or as an operation exerted by tho mind as a cause. In this relation, the esse reale of a notion, species, &c., was opposed to the following. 2. Tho esse objectivum, vicarium, intentional:, ideale, repres&nfativum of a noiixm, concept, spe- cies, idea, Ac, denoted it, not as considered ab- solutely for itself, and as distinguished from its object, but simply as vicarious or representa- tive of the thing thought. In this relation the €M« rcak of a notion, &c., was opposed to the mere negation of existence— only distinguished it from a simple nothing. Hitherto we have seen the application of the term objective determined by the preponderance of thesecondof thetwo counter elements of meaning ; we have now to regard it in its sub- sequent change of sense as determined by the first. The cause of this change I trace to the more modern Schoolmen, in the distinction they took of conceptus (as also of motio and intentio) into /ormali 8 and o&jecttww, — a distinction both in itself and in its nomenclature, inconsistent and untenable. — A formal concept or notion they defined — ^*the immediate and actual re- presentation of the thing thought ;' an objec- tive concept or notion they defined — * the thing itself which is represented or thought.' — Now, In the first place, the second of toese, is, cither not a concept or notion at all, or it is indis. tingulshable from the first. (A similar ab- surdity is committed by Locke in his employ- ment of Idea for its object— the reality re- presented by it — ^the Ideatum.) — In the second place, the terms formal and objective are here used in senses precisely opposite to what they were when the same philosophers spoke of tho esseformale and esse objectivum of a notion. This distinction and the terms in which it was expressed came however to be universally admitted. Hence, though proceeding from an error, I would account, in part, but in part only, for the general commutation latterly ef- fected in the application of the term objecttve. This change began, I am inclined to think, about the middle of the seventeenth century — and in the German schools. Thus Calovius — 'Quicqnid objective fundamentaliter in natura existit,' &c., (Scripta PhUosophica, 1661, p. 72.) In the same sen^e it is used by Leibuits; OF PRESENTATPTE AIO) [kots ! tlieory «nnios« fiiw things immericaly dif- ferent: 1', tlie object representeil,— 2**, t:iie representing and oognlaanl mind :— the latter, «Aree/— I**, the object repre- e. g. N. Essals, p. 187 j and smbwstiientlf to li'tm 'liy the Ijiil.Mti:ii.^Wolisiia and othir 0«r- maii philAwphen in genenH. Villi anpiMtlOB of tbe term, it Is therefore seen, beoune pre- inieat^^iunong Mi eonntrfnen lonir befara 'the time of Kaal; In the * Logiea' of wlioro mat- ter Kiiatien, I mmj notice, t»feeiive^mui »ii&- ieeth$f in tlielr modern meaalnf are employed In ahnatfe' et cff ptf •- '1*c EngUrti phUo- Mipivirf> at 'file 'COMmeneeaient of the iaat een. tnry, are fomnd sometimes using the term 0»il€€iim In the old senses— «i Berkdef tn hli '*Hrls/i .8113; tometimics In the nev^— as Iforrli to Us • Beason and Faith/ (ch. 1.) and eidfleld In W« * Basay towards the Improve- ment of Reason/ (Part ii o. 1®,) who both lii[e- wise oppose it to milfiefiity takm also In its I>ri'8eiit acceptation. But the eatise, «hf the^. f eneral 'tarnis aa^^ct aad mbjccUrg, oftjici m4 o^«cllw, came, Inptil- lowiphy, to be simply applied to a certain ■pfclal distinction; and why, in that dlfMnc tion, they came to be opposed as contraries— this Is not to bo traced alone to the inconsis- tencicB wliich I have no^ed; for that incon- sistency itself mmt be acconnted/for. It lies deeper. It is to 'be found In the constitaent elements of all knowledge Itself; and the no. nienchitttre in f|nestion Is only an eilptlcal abbreviation, and restricted application of the nchotetio ex'preaslons by wMeh these ele- nientt have for many ages been expressed. Al knowledge Is a relation—a relation be- tween that which knows, (In scholastie Ian- gnage, the Jii6|««l fa which knowledge inheres), and that which is known, (In scholaatlo las. gaag OythO' o^eei about which knowledge is con- veraant); and the contents of every act of knowledge are made up of elements, and re- gnhitcd by laW'S, procefdi^ng partly from Its object, and partly Ikoai its ittbject. Kow phi. loBOphy proper is principally and primarily the mi«m o/iaoieMltfei Its irst .and Most In- portant' problem being to dt^nnlne— 'W^t em we Jbiow f— that is, what are the conditions of onr knowing, whether these lie in the na- lure' of the object, or in the nature of 'the sub- Jec% of knowledge ? But Philosophy being the Sekmeeo/KiMmieiffet and the aclenw of knowleilge sttppoatnf, in its 'the 'dlstlnetlon of the «a^^' onJ: o|M i^ltmw~ ledg§ f It Is evident, that to |)Moiop||P 'the iii&- ifCt 'i{f iiMi40M|K 'Wonld he, by 'pn*cinliMnce|: 'TMSni^fmtw and 'the ol^oet ofkmmteSff§ hy pra- emiaeiice, TM O^tet. It was therefSore natural that tho' uliftot ami the t^^etiotf. the ini> Jt^ and. tie mAfed^ should ha eBiftof ed by phUoaof hers aa simple teni.s, coinpen. dioMiito denote' the' giand^ iisaHHaa tion, ^ahomt whlah philosophy was eomtaiiflr cmpliyody and. wUeh no others eould he fnniid ao preclsdy and 'promptly to expreas.. In .fkct, la oltlMlsf in 'ihO' 8kho«is,. thahr emploiuienf tn 8ente4— 2**f the oliaut wpfetwitingr,— 3», the cognisant mind. C^pared merely with each other, the former, as simpler, may, 6f mmirmi to the latter, be conid^ this their natural relation would probably have been of a much earlier date; not however that they are void of ambiguity, and have not been often abusively employed. This arises from the followiaf circumstance : — ^The subject of knowledge Is exclusively the Ego or con- scions mind. Subject and mbjeetim, considered in thenwelffeSj are therefore little liable to equivocation. But, on the other hand, the o{«/eet of knowledge Is not necessarily a pbaj- nomenon of the Non.%o; for the pha^nomena of the Mgo Itadf constltate'aa^ veritable, though not' io tarliOtti and prominent, ohjecti of cog. nition, aa the phsenomcna of the Non-Ego. Subjeethm and objeetim do not, therefore, thoroaghly and adetuatoly discriminate that which Mdini iofliMy and that which belongs to matter,- they do not even competently distin- guish what ii ^egmOmi, from what is liMfe- pendenij m ^ emdtiifmt of the maifol »df, B«l in these significations they are and must be frequently eniioyed. Without therefore dis- cardi.ng tWa- nomenclature, which, aa fii.r as It goes, exprewei, in general, a distinction of the highest importance, in the most appoaite terma ; theae terms may by qualification easily be rendered adequate to those subordinate discriminations, which It is often requisite to signalise, but which they cannot simply and of themselves denote. £fMl>J«cf and lul^Mliw, without any qualifying attribute, I would therefore employ, as has hi. thcrto been done, to mark out what inheres in, pertains to, or depends on, the knowing mind whether of man In general, or of this or that 'IndlTldiial. man In partieilarj and. 'thia .in con- trast^ 'to olHM' Md ol^^coHCf, ai' ex'prettdng what does not so inhere, pertain, and depend. Thus, for example, an art or science is said to be o6- jeetirt, whan considered simply as a system of speculative trothi or practical rules, but with- out respect of any actual possessor; $ul^eetim when conildered. w a haldt of knowledge or a dexterity, Inherent in the 'mind, either vaguely i of any, or precisely of this or that, possessor. But, aa baa been stated, an object of know- ledge may be a mode of mind, or it may be soiuethinf different from mind; and it is f¥e. quently of Importance to indicate precisely un- der wMch of these classes that object comci. In this case by an Internal developement of tha nomenclature itaelf, wo might employ, on tho former allenailve, the. term Mlilccl-otgMf t ; on thO' ..latlWi. 'the 'tonn. oftjeef-oa^* Bat the iiilA«l-o»^«ct 'may be either a mode of mind, of which we are conscious as absolute and for Itself alone,— as, for example, a pain or pleasure; or a mod© of mind, of which we are conscious, as relative to, and representative of, somethtnf elBar-«>f fo^ Instance, the imagina- tion of iMMtlilag paal or possible. Of these wa 'mil hi dlttlngiilih, when necessary, the one, as the odolifffor the real la^fMNi^^, the otheiy as the rvianee or tha^ Idsal or tha 'w pmai a Wi i 9iajeet'4)lj/§ti, ll-] REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 809 dered, but still inaccurately, as an imme- diate cognition.* The latter of these as limited in its application to certain facul- ties, and now in fact wholly exploded, may jwn out of account. lExtemod Perception or Perception f, is the faculty presentative or intui- of the phaenomena of the Non-Ego ur Matter — if there be any intuitive appre- hension allowed of the Non-Ego at all. Internal Perception or Self- Consciousness is the faculty presentative or intuitive of the phaenomena of the Ego or Mind. 9. — Imaginntion or Phantasy ^ in its most extensive meaning, is the faculty represen- tative of the phaenomena both of the ex- ternal and internal worlds. 10. — A representation considered as an object is logically, not really, different from a representation considered as an ac(. Here object and act are merely the same indivisible mode of mind viewed in two different relations. Considered by refer- ence to a (mediate) object represented, it is a representative object ; considered by reference to the mind representing and contemplating the representation, it is a representative act. A representative ob- ject l)eing viewed as posterior in the order of nature, but not of time, to the repre- sentative ac', is viewed as & product ; and the representative act being viewed as prior m the order of nature, though not of time, to the representative object, is viewed as a producing process, (v. 1. P. 305 a.) The same may be said of Image and Imagina- tion. (Prop. 21, and p. 813, ab, and note.) ^ 11.— A thing to be known in itself must be known as actually existing (Pr. 1.) and it cannot be known as actually existing unless it be known as existing in its When and its Wftere. But the When and Where of an object are immediately cognisable by the subject, only if the When be now (i.e. at the same moment with the cognitive act,) and the Where be here, (i. e. within the 'sphere of the cognitive faculty) ; therefore a presentative or intuitive knowledge is only competent of an object present to the mind, both in time and in space. 12. — E converse — whatever is known, but not as actually existing now and Aere, is known not in itself, as the presentative Finally it may be required to mark whether the objeci-ohject and the mhject-dbject be imme. diately known as present, or only as represent- •d. In this case we must resort, on the former alternative to the epithet pre$evao.iwe or intui- Itve; on the latter, to those of repretenied, wcdt- «fe, rvmote, primary ^ prvMipal, &c. • This observation has reference to Beid. Bee sequel of this note, { ii.j and note C g ii. A, 4. object of an intuitive, but only as the re- mote object of a representative, cogni- tion. 13. — A representative object, considered irrespectively of what it represents, and ^mply as a mode of the conscious subject, is an intuitive or presentative object. For it is known in itself, as a mental mode, ac- tually existing now and here.* * Propositions 10-13 may illustrate a pas- sage in Aristotle's treatise on Memory and Reminiscence (c. 1), which has been often curiously misunderstood by his expositors; and as it, in return, serves to illustrate the doctrine here stated, I translate it : — * Of what part of the soul memory is a func- tion, is manifest ; — of that, to wit, of which imagination or phantasy is a function. [And iuiaji'iuation had been already shown to bo a function of the common sense.] *And here a doubt maybe started — Whether the aftection [or mental modification] being present, the reality absent, that which is not present can be remembered [or, in general, known.] For it is manifest that we must conceive the affection, determined in tlie soul or its proximate bodily organ, through sense, to be, as it were, a uort of portrait, of wliich we say that memory is the habit [or retention]. For the movement excited [to employ the simile of Plato] stamps, as it were, a kind of impression of the total process of perccptionf [on the soul or its organ], after the maimer of one who applies a signet to wax. . . . * But if such be the circumstances of memory, — ^Is remembrance [a cognition] of tliis af. fection, or of that from which it is produced? For if, of the latter, we can have no remembrance [or cognition] of things absent- if of the for- mer, how, as percipient [or conscious] of this [present affection], can we have a rcmeni- brance [or cognition] of that of which we are not percipient [or conscious] — the absent [reality] r — Again J — supposing there to be a resembling something, such as an impression or picture, in the mind ; the perception [or consciousness] of this — Why should it be tho remembrance [or cognition] of another thing, and not of this something itself? — for in tho act of remembrance we contemplate this men- tal affection, and of this [alone] are we per- cipient [or conscious]. In these circumstances, how is a remembrance [or cognition] possible of what is not present ? For if so, it would seem that what is not present might, in like manner, be seen and heard. * Or is this possible, and what actually occurs ? And thus : — ^As in a portrait tho tiling painted is an animal and a represen- tation (lixwv) [of an animal], one and the i hlff^n/ieirfif :— this comprehends both the objective presentation — alfffinrn, and the sub- jective energy — aXaSneis. X I read Iwt iI «. Themistius haa i« 810 OF PRESENTATIVE AND [XOTS • J REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 811 !* 4 14. — Cmmhmmmm h a Icnowfedgc midp #/ what ft mm umI tow pmrntd to 'tlio nkd It is tlwrtfore only intiitif % Mid itt dlijeett ezcluif ely pretentati? e. Apin. CoBsckiMiifwt is a luidirleige of tdi thai u mm tmd tov pmrnni to the mtnil : ©▼•ry iinaviliatii olprt^ of eog'nitioii is tlias an #iijtisl nf umiiol'Oiisiiiii, tadmerj intiiitir* eogiitioii. itidfi ^tiinily a a§mM form of conseiouiiiiis. Sm Bote B'. |& — ikmteimmmi mmjmhmii mmj miftMm mi,' in otiier words, wiatef «r we are mot oooMioiii' of, tliat wo ioaot. know. But conscioniiiits Is an inmedmte cogni- tion. Tliercfore ail our nmS^m eoffwitimm «r0 emdamgd Ik omT' 'Mifiiiiiiftf. 1 6.— The mehml modliiationi— the jm- ami ad99mA ^aliietioiHi' of 'tlie Jffo, are ob> jMte of Imiiediate «dttte cognition to the Natnral Realists,'! of ni'ffdiate, to the CoMWith'etie Ideaists:! the fonner, on the'testinony of eoiisisloas- ness, asserting to ;mind the oa|iabiity of intuitivdy perceiving what is nol Itself; same heiiif, # mce, both; (for, iheiiih in realily lM»lh ■mm not the .sane,, in thought we can. view tho painting, either Cabsolitely] as animal, or fretativelyj as npteieatBtloii [of an animal] ) : In Ike nau'ner, the^ .i^iantaan. In usy we musl consider, both abselnt^i as aphiB- nomenon iittt^nfm) in itaelf, and relattve|rf ss a Flian:tasni. [lts history and f te 'fieit diiiiaatiens, ieO' above. Note A» I L iffb 7M»14i' mA belew^ Mote C. f i. the latter doEyiiig this oapabilitj, but as* serting to thO' ntlnd the power of repre- iontingt and truly representing, what it does not know. — To the Absolute ideal* istsf matter" .has no nlstMice as an object of cognitiMit iitiMr inmedlate or mediate. 18u— Tho^ Stmmkrf QmliUm* of body mow and hen, as only present affections of the conscious subject, determined by an un- known »terDd<4»s^, »e, on eTer/tb«>r7, 'ffiilligw fl|||jnVBW£IMPl f'ill mMk #ldnlljMtA'a ilT 1 VYIIlliktflSttt'JIh WIW WlHWni %M3 IW llli|ll|llil III lUlIIlVlllAMt osiition. (Pr. Iff.) r 19*-^ As not now pfwmni tit ftine,an imi- mMiate Icnowledge of thepowf Is impos- sible. The past is only mediately cog* nliable Im and through a present modifica- tion rtlatlft to, and representative of, it, as hafinglweii. To ■peak, of an imme- diate knowledge of the past involves a contradiction m adjeeto. For to know f'lMI' llUUtltl lllllllilolA it" TVfetlJidt llMlDl' ll'flil'hIWWi #i|i tlii|f ;— and to be known Im Itself it mwt bO' known as moio «#iKtfijr> But the past is just a negation of the now existent : its very notion therefore excludes the possi- bility of its being immediately known. — So much for Memory, or RecoUective imagiination* ».— In iko manner, supposing that a knowledge of the Jwittre were competent, this cam only be conceived possible, in and throngh a now present repntontation ; that is, only as a m'odlate cognltlom. For as mof «0l miMmi the futnre cannot be known in itself, or as mauaUy existent. As nol ken jircsiiif, an Immediate know- ledge of an object dhtumt in amm is like*' wise in^poaaible.*' For, as beyond the .ph.« o?^ org«» «Kl fccdOi, it «n- not bo knovm by them in Itself; it can only therefore. If known at all, be known through aoDiathlnii dlibrent from itsell« 'that is mediately. In a reproductive or a constmotlvt act of imagination. 21.— A |Niffgl« eal. exIstenMi apart from that act with which it Is rtally identical. (Pr. 10, and p. ill a h, with note.) It is therefore an in*f tuitive object In itself: but In so far, as not Involving a contradiction, it is con- colved as jpreigiiring something which may possibly' exist some-whero' ani some* when, — this something, too, being con- structed out of elements which had been pffavionsly given in Presentation^ — it is Re- preientative. See Note C. § i. • On the iMMrthMis of Bold, Stewart, 4ke., thai'tiia mind 'is iMMiijaiily nereinlent 'Off' die* Compared together, these two cogni- tions afford the following similarities and differences, A. Compared by reference to their mmplidty or complexity, as Acts. 22, — Though both as really considered, (re, non ratione), are equally one and in- divisible ; still as logically considered, (ra- tione, non re,) an Intuitive cognition is simpl', being merely intuitive; a Repre- sentative, complex, as both representative and intuitive of the representation. B. Compared by reference to the num- ber of their Objects, 2S — In a Presentative knowledge there can only be a single object, and the term object is here therefore uni vocal.— In a Representative knowledge two different things are viewed as objects, and the term object, therefore, becomes equivocal ; the secondary object within, being numeri- cally different from the primary object without, the sphere of consciousness, which it represents. C. Compared by reference to the rela- Uvity of their Objects, knovm in conscious- 24. — In a presentative cognition, the object known in consciousness, being re- lative only to the conscious subject, may, by contrast, be considered as absolute or irrespective. In a representative cogni- tion, the object known in consciousness, being, besides the necessary reference to the subject, relative to, as vicarious of, an object unknown to consciousness, must, in every point of view, be viewed as relative or respective. Thus, it is on all hands ad- mitted, that in Self- consciousness the ob- ject is subjective and absolute ; and, that in Imagination, under every form, it is subjective and relative. In regard to ex- ternal Perception, opinions differ. For, on the doctrine of the Natural Realists, it is objective and absolute ; on the doctrine of the Absolute Idealists, subjective and absolute ; on the doctrine of the Cosmo- thetic Idealists, subjective and relative. See Note C. § i. D. Compared by reference to the cha- racter of the existential Jud^m^etUs they in- volve. 25 The Judgment involved in an In- tuitive apprehension is assertory ; for the fact of the intuition being dependent on the fact of the present existence of the ob- ject, the existence of the object is uncon- ditionally enounced as actual. — The judg- ment involved in a Representative appre- hension is j9ro6?cmaftc; for here the fact of the representation not being dependent on the present existence of the object re- presented, the existence of that object can be only modally affirmed as possible. E. Compared by reference to their character as Cognitions. 26._Repres/ntative knowledge is ad- mitted on all hands to be exclusively sub- jective or ideal ; for its proximate object is, on every theory, in or of the mind, while its remote object, in itself, and, except in and through the proximate object, is un- known. — Presentative knowledge is, on the doctrine of the Natural Realists, partly subjective and ideal, partly objective and real; inasmuch as its sole object may be a phaenomenon either of self or of not-self: while, on the doctrine of the Idealists (whether Absolute or Cosmothetic) it is always subjective or ideal ; consciousness, on their hypothesis, being cognisant on'y of mind and its contents. F. Compared in respect of their Self- sufficiency or Dependence. 27 a. — In one respect, Representative knowledge is not self-sufficient, in as much as every representative cognition of an object supposes a previous presentative ap- prehension of that same object. This is even true of the representation of an imaginary or merely^ possible object ; for though the object, of which we are con- scious in such an act, be a mere figment of the phantasy, and, as a now represented whole, was never previously presented to our observation ; still that whole is no- thing but an assemblage of parts, of which, in different combinations, we have had an intuitive cognition. — Presentative know- ledge, on the contrary, is, in this respect, self-sufficient, being wholly independent on Representative for its objects. 28. — b. — Representative knowledge, in anof^^r respect, is not Sf If -sufficient. For in as much as all representation is only the repetition, simple or modified, of what was once intuitively apprehended; Representa- tive is dependent on Presentative know- ledge, as (with the mind) the concause and condition of its possibility. — Presen- tative knowledge, on the contrary, is iu this respect indej>endent of Representative ; for with our intuitive cognitions, com- mences all our knowledge. 29. — c, — In a third respect Representa- tive knowledge is not seff-sufficient ; for it is only deserving of the name of know- ledge in so far as it is conformable with the intuitions which it represents.— Pre- sentative knowledge, on the contrary, is, in this respect, all-sufficiitU j for iu tha •11 OF PEESENTATIVE ANB [50TI B. §11.] EEPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 813 4 lait regort it Is tlie sole TeMclc, the exclu- dwm eriterioii ■md. gisfmntee of tnitk a§,^i.— In, n/iwrfi 'Wtpect, R«pr8iiii- taliir« knowledge it not mlf-^fidm% Mug wlioUj WfMitail upon Intuitive; for tiMi object represented is only known tirougli an intuition of the' snbjeot repre- ■enting. Representative.. knowl;edge al- ways, therefore, involves presentative, as its condition. — Intuitive knowledge, on the contrary, is, in this respect, nW-tuJI- tktdt being wholly independent of repre- .Mitative, which iti consequently, excludes. Thus in different points of view Repre- tentative knowledge contains and is con- taiied in, Presentative, (fr. 15.) G. — Compared in reference to their intrinmc CmmpimmM and Pmrfeeiim, 31.~a. -Ill i»« respect Intuitive know- ledge is fiompleto andperfmt, as irrespec- tive of aught beyond the sphere of con- sciousness; while Representative know- ledge is incompieU and im.perf«if as re- lative to what transcends that sphere. 32.~b. — In muftker respect, Intuitive knowledge is complete and jmfeetf as affording the highest certainty of the higbegt determination of existence — the A etual — the Mere and Mow exist'Ont ; — Re- 'presentative^ tiK-0'in|il^'ftf and ^mptnefm^f as affortliiig only an inferior assurance of certain Inferior determinations of exist- ence—the Past, the Future, the PosslMr — the not Here and not How exiiteni. 33, — c. — In a third respect. Intuitive knowledge is emnpkU and perfect, its object known being at once real, and known as real; — Representative know- ledge, tfieoinfilcfte and ifiij^ Cotmothetic and Abso-' lut% in their variona midlllcations. This, ho-rer. IMd «Bfort»it.l; did »oi do; and the consequence has been the follow- ing imperfections, inaccuracies, and errors. A. In the first place he has, at least in words, abolished the distinction of pre' eentative and representative cognition, 1**, He asserts, in general, that every object of thought mujit be an immediate object, (I. P. 427 b.) 2*^, He affirms, in particular, not only of the faculties whose objects are, but of those whose objects are not, actually present to the mind, — that they are all and each of them immediate know- ledges. Thus he frequently defines me- mory (in the sense of recoUective ima- gination) *an immediate knowledge of things past,* (I. P. 339 a, 351 b, 357 a) ; he speaks of an immediate knowledge of things future, (I. P. 340 b) ; and main- tains that the immediate object in our conception (imagination) of a distant reality is that reality itself (I. P. 374 b.) See above, Propp. 10, 11, 12, 19, 20, 21. Now the cause why Reid not only did not establish, but even thought to abolish, the distinction of mediate cognition with its objects proximate and remote was, 1**, his error, which we are elsewhere to con- sider, (Note C. § ii.,)in supposing that philosophers in the proximate object of knowledge, had in view, always, a t&rtium quid different both from the reality repre- sented and the conscious mind (Inq. 106 a, I. P. 226 b, 369 ab) ; and 2°, his failing to observe that the rejection of this complex hypothesis of noD-egoisticl representa- tion, by no means involved either the sub- version of representative knowledge in general, or the establishment of presenta- tive perception in particular. ( Sec Prop. 7, and Note C. § i.) But Reid's doctrine in this respect is perhaps imperfectly developed, rather than deliberately wrong; and. I am confident that had it been proposed to him, he would at once have acquiesced in the distinction of presentative and representative know- ledge, above stated, not only as true in it- self, but as necessary to lay a solid foun- dation for a theory of intuitive perception, in conformity with the common sense of mankind. B. In the second place, Reid maintains that in our cognitions tht re must be an ob- ject (real or imaginary) distinct from the operation of the mind conversant about it ; for the act is one thing and the object of the act another. (I. P. 292 b, 305 a, also 298 b, 373 a, 374 b.) This is erroneous — at least it is errone- ously expressed. Take an imaginary ob- ject, anil Reid*s own instance— a centaur. Here he says, * The sole object of concep- tion (imagination) is an animal which I believe never existed.* It * never existed;* that is never really, never in nature, never externally, existed. But it is 'an object of imagination.' It is not therefore a mere non-existence ; for if it had no kind of existence, it could not possibly be the positive object of any kind of thought. For were it an absolute nothing, it could have no qualities (non-entis nulla sunt at- tributa) ; but the object we are conscious of, as a Centaur, has qualities, — qualities which constitute it a determinate some- thing, and distinguish it from every other entity whatsoever. We must, therefore, per force, allow it some sort of imaginary, ideal, representative, or (in the older meaning of the term) objective, existence in the mind. Now this existence can only be one or other of two sorts ; for such object in the mind, either t^;, or is not, a mode of mind. Of these alternatives the latter cannot be supposed; for this would be an affirmation of the crudest kind of non-egoistical representation— the very hypothesis against which Reid so strenu- ously contends. The former alternative remains — that it is a mode of the imagin- ing mind;— that it is in fact the plastic act of imagination considered as represent- ing to itself a certain possible form — a Centaur. But then Reid's assertion — that there is always an object distinct from the operation of the mind conversant about it, the act being one thing, the object of the act another — must be surrendered. For the object and the act are here only one and the same thing in two several relations. (Prop. 21.) Reid's error consists in mis- taking a logical for a metaphysical diffe- rence — a distinction of relation ior a dis- tinction of entity. Or is the error only from the vagueness and ambiguity of ex- pression f ♦ • In what manner many of the acutest of the later Schoolmen puzzled themselves like- wise, with this, apparently, very simple mat- ter, may be seen in their discussions touch- ing the nature of Entki Rationis, I may men- tion in general Fonseca, Suaroz, Mendoza, Ruviu3,Murcia, Oviedo, Arriaga, Carleton, Ac, on the one hand; and Biel, Mirandulanus, Jandunus, Yalesius, Erice, &,c., on the other. I may here insert, though only at present, for the latter paragraph in which Reid's difficulty is solved, the following passage from Biel. It contains important observations to which I must subsequently refer : — *Ad secundum de figmentis dicitur, quod (Intelligendo illam similitudinem quani anima fingit, i.e. abstrahit a rebus) sic figmenta sunt actus intelligendi, qui habent esse verum et sttbjectivum (v. p. 807 a b, note) in anlma. I 114 OF PEESEN TATIVE AND [lOTl C. Ib tlie fUrd f kise, tO' tMt bend we may refi»r leM's mmevmey tw n^furrf to iJb jiffMiii^ ©ijfMf ■ #/ fiwsiftwwi. TM» ob- jfct. b not, aateiMiiM flrwpaitly to assert, anj listant wally; (Inq. 104 h, 1*8 b, 150 a b, 160 a, 186 b— I. P. 2» a, 302 a,a»a,304a,etaiy)j forweaw per- d^mxi of notMng but what is in proxi- mate eontad, in Immediate relation, with our orgaiit' of :seii8e. Distant naities we mwsK mot by perception, but by a subse- queat process of inference founded there^ 'On: and so far, ^as he someirbera says, (I. P. 284 b,) from all men wbo look upon the sun perceiving the tame object, in reaity, every individual, in tins instance, perceives a diiierent object, nay, a diffe- wnt object in each several eye. Th# doctrine of Natural EeaHsm requires no such untenable assumption for its baait. It is snileient to estaniih the simple imstf that we are competent, as consciousness assures us, Immeiiately to apprehend 'throuirh mie the noiMf o in certain iniitcd .rdaiions ; ^and il is of no 'Conse^ qucnee whatever, either to om certainty of the reality of a material world, or to «ur ultimate knowledge of its properties, whether by this primary apprehension we ky hold, in. the irst instance, on. a larger or a hesseT' portion, of ill 'Oonterats. Mr Stewart also (Elem. vol i. ch. i. sect. 2, p. 70 sq. 6 ed.), in arguing against the counter doctrine in one of Its acci- dental, forms, maintains, in general, that ly be percipient of distant objects. InlMMaiflsj ct iani ioim. f Mittlss hi. :aBtasiual.nilUEBl fullms fOTnuiliur, qvam sunt ohjecta eorum; nee oportet 'puife •liuid M est aotaS' cognoaeeMi cirrespfNi- I 'hale veel ' mmmrm^ taH vera qnaMtaS' hi t; tanaa.iln ais, and. aa laatlDliatloa. 'Of one of the trutha .eataUlshed by fha Siolllii aehool. lliere waa, liowaver, nothing new in the opinion ; and if m antielfatlaa,.!! waa. only the antleipatlaa. of .an error. aMhaffiilMat Ac, pp. laO, Itlk f il] REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. Sli demonstratione sic; — ergo non sentitur Me$. Aiunt— " Rem videri per Speciem." Inteliigo ; et conclude :—i%ci«» ergo sen- titur. Rem ipsam baud percipit sensus. Species ipsa non est ea res, cujus est species. Isti vero ausi sunt ita dicere ;— •* Non videri speciem, sed Rem per Spe- ciem. Speciem vero esse videndi ratio- nem." Audio verba; rem baud intelii- go. Non enim est species ratio videndi, ut I.ux. Quid igitur ?— " Per speciem (inquiunt) vides rem; non potes autem videre speciem, quia necesse esset ut, per speciem, videres." Quae sententia est om- nium absurdissima. Dico enim jam ; — Bern nm videri, sed Speciem. Sensus ergo recipit speciem ; quam rei similem judical Inteliectus, atque sic rem cognoscit per refiexionem.' (De Subtllitate, Ex. ccxcviii. § 14.) But in correcting one inconsistency Scaliger here falls into another. For how can the reflective intellect judge the species to resemble, that is, correctly to represent, the external reality, when, ex hypothesi, the reality itself is unknown ; unknown in its qualities, unknown even in its existence ? This consideration ought to have led * the Master of Subtilties' to doubt concerning the doctrine of perception by species alto- gether. But long before Scaliger, the error in question had been refuted by certain of those Schoolmen who rejected the whole doctrine of intentional species. I was sur- prised to find the distinction between an immediate and a mediate object, in our acts cognitive of things not actually pre- sent to apprehension, advanced by Gre- gory of Rimini, in a disputation maintained by him against a certain * Joannes Scotus,* - -not the Subtle Doctor, who was already gone, but — a Scotsman, who appears to have been a fellow Regent with Gregory in the University of Paris. This doctrine did not, however, obtain the acceptation which it merited ; and when noticed at all, it was in general noticed only to be re- dargued — even by his brother Nominalists. Biel rejects the paradox, without naming its author. But John Major, the last of the regular Schoolmen, openly maintains on this point, against the Authentic Doc- tor, the thesis of his earlier countryman, Joannes — a thesis also identical with the doctrine of his later countryman, Reid. ' Dico (he says, writing in Paris,) quod liotitiam abstractivam quam habeo pinna- culi Sanctae Genovefes in Scotia, in Sane- to Andrea, ad pinnaculum immediate ter^ —* tur; varum, ob notltiae imperfec- et naturam, nescio oertitudinaliter an sit dirutum exustumve, sicut olim to- nitruo conflagravit.'* In Sent. L. i. dist. 3. qu. 2. 1 have omitted however to notice, that the vulgar doctrine of the Schools in re- gard to the immediate cognition of real objects, through their species or represen- tations, was refuted, in anticipation, by Plotinus, who observes— * That if we re- ceive the impressed forms (rv'^rovs) of ob- jects perceived, it cannot be that we really perceive the things which we are said to perceive, but only their images or sha- dows; so that the things existing are one distinct order of beings, the objects per- ceived by us, another.' (Ennead. v. L. vi. c. 1.) His own doctrine of perception is however equally subjective as that which he assails; it is substantially the same with the Cartesian and Leibnitian hypotheses. Representationists (Note C.'§ i.) are not however always so reluctant to see and to confess, that their doctrine in- volves a surrender of all immediate and real knowledge of an external world. This too is admitted by even those who, equally with Reid, had renounced ideas as representative entities, difterent, either from the substance of mind, or from the act of cognition itself. Arnauld frankly acknowledges this of his own theory of . perception ; which he justly contends to be identical with that of Descartes. (See above, p. 296 a, n. f) Other Cartesians, and of a doctrine equally pure, have been no less explicit. * Nota vero, (says Flender, whose verbosity I somewhat abridge,) men- tem nostram percipere vel cognoscere im- mediate tantum seipsam suasque facultates, per intimam sui conscientiam ; sed alias res a se distinctas, non nisi mediate, scilicet per ideas. . . Nota porro, quod perceptio seu idea rei spectari dupliciter : vel in se ipsa, proutest modus cogitandi cujus mens est conscia, — quo modo a mente ut causa efli- ciente fluit ; vel relata ad objectum quod pr eam representatur, prout est cogitatio inteliectus hanc vel illam rem representans, -—quo modo forma seu essentia ideae con- sist it in representatione rei, sive ineo quod sit representamen vel imago ejus rei quam concipimus.' (Phosph. Philos. § 6.) • The existence of a Pinnacle of St Geno- vievo in St Andrews is now unknown to our Scottisli Antiquaries j and tliis, I may notice, is one of a thousand curious anecdotes relative to his country, scattered throughout Major's writings, and upon matters to which allusiona from a Doctor of the Sorbonne, in a Cominea. tary on the fientencea, were least to be ez» pected. woTK c. § I.] THEORIES OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 817 >'l NOTE C. OH THB TABUm XBBOBIES OF BXTBBNAl PBKCSPTION. rdaiim of Estemai FermpiMm I© tfi Object; am of ttm mrwm »^«mms vj FliM$m§k^ fowMkr«j«ii- imtion, ofwMterittl obJMis. 1. On the testimony of consdonsneis, and in the doctrine of an Intuitive per- ception, the mind, when a material exis- itiiee is hrought into rektion with its oiKan of sense, olttains two concomitant, and immediate, cognitions. Of these, the (f • Edinl*. Bev. vol. III. p. 17S-l76j— alio In Cross and Pcisse. In sajliif , however, on that •ceaslon, tliai Br Brown was f uilty of ' a re. wmal of the real and mmkwmmibiimm Import * of Keid's doctrhie of peniflitiim, ItelcalM niMm to admit, that tlie latter epitiiet Is too "Strong ;~for on. f roimdt, 'totsUj 'dMnrent fk-om '<|ii nntesahle one of Brown, I am maw about to shew, that Reid*i doctrine, on this point, is .dMhtfkiL fUs .Mlml»:l(m. 'dues not, however, Imply that Btown !• not, 'irom. trst to 'fastr-l* BOt in one and aB of his strieturei on Beld*a ^doetvine offttw^ftliii, m there, iliewn, wholly one is the coiirfiiiiineis (sensation) of cer- tain subjective modltaitiimB in us, which we refer, m effect% to ctftiia. unknown powers, as ewoses, in. the external 'realty:; the secondary qualities of body: the other is the consciousness (perception) of certain objective attributes In tiie external reality Itself, •% or as in relation to our sensi- ble orpiiiam ;— the pri.mary quaEtles of body. Of these cognitions, the former is admitted, on all hands, to be subject ivo and Ideal : the latter, the Haluiml BeB.li8t maintains, against the Cosmothetic Idea- list, to hit objective and real. But it is only objective and real, in so far as it Is immediate ; and immediate it cannot be. If— either, 1® dependent on theformer,as its cause or its oO'Casion— or, 2** conse- quent on It, as on a necessary antecedent. But both these conditions of a presenta- tive perception. Eeid and Stewart are seen to vfokte; and therefore they may be held, virtually, to confess, thai their doc- trine is one only of representative per- ception. See Note D. § i. No. 23. Touching the former condition: Eeid states, that the primary qualities of mate- rial existences Extention, Figure, inc., are mgffeMtd to us throngh the secondary; which, though not the siiicient causes of our conception, are the dt^m,* on occa- sion of which, we are made to * conceive* the primary. (Inq. 188 a, 122 a, 123 b, 128 b note), the secondary qualities, as mere sensations, mere consciousness of certain subjective affections, afford us no immediate knowledge of aught different from self. If, therefore, the primary qua- lities be only 'm^^ft^mm/ only * concep- tiom; (Inq. 183 a, I. P. SI8 a b), which are, as it were, * conjured up by a kind of natural magic,* (Inq. 122 a), or 'inspired by means unknown,* (Inq. 188 a) ; these concept ions are only repreeentations, which the mind is, .In some Inconoelvable manner, blindly determined to form of what it does not know; and, as perception i» only a consciousness of these conceptions, per- ception is, like sensation, only an imme- diate cognition of certain modes of self. Onr knowledge of the external world, on this looting, is wholly subjective or ideal $ • This application of the term i^iin snlti the COamothetio Idealist, as the Cartesian Boa. suet (OomaiiaaiMe dtBlem, Ac, ch. 3, | 8), 'L ill* 1, p> oj)* n.] OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 821 and if such be Reid's doctrine, it is wholly conformable to that enounced in the fol- lowing statement of the Cartesian repre- sentationism by Silvain Regis:—* We may thus, he says, affirm, that the cogni- tion we have of any individual body which strikes the sense is composed of two parts, —of a stnsation (sentiment), and of an imagination; an imagination, whi«h re- presents the extension of this body nnder a determinate size; and a sensation of colour and light, which renders this ex- tension visible.' (Metaph. L. ii. P. i. c'l. 5. Cours, t. i, p. 162, ed. 1691). Thi.^ statement may stand equally for an enounce- ment of the Kantian doctrine of percep- tion; and it is, perhaps, worth noticing:, that Regis anticipated Kant, in holding the imagination of space to be the a priori form or subjective condition of percep- tion. 'L* ideede 1' Entendue (he says) estneeavec 1' ame,' &c., (ibid. c. D, p. 171 ct alibi.)— This theory of Sugjj;estion, so explicitly maintained in the * Inquiry,' is not repeated in the * Essays on the In- tellectual Powers.* Reid, therefore, as I have already observed, (p. 129 a, note,) may seem to have become doubtful of the tendency of the doctrine advanced in his earlier work; and we ought not, at all events, to hold him rigorously account- able for the consequences of wliat, if he did not formally retract in his later writ- ings, he did not continue to profess. Touching the latter condition :— Reid in stating, that ' if sensation be produced, the corresponding perception /oZ/otys even when there is no object,' (L P. 320 b,)— and Stewart in stating, that * sensations are the constant antecedents of our per- ceptions/ (El. i. c. 1, p. 93, e d. 6,) mani- festly advance a doctrine, which if rigidly interpreted, is incompatible with the re- quisites of an intuiiive perception. 2. It is the condition of an intuitive perception, that a sensation is actually lelt there, where it is felt to be. To sup- pose that a pain, for instance, in the toe, is felt really in the brain, is conformable only to a theory of representationism. For if the mind cannot be conscious of the secondary qualities, except at the cen- tre of the nervous organism, it cannot be conscious of the primary, in their relation to its periphery; and this involves the admission, that it is incompetent to more than a subjective or ideal or representa- tive cognition of external things. But such IS the doctrine which Reid mani- festly holds. ( I. P. 31 9 b, 320 a b.) 3. On the doctrine of Natural Realism, t M the ego has an uituitive perception of ^ the non-ego in proximate relation to Its organs, a knowledge and a belief of the existence of the external world, is clearly given in the fact of such intuitive percep- tion. In this case, therefore, we are not called upon to explain such knowledge and belief by the hypothesis, or, at least, the analogy, of an inspired notion and infused faith. On the doctrine of Cosmo- thetic Idealism, on the contrary, which supposes that the mind is determined to represent to itself the external world, which, ex hypothesi, it does not know ; the fact of such representation can only be conceived possible, through some hy- perphysical agency ; and therefore Reids rationale of perception, by an inspiration OT kind of magical conjuration, as given in the Inquiry, (122 a, 188 a; Stewart, El. i. 64, 93), may seem to favour the con- struction, that his doctrine is a represen- tatioiism. In the Essays on the Intellec- tual Powers he is, however, more cautious; and th»i note I have appended in that work at p. ?^7 a, is to be viewed in more especial reference to the doctrine of tlie Inquiry; though in the relative passage *the wiU of God' may, certainly, seem called as a Deus ex machina, to solve a knot which the doctrine of intuitive per- ception doey not tie. 4. The terms notion and conception are, in propriety, only applicable to our me- diate and representative cognitions. — When Reid, therefore, says that * the Per- ception of an object consists of, or im- plies, a conception or notion of it,' ( Inq. 183 a, 188 a, I. P. 258 a b, 318 b, 319 a, et alibi) ; there is here, either an impro- priety of language, or perception is, in his view, a mediate and representative knowledge. The former alternative is, however, at least equally probable as the latter; for Consciousness, which, on all hands, is admitted to be a knowledge im- mediate and intuitive, he defines (I. P. 327 a) * an immediate conception of the operation of our own minds,' &c. Con- ception and Notion, Reid seems, therefor*-, to employ, at least sometimes, for cogni- tion in general. 6. In calling imagination of the past, the distant, &c., an immediate know- ledge, Reid, it may be said, could only mean by immediate, a knowledge effected not through the supposed intermediation of a vicarious object, numerically diffe- rent from the object existing and the mind knowing, but through a representa- tion of the past, or real, object, in and by the mind itself; in other words, that by mediate knowledge he denoted a non-egO' I w 031 TBE VAEIOUS THEOEIES [moti' 0« §n.l OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION. 823 I I i i-s ,. IjfiVn/. by mamdiat§ knowledge an lyoiifl- €iiif pefireteiitatl©©- (Noi® B. § I. Fr. 7. f, mm a). TMa Wng ertablisbed. it may M fiirthef' ■-•rgi«d— !•, tliafc in calling FiMtfpfJiM an. b, m ■•,. iSB b» te.) a On the' sup portion, 'that 'we ..have-tt immediate cognition or consciousness of the non-ego, we must have, at the same time, involved as part and parcel of that ccignilion, a btUef of its existence. To view, therefor#*, could not, without vio- lence, have been twisted to denote, in conjunc tion with m^dmt, what the philosopher less equivocally. If less symmetrically, expresses by 9iiH, <#«etlOw*--FMbllif, like most Latin ver- bala of Its eiass, iwUscrlmtnately renders the two potentlsls, active and passive, which tlie Greek tongue alone so admirably contradls- tlupiishes. But, in .any way, the word is in- competent to Aristotle'B meaning in the senso oTiiliBClles. For It only signiiies, either that which « protension,) is thus contained under Number. Number in the abstract is, of course, a merely intellectual concept, as Aristotle, once and again, notices. See Philoponus on 63 text of second book De Anima, Sign. i. 8 ed. Trine. 1A35. Of this again under Locke, No. 19 : and B^jer CoUardy No. 2fi. rily, and of themselves, act upon and affect the sense, carries them all up into modifications of Quantity (Quantitatis) ; -—and in another book (De Sensu et Sen- sibili, Lect. ii.) by a variation of the ex- pression (for in both cases he contem- plates only the Extended) into species of the Continuous. To quote the latter :— ' Sensibilia communia omnia pertinent aliquo modo ad Continuum; vel secun- dum mensuram ejus, ut Magnitudo ; vel secundum divisionem, ut Numerus ; vel secundum terminationem, ut Figura ; vel secundum distantiam et propiuquitatem, ut Motus.* Aristotle indeed (De Anima, L. ii. c. 6.) virtually admits, that the common are abu- sively termed sensibles at all: for he say.s, * the proper alone are accurately, or pre- eminently, objects of sense' (ra ihoc kv^- iug ean etiaS^ru) • and tlie same seems also to be involved in his doctrine, tluit the common percepts (which in one place he even says are only apprehended per ac- cidens) are, in fact, within the domain of sense, merely as being the concomitants or consequents {ocKoTiQvSovmct, l^ofceux) of the proper.* (Ibid. L. iii. cc. 1, 4.) See • I have already noticed (p. 124) that Hut> cheson, in saying that * Extension, Figure, Motion, and Itest, seem to be more properly ideas accompanying the sensations of Sight and Touch than the sensations of either of these senses ' only, mediately or immediately, repeats Aristotle; to whom is therefore duo all the praise which has been lavished on the originality and importance of the observation. [I might have there added, however, that Hut- cheson does not claim it as his own. For in his System of Moral Philosophy (which is to be annexed to the other references) he speaks of 'what fome call the Concomitant ideas of Sensation.' (B. i. c. 1, p. 6 ; J. Dr Price ex- tols it as ' a very just observation of Hutche- son ♦ (Rev. p. 60, ed. I). Mr Stewart calls it ' a remark of singular acuteness,' — * a very in- genious and original remark,' — and * a sentence which, considering the period at which tlm author (Hutcheson) wrote, reflects the highest honour ou his metaphysical acuteness.' (Es- says pp. 31, 46, 561, 4° ed.) M. Iloyer Col- laid says, — 'Hutcheson est le premier dcs philosophes modernes qui ait fait cette obser- vation aussi fine que juste que,* &c. (Ocuvres de Reid, t. iii. p. 431). I may here observe that Phiiippson ("TAw av^^wirtVii p. 336) is misled by an ambiguous expression of Aristotle in stating that he as- signed the eomwon semihles as objects to the Common Sense. See the Commentaries of Plii- loponus and of Simplicius on the 134 com. mon text of third book De Anima. But com. pare also Alexander in his treatise on tha Soul, first Book, in the chapter on the Com. mon Sensoi f. 134 ed. Aid. PEDIARY ANB SECONDARY rMiiit m §'•1 QUALITIES OF BODY. 8:11 also Alcianaer On the Soul. (A. if. IW h, 134 ab— B. ff. 152, 153, ed. Aid.) The more modem Schoolmen (followed ■umatimes wrawlttliiglj by very recent pMloeii{iliers) 'lia^e indeed contended, tliat cm the principles of Aristotle the several common sensiMes are in reality appre- hended by other and higher enerfcies than, those of sense. Their m-gnment is is follows: — JftiHow. ■eannot be perceived 'Without the collation of past and present time, without acts of memory and com- parison. Meat, says Aristotle, is known m a privatloo, but ^Mmsfi is only of the po-^^ •itive ; let il, however, 'be^ considered as a state, and as opposed to motion, still this snpposes^ comparison, ^twi^ in like manner as a negation, a negation of the rontinnous, is beyond the domain of sense; and while Aristotle in one treatii© (Pbyt. iv. 14) attributes the faenlty of nnmen- tion to intelligence ; in another (Problem. sect. 30 § 5, if this work bO' his,) he virtnally denies it to sense, in deni iig it to thehrnt.es. Me^fttitmk (exten^oii),,lf considered as compawli've, is likewli*' manifestly beyond the province of mere sense; Aristotle, indeed, admits that ita apprehension, in general, presupposes Mo- tion. Finally, i%iir«, as the cognition of extension teminated. in a certain man- ner, still more manifestly Involves an act of comparison. (Setdiper, De Subtilitate, Ex. Ixvi. and ccxcviii. § 15— Toletw, ii lib. de Anima L. ii, c. 6.— OmtJW&rtceti««, ibid.— Jrewiwiif, De An. p. 40 — Compare i^mmmM, Pbys. S^ect. iil. Memb. Post. L. vi. c. 2.— Dm Mmm!, Philos. Yetns et. Hova, Phys. P. iii. c. 4 and Jliifir Oi^ lard, in 'OSuvres de Beid, I. iil. p. 428 sq. --to he qnoted in the sequel, Ho. 25. The' common sensibles thus came, In fact, to be considered, by many of the actitest Aristotelians, as not so much per- ceptions of sense (in so far as sensible |>er- ception depends on corporeal aibotlon) as concomitant cognitions to which the Im- prntsion on the organ by the proper aen- iilble only .afforded the occasi.on. 'Sen- sibile Commune dicltnr (says Compton Carieton) quod vel percipitur pluribmi sensibus, vel .ad quod cogn'Oscendini, ab intelleetu vel imaginatlone desnmitur oe- cuiio ex variis ^ensibus; ut sunt Figura, Motus, llbicatio, Duratio, Magnitudo, BIs- tantia. Humerus,' 4c. (P.hilo8opliia Uni* 'Vena, Be Anima .Disp. xvi. Sect 2. § 1.) Bil before leaving .Aristotle, I .should. :state, that he Mnmelf clearly contemplated, In his distinction of Common and Proper iiiialblta,. a olaiilieation correspondent to 'that #f th« Priinarj and Sacoiidari Qualities of bodie.?, as esrablishod by the ancient atomists. This is expresslv shewn in a passage wherein he notices that < Bemoeritus, among others, reduesd th« pr&pmr mmmMm to ike commm, in expkin- ing, for example, the differences of colour by differences of roughness and smooth- ness in bodies, and the varieties of savour by a variety in the configuration of atoms.* fDe Sensu et Sensili, e. 4.) Of a division by Aristotle, in a physical point of view, of the Qualities of body into Primmj and JS§€imdttr^, I shall spak in the sequel, when considering this nomenclature, as adopted, and trans- ferred to the psychological point of view, by Locke, Ho. 19. '7. — 'Galbw, whose works are now .hardly more: deserving of study by the physiioan. than by the philosopher, affords me some scattered observations which merit notice, not merely in reference to the present subject. Sensitive perception, he well oh- servci^ conalstt not in the passive affection of the organ, but in 'the diserlmlnative re- oognltlon—the dijudicalion of that affec- tion by the active mind. *; £#ri Is mUdnm fftme. This function of diagnostic ap- prehension he accords to the dominant principle (to tyi/MJ^^'i';) that is, the imaginative, reeollectke and ratiocinatlvt mind. (De Placit. Hipp, et Plat. L. vil cc. 14,16, 17).*— Again:— 'The objects in propriety called Sensible, are such as require for their discriminative recogni- 'tlon BO other faculty but that of sensitive pereeption itself; whereas those objects are 'improperly called sensible, whose re- cognition, beades a plurality of the senses, involves memory and what is called the compositive and collective (generalising) 'reason. [ I reii mmhrmf and Mt^m^mm. TiJcf .] Thus Colour Is an object proper of sense, and Savour and Odour and Sound; so likew'ise are Hardness and Soteesi, .Heal and Cold, and. In a ' word, aU. 'the Tactile quaitles.' Then, after .slat. ing that no concrete oUed of sense— an apphi for instante— is fuUy cognisable by sense alone, hut, as Plato has it, by opi- nion with the aid of sense; and .having well shewn how this, frequently becomes, a source of lUnslon,— inalC'which he is close- ly followed by Hemesius,— he goes on :— * But to carry sense into effect in all ita • 1!!lw.aiuHilators ofMemttrtus have not ob- sarvei fhai. «Ms pUlnioplier Is indebted to OalMi, fiaili and v«fit%,f«r the whole of Ms remaffkaUa' iMHiW' 'Off' ^sense. .Bee Ms. ' tlse Be IM. Hml & &-1.L ed. 'UataMaa.. various applications, is impossible without the co-operation of memory and connume- ration ( md Smo0h, ^TiMk. aui. 1Mb.... :lle' Gm, OMiMptioii of a something In that bodt which ooetsions the smsaiim of which we are dl8tiii©tl| conscious in ourselves, but which sensation does not represent to us aught external — does not afford us a real knowledge of any thing beyond the states of the percipient mind itself. (Princ, P. I. §§. 70, 71. P. y. §S 191. 1»7, 199. —Medit. ill. p. 22, vi. pp. 43,47,48.— Resp. ad. Med. vi. p. 194, ed. 1668.) Of these two clasies, the attributes included inderthe latter, in so far as they are con- sidered as residing in the objects them- selves of our sensations, Descartes, like Democritus and Galileo, held to be only modifications of those contained under the former. * Exceptis Magnitndine, Figura et Motu, quae qualia sint in unoquoque cor- pore explicui, nihil extra nos positum sen- titur nisi Lumen, Color, Odor, Sapor, Sonus, et Tactiles qualitates ; quae nihil aliud esse in ofadectis, quam dii-posiiumm qmamjkm m M presrion, has afforded the most valid foun- dation for the charge so frequently, but so erroneously, preferred against the sect, of 'denykg ai olgjective reality to 'the s«- condary qualities of 'matter. 15*— RoHAOLT, another illustrious Car- tesian whose ' Physique.* was irst pub- lishedin 1671 » (and which conlinned until about the vddle of last century to 'be a GM^^ text-book of philoeophy in the University of Newton) may he adduced in ^proof of this accusation — an, aceusa^ 'tlon which will he farther' ruAited in tho' ,ieiinil by 'thoi testlmoni,eS' of Malebranche and Sylvain l#gls.^8peaking ©f Heat. and Co'id, he saysr— * Ces deux mots ont chaiinn,deuxi|giiiiMtiiiiif. Car, premiere* nMut, par k Claliiral par'k Fwddaitf .on entend deux mtHmrnt' partkuieM qui iOttt en nous, et oui reswnbknt en quelque fanon i ceux qu^ on nomme douleur et ohatouillement, tek que let sentiment qu on a quand on mruuhe dm fe% on quand on tonelO' dt' k gkoe. 'Secondemont, oar k Chaleur et par k Froideur on entend le foiivoir que certains corps ont de causer en nous oet deux sentimens dont je viens deparkr.' Bo empkyt likewise the same dktinetion in treating of Savours (ch. M)— of Odours (ch. 26)— of Sound (ch. 26)— of light and Colours (ch. 27.) 16.— DuMAMai..— I quote the following passage without the comment, which some of 'its itatements. might kvite, from, the treatise *De Corpore Anlmato,* 1673, of thk learned and ingenious philosopher. It contains the most explicit (though still a very iuadeqnate) recognition of the merits of Arfstetle, in reference to our present suljlect, with which I am ac- quainted.—* Quocirca, ut id, quod senti(^ panels aperiam. Corpus omne sensibile fiin habet in sc, qua sensum moveat j sed Jbmm ipsa, qua percijiimus, vel est motus, ▼el eiluvlum, vel quidam subttantlie mo- dus, quern possumus qualitatem appellare* Hec senfflblk soUus qualitatis prsedicamen- to continetur, sed per omnmfere vagatur genera. Corporum cnim FigursB^ Di- mensiones, Motus, et variai Positionet sensum impellunt. Itaque Humor Sicci- tas, Durities, Figura, atque alii modi, tales stmt, quales a nobis percipiuntur. Botuaditat enim circuli, vel terrae siccitas a lentuuni oofttitlone non pendet. Idem fortassk erit de Colore, Luce, atque aliis aotivis qnalitatibus judicium. Sonus vero nihil est quam percussio organi ex motione aeris, aut coniictu corporum orta. Sapor Item et Odor positi sunt in sok sensus 'i,npreiii,one. Tolk animaia, nullus-erit sapor, nuUnt odor. Quanquam, ut mihi videtur, nm mam opHwm diMtinffuit Arts- totd«8, mm PoHMlem {^mUtaiem voeM id qmd til ol^mm m mntiMii, Pamomm mm mmAm^ wwiit quedimmn, tit a ttodif ptfTcffrffiir.* (lib. i. c 3, § 11.) 17.— In the following year (1674) waa first published the celebrated * Eecherche de ,k YeritC' *' of MALannAifcua. The •dknliiknt .already quoted of hk imme- diate' 'predeeetMr' 'might have guarded Mm, it kaat on the point under conside- ration, from the signal ii^ustice of his at- tack on Ariatotltf the philosophers, and ,mankkd in general, m emfmmdinff our mikjmlim mmmikm wiki 1A0 objidim qua* MOm 0/ ■wurnw ; and it is onk by a not riCribut.ion, thai m ,likewlta' been made the object of a counter ac- ition, equally unfounded, by authori- ties hardly inferior to himself. Buffier,* Reid,t Royer Colkrd4 and many beside, reproach Descartes, Malebranche, Locke, and others, with advancing it, without, qualification, as a new and an important truth, that the gemible or secondary quali- tim have no existence in external objects, Hitir only existence bmifi m modes of the pmrcipient mind. The charge by Male- branche in the following passage, has been already annihilated, through what has been previously adduced; and the passage itself sufficiently disproves the charge against Malebranche. — ' As regards the terms ex- pressive of Sensible ideas, there is hardly any one who recognises that they are equivocal. On this Aristotle and the ancient philosophers have not even be- stowed a thought. [!] What I state will be admitted by alt who will turn to any of their works, and who are distinctly cognisant of the reason why these terms are equivocal. For there is nothing more evident, than that philosophers have be- lieved on this subject quite the contrary of what they ought to have believed. [I !] * For example, when the philosophers say that fire is hot, the grass green, the sugar sweet, &c., they mean, as children and the vulgar do, that the fire contains what they feel when they warm themselves; that the grass has on it the colours which tli«y believe to be there ; that the sugar contains the sweetness which they taste in eating it ; and thus of all the objects of the different senses. It is impossible to doubt of it in reading their writings. They speak of sensible qualities as of sensations ; they mistake motions for heat; and they thus confound, by reason of the ambiguity of these terms, the modes in which bodies with the modes in which minds, exist. [!!!] * It is only since the time of Descartes that those confused and indeterminate questions whether fire be hot, grass green, sugar sweet, &;c., have been answered by distinguishing the ambiguity of the terms in which they are expressed. If by heat, colour, savour, you understand such or such a motion of the insensible parts, then fire is hot, grass green, and sugar sweet. But if by heat and the other sensible qua- lities, you mean what I feel when near the • Logique, § 222. Cours, p. 819. f P. 131 a, second paragraph, from which Ikcrc should have been a r^erence to the pre- aent Note. t CEuvres de Wm, t. iii. pp. 386, 447 fire, what X see when I look at the grass, &c., in that case the fire is not hot, nor the grass green, &c. ; for the heat I feel and the colour I see are only in the soul.* ( Recherche, Liv. vi. P. ii. c. 2.) Malebranche contributed to a more pre- cise discrimination between the objective or primary, and the subjective or secon- dary qualities, by restricting the term Idea to the former, and the term Sensation to the latter. For though the other Carte, sians soon distinguished, more accurately than Descartes himself, Idea from Sensa- tion, and coincided with Malebranche, in their application of the second ; yet in al- lowing Jdea^ of the modes, both of exten- sion and of thought, they did not so pre- cisely oppose it to sensation as Male- branche, who only allowed ideas of exten^ .y cause the sensation of different savours in tho soul in virtue of its union with the body.* This doctrine, as the author admits, ia conformable to that of Aristotle, though not to that of his scholastic followers, ' who maintain that savour in the savoury body is something similar to the sensation which we have of it.* (Phys. L.viii. P. ii. ch. 4.) 1 1^ i ftl m mQ sEcoiDAmY Tilt wmm, aiitatiaiiiitmiiA,'is mMldl. in rtgard to Odours (cki), and to Sonadi (ak'7); and so far, tte di^ttiwitiom witli Ito ©jipwiMiiin. of >riiMil ai oppoied to mr- IimIm whfMy borrowod from tlie Ariito- teiuna. But a more minile analysis and Bonun^' olafcve are giToa In regard to .lig lit and to Colour. < Tlie word LigM is not less equivoeal tlian those of Savour, Smell, and Sound; for it is employed sometimes to esfress thC' peculiar $mmiim^ wMch tlie^ soiil re- eeives from tlM imipression made liy Irami- ■ous iiodies on llie ejo, and sometimes to denote loJbt liiw •• !« **o«» bodim by wIM fi^jr mum in the sod this peculiar Mioreofer, as luminous bodies are not applied Immedlttely to the eye, and as they act hy the intervention of certain interme- diate bodies, as air, water, glass, Jcc, what- .soever that 'may he which they impress on these mediaisaliocalled Light, but light ,&- mmivry and Bmw^j to distingubh it from that which is In the luminous body, which last is styled PnmMm^ or RoMctd Light.' (eh. §.) « We call the Sensation of Colour, Fm^ uml colour; the qualty in bodies caasliif this Sensation, Madicfd colour; and what these bodies impress on the me^um, D«- w^Um colour.* (ch. 17) But this arute subdivision of objectift light and Colour into pfiwuUim or rale nndwr the notion. 'Of Ita trinal exfeMiion. ""For 'body being, «s hipethesi, cenodved. or 'ConeelvaUe only aa^ that which ©ocnpiei ^space^i the inal. eomprca. 'ilon «f 'it 'Into wiat> 'Oecnplei. no tpaee goes to rednce It,, either 'fhwn an. tuMisf to a mm^mmif, or from an. 'CaiiiMlWi' 'to an iiii«rf«ndc(l «••%. Bit neillwr altafnatlfe can. he realised In ihaoghl. 'Itcttie'iiwierjforannlhllalionjnot aa a mere change in an etfect^ not aa a mere rwnnqitlon^ of eroatire power 'In a caMOi bnt ■i:a tiling '0«t from 'the ;inm total, of «xMenee» .Ii.'fOiltlfaly and in itself incogltabie. .lattlie latter; iir 'the 'Conceptlen of 'matter, aa^ an uneatended entity, la "both' In Itself Ineoacdv- 'lUe, wd ex hypalheil. abaard. — ^ r«rKi%, Iiocfce la wrong. In. bestowing' the^ name of so- Uditr. liithont a f nalllcatlan^, axdnairely on ilM IMar M thesa tmi. flMHa;. 'mm^ 'heing' Mirilyentitled to it with, the other, ^aad aeiliir ■•*'Wil aalltiad. to It, withoat a dMlDrenee^ aa lhetafal.altvibntoofwhkh they are'the 'par- 'tlal exffaiilMp-Bat 'theae Inaeeuraciea. of ■.ifcufc^ afo not ao laiMiKtaiii aa the arvofa M sabaeiitteni pMhMOphera, to which, howerer, they aeem to have ajforded the occasion. For 'nnder the term. .MMIty, and on.'tha aaihority of liocke, there have been Introdneed as primary, certain qualities of body to which in common langnage tht' apithet' Solid 'la affiled, baft which have ao tltla whatover to the. rank in qneathm. Agalnal thia abaie, it most be ac- knowledged, Locke not only guarded himaelf, baft aian, to a certain extont, cantiooed others; Ibr iaartienbtoly states, that HoUdlty, In hia aeaie, Is not to be confounded with Hardness. (1. 1. «. 4 1 4) It must, bowafir, also be con. Ibasad, that In other passages he seems to Iden. tffi^ MIdity and Ofhasion; while on Solidity he, at the same time, makea * the mutual im. pulat, realBtaace and protrasion of bodlea to depend.' '(Ibid. { &) Bat I ^am anHclpatlng. In a psychological point of view — and this is that af liche and. .met^hyeiclana in general— no attrlhato of' body 'Is primary which is aot necessary in thought ; that is, which Is not neeeaaarily evolved out of, as necessinllyjLii* plied in, the very notion of body. And such is Solidity, in the one total and the two partial signllcations heretofiire enumerated. But in Its ^ig^ml appiteatlen, this term Is not always limited to denoto the ultimate Incompressi. biltty of matter. Besides that necessary at* tribat%. Iftto esteaded,. Inaammon tanfuafe, to expreia othOT' powers^ of reeletance In 'bodies, of a character merely conttngent in reference to thought. (Bee § ii) These may be re- duced to the ive following :— fburlA JTemilii^— The term Solid is very eonunonly employed to denote not merely the abiolntaiy, but all© tharehitively, Incompres. sibieb tha':B«iae,'lnc«ntra8t to the' .rehAlvely mnpfifalbie, the Bare, or Hollow.— ai«n or solma, and 'the' Greek l^'P.. 8te Vastus or Verrius Flac. ens, TV. JSoZltoMrilla and Solio; also J. €L Sea- iger, Ba SnbtiUtat% ax. 76,) FtM Memnbiff. —Vader the VU Inertkm, n body is said to be Solid, I e. Inert, Stable, Im- savwdkle, In prtfottlaa, at II, whether In mo- 'ttoa.'ar aft real, ftilat% la gvneial, aramovai. 'itaa'tha'itea It waaM aliMfirlia owiapy In le. Siifth Mmmttv.'-imm Uraetty, abody le^idd to be Solid, l.e. He«ti,topopor«anaa lft;fa*ti, In partlcahv.adlaplaaemeat by belaglllted ap. The two iiMowlBf meaninga fUl ander CSr IfsiiM, the Urea with vrhlch matter realats the diatiaetlaa of Ito parts ; for a body Is eaid In a Smmm JTsaniif, to ha Solid, Im, Bard,te KNilraaltoSofli andlnan— BcmarJfc.— In this criterion Locke was preceded by Galileo. But it does not, alone, suffice to discriminate the primary from the secondary qualities. For, as al- ready noticed, of two contradictory qua- lities, one or other must, on the logical principle of excluded middle, be attributed to every object. Thus, odorous or inodo- rous, sapid or tasteless, &c., though not primary qualities, cannot both be abstract- ed in thought from any material object ; and, to take a stronger example, colour, which, psychologically speaking, contains within itself such contradictions (for light and darkness, white and black, are, in this reUtion, all equally colours) is thus a ne- cessary concomitant of every perception, and even every imagination, of extended substance ; as has been observed by the Pythagoreans, Aristotle, Themistius, and many others. ©.—These attributes really exist m the objects, as they are ideally represented to our minds. Remark.— In this statement Locke fol- lowed Descartes ; but without the impor- tant qualification, necessary to its accu- rftpy, under which Descartes advances it. "On the doctrine of both philosophers, we know nothing of material existence in it- self; we know it only as represented or in iiea. When Locke, therefore, is asked, liowhe hecame aware that the known idea triily^represents the unknown reahty ; he q^ inake no answer. On the first prin- ciple of his philosophy, he is wholly and necessarily ignorant, whether the idea does, or does not, represent to his mind the attributes of matter, as they exist in nature. His assertion is, therefore, con- fessedly without a warrant; it transcends, ex hypothesi, the sphere of possible know- Mighm Meaning, to be SoUd, i.e. Concrete, in apposition to Fluid. ^ The term SoUdity thus denotes besides the absoluto and necessary property of occupying space, shnply and in its two phases of Exten- sion and ImpenetrabiUty, also the rehitive and contingent quaHties of the Dense, the Inert, the Heavy, the Hard, the Concrete; and the Introduction of these latter, with their corre- lative opposites, into the Ust of Primary Qua- lities was fiiclUtated,if not prepared, by Locke's vacillating employment of the vague exprea- aion Solid; in partial designation of the for- mer. By Karnes, accordingly, Gravity and Inertia were elevated to this rank ; while Co- heslon, in its various modifications and de- grees, was, by Karnes, Eeid, Fergusson, Stewart, Boyer Collard, and many others, not only re- Wgnized as Primary, but expressly so recog- nlsed aa in conformity with the doctrine of Looka. Bee the sequel of this §, and § ii, ledge. Descartes is more cautious. Ha only says, that our ideas of the qualities in question represent those qualities as they are, or as they may exist ; — * ut sunt, vel saltern esse possunt.* The Cosmothetic liealist can only assert to them a proble- matical reality. f. — To the second class belong those qualities which, as in objects themselves, are nothing but various occult modifica- tions of the qualities of the former class ; these modifications possessing, however, the power of determining certain manifest sensations or ideas in us. Such for exam- ple are colours, sounds, tastes, smells, &c., all, m a word, commonly known by the name of Sensible Qualities. These qua- lities, as in the reality y are properly only powers ; powers to produce certain sensa- tions in us. As in us, they are only sensa- tionSf and cannot, therefore, be considered as attributes of external things. Remark. — All this had, long before Locke, become mere philosophical com- monplace. With the exception of the dogmatical assertion of the hypothetical fact, that the subjective sensations of the secondary, depend exclusively on the ob- jective modifications of the primary, qua- lities, this whole doctrine is maintained by Aristotle ; while that hypothetical asser tion itself had been advanced by the an- cient Atomists and their followers the Epicureans, by Galileo, by Descartes and his school, by Boyle, and by modern philo- sophers in general. That the secondary qualities, as in objects, are only powers of producing sensations in us — this, as we have seen, had been explicitly stated, after Aristotle, by almost every theorist on the subject. But it was probably borrowed by Locke from the Cartesians. It is not to be forgotten, that Locke did not observe the propriety of language in- troduced by the Cartesians, of employing the term Idea, in relation to the primary, the term Sensation, in relation to the se- condary, qualities. Indeed Locke's whole philosophical language is beyond measure vague, vacillating, and ambiguous ; in this respect, he has aflForded the worst of pre- cedents, and has found only too many nmnng ii! } to follow hjs example. _.r_-PuBCHOT'8 doctrine on ject deserves to be noticed— which it never has been. It struck me from its corres- pondence, in certain respects, with that which I had myself previously thought out. The first edition of his Institutionea Philosophicae did not appear at Paris un- til a year or two after the publication of Locke's Essay,— the second was in 1608} Ml fEIMAEY AND SECONDARY '[bots bill the Frencli oiiniidift: "loci not appetr to have been aware of tlw speculafioiis of file Engiiii fliiliiW|ili«r,, nofdoet feerefer to Boyle. Mil ioetrine -> wUeh Is not M- Ij stated in any single place of his work -—IS M follows: a.— The one JPfimarwAfialmwAltri^ hmt§ lit Bod J hSMmmm. Withomtthis, 'iMlter cannot he eoncelvecl. But in the notbn of Extension as tm .attrimte is Im- medialely involvefl that of SdMity or fm- pm^raMlit^, I e. the capadty of illing ■pae to the exclmion of anotli^r bodj. b—- But exteMM substance (eo ipse^ solid or impenetfabl©)— 1®, Necessarily exists under some par- ticular mode of Extension^ in other words it has a certain Jfupiiktiilff / and is MmtiMe into parts ; 2**, la necessarily thought as capable of Motitm and .Beit / 3**| Necessarily supposes a certain Ft- gmrt ; and in relation to other bodies a certain Fmitim, These livei 1, Muffnitmk or measore of fslen^on, invoking MvitBMy; 2, Mo- tion 5 3, Rest 5 4, Figure ; 6, Pmitkm or MmHrn^ he styles the stwipls emd $eem' dmj aitribiam, mgeetitms or qualUim which tow immediately from the nature of Body, i. e. Extenaion. c— Out of these Primary Afections of Body there are educed, and as it were 'Compounded, other .affections to wMch the name of QmlMy in a more emphatic and appropriate sense belongs; such among others are LigfU^ Cdmn, Somid*, (khmif Tdflft^andthe Tadi^s qmalUieSfHeca, Cuid, Mmstun, Dtyimmt 4c. These he deno- minates the mmnimy and em^pmiiM frnt- iitm^ mr mfiMfm &fSody. (Instit. Philos. t. ii. Phyi. Seett. i. iv. v. pp. 87, 205, 3M, ed4.) 21. — Lb Clxro does not borrow his doctrine on this head from his friend Looke ; and his point of view is not purely pychologicaL The five properties com- mon to aUbodles — Extension — Divisibility — Solidity { Impenetiahilit j) — Figure — Mobilitylhe v^y properly does not de- nominate' l}iuilt#i«f ,^ but' .reserves 'thai :name for what serveS' to diattngniidi 'bodies from each other. Under tlm restriction, he divides Qualities into PrimUim and iWt*. imtim. By Primitive he defflgnates those occult '^nalities in body which are known to 'US only iu'thchr' eibcts ; as, for example, the cause of Soidity. The Derivative, he .says, are those which low from the Pri*' ■itive and .alfoot' oar 'Seniei, aS' colour, sa- odfMV* 'lw» HIS' doctriuie 1% how Pv niitlMtr ibliif avolved 'nor imaaihin^' "• ' - - - ' "■■"—# www .w^..._v_ W onaly expressed. (Clerici Open Philon Phya. I* f. ec. 1, 6.) 22.— Lo'» .Kamii, in the jfrsf edition of his 'Eiaayi on the prinoiphis of Morality and lfatnfall«igion,'(1751.) touches only ineiiiMitally on the present subject Em enumeratiS' Si^kmi, Mmdmtif Smooth^ Mtf, JtotyliMft, among the Primary Qm- Ities (p. 24S) ; and he was, I am confi- dent, the only philosopher before Reid, by whom this amplification was sanctioned, althongh Mr Stewart has asserted that herein Beid. only followed, the classifiea- tion of most of his immediate predeces- sors.* (Essays, p. 91.) The second edi- tion I have not at hand. In the (Atrd and last, (1770,) there is introduced a chap- ter expressly on the distinction, which is treated of in detail He does not here re- peat his previous' enumeration; but to (Stiff, J%iiri, Midkij (which he does not define) and MmdUUtif, he adds, as pri- mary qualities, Gravitt/, the Fiji Inertiae, and the Ftf InciU^ the two kst being tho Yis Insitm or Yis Inertiae of Kepler and Newton divided into a double power. See Reid*s Correspondence, pp. 55, 58. Karnes unwillingly mixes the pychological and phyiloal pomts of view ; and, otherwise, his elasiiieatlon, in so far as original, is open to manifold objections.. See the foot-note t at p. 837 c, and § ii. 23. — Reid,— We have seen that Des- cartes and I,ocke, to say nothing of other metaphysicians, admitted a fundamental difierence between the primary and tho secondary qualities: the one problema^ tically, the other assertorily, maintainini^, that the primary qualities, as known, cor- respond with the 'primary qualities, as ex- istent; whereas that the secondary quali- ties, as sensations in us, bear no analuj^y to these qualities as inherent in matttT. On the general doctrine, however, of these phllosophen, both, chisses of quali- ties,. aS' known, are' eonfessedly only staiei of our own minds ; and, while we have no right from a subjective affection to infer the existence, far less the corresponding charMler of the existence, of any objec- tive reafity, it is evident that their doc- trine, if faurly evolved, would result in a dogmiitio, or in a sceptical, negation of the primary, no less than of the secondary ■ •' Mr ilewarl .■!■» saji that Berleliif « em- plofs the word Boidltf ss sTnenymoiis witk HsnlneM smI Beslstance.' Tlils is not cor. Berkeler does not consider hardness ■Mimee as convertible; and tkese ho «'tipaanlr'«il'ifilfii ilcniacslions In whiiliy ha"ttMk% Hw taiai .Itidity h osel* ii] QUALITIES OF BODY. 841 qualities of body, as more than appear- ances in and for us. This evolution was accordingly soon accomplished ; and Leib- nitz, Berkeley, Hume, Condillac, Kant, Fichte, and others, found no difficulty in demonstrating, on the principles of Des- cartes, and Locke, and modern Represen- tationists in general, that our notions of Space or Extension, with its subordinate forms of Figure, Motion, &c.« have no higher title to be recognized as objec- tively valid, than our sensations of Colour, of Savour, of Odour ; and were thus enabled triumphantly to establish their K^ral schemes of foVmal or virtual ideal- ism. Hence may we explain the fact tjiat this celebrated distinction is over- .ooked or superseded in the speculation, not of some merely, but of all the more modern German Schools. It is therefore manifest that the fun- damental position of a consistent theory of dualistic realism is — that our cognitions of Extension and its modes are not wholly ideal j — that although Space be a native, necej>sary, a priori, form of imagination, and so far, therefore, a mere subjective state, that there is, at the same time, com- petent to us, in an immediate perception of external things, the consciousness of a really existent, of a really objective, ex- tended world. To demonstrate this was therefore prescribed, as its primary prob- lem to a philosophy which, like that of Reid, proposed to re-establish the philosophy of natural realism — of common sense, on a refutation of every idealism overt or im- plied. Such is the problem. It remains for us to see how it was dealt with. Reid's doctrine, in regard to the Pri- mary and Secondary Qualities, is to be found in the Inquiry, ch. 5, sect. 4-6, p. 12^126, and in the Intellectual Powers Essay ii. ch. 17, p. 313-318. In his enumeration of the Primary qua- lities Reid is not invariable ; for the list in the Inquiry is not identical with that in the Essays. In the former, without pro- fessing to furnish an exhaustive catalogue, lie enumerates Extensionf Figure, Motion, Mm-dness and Softness, Roughness and Smoothness. The four last are, as we have seen, to be found, for the first time, in the earliest edition of Lord Kames's Essays on Morality, which preceded Reid's In- quiry by thirteen years. In the latter he gives another list, which he does not state to be an altered edition of his own, but which he apparently proposes as an enu. meration Identical with Lookers. * Every one,' he says, * knows that Extension, Di- m^ili*!/. Figure, Motion, iioliditif, Hard" ness. Softness, and Fluidity, were by Locke called primary qualities of body.' In re- ference to himself — this second catalogue omits Roughness and Smoothness, which were contained in his first: and intro« duces, what were omitted in the first, i>i- visibility (which Kames had also latterly added). Solidity and Fluidity. In refe- rence to Locke — this and the former list are both very different from his. For, allowing Divisibility to replace Number, and saying nothing in regard, either to the verbal inaccuracy of making Motion stand for Mobility, or to the real inaccu- racy of omitting Rest as the alternative of Motion ; we find in both lists a series of qualities unrecognized as primary by Locke ; or, as far as I know, by any other philosopher previous to Lord Kames and himself. These are Roughness and Smooth- ness, in the Inquiry ; Fluidity in the Essays; and Hardness and Softness m both. But these five qualities are not only not to be ascribed to the list of primary qualities by Locke ; they ought not to be viewed as co-ordinate with Extension, So- lidity (which Reid more rigorously than Locke limits to the ultimate ineompressi- bility of matter), Figure, Mobility, and Divisibility, i.e. not as primary qualities at all. Of these five qualities, tlie last three* as he himself states (p. 314 a), are only different degrees of Cohesion ; and the first two are only modifications of Figure and Cohesion combined. But Cohesion, as will be shewn (§ ii.), is not a character necessarily involved in our notion of body; for though Cohesion, (and we may say the same of Inertia,) in all its modes, ne- cessarily supposes the occupation of space, the occupation of space while it im])lies a continuity does not necessarily imply a cohesion of the elements (whatever they may be) of that which occupies space. At the same time, the various resistances of cohesion and of inertia cannot be re- duced to the class of Secondary qualities. It behoves us therefore, neither with Locke and others, to overlook them ; nor to throw them in without qualification or remark, either with Descartes among the Secondary, or with Reid among the Primary, qualities. But of this again. Independently of these minor differen- ces, and laying also out of account Reid's strictures on the cruder forms of the re- presentative hypothesis, as held by Des- cartes and Locke, but which there is no sufiicient ground to suppose that Doe- cui Lt.'i>. at least, adopted; Reid s doctrine touching the present distinction corre- sponds, i& fill essential respects, withthnt II ^ 'I I I ■I': PWMAKY AND SECONDABT MIIV .MihVM ifllFIP ntmined bj ihm» Iwn pMlosopIim. He does not adopt, and even omits to no- tice, the erroneous criterion of insi^afa- Mlity in tlwiif lit* by wMob Lock* at^ tumpts to 'diseriminate the 'primary iW».^ of . cfaJ of vSm, dif- 'lirent .from these of Primary and 'Secon- dary. I In the contnury, the discrepancy of metaphysicians not only with each other, but of the greatest even with thiim- Mlves,. .as to w.hloh of these two elasses. the qmilities I 'Oall Secnndo-primary should he referred, does, in fact, affbrd a strong preliminary probability that these qualities can with propriety be reduced to neither ; themselves,, in fact, cmstitvting * 'peeoiar' oiass, distinct' f rom^ each, though f nterm.e- 'diate between both. As to the Pksfwmd pomt tffmm, 1 shall eilihit in detail the variation of opinion in relation to the^ several dassei' of those' f unities wUeh. thia. point of view aibris. a. — 'iTronfty. In regard to weight, 'this, so far from 'being universally admitted, from, the necesrity of its conception, to bO' an 'essential, .attnhnte of body, phlloso- Sher% ancient and modem, very generally Isallow all matt.er to bO' hmvy ; and many have even diigmaticatly asserted to eertain kinds of matter a positive levity. This last was done by Aristotle, and us Gneh, AraUai^and Catin .foUewens ie.. by the philosophic world In general for nearly two thousand years. At a recent period, the same doctrine was maintainedy as aot'uaiy true, by Oren and other .adU Tonates. of the hypotlaiia of PMi^ston, .anumg' many 'more who^ 'allowed 'Its truth as possible; and Newton bad previously found it neoeasary to clothe his universal lether with a qnality of negative gravity, (or positive lifhtness,) in order to enable him hypothetieally to account for the phmomenon of positive gravity in other Of Gravity, some, indeed, have held the 'CansO' 'to be Internal .and essential, to mat- ter. Of 'these we ha.ve the ancient ato- mists, (Bemocritus, Leitri'ppns, Epicurus. Ac.,) with Pkto and a few individual Aristotelians, as Strato and Themistius; and in modern tines a section of the Newtoniansy as Cotes, Freind, Reill, with Boscovich, Kant, Kames, 'Schelling, and Hegel. But though holding (physically) weight to be, de facto, an essential pro- perty of matter, these philosophers were far from holding (psychologically) the charaeter of weight to be an essential constituent of the notion of matter. Kant, for example, when speaking psychologi- callif, asserts that weight is only a syn- thetic predicate which experience enables us to add on to our prior notion of body, (Cr. d. r. Vern. p. 12, ed. 2.— Prolog. I 2, p. 25|ed. 1.) ; whereas, when speak- ing phyiically, he contends that weight is au ini.versal. attri.bute of matter, as a neoesiary condition of its existence, (Met. Anfangsgr. d. Naturwiss. p. 71, But the hitter opinion— that weight Is only, in reality, as in thnught, an aecidenl of body~.is that adopted by the immense nuyority, not only of philosophers but of natural philosophen. Under various mo- difications, however i some, for example, .hoUiof the external ca.u8e of gravity to te piysieal,. others to be byprphysical. 'Hegleeting nbordinat'c distinctions, to this ckas belong Anaxagoras, Bemocri- tus, lleissus, Diogenes of Apollonia, Aiistotfe and his school, Algasel, Avi. oenhnm, Copemiou, Bruno, Keppler» Oilhert, B^erigardni, Bigby, Torrloelli, 'Bcicartes, Oassonii, .Lena, Kircher, An* dak, Malebranche, Rohault, Be Ouerleke^ Perrault, H. More, Cudworth, Bu Hamelp Hnygens, Stunnius, Hooke, Is. Vossius, Mewton, E, Chirke, Maltoy, Leibnitti Sanrin, Wolf, Mneier, Bllfinger,the Ber- nouUis James and John, Cans, Harober. ger, YarifrnMi!, Tiliemot, Patio, fiuler. Baster« CoUe% Sauasmrei Le 'Sagib L*HiiiUiei% Prevost, De Luc, Monboddo, Horsley, Drummond, Playfair, Blair, &c. In |iarticular, this doctrine is often and anxiously inculcated by Newton — who seems, indeed, to have sometimes inclined even to an immaterial cause; but thiiS more especially after his follower. Cotes, had ventured to announce an adli. ision to the counter theory, in his preface to the second edition of the * Prineipia,' which he procured in 1713. See Newton s letter to Boyle, 1678 — l4etter8, second and third, to Bentley, 1693 ;— Prineipia, L. i. c. 5. L. iii. reg. 3, alibi; — in particu- kr. Optics, ed. 1717, B. iii. Qu. 21, b. — Coliesionf comprehending under that term not only Cohesion proper, but all the specific: forces, (Adhesion, Capil- krity, Chemical Affinity, &c.,) by which the particles of individual bodies tend to approach, and to maintain themselves in union — Cohesion is even less than Gra- vity, than the force by which matter in general attracts matter, a character essen- tial to our notion of body. Upon Gravity, indeed, a majority of the earlier Newton- ians maintained Cohesion, in some inex- plicable manner, to depend ; and the other hypotheses of an external agency, all pro- ceed upon the supposition that it is merely an accident of matter. Cohesion, the cause of which Locke wisely regarded as inconceivable, Descartes attempted to ex- plain by the quiescence of the adjoining molecules ; Malebranche, (as an occa- sional cause,) by the agitation of a per- vading invisible matter; Stair, by the pressure (whence, he does not state) of the physical points, his supposed consti- tuents of body, to a common centre ; and James Bernoulli, by the pressure of a circumambient fluid, — an hypothesis te which Newton likewise seems to have in- clined : while a host of others, following ; Algaaeland Avicembron, Biel and D'Ailly, spurned all mechanical media, these being themselves equally inexplicable as the phaenomenon in question, and resorted to the immediate agency of an immaterial principle. The psychologists, therefore, who (probably from confounding hard- ness with solidity, solidity with impene- trability) have carried up the resistance of cohesion into the class of primary qualities, find but little countenance for their procedure, even among the crude precedents of physical specuktion. c — Via Inertim. But if, on the ground of philosophical agreement, Gravity and Cohesion are not to be regarded as pri- mary qualities of matter; this dignity is even less to be accorded to that force by which bodies resist any change of state, whether that be one of quiescence or of motion. This, variously known under the names of Vis Inertiae, Inertia, Vis Insita Resistentise, Resistentia Passiva, &c., was, indeed, if not first noticed, only first gene- ralized at a comparatively recent period — to wit, by Keppler ; while the subsequent controversies in regard to its nature and comprehension, equally concur in showing that there is no necessity for thinking it as an essential attribute of matter. The Cartesians, among others, viewed it as a quality not only derivative but contingent ; and even those Newtonians who, in oppo- sition to Newton, raised Gravity to the rank of a primary quality, did not, how- ever, venture to include inertia under the same category. (See Cotes's Preface to the second edition of the Prineipia.) Leibnitz, followed, among others, by Wolf, divided this force into two ; — dis- criminating the vis ctctiva or motrix, from the vis passiva or inertias. The former they held not to be naturally inherent in, but only supernaturally impressed on, matter. Without reference- to Leibnitz> a similar distinction was taken by D'Alem- bert, in which he is followed by Destult de Tracy ; a distinction, as we have seen, which also found favour with Lord Kames, who in this, however, stands alone, among metaphysicians, that he places both his vis inertim and vis incita among the pri- mary qualities of body. Finally, Physical speculators, in gene- ral, distinguish Inertia and Weight, as powers, though proportional, still distinct. Many, however, following Wiedeburg, view the former as only a modification or phasis of the ktter. d. — Repulsion, meaning by that term more than the resistance of impenetrabi- lity, gravity, cohesion, or inertia, has, least of all, authority to plead in favour of its pretension to the dignity of a primary quality. The dynamical theories of mat- ter, indeed, view Attraction and Repulsion not merely as fundamental qualities, but even as its generic forces ; but the ground of this is the necessity of the hypothesis, not the necessity of thought. 2. — But the voice of our individual consciousness is a more direct and cogent evidence than the history of foreign opi- nion ; — and this is still less favourable to the ckim in question. The only resist- ance which we think as necessary to the conception of body, is a resistance to the occupation of a body's space — the resist- ance of ultimate incompressibility. The others, with their causes, we think oulv PlIMAEY, 8ECUHD0-PEIMARY XS3 t|^_,^^|B||bM|||^ ,1111111, ■qH' m _ itf IMM9MIW» 0110 9mA aH of tllClll "iM-ean '«Mif aimiliikte in I'Iio^wkIiI. Mgfmidtm (to take them biickwards) — a resistance to the approiimati'On and wntact of other natter—wo mam only bj a late ani 'ieamdl. etpriemse to fiew as^ an atlrilmt«' of 'Mlj , ani of the ele- ments of body ; nay, to far is it from being a elteraeter aiMntial. in our notion of mat- 'ler, it remains, as apparently an. mHio in iiMmUt even when forced upon uias a fact, still inconceivable as a possibiily. Ac- cordingly, by no philosopher has^ the r«- ince of lepulslon 'been psychologi- .rVg^dea M ««ong tb. prtauu-, ilities. Mor has f ii«rfiemon- stration that all Matter is Heavy/ published in the Transactions of the Cambridge Philoso. phical Society, Vol. vii., Part ii. j — an author whose energy and talent all must admire, even while convinced the least by the cogency of his reasoning. As this demonstration pro- ceeds not on a mere physical ground, but on the ground of a certain logical or psychologi . cal law, and as it is otherwise diametrically opposed to the whole tenor of the doctrine previously maintained, I shall briefly consider it in its general bearing ; — which Mr Whewel? thus states, afterwards illustrating it in de- tail:— * The question then occurs, whether we can, by any steps of reasoning, point out an incon- sistency In the conception of matter without weight. This I conceive we may do, and this I shall attempt to show. — The general mode of stating the argument is this : — ^The quantity of matter is measured by those sensible pro- pertios of matter [Weight and Inertia] whicli undergo quantitative addition, subtraction, and division, as the matter is added, subtracted, and divided. The quantity of matter cannot be known in any other way. But this mode of measuring the quantity of matter, in order to be true at all, must be universally true. If it were only partially true, the limits within which it is to be applied would be arbitrary; and, therefore, the whnle procedure would be arbitrary, and, as a method of obtaining philo. sophical truth, altogether futile.' [But this is not to be admitted. * We must suppose the rule to be universal. If anybodies have weight all bodies must have weight.'] I". This reasoning assumes in chief that we cannot but have it in our power, by some means or other, to ascertain the quantity of matter as a physical truth. But gratuitously. For why may not the quantity of matter be one of that multitude of problems, placed be- yond the reach, not of human curiosity, but of human determination? 2^. But, subordinate to the assumption that some measure we must have, the reasoning fur- ther supposes that a measure of the weight (and inertia) is the only measure we can have of the quantity of matter. But is even this cor- rect? We may, certainly, attempt to esti- mate the quantity of matter by the quantity of twOf at least, of the properties of matter j to wit — a) by the quantity of space of which it is found to resist the occupation j and— b) by the quantity of weight (and inertia), which il manifests. We need not enquire, whether, were these measures harmonious in result, they would, in combination, supply a compe- tent criterion; for they are at variance; and, if either, one must be exclusively selected. Of the two, the former, indeed, at first sight, f , WI4 fRiMARf. 8ECUND0-pr:im:ai¥ and [mote d. In proprlrty. qoalitlet of Body at all. As •iimlMiiiied, ibey are' only tibjoetke .aiieiiiim,, .aiiii, 'Iwloiig only to httHm in so far m ^Imm mm M'ppoaed imisliei with the piiwiifs oapdile of ispMiieaUy tieter- 'milling tlW' rafions iiarts of omr ntrvoiia^ a|i|iai«tV'lo 'tbe mcnlar aistion, or ratli«r paaion, of wMoii tlitj an sosoeptibk; wUeb detemiiwd. ^aotioii or 'pssion is tliO' 'qaaiity of wMA: doM w# .are immedi- ataly eognisant, the external concause of that internal effect remaining to percep- tion altogether unknown. Thus, the reeommendfl Itself •• the slone anilientic. For the^ 1 nantttf of niattar' 'Is, on all handi, ^ad. 'initted. 'to te 'to .froportlim to thO' f nantlty of spoee II lis, extension being neeetmrtly 'ikonglit 'ss^ the etaenHal popmrtf ^of boite} wiivvese it 'Is not nifersally ainittei 'ibil tie ipnititf of fflMitter Is In proportion to iti .amonnt of weight ^aad. 'Inertia; HiesO' 'beinf, on 'the eontmry, coneelfabie, and fenerally con. telvfi, at adfentltions aeeliients, isad not, llierefore, m necessary eoneomitantS' of 'mst- 'ler.-^Bni. fbt% 'it :aiay bo 'oompetently eh- Jeeted,:— Hw enlWI' oslenslon of compressed tmdles cannot be talcen as an antlientte mea. •nre: of the f naniily of spaeo they fill, beeiase we are not assatoi tbal^ the degree of con- f resslnf foroO' wUel we can aetnally apply Is sii aeenralelwlix of what their enblcal exten. alon. wottM. 'be, 'in a state of nMiaate. or' dosest oompMsriOtt. Bat though tUs 'Objioflott ninst lie admitted to invalidate the certainty of the more dlnel. sad probaUa ^erlterloa, 'It does not, however, leavi' 'the 'pnMeoi. 'tO'^be 'deter, mined by the other; agahist 'Which, Indeed, it iills to \m no leas effeetaally' retorted.. Wm m little,at .least, can;vebeassaroi'thalilMM.Is 'not ielfier' aeparateiy, or' In coaMaatlon wUh^gra-' vitatiag matter) sabstaace ocenprliii space, .and, tliereiiffe, aMterial,, bat whloh| being des- 'titnte: of'welgMiiB,, on. Ibe staadHrd 'Of ;ion. deraMity, precisely as If It did not exist. 'IMs sappOBltlon, be it obsenred, the expert* tnenta of Ifewton and Beasel. do not exelnde. Kay, more ; there arw, In fhct, obtruded on onr observation a serlMi of spperent llnids, (as .light or m vehioloy. 'thO' Oslorlto, Boetro-gal* vaalo: aad. :ilagaelle isgents,) 'WiM» 'la 'Oar po- tent state 'Of knowledg'O, wo can aeltber, on lie one 'isad, donnde of 'the oisraotcr 'Of sab. ■taace, nor, on. the 'Other, 'Oloilie 'With. the. ■ttribatO'Ofweighl. IP. This a^gnmoat inaliy sapposes, m a lo. t%M aUBMI '■MBlWIii.^liijii '(iBipiiBpp iW Mjlgi ^iwilPalMliWl|iipipaaMiaai iBJaipaaa '^■■■^■•'"'jjijf affords a erltarloB 'Of trnfli,, sallOitlvOly 'aecea- ■ary , aad objectively certaia. Bnl 'BOt the r| 'iir howevir iaoined, we an; 'aater dl|. a 'posteilort, to thinli^ tbal be* mm, Iberelore M 'tbO' coastltients of a ^clMi mail .|«, tie salfoeti. of a fiadicato a .prtart .coaiingeBt. Hottho'laHars "Hc'tltoagh a aaeilii. itlmnlns aad gnldi-toinvesilgallon, analogy Is, by ItsOlfi a very doabtftil: sf'tratb Seconclary qualities (and the sane Is fa be .laidt 'nntatii' nntandis, of the Socawlo. prinary) art, otnaiilerod ioMaotively, anil coniideral otifietivolli aHetlons or quail- ties of things diamotrioally opposed In nature — of the organic and inorganic, of th^,, .imtienl and 'imentient,. of mind an>d ■attar: aid thoiifhy as mutrndly oorro- 'lalfTOk and 'tMr loireml pairs, rarely oli. taiainif 'in oommon hmgnago more than a single 'name, tley can.n.ot well be 'Con- BdLd, ..cpt in «».juncti.n. ™d.r .he same oatogory or' .gtnoral class j still their essential. eoDtrait. #f eharaetor 'must bo ever 'OaroMljr 'borne in mind. And in spealung of tnese qualities, as we are here ckeiy conoemod with them on their sub- Joetlve side, I request it may Iw' obaervedp thai I shall employ 'llio oppression AevniC- mrf fnolillsf - tO' denot'O those 'piisnomenal affections determined in our sentient or- 'faniim by the agency of external bodie% and not, unless when otherwise st^ated, 'the occult powers Ihemielres from wiiioli. Of 'the Seoondaij' qualities, in this rela- 'tion, tberO' .art various kinds ; the variety prlneipally dependtng on the differences of !!•' diltaranl ;pani. of onr nervous ap-' paralnt. Snoh are' 'the prO'per sensitile% the idiopathic afflictions of our several organs of sense, as Colour, Sound, Flavour, Savour, and Tactual sonsatlon} such are IhO' leeliiip fVom Meat, Eloetrleity, Oal- are tlit innsoular and cutaneous sensations wMch accompany the 'preoption of the Seonndo-primary qualities. Such, though less directly the result of foreign oaniei, are TltiUation, Sneosing, IIompi.lation, Shnddering, 'the feeing of what is called Setting-the-teeth-OB*edge, kc, kc. ; such, in ino, are all the various sensations of bodily nleaiBra aad pain determined by the action, of 'eitomd. itimuU.^ — So m.uch for the induction of the Seenadiry <^li- ties in a siljeetive relation. ^ It is here, however, requisite to add iiome words of illnil'ration*— What aro denominated the leeondary qnalitlei of 'body, .are, 1 have said, as apprehended, not qnaliliei of 'body at all; being only idiopathic affbetions of 'the different por- tions of our nervona organism — affections Wa^itfm^aiBL Mil .tf'b'^MBiiMfeiHHi' ritfMm 'flMtlBH'M' fluflUMaWHiai fltt'lMiiitfl flVw'MII'a I'akWft v'ttfe W'MijHi aad mraltlfonn caasee. in external 'things.. This is manlfeit from the physiology of onr wnses and their appropriate nerves. 'Withool 'ealtrlag on detail% it is snlBoietit f hJ SECONDARY QUALITIES OF BODY. 855 various assortments o*' nerves ; each of these being astricted to certain definite fbnctions ; and each exclusively discharg- ing the function which specially belongs to it Thus there are nerves of feehng, (comprehending under that term the sensations of cutaneous touch and feebng proper, of the muscular sense, and of the vital sense, or sensus vagus, in all its modifications,) of seeing, of hearing, of smelling, of tasting, &c. The nerves of feeling afford us sensa- tions to which, in opposite extremes, we emphatically, if not exclusively, attribute the qualities of pain and pleasure. Acute pain— pain from laceration may, indeed, be said to belong exclusively to these ; for the nerves appropriated to the other and more determinate senses, are like the brain in this respect altogether insensible, and it is even probable that the pain we experience from their over-excitement is dependent on the nerves of feeling with which they are accompanied. Now pain and pleasure no one has ever attributed as qualities to external things : feeling has alwavs been regarded as purely subjective, and 'it has been universally admitted that its affections, indicating only certain con- scious states of the sentient animal, afforded no inference even to definite causes of its production in external nature. So far there is no dispute. The case may, at first sight, seem dif- ferent with regard to the sensations pro- per to the more determinate senses ; but a slight consideration may suffice to satisfy us that these are no less subjective than the others;— as is indeed indicated m the history already given of the distinction of Primary and Secondary qualities. As, however, of a more definite character, it is generally, I believe, supposed that these senses, t-hough they may not pre- cisely convey material qualities from ex- ternal existence to internal knowledge, %till enable us at least to infer the posses- sion by bodies of certain specific powers, each capable exclusively of exciting a certain correlative manifestation in us. But even this is according greatly too large a share in the total sensitive effect to the objective concause. The sensations proper to the several senses depend, for the distinctive character of their manifestation, on the pecuhar cha- racter of the action of their several aerves; and not, as is commonly sup- posed, on the excluMve susceptibility ot these nerves for certain specific stimuh. In fact every the most different stimulus iand there are manv such, both extra and intra-organic, besides the one viewed as proper to the sense,) which can be brought to bear on each several nerve of sense, determines that nerve only to its one pe- culiar sensation. Thus the stimulus by the external agent exclusively denomi- nated Light, though the more common, is not the only, stimulus which excites in the visual apparatus the subjective affection of light and colours. Sensations of light and colours, are determined among other causes, from within, by a sanguineous congestion in the capillary vessels of the optic nerve, or by various chemical agents which affect it through the medium of the blood ; from without, by the applica- tion to the same nerve of a mechanical force, as a blow, a compression, a wound, or of an imponderable influence, as elec- tricity or galvanism. In fact, the whole actual phajnomena of vision might bo realized to us by the substitution of an electro-galvanic stimulus, were this radi- ated in sufficient intensity from bodies, and in conformity with optical laws. The blind from birth are thus rarely without all experience of light, colour and visual extension, from stimulation of the interior organism.— The same is the case with the other senses. Apply the aforementioned or other extraordinary stimuh to their several nerves ; each sense will be excited to its appropriate sensation, and its ap- propriate sensation alone. The passion manifested (however heterogeneous its external or internal cause) is always,— of the auditory nerves, a sound, of the olfac- tory, a smell, of the gustatory, a taste. But of the various common agencies which thus excite these several organs to their idiopathic affection, we are manifestly no more entitled to predicate the individual colour, sound, odour, or savour of which, in each case, we have a sensation, than we are to attribute the pain we feel to the pin by which we are pricked. But if this must per force be admitted of the extraordinary external causes of these sensations, it is impossible to deny it of the ordinary. In this respect Aristotle, (and the same may also be said of Theophrastus,) was far in advance of many of our modern philo- sophers. In his treatise on Dreams, to prove that sensation is not a purely objec- tive cognition, but much more a subjective modification or passion of the organ, he shows, and with a detail very unusual to him, that this sensible affection does not cease with the presence, and, there- fore, does not manifest the quality, of tho external object. ' This (he says) is ap- parent so often as we have the sensation Y, SECUHDO-PEniAml AHB [N'OTB b. of m tMag for » certftin mntiiiimnfic. F«ir then, lif '«rt m we .iimij tie imim from mm object to itnotliery itii tlw iilietieD "ireiii tlie irat aeconiiMiMi the seeoncl ; m (for example) when we pass from mn- shine into sfaii^e. In this case we at first :iee iMtMngf heeaiise of ths noTement in tiO' ejes still snWaltpf , which hai been iflterminecl by the ighl. In tike manner if we fi^aze for a while upon a single colour, ■ay white or green, whatever we may now turn our sight on witt appear of that tint. And if, a.fler looking at the sun or other ^daiiltng objeet, we close our eyelids, we sball find, if we obserre, that, in the line rf TWon, a,.re fim of dl H1H»r. . ooloar then ehaiiges^ to rod, then to purple, until It last the aAcilon vanishes in black ; * — with more to the same effbct. (€. 2.) And in the same chapter he anticipatra ■odern pychologists in the observation '-«4bat' '* iomeCfantt, when suddenly awoke, we diMover, iron their raol iaeontlnently vanishing, that the images which had op- pi*ared to us when asleep are really move- nents in the organs of sense; and to young persons it not unfreqiiently hap- pens, even when 'wide awake, and with- drawn from the excitement of %ht, that moving images present themselves so vividly, that for fear they are wont to Ude themselves 'under the bed-cloaths." (C. Z) See a.iso (Mtkmm, in Seat. L. ii. qq. 17, 18 — Biei, in Sent. L. ii. Mst. iii. q. 2 — Beriffwrdm, Circuits Pisaaua P. vi. 'Cire. 12, ^ed, ;2. — Hokbei, Human Mature, ek ii. I 7-10._JlMrteiM, Prmbctiones in propriaa InstitutioMs, ff 284, 179 8prmg§l^ Semiotik | 770-773; Patho- logie, vol. ii, § 719.— l?nitlA«t«fi, Anthro- S logic, § 44©— afr CkoHeg mU, An ii% &c. (in Shaw's Narrative, p.B%.:si|. ;) The Hand, Im*^ f, 175, sq.— PfaiMiii, ■bsai d'une Theorie, Ac, p. .— Jl Mml- Isr, Physiology, Book v.. Preliminary Con- ridafatwns, p. 1050, sq., Engl Transl. 8ueh being the purely lubjecti've cha^ Miter of 'the Secondary qualities, as ap- pMhended or immediately known by us, we must reject as untenable the doctrine Ml. thia' point, Imwever in^eniO'Uily' sup- C(4 <»f the Mlefamted Meapolilan. pM. her. Barm. Qaiiippl; who, 'while, justly I think, diaiatitfiad 'wIth the opinion of Reid, thai the perception of the pri- ..inary quaitieti .is. a conception insHnel'ively ^•mf gisted Ml oecasion of our' 'inisBtioii of 'ihO' sMoadary, ^errs on the opposite ex- 1, in MS' .attenpt to show that this .itself aibrii us what, is 'watited, 'tftgniliMip «a olieetive $ ■ppniieuiion, of external Ibings. The resull of his doctrino he thus* himself states :— ' Senmtiom u of its vetf maluiif objet^im: in other words, o^jselMif w esMNlM to mmry immtion.' Elementi di Filosofia, vol. i. e. 10, ed. 4. Florence. 1837. Th.»ttari.;»«>»Dpl7 treated in his 'Critiea.'dellaCoilosoeiisa, L. ii. c. 6» and L. iv. — a work wMcli. I have not yet seen. Compare Bonelli, In&titutiones Logico-Metaphysica, t. i. pp. 184, 222, ed* Mf l'o37' Such is a general view of 'the grounds on. 'wUeh 'the pyehological distinction of the Qualities of Body, into the three elasses of Primary, Sec'undo>primary, and Secondary is estabilabed.. It now .remaiiis to exU'hll th^ 'mutual. dlAmces ^and .slmilariiies mon in detaiL 'In. .attempt- ing this, the following order will be pur- sued — I shall state of the three relative classes, — (A) Wkai tktji mm, mmmdered l».f0iMriii|.| tlie%(B) If JIfil cibf orv, co'ii- Mmmi In jMirfioiiliir. And under tliin latter bead I shall view them, (1**) m im M&dim: (2^) oi ta 'CoffiMm; and this (a) us III. Smiitim A'pprekmmmi ; (b) as til TkmmM; (c) m im teCft.— For the convenielcy of rifersnce the paragraphs will be numbered. A.« — Wkai Asy am in ^iiiral. 1. The Primary are less properly de- nominated Qualities (Sucbnosses,) and deserve the name only as we conceive them, to distinguish body from noi-bodyy — corporeal from incorporeal substance. They are thus merely the attributes of bodf mt bod^, — corporh m corpm. The .Secundo-primary and Secondary, on the contrary, are in strict propriety denomi- 'Uated Qnaitles,. 'for they dii»cri.minate body from body. They are the attri- butes of bodg a$ this or that kind of body p — cerporit wt full: corpus.* 2. 'The Primary arise from, the universal relations, of body to Itself;, the Secundo- primary from thie general relations of this body Cb that; the Secondary from the tMs id.wl of animated, or 'sentient organism. 3. The Primary determine the possi- bility of matter absolutely ; the Secundo* • Thus, In the Arlstotelle and other philo* •ophlss, HW' 'iMS' 'QwU^ woqM not be allowsd tO' those AmdamsnMI. eonditioos oa. whkh the «iiiijiiu||pi||u||ii. is^jiiuiiigst !%■ IvflHis jMv flHlUHlNfedMP #Si^hvufeiaanMi Ikini 41'* * wHMra a Jala I ".J SECONDARY QUALITIES OF BODY. 857 primary, the possibility of the material universe as actually constituted ; the Secondary, the possibility of our relation as sentient existences to that universe. 4. Under the Pi-imary we apprehend modes of the Non-ego; under the Secundo- primary we apprehend modes both of the Ego and of the Non-ego; under the Secondary we apprehend modes of the Ego, and infer modes of the Non-ego. (See par. 15.) 6. The Primary are apprehended as they are in bodies; the Secondary, as they are in us ; the Secundo-primary, as they are in bodies, and as they are in us. (See par. 15.) 6. The term quality in general, and the names of the several qualities in par- ticular, are — in the case of the Primary, uni vocal, one designation unambiguously marking out one quality;* — in the case of the Secundo-primary and Secondary, equivocal, a single term being ambigu- ously applied to denote two qualities, dis- tinct though correlative— that, to wit, which is a mode of existence in bodies, and that which is a mode of affection in our organism.f (See par. 24.) 7. The Primary, and also the Secundo- primary qualities, are definite in number and exhaustive ; for all conceivable rela- tions of body to itself, or of body to body merely, are few, and all these found actu- ally existent. The Secondary, on the contrary, are in number indefinite; and the actual hold no proportion to the pos- sible. For we can suppose, in an animal organism, any number of unknown capa- cities of being variously affected ; and, in matter, any number of unknown powers of thus variously affecting it ; | and this though we are necessarily unableto imagine to ourselves what these actually mav be. • For example, there is no subjective Sensa- tion of Magnitude, Figure, Number, &c., but only an objective Perception. (See par. 15-19.) f Thus, in the Secundo-primary the term Hardness, for instance, denotes both a certain resistance, of which we are conscious, to our motive energy, and a certain feelin|^ from pressure on our nerves. The former, a Per- oeptlon, is wholly different from the latter, a Sensation ; and we can easily imagine that we might have been so constituted, as to appre- hend Resistance as we do Magnitude, Figure, lie., without a corresponding organic passion. (See par. 18.) — In the Secondary the term Heat, for example, denotes ambiguously both the quality which we infer to be in bodies and ilie f uality of which we are conscious in our. flUBll WJMH I SextuB Empiricus, Montaigne* Toltaire, Uumaterhuis, Itrueger, 4bc., notice this as pos- B. — What they are in particular ; and l**, Considtred as in Bodies. 8. The Primary are the qualities of body in relation to our organism, as a body simply ; the Secundo-primary, are the qualities of body in relation to our organism, as a propelling, resisting, cohe- sive body ; the Secondary are the quali- ties of body in relation to our organism, as an idiopathically excitable and sentient body. (Seep. 854b— 856a.) 9. Under this head we know the Pri- mary qualities immediately as objects of perception ; the Secundo-primary, both immediately as objects of perception and mediately as causes of sensation , the Se- condary, only mediately as causes of sen- sation. In other words : — The Primary are known immediately in themselves ; the Secundo-primary, both immediately in themselves and mediately in their effects on us ; the Secondary, only me- diately in their effects on us. (See par. 15.) 10. The Primary are known under the condition of sensations ; the Secundo- primary, in and along w.th sensations ; the Secondary, in consequence of sensa- tions. (See par. 20.) 11. The Primary are thus apprehended objects; the Secondary,inferred powers ; the Secundo-primary, both apprehended objects and inferred powers. 12. The Primary are conceived as ne- cessary and perceived as actual ; the Se- cundo-primary are perceived and con- ceived as actual ; the Secondary are inferred and conceived as possible. 13. The Primary are perceived as con- ceived. The Secundo-primary are con- ceived as perceived. The Secondary are neither perceived as conceived, nor con- ceived as perceived ; — for to perception they are occult, and are conceived only as latent causes to account for manifest effects. (See par. 15, and footnote.)* 14. The Primary may be roundly cha- racterized as mathematical ; the Secundo- primary, as mechanical; the Secondary, as physiological. 2®. Considered as Cognitions ; and here (a) As in Sensitive Apprehension, o«* t» relation to Sense. 15. In this relation the Primary quali- ties are, as apprehended, unambiguously sible; but do not distinguish the possibility ai lindted to the Secondary Qualities. fljflt'fll' PEIMARY. SECUNDO-f EIMAEY AND [note m dlftofife (ol>|t«t-i>bi0cts) ; the Secondary, mrnnibigtioiisly subjectue ( subject-ob- jneCs ) ; * tbe Seeuado - prinuiry, both ®lj«ctt¥« and siibjMlm (object-objects sni nl^ect-objects). In ©tber words : — We .ar«' conMioas, as objects, in tbe Fri* mary qualities, of the modes of a not- self; in the Semmdaryy of the modes of self;* in the Seeando.primary. of the modes of self and of a not-self at once.f 16. Using^ the terms strictly, the ap- prehensions of the Primary are percep- 'timii, not sensations ; of the Seeoiidftry, tions, not perceptions ; of the m» etindo-prlmary, perceptions and sensations together, (See par. 15, footnote *.) 17. In the Primary there is, thus, no concomitant Secondary quality; in the Secondary there is no concomitant pri- mary quality ; in the Secundo-primary, a secondary and quasi-primary quality ac- company each other. 18. In the apprehension of the Primary qualities the mind is primarily and prin- cipally actire ; it feels only as it knows. In that of the Secondary, the mind is primarily and principally passive ; it knows only as It feeli4 In that of the Secundo- *' Bf|W mineh this differs^lNim the doctrine •f BeM, ^llewarl, In., who hold that in every ■ensation there Is not only a subjective object of seiisati.fw« Iwt alie^ an eltlecMve object of |i0.reeptlfnt '9m 'SMe B*, | !• f In ilwlration of this paragn^li, I mutt ^■whsp ^laa wuMPa ^■swiiwp^iiaiWirwpBiiip'iiP'aai nffii' ■p^'Jf ^"^•^^"^WHt. J^ .^iP^hp^ia wsiiw (iwii>Mi #simHp — the ^IsMnetiea^ I :nMaa of tad^MlM and ofh- iimitiiif^ which, as llur as I an awarOi has never iaeii cleared up, naf, never even brought •learly Into view. Our nervous organism, (the rest of our body may he :fiiiriy tlumrn.. out 'Of aecount,) in eon- •nMt'tO' III exiarler to Itsdlf, qppertiJns to the concrete human %o, and in tUs^ respect Is > MMnHill lAemns, :fu contrast to the IvmatoM. :%o, 'the pure mind, it Momrs to the If on^eg e, and in this respect Is 'iMialivs, -li l i rt ii i Bern Is one source ot am. idully snllelently 'perplexing j but the dls- 'SrlailnBilon. Is hm eoniparatively manifeit, and .any limnrlant tnoonvenience from 'the emp loynumt mi fhi' terms may, 'witii proper atlentloii, he avuMM. The followlnff problem Is more 'i!ilettlt.T lioeiilnf 'fllwm the mind, and not looking 'bo. yend onr' 'MiiBiated. organlsni, are the phaene- mena of which we are 'Ooasclens In ^fhal organ. ism. sll 'Upon, a level, ie., 'equally olt)ective cr 'Cqualy siil|isctf «• } or .is. there a'dtserimlnatlen HP PU' nmnn^ ■mn •muv iniBBiiiimmiK m pw cull* sldered as objeetlve, betng modes of our organ. Ism. 'vlawei. .as a mere pertta of' matter, 'Und 'In this 'respect mXen-ego, ^ while ether phmo. mena .are to be considered .as: iublectlve, 'being thc^ modes of our' organism, as aiimaied.. by 'Cr In union with, 'the^ mlad^ aod 'thenHiffe stitos of the Sgo? Without :here .attempting to enter on the reasons, which 'vindieato my opinion, aailcc: it.to iiay, 'thai' .1 ad^pt the hitter .altor. inatlve { and. heM. ffhtrllMff,. 'that, the discrlmlna. tion of the sensorlaI'ph'hody. As a bodrslm^y It can 'pos. % and. ean ;posBtbly be known .as ex- only under' those necessary conditions. to' 'Of ' aU matter, wiileh have beea dmiomlBatod its Primary qualities. As an animated bcdy it actually exists, and is actually known to exist, only as it is susceptible of certain affec- tions, which, and tbe extemia causes of wliich, have been ambiguously called the Secondary t qualities of matter. Nnw, by a law of our nature, 'WU: are^ not conscious 'Of the existence of our organism, censequenUy not conscious of any of Its primary quiUties, unless when we are conaciciiS' el 1% as. 'modlied. by a secon. dary quality, or some other of Ita affections, as an animated body. But the tirmer conscious, ness requires the latter only as its negative condition, and is neither imvolved In it as a part, nor properly dependent on it as a cause. The object in the one consciousness is also wholly dlllBrent Dram ^bm ofe||cct la. the other In that, it is a coathifent passion off the 01^411.. ism, as a .constllaent of thu^ human, self; in this, it is some essential property ef the organ ism, as a fortiim ef the universe of matter, and though apprehended by, not an affection proper to, the conscious self at all. In these circumstances, the secondary quality, say a colour, which the mind apprehends in the organism. Is, as a passion of self, recognised quality, extensiett, •r'i|gure,'Or"iumber, which, when conscious ef inch .ailMtlen, the mind therein at the same that apprehends, is, aa not' a passion of sel^ but a eonunon. property of matter, reccgalsed 'to he an tibfmUm oiii^ei. (See par. 16-19, with footnotof, and par. 18| wtthfootnotot.) I Thus in vision, 'the secondary quality el colour Is, In the strictest sense, a passlvt affection of the aemtlent ego; and the onl^ ^*™' ~" ~ a # ^pBiB™t mssHwaiasii' uip^^ma upup vmsv^v W"" %i'«(BiiUiP'iBi w aiaa wmi'W' mahn Btt ^ ■ jwmi' jMvw ^iiyMljMiiiuaiiNi asa Vhu wvihiSHi iBiwBiSHifhJiBwsl'l'"leB''sa miiJwini selousness. that It la. so and so affccM.. It thus knows as it ImIs, to kaowl:ng that. 'It ; But the apprelMnsieii. of estemC dlvidMUty, 4e., wliieli,, under eendltlon of Ha al^^yasMMp VBivaaP mMHsai^wsWpaiaijii wakaaaua(aiw^aaaiW"aiFW»wajf aMMHWSw'H place. Is, though neaiBiaty, wholly active and igure, Jkte.., are, difcetly and In their 'O'Wn 'nature, netlher, suhjectively considered, pas. slons of the animated sensory, nor, objectively comdAoed, 'efltaleat qualities In things by which, such passioo cm be^ caused. The per. •entlon of narte eui ef neirto 'Is not alvcii 'to Alkj^h i^BK^MBMa su^HII^kjiihMI Jiusa JUw ja^hiBJihisai'ai ■hiiniiii'' slm j%P%d'''SswiajiesMii Ikias |n.] SECONDARY QUALITIES OF BODY. 859 primary the mind is equally and at once active and passi ve ; in one respect, it feels as It knows, in another, it knows as it feels.* 19. Thus Perception and Activity are at the maximum in the Primary qualities ; at the minimum in the Secondary; Sen- sation and Passivity are at the minimum a reaction of the mind upon such affection. It is merely tbe recognition of a relation. But a relation is neither a passion nor a cause of passion; and, though apprehended through sense, is, in truth, an intellectual not a sensi- tive cognition; — ^unless under the name of sensitive cognition we comprehend, as I think we ought, more than the mere recognition of an organic passion. (See Note D*, § 1.) Tlie perception of Extension is not, therefore, the more consciousness of an affection— a mere sensation. — This is still more manifest in re- gard to Figure, or extension bounded. Visual figure is an expanse of colour bounded in a certain manner by a line. Here all is nothing hat relation. * Expanae of eohwr* is only coloured extension; and extension, as stated, is oiUy the relation of parts out of parts. * Bounded in a certain manner/ is also only the expression of various relations. A thing is * bomtdedf* only as it has a limited number of parts; but limited, number, and part$, are, all throe, relations : and, further, 'In a mrtain man- ma' denotes that these parts stand to each other In one relation and not in another. The percep. tion of a thing as bounded, and bounded in a certein manner, is thus only the recognition of a thing under relations. Finally, ' by a line ' still merely indicates a relation ; for a line is nothing but the negation of each other, by two Intersecting colours. Absolutely considered, II tg a nothing ; and so far firom there being any difficulty in conceiving a breadthless line, a line is, in fact, not a line (but a narrow sur- fhce between two lines) if thought aa pos- sessed of breadth. (See Note E.)~In such per- ceptions, therefore, if the mind can bo said to foci, it can be said to feel only in being con- If ions of itself as purely active j that is, as spontaneously apprehensive of an object-ob. Jcct or mode of the non-ego, and not of a sub- Ject-object or affection of the ego. (See par. 16.^19, and relative footnotof.) The application of the preceding doctrine to the other primary qualities is even more ob- trasive. To prevent misunderstanding, it may be observed, that in saying the mind i$ active,.not jMBMJve, in a cognition, I do not mean to say that the mind is free to exert or not to exert the cognitive act, or even not to exert it in a de. torminate manner. The mind energises as it lives, and it cannot choose but live; it knows as it energises, and it cannot choose but ener- gise. An object being duly presented, it is Wiahle- not to apprehend it, and apprehend it, both in itself, and in the relations under which it stands. We may evade the presentation, not the recognition of what is presentod. But #f this again. • This Is apparent when It It consldend in the Primary, at the maximum in the Secondary; while, in the Secundo-pri- mary, Perception and Sensation, Activity and Passivity, are in equipoise. — Thus too it is, that the most purely material phaeno- mena are apprehended in the most purely inorganic energy .f that under thb cognition of a secundo-primary quality are comprehended both the apprehen- sion of a secondary quality, i.e. the sensation of a subjective affection, and the apprehension of a quasi-primary quality, i.e. the perception of an objective force. Take, for example, the Secundo-primary quality of Hardness. In the sensitive apprehension of this we are aware of two facts. The first is the fact of a certfdn affection, a certain feeling, in our sentient or. ganism, (Muscular and Skin senses.) This is the sensation, the apprehension of a feeling consequent on the resistance of a body, and which in one of its special modifications con- stitutes Hardness, viewed as an affection in us ; — a sensation which we know, indeed, by experience to be the effect of the pressure of an unyielding body, but which we can easily con- ceive might be determined in us independently of adl internal movement, all external resis- tance ; while we can still more easily conceive that such movement and resistance might be apprehended, independently of such concomi. taut sensation. Here, therefore, we know only as we feel, for here we only know, that is, are conscious, that we feel. — The second is the fact of a certain opposition to the voluntary movement of a limb— to our locomotive energy. Of this energy we might be conscious, without any consciousness of the state, or even the existence, of the muscles set in motion ; and we might also be conscious of resistance "o its exertion, though no organic feeling happened to be its effect. But as it is, though conscious of the sensations connected both with the active state of our muscular flrame determined by its tension, and of the passive state in our skin and flesh determined by external pressure; still, over and above these animal sensations, we are purely conscious of the fact, that the overt exertion of our locomotive volition is, in a certain sort, impeded. This consciousness is the perception, the objective apprehension, of resistance, which in one of its special modifi- cations constitutes Hardness, as an attribute of body. In this cognition, if we can be said with any propriety to feel, we can be said only to feel as we know, because we only feel, i.e., are conscious, that we know. (See par 18, footnote), and par. 25, first footnote^ Part 1.) f The doctrine of paragraphs 16-1 y seems to have been intended by Aristotle (see above, p. 829 b) in saying that the Common Seusibles (—the Primary Qualities) are percepts con- comitant or consequent on the sensation of the Proper (—the Secondary Qualities), and on one occasion that the Common Sonsiblcs are, in a certain sort, only to be considered as ap. prehensions of sense per accidens. For this may be kiiterpreled to mean, that our appr*. I i y PBIMART, SECUNDO-ntatART AND [hots Di» 20. In the Ffinwy, a Mtnaliim of organic allbclion it Iho coniiillM of ^ereeption, a mmtal apprelioiiiiiB | in the Seeundo-frliiiarj, a senRation It the •oneomitant of the perception; in the Secondary, a sensation is the all in all which consciousness apprehencls. (See par. 10 ) 21. In the Pri^niarfi the sensation,, the coniition of the percepti'0% is not' itself caused by the objective qnsltty perceived; in the Secnndo-primary, tlie 'Concoiaitant: sensation is the eff«iet of Ihe^ ol^tive ^Iiality perceived ; in the Seeondary, tht sensalion is the eibot of an objective quality supposii, bnt not perceived. In, other w ordS' : — In the apprehension, of 'the Frimary, there is no snlject-objecc de- termined by the object-object; in the 8«jiido-priinary, there is a snyect-oyeol ttf ciM' "CeoMMM senslMeS' to..aot| .like that.iifthe'|iMfec,'fhe niiie MaseliWMieis of • t«t»jeetive Mr 'Sensorial pmslon, tint, 'thoogh 'Waijf emerted vhen meh pMsion M'deieiailned, Is in Itself tbO' ^onlSBeonS' energy of the mliid in. '0l|}eflli«e' «Mgiillieiu TtadinK towards, thonfli »«« reaehlsf to, file Mune :res«lc, miglit tM^'Sdidaced. insaiy ;ias. sagas tola the works, of 'fie' Sffeek. taterpre. tors &t Ariatotle. In parttsular, I wonid refer to the. doetrlM toodiliii' fhO' €enunoa. Ciis, under' which 'Common. senstUm. 'Were Inclnded, did or did. 'UoC modify the or. ganie .sense; and if this, they did, whetiier primarily .and of tbemscives, or on^ .seeen- dariy flirongh their mediieatton of the 'pro- per senslblM, with which they were. 'asMchited.. 'Qtlniiisiy, it 'heesaa 'the' pravalenl. dectrii% of :ilsinltnde» 'Hgnroj 'fhiee^ Positieny 'V wa suKsaMSkSaHMa S' J^w m& a iN^^j^^nitj^u^^k ™'™^ SB' ^*^ ^^ w^w ^^^ja ^K^^# # ^ SMPmRaMseseuNa vei actteasm.:' thai % these do not, like the aHiCtlva qualities (qnulitates 'patlblles) or proper senslbles, make any real^ any material .Impress on the sense; but if they can be siM to act at all, act only, either, as some held, spiritnally or inten. tlonaily, or as others, by natural resultance, (vel siAritnaliter slve Inteoiionaltter, vet per ;Milnralem.resttllaailam.) See 3Vl«f 'ui, Oomm. ;te Anlntty Ii. .IL., c. §, ff. 14, lil;>-JEobject is the only object of immediate cognition. 22. In the Primary, the sensation of the secondary quality, which affords its condition to the perception of the pri- mary, is various and indefinite ; * iu the Secundo- primary, the sensation of the • The opinions so generally prevalent, that through touch, or touch and muscular feeling, or touch and sight, or touch, muscular feeling, and sight, — ^that through these senses, exclu. sively, we are percipient of extension, &c., I do not admit. On the contrary, I hold that 111 sensations, whatsoever, of which we are Bonscions, as one out of another, eo ipso, afford ns the condition of immediately and neces."arily apprehending extension ; for in the conscious- ness itself of such reciprocal outness is actually Involved a perception of difference of place in space, and, consequently, of the extended. Philosophers have confounded what supplies the condition of the more prompt and precise perception of extension, with what supplies the condition of a perception of extension at all. And be ii observed, that it makes no esaen- Hsl difference in this doctrine, whether the mSrad he supposed proximately conscious of yie reciprocal outness of sensations at the central extremity of the nerves, in an extmdfd StfiMorium eommuiM, where each distinct ner- vous filament has its separate locality, or at the peripheral extremity of the nerves, in the places liemselves where sensations are excited, and to which they are referred. From many pa- thological phaenomena the former alternative might appear the more probable. In this view, each several nerve, or rather, each several nervous filament, (for every such fila. ment has its peculiar function, and runs isola- ted from every other,) is to bo regarded merely as one sentient pointy which yields one indivi- alble sensation, out of and distinct from that of every other, by the side of which it is arranged j and not as a sentient Itnc, each point of which, throughout its course, has for itself a separate local sensibility. For a stimulus applied to any intermediate part of a nerve, is felt not as there, but as if applied to its peri- pheral extremity; a feeling which continues when that extremity itself, nay, when any por- tion of the nerve, however great, has been long cut off! Thus it is that a whole line of nerve affords, at all its points, only the sensation of one determinate point. One point, therefore, physiologicallv speaking, it is to be considered. (ice PlntorcA, De Plac. Philos. L. iv. c. 83; — IfesMfiiu, De Horn., c. 8; — Fabricim HildoMm, Oba. Cent, iii.obs. 15; — Dacairte*, Prlnc. P.iv. I iMi^Blancard, Coll. Mod. Phys. cent. vii. etM. 15; — Stuart, De Motu Muse. c. 5; — Kamt Boerhaavct Imp. fac. § 368 sq. ; — Sir Ch. Bellf Idea, 4c. p. 12; The Hand, p. 150 ; — Magmdie, Journ t. V. p. 38 i^MMMUet, Fhys. pp. 602-606, Engl, tr.) Take for instance a man whose leg has been iOWUileted. If now two nervous fllaments be i |«^^ i» l ;_ .Him a^ Df niiiak mm. im Mm secondary quality, which accompanies the perception of the quasi primary, is, under the same circumstances, uniform and de* finite ; in the Secondary, the sensation is itself definite, but its exciting cause, the supposed quality in bodies, various and indefinite. (See p. 854 b— 856 a.) 23. The Primary and Secondary qualities the other to his little, toe — ^he will experience two pains, as in these two members. Nor is there, in propriety, any deception in such sen- sations. For his toes, as all his members, aro his only as they are to him sentient ; and thcj are only sentient and distinctively sentient, at endowed with nerves and distinct nerves. The nerrcs thus constitute alone the whol4 sentient organism. In these circumstances, the peculiar nerves of the several toes, runnieg isolated from centre to periphery, and thus remaining, though curtailed in length, unmu- tilated in function, will, If irritated at any point, continue to manifest their original sensations ; and these being now, as heretofore, manifested out of each other, must afford the condition of a perceived extension, not less re;il than that which they afforded prior to the amputation. The hypothesis of an extended sensorium commune, or complex nervous centre, the mind being supposed in proximate connexion with each of its constituent nervous terniina. tions or origins, may thus be reconciled to the doctrine of natural realism; and therefore what was said at p. 821 a. No. 2, and relative places, with reference to a sensorium of a dif- ferent character, is to be qualified iu conform- ity to the present supposition. It is, however, I think, more philosophical, to consider the nervous system as one whole, with each part of which the animating prin- ciple is equally and immediately connected, so long as each part remidns in continuity with the centre. To this opinion may bo reduced the doctrine of Aristotle, that the soul contains the body, rather than the body the soul, (De An., L. i., c. 9, § 4) ;--a doctrine on which was founded the common dogma of the Schools, that the Soul is all in the whole body, and all in every of its parts, meaning thereby, that the simple, unextended mind, in some inconceiv- able manner, present to all the organs, is per- cipient of the peculiar affection which each is adapted to receive, and actuates each in tlie peculiar function which it is qualified to dis. charge. See also St Gregory of Nyua, (De Hom. Opif. cc. 12, 14, 16), the oldest phUoso- pher I recollect, by whom this dogma is ex- plicitly enounced. Compare Galen. De Sympt. Causis. L i o. a Of modern authorities to tbe same result, are — PcrrauU (Du Mouv. des Yeux, p. 691, and Du Toucher, p. 631) ; Tahor (Tract, iii. c. 3); Stuart (De Motu Muse. c. 6); Leidenfrost (De Mente Humana, c. iii. §§ H, 14, 15) ; TiecUmann (P8ychoh>gie, p. 309. sq.); B«- rard, (Rapports Ac. ch. i §2.); B. G. Cartu (Vorles. ueb. Psychologie, passim); Umbreit (Psychologic, o. 1, and Beibige, passim); F- 1 JWktfCUeh. 4. lifts d. lede, passbn, and Psy- .11 ■US PlIMAEY, SECUNDO-PMHAEY AND [■on^m !«•] SECONDARY QUALITIES OF BODY. 863 'UWy in. tMi nMlon, ninpte and Mlf-dis- erlmimed For, in tlie percqiiion of m ]iriiiiMry, thme ii involved no lenaatloa of a secondary with which it can be mixed up ; while in the seniatii» of a secondary cbologi% e. 4). fhetwa last teem to think that tlinir ofinliMi on tbla matter is sometliing newt Boimiiil ■Im> maintains the same doctrine, but as I liave not yet obtained Iiia relative works, I am/naihli' to^ refer to them artien]ateiy..-^'8ee DliL 'UniY. 'ia mmhm, Mo. 76> iwak 184t. p. 841, sf. M to the 'qnestlon 'Of materialiism^. tliiS'' doe- trino' Is Indilfirenl.. Wm the connexion of an niMSlendad. with, ^an extended svlNitsaoe' is eqnally laooniprehcnsiMef whether we con. tract the flaee M nnion te a central pdnt, or' whether' we leave iteo.oxtinslve with 'Orgaal- lation. The eanseS' Why tlie sensatlonS' of dUEarent pirts of thO' nerrons lepiiaratas 'vary so greatly irom. each other' in sapplyii^ tlie oonditlOBS M a perception of extmilon, Ac. seem to me eomfrehended :in. two general facts, the one flonnitnttng a'phpldofical, the other a paychn- lojEicai, law of perception ;~-laws, neither of wUch, howevor^ has yet ^obtained firom. philo-' isophers tie 'MOilderatlon. which it merits. The' l%iM^||Ple II may :a9peal m m conimiatlott to the. ^analofy M. all the facts to which such Obsenatiiai vei«has,, 9^ "^^m too fov, to earry 'Maraiien. to'isch ontaa«o«s.:ieiat» udass hy m atienaattOB,. aai. illtaloai of 'the 'inesl kiaiL^' WItUa 'this. .sapertelBl si^h«re'Of entMieons. af . ;prehoiisloa., 'the OI||mitlve and .snhjeetive, per- 'e«l»lloaaaii.siasstioa,ioaflh/proper'aad.llMUiig 'Pinfer, aio thna al«a|a iBaai. to etch other ia an inwrie ratio. But take the aame iilaees, and pnotare «ii»ply. Ihtm. Indeed, the ionie of pain will Iro found to he Inteaaer In tlie tongae and 'lager' 'than la the wn; to tha^toafne and lager aM: eadoiPed with, eonpantlireiy 'More naasfons nertes, aad 'eoasefneatly with a OMire' eoneeatrsted seMdhHHfi/thsn 'liie arm; 'tioagii tbeae msf ' either, If diiiifent, llo' Iwaealh the termlnalloB 'Of tfiO' aertes. of toueli, or, If the aame, eommence' th^r eaerg 7 m ineiag oaiy at the: piA wiHta 'their eaairgy as toaeh eonelndiS. Be fUs, hmmmt, m II may, It '«ill be always Amnd, tliat la proper. tloB m the imemal 'feainf of a ;pan 'lieoonies aaaite^, to It IneapaoltBteil, fur' 'tte 'time, as aa 'Cnaa of eatemift 'loaih. I dO' not tliereiwe' .assert, 'vlthoat a fnall- 'iiatlon,: that> ioaoli .and Mlag' an evety lAave manliHted In an 'Inverse 'laHo} 'ftr hoth 'tsgether may be higher, 'both together ■ay he: lower, la 'ona ipleoe' 'than, .aaoiher. Bat. whist IdMdenfly'hiid ihattheyare'da. fsadeat npoa different coaditl O BSi ■'th a t the capsolty of pein .and pleasnre, and the power of taetnal dtsetimlnatloni... wUsh.: a... part pos.. leessis, .are 'aet. 'tte retail ^ef 'the same 'aervoas. 'ibres ; .1 mslntala., 'wlth eeBidMM9.i^ that 'tbeae 'ftaaes: 'never, la. any part, eoezlat In exercise' ;!■ any li|gh'depe% 'Sad that wherever' tbe oaa^ rises to eseesai thafo-. iha' eHMff wm. be 'flMUM la sink 10 a 'iifieaiiftiing' 'deielency. 'Is :Sa|l.ng, In the present, sole, tial. tonOhi' 'Is Ol^tectlve tbaa feeling, I am nai "la bC' to ;Biiaii,. that toneh 1% hi itielf«. aaght bat a snliteetlve affeetlen— « feeling — a iensatioa. lOneh proper ia here styled objec- tive, aot abeolatdy, but only In contrast and In eompartson to feeling proper; l**, in as mucli aa It affords In the cycle of Its own ph». nomena a grealw .amennti of 'InlnmMitlon ; 9', aa it afford! more frequent occaslonfl of per- ception or oHeetlva' apprehenaion; and, 3'', aa It Is feebly, If at sU, eharaoterlied by tke aub* Jeetlve affections of pain and pleasure. Smm, te.fsUliNi..:!* Pmmrmm.'^ say that the :BeenBdo.pdm8vy'fpsltlis,in tbeir quaal-pri- mary phasla, are apprehended tbrougb the .toaoMofi«.jlitiillK)Md not through the muMu. lor $mMi 'to It la 'Impeaslble 'that the state of muicular feeling can enable aa to be Immedi* ately eegnlsaat of the ealateneO' .and. degree of a restating' toee. On the conttary, supposing .all mnsonhv feeliug abolished, the power of moving thCi mnades. at wiU reiuiinlag, hew. ever, eatlrei I 'hold (as will anon be ehowaj t l ml . ihi .consdoasaesB of the mental moti.ve energy, and of the greater or less inteaalty of each energy requisite, in different dream. ataaoes, 'to- aeeomplish our intention, 'woald 'Off itself enable us always to perceive the tot, and In some 'degree tO' meaiuro the. amount, of any realatanee to^ our voluntary movementa; bowheit.tlie concomitance of certain feeUngs with the 'diiSlient states of muscular tension, fiadani this eilgnitlen not only easier, but, ii tat, OMndai H npon our attention. Soaliger, therefore, In referring the apprehension ef weight,. *0.., to 'the locomotive faculty, is, in mf opinion, to' men correct than recent philoao. phers, in referring It to the muscular sense. (Sm IL ef this, 'foetaota.) 'We have. ban tO'distiagulsh three 'things. F.. fho Stnimnaent or purely mental act. of WiU: 'W'hat to 'distlnciions aake I would esB the .HypsfcifORto volition to mo^voj^the ii«lie'«llilta of the schools. Of this volllien wa .an censctoas, even, 'thongh It do not go out Into overt action. a**. IT fhls velltlon become 'ttaafe'Unt, 'ha. garrlod. I nto eflbct. It passes Into the 'mental- effbrt or nisas to move. This I would cell the mmgmk mOmimtOr, by an extension of the MhOlastlc 'langasge, the asili. 'lki|Mraai.. Of this we an Immediately eonadoas. tor we. •f 11, though by a aanoala or of 'tha.. '^SSBBltive nerves we lose all . jh^jin.* of tha. ' ma ii a nl of iheUmb ;— 4heagh iqr a piTBlyilB- 'Of Iha men* §«.] SECONDARY QUALITIES OF BODY. 8G5 of touch proper, and of cutaneous and muscular feeling.* I>) — At in Tho^ht ; as in relation to Intellect. 20. As modes of matter, the Primary qualities are thought as necessary and meiit in the. limb follows the mental effort to move ; — though by an abnormal stimulus of the muscular fibres, a contraction In them is caused even In opposition to our will. 3". Deterniiiieil by the unorganic volition, the cerebral influence is transmitted by the motive nerves ; the muscles contract or endea- vour to contract, so that the limb moves or endeavours to move. This motion or effort to move I would call the organic movement, the ori^inte num ; by a limitation of the scholastic term, it might bo denominated the actio im- perata. It might seem at first sight, — ^1**, that the organic movement is immediately determined by the enorganic volition ; and, 2^, that we are Immediately conscious of the organic nisus in Itself. But neither is the case, — Not the for- mer : for even if we identify the contraction of the muscles and the overt movement of the limb, this is only the mediate result of the anorganic volition, through the action of the nervous influence transmitted from the brain. The mind, therefore, exerts its effort to move, proximately in determinini; this transmission; but we are unconscious not only of the mode In which this operation is performed, but even of the operation itself. — Not the latter : for all muscular contraction is dependent on the agency of one set of nerves, all feeling of mus- cular contraction on.another. Thus, from the exclusive paralysis of the former, or the ex- clusive stupor of the latter, the one function may remain entire, while the other is abo- lished ; and it is only because certain muscu- lar fsdinga are normally, though contingently, associated with the diifercnt muscular states, tbat, Independently of the consciousness of the enorganic volition, we are indirectly made aware of the various degrees of the organic nisus exerted in our different members.* But • I must here notice an error of inference, which runs through the experiments by Pro- fessor Weber of Leipsic, in regard to the shares which the sense of touch proper and the cou- ■ciousncss of muscular effort have in the esti- mation of weight, as detailed in his valuable ' Annotationes de Pulsu, Eesorptione, Auditu et Tactu,* 1884, pp. 81-118, 134, 15»-16i.— Weight he supposes to be tested by the Touch alone, when objects are laid upon the hand, reposing, «iy, on a pillow. Here there appears to me a very palpable mistake. For without denying tliat different weights, up to a certain point, produce different sensations on the •ervei of touch and feeling, and that coiise- fuanCly an ezperieaef of the differenco "* <(uch universal; the Secundo-primary, as con- tingent and common ; the Secondary, as contingent and peculiar. 27. Thought as necessary, and imme- diately apprehended as actual, modes of matter, we conceive the Primary qualities in what they objectively are. The Se- cundo-primary, thought in their objective phasLS, as modifications of the Primary, though indirect, the information thus forced upon us is not the less valuable. By the as- sociated sensations our attention is kept alivo to the state of our muscular movements ; by them we are enabled to graduate with the re^ quisito accuracy the amount of organic effort, and to expend in each movement precisely tho quantum necessary to accomplish its purpose. Sir Charles Bell records the case of a mother who, while nursing her infant, was affected with paralysis or loss of muscular motion on one side of her body, and by stupor or loss of sensibility on the other. With the arm ca- pable of movement she could hold her child to her bosom ; and this she continued to do so long as her attention remained fixed upon the infant. But if surrounding objects withdrew her observation, there being no admonitory sensation, the flexor muscles of the arm gra- dually relaxed, and the child was in danger of falling. (The Hand, p. 204.) These distinctions in the process of volun- tary motion, especially the two last, n of wUeh Mcompaaliei. 'the per. ceptlon of every secondo-primary. illthough the preceding doctrine oolnelde, to ret,nlt, 'wUh that which M. Maine de BIran, ■Her a Mnt 'hy I-ocite, 'hao' so :aMf developed, 'more es'peclally 'in his 'NonveHeiComidera. 'ttanf. anr' te Bapporta dn Physlqno tl dm .lioiil do THfiwiiai' I Hid M. 'ipfoaHiie m go along with hit illustriona e«lltor, M Coosi% (p. XXV. of Preface,) in thlnMng that his exa. minatloo of Hume's reoaonlof against the de. dnctlon of our notion of Power flrom the coo* mlonsness of efllcacy in the voluntary roov© ment of our muscles, * leaves nothing to do- sire, and nothing to. :i©ply.'' On, the contrary, thongii .always .dissenting with .dUidenee fk>om M. Consin, I confess It does net seem to me, that In any of his seven assanlts on Ilnme, haa Do BIran grappled with the moiUbrmldablo objections of the great soeptie. The §eeond, thirds and §emmth, of Uunic's argumeats, as stated and eritlclied hy BIran, are not pro. powd, as argnmenta, hy Hume at all ; and tho ^barl* andJi/WI In Blran's array constitute only a single reasoning In Hmne's. Of tho throo arguments which rmnain, the /rsi and sixth In Blran*s enumeration are the most important. — Bnl, under tho,JlBil, tho examples alleged by Ilnme,fh»mcafetof endden 'p«lay,,Blrwi, silently passes hyj yet these, present by far 'tho most perplexing dlflealties for Ma doctrine of com* scions eileacy* In another and snbaeqneiit work {l^pooses, Jtc, p. 386) be, indeed, Inci- dentally eiMiaiders this. ohjeetiOB,.feforrlng ua back for Ita regnhur refhtatlen to the itrlcturea on Hnme, where, however, as stated, no such refutation la to ho fonnd. Nor does he in this latter' treatlio reiovo the difficulty. For aa regards 'the argnment from our noneon- sciousneas of losa of power, prior to an actua at'templ to moto, aa shown In tho .case of pa- ralysis inperventaf dnrlng sleep, — this. It seems lo me, can only be answered tVom tho fact, that vre are 'newer 'eonselons of force, aa nnexerted or In potentl'a, (for the amblgnona term poewr, mnfortunately after Locke em- ployed hy Hnme in the dlacuaalon, Is thero ,equlvalemt toib««, vi$, and not 'tO' 'Mere poKn- ,1'Wlly aa opposed to oefuolitf,) bat only of force, as in actu or exerted. For In this .caso,, 'we never can possibly ho eonselona of tho ahsenee of • torce, prevlowsly to the effort made to pnt it forth.— The purport of the MMk argmnent Is not given, as Hume, not- irlthatandlnf the usual want of precision »n Ms language, certainly intended it}— which wm to thia eltoct :— Volition to move a limb, mid the actnal moving of it, are tlie first and last In a sedea. of moro 'than two successive events: and cannot, 'therefore, 'Stand to each other. Immediately. In 'th© relation of cans© andelfeet. They may, however, stand to .each other in the relation of cause and cjtect, mm diately. But, thee, If they can bO' known ta conselensneas .aa. thns medintely 'related, it l.a a necessary condition of such knowlctlge. that 'tho Intervening series of cati«i"s .and effects, thronth which the inal movtinentof the lii»r is snpposed to be mediately deiiendent on tho i primary 'volition to move, should be known to consclonsoesslmmedlatelv under that relation. Bnl 'this 'intermediate, this connocf.ng scriea 28. Our conceptions of the Primary are clear and distinct ; of the Secundo- primary, both as secondary and quasi- primary qualities, clear and distinct ; of the Secondary, as subjective affections, clear and distinct, as objective, obscure ts, confessedly, uqknovkrn to consciousness at all, fai' less as a series of causes and etfects. It follows therefore, a fortiori, that the dc- pendency of the last on the first of these events, as of an effect upon its cause, must be to con- sclousness unknown. In other words :— having no consciousness that the volition to move is the elficacious force (power) by which even the event immediately consequent on it (say tho transmission of the nervous influence from brain to nmscle) is produced, such event being 111 fact itself to consciousness occult; multo minus can we have a consciousness of that volition being the efficacious force, by which the ultimate movement of the limb is mediately determined? This is certainly the argument which Hume intended, and as a refutation of tho doctrine, that in our voluntary movements at least, wo have an apprehension of the cau- sal nexus between the mental volition as cause and the corporeal movement as elfect, it seems to me unanswerable. But as stated, and Oasily refuted, by De Biran, it is only tanta- mount to tlie reasoning — That as we are not conscious how we move a limb, we cannot be conscious of the feeling that wo do exert a motive force. But such a feeling offeree, ac. tion, energy, Hume did not deny. II, — Historical notices touching the recognition of the Locomotive Faculty as a medium of per- ception, and of the Muscular Sense. — That the re- cognition of the Locomotive Faculty, or rather, the recognition of tho Muscular Sense as a medium of apprehension, is of a recent date, and by psychologists of this country, is an opinion In both respects erroneous. — As far as I am aware, this distinction was originally taken by two Italian Aristotelians, some three centuries ago; and when tho observation was l^ain forgotten, both France and Germany are before Scotland In the merit of its modern revival. It was first promulgated by Julius Caesar gcaliger about the middle of tho sixteenth century (1557.) Aristotle, followed by philo- Bcphers in general, had referred tho percep- lion of weight (the heavy and liglit) to the tense of Touch; though, in truth, under Touch, Aristotle seems to have comprehended hoth tho Skin and Muscular senses. Sec Hist. An. 1. 4. De Part. An. ii. 1, 10. De Anima, 11, 11. On this particular doctrine, Scaliger, Inter alia, observes : ' Et sano sic videtur, Namque gravitas et levitas tangendo depre- henditur. Ac nemo est, qui non putet, attrec- tatione seso cognoscere gravitatem et levi- «atem. Mihi tamen baud persuadetur. Tactu motum deprehendi fateor, gravitatem nego. Est autem maximnm argumentum hoc. Gra- ■vjtas est objectum motivm potestatis : cui sane competil aeifo. At tactus non fit, nisi patiendo. Gravitas ergo percipitur a motiva potcstate. and confused. For the Primary, Secnn^ do-primary, and Secondary, as subjective affections, we can represent m imagina- tion ; the Secondary, as objective powers, we cannot. 29, Finally — The existential judgment© non a tactu. Nam duo cum sint instrumenta (de nervis atque spiritibus loquor.) ad sensuni et ob motum, a se invicem distincta: male confunderemus, quod est motricis objectum, cum objecto mota3. Movetur enini tactus, non agit. Motrix autem movet grave corpus, non autem movetur ab eo. Idque manifestum est in paralysi. Sentitur calor, non sentitur gravitam Motrici namque instrumenta sublata sunt.— An vcro sentitur gravitas ? Sentitur quidem a motrico, atque ab ea judicatur: queniadmo- dum difficile quippiam enunciatu [enunciatur :] ab ipsa intellectus vi: qune tamen agit, non patitur, cum enunciat. Est enim omnibus commune rebus nostratibus hisce, quae pen- dent a materia : ut agendo patiantur. — Potent aliquid objici decomprcssione. Nam etc. . . . Sunt prseterea dum rationes. Quando et sine tactu sentimus gravitatem, ct quia tactu nou sentimus. Nenipc cuipiam gravi corpori ma- nus imposita continisjit illud : at non sentit gra- vitatcm. Sine tactu, vero, virtus motrix sentiet. Appensum filo plumbum grave sentitur. Manus tamen filum, non plumbum tanget. Deindo hoc. Brachium suo pondere cum deorsum fertnr, sentitur grave. At nihil tangit.' (Do Subtilitate, contra Cardanum, ex. 1U9.) It should, however, be noticed, that Scaliger may have taken the hint for the discrimina- tion of this and another sense, from Cardan. This philosopher makes Touch fourfold. One sense apprehending the four primary qualities, the Hotand Cold, the Dry and Humid ; a second the Pleasurable and Painful ; a third the Ve- nereal sensations ; a fourth tho Heavy and Light. (De Subtilitate, L. xiii.) This doctrine did not excite the attention It ! deserved It was even redargued by Scalig. er's admiring expositor Goclenius. (Adver- saria, p. 76—89) ; nor do I know, indeed, that previous to its revival in very recent times, with the exception to be immediately stated, that this opinion was ever countenanced by any other philosopher Towards the end of the seventeenth century it is indeed commc morated by Chauvin, no very cru<1ite autho- rity, in the first edition of his Lexicon Philo- sophicum (vv. Tactile and Gravitas) as an opinion that had found supporters ; but it is manifest from the terms of tho statement, for no names are given, that Scaliger and Scali. geronly is referred to. In the subsequent edition the statement itself is omitted. By another philosophical physician, the celebrated Cajsalpinus of Arczzo. it was after- wards (in 15GD) still more articulately shown, that only by the exercise of the motive power are we percipient of those qualities which I denominate the Sccundo. Primary ; thongh ho can hardly be said, like Scaliger, to have dis- criminated that power as a farulty of pencp- tion or active apprehension, from touch as a PRBIARY, SECUHDO-PEIMAEY AND [motb II III.] SECONDAKY QUALITIES OF BODY. »€9 1,1 mte of the Primarj assertory; of the Secundo-prinmry, in both their as|ie€tS| aiMrtory ; of the S«soacliu*y, at noiet'Of 'iiiii4 'assertory, as mocles of matter, pro- iteiiiatie. (See par. 11, 12, 13.) opacity of seiiBation or nkero conscioitsiioss of pissloii. It doDS nofe indeed appear that Cae- ■atplBiis was awaro of Scaliger*8 speculatloii '•tail. ' faetas if itur si naas est senams, circa aaam erit contrarietateni, reliquae auceiu ad Ipam reduceniur. [Comparo Arlaiotle, Be Aiitaia, 11. 11 } Patet aatem Caiiilaiii et Fri- gidam naxinte proprio ipsiua tactus esse; ■olani, anim 'tapg eado eooipreheniaiitar. Ha. iBldiua. aateat el Sioeaiii (FliiSd aad iolid), Bwrnai et Holla, @rave -et .Leve, Asperuni et Lme, Baraia. et Densam, aliaqaa liii|iisiiMlKii» at lacta conpreheadantar, mm m^'^m ttm- pw, md memm «fi moium f iMMiati adfti5«iv, ant eompdmendo, aat ImpcUendo, aat traliendo, aat alia ratloae ;palleBdi. :poteatlani axperleado Sic eain qw>A f ropriaai 'temtainii. Boa reti. aet, et qaod telle dividitur, Ilamldam esse •ogaosciaias; faod, aatem oppcwtto nodo se iatiet, Siccitm : «t f aod, cedlt oomiirtineatl., Molle, quod bob cedit, Bttram. Blnillter aatem et reliqoa tactivae quaUtates atno naota bob perciplantur. Idclreo et a reliqais aeasibas oog a^osci possont, at a visa, [fiat mot Iniinedialel J ] Motus enioi inter coaamu. nia sensibllia poattar. ['Thiere la bere throagli aaitiigBity a matatio eleacM.] Kilifl aateni refert, aa Biotas In organo an in re ftat.* [?] iQamtlonas PerlpateMea, h. Iv.qa. 1.1 In more recent timet, the actioa of the vo. Inntary motive facalty aad Its relative scbm In the perception of Extension, PIf an, Weight, Eealstanee, Ac, '«as la Vraace: Imiagfal vag aely lata B'Otica liy OoBdilhMi, aad satMeqaaatly aboBt the ooBUBeacement of the preieat oea- tary nore expiellly 'developed, aaionf otheni,, WPlliiMifc ijiiiii— WHiaikjib, I— liwdlMlfci fciilMiiili BfciiliLiMla itflk'BlllMMia ijiVvlK'fl*'liliaJKilt'''w J%]MI 'l|iib|^uaKiiiw|||ilM|LM^ meitm aad pmrim toach.. Hie specali^lons of 1803.) I da Bat: ien 'rainr"ta|; as tteso' have a dlffereiit and greatly hlgber signlflcance. (0Mililta«,lrai.tl>det'ho« how la 'vIsIob. we .are eaahled tO' .reiogoiae Mt wly 'igiiffa, hat dlstaaie, aad winw 'adUantBiMiC' of' thO' eye. (.fltccf , Kaatlt-' aie DonkrorBieB, (1787,)p.l83,iq.— e) — A$ h>ik lit Semitive Apprehension mtd in Thought ; m in rdaiiom both fo Smm mtd MtdkcL BO. In the order of nature and of tm* In Messlsche Beytraege (1789,) St. 1. p. 119, sf.; flieaetet (1791,) passim; IdealisUscho Briifs (1798,) p. 84, sq. ; Psychologie (1804,) p. iOi, sq.— A'cAmIz, Praefang (1791,) i. p. 182, iq. — £ngd fin M^moires deTAcademie de Ber. lia (1802.)— OruttAuisen, Anthropologie (1810,) pp. i;^, sq. 3(»1, sq. and the sabsequent woi ks of iZffkn, Hartnumnt Lenhossek, Tourtual, Be- make, and a liost of others.) But see Beid, 188, l>. Britain has aolMvaaced the enquiry which, if we dhwoaat :sinaa :resBifiess teadencies by Hartley, Wells, and Barwin, she was the last la taklag ap ; and it is a curious instance of tha BBacqaalatance with such matters prcva. lent among us, that the views touching the functions of the will, and of the muscular sense, which constitute, in thla relation cer. talaly, aot the least valuable part of Br Brown's psychology, should to the present hour be regarded as original, howbcit tlu'bo views, though propounded as new, are muni, festly derived from sources with which alt in. tarvked la psy«lH^ogl:Cal dlaquidtions miglit reasoiiably te presaaied ftBilliar. This Is by no meaaa a lolltary Instanco of Brown's silent appropriation ; nor Is he the only Scottish mc- tapb|aleiaa wto'^haa bomwedtWithiiatacknow ledgaieBt, theMi< :aad. other psychological ana. lysos from the school of Condillac. Be Tracy n:iay oflea e^iaally reclaim hk own at the haiids of Br John Yoang, Professor of PMlosophy in Beliist College, whoso frequent colBcldenees with Brown are not the marvels he would in* dace v» 'to believe, when we kBOw the common iourees froai which the' reseaiiiiBg' doetrlaei are eqaatly derived. It mast be remembered, howofer,that the Leetares of both Profetaora' were pcethaaioasiy 'published ; aad are there* fore Bot to bC' dealt with as. workS' dallberatelv stthBiltted 'to general crttlehim by tbeir aa* ihoro. Br loaag, It shoald likewise be aotlced, was a paptl of thO' hite Professor llylao of OhMf ow, whose views of mental philosophy .Bia wei. kiiawB 'to have closely resembled thoso of'lL Hi' Tkaey. I see iron M. Mlgaers elo. qaeiit do§» that tMs Mate pbiloi^cr was, lllLe Kaat, a Beotiasaa by descent, aail *' of tlia ThMNi BOttooi of the gradaal recognition of aoareo of kaowledge, aranatigtvea oa^aeeoant of aay 'laiportaace It laay ha^ 'thought to "poe. sess as the source ftrom which Is derived our aamrmfca^LFaa' aira isjiriapiapip^ap apwi' 'iisiiiiaiMi''W'^iPaap'wifl'iP^wiBiei ia(i"aB"Wi^p w^wm^^^wwrnm^ ipi am. eonvlM'ed, 'flioagh trsl naalfested la. eaanot ba evolved out of, experience; and what was observed by Held (Inq. p. 126, a,! by Kaat (Cr. d.r. V. p. 38,) by gchulx (Praef. I p. 114,) and by Stewart (Essays, p. d(H,) la regard to the attempts which had previously iMiB made to dedace It from the operatiius of w&mm^ 'BBd, la partlealar, from, the aiotlon of tha 'haad, Is afaally trae of those kobseiiuently lefeated. la all thewi attempts, tha oapaM. cessary thought, the Primary qualities are i For it is only under condition of the Sen- prior to the Secundo-primary and Secon- sation of a Secondary, that we are per- dary; but in the order of empirical but in the apprehension, though chronologically si- multaneous, they are posterior to both. ence itself is only realized through a substitu- tion of the very notion which it professes to generate; there is always a concealed petitio l>rincipii. Take for example the deduction so laboriously essayed by Br Brown, and for which ho has received such unqualified encomium, (hectt. 23 and 24.) — Extension is made up of three dimensions ; but Brown's exposition is limited to length and breadth. These only, therefor*!, can be criticised. As far as 1 can find his meaning in his cloud of words, he argues thus :— The notion of Time or succession being supposed, that of longitu- dinal extension is given in the succession of feelings which accompanies the gradual con- traction of a muscle; the notion of this suc- eassion constitutes, ipso facto, the notion of a certain length; and the notion of this length [he quietly takes for ;erantcd] is the notion of longitudinal extension sought, (p. 146. a.) — The paralogism here is transparent. — Length is an ambiguous term ; and it is length in space, extensive length, and not length in time, protensive length, whose notion It is tho problem to evolve. To convert, therefore, the notion of a certain kind of length (and that certain kind being also confessedly only length in time) into the notion of a length Ib space, is at best an idle begging of the ques- tion.— Is it not ? Then I would ask, whether the series of feelings of which we are aware in the gradual contraction of a muscle, involve the consciousness of being a succession or length, (I) in time alone? or (2) in space alone ? —or (3) in time and space together ? These three cases will be allowed to be exhaustive. If the first be affirmed, if the succession appear to consciousness a length in time exclusively, then nothing has been accomplished ; for the notion of extension or space is in no way con- talncd in the notion of duration or time. — Again, if the second or the third be affirmed. If the series appear to consciousness a sue cession or length, either in space alone, or In space and t'me together, then is the notion it behoved tr generate employed to generate itielf. In tho deduction of the notion of superficial extension he is equally illogical; for here, too, his process of evolution only in the end openly extracts what In tho commencement it had secretly thrown in The elements, out of which ho constructs the notion of extension. In the second dimension, he finds in the con- sciousness we have of several contemporaneous aeries of muscular feelings or lengths, stand- lag In relation to each other, as proximate, JifKint, intermediate, 4c. — Proximate I In What ? In time ? No ; for the series are sup- posed to be in time coexistent ; and were it^ otherwise, the process would be unavailing lor proximity in time does not afford proxi- Bity la space, la space, then? Necessarily. Ob this alteraatlvoi however^ the notloa cipient of any Primary, quality. 31. The apprehension of a Primary quality is principally an intellectual cogni- of space or extension Is already involved doubly deep in tho elements themselves, out of which it is proposed to construct it ; for when two or more things are conceived asproxi- mate in space, they are not merely conceived as in different places or out of each other, bwt over and above this elementary condition In which extension simply is involved, they are conceived as even holding under it a secon- dary and more complex relation. But it if needless to proceed, for the petition of th» point in question is even more palpable if w« think the series under the relations of the distant, the intemtediate &c. — The notion of Space, therefore, is not shown by this expla- nation of its ffcnesis to be less a native notion then that of Time, which it admits. BrownV is a modification of De Tracy's deduction, the change being probably suggested by a remark of Stewart (1. c.) ; but though both involve a paralogism, it is certainly far more shrewdly cloaked in the original. III. — Historical notices in regard to the dis- tinction of Nerves and nervous Filaments into ^fotive and Sensitive ; and in regard to tfte pecu- liarity of function, and absolute isolation, of the ultimate nervous Filaments. — The important discovery of Sir Charles Hell, that the spinal nerves are the organs of motion through their anterior roots, of sensation through their pos- terior ; and the recognition by recent physio- legists, that each ultimate nervous filament is distinct in function, and runs isolated from its origin to its termination ; — ^these are only tho last of a long series of previous observational to the same effect, — observations, in regard to which (as may be inferred from the recent discussions touching the history of these re- sults) the medical world is, in a great mea- sure, uninformed. At the same time, as these are the physiological facts with which i>sy. chology is principally interested ; as a contrt. bution towards this doctrine and its history,! shall throw together a few notices, which have for the most part fallen in my way when engaged in researches for a different purpose. The cases of paralysis without narcosis (stupor,) and of narcosis without paralysis — for the ancient propriety of these terms onght to be observed — that is, the cases in which either motion or sensibility, exclusively, is lost, were too remarkable not to attract attention even from the earliest periods ; and at the same time, too peremptory not to necessitate the conclusion, that tho several phsenomcna are, either the functions of differ, ent organs, or, if of the same, at least regu- lated by different conditions. Between these alternatives all opinions on the subject ai;o divided; and the former was the first, as it has been the last, to be adopted. No sooner had the nervous system been re- cognised as the ultimate organ of the animal and vital functions, and the intracranial me- 870 PRIMAEY, SECUNBO-PEIMAItY AND Ik (IT It' ]!• SECONDARY QUALITIES OF BODY. 871 tinii, in ■!> far as it is, in itself, a purely nwntal actlvitj, and not tlie mere sensa- tion of an organic pasnion ; and second- •rilf , a sonsiWe cognition, in m far as it it tlio perception of an attribute of mat- ter, and, though not constituted by, stiU not realiied without, the sensation of an organle passion.— The apprthension of a Secondary qnalitj is solely a sensible eognitiottj for it is nothing but the sen- dnlla or ciic©plMito» («iwipfti'to« l» • modem mifiioiticr) iiieertiliM*! to t>e it« centre, t'lian. ErmittrMm procccclwi to appropriate to rfif- ferent parts of tliat orfanltin tlio functions vlilcli, aloBf Willi lleropUtas, he had distin. f ttlftlied, of senslMllly and voluntary motion. Ho placed tte source — of the icMrmer In tbe tnenlttjeefl or membranes, of the lal'ter In tbe ■ulwtauce,of the cncepbaloe In general, tliat la, of tlie Brain- proper «d Aftcr-lirtin or Cere- Mlum.^ And wliite the nerves were, medi- ately or Inimediately, the prolongations of tntBe', he viewed the nervous membmnes as llie vehicle of sensation, the .uerveus subs^tanee as the vehicle of motion. (Eufos Bphestus, Is, L c. 22 J L. ii cc. % 17.) This theory which is remaffkaMe, If for notUuf else, for manifesting the tendency from, an early perloi to refer the phtenomena of motion and aensa- tion to distinct parts of the nervous organ. .Inn, hss not obtained, the attention which It even Intrtniiciily meri'ts. In modem times, indeed, the same opinion bas been hasarded, mm 'to my fortnltous, knowledge, wM least #rice. Tlrttly hy Femelins (15M, Pbytlo.' logia, V. 10, 16 ;) secondly l»y Bosettl (ITlt, Baccolta, COpuieol, Imi., t. ▼. p. :273 si,;) 'thirdly by Is €at (1740, ttait^ des Senaatlens, IBov. Fhys. 1. 1, p. 124, and BIss. snr la Beiud- Mlt6 des MeningeB, { i)— By each of these 'the: 'bypothesla Is advanced, as erigl.aaL. In the twO' butt 'tUs^ Is net' to be^ marfnlled at ; but 'II is snrprishig how the opinion of Brasistratns '•eulit, :bave eseapiil, tbe emditiiM of tbe irst. I miv observe^ 'thai Brasistratns also autlct- fsted many recent physiologists In the doc- trine, that the, 'IntclliieiiGe nf man, Md of ani. inals in general, is always tn preportf on to the depth andnnmher of the cerebral convolutions, that is, in the ratio of the extent of cerebral •mrfice, 'not of cerebral, mass,., Th,e 'seeoud alternative was adopted by m the membranes of the eaeepbales, to the exclusion of its substance;, er if 43al«n be herein correct, this is fsrhi^M' 'the 'Carly doctrine which Erasistratus Is by him sidd In Ms maturer yearS' to have abandoned, ;— a doe- 'tfin^ hewever, 'Whlch, under modiicatienf, has In modern times found supporters In iiiliBIINpiaisBiSfflPii'W''wehBaiiW' '^■■■•s* ^pi^piiiinipai'iHiii ^i^^iSiii^^B^aa ^•'••'i''"* •••■^w* .Anal,, 'Iv. qu. 1&)-— 'Beeennlslng, what 'baa ;alwayi indeed been done, the contrast of the ,iwo fbienomena of :senillillly and moti.oa, 'Helen did net, howe^ver, 'nigtml,'tiiAm as neces larlly the products, ef iisttael' parti ^ef the nervous system, although, 'de Ibeto, 'different parte if 'tluil :iiy9ten were often inbservienl 'la 'liwif' inanlllMlalionai ,As to tlia probleni— • Bo the nerves perform their double fkinction by the conveyance of a corporeal fluid, or through the liradiatiou of an Immaterial, power ?—Cliilen seems 'to vacillate; fOr textt' may bo adduced In favour of each alternative. He is not always consistent in the sharef, which he assigns to the heart and to the brain, in tho elaboration of the animal spirits; nor Is he even uniform in maintaining a dis- crimination of origin, between the animal spirits and the vital. Beg rading the mem. branes to mere envelopments, he limits every peculiar funetinn of the ucrvoiw organiM U 'the enveloped, aahstsnce ef tho brain, the after hrabt, 'tbe 'apinal chord and nerves. But as^ the animal faculty is one, and its proxiuiata vehicle the animal spirits is homogen0ou»,so tho 'uervoua er certfhral substance which coudttcta these spirits Is In Its own nature unifcinn anil ladiffSBfentty eempctent Co either function; it being dependent 'upon two ,aocldentiil etreum- stances, whether this substance conduce to motion, to sensation, or to motion and sense* 'tbO' 'flrst circumstance is the degr'oe of hardness or softness; a nerve being adapted 'to motion, er tO' seneailon, In p ropor'tlon as it 'foisesses tbe 'former tuall'ty or the latter. nerves extremely soft are exclusivdy compe. tent to sensation. Kerves extremely hard are pre-eminently, but not exclusively, adapted to motion; for no nerve is wholly destitute of the feeling of touch. Tho soft nerves, short and straliht in their course, arise from tlte anterior portion of tliu cncephaios (the Bi ain proper;) the hard, more devious in direction, iprlng l^em the posterior portion of the brain where it Jelnt tho spinal chord, (Medulla oblongata?) the spinal chord being a continua. tion of the Alter-brain, from which no nerve Immediately arises; the hardest originate from the spinal chord itself, more especially towaitis Its inferior extremity. A nerve soft In its origin, and, therefore, fitted only for sense, 'may, bewever, iardea 'Im Its prog'ress, and by this change b4icome suitable for motion. The iceond eircumstaaee is the part to which a netvO' Is sent; the: 'nerve being sensl. tive or motive as it terminates in an organ of sense, or in an organ of motion— a muscle; every part being recipient only of 'the virtue ^pprO'prlate to "'to specbi flinction. This theory of Galen is inadequate to the fbaettooiena. for 'thong b loss of motion with. eal tbe Iomi 'OT aenae nay 'thus be accounted for, on the snp;|ioiltion 'tbat' the innervating 'force: is redaeed, ,eo ,low' aa not to „radiate the stronger Inflnenee retntred, for movement, and yel to radiate the feebler Iniuenee refnired fbT'leeiiv.; •til,'fbl8' leaves the counter case (of wbiflh, thongh lesa frequently oocurrinf , Ctalmi hail iiimaittf faaiirded souM IMnstrlooa Sllioii of an organic passion. — The ap- prehension of a Secundo primary quality IS, equally and at once, an iutellectual and •ensible cognition ; for it involves both examples) not only unexplii^ned, but even renders it inexplicable. In this theory Galen is, likewise, not always consistent with him- self. The distinction of hard and soft, as cor- responding with the distinction of motory and sensitive, nerves, though true in general, is, on his own admission, not absnlntely through- going, (l must observe, however, tliat among other recent anatomists this is maintained by Albinus, Malacarnc, and Ilcil.) And to say nothing of ottier vacillations, Galen, who iu one sentenco, in consistency with liis distinc- tion of cerebral and (mediately) cerebellar nerves, is forced to accord exclusively to those of the spine the function of motion ; in an- fither finds himself compelled, in submission to the notorious fact, to extend to these nerves the function of sensation likewise. But if Oalen*s theory be inadequate to their solution, it never leads him to overlook, to dissemble, or to distort, the phaenomena themselves ; and w^ith these no one was ever more familiarly acquainted. So marvellous, indeed, is his minute knowledge of the distribution and functions of the several nerves, that it is hardly too much to assert, that, with the ex. ception of a few minor particulars, his patho- logical anatomy of tho nervous system is prac- tically on a level with the pathological anatomy of the present day. (De Usu Parti um, i. 7, V. 9, 7, 14, viii. 3, 0, 10, 12, ix 1, xii. 10, 1 1, 15. xiii. 8, xvi. 1, 3, 5, xvii. 2, 8.— De Causis Synipt. I. 6. — De Motu Muse, i. 13 — Do Anat. Adni. vii. 8.— Ars parva, 10, 11. — De Locis Aff. I. 0, 7, 12. iii. 6, 12.— De Diss. Nerv. 1.— De Flac. Hipp, et Plat. Ii. 12, vii. 3, 4, 5, 8.) The next step was not made until the middle of the fourteenth century subsequent toGalen's death ; when Bondeletitu (c. l6&},) reasoning from the phasnomena of paralysis and stupor, enounced it as an observation never previously made, that ' All nerves, from their origin in the brain, arc, even in the spinal marrow itself. Isolated from each other. The cause of para- lygis is therefore not so much to be sought for in the spinal marrow as in the encephalic heads of the nerves ; Galen himself having, Indeed, remarked, that paralysis always super- venes when the origin of the ner ve is obstructed or diseased.' (Curandi Methodus, c. 32.) This observation did not secure the attention which it deserved; and some thirty years litter (1595,) another French physiologist, an- 9ther celebrated professor in the same univer. city with llondelet, I mean Laurentius of Mont- pcllier, advanced this very doctrine of his predecessor, as ' a new and hitherto unheard, of observation.' This anatomist lias, however, the merit of first attempting a sensible demon, stration of the fact, by resolving, under water, the spinal cord into Its constituent filaments. * This new and admirable observation,' he says, saiphilns one of the obscurest problems of the perception of a quasi-primary quality^ and the sensation of a secondary. (See par. 15, sq., and Note D", § 1.) nature; why it is that from a lesion, say of the cervical medulla, the motion of the thigh may be lost, while tho motions of the ai*ms and thorax shall remain entire.' In the second edition of his Anatomy, Dulaurens would seem, however, less confident, not only of the abso lute originality, but of the absolute accuracy, of the observation. Nor does ho rise above theGalenicdoctrino, that sensibility and motion may be transmitted by the same fibre. Iu fact, rejecting the discrimination of hard and soft nerves, he abolishes even the accidental dis. tinction which had been recognised by Galen. (Coujparo lliat. Anat., later editions, iv. c. 18, qq. 9, 10, 11 i X. c. 12, with the relative places in the first.) Tho third step was accomplished by VaroU litis, (1672,) who showed Galen to bo mistaken in holding that the spinal cliord is a continua- tion of the After-brain alone, lie demon- strated, against all previous anatomists, that this chord is made up of four columns, scve. rally arising from four encephalic roots ; two roots or trunks from the Drain proper being prolonged into its anterior, and t%vo from tho After-brain into its posterior, columns. (Ana- tomia, L. iii : De Nervis Opticis Epistolae.) At the same time, the fact was signalized by other contemporary anatomists, (as Colter^ 1572, Laurentius, 1595,) that the spinal nerves arise by double roots ; one set of lihimcnta emerging from the anterior, another from the posterior, portion of tho chord. It was in general noticed, too, (as by Coiter, and C. Bauhlnus, 1590,) that these filaments, on issuing from the chord, passed into a knot or ganglion ; but, strange to say, it was reserved for the second Monro, (1783,) to record the special observation, that this ganglion is limited to tho fibres of the posterior root alone Such was the state of anatomical knowledge touching this point at the close of the sixteenth century; and it may now seem marvellous, tl*at aware of the independence of tho motory and sensitive functions, — aware that of these functions tho cerebral nerves were, in geneial, limited to one, while the spinal nerves w^ere competent to both, — aware that the spinal nerves, the nerves of double function, emerged by double roots and terminated in a twofold distribution, — and, finally, aware that each nervous filament ran distinct from its peri- phcral extremity through the spinal chord to its central origin ; — aware, 1 say, of all these correlative facts, it may now seem marvellous that anatomists should have stopped shorty should not have attempted to lay fact and fact together, should not have surmised that in the spinal nerves difference of root is correspon. dent with difference of function, should not have instituted experiments, and anticipated by two centuries the most remarkable physio- logical discovery of the present day. But our §72' PEIMAET, SECUNDO-PRMAmY ANB |[]f one ih I >••] SECONDARY QUALITIES OF BODY. 873 I wmOm viU U cmlMiieed, In indiig f to noil M. nf 'fli0 mure nodern tutoola of iBina toiiilng tto tane ftoetrine ia grmAeg iSiMI, and yat wmer proposing to llseif tlie ilPMtloii^llaf nul tlW' ilotiMa rooH^ imvifpond with Hia do«t»l0 ftmctlon of' «li« apiiial 'nanrai ? 'Bnl M> hm It 'boam «ltli.ili tlia noit' BMiantoiif ilaooTerles. Whan Harvey prodBlmai/fto: dr. ^••iatloB of '«li0 Moaii, lia '«% piMlailiiai • doatfflna MMiillatail. if" 'tt«' 'iliiiivarf af ilia wnotts Talvat; and tto Ntwtonlan liioory of 'iiM 'toOTMii ■'mm toul m inal ganeralliaHon, piapaf ad. hf fotaf ona. oliiarfattoni, and aven ■iMidar partially awwiMad. ^Tlia aeliool I 'rate to 'It fHat^ 'tf" Kayiiii— tlia aeliool. of Boarliaava and Mi dIaeIi4'ai.-^AMr. kmm. Md 'nrHl 'Willt 'that tba Bralii.:proper la tbe organ of aninaitf $ S'dliHict part thareof iMlpg' daatlnad tffi' aacli. 'tf m *m Hmstlona,. .aaiiM :and valuataryiiiotio'ns— iHat' 'flM Jfclfeer. taaln la tlio organ of vitality, or the Involnntary imittont ;---and tliat 'the two^ anaapliaita ofgaaw mm prolonf ad| tba farmar IntO' Urn antariiv, tie latter Into tio poiterior, 'flolaniia of tha epinal chord. In Ma doctrine, aU nerroa are iomfoal^ta^: htiag :iiiiMte' mp ef litis af ' ft tanKity, not only ieyond. aw maaaa of aiaarfiiion, ivt alnoil iayiind onr eapaelty of iinaglnalio'n. Soma' narraawa tonMigaiiaaii%tMr aonstitnent ihuaanta^ iataf ' althav' far m aartain kind of natlaii. ^alaiiai m 'ior a eertain Mud of aamation alone; oth^era we lelafaganeaaa, tliair' aantl^' tnant ibrila being aania for motion, iome fur aaaaatlon ;~and of thia latter elaaa are the ■arvaa which liano from the ifiiMw On Boer. .iaaTa% doetrlae^ hawavar, 'tia^ :tpliial narree. In ao fitr M they ariaei iroiii. tha aniarlor column, are aarvaa ioth of aanaaiHon and 'vallnatary mmion— af Mtaaity; in ao 'flir at they srlaa^ 'flNMi. tha 'poatarlor aotnmn, are ■arvaa of Inviliiiitary motlmi'mf vitality, A ionogeneons 'nerve: doea^ not, at' a totality, per. iiirm. a aingla oileai for every damaatary 'iirll 'Of vhkh It la aampMad rant fmu §am to laat laolated llrom every other, and has its .iapanta aplwn. 'Of asaralaa* .At nwnof distinct pherea of' tenaaHan and matlta, la many 'dla. tinict nervous orfgint and termlMllottt ; and 'ta many dItereMpiinIa' af local tarmlnalloa. In tha body, 80 many dlfforeat palata of load, origin In the brain. The Sanaotiam' '€tinmiuia, tie 'Caatre of aanaatioB aad motion, ia not tiarafbra am Indivisible potM, lot avam. ^an uadtvldad. f lace ; it is, on 'the e«iBtrary,. tha afgrepita 'Of as maay placea (aad mlUlona of' ailllona there ■My be) at there ara. 'eacaphdlc. orlfiat of aarvoaa tbrilti. Bo 'nerfv, 'iMraiMra, ta pro.' priaty of speech, .givet off a braneh; their !ahaaths of dnni' aiatar atoaa are ramttad ;. and fhara. :it .no Intareoaraa^ 'an tympti1iy''hat«een 'Iha •lemantary Itarlto,, eaMepI' 'through the aansorlnm conunttne. Tltat tha aervaa we made ap of ibrila to aiown, 'thong i Inade. iioataly, by 'varloua aaalanilcal. proceaaea; and that tbate ihrila are d^eitlacd for dlattnct tad ofkea. dWiraiil parpoaea, la maallMiad by fha 'phanoiiaaa ^of di^falnad paraly^ aad aH^or. (Be Iforbis Mervomm. 'Praelectiones, if" Yta Samt. 'pp. W, dO(Mi7, m$, 71»-717. Iii7-«ii| ' 'The 'davai^pad. dicMlM of' Boerhaava « this p4^nt to' to be 'taaglil far, aaltier In Mt Aphoriama, nor ia hto ImHtiitlona and hto Prelections on the In9titutl<»i8 — the more pro- minent worha to which Ms lUnstrions di8cip]e% jfoUmr and Vm Swktm, appended respectiiMf a commentary.— The liillsr adopts, but doat not' advaaca* tha doctrlaa of Ms master. (Ad Apk 711, 711, 774, 1«I7, lOfla)— The ,^raMr, wto In Ua aaiiatBaBt writlap allaatly :aiia. doned tie opinion, tliat sensation and motion are coavayad. by dlilsrent aarvoaa ibrila, in two annotlcad 'panagig of 'Ua annotatioaa oa Boerbaave, (1740,) propomnos it aa a not Im* probabla conlactara that , a total 'aarva^ :aiay contaia within 'Its sheath a 'complemeat of motory and of aensitlve tabnlos, dtotlnct la their origin, transit, and distribution, but wMch at' their peripheral extremity co.mmnai. cate ; the latter, llfca 'veins, carrying the spirits back to the brtln, which the 'former hud, like S88, a. 8, i 298, n. f .) The doctrine of the school of Leyden, oa this point, waS' hawavar atlll more artienlately evolved by tha yomiger (Bernard StogfHed) Atbimut not la any of his published works, but in the pralectlona be delivered for many yeara. In that 'ttalverslty, on Physlolegy. Vrom a copy In my poiaeatlon of bit diotata In this course, very fully taken, alter the middle of tto eentarf , 'if Jh Wllllaai. Unm% (of Bothle. 'niuroui^) lulif^qiimiiljp n. diatlagntshed medical author and practical phyaldan in London, com. pared with aaalher very 'accurate copy of them dletala, taken by 'an anonymous writer, in the 'year 1711; I ^aai :enabted to prosenl 'the 'fol. lowing general abstract of the doctrine taught by 'th'to w^'dMrated 'aaatomlsl,. though obliged to retrench both the special 'Cases, and tlio . reasoning In detail hy wMch it to illustrattd ana ooannneii'. • The nerves have a triple destination aa 'they minister (1.) to voluntary motion, (2.) to sen. aatloa, (S.) to the vital energios — secretion, digastloa, im. AlMnns aeenM< to ae^aiesce in the doctrine, 'Hal tha 'Brala'propar 'la the nM. mate organ of the first and second function, tha ' Aftar-hrala, of the 'third. MervM, again, are of twO' fclnda. They are either auoh in which the function of each ulti. mate ibril mmiaa toototed In function from centre' to parlptory (the ecrebro-aplnal nervea); 'Or aach In wMeh these arc mutnally coniueat (the ganglionic nervea.) Ta apaidt. only of the eerebro.apiniil. 'nervaa, and. tinct nerves, if we admit the supposition that each nerve, each nervous fibril, is com- petent to the double ofiice. In the fourth place, the two species of nerve are distinguished by a difference of structure. For he maintains the old Galenic doctrine, that the nerves of motion are, as compared with those of sensation, of a harder and more fibrous texture: — a diversity which he does not con- fine to the homogeneous nerves, but extends to tho counter filaments of the heterogeneous. — This opinion, in modern times, by the majo- rity surrendered rather than refuted, has been also subsequently maintained by a small num- ber of the most accurate anatomists, as Mala- carno and Keil ; and to this result tho recent observations of Ehrenberg and others seem to tend. (See Memoirs of the Berlin Academy for 1830, p. 605, sq. ; Mueller's Phys. p. 698.) Finally, to tho objection — Why has nature not, in all cases as in some, enclosed the motive and the sentient fibrils in distinct sheaths? — as answer, and ffth argument, he shows, with great ingenuity, that nature does precisely what, in the circumstances, always affords tho greatest security to both, more especially to the softer, fibrils; and he might have added, as a sixth reason and second answer — with tho smallest expenditure of means. The subtilty of tho nervous fibres is much greater than is commonly suspected; and there is probably no point of the body to which they are not distributed. What is the nature of their peripheral terminations it is, however, difficult to demonstrate; and the doctrines of Ruysch and Malpigbi in this respect are, as he shows, unsatisfactory. The doctrine of Albinus, indeed, of the whole school of Boerhaave, in regard to the nervous oi 4 PEIMAEY, SECUNDO-PRIMARY AND [kots d •nd. In pvti««Iar, tonaUmr tli« dis- llMtlmi m4 tte iwlalloa of tli« «lttiiMt« Mr. VMS tltaieiiti, Munit dnrinff a. MBtmrj'Hrintor- val not only to have hmm. ii«gleeted but abto- Iratolr forg oiten; and a counter oflaloa of tlie BMI erroneous character, with here and there a feeble echo of the true, to have becone generally preralent in it* stead. P.»r, strange to say, this very doctrine is that recenUy pro. inuli^ated as the iul coniumimattoa of nervous physiology by the most illustrious physiologist in Surope. ** That the primilivo ibns of all the eerebro.fpinat nerves are to be regarded as isolated and distinct from their origin to their termination, and as radii iisuing from the axis of the nervous system,*' is the grand result, as stated by himself, of the elahorate researches of Johann Mueller ; and to the earli- est discovery of this general fact he carefully vindicates his right again! other eoutemporary observers, by stating that it had been privately eommunicated by him to Van der Kolk, of Utrecht, so long ago as the year l.':J30. (Phys. p. fill*»-6l)3.) Ic conclusion, I may observe that it is greatly to be regretted that these Prelections of Albi. nus were never priiitod. They present not only a full and elegant digest of all that was Iciiown in physiology at the date of their de. livery, (and Albinos was celehratMl for the uncommon care which he bestowed on the composition of his lectures;) but they likewise contain, perdue, many original views,all deser- ving of attention, and some which have been sub. ■equently re. produced to the no small eelehrity of their second authors. The SfweiMliM, for example,or John Hunter and Br Thiniiai Ywing, In regard to the self>contraetile property of the Chryitalline leni Is hare antiolpatid; ami. that pellneldity and ifaroat atmetim ara^aon. patible, shown by the analogy of those gela- tinous mollusca, the medusae or sea^ Uiilihers, which are not mnro remarkable for tliair trail** aparency, than for their contractile aaitillatlva powers. As I have already notleed, tha aalahiitf af the Leydcn School far from «iaiiiiaail:ii|f ai. ceptance, did not even secure adequate atten. tlon to the doctrine of its Illustrious master:!; and the Galenic theory, to which Haller lat. terly adhered, was, under tie aathority of Cutlen and the Monros, that which continued to prevail in this country, until after the coai- meneement of the present eaatary. Hera another step In advance was then made by Jfr Akamaier Valiw, an Ingenloas Phyalologist of Edinburgh; who, In 1800, irst ttaited the prolific aotlon, that In the spinal nerves the filaments of senaation Issue by the one root, the filaments of nolion by the other. His at- tribution of the sevaral Iknetiaai ta fha 'Mmral roots — sensation to the anterior, motion to the 'poeterlor-^with ttraiig yfnaaiptiMi. la Ito Ikivoar Droai general: aaalagy, aai Ita aaalvr. ■sity with the tenor of all previous, and much laliNf MBt, ahiervatlon, la, :|i«iiawr, opposed m tlMi ilvaaiii. '«f' later' ^aai iMra 'pwlsa ax- jiaffliaaii.' Aaalaailsti' lava' 'hmm. lang agreed, that tlia aaterlor column of the spinal marrow Is la aaallaaltr vltli. Ha^ hiaia-praiart the r*lnlii, 'fli''iif loiiliy of the Galenic doctrine, Willis and the School of Boerhaave had referred the automatic, Mohakia and Ponteau the automatic and voluntary, motions to the cerebellum. Lat- terly, the experiments of Rolando, Flourens, and other physiologists, would show that to the after-brain belongs the power of re- gulated or voluntary motion; while the pa. rallelism which I have myself detected, ba tween the relative development of that part of the encephalos in young animals and thc^r command over the action of their limbs, goes, likewise, to prove that such motion is one, at least, of the cercbellic functions. (See Monro's Anatomy of the Brain, 1831, p. 4 — 9.) In contending, therefore, that the nervous filu. monts of sensation ascend in the anterior rachitic column to the brain.propcr, and the nervous filaments of motion in the posterior, to the aftor-brain ; Mr Walker originally pro- posed, and still maintains, the alternative which. Independently of precise experiment, had the greatest wei'^ht of general probability in its favour. (Archives of Science for 1801?^ The Nervous System, 1834, p. 50, sq ) In 1811, Sir Chmka Bell, holding always the connexion of the hralnproper w.th the ante. rior, of the after- brain with the posterior, column of the spinal chords proceeding, how. ever, not on general probabilities, but on ex- periments expressly instituted on the roots themselves of the spinal nerves, first advanced the counter doctrine, that to the filaments ascending by the posterior roots belongs ex. cluslvely the function of sensation ; and there, after, but still, as is now clearly proved, pre- viously to any other physiologist, he further established by a most ingenious combination of ipMlalaaalagy and experiment, the correlative lliet,tliat the ilaments descending by the ante- rior roots are the sole vehicles of voluntary motion. These ratnlts, confirmed as they have been by the prIneipU physiologists throughout Surope, seem now f laced above the risk of re- futation. It still, however, remains to reconcile the seemingitraetaral connexion, and the niani. I fast functional apposition, of the afti r- brain and posterior rachitic column ; for the decussation in the medulla oblongata, observed, among others, by Bolando and Solly, whereby tho cerebellum aad aaterlor colunm are connected. Is apparently too partial to reconcile tho dis. •ardanlf tenoauna. (Bdl*t Nervous System j f» Karratl'va; Jfaelfer's Physiology, 4c.) As eonneeted vrith the foregoing notices, I may here call attention to a remarkable case rapariad br M. Maj Begis, a medical observer, la Mi 'liistaira Saturelle do TAuic.' This work, which Is extremely rare, I have been anable to consult, and nmst therefore rely on the abstract given by M. do Biran in his * Noa- vellei Considerations,* p. IH), sq. This case, as far as I am aware, has aieaped the observa. tiaa aff all aahiafaaat physiologists. In Its ptoaanaaa, aai. la the inferences to which they lead. It stands alone; but whether the phaenomena are themselves anomalous, or that eaperimentai vlti tho same intent^ not Laviug §"•] SECONDARY QUALITIES OF BODY. 875 been made in like cases, they have not in these been brought in like manner into view, I am unable to determine, — A man lost the power «»f movement in one half of his body, (one lateral half, probably, but in De Biran's ac- count the paralysis is not distinctly stated as hemiplegia ;) while the sensibility of the parts affected remained apparently entire. Experi- ments, various and repeated, were, however, made to ascertain with accuracy, whether the loss of tho motive faculty had occasioned any alteration in the capacity of feeling : and it was found that the patient, though as acutely alive as ever to the sense of pain, felt, when this was secretly inflicted, as by conipression of his hand under the bed-clothes, a sensation of suffering or uneasiness, by which, when the pressure became strong, he was compelled lustily to cry out ; tut a sensation merely general, he being altogether unable to localize tho feeling, or to say from whence tho pain proceeded. It is- unfortunately not stated whether he could discriminate one pain from another, say the pain of pinching from the pain of pricking ; but had this not been the case, the notice of so remarkable a circum- stance could hardly, I presume, have becL overlooked. The patient, as he gradually re covered the use of his limbs, gradually also recovered the power of localizing his sensa tions. — It would be important to test the value of this observation by similar ex peri ments, made on patients similarly affected Until this bo done, it would be rash to esta blish any general inferences upon its facts. I may notice also another problem, the solu- tion of which ought to engage the attention of those who have the means of observation iu their power. Is tho sensation of heat dopcn- dent upon a peculiar set of nerves ? This to me seems probable; 1°, because certain sen. ticnt parts of the body are insensible to this feeling; and, 2'', because I have mot with cases recorded, in which, wliile sensibility in general was abolished, the sensibility to heat remained apparently uadiwiuishcd. f NOTE J),* rERCEPTIOlf; CEPTION PROPER ANB 8EKSATI0N PROPER.* t^Frinetpal mmmtta ofths £Mtor*t doetrim of Perception, (A) iniUelf^ and (B) in contrast to that of Reid, Stmmrt, Jloj^er Collard, and other philosophers of m Scottish Scimd* Jl.-^Eistoriml notices in regard to the distinction of Perception proper and SmmiSon proper. [EefereBces.-From Inq. 182 b; from I. P. 729 a, 313 ab; from Supplementary Dissertations, passim,] I L—Prindpa! momemta of the Mditor^s doctrine of Ferceptim, A) — In itseJf: t^Pereeptim in ^nerai, 1. Semitim Perception, or Pereepikm • A wiml as to tlic various meanings of the terms liere prominent— Pwreplioti, Semaiim, Seme. . _ I —Perteptim (Perccptlo ; Perception j Per- cczionc; Perception, Wahrnclimung) lias dif- ferent significations; but mniler all and eacli of tliese, tlie term has a oiMiiiiii« aniWfiilty, denoting as it may, eitber 1® tlio perceiving Faculty, or 2® tli© perceiving Act, or 3 the Object peweived. Of these the only ambiguity of importance Is the last ; and to relieve it I would propose the employment, In this relation, of PfWfff, le»¥liif Fareeption to d«ilf nate both the faculty sad Its act; for th«Bt II Is rare y necessary to distinguish, as what is applicable to the one Is usually appllcatoto' to the otber . But tO' tli« sifiiliaitloiit of the tenn, ai^ ap. piled to dl/cfwii faisiiltles, acts, and objects; of vUeli there are in all four :— simp!)', is that act of Consciousniii whereby we apprehend in our body, a.) Certain special tiffectiom, whereof as an animated organism it is contingently susceptible; and b.) Those general rdatims of extension under which as a iiwl«rfai organism it necessarily exists. 1. Pereeplfo— which has been naturalised In all the principal languages of modem Europe, with the quallied i«ception of the German, in which the indigenous term Wahrnehmung has again .ilimost supenedad It— Perceptio, in its primary philosophical signification, as in tho mouths of Cicero and Qulntilian, is vaguely equivalent to Comprehension, Notion, or Cog. niiion in general. 2. Wwma this first meaning It wat easily de- fleeted to a second, in which it corresponds to an apprehension, a becoming aware of, in a word, a consciousness. In this meaning, though long thus previously employed in the schools, It was brought more prominently and dis- tinctlvely forward in the writings of I>escartcs. From him it p issed, not only to his own dis- ciples, bnt, like the term Idea, to his antago- Biatj OaBi«ndi, and, thereafter, adopted equaiif It] PERCEPTION. 877 Of these Perceptions, the former, which Is thus conversant about a subject-object^ is Sensation proper ; the latter, which is thus conversant about an object-object, is Perception proper. (See 808 b, 858 a.) 2. All Perception is an act of Con- sciousness ; no Perception, therefore, is possible except under the conditions by Locke and Leibnitz, it remained a household word in every subsequent philosophy, until its extent was further limited, and thus a third signification given to it. Under this second meaning it is, however, proper to say a word in regard to the special employment of the term in the Cartesian and Leibnitio-Wolftan philosophies.— Perception the Cartesians really identified with Idea (using this term in its unexclusive universality, but discounting Df scartcs' own abusive appli- cation of it to the organic movement in the brain, of whicli the mind has, ex hypothesi, no consciousness) and allowed them only a logical distinction ; — the same representative act being called Idea, in as much as we regard it as a representation, i. e. view it in relation to what through it, as represented, is mediately known, and Perception, in as much as we regard it as ft consciousness of such representation, i. e. view it in relation to the knowing mind.— The Loibnitio.Wolfians, on the other hand, dis- tinguished three acta in the process of repre- tentative cognition : — I*' the act of represent- Ing a (mediate) object to the mind; 2« tho representation, or, to speak more properly, representamen, itself as an (immediate or vi- carious) object exhibited to the mind; 3° the act by which the mind is conscious, immedi- ately of the representative object, and, through it, mediately of the remote object represented. They called the first Perception; tho last Ap- perception; the second Idea — sensual, to wit, for what they styled the material Idea was only an organic motion pi-opSigated to the brain, which, on tho doctrine of tho pre-established harmony, is in sensitive cognition the arbitrary conco- mitant of the former, and, of course, beyond the sphere of consciousness or apperception. 3. In its third signification. Perception is limited to the apprehensions of Sense alone. This limitation was first formally imposed upon the word by Reid, for no very cogent reason besides convenience (222b;) and, there- after by Kant. Kant, again, was not altogether consistent; for he employs * Perception' in the second meaning, for tho consciousness of any mental presentation, and thus in a sense cor- re qmMittf, Promdm ; (Time,) Extmmm (Space,) Intendm (De- 1^ gree:) and H'^a/tw. Therefore — 5. The third is l?iia%, quality strict- \ ly so called. For one affection is distin- ' guished from another as it is, or is not, \ ^uch and such; in other words, as- it has, - or has not, this or that quality (suchness.) 6. The fourth is Thm; which suppo- ,i ses Memmjf or, to speak more correctly, -' a certain cmtimnous reprmentatiom of the ^ hte and latest past, known with and in 1 contrast tii our apprehension of the pass- V ing present. For without such continuity 4 of consciousness, no consciousness is pos- ness is retllied in the enunciation— TAaf u there (or TMb is here.) All Percep- tion ooiisetiuent ly enounces — That u there ; but in this case, there is especially under- stood by tho TAal— an object manifested through one or more qualities. Second- ary, Sccundo-priraiary, Primary; and by the If there — apprehended in, or in im- mediate relation to, our organism. t >11. Such being the general condilioni of Perception, it is manifestly impossible to discriminate with any rigour Sense from Intelligence. Sensitive apprehen- sion is, in truth, only the recognition by Intelligence of the phienomena presented in or through its organs. t| JM 'J " 7. The fifth is Spam. \ only conscious of perceiving, as we are conscious of perceiving something as dis- criminated from other co-existent things. But this in perception is to be conscious of one thing as out of another, that is, as extended, that is, as in Space. 8. The sixth is 3effree, For til sen- sations are, tliougb possibly of any, act u- allj of one definite intensity; anddiilin- guished not only by differences In Quality, Time, Space, but also by differeeces in Decree 9. The seventh is Mdmti&th For dis- crimination, which all perception supposes, Is a recognition of a rektlon, the relation of contrast ; and differences In Quality, Time, Space, Degree, are only so nanj 3pri— Sec also St Jerome as quoted in note • 877. — Bwt this doctrine we may trace back to Aristotle and his school, and even higher, * There Is extant,' says Plutarch, ' a dlMSOim of atf«*« Pijralcus, denaonstrating — Tftal • geitriiim uppftKiwIon to «*»% impo*- gme wimm m aet o/ InttUect* (Op. Mor p. Ml.\ And as to Aristotlo himself:— * To ilvorce (ho says) Sensation from CMcrstand. Inf. la to ledneo Sensation to an insenaiblo mraiess J wherefare it has been s^4-fnl«llwf •Ms sayfif , as recorded by Aristotle, con- ititutes in the original (a difference of diateet ilMsDiinlcd) the irtt hemistich of the ismoiii' wrstoflflcharmui:— MA kf ••* ^**'* •*•''"' ''•^■*'* **'^** **^' mta U $m0h Mi'fid U hemethf aU htalie li mf Si.j AND SENSATION PROPER. 679 ^12. All Perception is an immediate or ^esentative cognition : and has, therefore, in either form, only one uni vocal object ; that, to wit, which it apprehends as now and here existent. ( See Note B. § i. 4, 8, 11 . ) 13,( All Perception is a sensitive cog- nitio^i; it, therefore, apprehends the ex- istence of no object out of its organism, or not in immediate correlation to its or- or less literally — WJiat sees is Mind, what hears is Mind; The ear and eye are deaf and blind. Though* overlooked as a quotation, by both the couiinentators on the Problems, by Eras- mus, and many others, it has never been sus- pected that these words, as quoted, are not a quotation from the Syracusan poet. This ne- gative I, however, venture to maintain, at least, as a probable thesis ; for I am inclined to think tliat the line, however great its merit, docs not ascend to Epicharmus, l)ut was forged and fathered on him in an age considerably later than Aristotle's. My reasons are these • — 1. Epicharmus was a I»ythagorean philo- sopher and a Doric poet. But to fabricate Pythagorean treatises in the Doric dialect seems to have bocomo in the latter ages a matter of exercise and emulation among the C^reek Sopbistaj and Syncrctists. In fact, of tho numerous fragments under the names of Pythagoras, Theano,Tima;us,OcelI us, ATchytas, Hippodamas, Euryphamus, Hipparchus, Thea ges, Metopus, Clinias, Crito, Polus, l^ysis, Melissa, Mya, Jtc. ; there are hardly any to a critical eye not manifestly spurious, and none whatever exempt from grave suspicion. On general grounds, therefore, forgeries on Epi- charmnsarenot only not improbable, but likely. 2. And that such were actually commit- ted we are not without special evidence. We know from Athenaeus (L. xiv.) that there were many Pseudofpicharmia in circulation. Besides Apollodorus, he cites, as authorities for this, Aristoxenus (who was a scholar of Aristotle) in the eighth book of his Polity, and Phiiochorus (who lived about a century later) In bis treatise on Divination. Among the more illustrious fabricators, the former of these coimuemorates Chrysogonus the flute- player; tho latter, Axiopistus of Locrus or Sicyon, with the names of his two supposititious works, the Canon and tho Gnonm. Of either of these, judging from their title, the line in fuestion may have formed a part; though it is not improbably of a still more recent origin. 3. The words (and none could be more direct and simple) which make up the first hemistich •f the verse, wo find occasionally quoted as a proverbial philosophcme, subsequently to the time of Plato. To Plato's doctrine, and his language, I would indeed attribute its rise; for it is idle to suppose, with Jacobs, that Sophocles ((Ed. T. SSdi and Euripides (llcl. 118) had either the verse or dogma in their «yo. Aristotle, at least, the author of the Probiemsj is the oldest testimony for aach a ganism ; for thus only can an object exist, now and Jiere, to sense. a. — Sensation proper and Perception proper, in correlation. 14. In Perception proper there is a higher energy of intelligence, than in usage ; and long after Aristotlo, after, indeed, tho line had been already fathcrc<( on E|.i. charmus, we have Pliny (il. N. xi. Ii7,) Cassius Felix (Pr. 22,) St Jerome (Adv. Jovin. ii. !>,) the manuscripts of Stobaeus (iv. 42,) and tho Scholiast of Aristophanes (PI. 4:},) all adducing it only as an adage. It is not, however, tifl nearly sLv centuries after Epicharmusy and con. siderably more than/our centwries after Aristotle, tliat wo find the saying either fully cited as a verse, or tho verse ascribed to the Syracusan, But from the time of Plutarch, who himself thrice alleges it, its quotation in either fashion becomes frequent; as by Tertullian, Clement of Alexandria, Maximus Tyrius, Julian, Theo- doret, Olympiodorus (twice,) and Tzetzes (four times.) Porphyry (thrice; records it — but as a saying of Pythagoras; and lamblichus, as a dictum of the Pythagorean school. These authors both had learning, though neither, certainly, was ever critical in its application. Their statements can only, therefore, bo held to favour the opinion that they were unawaro of any decisive evidence to vindicate the verso to Epicharmus. 4. But if improbable, even at first "ight, that such a verse of such an author should not, if authentic, have been adduced by any writer now extant, during tho long period of six hun- dred years, the improbability is enhanced when we come to find, that during that whole period it is never quoted, even under circumstancea when, had it been current as a lino of Epi- charnms, it could not but have been eagerly appealed to. Plato, as observed by Alcimus and Laertius, was notoriously fond of quoting Epicharmus ; and there were at least two (►ccasions — in the Thca^tetus (§ 102, sq.,) and in tho Pha?do (§ 25 [11 Wytt.])— when this gnome of his favourite poet would have con- lirnied and briefly embodied the doctrine ho was anxiously inculcating. Could he fail to employ it > In fact, it comes to this; — these passages must cither be held to follow, or to found, the philosophcme in question. — In like manner Cicero, in his exposition of the first passage, (Tusc. i. 20,) could hardly have avoided associating Epicharmus with Plato, as Tertullian and Olympiodorus have 4one in their expositions of the second — had tho lino been recognised in the age of the former, as it was in the ago of the two latter. Nor could such an apophthegm of such a poet have been unknown to Cicero, — to Cicero, so generally conversant with Hellenic literature, — and who, among other sayings of Epicharmus himself, adduces in Greek, as his brother Quintus paraphrases in Latin, tho no \«9S celebrated [maxim — mm PEllCEPTIOIf ; PEECirriON PEOPEE [siote i,.» Sniisiition proper. For tlioujli the latter be tlie mppreiiension of an alfeciloii of ili0' %o, and therefore. In a 'Certain sort, tlA apprehension of an immaterial <|uaMtji ttllt ll Is only the appreliention of the /(ic« of an organic passion ; wliereas the former, though supposing Sensation as its condition, and though only the appre- henaon of the attrihntes^ of a material Hon-ego, i% howeter, itself without cor- poreal passion, and, at the same time, the recognition not merely of a fact, hut of rdmtiom, (See 22, 29, and p. 858, notes t and t) 15. Sensation proper is tlie mnditm tim tpta ficwi of a Perception proper of tlie Primary qnalities. For we are only aware of the existence of our orgaoism, in being sentient of it, as tlius or thus nifected; and are only aware of it being the subject of extension, figure, division, motion, Ac., in being percipient of iis affections, as like or as unlike, and as out of, or locally external to, each other. i 16. Every Perception proper has a Sen- sation proper as its condition ; but every Sensation has noi a Perception proper as its conditionatc — unless, what I think ought to be done, we view the general OMiwIonsneiS of the locality of a sensorial affection as a Perception proper. In tliis ease, the two apprehensions will be always coexistent. 17. But thongb the fact of Sensalion proper and the fact of Perception pro- per imply each other, this la all ; — for the two cognitions, though coejtistent, are not proportionally coexistent. On the contrary, although we can only take note of, that is perceive, the spcial rela- tions of sensations, on the hypothesis that these 'Sensations exist ; a sensation, in pro- portion as it rises above a low degree of intensity, interferes with the percep- tion of its rektions,by concentrating cmi- sciousness on its absolute affection alone. l£ may accordingly be stated, as a general rule — Tkndt mbom « eerkiin pmnt, tite girang^r the Sematimt the weaker tha P«r- mption ; and tk§ distincter the jwrcapfton tJk ht$ obtrwmm the iemation; in other wmi&^Thtm^h Permptim projaer and Smmaim pn^pw emsi onlf « l*«y co- Mpis^, III the 4^fm or intmtii^ of their emstmee lAoy mre cdwajfM fmnd m ciit tii- wmtm ratio to m»eh other, (See 862 b, sq.) Be K/ber^ mmi to SotM indMd i 'RiM' mm fk§ wry JoMs o/mlMil m en. flie 'Other readinf ^ Me moi,. emi etm to SotM pmpmaet fkmmi^elmm^ffomi. 18. The organism, is the Mi of appre- hension, both to Sensation proper anil Perception profier; but with this diffe- rence:^ — that the former ftews it as of the Ego» the latter, as of the Non-ego; thai the one draws it within, the other s'futs it out from, the sphere of self. At animated, as the subject of affections of which I am conscious, the organism be- longs to me; and of these affections, which I recognise as miiw. Sensation pro per is the apprehension. As material, as the subject of extension, figure, divisi- bility, and so forth, the organism does not belong to me, the conscious unit ; and of these properties, which I do not recog- nise as mine. Perception proper is the apprehension.* (See 38, 3&, and p. 858 a f.) 19. The affections in Sensation pro'per are determined, (a) by certain intm- organic, or (b) by certain extra-organie^ causes. The latter, as powers in bodies, beyond the sphere of perception, and their effects in ns, the objects of Sensation, ar» both ( therefort ambiguously ) denorai nate4 either, in the language of modern philo- sophers, the Sicondarif Qualities of Mat^ tert or, in the language of Aristotle and his school, the Proper Semiblee, ( Note D.) • It may appear, not a paradox merely, l»ut a contradiction, to say, that t»io org.-inism is, at once, witliin and without the mind ; is at oaee^ snbjectlw and objective j Is, at once, Ef© and Kon-ego. But so it Is; and so we must admit it to be, unless, on the one hand, as Materialists, we identify mind with matter, or, on the other, a» Idealists, wo identify mat- ter with mind. The organism, as animated, as sentient, is necessarily oursj and its affec- tions are only felt as alTections of the Indivisi- ble Igo. In this respect, and to this extent, our orgaoi are not external to ourselves. But our organism is not merely a sentient subject, it is at the same time an extended, if iired, iti visible. In a word, a material, subject ; and the same sensations which aio reduced to unity in the indlflslMllty of consciousness are in the divisible orfanlsni recognised as pluial and reciprocally eaternal, awl, tliorofore, as e«- te wied, Ignred, 'BwI dlvidrcL Such is the fact : hut how theimmateriai can be united with matter, how the uiicxtended can apprehend ea. tenslon, how the indivisiblo can measure the 4i.vldeiLf^lllif Is the mystery of mysteries to I I.] AND SENSATION PROPER. 88t llodui (says tlie Fseudo-Augustin) Modus quo corporibus adhsBrent spiritus, om. nine mims est, nee oempfehendl ab hominlbus. potest J et kMi' Ipso^ 'homo est." Thus pura- phrased by Pascal i— " Man Is, to himself, the miffhtieat ptodlgy of nitnre. For he Is unable 10 Goneelve what is Body, still less what it Mind, and, least of all, how there can hv wnlteA • iMMly ant a mind. fUs to tbe^ etlnaa of Ma liilimlliaiS |il"thtaliMsfttiilte':""~^ 20. Sensation proper has no object but a mbject-object, i.e. the organic affection t of extimsioii iii its ,.„.^,jaini.»biokt© mifiiitwlfi-i perception Mting ©ilj the fact given in sensation, Md sMMtlion ^aibnini' iw itai|iiard, by wliick to measure' the dimensions given in one sentient part with those given, in another. For, as perceived, extension is only the recognition of one organic affec- tion in its ontness from another;— as a ■iniBnit. of extension is thus to percep- tioii the ;snatlest extent of orgtnism in 'wUeh wnsations can be discriminated, as plural ; — and as in one pari of the or- ganism this smallest extent is, perhap, some milion, certainly some myriad, timet ■BaBer than, in others j it foUows^that,. to ferception, the same real extension will appear. In this place of the body, some million or royrtad times greater than in that.* Hor does this difference snbsist iinly as between sense and sense ; for in the same sense, and even in that sense which has very commonly been held ex. elnsively to afford a knowledge of abso- lute extension, I mean Touch propery the ndnimnm, at one part of the body. Is some illy tines greater than it is at another. (See p. 863 ah, note.) 28. The existenee of an extra^rganic world is apprehended, not in a perception of the Primary ■qualities, bnt in a percep- tion of the qnasi-primary phasts of the Secuiido.primary ; that is, in the con- sciousness that our locomotive energy is resisted, and not resisted by aught in our organism itself. For in the eonsoious. ness of being thus resisted is involved, as a correlative, the consciousness of a resist- ing .something external to our nrganism.. Both are, therefore, conjunctly appre- hended. (See p. 868 a, note.) — ^This ex- perience presupposes, indeed, a posses- sion of the notions of space and motion in •pace. * TMs iiffemee. In 'tlie ;pfiwer wt discrimi. iwU-'g affections, posseswl 'by tfliire.nt parts of tie bcKly, seenis to depend partly on the ninnConeMi ami isslaition. of tlie mttmaloi 'oer. mm iMls, partly on tie seasatlM. being less or more eoiin nofeii.) 2». Bnt on the doctrine that space, as« necessary condition, is a native element of thought ; and, since the notion of any cne of Its dimensions, as correlative to, must inevitably Imply the others ; it is evident that every perception of sensations out of sensations will afford the occasion, in ap- prehending any one, of conceiving all the three extensions; that is, of conceiving •pace. On the doctrine, and in the laii- gnage, of Reid, our original cognitions of space, motion, Ac, are instinctive ; a view which is oonirmed by the analogy of those of the lower animals which have the power of locomotion at birth. It b truly an Idk problem to attempt imagining the steps by which we may be suppcsed to have acquired the notion of extension; when, in fact, we are rnudile to imagine to ourselves the possibility of that notion not being always In our possession. 30. We have, therefore, a twofold cog- nition of space : a) an a |wtort or natim imagination of it, in general, as a necessary enndltion of the possibifity of thought; and bj under that, an a jwesrtori or nAiiiifllfoiif 'percept of it, in particular, as contingently apprehended in this or that ■otial oomplexus of sensations.* B.) JTAW* « iTf ' iinilitifliii ilMiddl by us ai m ... ittniiy and, tlierefore, aa. ^k^etk mmt #f ^SawalioQ proper trnt of FfTceptlon propw. (See 855 ab, 868 ab.) I II.— J7tft<>rt<»l iMiket im regard fo <£« liilliiiiffDii. 1^ Fwmpiim f9Hper and TMi cliilinction is umvenally supposed tO' be of m lamieni 'date ; iui''fMie' .has. endea- voured. |0 mnj il .l^er' tlan 'Male- 'brancbe'; and., in gewiral, tbe few indi- cations of it noticed previous to Rddi iiave been eomneinoraled. as only and- 'dental iiT' 'Singular' 'aatidpatiims.* Tliis is altogellier enraneiius; tie distinetiom is andent ; and adopti.n.gi for the standard, ny own opidon of what the distinction mrht to be, I find it taken more simply 'and lisg. laofMrreetly by A.rist4itie|. than' by any andem. iihilMopher wlMtever. Aristotle^ di.scriminat.ion of the Com- mon and Proper Sen^bles or Percepts (which has been already explained, 8^ b sq.) emhodiaS' :wit' 'imly the modem d].s- tinction 'Of the Primary and. Secondary <)nalties of matter, but also the modem distinction of the two Perceptions^ Per- I * 'fha^ enly attempt of wUth I am aiisre, at aar 'Uftotleal aeeiwnt of 'the dtsthwllm in iawi, la l»y Mr Steirait, in Not© F of Ua iBiBfs. It oontaina, however, notieea, and these not' all. pertinent, only of Bulsheion, 'Omiiaas, Baxter, and ;il'Atemtort, :aMl. nooo' of these liave any title to an Mslorieal eommeno. .ratiiia on. the 'Oeeailen... .Ar Bataiaaen (aa: .alreaiy mm*. Mi' .apla mentioned, ISi ab, 8J9' to) only repeata. Indeed, only tliong lit of repe8ilnK».ltlBte«lei| whie the othera, at l>eat,. ...^ t«.eeiio lUalwanehe and the 'Carte- I may here ohaerve, that la that Mote, aa ' > reptatedly In the:]li«Nfftatiii%..lir Stewart m 'has 'been 'ibwfaentiyiiilowed) la wrong In atatiuff, unexclaaivaly, tbat Beid'a writings 'Were anterior to .lCaat%; fonnilinf thereon a |ireann.ptiea. :a|iata8l the: originality of the lat.' tor. Tbe priority 'Of 'Bold la only true aa' limited, to 'the ''lafulry;.* but, on the' ground of fhia .ahne fheM' eonld. he .proved, hatvewi. the phleaephera, 'hal Ittle eemiiianlty of thought, on pohits Where eltlier eonld posalhly eialm ..any rigbt of .pn^arty. Bat thmigh :Kiiiiki' 'Hfst' ' CMttk* aai. '<"Prolegoniena*' pre. ceded Beid'a etween these several worka. fa i, I mnat lie allowed to aay, that the Id 'teaer el Mr stownt^a remarka on tke l*ileaa|*ir of Eoealgaberg' are remarkable la fhO' aaaal eaotiona,. aaadld and ception 'proper and Sensation proper. The ,finera]i.fatlon of these twn ctrrela- tive disti.iietio.ns into O'Ue, constitntes in- deed, the first peculiar merit of Aristotle*s analysis and nomenclature. But a second is, that in his hands at least, the Common 8insible% the immediata ol|jects of Per- oeptiwi. propcTi .arO' 'vinrad as the object- #J{;|fiiCf #f an intuitive, and not perverted into the mtbject-t^j^eti of a representative eopiition. For in the writings of Aris- totle himself I can find no ground for regarding him ai' other than a presenta- tionist or nat.nrat 'naist'. 'in. this re* ipect his doctrine stands distinguished from all the others in which the distinction in f uastion has iieen recognised ; for the Meo-Pbtonic, the Heo-Aristotelic, the Scholastic (with certain exceptions) and the Cartesian, all proceed on the ideality or representative character of the objects of which we are conseions In Perception proper. Even leid hinaelfi as we have seen,, 'and 'the 'Soottisb School In general can only with doubt and difficulty be held as f|ua]ified exceptions. (See § I., B of this Note, and § IL of Note C.) Nay, the canon I have endeavoured to establish of the nnivenal co-existence k an Inverse ratio of Perception proper- and Samation pro|ier (and in general of Feel- faig and Cognition) though not enounced in Its abatraot universality by Aristotle, may stii be detected as supposed and spe- cially applied by him. In his treatlae On the Soul (ii. 9. I.) speaking of the sense of 'Smell, and of tha difficulty of deter- 'miniag the .nature' and quality of its dbjecti— 'Odours, he says : — < The cause is, that we do not possess this sense In any high depee of accuracy, but are, in thisreafectyinferior to many of the bmtes; for man mells imperfeistly, and has no perception of things odorous, unaeooB. panied by either pain or pl«asnm.| thi organ of this sense not being nioely dis- criminative/ And the same is impEed, in what he addi' tonoMng the vision of tha iderophthafaM. 'Does not 'thii'iiamifeetlf snppoao: 'the priiwiple— that in 'propottion as a senM rliei' aS' a moui. of information, it sinka as a vehicle of pleasure and pain f *-Galen, I may aotieei has some rem.ark- alile 'Obatrvatlons to the .same eAict. In eouidering HU mmm of 'plftsuni and pain in the several senses;* and alter •tating, in general, the order of .Intomity' in 'wUeh 'these aro' susceptible of moh aibotions, 'to wit. Touch 'Or^ f adiiif— Taata'—'Smtll— Hearing'— TlWoni Iw Con to treat of thom. in. detail And i|::is^afiiient»that ho al«» deems tha 111 foj AND SENSATION PROPER. 687 capacity of pain and pleasure in a sense to be inversely as its power of cognitive dis- crimination. For, inter alia, he says of Hearing : — ' The pleasurable is more con- spicuous in this sense [than in that of Vision,] because it is of a coarser nature and constitution ; but the pleasurable be- comes even more manifest in the sensa- tions of Smell, because the nature and constitution of this sense is coarser still.' (De Sympt. causis L. i. c. 6.) The distinction of the Common and Proper Sensibles, and virtually therefore, the distinction in question, was continued, with some minor developments, by the Greek and Latin Aristotelians. (See 830 a, 860 ab.) As to the interesting doc- trine, on this point, of those Schoolmen who rejected intentional species in Per- ception, I may refer, instar omnium, to BieL (Collect. L. ii. dist. 3. qu. 2.) Sensation proper and Perception proper were, however, even more strongly con- tradistinguished in the system of the lower Platonists. They discriminated, on the one hand, in the body, the organic passion and its recognition— that is Sen- sation proper ; and on the other, in the impassive soul, the elicitation into con- sciousness (through some inscrutable in- stinct or inspiration) of a ffnostie reason, or subjective form, representative of the external object affecting the sense — that is Perception proper. (See 262 b Note *.) There might also be shown, in like man- ner, an analogy between the distinction in question, and that by the Schoolmen of the gpecir's impressa et eaepressa ; but on tliis 1 shall not insist. Nor on the Neo- Platonic theory of Perception which has rarely been touched upon, and when touched on almost always misrepresented (even Mr Harris, for instance, has wholly misconceived the nature of the gnostic reasons;) — nor on this can I now enter, though, as recently noticed, it bears a striking analogy to one phasis of the doctrine of Reid. In special reference to the present distinction I may, however, refer the reader to a passage of Plotinus. (Enu. Ill- vi. 2.) In the Cartesian philosophy, the dis- tinction was virtually taken by Descartes, but first discriminated in terms by his followers. In general. Perception proper, and the Primary qualities as perceived, they denoted by Idea ; Sensation proper, and the Secondary qualities as felt, by S$Matian (sensatio, sentiment). See De Mmd, (Ckvis, &c., p. 299 alibi, ed. 1677;) H m Forsfe, (De PEsprit, ch. 10, p. iq., ch. 17, p. 276, ed. Amst. et supra 834 a;)— Geu^tW, (Dictata in Principia, pp. 45, 48, alibi, et supra 834 a;)— J?o- ( hauU, (Physique, passim;) — Makbranchs (Recherche, L. iii. P. ii. ch. 6 and 7, with Ecclairc. on last, et supra 835 b;) — Silvain Regis, (Cours, t.i. pp. 60, 61, 72, 145 J — Bossuet, (Connaissance de Dieu, ch. iii. art. 8 ;)— while J?M^r, S* Gravesande, CrousaZf Simert, Keranjkch, Genovesi, with a hundred others, might be adduced as showing that the same distinction had been very generally recognised before Reid ; who, far from arrogating to him- self the credit of its introduction, remarks that it had been first accurately esta- blished by Malebranche. (265 b.) As already noticed, (835 b,) it is pass- ing strange that Locke, but truly mar- vellous that Leibnitz, should have been ignorant of the Cartesian distinction of Sensation and Idea (Sentiment, Idee.) Locke's unacquaintance is shown in his * Essay,' besides other places, in B. ii. ch. 13, § 25, but, above all, in bis * Examina- tion of P. Malebranche's Opinion;' and that of Leibnitz, elsewhere, and in L. ii. ch. 8 of his * Nouveaux Essais,' but more particularly in the ' Examen du Sentiment du P. Malebranche,' both of which works he wrote in opposition to the relative treatises of Locke. As for Locke, he seems wholly unaware that any difference subsisted in the Cartesian school, between Idea and Sensation ; while Leibnitz actu- ally thinks that Malebranche * entend par sentiment une perception d' imagination ' ! In his own philosophy, Leibnitz virtually supersedes the discrimination. I am, therefore, doubly surprised at the obser- vation of M. Royer Collard, that * Male- branche is the first among modern philo- sophers, and, with Leibnitz, perhaps the only one before Reid, who accurately distinguished perception from the sensa- tion which is its forerunner and sign. (Jouffroy's Reid, iii. 329.) In the Kantian school, and generally in the recent philosophy of Germany, the distinction is adopted, and marked out by the terms Anschauung or Intuitio, for the one apprehension, and Empfindung or Sensatio for the other. In France and Italy, on the other hand, where the dis- tinction has been no less universally re- cognised, Reid's expressions. Perception and Sensation, have become the prevalent ; but their ambiguity, I think, ought to have been avoided, by the addition of some such epithet bs— proper. Since generalizing the Law of ths co- existence, but the co-existence in an inverH ratio, of Sensation and Perception, of thM ill PERCEPTION; PERCEPTION PROPER, &c. [motjb b • § n. iiilijifislltw and ofe^irtiwf, aiwf, tn ffemral, ^fMnff md cogwMm^ ; I have noticed, lieiiiiei iiMe addiMMi above from Aris- totle and Chl«% otiier putiai observations tending to tbe same result, by sundry modem pliilosopliers.^iMr«r, in a paper published in 1769 (Vermischte Schiiften, ▼ol. i. p. 113,) makes the remark, that * a representation manifests Itself more clearly in proportion as it has less the power of exciting in us emotion ;* and confirms it by the analogy nbaorved In the gradation of the agreetMe and dis- agreeable sensations. — Kant in his An- thropologie (1798, § 14,) in treating of the determinate or organic senses (Sen- ■11 ixi) says :< — ^^ Three of thoM arc .mlher objeetive tiiii subjective— I. «., is Mnplri- cal intullloiiit Ihey conduce more to the cognition of the external object, than they excite the consciousness of the affected urgan; but two are rather sul||ecti:Tt than objective— i. e., the representatloii they mediate is more that of enjoyment [or suffering] flan of the cognition of the external object The senses of the former class are those— 1) of Touch (tac- lut,) 2) of Sight (visus,) 3) of Hearing (aaditus;) of the hitter, those — a) of Tmk (gustus,) b) oi SmM (olfactus.)' — This and the Galenic arrangement will appear less conflictive, if we recollect, that under Touch Galen comprehtiids Feeing proper, whereas Feeling proper is by Kant r«fegated to his vitu sense or sensus vagus, the cwnaestheiis or common sense of others. See also Jfftnerf, Un- torsuchungen, i. p. 64 ; WetzeU Psycholo- gic, i. § 22S ; Frimf H. Kritik, i. § 14- ii; Anthropologic, 1. §§ '27, 28, Ice. 4c. M. Rivusson, in an article of great ability and learning on the ' FngiMnts de Philosophle' which M. Peisst did me the honour to translate, when speaking of the reform, of philosophy in Fnnce^ ori- ginating in Jfiiiii lie Biran'i recoil against the Sensualistic doctrine, has the follow- ing passage : — ' Maine de Biran commence par slparer profondteent de la passion I'aettrltl, i|ue Cbndlllac: avait confondue avee die sous^ le titre commun dt 'Sensa- tion. La sensation proprement dite est une affection toute passive ; Tetre qui y itnit nduit Irait SC' perdro, s^alaorbiir danstotdes sea modifications; 11 devien- drait snccesslvemenl chacnne d'elles, il ne se tronverait pas, II ne se distinguerait pas, et jamais ne se connaitrait lui-meme. Bien loin que la connaissance soit la sensation senle, la sensation, en se melant a elle, la trouble et robscurcit, et elle eclipse k son tour la sensation. De la, la loi que M. Hamilton a signalee dans son remarquable article snr k theorie de la perception : la mmcttion et la perceptitm, quoique insSpar- abUs, fonliiiraiaofi inmrse Vum de Vautre, Cette lot fondanentale, Maine de Biran l*avait decouverte pres de trente ans •apmvant, et en avait suivi toutes les applications; il en avait surtout appro- fondi le principe, savoir, que la sensation resulte de la passl4>n, et que la perception rteite de Taction.* (Revue des Deux Mondes, Nov. 1840.) — It is perhaps need- less for me to say, that when I enounced the law in question (in 1830,) I had never seen the printed memoir by De Biran, which, indeed, from the circumstances of its publication, was, I believe, inaccessible through the ordinary channels of the trade, and to be found in no library in thiscountry;andnow I regret to find that, through procrastination, I must send thb mote to press before having obtained •the eoUec^ve edition of his earlier works which has recently appeared in Paris. All that I know of De Biran is comprised in the volume edited in 1834 by M. Cousin, from whose kindness I leceived it. In this, the ' Nouvelles Considerations sur les Rapports du Physique et du Moral d. rHonJ.^' the treatUe in which, as hi. editor informs us, the full and final de- velopment of his doctrine is contained,. was for the first time published. But neither In that, nor in any other of the accompanying pieces, can I discover any passage besides the following, that may be viewed as anticipating the kw of co- exislMwe and inversion : — * Souvent une impression per9ue a tel degr6 cesse de Tetre k un degrS plus elev^ ou lorsqu*elle s*avive au point d*absorber la conscience ou le mot luimeme qui la dement. Ainsi plus la sensation serait ^minemment atit- mcde, moins elle aurait le charact^e vrai d'niM ptneption homalne.* NOTE D. •• CONTRIBUTION TOWARDS A mSTORT OP THE DOCTRINE OF MBITTAL SUaOESTION OR ASSOCIATION. [References omitted, and to be supplied from pp. 294, 386, &c.] The doctrine of, what is most fami- liarly styled, the Association of Ideas, would be an interesting subject for histo- rical inquiry. — The importance of this principle has, in later times, been fully recognised, — sometimes, perhaps, exag- gerated ; but to the older philosophers, and to the schoolmen in particular, the Excitatio Specierum afforded, likewise, a peculiar object of interest and speculation. Poncins, for example, pronounces it — •* ex difficilioribus naturse arcanis ;" and Oviedo, — " maximum totius philosophise sacramentum, nunquam ab aliquo satis explicandum." Joseph Scaliger informs us, that touching two things especially, his proud and subtle father professed cu- riosity and ignorance ; — the cause of reminiscence and the cause of gravity. Association and Gravitation, indeed, pre- sent, in themselves, a striking parallel; in the history of their exposition, a strik- ing contrast. Each (as observed by Hume) is a spe- cies of Attraction ; and the effects which, in the mental world, are referred to the one, are not lets multiform, extraordinary, and important, than those which, in the material, are referred to the other. The causes of both are equally occult; the speculation of these causes equally unphi- loeophical ; and each is to be reduced to science only by observing its effects, and etrrying ip its phenomena into universal fsLCta or fact, laws or law. But in the progress of this reduction the analogy ceases ; — it is actually reversed. For whibt the laws of Gravitation were only slowly developed by the labours of successive generations, and their application only gradually extended from the earth to the universe of matter ; the not more obtru- sive laws of Association, whose evolution modern philosophers fondly arrogated to themselves, are, after these have tried and tired themselves in the attempt, found already developed and applied, — I may say, indeed, even generalized into unity, — at a single jet, by a single philosopher of antiquity, who, for this — but not alone for this — stands the Copernicus and Kepler und Newton of the intellectual world. The singular circumstances of this in- verted history have not, however, found a competent historian; — nay, the circum- stances themselves have yet to be signal- ised and verified. Some attempts have indeed been made under the name of Histories of the Association of Ideas ; but comparing what has been, with what ought to be, accomplished; these, at best, are only fragmentary contributions by writers, unaware of the real authors, of even the most remarkable movements, and com- pensating their omissions, or their meagre and inaccurate notices of important mat- ters, by tedious excursions on others of no interest or difficulty. These inade- ■ J * \Jft Im1SS» llioiUIt'I f •• mtfto' atltiniils hme hem also linitdl to mmrn^ g '■aif in 0«iniiaiij9 to IIm trea- tiwt' nf tkrm authors ; for tli«' Uttorical noiees on this doetrine, fonnii in the worhs of other German pt joMogirti, are whollj horrO'ired. from iMni. I mt r-— (o the **QeMiiiehte**of.AEiiiiMiiii(1777); to the *• ParaHpomena**' aad *'Bejlw0fe** of .Jfoot-i- (1787, 17§2) ; anii to the « Wm- 1 tigia** of CfommM, (1701). In EnglaiJ, * indeedi we 'have a ehapCer In Mr Cole- j rid;ge'ft '' Biognphia literaria,** eilitie4 ** dm ik§ km 4^ .JitcNAiltoii— te MMmtf j tmemi from Avitt&A fo Artlff;" hnt this, in so fkr as it is of anj value^ is a ptagiarisniy and. a Mnndoriiif plagiarism, from Haass;* the whole chapter exhibit. ing, in faei more nistalces than. |iara- graphis. We may jwdfe of Mr Coieridfe's eonapi'tence to speak of Aristotle, the great philosopher of ancient timM, when we iiid Mm. referri.ng to the 3« Amhm for his specolalions on the assHQiattve principle ; opposing the Ih Mmmrim an.d Pmrm MmimnUm as distinct works ; and attrilMiting to Aqtiinas, what belongs ex- cliisiveij and notoriously to the Stagirite^ We 'may Judge of his competence' to speak, of .Be.siiirtes, tha .great ' philosopher of modern times, when tellliig ua., that Idm, in the Cartesian philosophy, denotes merely a configuration of the brain ; the term, he adds, being first extended by JLocke, to denMe the immed.iate ol^|e<^ of the mind's atten^on or consciousness.. But, in truth, it might he broadly as- sorted, that every statement in regard, to the hii^ory of this doctrine hazarded by British pMlosophers, to say nothing of others, is more or less erroneous. — Priest- ley, for example, assigns to Isdb$ the honour of having Jkti observed the fact * To l»e .aided, to my friend 'Professor Ver- rier*s ** Phulnrlsms of 8. T. Coleridge}** im puper' 'is :reaM]'kalile for 'the sagacity which traflfc.s, 'through Hm '':Mereynian brakes." of philosophy and poetry, the footsteps of the literary r«av«r; whose ignorance of .Itauch alone freed France irtm eontributlon. Ctole. of' 'Which, eertali%, ts the :nal»ai .slility of the cui:pril. But sooth to say, Coleri4|e' had la him: :imit^of th*: Iff than. •!' 'Iha odtr-' fiUhnilloii df his literary Tahle-Mk, 4c., .Blitws that '.ha: 'Was in the hsMt of speoktag, IS his Blogrivli% iw., show that he was la tlitt iahit of wrl^, the ofWaaB of othaffs^. — «a'M8 b: of Asaoeiatlon, (Hartlay% Theory 'bj P. I'ntr. 'p.. zx¥..) ; aid Bnme, as we have seen, arrogatef §&■ Mmdf the glory of ,/iffl' .generdistng-its kws.* (Hum.. Und. .sect, ill..) — ^Mr Stewart,, but at second ha.nd, sayij, that '" .fomefltiif like an of- Ismjil 'to eniatrate tlie laws of Associa- 'tlon is to bO' found In Aristotle. '*•* Sir Janes Maeidntosh, again, foundinx on Ms own. roseareht afltrms that Ariatotle and his disciples, among whom Yires is speoi- 'fied, confine the applsoat.ion of the law of wmm 'Of fecofledtofi, without any glimpse of a more general operation, extending to all the connections of thouffkt andf^ in^:** while the enonneement of .a gene- .ral 'theory of Ass4Mlatio% 'that denied to 'the genius of JMstotie^ Is,, al, and more than all, accorded 'to the sagacity of JToftte. The troth, however, is, that in his whole doctrine upon this subject, name and thing, Hobbes is si.mply' a .nlent foiower of the Staglrite ;. inferior' to his master In the 'Comprehension and accu- raey of his general views ; and not supe* nor, even on the special points selected, either to .Aristotle or to ¥lvas.t (Disser- tation, Iec. Mote 'T.) BOTB ©.••J OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 891 ridge ehaifeS' 'BamO' 'wIth plaglariBlag from Aquinas (iriio,hy' 'the way, berein .only 'repeals Aritlolle) Ms whole doctrine of Association. tulerit 'CNwechum, do seditl.one faereatemf" — 4ee my log enloos fHend, Mr Burton's excel* lefi.t Biogr^f by of Bavld. Mnm.e^ lately pali.. Ilshed. f Let It not he supposed, that, in these ohierfatlOBSy I would insinuate aught like a charge of'flafiailBm|ag.alast The Philosoplier of 'liaimoaiMry; or- fhali 'though disinctlDcd to many of his opiuloaa, I am a Inkewarm. admirer of his philosophical talent. It Is an .efrefl'Oas. errof' 'to consider Hobbes as an ualsavaed man; or, as oae, who wove only 'What he spaa and grew.. Among .English,— among B'Odem pUiosophers, he towers a shrewd and intiafU, aa original and inde- peadaal thinker. But these fnaiHes are exhibited, not so mueh In the discovery of new materials, as In the new elaboration of old. He is essentially an eclectic. But be chooses and rf|ects ikeeiyi illnitrating the prtaelplis he adopta with admirable Inge. 'aulty,aad.'Oafrybig them out with unshrink- ffhls is 'more 'esfselBlly ifuo' of Ma psyeho. lOfy; which Is original.' 'father 'lor what It omits, than for what It contains. M is, la snhstanee, an Arlstotetic doctrine, retrenched, not to sif matlhited. Of the wriUngs of the gtiglflto Mmsair, 'IMhos was even a sealona S of whleh Ms «■ Jri^ tifm JMof . V But, that Aristotle's merits in regard to the theory of Association have not, as yet, been fully recognised by philosophers. Is not to be nmrvelled at ; when we con- sider the extra brevity and occasional oorruption of the treatise in which his doctrine on that subject is contained, and when it is known that the editors, trans- lators, and expositors of that treatise have all misapprehended its theory of Association in the most important points. Without, therefore, attempting aught like a history of this doctrine, for which, the materials I have collected, it is, at present, impossible to employ; I shall confine myself to the principal object of such a history — endeavour to render jus- tiee to the great author of that theory; by- translating, from his treatise on Memory and Reminiscence, all that has any bear- ing on the subject ; at the same time, re- storing the text from its corruptions, and illustrating its veritable import. — I shall likewise translate what, (but only what,) of any moment, is to be found in the rela- tive commentary of Themistius ; because this, both in itself and in reference to Aris- totle, is, on the matter in question, a valuable, though wholly neglected, monu- ment of ancient philosophy ;— because, from the rarity of its one edition, it is Ehetorique'* is only one of many proofs that could be shown : and though he occasionally abuses the schoolmen when in his way, he was neither ignorant of, nor unindebted to, tLeir writings. There is, however, another philosopher whose relation to Hobbes has never been observed, but whose influence, if not on the general character of his specula- tion, at least on the adoption of several of his more peculiar opinions, appears to me almost demonstrable. I mean the Frenchman Berigturdm, (Beauregard;) who, when Hobbes visited Wsa, in 1637, was in the meridian of his academic reputation, and who, in his great work, the *' Circulus Pitanutf" first published in 1643, talces, or rather makes, an occasion to speak of the English philosopher, then known only by his recent work " De Give," In terms manifestly the suggestion of per. sonal regard. The counter alternative will hardly be maintained,— that it was Hobbes who privately acted upon Berigard. I may be permitted to take tMs opportu. nity of acknowledging for myself the obli- gation which Sir William Molesworth has conferred upon all who take an interest in philosophical pursuits, by Ms recent edition of the ooUected works of this illustrious thinker;— an undertaking In which he has nut only done honour to himself, but taken off a reproach which has long weighed heavily spon our country. accessible to few even of those otherwise competent to read it; — ^but, above all, because we herein discover the origin of those misconceptions, which, bequeathed by the first, have been inherited by the last, of Aristotle's interpreters. . In other respects, I shall neglect no subsidia within reach; and my Aristo- telic collection is tolerably full, more com- plete, indeed, than that extant in any public library in this country. Though statements may therefore sometimes ap- pear sweeping, the reader should not be- lieve that I hazard them without an ade- quate foundation.* • 1©. — Of eommentators on the De Memoria I have the following. — The Greek Paraphrase of Themietius which dates from the fourth cen- tury. — The only edition is that of Aldus in 16M. — The Greek commentary of Michael Epheiiue, in points of difficulty seldom more than a transcript of Themistius, is of a com- paratively recent, but uncertain, date. If Allatius (De Psellis, § 32.) be right in his plausible conjecture, and the Sclioliast and the Ex-Emperor Michael Duoas, who died Archbishop of Ephesus, be the same, it will not ascend higher than the latter part of the eleventh century. Of this, also, there is only one edition— the Aldine, of 1527—1 am well acquainted with the scholastic commentaries of ^tMnroef, (fl206,) Alhertus Magnus, (f 1280,) and Aquinas, (f 1274.)— Subsequent to the re- vival of letters, I have the expositions of — Faber Stapulensis, 1600,— Leonieus, 1620, — JameUus, l5iO,—SchegHus, l5i%—LaUtttu (in M8.), 1663,— Gesner, c. 1560, but only printed 1586,— Simonitw, 16Q6,—Crippa, 1567,— the Coimbra Jesuits, 1600, — Paeius, 1600,— floBen- weuter, 1600. — Of theBO the commentary of Leonieus is of especial moment ; not for any original merit of its own, but as the princip^ medium through which the views of the Greek expositors, on the Parva Natwralia, were pro- pagated in the west. — To these are to be add" ed illustrations of this treatise occasionally met with in psychological writings of the Aristotelic school; of which it is only necessary to notice one — the remarkable work " Do Anima" of Vives, 1538.— The Paraphrase of j the Greek Monk, Theodorus Metochita, I (f 1332,) has escaped me. 2«. Of versions, some of which. have the authority of MSS., I have those of Leoniom, SchegMus, Vatablus, Perionius, Lobittus, Simo- miu, Crippa, and the ononywioMt version extant in the Venice editions of the combined works of Aristotle and Averroes. That of^fcyontus I have not seen. Taylors English translation Is mere rubbish. 30. In regard to the text itself, besides BtOcerU admirable recension, with the varia- tions of six MSS , in the edition of the Berlin Academy, I shall compare, when requisite, tho Cowofio -dWiar, Eratmim, MorOiim, Svm> \ 'ON THE 'HI8T0ET [lOTlB.* IIOTE ©.•*] OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. H jMS|||||iiM| fl i|!ilM«a vl' iMMIiMlllf.^ j|iriftiici%. in. .■■■ tmCiW' nu iMH •iiii|tct| dliMt iwt :iliiilf' dfanidte flii iMiiMPfstiTe power of mind — mem rtttwtitm. Me tliflM ciaploys it, proxhnately to difig- ;iiat«' tilt fiMSQlt J of tvprodnolioii, in m far m tlM it •ifcwet Mid. iiiiiiiedkto^-flin|»lf 'HfiiMiiiftnMtff' OT' nedkeiwfm: wMle, to tlie proeesB of meeUats or Minei r^pm- dmdiwi of soiiivtiimg heretofore in 'UMiiiorjy Init^ wMoli we imniiot now call 'Vpb 'tsotpl 'tlinM^gii tlw 'intorv'tntion of ■oniiCiliif ehe, he giTes^ tlit nanw of Mi' mmtitmnm, (h itdfif n§,) But tkragh the term Reminisoenee' be proiierly and principally applied to thii fnlentiiiiial. procena of reoovery ,. ^and.. wMcli It h t Im' 'piirpMt of llie pretent 'treatin to c«mii^der ; lie extends it alio to tie ofrCni- fibfi of thoughts on our remembrance, thmigh the^ oonrse ei^Mmimmemmffffm^ mm, of wMA, 'hammm, h« hat here oooa- •nongh to prepare' the reiiiir :i»r the Aristotelio' extract which follows $ and thii, thongh divided, for the sake of illus- trationy Into stgments, ought, in. the first' initance, to he read, continnontly and hy ftaelf. § 1. Aristotle here enoonoes the one proximate cause or conation of Reminls- •ence — the imnmmd mmmmAm 0/ ^km^M' em iJbiyit f And, he it' ^ohterved, that I ihaQ. here' employ the tern. ikmtfM In its widest signiicatioi^, for mtrjf Mti. iCJoiif wmtk Bfmmd.) AR18TOTLB. '* .||«Mi*ittsMiic«f tahe phwe,* 'In virtne of that comlitnliiiii of 'Oaff' mind, where* tli'V' ^liUlJtilli iMHiJtHKillliifllM jM|||yih|i|yB|^^ ifli jl i eiitlimB ; 1>ut almve' wB, fie qaotaUcBS :ta f1liiiiMii% and the fkmsg im MMmt Mflm- Whtn 'BOC' eHMfwise 'Staled, in the notes, the 'text of 'Bekler It 'that 'fniai. wMeh 'fht transla- tfm wll t»e made. • ** OUMo imferfSbeta,** (iiqrt ftvtib)' ^ ia- sttaraMoae, lailig'et, ml venflfatieiiea m f aasl ah mmnA Im mtri^Htfumf ex hoc la 'flMMifa' 'fHfltast Ubc Ib Mhm qmd fcnerii' «if> ttftii | a idle In dnetcti a dndbni ad mmmpmtmdlofm ant iiftiroc; Mue ad Jii0%»liiMM fiaibm ifiid^- leal' |^~ia qjaii aBlia. 'est ad. itf^iwidn— mia, ■■ Gradas M 'fir' emnla .atgnaientenim. geaera. lale iei«' dlffniidaiit :~« eeme ad ^|Miiai| ah If a 'hwe ad fmmmmmi a fCfftOMi ad inUln lai^B aim dlseursn taat traMsHM ^^liimii loatlsilBil ilmmo 'tas. Ill ex .Mfplowt 'veaio 'iBr otgitfttlmiem Vitntootm nronter MP WiWP WrW^^rl^^^ jBT^IP' TiFMF VIIPHI Asia, 'ia qua refaaial Aatiechas : ex ii'Omlne fui Mt 9$m laiSiaiers el' ex hm ie cMoo- frafiiia [eegiilaMnt,] asm ejus liber dleituff prlmii.*'^ (Oe Ailma, L 11. e, 'De llcnu. el Eem) * ItfsaaoeaBiifle''tsiy'awirdtnrefardto the .ArtiM tiiiiJii eaMMcnMiit ef 'the 'term lae- Umw mn ii n a i , (tdmmd la a'ptfthoiitleal. rtMea... II 'hat heea generally either mis-' t«ken. or liatdequately uwlerfltood.— Uissmann sapfMiOt thai Aristotle means by it some loonl enMllM, skin to the ▼ibralioiia of certain ner. ▼ons ibffis,. or the 'flow of sfi..rlts, 'If 'Wlith so many ancient n phftiehigttlt' 'lave preteadad 'Ie explain the phsneaieaa of theaght. ;llaasa and Goereni rejeel, Itr the 'itaglrlte,. IMa aMflhaaieal. hy- potiiesia ; hut, 'anacquaialed. wifh the general analogy of Aristotle's langnsf e, they bave not estaMlshed their rejection on Itt broad and wMMoMoHf (jui4vi#if, f^ifiiO —Iff. if" la (laaallty, {bucm ▼• vm.) It im mfMsafiiliM' and ifialaiilibii, {aC^nm^ fH^tf ;) — 9<* If In <|nality, ■(umrit n irodr, or wdf»i,) It la eartoiiiMi, (ixxtwrn |>--4o. if In Place, {mmvik ri '«iS, or riww.) It Is hmi mmkm,. mm .Aritloll% semetlmet makes mn^tm convertible with, clun^^, and tbas a genus eontalBiBg nader 'it the same four species, — (as. la Ayt. IIL 1.. ;)-^somettmes he makes it a subgenus to cloiiiipe^ containinff under it only the last three species, (as in Metaph. XI. 11, It. Phys T. 1. 3. — YII. 3k Be Anima, I. 3. — ^ia wUeh last the species of motion are caiid four, Incmiai ^aud dJmiiiMllon being 'Coaaled at two.) .Mew, 'by Ike .generic term motioii, or aioes. ••Ml, Arlstotl'C, in its ps|choiogical applica. tloB, simply meanS' tO' deaeCe fkam§e Im quality^ or Ike species voftefiiHi,-- the nature of which be more than once expounds, (Oen.. el Corr. L 4. lexiSS. n|S. VIL %}% moA variation, to accommedala a mere aacleni to a more m.odem. nomoadaiare, may be falrty translated by the mere teilliar expressio»— eiod^^icaliMi. In. Ihit, Arlttotte onlf iUlO'Ws 'the example of 'nat*';. wkO', In 'IhO' IlmtMS and Parmealdes, cootil|iitl.nf twO' speeltt of simple motion, laHia aai siovidllia («l ^fwimmA^ «x.Xm. «SMii«) aimaiaaly' 'employs tkO' gaaartc term for IkO' hMav 'ipedes. In detlgBattig tke men* 'tal. madat. As a psyckdogleai smbtlltaio §m fhaie larms, Aristotle also Tcry eoBunonly ilfcction orjMiMum («-«^«f). tf'li asm A wls^kAiAl^a gi|i|iM^||^|M uiaiiii^, differently to denote both the activities and the passivities of mind; and (De Anima ii. 5 § 6) he explains " how the same [mental phsenomenoii, in different points of view,] is variously styled affection^ or motjemen*, or piushnt or encnzy.** — Further, ♦'Sensitive perception (he says) consists in a certain movement and affecttotiy for it seems to be a kind of variation:* (De An. ii. 6. § 2. See also Phys. vii. 3. § 12.)— "The phanUsm, the object represented in imagination, is an mffwi^m — a movement of the common sense." (Be Mem. 1. § 8 — De Ins. 2. §§ 16, 17, 20.)— But as ** there is no intelligence possible ex. cept by relation to a phantasm," (De An. ill. a|§5.8. 9§4. DeMem. I.§8;) andasme mory is, along with phantasy, a function of the common sense, " we remember our Intel- j lections only secondarily and accidentally, through our remembrance of the relative pkantasms." (De Mem. 1. §§ 8, 11.)— These ] lutro.sensitive movements thus proximately constituting our whole suggestive series of thought. — to these movements are to be re- ferred our Feelings. *' Pleasures and Pains are movements caused by a sensible object — are variations of the sensitive part of the soul," (Phys. vii. 4, § 10 ;) while, In regard to the Appetencies, — (the desires, emotions, and ■ffnotions proper,** of which pain and pleasure are the concomitants/') — there is no room for question (Eth. Nic. it 4. Magn. Mor. i. 13.) It U thus, in thc/rsf place, manifest, that in employing the term moeemefilf in this, as in his other psychological treatises, Aristotle never dreamt of insinuating any mechanical hypothesis, by which to explain the phaeno- mena of thought and suggestion ; and, in the secoml, that he here and elsewhere employs it, •s a general word, by which to denote all the ▼arious modifications of the conscious mind. — Under this last, a word in reference to Sir JTames Mackintosh. « What/' (says Sir James,) ** Mr Coleridge has not told us is, that the Stagirite confines the application of this law exc/u«t«e/y to the f^umomena of recoUection, without any glimpse of a more general operation extending to all connections of thought and feeling." And he adds, that the illustrations ** of Lndovicus Vives, as quoted by Mr Coleridge, extend no farther."— (L. c.) This, I must be pardoned in saying, Is altogether erroneous. In the first place— Sir James is wrong, in asserting, that Aristotle attempts to reduce to law •* the phaenomena of recollection alone," meaning by that, the phaenomena of inten- tional reminiscence; for (see § 6, and rela- tive notes,) Aristotle declares that the same laws govern the voluntary, and the sponta- neous, course of thought. In the second place, he is wrong, in saying, «hat Aristotle ** had no glimpse of a more general operation, extending to all connections of thought and feeling ;" for, we have now shewn, that the term movement, as employed by the philosopher, comprehends, indifferent- ly, every mental mode, be It one of cognition, whether a presentation, rapretentation, or ifcottght proper,-^ one of fleeUng, whether to arise, at the sequel of a Mreata other:* * Theuistius. " What, then, is Reminiscence, has been shewn ; — it is the renovation of Memory, How this is brought to bear is also mani- fest." Having quoted the preceding text, he proceeds : — ^" For as in a chain, painful or pleasurable, — one of appetency, whether a volition or a desire. — llobbes's *' train of imaginations or conceptions or thoughts:* and Locke's ** association of ideas, " are objectionable expressions, because, in propriety, only applicable to the phaenomena of cognition; to which it is certain, that Locke, at least, had no thought of restricting the connection. On the contrary, Aristotle's *' train of mental movements*' states the fact, and his view of the fact, fully and unambigu- ously. In the third place, in regard to Vives, though Sir James bo right, in so far as he limits his assertion to ** Vives, as quoted by Mr Coleridge ; '* yet as Coleridge only quotes the scraps which be chanced to find in Maass, it is proper to state that any negative pre- sumption founded upon these would be erro. neons; for in other passages, the Spanish Aristotelian extends the principle of associa- tion " to all the connections of thought and feeling." — Thus : — *' Ad aspectum hci, de eo venit in mentem quod in loco scimus eventsse, aut situm esse. Quando etiam cum voce, aut sono aliquo quippiam contiogit Isctum, eodem sono audito, deleciamur; si triste, tristamur. Quod in brutis quoque est annotare ; quae, si quo sono vocata, gratum aliquid accipiunt, rursum, ad eundem sonum facile ac libenter accurrunt; sin caedantur, sonitum eundem deinceps reformidant, ex plagarnm recorda- tione. — Eundem in modum, de saporCf de odore. Puer, quum Valentiae febri laborarem, et, depravato gustu, cerasa edissem, multis ! post annis, quoties id pomum gustabam, toties, non solum de febri memineram^ sed habere mihi illam videbam:* (L 1 ) I am unable tofind io Hobbes (whom Sir James Mackintosh would elevate not only above Vives, but above Aris- totle) any passage which shews that he had taken so comprehensive a view of tke Influ- ence of the associative principle as the Span- ish philosopher. — On the other hand, the reader may compare Cartesii, Epist. i. 36, and Locke, Essay ii. 33, § 7. • By »5Se f^fra. d. CB^M''' >M. B. 1. P. 1. S 4)— ©a these :see f % note 1st. f fits, isad the preoeiilBf •aragmeiat have «i«apei.lie> e^Heetors of Qreek Seoila^ I'liUiaA Ipiisins says—" We are irst remMiieal M' thi' iomer «Mffiiib.'thfB M tie r jrfMSi, and 'then of the " #» flol, there Is a distinction to be taken 1 for in this respect, the sequence Is either necifMrsr or hMimL ■Anis vo vii a " If the emieontlon. be nec^utarf^* It is manifest that, whenever the mind is de* termined to that individual movement, it will, also^ be determined to this.'*t ** If, again, the consecution be not of necessit |, but only the §fmt &f hoMt f the [individual] movement will follow, not as the invariable, but only as the ordinary, KVUm» 4 Tbiiijstiiis. ** Some Ifflpresrfons are consequent to each other, rotftistnort^^. For he who is reminiscent of Mm^ must at the same time have an. imaginatlou of Hmt ; and he who was ilnicJI % .AMrofif, in tlw re- miniscence of SocraieS) cannot but be oor- reminisoent, that by him he vhu ttruek, and in tuek or fii cA a j^^niw § * By necessary or natural conteeation Aris- totle probably means the dependence subsist- ing betweea aotleas, one of wMel eaanot 'be thought, without at tie same thne our think. lag the ether ; as ail Relations, Cause and Biect, Means and Bad, Premises and Conclu- sion, Ac* CSei' nnt^pifflM%a,bt) Be did not,. It may 'bO' observed, Ml late the error of many mo- dern phlloBophers, in oonfonnding the natural and necessary, with the habitual and aeqaired eowMClloiis of 'thoaghl. Me makes no fruitless attempt to shew the genesis of the former; Hmt less dees he attempt to evolve the laws under' which we 'thiak, Ikwa. the tendencies geMtalsd 'by 'thlaUng. 'Iiocke, indeed, verj properly limits the term " association of ideas " to their habitual or subjective connecrion, to the ezclaslon of their logical or objective or <* natural connectlou.*' (Bssay, B. II. cb. 9S^ I §4 Mr •tewart,. ^agala, (Elem. i. p. 29l,> tskaa a dlstlaaflon, eorresponding to this of irlstetle, as ••important,** but one "which,** he layi, " as Air as 1 am avare, has not hithtrt» attracted the attention of philosophers.'* f The expositors not observing that Aris- totle does not here relax the condition of determlaed coasecatlon absolutely, but Mly the determlaed consecution if Hlf fMrUca* lor rtoiflloa that, (sea n. •, p. 888, b ke. j) have all of tbem been led, as will be seen, to the aetual. reversal. §i Ms doctrine, la sup-' pesiag 'him tO' admit the posslUity ef theuf ht arising without suggestion— at least without suggestion according to the laws whl^h he la|S dowu. Bee f a tThls applies to the consecution of any two Individual thonxhts, not necessarily con- aected, as^ well la liD^'wmif permmif ss la the mme permm,. at^#ffereBt tlaM% under diiferiM cIreumstanMs, la dlibsial 'itamas ef ndad. { fheno ezaaplM ate unfortunate. If 'W^ thlak flra and Mtat^ fa the relatioa ot Cause ■OTID.**] OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 895 " Other impressions, again, are not connected of necessity, but in virtue of habit or custom ; and of these, the subse- quent follow the antecedent, not always, but only for the most part. An example wiU illustrate this. It frequently hap- pened, that wishing to employ lycabas, [archaic word for year,] I could not re- call it. To remedy this I accustomed myself to connect it in thought with the fa- miliar term lycos [wolf], both words com- mencing with the common syllable Zy[c.] Obtaining thus a starting impulse from lycos, I henceforward was enabled easily to recollect lycabas. Another finding it difficult to remember Tauromenites [in- habitant of Tauroraenium], used himself to think of tauros [a bull] ; and a third was wont, by departing from pleura [the side], to call up Pleuron [the town.] But in these the antecedent is not always followed by the consequent ; we often, for example, think of pleura [the side] with- out any reminiscence of Pleuron [the town.]'* — See § 9, Themistius. and Effect, in that case, certainly, the notion of the one necessarily suggests the notion of the other. But it is only by experience of their coadjacency in time and space, and by habit, that we come to think them under this relation. The other example is one of a strong habitual, (in Aristotle's sense of the word habit,) but not of a necessary connection. The example by St Thomas is better. The thought of Socrates, be says, necessarily suggests the thought of Man, and the thought of man necessarily suggests the thought of Animal. But this too is exceptionable ; for it may be said, that animal, being a part of man, man of Socrates, the former notion is not properly suggested bg the latter, but already given in it. This may indeed be applied to all relatives. For a reliition being an indivisible thought, made up of two or more terms, to say, that one relative term suggests another, is impro- per ; for, in point of fact, neither exists, neither can exist. In thought apart from, or prior to, the other. (See nn. p. 900, a, b.)— As examples of necessary suggestion, take the following : — We ai'e aware of a phsenomenon. That it exists— only as known— only as a phae- nomenon— only as an absolute relative, we are unable to realise in thought; and there Is necessarily suggested the notion of an aniiiiaginable something, lu which the phaeno- menon inheres,- a Subject, or Substance.— Again;— a thing appears, as beginning to bo. Think we cannot, aoght absolutely to com- mence—to start of itself ft-om nonentity into being; and there is necessarily suggested the notion of something (vague perhaps and unde- termined) in which the complement of exis* lence, appearing to begin, Is thought as having previously been realised in a different form, and as now only relatively commencing under § 3, The necessary consecution or con- comitancy of individual thoughts, being in- volved in the very fact of the several thoughts themselves, (the conception of each being only realised through the con- ception of the other); this requires and ad- mits of no farther explanation. To the habi- tual consecution, therefore, Aristotle ex- clusively confines himself. And here, before proceeding to enounce the laws by which the habitual consecution is governed, he indicates, in the Jirst place, the circum- stances by which, in different minds va- riously constituted, and in the same mind under different affections, thoughts are more or less promptly associated, and consequently the general or abstract laws of association modified in their particular or concrete applications. These have by modern philosophers been sometimes treated as secondary laws of association; but from their contingent, variable, in- definite, and latescent character, they can- not be reduced to rule, and are, therefore, undeserving of the name of Laws. In doing this, he shows that by the term habit he does not mean merely to express the result of a frequent repetition of the same action or passion, but generally the simple fact of association, whether that be the effect of such repetition, or of some extraordinarily intense attention, determined by peculiar circumstances upon certain objects. — Text emended. Aristotle. ** But [in regard to habit it is to be observed, that] with certain things, certain minds* become more habitual- a novel aspect, — a Cause. — ^The impossibility we find of imagining extension without colour not to say colour without extenslon>-iB also an example. • All the editions and collated MSS. have Iflovf ; one Vatican codex, however, exhibiting iw« (and the correlative tnoa) as a variation or a correction. The natural and obvious mean- ing of hiovs is some persons or minds ; but, among the commentators, Michael Ephesius supposes the ellipsis may be of rir^ut, im- pressions. Themistius with movs, reads, in. stead of aXXovs, (or Wiim for the MSS. vary,) lTie«f and «i»«u/tt8»iif .— All this manifests the well-founded discontent with the present lee- tion, which affords a sense inadequate to that required; while the causal dependence, by ho of the following sentence, or clause, from the present, is, as the text stands, inept. I therefore read-i»ww ew«. This affords the meaning desiderated; and at the cheapest rate. For in uanscription nothing la more H on TMS HI8T0RT [k OTB »•' «• fiMMi li il that mmm olsjwita whicli w« hmi mm but ©nee, «r« inor© p«fie«tlj nnnmilMMd by us, than otiMfi wliicli w liBTt dfltiitiBieft behdd/* Tnmmi'rivs wmm JlciMliMiiMi with tiit^ mmmmm at mm, tkm ^liHi ^^ fAtitfi JlnftMiifly r^ petok:'* M# iliMtraiy Atmk^ tlum by J7ii^. In like manner Arlilotle often VMS 'the term Ifif, (which we .iaailetiiatoly trMis:late by habli or fosaesslmi,) 'HOI only ■iir tbe acqnirei, but also for the natural.. Aristotle means simply to state tbe iieti— tbait' two OHWtil. nfeO'Vements having' enee eo-. existei, eaeh' tenia, If repredneed, to repro. duce tbO' other; the foroe of this, tendency 'being In proportion,. !•, to the lirtf neiicy of tbeir co-e«lstenee, and a», to thelf 'HMtnal. afcltf ;— this sHInlty be.lBg dependent on tbe greater power of attention and retention na. tnrsi Of acf nired for this or that class of Objects, and en the temporary^states of mind. In which certain things and theag his exert a stronger 'iuHaenice than they 'do 'In others. This Fiws thnsUlnstrates; and his obser* vatlons comprise. In brief, nearly all of prti. elpal moiMsnt ttiat has been .iiM upon iHi anltlect, ellber 'helafe oT' ^Unm « (U Mae memorlam 'ii^bent omnes pirlter' ad omnia. .gnnt qnl fcr&a, 'snnt 'Cpl fm "imnilnsrjat Jh- cllltts: nt fhemistodei renMn, Hertensiia 'verbornm reeordalloMi dionatnr' valnlsse; qnod exemplnm posltnm sit pro totOiJho-' mi etlim, aiilnowi, ail .mm, alii ulitiMi, alii vHm^ alll virfiilis reeoffilintiriltfiB'etnieias.; ut 'Cst. «nj.«sineliifeiil. »ww?t«^ '01 attendU ad. hieo aStla lb«rtni.— (2.) Memoria pln- 'rtmnm confert. nstnnia^ €mimpermo mrfomp fMi: ftfsse pnedltos illci, 'Cfediiie^^eBt jino- ram maf nitado memoriie 'iiMianaiitls iitera- rnm celebratnr^Themistocles, Cyms. aneas, P^i,I„h|ii,.^3.> Ailittvatnr' iota raiioiae iw. jm, # jS \ lit. lAjk, jiiltiiHkindajaiBJwINiiMi'H! I'M VMHflHRnulKV'lllHyDEIjte Inlt .* .» • W I Alte neSHMIlHIii* »•■ mmWMMrr9mm*f tea .ellsali' 'saat a prime aceepta et cam enra; fno fit at IngenleslBsinil ssipa homlnei. ei. bffW' memoria proUze Inslmctl. noa. tam rwwfilMitar mnlta, qnam qui. ills noa snnt pares^ his ietlbas, f nod. negleetim ■•Jtfji- altefna .In allqnis oencltatns, frimm rei ci, _ rlii admls«iit» reeerdatlo esl^delMep'lliiillor, promftiory dintamte; at. qnsO' 'masinia 'IsMl^' tta vei dolore sunt in animum ing ressa, bormn lonflistma est meuMila; CMiae de esnsa mos est qoamwlaai f eatlini. In .statnettdta.og:rorum limitibns aerlter caidere pueros qui adsint, nl irmtas et diutlns recerdeatar lUerum. tnlnmb [Does ¥lves allude to what takei, or took, pkee to the perambnlation of the i^n^iii parisbeaf ]— (6.) BttmMmimm 0I mcdilatlone er^bra magnum memoila samlt robur. Mt enlm et ad acclplendnm prompta, et ad plura caplenda htlor, et tenacior ad coutinendum j neo est alia In. totO' aalnaO' lumctio, quae pe- .rinda «altn«. aal. 'disldefet, . . . —(1.) Qu.» 'fomie MlsiO' el ifMnffMiD' acceplmns, faciliua hiBrent In mente, si mode attente animum appUcamns. I|na de caasa, qu» prima letate vidlmas atqae aadlvlmns ea diaaus recorder nnr et intcgrlna. Est enlm tunc solnta curls et eofltatleaHias. ■aa*— («•) laBi.etlam atten- dimas ilitgonter'i fulppe ^aitata Ilia admira- 'BUT oaiak 'lanqnam novo, at quae admiraiuh' m soliclte spectamus, 'descendunt,** 4c.: — Aris- totle, OT' nAioafar 'was thO' aafhor of 'the Pro- blems, mskes a atmllar observation, and adds 'that— **'.& .ike maaaer we remember best vhat irst oeears to ns in tbe morning, our ■tmery fUUng off aa the day advances, in teMMueaea ef the multitude of objects by whM we an distracted."— (Sect. XIX. § 6.) An iaslaace of the way In. which our ba. bttndes ef theaght mA iBSltaf regalate thO' P4^ts. ef view to whleh we coateoipkte objects tndconseqaeuHy determine— eileneafrlelo^ualy ^...the course ef our reminiscence. Is nnwit- 'ttaglf alMrded|.tahiniself, by tlie iintheian'iOBi- 'MMtator, ihnen Blmeaias of :Lneea. 'fhk k tie laaeral example of conBocutlon which he ptppnt.:— «« mgOm, ab Beieak ssflttls et |giiirteterfectas,meBiofk m» ■•" »emo.. ilam suggerlt; h»c Bosks I qua deinceps j^oMMJfli, remtolicor." Compare ihyk*, (Ifwchaat of Venlee, Act I. Scene 1.) «• lly wlad, oeoling my hrolh;' Ac. The Ethology aad PifhoiOtyto the second book of AristotisTs Bhetottei. mata. especially the chapters, on the diihreat tendencies of 'the difcrent .ages and eoaditloas of ife. supply a rich magasine of obtervations. on the p nic*lcal,.laimence of r- ^ elation aad. habit. Idi lohn Ba»*r* law, divided into three special or subordi- nate kws. The one universal Zato,— to which I would give the name of Redinte- gration — ^is : Thoughts vjhich have, at ant{ time, recent or remote, stood to each other in the relation of coexistence or im- mediate consecution, do when severally re- produced tend to reproduce each other; In other words : The parts of any total thought when subsequently called into con- sciou,sness are apt to suggest, immedi- ately, the parts to which they umre proxi- mately related, and, mediately, the whole of which they were co-constituent. The terms in which this great law is enounced by Aristotle, hare not been understood by his expositors ; and the kw itself has, in consequence, altogether escaped their ob- ser%'ation. Text, therefore, explicated. The three kws, ofwhich the one preced- ing is an absolute expression, are the law of Similars, the law of Contraries, and the kw of Co-adjacents ; for to these three heads may be reduced all the relations into which a thing, having once been thought as a relative, tends subsequently to rekpse ; and thus to recall into con- sciousness all else with which it had then stood in correlation — What is the import of these terms, is considered in the notes. Aristotle. ** When, therefore, we accomplish an act of Reminiscence, we pass through a certain series of precursive movements, until we arrive at a movement, on which the one we are in quest of is habitually con- sequent. Hence too it is, that we hunt * through the mental train,' excogitat- ing [what we seek] from [its Concomitani m] THE PBESEMTf OE SOME OTHEE ( • •* For as dogs," (Bays Longinus,) '* having! once found the footsteps of their game, follow from trace to trace, deeming it already all but caught; so he, who would recover his past cognitions from oblivion, must speculate the parts which remain to him of these cogni- tions, and the circumstances with which they chance to be connected, to the end that he may light on something which shall serve him for a starting-point, from whence to follow oat his recollectiou of tbe others." See the Interesting chapter on Memory, in the rheto- rical treatise, restored by Kuhnkenius from Apsines to Longinus; (Rhetores Grseci — of Aldus, p. 719 ;— of waiz, t. ix. p. 674.) It is not amongst the fragments in Weiske's Lon. ginuB. Vivos, too, compares the process of remin. Iscence to the tracing by dogs, and also to the ascending the steps of a ladder or stair. '* The term tniivm (says Sir James Mackin. ioBh, apeaiting of the passage in the text,) is aa significant as if It had been chosen by Bebbes." In point of fact, it was chosm by | Hobbes, and in illustration of this very pro- cess J — but borrowed from Aristotle, along with the correlative terms, seeking, beginning, &c. (See Hum. Nat. ch. iii. §§ 3, 4.— Lev. P. I. ch. 3.) • The expressions vo tipt^ns and h xivrtrtt ijJi (liTa. r>)v3i, commonly rendered by Aris- totle's Latin translators— mofuum anitnoe, he. consequentia, series, sequela, inmnitio, iic. were among others adopted by Uoi>bes ; whose " consequentia vel series imaginationum,*' in Latin, and in English, " consequence, series, train, succession of imaginations, conceptions or thoughts,** have been often ignorantly sup. posed expressions original to himself. Even Uissniann and Maass seem guilty of this. Subsequently to Aristotle, Carneades employed the term rvvi^ofih rZ* ^arruvtm; but, with him, this is not to be -^ewed as simply con. vertible with what we understand by the mental train. (Sext. Emp. adv. Math. L vii. § 176-182. f The Present (to »u») is not of course to bn taken rigidly for the infinitesimal point of transition from the past, but (as might even be shewn from Aristotle's previous discussion) in its common signification,— for a certidn lat- ter portion of the past. In fact, before we are conscious of the Now, in its strict signifi- cation, it is already fled. Concomitance, or Simultaneity, is also to be taken in a certain latitude J— viz, not only for that which is strictly coexistent, but also for that which is proximately antecedent or consequent. I find, however, tliat all Aristotelians have not been so blind to Aristotle's meaning, in this passage, as his regular commentators. Timpler seems to have fairly, if not fully, understood it. "Adjuvans causa (recorda- tionis) est consideratio, partim circumstantial rum, praeurtim temporis praeteriti, quo homo rem, vel per sensum, vel per intellectum, cognovit ; partim similium et ajlnium, partim eontrariorum. (Empsychologia L. iii. c. 3, pr. 17.) — I should observe also, that Maass, who, if we are to judge from one and all of his Oreek quotations, could not pretend to a knowledge even of the alphabet of that Ian- guage, was yet too forward in philosophy, not to see, at once, what, in this instance, Aris. totle's meaning must necessarily be. Aris- totle has been here so long mihapprehended, only because he was so far ahead of his expo, ■iters. Nor is there a higher testimony to his genius tlian that it required a progress in philosophy of two thousand years, before phi- losophers were prepared to apprehend his meaning, when tbe discovery of that meaning was abandoned to their own intelligence. I The Commentators and Translators of this treatise have, one and all, here marvellous y mistaken Aristotle's meaning, and thus mis- represented his doctrine in its most important point. They have not perceived that « iXkon Iii( ^■r IHF ^KF OM THE HlSTOKf Tnotb ».•• [timb]/ ind from ili Sim ii.ab or Cow- nut means— "or mmm ol»«r time," ami. not ** or .ifiiM. oiAtr vuH'O." LooMnf to Hie freceding "«»t«is,|]isaiili-;iiitall|g«M«ofxe^M* <><*"«<(«!!' ^ ■4mamMt,mtkmimiMi^^ Iffriwv; and look. Ing to the context, before and after, it la deaaiiied, aa Hwt vMcli alone satisfies tlie MUnral, and e««> neeeaaary , tense. The^ inter-' pretaHon of the Comaentators, on tie otlier Iwiil, is, at onee, gntmmaiiealiy perverse, and t ^^^^ im^equate generalisation of this prln. pMlosopliiMlly absurd. It does violence to ^ipi, „ ^^ oiaterlaliani allowed, In eonii»etl- fi&mmlkt 1»7 coherence vi the matter moved, In Biidii manner as water npon a plane table la drawn which way any one part of It is guided by the flng or.** (Ijov. P. 1. eh. E" compare also Mum. lal. eh. 4, § 2. and Blem. PMlos. c. 25, i a) Bnl while it la impossible, to hold with Sir lames liacklntoai, that Hobbes, as opposed to Aristotle, Is the ori«:inal discoverer « of this fiuidtmental law, of this p roltfic truth which iBflM Hie basis of aU true psychology ;" It is even Impossible to allow him the priority of Aristoile*s hMignage.. And to what end ? To prevent Mm. ft*om. eonsnmmating the theory «if ' .asioelatlon. In 'the eniiitncenienl of Iti uai<- vegml 'lav May more— aetml'ly to ■wuim Mm throw up the attempt at reducing the phieno. mini of Suggestion to determiiiate^ laws at all. Affiatetle, In their view, appends to m imper- feet aeries of fonr stated causes of asioeliHon, a fifth, under the title of a *< sonwot&ir,**— -thus MteMaij, and In sober earnest, making him Ibreslidl Dean .Aldrieli In 'Ms J^ke :— ** K bene quid speoulor, oausn sunt fi^ifus Bi- bendi: ilMpltis adventuB ; pnmens sitli; atque fkitura; St vini probitas; «f quml&mt mittm cmtao." • The law,. I style that of Ilediat%mtion, :and idiieh to iMre^ ininiiced. 'by .Ariatotit, mmy be viewed m a eordllary ^of Ub: doctrine of Imscluatlon "and Memory. The representa* mm 'Of' :ImagiMiltiM m Fhantasy he 'Viam. at 'merely th* movemMla eontlnned In the organ of Internal sense aHer the moving object itself las been withdrawn, (De Insom. c. I. § Jl— •■ 'ill. ff 11, 16* 1% I'B, JO, ed« P!ie«|) and though 'therttft passages whleh 'would aliew, that he considered sensible perception as something' more than tlmi meroi reflation of m inl|iectif« affeetion ; 'he yel, when popularly speaking, defines imagination to be — a kind '•f' feeble or decaying senaog^CEIiet. 1. 1, e. 11. ;) ^ dO'finltlon which Des^CartMi. and Hobbes : adopt without q ualificatton, asMl 'la ■^wMe rigour.— Again :— Memory Aristotle dooa not view as a faculty distinct from ImaglnatlOBi hut 'Slm'ply as the recalling thosO' impressloMly, 'those movements Into eoMHiooMMia,. 'Of 'Whtei PliBntaay Is 'the complement. In thoiO' flt^ tumitanees^ as- theni' is^ at roaaoa^ wHy'liii .^_^ -^ i^MigitoiMjfciiiiiiiiiiiiMillii.iiti iMi Blifc, Jhiii ll B jwll BiiiiSlkljMl |||ui|{|U||||k. iNiylk'liu||ui|K jHunj flk'lllllllliillhllKii^lilMhLHi iNBMPmr w ^iPipPiPSp'iwaiasiir iiW'W'S™sp^^nie''iW wWtWW'^wbi ^msHJ^ 'mFipnwpfli' ^w'lP'^^ass wm 'mmiwmi^P' ment when m. than, they hold when, mmk^ why tlM7 :BlMMi'd 'ho rooalod to comsoloiunes% 'In 'any 'Other co.ordlnalliti, than what they ImiM previously to sneh. revoeation *,— the 'law «f JMInfeogratl'On Is,. 'Ooonoqnently, a .mlo wUeh. MIowB naturally and of Itself. TO JIbA&es. wbo had, pro tanto^ adopted iiPHiip iaHii"W''i^ w^Sr^iii ^' ™'i'ip"''ip"wiii flffipw^if TiPia ^■pe>aa'* *j|fc aatswMpiiwwipwisiHis ■spiMiiiiPSS' ipip^''t wttald, of conne. present Itself '| hnt It might also present itself, as a consectai/ of the lion, with many snhaoqnont piillosopiers. Passing over St Augustine, whose doctrine •f Itoftttiilioeaee is too important to be here spoken of by the way, this law is. after Aria- toile, explicitly enounced by Vtves. — *' Quca ftmul stmt • Pkantmia conpmliMa, it oMeru- tfum oeemrrai, mkt secnm uHsram repr«aen- mre,**' (ii* c.) Omitting others,— prior also to Hobbes, whose •< Human Nature," •* Leviathan," and ** nemanta Philosophise," appeared In 1650, I6ftl, and 16fi5, this law was enounced by ani^iHsndf I— fMloM^pheri' 'from whoW'i 'Uteal hypolhosia' of ponoptlon and momory It flowed equally aS' fTom his own, and wh% howbelt their namea iiave not hitherto heon adduced In eonnoetion with the doctrine ol Association, proclaimed it — two of them at least^<^iiol' liaS' otoarly than bimself. These are^ 'Berlfard, 'I%hy, ^aiid White. In lidp Borlgavd, in the course of a dis- ensslon, otherwise well doaorving of attention, states the law of Kodlatigratlon, as regulating the earrent of our fhoaghtS';:— " qusO' .flcnl' ■cetiaorio ocfiilriinlw, Ifu buMi«iin qf ^smsnltoii, C'eon Silonaaosa tj fJNpnwii tiM«i« ni«ct Hmm ^Kpilir, «mI IU' a kind ifmimi* (Instlt. :Portpat» 'Uh. U. Led. 20, 1 i. 'BngHsh trsnslallon.) In concluilon of this matter I may briely notleflii ill. snpplemeai and. eorrection of what haS' 'boon stated hy tim Ctormaa historians t— 10* Tliat Malobranche, whom Bissman very moehantiOi theory of 'Cognltioa whioi ho had •mneoualy •oasldarS' aS' ihO' original dlieo- '•spoatod. '** Ail fhncles: are 'aiotieai 'wIlMa 'f 'voror of tho: lav of Bedialoiratlon, 'Can 'ho as, relics of those mad'O la fho iOBio; aadahowa. to lava 'borrowed It^iroai'thellluBtrlovi loiJiMit thai isuaedSole^ wmmML mm \ fhlhor tO'VUom. he Is Indohlod for .awny other ■ 'ill' At' ^isaai' conltenc' Jko fa^sfAir if/lsr • of Ma oplnioni. I .BWMI 81 Aaatlai a phllo. ■sf't 'ii iO'iiadli m tk§fonmr mmm oynla | ao^hir whoso 'BHril% "la ligard to the doc. 'ftn J^mJim aailiiyiiM ^BMiJIV Jafli MMMiian^mAMiJBiiMdi^' SJmM JGiBiAtMiBi' d|i"Mp||iiKA Jhilf' A IfeflJaAtiMlbliAllft 'BfMk'BM^ ftUMMHI MMUf" II Jfcl 1 Jij ai^'O^ tdH VHt 'aai^^w jBS'aaaarmijii ewi^paiw a^m' jpPPwi'ai^ap'^^naii^n'iin<^aa''j( awpm aaBma'wip asi'JBi^wiW ^pw •aMW^PwTP'n^^^^wipnin|||i ■■^•w^w '^F^s^fwajj ^bi^^^w » w*"*"^*^^*^ ^f^f w«« B.**] OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION tAABT or CoAMACBMT,* i « Through this process Reminiscence is say, wholly overlooked. See his Confessions, L. X. CO. 8—19, and especially this last; De Musica, L. Ti. c. a § 22. 2o> That Wolf, whom Maass considers (for the ** Nouveaux Essais " of Leibnitz were then unpublished) as *' the first who not only clearly promulgated the universal law of Association, but also recognised its importance for Psycho- logy and Morals ;*' was, certainly, herein anti- cipated by his contemporary, and brother Leibnitlan, the celebrated fiilfinger— whose merits in this respect havn, also, remained altogether unnoticed. See of this latter the " Dilucidationes," §§ 254, 235, and " Oratio de Ileductione Philosophica," § 2j both some three years prior to the very earliest work of Wolf, enouncing the law in question. • An important, but altogether neglected question. Is, — ^In what comprehension are these three terms employed by Aristotle ? i. The Similar (tJ ofteiov) aflFords little diffi culty, and may pass without comment. It com- prehends, of course, not merely simple, but also analogical, resemblance. II, The CoNTRAKY (ro ivmvrlov) is not an unambigucus expression : for Aristotle some- times usurps it even for the opposition of possession and privation (e^if, rri^virts); some- times he does not carry it beyond the oppo- sition of genus and genus, of species and species ; and sometimes he restricts it to the opposition of incompatible attributes. But I recollect n » instance, in which he uses it for the oppotition of reUUivei proper. With this exception, we may presume, that Aristotle does not here mean to employ the term In any exclusive rigour ; and may, therefore safely apply it in its most extensive meaning. The. mistius thrice renders it by re «»Tixf(>fvo», the opposite} but what comprehension he gave to that equally vague term, he does not explain. UL The GoADJACBMT (ro 0m*yla.. tions are mutually suggestive, in virtue of their proximity, as parts of a system or sys- terns, of which Socrates is the centre and principle of union. 3«— The parts of a mUversal or extensifm whole may be likewise viewed as suggesting each other, from their coadjaccncy. For, though the conspecies of a genus are formed by the combined principles of Similarity and Contrast J— yet, once formed, they arrange themselves in scientific thought, as the co- ordinate parts of a common whole, and can thus mutually suggest each other as coadja- cents. Accordingly, Dog may suggest Wolf as its coadjacent. But this, only in one point of view; for, in another, it may do this as its similar, and In a third, again, as its eon. trary. 40. — The parts of an essential wholes — maittm and/orm, subject and accident, — may suggest each other, as coadjacents; although this they may do also as contraries. 5o._The different signs of the same signifi- cate, and the different signijicates of the mmm sign, are also reciprocally suggestive, as co- adjacents ; for, in different respects they con. stitute parts of a certain whole or commou system of thought. 6o._To this head, and on the same princi- ; pie, also belong things, viewea not only as different parts of the same whole, but as dif. ferent wholes of the same part — viewed not only as different effects of the same cause, but as different causes of the same effect — viewed ikot only as different accidents of the same sub- ject, but as different subjects of the same acei. dent. These are all reciprocally suggestive, in as much as they are cogitable as parts of the same total thought. y*' — The mutual suggestion of eonjugate§-^ the a&ctrac< and conerc(0 — is to be referred also to coadjacency. So* — The whole suggests the parts, the partf suggest the whole, as coadjacent ; — ^in truth, they are only the same thought, viewed in different relations. 9«* — The «^ and the thing signified are l"l OM THE HISTOBf ^WOTB' ©• •Ifcfted.*' fur Hi« movenMiito [wliich, •ml III iMA, im wmoXkeQ, ar% ii iIm»W' ••■0% tiiiiMtiiiiM tlM' Btmm, soniettiiMt' ftl llio •ma nmrn, :iciiiiitliiies rABVi ov turn tually rag get tiv«i as o wKwSf VI"iP 'qMMHWHPVi VMMV' VUllBPVa''iBr'aVvMaiHVaiH 'HiaW' ooBiUiiaitaii of 'Hila 'and fia yneailaf ms- tenoe, aa flfon by 'Thaiiil.ittii» for Ihe Irua of' 'fiw taw of Badlntegraiioa. would 'bo •Biflialloally ilgnalized. In the teil ho qaolei, M rmn eonmeneoi, and ymvmt • ktif^imfiM ooMlidaa' a loiitenoe, of whicb Mil #i»f lyyvr 'OoniUlnloi' Iho middle. f If II be held (ai may plawlbly be done, and M I 'waa orlgliially Inolined to do, (p. M% ww^w •MM' nrjr iipaimapip apownip HBH!'Biwi"^^^^''w^^pBiW'iiiP'iP''affPM''^^^p^o'^''i|M t^'ipw ^^w^^^^^ H wk^m ^iPHafl!^ aipuBHiiaff Uraii lO^pwoai '(■fWf^ wimwk' TawwHwaMP^ip .Bew^^ ^p oi ••••io'^p Bnch are whal fcato obtained Ihe clanie inlioei, howoTir, to ihew, that Arli- aamo of Mlofiwi' prvfut, Seoraloai for ox- ioHa ma farlbaiiy avara of Ihe fc ^^f j * pfliip 8, 'inggetting bii father 8of hvontioni «f |||« , f^g ^, ;iMffa iialca' Ihal^ Oa^aoanllaal, iiPWH HM iBaiiiBMP^p ™pbHipbHii ''apaiiBafflPiaH ai bpwp^imbpwibpbpiii nwwaaFi'^Mf w jwh* waaB^paBfjii i Ita fha iMoral doolrtna In thli 1. 1 m^uil hart makO' l«o obior«a!llons--oiia eauiloiMifff , 'Iha olhor mpplemmUwf ,i— fho Jtmt la, that ArtotoUe la not to be nn- derslood aa meaning, that things Ihonghl oi Oaaxlitonl, Similar, Contrary, Goai||aeaal. MMmm lagfiiiillva of ea^h othe^f or. In lUa aai%hS« Ihonghl ai the lerm^ of a wlattottf 'Ihay hato,, eo Ipio^ already been ihonghl togothel', aiid Ihoa ikll nnder the aateg ory of fWMtiafff' ^ooMaantlon ; but:, that thing! which iiMfy itand to eaoh other in inch rotatloaiy and. tevlRf, 'Oaaa ^al laaaiy. hoen. thoiffhltogolhor' m io ilandhif , If ''aflorwarda Introdnead Into Iho mind, ai absolute and ■ale, do, in virlno of onitom, load again to lUI baih Into relation, and ooniefnently to TCffodMa the objeets with whieh they bad been iSmMrly eorrelattTO. For exam'ple : If 'we IHrifc 'iaeratei oi ion. ar at hmhand, wa 'Oannot ImbI think of a paranl m a wife, lay Sophronlicni or Xanlippo. But white wo can think Soerataa, without thinking Mm te any domaitle retatioa, 'iha thoaght of Soerataa la iMi noaaaiarlly":iiigffeailTO of iwrenl or wife, 'Of BopHnraiiaeni or juMiypai uumga, in pro* portloB ai' wa haia 'baas naad to think tha philosopher nndar tha fllal or marital, rela. tlons, will tha thought of Socratei tend more babitoally tO' .rm .iilo one or olhor of Iheso ehannola, and thai .to luggest Iha thonght of the oorrelatlres. The fraoodlng ozplleallon .appttea iO' 'iho^ itatomania inaia^ on. thli head, by olhor' phlloeopbora aa well aa 'by Aditotle. The Moond obaarvatlon la, thai, thaaghia laaaaalBiad and. imlahir' inggeatiTe do not ngfoit oaah ^otkarwlti avuS aeriaintyand Ibreo. fha 'ralo^ 'ii thlS' t^— ijf ' "iMt^ 'lioi#lt, iii' wm ii m§§«iMl ftf Um oiiM*, %m pf&porHm — 'I«* in. Ht .fliNmiaraiiJhit mmiNrlfliMif . fJhi tJImiaJkif tdnif ■NsF IMNP WainnniBrlPPI" WHP'^'UHP ■IWWOrlF'' IIWIWPIWPW'B ^•^w ^^l^^^n/ww^w HFlr^w^jj^ ooaiidirid: 'la liMasdtct;' ««d, 9*i Io If « etmpof f9mMm -iaifrvfft {h§ U from loos or Uaihing) Mi Iho^ Pool tnggeata' Iha Mead tt'Ore prompllf Jli<''BttL ^bi^Aj 'dtti nWiu^k Wji JlLi^..Mli g|p.,||||H^g|^^|pyj||||Lg|gJI||yg| ^ p% ^^ iQ* Jl^J^^ tt A V^ JH if a ftiill iPoiilBliii (MPPP iJSBiiIpWWIBIii IpiMpH'^^^'^' •■■'' *• w0%rw % •■*•■» wsww or his wife Xantippo, and Tobias inggeating hia Bof f oanaol,: vlihoni vlolenaa» bo laid 'to io aO' 'in lirtaa alihar of ilmihirliy' 'iT' off' ton- tiaal. Bat If .MMh nhtivai ara to^ he^'bronght oxolaaivaly 'mdoT' tha 'Ohwi 'Of ooa^laitBtai 'Iha f neslion arlioig— Why 'not iimplf ' rndnoo^ ii. :retstive8, whether of .simiarlly m of ion- trait,locoa4aeenla,likowlao2 lor' la II eaiy to gift 'a aaMalhalaiy 'answer to thla fueitlon.. ;9nr li; on^ tha^-ane. 'hand, wo admH' dt relaUves to be: eoaiiiaaenti»-4he ipoeial law of Good. Jaoonay than, abaatfba' Iho other 'two. .and rlaaa: to a 'lifrt 'With tha^ 'nntvonal law of' 'Badlnio*. t.; :aad. on. tha' other. If we do 'not,, than only rcmalaa' an arbitrary line of demar- oaHoa, belwoan tha^hiwi of Similarity mA '€0'n- trasl and. thO' 'hiv' of' €oa4|aeeney.. Bol if, eottMderod In Itielf, Aflilitle*i t%- of ottora— iMth Bliai^.iMr' .In- De« whloh Ii al onee rednadant^difBalifa, -II ihewa almoal ai' perHiot*--* :taa .Said, fp^ n% k, 38% 'lA. I nay only iiotfe%thal healdaa a host of 'iha Arliiaild'B 'threo' 'ipeeial.' ftinelples off IMs, for Instanoe, has been by Dr Oerard, nnder tim 'names of Us- .^ CSoatrorJMi, and FMaHly/ and that thla dMribution, In eontraal 'to Hnmo's, Is alone exhanstlve and complete, he has shewn with eonsidofablo Ingenailya. Hmr, in hia 'Caao, oan. 'Ihero bo any priMmmpHon of origin naUly on the ground of ignorance ; for In Iha :iiiiM<'Work, hnl In 'folhroneo to other bmiIIw% 'BLi.jfc. jiii— iiiwliijfciM. axMMfcjfciMmiM d^ laiaa liWl^llaiaMft Jk''ai4iHill!!i4tft!dftll4M 'iMNBiAllBBiiiyiMllL m§m ;0B .miMiry..-— i** ■■Bay on wnmi, pp* too, 9i7.) Of the later British pMlaiophera, Indeed, there la hardly to b» iannd another, who baa studied the works of Arlitotlo mora Ively and to lietter effeol. I, ai lynonymea for the ooa4|a' 'Iha ttcuM' «r ji i^^f , . rk Ifif , «i. ] OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. m T11EMI8T11TS Qaotes Aristotle from « When"— to — •* WHOLE ;" and the following (see n. *, I>. ^M)0 b ) he reads thus remarkably co- arranged : — " * OTHBB [time.] Through this process, and from its Similar or CoNTRABY or CoADJACENT, Reminiscence isejketed.* *' — He then proceeds : — " For example, I see a painted It/re, and moved by this, as the prior and leading image, I have the reminiscence of a reai lyre ; this suggests* the musician i and the musician, the song I heard him play. Frequently, however, this result is deter- mined * by some other ' thing. For should it have happened, that, in connection with the original impression of the song, there was impressed the image, say, of a cer- tain Column, the view or representation of the column will suggest the recollec- tion of the Son^, " From the similar and the contb art : — [In the former case,] as when from the portrait of Socrates, I become reminiscent of Socrates himself; [in the latter,] as when the black suggests the white, the hot suggests the cold. From the co- adjacent : — As when the one clause * Ye would count, I think, no cost, Omen qf Athens,* calls up the other: — * were it sheum, that the measures now before you «r«, indeed, for the welfare of the state.* f " Now, the beginning [according to the proverb,] is the better part of the whole; and this once discovered, what follows thereon is, comparatively, a small matter. Hence, [in the case of reminiscence,] hav- ing obtained a principle or originating movement, the other movements follow in a concatenated train. sight of Tobias's Dog calls op the image of Tobias in the mind of his mother, with a far greater vehemence, than does the sight of Tobias call up in her mind the image of the Dog. This, I should notice, did not escape the observation of Vives: — "Illud usu evenit, ut ex re minore veniat nobis do majore in mentem eaepius, non e contrario.** (§ 9.) * Let it not be supposed, that the terms suggest and suggestion (which in translating from an ancient, I thus venture to employ) ■re, in their psychological relation, of recent, w even modern, application; for so applied (hey are old — the oldest we possess. — In this t-^lative signification, Suggero, the verb, as- eends to Cicero ; and suggestio, the noun, is a household expression of Tertullian and fit Angnstine. Among the earlier modern phi. loBophers, and in this precise application, they were, of course, familiar words ; — as is ahewn, among Ave hundred others, by the wriUnf s of Hermolaus Barlwras, Ihe elder " We ought not, however, to marve!, should it happen that, though a beginning be found, and the first part of the series set in motion, the movement is not pro- pagated farther. For when an impres- sion is completely vanished, it has, of course, no longer any consecution. " § 5. Having stated what were the laws of habitual consecution, in reference to those reminiscences, accomplished, inten- tionally, or through an act of will ; Aris- totle proceeds, in the tecond place, to shew, that the same laws equally govern the other class of Reminiscences those which arise spontaneously, or without any intentional effort, any conscious volition. And, in subordination hereto, he elimin- ates, as superfluous, the question, as to the mode in whi<;h, when seeking to recall one thing, othew, wholly foreign to our quest, obtrude themselves on our remembrance ; — this being manifestly only a particular case of spontaneous suggestion, and one exclusively governed by the general rules. It is, in consequence of his very mani- fest meaning having been here, not mere- ly misunderstood, but actually reversed, by his interpreters, that Aristotle's doc- trine did not exert its merited influence ; and that he himself has not, as yet, been universally acknowledged, at once, the founder and finisher of the theory of As- sociation. — Text illustrated* a Aristotle. In this manner [reminiscence is brought to bear] when we [intentionally] seek out a remembrance. J But also. Scaliger, Melanchthon, Simonius, Campanella — to say nothing of the Schoolmen, Asc. They were no strangers to Hobbes and Locke* and so far is Berkeley from having first em- ployed them in this relation, as Mr Stewart seems to suppose, Berkeley only did not dis- continue what he found established and in common use.— I may notice, that Association, under the name of Suggestion, was styled in th« theology of the schools, " The Logic of Luci- fer" or "The Devil's Dialectic,' " (Luciferl is mani. Logica, Diaboli Dialectica.) Why; fest. f Opening of first (or third) Olynthiae. t Inrovft fti* §Zt, #St«. Themistius, though leading the subsequent expositors astray in the following sentence, is here ex* clusively correct. They all view ^nrtSn as the verb, and connect with it tSrw : he, again, regards the former as the participle^ and connects the latter with yiptrms k imi*n0ii, understood r ON THE HI8TOBT r 4* RATE ».•♦] OF MEN! AL ASSOCIATION. 9ca wImi^ we do m0t m wmk, it is itilt, k. tliis ■MM -nMameri ^wt «» i^ro [unintentioii- allj] reaWfctmty* m i^lmk as this pkr- tieolHr 'HI®? tUMJiit f ©Ifcpws upon thftt fw- 'tlmilHr' im^mieiit. But it is the usual case, [th#ii|rh there are exceptions in the ■pcntimeous as in th« intentional reminis- cence, from, special causes lO' be imme- diately noticed.] that the particular movement does ensii%' vlieii the relatir* movements, of the^ natuw w have sped- ied, actually' preeeiat [llM'laws stated, are therefore universal, applying both to the voluntary, and to toe spontaneous, current of thought.] Hor If. there any neoessity to consider <« «Psi : — thus I punctuate. TtienMiiit, and all the other expositora, connecting f^nr^utrts T ■Srm, make Aristotle any—'* But also when we do not so seek (!.«; tmm the tmem^lmtf the afmidir, 4e.) still are we remlniieent," fbere 'being further uwloestood—** though 'IreM. none of these eauiea of suggestion."— But^— !*• Iioofclug to tke eonseentl'On of the Immediate words, this Interpretation Is eon. ■taralued. ; for haicl. ArMetle Intended so to si>eak, he wo^nld 'have 'uaturaMy said, mml ftk •Srwff ^ifrivrrif..— 2o« It renders the MOMiu- der of tke clause, '*so often," 4c., an idle su. feti.iilty; end Is .allegether tucon^iteut irtth the whole sefusi ef the paragraph.— •*• iMk- ing to the general meaning wMch It affordi, such Is odious and. Mtrlttlammi jmw. For it makes Arlitotte, without reason, nay, Inoppo- sltloa to the whole analogy of the eontext, not only Unit, ¥ut firnstnle Ms reduetlon 'Of ' the fkumemena. 'Of remlniseenM to necessary :and universal, lavs. lu looking again over the commentators, to be .assured, that my sweeplnf statement in regard 'to them Is 'not tnaeeumte, .t 'Ind that .lliiwiMreiilM* ought perhaps to be exeepted— who says,—** Itai|ue recordamur, si vol al» teimn.. ex wMmm taQitirlmus, vol :sl non. :ln«ul. 'rl'Bitts J uHeiMii. 'eHwnai poii ullsiiisi' '■••••■r. But this, is •mUguous.. Before him, hmpsveff, ¥im seems to have had. a clear' fetesfpttiitt. ef 'the truth. Me says-^^ EemlBiseintla. i»c vel mtmaUi est, cogltatlone nitre ah allia ad alia transenute; seuJiMsa, quum .animus in recordatlonem. rei. :aici|iua. .oeuatnr^ 'pttvenlre.** It has not been noticed, I think, that JTob- hm 'Varies in regard to the nelveraaiity of tbO' law of conneoted. .eonseeutlon. In. 'his ** M'u- mau nature,** IttOb he tfrldea the ''< series, succession, or eottsequence "' of eooeeptlons in 'the 'mind, **'lnto .cosiwl. m imakmrni* and into .OMta% or eokmrntJ' 'In 'the latter .ease, 'the antecedent thought is the cause ef the conse- fuent;. in the for.nier It Is 'uol. the casual. iUiteiBlon prevMls in dreams | the erierly In.. OUT' 'wakIng hours. To tUs last, exclusively, ha gives the name of IHacMnitaii which 'he divides, and subdivides, in a ceniisod manner.. See ei.. .'!«. | i ;. eh. v. 1 1.. lU Us Levlathant puUtahed. 'In the subsequent year, when treat. ing of the ** Consequence or Train of Thoughts, er the Mental Discourse,'* he says nothing ef any eaaual or Ineoherent succession, whether awake or sleeping ; on tiaecutsarf , ha^ aaserts that ** we have no transition, 'irumi eae^ Imagi' tm aaatlier. whereof 'we. 'hava. never had the like before in our senses.'* This de. terminei setuence .he «fldes Into the «». f alisi. .and the etfulofti. Wm aim im the B.le. menta PhilosophisB, 1655, (c. 25, § 8.) in Ms ^earllef doctrine, Hehbes thus 'harmonises with 'the erring exposltots of Aristotle j In his later, with Aristotle himself. In the Le- viathan, he says t— > **'Thls train of thoughts, or mental dis. course. Is of 'fw» serls. 'The first is wapiMfi,. without design and Inconstant; wherein there Is no paasloaate. thought,, to fevem and direct those that 'fdlew, to Itself, .as 'the end and scop«' of some desire, or other passion: In which case, the thoughts, .are said .to. wander and seem imtmiimmi one to anof her, as In a inam. ... And yet In this wild ranging of the mind, a man may oft-times perceive the way of 'It, and. thn defendence of on© thought upon, another. Wm la a discourse ef o«r pre- mm cM war, what could seem more Imper- tlneut, [see Aristotle, § 8,3 than to ask, as one did, what was the value of a Emum pmmyf Tet the coherence 'to me 'was manifest enough. For the thought of the tMir, Introduced the thought ef i*« d^Meirief «i» i*« iftw lo Ait wie- ate: I 'the 'thought 'Of 'that, hronght in the thought of the ddXmitimff up of drlsf | and. 'that again 'the thought of the tkkt» ji«ii«i, 'Whleh was. the price .of that 'treason; and 'thence easily followed that malicious question, and alt this lu a moment of time; for ihowghi i$ fwUlr. C8«« '^"tetle, § 8.] •• The sflcoMl Is more constant ; as being ms- fulflKd by some desire and design, Ac."— (Lev. P. I. ch. 3.) f It is to be noted, that Aristotle does not here, as the commentators suppose, admit the non universality of the law of determined consecution, contending for it merely as the ordinary rule. He admits the non universa- lity of the consecution, only of that *MiWiliiaI (iailfs js/wrn) upon tAls itntm ai'mwi) J as, for example, of tha Hmught of 'TtoMas, en the sight or imagi. ■alien ef his Deg, which, though It usually, does not. .always, take place. As Aristotle aHarwards explains, (f ».) the same thought, having more than a single association, may at-eno' HmO' suggest one consequent, at another 'time, another; and"howbelt the thoughts. In themselves most strongly associated, will, in general, call up each other, still. In particu. lar' .elrenmstaneespsn. assodaaen weaker .In itself may 'ahtaH'for the^ 'moMent, a higher' relative intensity, and consequently prevail ovar another, absolntely eensldered, more powurfU. But itil there Is always suggea. tiott,— iUf gistloa ioaaitftaf te law. tMngs remote* [and irrelevant,]- how these rise into memory; but only the matters coadjacent [and pertinent to our Inquiry]. For it is manifest that the mode is still the same, — that, to wit, of consecution,!— [in which a thing recurs to us, when] neither pre -intentionally seeking it, nor voluntarily reminiscent. JRor yiere too], by custom f the several mmmnmts are concomitant of one another — this determinately following upon that-X TnEMisrrus. " * In this manner y when we [inientional- l^'\s»ekoutaremsntbrancej is reminiscence eflFeeted from the sources enumerated,— the similar^ the oj^site, or the continu- ous (r«» i|nf). But when a reminis- cence takes place without our thus inten- tionally seeking to remember aught, it is determined by none of these. For if re- membering a song, we haply become reminiscent of Socrates ; in this case, the reminiscence is caused neither by the similar, nor the opposite nor the adjacent, (rm tyyt/t) But this is rare. For in most cases, the reminiscence follows as the sequel of certain antecedent move- ments. § " * Nor is there any necessity^ for those treating of Reminiscence, * to consider things remote* [in space?] and old, [in time,] * how these rise into memory, but only things adjacent,^ \\ and which we have recently observed or learned; for, by reason of their proximity, the latter are more conducive to instruction than the former. The mode of reminiscence, in • Ta woppu. — By this the interpreters, after Themistius, all suppose that Aristotle means old thoughts in contrast to recent. Tliis error is a corollary of the misprision of Aris. totle's general doctrine, in regard to the in- voluntary train. And yet, the no- meaning which their interpretation, here again, af f irds, might have rendered them suspicious ftf its validity; whereas, independently of its own evidence, the light which the interpre- tation I propose, receives from, and reflects back on, that general doctrine, is a satisfac- tory confirmation of the truth of both. Veri- tas, indm sui et falsi. f I read T^i^sg, wSig (Xtyw 2t ro t^t^q; ) *v Ac. ; both as that which affords the best jense, and that towards which the IISS. and editions, taken together, all gravitate. Most of the editions, as those of Morell, Sylburgius^ Bimonius, Casaubon. Paclus, Duval, give a second wZt after )i. Bekker (apparently with half his M8S.) omits it altogether. Again, If XlyM be 'read with Themistius and Michael, half the MS8., the Erasmlan and Camotio- Aldine editions, and the versions in general, both, is one and the same. For as, m matters proximate and recent, starting on our search from some internal prin. ciple or point of departure, we evoWe and are reminiscent of a certain subse- quent train of thought ; [so also in mat- ters distant in time or space]. * J^or, /'as observed,) by custom the several move- ments are concomitant of one another — this duterminately following upon that.* Bui the same takes place, when we call into reminiscence those cognitions which wo had long previously acquired." f § 6. Aristotle now returns from the in- voluntary Reminiscence, on which he has only touched incidentally, in consequence of its relation to the voluntary Reminis- cence, — the professed and special object of this treatise. The transition here has also been mistaken. Here, along with the result, he enounces tuHf corollaries of the theory previously established; both having reference to the perfection of Re- miniscences, as determined by the relation of the subjective to the objective. The frst, — ^that Reminiscence is per- fect, in proportion as the principle and consecution of the reminiscent thoughts run parallel with the principle and evolu- tion of the existences to be remembered. The second, — that Reminiscence is per- fect, in proportion as the objects to be recollected exhibit a definite arrange- ment. Abistotlb. « When, therefore, we are desirous to accomplish an act of Reminiscence we a tolerable sense is obtained, to this extent . '* For it is manifest, that the mode is here the same as that in which a man repeats some rote, without forethought or active reminiscence." t It is to be ob! ... . • Bxemplum IpiipiiPit : — Volo reminlad, 4110 dk, constitutui In lllBer% fui Bonmim, et Inelplo sic j-herl fnl .Pfermsi nndlustertins llntiniB, et illle per ilem.'fBlevi, delBdeltlneratus.sum, et non pemoeUvl extra Bouoalam; ergo, nmum dto Jim ^k^m, §A Bononiie. Ixemplum loci .^— f olO'reml'Uisel, eonstitutas in itinere, 4110 loco jMrdidl pooawlflSi. et luciplo sic ;— in tali loco halM'htiii p f ff i ' i l' Bti i qamitam solvl 'Cmnam In hospltiiOi 'Ot In. till irtOhem, quonlam 'tolvi equicaturam, el' la. 'till kahebam quoniam eml |Muies,in tall autem loco non babebam, qnonliBi non petal, .solvere, in 'hoapltlo ; ergo, In taaia iliiaatla eeddlt' 'bnrsa, et tune, fbeta reminls- cenMa, Inelplo quasrere deperditam pecu. nlam." Ppll. Parv. .lot. tr. ti. c. 9.) Prom IhiS' Bebhes seems to have taken tbe hint In 'the ibllewiag psasigea ; which, at any rate afford a good ampllflcation of Aristotle's meaning. •• Ihero Is yel another Mad of Biseursioa beginniag' with the appc'tito to recover some* tUag 10Bl,pMeeiilng' 'tarn thO' Present back- vrard, ftem Ike 'tboaghl of the Place where we miss al, to the theagkt of the place from wbenee vre came last; and firem the thought of thai, to the thought of a place before, till v»o have la our mind some place, wherein we had the IMng we miss: and this Is OilM Mt ml miiemm *'* (Hum. Hat. eh. 4.) .1 M •omeHmas a man seeks what he bath lost »0T1 B.**J OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 905 which [in relation to the result] appear impertinent and absurd.* The reason of this is the rapidity with which the mind passes from thought to thought ; as from milk to white, from white to the [cfear] atmosphere, from that to wet toeathfr, which finally suggests autumn; — this season being what we are supposed seek- ing to remember, [but which, at first sight, would seem to have no conceivable connection with the principle from which it has been evolved.] ** But it would seem in general, that the exordial movement or principle, is also the central movement of a series. For if not before, we shall, on this being suggested, either find in itself the object to be recollected, or obtain from it ex- clusively the media of recollection. For example, let the letters A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, represent a series of thoughts. If, then, I on the suggestion of] D E, we do not find what we would remember, we shall find it on [traversing] E H ; for from the centre, we may he moved either backwards by D, or forwards by E. and ft'om that Place and Time, wherein he misses it, his mind runs back, from place to place, and time to time, to find where, and when he had it ; that is to say, to find some limited time and place, in which to begin a method of seeking. Again, from thence his thoughts run over the same places and times to find what action, or other occasion might make him lose it. This we call Remembrance, or eoUin^ to mindi the Latins call it Reminis- cenfia, as it were a Re-conning of onr former actions. Sometimes a man knows a Place determinate, within the compass whereof he is to seek ; and then his thoughts run over all the parts thereof, in the same manner as one wonld sweep a room io find a jewel ; or •i a spaniel ranges the field till he find a scent; or as a man should run over the alpha. bet to start a rhyme.'* (Lev. P. i. ch. 3.) An excellent illustration of Aristotle's doc- trine, in another view, is to be found in Plautus, Trinummus, Act iv. scene IL, v. 66-78. * The reading, hitherto received, Is itrh wiwM, "from plaeen" and the commentators have been more anxious to enumerate all the meanings which this expression could possi- bly bear, than to shew how any one of these eottld possibly be tolerated in the present passive. In this relation all are indeed absurd; and the expositors needed only to pronounce Aristotle's righteous Judgment on their attempts— flET**-* !— and they had re. eovered Aristotle's veritable words flv* Jiwiwm*,) Tbii emendation, I make no scruple of proposing, as absolutely certain. For, by Iho mare ehaiif e of an f into an •— and be it But, if we are seeking none of those [in the forward series, in the backward,] com- ing on C, [C being suggested as a centre ?] we shall accomplish our recollection in it ; or, if seeking B or D, [through it,] in them. But if none of these be what we seek, this we shall find at all events o i [reaching] A. And thus is it always." f Themistius. - - . " * To be reminiscent is to have the moving faculty within.' By faculty, I understand the inexistent principle ; for this excites the discursive faculty to an analysis [read resumption f ] of the rest. - - - ** Therefore * it is necessary always to start from some primary move- ment — some principle or other / oii w hich account, we appear most rapidly * some- times to be reminiscent from places? % *PZac«»;'— meaning either [1°] the prin- ciples or primary movements which, we said, behoved to be inexistent in the soulj | or [2»] such heads, as Conjugates, Simi- lars, Opposites, treated of in Dialectic [and Rhetoric] ; or [3°] external locali- ties, and the positions therein, f remembered, that words were anciently written continuously— the whole passage, previously unintelligible and disjointed, be- comes pregnant with sense, every part of it supporting and illustrating every other. No better elucidation of the truth and necessity of this correction can be given, than the pas- sage, (in n. *, p. 902, b.) from Hobbes,whoin this whole doctrine is an alter ego of Aristotle. f In the preceding paragraph, Aristotle's meaning in general, — in so far at least as it can interest us at present, is sufficiently apparent. But it is probable that something has been lost in the details of his illustration. In the readings also, more especially of the symbols, tbe Greek expositors, the manuscripts and the editions, are all at variance. Tbe text I have chosen affords, I think, as good a mean- ing as can be purchased at as cheap a rate ; but to assign the reasons of preference — mm tanti. Those curious to see in how many phases the notion of Aristotle can be viewed, may consult the various hypotheses of The- mistius, Faber, Amerbach, Crippa, Simonius, Havenrenter, ^c. t In Themistius, we now have avdXvrni and that this is an old reading, is shown by Michael, who gives it also. Can there be a doubt that KvcXn^iy is the true lection ? § Themistius not only mistakes the purport but reverses the order of Aristotle's thought. I Novst Intelleet, is called in the Aristotello philosophy the Place 0/ Principles. Aritttotlei however, never styles principles, intellec- tions, native or a priori cognitions, &c., by the name of placei. % To these tkrm alternative possibilitlaf |;ii!i OM THE HISTOEI TSiOTBlK* MOTE D.**] OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 907 * '' Alt U mmM ifiMy In §mer€d, iikat Of mwr^^ mmmnmif or primij^, is aiao fli emnd mmmmm of a mrk§i* imd 'tb«' Mtmvmrj df tliit' is of capital Id- pirteiiiw, leaiiiif us, as it does, to the •.pprdieiisioii of what we seek. To illiis- trato this process, let us typify it by let- ters, corresponding in number, and pro- portional to the thoughts set in movement towardf the retriewement of a lurking remembrance. A, B| C, D, E, F, G, H. Now as £ is here the central thought, (!) if, in iudiS&g it, we do not recover what we seek, we shal certainly do so when we arrive at H. For, the centre once gained, we may, from thence, move either backwards or forwards in the series. Nor is there any thing to prevent a sog- geation of the thoughts per miMmt, or in any pmr'mrm mrd§r; — to think, for in- stance, M immediately after E, and, after II, lo think, first F,and then G. — If, then, the thought we seek lie in the progressive , series, we shall consequently, as already 'sud, iud it [at furthest] on reaching H. If, on the contrary, it lie in the regres- sive series, it will be found [certiynly] on attaining A. The thoughts denoted by the symbols, we shall say, are — Mkmi [A] — the Lyeian Submb^ [B] — the Mourn of Pitao [CJ — ike time of MeW' Moom [D] — the Bmmgmi [E] — Soemtee f P] — the beitm Mrwek by So- crates {OJ^the X^rf [H]." MiCHABI. EpMKSIDS Thus continues : — '* Nothing prevents us, on recollecting th^Mmquet, to recollect, first, the Z^e and mea the heinff ttruck, consequently, that it was by Soerateeg although, in the order supposed, the recollection of .Socmke follows imme- diately on thai of the Mmquet, then the bem^ ffniel;, and, kst of all, the Lp-e, For we may suppose, that the person was struck with the lyre and not with a stick. In saying, that * the exordial seems also the eem^ral mommem/ he assigns the rea- son, — * becaum from the centre we may be wwved either forwards or backwards ; * for E is the road to the series nbiequent — F, G, H, and to the series preceding — B, C, B, A. And it is competent for us, at wHl, OS from H, to call up either G or F, so, from A, to call up any one of the series consequent upon it. If E, however, be not the centre, but C ; in the sugsres- tion of C we shall terminate our reminis- cence; or, if C be not our end, we shall ind it in A, in like manner, as E, not contenting us itself, did so by helping us on to H.** § 9. eiation, Union, Con- meetUm — is faulty. — !»• It implies coexist- ence; a connection between coexistences ac- tually known. — 2»- It implies a bilateral — an equal correlation. If B is associated with A, A is no less associated with B. But in the mental train, it is rare that any two thoughts call each other up with equal force ; and tliis inequality may vary, from perfect equilibrium, to a maximum in tbe one co suggestive, and a minimum in the otlier. Thus A suggests B, far more strongly than B suggests a ; thus the Dog suggests Tobit, far more strongly than Tobit suggests the Dog. (Ree n. f, p. 900| b. a.) For the same reasons tho simile of Attraction, by Themistius (§ 9,) anu Hume (n. *^ p. 894, a.) is at fault. Major's homely illustration (ibid.,) by a eobbUr's bristle and thread, is better, as more unilateral ; where- as, that of Ilobbes (ibid.,) by the following of water through the guidance of the fir>g^mav is mani- festly a false reading ; and I think it equally manifest, that the true Is found in /th h' avecy^ ttetiov. This, exactly, and exclusively, supplies tbe meaning which the context impetrates-^ and for which the previous discussion bad prepared us, (§ 2;) while it is obtained at tho expense of only an interchange of two and three easily commntable letters. This con- jectural lection I have accordingly adopted la ^^^ translation, as indubitable. SOS ON THE HISTO'EY [if ovB m,* HOTIC ».♦•] OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION 9v9 ^hmf is no qutstloo J it will be turned, iMMiiiig' iillBrviit fibjwt% on. thai which lias to 'it the 'itfoiinisl tehltiial. affinity. For HaUl obtaina m a certain sort the force of Nature. Hence, those things on which we frequently think, we easily re- in«oiher. For, as in nature, 'tMa eonse- i|nenl fulliiwt [pronelj] that antecedent, ao also in the operations or energy of ■iid.* But an iteration of the same, at length generatet a nature. As some IMngs, however, occur, even in the worlcs nf nature [proper,] heside [the course of] nature, from the intervention of acci- tetal causes, [as in the ease of mon- aters]; this will happen still more fre- quently in the formatioas of habit, in which [the acquired] nature is not of a deter- mination equally intense. Thus it is, that the mind maj be simie'times moved at once in one direction and anotner ; and this especially when something f pike] shall turn it awde from the course on which it was proceeding. This, [for in- stance,] is the reason why, when we have occasion to caQ up a namoi we are apt to rail up another somewhat similmr, and so blunder in a 8ort,| with regard to that of which we are in quest.'* TllBMISTIOa. ** If, for example, from pkmu, [the Mde, strictly, the membrane lining the chest,] we be moved towards, both pieu^ rM§ finiammation of that membrane — fleiilsy,] tm^fimmmia, [Pleuron, Plen- rone, the town] ;— ^ihouldy 'thciiy'iilfiifilli' be more familiar than Ptmtrmda, it will attractlf towards itself the miod, in th« same manner as the more brilliant coloura draw upon themselves the sight. [§ 2. Themistius.] *< But in the case, tbaie oiifr of the im« pressioiis is old, the other new: the new will prevail in moving its own reminis- cence, by preference i unless the old ha. been deeply inscribed o» the mind, as 'pari of a scientific .acquirement, and be,. likewilse, the more familiar.. For thus, it is, as it were, renovated, every time we have occasion to turn our attention on it. " But, * a§ m JVSdliirc, thm eonmqttmi follows that antecedent i^ (for, in the na- tural reminiscence, the thought of heat follows, necessarily, that of pte, and the thought of %Al, thatofthejtin;:g) *m aim in Bc^iL '•* For, through the forcer of Habit, there are things, wMeh, on their own reminiscenctjforthwith cause the con- comitant reminiscence of certain others* But what we are frequently accustomed to, becomes, as it were, a [second] nature. And as, among the producta of nature- itself, aberrations may occur from the rule of nature ; tUa also is possible in thft operations of habit It may, therefore, I easily happen, that starting correctly front the prior and suggestive thought, we shall fall out, in conseoience of a deflective movement, in putiag to the sul^pent and sui^gested; aa/when, [deparHnglVoni pleura,] ptmtrUh :allraets the movemenlk * For ifi^ii«. Themtstims seems to read Hu.— But on *ihe eommon reailDf, 4m§ Womgf mean met of mind? or, (as the Inter. fT'eteffS' In .general suppose,) ool of hi^lt ? If the lattar he preferred, the meaning will he tilt |~'* For as In [the works nij aature this conseiiueut Ibllows [pronely and Invariably] upon that anteoedent, so in the operations of hahlt.'* I decidedly prefer the former : both m the: ene meaning which the 'Contezt re- f aires; ami: heeause,. while .ilrlsiotle could hardly by #"Miffy simply mean to denote Aa&d. (which Is m |WMr,.as opposed to energy,! ft wm the natural expresstoU'Wiereliy'to deaole am iM of 'nilttd~a cognMon, theaght, *e. f for wnt which is otloie, I would read «, that Is, ** sometklnff [similar,] ** which, at .any 'rate, must he naiiivtood. I *<' <|nonlam :|imlituie*' (says 'fives,) ** m nmllio velttt unum reddit, fkciUs 'estet'Usl- non memorim solum, sed cofltatlonis Hi « g jpi i l ^ftmeeM m aiuA, Bumlmus imffftm, pro mtkjf. ■a, Pmdarm pro .Pmidmms Itudo eat' In 'vaaat% esK ^medle^ pria* la aaaus. •■ m qaod la lllis attentio ennsMftal : at Xemnerates^ pro^ AmMekf in phllosophia et discipllna Plato- nte; fl^NiMcin pro ||. JUtoln bells Pnnieis; Jmm pro Cbdro, In paapertate ; I^iitoslA«fieiii« pro Gwiruai, In eloi|.Bcatta; Mardsmm pro' Aikmide In pnkhritn^ne s uiitiim pro cepu,. in odore. Bodem m«d», de loco, tempore, do actionlbtts aul qnalllaitUmi, qoorum exempla patent latissime —Hoe vltinm vol In jwinii aHen^om naseltnr, qwMt' tntelllfeatla nen 'Hitl»' animadvertit qum olhruntur, nl Integra e* dlstlaitaque posset memMlm 'Commendare ;, vel In Ipsa aMinoria, ^am param ilncera fide custodllt; vel In mmoMla atliaiisw^ qoum IMrpnMn ea qnas lalefra erant in 'maniii>i»' repeslta depromit. Pertarfoatur item m^ mknOio vel aseiMdlai mUentm, quum Jussss allqnld qnserere, aui depromere ebjlcltar ex. trfntecus, diversnm. quid vel a].leanm.. Ba*' lutavit me herl In fsre Fetnm ''9»mmmiM, nee satis animadvertit. aeC' latls niem.ini. Sk quis es me qniifat,. «- Qmto # mi Jitro hen seJafWiftf :il. nihil aAM IMIias .respondera> f nam si 'dlaaij— JiMMMt Jfimrieiisa« em Lodom *| 8M' Mame ; (n. ^Ht flP4, a.) i Sean, i p. 804 •• iee & *»!. a08L from Ptemromet to itself. ' F(>r this rea- «0f», wken we heufe occasion to call up a mmme, we are apt to caU up another some- what MnUlar, emd so Munder in a sort, with f^ard to t&ot of which we are in ^pmst* Wishing, for example, to recollect Leophtmes, we recollect Leosthenes, and [substituting this,] thus blunder in rela- tion to LeophoMesS* § 10. After other observations, which it is not necessary Co adduce, Aristotle goes on to show, tbat Reminiscence — re- miniscence intentional or proper, — ^is to a certain extent, m tmUonal — discursive lirooedure. Aristovle. . . . . " That, in the same indi- vidual, the power ^f Memory and the power of Reminiseenoe stand in no mutual proportion, has been already stated. — And, independently of the difference of their manifestation, in the order of time ;* Reminiscence is distinguished from Me- mory in this, — that of memory, many of the other animals are participant, whereas, it may be safely affirmed, that, of the * Reminiscence, chronologically considered. 1b both prior and poiteriar to Memory (in Aris- totle's meaning of this term.) For reminis- cence starts frem a Memory, which affords it a principle or point of departure; and it results in a Memory, as its end, this being a memory of the matter sought. f TMs Aristotle also states in his History of Animals, (Book i. ch. 2.) The expositors do not, I think, fully or correctly apprehend ▲ristotle^s view* Themistius, for example, supposes that Reminiscence is a rational pro- cedure, because, like syllogism, it connects a lesser with a greater. But Memory, or simple recollection, equally connects a lesser with a greater; and this Aristotle accords to the tnrutes, whUst he denies them intentional reminiscence. At any rate, this subordination is, in reminiscence, one merely accidental ; for the same two thoughts, in alternately sug- gesting each other, are alternately to each other as the greater and the less. Aristotle. I presume, refers to the analogy subsisting hetween the acts of Reminiscence and Rea. eoning, in both being processes to a certain «nd; both being processes ftxim the known to the unknown ;— and in both evolving their conclusion, under certain laws, and from cer- tain general sources ; — Reminiscence, contin- gently educing the thing to be recollected, in conformity to the laws, and out of the com. Dion places, of Mnemonic, as universal princi- ples or inceptive movements, by a process of Investigation, and subjective suggestion of the eonneeted by the connected; — ^Reasoning, aaeessarily educing the thing to be proved, la cimformity to the laws, and out of the animals known to us, man alone is en- dowed with Reminiscence.f The reason is, that Reminiscence is, as it were, a kind of syllogism or mental discourse. For he who is reminiscent, that he has formerly seen or heard or otherwise perceived, any thing, virtually performs an act of syl- logism. Here also there is instituted, as it were, a question and inquiry. But inquiry is competent, only as deliberation is competent; while deliberation, in like manner, is a sort of syllogism." Themistius. - - - - " * Of the animals known to UF, man alone is endowed with Reminis- cence ; ' because to whom reminiscence is competent, to the same syllogism is com- petent. For as, in the act of syllogising, this [minor] proposition is connected with that [major] ; so in the act of reminiscence we connect lesser [movements] with greater. But the power of syllogising implies the power of inquiry, [for we only syllogise as we inquire] ; and the power of inquiry implies the power of delibera- tion, [for we only inquire as we deliberate.] [The power of reminiscence, therefore. common places of Logic, as universal princi- ples or major propositions, by a process of investigation, and objective subsumption of the contained under the containing. Aristotle, though he assimilates, does not identify rational or logical subsumption, with voluntary, far less with spontaneous, sugges- tion. At most he only shews that reminis- cence, qua intentional^ as it involves an appli- cation of means to end, involves deliberation, which again involves discursion. This discursion of Reminiscence the Latin commentators, in general, refer, not to the inorganic Intellect, not to Aiyof, Aimtom, or Ratio proper, but to that Analogon Ratiomii or Particular Reason, possessed, in some mea- sure, by the brutes ; and which among other Arabian Aristotelians, Averroes introduced, as one of the internal senses, under Ibe name of Cogitativa. ** Ex quibus patet, (says Ja- velins,) quod in reminiscendo, syllogizamus et discurrimus, non quidem per propositiones universales, id enim est proprium intellectns, sed per singulares. Discurrimus enim ab nno singular! memorato ad aliud roemorando; et ideo fit a cogitativa quae dicitur ratio parti- cularls apud commentatorem." — Now, if we discard the higher faculty of thought, and admit, exclusively, the lower, we have at once the scheme of Hobbes. It should be also noticed, that while Aristotle and his followers limit, and properly, the expression '* mental dis course'* to the intewtional process of remii.is- cenee, Hobbes, borrowing the term, unwar- rantably extends It to the spontaneous train of thought. Wf'M>wf ON THE TllOai 'hOTI !>.••• fl.] OF MENTAL REPRODUCTION. 911 Implies the jiowifr of deliberation]. But man alone deliberates; man, therefore, alone, it reminiicent. That Reminiscence, eoMeqnently, is a function of the dliciir- ■lire intellect, {Ji«»«-f,) is demonstrated ; for delbifrtion is an act of intellect, (»iS); [and Themistius had prcTiouuly stated, that] dmmmon is only tha m«r^ of midha and imaffincUion comfeiiwd— iiltf Iriftf Writ k h*$im I mZ turm 0«v« NOTE D."* OUTLIMI OF A TMIOEY OF IlHTAIi EIPRODUCTION, SUGGESTION, OB A8S0C1ATIOH. I I.— Xawf of Mmttd Sueemdm, m 6meral,-(A.) Not of Reproduction proper, uniform (B.) Of Meproduction proper, not uniform : m pomMs ; maemafi m direetr-AbMtraet or Primary law of Mepetition ; as indtrmg—Mstraet or Prmmf tow of Rmiintegraiion, Concrets or Sicmdary law ofPrtfmnm, § IL— Xaw of Mental Sueeesmon, as Special.— Of Reproduction:— (A.) j^'^'^^^ Primary,— modes of the laws of Repetition and Redintegration, one or both ;— f B.J Concrete or Secondary,— modes of the law of Prefermce. [References omitted, and to be supplied from pp. 2M, 386, Ac] { l.^G«Mral LamofMmtai Suecession, A— As not of ReprodueHon proper. Human Consciousness being realised, (see Note H,) only under the two condi- tiuiB of contrast and continmty in time, is neeessaril) astricted to a cemaAm iwrl*- tion of states and its variations (called likewise more or less adequately mental modifmtions, modes, states, movements, finiif Jill,, Mltmtw, jMiMftMlsif, ^c.y) are tiw sueeessiTe, and naintermptedly sue- CMllve. The two Mf iiest laws of thought ■re, therefore, i— The Law of Succiiiiow :— TAo« «f mm omly emtdous, as comdom of sue- ii The Law of Vabiation :— TAal IM are only conscious of succession, at eomteious of successive variation. But these successive variations do not follow on each other in a row, as isolated pha&nomena, related only as before and after on the thread of time; nor is their manifestation determined always by causes, external to the series itself, although this be frequently the case. On the contrary, the train, though ever eiwnging, is ever continuous ; each ante- cedent movement running into each eon- sequent ; and, abstracting from the inter- vention of foreign influences, each ante- cedent standing to each conseqnent at lu cause. Thought ii thus evolved, not only in a chronological, but in a causal sequence; and another of its Laws is, therefore, iii. — The Law of Depkndence or De- termined Consecution : — That every consequent modification in the mental train is the effect of that immediately antecedent. iv — Thoughts are dependent on each other, only as they stand together as the relative parts of the same common whole. This may be called the Law of Relati- vity or Integration. But this whole is of two kinds. It is either an objective (necessary and essential) unity, constituted by, and intrinsic to, the thoughts themselves ; or it is a subjective (contingent and accidental) unity, extrin- sic to themselves, and imposed on them by the mind — the mind in general. In the former case, a certain thought being given, it necessarily, of, and along with itself, evolves a certain one, exclusive, other; in the latter, a certain thought being given, it only moves the mind, according to definite subjective laws, to pass on to this or that of a certain plu- rality of others. In the one instance, there is a determination to an individual consequent ; in the other, only a determi- nation to a class of consequents, the pre- ference of this or that class, of this or that individual under it, being regulated by circumstances, external to the nature of the antecedent thought itself. The former constitutes what may be called the logical or objective ; the latter, what may be called the psychological or subjective train of thought. The logical consecution is shewn in those thoughts, which, though denoted ^7 ^ single and separate expression, im- plicitly contain a second ; which second, the process of thinking explicates but does not determine to succeed. Such are all relatives. The conception of the one term of a relation necessarily implies that of the other; it being of the very nature of a relative, to be thinkable, only through the conjunct thought of its correlative. For a relation is, in truth, a thought, one and indivisible ; and while the thinking a relation, necessarily involves the thought of its two terms, so is it, with equal neces- sity, itself involved in the thought of either. It is therefore improper to say, that the thought of one relative follows, or is consequent on, the thought of the other, — if thereby be denoted a succes- sion in time ; since the thought of both IS, in truth, already given in the thought of each. Aristotle expressly says of re- lative^ that they are things which exist together (Sfia.) in the mind. It is conse- quently also improper to say of such terms, that they are associated or mutu- ally suggestive. Not the former, for this supposes that they can be dissociated; not the latter, for this supposes them not to be given as necessary reciprocals. Such are whole and parts, means and end, cause and effect, reason and conse- quent, substance and accident, like and unlike, great and small, parent and child, husband and wife, &c. &c. To this head, I may simply notice, though I cannot now explain, are to be referred those compulsory relatives, im- posed upon thought by that great, Sut as yet undeveloped, law of our intellectual being, which I have elsewhere denomi- nated the Law of the Conditioned: — That all positive thought lies between two extremes, neither of which we can conceive as possible, and yet, as mutual contradic- tories, the one or the other we must recog~ nise as necessary. From this impotence of intellect, we are unable to think aught as absolute. Even absolute relativity is unthinkable. But to this I merely allude, that I may shew to what head such com- pulsory connections are to be referred. See, however, p. 743, n. *, p. 599n.*. Logi- cal consecution is thus governed by : — V. — The Law of Intrinsic or Objec- tive Relativity : — That one relative term being thought, there is virtually thought also its correlative. General Laws of Mental Succession. B — As of Reproduction proper. The other kind of dependence, the psyschological consecution, is that which subsists between two thoughts, the one of which preceding, entails the sequence of the other, not necessarily, or in virtue of its own intrinsic relativity, but of a cer- tain extrinsic relativity, of a contingent imposition and indefinite obtrusive force which inclines them, though perhaps un- equally, to call each other into conscious- ness, and which, when not counteracted by a stronger influence, inevitably ope- rates its end. The terms (chronological) suggestion, association, succession, are properly applied to this dependence alone ; — for under it, exclusively, have the thoughts a before and after, in the ! order of time, or in themselves any sepa- rate and irrespective existence. Psycho- logical consecution is equivalent to Re- production. [I may parenthetically ob- serve, that the power of reproduction (into consciousness,) supposes a powols, the three As to typify the same thought, determined at three dtffiirent timet, be the determining movement of a VI., 'These .are'::— 1* the unity of thoughts, dlliiriug 'in^ ftM« and iwKli^fMiffiiii,. in a co-identity of Subject j— 2* the unity of thoughts, difcring in time, in a co-Iden- tity of MooiFicATiow ;— 3* tho unity of thoughts, differing in imS^^etHiom, m. m co-ideitityofTiifB. Of these, the Jfrfialiirds a common prin- eiple of the possibility of association, or mfenal anigcatiiMifor all our' nwmtil move- ■ent^howefer ''dlffefent in thele f haiaeter m modliealiMi^ 'hMraver reinotii in tho tiaea of thrir oeMiraiice } for al, even lie most heterogeneous and most distant, are reproducible, ea-m^M^Mk, or a«fO- cJflNi, as, and only as, phamomeim of the fame unity of ©oMiilousness— affectioni' «f the name indiv Wlile Ego. There thus emergee :-* -The Law of Associabilitv or Co-auooBSTioN: — AU tkm/ffMi of lAe fMM .iiiiiiiai'fii^<}l um mmdM$, But the unity of subject, the funda- mental condition, of the assodabillty of thought in general, affords, m reason why this nartioular tho^i^ht ^should, ^« Ado, recal. or figgeit 'that We require, thorefof©, besides a law of possible, a law or laws of etctual r^produeiion. Two such are afforded in the two wther uiitlei^those of Modijkaiim .and of And now let us, for the sake of subse- rst reference, pause a moment to state foUowinr symbolic Illustration : — A B V Here the samo' letter, repeated in per- pendkular order, is intended to denote the same mental mode, brought into eon- iiiionsnes%. represented, at 'different 'tines. 'Here' the dWivent letleri, In horlaontal order, arO' supposed to designate 'the par- tial thoughts integrant of a total mental state, and therefore co-existent, or •»- .iMNiiafely conseqnenty at the moment of itS' .actual' realisation., 'This being undentood, we proceed :— ] tlMie two naitlei that of iiioii|^ll« presentation or a representation. On the second ooeasl'on, A' 'wlll, anggest the re- Sresentation of A. This, it will not be enied, that it ean do ; for, on the possi- bility hereof, depends the possibility of mmpk rmmmbranM. The total thought, alter tida auggestion, will be A' + A ; and on 'the 'tliiri. 'Occasion, A" may sug- gest A' and A ; both on this principle, and on that other which we are imme- diately tO' consider, of co-identity in time. We iavo 'tins, as a first general- law of aetual leprodnctf on. Suggestion, or Asso- ciation ':— ' vi. ^The Law of Eefititiow, or of 'Ikmmm nmi'iinaAM'oa:— TAoiii^Aff co- amMmi lit wmi^ktiiimh km Mgrnng m timt , tmA f # .fuypnt mA vikmr. The law which I here call that of Re- petition, seems to be the principle of remembrance referred to by Aristotle, In sayinf , that '* the 'movements [which tid by whieh, we recollect | are, in these cases, sometimes turn samk," «bc. (See above, p. 900 a.) If this be correct, Aristotle has here again made a step a^head of subsequent philosophers ; for, if I be not mistaken, we must recur to lapetition as an ultimate principle of reproduction, and not rest satbfied, as has been done, with that of Redintegra- tion iJone. But of this anon. The unity of Uma affords the ground, why thongliti» dlftrentin their character as mental modes, but having once been proiimately coeiistent, (including under coexistence immediate conseoutionj as the parts of some total thought, and a totality of thought is detemdned even by a unity of time ; do, when recalled into oonsciousnes9, tend Immediately to sug- gest each other, as co-oonstituents of that farmer whoK and mediately, that whole llseE Thus, let (A, B, C, D, E, F,) be supposed a complement of such concom- mitant thoughta. If A be recalled into consciousness, A will tend to reawaken B, B' to reawaken €, and so on, until the whoin finwrly coeiiitwifc series has been reinHalii— or the mind diverted by ,soiie .stronger movement, 'On some other tfialii. We have thua as a itooud general If '• n.j OF MENTAL REPRODUCTION. 918 law of actual Reproduction, Suggestion, Hon of interest (from whatever source) or A^ciatton,- »*„ Mch these stand to the individual viii. — TheLawof Redintegration, of ' " Indibeot remembrance, or of Reminis- cence : — Thoughts once eotdentical in UmBrareJiowever different as mental modes^ €^ain su^g>'stive of each other, and that in the mutual order which tliey imginally held. To this law of Redintegration can easily be reduced Aristotle's second and third suggest ives — " the movements [which and by which, we recollect,] . . . are some, times AT THE SAME TIME, sometimes FARTS or THE SAME WHOLE, &C. (See p. 900, a.) Philosophers, in generalising the phaj- nomena of reproduction, have, if our exception of Aristotle be not admitted, of these two, exclusively regarded the mind. § II.— -Special Laws of Mental SucceSm sion. Those of Reproduction. A.— -Primary ; modes of tlie laws of Repetition and Redintegration. The first special law under this head is — X — The Law of Similars : — Things^ thoughts resembling each other {be the re- semblance simple or analogical) are mu- tually suggestive. From Aristotle downwards, all who have written on Suggestion, whether in- tentional or spontaneous, have recogniz- ed the association of similar objects. But whilst all have thus fairly acknowledged -aw of Redintegration. That of Repeti- 1 the effect ; none, I think, (if Aristotle be tion was, however, equally worthy of their consideration. For the excitation of the same by the same, differing in time, is not less marvellous, than the excitation of the different by the different, identical in time. It was a principle, too, equally indispensable, to explain the phaenomena. For the attempts to reduce these to the law of Redintegration alone will not stand the test of criticism ; since the reproduc- tion of thought by thought, as disjoined in time, cannot be referred to the repro- duction of thought by thought, as con- joined in time. Accordingly, we shall find in coming to detail, that some phae- nomena are saved by the law of Repetition alone, while others require a combination of two laws of Repetition and Redinte- gration. Movements thus suggest and are sug- gested, in proportion to the strictness of the dependency between that prior and this posterior. But such general relation be- tween two thoughts — and on which are founded the two Abstract or Primary laws of Repetition and Redintegration — is frequently crossed, is frequently superseded, by another, and that a par- ticular relation, which determines the suggestion of a movement not warranted by any dependence on its antecedent. To complete the general laws of repro- duction, we must therefore recognise a Secondary or Concrete principle — what may be styled, (under protest, for it is hardly deserving of the title Law) : — ix. — The Law of Preference : — Thoughts are tuggestedj not merely by not a singular exception,) have specu- lated aright as to the cause. In general Similarity has oeen lightly assumed, lightly laid down, as one of the ultimate principles of associations. No- thing, however, can be clearer thanthat resembling objects — resembling mental modifications, being, to us, in their resem- bling points, identical ; they must, on the principle of Repetition, call up each other. This, of course, refers principally to sug- gestion for the first time. Subsequently, Redintegration co-operates with Repeti- tion; for now, the resembling objects have formed, together, parts of the sanu mental whole ; and are, moreover, associ- ated both as similar and as contrasted. It is, however, more important to prove, that the law of Similarity cannot be re- duced to the law alone of Redintegra- tion. This reduction has often been as- sumed; seldom a demonstration of it pro- pounded. Discounting Wolf, who can- not properly be adduced, I recollect only four philosophers who have attempted such probative reduction. As two of these, however, are only repeaters of a third, there are found, in reality, among them, only two Independent arguments j and these, though both aiming at the same end, endeavour to accomplish it on different principles The one is by Maass, (followed by Hoffbauer and Bi* unde ;) the other by Mr James Mill Of these, the former is as follows :— . « Simikr representations," says Maass, " can only be associated, in as much as they, or their constituent characters, be- force of the general subjective relation | long to the same total representation ; subsisting betuteen themselves, they are .and this, without exception, is the cane aiio sugffeited, in proportum to the reUn' ' with them. The two representations, A 3m |i |llli| HI: OM' THE THEORY [ii0f ■ ]>.' ••• f n] OF MENTAL REPRODUCTION. 916 aii' 1 .fMcmbie m»h iiAmt» in so far •■ 'Iwtb ■mmteiii tlie omiiiiMiii, character ft. lithm % to wJ»»cli Wmiff tm chaim. tm & -' iMthtr. Bnt the question Imwj to be an- OTfred is—'' How do the 'imiar 're^pre* sentalions B and A beeom associated or mmtnilly suggestive !— on the hypothesis, always, that they have not been fWfJ. onsly associated, as mentally oo«««it| —and the reasoning fklalii the hypo* Mr Maass goes on :-« Fnrther, the gimliarlty of two repMaantationa' conld not,, In itself, be^ any ■foaaon of their .asso- ,|jatioiL, For fciiarity is an ot^eotive relaMon, srabsisling 'between them.; but from this there follows not in the least 'their' snhjectite Inter-depoidmce in ima^ rination.** (Voranch, Ac., f m)— Mere 'again, I ©an hardly thinh that I understand aright. Is It intended to be said,— that we know, or can know anght of objec- tive Similarity in things, except through OUT' tnlilective conseloasnesi, or feelingi of 'tho' lirial mmmmm of ejrtriii jnliaci-. tlvo mofomwiti^ ietifiiliiid. by^them In us!— thai w^pmamMimi are jn them- selves aught but subjective modiictWMK, .and that the conseionvMia' tr telini ^ 'thMBrand their identity or dlliMrtm% m not, alio^ 'pwrely suyecave ! On the statcnenls of HoffbaMr, «io iiianl.festly, and of Blnmde, who pwftMed. ly, adopts the preceding reasoning fwwii %gm. It la imne«»sary to makt amy *- atrvflUML Thoy art. aa. foilowi^^-" we f aff lUigB,**' wfi the former, ** reolpro- If iiy ^nSar when ©ertain attrlbiitea are flommon to them. The [common] atlfi- b«le: iihidh la found in. mm of these mat IkaMlbre .also bt' .mat' 'wIth in theothers. 'In 'the' iiMieniiiialiiWii 9i tho: '©l||a©t, .A, m fixing on any single object.'— Ed. t Of these laws the titles only have been found among the Author's papers : tlie further account of them, if ever written, has been lost. It is probable, however, that the Author finally in- tended to include them under the Law of Simi- lars ; for which reason they have not been num- bered as xi. and xii.— Ed. X The following historical notices concerning the Law of Contrast are extracted from the author's Common-Place Book. The views of fittedenroth have been mainly followed in the fkagmentary remarks printed in the text — ^Ed. The Law of Contrast has been reduced— 1. To Frequency, or Frequency and Vividness, by Mr James Hill f Analysis, &c. i. p. 80. *A dwarf suggests the idea of aidant. How? We call a dwarf a dwarf, because he departs from a certain standard. We call a giant a giant, because he departs from the same standard. This is a case, therefore, of resemblance— that is, of fre- quency. Pain is said to make us think of plea- sure ; and this is considered a case of association by contrast. There is no doubt that pain makes m think of relief from it ; becanse they have been conjoined, and the great vividness of the sensa- tions makes the association strong. Relief from pain is a species of pleasure ; and one pleasure leads to think of another, tmm the resemblance. fliia fa a oompoond ease, therefore, of vividness 1°, All contrast is of things contained under a common notion. Qualities are contrasted only as they are similar. A good horse and a bad Byllogism have no contrast Virtue and vice agree as moral attributes ; great and little agree as quan- tities, and as extraordinary deflections from ordinary quantity. Even existence and non-existence are not opposed as of different genera, but only as species of and frequency. All other cases of contrast, I be- lieve, may be expounded in a similar manner.*] 2. To Resemblance under a higher notion, by Stiedenroth. [Psychologic, p. 92. * Doch ist es inerkwuerdig, dass die Eriunerung mehr von der widrigen Seite des Contrastes nach der entgegen- gesetzten geht, als umgekehrt, obgleich auch dle- ser Gang sich allerdings findet. Wie wird sicii diese ganze Erscheinung mit der Aehnlichkeii verglelchen? Vor alien Dingcn darf nicht ver- gessen werden, dass es keineu Contrast giebt, ausgenommen unter demselben hoehereu fiegritf. Eine reiche Gegend und Geistesarmuth bildeh an und fuer sich keinen Contrast. Die coutrasti- renden Vorstellungen sind also immer theilweise einerlei ; sie sind Gegensaetae unter demselbeu hoeheren Begriff, und iwar Gegensaetze, die, wenn gleich concret, dennoch durch Contradic- tion sehlechthin gedacht werden. Ifun ist dor Begriff und seine Verneinung zugleich, und dieses Verhaeltniss wurde daher frueher zu den uaech- sten psychologisch aehnlichen gezaehlt. Wird daher ein Begriff vorausgesetrt, so involvirt eiuo besondere Fassung unter ihiu zugleich mit dem HauptbegrifT in dieser Fassung, d. h. mit dem Begriff, der die Fassung des Besonderen vorzugs- weise bestimmt, den Gegensatz. Daher wird begreiflich seyn, wie Contraste an einander eriii- nern koennen, und wie sich dieses VerhaeltniKs der Aehnlichkeit keiueswegs entzieht.'] So Alexander Aphrodisiensis (in Top. i. 18) makus contrariety equivalent to similarity, inasmuch as contraries, Ac., have common attributes. 3. To a mixture of Causation and Resemblance, by Hume. [Essay on the Association of Ideas. < Contrast or contrariety is also a connection among ideas ; but it may, perhaps, be considered as a mixture of Causation and Resemblance. When two objects are contrary, the one destroys the other— that is, [is] the cause of its annihila- tion, and the idea of the annihilation of an object implies the idea of its former existence.'] 4. To Simultaneity and Interest of Understand- ing or Feeling, by Schulze. [Anthropologic, § "J"!!, p. 156, 3d. ed. 1826. ' Die Folge der Bilder in der Einbildungskraft nach dem so genannten Oesetse des Contrastes ist, in den moisten Faellen, eine durch den Einfluss des forschenden Verstandes Oder des Hanges des Herzens zu gewissen Ge- fuehlen auf jene Folge nach dem Gesetzo der Gleichseitigkeit bestimmte Verbindnng. Bie entsteht naemlich hauptsaechlich dadurch, dass man Dinge vermlttolst der Vergleichung mit ihrem Gegentheile aufzuklaeren, von unangeneh- men Gefuehlen aber durch die Vorstellung erhel- temder Gegenstaende sich zu befreien suchfj 916 ON THE THEOEf [note d. §11.] OF MENTAL REPRODUCTION. 917 •xlitence— poeitiTe ezlBtoii.ce anil ii'«g»- ti¥e existence. ConspMiM tliiis (as wolf and dog) may be associated either at ■imilars or as oontrndeB — aimilars as opposed to animalB of otlwr genera— con- tnuries, as opposed to each other. [Con- traries are] thus united under a higher notion. But 2**, Affirmation of any quality in- vokes the negation of its contradictory^ the affirmation of goodness is virtually the negation of badness ; and many terms for the conlmdictorj qualities are only nega- tions and affirmations — Just, unjust — Unite,, ininite — partial, im'partial. Hence logical contradictory opposition is even a stronger association than logical contrari- ety, beeanie only between two. 3°, Contrast is a relation — the know- ledge of contraries is ona So in passive feeling — pain — pleasure. 4", Consciousness is only of the distin- Kuisluible. Ef^ contrast most dearly listtnignished must heighten oonacioua- lf.R— Consciousness is activity of mind rising above a certain degrm or mtemmn. Where it is dissipated— divided — ^falling tinder this degree, there is uncomraonfMit. Unconsciousness is not equal to inactivity of mind, but to [that which is below] this degree of activity. [xii The Law of Coadjaoincy] Cause and Effect— Whole and Parts — Substance and Attribute — Sign and Sig- niied.* B — Swmdary ; modes of the Law of Preference. Under the laws of possibility, one thought being associated with a plurality, and each of that plurality being therefore suggestible, it suggests one in preference to another, according to two laws. 1°, By relation to itself, the one most strictly associated with itself. 2°, By relation to the mind, the thought ni'Ost easily suggestible. That there must be two laws is shown, • ¥mm p. 8m, n.*, It ■eenis prolMiHe tint tlie jLnllior intended to inelade tbeso: rtMloai* the titles of wMcl are given in Ma pipers, under the general head of Coadj'aceney. This law has accordingly been supplied. In reference to tills clMsiication, it should bo obserred that, though Cause and Effect, Whole and Parti, Ac, when considered generally as relative notions, fall under the Law of Relativity or Integration (sea above, p. 911), yet when considered specially as regards the suggestion of this pvtlciilar eitet hf 'this 'particular eanse, Itc, they are testaaoei. tf ■■»- elation proper, and may be fitly ccaiHiilii. :lli tUiiilaM. Seep. 900, at. -Ed. because two associated thoughts do not suggest each other with equal force. B may be very strongly associated with A, but A very slightly associated with B. This twofdd, 1" in order of time, 2" in order of interest. [Under the first head, that of suggestion by relation to the thought suggesting', may be stated the following special laws : — xiii. — ^The Law of Imhediaot.] Of two thougktSj if the one be immedi- ately, the other mediately connected [with a third], the first will be suggested [by the third in pr^erence to the second]. [xiv.-The Law of Homooeneity.] A thought mil suggest another of the same order [in preference to with 'bia other' 'andeariier'alatementa, to which I ahall 'Immediatoly refer. This second queation, however, receives ita aolution m that of the two laat, to which I, thunfofo, proceed. * file Mlcvliif snthoritiet, Who mahttain that we otnaoi haaghie extenaf an witluMit eeloiu; Booik. JWMqr, 'llMOiy'tf' Vision, | '190 ; Frine. of Hun. Knowlsdge, F. i 1 10 'r-Bmrn^ Treat. of Bam,. Mat, .B. i. P. iL s. » ; — FJInaftirl, DIao. 'FA, llilaiips, *e.., 1 i ^mi-^Tmr' teal,. 'Ha :l!bnia iaa 'Ufasdwa (M nenstor, l.8f7X p. SS;— l0ffr mMm4, Jooftvy's B«M« 1 iL fb 4lf.<— Jtofe The third question {Can we see Colour apart from Extension?) and the fourth {Can we see Colour apart from Figure f) are to be taken together, as the answer to either involves the answer to both. It is likewise evident, that to answer these two questions in regard to sense, we must answer them in regard to imagination ; — for as a colour can or cannot be imagined visible apart from extension and figure, it can or cannot be visible, in reality, apart from these. These questions have, by philosophers in general, either not been proposed at all, or peremptorily answered in the nega- tive. The doctrine of Aristotle seems to have been that silently recognised by philosophers. Not only has the percep- tion or imagination of extension and figure been supposed to imply that of colour, the perception or the imagination of colour has been equally supposed to imply that of extension and figure. By a small number of philosophers they have, however, been mooted ; and by a still emaller, decided in the affirmative. Of these last, the first I am aware of is Condillac. in his work On the Origin of Human Knowledge; but in his later writ- ings ho apparently abandons the paradox which he had originally maintained.* The next is Ileid (I. c.) ; but, in like manner, the doctrine advanced in his In- quiry is silently withdrawn in his Essays. It is certain that he did not borrow this opinion from Condillac, with whose works he seems never to have been acquainted ; but it is not, I think, impossible that it may have been suggested to him by a passage in Berkeley's New Theory of Vi- sion, § cxxx. In this opinion Reid is followed by Mr Stewart; but, also, only in his writings previous to the Dissertation, in which it is manifestly, though not professedly, sur- rendered. In these works this philoso- pher admits the fact, as a constant, though * It is in his later work, the Traits dea Sen- mMam (part i. ch. xi. ; part ii. ch. iv. v.), that Condillac maintains the opinion mentioned in tho text ; and it is against this work that the arguments of Daube, mentioned below, are di- rected. In his earlier work, the OHgine des Connoissances Humaines, Condillac maintained the opposite opinion, that the idea of colour ne- cessarily involves that of extension. (Part i. sect. 6.) In his later view, Condillac haa been anti- cipated by Berkeley, against whom the aiguments in Ms earlier work are directed. Compare Lee- lures on Metaphyaics, voL iL p. 160, and the edi- tor's note, p. 161, in which Oondillac's view is further explained.— EOh contingent, experience, — ^that we never do actually perceive colour apart from exten- sion ; and on this ground he endeavours in various passages to account by associa- tion for our inability to imagine colour apart from extension. To quote one : — " I formerly had occasion to mention several instances of very intimate associa- tions formed between two ideas which have no necessary connexion with each other. One of the most remarkable is, that which exists in every person's mind between the notions of colour and exten- sion. The former of these words expresses, at least in the sense in which we commonly employ it, a sensation in the mind ; the latter denotes a quality of an external ob- ject ; so that there is, in fact, no more connexion between the two notions than between those of pain and of solidity. And yet, in consequence of our always perceiving extension at the same time at which the sensation of colour is excited in the mind, we find it impofisible to think of that sensation, without conceiving ex- tension along with it." (Elem., i. 349.* Compare also pp. 73, 74, 575-579, octavo edition ; Essays, pp. 100, 563, 664, quarto edition, t) The view which Reid and Stewart thus originally countenanced was adopted, and, according to his wont, without acknow- ledgment, by Brown, who has attempted an elaborate, but unsuccessful, argument in its favour. (Lect. xxix.) It has like- wise found favour with other psycholo- gists of this country, among whom I have to mention a phihtsopher of great acute- ness, Mr James Mill, in his Analysis of the Human Mind (vol. i. pp. 72, 265), and Dr John Young, in his Lectures on Intel- lectual Philosophy (p. 121 sq.). This paradox appears to me untenable. We are conscious of the afiection of colour either as one colour, or as a plurality of colours. On the former alternative, one homogeneous colour occupies the whole field of vision ; on the latter, this field is divided among several. To take the second first : the very statement of the supposition implies a negation of the paradox. For, in the first place, we are only aware of the coexistence of a plurality of col- ours in being aware of them as exterior to each other ; but such reciprocal exte- riority supposes a relation between them of extension. * Collected Works, vol. ii. p. 305.— Ed. f Collected Works, vol. ii. pp. 98. 496497 ; vol V. pp. 119, 431, 432.— Ea i i wm 'Bui, in the ■eoond, fkm, 'tli» lioiMli^, M extended. Fwtb^' limit mA ofelier ; lliie limittttiim oomtitutei' a line ; md iIiIb line, if it return upon itself, eon- ■titiiteii A figiue*' But a line and a .figure ■m Iwiii. eztcniiime ; and that, wbieli eon* etilutes a line ot igure must ilself 'be^ ez* tnded. 'TUi nmple refutation, of tlie nactdoK la qotilioii Is not new. I find it m ^D^'iJemMrl,. wk» had probaUy Condi- la^t Mrlter doctrine In 'lis. 9f ; and It It marvellous how it should haveesoapediin particukr, the notice of Mr Slewart, by whom, O^ Alemhert'a pbilosoplmial. writings were' held in 'tile highest ''esteem. "La vision seule nous donne Tid^ de laeouleur des objeota Smfftm&M nMiliilmiiiiC dm partim th fffjuK^, d^ir€Mmmimlmitm,M encpmim m mm ifmm .; kt d^^rmm iM' mud- ■€mr§ mom fera ftmmqmm nimmdimmii im homes ou Umitei qui giparent deux ctmi' emr§ tmmes, ei par eomiqueni nmm dtm' Mtf% me $di€ lis. jlpm/ cat &n- inmmiI wh§ jrf«» tm qtimtm^ dm hwnm m tmm mm," Mlimem de Phiimf^kie, Eclair- ciBseinens, § vii [Melanges, t. y. p. 110.1 Bubsequen%, the same fact is alleged, expressly in refuftation of Condillac, by Banbe, in his Emm ePIdSttiogk (pw 66)/ * On ne pent voir Ik la fois plnsieufs cou- leiirs, sans voir leur limites. Or, voir les limites des couleurs, c'est avoir k sensa- tion de figure." Aumilardoetrlne was, however, apparentiy Intended by ZanO', the stoic, in saying "that colours ai^ the primary figurations of matter" (Pseudo- Plutarch, Ik Pkie, Philos. L. i. c. 15; Bwudo-Galen, Hut. Fhiloa. c. 15) ; and by the elder Scallger in the stafcement— ** Corpus videmus quia coloratum ; figur- amquia colontm snperfieiel terminus est." (Be Subtilitate^ Exerc eexcviii § 15 ; compare Exere. IxvL § 2.) Mr Fearn applies the same fact in refutation of the paradox of Reidand Stewart ; but he over- rates the Importance, as well as novelty, of the ebservation, and is still more griev- ously mistaken, in supposing that a dis- proof of this individual opinion (which tlie latter seems ulttnwtely, and of his own aeeord, tO' have ahaadnnedl, it equivalent to^ a isulrrersion of the 'general, doctrine of perception held by these philosophers.f [The other alternative,*— that we can be * See aliove, p. 919 a, b. *. Comparo also Baiilie, p. S4S, wimn Coadilao's axguineiitB. .are exiuiiiaed son at Imgtk— Ekiw f Mr Miiwart seems latterly to bave tacitly re- Boniicad the opinion in wlileli lie had or%liitlly oolneiiied with Beld ; fOr the paasage tmm hit ••"^^^wiiwBi BHSffliaiwiaia ^iiawsiijapiiiwyai ^KrmF%ifw%9 TLBpi' jaTBiiBiiii iWiai Umi wiiHiBSia UyiAPUlb IN UUthMiBliAllUM [hots % oniiaeious of a single 'Oolimr' without ez- l ^f i iMfi, — ie eqiially anti)iulii4ij In the ;iiiil place, while, on the one^hand, we are eonacious of extension only as we are coo- seiotia of one .afihotliin. .aa out of another, so, on 'tho' other, '«• eanimtbe oonieious of one lenaation aa. out of aaolhar, without being, ^pfo /wlo, oonaoioua of extension. But in vision, where every affeotion is an of a eoloar, withoot tMii||' eonaeions of that oolonr la ooatml to^ ana 'therefore out of, another colour, — without, therefore, being oonseioiia of the extended. For we are only conieiona of a homogpieoiia alieo- tion. or .single oolonr, as oeonpying either, ]) a part, or 2) the whole, of the field oc In the former case the part may be either (a) a ainallest part — a minimum visi- bile, or {o) not a smallest part If a smallest part, this minimum is, and is apprehended to be, only aa it excludes, or is the nega* tion of, Slier colour or colours (positive or negative), by which it is surrouuded. ^t in aU this, reciprocal outness, extension, is involved. Again, the same is still more manifest on the supposition that the single colour is not a minimum ; for in this case the colour is not merely appre- hended as out of other colour or colours by which it is limited — the hypothesis itself, that it is not a mintmuin, involves the appiehemiion itself of parts exterior to The apprehension of parts exterior to parta is, in like manner, but even moi« obtrusively, involved in the latter case, where a homogeneous colour is supposed to occupy the whole field of vision. For linis neio nas a rigni; ana a leiii, an upper and an under side, and may be divided into halves, quarters, &&, indefinitely. pile above portion of this Note pro- bably represents very nearly, if not exact- ly, the form in which it would ultimately have been published. Another disserta- tion on the above and some cognate questions, will be found in the Lectures on Metaphysics, Loot, xxvii and xxviil. The remainder of the Mote Is left incom- plete, but the following fragments seem to have been intended for the second part of it..— Eixl not, I think, be reconciled with the doctrine of Ms earlier puhliesltais. [This note in the MS. eoncludes with an aeooimt of Mr Feara's contro- verey with Stewart, which has been already pab- lahed in a eorrooled form in the Author's editioa of BlawarfS woiIcb. Vol. i, Advertiseineat, p. iz,..«-|!li,] m •*• J WITH EXTENSION AND FIGURE. 921 I II.— On ^e Philosophy of the Pointy the Line, and the Surface: in illus- tration of the realitpy nature, and viiual perception of breadthless lines. 1. The Superficies, Line, Point, are not positive entities, but negations. They do not constitute extension, but are them- selves constituted by its cessation ; the cessation of extension in solidity being the superficies, in superficiality the line, in linearity the point. 2. The Superficies, Line, Point, are the limits of extension, but in the sense not of causes, but of eflfects of limitation ; for they emerge only by the sublation of one extended by the position of another. 3. The Superficies, Line, Point, do not exist of themselves, but only as in some- thing else ; they are not substances, but accidents. 4. Again, of accidents, they are not qualities, neither are they in propriety quautities ; they are relations — the reci[>- rocal relations of two extensions, each limiting the other. 5. But a limitation is a negation, and a reciprocal negation is in itself a nothing. Considered absolutely, or in themselves, they are therefore nonentities. ****** In illustration of the preceding doctrine in regard to the mere negativity of our perception of terminal linL, I ly refer to some confirmatory opinions held by previous speculators. Of these, the first I shall adduce is Aris- totle's ; and his doctrine, in so far as it was developed, is apparent from the following passages. In his Metaphysics (L.x., (or xi. , or xiii.), c. 2), objecting, to those who would make lines and surfaces the constitutive prin- ciples of things,* that these are not separate or separable, not self-subsistent entities, but either mere " sections and divisions," or mere ** terminations," he says: — " A Surface is the mere section or termi- nation of a body {or solid), as a Line is of a surface, which again is either cut or ter- minated by a Point. All these are only as they are in something else ; apart and hy themselves, they are nonentities." In the same work (L. ii. (or iii. ), c. 5), the same doctrine is, though less explicitly, asserted, where, on a similai* occasion, he maintains that the Surface, the Line, the Point, " seem all to be only divisions of body, one in breadth, another in depth, a third * Compare also (against the Platonlsts and Pythagoreans) De Coelo, iii. 1 : De Gen. ei Corr. i. 2 ; De Lin. Insec. ; Phys. vi I, S. in length." And in his De Anima, (L. iii. c. 6), he further says, that " a Point, and whatever is as a division, itself indivisible, is manifested to the mind as a privation." Another speculation of Aristotle on this subjectis imperfectly preserved by Sextus Empiricus (Adv. Geom. § 57-59 ; I. Adv. Phys.§ 412), probably from his lost treatise or treatises on Mathematics. But is it not an error for ApoUonius 1 * * Additional notes from Aristotle on Lines, &c. 1. In his Problems (xxv. 3), speaking of the air as superincumbent on the water, he supposes "their extremes to l»e together, and thus one plane (or surface) to be common to both." — Cf. Phys. iv. 6, § 9. 2. Phys. V. 3, § 2. — " Things are said to be, locally considered, together, in as much as they coexist in one primary or proximate place [i.e are in the same space] ; apart, in as much as they exist in different places. Things touch each other in so far as their extremes exist together" [i.e. are in the same space]. But if so, not ex- tended— not corporeal. 3. Ibid. 9 5, 6. — " The coherent is what, while it follows, is in contact The con- tinuous is a species of the coherent; for I say that things are continuous when their several limits, in which they coalescte or touch each other, be- come one and the same" — in other words, when each immediately limits the other. 4. Ibid. iv. 11, § 13. — " A point in a certain sort continues length, and limits it; for it is the beginning of one [length] and the end of an- other." So Phys. viii. 8, texts 68, 69, where it is expressly said that *' one point is common to two continuous lines, being the end of the one, the beginning of the other."— Simplicius, f. 32, perverts Aristotle's doctrine. So Averroes. 5. Categ. c. 6.— After dividing quantity into continuous and discrete, defining the former that wliich does, the latter that which does not, con- sist of parts having a position to each other, and enumerating, as species of the continuous, a line, a surface, a solid, and also place (or space) and time— he proceeds to consider these in detail. "But a line is continuous; for we can take in it a common limit [or common limits] at which its parts coalesce or mutually touch — a point for points]. In like manner in a surface [we may take] a line ; for the parts of a plane coalesce at a certain common limit. So likewise in a body [or solid] you may take a common limit, to wit, a line or surface, at which the parts of the body coalesce. Of the same class are time and place [or space]. For the time Now coalesces with both the Past and the Future. And on the other hand place [space] is a quantity continuous; ftjr the I)arts of body occupy a certain place [space], and these parts coalesce at a certain common limit; consequently the parts of place [space] which each of these parts of body occupy, coalesce at the same limit at which the parts of body coalesced. Place [space] will, therefore, likewise be continuous; for its parts coalesce at one (?onj- mon limit." The parts and limits here spoken of mumm m coBEiLATioif flfOTK K S «•] WITH EXTENSION AND FIGURE. VjSw The fnmdixm ioetrinft twai^ecl no ex- plimtioii. muniated tO' mm 'this imdt '({f ei|iliitiMmf tht oTMltei 0/ nMllir, lequeited, when my translation irst appeared; that I would inform them what it was ; but I was ob- li||ed lO' confess that Mr Lesc«ireei hwtaelf, tlie ©xpreaiioB liad never been ii»ed as a wniprebeiiaive term, for the imniodiate objecto of thongM. Imd we not in 'mmm- brmnoe tke Hiiitoria AnimiB HitminiB of our countryman, David Buciianan. TiuB work, origieiilly written in French, had for some years been privately circulated pfovions to its publication at Paris in 1686. t Here we ind the word idea fami- liarly employed, in ita moit oxteneive signiication, to express the objects not only of intellect proper, but of memory, tmaginatioD, sense; ini this w the mnu»t example of such an employment For the Discourse on Method, in which the term is usurped by Descartes in an equal Mitude, was at least a T^J^.^'' **? publication— viz. in June 1687. Adoptwl Koon after also by Os8sendi,$ the word, under such imposing p«tionag^ gradMlly won its way into gennial ui©. In Eng- knd, however. Lock© may be wM to have been 111© list who natuialiied the term in its Cartesian universality. Hobbes •mploys it, and that liirtiifi«%,f % onm m twic©.| Henry Mot© «* Cudworth ai« mtf ehaiyof it, even when treatmg of the Cartesian Philosophy; Willis rarely uses it; whtte Lord Herbert, Reynold^ and the y-i»ff l«*h niiiloMiphers in general, be- twoMDaiaaiiia and ' Locke, do not apply it f««ilioli«l*»lly at alL ;»^ben in^^com- mon iMigiiag©^ employ ed by Milton and Dijden, mfSr DiMart©% m ft#»« Mm, to Sidiiv, Spenwir, »Ai|ieMii, Hnoler, Ac., 'the nManiDg' ii^ Fisloni& Our Lexico- graphers are ignorant of th© dUSwrenoe. The fortune of this wofi w mmmm, Bmplof ©d by 'Plato to m^^mm lb© :f«al. forma of the inteUlgiM© wmM, in lofty contrast to the unreal imag©B of the sen- sible, it was lowered by Descartes, who extended it to the objects of our consci- ousness in g©n©fai When, atler Qassendi, the sohool of CondllhMJ had analysed our highest iwnltl©© into our lowest, the idm was still more deeply degraded from its high oiiglnaL Like a fallen angel, it was relMated from tbe sphere of divine intel- Itgenee to the atmoephaf© of human sense ; till at last IMdogk (more correctly /dla- hgu), a word which could only properiy Bvmam an • Fnori scheme, deducing our knowledge from the intell©ct,has in Franco becom© the name peculiarly distmctivo of that philoiophy of mmd which exclusively derives our knowladg© from the senses.— Wowl and thing, tcfaw have been the^cmx pftjlMfiloriiiii, ainc© Ari«totle sent them pacing {xfiuphmfm' 18^01), to the present • 'Mee smnuntnr wnumniqpiiii pro eonoep- tionilias sen. nottoilbiui anlmi ofiiiiiiiiiiiibiis.*-'' Goclemtt Leifeon fMlosophtoiM (Lifcjv. J sentiri. . . . Quod si adhuc obscurum est, eln- cescet, si animadvertas quod, exempli gratia, sat est in uno aliquo sensu, velut in visu. Namque aperire oculum, et movere aspiciendo ad id quo loTO, neeeiMurilf mpiioteB a 'litMriiiisiMilte, ■Mtdtmmiiiimiiufu^udffmmL As Hobbea lias well exiiressed it, — " Sentire semper iciem et qod sentire ad idem recidimt." * The irst law of thou|^t — nsiiig that word in its widest sense as coextensive with consciousness— is, therefore, what we may call I. The Law of Varieiy — that we are conscious only as we are conscious of dlf- ferenoa This variety may be either simultaneous or successive. Without denying that we are actually WBaeioai of different phuBnomena at once^ weM there no succiisive variation, or were we unable to compare our actual conscimuneHi with our past, it could hardly be said that we were conscious at all. Another law of thought is therefor© li. The Law of iSuocesitem— that'we^ are conscious only as we are conscious of a pre- sent in contradistinction to a past. But contradistinction supposes an apprehen- sion, comparison, and judgment of that which is distinguished ; and consciousness is only of tlie actual or present How, therefore, can consdouaness apprehend, CfWipare, and judge, what is not actual or present — the past? This would be im- possible, were nothing left in the mind of the various modes or movements, of which it is the subject, beyond the actual now of their existence; in other words, wew the consciousness, determined by a present external cause, the only cognition of which the mind Is capable. But the modes or movements of which we have been con- scious do not cease to exist, so soon as we cetise to be conscious of their existence ; they remain, when out of consciousness, as it were in an obscured or rather a sub- dormant slate ; ready, however, to be re- aioused, by the appropriate agency, to that pitch of vivacity which shall reinstate them anew within the sphere of conscious* ness ; nor Is there any reason to suppoee that a movement once determined in the mental ego is, absolutely considei«d, ever again utterly abolished. In virtue, how- •Tsr, of this constitution it is that Ccn- itoiiiastteis is able, in a certain sort, 'to m- abo?e, p. Sys a, .n. •.—■©. | present its^ past energies in its present, to oontraat them with each other, and thus tO' realise itself . ConsfilmMieBa' thus Involves a rotentive, a reproductive, and It suppoioS' fe its aulilMt the .laeiilties of Memory, of 8iig8iiliiiii.aod .lamfaiMjence, and of Imagination — by faculties always underslandlng no separate operations, but only d.illir«nt rektions of tho .Muno in- 'divislble MtiTity. Consciousnaas also is not to be regarded as aught diliBrent from the mental modes or movements them- selves. It is not to be viewed as an ;illttminated plaoe, 'wIthin which objects .«om:ing' ^ate' presented to, and passing 'be- yond are wlthdnwn from, observation; nor is it to be considered even as an ob- server-^lht mmitel nuMles as phmoinenii observed. 'CbiisiiionaBass is just the mo^ve- aents themsolves, fisfag above a certain degree of intensity. Consciousness is thus not coextensive with the attributes of mind ; for the movements beyond the cunscious range are still properties — and effective properties, of the mental ego. Consciousness, being thus realised only under' the .laws of 'fiiriil^ and muetmm, m necessarily aatrioted to a ctmtUmtmia- timk Bnl the sane oondition is also im> posed upon it by the disproportion be- tween what we are actually conscious of at any given moment, and what we may poten- tially be conscious of at successive times. Consciousness is very limited. It is only a comprehensive word for those men- tal movements which rise at once above a certain degree of intension; and as the extensive quantity of such movements is always in the inverse ratio of its Inten- sive, that consciousness will be most per- fect which is concentrated within the smallest sphere. But while Conscious- ness Is thus of its very nature limited to the very smallest complement of actual cognitions, the sum of our potential cog- nitions — those which tm^ be recalled from htem^ into consciouflicsB — is aimoBt in- finite. It is, therefore, only by succession — and rapid Buocession, that the signal dis- proportion between our intellectual pos- sessions and our capacity of employing them can be diminished. But, further, the same condition of cease- less variation ls< involved in the fact that Consciousness is only realised In a certain degree. But it is a .general law, 'that the pretension or continuance of a mental energy is in the inverse ratio of its inten- sion or degree, its degree, as already stated, In the inverse ratio of its extension or 'Complexity. The stronger the exertion, the sooner Is lassitude induced; the muro vehement the pleasure, the more prompt is the alternation of disgust. Thus the various movements, after rising to the conscious pitch, tend naturally of them- selves to a gradual remission, the result of which is their relapse into a state of latent subactivity; while in proportion as they cease to occupy the disposable amount of conscious energy, this is transferred to other movements, which, rising in conse- quence from latency, maintain unbroken the consecutive series of thought. But this effect of ceaseless variation is determined not only by the tendency of the movements in consciousness to evacu- ate their place : it is equally determined by the tendency of the movements out of consciousness to occupy their room. • *♦♦♦* [The preceding fragment, treating of the general conditions under which Con- Hciousness is possible, may be regarded as introductory to the following, which treats of the special characteristics of Conscious- ness as actually manifested. The transi- tion, however, from the one to the other, is abrupt, and some intermediate remarks would be required to connect them into a whole. — Ed.] 1. ConmQumeM is the necessary condi- tion of aU knowledge— all knowledge is a amsciousness ; knowledge, e conversOj is the uccessary condition of all consciousness— all consciousness is a knowledge. Consci- ousness and knowledge are, in fact, the same thing considered in different rela- tions, or from different points of view. Knowledge is consciousness viewed in i-elation to its object; Consciousness is knowledge viewed in relation to its sub- ject. The one signalises that something is known (by me); the other signalises that / know (something). These differ- ent points of view determine, however, a difference in signification.* 2. Consciousness is a more limited term than knowledge. For Knowledge isakuow- ledge, 1°, either immediate or mediate ; 2°, either potential or actual: whereas Consci- ousness is a knowledge only immediate, and only actual. It may be said an object is knoum^ though only knownorknowablein a representation, and though not now be- fore the mind either in itself or in its re- presentation. But it cannot be said that / am conscious of an objectj unless that object be immediately and actually known. But though the term consciousness is • See Leetwres m Metaphymes, voL i. p. 193. thus less extensive than the term know- ledge, the truth of the proposition — that all knowledge supposes consciousness— is not invalidated. For all knowledge of a mediate or represented object exists only in and through the consciousness of an im- mediate object or representation; and a potential knowledge is only a knowledge in so far as it is, or may be, realised in an actual. In asking, therefore, what are the conditions of knowledge, we simplify the problem in asking only what are the con- ditions of consciousness; and from what has been now said, the four first or most general limitations are already manifest. These, however, it may be proper to re- state articulately in their order.* 3. The first limitation of Consciousness is — thajt it is a knowledge. For whether I be conscious — that I know, — that I feel a pain or pleasure — or tliat I will or degire; in all these different classes of the mental phaenomeua there is one common and essential quality. They exi.t only as they are known. 4. The second limitation of Conscious- ness is — that it is a knowledge known by me — by an Ego, a Self, a Subject of know- ledge. 5. The third limitation of Conscious- ness is — that it is an immediate not a me- diate knowledge. 6. The fourth limitation of Consciousness is — that it is an actual not a potential knowledge. 7. The fifth condition of Consciousness is — that it is an apprehension. For to know^ we must know something ; and immediate- ly and actually to know anything is to know it as now and here existing, that is, to apprehend it. 8. The sixth condition of Consciousness is — that it is a discrimination, and supposes therefore plurality and difference. For we cannot apprehend a thing unless we distinguish the apprehending subject from the apprehended object. — 1 find this con- dition explicitly taken in the WolBau School. Wolf Vernunftige Gedanken,§§ 728, 733; Psychologia Rationalis, §10- lS;—Bilfinger, Dilucidationes, §§ 242, 269; — Thummig, Psychol. Rat. § 171 ;—Canz, Psychol. § 31 ; — Baumgarten, Log. § 3. 9. The seventh condition of Conscious- ness is — that it is ajudgm&it. For we can- not apprehend a thing, without, pro tanto, affirming it to exist. Though this condi- tion be virtually contained in the preced- • With these limitations of Consciousness, compare Lectures on Metaphysics^ voL i. p. 201 eq.— JE!i>. mi ON CONSCIOFSNlSa [note b. mg, MM hm lli# meril of Mog , among nmlanii pbilowpliers,. tlie iretwlKi 'Iraieh- ed upon a recogmtion of this trotk Of Consciousness (to him a special faculty of selfconsoionsness), Sensation, Perception, and Mmvamj, he once and again anys, ilial jiifi|giiio&t ;iB involved in, or MooiHiri- ]y accompanies, their acts (Inq. 106 b, 107 a; I. F. 414 b; alibi); but this again bo eiplidtly denies in regard to the opera- tion of tho faculty, wMcli bo variously do- nominates Conception, Imagination, and Simple Apprehension. (I. F. 223 a, 243 a, 375 a, 411 a b.) This limitation is in- correct; though it is easy to see how Eeid, contemplating only a judgment alilrma tive of objective or real existence, was led to overlook the judgment affirmative of subjective or ideal existence in which all consciousueas is realised. 10. The eighth condition of Conscious- neas is — that whatever m thought i« ihm^hi mnder the aitribute of €«t«l- enee; existence 'being & notion a priori or native to the mind, and the primary act of conBciousness an existential judg- ment For if we are only conscious as w© apprehend an object, and only appre- hend it as we affirm it to exist, existence must be attributed to the object by the mind. But such could not be don© unless this predicate were a notion which had a virtual pre-existence in the mind. For ■upipose it derived from, and not merely elicited on tb© occasion of, experience; suppose, in a word, with Lock©, " that eXMtence is an idem [not native but] sug- ,gest©d to the understanding by every object withimt, and ©veiy idea within;"* in this case it must perforce be ad- mitted that what suggests tho notion of existence ia itself an object of con- sciousneas; for what w© are not con- scious of, tbat can snggesl nothing. But where is tho object of consciousness not already thought under the very attri- bute which this doctrine would maintain it originally to suggealt Till iMa •ques- tion be anawered— till the poesibility of its being aniwered can be even conceived, we may safely reject the hypothesis that woiiM oontiiigently mokm wm notion of •ziBttneO' out of' an antooedent knowledge, instead of making tho notion of exiitenee the condition which all knowledge neces- '■arily iuppoiws.. J^, accordingly, has teiii viovod M thejiriiiiiiiii m/ftdium by a laigo^ praporllon, if 'not Iho 'nuijority of philoBoplMn, more or lees prominently, on. stronger or on weaker grouO'da ; as by ; B. ji ck T. i f . Aristotle, Alexander, Themisti'us, Simplip cius implicitly, and explicitly by Avi- cenna, Averrocs, Albeitiia Magnus, Si Thomas with the whole Thomist school, and many other of tbe principal School- men and Aristotelians. In more recent ages, without enumerating a long list of names, I may state in general that no philosopher has admitted the doctrine of cognitions a pr^mj who has been found to disaiow the pre-eminent claims to this diitinction m'hioh the notion of existence may prefer. Among contemporary meta- physicians, the Abbate Eosuiini merits commemomtion ; who hati, uith great in- genuity and perseverance, endeavoured to develop this notion into a systematic, and in many respects, an original, philosophy of mind. This attempt would, I am con- fident, have been more successful, had it taken the following lower limitation of consciousness as its point of departure. II. The fititlA limitation of Conscious- ness is— rtiil wkik 011% realised in the re- cogmtionef emiienee, it h only realised in the recognition of the exinteut as condi- imned; and even this requires a still further limitation, for we are conscious of the conditioned itself only as not uncon- ditionally conditioned. Of the uncon- ditioned, of tho absolute or the infinite, we have no cognition, no conception,— in a word, no consciousness; and these, in themselves incognisable and inconceivable, we can talk about only as negations of what is positively cogni«able and conceiv- able—the conditioned in its various phase* of the relative, the finite, &c. The de- velopment of this limitation would con- stitute a philosophy of the Conditioned in diiect antithesis to the |>hilosophy of tho Absolute, maintained under diverKC forms by mujr of the profoundoBt thmken. ol the Iiiil half-centur}*, among whom FIchto, Schelling, Hegel, and my illustrious friend M. Cousin, are the most distinguished. This I mi^y hemifter attempt ; not cer- tainly preiummg tO' mete my own strength with that of such opponents, but confiding Bolelv in the itrength of the cause itself which I maintain. Of the nature of the .present limitation, and of the .polemical rehilions of a philosophy of the' unoondi- tinned, some indications 'may be fbund m an article by me, entitled, " The Philoso- phy of the Absolute, ftc.," in immediate reitrenoe to M. Cousin, m the JSAnftmyA Jbwiw, vol L, p. 1»4 iq. ; ♦ to be iiund alio in Crosse's "Selections," and in tho *« Rragmens Philoeophiques, Ac.,- trans- B^piJated 'li Dtammkm, p, 1 m|.~IId. In.] ON CONSCIOUSNESS. 935 lated by M. Peisse, whose preface to the volume is on this subject especially worthy of attention. At present I can only enounce the principle to shew its place in an evolution of the conditions of Con- sciousness ; and, where ample illustrations would be requisite, I can with difficulty afford room for a few scattered hints in regard to one or two of its [manifold ap- plications.] The principle, that we are conscious only of the conditioned, and only of the condi- tionally conditioned, is valuable as an im- portant truth : it is likewise valuable as affording a genesis of some of tbe most momentous, and at the same time most contested, phsenomeua of mind. For example, in the principle of tbe Condi- tioned, the two great principles, the law of Substance and Accident, and the law of Cause and Effect, find their origin and ex- planation. They are no longer to be regarded as ultimate data of intelligence ; they appear now as merely particular cases^, merely special applications, of this higher principle. Take the former— the law of Substance. I am aware of a plijc- nomeuon— a pliienomenon be it of mind or of matter ; that is, I am aware of a certain relative, consequently a condi- tioned, existence. This existence is only known, and only kuowable, as in rela- tion. Mind and matter exist for us only as they are known by us ; and they are so known only as they have cer- tain qualities relative to certain faculties of knowledge in us, and we certain facul- ties of knowledge relative to certain quali- ties in them. All our knowledge of mind and matter is thus relative, that is, condi- tioned ; and so far in conformity with the principle that we ar© conscious only of existence as conditioned. But further ; — I am aware of a certain phsenomenon, be it of mind or matter. This phajuomeuon, —a manifestation of what exists for me only as known by me, and of what as known by me exists only in relativity to my faculties, — how is it that I cannot even conceive it to exist solely in the re- lativity in which solely it is known, that I cannot suppose it to be a mere phseno- menon, an appearance of nothing but it- self as appearing, but am compelled by a necessity of my nature to think that out of this relativity it has an absolute or irrelative existence— i «., an existence, as absolute or irrelative, unknown, and in- comprehensible ? why, in short, am I constrained to suppose that it is the known pbsenomenon of an unknown Substance 1 Philosophers answer and say- it is an ultimate law of mind. I answer and say — it is a particular case of the general law which bears that not only the uncondi- tioned simply, but even the unconditioned of the conditioned, is unthinkable. Take an object; strip it by abstraction of all its qualities, of all its phsenomena, of all its relativities ; reduce it to a mere uncon- ditioned, irrelative, absolute entity, a mere substance ; and now try to think this sub- stance. You cannot. For either in your attempt to think you clothe it again with qualities, and thus think it as a condi- tioned ; or you find that it cannot bo thought, — except as a negation of tho thinkable. This is an instance of the unconditioned simply, and au ordinary application of the law. Take now of the same object a quality or phffiuomenon. A phacnonienon is a relative — ergo, a conditioned — ergo, a thinkable. But try to think this relative as absolutely relative, this conditioned as unconditionally conditioned, this pheno- menon as a phaenomenon and nothing more. You cannot ; for either you do not realise it in thought at all, or you sup- pose it to be the phajnomenou of some- thing that does not appear ; you give it a basis out of itself; you think it not as the absolutely, but as the relatively rela- tive ; not as the unconditiomilly, but as the conditionally conditioned; in other words, you conceive it as the Accident v S jji/, k. t. A.] 80 Jordamis Bruuus (De Imaginum. Signonim et Idearum Compoeitione, De- dicatio, p. iv.) : • Intelligcre nostrum (id est,, operationes nostri intellectus) Riit est phantasia, aut non sine phantasla. Hursum, non intelligimua nis^i phantas- inata speculemur. Hoe est quod non in timplicitate quadam, statu, et unitate, sed in compositione, collatione, terminorum pluralitate, mediante discurau atque re- flexione, comprehendimns,' Cicero, De Natura Deoriim, L. i. c. 29 : ['8i una omnium (so. Deoram) facies est, iorere in coelo Academiam. necesiie eat. Si enim nihil inter deum et devm • It is evident that the Author intended to •mmente the five conditions .given in the siini- iwuy of Ficinus, from whlofa tho kat thrce' have Iwen supplied. It may be questioned, however, vhe'lher Ihieae can be fairly inferred ftom tlie tad of Flotlnus.— Ed. t So €reuser Ficinns seems to have read §i fi^ iff MAAov a^dv i$4kot IBciy. He renders, *'0iximti8 autem hoe ipsnm son ease intelligen- 1, niii m oontaeatw ill alhnn."— Eta. differt, nulla est apud deos cognitio. nulla perceptio.'] Burthogge. Eaaay upon Reason and the Nature of Spirits (London, 1694), pp. 4, 5 : ['Consciousness seems to me to arise, ordinarily, from the distinction and dif- ference that is in Conceptions ; for, should any person have his eye perpetually tied to oie object, without ever closing of, or turning it to another, he would no more be sensible that he saw that object, or know any more what it was to see, than if he had been blind from Lis birth. For since consciousness of seeing is nothing but a perceiving by the eye, that one is affected, or otherwise affected than he was, with the appearance of Light or one thing, and never but seen it, he could have no perceivance (that) he is so affect- ed, that is, he could not be sensible or conscious (that) he did see. ... I con- clude, that as difference of conception arises from different affections of the faculties by objects, so Consciousness, or Sense of Conception, arises from the dil* ference of Conceptions, kcJ] See also, to the same effect. Brown's Philosophy of the Human Mind, Lect. si. p 6Q (ed. 1830). IL On acts 0/ mind beyond the sphere of Conwimianess* Are there acts of mind beyond the sphere of consciousness 1 Affirmative: LtUmitz, Nouv.Ess., Avant- propos, p. 8-9, and L. ii. cc. 1. 2, p. 09- 72 (ed. liaspe) ; Monad. §§ 14, 20-23; Frinc. de la Nature et de la Grace, § 4 ; alibi; — Bi^nger, De Harmon la Pnesta* bilita. Sect. vi. § 68, pp. 182, 183 (3d edition) ; — Cam^ Philosophia Wolfiana, Pi.ych. L. i. § 36 (ed. 1737) ; Med. Phil. § 830 (Tubingae, 1750) ;—Feuerlin, Pliil. Saetsse von klaren und dunkeln Bepriffen, B. ii. Th. i. pp. 39, 69 sq. ;—Kameg, ESaiaySy 4c., P. ii. Ess. iv.. On Matter and Spirit, p. 28i to end (3d edition) ;—Schau- hertf Diss, de Idearum in Aninia Conser- vatione (Altorfii Noricorum, 1744), om- mm> i—PlatniTj Phil. Aph., i. p. 70; — Tetem, Phil. Versuohe, i. p. 265, quodam- modo i^Bmmokn, U«lier die Natur und ueber die Ifolliifeidigkeit dunkler Ideen (in Hiasmann's 'Maguin fuer die Philo- • See above, pfi OIS, 988. This question has been partly dinniiiid in the Author's Ltctwr^M m JMttjfAyilaih Ijuctt. xviii xix. It hi probable that he contemphited a fuller treatment hi the pwaeat work, far which the following references wotiM have^ lervei ai^ 'naterlala.— In. Bophie und ihr© Geschichte,' v. p. 145 %a.)',—Sulzer, Verm. Schrifien, i. pp. 99 sq.. 109 (ed. 1808) ',-Botrhaave, De Morb. Nerv. t. ii. p. 360 sq. -.—Maass, Versuch, &c., § 24, p. 65 sq. (ed. 1797) ;~iran<, Anthrop., § 5 ;— Fries, N. Kritik, i. §§ 23, 30; Anthrop., § 24, ed. 1820 (§ 20, ed. 1837);— /aco6, Erkl. des Grundr. der Emp. Psych., § 49 ;— Schwab, Ueb. d. dunkeln Vorstellungen (Stuttgart, 1813); — J/ei- ners, Uutersuchungen, &c., i. pp. 56, 57 ; —Graevell, Der Mensch, pp. 73, 135;— Schulze, Phil. Wissenschaften, i. p. 16-17; Anthropologic, § 61 ;—Denzinger, Instit. Log. §260, t. i. p. 226 (ed. 1824) ;~Jieneke, Leiirb. d. Psych., § 96 sq. p. 72 (ed. 1833); Psych. Skizzen, i. p. 353-360 ;—IIibbert, Sketches of the Philosophy of Appari- tions, P. iv. ch. 5, p. 284 sq. (2d edition) ; —Cardaillac, Etudes Element, de Phil., t. ii. p. 124 sq. (See Bamiron, Ess. but I'Hist. dePliil, Supplement, p. 460 aq.);— //. &'c/mid, Versuch, &c., pp. 23, 232 sq.; Damlron, Cours, &c., i. p. 190 (ed. 1834) ; Ga'iizez, N. Cours de Phil., p. 67; — Jiiundc, Versuch, &c., i. p. 345 sq. ;— Meinhold, Theorie d. mensch. Erkenntniss u. Metaph., i. p. 279 sq. Negative: Locke, Esaay, B. ii. ch. i. § 10 ; bondiUac, Sur I'Orig. des Connoiss. Hum., Sect. ii. c. 1. § 4-13 (On him see Merian in Hissmann's * Magazin,' t. vi. p. 199) ;— Merian, Ueber die Apperzeption (Hissmann's * Magazin,' i. p. 155 sq.);— Tkdetminn, UntersuchunRen, i. p. 40 sq.; Psychologie (1804), p. 28-29;— Galluppi, Elemeuti di Filosofia, i. § 105 (ed. 1837) ; —Stewart, Elements, [Part i. ch. il— Coll. Works, vol. ii. p- 120 sq.] On the question generally, see the fol- lowing authorities, in addition to those above referred to. WalcJi, Lexikon, i. p. 2034-5 ; — CVjtar, De Animi et Obscur- arum Idearum Natura (Lipgiae, 1789) omnino;— inci'Won, M<51ange8, t. i. p. 40- 41 ',—Hmnings, Von Geistern und Geister- Behern (Leipzig, 1780) p. 3-5 ;—Feuerbach, Darstellung Entwicklung; und Kritik der Leibnita'schen Philosophic, §§ 6, 7, p. 54 sq. On Obscure Ideas before Leibnitz, see Feuerbach, Darstellung, &c., Anmerk., pp. 217, 224, ed. 1837. [Feuerbach refers 10 the Pythagorean saying, vav yap r6 as we are at present constituted, the primary condition of their activity." [The following translation from the Commentaiy of Philoponua on the De Anima, (L. iii. c. 2,) has been found among the Author's papers. This passage is no- ticed in 3i$cu8mmSj p. 51, Zectures on Metaphysics, I p. 201, as " the first indi- cation in the history of philoeophy, of that false analysis which has raised At- tention into a separate faculty." — Ed.] "But the more recent interpretere, stand- ing not in awe of the frown of Alexander, not listening to Phitarchus, and even re- pelling Aristotle himself, have devised a new Interpretation. They say that it is the function of the attentive part (tow vpmr^KriKov fjt^povs) of the rational soul to take oognisance of the energies of sense. For, according tu them, the rational soul not only coniprehends the faculties of in- tell%ence {vovs)^ thought (tiAwa), opinion {M^a), will (^{>\ri a« he himself [Aristotle] else- where 8ay% as if you perceived that, I this. That, therefore, must be one to jhiuh the atttiiti¥e liinction appertains ; 'far' this lunetioii ;is Mnverrant wtlli. th« faculties— both the cognitive and the vital [practical f]. * In so far as it is couversunt with the cognitive energies it is called Attention. Hence, wheu we would cor- rect a person whose mind is wandering from any intellectual occupation, we call out to him. Attend ! Wlien, on the other hand, it has to do with the life [and moral action ?] it is called Conscience {vvvf^Ms, not (TiJrodof). Hence in the tragedy, [Jfen— « How now ? What illness quells thee ? £>r€s«.]- Intelligence ! for I am couscioua ol my dremMUl deed.' f Attention is therefore that which is coj;- nisant of our sensitive energies. And Plu- tarchus (they say) falsely attributed this function to opinion {8if|o). For what is cognisant of the operations of all the faculties behoves to be one. But opinion does not take cognisance of the energies of intelligence {yom\ For opinion does not say / intelligise {iv6v},p.E edoce, ut consciens Christus quid esset, esse se quod non erat, exhiberet.' * b.— De Testimonio Animse, c. 6. Speak- ing of the natural testimonies of the miud, he says: — * Q,ui ejusmodi eruptiones ani- mic non putavit doctrinam esse natursD, et coiigenitse et ingeuitae conadentim tacita commissa, dicet, &c.' Afterwards, in the same chapter, couHcientia is used for the place of principles — the faculty of native cognitions. c. — De Anima, c. 18. 'Conscientia communis' of sense, opposed to a higher consciousness of intelligence. But all these examples of conscientia in Tertuilian may be translated by 'knowledge^ 2.— St Auoustin.— De Trinitate, L. x. c. 7. (Opera, ed. Benedict., t. viii. p. 894). * Et quia sibi bene conscia est [mens] prin- cipatus sui quo corpus regit; hinc factum eat, &c.* 3. — Petrarch, De Contemptu Mundi, Dial, i., Operji, ed. Babileae 1581, pp. 334, 335, has conscientia, [but in a moral sense for conscience.] 4. — Keckermann.— Opera, t. i. pp. 342, 731 , 798. He says there is a practical and a speculative consciousness. Sec also his Or- gani Aristotelis Analysis, pp. 103, 158, 159. 5.' — Descartes was the first to give cur- rency to the word in his definition of thought as everything of which we are conscious, i. e. equivalent to consciousness. [Princ. P. i. § 9. ' Cogitationis nomine intelligo ilia omnia quje nobis consciis in nobis fiunt, quatenus eorum in nobis conscientia est.'] Conscience (French and English) — Used as convertible with 'pens^e' by De r.A Forge, Traits de FEsprit, p. 14. P Je vous dirai done que je prens ici la Pensee pour cette perception, conscience, ou connoissance int^rieure que chacun de nous ressent immddiatement par soi mfime, quaud il s^apergoit de ce qu'il fait ou de ce qui se passe en lui.*] On French ' Conscience,' see foot-note in Coste's Translation of Locke's Essay, B. ii. ch. 27, § 9. [p. 264, 6th ed. 1755.] Hooker, Eccles. Polity, ii. 7. § 2, speaks of the * conscience of their own ignorance' as in the ' simpler sort.' ConscimiU — Used by I.iEibnitz, to express conscious- n«»«. Nouv. Essais, Liv. ii. cb. xxvii. §§ 9, 16, 18 — Oeu\Tes Phil., ed. Easpe, pp. 194, 195, 199, 200. • See Barthius, Adversaria [L. xxlx. c. 1.], p. 1348, who notices this as a peculiar use of em- mkwtia. II. — Attention. [Attention is recognised as a sper-: faculty by] 1. — Philo PONDS. — In Arist. De Anima, p. 167 [Lat. TransL, Lugd. 1544; Siga. 0. v., Gr. ed. Venet. 1535], where is no- ticed at length the opinion of ' some recent interpreters,' with whom he agrees touching rh vpofffKriKhv {fx4pos), which, in their view, includes both Consciousness and Attention — if not Reflection. [See above, p. 942 a. — Ed.] 2.— Michael Ephesius (or Eustratius). —In Arist. Eth. Nic. L. ix. c. 9 (f. 160 b, ed. Gr. 1536 ; p. 388, ed. Feliciani, 1542.) 3. — By Michael Psellus, irpoaoxh is mentioned as a middle faculty of mind, De Omnifaria Doctrina, § 46. Tlpoaoxh 5^ iarri KaG* ^v wpoaixo/JLep To€Tai' oD yiip oUfV iavriiv ri x^^P* ^ ^^^ ^* "''*"' ffwfidrwv. *AAA* ot»8€ ai &\ irpbs eoirr^i' imcrrpfirriKSv. Kol SelKwrat 8ii toiJS* Kol /ie'xp* T^s aiffeiorfus Vfiuv rh KoyiKW Zir^Kov ftye koL utaOiiffis fi kvdpwwfla eou- T^j &tni\fiimKii- yiyvuffKfi ydp vus iavrh rb aiir0ap6fi€vov, 8t6 ajiaBav6fi€vov iavrb yvupiCfi' Kol Bik rovro ivurrpiipop vphs iavrh Kal avrh Icanov Sv — and then he shews that this is a power higher than a bodily faculty, and therefore separable from body ; for the pai- ticles of body, lying each without the other,^ cannot be converged (m/WKC^i) on seUl 91 S OH THE TERMS flVOTE KOTE K. 1 IMAGE, IMPRESSION, TYPE, &c. 919 ©c. 15, 16, 43, 82, 83, 187, 188 (See Eu- genios, pMych., p* 78 sq.) ; PMhpmm^ In. Arist. De Aiiiiiiiit,.Prci«iii. Sign. A. iv. ; Afmiwa Fcdmrim, Be Immortiilitate Aui- inonim, L. ii ▼. 125 eq. ; £K Memdui, Be Contomptu Mortia, L. ii. r. 815 (Poem- ata, ed 1640, p. 397) ; i>. MuAanwHf Hist. An. Hum., p. 634. ; Gamendij Phy- fiica. Sect iii., Memb. Post., L. ix. c. 2 ; limtf M&re^ [^ux«B«»Buria Platonica, or a Pktonicall Poem of fcEo Immortality of Souls, &c. (Cambridge, 1642), Book il Cant. iii. Stanza 27 ; Book iii. Cant, ii., Staim 23-26] ; Sir John Davies^ Poem on the Immortality of the Soul, [Sect, ii.] ; Gocleniw, Lex. Phil., v. Reflexus (Wolf, Paych." Emp., § 267) ; Descartes, pansim [See Epist. P. ii. ep. 2, 6. — Ed.]; Be la Forge, in note on Descartes' De Homine, art. 77, et alibi pluries; Glanvillf Defence of the Vanity of Dogmatising (1665), p. 20; Maifne, Emmj on Consciousuefis, p. 217. NOTE I. THAT THE TEMMS IMAGE, IMPRESSION, TYPE, IfOl, IN PHILOSOPHICAL THEORIES OP PEECEPTION, AlE NOT TO BE TAKEN LITERALLY. [leferoncea.— From I. P. 254 a, 256 b, 257 a, 353 b, 355 a.] [This Note does not appear to have lieen written. The following fragment relate! to one of the fiubjects intended to be disoniMd in it. See above, p. 353, note t. — Ed.] Reid 18 wrong in statinjj, that Ariatotle imputes the defect of memory in children and old persons, to the braiii, in the one case, being * too soft to retain imprea- pions,* and, in the other, 'too hard to receive them.' In the ^rti pkee, the primary sensorium, where these impret- piona are to be madfe, is not, in Aristotle'i doctrine, the brmn, but the heart In the ieemd; Reid and other philcsophers do Ariilotle, here and elaewhere, injustice, in lakhighis expresaioiis in a strictly lite- ral signification. His statement, on the subject in question, is found in the int oha^tor of hia treatise On M'emor^ mul Me- mmimimc Thetslstiiis, in his panplmw on this chapter, literally following the Aphrodisian (IIcpl Vux^s— «e^. wtpl *ay- rturias), and literally followed by Michael of Ephesus (cis rh ir*pj Mviifiris ko.) 'Ai^o- ftrhorfm — vpool/i.), declares it to be the doctrine of Aristotle and the Peripatetics — that the term timjMTM {r&wos) is one almmvdif employed, from the poverty of the language, and that it serves only to Indicate, vaguely and in general, a certain organic affection, not, as it would properly imply, any depmsion, eminence, and igure in the sensorlum. For what, they ask, would be the fignre of white, or in general of colour f What the figure of the objects of amiH, imte, and hearing t This reduces it to Bald's own opinion ; for he, equally with Gassendi, admits the depend- ence of memory on some organic disp<>.si. tion of the sensorium, (p. 354 b). It is, perhaps, hardly worthy of notice that Brown (Leol. zzz. p. 191) attempts to refute the doctrine of Species, only by fastening on it the very absurdity ridi- culed by the most illuBtrious interpreters of Aristotle; he was also ignorant that I he common opinion, even of the Latin Schoolmen, denied species to every sense, except those of sight, and hearing, &c. [The following translations of the pas- sages of Alexander, above referred to, have been found among the Author's papers. They are from the treatise Utpl VoX^Sf printed at the end of the works of Themistius, Aid. 1534, ff. 135 b, 136 a.— Ed.J * Now what Phantasy (or Imagination) is, we may thus explain : Let us conceive that from the energies about objects of sense, there is formed, as it were, some type or impress (rivos), and picture {ava- Cuypilupniia), in the primary sensory (i.e. that part of the body with which the sen- sitive part of the soul is connected), being a relict of the motion determined by the sensible object — a relict which, when the sensible object is no longer present, re- mains, and is preserved, as a kind of image {uKiov) thereof, and which, in consequence of being thus preserved, becomes the cause to us of memory. Now, such type or impress, as it were, is called Phantasy {'^amatrla, but I would read tftdvra4rfia) ; and therefore Phantasy is defined an im- pression (rvTruais) in the soul, and an im- pression in the mind (iv riyefioviK^). The type or impress itself is not, however, to be called imagination ; for imagination is properly the energy of the imaginative faculty about this imprcbs as its object, * It is necessary to understand the term type or impress (r^os) in a looser signification in reference to Imagination. In its proper meaning, this word conveys the notion of elevation and depression, or the figure made by something impressing something impressed, as we see exempli- fied in the case of a seal and wax. But the relicts in us from sensible objects are not of this nature ; for the correspondent apprehensions in the primary acts of sense were not realised through any figure. For of what figure is white, or in general colour ? or, again, of what figure is smelH It was, however, necessary, from the want of any proper appellation, to employ a metaphoiical expression to denote the vestige and relict which remains in us from sensible objects.' Following Alexander, like cautions are given by two other of the Greek Inter- preters of Aristotle in regard to the same or similar expressions — viz., by Themis- tius in his Commentary on the Third Book De Anima, f. 93 a, ed. Aid. 1534, and in his Commentary on the De Memoria et Reminiscentia, f. 96 b; and by Michael Ephesius in Lis Commen- tary on the latter work, f. 127 b, ed. Aid. 1527. In like manner Plotinus guards against misconception in the employment of such terms, by observing that the things they denote have no magnitude, no configura- tion, no elevation or depression, and eveu in some cases are not produced by im- pulse. Enn. iv. L. iii. c 26.* [The following additional references from the Author's Common-Place Book relate to the subject of this note. — Ed.] Excellent passage of Simon Simonim (De Mem. et Rem. p. 290 D), to show thati words, image, impression. &c., only meta- phorical and from penury of language, aa Themistius also notices/t* See also De Villemandy, Scepticismus DebellatuB, &c., p. 184. [' Sed haec omnia sunt metaphorica vereque typica. In hisce imaginibus nullus fere color, qui splendeat ; in his umbris nullus est lucin radius, qui emicet. Verum cum nuUi kuc- currant nobis characteres, quibus earum conditionem circumscriptius definiamus, necesse est his simus coutenti, &c.'J * The words of Plotinus are : 'AAAcit rrpwroir flip ol rxmoi oh fxeyedrj- ovB* &, aW' & rpSvos oiov vdrjais, Kal iirl rwv alar- drjTwv. — Ed. t The passage of Simonius is as follows. Sub- stantially, though not verbally, it is taken from Themistius. ' Quare cum sentimus, idem fera accidit, quod cum aliquid sigillo obsignatur. N.amque sicuti efiigies tantum, quse a sigillo im- priniitur, in cera inanet, sigillum vero ipsuiii abjungitur, ita a rebus extrinsecus objectis quasi effigies et figura qusedam mediis sensibus exteri- oribus in primo Aestheterio, nempe corde, qui sensus origo et fons est, pingitur et insculpitur, in quo demum effigies et figura ilia, quamvis res ipsa sensilis abjungatur, inanet. Hane figuram et effifiiem, nunc speciem, nunc simula^yrum, ali' quando imaginem, aliquando impressionem, neo- non motionem, sensionem, et passionem vocnrt solemus, non tamen jtroprie, ut Themistius vumuU^ sedpenuria aptiorum. vocainilorum,' Ac— Ed. Nl JN \/ X Hi Jjt NOTE M. AM iPirV^ HT.A'PA'Nrm TkttfWnTKV A13* 'P1i*nr*1i'PTTAV ON THE DOCTEINE OF SPECIEB, Afi HELD BY ARISTOTLE AND THE ARISTOTELIAKS. pteferenoeB.~lVom I. P. 296 % 868 b.] [References.— From L P. 254 a, 267 a, 268 a, 271 b, 296 a, 313 a, 326 b, 368 b.] [No part of this Note appears to haTe been written. The following extracts from the Autho/s Common-Place Book exhibit some of the materials which would probably have been employefl for it. A few further remarks may he found in the Lec- tiiires on Metaphysics, toL ii. p. 32. — Eb.] On the Platonic doctrine of Perception, see Bernardm, Semiuarium Philosophise FlatonicsB, p. 821 ; Tmnemann^ Plat. FMLf ii. pp. 15-36, 156 sq.; Qesch. der PML, ii. p. 248. The fflBwAa only modifications of the iniMl itselfi determined by the impres- lions (Kirfifffis) of the external something (rims) on the oignn. of lenae, as aieoted by them — «Ji#f, ira#%Mrflk N.B. — Sense (in mind) ie not an alteration — ^affection — passion, but the recognition of it in the living organ of sense.* On Plato's theory of vision, iee Galen, Be Plao. Hippocr. et Plat., L. vii. o. 6, ed. Chart. Empedocles and Plato (though not con- stant) held that Tision accompliahed by light going out of the eye, aa Hfom a lantern; ArisMk, De Sensu et Sensili, [c. 2, § 6], who refutes them. Compare .Simon Simonim [Comm. in eundem lib- niin], p. 63. Oalen adopted the same theory, and is abused for it by Sealger, {De SubiUitaU, Exerc ccxcviii., § 16) ; also * fbfl remark of Otlen. See De^ Bae. Hippocr. el Hal, H vIL 0. i, ed Chart Ol^icovi' kk- hdamis iffTW ^ olirffiririr, &s fmd fmrm. the ancient Mathematicians or Opticianfl in gHMral, who are attacked by Aristotle {De Se$u» et Semili, c. 2, § 14), and by Alexander Aphrodisiensis on that book (f. 98, ed. Aid. ) See an excellent discus- sion on this in Simon Simouius, p. 82 sq. St Augnstin (De Quant. Anima), c. 23) pliktoniies on Vision, but is not consistent. See Be Trinitate, L. xi. c. 2. That Plato did not really hold so absurd an opinion, (which is given up by Ficinus), see ScaUgery De Subtilitate, Exerc. cccxxv. On Platonic ideas, see Balforem^ in Arist. Organ., p. 65 ; NorriSf Miscellanies, p. 435, ed. 1687 ; A. Smithy Essays, p. 119, ed. 1795; Herhart, Lehrbuch zur Einlei- tung in die Philosophie, § 120-25, p. 207 sq., 3 ed. 1834. The Platonists do not explain (do they noti) how maintaining the mind to be merely active in sensation, and only oper- ating about affection in organ— how the mind is determined, without being affected, to act thus — ^what is the mode of connec- tion between the suggestion of the K6yos and the bodily passion. In treating of Pkto's theory of percep- tion (af(r0t}0-if ) we have nothing to do with his theory of the higher powers (viz., ZtdvotOy reason, and ^p6vriffis or vovs, in- tellect)— nothing to say to the relation of sensation to the intellect and reason; and the iKMrnkoL of the senses have nothing to do with the objects of the higher powers. It is nothing to our present purpose that Plato held that the senses give us no real knowledge, ie., no representation of the ices of things in themselves. Tenne- \, Plat. PhiL, a p. 200. The hypothesis, that the immediate object of perception is something dif- ferent both from the external object and from the mind itself, owes its origin not merely to a metaphysical opinion in regard to the impossibility of an immediate com- munication between two substances so opposite as Mind and Matter; but has been likewise introduced as a physical supposition, to account for the communi- cation between the external object and the mind. And, as a physical hypothesis, it has been used, not merely in the infancy of natural science, to afford a medium of communication between the external ob- ject and the sense; but it has likewise been employed by some philosophers, who limited the mind to the region of the brain, to connect the intellectual perception with the affection of the organ. By Democritus and Epicurus,* who * Leucippua and Empedoclea— 8«e Aristotle, De Seasu et Sensili, [c. 2, § 10 ; where, among the theories of Empedocles regarding^sight, is men- tioned one which ascribes it rats airo^polais reus iird r&v dpwfifvcov. (Cf. Plato, Meno, p. 76.) Empedocles and Leucippus, as well as De- mocritus, are also probably among the apxoiioi, mentioned in c. 3, { 15, in connection with the same theory. More express mention of all these phUosophers is made in De Oen. et Corr., L. L c. 8. See also Theophrastua, De Sensu, Sfi 7, 50; Pteudo-Plutarch, De Plac. PhiL, iv. 8, 9. For Epicurus, see Lucretius, iv. 33, 726; Diog. Laert., X 49. All these philosophers held the soul to be material, and, consequently, adopted the theory of representative effluxes, not to account for the both believed only in the existence of Matter, the medium of communication between the organ and the object, and the whole process of sensation and thought, was transacted by the intervention of certain fine images or exuviae (elfJJwAo, itTrSji^ouu, airoeTTttireis, exuvice, imagines species, simulacra rerum), which were con tinually thrown off from the surfaces of bodies.* ' Esse ea quae rerum simulacra vocamus, Quae, quasi membrane summo de corpore rerum Dereptae, volitant ultro citroque per auras.'— [Lucretius, iv. 34.] This theory found little favour among the other philosophers of Greece ; and Aris- totle, to whom a similar opinion is com- monly attributed, contented himself with intercourse between mind and matter, but to ex- plain the mode of communication between the organ of sense and its object. — Ed.] * The species [avS^poiaij jSci/jUora) of Demo- critus and Epicurus were only given by these philosophers in sight. The other senses had qualities of things themselves for objects. See Gassendi, Opera, ii. p. 338, and i. p. 443, Ac. [This distinction must be understood as relating not to the emanations themselves, but only to their representative character. This is expressed in the words of Gassendi :— • Atque haec quidem fuisse causa videtur, quamobrem Epicurus et alii species sen spectra, et imagines simulacrave rerum ita dixerint ac descripserint, ut res visi- biies soliun attinerent; supponentes \idelicet pertingere ad cseteros sensus non imagines sou- orum, sed sonos, non simulacra odorum, sed odores.'— Ba] iff fiVOTE It. tlie obMiTttion, tbat the mind obtains a peroeption of external objecta throngli an impraasion on the organs of nnw, without tletermining the nature of this impm- iion, or explaining ihe connection Iwlween the sensual. affiBCtion and Ihe in'telleotual knowledge.* But, although Aristotle had not attempted to expound the origin of our pereeption of external, oiigeda after the manner of Bemooritus, nevertlieI . non quod sint entia flctitia, sed acosdsnt praiime ad ease spiritnalc, ideoque vldeaatarsimillasctlbitsintellsctuB ct voluntatis, quos appellant iM$ntiones. Vel iterum sic di- cuntur, qucd sscamvehendo ol^wU0&imHtfor- mam, m »pmkm, tribuant tali objecto in potentia niodum existendi, quem non habet inse ; quem- admodum intellectus cogitando de rebus, illis tribuit quiBdam attrilnitii, v.c. quod sint sub- jectum, pnedicstmn, gems, species, &c., quibus carent citra considerstionem mentis: unde fit, nt sicnti Iioglci .sppsilant Ma attri.bate iafss- tUtm, quasi fabrfosttaies tatellectns UnSintU in rem Utam: its Animaatici vocant esse datum ol^ecto per tales imMiss, intentionale, id est, non ietnnii. sed reale dinhmtom, ut Jam dixim.usi' KOTB M.] DOCTRINE OF SPECIES. 958 likeness they impressed on the particular faculty of knowledge to which they be- longed, whether that faculty were the intellect or the sense, and whether the senRe were the external or internal.* These Species were distinguisbeJ, both in the intellect and in the sense, either as species impresses or as species expr€S8CC,f A species impressa was the vicarious exist- ence itself, as emitted by the object, as im- presBcd on the particular faculty, and as concurring with that faculty in its opera- tion. A sj)ecies expressa was the opera- tion itself, elicited by the faculty aud the impressed species together ; that is, a perception or an intellection, as including both the object and the act.t The species impressa was the partial cause of the cog- nition as co-operating with the mind ; the species expressa was the result and consummation of the act : the former was to the mind the virtual, the latter the formal, similitude of the object. A species fitted to affect the sense, was called a sensible species (ppecies sensibilis) : it proceeded immediately from the object, either by instantaneous transition or by continuous propagation, to the sense ; § and, if not altogetlier immaterial, was of an intermediate nature between matter and spirit The senses were either the * See Irenaeus, In Arist. De Anima, p. 45. *Pcr sjwies intentionales intelligimtur minimre quadam entitatcs, quae siniilitudinem objecti, a quo exeunt, continent, imprimxmtque cognosci- tivae potentia*, ad quam tendunt: siveea potentia ait intellectus ; sive sensus, isve intemus aut extemns. Dixi cognosatirce, nam de iis solum potentiis nunc agimus : utnnn vero etiam dentur respectu voluntatis et appetitus sensitivi, con- stabit ex dicendis de modo, quo intellectus movet voluntatem, et phantasia appetitum.' t * Species alia impressa, quam objectum im- primit in potentia ; alia expressa, quam potentia in se exprirait et format. Existimo earn ita vocari quia exprimit objectum; exprinw enim o])ponitur verbo adwmfcro; hoc significat obumbratara sive umbra tectam flguram, illud vero claram et aper- tam.' Hurtado de Mendoza, Universa Philoso- phia, p. 653. * Species impressa est qualitas quie loco objecti praebetur potentisB cognoacitivae, ut Bimul cum ilia concurrat ad actum,' Ibid., p. 610. t Irenaeus, In Arist. De Anima, p. 45, ' Appel- Inntur quoque gpe.cies impresscp, ad distinctionem aliamm, quas vocant species expreit,.l external— Bight, hearing, &c.~or the in- ternal. These were generally accounted four: — the common sense (sensus com- munis), the imagination (phantasia), the sensitive judgment (potentia sestimativa or cogitativa), the sensitive memory (me- moriasensitiva). Many, however, counted only three, not distinguishing the sensi- tive judgment from the imagination ; some acknowledged only two, the common sense and the imagination ; while others again admitted only the common sense.* The species of the intellect were called intel- ligible species (species intelligibiles), and were altogether immaterial. The intellect was twofold — the Active (agens), and the Passive or Possible (pas- sibilis, patiens, vel possibilis), which a few held to be distinct principles, many to be distinct powers, and some to be the same power manifested in different relations. The function of the Active Intellect was, on occasion of the species in the internal senses, to fabricate from itself spicies iwpressw for the Passive Intellect. These intelligible species were * The following note lias been compiled from memoranda in the Author's Common-Place Book. On the Internal Senses, and the different divi- sions, and number of them, given by different Schoolmen, see Toletus, In Arist. de Anima, L. iii. c. 3, qu. 6 ; Piccolominetis, Physica, p. llflO sq. ; Conimbricenses, In Arist. De, Anima, L. iii. c. 3, qu. 1, art. 1 ; Eustachiiis, Summa Philoso- phise, Phys., P. iii. tract, ii. disp. 3, qu. 1; IremrHn, In Arist. De An., p. 66; Gassendi, Pliys., .Sett, iii., Menib. Post., L. viii. cc. 1, 2; La Chamhre, Syst^me de I'Ame, L. ii. c. 3, p. Ill (ed. imA); Tosca, Comp. Phil., t. vii. p. 194 ; Krug, Lexikon, V. Sinn.— Avicenna, Algazel, Albertus Magmus, and Jandunus (see Toletus, 1. c.) agree in giving five: Sensus Communis, Imxiginatio, Aidimaiio {vTr6\ifi^i%)^ Phantasia, and Memoria: but dillcr in their account of them (in re). St Thomas (Summ. Tlieol , P. i. qu. 78, art. 4) and Averroes (In De Anima, L. iii. comm. 6) give four : &ru9t*» CommuniSy Imaginatio, Aistimatio (quaj in Ho- inine est Cogitatio), and Mevwria. Toletus (I. e.) and Zabarella (Comm. De Anima, L. ii. c. 12) hold three: Sensus CommuniXf Phantasia (vel Imaginatio vel jEstimatio), and Memoria; and the foimer thinks that Aristotle and the Greeks held as he does (but see Gassendi, 1. c). Galen and his followers (Conimbricenses, La Chanibre, 11. cc.) also give three: Imaginatio, Cogitativa, and Memoria: — Averroes (De Anima, L. iL comm. 63, and L. iii. comm 6, 20) first (?) dis- tinguished Cogitatio from Phantasia and Me- moria. This faculty of Cogitatio versant about particulars, comparing them together; different from Mens. See Simon Simonius, De Mem. et Rem., p. 269. On Cogitativa, as a material faculty, called also Matio particvlaris, v. £er- nurdi Bern. Phil. Arist., p. 261.— En. HI 0N THE AEISTOTELIAH' flfVITR ML nol, lMwieT«r|, formal or ^tlwlracted from ttio ptmtHiwitii or ■wii.lite 9fmki$, ^ffmtff ' tli#' iiitoIlMl| ■■ wliollf' immft* tor, aa il oonH not contempliifte, mi it could not fabrioato from the mal- •tial apedeB of tlio intomal Bonaee, an iamatarial apodoa proportioned to ita nature and umiM'ffd to' concur in an act of 'InteOooliial kimirtttdge.* By a con- ▼ersioii of the Active Inittleet towardi the phantaams or aenaible apeoies, a cer- tain ilmUitiide of the external objeoti abatiaiited imm its individual conditiona, ia occasioned In the Passive Intellect, which similitude constitutes its impressed. 'Bpeeiea, — the specka intdiigtt^m 'tsiiifes'- sn.'t' It waS' the common opinion that in- telijgiMe apeeiiM were wImiIIj the work of the mind itself. The function of the Passive or Pceailile Intellect is to receive the 4Mdet taqpinati from, the Aottve In- teilaet :and to 'eo-opentte with them unto a perfect act of knowledge— an intellec- tion — ^a jpccies inidligi^iMa expresaa. It was not, therefore, called pamvtf as if without an enenof, but m receiving the species producedliy the Active Inlelect, by which, as it were impregnated, it could pfodnee an actual cognition. In point of .ibcl. its activity, 'though subsequent,, is of A higher and noreendurliigchttncler Iwin that of the subordinate and miniBtering intellect specially denominated oieltfe, -— constituting, as it does, the supmiie energy of conscious intellection.); * Those who held the absolute immateriality of •ensible spedeii of ooorHe held their Immediate coateiaiilatifMi by the iat^ect* w.hii!]i 'wat then said,, not' mnmrti ii^mi' fionliiiiMrla, but «|Mm- liiri pkantawmtOet, We shall have to notice the correspondence of this doctrine with that of Descartes, i ¥ide S. Thomom, apod Iremnim, p. 14#. P%e passage referred to fs from Biimnia, P. i Qn. Ixnv. aii 1. * Phaataaaiata earn aint ataillu- dinet ladividnoraa., it existant in oigaiila cor* poria, nonhabent eundemmodmn exlstendi quern tiahtt tatdlMtua Imiiianus, ut ax diettS'fatati et idee aoa 'pMsniit .ma virtate imprteere in. 'Imtd- leetnnt poaiifaiein. Sed virtute intellectos agen- lis restiltat qaadam similifendo in iDteUectu poi- 'pfaantaamala, f» Common-Plaot * Both sensible and intelligible spedes are denied by Odbam, (In 11. Sent., Qn. 15, 18), by hia epitomator, Bkl, (In ii. Sent, Dist. iii. qu. 2), by Jtaifianfiiu, (In ii Sent.,I)ist. iii. qu. 6), and by A^km^ On the Sentences, (see Capreolns, In ii. Sent, Diet iiiqtL 2, p. 176); aimhy Buceafernm, (apud Piccolonilnel PhyBif!a,p 1304), and by Pio ebkminem himself, (p. IMS). Cf. Lalemandet, CurouB PhilosopUcus, p. !M. Nor did the Nomi- nalists allow that in their opinion toucliing 8i>ecies they were opposed by the authority of Aristotle. ■As to the texts of tite pbiosopher quoted in sup^ port of this hypothesis, where he says, for exam- ]il% 'that IntcUiCt'ta 'fseipttvc of .■peci'e8,-«and the place of ■pecle8,--41iat a stone itMlf is not in the mind, but its species, &o., we answer ;— That by species Arlatotie means ■tmply the cognitive acta theaiaelvca,. which are called species,, because :iiivelvinf a .simiitude (a representation) of the ohlect cognised. For a stone ia not in the mind of him who thinks of a stone, but the cognition (or act representative) thereof, during which the intellect is in the state of understanding a stone ; and of these cognitions (npsientatians) the mind is the phMse.* BM, [In ii Seni, Bisi 111 qu. 8, BB, SK-I: compare Ockam, In ii. Seni, Qu. 17, B. CFor Dnrandns, see ComimbHeen9e$, In Arist. Be Anima, p^ 18% e4 1617, and the ei- tracts quoted in a nota to fie Author's Lteturm on MMtfill^ktt voL Ii p. 86. For Plato's and AiiitoHtfi llMoilsa, see above, pp. 262 b, n. *, 897, n. *, and Let$mm amM^ofkntim, L c— En.] t This was done by llwae who held the phan- tasms to be sullatalli without the aid of intol- ^igihiw species. 'This view was iB i lit fflnfd by HOTl M.] DOCTRINE OF SPECIES. 955 others admitting them for Intellect, de- nied them for Sense. * Some again, ac- cording them in Sense, limited their ad- mission to the external senses ;t while in these, few allowed them in all; smell, taste, and touch being usually supposed to require nothing vicarious of their ob- jects. X Opinions touching the Intelligible Spe- cies were divided into two hostile classes, according as the many maintained the intelliffible species and the intellectwn to be two things really distinguished from each other, in nature and in time ; while the few denied intelligible species as aught really different from, or existent betbre or after, intellection. § /oannet Bacconim, (In i. Sent. Prolog, qu. 2, art. 2, § b;)—Go^redu8, (Quodl. ix. qu. 19 ;)— ifenrictw Gwndavensii, (Quodl. iv. qu. 7, 8; Quodl. v. qu. 14.) See Conimbricenses (In De Anima, p. 429), who also refer to Theophrasim, Tliemistius, and 49mpace, as holding a similar view. Cf. Cap- WOlus, I. c, and Zabarella, De Rebus Naturali- bus, p. 982. Henricus (QuodL v. qu. 14) al- lows the species expressa, but denies the species im^esna: see Capreolus, t. ii. p. 153. Compare Caamann, Psychologia Anthropologica, p. 101. * See Cfregorius Ariminensis, In i. Sent, Dist. iii qu. 2; In ii. Sent., Dist. vli qu. 3. Cf. Dan- dinus, De Corpore Animato, ff. 1153, 1981. For various theories, see Philippus a 8. Trinitate, Sunima Philosophic^, Lugd. 1648, p. 581. [He mentions, as denying species in sense, Galen, Plotinus, and others; in intellect, Tlumistiua and others; in both, Ockam, BiM, Durandus, and others. See also Toletus, In Arist. De Ani- ma, L. ii. qu. 33; L. iii qu. 21.— Ed.] t This is partially done by F. Borue Spei, (Phy- sica, Para iv. Disp. vi § 32 ; Disp. x. § 2.) who allows species in the sense of sight, while he agrees with the nominalists in rejecting them for the internal senses. On the other hand, they are maintained in both by Suarez, HuHado, Ar- riaga, Oviedo, TdUz, Murcia, PoncinSt Fronwn- dm, and, in general, by the Thomists and Scotists. [Tlie nominalist doctrine, however, as regards the internal senses, has been variously repre- sented. See Toletus, In Arist. De Anima, Lib. ii qn. 83 ; Dandinus. De Corpore Animato, f. 1153. J Bee Arriaga, Curs. Phil., De Anima, Disp. iv. ; Hurtado de Mendoza. Universa Philosophia, De Anima, Disp. xii. Sect.l. Cf. Vallesius, Controv. Medic, et Philos., L. ii c 81. Thus in those senses In which objective perception predomi- nates, species were usually given ; in those in which subjective sensation predominates, they were usually denied. i That species (intelligible) are only modifica- tioni of the mind itself, see Melanchthon, De Anima, [De Intellectu. p. 187, ed. Lugd. 1555]; Piccolomineus, De Mente Humana, L. iii c. 7. Some of the Schoolmen held them to have no SDtity, and that Inteltectual cognition was only a In the former class, however, opinions differed ; some holding that the intellect Lad a peculiar species, as a peculiar ope- ration, of its own; while others main- tained, that, though it energised after its own fashion, it did this only in turning towards the phantasmata or species of in- ternal sense, which thus served, in a sort, as vicarious objecte to the higher as to the lower faculties of cognition.* Ac- cording to the former opinion, (which was the one generally adopted, and of which Aquinas and Scotus were illustri- ous leaders), the species impressa is some- thing superadded to the intellect, being a certain spiritual accident elaborated by the active intellect from the rude ma- terial of phantasms, and impressed in the passive intellect as its subject; and, while preceding the act of intellection in the order of time, is preserved in the faculty after the cessation of its act, ready to be anew called out of habit into conscious- ness, — the intellection and the impressed species constituting together the species expressa intellecttis — verbum mentis. Ac- cording to the latter opinion, (of which Henry of Ghent and Joannes Baeconius were the original representatives), there is no species impressed in, no new quality superadded to, the passive intellect ; the phantasms alone, as sublimated by the active intellect, and (by reference to the phantasy) under the name of species ex- presscB, being held sufl&cient to cause or to occasion intellection.f As to the modes of the operations of the Active Intellect on the phantasms, in spi- ritualising the material, in denuding the singular of its individuating conditions — processes necessary, on either opinion, to assimilate the faculty and its object — as was to be expected, all is vague, and vai*y- ing, and controversial. J [This indeed is the case with the details of the theory in general, as regards both sensible and in- telligible species : the following varieties of opinion may be cited as instances.] Some held that the mind had the power within itself of suggesting or creat- ing the species, when determined to this act by the external affection of the senses. Some held that the mind had innate habit or certain relation to an object present. See Casmann, Psychol. Anthropoi, p. 101. (Not§ in Author's Common-Place Book.) ♦ See Conimbricenses, In Arist. De Anima, pp. 429, 430— Ed. t See above, p. 954, note t. t See on this point Zabarella, De Rebus Katu- ralibus, p. 1008. 95i' ^&F fP" ™^ ON THE ARISTOTELIAN [irOTB M. NOTE M.] DOCTRINE OF SPECIES. 957 ipMifli, wMA wcra merely excited by llio inijpniiioii of the outward object.* Some held, with St Austin, in regmrd to intelligible ipecliMi, that w© know every- thing in the diviiie intellect, ralioiijftici mtemis, like Miilebniiiohe.t Some held that the Active Intellect did not exielt; The Nominalists in .general held the Active and ^Ftaaive Intellects to be only the same power in two different relations. Indeed, alter Scotus and St Austin, they allowed the various faculties to be neither really distinct from the soul nor from each other, but all to be only the same indivisible principle operating differently only as operating in different respects, g iSome held the mbatantial distinction of the Active and Plmsive Intellects;, and of theee^ some held that the Active In- tellect is a substance distinct from the hu- man mind, and thalit is^ona wd the same in, all men, and not' 'diferent from God ; |> while others maintalDed the unity of the passive or possible intellect really sepa- rate from the mind of the individual, but aBsiating it and conjoined by the images in the phantasy : from these images, il- luminated by its light, they held that the intellect receives the intelligible species, * JvteiiiM and other AraUiin% ABeHm Moff- nm in some degree. See Genuensia, Elemeiitii MetapliyBicai (Venet. 1748), P*rg ii. pp. 143, 144. t Gemuensis, L c. [who dies Si Thmam, Suw- iiiffl, Para i Qa. 84, sit & Bw* see below, Nute .—Mi.} I PuraitdiiB, Tmacus Naf^memi*^ aM others. [See Conimbricenses, In Do Anlma, p. 417.— Ei>.] I See St Jusmjillm, Be Trtaitate, L. x e. 11. * HiKc trim, laeaoria, intelligentia, voluntas, qiio- niam non sunt trcs vltie, »ed una vita ; nee trea nientes, sed. una mens; conseqnenter ntiqne nee Ires sttbstaotise stmt, Bed una substantia.* Ct I'Mudo-AuffUMtin, Be Spiritn et Anima, e. IS, * Dicitar anima, dnm vegetat; spiritus, dum oon- teniplatnr; senilis, dum sentit; animus, dum sapit; dum intelljgit, mens; dum. iliaeenilt,ntio{ dum reeoidatur, meneria ; dun 'Ccmaeatlt, vo- luntas, lata tamen non difrbrunt in substantia, i|uemadmodum in nominibus; qnoniam oamia ista una anima est : pitiprietates quiden dfvenie, sed essentia una* The same view is aaintafned % Seoim, In ii Sent., Dist xvi. qu. 1 ; and, among tbe Nominalists, by Oeimm, In ii. Sent. qu. 24; &reffoHm Ariminm^ In ii Sent., Dist xvi. qu. 3; Biel In ii Sent, Dist xvi qo, 1. Other aathoTities are also quoted by P. Bona Spei, Fhyrici, Pais iv. Map. iii | 4.-Bd. II Ataiander Jjiirocf it{««UM, Fruckinm iydiu, also Aviemim, dvmfae$t sad Marinvs, a Greek mentioned by Phlloponns. fflieie time last how- ever did not identify it wUh Qod.)— Ck^atatvi and JUknema, [iSee Coninibrioenaes, In De Anima, y. 117; Qennensiay Bern. Metapb. , Ii p. 1«&~je:i».] by which * consignatu^* it obtains a know- ledge of things.* Some held that species were notthenatn- valeffluiionafrom the objects,but the super- natimlpiDduction of some h%h«sr power, t QnestionB without number wera i^gitat- ed concerning the nature of the specicBt whetlier immediately or mediately pro- duoed; whether nibstance or accident, or 'between both ; whether possessing' real or only representative eslitance; whether themselves the objeota or only the con- ditions of perception; whether formally or really different from their objeots; whether those of the sense were material or spiritual; whether material in si%*eefo and spiritml tn mcxjo; whether virtual or Ibnnii ia their similitude ; whether divi- sible objectively or subjectively ; whether they multiply themselves in the external medium ; whether proper to the cogni- tive faculties, or common also to those of will, Ac, Ice. The doctrine, however, of lotentional Species continued, notwithstanding its manifest incongruities, to be the dominant and orthodox opinion in the schools of philoeophy until after the middle of the seventeeDth. oentnry, when it sunk under the new spirit of inquiry which at that period had been excited in all the de- partmenta of human knowledge. It waa chieffy to the arguments of HobbeB, Gus- sendi, Berigard, and Descartes, that wo owe the inal refutation of this doctrine; and the theory was perhaps the more easily abandoned, that the new hypothesis of a subjective representation in our per- ueption of material objects, which was tlien introduced by the kst of these philoso- nhera, afforded, as it seemed, a moro intelligible expknation of the great prob- lem in regard to the origin of our know- ledge of an external world. Traces of the aneient theory may still be found in some of the philosophical speculations of a later age, but from the period of Des- • Jwrmtf, apod Conimbricenses, In De Anm\ p. lOT. A atoikr view was held by Themistivs^ De Anima, lib. f, cont «©; Lib. iii. cont 20. {ff. 70, »a, ed. Aid.] SimpH^im, not very diflferent ; see Simpi In De Anima, lib. iii cont 2. [f. «2, ed. Aid.] On these, oorapare Cardan. Da Aalkaanm Immortalitate, Opera, Lugd. HSfSX vol. ii. p. 506, who notices some diiferences of detaU between tiiem. [See also Zaborelhi, De Rebus Natnialibtts, pu 901— En.] f Buetmfmmm made heaven the cause of spe- cies ; SMWMtmM, Ckid. See Berinard, Circulua Pia- snua (108IX p. m». plie opinions of Suessanus and BuoesflBiNOs axe examined at some length I9 ' IM M Biia . De Relnii: Nataralibnii. p. 88S..— liisl cartes we may confidently affirm that the hypothesis of a representative perception — where the immediate object was some- thing different from the mind— had been almost universally superseded by the re- presentative hypothesis, in which the vica- rious object was held only for a modifica- tion of the mind itself.* The nomencla- ture of the ancient theory was not, how- ever, abandoned along with the reality; and many even of the followers of Des- cartes continued to employ the terms gpecies, imager &c., when the acceptation in which they had been originally em- ployed had become obsolete.i* [This Note has been put together from different papers containing separate out- lines, all left unfinished. The following translations and abridgments of passages exhibiting the nominalist doctrine of spe- cies, were probably intended for the same Note. The language adopted is generally that of Biel— Ed.] A. In reference to the lower cognitive faculties,— the Sensibility, External and Internal. 1. " That by the represented object there is caused in the medium between it * On the ambiguity in the Cartesian use of the terra idea, see above, p. 273. On the subordinate question, whetherthe mental modiiication has any existence apart from the act of consciousness, the opinion of Descartes was variously interpreted by his followers. See I)iscu$tions, p. 74. Some exceptions may also be noted in those philoso- phers, such as Newton and Clarke, who main- tained the hypothesis of images in the brain. See above, p. 273, and DiscusswM, p. 80.— Ed. t De la Forge occurs first to my recollection; but the following i»assage from Chauvin, who flourished not long posterior to Descartes, may supply the place of other references. ' Sunt ta- men inter Recentiores philosophos non pauci qui retinent noraenclationes speciei impressse et ex- pressffi. Illis autem species impressa nihil aliud est, quam motus aliquis ab objectis mediate, vel immediate, exterioribus corporis partibus impres- 8US, indeque per nervos ad cerebnun transmissus ; vel certa fibrarum cerebri commotio, ex spiritu- iim aniraalium, in cerebro decurrentium, agita- tione procedens: quaj, cum nullam habeant cum rebus objectis natune similitudinem, nulla alia dc causa earum habentur reprsesentamina, quam quod ipsorum occasione mens res sibi faciat prse- (sentes. easdemque in ideis suis exinde nascenti- bus coutempletur. Expressa vea species nihil aliud quicquam est, prc^ter eam fliiiuii notionem, quae ad speciei impressjEprescn- tiam exprimitur, cujusqne attentione et intuitu res ipsa cognoscitur.' Lexicon Rationale, sive Thesaurus rhilosophicns, v. Spedu IntdligibUis. and the organ a species wholly diverse in nature from itself and previous to the act of sensitive perception — ^this is dis- proved on the principle that a plurality of causes is not to be postulated without necessity. For there is no necessity to warrant the hypothesis of such species; it being impossible to assign any manifest and suffioient reason for its adoption. Such a reason must proceed, either on the ground of experience, or of some self-evi- dent principle a priori. Not the former — for as the adv> .ates of this theory ad- mit, that Species are not themselves per- ceived, we have consequently no possible experience of their existence, as a fact. Not the latter — for the principle that the mover and the moved must coexist in reciprocal propinquity, is ineompeteut to legitimate the a88umi)tion. For," &c. — the demonstration I must omit. Ockani, Id Sent. L. iL qu. 18 F. ; Biel, In Sent. L. ii dist. iii- qu. 2 E. Compare also Durandus, In Sent. L. ii. dist. iii. qu. 6, § 15. 2. " That in the outer sense, either organ or faculty, there is impressed a Species previous to the sensitive act and necessary for its causation, is disproved, like the foregoing assumption, on the score of its gratuity. For to determine such au act in the oigan of the external sense, there is required alone the material object and the unimpeded sensitive power." Ockam, Biel, 11. cc. ; Durandus 1. c. § 21. 3. " Moreover, if such Species were ad- mitted as a concause with the sensitive power in producing the act of sensitive perception, it would be a natural cause. Suppose then that by God it were pre- sei-ved in the sense, the object represented by it being annihilated. On this hypo- thesis, the Species would, along with the power, continue to cause the act of sensi- tive perception, seeing that it remains unchanged either in its existence or in its nature. But the act of sensitive j)ercep- tion is an intuitive cognition, and there would thus naturally be determined an in- tuitive cognition of a non-existent object ; which is impossible." Ockam, Biel, 11. cc* * It should have been added— there would thus also be rendered problematical the exist- ence of an external world; but Idealism, as such a consequence, was not yet developed.— It ought, however, to have been shewn, that the hypothesis of Species in sensible perception is in truth a negation of a trae intuitive, or immediate, appre- hension of external thinffs. But the same objec- tion might have been brought against Ockam's own doctrine of perception ; nor did this escape the observation of another acute nominalist and ' \ 9m OH TUB ARISTOTELIAM [ROTB Mi I. " For for tlie infceraal sense, or Iiiiagi« astfon,, is there need of 8iip|iMli|g' mtf 8|Meies4isliiicl from tlie eqgnilife'eiieny. For,"' (imi 'tik ia a prafimiid obtertBtion in irMdi modem pluloaopliers are antiei- fiilid,) ''along with the act of intuitive flpgnilifm in 'Oileiiial. perception, there is^ ■lif^fB" a eoneomilant act of abetmdive (repteaentalive) cegnition hy the phan- tasy, which, when the external ohjeel is removedi tends ever, through the well- ino'wn. ini'itenioe of habit, to .repeal itself; eonseqiientl^, to explain* Ihe 'piiiniiiiiena of imsgination and memory, there is no necessity of resorting to the idle hypo* thesis of repreeentative enlitli% dis^ct from, 'the mind,, and remolniii^' in It after ihe condnsion of its .acts." Ockam and Bel, 11. cc. [Ockam, Qu. 15 H. I., 17 N.; Biel, L. ii. disi iii qu. 2 H.] 5. " That thing iLiiigli whidi, as a re. 'presentaMvOy the knowing iunlly Is 'Car- eviii 'iBoratlMmiiiipigoliig't^^ of SpwiaS' 'tlitn. hinsolf,-— I MMB Dimiidiifi* la Kf ertnee' U Us doetiine,. 'Ihsl the iist act of alwtroeltve (reprmi«atatiTe> laowledge in iinagi- .aation is a limiltMieoiis coaeoinitsiii of tteact of iatuitive ccgnltion fa pem^vllcii or iatdleotf on, Oelcsan says :— ** In regard to the flrat abstrac- tive cf^ition, that which accompmiea the in- tuitive, it is to be ohserved, 'thai tht' former cognition is. caused hy 'the: latlir, wIMIier in. In- tellect or Sense, in conjunction with the laagt- 'native power, .ani. tii.'ihe' aaduion. of 'the defect '«if 'the iBtnttcn, alhelt the ccntitry may 'have hten previously stated. Because, were the in- tnitiTe cognition to mhsist,. Its ohjM'Mngah- •oltttely ann.ihilateil. Ihe ahstiaetive ccfnitlon wouMsuMslalio. iniei0twO''parthil.esaseeare'Of themselves auflWent (o determine the trot act of a cNose, but eiily a cause: ni its 'Canie. For, were Ood to destroy thC' mdmmi. oliject of .seme, con- serving, however, in sewM'ilie'fntaitive cognition 'fhtnof, the pow«r phantasy wouM atill be ffioniietonttO' an laiiilkialive act in refimnce 'to that otitect But if the intuitive oc^poithHi were destmyei, 'whcttier the eEteml. olifcci' reai^ or '•ot, it Is 'Imfcaslile list the. act^ of imagination could, except sufieiiuitnraUy. be brought to hear.** IMcam, Qu. If O. O., and Biel, L c H. The real ohfect being, on tils doctrine, excluded ttam the siihere ot y modem philo- sophsri KOTK M.J DOCTRINE OF SPECIES. 959 viously to that other, in the order of time or of nature. Such is the major: the minor is self-evident. For the species of colour in the eye, is by the eye neither seen, nor in any way capable of being seen, as the experience of every one testi- fies; therefore, &c." Durandus, In Sent. L. ii. dist. iii qu. 6. § 10. 6. " Further, if such a Species lead to the knowledge of aught else, it can only do this by reason of its similarity. Hence it is that the Species is generally described as the likeness of the thing. It thus per- forms the part and holds the relation of an image. But an image, in leading to the knowledge of that of which it is the image, is itself previously known ; this cannot, however," (as ia indeed admit- ted), " be said of the Species in question ; therefore, &c. And in truth it appears self-evidently absurd that the faculty knowing should be conducted to the knowledge of aught by a representative to it utterly unknown; whereas it is most certain that only by the known can it be led to a knowledge of the unknown." § 11. B. In regard to the higher cognitive faculty,— the Intellect. "Species are only supposed, to ac- count, 1", for the assimilation of an im- material intellect with a material object: 2*, for the representation of what cannot be known in itself; 3", for the determina- tion of the faculty to energy; 4", for the bringing into union when reciprocally re- mote, that which moves with that which is moved." Ockam, In Sent L. ii. qu. 1 4, 1 6 T. ; Biel, In Sent L. ii. dist. iil, qu. 2 L. 1". Assimilatim. — It has been an almost universal assumption of philosophers, that the rektion of knowledge infers similarity of nature between the object known and the subject knowing. Hence the common ground on which the advocates and op- ponents of species contend. Among other arguments under this head, I select the lollowing : — a.) " The object is a substance, the intellect is a substance, whereas the species, if admitted, will be an accident The intellect and object, therefore, as substances, are already more assimilated to each other than either to the proposed medium of assimilation ; and it is, there- fore, easier to suppose the intellect re- presenting to itself the object, than to suppose this represented by a Speciea" Ockam, Biel, 11. cc. b.) " The Species are either material or Immaterial; for these are mutual con- tradictories. But if immaterial, how can a material object be assimilated by an im- material Species with which it holds no analogy, to an immaterial intellect when the extreme assimilated behoves the ra- ther to be assimilated to the mean by which, than to the extreme to which, it is assimilated?" Ockam, Biel, 11. cc. 2*. Representation. — a.) "Species are not necessary for representation. For, while the object is present, it needs no- thing vicarious of itself; and when repre- sentation is required, there is implied a previous knowledge of the thing repre- sented, and the representation only leads to a recollective cognition thereof, &c. Hence to represent is convertible with to present again. Species, therefore, as sup- posed pre-existent to cognition, cannot be proposed as representative of objects." Ockam, Biel, IL cc. Compare Durandus, ibid. § 12. 3°. Determination. — ^a.) " Nor is it ne- cessary to suppose Species, to account for the determination of the power to act For every passive or recipient power is sufficiently determined by a competent active or impressive power; and this more especially when the passive power itself is also active, as in the case in question. For the intellect is an active power re- cipient in itself of intellection, and, along with the object, co-operating to the pro- duction of this energy." Ockam, Biel, 11. cc. Compare Durandus, ibid. § 13. b.) " Nor ought we to suppose Species, in order to account for the causation of intellection, on the ground, which they maintain, that the corporeal cannot act upon the incoi-poreal, and therefore that the admission of Species is necessary as a medium of operation between the material object and the immaterial intel- lect But, on their own shewing, their hypothesis is idle. For the intellectual Species is as immaterial as the intellect its subject Therefore, as the material object cannot with the passive intellect be the immediate concause of its intellec- tion, so it cannot co-operate with the active intellect in the production of in- telligible Species — a product not less spiritual than intellection itself." Ockam, Biel, 11. cc. 4". Union of the Motor and the Moved. — " Nor need we suppose Species, in order to explain the union of a remote object with the relative power, on the principle that the distant cannot act upon the dis- tant,— in other words, tliata thing cannot operate where it is not This principle, as necessitating the hypothesis of sensible Species, has already been disproved. I 1 I 960 THE DOCTRINE OP SPECIES. [WOTE 1^ (This omitted as involved in the Ockftmist Iheory of perception.) " But, in reference to the immediate question, it is incompe- tent, because the object is as distant from the intelligible Species as from the act of intellection ; for both are in the intellect In these circumstances, the object either acts by immediately causing the intelli- gible Species, on which alternative the prin- ciple is surrendered, the approximation of agent and patient not being required. Or again the object acta by causing the intelligible Species through the mediation of another Species. On this alternative, the Species pieaent in the intellect has, prior and Immediately determining its existence, another Species; this Species •gain another ; and so on indefiuitely to the object. But this is false. For the Species prior to the last or intelligible Species behove to be either material or immaterial. If material, they would then not be of the same nature {ejuadem r»tio- nis) with that which is present to tbo in- tellect, for material and immaterial are opposed in Species. Tbey could not therefore be multiplied the one by the other; for the condition of this multipli- cation is identity of nature ; and thus the immaterial Species in the intellect could not, as is supposed, be produced by the material Species in the medium. If again it be supposed that the previous Species are spiritual, then these immaterial and indivisible accidents will proceed from, and inhere in, a material and divisible sub- ject; which is not to be without necessity presumed, &c." Biel, 1. c, with Ockam, Hence, concludes Ockam, it is manifest that certain cognitive Habits in the in- tellect are to be admitted, in order to save the phtenomena, but not Species. To these arguments of Ockam and his expositor— for the latter ought not to be ivpnicd ■• a mere abbreviator— may b© added the more summary mode of reason^ ing adopted by Durandus. " That this hypothesis of Species is as inept in reference to the Intellect as to the Sense is manifest, and for the same i<^ii80ii_-viz., that it behoves the Species to be known prior to the reality it repre- sents, but this we all experience to be the converse of the truth. " Again, the iutellect is the faculty of reflection (virtus reflexiva), and it kuows itself and its contents with certainty, and, as it were, by observation and experiment. Thus we know by experience that we under- stand, and have in us a principle by which we understand. If then there existed in our intellect any such Species, it appears that we could not but know with cer- tainty that such there were; as we know with certainty of the existence of our other intellectual furniture, whether these be acts or habits. But we do not. There seems, therefore, no better reason to Rup- poae, in intellect, Species representative of its objects, than in sense; and in regard to sense we have already proved that there was none." Durandus, ibid. §§ 12, 13. The iW^^oioJ, effiuxvLS^ of Democritus and Epicurus, are decidedly non-egoistical and material ; but the species of the Aris- totelian schoolmen in their various mo- difications cannot be simply referred to the class either of corporeal or incorporeal, though there can be no doubt that in general they belong to the category of non-egoistical media. The same of the Cartesiin tifait, as of Malebranche. The cogmMm fwmm {K&yoi yvwffnKoX) of the lower Platonlits appear again to belong to the forms of egoistical representationism, as do the idm* of Arnauld and many of the Carfeeai«n school. NOTE N. THE CARTESIAN THEORY OF PERCEPTION AND IDEAS. [References.— From I. P. 266 a, 267 a, 269 a, 274 a, 296 a b, 297 b, 306 a, 368 b.] [The materials for this Note are very imperfect. The text is printed from two unfinished papers of an early date, neither of which appears to have been revised for the present work. The footnotes have been chiefly compiled from jottings and references scattered over various papers, and occasionally filled up from the article on the Philosophy of Perception in the Author's Discussions. — Ed.] The theory of Descartes relative to our perception of external objects, — separat- ing from it what is merely superfluous, and translating his terms, as far as that can be done, without prejudice to his opinions, into language more familiar to us in its application, — is contained in the following position& The essential attribute of matter is ex- tension ;* the essential attribute of mind is consciousness, t * Principja, Pars. ii. § 4. Cf. Tennemann, Ge- Bchiuhte tier Pliilosophie, vol. x. p. 252. t De Methodo, iv. ; De Passionibus AnimK, Parsi. art. 4, 17; I'rincipia, P. I J 8; Epistol, Pars i. Ep. 105 ; Pars ii. Ep. 6. Cf. Tennemann, Gpscliichte der Pliilosophie, vol. x. pp. 230, 258, 2(>0. For Conscwusness, Descartes says Thought ; but as he includes under this term thought, properly so called, feeling, and desire, that is, all the energies and affections of woich we are con- scious, and nothing more, the conversion is both legitimate and convenient. Prinfii)ia, P. i. 9 fl- it is needless to say that by Consciousness I mean, here as elsewhere, the fundamental form of all our mental modifications, and not that detenninatiou of consciousness, by which, through an act of will, we can attend with greater intensity to the laws under which our mind acts or is affected, than to the external object of the •nergy or passion. Consciousnesi properly is con- Extension and Consciousness are quali- ties not only difierent, but opposite ; con- sequently the substances to which these attributes essentially belong, are not only necessarily distinct, but even can have no natural intercourse or relation. Mind and body are, however, united ; but as their union cannot originally or subsequently depend on their natural affi- nity or physical influence on each other, it must be constituted and maintained by some power diflferent from either. The will of God is the immediate cause of this union, and his concourse is the medium of the alliance.* versant equally with the objective and with the subjective. Tlie different faculties and affections are only modified consciousness. * Cf. De la Forge, Traite de I'Esprit, p. 230 [ed. Amsterdam, chap, xr.] That Descartes was the author of the theory of assistance or occasional causes, and that his explanation of the connection between mind and body rests fundamentally on this hypothesis, it is impossible to doubt. For while he rejected all physical influence in the motion of bodies, which he referred to the gene- ral will of the Deity (Principia, P. ii. S 36, &c.), he necessarily a fortiori adopted the same suiiposition in illustrating the influence of mind and body. The fundamental position of the sys- tem is not on all occasiBDk.] I Descartes,, De^'lliSBioaibiis Aiiteie,P. L art. 17- SI; Tennemaiin, x. p. S«l, ol p. StS. [fhe diatiao- tien.. inay be Olastiated by dtiog' the voriS'' 'Of 'Btsoarlai himself. ' Padls est in nobis rastavs laod debeaaaS' tiiboere Although the mind (soul), aaunextend- od, cannot in itself be said to occupy any topical seat, yet in relation to the body aa an extended substance, its union must neointrily have reference to place. The mind Is not united to the body universally, but its connection is effected at a single point The point of alliance is the central pint of ihe bodily organisation, which is fonnd iOBiewiiere in the brain [the exact spot bemg probably the] pineal gland.* At this point all oiganic chanfp from ex- ternal causes termmate, and in thia cor- poreal change the mind is, by the nature of its union, hyperphysically determined to a relative modification.t At this point, likewise, all corporeal movements, in obe- dience to the will, commence; for the animid spirits are here in the same man- ner determined to produce the bodOy movement correspondent to the volition of the mind. To speak only of that mo- diieatmi of the mind which constitutes the petoepHon of an external object, it is evident that the mind perceives at the WOTE W.J OF PERCEPTION AND ffiEAS. 9 'fM diiiim..pMiiim sunt: qu»dain.:eaiiB.siimtAe- ttones aalmie, alhe c^us Fassiones aive AAetna QasB itjas Actiones voco, sunt omnes nostm vo- luntates, quia experimar eaa dlrecte venire ab sBina ttoatra, et videatnr ab ila sola pendere. Bienft 4 MBtcarlo pesanal In genera vocari ^ns Faasiones, omnes species pcrceptionum sive cog- nttionum. que in nobis reperioatw; quia siepe aedklit ut anima nostra eas tales non Iteiat, quales sent, et semper eaa recipiat ex rebns per illas fepmsentatis. Barsoa nostne voluntates sunt dnpUces. Nam qusdam sunt actiones animie, qufe in ipsa anima tenuinantur : sicnti cum vo- Inmiis Beam aniare, aut in genera applicaro nostfam ct^tationem alioui ol||eeto, quod non est materiale : alia sunt actiones, qus termln- aatnr ad nostrum corpus ; ut cum ex eo solo quod hsbimas .aaibulandi volaatateDi, .it «t nostra enca niofeaiittir et proffediam'Uf . ■IPtteafienss WMisMi sunt etiam duamm sped- eram ; et quadsn snimam pro causa habent, alia ceipilS. .!■: wm 'Sainani oausam habent, sunt peieflpiyknteB aMtramn volnntatum, et omnium ima^nationun aut aliaram cogitationnm quie ab ea pendant. Nam ootum est nos non pisae qule- qaSRi velle, qoin percipiamus simul an: Id velle. It quamvis raspeetu nostne animn sit Actio ali- qnid velle, potest etlsn dioi in ilia esse Passi- cMn^peicipere quod, veil Inter pensep- ticaas qiMS corporis open prodncuntur, maxhna pars eamm pendet a nervis,' Itc. fhs twofold diviaictt of actions Is omitted in thft 'twrtt^-H'x.] • De Paasionibua, P. L art 31, 85. The prtn- olpie of life, as well aa thonght» was placed by Psaosites in the pineal gland, lee Buhle^ t. 'ii. p. 18. IBat ses above^ p B84, n. «.— ISn..] t ffeindpia, P. iv. i 180 8| central point of the brain, and not at the point of affection in the organs.* An external object affects a sense.f that IB, determines it as a living organ to cer- tain movements ; these are propagated to the central point of the animal system in the brain, where a certain ultimate move- ment is produced. This is likewise the immediate point of union with the mind ; consequently the ultimate organic move- ment at this point is, in relation to the external object, the proximate cause of its perception. But the ultimate organic motion at the point of union is not in it- eelf an object of consciousness, for the mind is conscious of no affection of matter; that motion likewise does not resemble the original affection of the organ, nor did that original affection of the oiTgan re- eemble me external object by which that affection was itself excited :$ consequently there can exist no natural connection be- tween the mental perception of the ex- ternal object and the organic aflPections which constitute the conditions of that perception. Neither is it possible that the mind should, on occasion of these corporeal modifications, be determined to the immediate perception of the external object independently of the body ; for neither in consequence of its state of union can the mind perceive anything material except indirectly through its hyperphy- ■ical idliance with the body, nor indepen- dently of this union is it possible that it can have an intuitive perception of the quali- ties of matter, — that is, it is impossible that an unextended substance can have any consciousness, and consequently any im- mediate and direct knowledge, of what exists only as extended. § This ultimate modification of the organic system at the point of union, is, therefore, only the occa- sion on which, by the Author of our na- ture, the mind is hyperphysically detor- ♦ DIoptrice, c. iv. § 1. Principia, P. iv. fi 196. t On the Cartesian theory of Perception, see Buhle, p. 80. ['Descartes expliquait de la man- iftrasuivantela possibility de connaltre les objets qui frappent les sens. Les choses ext^rieures mettent les esprits vitaux en mouvement par les Impieasions qu'elles produisent : ces esprits re- moati&t au cerveau, et y forment un canal ou on type, qui correspond aux impressions et k leur nature d^terminie. Ce type n'est pas l'Id6e de I'objet lui-m6me, mais I'ftme en prend connais- ■ance, et alorsnalten elle-mSmeridee, qui diff^re done totalement du type et de I'objet qui cause llmpreaaion. L'&me combine et ^abore ensuite cea Iddes d'api^s ses lois inttirieures.'— Ed.] I Descartes, Principia, P. Iv. 1 197. Dioptrice, cvi. if 1, 3. f On the reUtion of ndnd to body in the Car- tMian Fhihwophy. seeHnhle, iii pp. SS8-8S9. mined to represent to itself the external object; and this immediate representation and vicarious object ia that alone which is known to us in itself, for it is that alone which is within the sphere of consciousness. The mental representation of the external object is properly termed an idea* The organic movement at the point of union in the brain, — though a motion, may meta- phorically be termed an impression, inas- much as it is the result of an external im- pulse, — ^though bearing no natural resem- blance to the external object, it may be • Whether the Cartesian idea is to be regarded as having an existence independent of the act of consciousness or not, was a point disputed among the followers of Descartes. Amauld (Des vraiiH et des faussea idisi P. ii ap. 64, ' Alio teain inclado fniiginiittoses In d»aiiiti(Mit cefitttloals.; alo ieitsti exeludo; mmtpeJbrimB'iim'^imimmipmrtm, gwB if«b*iil ««ft In €trebro, vt quid imoffimmur, non mni MfHoliMCi;; .Mi. •finilio miillf imagimmUi, 9im ad Mm tp§elm m 'Omiiwrfeiiilf ,. mi mifttmlto. ' Descartes did not verbally distingiaidtlistveflii llie motions in the brain, wliicli are tbe oocaslons of perceptions in the mind, and tb« representa- tions in tbe mind itself. He called tbm both idem, Tbe ambiguity is removed by De la Forge, 'Who applies tbe term * iM|icirw|. ipcete* to tit .ailbctlon In tbe brain, sad tbe 'terras '*lii«a,*' Hmtd- 'heiued n&tiom,* to tbe splfltiial representation in the conscious mind. Be rBsprit, c. 10. The image or modification of tbe bialn in the Cartesian, cor- responds to what in tbe Iieibnitlo-WoUan Scbool was called the material Idea: tbe idea, properly so called, of Descartes, or tbe^ aeiital. repesen- tation, answers to wbat was 'termed, tbt mmmi idea, by Wolf. t C8ee tbe .EeB'poi).sioae8 Qui nt«, Be iis tnie in 'Seztam .M editationem. ottfectiB. snni ' Ble f hm- ris, qmmodo mMimem im tic m^tcto liicifiiisii' recipi potm lyMdm, idemmrn eorpork qmdmltm' mm ed. Respondeo nnlhun speciem 'CapoieiMi in mente recipi, sed 'pnnun iutelectlraeiB. tam. rei corporeae qtuun fncorporea fieri absque nlla specie corporea ; ad imaglnatioDem nro, quae non nisi de rebiis corporeis esse potest, opus quidem esse spcie qm sit vema corpus, et ad quam mens se applcet, sed non quae in mente nclpia- tur'^lDL] C!eaipmIie'Clnuii,InstitntioFhi.l'o- iophlai secuBdmn 'Fktecipia Benatt 'Descartes, F. viii.c. X (ed. 4, Lond. 1680, p. 63T):— 'Itaenimsu- inus a Natun oompaiatl, nt oceaiioae quonimdain iBotmum., qui in oigaals innt. quaadam bi mente Ideia rerum. ac llgiuns nobts repneiSBtemiia..' Ibid. , c ndi. p. 578 :— 'Fhantasia, sen Imaginatf o, nliud mm mK qotm. qnadia tenltatis cognosci- 'tlv» .applicaiio, si. corpus (adllcet oerebmm) ipsi Intbne preesens. Iraagin.ationis euim species earum rerua Imscinem conclpere faciunt, tan- '^inam mentis nostm ocul.ls ;paBsent«oi. Bam fpiaBdo objectum al'iquod inngimnur, neas. ae ad corpus convertit, ad ibt inaginem, aut effi- •lem, quam .spptidiendit> velnti snis cogllstlonl Mmm pnesealeii, cemteiinilindM,.* (EIHi., If it bo .ati4' tlnii 'Om. 'tbii. Ibeory of me< diate peneptio% voritain no evidence of tbe leaEly of an external world oorre- eponding to tbe representations of ourowa minds, tbe Cartesian answers, that our as- surance lor tbe existence of material arobityps of our perceptions rests on our knowledge of tbe ebanoter of God ; for to suppose tbat tbere existed no ex- ternal tulMtances, as repreeented by our minda % tbe neeeiaitv of onr nature, would be to npfKiM the Creator a de- ceiver of bis creatmnsa— an hypothesis in- consistent with the moral and physical prfeotions of tbe Deity. And if it further be objected, tbat w© have the same evi- dence of conaciouaness for the immediato perception, as for the actual existence, of external objects,— nay, that our belief of the hitter is only the neoeeiairy conse- quence of our conviction of the former, and consequently that either God is a de- ceiver in the one instance, or the hypo- thesis of a vicarious perception is fidse in the other, — ^Descartes is forced to main- tain tbat, notwithstanding the universal belief of mankind, that the immediate object of the mind in perception is tbe material teaity^ .itaell^ and tbat, as we pefooive tbat object under ite actual con- ditions, BO we are no less conscious of ita existence, independently of onr minds, than we are conscious of the existence of our own mind, independently of external objects,— notwithstanding this belief, he was bold enough to maintain that we are not precisely conscious that the immedi- ate oUect of our perception is external and independent of our faculties, although it is difficnlt, if not impossible, to institute a criticism of the contente of tbis consci- ousnees, in consequence of tbe early and deefi-rooled prejudice by which we are led to Attribute to the immediate objecte of our perceptions an extomai and prin- cipal, instead of an internal and vicarious, existence.* Tbe itatement I have here given of the ' — ■' MWillMWMWW ■■■ m il ■I « B.|,||. ^ p. ix. c fv., p. 508, where the motions from the oigans of sense are dSierib€d as giving occasion to the mind to form its idei% tbe notions them- selves net being conceived.. • Prfadpla, P. L § 08-110, P. !L 1 1-3 ; ct Tenne- mann, x. pp. 248-51. In Ihincipla, P. iv. S 1»6, Deacarles maintains' tbat .it M a Mere idfr^Meil to suppose that things are percdvedin the oigan of sensation (e.g. scents in the nose, savours on the tongue, hardness or softness with the fingers), these being really perceived only in that part of the brain which is the root of tbe souL Cf. ikhuiM, KritHc der theoretischen Philoeophie, vol iL p. 35. Bee also .Id Grmd, lastitutio P. viii c. xl, p. 64a Cartesian doctrine of Perception, is the result of an acquaintance with the whole works of Descartes himself, and with the writings both of the most eminent philu- Bophers of his school, and of its most dis- tinguished antagonists. In particular, I may mention the excellent treatise of De la Forge *De I'Esprit de THomme,' tbe * Cours de Philosophie * of Silvain Kegis, the ' Institutio Philosophiss' of Le Grand, the Work of Du Hamel, * De Mente Humana,' the * Clavis Fhiloso- phiae ' of De Raei, to say nothing of the writings of Derudon, Huetius, Gassendi, Chauvin, Vries, Wolf, Malebranche, Ar- nauld, Purchot, &c., which contribute more or less to illustrate the doctrines of Descartes. The doctrine of Descartes in regard to the relation of the mind to the organs of sense, proceeds on two principles, of which the one has been boldly postulated as self- evident from the earliest ages of philoso- phy, and the other has almost universally, though secretly, influenced the doctrines of psychology since the period of Des- cartes himself. The former, — which more immediately regards the relation of the mind to the objects of its knowledge, — is contained in the proposition, that the thinking sub- stance can have no immediate knowledge of the qualities of another different from it in the essential properties of its nature. The latter, — which more immediately re- gards the relation of the mind to the or- gans of sense, — is the supposition that an immaterial sub&tance cannot be intimate- ly or universally united with the body without arguing its own materiality. The operation of the former principle has either degraded the mind to the nature of the material objects of its sensations, or it haa elevated the objecte of its sensation to the spiritual nature of the mind : in tlie former instence it has occasioned the hypothesis of materialism, in the latter all the theories of a vicarious perception, idealism, &c. The ktter has likewiae produced similar resulte. Those philoso- phers who were not disposed to sacrifice the evidence of their consciousness to philosophical hypothesis, held that our perceptions were in fact in the places in which we are conscious of the sensation — an opinion which, from their confidence in the principle, they could not distin- guish from materialism; while others sacri- ficed the evidence of their consciousness, and held that the mind is limited, and only perceives and feels in the region of the brain — ^a doctrine which they imagined was more easily reconcileable to the im- material nature of the soul. As these two [principles] lie at the bottom of almost sJl philosophical theo- ries, as I believe they have never been fully developed, and as they must neces- sarily be [examined] in relation to the present discussion, I say a few words in regard to them ; and first, of the first. 1. That all knowledge consists in a certain relation of the object known to the subject knowing, is self-evident. What is the nature of this relation, and what are its conditions, is not, and never can be, known to us; because we know only the qualities of our own faculties of knowledge, as relations to their ob- jects, and we only know the qualities of their objects, as relations to our minds. All qualities both of mind and of matter, are therefore only known to us as rela- tions — ^we know nothing in itself. We know not the cause of this relation, we know nothing of its conditions ; the fact is all. The relation is the relation of knowledge. We know nothing conse- quently of the kind of the relation ; we have no consciousness and no possible knowledge whether the relation of know- ledge has any analogy to the relations of similarity, contrariety, identity, differ- ence — we have no consciousness that it is like any other, or any modification of any other. These are all relations of a differ- ent kind between object and object ; this between subject and object : we can insti- tute no point of comparison. f I "1 NOTE 0. iucke's opinion about iDim [Refereiicei.-From L P. 256 a, 273 % »« % S68 b; compare also L P. 226 % 275 b, 279 fc] [No materiiik for thia Note liave been diacoYered, bej ond tlioae which have been dnady publiehed in tho Mmmmmj p. If aq., and in th© XiCliii«i: m '-'- j^yma, vol E p. 63 aq. Some refer- tniNa t© Locke, in relation to the history of the term idm^ have been given abov« in Note a— Ed.] NOTE P. im malebbanche's thiobt. ptaferencea.— From I. P. 264 b, 858 a, 368 k] In io far as the Malebranohian ia a modification of the Cartesian doctrine, the genealogy ia manifest. But in so far as it differs from the Carteaian, the attempts that have hitherto been made to trace it to anterior aonrcea have not been sncceaa- ful. The paiMigeB quoted from ancient aiiihoro by Bayle, Dutens, Ac.,* have only * Pot Bayle, nee MeHmnaif*, art Amelias, Beittociite, Emm, awl mmm^ J*MliiMfMflHM, i H. M. For mAmoK m» Ms MMmfA§ &m Torl- 'fiM' da mmmmrlm iitMMtf am modmm. Part. i. ch. % He refero to the ClialiiiMi'Onilis» •pod nmiiiiii. [ill. Wtnaim,. Hai. I4 WL "p* 1S« 'Coiiiiil; la 'fyflMptas, ayii lllioii* Afitliin. an apparent,— only a verbal, plausibility, from not distinguishing the different, nay, opposite, meanings in which the term ideamumd, Malebranche employs it in its Ciurteaiaii laxity; the older philoso- phers in its Platonic rigour. The theory attributed to Plato, and held by St Austin, St Thomas,* and many other philosophers. [p. S, eA 1688]; to Heraelitua, apud Arigtot ]fata|ih. xM. 4; to Democritus, apud Cicer. De Hal. Deor. L 48; to Plato, Tim. pp. 28, 62; and to 8t Angmtin, De Divers. Quaat. bmtUi. qn. • Smmm, P. L Qo. 8i, art. 5.— En. KOTE P.] ON MALEBRANCHES THEORY. 967 and the theory of Malebranche in regard to cognitions in the Divine mind, are pre- cisely the reversfe of each other. The former resorted to the Deity, in order to explain the possibility of an intellection by a finite mind of necessary and eternal truths ; the latter, to explain the percep- tion by an unextended, spiritual, and immanent subject of extended, material, and external objects. The one, there- fore, does not afford the anticipation of the other. For the same and other reasons, the Malebranohian hypothesis cannot be traced to that of Alexander, Themistius, Averroes, and other Maho- medan philosophers, Cajetanus and Za- barella,* in regard to the unity of in- tellect (active or passive) in the human species, and the identity of that intellect with God. That Malebranche, however, was forestalled in his peculiar hypothesis may, I think, be shown. A distant approximation to this may be seen in the opinion of Buccaferreus, that the species or immediate object of sensible perception is the product of a celestial agency ; and still more in the parallel opinion of Suessanus, that this agency is the Divine. The following, however, is a far more explicit enounce- ment of the Malebranchian doctrine in regard to our vision of external objects in the Deity. It is from the Physica Parti- cularls of Petrus Galtruchius, forming the first part of his Philosophic totiua In- sUtutio, and from the chapter De Natura Spedei Impressce ; the edition I quote from is the second, published at Caen in 1665, that is, nine years before the appear- ance of the Mcherche de la Verity, but the first remounts to the year 1601. It is curious that this preoccupation of the Malebranchian theory is by a Jesuit— one of that order by whom the philosophy of Malebranche was, with that of Descartes, most zealously opposed, and even pro- scribed. Speaking of the function of species impressa, in regard to sense, he says : — " Notabis 2". Proprium quidem illad munus debere esse objecti, quantum est de se, ut determinet poteutiam ad sui cognitionem, cum ipsa concurrendo ad inferendum cognitionis actum. Eam enim ob causam objectum sufficienter potentisa unitum, ab ea cognoscitur sine specie impressa : ut quidem fert com- munis sententia de Angelo seipsum cog- noscente, et de Deo f ungente vices Speciei • For the theory of these philosophers, as for those of Buccaferreas and Suessauns mentioned below, see above, Note M, p. 956.— En. impressae in intellectu beatifico. Quippe Angelusad cognoscendumalium Angelum, aut aliud creatum objectum, indiget specie impressa ipsius vicaria, cum de se hujus- modi objectum non postulet esse illi semper et necessario intime praesens ; et quidem ilia prsesentia, quae dicitur per il- lapsum, potentiam cognoscitivam pene- trando intime per jugem influxum ipsius efl&cienter conservativum. Dens autem sic intime est praesens omni create intel- lectui, per suam essentiam : quamobrem potest in eo fungi vices Speciei impressae, tum ad cognitionem creaturae cujuscunque; turn ad visionem ipsius Divinae essentiae. Neque idcirco haec Dei actio ad extra erit magis necessaria, quam actio Divinae om- nipotentiae ad creandum Mundum ; siqui- dem ilia omnia est veluti subordinata ejus Libero Arbitrio, unde, veluti imperative saltern^ ac denominative, est libera; ut scribit Suarez Be Beo, Lib. ii. c. 12 n. 22. Ne quid etiam dicam de libero ejus con- cursu universali ad actum visionis beati- ficee, a quo praeterea multiplex genus de- terminationis accipit, quemadmodum ex- plicatur Bisp. de Beo, c. 7, Ass. 1. Nee contra banc doctrinam objicias, Animam rationalem, etsi praesens est intime et per illapsum intellectui suo, indigere tamen specie impressa ad cognitionem sui ipsius, quod a pari dicendum foret de Angelo, &c. Respondeo, Animam quidem separatam non habere opus specie im- pressa ad sui cognitionem, ob rationem allatam ; verum, in corpore adhuc exis- tens, pro hoc statu, siquidem nihil cog- noscit, nisi per conversionem ad Phantas- mata, ut suo loco exponam, ideo accipit speciem sui impressam, quo, hunc saltern in modum, notitiam sui obtineat." In the system of Malebranche the ex- istence of a material world is an otiose hypothesis.* This incumbrance to the simplicity of his system was not rejected by Malebranche, and his philosophy mo- dified to an absolute idealism, only, as I have already stated (p. 358 a, n. *), be- cause the negation of the reality of body was apparently inconsistent with the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation. This likewise seems to have been the reason, as formerly noticed (p. 286 b, n. t), why the Schoolmen were pre- * Malebranche, in his Premier Entretien sur la M^taphysique, § 5, supposes that God should an- nihilate the material world, and should, the world being gone, still produce in our mind the ideas which are now related to it,— all. [he says,] would be as it now is. The supposition is identical with Berkeley's Idealism. The same supposition U often made by the Schoolmen. 11 m it itii ON MALEBRANCHrS THEORY. [note i». ireated from fallling over into Ideftliim, to the verge of which the prevaUing doc- trine of species carried them, and, they were fully aware, left them no means of philosophical salvation. Since these foot- notos were written, I have given some detailed proofs upon this point in the iith volume of the Edinburgh Review, p. S37, sq.,* and the passages there ad- duced from the Fathers misht be forti- ied by many others from the Schoolmen of a still more precise application. I may notice that the difference between the * Bepiteted in Discussions, p. 198.— Im Idealism of Malebranche, Berkeley, and Collier, and the Idealism of Fichte, is thin, that, on the former hypothesis, God ia supposed to represent to us a world un- known, as Malebranche, a world non- existent, aa Berkeley and Collier hold, whereas, on the latter hypothesis, the Mindf the Ego, is supposed to do this in conformity to certain unknown laws to which its agency is astricted. The The- istical and the Egoistical Idealism, con- sidered as philosophical constructions, have each their peculiar merits and de- fects : on these, however, this is not tho plaoe to eutor. NOTE Q. OH HUME^S ASSERTION llOUT THE IDEAS OF POWER AND CAUSE, AND BROWN'S CRITICISM OF REID. [Referencea.— From A. P. 522 a; from Supplementary Diaaertations, 764 a.1 [Of tliia Note, nothing appeara to have been written beyond two short papers of Biemimiida, the aubatiuice of which is Mm^prifled In the f oHimring remarka.— Ed.] Reid not wrong in aubetance in hia cri- Meiarn of Hume, in aaying that Hume denied ua the idea (notion) of power or Beeeaaary connection. For Hume ad- mitted the notion of neceasary connection aa an ideal or subjective phsenomenon, as ft liiet; [hut,] by tracing its genealogy, he ■ItaiiiflM to subvert ita real or objective validity. TMa waa the very atroofeat Soeptieiam— to ahew thai belief ftntual, iiitalatflile---butthfttb«iiifiiiiiiiivi.. pbe The mode he takes to ahew that no- tiona of motaaary connection— power — oauae and elfeet— are illegitimate, ia the following. Accepting the admitted [hypothesis] of Locke that all our knowledge — all our notions — ^formed a poBteriori, or from ex- perienoe, he shews that the notion in question cannot be derived from that source — ^from any objective information. But, anaphognomentmfit must be admitted to exist subjectively. How, then, is it to be accounted for 1 On the admitted hypo- thesis always of Locke's philosophy, he shewa, what ia true, that we can attempt to emplain it only in one other way, via., by cuaton or habit But this basis is in- NOTE Q.] IDEAS OF POWER AND CAUSE. 969 sufficient to warrant its universality and ) necessity, and its objectivation — ergo, no- tion worthless, delusive. Now Reid, when he says that Hume subverted the certainty of causation— de- nied the notion of power or necessary connection — says nothing but what he was entitled to do. Hume subverted the reality, the truth {i.e. objective validity) of the notion— ergo, the notion itself. — [For] 1°. Anterior to the formation of the habit out of which the idea comes, the idea could not have existed. It was therefore only after a time that we were trained to it. 2°. When obtained it was wholly illegi- timate : — a. — Because a necessity which we get by being accustomed, we could lose by being unaccustomed. The feel- ing of necessity is not, therefore, itself necessary, b.— Because it is, ex hypothesi, a ne- cessity got by a certain limited number of experiences— ergo, we cannot on it logically infer that ' all' and * must J C— A blind principle— only of our | animal, not of our intellectual, con- stitution — we cannot on this hy- pothesis see that it has any claim. Reid was therefore warranted in saying that as Hume denied the legitimacy of the phsenomenon of the idea (notion) of power, [he virtually denied] the existence of that notion * Dr Brown seems igno- rant of the whole tendency of Hume and Sceptical philosophy. As in Perception he thinks that Hume, in admitting the irresis- tibility of the belief in an external world, admits that belief to be decisive of its reality, so in regard to the notions of Cause and Effect, Power, &c., he dreams that Hume, in admitting the subjective feeling of necessary connection, admits the objective validity of it. t Brown is wholly wrong in saying that Reid and Hume coincide. [Catise and Effect, p. 466, 3d edition.^) * Price also says that Hume holds we have no idea of Cause, &c. (Review of the principal Questions in Morals, p. 41, ed. 1758.) t See Sehulze, ^nesidemus, p. 117, ed. 1798. X Part IV. Sect vi.— Ed. NOTE E. ON THE CARTESIAN DOUBT. [Reference8.*-Prom Inq. 100 a ; from I. P. 269 a, 468 a.] [On this subject nothing has been dis- covered except the following references in the Author's Common-Place Book.— Ed.] BeucMin, Dubitatio Cartesiana, disser- tatione philosophica explicata, vindicata, refutata (1686). Clauberg, De Dubita- tione Cartesiana, Opera, p. 1131 sq. I Werenfelsius, Opera, t ii. p. 18, ed. 1739. Le Grand, Apologia pro Cartesio, c. 3. Gamier, Precis d'un Cours de Psychologic, p. 218. Gatien-Amoult, Doctrine Philoso- phique, p. 39. Coutin, Cours de I'Histoire de la PhUosophie Morale (xviii. Si^cle), t ii. p. 836, ed. Vaoherot. 1 Wi J ■JMi 'tfth. I '*..■<« J* iMu.njt."-'-" ' '■J^"^-*"^^fc.iifL£f I" ■■ - J NOTE S. OK BEIB'S BOBBOWIHO FBOM 6ASS1NBI OPINION Of AUttANDEE ANB THE NOMINALISTa NOTE S.] DOCTRINE OF PERCEPTION. 971 motio autem qua visus percellitur, est quidpiam reale. Tale porro quidpiam deinceps Peripatetici aliqui sensere : cum sicut visio est in re visa dmominatio ex- trinsecaf sic existimarunt nihil esse necesse, at res visa motionem ullam in ipsum visum exprimat ; ac nihil aliud ad visionem esse nsctssarium voluerunt, qttam ut objectum vis^ile sistatur coram wnilo, et in luce sit, cMtitaque distantia. Hujusmodi fuere pi-aesei-tim quos Nominales appellarunt, qui etiam adniissas a casteris Peripateiicis tpecieSf seu imagines repudiarunt.*' (Phy- sicce Sectio III. Lib. vii. c. 5. Opera, t ii. p. 373.) Of the doctrine of Alexander and of the Nominalists I may take another op- portunity of treating, (along with the other theories of Perception), in detail. For such a history I am in possession of materials which are not without the greatest diflBculty to be obtained. At present I shall only say that Ockam's doctrine on this point may put to shame the pretensions of most modern psycho- logies. I ' II pteftrence. — From. I. P. 301 k] The analogy between Reid's doctrine of PtWDption and that held % *li« Aphio- duiiUi md, independently of him, again usertoii as true, and the true doctrine of Aristotle, in the latter ages of scholasti- cism by Occam, Burandus, Gregory of Rimini, Biel, and other of tho later Nomi- nalists, had long struck me as mnarkable ; but I had no suspicion that an opinion which had again so completely fallen into oblivion, could have had any influence on the speculations of an author who was so little excursive in his reading. I am now, however, rather disposed to believe that Raid met with some information at second hand of the rejectioii of species by these nhiosophers, and also of their denial of the «:tion™the physical influence -of objects on the percipient mind ;— nay, I am even conident, if my surmise be cor- rect, of being able to point out the very passages in which this information was conveved. Let the ».der consider the tenor of the argument against the agency of the object on the mind, and of the mind on the object, and observe the occurrence of the scholastic expression * external deno- mirtatian.* This being done, I think it will be admitted, as at least a aol impro- bable supimition, (though then an cer- 'tainlf various advene. liiiciillieB), that BmU, in the relative pmgiapb, had one or both of the following fmmfgm in his 2e ; and this not only by reason of the igiilar analogy of doctrine and expres- sion, but because tliej are both taken from a philosopher with whose writings liait if thu can bO' inlerml fo>m his refe- rence on one occasion, if not on more, to certain of that philosopher's opinions. This philosopher is Gassendi. In one passage, after sf>eaking of the Intentional Species of the Schools, and in special reference to the sense of Sight, Gassendi adds : — "Cum Aristoteles porro ipse tale nihil somniftrit, sed dixerit solum Colorem rei visibilis movere ipsum actu perspicuum, a quo deinceps oculus move- atur J* cumque Alexander reputftrit hunc motum esse extemam solum denominatio- Mill, utpote qui ne motus quidem altera- tionis dici debeat ; f fuere nonnulli qui agnoscentes ea, qun poterant objici, dis- sensere a ceteris, ut pemegare omnes omnino [species], quam admittere tales sustinuere. Hujusmodi autem fuere maxime, qui Nominales sunt appellati, quique idcirco nihil aliud ad videndum exiffi, quam solam objectorum, rerumve vitikilium coram positarum prassentiam, emsuerunt." [Physicce^ Sectio I. Lib. vi. c. 13. Opera, t. i. p. 443.) In the other passage treating of the nature of that motionluppoeed to be de. termined by the primary object of sight, colour, and having enumerated and reject- ed several other theories, he proceeds : — " Neque est etiam simplex qusedam c2f- nmmnatio extnnmca, quaUs approbatur ipsi Alexandro, dum perspicuum solum ita pati dicit, ut si quis ad motum alterius, dexter illi ex sinistro evadat; quoniam talis denominatio reale nihil ponit in re; * Be Anlma, li t. t De Anima, f. 133 a.b. ed. Aid., [appended to the Aldine edition of Themistius, 1&84.— £o. } NOTE T. ON THE QUALTTY OF NECESSITT AS A CRITERION OF THE ORIGINALITY OF A COGNITION. [References.— From A. P. 621 b, 524 b ; from Supplementary Dissertations, 758 b, 755 a.] [The following Note has been compiled, partly from a MS. Fragment apparently intended for the projected Memoir of Stewart, but cognate in its contents to the matters reserved for discussion in this place; and partly from two papers already printed, the first in the Appendix to the Lectures on Metaphysics, vol. iL p. 626, and the second in the Addenda to the second edition of the Discussions, p. 833. — Ed.] Experience, in the philosophy of Matter, is accomplished through External Percep- tion or Sense ; in the philosophy of Mind, tiirough Self- consciousness or Internal Perception. By this method we take cogniHance simply of Phjenomena. These may be Causes and Efiects ; but (at least out of quantity) they are known merely as phsenomena in a relation of proximity in Time or in Time and Space ; whilst it is only, objectively, by inference and generalisation, subjectively, by custom or association, and in virtue of the necessity we are under to think a cause for every event, that we regard a« causes and effects, phsenomena which experience gives us only as closely successive and coadjacent By experience we learn the fact that (Sti), not the reason why {Si6ri) : for as what we thus know is known merely as existing, n I ii fill m m% DM NECESSITY iMiiitu^gioiilly it niiiy' iMf. bul not M' Moei- iMurilf aiiating ; so esperieneO' informs us only of wliat £% not of what must be. This, — ^llitt is, what we cannot but think — ^it 'OonstoiMiitly 'bohores us not to refer to iBire lEi|Mn«BC«'; for Experience cannot, ineiiiittiy DT' immeiiately, enable us. to • account for such a phsenomenon as a necessary thought Custom and Associ- ation are Imuided on Experience; and as. far aa Cuitom and Association go, Ex- perienM' avails. But the customary, — the associated, have their commencement, and are not presupposed in thought as united ; they may iodine to unite in action, they tend to a mutual suggestion in thought But the problem to be solTcd ii not a strong inclination, but an inevitable compulsion, so to think ; and meh an original necessity can never be resolTud into an acquired propensity. Philosophers who rely exclusively on the process of Experience in the explana- tion of psychological phenomena, have erred in two ways; For, on the one iaiid, they are at fault, either in over- looking the phaenomena of mental neces- sity altogether; or, on the other, in attempting to .account lor them on the ground 'Of experience' 'alone. There an Am 'degrees or' epochs which we mint distinguish in philosophical ■peculation touching the Netmrnrp, In the J(rsi, which we may call the Ariatotelick or Flatonico-AristoteMo, the HcMiBiffy was regarded, if not exclusively, principally and primarily, in an objective i«lallon;r-at least the ofyeime and mdjec' Mm ifflre not^ discriminated; and. it was deined Aa$ o/wltei tM mkimm of the 'emirmry ia impombief — wkai 'SMiU' md bwi be. In the memdf which we may call the Leibnitian, or Leibnitio - Kantian, the Vecessary was regarded prlimriy in a 99iii§eiwe respect ; and it was defined tJuU ^ lilted ike tkmffU of tk§ mmirmy «f mm tdieii. tm .gyuilei^ 'that vlMt w^ can- not Mnk, cannot' Ae, tmd what 'we^ mnat Iftiii4. anil be; and from hen that there 'flzlats no free causation ; that is, that there i$ no ttmrn wkiek i§ not itidf merelf oii efeet, existence being only a ienes of '(deternia'ed. auteoedeiilS' and de- tenntned 'Oonsequents. Bui this is an ■iwrtion of Iktallsm, Such,, however, many of the partisans of that doctrine ifill mot admit. An aftrmation of absolute necessity is, thi^ are awaroi virtually the u^^tioaofaiiionil/univanM^ contequentiy, of the moral Qovernor of a moral universe; in a word, Athdsm. Fiatalism and Atheism arev indeed, oonvertiMe Umm* The only valid afgumenta^ for' the 'tilsteiiM^ tf a Um, and for the immortality of the'liumin.ioul,. rest on the ground of man's moral na- ture ; consequently, if that moral nature be annihilated, whidi in aiiy acheme of timmugiigoing necessity it fi, tfery oon- ciusien, established on such a nature, is annihilated likewisa Aware of this, some of those who make the judgment of cau- sality a positive dictate of intelligence, find themselves compelled, in order to eacape from the consequences of their doctrine, to deny that this dictate, though mivefaai in its deliverance, should be al- loved lO' hold univeiaally tme'i an d m» Qordingly, they would, exempt from, it the fact of volition. Will, they hold to be a liM cause, a cause which is not an effect; in other worda» thcf atlrlbntO' tO' will, the ;pow«r of abaoluto origination. But here their own doctrine of causality is too ■Irong for them. They say that it is un- condilioiially promulgated, as an express originalioii la §m apparent only, not • 'real, commencement Now, to exempt certain phsenomenafrom this univeiial hiw, for the sake of our moral conaetoiMieiii can- not validly be done.-— For, 1% 1Mb 'would be, as obaerved, an admisaion thai' the mmd IB a complement of contradictory revelations. If mendacity be admitted m .some of oar :mental diiiiita%. 'we^ cannot' 'viidieate veraelty to any. If" one be de- lusive, so may aU. ** FaJsus in uno, fidsus in omnibua" Ahiditte seepHoiam is here '^piMiiH^i#^ 'W^p] y|| iw^'WffwtiWWl^W^Bw'TBP ^tp''*'-r^iP"^P"W^^iil^ffw^i^ilMpW iSpP"WSfWjJ "SP Si VwWIPai w ing' tius fioMiliiaiii% 'whal :iUit .have we^ on Ihia^ diMlriiiti lo Mbimlliialt' the un- Moliiilvvi iiliiiiiaiioii of 'Canaality to^ our mmtAmmMm of moral liberty, — what 'fitfht bafit' wvb. 'lor' the 'tetireat of the lat- 'liv, 'tO' devQgala ftnnt 'Hit univenKtlty ol' the former f We have none. If both be equally positive, we are not entitled to saorifioe to the o&er the alternative which our wishes prompt us to abandon. But the doctrine which I propose is not obnoxious to these ol{j:ectloiiB. It does not maintain that the judgment of cau- sality ia dependent on a jioaoif of the mind, imposing, as necessary in thought, what is necessary in the universe of existence. It does not, at once, universally affirm and specially deny; include without excep- tion and yet except. On the contrary, it resolves this judgment into a mere mental immtmmm — an impotence to conceive eitlff of two contradictories. And as the mm or the otker of contradictories must be true, whilst both cannot ; it proves that there is no ground for inferring a certain fact to be impossible^ mere^ from aur it^ 4Mi% to ctmceive itt jwsfifttlt^. At the aame time, if the causal judgment be not an express affirmation of mind, but only an incapacity of thinking the opposite ; it follows, thai such a negative judgment cannot otunlerbalance the express affir- mative, the nnoonditional testimony, of consciousness, — that we are, though we know not how, the true and responsible authors of our actions, nor merely the worthless links in an adamantine series of effects and causes.* It appears to me, that it is only on such a doctrine that we can phikMOpliioaiy vindicate the liberty of the human wiU, that we can rationally assert to man — ** latia avolsa voluntas. " f Mow the will can possibly be free, must remain to us, under the present limitation of our faculties, wholly incomprehensible. We are unable to conceive an absolute com- mencement ; we cannot, therefore, con- ceive a free volition, t A determination by motives cannot, to our understanding, escape from necessitation. Nay, were wo even to admit as true, what we cannot think as possible, still the doctrine of a motiveless volition would be only casual- ism ; and the free acts of an indifferent, are, morally and rationally, aa worthless * That the notion of Csimality is not so proxi- matS' as. 'tlial ni lilwrty, .see. Aacillon, .[Ueber liaoNms, n. s?.— kd. t That a true, a erestive Liberty is neoesmrily iaeomprehensilile, and that the domain of freedom AiUtiij, (]|Mim 0640), p. 1000; /oeoM, Werlie, H. p. S17. JTseoM. isiais Ubtrty, p. SM, * Ich ver- sMW' 'inter' den. Weita Vkeltielt dsafenige Ter- imd ailillitliaat% te sMi nnd ausier slch hsadtll^ HOTE U.J PRESCIENCE AND LIBERTY. 975 as the pre-ordered passions of a determin- ed, will. Mow, therefore, I repeat, moral liberty is possible in man or Qod, we are utterly unable speculatively to understand. But, practically, the fact, that we are free, is given to us in the consciousness of an uncompromising law of duty, in the con- sciousness of our moral accountability ; * and this fact of liberty cannot be red- argued on the ground that it is incompre- hensible, for the philosophy of the Con- ditioned proves, against the necessitarian, that things there are, which may, nay must be true, of which the understanding is wholly unable to construe to itself the possibility. But this philosophy is not only compe- tent to defend the fact of our moral liberty, possible though inconceivable, against the assault of the fatalist ; it retorts against himself the very objection of incompre- hensibility by which the fatalist had thought to triumph over the libertarian. It shews, that the scheme of freedom is not more inconceivable than the scheme of necessity. For whilst fatalism is a re- coil from the more obtrusive inconceiv- ability of an absolute commencement, on the fact of which commencement the doctrine of liberty proceeds ; the fatalist is shewn to overlook the equal, but less obtrusive, inconceivability of an infinite non-commencement, on the assertion of which non-commencement his own doc- trine of necessity must ultimately rest. As equally unthinkable, the two counter, the two one-sided, schemes are thus theo- retically balanced. But practically, our consciousness of the moral law, which, without a moral liberty in man, would be a mendacious imperative, gives a decisive preponderance to the doctrine of freedom over the doctrine of fate. We are free in act, if we are accountable for our actions. Such (tpoovapra ervp(To7(rip) are the hints of an undeveloped philosophy, which, I am confident, ia founded upon truth. . . . Specially, in its doctrine of Cau- sality, this philosophy brings us back from the aberrations of modem theology, to the truth and simplicity of the mure ancient church. It is here shewn to be * The fact of Liberty may be proved : — 1. From the direct conscionsneBS of Liberty. See Creuzer, [Skeptische BetracfatimgeiL ueber die Freiheit des Willens, 1793] p. 8-9. 9. Even if we were not immediately conscions, f»t tmm the Mond Law as nUUt eognoscendi, ise BlefTert, [DiBsertstio de libera, quam dicunt, bomiwun voluntste, 1824] p. 11 as irrational as irreligious, on the ground of human understanding, to deny, either, on the one hand, the foreknowledge, pre- destination, and free grace of God, or, on the other, the free will of man ; that we should believe both, and both in unison, though unable to comprehend either, even apart This philosophy proclaims with St A ugustin, and Augustin in his maturest writings : — " If there be not free grace iu God, how can He save the world ; and if there be not free will in man, how can the world by God be judged?" — (Ad Valen- tiuum, Epist. 214.) Or, as the same doc- trine is perhaps expressed even better by St Bernard : — " Abolish free will, and there is nothing to be saved ; abolish free grace, and there is nothing wherewithal to save." — {De Gratia et Libero Arbitrio, c. i.) St Austin repeatedly declares the conciliation of the foreknowledge, predes- tination, and free grace of God with the free will of man, to be "a most difl&cult question, intelligible only to a few." Had he denounced it as a fruitless question, and (to understanding) soluble by none, the world might have been spared a large library of acrimonious and resultless dis- putation. This conciliation is of the things to be believed, not understood.* The futile attempts to harmonise these anti- logies, by human reasoning to human understanding, have originated conflictive systems of theology, divided the Church, and, as far as possible, dishonoured reli- gion. " Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy ! " ♦ That the conciliation of the liberty of man and prescience of Ood ia to be believed but not understood, is maintained hy Alexander Aphrodi' $ienH3, De Fato, [ad calcem Themistii, t 170 b ed. Aid. 1534] ;—Cajetanus in Thom» Sumraam, P. i. qu. 22, art. 4 [quoted in Discussions, p. 627]; — Ockam, [Ini. Sent., Dist. xxxviii. qu. 1 L] ;— JBi«I, [Ini. Sent., Dist. xxxviii. qu. 1 M];— OcMntw, La- byrmthi, hoc est, De Libero aut Servo Arbitrio, de divina Fra:notione, Destinatione, ot Libertate Disputatio (Basileae, 1563), c. xix. p. 245 sq. ; — Francigcus Stadianus, (cited by Melanchthon, Resp. ad Artie. Bavar. Opera, Witeb. 1580, i. p. 370 : see Copleston, Enquiry into the Doctrines of Necessity and Predestination, p. 188) ; — Des- cartes, Epist P. I. Ep. 8, 9, (quoted by Stewart, Dissertation, Note MM, Collected Works, i. p. 675);— Locke, Letter to Molyneux, (quoted by Stewart, ColL Works, i. p. 297) ;— Tucker, Light of Nature pursued, c 25, quoted by Copleston, Enquiry, p. 85 ;— Archbishop King, Discourse oa Predestination, § 29. Other authors are quoted by Ruiz, [Comm. et Disp. de Scientia, de Ideis, de Veritate, ac de Vita Dei, 1629], pp. 246, 654, 664 ; and by Gen- uensls, Elem. Metaph., iL p. 184, ed. Venet 17 IB. i ■1^' f7i Fmi80I£N€E AM} UBBETY. Immm m KOTE v.] PRESCIENCE AND LIBERTY. 97f Bftid lias almiidlr trgiied in hmmr of Iiiwrty from llie iiiuogj of Memory. Me myt taat upon the doolrine of Necessity mmy thing thai is fial would be oeoes- wm^y And 10 It fa. 'Whatever has been in pnt timer i" neoenaiy; and ao likewiet, eToryliung that Is, is neoassaiy by the vary fut of being. In regard to the past, [AfiftollA ^np] ixH 'Vl iriryaf^f &p«l7itifr:t III 'Mfard. lo^ th« present, 'the scholastic brooafd. [sayal^oaiiif qmd est, m qmd eil, wMmm est. Freedomi contingency, can only mgpwd. the /afHim — what is not aeienoe {diTUW^'CMr'(ither|.ariaea from the'lact that what is future is supposed or made past or present. For eiample, being sup- poaad. that it is foreseen tl^ I ^ehall rise on my right side, we get into the insolnble dilemma, 1", If I cannot rise on my left aide, I am 4dmmina6m ad «»iim; in which case I have no libeHy of rising on my left aide, but am necessarily determined to my light. On this alternative Liberfcy is ^ne. 2^ Supposing that Liberty re- mam, and accordingly I rise on my left aide; in that case the f&nknowledge is false ; that is, 'tJiere^ was no loreknowledge.. In this way it la abaointdy Impossible for the human mind to reconcile Liberty and Preaeience. The conviction of this Impoesibilifcy led men, 1°, to give up the prescience of Qod in respect of future contingents ;t or, 2% • 'Bit. aliovf . p. «!. St Austim lailtes the isiiie leasmiiiig' alioat mimiorf' as .Belli te. itgasd to contingents, flee Oennensis, it p. 184. [Tlie passage of Bt Aufltin is trom the De Libero Arbi- trio, L. ML c. 4: — 'Bicat tu memoria taa non mtf^ Iteta^esie, que pnatetienint ; sic De^us pne- iwientia sua son eogit fkeieada, qvm flitura sunt M nicut tn 4}n«l«n qun fedsti neniiiiiitl, nee tumm qua meailttisti omnia, 'fbefaitt; iia Beus omnia qnomm ipse auctor est praescit, nee taswa omnium qtiis pnesdt ipse auetor est.*— Biih] t Ihei. ili. 17. j| ,|ftiy ykg iri^ rh /*lAAay, ymht hfAyiaiir* Com]iare Cicero* Be Fato, e 7. * Oniiia enim ¥eia. .in. pnetetitlS' neeessscia' sunt, nt Chrysippo plaeei'— Bn. t A denial of the prescience of God in respect or future eontlnpnts las been attribaled tO'.: — ^ AtMoUm, who does not eipfwfdy deny It,, bat has been held hy sonie^ vrfieni implicitly to do so, as by Oregorins Ariminensis and Baani. piiS' is ra infmiMa teiia a paasage' 'la. On .bte^pretaHmie. «. % "vAam .Ailitotle denies the determinatt trath of one or the 'OChar ioatiadietagry in. tta :eas# of Mine con* tlngsnt propositions. Iroia 'fMs .it has tweB 'iainred byOrsgoiins Ariniiiiiaslk,Cia i Boat, Bist. xzzviil qa. 1, art 1) and by Snares, to briii^ down the impossibility to a lower, and thia [by one of] two means— either, 1**, to annihikte the fnturily in raapeot of God ; or, 2°, to annibilata 'liw «oiitiii« gency. As to the first of theae,-^th« an- nihilation of time in relation to Qod — fuiura jam fada mmi* — thia they en- deavonied to explain by various subordi- nate hypotheses ; [but it is] evident that the emtingeneif of the future is thus really reduced to the neceasitv of the pastf M to the second, [some] thought that, by shewing that the act of preadenoe was not the cause or antecedent, but the effect or comament of the futurition, [it could be shewn] that the certainty — ^the inevit- ability It Bupposed was not an absolute (Opnsc. De ScientiaDei, Lib. I. c 2; Metapk, Bisp^ 3ciz. sect. 10) that Aristotle implicitly denies tbe Bivlne prescience. Aristotle'a doctrine is defended against Qregory by Ca- ttiarinua, De Teritate SnaneiatlonQni, p. 87 sq., ed. 156®.— Ed] Cicero, Be DMBStione, it 7; Be Fato, c 14. [See below, p. »77, n. f.— Ed.] Jii«ote«, [In I. Bent., Dist xxxviii. qn. 1], see Kckius, [De Pnedestinatione], iv. 59, Euis, ISomnentarIi ac Bispntationes, &u., 1629], p. 169; and other Fmiakmes, mentioned by Vallius, [Logica, 1622], t i. p. 671. Soeiniaiu. [See F. Socinus, Prselect. Theol., c 8 ; Crellius, De Beo ejusque Attributis, c. 24; Wolzogen, In Evang. Mattli.,c. 4, Append L— Ed.] Cmrad F«>ffifl««,[DeDeo ; vide Leibnitii Opera, ed. Bntraa, voL i. p. 44.— En.] Thmm Amarta, Nordtanus, Jesuita Angina Psendonyrans; v. Leibniti, Tlieod. Praef. CLeibnitii Opera, ed. Dutens, voL L p. 45. Concenifng Thomas Bonart or Bonartes, an anagram of Jorlim. see ibid., p. 115. — Ed.] The necessity of Bivine prescience has also been qnestloned by :— EpUcopimia some degree, see Waterland, [Im- portance of the Doctrine of the Trinity, Works, iii. p. 448, ed. 1848.— Ed.] ifff, [Lectures on Bivinity, Iv. xviL 90.— Ed.] Mmmtrt, Active Powers, [Appendix; Collected Works, 'Vol. 'vi. p. 898.— Ba] For authors who have denied the determinate truth of future contingents, admitting the pro- sdeaee of God, see Balforeus, [Comm. in Aristo- tells Oipuion], p. 408 ; Arriaga, [Cursus FhUoso- phicus, p. 204] ; Vallius, [Logica], 1 i pp. 071, 672. For these who affirmed the determinate truth of future contingents, see Balfoieiis [p. 407]; Arriaga [p. 205J ; Yallins, i 1. p. 871. * Angustine, Be Trinitatet v. 16. * Dens .... apnd qnem nee pmterita tcansiemnt, et futura JiUD. :lteta snnt.'— Bn. t That Ood sees everyth:inf In his eternity ss psasiat) though in dllhBHit'WBn,"See fioethins, BS' ConsoL 'Phi., lA v. Fr. i ; Aqolnaa, flnnima. Pars i. qu. xiv. aii It. Cf. Tallina, logics, t i p. 677, but a conditional necessity, not a neees- mtas comequenHs, but only a necessitas eomequeinUce* [Others] admitted absolute necessity — no contingency, — no liberty. • •♦*♦• For the argument, that pi*e8cience, as implying a fixed series of causes, is in- compatible with freedom, see St Augus- tine, De Civ. Dei, L. v. c. 9, § 2, Genuen- sis, Elem. Metaph., ii. p. 184. — Cicero was so struck with this argument, that he denied the prescience of God, to save the free will of man.f Augustine says ele- gantly of him, '* dum vult facere liberos, fecit sacrilegos." — For Augustine's solu- tion, that our wills are included in the series of causes, see Genuensis, 1. c. Augustine also replies, that if all foreseen actions are necessary, God's own future actions are necessary, t * See F. Bona Spei, Logica, p. 172-3. f'Nota necessitatem esse duplicem, unam absolutara, altunim ex suppositione. Absoluta est, quae luibetur nulla facta suppositione, ut necessitas existentise Dei. Necessitas ex suppositione est, qnie non habetur nisi facta aliqua suppositione, ut necessitas ambulatiouis Petri, supposito quod videam Petrum ambulantem. Necessitas ex sup- positione eat triplex; scilicet, ex suppositione antecedente, ex suppositione concomitante, et ex suppositione consequente. Prima est, ubi aliquid supponitur, quod necessario antecedit, per uiodum causae vel conditionis inferens, ut necessitas existentise caloris ex pnevia supposi- tione, quod ignis existat, necessitas combustionis stujiparum siccarum, ex suppositione, quod sit approxiniatio ignis ad illas. Secunda, ubi aliquid supponitur concomitans, ut necessitas existentise loqueliB mess, vel ambulatiouis, ex suppositione, quod loquar, vel ambulera. Tertia, ubi aliquid supponitur consequens, ut necessitas loquelse, vel ambulationis Petri, ex suppositione, quod audiam ipsum loquentem, vel videam ambulan- tem. .... Adde, necessitatem ortam ex sup- po.sitione antecedente, non male aliter vocari n&xssitaJtem conseqtientia ; quia per illam unum necessario alteruin tanquam causam suam ne- ccssariam consequitur. Necessitatem vero ortam ex suppositione concomitante vel consequente vocari necessUaiem consequentim tantum, quia pur illain unum ex alio per legitimam consequen- tiam infertur.'] t De Divinatione, ii. 7. 'Niliil est tarn con- trarium rationi et constantias, quam fortuna ; ut mibi ne in Deum quidem cadere videatur, ut sciat, quid casu et fortuito fUturam ait' See also Be Fato, cc 10, 14.— Ed. J [De Libero Arbitrio, L. iiL c. S.— Ed.] To the argument — human actions cannot be free, Ibr free actions cannot he foraaeea even by the Deity— the answer, that this oltfeetion abolishes all freedom of action In the Deity himself, is given by Folfaire, [Correspondanoeavec le Boi de [Of the opposite argument, which denies the freedom of man to save the prescience of God, there is a] good statement in Pererius, De Principiis, Lib. ix. c. 11 : — "Stoici existimantes non posse constare et cobaarere contingentiam cum Dei provi- dentia, ut banc retinerent, illam e rebus sus- tulerunt, hac utentes ratione : Si est pro- vidential non eiit contingentia ; sed est pro- videntia; ergo non est contingentia. Major (nam de minor! non est in praisentia cer- tandum) ita probatur. Providentia Dei includit tria, prcescientiam, voluntatem, et dispositianem Dei; quae tria excludunt a rebus contingentiam. Nam quod est pro- visum a Deo, hoc est, quod Deus prcescivitf voluit, disposuit, seu constituit ut aliquando eveniat, id non potest non evenire ; neque enim potest aut prcescientiu Dei f alii, aut voluntas frustrari, aut ordinatio impediri; sed omnes res sunt a Deo provisse ; ergo omnes necessario et immutabiliter eveni- unt, quare nullus coutiugeutise locus re- linquitur." See for other arguments in regard to the possibility of contingency in nature, ibid. On the whole opinion of the ancients touching Fate, Contingency, &c., see Schegkius, In Arist. De Ortu et In- teritu, p. 237, ed. Basil. 1550. The Calvinist theologian maintains the predestination and foreknowledge of God in conjunction with the liberty of man, nor ventures to reject either article of bis faith, because be is unable to comprehend the mystery of their union. Humbly ac- knowledging our necessary dependence upon God, he likewise vindicates to man a personal freedom, not wrested from the prerogative, but conceded by the grace, of the Divinity, — not granted for the honour of the creature, but for the glory of the Creator,— and not withdrawn from God's dominion, but affording the noblest sub- ject of his rule.* Asserting the contin- Prusse, Lettre 32]. and by Stewart, Dissertation [Note NN ; Coll. Works, vol. i. p. 578.] ♦ " In the Confession of Faith of tlie Church of Scotland (the Articles of which are strictly Cal- vinisticX the freedom of the human will is asserted as strongly as the doctrine of the eternal decrees of God. ' God (it is said, chap, iii.) from all eter- nity did, by the most wise and holy counsel of his own will, flreely and unchangeably ordain whatsoever comes to pass. Yet so as thereby neither is God the author of sin, nor is violenes offered to tJte vrill of his creatures, nor is the liberty or contingency of second causes taken away, but rather established.' And still more explicitly la chap, ix., ' God hath endued the will of man witli w I I 1 178 PRESCIENCE ANB LIBEETY. [hote r. gincj (not tlie uasiially) of human action, e 4om not reduce onmiacieDoe to tlie lofeknowledge of a neceesitated order'; mii 'inalntiiiniiig the 'uniTemd. inlaililiilly of tlMi' divine imatm, M denies thalitlni- f oeee^ n. nniventl^ ficettf %. Ailrilmtins to man in Mb unfallen state a foil and lierfMl Iberty to good and ill, apifitual as well aa moral, lie sMll poitiilatia his free- dom in. acliona of mtuni. and elvil imr port; and while he aaaeria the' concourse of the Deity, he ttill preserves all activity proper to onr peraonality. The loss of man's spontaneous, energyt and hia subjec- tion to a pbyrical necessity, he dedarea tO' he tantamount to the negation of God in llie extinction of man aa a moral and re- ligious auhjecl The Calvinist has thus been eafefnl, on the one hand, not to de- rogate 'from the perfections of the Deity as the author of our salvation ; and on the other, not to destroy the liberty of man at its eimdilion.. '* Tidlt. likcruM ofbitnMwt^ €i nm erit qmd mimiwr; tdk gnOtam, mora irii unde mivetuw," * [The following remarii from the Au- thor's CommoE-Place Book on the terms connected with this queation, were proba^' bly intended to be^ employed, in the pre-' sent Note.— IdJ 1. Coifiiii«raT (rh i¥dfx^n§mp] ^ ita Beaning, true and false. a. — Tme — * that which when it happens is neither necessary nor impossible.' Aristotle, An. Pri., L. i c 18, § 2. Plutarch, De Fato^ Opera. lloral.ia,. p. 5T0-4. Alex. Aphrod..., [In Arisi Anal. Pri f. 52, ed. Aid.] Ammonius, [In Arisl De Interp., ftfd, lOO.ed. Aid. 1SI61 Pi'Ceolomini, De^ Keru.m Deinitioni- bns, (Francof. 1600), p. 221 sq. Biel, In Sent., L. i. diet. 88 A. Hemeaiua, De^ Mature Hominis, e. 34 p. 287, ed.. Mattha>i Leibniti, Opera Philoa. (ed. Bid* maun), pp. 447, 689. _it mMtaH mmlw, tliat it 'is neitliiir fowei,. nor by .say slneliite msfesslty of aatnn delmrnteei. to do iWMl or eril.'" Stewart, Dtiwertatloii, Note MM.; Colleeted Woitai, vol. i p. 675 (rcBtorud Im eollieteil. wmm). :R»Mg«a to. tM amiie efioet ittm 'lie wiittaP' 'Of 'CaMn iln^wilf liave been, ool^ I«ct«»d by Mr' Mos].ey fa Wa work oa the. Aepiill-' ■Iv. .Deetiliie of FredaBtfaatiea. Mole xxl..— In. * m laiaanl, De Oimtla. et IJbeie Artitrlib a L See above, p 97fi b— In. BudieuB. Comm. Ling. Gn»c. [pp. 565, 566, ed. Paris. 1548] Welch. Lexicon, v. Contingens. MicneliuB, Lexicon, v. Contingens. Ooclenins, Lex. PhE, v. Contingens. '8 Gravesande, Introd. ad Phil, p^ 18. lleiaaehthon, Erotemata Dialecti- eesi L. ii. p. 613, ed. 3, Strigelii, lOf If. b.— False— ' thai which while we are not sure whether it has happened or will happen, we are not sure of the HOTE U.J PRESCIENCE AND LIBERTY. 979 Copleston, On Necessity and Pre- destination, pp 80, 81. Whately, Elements of Logic, Ap- pendix .No. I.., 'vv. Certain, M.ay, Possible. Monboddo, Anc. Metaph., vol. i. p. 994. Spinon, Eth., Pars i. 'Prop, xxix., xxiiii Sch. 1 ; Cogitt Metaph., Pars i. c. d, § 8. Hobbes, Of Liberty and Necessity, Works (folio edition), p. 478. [Vol. iv. p. 269, ed. Molesworth.] That equivocally etmimffent includes ne- ccsfOff^, Aristotle, [Anal. Prior. L. L c. 8^ S 5; 0. 18» § 2], pp. 131, 177, Pacii. S. NlOlBiAET {rh hmjicmov), meanings of. KelanchthoQ, Erot. Dial., L. ii p. 604 sq. 8. PDmBMHid Impossible (t^ dvmrhv — rh Miimm)f 'meaninKs of. Ifelandithon, Erot. Dial., L. ii. p. 612. Bmimm, Comm. Ling. Or»c., p. 566. Wolf, De Differentia Nexus Rerum, ftc. (1724), p. 14 sq. Whately, On King, p. 91 ; Logic, Appendix, No. L, vv. Possible, FlfMl VMrWUIli I'll I I'JHbT That pm^ik includes neetamrtf, see Plutarch in Budseus, 1. c [De Fato, c. «.— Ed.] I. Cnmiir (oertus). Ooolenius, Lex. PhiL (Lat), ▼. Certitudo. Omimbricensee, Comm. in Arist Oiv., ii p. 696. Boethius, De Cons. Phil, L. v. pr. 5. Copleston, On Necessity, &&, p. 81 sq. Whttely, Logic, Appendix No. I., ▼. 'Certain. & llBOHANIOAL Bained, Jaoobi, Werke, u. p. 816, and iv. 2, p. 93. * Mechanical= concatenation of mere efficient causes, which eo ipso is a neces- sary concatenation ; as also a ne- cessary concatenation is, so far as it is necessary, eo ipso a me- chanicai' [The following extracts from Aquinas and his commentator Gajetan us appear to have been intended for the present Note. A poi-tion of the latter has been translated in JDiscumons, p. 627. — Ed..] Aquinas. — Summa totius TheologisB, Pars Prima, Quaestio xiii., Articukis 4 Utrum pr&videntia rebus proidsis necessi- talem imftonat. ** 1". Videtur quod divina providentia necessitatem rebus provisis imponat Om- nis enim effectus qui habet aliquam cau- sam per se, quae jam est vel f uit, ad quam de necessitate sequitur, provenit ex. neces- sitate, ut Philosophus probat in sexto Me- taphysicorum.* Sed providentia Dei (cum sit seterna) prajexistit, et ad earn sequitur effectus de necessitate: non enim potest divina providentia frustrari. Ergo pro- videntia divina necessitatem rebus pro- visis imponit" (Having stated a secondand third argu- ment which might be advanced in favour of the affirmative, and one which had been employed in support of the negative, Aquinas proceeds to pronounce his own decision of the question, and to refute the three reasonings opposed to it. Tlie pas- sage to be quoted from his Commentator has exclusive reference to his answer to the first of these.) •* Respondeo, dicendum, quod providen- tia divina quibusdam rebus necessitatem imponit, non autem omnibus, ut quidam crediderunt. Ad providentiamenim perti- net ordinare res in< finem. PoHt bonitatem autem divinam, quae est finis a rebus sepa- vatus, prinoipale bonum in rebus ipsis ex- istens est perfectio imiversi : quae quidem non asset, si non omnes gcadus essendi in- venirentur in rebus. Unde ad divinam providentiam pertinet omnes gradus eu- tium producere. Et ideo quibusdam ef- fectibus praeparavit causae neoessarias, ut necessario evenireni; quibusdam vero causas coutingentes, ut evenirent contiu- genter, secundum conditionem pvoximar rum oau8arum.f * L. V. c 3, ed. Bekker.— Bd. . f Aquinsf is here followed by the aatbors of I " Ad primum ergo dicendum, quod ef- fectus divinae providentiae non solum est aliquid evenire quocunque modo, sed ali- quid evenire, vel contingenter, vel neces- sario. Et ideo evenit infallibiliter et ne- cessario, quod divina providentia dis- ponit evenire infallibiliter et uecessario- : et evenit contingenter, quod divinae pro- videntiae ratio habet, ut contingenter eve- niat." Cajbtanus.— « In responsione ad pri- mum, dubitatio occurrit valde ardua, et forte ab humane intellectu insolubilis. Ad cujus evidentiam, ut melius percipiatur in quo con&istit dubitatio, adverteudum est quod aliud est (1°) * A contingenter even- ire,' et aliud est (2°) 'A necessario even- ire,' et aliud est (3°) * A infallibiliter seu inevitabiliter evenire ; * tarn primum enim quam secundum importat ordinem effec- tus ad caussun in actu positam ; illud quir dem, quod sua causa habet potentiam ad utrumlibet; hoc vero, quod sua non po- test deficere ab ipsius causalitate : sed ter- tium communius est utroque, quoniam et contingentia et necessaria sequuntur divir nam providentiam positam in actu infal- libiliter, seu inevitabiliter; et cum hoc ilia sequuntur contingenter, et ista neces- sario. Ex his enim, quamvis quiescat in* tellectus, attendeus ad responsionem in Litera positam circa salvationem contint^ gentiae, fiuctuat tamen circa connexionem prmiictOB mfallibilitatis cum libera arbitriof — imo, ut rectius loquar, cum libera even- tu ipsarum operationum, quas liberas divl- mus, et similiter cum ambiguo eventu cout tingentium aliorum. '• Cum enim in operatione libera sit con* siderare ipsam voluntatem, illius causam, et eventum, seu executionem ipsius nunc,, ita quod non opposite ; * quamvis difficile non sit salvare naturam talis causae (scili- cet liberae) cum praedicta infallibilitate, eo. quia hujusmodi infallibilitas nihil dat vel aufert causae ad utrumlibet : sed [tar men] (cum ipsa stat, quod causa haheat potentiam indifferentem ad illud infallibile et ad ejus oppositum, et propter hoc, di- fiina pr&videntia non adimat coniingentiaiA a rsbus) verum saivare pre&dictam,infalli» the Westminster Confession of Faith, chap. v. OfProvidenoe, § 2—" Although in relation to tha foreknowledge and decree of God, the first cause, all things come to pass immutably and infallibly i yet,.1>y. the same providence, he ordereth them to fall out according to the nature of second cau8e«^ either necessarUy, ftedik or contingently." Bee also chap. ilL § 1. • " Ita quod non opposite ;" " aoGMttJixnnkmlA hi w) inconsuteney aman4f them." There is per- haps, however, some omiasion. ^ ,^- III! ISO PiUSOilNCE ANB LIBEBTY. [note 0. laltfufem cum mE^emttiaimiikmriaieeM'- tHiMWM leti eMiifw — hwi opus, hio later Ml. St enim MalliMto est, me dilraonln primo fiituro Mfilitn ; i]!iiMii.vifl potenliani iiAlMftiii 'id iikttmlb«l| |M wt,.iid' aoriben- iuin. 11111% Y«l 9A non Mribiiidiiiit tune) ; atiMii'Mi. poton'tk iete' akqm' lilMrtts^ non mbit in actum negntiomk aorilMndi|. md. ■lilnnjitioni% aic quod inevifcabOe est quin ailrmMiooveniiii Et li sio est, cum jun ab S'teno diiiat profidenlm mt in anta detmniniite rwMeta onmium., et immnto- bilis et infalliblllii, &e. — sequitur quod, de fmt&, omnia imemtabUiter evosian^ quam* ¥is qwBdam tmiimgmier, et quMliiii, iic- ciimrtft Motanler antem dixi, if^' fketo, quia do poeaibii, absolute loquendo, po- test Deus non determinare providentiam mam ad hws, yoI ilia f utura. Sed cum jmn iliffniitfiato mi, npuguafc immutabilitoti eftcaeiiB, unlTOnalitati atqne eertitudiui suae, evitabililaa evenientium. Et si omnia Inevitabilitor ofeniunt de facto, ut quid cmailiamiir et oonamnr ad bao maffis quam. ilia proieqnenda' irel Titanda. t Mil ejiMi ntMW' iritmmr em hoe ilf:ifnit pmra mumdUf mmuqm emmtm Bede^ nloiie exhortath ad bomm, qmm i« fM|Nilioiie ixMltnfMf ia. <|uamvia env 'O^ptio mka- Itltetti, et negmtio mmiim§tiiMm n tant; quoniam, ut pm diotna e»t|^ non de Beo -aeenndum M' eonafdeiato, .sed .fentn- iliifji fiiod de facU eH ; et similiter non de iiHii naturis causarum aut remm« neo m neceisitato aut oonfting!snti% led de €m^pmaiMiMtti€4$temMiBwm 'WMliiiiiiieiiiii «oiil«ft^erexceden8, eminenter praDhabens necessana 'st contingentia (per hoc enim evadit Sanotua Thomas ab ilia ratione VL Metapbysicorum hie allata; intendit enim quod propositiones Aristotelis verificantur ia miiaia particularibus, quarum alia) sunt Moeaaariai, alias contingentes, alise per se, et ali» per accidens, non autem in causA uniTersaliasima excedente neoeaianaa et contiDgeataa per ae et per accidena, quo- niftm ad eaoi apaelat producere, ut effectus eleoloe, non solum res, sed omnes reram et erentuum modes) ; — ita elevando altiua mentia ooulos, ipat Bens, ex sua altiori, quan eogitare poaaimns, excellentia, m ftftiif mmuHmtguM gimvidtatf nt eue proU' KOTE U.J PBESCIENCE AND LIBERTY. 981 Bum ah eo sequaiw aliquid aUius quam evitahUita^ vet inevitahilitaSj ut sic ex pas- mva provisione eventus, neutrius eomhina- tionis alterum membirum oporteat aequi, *' Et si sic est, quiescet intellectus^ mm evi- dentia veritatis inspectce, sed altitvdme in- accessibUi veritatis occultce. Et hoc inge- niolo meo satis rationabile videtur; — turn propter rationem praedictam; tum quo- niam, ut ait QregoriuB, minus de Deo sentit qui hoc tantum de illo credit^ quod suo in- ffenio mMiri potest. Nee propterea negan- dum aliquid eorum,qu8e addivinam immu- tabilitatem, actualitatem, certitudinem, atque universalitatem, et similia, spectare Bcimus, aut ex fide tenemus, Buspicor: sed aliquod occultum latere^ vel ex parte ordi- nis qui est inter Deum et eventum provi- sum; vel ex glutino inter ipsum eventum et esse provisumy arbitror; et sic intellectum miimcB nostras oculum nocttuB esse consi- derans* in ignorantia sola quietem illius mvenio. Melius est enim^ tam fidei catho- licce quam philosophice, fateri cmcitatem nostram, quam asserere tanquam evidential quceintellectumnonquietantjevidentianamr quequietativa est. Nee propterea omnes * He refers to Aristotle. IMetaph. A minor, e. 1.] Note in JHtcussioMt p. 627. Doctores praesumptionis accuso, quoniam balbutiendo, ut potuerunt, immobilitatem ac efficaciam summam et aetemam divini intellectus, voluntatis, potestatisque insi- nuare inteuderunt omnes, per infallibilita- tem ordinis diviuas electionis ad eveutus omnes ; quorum nihil prsefatas suspicion! obstat, quae altius quid in eis latere credit. Et vere, si sic praedicaretur, nullus forte circa praedestinationem erraret Christianus, sicut non errat in materia Trinitatis;* quia dicitur et scribitur et ita est, quod occulta est humano intellectui, et sola fides sufficit Optimum autem atque salubre consilium est in hac re inchoare ab his, quae certo scimus et experimur in nobis — scilicet quod omnia quce sub Ubero arbitrio nostra con- tinentur, evitabilia a nobis sunt, et propterea digni sunius pasna vel prcemio. Quomodo autem, hoc salvo, divina salvetur provi- dentia ac pra'destinatio, &c., credere quod sancta mater Ecclesia credit. Scriptum est enim — * Altiora te ne quccsiaris;' plu- rima euim sunt tibi supra sensus homiuum revelata. Et boc est uuum de illis." * This was written before 1507 ; consequently long before Servetus and Campanus had intro- duced their unitarian heresies. jVo/c in Diaciu- aioM, p. 62& NOTE D* ON SCIENTIA MEDIA. [Reference omitted, and to be supplied from A. P. 632 b.] There iaa good account of Seientia Media in Fonseca, Comm. in Arist. Metaph., vol. lii. pp. 119, 120. The doc- trine was invented by Fonseca, adopted and developed by Molina, Suarez, Vas- quez, Meudosa, and others. Fonseca does not make the seientia visionis and sim- pUm iMteUigentiae equivalent to sciential libera and naturalis, but makes seientim m£dia between the two latter, not as given above [p. 632 b, n. *J after Leibnitz. [The title of this Note is given in the Author's list ; but no portion of its con^ tents has been found, except a memoram' dum, the substance of which is given iSt ON SCIENTIA MEDIA. [kote it*. NOTE V.J ARISTOTLE AS A LOGICIAN. 98S aboTe. The Koto uppeare to liam 1>e«ii imtondfid as a supfkiiimil to .p.. €12 h, n. \ 'to' «zplaiii so afptnl cmn|iftiioy be- twmn tlie aoGOQiitfii«ragi¥ after Leib- -niti {Th^odic^o, Pmrtie i. § 89-42), and '"Hiiit of Wmmmt ■■' ngwfia IIm 'Oiiips of ■Ibo nmno mkHtm' immL Wmmmm lili- •tingulBliei 'iMtiroeii. Miiiififli' iMfiifiiiit, or that knowledge whicb Ood cannot but h&ve ; as of things possible and their pos^ sible relations to each other; and idmtm iiJbera, or that knowledge which <3od may or may not have, according to hie own wttl; as of things actually existing or des- tined to exist, which are actnal, and there- fore known as actual, only in conaeqneiico •of Qod's will to bring them into existence. Between these two, there is a knowledge •called by Fonaecu »cimtia comdiHmmta or M«Blii» and by others ickmim nMJiii, which in one point of view mny -be niarded as natural, in another as free. This is the knowledge of the future actions of volun- tary agents ; which is free, inasmuch as it is in the power of the agents to act otherwise, and therefore the actions as foreknown might have been different ; but natural, inasmncb as 'Ood knows iow tliif wil act. Thia is divided into fdenlta eomd^wmata futurorum, or the knowledge of free acts which will here- after come to pass, and Kimtia pwre eon' ditionata, or the knowledge of acts which woiild have come to pass under certain waditioiii never actually realised. As an inilBiioe of the latter, Fonseca cites the case of Tyre and Sidon, which would have repented had the works been done in them which were done in Chorazin and Bethaaida. A similar account ia given by Molina, Concordia, Disp. Hi.; In i. Partem D. Thomae, Disp. xvii. This account slightly differs from that given by Leibnitz^ inasmuch as Fonseca does not identify the seientia naturalis and libera with tbe seimtia simplicis intelllg- mtidB and mswm$ respectively. This iden- tifioatioB is made, however, by some other exponents of the doctrine, with whom Leibniti*s account agree& See e.g. Snarez, Opusc. de Seientia Dei futur. con- ting., Lib. ii. c. 3 ; Vasquez, In primam Partem 8. Thomse, Disp. Ixvii.; Mendo»s Diapntationes Philosophicso, De Anima Disp. ix. Sect. vi. subs. 5^ Ruiz, Commen- tarii ao Diapntationes, pp. 799, 802.— Ed.] \J X Mil w ■« I'S MIBITS AS A LOOIOIAir- filS OWK AND KAMT'S TISflMQlf7. I ■IIBw^lP'*l^W''^^'"™^^i^^"'* "* ^^ ^liPHHWI mm 9 "(P mr^Jr ^IHHVuli * It Is thus niMiifitt tlwt «• liava brought to a satisfactory conclusion what we originally ppoposed ; IniI' thai afouiU' itamsaii. under mkk Mt dmitfiiM^ lias hmm avolved, ought aot' to 'te ' p is ii over in iiilfti,e«T 'Of things invented or disoowrml,* * We distingniah tn modern English between invention and discovery, which few other Ian- giiages do ; but we want a generic won! to express both at once. It Is, tteefore, neceasacy ao to tmislata. all of them [are found in one or other of two stages of progress; for they are] either such, as, received from foreign hands, and in a state of previous cultivation, have obtained a more articulate development from those to whom they have been lat- terly transmitted ; or they are such as are still in the hands of their original authors, and, as is then usually the case, only on the first step of their advancement, — a step, however, of far greater importance than all the progress they can ever accom- plish by the aid of any subsequent pro- moter. For the principle — the commence- ment — (according to the proverb) is in everything more than half the whole.* But, for that reason, it is also in every- thing the point of difficulty. For whilst a principle, as in effect the mightiest, is in magnitude the least, nothing is found more difficult than its detection. But this once discovered, all else it is comparative- }y easy to add and amplify. * This is what took place in the art of Rhetoric; but nearly the same miglit be affirmed of every other. Those who first discovered the principles of that art, brought it out but a little way in its de- velopment; but by those who are now celebrated as its cultivators, it was only amplified to what it is, as an inheritance gradually accumulated from the acquisi- tions of a long series of predecessors. Thus Tisias after the founders, Thrasymachus after Tisias, Theodorus after Thrasyma- chus, and many others, made many partial contributions; so that we need not marvel if the art of Rhetoric be now, in certain respects, not only full, but overflowing. ' But of the doctrine on which we are engaged,t it cannot be said, that, prior to us, one part had been elaborated and another not. There was, in fact, nothing done whatever. For those who made a mercenary profession of teaching the art of disputation, followed a mode of instruc- tion similar to that of Gorgias. For, as be (lege 6 fi^) gave ready-made rhetorical, so they gave ready-made questionary, discus- sions, to be learned off by their disciples, which, as in both cases was intended, should comprise the more usual topics in which an argument on either side could be maintained. With them, indeed, the pupil learned rapidly, — but without prin- • See Arist De Calo, L. I. c. 6; Eth. Nic. L. i. c. 8 ; Probl. x. 15. Cf. Erasmi Adagia, pp. 10, 609, ed. 1620; Magirus, (Polynmemon), v. Prin- vipium. t Alexander leaves it doubtftil whether Dialeciio tr Logic. ciple or method ; for the scope of their in- struction was to communicate to him, not the art, but certain products of the art. It was as if a man, professing that he would expound the science of protecting the feet, should then, in place of teaching the craft of shoemaking and its subsidiaries, hand you an assortment of every variety of shoe. This, it is true, might satisfy your present need, but not furnish you with the art of always doing so. * But while on Rhetoric there has been much written, and from an early period, on Syllogism — on the art of Reasoning,* there is absolutely nothing extant previous to our own researches ; and these have cost us not a little time and trouble. If, there- fore, it may appear to you, upon examina- tion, that this system, in which, from the foundation, everything had to be supplied, may yet worthily stand a comparison with those others which have been built up by the labours of successive generations ; it remains for you to accord your indulgence to what in it may be found wanting, and your very grateful acknowledgment for the discoveries which it contains.' Kant.— Kritik der reinen Vernunft, Vorrede zur zweyten Auflage, p. viii. * That Logic has, from the earliest times, proceeded in this secure course — that it has never been compelled to fall back in search of another path, — is manifest from this : since left by Aristotle it has not needed to retrace a single step, unless we choose to reckon as improvements — what, however, pertain mor« to the elegance of the science than to its certainty— the omission of some unessential subtleties, and a more perspicuous exposition of the doctrines. But, moreover, it is remarkable in regard to Logic, that, to the present hour, it has been unable to advance a single step, and thus presents itself, to all appearance, as concluded and complete.' [The following transktions of other tes- timonies to the same effect have been found among the Author's papers.— Ed.] 1._Deoebando.— Des Signes, &c., t. iv. p. 28. * The philosopher who reflects at- tentively on the rules of the ancient Logic, is astonished to see how far its authors have carried the analysis of rea- soning. With the most severe impar- tiality, he cannot but confess, that each I • See above, p. 708 b, note t. IP §81 ARISTOTLE AS A LOGICIAN. fNnTE T. of these rules is of a rigorous exactitude, awl iliat, as a wholoi th^ aro so oom- |ileto thai not one of tlia^ poiaible forms of 'reasoning has oieapMi lliMn. Aris- totle, undoubtedly, was often destitute of the aid which experience gupplies, — this vas the misfortune of the ago in which lie saw the light ; but be was, perhaps, the profoundest of thinkers, a genius the moat eminently didactic, which has arisen on the honsson of philosophy. I question if there have ever subsequently been an- nounced theories so beautiful as those which he has left us for a model. He combined views the most extensive with an eye for details tha most acute. He created the art of claasiieation, and then carried it almost to perfection. He exe- cuted a work, of all, perhaps, the most astonishing for those who know the march of our intellect ; he conceived the method of science, when as yet the sciences did not exist ; he pointed out with certainty the way which led to truth as yet un- known ; he seemed to reason with pre- science of ail the future progress of the human mind.* 2.— Pelisson. — a. — Letter to Madame de Brinou, 1690. (Leibnitii Opera, ed. Du- tens, t. i p. 699.) *He (Leibniti) very well observes, that the Scholastic phi- losophy is the product engendered of the Dialectic or Logic of Aristotle, applied to religion; Dialectic or Logic, which, lor mv own part. I regard as one of the most beautiful discoveries of the human intellect. For who but must marvel, that a single man has, by his own contempla- tion, been able to reduce and oomprehend within certain classes, and under certain forms, the infinite modes in which men reason, and to give us, so to speak, the external marks which may enable us to distinguish the true naaon. irom the false.' b.— Latter to Lailiiiitii, I'Oil. (Leib- nitii Opera, ed. Dufcens, t. i p. 726.) * I was brought up in the philosophy of Aristotle, and with • great veiMRation lor Uiii ; hat thia vwMntioii vai: giiatly 'inflnaaad wliatt, haviag ntnniM to' my Greek in those yeata nf solitude*— (he had just spoken of ' four years and four months of the Bastille, and of leiaure 'perfone'), — *l read him in Mminllt and found him. of an infinite el:eganiie, and beyond comparison elearer than all oommentators. I am -await' of nO' genius more extended or more elevated than his.' 3.— BiLfiHOiR.— a.— De Reductione Philosophise ad usus publicos, 1725, Varia, Fasc. ii. p. 62-63. * To Aristotle we owe the noble design of collecting into the form of a discipline whatever conduces to the exercise of the art of demonstration, and to a security against the arts of de- ception. And be so accomplished his purpose, that, to the present day, few and small have been the additions made by others ; additions made, too, only by fol- lowing his guidance and method.' b. — De praecipuis quibusdam Discendi Ragulis ex comparatione Corporis et Ani- mierutis, 1726, Varia, Fasc. ii. p. 247. ' I avail myself of this occasion to state my opinion of the Organon, since this has ex- perienced at different times so different a destiny; for what is now neglected, and even despised, had formerly, in all the Universities, a peculiar professor set apart for its interpretation. I do not say this that be may be again recalled into the chair, since the form of the sciences, and of scientific disputations, is at present bo different from what it was of old. But this I say confidently, and with a full know- ledge of the cause : — That the Organon of Ar&otle is a book the first of its class, in order as in excellence, (see Sophist. Elench. c. 34), that it is complete, and demonstrated, and useful, and of conBiim- mate execution. If there be any of my readers skilled in the art of invention, let them examine the books of the First and Second Analytics, of the Topics, and of the Sophistics, according to the precepts of that art, and they will admire of it a spe- cimen to which nothing similar is to be found out of Mathematics, nor even within them, if we regard the difficulties which it behoved to conquer in the accomplish- ment. If any one undervalue this labour of Aristotle, let him go and discover for himself even one of these forms of rea- soning. I shall laud the man, if he produce a better; laud him, even if he produce an argument aa good. Awl yet the first In- ventors are very different from those who follow,' &c. c — ^Pneeepta Logica, 1739, p. 2. * Aris- totlo has reduced Logic into the form of an art By him the matter was handled to porlootion. The modems who despise, do not imdiiHittitii' him«* NOTE W. THE SCIENCES OF OBSERVATION TO BE STUDIED BEFORE THOSE OF EEFLECTION. I||l|i pieference — From p. 711 a b. Compare p. 420 a.] [The following references have been found among the Author's papers. Other testimonies would probably have been added, had the Note been completed. — Ed.] 1. — ^Plato, in Sauteri Institutiones Lo- gicsB, § 8. [* Quam maxime, inquit Plato lie Repub. yil* prcecipiendum est, ut, qui pulcherrimam hanc habitant civitatem, nul- la modo geometriam spemant. Sdmus enim, ad discipiinaa omnes facili'm perdk- eendas interesse omnino, attigeritne geo- metriam aliquis, an non* — Ejusdem Pla- tonis ap. Theon. Smyrn. Cap. i. haec est sententia: Adolescentibus eorumque oetati conveniunt disdplinoB mathematicce, quoR animam prceparant et defcecant, ut ipsa ad philosophiam capessendam ideonea redda- tur. De arctissimo matheseos cum phi- losophia nexu adeo persuasum erat Pla- toni, ut neminem geometriae ignarum in scholas suas recipiendum putavit. Acade- mise, ab ipso institutse, foribus inscriptum legebatur: Nemo geometrim expers acce- dUo.'i] ' 2. — Aristotle.— a. — Eth. Nic, L. i. c. [3] : — [Ai6 ttjj troXiTiKtis ovk ttmv ohtuos uKpoariis 6 vios' &treipos ykp rwv nark rhv fiiov irp4^(wv' ol \6yoi Sk ix roinuv koX ir«pl roinaov.^ b. — Ibid., L. vi. c. 8 : — [2i}/ue7oi/ V iirrX Tov flfynfiivov Kol Bi6ri ytwfitrpiKoX ii\v pioi icol /io^/uaTifcol yltfovrcu icol ffoptfia i^ ifxTt^ipiaSf viOi 5' ^jxveipos OVK ^(TTr itAtj^os ykp^ XP^' vov iroiti r^v intreipiav iirel Ka\ rovr* &v ris (ricei|/oiTO, hia ri fiadiifiariKhs fikv Trdis y4voir' kv^ ffotphs Sc ^ H- uess of barbarous ages, that instead of beginning with arts most easy, (aud tliese be such as are most obvious to the sense,) they present their young unmatriculated novices at first coming with the most in- tellective abstractions of Logic and Meta- physics; BO that they having but newly left those gi-ammatic flats and shallows where they stuck unreasonably to leai-:i a few words with lamentable construc- tion, and now on the sudden transported under another climate, to be tossed and turmoiled with their unballasted wits in fathomless and unquiet deeps of contro- versy, do for the most part grow into hatred and contempt of learning, mocked and deluded all this while with nigged notions and babblements, while they ex- pected worthy and delightful knowledge, &c.'] 4.— Leibnitz. — [Schreiben an Wagner], Opera Philosophies (ed. Erdmann), pp. 423 b, 426 a.— [' Ich bin selbst der Mei- nung, man thaete wohl, dass man die Ma- thematik, Historic, und anderes vor der ausfuehrlichen Logik lemtej denn wid ii §86 SCIENCES OF OBSERVATION AND REFLECTION, [note w. will der die Gedanken woM ordnen, der noch wenig bedachl; ' Seliliaaalicli bin ich mit meinem ge- ehi-ten Henrn einig, dass man ohne allzu- viel Wesen von der Logik und der glei- clien mi maclieii, die Jugend sefort auf die tbaetliclieii Wissenschaften fuehren aolle, &c.*] 5.— Vico. — Opere Complete, I. p. xxx. — * Hemoo we may rwidilf undewtand witli bow much injury to tbe cultivation of youth two pernicious practioea, in the method of study, must be attended, which eome now adopt The first is, that to boys, who have scarcely left the school of Grammar, is presented the philosophy of Logic, which, as described by Arnauld, is the depository of the most rigorous judgments, exercised upon materials ac- eumulaled by the higher sciences, and altogether removed from the common ap- preheusion of mankind. The effect of this is to stunt and dislocate those facul- ties in the youthful mind which ought to be regulated and developed each by its appropriate discipline: as the memory by the study of languages; the imagination by the perusal of poets, historians, and omton; the iagemaity by linear Geome- try, which in a cei-tain sense is a painting, that invigorates the memory by the great number of its elements — refines the imagi- nation by its delicate figures, like so many designs, defined by the subtlest lines — exefeis^B the ingenuity in the necessity of running rapidly through all, and among all, of selecting what is needed to demon- strate the magnitude required: and all this to produce a harvest, when the time of mature judgment arrives, of a wisdom eloquent, vivid, and acute. But by such logics young men are prematurely hurried on to critical philosophy, in other words, made to judge before they are made to apprehend ; thus reversing the natural de- velopment of thought which first appre- hends, then judges, and lastly, reasons. By such a method youth becomes arid and blighted in its evolution ; and taught with- out preliminary knowledge to decide on everything * The other practice is, that of giving to young men the elements of the science of magnitude on the Algebraic method.'* * ForacontinnatfoD of thk extract, see DiieiM- •ioiM, p. MS.— Ed. NOTE X, air THE BHVEBEKCa BETWEEN OONC3EFTI0NS (BEGEIIII:) AKD INTUITIONS (ANSCHAUUNOENJ. [EeferenoM omitted, and to h% nppliocl from 1 P. 2fl a, 360 a, 365 b, 407 b, 412 b.] [The title of tliia Note is given in the Autho/a X&» with a reference to Bol- ■anii, WiiiaiiMliafialelire, i p* 341. A tnmalatioii. i/f thii piwMige i« a] -Ed.] BouEANO, Wissenschaftsldiro, {Sulzbach, 1837, § 77, vol. i p. 343-4. ("Kant is acknowledged to have the merit of having brought the distinction NOTE X ] CONCEPTIONS AND INTUITIONS. 987 between Intuitions and Conceptions into general recognition. Others indeed, long before him, had observed that some of our representations have only an indivi- dual object, others a plurality of objects. Thus Aristotle remarks, (Analyt. Post. i. 31): — Al(rdiiv€ bp^v fxiv Xwpls ^<^' l»c(£.] f liiri II III I 1 f NOTE f. on IQOISM. [BtfiFiiioe omitted, snd to be lupplied from I P. 293 b; compare also 269 i.] pPVom a reference in the Author's MS. A is probable thaJb he intended in this Note to give some account of the oration of Pfaff, a copy of which he had procured after the printing of the foot-note to p. 293. Pfaff's work is a small pamphlet of 27 pages, entitled " Christoph. Matthsoi Ffaffii, Theologi Primarii et Cancellarii Tubingensis Oratio do Egokmo, nova Philosophica Haresi, Tnbingaj d, IV. Nov. MDCCXXII. in Aulft NovA public^ recitata, Tubingie, a. 1722." In the begin- ning the author speaks of i^ism as a new philosophical heresy, lately sprung up in France, England, and Ireland ; and re- fers to Wolf's " Vernuenftige Gedancken von Qott, der Welt, uud der Seele des Menschen," (c. 1, § 2; c. 6, § 944,) as containing mention of a sect of %oists lately arisen in Pari.% and a refutation of their opinions. The greater part of the pamphlet, however, is oooupied with a criticism, or rather a denunciation, of Ma- terialism and Idealism ; and the only fur- ther historical evidence advanced to shew the existence of persons professing Egoism is the following quotation from the Me- moires de Trevoux, 1713, p. 922,— "Un de nous connolt dans Paris un Malebran- chiste, qui va plus loin que M. Berkeley ; il liii a soutenu fort serieusement, da us une longue dispute, qu'il est trfes pro- bable qu il soit le seul etre cr^^ qui existe, et que non seulement il n'y ait point de corps, mais qu'il n'y ait point d'autro esprit cr^alv€r— 45*.— •Joseph Oiamyili-— Pliimiiiliia Pia, 1-671, p.. 160 sq.— * By thii: J¥ifM»- pks of Mmsm we are not to undantimd the grounds of any man's PMlosophy, nor 'the eritieal wulm of Syllogiiiii.; but those Imdrai fimdamm^ai muMmtt that God. hath implanted in. 'Om soili ; neh. m hIm not from external objects, nor particular humours or imaginations, but are. imme- diately lodged in. our mimla,. independent Vfm 'Other principles or deductioni, com- 'mtndiBg a sudden, .ascent,, and acknow- ledged % all sober mankind* Ofthifiaort these': Mai &i»i ig • Mm§ if tdi pm^ 9 %Mi m iMmm ^— — ^ m mill woi 'if.* T%Bi ike wM$ It fwalif ikan any of Us parts t and such liie others, wliich are unto us what inMndM are to other creatures. These I call the iViwajito of MmsmC P. 783 b, after No.. 46 >- 46*. — SiE Matthew Hale.?— Primitive Origination of Mankind, 1677, p. 60. — ♦ I' come now to consider of those rational instincts, as I call them, the connate prin- ciples engraven in the human soul, wnicli, though they are truths, acquirable and deducible by rational consequence and aimimentation, yet they seem to be in- •cribed in the very crasis and texture of the soul, antecedent to any acquisition by industry or the exercise of the discursive faculty in man ; and therefore they may be well called anticipations, prenotions, or sentiments characterised and engraven in the soul, bom with it, and growing up with it, till ^ey receive a check by ill customs or eduoaliima, or an improvement and advtneeDient by the due exerciise of the lamines* P. 784 \ at end of No. 50 : — See Cousin, Des Pensees de Pascal, (Paria 1843,) Avant-piopos, f,. xxx. note, P.78tb,il9,add:— See Consin, Des Pens&s de Paseal, Avant-propos, p. xxvi note. P. 789 b, add at the end of the second paragraph >— In Dr fhinklin*s Autobiography (a. 1725) the author of this book, Lyons, is said to have been a suMreon; he was a friend of Mandeville, Pemberton^ and even of Sir Isaac Newton^ See p* 40, Bohn*s edition. P. 790 b, after No. 70 :— 70*.— Baxter. — Enquiry into the Na- ture of the Human Soul, Ac, 2d ed., 1737, vol i. sect. i. p. 7 ; et aHbi "Cam- mm Smmr word and thing. P. 807 b» i 47, n., to « Locke *' add (*) and subjoin the following Note : — • LockUi i» f«ct, in The Epistle to the Reader, uses th«* word uHfidmdy in a sense exactly counter U the modern meaning, and as equivalent to mOjedimly, P. 831" a, I 29, to "it" add (i) and sub- join the following Note :— t But Rovere, I ind, only follows Gal- luppL F. 861 b, t 6% n., add aflar reference to M ermmif. n/ Mma :— i!WJiiiSil« i POSTSCRIPT. materiiil% not indeed to complete the work as he designed it, but to prodnce s more inished result than he has actually accomplished. But the reason which partly influenced the editors of Pascal (whose practice, however, was by no means faithful to their profession), is decisive in determining the rule to be adopted in all similar cases— " Ce n'eftt pas ^t^ donner 9on ouvrage, mais un ouvrage tout diffe- rent." A firagment, however imperfect, from the pen of a Pascal or a Hamilton, has a Value which would not belong to a more finished production of doubtful authorship. The few additions which the Editor has found it necessary to make are carefully distinguished from the original matter of the Author's own papers. Those which have been incorporated with the contents of the papers, whether to complete the sense or to supply references or quotations, are included within square braeketa Entire sentences added by the Editor are distinguished by the signature "Ed."* In those Notes which are compiled from separate fragments, the Editor is responsible for the sdection and arrangement. In this, as in the whole of his task, he has received most valuable advice and assistance from the Author's son, Hubert Hamilton, Esq., who has most lealously and efficiently taken part in the endeavour to complete this monument to the memory of his Father. H. L. M. * In refereiUM to this lignftture, it m necessary to point out an ambiguity which ..as not discovered till it was too late to correct it In the portion of the work pub- lillied by Sir W. Hamilton, he is in the habit of distinguishing Reid as " the Author," ■ildMiiiielf as "the Editor." In preparing the subsequent papers for publication, l it usual distinction of Author and Editor was adopted, and the discrepancy was aol noticed tin after some sheets had been stereotyped. In this latter portion of the work, including the Memoranda for a Preface and the Supplementary Dissertations p. »15, " tha Author - is Sir W. Hamilton, and the signature " Ed." denotes the it' ii I INDICESL m INDEX I. TO THX WOEKS OF DE THOMAS EEID. [References to Sir W. Hamilton's Foot-Notes are distinguished by the initial H.— Ed.] Abelard, his Nomaalism, 406a: really a Concep- tualist, 40fi H, 'J f Aberiitttliy, (Rev. John,) quoted, 377 a. Abstraction, Essay on. 389-412; tee General Con- ceptinns. General Words, Universale, Ac; Abstraction (proi)er) distinguished from Gene- ralisation, 394; we may abstract without gene- rsilisinif, but we cannot genenUise without ab- structinjT, 394 b ; the operation of, in forming (Jeneiiil Conceptions, 394, 395. Absurdities, of mental philosophers, alluded to. 358 b, 358 a. Academics, (the,) held the senses to be fallacious, 334 a. Accidem, as a predicable. 686. Accountableness, Moral, argument from, in favour o» Free- Will, 620-622. Actum, Active power, meaning of the words. 614. 615, 603, 604. Action, Principles of: Essay on. 643-599; on, in general, 643-545; defined, everything that in- cites us to act, 643 ; difficulty of a knowledge of, 643. 544; various opinions held by philosophers regarding. 644 ; divided into, 1. Mechanical, 645- 651; 2. Animal, 551-579; 3. Rational, 679-599. Active Power, the notion of, 512-518; «ee Power. Active Powers. Essays on the, 511-679 ; the distri- bution of our powers into Speculative and Active objectionable, 511 H. Activiry, Dr. James Gregory's opinions on, criti- cised, 81, 82; as a source of enjoyment, 493 b, 494 a Addison, quoted to the effect that Colour is not a quality of bodies, but only an idea in the mind, 139 a ; his division of the objects of Taste, 493 a ; quoted on the attractiveness of Beauty. 499 a. 500 b. ' ' Adelaiidus the Arabian, referred to, 263 H, 800 II iEnesidemus, referred to, 203 H. Affections: on, in general, 658-570; have persons for their object, 658; how distinguished from Passions, 5f»8. 569; the Benevolent, (to wit, of Kindred, of Gratitude, of Pity, of Esteem, of Friendship, of Love, of Public Spirit,) consider- ed, 660-566 ; the Malevolent, (to wit, of Emu- lation, of Resentment,) considered, 566-570; Benevolent Affections accompanied with an agreeable feeling, 669 ; imply a desire of good •nd happiness to their object, 669, 560 ; geoenJ reflections, 664-566 ; Malevolent Affections sources of pain, 570 b. Agent, meaning of, in connection with that of Cause, 607 ; every operation supposes an agent, Agents. Moral, Essay on the Liberty of, 599-636. Agiiilonius, his Optics referred to, for a case of I double vision, 169 b and H. Akenside, his division of the objects of Taste, 493 a ; held that Beauty dwells originally in the Mind. 503 a. Alcibiades, Second, not Plato's, 683 H. Alcinous, quoted in regard to Memory, 353 b. Alcmjeon, his theory of Knowledge, 300 H. Alexander Aphrodisiensis, quoted in regard to Phancy or Imagination, 353; states admirably the purely formal character of Logic, 695 H ; quoted in defence of Aristotle's rules for the con- version of propositions, 696 H ; on Formal Ne- cessity in syllogisms, 701 H; refeixed to, 300 H, 372 H. Alison, (Rev. Archibald,) Letter from Reid to, 89 ; his Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste, ib. II. Alphonso X., (King of Leon and Castile,) his cele- brated saying, 460 H. Ambiguity of words, frequently arises from the same name being given both to the cause and to the effect, 113 b; a great impediment to the ad- vancement of knowledge, 219; of the words cause, effect, action, and active power, 605-608. Ambition, {see Power, Desire of,) one of the most universal passions of the human mind, 517, 518 ; distinguished from Emulation. 566 b. Amelius the Platonist, his supposed anticipation of Malebranche, 264 b. Amroonius Hermiae, referred to, 242 H, 263 II. 629 H, 689 11. Analogy, opposed to Reflection, as a meansof study- iug the mind, 201, 202; the old philosophy purely analogical, the new more derived from reflection, 202 b ; as an instrument of reasoning, 236-238 ; its uses, 236 b, 237 a ; a fruitful source of error, when applied to the mind and its ope- rations, 237 b ; instance of the ass between two bundles of hay, 238 a. Analogy of Existence, as implied hi knowledge, doctrine of, 300 H. Analysis, of the human faculties, necewaiy, 99 b ; SB >« I I'f 1 1. IHBEX I. imMboliiiil, 'Wmtami vMi elitniWI, W§tWi s «■' Mnnot 'raaton. fkimi tlic mm %$ tta miliar. S0V. Ht i MC Otneml ConcepHoiift Jmilllto, FIrti, of jicinoltoi immnuiI of, 603-7M : UM, of Ari>totH..«MMlil oC ?i6h im. AMtouiatm their oaiglmilltlit 'Of AnnliMf,, SS7 n. ▲iiatomy, iMBtal, oeinpurti' wltli 'fiifuleu, fS a Afiaxa|!onuh referrod lb, SOS H; lik tliiory of Kmrnladgv, 80u H. AnuinMilar, mhrmi to, JIOS H. AnuimuMs, nfeivwl. ti0, MS If. Andali, (Bmiisik;) qwoM ;•» lioldinga doctri'mof AraiptiiMi similar to tliat of MeM ftnd Stewart. 257 It Ainyipvpiiiw, (JoaiiiMH Bmicilkilius,) IiIb fimciful tM!«0llllt ttl-S71»i IMil^ wtit 'tiie of the term criticised liy Stewart, 551 11 ; re- f|iair» tittiutioii and will in tiielr oferatiou, but not Jiidf nmitk §79' h. Aoiiwil Mawiitiiwat, $m Riieatnioni AnlniMH 'Bnite, hem of viaion in, 160, JM II ; their nemory, 3i0» 800; do not aeaaure time. $m ; 'HW' inMUnet of, 645, H$ ; wli^ethoT' thty have iMlief. fISli'; how fkr' tbey liavt diiiPlii 'iM, 555; pmatal aJtetlon^ in, M)^. Ml; gnifltnde in, em ; whetticr tliey have ofdnioni, 577 ; have no conception of Oi'od ui»on the Wiiirie, 581 a j bate no .eoneelMie^ SM, 597 ; ineaiMMe of teili- nonj 'OT' 'pronlw't 'IM>« AvigprmdimiimnM, afwnmt «fnoi ill. mi,^ Antlgonus Carys:tiai,. .r«leR«d t% 119 ^U Apdlaniiia,. notiGed, Ml, 701 'k Appere^mi, aMordlnff to tit ifetini of Ldhnits, 308, 222 H, 551 H. Appetitee : oomiderod at Anhnal Prfneliileac^ Ae- tlon, S51.554 ; diinition and characier&ttiea of, 551. 55S; .art^'timtte mnnher, (HMngtr, fhint, and Luat,) 551 'h; lOmkm appetilai ntiher vlr- toons nor vieioua. 552, 553 ; neitlier tncial nor ■elMt, 553' a ; mmm printi^iiitt ilM' ApiittitM, 'bat whidi do not mmiMMlr |tl thai nana, Ik'i 'liealdii. 'liio Hatwal,. there art Aeqnlrad appe- 'tilei. Hi k Approhend, two ntaninp^ of lilt' word. 8S8. Appntetiiiim, ahnnlti mhyao triled, 108 hand H, Ms aand M: ; nerliriiitd. by nnalytliiv w orliinal Jadfpntnt, 107 a. Sit a; ImpMibto without Jii^nient, MB. W9II, 414 M; with Jn%. ment and Eeatoninir, iMdongt to a lofieal. not a 'pemAoliHieal, diatribatioiiof iht eofnilive facnl- m, im M, m m ; «n, to pntttl, 800^68 ; ace CtMtptlon ; 'tmuMMMMily 'itptimtti' at Iht' 'Irat optfallon. of liio ITndtMiaiidiif, Vi'; 'ditlin- Approhalion (and. lDiNtp|Nbalitnl Metal, eon- •Idertd, 509404; iht''oii|eeS 4 tlMSl; im Moiali'i arpnnmii tliat it impllea a real Jiidf- ntnt, '070^-1179'! Iht oon^trarv mahilaintd by Hume, 070, 071, eoapmi iSi s :hiti nrpwienta' 'HaMlmd. 07f*O7ii cooaaqumicea of Hie (vpo- aia. dMMM, 07i, 07ft. A<|iiapiHMlena. (ab A^MpMideDlt,) nolieod. 181 a Arohelaiia« itlbiRtd to, 'SOS H. Arcliin»edea, notlttd, 941. 615 a. Aniiytat M flMWitiiip,, tiid' to havt written on tilt OtleiiiiaB, 'Ml a ; 'trtntht. 'On iht Jfuhtna e/ 'A§ Usintne .aaerihtd. to hta. ipwltiii* '119 M. Arlatiititk hit iMr' eanatt, 71,590, ilOa tad B:, fOi b; itckciatd iJ|ill' aptdat of atniit 1tetta« 110 B:i Ifiioiid Iht dMneiion tf' MnMy and' tt» ttodary 'l|nalitiea,lS3a,lSl'a,Mih| 'tat'toai* wit Ol M. aiO H; hta doetrlnt of Oommon Knaiblea. 194 H. 901 B: enlM liM|dMilion t deeafinf iMilk, 140 E,SI7 H ; :hali 'lltl Iht ' doiilw 'HI to .lilatloii 'to' Iheir fwo- 'ptr tipeii, 194 M; tompurtd: with. Baoom In point of otipnaiiiit 900 a ; hla definitions of the Soul, IDS H, 90i b wd li ; aooount of the sys- tem of Bpecieavntgiirlf aitaibilttdtoliim, 204, 995,872; materialistic tendency of hla system, 905 ; hia definitions, 220 a and U. 519 h and H ; on Ifan aa a aociHl being, 244 U, 557 H ; likeua tilt mind to a tabula mm, 25JI M ; impression, 4cc.. are with bim niaitiltlaphoiB, 254 II, i H ; wlieiher he derived all onr notlona from experleace of senae, 255 a and M, 706 H ; his theory of Perception. 267, 2SS ; his division of theltinctionsortheaoul, 267 U ; the extentof hia Iniuence over the minda of philoaopheit, 268; Ilia doctrine of Generation and Corrtiptlon, 969, 970; the doctrine of Subetanlitl Forma rectivea no countenance from his authority. 270 H : was a declared advocato of eiperiment, 271 H ; his claaatfloatlon of the Principles of Association, 294 H ; hia tlieoffy of Knowledge, 800 H ; hia dis- tinction of Suhitetive and Otjjjectfve Qualitiea, 310 B; qnoCed touching the evidence of sensp, aa oompared with that of reasoning. 328 II ; held that contingent events cannot he foreknown, have no oeiiain futority, 341 b, 62i> ; hia theory of Memory aitapprtliended by Keid, 363 b and M ; bia dWoQtfon between Memory and Be> minisoenet, 869 h; his nae of tlie terms clBos and Bia, 879 B; hit opinion about Univeraals, 405 b ; bsa been oonaidered as a Bealist, a C'oncep- lualiat, and a Notnimillst. 405 II ; held that de- monatniift evidence is to be found In abatract knowltdit only, 438 b ; admitted to be the iaier of the reeeivtd nilta of deduction, 437 b, 687 a; 419 ; hla disHnt^on. Mm^tm and jMMiva jMiner, 619 B ; what k cillad fbt Pythsftnrean system of Morals a pitgiarism from. 540 II, 588 H ; MfMNid toon the diatlnetion of Enmlation and Itff, 001 B ; on fcht ftaiflons, 571 11 ; on tlie aagdnt OffVtio optimi pessima, 575 11 ; on tht fthM of national education. 57K II ; his tht hatt development of the theory of Pleasure, 570 B; hla pertraitnre of the Mtfnanimoua Man relbiitd to, 609 B ; aU doctrlnt tf ' C3auae» 'tvento, ^081 'b,' JMi/Mtowtf' ^ iM Xefk, 081-714 ; hia character as a man and as a pbilo< tophcr, 081-688; eulogies on, 681 B, 082 B; fbrtant of his wri'tiags. 088 II ; Pof|iiff|^a In- f rwiiieflon, 088^ ; Book t/ Ukt (Maprict, 088-086 ; Bmit mwmliif Itifatimfiillon, 085 ; four Pre- dictUtt tf, 087 ; Cittgxiriss of. analysed, 687 II ; aaiMrof his .PtotincCions nitrtlbr vtrbatt08i,1i90; hit dMtiInt «f Definition, 000, 091 ; lit"dtiicta, 001 ; hla thttwy of Prt p ttli i aiis, OOi, 099; .Mval ^' 1 ; hUi 'mlat :llir iht Oonvtnion Convwaion, 096, 097 ; additioua made to hia theory, 097, ^>8; hii nae of Syrabola to illus- tiato hii raltB, 098 ; his dtmonttnttion of tht thtoty «f 'ayUofitois, 809-701 ; fcnudtr' of Lofie, 700 B, 70i m hia definition of tht syllefiani, 701 B ; oriticism of his Myilogialic Theory. 701, 709 ; ilia dtelrino of tlit Modality of pru|ioaitiona f 01, 708; hiaenumeratiouiif ini- qdlO|iini% to wit, Enthymeme, Iiidne- bMnpit, 704 ; Lmt AneUftiei, 706, 700 ; Tooim^ TOO; Boole con«emtniir a>p&i«Mia, 707, 70o : ids elanifleatlon of iogloal Fallacies, 707 ; critleiatd, 707, 708 ; bit Oiipnon contrasted with ihal'tCBteon, 712 H ; notloes tht diUh'ietion of frMNr tad 'Wnropiir '<|ititntity,n9'a; 'Oaaually MiMMl. 911' B, Slf'ht '41S h, 481 b. 436 B, 45S a, 470 B, ftl8 1, 660 a, 081 B. 649 H. Anwidd, hit otnUottity with Malthfancht. SOO b. f08. fOOi hii thtory of Idtaa. 895-298 ; his dia- liattltn. btcwttm 'rsretpttot tad Idtaa, 21NI B ; INDEX L 995 Mb opinion followed by the later Cartesians and bv Ltiibniui, 2i^7 U ; casually noticed, 217 b, 231 a*. 275 b. 434 b, 464 a, 468 a. Arthur, (Archibald.) Dr Heid's assistant and sue- cetisor in the Chair of Moral Philosophy at Glas- gow, notice ot, 56 b. Arts, Fine, see Fine Arts. A»Mnt, do«s not admit of definition, 327 b. Association of Ideas, not to be confounded with tlie Inductive Principle, 199; extends to all our mental modifications, 109 II ; Princifiles of, '294 11 ; Hume's opinions on, 294 band U; Hume's doctrine of, controverted, 386-388. Atheuseus, referred to, 68^j 11. Atouiists, (the.) distinguislied Primary and Second- ary Qualities of Matter, 316 a. Attention, distiiiguitihed from Consciousness, 231, 232. 239. 240. 268 a ; a voluntary act, 239, 637 ; on tlie difiiculty of attending to tlieo|>eiatious ot our own minds, and its causes, 240, 241. Attributes, every attribute must have a subject, 2:12 b; see Quality; are expressed by General Words, .^89 b, 39U a; by ancient philosophers called UHiversals and prtdicables, 390 a, 395 b ; we have general conceptions of. 392 ; General Conceptions of, formed by Analysis, 394, 395; by Combination, 398-403; considered as ideas, 429 ; the cotiinmnication of, 501 b. Augiistin, (St.) quoted in illustration of Reid's doctrine of suggestion. 111 11; the theory of Malehninclie in vain sought for in his worlcs, 264 b; recdfi^nised the incompatibility of Idealism and Catholicism, 285 H ; quoted on the injustice of imnishing a person for what he cannot avoid, 614 H. Autiiority, legitimate Influence of, in matters of opinion, 439 b, 440 a. 450 b, 451 a, 469. Averrues, referred to, 300 H. Avicenna, referred to, 300 H. Aaioms, (see Principles,) nature of, 230 b, 329 a, 434 h ; of Mathematicii, 230 b ; their truth im- mediately perceptible, 259, 260 ; in Morals, 637- am. Aytoun, (Sir Robert,) quoted, 36 H. Bacon, his inductive method first applied by Keid to mental philosophy, 8 ; quoted, 9 ; lieid's liigh estimate of, 11 b ; his influence on physical discovery, 12 ; his works studied by Descartes, 13 II ; his influence on the Continent, ib. ; \w services in the creation of the inductive sys- tem, 200, 712; misinterpreted Plato's Himilitnde of the cave, 263 If, 473 11 ; his classificatiou of /doZa illustrated, 4(i8-475; se6 Prejudices ; quoted on Aristotle, 682 11.685 H ; ctaually noticed, 121 b. 124 11, 202 ji, 217 b, 261 a, 268 b, 271 b, 272 a. 436 b, 683 II. Biiyie. anticip ued Berkeley, 142 H, 464 II ; no- ticed, 264 b, 266 b, 617 11. 683 «. Baiiton, (Jame-s, Archbishop of Glasgow,) high cliantcter of, 727 II. Be^tttie, (llr.) adopted the phrase common senjx; in H technicnl sense. 27 b; his agreement with Buffier. 468 b. Beaumont, (sir Harry,) sag Spenoe. Beauty, vaiiety in the degresa and Idnda of, 491 : on, in general. 498-508 ; no common quality in the things called Iteautifiil. thougli the> all agree in producing an agi-eeable emotion, accom- |tanie*1 bv an opinion of their having some per- fection or excellence, 498, 499 ; the reality of, as an objective quality, mttintained, iu opposition to llutchesou, 499, 500 ; disthictioii of the Benaa of, into Instinctive and Rational. 500, 501 ; distinction of Beauty itself into Original and Derived. 501.502; vafiit meaning of the word, 5ii2 a ; distinguiabed from Grandeur, 502 h; dwells originally in the moral and iu- tellectnat perfections of the mind and in its aetivt powem, 503, 503 ; tlience extended to \ of senae, 503 ; this illuatiat«d by a refer- ence to, 1. inanimate matter, 503-505 ; 2. the vegetable kiuKdora, 505; 3. the animal king- dom, 505, 506 ; 4. the humau species, 5U6-608 ; elements of, in the human countenance, 565, 566 ; Hume's opinion, that it is not a quality of the object, considered, 677. Bees, nature of the instinctive art displayed in the construction of their cella. 546. Itegffing the question, as a sophism in tlie Aristo- telian Logic, 707 b. Begriffe (Conceptions) distinguished from Au- scfmuungen (Intuitions) and Bildcr (Image.OB0: 'Of 'tbo first to un tbo pto:rase mwmmm mmm fa • taebni:eal ■w&am, 87 A 483 a ; epaate ^oT HSfoliiii na^ ^m aiMiiMbn #f a icottiita IiliioMph.er, WB' H ; the ofilttlona of. om Pint Frindplet, 467, 468, 713 to : noHcad, 817 b^ 107 B. Sil E ; hU troatlM' on Firat Traltia. not^ known to Beld wlwii lio inrote Hio fiiQitlrf , 71S H. BoIIm, his theory of eqalnting, lOd II ; Bolted, 184 II, Ml a, MB. Burgeredyk, referred to, 6M b, 687 a, 7D3. Etvidai:ia, (Joaum) tbn^ aai-of, 833^ B, fM b. BuffiiOi, f laoled. on tbo ailwniagiM of a atwdy of mental pttiliiMifby, 89 a ; on tbo diipily of the Faasione, 818 to ; his 'tboorj of tbe SiabUmo, tliai it iiivolvw Ibe Terrible, WB a. .Jwnnr, oriiftin of the 'torrn, 788 H. Butler, (Bishop,) Btid% high osttniatilMi ti him, . 31 b ; Ilia mo 'Of anatafM. laaMinlni* 887 a ; ' diatingulalMii. b«tife«i Sudden and lielibtrato ;BaientaMnt, 668 a ; vafmad to on ttoo diilbio* tfon. of Bmtakfcion and Bnty, 666 H. } oaaually noAted, 84 a, 817 b, ISO a and U, €jujii.rfif tis, noticed, 180 h, CM|«tMins, referred to, 300 II. CUvIn, notloed, 868 h, 'Oimpbeil, fDr'Qeorf(o.):ttrli!liireaby> on PrlMleylB K^xa-mimatkm o/Dr MMTm Inqnirp, 87 a, 37 b, 38 a ; hia irealiM 0» Mimda rafonwl to^ 194 B; 'iiotioed.,'4fi'b* Ctei'panella, f|uotocl,' 681 O. Capmitg, neamtaf of tlM word, ;881bt 'pMperly applMl to a natoral and passive Fower, 831 11. Carbiirl, (Count Marco,) notices of, 41 a and B, 48 to. 43 a. Carmicbael. (Oonobom,) tlM»' nal inndar tf ' tlM< iDootllib ieiiool of Fhioie|Aj, 30' B.. Camfebael, (Mi%) dambier of 'Dr BtU, notloa' QirniUiaiil, (FaMeli, M.II.t) .loii-lB-lav of Br Beida'SOa. bulldinf , ■• a Tndn of Thoufht, 381 a, OaHforioal, tho tonn need toy Aiiitotla only in 1M mnm ol Ailrmattfe, (SOS M. QUipinaa, 'azplanatioii of tba^, 083*686' ; aa a i^e- tmn of (MTUon, 687-668 ; a metiml^eioal not a logW. dlfUiMit '687 B ; rtiniglliiiwn of, lb. ; m§ Cato, noticad, 600 to. Canaality, Caiiaation: Iht notion of, deduced by aouM pbitaaap 1k«n (V«m tbo eonsciousneaa of m- tivlty, 613 Bf, 604 H ; origin of tbe notion of, 78 a, 9SS$, 684 ; by Uum« made a principle of Aa- ■odation between Idoaii 386; considered in m- iiranoe to the Leibnithm theory of a Sufficient Baaeon* 684-620; in refereaoe to Prleatloy'a iodifaa of WiiMiiiMf and Uumeli daiiilioii.. of Avto, 616*688. Ommt conddaratloni' regarding tbo^ varioui menn- lnp;8 of the word, 66-67, 76-70, 81-84, 586, 687. 6(^MI08 ; term applicaiile to all tbe coefficients uf an aflbet, 607 H. OflWM and Efeet, meaning of, la tba opmtlonB" of Mataro, 190 a ; In relation' to AiMm mnA AOim Fmmr, 608, 604 ; eamoa of the ambiguity of the tonus, 6U5-60& Ckmo aad Bflbct : Efficient canea not within tha •pbera of Natural Philoeophy, 68 a, 686-6S7; tbe Arlatotello diitributton of cauaaa taito ftour kinds, 76 a, 88 a, 686 a, 600 a and B, 706 to; origin (if our notioB of, 76 b, 78 a, 683, 'M4; dls- t'inocion of .Pbyatai aad MatapbjPl'Hl'C** BS^ ciaal) oaiMea, 76 a; natuiil propiiialty of laeii to starei: after Chueee; 113,860; Burned 'theory of. 194, 386, 461, 627; Firat Principles regard- ing, 466-467. 603, 604; these princliiles not gahMd by Raaioning or Experleiiaa, '466, 460. 467-460; tliO' law oi; 'tooiidiNd In eonneotion with tbe do8 a; immediate object • of, 278 H, compare 369 a ; distinguished from >2,«6Jaation. 291 H, 360 B, 364 H, 366 a H wf'it***U'.i from Understanding, 366 li, 375 U, 8/7 H; on. In general, S60-368; Sl«''^".2!l^™°"! **'^' S*™I*o Apprehension, 813 a, 360 a; ie an ingredient In every opera- tion of the mind. 360. 361 ; does not involve ijJC^S,*^ ^r^r*' ^**2' ^^ * **»* on *'•« other side, •flV «:,« "• *** " • cannot be true or false. atil, 362 ; general analogy between Conception and Painting, 362, 363 ; spedal analogy between the dilferent kmds of our conceptions and the different works of the painter, 863-365 ; liveli- ness, ai a quality of. 365, 366; deamess and distmctness. as qualities of, 366, 867; cannot create its materials, 867 ; but may arrange and •ombue them to endleai variety, 867, 368; li not employed solely about things which have existenoe, 368; theories concerning, 368-374; prejudices giving rise to theories, 368, 369; Platonic theory, 370, 371 ; Aristotelian theory, 372 ; Alexandrian theory, 372 ; modern theories. 372; mistakes concerning. 375-379; to wit, 1. That Conception is not included in Judgment and Reasoning, 375; 2. That Simple Apprehen- sion (Conception) may be divided into Sensation, Imaghiatiou, and Puie Intellection, 375, 376; 3. That Simple Apprehension (Conception) is the first operation of the understanding, 376; 4. That our conception of things is the criterion of their possibility. 376-379 ; error of Reid touch- iujf the use of the term by previous philosophers, 377 H ; not possible of anything ingnltc, 378 H ; with reference to the Train of ThouRlit in the mind, 379-388. gee Train; how related to judg- ment. 417 ; direct and relative, distinguished. 613,514. *^ Conceptions. General, see General Conceptions, tonceptualists. notice of the sect of, 406. Conditioned, Philosophy of, enounced, 602 H. Condillac. an ;inticipation of Reid by, 145 H. Condorcet, agrees with Reid as to our belief in the continuance of the present course of nature. 24 a. Conduct, plan of, argument in favour of free-will from the carrying out of a. 622-624. Conjecture, Reid's erroneous use of the term, 97 B. Conjectures, true value of, in philo«»phy, 56 b, 57 a ; how far a fotuidation for science, 234 ; feeble- nesfl of, as an instrument of discovery, 235, '236. Conscience, an original faculty in man, 6S9 b; its operation, 592 a ; feelings accompanying it, 593, 594; its authority, 694 b. 597 b; observa- tions concerning, 594-699 ; like other facultios, It comes to maturity by degrees, and may be strengthened by proper culture, ^'95, 596 ; jwcu- liar to man, 590, 597 ; intended by nature to be the immediate guide of our conduct after we arrive at the years of understanding, 597, 598 ; both an active and an intellectuid power, 598 699 ; axioms for the guidance of, 637-640; moral character of its object, 646-650. ConlBciousuess, phsenoniena of, beyond scepticism. - 129 11, 231 b and 11, 442 H. 713 II ; not regarded by Descartes as a special faculty, 205 II ; made by Descartes the fouudatitm of knowledge, 206; meaning of the word. 222, 223, 341 ; distin- guished from Perception, 222 a, 223 a, uy? b; from Memory, 222 b, 340 a, 351 b; from Conception, 223 a, 368a; degraded by U«d, and, before him, bj' IItitclieson,Tnto a special faculty, 222Tr; distinguished from Attention. 231, •J32, 239. 24U, 258 a ; from Reflection, 232 a. 2,39 b, 258 a. 347, 420 b. 443 b; supposes Judgdlent. 243 H, ,375 H, 414 b and H ; the operatir JWii «l« ! ^ ConMonilnf foiiiHspi^^ •«& 'plif itoln- ^1*1 Antrim — iTHPiji Mw ii-i I—— 'WW—' '"^.'WM p" ■— r ■" "" .F 'glaav, IM tf ; m IMiiir. Oiliik Qio imitomto, iwtlmi. Ml «. Ctenliiiiiiiot, «trtiil» «wiHw» "d wptiiiipMiiMH. i>f th0, InilkailTOof iiMtlciiIiir tlioagliti, Ac, 449, Omatlii. (M.J tlw beit oritlc of Locke on pernofml Miiitiiy. »i II s «■ <*«'W»f A»»s'5fi ^ H ; 'TClbmd. to. S74 H, 34S E, 871 S. M H. Cmlic, 111* uMitlifimttidwi, refomd to. 473 b. €iwl«Mie, act Bolter. . . ,. ^, _, _. , Cieiiillty. am iwWmiI. an^ iiitortlwipiiiiclple, IM, iSi, 4S1, 5411 ; the wiiit«V»»»5 ttjop*;- ciiito' cif rrnmita, 19C wmpem mB, m; te ■tranfoilte ehWIioofl, 190, 450; in rektiou'to' ^eiliiisiitkM. 107, ftii. .. . CntniMe, rAlex., LI*.D.,) remaTkBon hfa to(Mr#ii P/tito«opM«il jrecfirilf, 87, 88; aotlco of Iim wiirkl, 87 H. CrouKtf. wfwiwd to,, BT H. ,^ .^. IJiMlwortli, Mt uiilifloii «!' IhiHi, JilW' a ., i;ti:riffl*f (iw^ KnowWip, Btilm of). t1>« *«* Mtinse of the plijaiwre derived froai NowWy , 4M. OtiaKMii, whal li wnd is not owing to, in the pliano- ineniioftlieiienseii. 175. Citvier, relerrod, to, 083 ML DAUiAnno, jmeeded Bishop Wllkins in pliniinpt Bwilel, (Failier,) hli cfllldim of nmrnrtm, 08 II. ■pofwi^ (Pr), iiaolwi,, 19 a ; wferwl to, 2« BoBfpodino «ni Merlinns^, their edition of .Eiidid, TIMII Pftirloei (Sir Jolin,) qfunted, MS H, 473 H. DiHiii rf llioii^r of .Aria, ougtot to^ iiO'tlMted by tli© Cirwimtoa, 7i§ M. Pe Clmlm. referred to, 177 H. Bidications of works, gmliiliiii «» T» k Bedaetion% nekiom diArfmce us to, wlien none •■ to prtnlioe^ 437 ; •• distlngniehed from Piwt Frfneii^ioii dli ' ■■ . Btiiiltion of lonie, uonetai prindpleo coneeraing , 21»; Itnltalton of the power of. 880, 413 ; imtiife and ratllitjr of. 4®1. 402 ; pmetiail importanoe of, 437; loflcsl deflnitlon ooiislderod, 000,001, €ommr§ 714; Yerbal awl 'Mmi, dlMinguliied, 601 H BelteMMiib. l,fli»ollo%and W<«li^MoM, criUciMd, 88f ; AriilotliX defiwidei, 880 H. Deiifando, quoted on tho Sj iloginn, 710 H. Ileit J : the •slHiiioO' of, a iieiaiiwwtemtli, tat de- duced from eonftapni ■tnHlii,: 4ai'«t » tao»- leilfe of the exIettMe cif,. laeoneMeni with Idoiiimii, 432; OB 'tlie anwinoat Hiir, fro"* nnal. Qwiies, 460'. 461, sai: Deelipi > coneeived m 'oeeeMiirilf ' mili9% W O. Pi' 'h' Poffgt, 'Mftnved Co. 'SOS H. Ptlilietmtion, nature and geiteml miei of, KB, 630, 017 ; coneidirad in rolialon to ntolivtn, 000. PemocHtMi, hold 'ihat^' ali the .sentoe aM onlj mndlicatiime of Twieh, 104 M, 817 H, 30B H ; Itlidoctrliiii of the aiialtlea of Hatter, 123 a, 131 a. 130 h and U. 310 a and H ; (with iiaiMtp- fUi,) held the kmiI to eondrt of ■pheflcal atonal 8II« M ; hie dnelrliie of Perception, oon- parwl 'i«ith the 'IMpatelie. aiM: U. 880 a, 8&& a ; 'Mfwrnd. to offi 'the iitla«r of llie .•en.Mo, 384 a.. BttiMMiiinliia, (tkmmmtMm Mdoneik} mm^ hftd Hi A Ihe eirtd«noi of Sinn. SH^ ; ts to bo Sand. 'ta'ahilTHot~kiio«l«i|»oiili^ 428 b; (iie- uMiiiatralive Reaaouhift) lm Inoapieitjr of mhidi lo «• the mm of; 300: 'S on,, in ,|MMial, 470^78, au Reaaoning ; whether momlity is eapabio of, 478-481 ; t|ie nature of, aocordinf lo ilM Ariilotelians, 705. BtOfOoIoiTy, another name Itir Jiftlof , 540 H. PapreMiou of niiid, oharaciitlsllea of, S7C IleMKrIea, hia kaowledge of Bacon's works. 19J1 1 calM hia owB hmollieoee " Pl.ilowjphical Ko- manoM," 08 B i hi Ooiibt. 100, 205, 268 ; mis- appMliiMM to liiit M H » Mmiticism the nai.|inil lisiiOM Usimiia, IM b. 806, 207; re- QOpiiged tho ilillaotlon of Primary and Second- MT UnaUtioa of Xatier, 123 a. 313 b ; his doetrine on fhii iiil||e«l, 131 a ; his solution of the phMMMMUoii of oar :iOtlhff oblocti. erect by inverted ioiifefl. 163, 154; the father of the new philoaophy of mind, 202 b ; remarks upon the apir^ and iao'dewsif of the 'Carteiiiia sum- ten. iOA-SOij hli uiS' of'thi' mm lite, '804 M, m m, 810 11. 'i4 M. 107' % m H, IM M. 'SOT b i did not commit field's error of maHniOonscioua- nesB a special faculty, 805 H ; his distinction between prfmUim^ ijirimtlfr. and formal quali- ties, 20& II : aocordinf ta Held, the first who ob- •arvad that wordS' iM* algnify Ihings jerfMChr sinn^, cannot la logtcally deflnod, 880 a; Mo niiof tho twtn pempHm, SB H i his doctrine as to Ihe aeal of tho seal, '8Mh and H. 255 b : his natural phHooniiijr M hypofhofli, 241 b ; de- nied to the mind nit 'OOOiolmisneii of mattot, 850 M, 272 H : his dodrtne of divim auMMec, 857 II, 205 H; held that the existence of external objeels of sense la vol self-evident, but rwiuhts proof, 203 k 281 a, 300 a, 484 b ; his theory of Perception. 20S B* 'tBVt t ill use of the term fkmffM, 2fi6 H J nadt oilWitoi the ewnce of Maltor.thoaiht thoMMMii of Miud, 270 b, 273 h; his doeMM of iiM«fl Mtm genierally mis- '■nderstood, 873 B' s Ua .atiunoutS' fbr the exist- ence of matter, 286 a ; hli critotion of Truth. 328 a. 376 b ; referred to on the fUlacy of tlie senses, 334 b : quoted as to all men being very mucli on a ieval ia potal of lodfOMnl, 308 b ; ii||eoled. tfao' iirgunoat ;lk« 'Plaai Causes, 401 a ; anoonl. ing lo bim, Matter and Motion are sufficient to account for al |lie phmomena of the na- tural world, 520 a, 007 a; thought that tho buaan body Is merely an enpue. and that all lis motions are mechanical, «23 b; casually tt»tload,84 a, 98 a, 101 b, 102 h. I0» b, m b, 130 a and H, 132 a, 141 a, 148 H, 231 a, 236 a, 848 a, 250 b, 256 a, 203 a, 264 b, 269 II. 275 b, 877 K 287 a. 203 b. 200 B, 208 a, 814 b, 316 b. 321 b, 801 b, 376 b, 417 a, 484 a, 483 a, 445 a, 468 a, 496a. 499b. 670 b, 713 b. DeiigB, namre of the principle— that Desifn In fho causa may be inferred, with certainty, from ■wrha or slRns of It la tho efltat. 457, 468 ; tliia prladpto is learned, nolihor tar toaioning. 468, 460 ; nor by e«p«rienoe, 4M, 410 ; the aifoaioai fraoi Haal Causes, in proof of thooatHteBoo and perfeetioai of the IMIy, redOMid. 'tp a^ariofiin. 460, 4il ; of Ihia flM miaor was denied by tho AnelonI Scofillca, tho major by Descartes. 461 a ; Bume's seeptlnd argument examined, 461 b. Pialra. distinguished lirom Will, 631, 632. Pertrea : to wit, ot Power, (Ambllion.) of Esteem, of Knowledge, (Curiosity,) on, in general, 654- 557; bow distinguished from appetiten, 554 ; u% te tiMMiilftak neither virtuous nor Tidoao. iH h ; an hlfi^ty useful to oooiely, 666 ; morsni>yo thau ourapjietital* 150 h; hiildes the natural. thai* ara acquired dadrea, for lastanco, the do- alri of Mooiiy, 667 a. DotmniaaiioB, tho latwe of, aa a voluntary opo- 'lation of tho Blind* MN^ Ilettnnhi.ism, docMao of, 87 B, 001; not iral mont by llobli%' 001 IL INDEX I. 999 Pe Vrles, Ills oontrovarsy witli Roell. 273 H. Pialects, the acquisillon of, an iuacanceof instinc- tive imitation. 548. Dicseardms, referred to, 203 H. Dichntcmio division, tlie. of Ramus and otliei-s, 089 a. Dieraerbroeck, referred to, 181 a. DiiTerentia, as a predicable, 686. Pilemma, the, aa a disjunctive syllogism, 704. Diogenes, (the Cynic.) anecdote of, 714. Plegenes Laertius. tee Laartius. Pi8ap{)robation, Mural, see Approbiition. Biseipline, benefits of, 578 a. Diaereto quantity, nature of. 342 b. BiicrhalBation, natural and acquired, 394 b. Pivjunctive propositions, how convertible. 697 H. MspogUiont meaning of the term, 221 H. Disposition, the. indicated by features, voice, and gestures. 449, 450 ; nature of. as influencing the Animal Principles or Action, 575-577 ; specially, of Oood Humour. 675, 576 ; Bad Humour, 676 ; Elation and DepresNiou of mind, 576, 577. DiRputation, a valuable exercise, 706 H. Distance in time and place, distinction between . 343. Pistanee, perception of, In vision, acquired, 177 H ; how apprehended by the lower animals, 182 II ; how computed by the eye. 189, 304. PiRtinctions, with relation to Aristotle's Logic, 688, 690. Pistinctness, as a quality of Conceptions, 366, .367. Divisibility, of matter, 323,324; of time and space, 349 b. 3.50 a. DiviNinns, opinions on, in connection with the Categories, 687-689. Divine veracity, apf«al to. often inconsistently made by philosophers, 130 H. Doubt (if a fact of consciousness impossible, 129 H, 231 II, 442 H, 713 H. Dreaniinjf. letter of Dr Reid on, 33, 34. l>u - jfcti aciaallgr' •i;MnK, 867 : tba nipaialtai.' oC In Timinaofflimiflit^ ^SW-SSS; .a«« Itoagteation. Patatlan, MC'litwrty, IMmumMf, Fkfwiniii, (as cited by 1. IPmm If inndalaiiiia,) qtiolad. (aiMiiinimiljX HT H. 'Favour, 'tma aoii«iflioii. of a, as illustiatiiig lltt eonc^lou 'Of|iilllta, 9M, Wk Fwurn, ('Mr.) hid olMtrtrntioiM on Cliessldeii'i' and olIMn of Eeid, 145 H, in H. np ^ fhe w«Mid, 2S8, S30; diall np ririiad, liwwn Jaaaatkin, 230,813; fhrnma- 'dantandliiiaad Will. 5ll M'; FMingand Judgil 671. 672; is distinot from acafet wtp,. m Fteir. ilgi lonie, history of, 725 H. :FoimI«iii, hit' 'Vinrt on Commoii aania, 4M'l adr 'tnltfedl thO' acipiiimifc from Final Chmia, '401 a. FOisnton^ (Di* Adaai,)h{8 commendation of Reid*k Imfulry, 9 i» ; Qtraited on the inaltncl of ina^ 'FiiiUa, IdMlsai. of, 'diaiMltiiMd, 1S0 B'l liftrrsd: to,. 9U M. I M» 'OOnidenee in 'his aystea, 181 '11. iro, IcaoiiMge of, prindiMilly ohtaiued by flit, :llll' M ; eatt,not bo .seen :iior' taMfiiwd apurt firon Oiloiir, 145 M ; iow fMiwIffai TbifUm m, '10S h ; oonsldeiid nf th riliriiiei' to Spwe, tfl Fi«iiil (^mm, eqinifalmit^ to «iMi or aiofliie, 87' M, .Final ijiqni» ai9nMnt.ironi, s0e oiiipi. Fliio Arts,. IM^ IMV Ihr aitoms or' .iMt 'principles appwabli' to, 'US. Fliit fkiaeiiiiasa sss^ Prladiftes.. IHPnMdIiitf'Vflli 'WMMHkiMHiPllWtti Mm llsiyl'JHHIi'' MIA tfUII' Foikes, '(llnriii:,) Baldlii iMt to^ S a; noli'Cad 176 b. FMMi*a .JLP' itf liMtl^. itiMrttd 'to, 41 H. 'Foaiar, 'plr,) aaat of, 175 b. Fmeastoitnsi qnittid (aMnynoiialy), MS M.. FlMi-iill, 'nr Anpn/a ammmM on, eiilMMd, tt, 88 ; a 'Oonadonniisa of. te aU' niiiMi, 5S8, tm. .FmidwMH[|it|. (▼iaoattiit,) leniifad tO', '08' M. Miidttlp, Allb&ii of, MS k JImmsIImi, maaniag oftiM tonn,. 515 H. ' " cannot ba. lONiMdiataly known,. 840 H, "**" ••w a %MMmIAMPV aJPiP MMWHU ^WrWww™lfWWpa' 'HMWWilii IwPa aiawlHiiiii Www iMMm GMtiWtMm 'IWiiI'M wtk M' Pt I'lO' 'Hf ''OB Pi SfMI' Mf fl8kl55Ii:.fliB,0V7b. Gatlteo, (before Baeoa,) exhibited a very perlMl model of Indnetlvtt rsasonii^, 800 M, 712 H ; was ibe iffst who expWnid. tho tnifDffmly ae- celerated ▼elocity of iiding bodlea, 881 a ; re- furred to, 217 b. QassendJ, did 'not amilaf ' the terms gpeetm ani. pkoMtrnm in tMr nripateUe sifrnifiealton, iS8 H ; an Antt-ChlMlan. 361 H ; referred to, 108 b, 177' .H, 826 a, 185 11, 861 b, 465 at 'CNuMtoqialinit 888.. Q'tiani and ^leoiea, 'tlwiHItttttit' 'by, 3d0 ; con« sideied as ganoral ooaoiptSoiii* M'-894. Qenerat Ocmce|iyoos,801-8i4 ; Ilia generality from 'latml. oonioeivinii', ImI 'In tiiO' 'OtfeelS' eonodved., S81 b. 894 a, 403 b ; of Attribnies. 391. 892 ; of Olaases of things ^emm and tpedesX 392-391 ; formad by Analysia, 814*886 ; formed by Com- bination, 898-403; Judgment necessary to the formation of, 416. Oeueralisaiion, disttigiiiiMd from Abstraction (properX SIM; the «i«nilion of, in forming Bmumi GonomitiHM,. StS, '896. Oanand Words, opposed tO' FMptr Hemes, 389; in iirery huiguage Oeneral woidfl make the grsatest part. Proper Names tlie least, this phe. nomenon aMonnted for, 389, 390 ; utility of, 880. 391. daasMiion and Covrnptlon, Aristotle's doctrine of. Oenlns, adaltanileatdiilosophy, 99 b ; definition of, 884 a; ndimipliiaion of. in theorising on the phMMMMMl of' Balnre, 472; in judging and roasQQilJi;, analysed into Attention. 537. Oenovasi, rolHTed to. 255 11. flenns, as a predicable, 686 ; in Arislotle'b flopta^ 706. OecNmetry, object of, 77 a, 283 II ; blstory of the selenoe, 241, '408 j. nalnrO' of, 884 .b, 878 .H ; a|i- plleation of tlia faeii% of lodgment to, 419. Goooctry of Yisibtos, 147 sq. ; see Seeing. Cl«mid, (Br Aleauuider,) his method of accounting lot Ilia plMaUM derived from Novelty, 493 b. Qesliiffeik esrtain, faidicative of particiikr thoughts and dispositions, a first principle, 449, 450. Geulinz, raferred to, 265 M. Gillies, (Dr,) his erroneous criticisms of Beid, 684 H. Glasgow, characteristics of the inhabitants of, 40 b, 41 b ; interests of tho merchants of, involved in the American war, 43 b; University of, anAor's description of his routine of duties. in, 88 b, 40 a, 42 b, 46, 47, 48 a ; ebaraeteriatics of the professors and students of, M, 48, 48 a ; slata of amnco in, 41 ; Chair of Medtdae in, 45 b, 46 ; SmtHml AceomU of, 721-739. Gnoetio Fcwms of the Platunists. 225 H, 262 H, 300 M. Onosiie and Oreotic powers, S4S H, 611 H. ■aiir^PTsaa iPsSMiiaaBWil]yF ^i^a %"^a'Sjrw %* W'e■^•' ^psp "twap awiP wotwap w%hi ■Ppss ^ipaijp ^HhF*F s sseBdty. Good upon the Whole, the notion of, one of tho moat abatract wo have, 580 b{ how focmsdv 680, 681 ; the off8|»ing of Reason, 681 m; Ba* fiard to, a Rational Bliaoliilo of Action, 581, 682, 588 b; ita tandeney, 681-684; its defects, 584466. Good breeding, Ibo nature of, 662 b ; wherein it eonsiats, 501 k 60S:.a. GovemnMBt, sIiowb to be oonsislaiil wiUi liberty, OIS-OIO $ meobanlcal, iHtffipili*ifii 'froas moral, Gnioa, m .an deawnt in beauty, '607* Oranunatieal' flnt pfimlplaB,, 48t ^a* Giandsur, m.. '!■ .Mnantl, 484488 ; 'nature' of tlia 'Omotioii raM Dy Hia ooaioniplation of, 4M; defined — sneb a dsfraa of excellence as media our admiration, ib. : la an inherent quality of oMatti and. mt a inara itniaiioii. 494. 495; aa ibtted in the qnalttles of Mind, 495-497 ; an opinion indicated that Grandeur in Material objects is merely a reflection of something in- tellectual, 497, 498 ; in relation to Beauty, 602. Gratitude, the Affection of. 562. Gravitation, illustrations of the notion of power fVom, 525, 626. Green, referred to, 274 H. Gregory, letter and note on the family of, and Reid 8 connection with them, 68-70. Gregory. (Alexander,) murder of, by Yiscouut Frendraught, 68 b and H. GiMOry, (Charles,) uncle of Dr Reid. Professor of MathematicB in 8t Andrews, 4, 68 11. Gregory. (David, )Savillan Professor of Astronomy in Oxford. 4 b, 68 H, 72. Gregory. (David, the younger,) first Professor of Modern History in Oxford, 68b and H, 72 band H. Gregory, (James,) great uncle of Dr Reid, Pro- fessor of Mathematics at St Andrews and Edin- burgh, and inventor of the reflecting telescope, 4, 68 H. Gregory, (James,) uucle of Dr Reid, Professor of Mathematics in Edinburifh, 68 II, 69, 70, 72 ; his two Categories, 68 b, 473 b, 688 b. Gi*eg<»ry, (James,) Professor of Medicine in Edin- burgli, 39, 68 ; Reid's letters to, 62-88 ; his Esmy on the difference between the relation of Motive and Action, and that of Cause and Effect in Fhysics, noticed, 65 H ; criticism on the Fhilo- gophicaJ, and Literary Essays of, 73-88 : dedica- tion to, 215 ; referred to, 238 H. Gregory, (John,) Professor of Medicine at Aber- deen and Ediiiburgh, along with Dr Reid, founded a literary society at Aberdeen, 7 a, 41 M I notice of, 68 11. Gregory, (Margaret.) mother of Dr Reid, 4 a. Gregory, (Rev. William,) referred to, 62 a. Grew, (Dr Nehemiati,) enumerates sixteen simple tastes, 116 b. Grotius, his system of NaturalJurisprudence, 645 a. Habit, distinguished from Faculty, 221 b ; is used both in an active and in a passive sense, 221 U ; influence of, iu the improvement of the Senses, 333 a ; used to explain the Train of Thought in the mind, 387 a ; implies neither Judgment nor Will, 533 b; the nature of, as a Mechanical Principle of action, illustrated, 650, 551 ; many of the phaenomena of, explained by the doctrine of Latent Modifications, 551 H. Haller, referred to, 116, H. Malley, (Dr), noticed, 134 a. Happiness, the production of, the criterion of good, 580 b ; couuectiou of, with virtue, 580-586. Hardueas, 119 b, 123 ; see Touch. llardouin. (Le Pere,) accused Mulebranche of Atheism. 266 H. Harris. (James,) author of IfennM, noticed, 353 a, 389, 404. Hartley, (Dr,) quoted on reducing all kinds of ovidenoe and inquiries to mathematical forms, 88, 251 ; his theory of vibrations in the nerves, 249 ; held that all knowlodge is originally de- rived from the sensss, S94 a ; quoted touching Judgment, 433 b ; noticed, 616 H. Hearing, analysed, 116 sq. ; variety of sounds, 116, 117; their place and distance learned by custom, without reasoning, 117 a ; the sense of, distinguished from what is called a musical ear, 117 b ; sound as a medium of language, 117, 118. Heal, 119 a; we Touch ; latent, the doctrine ef, '44.45. Haainiann, his observations on Vision, 166 H. Bagai. rsfiarred to, 206 U ; quoted, 681 U. Honry, his translation of Cousin. 343 H. Msraclitus. referred to, 208 H ; his theory of knowledge, 300 H. Berbartian psycliology. referred to, 717 H. Merlinus and Dasypodius, their edtiloii of Euclid. 702 a Hermolaus Barbanis, referred to, 203 H. Mipparchus, referred to, 203 H. Hippo, referred to, 203 H. Hire, (M. de la,) noticed, 169 a. Hobbes, speaks with contempt of experimental philosophy, 12 b; called Imagination a decaying sense, 140 H, 227 H ; a Nominalist, 406. 410 a ; erroneously considered to be the autlior of the modern scheme of Determiuism, 601 H; his theory of a State of Nature, 657, 661 b, 666 a ; noticed, 102 b, 386 a, 455 b. 465 a, 660 b. Home, (Henry,) tee Karnes, Lord. Homer, the poetry of, as an illustration of the train of thought, 385 ; the sublimity of, 496 b ; quoted, 82 H, 216 H, 264 H, 602 H. Hommel, quoted concerning Liberty, 616 H. Honcstum, {see KaA^v, ) distinguished from Utile, 588 ; Cicero's definition of, 651 b. Honour, regard to, as distinct from regard to in- terest, 687, 593. Hook, (Dr Robert,) his doctrine of the fabrication of ideas by the mind, 276 b. Horace, quoted, 386 a, 527 b, 579 a, 5S3 b. liudibras, quoted, 144 11. Hume, (David,) efliect of his Treatise of Ilvmnn nature upon Reid, 7 ; letter of, to Reid on ilie Inqniry, 7, 8 ; Reid's reply, 91. 92 ; did not fully appreciate Bacon's method of philosojjhy, 8 ; hi3 detinitionsof be2ie/and memory, 19; likens Associ- ation to physical attraction, 22 b, compare, 386 a; his notion of Cause, 67 b, 83 b, 84, 604 b, 627 a ; bis use of the expressions constant conjunction and necessary connection criticised, 79; bis chief argument for Necessity, 87 a ; the author, tlirough Reid and Kant, of all subsequent phi- losophy, 91 H ; his Treatise of Hwrnan Nature considered, 101, 102 ; reduces Berkeley's system to scepticism, 103 b, 208 a ; his theory of Belief examined, 107, 198, 358, 369, 445 ; his theory, that the mind is a succession of ideas and im- pressions, 108. 109, 293, 299, 306 b, 444 ; con- fessed that at times he was under a necessity of believing with the vulgiu-, 121 a, 209 H, 234 ti, 432 a, 442 b ; a sceptic, not a dogmatist, as Reid's criticism erroneously assumes, 129 H, 444 H, 457 H, 489 H ; follows Locke in his wide use of the term perception, 222 b and II, 227 a and H, 294 a, 361, 362; confoundH the operations of the mind with their objects, 224 a, 279 b ; his di>tinction between imjtrcsxions and ideas. 226, 227, 267, 293-295; his use of the word impression, 226, 227, 254 a. 263 a, 298 b ; his enumeration of the Principles of Association, 294 b and II ; his argument axiiinst the imme- diate perception of external objects examined, 302-304 ; his views on Memory discussed, 356- 360 ; quoted on conceivability as the test of pos- sibility, 377 a ; his theory of Association, 386; his account of the formation of complex ideas, 399 b; his views on Abstraction discussed, 40ii- 412; hisopinionson Geometry, 419, 452; on Com- mon Sense, 424 b. 425 a ; on Judgment, 433 b ; hia denial of the idea of power, 446. 513. 518, 520-622; his views on causation combated, 45f>- 457, 608, 627 ; his attack on tlie argument from final causes, 461 ; his views on first principles, 464, 465 ; his scepticism with regard to reason examined, 484-489; his use of the word passion, 671 ; paradox of,itbat Reason is the servant of the passions, 581 b ; quoted on the reality of moral distinctions, 687, 688 ; according to him. Moral Approbation not an act of the judgment, but a feeling, 651, 670, 671, see Approbation ; Virtue, whatever is agreeable or usfful to ourselves or others, 651 ; his system of Morals compared with the Epicurean, ib. ; his division of the Virtues into natural and artificial, 652 ; his principle, that Justice is an artificial virtue, controverted, 652-663, sse Justice ; his doctrine on the nature of contracts and obligations, controverted. 6 of' Bwuiy aiHl Harmony itHea off' •ocondafff ummmt iOS b ; CaUomMt^ [.oeke in bis motton of Boaii'^yi 4M ; ro- 'fintcl. to «m. Urn Immtf vt fmtm in iMuiiauilo 'Oll'eels. SUA a ; 'Omted on tbo iitf niuoo of tfc* 'f HMloni, §85 A : bit dfviaifin of tlia Frlndliiloi «f j|«itfon into tbe «aliii and tlie lurMci^i S71, i7f ; m§em ttio PawlonB to the lAtier ebiM» 572 ; •fleordtnf to bim aonie Fanlon' .an bootfolent, otben Miiii, iS7 b ; 'forerrtd to on. ■ttm ^ismm wmd^ttmm, am h ; noticed, 217 b. 'Ilaltmi'i Jfolftfiwil^toal MetimarM, rtfarrad to, Mil. lliiyfreiiB, notiMl, 'Ttl k IJypiitlMsei, tiioir nature and we, H, 67, 234; fgftiileiies!! nf, aa an inttrumeiit of diicofeiy, Ii&, 836, 2541. SSI. iffpoftei^ Reid'k errontooa uw of ilie temi, 97 '11. llypciibettoal'p ropori'tiom, bow oon.vertiyt, '807 B. Idm, Biurwin'a 'deAnitinn 'if, 19 a t how uaad by Held. IM 11. m If. WB U. ; liow by Bescartei,. 304 E, Si!" fl. SIO tl ; bnw by Fbito and AHs- totle. 37f M; earlier and later meaiitnga of the word, Mi H. ; variooa modem moainngw, tU-'Sa&i pniparly denotaa an act' of tbouglit considered, la Mtlen. to :Ba onertial. O'lijeet, Itim and fiofieii,. distinction: bftwcen. tbe tenn% »'t m. Ijieallan, rader and An«r Comui of, 12S H, 13i M, iii If ;. efoietien:!. doctrine of, abown to rest mi the fraiinclwork laid down by Eeid and Stewart, lit* H ; not developed by tbe Sobool- men nor by Ifaitbntnche. betnir incoustatent witb Cktlioikliai, WM H.» W6 11, J^t U, 464 II. Id'oal ithiioMiiiby, tlie qretent. 'Of :ilei«Mrlia .and bit followers, m nanad, 1(18 li ; tbe tbeiray of leiiaa^' tion, memfwy, heifer, and imagiMtbin., liitffO' dneed by it, considered, 107 a; psyiMogieal kistriry of tb« ideal philoif|diy» 108 K l^t SMT' t 'HO' waion: why its< :(iMlowfn, dlaQardli%' 'the i|nii- lltles of nia.tter, thnuld not' diaoard. Itiprewlont attd ideas, 129, ISO ; wtetber tlie idtas tbem- MifW are tbe only objects of potoiptioii aacord- ing' to time' doetrineef SOit :iyileini iliiid.% tboQgbtS'Of wrlllif a biiloiv of'tbt,. M' b. Ideas,, the dMMMM'Of aneiMii pMosMitiiMalioift, »k SS; Batonie^. nattin oC Mi 0, ■»»», :S8i H. 37W H ; Cartesian, 207 H, 210 II ; Loti^li Uieory oC. dlMMid, tlMm^ Zmma,. S&S; BerlcelejU Iton of lifaa 'diiiiipililiii. 'fimm the philoso- {lUeai, 29i, IS8'$ .MimmIi IMiiietiMi of. Arm nprssibinai. lit'} .Junanld'saiid Halebcandie'e oonlrovenqr as. to, diioiMed, '2ii*.19i; distin- fpMieilAMi ofieratiotts of tlie mind, and ftrom thO' olifeets of perception, SM, 280'! whether they convey ani ininsdiale' psrospttoii 'Of' ei- 'ttmal oliicias 300 ; diversity of o|diiliiis. on iitaui lOil ; 'imiia of our l[nowled.Re' on tbe^ «b> Jeot, ib.; Leibnita's thsmy, 807-809; .meeoMiloa oC with rilirenes to dnratioci, .949';. tbe dootri'ne of, eonsldered in rdktiom to msmofy, 8&7, 8S8 ; Vllbwic system of, and tbe prejudices titat gave it, 370^3. 404 ; Peripatetic system, S78 ; 872 J niodeni phitosopbets, 872 874 : J'lidknon't tolb* Itlon of, bof, ioGon' it,i2i4Mt tIHIii tH# f II'imia%'0|iai(MiB on, doiorlheia aa an .ailempt at toduetionwith Insufficient data, 520; tlie train . Kinds, the distribution of things into, the work not of nature, but of man. 304 a. i„a,,.,,„e Kindness, nature of gratitude for, 502 , inHueiice K;;l;l^r;^;i.nt..hle.32TH;t..eol2^c^ (in Senfie anr''f';'« '^f "Srel 630 ; Desire of, or Curiosity, 554 557. see Desires. Kopp, referred to, ()83 U. Laboor. as an instance of power, 529; free, in- justice of infringements on,f^- Laertius. referred to. 1«2 «, 2.,y H, 683 II. Laiigenbeck, referred to, 181 n. Language, on the origin, progres-s, and tl'e- yy "J'. 70-72; niperfection of, an in.pedunei.t to the I'udVof nLd. 98, 99; "-^t"; ^J' HSS^ ^ U9.'l2l, 664 665; natnm and i^ ^cail, djs^ thiguished, 117, 664, the "aiier "l » |i • simi- fnrmpr 117 118; natural to man, i4o 11 , smii mon principles oi inougui, '*'';' ^„ * «.,. oar,. All ■ annlication of, to conceptions. 364, Joa. LViuViSa iSfroi'i the defects and abuse of. ?74 structure o^^^ «« illustrating the notion M 'J^WePJim-hu, 605. 606 ; exception^ to^J- ^matic rei^nlarity accounted '«'• ^^''^'.''^eVa! ment of, iu AristoUe's Logic. b85, 691, «>«-. Ii04 ,Ilf DKX I. 1« Plaot, reimi. to. Tit: B. .Ijiii«Milgiil«n|j«fciiii. to, 178 H. liiiteiitliitit, Dff'llMfc%'(iiwlitetof,4SK 44 K 45a Liitoiil MiMillteiliNW of MM, SOS H, i§l H. iMa^, (WmitmQ flditor vi Fmtmvm Seotmm MMmSmmtWM. IjiiimyiMto, (0mm ■Om,) 4S a Imw, (HteniiiJnUiffQd to, 274 H. Law, coudttiMM uionMwy to tbo beiiif fulioct to^ SBo b, lam 0/ JTMm «Mi of JTotioiM. this naat git «a hy Omm to ami. fiNHy, 1146 a " **^*[**f' ''*««■»• •■« ■•ttli« Msl. nor bt acM upon, Mi inproporljr cnlbd ctnutt, 73 b, iOT a; their •liimirtMr, lif» U», WL Mis 'Inlmif to Jltod M 'Will «i to lliMir, 101 .|gM«ii.i)t of. the mum of tnon oftom awallMd to' tlu ftUMy «r tiM ■enwii, mt, 3118s 'Mr .kaowlwii* < 'nsta. 'Upon ptiittMo wrlitMe. ^184; mil .uid limits of tib« utiKij or, SM; Ws 'difided into Pivdeal md Xionil,, 'tttft.: UliultSi .Afi'ilnMM Arbtotle'a daiRttfaia of Mo-' iioii, ifltl II ; bit theory of pontptton, Wi E, M4 M ; wloptad ArnauM's tlieory of td«w. 8117 M; b.iii ^I'stoni i;«f Momds and Pra-iitiibliibMl Bamonj, JIII7, mm, am H, 323 b, SU as bit DontBivmgr with fAsffc% 307 a. 610 il; bis diitiiM%k« of rmiepiiia and A|Hwi«epteii, 308, mmpare 322 II ; bia doetrino of .fintit snodiioa- ttons of ntiuii, 3M M, iil H ; inti.ttHMimwl eri- toriott ot ll:Mtiiii|> aa dJatto^guUUm 'iwtlfft' Utom adTontitious Jiadguwiita, 323 Mi m tifitiiitiit «iBiiiit Locke's doo'trfne of PenMmal Idtttify, 331 H; bis distiiieyon uf liituitlfa and %ab(illoaJi KnowMfp. V» H. 412 B s bit tbsory of th« Ikala or miuibt. 332 a ; f iiotod on Uie ooiitpuri- ■on of notivM to tii« «e|gtito of a balimeo, 010 11 ; as re}e«ting tbe iiliamuotnon of • atbMi of liberty, il7 B ; bis priiicipto of tbt MMnH Mmmm oxaMliMd, ll-i4-«S« ; ^notmi. in ngaid. to tbe^ slpilllattioa of llMint, m fl ; bk Mnn of Foreu, 718 ; raienwl to, 200 M, 278 B, 300 M, 403i B. Mitiifrasl, CP*of««»r.) quoted, in laimnM to' a Mcnlliir' mm. of ■tmmmi. wMm,. IM B. Mi% (Tbonia%) fottndor of a diapUiiry' ii Oka- piw, 727B:. 'I'«Mi|ipti%liiild 'ibo mm to coasiat tf .qteftal' 'Lot Mqiw dm. 'WmOUfy, mtmmi tok 31S a Uiiorfgr, (MonO tbn .Ibet 'Of iliony iieoniMivitlile, but not tliiMirora lUst, m B.60U 11. 602 U, fill B, 0S4 B ; a irot 'pnavlplo, 44(1, 447 s Atoy m, tm^mi MHioii of, WNWt: ddlntd. 'Siia; Fla- looit 'dMnWoB of. Ml B. ; Hfioias nMntap' of tbt nonl, iOl b and M; mm^Mmmtm and JMtriif ^ ifwepcaKon diaitogilUiid, 007 B ; ito oonaiMamiy witb goffanamt amiiitalntd. tlMlO; .angmitiito to inicir uf 'tiM. '«iilstonc4i 'Of, f 141414'; 1. We liavt a nnlnmi donfkHon tb«l «• ad fuMly. 01elief of that which weremeiu- bor, 340, 444 b, 445 a, see Belief; a conception and belief of pa»t duration, 340, see Duration; aoonviction of our own existence at the time the Ibing happened, 340 b, 445 b, see Identity ; an original faculty, 340-342; compared with Sreacieiice, 341, 342. 631; with reference to uration, 341-344; with reference to identity, 344-140 ; with reference to Locke's views of dura- tion and identity. 346-353 ; theories concemin&r, 351-300; the l*eripatetic, 353-355 ; Locke's. 355, 358 ; Hume's. :i50-35d : Aristotle's distinction between Memoiy and Reminiscence considered, SP. 360 ; the teatiuiony of, on a different footbig from that of Nimtile Consciousness, 444 II. Metaphor, origin and use of, 395, 396, 497. Metapliysics, not to be confounded with Natural Pbllo80i>hy, 58 a; vulgar prejudices against fblloiopby hiunchediigalDat tbe expression, 104 a; nwtapbysicat Axioms or First Principles stated and indicated, 454-461 : as to existence of body and mind. 454. 455; as to a first causa. 455-457 ; as to intelligence in cause being Inferrible from marks in tba effect, 457-461 ; msto|r Henrj ,) uotlcfld. 401 a, 473 h. Mot:ion, laiiOi of. 04, 00' ; on t*to oMoloiiitoil inoyflii 'Of ralliiiK liom,, '01 ; okooliito^'sol. wm oliocli of mmm, 330 ; of tliO' IMf • mi inmiodiito oflMt' of' liinnui 'povf or, SffT, &fk Xoliltt, nmiuto on Dr CMmlllo'i 'M» of ttio woni, m, 88| mm tm ^cni' ^or jlwil muse, m II. :Xolifi% fii' tofmnoi'Of. onuiiined, OO, 006413 ; 'iMnpiMMi'lnni. i tHflii * '•■imi% 008, '600 ; u- uoii. iiiii.MHiooa;Of Bioiivto^yit:Mu 'ino~ OtltiOlaill of flito 'dMMilio^ ^OOe M, lOi H' ; ddflionto ^m- tlon ^iniy ko vhw itlllMMii' iiiotlifO|.0Q0 j powof of SMillfiig, ili; gMioiof 'iliniglli. in, owl oo'Ri* potMiHi: Miioiig; ilMii!, '01MI1; Miiinai mmI ni> tlonnl inoli'vwi,, Oil ; fcoioninf;' Urom 'WOlifO to •ffitioii, 012 ; foOiittonee to motives dMhifiiMiid 'Ikma osprloi, 018; tniiaoiioo. ai mmni and pnn'lili'iDOiif, OUli 013; iBflnioneeo of , upon tb'O. wui, SS3-0SO. mwm, Ifiieikr, OoliMiiiiaJ UM' phjnMogM, rofhrod %0l 164H,100"H,'l'il,H. llodtar. (J'oiMHiii 'ton,') tlio liiilorliiiit Ui onlofy of AiiitollO', Oil. H. XiWBiilor' 'Botloii, mtmrti of, 028; '(sotftlttlfe, ^•miMoM; villi oofff^tive nerves, lU M. to, doctrines of Urn, S04.. H'Anim, (P rofeMof,) liis pper on 'Ibe BtooniMi MowMiliy 'MfMnd. to, IS M* .HlitiioiiSt iMW of, ^lyprtmiB' of, coniliiofod* 04844IL llotaml Jiiiili|iniiloiico^ .qtatoiiii'Of, considered,. 048- Xalurrt. 'Lsaffinge, am Langmft. Vatuiiii Phllosoplijr, eoiii««liiv«s ani lifpotiiaiM 'to' iM eseludod from, 00^ 07; aMMiMl and .ipiliollial: .paitS' oC 57 ; ihO' meanliif of tlio urori Cmutf 'wimi used In, 67, 06; ElMeiit. €Maios not witli'lii 'tlM spbeie off, 00 a, 027 a ; not' to' l» 'Ooniniiidoil. wlfli :if etopbysiei,. 08. a .; 'tlN< pnntiii 'Hf- i o j i jt'i . 403; tlili belief .ealM lif' 'MoM 'tte 'fiidiirtlvo' .Friiiei'iile, im ; mUm «ii naitoiMr 'wcanintfe. ul liie topn, ili M,0S8 H; JudgiiMNitsor, wlia(, 410 a; bow tlio iilimiomena of, lioiiid be in tor- fmlod, 473; taite described as llio power of re- itiiing ibo beaatiesirf, 490 a ; emplof iMBt of ihe term, 633 ; efficient oauses of the pbanoiuoiM of, 680-627 ; Laws of, am hvm 'Of H titoiv.. NeeesHury Tralbs, fliit prlneiplcs of, 468-401 ; ssi Principles. Noeoiiairf Ftopnilimia, .tuoajialilo of proof from oipofliiiee,. 323 H, '440 'b, if I b, 084 b. Hooemity, doctrine of, in relation to morals, OO>03| tlie emplojnont of the phrase PhUoao^ fkkm Mwamttif censured, 82; two achemoa 'Of, '87 M; tii ooimter^alioiiiot of Liberty and Meooiiltar' .mnlnally oontradlet^iry, 88 li, 600 M, 008 M, 038 II; unpublislied Remarks 'On, by Br Raid, 88 H ; nolion of, in relation to Moral Liborty, 600 b ; Involfiil 'In ietormimatloii by motivwi, 611 M; doctrine of, siil of relifion, 017 II ; examination of ai 111 liiTcitir of, derived from doctrine of < Ism, '034-088; from the jprcsiiuied hurtfulnees of ibirly, Olim; .irom 'tho prescience of tlio Dolry, - 'Of tho niatofflii wotM BM 'pndiiosd by atfraotingt'Hii. itpiifBf fdroes, 104 b, 200 b, 471 b ; foUOmd JBacon's rules of liMlnetive reasontog, 200 a, 712 b ; held speciea to eslsl to tho eensorium, 210, 266, 873 ; his M|oelioa of bypittosea, 830 b, 850 a, 620 b ; liis qnoiy 'Qouconiiiig' tho nerves, 240; spoke of spaffio as the SMisorittm of the Deity, 866 b ; his tbsory.conoominf liuw: aod iipaee, 043; on nni- venalpntportloo nf .malior, '43ik43t; oatnalij Miliood, 113 b, '118 bi, '807, f 17 k. 141 b, 840 'b, '8S1, 800, 301 a, 307 'a, »l a, 497 a, 030, 687. 026 a. 701 b. nomenclature, utility oC 401, 402. Nominalism and €omcopCuallsm, 400; controvomy of, founded on ambigui^r of tonus. 412 11. Nonius MarceUus, rdSuTed to, 422 II. Nocris, (John,! bis arguments to tliew that maf tol4s|. fbiiigB omnol be perceived. :lmmodiatolj. •0% 100 1 'iMwgltl that at best, iM' os:lstaiwt of a ; notloidi 876 'b, 867 a, 191 H. 408. Nofillr, .11 an ol^l'Sct of taste, 403. 404. 'Noiffi Kiuiiaieiil to Soason, as the gofemlaf prinoli^ of action. '060 'b; corresponds to' what Rdd has oaied Common Seme, 650 H. Motim, :msoaii|fr' of Ibo word. 04 b, 270, 889, 300; :pmper 'oio of, H'l S, 300 If. .NoHonif. 9p14n1.lL' Obnrvations on tlio nameo^ flvoii tOk '403-400 ; poidtivo .and uegatlvtt, dHfnoliini of. 323 a i all piiMitive notions vslali«% lb. ; itsl'aBd.aooond, 'diat'inctiou of, 087 IL O'aj'RGT, lo'proforljr utid as a synoii:ym 'for jwrpoic, md or olia, 97 M, 063 H ; proper use of tlie term, 97 H, 881 M ; .noctssary to Ibo oxertioo oftliO'i«ti.,'i31.,'6S&: Ol^eota,. siiliinaijpil 803 h. INDEX I 1C07 ObliKation. Moral, see Duty. Occam, his Nominalism. 406 a ; really a Concept- ualist. 406 H. ncciilt qualities. 321, 328. Offsprintr, love of, nalure and characteristics or, 560-562. Operation, act, energy, tonus opposed to faculty, 221 H, compare 515 II. Opinion, formation of, uecessary to the existence of truth or falsehood, 361 : meanings in which the term used, 426 ; legitimate influence of authority in matters of, 450, 451 ; in connection with affection. 667; the influence of, on the animal principles of action, 577-570. Optic nerve, 156 b, 162 a, 179; decussation of, 181 H. Organs of sense, 245-247 ; not in their own nature necossary to perception, 246 ; not to be con- founded with the being that perceives, 246 ; no object perceived except by impression on the orKans, 247 ; conveyance of impressions to the nerves and brain, 247, 248. Organoii, of Aristotle, account of, 681-714; con- trasted with that of Bacon, 712 11. Oswald, (Dr,) noticed, 27 b, 468 b. (hugM, meaning of the term, 689 a. Pactum, definition of, in the Civil Law, 663 a. Pain, in relation to sensation and perception. 319 ; distinKui»hed from its cause, 319, 320; nature of comimBsion with, 562-663. Painter, abstracts with repird to visible objects, 135. Painting, snalogy of, with conceptions, 362, 304, me Conception. Faii»permia of the Ionics, analogy of an opinion of Ileid's to, 53 II. Pappus, noticed. 241. Patelmony. law of, 236 H. Parpiital affection, characteristics and nature of, 560-562. PBrmenides, referred to, 203 II. Parr, (l»r.) referred to, 287 H. Pascal, quoted, 209 11, 636 H ; referred to, 220 H. Passion, moral and civil responsibility for acts of, considered, 60 ; effect of, on judgment, 419 a ; influence of, as a moving c:iuse, 533, 534 ; as popularly distinguished from Reason, 535; on, in general, 571-575 ; meaning of the word, 571 ; •Hects of, on the body and mind, ib. ; various meanings attached to tlie word by the Ancients, ib.: by Hume and Hutcheson, 671, 572; differs from the Affections and Desires not in kind, but in degree, 572, 568 ; makes us liable to strong teniptotiona, 573, 573 ; leads to good a.s well as to evil, 573, 574 ; tho involuntary effects of, good and useful, 574, 676. FlMlon, as opposed to action. 615, 603. Passive Power, authority for the use of the phrase ; Ileid's objections to it founded on error, 519 11. Pateroulua, quoted, 600 II. Pearce, his edition of Cicero's Offi^^ referred to, '040 H. Psrcspl, propriety of the term, 356 II. JP«rc*7»Mo»i, the term used by Descartes, Locke, and Hume, convertibly with conscious^iess, 222 b and II, 227 a and H ; ambiguous use of, 279 H, 356 H : Beid's limitation of. 280 H. perception, on, in general. 182-188, 258-260; dis- tinguished from Sensation, 182, 186, 310, sq.; principle of this distinction : Perception the ol)« Jeetive, Sensation the subjective, element, each always in the inverse ratio of tlie other, 18211, 313 II, 319 II ; distingnlslied from Imagination, 18:) a and H, 222 a; from Memory. 183 a. 222 a, 339. 340 ; implies a conception of the object perceived, and a Belief of its present exist- ence, 183, 868; this belief irresistible, 183, 184. 268. 259; and immediate, 186 a, 259. S60; our perceptions divided into Original (or Natural) and Acquired, 184. 185, 331 ; the latter more uumeroiu than tlio foiaier, 185 a. 331 a ; involves no exercise of reason, 185 ; relittiim of, to Common Undeistanding and Science, 185, 186; our perception of objects the result of a train of operations, of whose natui e and connection we are ignorant, 186-188 ; the true object of, immediate, 186 H, 247 H, 299 II, 301 H, 303 H, 304 11, .30511 ; analogous to Tes- timony, 194-201; abnormal perception, 246 11 ; opinions of philosophers cnncerniug, 262-298 ; general remarks, 262-264 ; Malebranche's theory, 264-267; opinion of tlie Peripatetics, 267, 268; of the Cartesians. 267-276 ; of Locke, 275-280 ; of Berkeley, 280-292; of Hume, 292-295; of Ar- nnuld, 295-298 ; reflections on the common theory of ideas, 298-306 ; argument against the immediate perception of external objects, ex- amined, 300-305 ; in perception does the object act upon the mind, or the mind upon the ob- ject? 301 ; Leibnitz's theory of, 307-309 ; objects t)f, considered, 3i:i-322 ; to wit, Primary and Secondiiry Qualities, 313-318, see Qualities ; States of our own Uudies, 319-321 ; Mechanictd Powers, &c., 321. PeripatetiC8,(the,)their system of Species. 204. 225, 2.56, 262 ; their tendency to miiterijili>e mind, 206 ; held that all knowledge is derived originally from tlie senses, 294 a ; their complaints of the fallacy of the senses. 334 ; their theory of Me- mory, 353 ; gave to our general notions the names of universals and predicables, 404 a ; their division of Universals probably borrowed from the Pythagoreans, 405 b: assumed a mul- titude of first principles, 462 ; their use of induc- tion, 462 11 ; noticed, 141 a, 142 b, 234 b, 256, 313 b, 321 b, 361 a. 499 b, 646 a. Persius, quoted, 657 H. Person, the permanent subject of successive tlioughts, 345. 443, 444. Personal Identity, gee Identity. Pfaff, (Chr. Matth.,) referred to, 293 H. Phantasms, in the Peripatetic philosophy, 204, 225, 226, 262, 277 ; proper use of tlie term, 291 H. Phantasy, Pliansy. Fancy, 379 H ; Peripatetic theory of, 353. Phffittomena of nature, uniformity of, a first prin- ciple of contingent truth, 461, 452; efficient causes of, 525-527. Philoponus, referred to, 242 H. Philosophers, their notions concerning the Soul, 202 ; opinions of. about Perception, 262, 263 ; about Universals, 405-412. Philosophical Necessity t the phrase condemned, 82. Philosophy, divided into that of the Body and that of the Mind, 217. Physical Philosophy, originally included sciences of Mind as well as those of Matter, 2] 6 11. Picture, why it appears more natural to one eye than to both, 190. Pity, the Affection of, 562 b, 503 a. Planets, speculations on their resemblance to this world, 217 a, 236 b. Plants, letter on the generation of, 53, 54. Plainer, referred to, 125 H. Phito, his system of ideas, 203, 204, 225, 370, 371, 404, 405; his ideas probably not indejM^ndent of the divine mind. 204 11, 264 H. 370 II ; his theory of perception, tM4 H, 226 H, 246 11 262 H ; likened the mind to a tabula rasa, 253, 11 ; his comparison of the cave, 255 a, 262, 2()3, ;i06 a, 326 b ; niisappreheiuied by Beid, 255 II; explained. 262 H ; his three eternal first princi- ples, 264, 526, 607 ; held that the senhcs give us no real knowledge, 334 a ; that demonetraiive evidence is to be found in abstract knowledge only, 428 b; compared the mind to a state or commonwealth, 673 b ; not the author of the Second Alcibiades, 683 H ; the Platonic defini- tion of Libeity corresponds to that of Beid, 509 H ; his four cardinal virtues, 642 H ; his definition of man, 714; noticed, 110 a, 116 U, 2U3E. ii 1006 INDEX 1 iMa, IMr mMm of tiw .wol, m m md. W ; tWr tlMnry 'Hf 'Miitilil* p«roi|ili»ii. 20-1 H, f2i II, M' B : MMwMy mmmi,m ». B3 b» 491, 471. Plijfllit, (FiRitanr,) aolieiMi, 30 b. % Mlnad 118 fli« niiB of unlmfttOtA _ J, ST9 B. 'Vlolliiiis*. hM Wm immm muI to }m on. taMiottoii tmm flMi: Anteai llntiili, SMI' M ; Ut mik oiw- looiMid. Iijf jiillOMpiiinit '101' ll« Tlutovolit vffiiTia to, oKi' VL AMnimaloIoir, o luunid glvom to Um PUlosoiilij' of llind, SI7 0. PiMlrf • iiM tnin of thougbb erolved in. oon- ■lilof«l*S8S,ML FOIItioti 'Wliifo of tlio Minifo of, (Ml h» Bulybiiui, 'OtlM Blatocy f ho motllor 'Oltf of Pbilo> iHHlidMIHIIIIMllBiMai' All '^3 ^^fl lOpOiy, mlo u. BMipiiiliiMii Monolliaa. wtiMd, 400 b. Popot <|IMMI, SB % fl H 48S h, 4i7 m. :iWfl||if t 'IIW' Imgoffe of, described, 083 ; M 'Ual- viiiili, 4i6 a ; referred to, 263 H. Porta, (Baptiiil%) nolieod, 163 b. ^ - ' - ' (Dr.) on git difoetloii 'Of fWHt lidofllt. %M. 'iMii i.M| n. TMOn, ItShv, let a* 17ft •% ; nollndi. Povi^Bofat Lo||tetan4 raloriei.'loi,. SMI'B. PoMibilitf , conecptioii as a test of, conddaiod, l*0«or, Jh Oragwry's lemarks on, erlteiied, 80, 81 ; iflit' wmmA bf ' llM pteoMi p(wer$ of (M mlwi, 'Sn ; flio pii m ni l oit of power over our own aetfons, afln^ pineiiilt. 44ff, 447 ; A^ve, the ootloit of,il»18; eamiol be deftoed, 613; ie not an 'Obl^eet of tba ealamal ^eenaia, nw even, of 'OooidoiMaMk iUf Slit mmmmm, Mi h ; our cowseplloii' 'Of H vilsiivo, not' dlfiel, AIS, S14 ; it a fiwity, 514 ; a quality with a oontiaiy, M4 ; aipiaionle to profu that all men have the notion : 1. Many things can be attnned or 'denied cooeeming it with widifAyNliiigt §14 ; S. Many ihinpi are to related to' M, 'dial we ean have no notion of them if wo have none of pMor.. Sli ; 3. In the etruduM of ai. .languaget the^ diittie^on of ^aetioa. :awi 'pariiB. fat lecog- plr a MM M ^aettttt' 'power in ounelirtt and otiers, 617 ; 6l The deiire of power it one c^tto atmaipat pMlooe 'Of human nature, 517, 'lit ; Loekra .aiMoiint of 'Our idea of, 61&-&20 ; hia die* tt^noioB of Active and. Paiiive nowir coatto-' verted, 61i ; Sensation, and Befleetion not, at he Mippoees, the exdutive lourcee of the idea, ili, Sm; .Bono's fliibiloii, that wo: hav*^ no ldea< ol^ eritisindt 690*623' ; whether' belnpi tliat :ha«o no will nor uoidoittaadiiii may liavt active rier, 623-626 ; llttio light On thiS' qnettion to derived from attention to the eouise of na- tural eventa, .S^' b ; if Locke'noplnlom'flerreet, then can 'be nO' active power wi.tiiout wUi 612, 62S;flonHdoui»eia'Of:lMe'Wiland retponaMlftv In ai uiindi, .613-624' ;. orifin of notion* vi effici- ent cauie aitd aeUve power, 624, 525, 604 ; effici- ent cawnO' of ihO' ptonomewi 'Of nature, oonaid'er*' eu in ffiKfonfiO' ii% mSt^m i power aHiiMMi oo.ijr 'Pffiilarly to' audi .ph.awiwiMia, 6SS ; 'tDdeini.to amilication of the n'ord eaute, 620 ; hopitenieai' of iaqainr into primary cautet, 6M-6S7; the «i.tent of human power, 627-i80 .; to bO' iatl> 'noted % tie oflvet' whioh. It :!■ aiMo 'to' prodneei 627 .; immediato 'OiiEttAs, 687-4129'.; rwnote' eSaots 6Sf>, 630. Poawr. the Dealre of. one of the ttmnKest patnionA of human nature, 517, 518 ; exphiinedandilluii' tmtod. B64n66IIL hV' IP '■■'■ ^pW'iwpi wiwww^i*M''W"Wiei"p ^pt^^^^^HO'ipai'apiMPweMiPiUi' ^■POia wstpah ■owOtii jnwiiOP ^^'P .611 M; Intiieolnal, liiaya OU: the, 31S sf. t Active. Bsoaars on tli% .611 to. -Oi;«'II. IMP W" Wf'WWlWlrSW^lFO'lPlp tho^tatn, a»; dliiu- iMMiff ' m t Viiidl'liMlilBM ftlkii 'Umm IMK' It JAK Ih iNBILIIfff ' * IIIHIL ejny'a 'lieatlie 'On the. 088' ; Eeld'a mittalm aa ■l t i f nature o( '187' M* 'fnMSkm, m the eaneesof etvor, dis on tio d , 408- 471 : Baoonli divMon of, into four dawea 409 : IdOMi fr0itt— thoae eommon to the irtiolo hu- man apedsa, 40947S ; undue 'regard 'lo- autho- rity, 460; diapoiitien to neoaure things un- known by thinga hnown, 470 ; love of simpli- fitft 470-478 ; misappiloation of the power of Invontlriu to purposea for which it is tooompe- tent, 47S ; tendency to rush into extremes, 478, 478: Idola jpmia— pcoUliailttea of training, prt^besion, oe character, 478, 474 ; Jdoto/ort— imperiSMttea and abuse of language, 474 ; Idola Ikeolfi—iyae systems, 174| 476. PrMmiast in reasoning described, 476. Freadenoe, Divine, difficulty of reconcHhic wllll libera, 341. 342, 342 H ; enraptured wiii me- nory. 342 a, 631 b ; aifuroeius in favour of neoMiitar from, 688-633 ; reeonciliation of the permiudon of evil to, 638-4138. Pretent, with raftrenee to time, meaBluff of the word, 348 ; tenae, hi verbs, nature of, 348 a. Pr«s«ii%, altmed use of this adverb, 96 H. .Piovoal, (H, of Geneva,) reilfMd. to, 14 b. Mot, 0r,} opposed Locko'i aooeunt of theori'gin of our ideas, 347 a, #6 a ; footed on oonoeiv- ability as the criterion of posilhility, 877 a ; noticed. 217 b, 498 b, 581 a. Pride, obaracteristlos of. 576. Prieatltr, (Dr.Xhi* objections to Reld's phlloeophy 1-16 ; seems substantially to agree with hhu on the doctrine of Common Sense, 27 a; BferkturM on his Mmnination, JtCt by Dr Oaaphell, 37, 38 ; on hia materialisni, 68 : hia empioymenl of the expressions FMIoaoplloal JVeoaui/jf, JVieceMarians. criticised, 82; held that all knowledge is originally derived Atnn the senses, 294 ; quoted on the meanhig of the term .iMii, '421 b ; 'Of oooiimu smiil. '415 a ; hia. definition of Jodgnent, 434 a; aclcnowlsdgea that men have a conviction of some active power in theoMelves, 604 a ; his notion of cause. 604 b, 008' % ^0S7 a; hlaaimuMal afplnat 'the know- ledge of eoutinioiit eventa 'Oxanteod, 830 ; .re- ferred to' or 'Quoted, m\ 87 h, '187 H, 1.88' B, 808 B, 282 B. 408 b. 616 M, 618 a. 635 k PrinmiT .and Seooudaiy Oualiliee, im Qualities. :Ftinclp«iiiFfiiii)dO''iot.DOid, nor admit of, proof, a.; are 'the iiiundatioO'.of ai' Masoning and noe, 230 K 037 a; In Malhematlea, 230 b; in Natoral nUoaophy* 231 a; those taken for grautad (by Held) in treating of the mind, 881-234; on, in general. 434-441; of ourjudg- ' men .ta^ MNno arO' totnitive, othan^ Imundad ou arpunoitt, 484 a, "718 b; 'fho imer oallOd 'Oationu, jlr«|: fwlue^fte pH-miflm of mm- mOII tSIIW, CeWNMMI UOffOM, SS^^tVWwIlt fnilAs, 434 h: diUmneas of opiuton at' to 'what art, byroaioniuKiNtttded on, 436; some y laid certun, others proiiblo, conclusions, 435, 436 ; advan- tage 01^ aMoriaining, in the various bmaehes of .knowledge, 480, 437; when flrat prinoipioo denied, atical, 452, 453 ; in matters of Taste, 453 ; in Morals, 453, 454 ; Metaphysical, 454-461 ; opi- nions, ancient and modern, about, 462-468 ; spoeially, of the Peripatetics, 462 ; of Descartes and his followers, 463, 465 ; of Locke, 465-467 : ofBuflier. 467.^6a Priscianus Lydus referred to. anonymously, 262 U. I'robable Reaaooing. see Reasoning. Probability, exists in relation to evunts depending on human will, 451 a; Hume'8 reference of all knowledge to, examined, 484-489. jPnj/bsior, the term oriKinally convertible with Moffuter and Doctor, 724 11. Promises. Hume's doctrine regarding, contro- verted, 6«3-670. Pronunciation, how acquired, 550. Property, origin and division of, «67-659. Projioeitions, nature of, 414 a, 671 b ; wliat, ac- ciiitlii.i: to Aristotle, 692, 693; cou version of, 693. 694. Proprium, as a Predicnble, 686. Protagoras and Buatlilus, story of, 704 b. Psychology, proper term tor the Philosophy of Mind. 217 H. I'ublic Spirit, the Aflbction of, 561. Punishmentt, influence of, iu connection with motives, 612, 013. Purkiuje, referred to, 169 H. FurpotHi, a voluntary operation of mind, .539; particular and general, distinguitihed, 539. 54U. Pyrrho the Klean, noticed, 102, 259 H. 438 b. Pythagoras, noticed, 225 a, 241, 2(i2 a, 264 a. Pythagoreans, (the,) ihcir views regarding a First Ckuse, 3V0 : their supposed theory of ideas, 225 a, 270 a, 370 a, 404 a, 405 b, 429 a, 4:J0 a, 431 b ; of perception, 255 a, 306 a ; their views regard- ing a First Cause, 370 ; compared the mind to a atate or commonwealth, 573 b ; the so-called Pythagorean fragments, spurious, 225 H, 4U5 11, 540 11, 573 il, 588 11, 686 U ; uncertainty of our knowledge regarding the Pythagorean School. 573 M; referied to, 203 U. 462 a. 471, 007 a, 086 a. QoaLiTiBs (in general,) every quality supposes a subject. 232.322, 454, 455; Manifest and Occult, distinguiithed, 322 a; in relation to f^eneral con- ceptions. 395; effect of observing the couuection between latent and seusible, iu improving the senses. 333 b, 334 a. QiuilitiMi, Primary and Secondary, the distinction I'f. 123 a, 131 a and 11, 141 band H. 142 H; the terms not invented by Locke, 141 H, 316 H ; on, iu general, 313-318 ; foundation of tlio dis- tinction, 313, 314 ; reduced to a higher principle, 813 II ; opinion of the vulgar rsRardiug, 315, 3i«; opinions of philosophers regarding, 316-318 ; specially of the Atomists. 316 a ; of Aristotle. 816 b; of Descartes and Locke, 316-318; of Berkeley, 318 ; the distiuction how far available against idealism. 318 H. ^mntky^ Essay on. 715-719; written to oppose Uutoheson's application of algebra to murals. 6. 6; Reid's earliest publication, 715 H. duautity, of proposition^ 092 b. l***"^*! (Chevalier,) rtferrtd to touching the ■goists. 269 U. Hwnua, (Poier,) his Dlohotomy by contradiction, —1 a and H ; noticed, 108 a, 097 h, Rational Principles of Action, (to wit. Regard to our Good upon the Whole, Regard to Duty) examined, 579-599 ; evidence that there are such principles in man, 679, 580 ; distinguished from Mechanical and Animal principles, 679. Ravaisson, referred to, 681 H. liaynal, (Abb6,) quoted to the effect that when- ever savages see motion which tiiey cannot ac- count for, there they suppose a soul, 606 a. Realists and Nominalists, 406. Reason, in connection with Common Sense. 100, 127, 425 ; inaccurate use of the term by Rei.l, 100 H, 127 H ; in rehition to our Instinctive Be- lief in testimony, 197, 549 ; the conviction of our Identity necessary to the exercise of, 344 1; Hume's scepticism with regard to, considered] 484-489; Hume's opinion, that it cannot give rise to any original idea, criticised, 621, 522 ; as opposed to Passion, 536, 636, 581 b ; its influence on our voluntary actions. 636; compared with instinct, 548, 558; insufificient to supply tlie place of parental affection. 661 b ; two oflBces of, 579 b, 582 a, 676 a ; is Reason a priucijile of actinn ? 580 a ; Hume's abusive use of the term, 681 b, 674 b ; extent to which it is assisted by LoKic, 708-711. Reason, (the Sufficient,)scc Sufficient Reason. Reasoning, Darwin's account of. 19 a ; deflned, 243 ; the evidence of. defined. 328 ; all knowledge got by. founded on first principles. 436, 482 ; on. in general. 475-478 ; distinguished from Judgment, 434. 475. 476 ; difficulty of defining, 476 a ; gift of nature capable of artificial culture, ib. ; divided into probable and demonstrative, 476-477 ; re- spective fields, 477 : demonstrative, divided into two classes, mathematical and metaphysical, 477 ; direct and indirect demonstrations, 477-478' reasoning as applied to morals, 478-481 ; probable, 481-484 ; field, contingent truths, 481 ; admits multiplicity of arguments. 482; probable evi- dence, philosophical and popular meanings dis- tinguished, ib. ; various kinds — testimony, au- thority, recognition of identity, anticipation of men s future conduct, judgment of character from acta, chances, laws of nature. 483 4s4. Rectitude, the notion of, 586-689; see Duty. Heductio ad abmrdum, the nature of. 439 b. Rtifiection, the only means by which iihe opera- tions of tlie mind can be known, 201 ; Locke's account of, combated, 208, 346, 420 ; nature.of, 232 a, 239 b, 347 ; confounded with Conscious- ness, 239, .347, 420, 443 ; the term not first in- troduced into psychology by Locke, 239 H, 346 H ; ot all the powers of mind, the last to be de- veloped, 240 a; proper and improper meanings of, 347 U, 420 H ; operation of, in relation to conscioutmess and tlie objects of the senses, 420 ; meaning (.f the term as used by Locke, 420 H. RrgtHS in Ariihus. meaning of, 724 U, 726 H. Regis, reierred to, 177 H. liuKularity, as an element in beauty, 505 a. Iteid, (Adam,) an ancestor of Dr Iteid, his trans- lation of Buchanan's History of Scotland, 4 a, 35. Reid. (Alexander,) un ancestor of Dr Reid, notice o(, 4 a, 38 II ; his works, 36 b. Rt^id, (Dr Thomas,) Account of the Life and U'ritiiigs of, 3-38 ; his birth and parentage, with noiices of bis ancestors, 3, 4, 35. 36, 38 a and H ; his educiition, 4, 6, 38 11 ; pursuits at col- luge, 4, o ; excursion to England, 6 ; appoint- ment to the living of New Machar, ib. ; circum- stances connected with his charge there, ib. ; publication of the Essay on Quantity, 6, 6 ; con- sideration of its merits, 6 a ; elected Professor of Philosophy in King's College, Aberdeen, 6 b; cnni))rehent«ive character of the duties of this office, ib. ; along with Dr John Gregory, founded a literary society there, 7 a, 41 H*; pubhca- tion of his Inquiry into the Human Mind, 7 a; bis early philosophical views, ib. ; letter of Mr Muue to, after reading the manuscript of the 3 8 INDEX. I. Inquiry, 7, $; «1)|}mI' if flito tawliMh, Ss Mm to Apiilr' BmmPB iiiatli«Nl of Ittinoioit m UMHiitel philogopliy , 8. 9, 13 ; imprawtai pui- diMMi tqr tli«".piaMiittioii. of 11m fngitlff , 0, !• ; Viilftnllsr «i tlo tinw. ik'; lii nwite m • 'pnlilic t«Mli«r, 10, 11 : nttMHMit Imii: 'piililio lilo. 11 ; obtervatiims on th* qiltil uicl scope of to pUlMOfii If 11-S9: elito% iMingitialied by MiiaiilitfiMO 'to tilt' indncMw 'IiniIMI« 11 ; to 1a«4liliiPk'Ui U; ftlmod mt vindicstim CIH' itndi- nmliil liM« of hunutn belief againtt the attaickti of M^piMnn, IS. b ; his aoalysis bimI clauillca- atioii of our rowers, iU mertta anil defects, ib. ; nvitv of 'Vm umm. inmiofftiiiit otoePom ■nniiiai to. dotsliliiea, ll-M; amtUlkf of four: 1. Tlisi lie aasmied pmtuitouiif ' flw theory 'Oonoeffitliig the Kiiil, whieh nuktertalimi cells in qneetloii, It-SI ; on this point his pbilosophy peeulferlj lnvnlntmhlt, 18 a ; how opposed to niaterialisni, 18 h; liolfl* that tho terms espiessing simple ewers of the nind cannot bo deined, 10 h ; 3. lat. hie vieira. toud to damp tho avdoiir' of phioeiqpliiail ^euiiwiiy, 21, S2; vindlwlii INmi tho cliirgo of msieiaiii, 21 ; letter of, to l>r dfifory on hb tMMyof Fereeptloii, 22 a; 8. That by an nnntiMiiiiry ntiiltiiMlmtioii of ort- f cimciploiL he: ;|Mit :niade' ^m mimm. of ■MPo 'poiflMced. 'fhnii' it waa. h^bt% MM ; this olifMlon mfglil bo most .itnmglir uiied aisinat hla daaaiileatloii of oitr ae^to prindplee, htiteven beio with little effect, 23 a; defended against Priestley, 2S-2S, 37 ; C Thai hy rano* tlonioff ma. anpeal from the dodUoBi of 'Hit laanied lo the voioe of the multitude, he has TCStfiinida iqiiflt of froe enquiry and lent stahi> Ity tojopMiar cmiSt M^Si ; the difference be- twam'-lUil .ami Msellitf' on this point seems Qoly verbal, 17 ; what' Bald meam hy .an tigppml lo comino'ii iwttic,, 18 ; nouwlDB « oocaalon of thO' death of his wilt, 84 ; nMiffl.tt aa a laadiir 'Of yontli. S ibNi AHhiilli MiMiiaiWMMi jAiaitoflnil^ B WHS ft'VMMI VtSAlMiWIIHIIIMiaMV' 'A'' MUa Mmig^^^yAuj^— -^-^^ •t AhMioen, 88 M ; Corntpon- '(If, mm t to' aeooiiBt of hie du'ttes as froCiMir In Olutow, 8I», 4§ ; un'pnUiihed worln 'Of» 88 .a.; laiiona edUiiwia of hk Infulrft M M. ; fffffPfliXftt' itlih KMitt 718 VL 'HipRlii^pil'iiia # a npi euiaaaiiPiriiji jp iiiwa'aiiiiRiiwipiiwiP^iWa'W 'UPWi iMffSi' ■■■spspwiwp, aw^wwwrflp'^p ^ipipip. ^if^ 'a^i" aetar. 8 a ; his limiiy, 88 a. .Bold, AommJm .aiMJOilor' 'Of Br BoM, atlloi' of Jkrtmm\ tikm'VOf 88 a; to wrnkM^ 86 .H ; fiir- ilwr' noliet ol, 88 HL Ha i ii iii ffflffl g, fiQlMTnd to.. IM M. ']Mition.| aoclaiis of. Jndfiuant opersttug in 'the ''lomiaiMt. 'Ofk IHNlll. .Bihitlonii ;iMtiHMif 'tho.allMtli«iiB.'belw«iii.,88ll>80S.. Batnivo, oOMipliMS. dMOfiihPl, 118 ; 'notion, .ha- proper ^use of Iht tarm, 8lf M, 61.i H. ' iimininwiitti*^,,,. lies. MiiiBonr'k 'dlittnniisliidi Iniii lM«Bi«lloiif.'S'S. iaiiiiol; m 'lakmi out tf oin- B ti ii i lr ftti ii i ^ 'Wttun 'iii^^Pii ^w^r ^iH|iaaea*ia'ii«#w^w 'Ssahiit «iif teiPMiWt liS'Sq. ;_as»stleuou_aud difr* 'vislhia ISl. 185: tlM ffMliia m*' PMianos of aa ottJeot analysed, lSi-187; sal- iOM made tho ol^aet of reflection, 185 h ; how 'ilif«iill..aito«Mnow|]nBadatoai% 186, 137; Pm|) of lilt ■Bd, '187, 138; tto fuali^ dlt- INDEX L 1011 tinffuislied fmm what is called the appearance of Colour, 137 ; the latter a sign of the former, 137 b, 138 a; the name of Colour, how applied, 138 ; no real difference between philosophers and the vulgar in this matter, 138-140 ; no re- semblanoe between Colour and the idea or sensHtioi) by which it is represented to the mind, 140 a; Visible Figure and Extension (Msguitude), 142-144; have a necessary con- nection with real Figure and Magnitude, 142 b; Visible Figure, what conception a blind man may form of it, 143 ; this conception compai-ed with the appearance presented to the eye in vision, 143, 144; queries concerning Visible Figure answered, 144-147 ; Geometry of Visi- bles, 147-152 ; what knowledge of external ob- jects may be obtained through this sense alone, 148, 150; llluatration of the Idomenians borrowed from Ane|>iKraplmB, 150-162; certain phaeno- inona of Vision examined, 152 Bq. ; 1. The parallel motion of the eyes, 152, 153 ; this not the result of custom, 152 ; but of a natural instinct, 152, 163; power of varying the par- allelism. 153 a ; 2. Our seeing objects erect by inverted images, 153-163 ; Kepler's and Des- cartes' solution, 163, 154 ; Berkeley's solution, 154, 156; Reid's sulution, 156-160; how the liicture on the retbia causes vision, 167; ac- counted for as a law of nature, 157-160 ; Scheiner's and Forterfield's experiments, 160, 161 ; 3. Seeing objects single with two eyes, 163-166 ; opinions reduced to two supreme classes, 163 II ; objects falling on points of the retina similarly situate, 164 ; illustrative experiments, 165; laws of vision in brute ani- mals, 166, 167 ; theory as to animals which l»ve their eyes placed adverse. 167 ; Squinting OOnsidered hyputhetically, 167-172 ; not probable that two objects can be attended to at once, 168 a ; defect of sight at point of entrance of optic nerve, 168 b ; experiments on squinting sug- gested, 168, 169 ; double and single vision with reference to squinting, 169, 170 ; Dr Jurin's hy- poihcHiiS 170 ; facts relating to squinting, 172 ; notices of attempts to cure it, 172, 173 ; the effect of custom in seeing objects single, 173-176; the accurate direction of both eyes to the object the cfftfct uf custom, 173, 174 ; the correspondence be- twsen certain points ot the retinas an original pro- perty of human eyes, 174 ; Dr Smitii's reasoning controverted, 174-176; Dr Forterfield's account of single and double vision, 176-178 ; Dr Briggs's theory of the optic nerves, 178, 179 ; Newton's conjecture, 180 ; strictures on it, 180, 181 ; theory concerning tiie sensorium controverted, 181 b ; how we learn to perceive distances by the eye, 188 ; clunges in the form of the eye, 189 ; incli- nation of optio axes, 189, 100 : degrees of bright. nsM in colour, IIK), 191 : coraparition with inter- vening objects, 192 ; diminution of apparent niair^ nitude, 192, 193; visible and real figure, 193, 194. JSie Sight, Vision. Sigiiet. (Sir Thomas,) refierred to, 35 H . Self, the pennnnent subject of successive thoughts 8:i2, 345, 443. 444. Bslf-iiiterest, defects of, as a principle of action, 8sne«a, quoted, 35 a. 884 H. Benaation, cannot be dehued, 107 a ; belongs to a sentient being, 110 b, 289 b ; suggests both the correlate and the relation. 111 a ; none of our ssiisations resemblanooa of any qualities of body, 140-142 ; distinguished firom Perception, 182 b, SIO-SIS; principle of this distinction— Sensation the subjective. Perception the ob- jective, element, eaeh always in tlie inverse raUo of tha other, 160 M, 188 M, 813 H, 318 H ; Sensation and RsOection, aa CIm two sources of our ideas, tto division considered. 208, 346, 519 H; BMNning of tbo l«in» 889; distinguished ' iill^W^'a«#iwa js p sMPV 'BP* Sensations, distinguished from the qualities oausin'' them, 112. 114, 119, 120, 131, 137. 138, 289^ 316 ; their alleged connection with vibrations of the nerves, 252 ; their nature, 290 ; divided into the agreeable, tho disagreeable, and the indiffer- ent, 311 ; difference between Sensations and Feel- ings, 312. Sense, the organs of, 245 sq.; see Organs ; the evi- dence of, corofiared with the evidence of Rea- soning, 328, 329; of Axioms. 329; of Testimony, 829, compare 194-200; of Memory, 329, 330 ; in- forms us only of the Present, 348 ; objects of, our notion ot, in connection with the faculty of judgment, 418 a ; popular meaning of the word, 421, 422; not to be identified with Judjfment, 590 H; Common, see Common Sense; Mon.l, ftee Moral Sense. Senses, (External,) in all the Senses the only ob- ject perceived is that in immediate contact with tlie organ, 104 H, 160 II, 247 H, 299 11, 3«l 11, 303 11, 304 li ; division into five, inadequate, 119 H, 124 H ; systems of pliilosophers con- cerning, 130-132; do not deceive, 194 a and 11 ; general belief in the evidence of, 259 ; ex tent of the knowledge given by, 290 ; improve- ment of, 330-334 ; by use and exercise, 330, 331 ; original and acquired perceptions distinguished, 331-333 ; by a due care of the organs of sense, Si3; by attention to the objects of sense, 333; by the use of instruments, contrived by art, 333 ; by discovering the connection wiiich sub- sists between the sensible and latent quali- ties of objects, 333, 334 ; falUcy of, 334 339 ; complaints of philosophers concerning, 334 : fallacy impossible in sensation, 335 ; supfiosed fallacy in perception, ib. ; due to inconclusive reasoning, 335, 336 ; to errors of acquired per- ception. 336, 337 ; to ignorance of the laws of nature, 337, 338 ; to a disordered state of tliu organ, nerves, «kc, 338, 339 ; existence of things perceived by, a first principle, 446, 446. Sensorium, that part of the brain to which im- pressions are conveyed by the optic nerve, 150 h; theories concerning, 179-181 ; by some philoso- phers made the seat of the soul, 256. Sentence, the true nattu-al unit in speech, 71 a and 11. Sentiment, on tho term, 262 H, 641 II, 674 b- and 11. Sergeant, (John,) his criticism of Locke's theory of identity, 350 H ; referred to, 291 11. Shaftesbury, account of his treiitise entitled Semtm Commvnis, Ac, 423, 424; casually noticed, 5U3, 559 a, 589 b, 598 b. Sight, tho sense by which we principally obtain, our knowledge of Figure, 126 11 ; true object «»f perceptwn in, 160 H, 299 H, 301 H, 303 H, 304 H; does not give us a knowledge of real Mag- nitude or Extension, 303 b, 326 H ; original and acquired perceptions of, 331, 332 - minuteneNS. that the sen^e is oa]>able of reaching, 349, 350. See Seeing, Vision. Sign, conuecttou of, with the thing signified, 121. 122, 194 sq. ; transition from, to thing sig- nified, 331 b. Signs, natum], different classes of, distinguished, J21, 122; power of, to signify sentiments, pas- sions, die, 450; innate faculty of recognihiug, 664,665. Simple Apprehension, tee Apprehension, Concep- tion. Simplicity, love of, as a source of error. 206, 207, 470-472. Simplicius, referred to, 263 II, 316 H, 686 II. Sin, argument of the necessitarians from the per- mission of, examined, 632-636. Skene, (Drs Andrew and David.) notice of, 39 U ; Dr lleid's Letters to, 39-50. Skene, (Dr George,) notice of, 46 If. Smelling, on, in genural, 104-115 : the medium, of oertaiu effluvia constantly emitted by budies. If IMS IM hi ilie oiipi. •?, lOi, 105; tlw 10& ; ^offiinpirii iii:lii. tte I, im, lIlO ; iuif ■wMmn awitiMil :iMiiaf I flNIa; tli«re ft aqwiliky in twcltw wUoll w$ call tbslr SntMy 112 «; in tte iimciBiliiiit. Pi^ yli^y .it ■c tom^ f ffim^ i f fiffi i KVitll tlM MMMKliMI;, 118 h t IIM' 'IMUllM Of' tll« fS- IWrml MlllUfy M 'CSUM #t ''tlMl 'MUMtilMI'f l a, 'tlM inliid, 1144 i0i| 'MflicM. If .i^WiiiivlMnf ' Ml. illlb real p«rftetio% Mt h ; lila four canliiial vir- tiit% 642 H; noUfli4 f4ll l£ Wmmimdag, diieovory of, loudiiaf thii rotlaa, 174tt;Kf«mMii»,lSllI. IMIiMi% 119 b ; «ee T oMk Boiflanr, at distingaiAwt Irom aoeiid» OfMNraclOM' of «» mind, 844. em. fifffewm, WUdom of, quoted, 647 H. ioiMtmt, tbt natara and dtvition o4 aeooffdiiit . to the AriHtotelian% 707. 7U8. iSonl, apiniow ngardlvg' tbi^ ualuM' oC :Mt 1% US' a andW; raganUngllM. atat of» «i b aiMt H. 848 M. 2S5. 319 H. Soiiud. 110 h t tee HMurioff. fipM% Rtid't and lCaiit%doetrin«t of, oonpaivd. IS H, lH' 0, 188' Mt 314: Bj lapretwitMi. by MO'Wtoii at. iba MHttiiviim mt Wm Baity, 856 b ; oi4gfa of our notion of, 324 ; tangible and riai- lil% ditliiiiiiitbad, 324^ 325 ; llald% doctrine of, 'CffitWiwd, 334: II, 343 fl ; oontidatatSoiit ropml:- lUff, »)« 334 343, 349 : iuadwituiey of our notion Of. 349 M. BpeaMug. art of. an exampla of babit. 530. Ikucffiiofl, fiMiMi.UeJ Fwlpteilo aad Seliolaatle ^eoita of. 131 6 :aiMllI, 804''liaiid H, MT % KM II, 876 If ; Monqiofai. Iqp IleM!art«»n. (Profiraaor,) bla eandid .aefcnovWf- mant of tVm merit uf Md t /iifitiry, 9 b, 10 a. .fttonarl* (Utigiild,) bit JaoaiMl ttf lAf XM mud Sal .llMiprtM «as not aflfiiaiatod HIIEX I. INDEX L 1013 liii .BiOMili 'Wotli, 18 M.; t b a n'nil l i i ii i ooiiaMiiliiff 'CM'Mir and: Vi» libit Fipnra, 138 H, 144 H ; bis prm^plg of M^f la Clf ptraMUiffaet o/M« law* ofnatmn, Mf H ; nMaiiat Bildli um of the term Mt' jUtttimh 480' M t Vk f baory nt Habit, 551 U t '0iiitiiiii< Held far' apgl^nff f iW' 'term Itutimt te' an aeqaiaad dexMiliyf '819 H : coMMdii. tiiat no aotion. te pmrftmiiid without some mo- tive, 609 'B ; fitoledt on iba order of univenity •tndiea, 480 B ; on tba Pythagorean deflnttion of Virtue, 640 B ; on the conaciouanena of Frea- Agoncy, #16 11 ; on Giliit'k eriticiam of Held, 7011 n i lafONPM tof '04 lK| '194 B, 108 H, 808 B, 817 B, 880 B, SIS B, 819 B. 878 H. 880 M, 804 B. 843 B, 888 H,407 H, 406 II, 425 B. 480 B, 44S B, 461 H. 458 B, 401 H, 485 M. 467 B, 476 B, 546 U. 619 B, 600 B. Btewairl, (8ttr Jumm,) noilood, # .a. Stilltngieet. referred to. 8il B. StlmuiiinK *^ 9ttBQ% m^ in cnatlng artificial ap|io« tliat, 115, 118,. 5591 8toic% (Ihab)lilMiad tba8, ttt Grandeur. 8ubttanoe(of attributos), conception of,a|»rt from ita qualitie% ittvolfit a oontsadMan', 383 M'. Bubatanca (ciilagoiy of> divialon and propartlaa of, 684. 085. Siibatanttal Forma, diotrino of. 270 a and H. Sueceasion. (tba iitaa of,) Iioeke'a account of. criti> cited, 347, 348 : oan the idea of Duration be de- rived fMB't :348, '849. Suetoobia, quolad, 400 B. 638 H. aidarad,. '884-1181 'aniUgii% 'Of fba pladpla of, 624 M { appleabla to' hypetfiifaioai' eveata, 638 U ; aquivaieat to mm qfemmt, 086 B. Buggeation. aa a power of the mind, explained, 111 ; field's uaaof cbla term anticipalad not only by Uarkoley, but by TertoUian, 111 B ; criticitui 'Of llafd'a 'dooMno' 'Of, 188 B, 130 M. 'Saldat, 'reiirfad to, '6831 M., Superiority, Detiio of, {tee £mulaiIon,)considered, 588-5^H. Bwifk, noticed. 438 k Syllo^iaui, wbetbar'H'^iin ba 'Blmpiy apprehended, 375 a; account of tba Ariatotelian, 094-708> aet Aristotle ; Aristotle'a deSnition of, 701 11 ; U^gerando cnotad on, 710 Hj compared with Indnotlon, TiS. Bympatliy, Adam Btoltb'a thaoiy of, 92, 565; called out by the twnevolent affactioiui, 506 ; at an effect of approbation, 598. ByatenMh pRtJudina ariting from, 474, 4T5. TaL"K'MT, how'IndgBd' 'Of !■< 'man. '418. TMe, (tba atnti 'Of.) •nalyaed, 116 ; wgana al entranoa of aUnMota^ canal, 115 b ; uaaa, lb. ; bow fir a uparato genua bom tmell. 116 a; varlatiaB, 118; anuniantian of timple tiutea by Taato, (aa 'an latalloetnal 'power.) there are Fimt Frindplaa in maltara ot, 453; Eaiay oi>, 40- 508 ; on. In gaoaral, 480-408 ; dofinad, 490 ; com- n^^wa^^^a ^^a'Waa ipaa^p^ waaanHBFa MHaHi "nHPnaiiwiP ^iPii' ^i^^^W'— 'HPji ■■■pa j^ ^^^mwmr^ Um produoad 'diiiiipiiiid inni quality pradn- Cinr Ih.; diversify in tlie kinds of lioant}', 401 ; liealtiiy ftato of ttie power exhibited in admi- ration of what is really excellent, lb. ; effeit of cuiitom and aaaiiclationa in producinf; varieties (if. lb. ; a standard, 491. 4»2 ; implies Judgment, 498; the quality admired cannot be perceived witliout perception of the nature of tlie object, it). ; oVyects of, 493-508 ; to wit. Novelty, 493, 4M ; Grandeur, 494-498 ; Beauty, 498-508 ; pro- grett of, in individuals, 507, 508 ; judxnient in matlera of. 5.'}4; Hume's oiunions on, contro- verted, 677. Teaclilng, importance of, as a means of learning, 726 H. TeleacKpe. the, 103. Temper, natuml, how cnnKtitnted, 578. Temptation, liability to, caused by pus.iinn, 57*2, 578. Tprnis, of a proposition, according to the Aristote- lians. 692 ; of a syllogism, 694. Terlulliiin, his anticipation of Keid'a philosophy, 111 11. Testiuiony. evidence of, compared with that of Beuse, 194-201, 329; oriffin of our belief in, traced, 196 ; di."*tinguished from Judf,;nient, 413 ; tirst principle concerning, -150. 451 ; as a kind of probable evidence, 482, 483 ; iusliuctive belief of children in, 549. Tetens, referred to. 111 B, 853 H. Thalea, noticed, 241. Tlieages, spurious treatise attributed to, 540 H. Themistiuis referred to, 263 II. 300 11. Tlieophrastus, referred to, 116 II, 263 II, 300 II, 816 II, 695 H, 697 H. Theories, their nature and use. 234, 235. ThMT^, hypothesis, and conjecture, terms erro- neously used by Reid as convertible, 97 H. Theory of Morals, impropriety of tlie name. 642b; forms no i>art of the system of Morals. 642, (543. Tliiiiking, an active operation, 221 a ; nieanin^^ of the term, 222 a ; as distinct from feeling, 671 b. Thought and thinking, more and less restricted significations of these terma, 228 H : how used by the Cartesian school, 265 a and II. Thought dlstinguislied from its object, 277 b. Thoughts, reference of, to a "self," 443 b 444 a : the train of, 379-386, see Train ; indicated by features, voice, and gestures, 449-460. Thummig, quotation from hid defcuce of Leibnitz »(nii»8t Clarke, 611 H. Tiberius, a fatalist, 636 H. Tillotson, quoted on Design, 45.9 ; noticed, 466 a. Timaens. (the Locriau,) noticed, 225 a ; the trea- tise under the name of, a forgery, 225 H. Time, notion and measurement of, 343 ; origin of our notion of, 343 II ; inadequacy of our uution of, 349 II : see Duration. Tisias. see Corax. 7'opteff, account of Aristotle'a treatise so called, 706. Torrioelli, noticed, 217 b. Touch, ail the senses modifications of, 104 IT. 247 H, 305 11; analysed, 119 sq.; variety of quali- ties perceived by, 119 a and II ; Heat and Cold, 119; Hardness and Softness, 119, 120; dintinc- lion in these cases between the sensation and the quality causing it, 120; tbe latter a sign of the former, 121 ; Hardness and Softness, Roughness and Smoothness, Figure, Motion, considered aa Primary qualities, 123 ; Extension a notion involved in these qualities, 123-126; •tistence of a material world as indubitable as that of ideas and impressions, 126-130; varies in different parts of the body. 126 II, 303 H ; inadequate to ascertain Figure, independently of Siffht, 133 H ; not the test of real Magnitude and FiBure, 803 If, 328 H. Tracy, (M. de,) referred to, 682 H. Traill of thought, on. In frenaral, 379-388 ; various namea f^iven to it by philoaophers, 379 b ; is not ooufined to ideas, strictly no aalled, 879, 880, { compare 199 II; either Spontaneous, or Dircrtcfl, or (what is most common) Miied of both kindn. 380 ; Spontaneous Trains considered, 380-385 ; distingtiislied as historical or romantic, accord- inR as Memory or Fancy acts the most consider- able part, 380, 381 ; specially of what ia called ca'itlebuilding, 381, H82 ; the arrangement of thought in spontaneous trains, how produced? 382-385 ; not l)y any mechanical or unthinking cause, 882 ; probably tlie result of jud(>;nient. 382, 383 ; this opinion confirmed by iracinjj the progress of tho human fancy, 383-385 ; children furnished with regular trains, in the first in- stance, by imitation of others, 383 : then by the exercise of their own Invention, 383, 2)84 ; these tmins, when acquired, made familiar by exercise and habit, 384-385; Directed Trains considered, 385, 386 ; Hume's (and Hobbes') theory of the Attraction of Ideas, examined, 386-388; his enu- meration of the relations upon which this attrac~ tion is founded, at once redundant and incom- plete, 386; Habit sufficivnt to explain tlie at- traction of ideas, 387 ; practical reflections sug- gested by the subject, 388. Training, moral, tlie influence of, 578 a Tmnsubstantiatioii, the Catholic doctrine of. in- compatible with klealism, 358 M ; exiilained, 618 H. Treviraims, referred to. 181 H. Trevoux, Memoirs de, referred to, 269 H. Truth, an innate principle of, contended for, 196, 6(i(i : that the natural factdties by which we distinguish Truth and Error are not fallucioun, a first principle, 447-448; cannot suffer by in- quiry, 455 a, 478 b ; faculty of perceivmg, as distinct from existence of, 676 b. Truths, necessary and contingent, distinguished, 429, 430, 441, 442 ; self-evident, nature of, 434 ; contingent. First Principles of, 441-452, see Principles ; the Held of Probable ReaHoning, 481 b; necessary. First Principles of, 452-461. see Principles ; the field of DemunAtmtive Ktasun- ing, 477 a. Tschimhausen, referred to, 377 H. Turgnt, referred tf», 7 b, 24 a. Turnbull. (Dr (leorge,) notice of, 4 h, 3<5 b, 37 «. Tutorial system in English Universities, critici.-ed, UNnKnsTANDiwo. powers and opei*ation« of, as dis- ungiiished from those of Will, 242, 637; division of tlie operations of. by Logicians, into iSimpIe A )>prel tension , Judgment, and Reasoning, 242, 375, 6i»2 ; biasses of, as causes of error, 468-476 ; see Prejudices ; whether beings that have no will nor understanding may have active power, 522- 525. see Power ; necessary to the sui>position of a moral agent and will, 599. Understanding and Witl, as a division of the mental powers, :^42 a and H ; objectionable, 511 H. Universais, Attributes so called in tiie ancient phi- losophy, 389 b. 390 a; the five classes of. 395 1>, 405 b, 686 b ; see Predicables ; opinions of pliilo- Bophers about, 405-412; of the Pythagoreans, Platonists, and Peripatetics, 405 ; of the Nomin- alititA, Realists, and Concentualists, 40(> ; of Hobbes. ib. ; of Locke and Berkeley, 406-4u;t ; of Hume, 409-412. Universitat, original use of the term, 723 II. Uuiver^itieB, British, their constitutional priuciples systematically violated, 730 U ; of Glasgow and St Andrews, absurdity of tlieir system in pont- poning Physics to Mental Philosophy in cuni- eulura, 420 H. UniversUjf Commissioners' Report, referred tt\ 725 II. Utility, as tbe source of justice, Hume's opiniuut on, controverted, 651-663. Valois. (Le pore de,) accused Malebrancho of huraay, 266 H. SK9 "ssm mmt t . .... I IHiiFJiif iiip< TiiI'vtnlft,. nntletd* 1S1 a ¥a:rlilgr, m m eleniMilin nwutj. SOS a Vrnm, «piiM. ISi li, m H. '¥«nMitif , Brtnelpls of. 100, tm T mtli. WMiit liiB'Inii '11%. in rilit"limi In mmiimj' iniilw* 411' s ; Mflm ■ii piiiliiii m ■■pmrnlMi l>f • flli^ flii, IW; «mMii nf tlie dMnetkin. 615 ; «nif tiMM aBoonntai lur, SIO, 617. ¥tiililiiai' DoUMd, 180, 181. ViintliMi in tlw Mrvw, Eiirtle/t tlieory of. •lui- iiiiaeil,SiO-253. Vice, existence of, dependmit on the opewtlnn of tbe will, 642 ; arguiwiit of tiie nefflniiiaiiaiu from the fMrmiflsioii of. «x«iiii]ied. OSf •flSi. Tieii.iu, Univenltir oftnfonniito, 720 H.. Tlrgi, MidiiMil te ilMtntloii of the Sublime. #7 » ; 4polad, Hr % IK M, i7S B. VlrtiM, fMudn-'l^iiiMfimMi d«i«ieioii nf, 640 H ; araniMt'iiMlillilvimiiptation, 673 ; First FrlMipleB relailng i%. mff'Sm^ am Ummtk.. YitUm, nm mrdlMi, MMwniliiff !»' 'Ilit' maUm, Fkto. and 8r>crHte% 012 H ; Huiiislb dlvisloii. of tiM, into natuml and artilleial, 051. IVfT Xgn J| |ah|g|MgAiil|,|iga]k llrwl VMhlt'iiiwtloD, ltn«^ of. law nuilntaintd. by virl- (tin «rtt«ra bafmm' Porteffield, 117 M. Visibles, Geometrr of. (m< Seeing,) 147-lSS: tlM tUowghl of, original to Berkeley, U7 W, Wf H. 'Viiioii, US Ml., aee Seeing ; crossing points of ■Ufa. in. sacartaliMMl tW' to hahlMl. tb« cnatalliiia Ittna, IW H. ; bypothaiaa: 'lanard'Hiff aiiigk'vWon with two eyes daisilM, 1<03 H ; true object of MTCMlion in, 100 M. Sm H, SOI H, 303 II. ¥ifia, (iwlovimt,) iiwHaii, 082' M. Tcilltion, aigiiillos th« m^ m dlitlniniisbad fnm the power of willing, 79 b, 530, 581, me Will ; implies a couvictton of active power, 446 b, 447 a, 523. Telkmann, bis obaenrstions on Viskia, 100 H, 100 H. Vtiltairej hto crilicisiu of Descartes, 98 II ; notioed, 438 b. Wattis, (Br,) employed Induction in niatlie- aaticfl. 481 b. Warbiirton, quoted on Mathematics as an exercise of reason. 701 H. Wali iisiarller improTements of tlie steam eng Ine, 41 a Watts, fliaac,) f noted, toucliing JudgiiMnl, 410 b; notlosd, 274 H. Vabar. bit olMwmtiaia im fkmoli., 126 H, 303 II ; m. ▼IsloBt 100 II. Wallfe, (DffJ his strietuns on Beid's doctrine of ■l«gle TisKn. 100 H. 173 H. WMaton, bis JftaioJri referred to, 72 a and if. W ikins, (Bisbop,) bls^ attmnpt to frame a pliilo- sif htel Iiinfpiaftth 408 &. Wilt ambiguity of tbe wor4, as applied botli to the jNWMr and to the nd of wining. 70 b, bM, 631 1 fOiMni and operations of, as diatingiilshei from fbOM of the UudoratandlBi, 241, 681, 637 ; ea- INDEX I. df pufpar ov«r tha determinations of, a •nl principle, 446, 447 ; how far probability can toapfliad to evenu depending on, 461 a ; whether beings that have no 'Wil mm widiialanding msy IWM' 'Hallfa' power. .MSJtf, iM Fowor ; Eway on, 188418 ; doaa not admit of ioflcal definition, lilt overy act of will must have an object, ib. ; fbiBi^ect must be an action of our own, ib. ; Will thus itisUapilsbed from Desire and Command. 681, 633; further, this obfectmnot be somethiuR tolleved to be in oar power, 632; in certain cases irollllin «ecomp:inied with an elTort. 632, 636 ; imjillta HI antecedent motive or disposing cause. 688; Ininenoe of incitements and motives upon. 608-530; by instinct and habit, we do many filing* without any exercise of judgment or will, 683; in other aotions the will is exerted, but wltlMMit judgnMit, 633. 634; in others tbera Is a deltborate compariion and choice of 634, 535 ; two parts of the human consti- that influence our voluntary actions, to wit, Passion and Baason, 535 ; the nature of these two prindplee exiilainod and illustrated. 535, 536 ; operations of mind whicli may be ealled voluntary, 537-641 ; to wit. Attention, 687,188: Deliberation, 638, 539; Fixed Purpose or BtMlliiliilli, 68M41; acts of will dittin- guMedas ttaiident and permanent, 541. 542; nothing, wherein the will la not concerned, can Justly to aeeonntad virtuous or vicious, 542 ; ail vMuoua hafaltt imislst in fixed purrKues of act- ing acoordlnff to the rules of virtue, 542. 543. Wilsons, (tto,) of 01a«Kow, notice of, 10, 37 a. Winslow, quoted on the union of the optiu nerves, 181a. Wolf, (Christian,) his abuse of definition, 220 ; qnoled touching the Egoists, 293 II ; noticed ss the diief interpreter aud advocate of the Leib- nitlsn system, 307 a; adduced on conceiv- ability as the criterion of poasibUity, 377 a and H ; referred to, 3t(0 H. Woolaston, referred to, 181 H. Words, nature and use of, and the sources ft^ra which tlie meaning derived, 364 b, .365 a. Woffdmiortli, :nfiMrred to, 616 H. Worid, (malariat,) existence of, a first prirciple, 126-130, 206, 2W, 446, 446; dtstinguished from the intellectual, 216 : how far the object of im- mediate percei>tion, 300 ; efiect of the ideal sys- tem OBllie belief in. 446; opinions of pliiloao- pton ■■ to exiiitenee rif, 464, 465. World, knowledge of the, its nature and utility, 643»M4. YouNO. (Patrick.) noticed, 3 H, 36 II. Zabahslla, referred to, 300 H. Zeno, fifteen philosophers of the name, 102 11 ; (of Elea.) his demonstration of the inipoasibility of motion, 102 b ; fallacy of that demonstration hitberto undetected, 102 H ; his problem ^f Acbllb*, 488 b; (the Stoic.) a fatalist only in IXT T^ T? V T T J>l JJ 1!j A II, TO THE SUPPLEMENTAEY DISSERTATIONS. Arri.ard. sayinii of, referred to, 760 b. Ai.ercromby,(l)avid,) 785 a, «c« Common Sense. AhHoIute, (the,) what, as one of the poles of the Conditioned, 936 sq. : as contrasted with tlie Infinite, 937 a; Absolute Idealism, 817 a: this and Natural Realiara the only systems worthy of a philosopher, 817 b, u. ; Absolute Identity, 749 !i. Atistract KnowledRC, see Intuitive. Adive and Passive IntellectR. the Aristotelian and Scli«il;istic distinction of. 953 bq. Activity of mind, in cognitiun, what meant by, 859 A, n. Jctmd and Potential, the distinction of, in the Arist«itelic philosophy. 828 b. Adrim, denied species botli in sense and intellect, 9.54 b n. *. /Enesidenius' developed the difiiculty from the simultaneity of Cause and Effect, 936 a, n. Affective Qualities, Aff^ectious : Aristotle's doc- trine of. S26, 827. AHhiity, Law of, in Mental Reproduction. 915 a. All«rtu8 Magnus, quoted on the word Maxim, 707 b ; referred to on the nature of Principles, 778 a; viewed Ens as the Primum Coanitum, 9'U b; his division of the Internal Senses, 953 b, n. ; cited, 9.'>6 a, n. *. AltiinuR. (Bernard Siepfried.) abstract of his doc trine touching the Net ves, 872 sq. ; his Prelec- tions euloKi>ed. 874 u. Alhius.tfc White. Alexander Aptirodisiensis on the comparative certiinty of our original beliefs, 755 a ; 775 a, *ee Common Sense; referred to, 764 b, 771 b, n. ; tliat Sensation is Ajmlgment, 878 a. n. f ; viewed Em as the Primum Cognitum, 934 b; his em- ployment of crvvaiadTiffts, 943 a, 944 a; quoted on the terms imprejis, type, Ac, 949 a; cited on the Active Intellect, 956 a, n. || ; on the cunciliatiou of Liberty and Prescience, 975 b, n.; on the term contingent, 978 a. Alsraxel, 776 b, see Conunon Sense; referred to, 850 b. 861 a; his divlsiou of the luternul Senses, 953 b, n. Alstedius, his ' Archelogia.' 770 a. Amherst, 789 b, «e« Common Sense. Anunonius Herniisp. 776 b, see Common Sense ; referred to, 764 b. 881 b, n. ; quoted in illustra- tion of the doctrine touching the negativity of our perception of Terminal Lines, 922; on the term contingent, 978 a. ... , ^, ^ jimpuUted limb, sensation of pam in relation to, explained, 861. n, *. - -^ - Analogy , how far presumptions from, anord a ctitonon of truth, 854 a, u. ; La» of, In Mentul Iteproductiou, 915 a. Analytic and Synthetic judgments a priori, Kant's distinction of, question concerning the originality of, 787 b, n * ; anticipated bv iiuffier, ib. ; borrowed from Huffier by Campbell, ib. Anaxagoras, 850 b. Ancillon, (le ftls.) 798 b, see Common Sense; cited on acts of mind beyon«i the sphere of consciousness, 939 a ; against the distinction of Observation and Heflection, 94(> b, n. § ; on Necessity as a quality of cognitions, 973 b ; on the notion of Causality in relation to Liberty, 974 b n. *. Andala' (Ruardus,) maintained a doctrine of Per- ception analogous to that of Reid, 883, n. Andreas, (Antonins,) the first to enounce the Principle of Identity, 778 a ; see Common Sense. Andronicus. regarded the AlTective Qualities as. in strict propriety, noiqualities but powers, 827 b. Andronicus, (Pseudo,) see Heliodorus Pruseusis. Annihilation, as conceived by us 937 a. Amchauung, (intuition,) as (»pposed to Begriff, (conception, ) 986, 987. Anselm, (St.) saying of, referred to, 760 b; 770 b, see Common Sense ; notices tiie distinc- tion of Abstract and Intuitive Knowledge, 812 b. Ai^tKf //iCKOV (tJ>), how used by Aristotle, 806 b.n. Antoninus, his employmeut of (TvvaiaQricns, 943 a. Aonius Palcarius. cited. 948 a. Apperception, of the Leibuitio-Wolfians, 877 a, n., 944 a. Apprehension and Judgment really one, but logi- cally double, 806 n. A priori, a posteriori, on the terms, (i' •il%' (Im^ tpHlwt' cuMMiiOfi to liilellMit, 716 %. n. ; rtindplM. 'ioir (Mnoi by* TSl l> t hit iMi 01 tlio tonus n pfiitHt A jioMWibri, 703 • ; fho 'Imo . AifciiB:» 7ii^7i9' fMMiki' «* 'w MtO' a 'Mm* ^tlaO' (iwv iMt)' M' 'IfatbeiiMitict, 7flft «; Itit 4M- iM««. of .SoMoiij, 7ii » ; cobtnMli EdMon mm! Imlilfgiiw% fm a, '771 %■; 'hte um of tlio tarau awit, 7ii b ; 771-773^ mm Common Boom ; ofi- fovmiflf eootndklmj doetrinefl of. with rt- ipnl III iffit wdmivm, nconcile IrimM to htm, dSff a. &. ; Ma doctrine of the aadiniiation of tubloct and. oMeet, la the lanii- tl^e prooeM, aipiabicd, ib.; hit employment of tho lerai MoUm or JTomiimiI (arinfintlf '8li a, n. * iOt b. D. • ; what ho meant by Mnrnhir, 9m a, n. t ; hia diviniun of oorptireal ipaHtlea, In a phyaifwl ooinl of view, explained, 88t K n. f ; neticie 'if ' Vk optiiinii as to the Secundoiitiiiiaiir' olaaa of 4|iialllie% M» b :M|. ; quoted aa bciH- :lBt that. Senaallon la not a purely olffeetiffe 'Cognltioii, 655 b. »m m; virtually held, that the Mmaiy 'Hualltlea aie peneptiona, mot aan- •atlonii, 8M b, m, f ; bia doetflue 'that fl» aonl contafae tlie body, rather Iban the. body ttW' , aotti, WI h, n. ; aaaeria that Senrflfve Feret|>- tion te a juiffmrnt, 878, n. t ; that it involvea am aet of Inlelhwt, W9, n. | ; recognisod the twofold (iietive' .and paialvt) diaiaeter 'Of tbe aon- .Bldve' pffocoi% §81, n., W4. a ; bfti AlaerMmstioti 'Of 'Common and; Proper 8enAia% ICS' aerita, 88i ; a Mataital. Reallat,. 888 b, UH % a. ; waa awatO' of 'tba law fli the oooaiiatoiMaf, In am iMYerae' lalifii of l^ witii n i oit . ' :*ii^. li—i— iim i ih. • bla 'diolrlne of Xeatal ' .AModaHem aialid and esphiiied, with traairilalleM 'froia the HMtieO' Jk Mtmeria and rriaHvO' eiiiiinien.laiy of lliemMu^ 'iM2-910 ; his tlu«e Mwa of Mmninisoenee '•■• rned and eritidted, '809, n. * ; what he maani . calling Remtebeinoe a mtimtii pmeedore, §09 a, n. t ; held tliat eolour and eitenaion ** al- ways aeeompeny ee eb o ther," 918 a ; ^pmM in WhMiliiction 'Of tiie dotlrine' in i egard to ttiO' neiia- ttv'ily of mm iiefeeptiMi of 'terminal linea 981 ; 'OH. Uneik 181 b, n. * ; hie uae of the won 'Mno, •fi'b; had no apeehil term fw Comaelomieiii, iti b; viewed JEnt aa the Prlrouui OafaltiMnia 984 b; Ui' emp%ment of wpoerticriictft, 9IS b .; Iha lent rimf m need liy, .net to be taken IHnnQy. 948, 949 ; oited on the. .Vlatonle doctrine ef fHie^ption, 050 a ; did not hold the dootrine m; mm fonsi' (hi mhi) not eofni«Mil-of'.ai||lit 'WilMplitin:'*.; has 'been held to de^'^ihe^lf- ip '071 a» n. t ; cited on tin iarai wnHM^mt, 978 a: hl« merit* an a Lofffcinn, 08f- 084; his own teetimoriy, 9^ 983 ; the le«timony of Kanl, 9M3 b ; of Degeinnio« Piimon, and Bilfinfir, 081| 9ll'i on the propriety ofiitiidying the edioeM' of Ohiervatton befo.re 'thoeO' of Me- feoliMii 980; on Conceptions and lutuitionn. lldQK'T A tfPI ■« eiitafci" i^^wpi#iiip^ipaeieiiiiw(i' w '^ 'bwhw' a mwisi waff^a '%iiP# ^*nM oiae ipnii Affnaiidi. ^Hikiioiiiadisa 'Hial ^Ua theory of Percep-. lion InvBlviB a ammider of' all Immediate know- Mte of an external, world. 815 b, 823 b ; cited, '039 b; bb iim$ ^aiaoiirise«l« 080 b ; his ex- pianattai of' tlia. Clbrteaian Mm, 9ltA b, n. .ARioblii% 77i a,"Sif' Oomimon. S^nae. Arriafe,. ntmnA 'to, 813 b, n.; malntaiwd Speciea In loth fhe external and Intenmi senses., 955 Aseislaneih. 'Iheety of, .BsHartas its untlior, 961 b, n. ♦. lanoetaliMity, or Posiible €o«iggeatfoD. m *me of 'thO'itaeral law'R. of Mental Sttfpatkm, 911 AnseehitiOii, 'Or BuRgeatilon, Mental, oonlriiintlon towards a blatory of 'the doelrlne. of, (Mote B' '**,) 8894)10 ; interest and importance of the subject, 889 a ; praM and contrast between the prin- ciples lif .Aaaoehition and Graritatlom, 889 a b ; ImpeillMlhMB of ' the eihitiaf' Jfiafonto (Bl,)' lield that tho. ImIs .oI e(insei.ouii" 'nesB, as 'men' 'phmomena, are aho've acep* 'tlciim. 744 a: qnolad, 744 a, 700 b ; eontnMls. :E«Mon and :ilMsonh«, 7fi8 h ; oilla the fi.rst |it|Ml|riOs of lcMi«llf%s {nklligmtio!, 77U u; '711' a,. .MS Ooumoa. .Seiaso' , nsrs pa»$ivu$ to 'tranaliiit «H%riic^St 898, n. ; from him Male- blanche borrowed the law of Ileli a, n. § ; denied .species both in sense and intellecr, 954 b, n. *, 955 a, n. * ; quoted in explanation of Aristotle's doctrine, 954 b, n. * ; his doctrine of mental faculties, 956 a, n.§ ; passages from, exhi- biting the Nuniinalititic doctrine of species, !*57 sq. ; cited on the conciliutiou of Liberty and Prescience, 975 b, u. ; on the terra contingent, 978 a. Biltinger, referred to, 850 b ; anticipated Wolf in regard to the universiil law of Association, 8!W, n.* ; held that consciousness is a discrimina- tion, 9SSh; cited on acts of mind beyond ilie sphere of consciousness, 938 a ; his testimony to Aristotle's merits as a logician, 984 b. Biunde, referred to on the Common Sense of T.a Mennais, 771 a; followed Maass in regard to Similarity as a principle of Association, 'M3 )>, 914 a ; quoted, 914 b ; cited as to certain thou^ilits being more eiuiily suirifCKted than others, 9t(>, nn. ; on acts of mind beyond the sphere of con- sciousness. 938 a Blair, referred to, 851 a. Biancard, cited ou the hypi thesis of a Sensor ium Commune, 881 a, n. Boerhaave, cited on the subjective character of our sensations, 856 a ; on the hypothesis of a Sensorium Commune, 861 a, n. ; his doctrine re- garding the Nerves. 872 ; cited on acts of mind beyond the sphere of Consciousness, 939 a. Boethius, hia employment of the term dignilas, 766 a ; of the phrase maxima propositio, 766, 767 ; contrasts Reason and Intelligence, 768 b ; his rendering of yovif 789 b; of waBifrtKhg ■nrrpwo "^1 idis INDEX 11. 1019 in bis •larniigr' «a on 'Sod. Si8 III n. ; iff b, m. t. BulaaiMi. nfMMii to 'On tii* nMnlnf of tlio word lim, im « : quoloi 'Om tli«' dMnottoB. uf C(m> «i9ti(irat.aiii. liititiliM%. 98S. 981. Bonii tpif (ItaMiiiiiKtwJ sIIowimI apMlM only fn te miMt 'Of liklitb SiSS •• n. f : qitoM. m tlio MlfeMiiiK Uiid».«r'.nMMtlty, 977 a, a. *. BoiiartM* (TliiMMi,)'ilmiiMl. tiM pnMiMic%of CM in ros|i«ck of Immm eontliifieiiittt 970 % n. 1. BoiiMti. his mo of tito lorni Mm, im h ; iraita of 'Bmipr, iitmioil* fii. Blnur, MO b» n ; bisdo- diictioii (if tbe noiioQ of Bxtenaion libiim to bo illof^lml, 809. n. ; citid. 910 b> n* H : mlntakB of. tonclilfig tbe tiaa of IIm liiM M«a, 925 b : ettcd on Ibo wnditiona of CteaiioiiaiiMit 918 b; bla Mlieon«i|ition of tbo dootrin* of ■poeies. Ml h 919 a; bb ignoranco of Humo's {ibiloMipbj, 'PftWb. Brawn, (Sir 'Tboni'a%) 783 K «« CoaifiMm :8omit. llmwMia (BblioPt} oMaanrvd Lodce for bis faoil- latiiig iiM of itie torn Mm^ 9S8 b, n. t. llrtinet, i\n E;^ist, 088 b. Bruno, (Hioiilani^) nimrod to, '850' b ; on tiM' flon- ditiona of Ommmmmmmt 981$ a ; on IMholiin., 947 m, BiicmiMnieiii, dbnM botli Mn^ble and intelligtblo sptclfla, 954 b, n. * ; made heaven tbe cnuie of •lieelea, 950 b, wk f ; bb doctrine a dbtant ap- 'imi'liiiiiliOB. 'to MMminciie'M theory, 907 a Biwbanaa,. ClMvH,) tbe flnfc to om:pii9' tbt mfi itim in tiiOi wtmm allir«iaida' givan to It b j Dw- cartoa, 998 % 937 n ; dtod on ltaiMtton» '947 a, 'imi iii» BodiNt, 'ritod on lio Cninainnnce of lb* torm tfvmm to lb« blgbar lic i dHea of mbid, 750 a ; 778' b, fM Common, lienao'; on tb« tenaa ftm- «iMe, ImfmtSNe, 978 b. Bnliar. died aa lioidii||[ tihal tbe fMita ot conwlMM* mM», .aa .mere iibamomenat are above eocpHctem, 744 a; on-tb« .alHMiuto tnitb of ConscioiMioM, 750 b.; nmitoi on Ibo evideneeand oertointy'Of our ortpnal bflltKi, 755 a; 788-7M>, mi Commoii • fiftofii 787f n* .{ iMiiivd 'tot All ^ 88S a> BtiliiO', 'qnotod on tbo ChrtoriMi. tooory 'Of Pweep-' titm, U02 a, n. f, 908 a, n* f, ot alibi. citod on tbe ttan.ili i en— of tbo lann )' 'to ibo bigbor iM»Mei of oitiid. '718 a. Mai •■: tio wmri Mm. 938 b ; m thO' inT'OnoMliNMNMi. :988 b. I., Pobn BIN,) Ma .Jlifl|frv}»]|.f «f DavM Hnwm filMnrid. 'to, 8i0 b, n. '*. rHiAi.riif us. Ilia flporalati^s on tiie llotlvo Pa- fiMlH* 808' a* 'a. " r,cit«i,'93i'a.. Ciletanna, dted on fbo Aoltvt Intollect, 956 a, n I ; on tbe oonoUiation of Lil>erty and Fro- aeienoe. 975 b, n. ; extracts from, in tUuttmtiun of his doctrine, 979-981. CWori/Jc, a prefiiimbte term to CaSorie, 808 n. Oalovitis, refiBrTOd to on tbe epIUiet • common • at appllad to Mnciples, 703 b ; bia * NooloKia,' 771 a; footod on tbe word olii^ediM, b07 b. n. Oaiivlniila* (tbo,) :lBainiain the predestination and ftmlCMwMitt of Ood in conjimction with tlio llbOffty'Of naa, 977 b, 978 a. OaiMrariUf, qnotad on t>ie Stablbn doctrine of dbecnre Peroeptlone, 939 b ; oiled on ilclluctiou, 948 b. Ckmeron. (JoaBBii,)782 a, m Common .«ense. €ampanelb, nllmd cu on tbo larin Suggestion, Campanvii, bb Ui^lariui Iwvaey, 981 b, n. CJampbeli, pWaeipai,) befim Kant signalised tbe dbilnetion of Analytic and Syntheiio judKments • ]irl#ri| 787,n. ; his doctrine borrowed from Bidtor, lb. ; cited. 789 a. Canter, (WUlbun,) estnutamado by, from M& of Horatian iolioliaiiit 771, m. f . 'Cktts, raCMved. 'lOb' 859 b : cited on Ibo 'flonditions 'Of Ckmsctonneaa, 988' b; on Besoartet* denbl of dbiflttto Ideas, 989 b ; on act* of mind be- yond tbo apbcta of eonsdoumew*, 940 b; hb iwoMd disinotion of Eefloeiion. MO h, n. § ; treats of Attention aa a separate faculty, Cardaliae, dted on tlie torm Uea, 928, b ; on acta of mind beyond tlie spliere of oontciousneiB, 93Ua. Cardan, bta foarfold divMon of f oueb. 807 b, n. Carbtoa, (Ckranfton.) referred to. 813 b, n. ; quoted on tba CbMWon Henaibleit. 830 a ; held a doo- trtno of Perception similar to tliat of Moid, '888 a, ». Cttmeades. compared the conieeution of thougUfts to a chain, 894 a, n. *. Care, oitod, 978 b. larteslans, (tbe.) tiieir use of fba «S||Miilon fmm JmowMfc 708 a, n. * ; tbeir''dlaibietion 'Of Jiea and SmsaUtm^ 831 b, 887 ; viewed vis ii^ mUa as a quality, derivative and contingent, 181 b ; coineidmice between their doctrine of pffosflion.aBd.|lMii&0f .Rffi'id.888, 'n. ; did not tip- ply tlM Inmi idm to snislis, 'lasiss, 4c.., 9*27' a Citrus, (R. G.,) cited, 801 b, n. Casnitnn, (Otto.) referred t*\ 779 a. CMMaaans, 'Cited, 940 b, n. t. Gntomri. Aristotle's and Kant's uses of the term. '7wl' h* (3hitbarinns, defended Aristotle against Gregory Cauaalty, CkMiaatl!on[ Cause and £i!wt,_ Raid's doctrine of. 753, 754 ; |udgment of, esntotnad by a new theory, that of tbe Conditioned, 985-937 ; aMval and lellgious chanuitor of tbb tlioory, 974, 978 ; art Liberty. CanssB, alwura 'mora than one, '987 b. CmioMt. aiilliom died mt tbe tann. Ii78 b. ^Cortainty, .at a dbiiactor of our original beliefs, 765. Chain, slfnOe of a. «pplbd to the consecution of thoughts, 904 a, n. « ; Imdsipate to the pliv- nontnon, 906 a, n f. CItanel, 783 b. mt Common Sense. I 'Imrron, never ujies * idto,* 937 a. Chauvbi, reimed to on InsilMtl aa a pblloiopbical 181 a; notiias S«alfgeff% 'doelrtoe aa to MMltian of Weight, 867 b, n. ; referred to. 981 a, n. | ; quoted on tbe Cartoabn Spectei. 957 a, n. t. CliryiOionui, a Urioilor of PMiMbMiiiieAamiia, 878, n. |. Cloaff% bli '•nptoymont of scnsiM eonmwiilf, 757 a, 759' a ; of iaiell^imfaa,. 709 b, 770' a ; '774 a. mt 'Common iense i toffimtid to, 836 a ; may bato givan a b.iut of' tba •K.|ii-oskioii Frimtqf ami Secondary Q^udUieg, 836, n. t ; hb use of P«roept4o. 87«, n. ; employs the verb mggero, m a psycbolugical rebtion, 901, n. * ; quoted on the conditions of Consciousness, 938 u ; on Atten- tion, 946 a; on the necessity of past event", 976 a, n. t ; bb denial of the preijcfenco of Ood. !f70a,n. 1,977 a. . Clarice, (Br Samuel,) hb ao-called a prwri, de- monstration properly an argument a posteriori, 7*i2 b; referred to, 850 b; his hypothesis of images in the brain, 957 a, n. *. Clauberg, cited on the transference of tlie^term Hense to the higiier faculties of mind, 756 a ; referred to, 931 a, n. | ; on the Cartesian Doubt, 969 a. ^^ r^avins, tlie geometer, noticed, 923 a. C.emens Alexandrinus, 775 a, see Common Sense ; his employment of iruvalffBilins, 942 b. ; of W^vtffis, 943 b. Clerselier, cited. 962 a. n. f. Cniidjacency, a special b»w of Mental Succession. 910 a. Ckiadjacents. law of, one of Aristotle's three prin- ciples of lleminisceuce, 897 a ; eiplained, 8I»9, n. *. Co-littraction, the resistance of, subdivided hito Gravity and Cohesion, 848 b. CanoBisthesiSj term .-ipplied by certain German phy- siol'»gi»t8 to the Seiisus Vagus, 75H b. C<>gUation {Cogitatw,) of Averroes, 909 b, n., 953 b, n. Oi«nition, see Knowledge. Cohesion, the reswtance of, 848 sq. ; not an essen- tial attribute of body, 849 ; this proved by tlie variety of opinions regarding its nature, 9a 1 a ; and by a reference to our individual conscious- ness, 953 a. Coiter, noticed, 871 b. n. Golden, referred to, 8li0 b. . Coleridge, (S. T..) plagiarisms of, 748 a. 890 a ; his character, 890 a, n. *. Collard, ( Royer,) sec Rnyer Collard. Collier, (Arthur,) referred to on the testimony ol consciousness in perception, 747 b ; bis Ideal- ism compared with that of Ficlite, Mi b. Colour, a secondary quality of body, 854 b ; sensa- tion of, produced by various causes, 855 b ; a passtve affection of the sentient ego, 858 n., 885 b ; not apprehended without extension, 860 b, n., 885 b ; an object, not of perception, but of sensa- tion, 885 b; on the correlation of. with Exten- sion and Figure, in visual Perception and I ma gination, (Note E.) 917-920 ; caii wo see caii wo Imaging 1. Extension without Colour? 917-918; 2. Figure without Colour? 918 b; 3. Colour without Extension? 4. Colour with- out Figure ? 919. 920. Comswm, three reasons of tbo application of this term to principles, 763 b- ^ ^^ ^ . ^_ Common Places, in Logic and Rhetonc. <37a. Common Sense, (the term.)«M Sensus Cptnmunis. Common Sense, on tiie Pliil<»8<»pby of, (Note A,) 742-803; the meaning of tbe doctrine, and pur- port of tbe argument, of. 742 sq. ; there aro primary elements of cognition, 742 b, 743 a ; tbb acknowledged even by those philosophers fas Locke) who profess to derive ah our know- ledge from experience, 743 b; the argument from, stated generally, 743 b ; tbo data of con- ■oiousnesB, aa mere phaenomena, above sceptl- cbm, 744 a ; as attestations of more than their own existence, do not rei>el even tlie possibility of doubt, 744 a b ; the argument from, to bo considered only as it enables us to vindicate the truth of these data viewed under the btter limitation, 746 a ; the testimony of conscious- ness must, in the first instonce, be ptssumed true, 745 a b ; can only be disproved by diowing that its deliverances are co"*™^??*?'^ °' trji other. 745 b: the Incomprohensihility of the«e dtjliveriiuc«» no tjrouud lur doubting their trust- • worthiness, 745 b, 746 a; an example piven, 746 a ; propositions as to the ci»nnectioii between philosophy and consciousness. 746-747 ; maxims for a philosophy of con8ciou8ne.«8, 747 a ; the tes- timony of consciousness not nmbigtious ; i.hilo- eopbers usually agreed about the fact and pur- port of the delivei-ance, differing only as to the mode in which they may evade or qualify its acceptance, ib. ; tor example, the fact of the testimony of consciousness in perception not denied, 747 b; authorities cited, 747 b, 748 a b; different philosophical sjstcnis that arise according aa the trvULh of this tenti- mony is or is not admitted, — Natural Real- ism, Nihilism, Absolute Identity, Idealism, Materialism. Cosniothetic Idealism or Hypo- thetical Realism, 748 b, 749 a ; conditions of the legitimacy, and legitimate application, of the argument from, (to wit, of OriiiinalUy^ of Absolute Truth,) stated and illustrated, 749 sq. ; both of these conditions violated by the Cosniothetic Idealists. 749 b, 750 a; the argument from, one strictly philo>*o|)liical ani- worthiness, ib.; by their cluiracter as Know- ledges, 763-770; by their Potential character before they are elicited into consciousness by experience, 770 a; the universality ol the philosophy of, or its general recognition, in reality and in name, shewn by a fccries of testi- monies from the dawn of speculation to the present day. 770 sq. ; Authorities in alphabeti- cal order :— Abcrcromby, 785 u, Alexander Aph- rodisiensis. 775 a, Algazel, 776 b, Amherst, 789 b, Animouiua Herniiae, 77U h, Ancillon (the sou.) 798 b, Andreas, 778 a, Anselm. 776 a, Aquinas 776 b, Aristides (Aelius,) »01 b, Aiistotle, 771 a. Arnobius, 776 a. Auguslir., 776 a, Halzac. 782 b. Beattie, 792 a, Bcntley, 785 a, Berkeley. 786 b, Bossuet, 784 b. Brown (.Sir Thomas), 782 b, Budajus, 778 b, Buffier, 786 b, Cameron. 782 a, Chauet. 782 b. Cicero, 774 a, < lemens Alexandrinus, 775 a. Cousin, 801 a, t^reuser. 796 b, Crusius, 790 b, D'Aguosseaii, 786 b, l>'Alerabert, 790 b, Davies (Sir Jolm,) 780 b. DeBerando. 797 b, Descartes, 782 a, iJulia- roel. 783 b. Duns Bcotus, 777 a, lilschenbach, 791 a, Fenelon, 786 a, Feuerlin, 785 b, Ficbte. 796 a. Fries, 798 a, Genovesi. 790 b, Gerlach, 800 a, Oesuer, 791 a. Giphanius, 780 a. Goveanus. 779 a, Heidenreich, 796 b, nenister- buis. 792 a. Hennert. 792 b, Heraciitus. 770 b, Herbert (Lord,) 781 a, Hermes (George.) 8(»0 ji, Uesiod. 770 b. Hiller, 792 a Horace. 774 b. Huber 790 a, Hume. 790 b, Ireneus (a Sane to Jacobo.) 782 b, Jacobi, 79.S ».^ K*"*; '»-_J' Keckcnnann, 780 b. Koeppen. 798 a. Krug.797 b La Cbambre, 783 b. LactiUitius, 77b a, l.a Menuob. 801 b, Loibuite, -So a, Leicalupier, 1' lOfiO INDEX II INDEX II. 1021 TKJ «. iMko, 7U h, LnertMni, 714 •, Lntlwr, •iM. 78i 1% XtfiMlittiMi, 77S h, 'Ifitlw Ptniy.) n$ \ MwraliiB, 779 a, HiiniMslua, ik, fMHtiotr, m K Oni|iiiiiliia% I'm n, .nwMl. 7m % PMmt. m, 'mm, »1 1, Wmdtm, m m, %iiiiilllMi. 775 II, :lla|ilii. (I^ Tmn,} 783 h, Rdil. 7fl b,, 'IIK%Pr. 7M b. Soainer (Juliiu Ca»ar,) TTO K Bentm, 774 h, IkffgwinI, rm a, SbHftoslniif. 7811 1>, Sinplf- d.is% fMtt lL^llt»titer. 792 b, atcmlieniiii. .b, ir«ffliilliaii» 77S k, ThaiMliiret, 801: % 11iM|ibirM-' !«■» 778 b, 'TliiMiiM«tim, 78S b. fyand. 111., Tmr- wtlnl, lb.. Vico. 790 «, Vulpioi, ib., Wolf, lb., Wailaatnii, 7l!tO' k 01111111011 SMl 'ItMfm ItewitlilM,. Arittcitfo^ diiitiiie- Hfm of, txpliiiMil. 818' b» M|. ; Mni«liit ilio iMMtera iMsettM of Prtamy ttnil iMmdjiiiy aullties of nMttor. 890 a b ; nlto tb«t of Air- otptiiiii promr mid. Settmtion proMt.. 88i » 'k '€iii»w|iilfm, if ollim, tliO' Mbotoitfe 'diitlii'etloii of. into jbrwoi and o||cef inc, 8QI7 k n. ; (tiie term*) in propriety only •fifiliciible to our mediate and niirsietitative ooffnitiniis, 821 b ; by R«id Home- tiiia einployed for copiitimi tii genenil, lb , 883 tkf n< C'.»nceptiontCJ%rift)«iii Inliiiiiona (Jn«ei: a bi tb«..iiii|y laalniiiMiit' M i ; amirdiiiir to Bescnrtcs ttie essential atlribiite of mind. 8^1 H. Conaiantiiia a aaraanOb oiM, 948^ b, n. t. Contingeiii?. oitposvd to^ Meceaetty. as a qiiaMty of eiigiiiilotta, 978; Inoompatibility of, witli Pkoicleacay 878t Continpnt, Inii and iilae menninca of Ihe term, 978: aiillioritiaB cited, ik; ContlUMetit Iiutii«, $m Tmtha. CiiHtradietory Predicates, one or other muRt Im attributed to every ol^-t, 831 a, n. •, im ti. 860b.n.,9l8a. ". . % Contraries, law of, one of Arlafotle's three prin- ciples of ileininlaeeiiee, 897 a; enphiined 899. II. *. Cimtraat, a special law of Menial 6uccess{on. 915, »q. ; reduction of, hy Mill, tftMenmth. Hume, Hchulae, 915 a, n. t ; eiplained, 015 b. i^lla. Ciintaeii. treats of Attention aa a separate faculty. Mo b. €o|iernieu8, referred to. 850 b. Oopleston. (Byiop,| ilted ou Ihe words Cmthi- fcm, Cerlola, 978' b. CMniotbette Idealism or llypothellcal Realism m Hypotlietical Duiiliem, 749 a. 817 b; violaloa the condttioiio uf the arf^innent from Comruuu Sense. 749 h sq ; ff will, 941 a; cited on Ihe Girteaian lloubi. 989 bi on Necessity as a quality of coguilionK, 978 k Creation of Matter, on Locke's notion of, (Hole F.) 924 ; creation ecmeeivtible only at* the evolutimi t»f ezielenoe from pntantlaliiy into attualitj, 988 b; Creation a nfAito. what It means, UM *Wf lie Creiuer. (Leonbard,) 798 k te Common Sense ; elied. as to bow tbe faot of li^lier^ may, be 'pvnvad, 975 a, n. Onisae, bis SttmUmm fmn tht Edimbm.r(/h Mmrim relsfTOd to, 748 a. 806 a, 820 a, n., 934 b, el alibi. Cfousai, Iwrrowcd. tbe dlallnclliia of Finsiitloit avi lensatton Hon Malebcaacba, '888 a, .».. Clwlw, amWiated Kant ta Ilia iistbiellon of' Vwwm0 and r«»«iMMl, 788 b : 790 b. m« Coiib> Ondw trth, bl.< account of the process of Sensitive Perception compared with that of Reid, 883 a, M. ; chary of using the word idea, 926 a : before Leihnita. held a doctrine of Obscure Ideas, 939 b. C'dverwell, (Nathatiiel.) prai-ed, 782 a, n. Custom, what. In relntion to Habit, 896, n. ; can- not eiplain the necessity of tiiought, 972 a. Cyrensoan philosophers, adopted the Atomist dis- tiaution of the Qualities of matter, 826 a. II'AotTBSsBAU, 786 b. *ee Common Sense. l>'Ailly, referred to. 851 a. Psiberg, cited on ConHcimisness, 944 a. D'Alembert, quoted, 751 b, 762 a ; 790 b. see Com- mon Sense; divided tlie vU %nerti4B into two, 861 b ; maintained that we cannot imagine Ex- tension without Colour, 918, n. * ; quoted, 920 a. Damircm, cited on acts of mind beyond conscious- ness, 939 a. i>arwin, referred to, 868 b, ii. Daube, his recitation of Condillac's paradox re- garding Colour, 920 a ; cited on the term idta, 928 a. I>avle», (Su- John,) 780 b, see Common Sense; never uses * idea,' 927 a ; referred to on the mind's power of reflecting on self, 948 b. I>e Biran. see Maine. Veaerando. 797 b, see Common Sense ; cited on tlie Motive Faculty. 868 a, n. ; on the word idea, 928 b ; his testimony to Aristotle's merits as a logician, 983 k 984 a Degree, a condition of Ft rcpption, 878 a. lie Gueriike, referred to, 850 h . „ , tie la Forge, iiisdoutrine of Primary and Second- ary Qualities substantially tliat of Descartes, 833 b. 834 a; liis employment of the term species, 834 a, 857 a, n. t ; cited on tlie Cartesian opposition of Idea and Sensation, 887 a; ou Che minds knowledge of its own o[>eratiou8, 931 b : his employment of ' conscience,' 946 a ; cito.i on Reflection, 948 b ; ou the Cartesian theory of Perception, 961 k n. Ds Luc. referred to. 851 a. Deraocritus, bis distinction of the Qualities of Matter, 825 b, 826 aj its conformity with that of Aristotle «nd Descartes, 828 a, 832 b; re- ferred to, 850 b ; his theory of Species. 951, 950 b; held that species limited to the sense of Sight, 951 b. n. ♦. I»emo8theneB, his employment of ffiii'f iBOs, 943 a. Density, (and Rarity,) a Primary Quality of body, 847 b, 848 a. Deniinger, cited, 939 a. Dependence or Determined Consecution, Law of. a General Law of Mental Succession, 911 a. De Baei, quoted on thetestimouy of consciousness in perception, 747 b ; referred to, 773 a ; cited on tlie Cartesian opposition of Idea and Sensation, 887 a: on Attention, 945 b; on the Cartesian doctrine of Perception, 9f»5 a. Derodon, his doctrine of Actual and Potential qua- lities. 832 b. 833 a. Descartes, confessed that the facts of consciousness, as mere phaenomeua, are above scepticism, 744 a : his Cofiee ergo sum explained, 744 a; quoted on the testimony of consciousness in perception, 747 b: his appeid to the veracity of God as a around of belief in an external world, 751 a. 964 b- 782 a. tee Ctmiraon Sense; true meaning of his doctrine of lunate Ideas, 782 b ; did not, lis i8«enerally supposed. ori>:inate the disnuction of Primary and Secondary Quahties, 831 b. SJ- tt b ; conlbrniity of his distinction with those ot Aristotle and Deinocritns, 832 b ; compared and contrasted witli the doctrines of Malebraiiclie, Locke.Reld.&c, 834-844 pmim; ''!«"?>•*""• tion ».f the Cim.se ot ColieMou. 851 a ; cited on tlie hypothesis of a Semorium Commune, 8i.l a, ii. ; his emuloymeut of the word Verceptw, 876, n. ; Of Ibe word Idea, 890 a. 926 a, 927 a, compare ' P4a ; quoted, 931 a, n. J j denied Obscure Ideas, 939 b; first gave currency to the word cowwt- mtm, 945 a ; cited on Reflection, 947 a, 948 b ; assisted in linallyrefutingthedoctrineof Species, 956 b, 957 a ; the theory of Perception and Ideas held by, 961-965 ; see Perception and Ideas ; his Doubt, 969; held that experience cannot give the universal. 973 a ; cited on the couuiliatiou of Liberty and Prescience, 975 b, n. Destuit de Tracy, see Tracy. De Villemaudy, quoted, 949 b. " Devil's dialectic," 901 b, n. De Vries. cited, 931 a. Digby, (Sir Kenelra,) referred to, 850 b ; his state- ment of the law of Redintegration, 898, n. ; docs not. use the term idea, 927 b. Diogenes, (of ApoUonia,) referred to, 850 k D'ogenes Laertius, see Laertius. D.onysius, (Alexandrinua,) his employment of ffwaiffdiiffis^ 943 a. Dionyaiu8,(Tlieologu8,)hi8einploymentofo-ui'afir- QtiaiSy 943 a. Dioscoiiilcs. employed iiipin«u) ternM .aMiUfd. to our prtmnry cofiiiittotM. 761 h. Fai/K autlioritiat fbr tlwuie of the tei-m, na hi .|tli«il to the original warranttof fogniiton, 760 to. Fatalism, convertible with AtbciHni, 074 a. Fate, Contlngeney. die, on the opinion of llie aneiafi.ls toudtiufr, 077 b. Mio, nfhned to^ 85li k Feani, (Mr John,) hie aaeertion, that "wethivk in cotourt.** an exaggeration of the tnitb. ill 8 b; merit and originality of hii speculations. 018 k 023 b ; obfl^ftii tlMt llct tlMl ftgiiro i« perceived only toy tho vaflity of ooloura, )>!iO a. Feeling, aa a tarn applied to our original belieti, 760 a; ila ralalion. lo BeltoC .ik ; Jaoobi'i tetti> aony aomoemlng, 708-716. Feneloii, 786 a, «m Ooamon Sense ; reimrred to, 701 'k Ferguion, (Dr Adam,) referred to, 839 a, n. , 6S0 a, 852 b. Ferueliut, notieed, 870 a, n. Ferrier, (Fmfeaaor.) article by, in BUidtwmd!'» Ifaviirifti, 8iO .a, n. *. Feetiii, leiBmd. to, 838 b, n. Feuerback ovirlooiied the CSartenlan diittinction of Pri'mary and. .Seeiwdltiir ipalitieei, 845 a, n. ; oiled on acts of miud befond tiie sphere of con- seimiinaBs, 030 a; on Obseure Ideas belora Leibnitz. 030 k Feuertin, 785 'k <■• CMnmon Bense ; 'Oilad on aeiB' of nind. 'befiiwt Wm .spliere of ooneoloiisnois., OwO Hi Fiohte, acknowledged the eif«tence of a natural belief in realism, 748 b; hi«i einploymetit ut tfaa term Intaitioiit 750 b, 760 a; of the term Baasoa, Tii a; 118 k s«e Camnon Senae ; f uMid* 78Ba, n. * ; demonstrated on. tlie princi- filee ol BHcatlta. dec, the suhjeetlvity ot 8|mfe or Bxtiiudoi}, 841 a ; his idealism contrasted with tlmtof Malebranche, Ac, D68 b. Fidniifi, referred to, 038 a, n. * ; quoted on Re- flection, 047 h. Flptre, a common psteept In Aristoll^ 818 t>; tbfioitaof oiWIlilloeopheni concerning, 883 a, Hoffl' m^ .Hiif a, nflii' a^ iMa.* a, o4J. a, imM' .a j a pri" naiy .fiial% of bodyt :847, 84.8 ; tba 'poreeption of, MOnp to tha activity of mind, 858 b, n. } ; whether flnt peteelved through tlie sensation of TtaHk. 886 a. ftm Colour. VMlMri. (V.*) dfei^ 861 b. ti. Flender, qiMiad on the represcntationiat doctrine of poreeption, 815 'k Flourens, refsned to, 874 k Fonseea, died. 771 b, n. ; referred to, .§18 k n* JifSoifiitia Media. Fttiwllhii, an Inaecurrnqr of, nHieed, 787 b. n. *. FOriasoue, relbrred to ou the w- critus and Lcudppus, 950 b, n. ; that Aristotle did not hold the doctrine of Species usually at- tributed to him. 952 a. n. ; on the Internal Sense^ 953 b, n. ; awisled in tir-Uly refuting the doctrine of Species, 956 b; to him Reid probably indebted for bis knowledge of the Nominalist doctrine of Perception, 970. 971. Ojitien-Arnoult, cited ou the Cartesian Doubt, Geilfn8sius,bis*Intelligentui,'*.0a. Genevieve, (St,) Pinnacle of, lu St Andrews, HI Ik li n Oenove'si, (Genuensis.) quoted, 700 b. see Comrn«.n Sense ; referred to, 975 b, n., 1^76 a, n. *. 977 a. Gerard. (Dr.) borrowed from Aristotle his distri- bution of the principles of Association, 900 a, n. Gerlach, acknowledged the existence of a natural belief in realism, 748 b ; 800 a, see Common Sense. Geruaec, cited, 930 a. Oesner, 701 a, «e« Common Sense. Geuliiix, his distinction of Idea and Species noticed. 834 a, 887 b ; his langiiajie. oiciwion of an unfounded charge against the sect of Car- tesians, 634 a. Gilbert, referred to, P60 b. Gillies, (Dr.) cited. 931 b, n. f. Giphanius, 780 ah, see Common Sense. Olanvill. an autbority for the distinction of Primary and Secondary Qualities. 833 a ; before Lflcke, used the term idea in iU Cartesian sense, 927 b ; cited i)48 b Glavbe, in German, denotes botti philosophical Belief »nd theological FaUh, 703 b. n. *, .94 a. Gleig, (Bishop.) cited on the term idea, 928 a. Oley, raferred to, 797 a. , ^ Ooclenius. (Rodolphus,) referred to on the word Maxim, 766 k n. ; adooiid 8<» S"««a h « ! of Intellectual Instincts. 778 a ; cited. 860 b. n. ; redargued Scaliger's doctrine aa to the percep- tion of Weight. 867 b. n ; quoted and referred to on the word idea, 926 b and u. *, 927 a, n. ; diattagufahed Reflection town Observation. 940 b, n. * : cited on Refleclton, 816 k n. !• »« a, fl8b; on tha word (Tertotn* 078 b. Goereni, his attempt to supply n liistory of A'«t'o- ciatinn, 890 a : referred to on tito Aristutelic employment of the term Motion, 8i*2 b, n. *. Gotfredus, disallowed Species for intellect, 054 b, n. t. Goveanus, (Antonius.) 779 .% see Common Bense. . Grace (Free), of God, in relation to Free Will of man, 975 b. Graevell, cited, 039 a. Grant, (Dr William,) referred to, 872 b. Gravesande, cited on the term Coiitingent, 978 b. Gravitation, compared and contrasted with the Association of Ideas, 889. Gravity, the resistance of. 848 sq. ; not a neces- sary quality of body, 849 a ; this proved by the variety of opinions regarding its nature, 850 a b, 851 a ; and by a reference t»» our individual con- sciousness, 852 b. ; unsuccessful attempts to d<;- monstraie it as a fundamental coudition of mut- ter, 853. Gravius, referred to, 7S2 b. Gregory, (of Rimini,) referred to on the oriuin of the word Intuitive, a-» applied to knowledge. 812 b ; distiuguished between an immediate and a mediate object, in our cognitive acts, 815 a ; maintained the negativity of our conceptions of a Point, Line, Surface, 923 a; denied Sf>ecies in senae, 955 a, n. * ; his doctrine of mental faculties, 956 a, n. § ; held that Aristotle im- plicitly denied the Divine Prescience, 976 a, n. J. Gregory, (of Nyssa,) cited on the scholastic doi- trine touching the relation of the soul to tho body, 861 b, u. ; on the connection between sente and intellect, 878, n. ||. Gren, maiutained the positive lishtnese of body, 850 b. Gronovius, cited on the transference of the term Sense to the higher faculties of mind, 756 a. Grotius, cited on the transfereiue of the term Sense to the higher faculties of mind. 756 a. Gruithuisen, cited, 856 a ; on the Muscular Sense, 868 b, n. Gutkius, his * Intelligeutia,' 770 a. Habit, use of the term in rel!iti(m to first prin- ciiWes, 770 a; Ariatoile's use of the term .x- plained, ib. 896 a, n. * ; observations c.f Vivt^* on, as determining the course of our reimu- iKcence, 896 a, n. *. Hales, referred to, 778 b. lialler, referred to, 862 a. n. ; his theory as to the nervous organism, 872 b. Ifrtlley, referred to, 850 b. Hamberger, referred lo, 850 b. .... Hardness, a secundo- primary quality of body, 848 b; the sensation and the perception ol. discriminated, 867 a. n. h 859 b, n. Harris, (James,) inaccuracy of, corrected, 757 h, n ; misconceived the nature of the Guosiic Reasons, 887 a. Hartley, referred to, 868 b, n., 914 k Hartmann, cited, 868 b, n. Heat, problem regarding the sensation of, 8.6 b. ileeiebord, cited, 025 b, n. t. Hegel, his employment of the term Reason, /hU a ; paradox of. 797 b ; saying of, referred tu, 801 a, n. ; inaccuracies of, in regard to the Cartesian doctrine of Primary and Secondary qualities, 845, n. ; referred to, 850 b. Heidenreich, 796 b, see Common Sense. Heinslus, (D.,) leferred to, 773 a; cited on Re- flection, 048 a. ^ , . Heliodorus Prusensis, (the Pseudo-Androniciis,) referred to, 773 a. ^ . , Ilemsterhuis, 702 a, jee Common Sense ; referred to. 857 a, n. t. . . Hennings, cited on mental acts beyond eonseious- niStM orndavensl.. (Hennr <»;Gh«"y,i°«*^"« of, referred to, 814 b, n. ; denied Species in in- tdlact, 064 b, n. t* I MDIX II BriMiiHis* 711' li. ;■«•' CiHDiM: 9mm ; Up 4im- 771a. EurlMwi acinowM^ IIm esistmu* of • aaiiml belief in rcmltam, 74S b ; cited on the llnMiilar i b. n. ; on tbe Platfinio Ideae, tfiO b. (Iinrd.) 781 a. $e€ OMmniMi' ante; lits ■MeutetwM' oiwiiiwkwl by piiiwuMiibeni fo Ofwit IMteint Y81 • ; jOT%^ft|i|ifMBleil nj €iilfwr«nll, Ml ii, n. s Amm not iiee the word idea, 02ti a, iS7b. Herder, cited. 073. n. Ileraae%iJ. 0^*l i(li% ^mt Connnon Seiiee. llei«uee'''Mn«gliiiM« tdbmd m, 776 b. liemmtaiB Barberut, «ee Uiirbiiraiw aemilMi, bfti w^mmg in- • 'ConMseuc*/ M3 b, Iten^Mliis, nitamMl: i% 870 m, n. IlMioii, 7711 b, m* Commm Bene*. llej. <|iiietioned ite naoenilf of Ditine |tra- eeience, 076 a, n. ;. Ubbtrt.. 'lited on mentel acts bejond coiiidoite- IllaMclie, bie aniplofmeiit of (n«Ml(r0i|irif , 04Sa. lliemyiniM, iie Jefoneii' HildiiiHMi^ f Pabridnt J eHed on the hjpotl'ieiia of a JtaMMtiM OamMMm, 861 % n. Hilar, 7M a, me^ Common Senaa ; cited mk Idme, lliflMwrKtee, has ffvvMota tor *o(MiaciousneM«* IIM k Illnpinug, (Ptstras,) referred to on tlie km Jfastui, Il.iiiinfinn, hia atteinpt to siipiily • hlit(N»y of A*m- ciittifin . 800 a ; miMi|>)i>rtthended. HM' tttrm mtttion^ m emplcfed bj Arintntle, 8i8 b^. n. * Ilobbeik died on the enlilaatfto obaracler of onr •fMamtona, 8Ma; fufitcid on .I*Mreefitliia,.878'a, a. *, II82I a ; not original in Ida doctrine of Atm- dation, 9m b, MM b, n. ; his character aa a pbt- loaoplier, 880 b, n. f ; likens the oomieiitioa of thAUfht to the Jolltming of iMifer ■lOmm^ fi« iruifteJHe ^'nMmr, ifH a, n. *, 907 a, n. ; his Klatsnent of tlie law of ilt'dintegratlon, 808 a, II. * ; varied in regard to tlie uniTctiallty of tlie law of 'eotineded ctm^aecuriou, 902 a, u. ; word ctm^mmmm, 7ft a ; 790' a. Hi Com- Iliiet,(lf.,) rafkrred! to, 814 b, n. llnpi a Banctu Yictore, ti-tices the distinction of ^Afaiifad' ami IuliiiCi.v« Knowkdit^ 81S b. Bhmi. '(David,) 'CmifeMl tlml Ito' 'IMa nT' i«!onitiics% ae more ptawomemi, ati' above' ^•cep' 'tidnni,7ii'a;' 'ipoM. on the 'testlniony ni, 749 a, 817 b ; see €.s- niotlietic Idoatisiu. Idra, Ideal, varloiis sign if] cations of the terms, 1128 .a s aliiiiloatlou 'In the potemle of Hold and 8te«mi| ib. ; Idea, bow employed, by JacobI and Kimt. 796 a, n. * ; by Malebranclie, 836 b, 866 b ; biitory and fortuue of tlie term. 926 Mr 9*26 b ; used far Notion in intellect rarely bdiMPi BescartM, 926 b ; histodcal notices of Its list,. 9ttl h-W b ; iva'OStensions given lo, by .Fislval, 938 a i aa a fMriiiological term, 928 a, b : how employed by <]WMBcli. Locite. Descartes, 928 b ; Ibe ChtrtialBa idea, what. 834 a, 835 b, 887 a. 968 b, n. *. Idealism, frenesis of. 749 a ; its varioui degrees or species, 817 a. See Co>mothetic Idealism. Ideiiiity, (Absolute.) sj-stem of, 749 a. Identity, (Fersouai,) failure of prnof of, in the hands of Cosmothetie Idealists, 751 a. Ima0§, aa a philomphloal term, not to be taken literally, 948. 949. Imitgination, (or l'liantao]f*)'deliiiied, 809 a. Inmedliicy, 'Law of,, a ipecjal .law of Mental Bug - iestloii, 916 b. Iwmttdimk, meanlnf of tlie term in relation to knowlediee, 804 a, 8o6 n, $f* Knowled,{e. JiajUMlniMllff , wmbignity of the terto, 837* a. f , .M4»'n.. |i','M7b .Isipwftei, as a 'pltinwipliical torm., not to ho taken lilonJIy. 948, 940. lueompNinmlllllty, as a character of our origi- nal belielii, 784 a, 789 b, 760 a. Incom|vesaibility, Ultimate or Absolute, a pdr noiy ipiai^' of body. 847, 848. Indiiotta., ho'W 'fir roRaid'ed by Aristotio as a Mitiroe of irst principles. 771 b, n. *. Inertia, iiaiitaitet 'frani 848 aq. ; not' * .noeisiaiy quatitj' of holy, .840 a ; this pravad by tno variety of opinions touchlngita nature, 851 a b ; by .a mfeffoneo to our Indnddual oo.i;iwiouBiioaih 85ta. W' ipsip#'as SI 'ww'iji' t|l vas^pjujip ^pfiiiF'ptP'wa' sii^w^ii'^ia' wp si'H'iaip wspup 'inih '■WiWiifflii ^tH'Swiff p'"eP'fliwiff i^i|i Innato Ideas, measbif of. In Descartes,. 781 b. Jti.t|){r(ilio.a, melapiioffieal urn of the term in rt-' hiiion to irst pnndplos, 761 b. JntHmd, IwHnmm: Soid's uaw of tbs terms de- foidodt 710' b, 701 a i .anilioriite far thO' itno of, In 'lohiaoB to tbo stonnontairy' iuiia of cooseioiis* Inteirratlon, Iaw oC set-^alivity* MflM, ItililMMiMW, 'vaiims ^iiaia of tbo terni.i., 789 b. 779 a.. Inislleet. and Sense eamiot. 'bo rlgld.ly diiorimln- ated, 844 a, n. 1, 878 b ; authoia^tmed to tliat effeci 878» n. 1 1^ .lalc].leel ealM to tfaO' A.rista.t«'- •'iHi' Bp'asisis'sii^ep'WPBp'atHJif stuHPiiiP' iiiii w^iv%i^^ m%m hmS' w |pisiwiripjp^e"'ffwip iP^yWiS ^''jP a. i : Iba '.iniiaiilc distinction of, into Acttva and faasivo, 9WI'.i^. Iwi^ltctMt purifif oc%lii of the eipwiiion,. 788 % n.** INDEX IL 1025 Jairnf {on, Imimtimial, mMaing of the terms. 052 InlMtionsl Forme or Species, doctrinoof. not held by Aristotle, 827 b, n., 962 s. n. * ; Intentional Spioies, what, 983 a, n- *• ^^ „ ^ , ftiltrnol SeriMt a torm used by the Cartesians as oonvsrtible with ConsdoumeMt 759 a. Internal Senses, divisions o^ by the SchooUnen, 95S b, n. Intuition, various uses of the t«rm, 760. Intuitions and Conoeption% distinction of, 986, 087 Intuitive and Abstract Knowledge, the scbolaatic distinction of, 812 a b ; an antidpation of Kaut s distinction of Intuitions and Conceptions, 987 b. Inn«us a Sancto Jacobo, 782, see Common Seuse : dted, 814 a, 830 a, 963 b, n. ( quoted ou Inten- tional Spedes. 953 a, n. *. Irwing, cited, 946 a. JAC90B, cited on acts of mind beyond eonscious- neas, 939 a. , . Jacolii, acknowledged the existence of a natural belief in realism, 748 b ; liis Vemunft, 768 a, 769 a, 793 a. n. ; quoted, 771 b ; analogy be- tween his doctrine and that of Aristotle, 771 b, 795 b; referred to. 773 a; on the critical phi- losopliy of Kaut, 792 b ; 793 a-796 b, see Com- mon 8en»e ; ills uae of the term Idea, 796 a, n.^; his definition of Liberty, 974 b, n. J ; of the term Mechanical, 978 b, 979 a. Jacquier, cited, 928 b. ..,.,, , Janduuus, referred to, 803 b, n. ; his division of the internal Senses, 953 b, u. Juvelluii, quoted on Remiuisoence, 904. n. |I, 909. n. f. JenlMh, cited, 973 a, n. Jerome. (St,) quoted, 754 b ; on Attention as a condition of Perception, 877 b, n. *, 946 a. Joannes Scotus, noticed, 816 a. Johnson, (Dr Samuel,) dted on the term idea, 928 a. Joof roy. (M.,) referred to, 746 a, n. ; his edition of Reid'a Works referred to, 843 b, 887 b. Judgment, a condition of Ferception. 878 ab ; of Consciousness in general, ib., 988 b, 934 a. Juvenal, his employment of iSeiMus Communu, 758 b,759a. Kambs. (Lord,)recognlBOd the distinction of Pri- mary and Secondary qualities, 840 b; hisdassi- ieation open to objectioDS, 839 a, n., 840 b, 861 b, 852 a ; referred to, 860 b ; cited on acts of mind beyond consciousness, 938 b. Kant, ills strictures on the Scottish Philosophy of Common Sense, 752 b, 763 a ; these shewn to be unfounded, as regards Reid, 758 a b ; criticism of, by Gailuppl, 753 b, 764 a ; his oraployment of the terms Intuition, 759 b ; o priori and a pos- tmion, 763 a; category, 762 b; transcewknt, tmnscmdmtal, ib. ; pure, 763 a ; maxim, 767 b ; reoaon, 768 b, 769 a; referred to in connection With Aristotle's doctrine ot the origin of our kmn^lodge, 771 b, n. ; his distii otiun of Analy- U»mii SMntheticjudgmmta a priorif antidpated by Biiiler, 787 b, n. ; 792 b, 79S a, see Common Sense; iiis vacillating use of the terms subjective and o^tctiw, 804 b ; these terms used in their mbdem acceptation long before the time of, 808 a, n ; demonstrated on the principles of Descartes, *c, the subjectivity of Space or Extension, Ml a, 846 a; referred to, 860 b; cited on the genesis of the notion of extension, 868 b, n. ; his employment of the term Percep- tion, 877 a, n. ; his doctrine of Space referred U>, 882 b, u.»; his originality vindicated agains| tlie critiiism of Stewart, »86 a, n. ; enundated the hiw of the coexistence, in an inverse ratio, of Sensation and Peceeption. 888 a ; dted ou acts of mind beyond consciousness, 939 a ; on AtitfUtion, 945 b ; on Necessity aa a quality of eognitions, 973 a; his testimony to Aristotle'* merits as a logidan, 983 b ; his dirtinction of: conceptions and intuitions, 987 b. Keckermann, 780 h, 781 a, m Common Sense; his employment of Conscientia, 780 b, 945 a; distinguished Reflection firom Observation, 940 b, n. § ; referred to, 946 a, n. t, 947 a. Keill, referred to, 860 b. Keppler, first generalised inertiat as an attribute of matter. 861 b. King. (Archbishop,) dted on the concihation of Liberty and Prescience, 976 b, n. Kirciier, referred to, 850 b. Knowledge, primary elements of, 743 a, and n. * ; evidence of their veracity. 743 b; how far pos- sible of first prhiciples, 765 b; subjective and objective, 846 a, n. ; relativity of, 935 a, 965 h. Knowledge, Presentative and Representative, (Note B,) 804-816; Immediate and Mediate, 804 a b : importance i»f the distinction, 804 h ; Immediate linowledge, also called Presentative or Intuitive, Mediate Knowledge also called Representative, 806 a ; an Object of, irtiat, ib. ; various kinds of objecte distinguished, 806 b, 806 a; the Subject of, what, 80(i a b ; the re- presentative object distinguished as EgoisUcal and Non-egoistical, 807-809 a ; a representation considered as au object not really different from a representation considered as an act, 809 a b ; all our mediate cognitions contained in our im- mediate, 810 a; actual (or present), past, and possible objects, whether known immediately or mediately, 8i0 a b, 811 a; these two kinds of kn<»wledge compared by reference to their sim- plicity or complexity, as acts, 81 1 a ; the num ber- of their objects, ib. ; the relativity of their ob- jects, ib. ; the character of the existential judg- ments they involve, 811 ab; tlieir character as cognitions, 811 b ; their self-sufficiency or de- pendence, 811 b, 812 a ; their hitrinsic complete- ness and perfection. 812 a; parallel distuiction, taken by the Schoolmen, of Intuitive and Ab- stract Knowledge, 812 a b ; errors of Ueid and other philosophers in reference to the distuictum of Presentative and Representative Knowledge, 812 b, 815 b. ^ 1.* * Knowledges, term used by Bacon, &c, ought ni»t to be discarded, 763 b, n. , Knutzen, employs objective and subjective m their modern meaning, 808 a, n. Koeppen, 798 a, «ce Common Sense. Koivk c^trdritris of Aristotle, 756 b. Krueger, referred to, 857 a, n. J. KrufT. 797 b, see Comiuou Seuse ; the Transcen- dental Synthetisin of. 797 b ; referred to on tbs. Internal Senses, 963 b, n. Labodlinierb, cited, 868 a, n. Lactantius, 776 a, see Common Sense* Laertius, confessed that the facts of conscions- iiess. as mere uhaenomena, are above scepti- cism, 744 a; dtfed, 826 a; liis employment of OVVfiBriffiS, 944 h; referred to, 861 a. ii. La Meniiais, (Abbi de,) referred to, 758 a ; his doctrine of Common Sense corapsred with that of Heraclitus, 770 b, 771 a ; 801 b, see Common Sense. Lana, referred to. 860 b. Laromiguiire, his employment of the word taen, 928 b ; makes Attention a power of inteliect, 946 a. Laurentlus. (Dulaurens,) his observations on the Nerves, 871, n. Le Cat, noticed, 870 a, n. ^^ , .., Le Clew, his doctrme of Primitive and DerivaUve qoalitiea. 840 a. __ ,., ,. ^, . _, . . LeemrmonMetaphvtiet,BirW. Hamilton s, quoted or referred to. 919 a. n., et ahbi passim. Las. f Dr Henry.) referred to on Locke, 849 b, n. f. LocfiHid. quoted on tbs Cartssi .u tbsory of ^si^ 8 V QluEX' T pt INDEX II 1027 •ifPtlW't 99% Ay II.. f » '0M' 9^ M» } #^i 11 iliiiMi Mil II l^»Ma,IL^' ihiMi Ita IIWIMIIIII .IffMllii wtm" tK U'Wii, f imM in flM alNdliittt mill. «!' mmmtm, f li i ; t 888 a. biiMiilteiiib <^lii%> ttii#' MO' of tli« einrmaiM P»rw iMOHlfifiK, 783 a, B. *; ootBofdenm be- twem thefar doetiine of peitaiitioii and tial of Raid. 9Si a, n. LaideiitMal, mimmi t% TTS'a.; tflad, 881 'b, n. LanlioMidl, :iifiiMil. toi, 868 b, ■• Iiil6aifit|ier, 788ay wi^ CSaniiMMi Bwm», I»«iei|i|ma, lti« dteUaotloB of Ilia 'l|iiallti«' of nut- tar. 8» b, 8i8a : ralinid 'tii» 880' b; itetbeoiy of8|iadNM|i'881a.ii. IiaBi«opa|iliira, CBaglidi,) IfiiOMMt iT^, teucbiof -MM) mm Itadin, '718 b, n. lanem ApHoivfiiiis, error in. noticed, 618 b, n. l«'*HiiiI.lier. telinad to^. 881 a. Liberty, (Moial,) «■ ttw Arpunemt from Frt-' ■ciaMsa againet. (Note V,} 873-981 ; ooniideied in iilatioo to tlio doettine of l3aiMality, 874 : the :iiolioii. of, moro: pMiiiialO' 'tliaii 'tMl. off Cmn- .■aily. '874 b. n. * ; 'InoonooiiViibla, 874 b. 876 a ; .antbon dtad to fhat 'Cifeol, '874 b. n. t ; the Diet of. how it may be proved. 875 a, n. ; Ita cmciliation with Prawtience of God to bo be- lieved, but not mdaiatood. 875 b ; aiaHioni elted'tO'tliat''eiK 879 h, m. *; 'Raid's argument in. favour «»f, Iniai tia 'analogy of Memory,, cri- 'tidaed, 878 a ; the aama aiiimwnl need, by St Awtin. 878 a,, n. • ; iiDMMbIa te the btiman itiind to iiooMito Iibet% 'tni .Vreacience, 878 a; vaiiins t^iniom to wWA UMi^oonvlction of fbb iMpiMfiMlft J baa led.'87S< arlTf a; an-' Ihoncited, 876 a. n. | ; two counter argmmila lOiiehinR tite connection of human Liberty and divine Preiclence, 877 a b ; the Calvlaiet ifie- Mne, 'What. 877 b, 878 a ; itnarfcaoii tbe^ larma ooBneetad with tbte qumtlott,. :878.»osi- tion of, identical with Berkeley's Idealism, 067 b, n. ; his Idealism compared witli that of Fichte, 968 b. MalpiKbi, referred to, 873 b. Maiiiiani delia Rovere, see Rovere. Mariuiiti. 780 b, see Common Sense. Martial, quoted, 776 a Martiiiius, referred to on tho word Maxim, 766 b, n. Materialism, 749 a. Matter, Lm'ke's notion of the Creation of, 9*24; our knowIed(;e of, merely relative, 935 a, 965 b. Maxim, the term explained. 766 b- 767 b; ignor- ance of lexlcographera regarding, 766 b. n. ; Boethiusthe earliest author by whom employed, 766 b, 767 a; from him and Cassiodorua it passed to the Schoolmen, 767 b ; Kant's uneof the term, 767 b ; Dialectical Maxims all contained witliin the aphere of one or other of the four logical tern, 767 a, n. *. Mayne, (Zachary.) held that the facts of conscious- nesa, as mere phaenomena. are above scepticism, 744 a ; cited on the term idea, 928 a, 928 b, n. t ; on Consciousness, 944 a; on Reflection, 948 b. Mnzure. cited. 973 b. Hediate, meaning of the term as applied to know- ledge, 804 a, 805 a ; see Knowledge. Meinera, cited on the law of the coexistence of Perception and Sensation. 888 a; ou acts of mind beyond consciousness, 939 a. Mejenis, his ' Noologia,* 770 a. Merian, denied the existence of mental acts be- yond consciousness, 939 a. MeUnclithon, 778 b, see Common Sense; referred to, 791 b ; on the term SuggeMioru, 901, n. * ; his employment of tiie word idea, 925 b, 926 b ; Etted on Reflection, 946 b ; held that 8i>ecies telligible) are only modifications of the mind If, 965 a, n. § ; cited ou the terms contingent, UBmmary, &c. . 978 b. Mallasus, referred to, 850 b. Memoriu et RemiHigeentia, Be, Aristotle's traatise, faasage of, translated, 809 b, n. ; other passages ttanslated and expkined, 892 sq. ; list of Com- mentaries, &c., on tills work, 891 b. n. Memory, not viewed by Aristotle aa a faculty distinct from Imagination, 898 a, n. *; dis- tinguished from Reminiaeence, 909 a b; see Association; what, 912 a: Reid's comparison of. to Preaetence, criticised, 976 a ; see Liberty. Menander. referred to, 826 b; haa trivtms for ' Conscieuce.' 943 b. Mendoza, (Hurtado de,) raferred to, 813 b, n. ; quoted on tpeeiea impressa and ejEpreaso;, 953 a, n. t ; midntained species in external and in- tamal aensea. 865 a, n. t ; developed tho doc- triaa of Bcientia Media, 981 a. Midiael Ephesius, hte eonunentary on tha JDe Mtmoria of Aristotle. 881 b, n. ; quoted, 804 a, n. t : recognised Attention as a special fhculty, 045 b ; referred to on jiaii0«, ^fp«t Iko., as pay- ehological terms, 948 b, 910 b. MIciaaUus, quoted or rafeirad to on tha Imna | Instinct, 761 a ; Maxhn, 766 b. n. ; Idea, 926 b ; Contingent, 978 b. MIgnet, (M.,) hia Eloge on M. De Tracy referred to, 868 b. u. Mill. (James,) doctrine of, as to the connection of our ideiia of Extension and Colour, 860 b, n., 919 b ; attempted to reduce the law of Similarity to that ot Redintegration, 914 b ; his reasoning criticised, 914 b, 915 a. Milton, his employment of Senses Communis, 768 b ; of the term idea, 926 a, 927 b ; quoted on the propriety of studying the sciences of Observation before those of Reflection, 986 b. Miud, our knowledge of, merely relative, 935 a, 965 b ; theories concerning its union with Body, 951 a, 961 b; imomprehensibilityof tliis union, 880 b, n. * ; its essential attribute and modifi- cations in the Cariesian philosopiiy, 961 a, 962 a. Minuidiilanus, (J. Picus.) referred to, M3 b. n. Mobility, a primary quality of body, 847 b, 848 a. Mocenicus, (I'hilippus,) cited on lieflection. 947 a. Molesworth, (Sir William,) his edition of Ilobbea* Works commended, 891 a, u. Molidre, quoted, 7(58 b. Molina, developed tlie doctrine of Scientia Media, 981a. Monboddo, (Lord,) referred to, 861 a, 931 b; cited on the term Contingent, 978 b. Monro, (Dr,) gecuadutt, observation of, regarding the ganglion of the nerves, 871 b, n. More, (Dr Henry,) referred to, 758 a; 783 b. tee Common Sense ; referred to, 850 b ; his em- ployment of the term idea, 926 a, 927 b ; cited on Reflection, 948 b. More, (Sir Thomas,) cliaracter of, by Erasmus, 752 b. Motion, Moveni,ent, the Aristotelic employment of the term, 829 a, n. *, 892 b, n. * ; as a common percept in Aristotle, 828 b; as a quality of body in Descartes, Boyle. Locke, Purchot, Reid. 832 a, 833 a, 837 a, 840 a, Wl a. Motion, Voluntary, its nature and conditions. 864, n. Mozley, (Mr,) his work On Augudinianism re- ferred to, 977 b, n. *. Mueller, (Johann.) referred to, 850 b; cited on the sulijective cliaracter of our sensations, 866 a ; on the hypothesis of a Sengorium Commune, 861 a, n. ; on the constitution of tlie retina, 862 a, n. ; quoted as to tlie result of hte re- searches on the Nerves, 874 a. Murcia, referred to, 813 b, n. ; maintained Species in external and internal senses, 955 a, n. f. Muretus, quoted on dignitas, iui a translation of ^ictf/ia, 766a; 779a, gee Common Sense; hit eloquence, 779 b ; remains of, btill uncollected. 780 a. n. Muscular Sense, (the,) on, in relation to Percep- tion, 864 b-8(i7 a, n. ; see Locomotive Faculty; historical notices touching the recognition of, 867 a-869 b. n. Mylue, (Profeaaor.) of Glasgow, noticed, 868 b, n. NATI7RAL Realism or Natural Dualism, 748 b, 816 a; cannot be adequately developed and dis- criminated without the distinction of I'rcsenta- tlve and Representative Knowledge, 804 b, 812 b. et alibi ; tliis and Absolute Idealism the only systems worthy of a philosopher, 817 b, n. Nature, Light of, see Light of Nature. Neeesaarjf, meanings of the term, 978 b. Necegsitas dmseqwentim et Jfecessitas Consequents, or Absolute and Conditional Necessity. 977 a, n. *. Necessity, aa tho criterion of native or a friorl notiona, fully recognised by Reid, 753 b. 973 b ; a diancter of the principles of Common Senae, 764 b, 755 a ; of two kinds, 754 b ; on. in general, (Note T.) 971-973 ; inadequacy of to account for the phvnomena o^ "mm MOEX H. «li«i 'Of MlMMi'llla ill>' .iat» 'iw I nury lOMMMniiMit ViMilit, .WWildl to-Hita tnm doetariwior ibiiiirlMii&iiMiM, l|la,s.fqiaoliMl.«r8% — - * Wmmaa. rHiiliWiii 'iMv 'Ul liill tlil m i i intli aiuaitbfi. Mid the prnptioii of titendoii, 861. ■. •; hlitotkal. mtkm of Um diitmctiMi m, Mia 'iioltf vt ami itMlliMb M a^^ 1*^ "< • *l**' ffilff i ifffB« fif' iinrilflnlaii< fihilMi* Bond^illiMf iMfwuiw. wmmm, 9o»!^MmASi^m mnniiiijt 'MM '01 put^vb Dotf««a in «od- n—iiiM. villi flit' iMiit .•nMiel* 874 MUf ft li, m. 934'; lite' IHfottMh of iowsw i» ^^ ^m^b* AdDV ^^ fii w XiiMte7iii* Ff^M0 mt^nm-mim lia-'aiMi- 'inetrafamd tOk ma* ■. ^ MihiUHiff 7w''Bi « «. _ »_■_ At. If mwlaiiila. (Mmi,) ■p«*M«« •Mfi*S«JJ« mmm, ll» Mm, Mwl *t PotoVW, M3: i^laSa boHi wmtbl* s&d toteHigili • BP«b1«% 8Si bb & * ; tlieir doctrine of menial fMniitfei. •80 •; tliiir dodrine of Perception, pwiMffet IkiM. illel. *c. iiMMttoifc ■•£«!. ; hmmwA if liU. lnm'Qmmmil.t Vfi, WL nr m; MiMi^egolitiial' '-itilSli. ,W oie^of «»*««» k IMiiii., see Coii'«lilli«. Novf , (see Inlelleot,) Urn pianlfal neaiiiiiia «. in Arietotle, 7«i li ; «dl«i in •»>• Af*J««*^ P** lciMpbytlieJ1«l#JViiidj»lM,tOiKn.|. ^ • ]WMyf'qini|yiir"lMi%. 817 ». 848 a. At .mmiiiiii ^y. MiMnmiiMi, 779 n, lef Conunon bmim.. ofllMlinn^iKI'btB. ■,, 'IqrtlW'fy- leiie, and in* ,iig'liiilie(ii glltltlir^ see SmMgL ^ ia ■iirf,8Bt'a,i.f,88l h, B. •; Hi »*i»n toWBMiy, aeeoado-Pii- ■uurj. and Seoondnnr <|u»lltl« ^ f^i**^ ^ OrWanl mm^miBim, hm dlattnguliliMl fk«ni de- iST OflBnoniMSril^ IMIa aiiMfc on. lir tiko ■Bgilrii Handalor 'it'liiflar, 788. k OffidL unoted, 761 a. . _ „ ^. OfQo, tefamd to, 818 k n. ; mfaim IMWfi aVeJemm, 889 •; maliilaliwd tpoolM In titer- nil and Inttmai ainM% 818 a» at. fmmmmm, tM mniauw of dia v^»m of Abwi- Inte Identity, 749 a. . ^^ ^ ^. . ftnUeb, ouiioiii com of, 874 n, 87o a d* fiiiliiiony, Ln«'0f»781a ■ . ^ a,. raioai iiii aaflni, that ** Nttura oonfoundt tlio |>|ff|M»iiii^ 7M b ; 783 n, see Common Senoe; ouoltd OB man't ignoiance of hit own nature. Fait, (tW.) an immtdMa kno«Ie• HotiiMpr, '199' k 4" IToBMBOB 'StBte. '«S3a» bit UM of . tliB larmi oltMiot tad eii^^ ioTtii 7li a, 80i % •!»' B, B... « a, :S84 k «l alibi Ftfiion, Ma tottbBony to Ariatotk't merfia aa b logldan. 984 a b. 'Fm^t pitpriety of the term, 878 % n. #aM|ill0B, TBrioua meaouiga of tbt term, 87B *•"*-!, IMaiBal mi iMlmml J»iBmdfJO» «t ssaaiiiai. ob tiiO' 'Wioui' HMoriaa of, (l^oto CJ 818-814; eyitematic •«»»•"»•• J»1^«J liiooilea.and of tfae various systemeorpMioao^y 'f lnrnffi* tbiinoB. 816 aq. ; I. ProMntatlonism or iBtolfliinlnn, onlidivided into (A) Natural Beal- len or If atuirt Diirii—, and (f) Abwiute Idi^ tarn or Idealist ©BlBUfianism, 816, 817 1 this teat titln oBbdifidotl Into Ef?»»«*«»l "IJSJSS" Siai!l Maaiwi, 817; II. K^fSrfSSJSr (CtoeMfbetlo Idealism or ^PO^^^. ^^ Off MfPBIIiolieal Dualiam.) M^iinded »«to (A) a iitioal) form, and (B) a cruder (Non- form, 817, 818 1 Bald^s doctrine of, ita 8194ii ; see Reid. _ _ . Fero^ptiOB• , pt r,(lioil Hi- 877; iS«i3iti7ns,'8?£T78 ; antomediato w pmiiBilfa tognition. 8ll i* -"-SSTSt Hon. lb. : SenKition proper and Pwetptionpro- " in correlation. 879 sq. : In the latter tlieio A »»'*-»>— tBilBf of laiMli8*BC0 than in tbt iBt?Wi» M'''; BBii' :iiifitea the other, 880 a ; BUT' BBh b; Bt 'tboiMb ooviMaBi, .aluif a found in aa iBiMt raSrio eaA olbar,>. tompim 863, b^ ttj - - - - - liiMislon to both, bat tthor phikmopheit of tbt Sooiaah 8^oo>. 88t- 986 : hlitorical noUoea to regard to the distinc- Hob of PeroepHoB pvopw aad Sensation proper, FtaietPliOB and Ideaa. tbt CavtoalaB tbeoiy of. ■nd Mind IbtiB te bo BBtnial tolaroouiao or rela- tleB,98ai Ibilf BBiOB If 'Oay Wlntod i andmain- tatoodiiiir bytbtwiaaBd asaiitaBotof Ood. ». • in what this «M»J^«»»-!f; f^H SlE 1 II L lioiUed to a ringle point in tba abalB, INBEX n. 1029 961 k MS a ; erbea an external object afibcts a semo, a certain ultimate movement is pro- dueed at the point of union in the brain, 993 a: and on occasion of this movement Iht BtaMl ia hyperpbysically determined to re- pteaMit to Itself the ealenial ob|ect, M3 a b ; tbt mental representation of the external object pBperly termed an idsn, 963 b ; the organic Movement in the brain termed an imprtstton, imoM, corporeal tpedm, or idea. 963 b, 964 a ; our assurance for tbe existence of extomal reali- tiet, on what it rests, according to this theory. 961 b ; two principles, on which the doctrine proceeds. 965. Peripatetics, (the.) «ee Aristotelians. Pemuilt, referred to, 860 b ; cited, 861 b, n. Petrarch, his use of the term contckntia, 946 a. Ffaff, account of his Oratio de Egoismo, 988. Phaedrus, bis use of tlie term Smm» Communis, Philippson, wrong in stating that Aristotle assigned the Cbmmon SeiujMes as objecti to the Coimmn S^nse, 829 b, n. Phiiochonis. referred to, 879 a, n. . _, ^ „ . Philoponus, cited, 771 b, n., 828 a ; on Aristotle's Number, 829 a, n.f ; on the Common Sensibles, 829 b, n. ; the first to introduce the Greek word for Attention, 931 b ; passage of, translated, 942 : lecoguiaed Attentiop as a special fiiculty, 948 b ; cited on Reflection, 947 b,»48 a : quoted, Philosophy, its dependence on Consciousness, 746 a; the past history of, in a great measure, only a history of variation and error, 747 a; srr-und of bope for Its future destiny, ib. ; distribution of philosophical systems from the whole fact of consciousness in perception, 748 b. 749 a; ««e Common Sense ; from the relation of the object to the subject of perception, 816 sq. ; see Per- ception; its primary problem, 752 a; as the Science of Kwmledge, supposes the distinction of Subject and Object, 808 a, n. Phocylidea, quoted, 752 a. , ., . ^ai Picc''i/^*"*T*' wbero situated, 906 a, n. • : his Ideas, what. 926 b, 960 b; his doctrine in regard to self- apprehension of Sense, 981 b; his employ- ment of irptir^X"» 948 b ; of ecie8, 880 a ; main- tained Species in external aud internal senses. Porphyry, quoted, 768 b. Port Royal Logicians, their use of the term W«i, 928 b ; cited on Necessity as a quality of cogni- tions. 973 b. Porterfleld, referred to, 862 a, n. Pouteau, referred to, 874 b. Power, 8CC Hume. ,010 Pre-established Harmony, theory of, 818 a. Preference, law of, see Reproduction. Prescience, see Liberty. Preseutative Knowledge, see Knowledge. Prevost, referred to, 851 a. Price. (Dr.) 791 b, see Common 8en».e ; .quoted in praise of an observation of Hutcheson. &29 b. n ; on Hume's doctrine of Cause, 969 b. n. . Priestley. (Dr,) his attempt to ridicule Tlei;i s use of tlie terms Instinct aud Instinctive, 760 b; his ignorance of the history of the doctrine of Association. 890. Primary and Secondary Qualities, see Qualities. Principle, the term, how defined by Aristotle, 761 b • denotes both an original law and an original element, 762 a ; in either signification may be applied to our primary cognitions, ib. ; its meaning explained. In connection with Aris- totle's doctrine of Reminiscence, 904 a, n. . Principles of cognition, on the analysis and classl- lication of, 743 a, n. , , ,, j, .. . Priscian, before Boethlus employed dignitas as a trauslation of Axioma, 766 a. Priscianus Lydus, referred to, 829 a, n. ' , pro- ■bably the real author of the Commentary on the De Anima attributed to Siroplicius. 836 a. 800 a. n. : doctrine of, touching the Common ben- Blbles 860 a, n. ; held thesubfttaniial distinction of the Active and Passive Intellects, 956 a. n. Proolus, referred te on the term Axiom, 764. 766. pluries: 776 a, «« Common Sense ; quoted m illus- tration of the doctrine in regard to our percep- tion of terminal lines, 922 a ; his employment of mmJiff^vUt 944 a ; dted on Reflection. i>47 b. on tbo employment of the terms. 9«9 n. ntOpilMi tlm Atmata dittinetton. of of nMttar, 896 •; nfemd H .fmrimaU and ramuM, m. Urn iMbietoii of, m twXM to objMit of'pnmlliMit 'Ml K n. *. WmOaa, (MldneU Ills «iiiplafiii«ni of wpo0roxk$ •15 b.* Filf«liM|. m :nillMirily fmr the distiiicliiM, if M- niHy' ^Mii: iMsoadary <|iMWt.tti, 830' lii, MOti i ite docMiW' WMIIMMIL 'In Mffiiii nnicoti. with Fmm, Wm Hmm^ m «p0§d. to oopiiioM, 7118 a; Fmt ViMMPMiff,. .jPmw i'}tfdl«el» tiM 'CxpMioiM' wqplflliitdi ¥11% ■• *. WpSmmf*^ 'lili:eiii|ifafiii«iil of wmmMsf MB a. |*ffiiag«Kr«Mi aigringt ivfemwt tuip 999 k 'QVAUTr. tiM 'tinii, tepK^MWlr afflM to tha |»fl* ■Miri' attritmlM of nuittor, 890 b, n. *, 856 b. n. Unallliii. FrtHwr' .mi ■eoondaiVf of Boif, tiio 'ilitlMstloii of, pioto 1>.) eS5^f I 'liMorf callf 'OBwriiifiit » aq. ; pbilciiaffliiis Igr wboni ri*- copiMiI : — litnc^ii ami ' 'Dimieriliu* 62fi|, 816 : Fintiigwaa,. §26 ; VkM, Ik ; Cyranaan alMoplw^. 'lb. { Miiiirm. ik ; Aristotlat '826- ; Cfialen, 896.. 8it; Oalileo, 891 ; Dwcartaa 891, 89S: Dorodon, 8»t. 838; Olanvill, 8S3; BoyI*'. Ibt ; 'Bn la. Foiia, 836, 834' : CtauNMC, 884 1 Rohaiiltk ib. ;. Bnlitiiitl.. ib. ; MaMnaiitJw, 834,. 895;. .itagl%. 831,: i89i: I01M9, 89M8i; IPiirabfit... .8Si. Ml.; tjteliftt BHH ; Kainoak lb.. ; MM, 810-843 ; Biawaii. 813 ; E87I ; only Pri- Matnal Rcaliats, of mediato to- €oaaiotliil|o 'Idoallata, 810' a ; 8e«oiidai7 (tuaiHiM. iniaiodl* AJiriv lEnmrn .■■ 'iiniiiniit Aflktkuui of 'the noil* BHiHajftM'Biiii ^HHii IhmI iMSkMilB' 'flri'Jni 'Ihi (Iminiliaa. ottsd on the tnnsference of the term jHi'inHP ^iiiniinjirinwMf OiinwBNiyiriP iiFia "ittiiiPaFrwn'map ^■P'WTWii*^PiP^e'^wwWw|e w ^r^^ '^^pi 776.% Ml Oommon BeoM'; 'hie omployment of i^iii9ipfiO|. '876 bf n* IiA]fi», jfPiilar,) .his nto olfho term 'Odrionui, '766 a. Jolio jMirliiwIiirit, of A verrooa. 809, n. f , 953 b, n. Baiataon, (M.,) attributes to De Birau the dli- eofify of the law of the oaexistence in an in< 'fOfto' :nitlo 'Of FWMilion pN>per and Sensation iili^HiiiWHdMllllii 'EuiUBh tern, 805 h, n. f. Realian, Natoral and BCyfothetical, 748 b, 749 a. Beaaon, lis relation to Beisfl 7(iO b ; (as a philo- aonhiaal lonn,) niian.l&gi' oC dlatlngnlahed., 768, 7flil I 'Ksnt% and Jaoim'b employment of, 768 b, 760a, 795 b, n. t. 'Eedinlagnitlon,. :iiaw oC as iceneraliMd by Aria- totif , 8117. 888 ; a florcllary of big doctrine of ImapMklon and Menory* 898 a, n. * ; pbiloao- plicws by whom enounced previous to Uohben, lb..; 'ataMl,. 918a. .Beteetion, thO' doetoine of Scotita touchinf, aa n ■omee of "knowledge', 777 b, 778'«i Mib .;lieli1i opinion npurding, 949 a ; Attoniion and Be- iaetta. Mto' 'Of thO' aame fkculty, 941 a ; historical aoifflai of 'the nao of the term., 946. 947 ; im- nalatUllty .and temofCallty of the mind proved Itom powoT' of raiaottng upon self, 947 b, 948 • b.. A Obierviition. Befis, (Rey.) curious oase of paralyua. reported by. 874, 875. Re^, (Sylfsin.,) bia atatement of 'the 'Carteahm. dooMnO'' of ponopttw.. m a, 888 % n. ; an authoffiy fw ibo distiuetion of Primary and 8efMn'di»' 'HuMllias, '816' 'h, 836 a ; bis distbio- tion of Mmitlvo or Radifsl .and .Saoimdarr or iiiii.mive' ugnt, .000 a.t oonowio .imn vas- aendi, Ik .; cited* 849 'b, n. * .f 00 tiM dlMimi* tion of Idea and Bonsacion, 887 b ; rofnffed to on the Cartesian Idea, 927 a, 963 b. n. 'B iidi, CPf Tbomaa,) hold that the lasts of eon- sesptieten, 744 a ; 'died on the abaoluto truth 'Of eoniolomsnoai. 7ii b ; bis was of the argument iroto Owiuion. .SohO' 'dsiMdsd. ftona tite stilo- 'lUNS. 'Of 'lanl,. TBI ; aiiiialiBed thS' criterion 'bf Xoeaiillar' and. 'Inlvimalty, ae disorimlnstlttff our a priori. oognition%. 78§ .a, 973 b ; examplea eiied fifi of the jdtlioMfUiiai. use of the term Common. Bente, 717 a; 'his ''impiemnent of tho Isison.., 768 b ; viudiciitsi .aaalnat tl.io •f ' 'fhs Bnglish translator ot BuBar. 788 % 189 at 191 \ Me Common Sense; an sspoohd thmwrlto with Jacobi, 793 b ; delBOts of Ma philosophy, 804 b, 805 a ; errora of, to sifer- oneo to the dlstinctlonof Presentatlve and Repre- sontattfo Knowledge, and of Object Frosimato and Benmto, 812 b, aq.; aboliahed the distine- tioA of piiintative and represeutatif cognl' lloiit His: maintained that in our ii|nitioua Imm must be an objsct (real or imaginary) dia- thisl trom tho cmeivtiwie of the mind oonvei^ iMit aboitiik nil hs inscouraer of, in npi4 INDEX n. 1031 to the preciM object of perception, 814 a; of what character is his doctrine of Perception ? MIO b, sq. ; circumstances explaining wliy lie left this tlie cardinal point of his philosophy ambiguous, 819 b; Dr Thomas Brown's opinion, Shat he was a Cosmothetic Idealist underthe finer form of egoistical representationism, 819 b, 820 a ; Sir W. Hamilton's opinion, that he intended a doctrine of Natural Realism, 820 a ; statements oonformable to the former view, 820-822 ; state- menU comformable to the hitter view. 822, 823 ; summary of tlie ambiguities and contradictions involved in his doctrine, 823 b. 824 a b ; asserts that Aristotle ignored the distinction of Prinaary and Secondary Qualities, 828 a ; referred to, 835 a ; recotrnised Cohesion as a primary quality, 839 a, n., 852 b ; an authority for the distinction of Primary and Secondary Qualities, 840 b-843 a ; general conformity of his doctrine with that maintained by Descartes and Locke, 841 b, 842 a : defects of hia doctrine in regard to the cog- nition of Extension, 842 a h ; held Space (Ex- tension) to be a native, necessary, a priori form of thought, 842 b, 843 a : considered the Becundo-primary qualities as Primary, 850 a ; referred to, 860 b, n., 868 b, n. ; first limited the term Perception to the apprehensions of Sense alone, 877 a, n. ; first approximated to the recognition of Judgment as a condition of consciousness in general, 878. n. f, 934 a ; on his doctrine our original cognitions of S|>ace, motion. Sec, instinctive, 882 b; his doctrine of Perception, in contnist to that of Sir W. Hamilton, 882 b-886 a; held that we can Bee Figure apart from Colour, 918 b ; that we can see Colour apart from Extension and Figure, 919 a ; his reduction of Consciousness to a spedal faculty, 929 sq. ; probably borrowed fkom Hutclieson or Malebranche, 930 b, 931 a ; 940, see Attention, Reflection ; statement of, ooiTOCted, 948 a ; not wrong in his criticism of Hume's assertion regarding the ideas of Cause aud Power, 968, 909 ; on his borrowing from Gasaendi the opinion of Alexander and the Nominalists touching Perception, 970, 971. Reil, referred to, 871 a, n., 873 b. Beinhold, (C. L.,) confessed that the facts of con- sciousness, as mere phenomena, are above aoepticism, 744 ; referred to, 762 b ; cited on acts of mind beyond cousciousness, 939 a ; on Consciousness, 944 a. Bolativity or Integration, Law of, 910 a. Relativity, Intrinsic or Objective, Law of, 911 b. Reminiscence, Aristotle's doctrine of, 892 sq. ; see Association ; distinguished from Memory, 892 a ; chronolc^ially considered, is both prior and pos- terior to Memory. 909, n. * ; analogy between the acts of Reminiscence and Reasoning, 909, u. t. Repetition, or Direct Remembrance, Law of. 912 b. Mmresentatinn, use of the term by Sir W. Hamil- |on,805 a, n. t : in the Leibnitian philosophy, ib. Bspresentative Knowledge, me Knowledge. Baproduction, Suggestion, or Association, (Men- tol.) outline of a theory of, (Note D**»,) 910- 917 ; General Laws of Mental Succession : (A.— As not of Reproduction proper :) i. Law of Suc- COision, 910 a; ii. of Variation, 910 b, 911 a; UL of Dependence or Determined Consecution, 911 a ; iv. of Relativity or Integration. 911 a b ; ▼. of Intrinsic or Objective Relativity, 911 b ; (B. •— Ai of Reproduction proper :) vi. of Assoc!- ability or Possible Co-iuggostion, 912 a b ; vii. of Repetition or Direct Romombranoe, 912 b, 913 a : viii. of Redintegration, or Indirect Re- membrance, or lieminlsoence, 913 a; is. of Prefereuce, 913 a b ; Special Laws of Mental fiuocession : (A. — Primary ; modes of the Laws of Repetition and Redintegration:)jc. of BimiUrs, 913 b, 915 a ; xl. of Contrast. 915 a-916 a ; zii. [ef CoadJaoency,] 916 a b ; (B.— Sepondanr: IS of the tbs Lnw of Prafinsnas:) zilL [of Immediacy,! 916 b : xlv. [of Homogeneity,! ib. ; XV. [of Facility,! 916 b, 917 a. See Association. Reuchlin. cited on the Cartesian Doubt, 989 a. Reusch, cited on the term idea, 928 b. Revelation, metaphorical use of the term to de- note the apprehension of first principles, 761 b. Reynolds does not use the term idea, 926 a, 927 b. Richardson, his account of the term Maxim erroneous, 766 h, n. Ridiger, 785 b. see Common Sense. ROell, on the Cartesian Idea. 963 b, n. Roliault, an authority for the distinction of Primary and Secondary Qualities, 834 a b ; re- ferred to, 850 b ; cited ou the Cartesian distinc- tion of Idea and Sensation, 887 b. Rolando, refeiTed to, 874 b. RondeletiuB, unnoticed observation of, on the Nerves, 871 a, n. Rosetti, referred to, 870 a, n. Rosmini. (Abbate,) referred to, 862 a, n. ; endea- voured to develop the notion of existence into a systematic philosophy of mind, 934 b. Royer Collard, cited ou the Common Sensibles, 830 a ; referred to, 835 a ; mistake of, as to the quality of Number, 837 a, n. •", 844, nn. * f ; re- cognised Cohesion as a primary quality, 839 a, n., 852 b ; referred to, 843 a ; an autliority for the distinction of Primary and Secondary Qualities, 843 b. 844 a b ; his doctrine criti- cised, ib. ; considered the Secundo - primary qualities as Primary, 850 a ; his doctrine of Perception, in contrast to that of Sir W. Hamil- ton, 882 h, sq. ; observation of, quoted, 887 b: maintained that we cannot imagine Exteosiou without Colour, 918 b, n. *. Rufus Ephesius. referred to, 870 a, n. Ruiz, cited on the term idea, 926 b ; referred to, 982 h. Ruvius, referred to, 813 b, n. Ruysdi, referred to, 873 b. Saimasiits, cited on the transference of the term Sense to the higher faculties of mind, 756 a. Saurin, referred to, 850 h. Saussure, referred to, 850 h. Scaliger, (J. C) referred to, 773 a; 778 h. 779 o, see Common Sense ; exposes tiie doctrine of re- presentative perception held by certain of the Schoolmen, 814 b, 815 a ; cited on the Common Sensibles, 830 a ; on the word solidus, 838 b, n ; the first distinctly to recognise the Locomotive Faculty as a medium of perception, 867 a, n. ; quoted on the perception of Weight, ib. ; his curiosity regarding Reminiscence, 889 a; re- ferred to on the term Suggestion, 901, n. *; touching the |>erception of Figure through the variety of Colours, 920 a; castigates M**- lanchthon's sippHcation of the term idea, 925 b ; referred to, 9J7 a; quoted on Reflection, 946 b : oeusurea Galen's tlie«iry of Vision, 950 a. Sceptics, (the ancient,) referred to ou the term Axiom, 766 a. Schad, confessed that the facts of con-sciousness, as mere pharnomeua, are above scepticism, 744 a. Scharfius, cited, 926 b. Schiiubert. cited ou acts of mind beyond conscious- uess. 938 b. Schegkius, referred to, 923 a; cited, 926 b, Scheibler, cited, 860 b, n. Schelling, quoted on the testimony of conscious- ness in perception, 748 a; liis employment of the word Intuition, 759 b; of the word Reason, 769 a; referred to, 850 b. Schlegel, (F.,) referred to, 769 a. Schleiermacher, referred to on the Common Reason of Ileraclitus, 771 a. Bchmid, (H..) cited on Homogeneity as a prindpls of association, 916 b. n.* ; on acts of mind be- yond consciousness, 939 a. Sdioolmen, (the J distinction taken by, of Inlnl- mm IHDlS.^ U* ■ICiMi«li.'«ilid m. ■«*i*««*^ y_ ^A !?Miii. m m, ii.t» Pf , K«aipiiinp ,jf -i.r«» m ■ Ji~. -■—*■ • irfllllli«i»miri*ai SSr * 'ipMwuiM of. touoiliif ' Hit wwp* !!«**• m ; s ; farlmio slgttltoHliM of, «n % n^ bS, CkSmon, Iiit«ii«l. «• Common Sonto, In- liiiiiiorliitn Cbmrntwe, theory of, SHI, n. * S lio* *•" ConciM with natural roOtem, lb. ^^ flMims Ooonniiiii, ir«rtoi» momiiiiii of tho iwm, A» ntMeM to mmm prapm^ "^^^JH^^ ^(ff0iima of Mlanim. f»*n ^ ^^^'^^'^ ik$ sp^en of tmm PfOf^.Z'^ ^ **: -JH ff" tm iliiiiflimtioii, 751 »; f^S^S^Ti^ iki iSeetloiii oomWwo* W7. 7«»i •^ - (*2i mS^mZJu^ and pi^dotiM of looioty. m mam of oon^ontioiwl dee OT. •« Commoa Bmwj. __ „, ^ S3Se»^^i««»«^ to iBo»to«. «^ l* 'ihr' ^dC£« fM'Ooniwof oiirfMntoiii!tMi|W o, 1753. «••' t« PtaJtonkf ioiMj, yjl % ■•■» •. umpv p ■»-•■.«. JM . ... ■■ Jii jL^k wPtmL n 5l5yrff«I«P») «*"* if Hio nowHitai, ,£p3l«l, |WI% doetHM iC AMWiBlwl. ■JSiJilt'LvMf oM'iif ArliloiM"iiliM"ptWI|i!M ■iBllm,' ■» oi,. oBo ^i^:'rT^*JnM. ^Im Xo i of BioMMiiiioo, HIT •: mammm, wm, n, § mA mmm} to f^^m m to tljt 1»» tf Btihito- 'BiiMiiiiiiL mtroon,) nlwtii to to linitoi«m of HSjri •«&» tho iouroo o«M» iiw SmMii •.««» •. ■• I *»°^« if •* «r"r: 'Imrtoaiiiiliig tlN'^OHMMi BondUos, 860 % n. : •a|iof»iiit Hi wyi^tfy"**. f**iif2!l2 ll,oiiifitiiin.tlT'\ *!*f 'Wfowod lo, »ao«|0»*ll«- mtufttloD, n prlMllf iplMtJ o* *»o«*y. 817 j^ 818 •• 81m. » prtmwy fli»ll»» of bodf. 8*7 b, M8. Smith. ( Aitm,) loiwfod to on tho Fktonle Idmi, 960 k Smitb. (Df John.) quotod, 758 n. Sodntao. f tlio.) deny the pretfjenco of Hod In TOiliOt or IMiuo <»oiin8«»»t«.J'7fl •, n. | . SoUdttr. wiouo ilpdfliaitioMi of tho vora, but, n *i ■«**. — Mil lO' bo dWuMllllMl Ifom Bsion'* rion. t87"b7«Mr''if 'IimI* Npvilnf, 888, n. ; iMWr omployed by Borketey, 810 ^^ n. gonerns, referred to. 771 b, n. Bo|ihocle^frf«PWd 10,878,". |. «« « WH iool, tlMortei < on a tr«i ag thoiool of, 8fll, n., mm 't. , jgg Mind* gMMTcor BstMlon.) twofold cognition of. 841 % TFn;88lib; n neoeeiary f*";: <»f *^"«i*» ?2 b: oonottved as infinite, or mthor InconcelTOblt m nottofinlt^ 817 hi »««°fS5^23^2S* 878a: ovety MraiptionorfltnwtlaMiiulofiin- iatlano. tibrdf: m tio oeoMfon vt ^pynhondlnff, 4|ISi^ onS Ao form by Oenlins and Do la of RominiMiinoo, «Ff ai z-'-tt.t- mi m i a iDoeiol law of Montal 8noDOMloiit_ilB .wi'l MitebloMo Ibo t^OF todfflw flZSoT'MAo dMsMno of. •■ hold by Arittoilo TSd iTjSSlSSl, (Note MJ i>514IWi iio SS|CWr»r3»oty of Domoialino and llpl^ irronoowlgr, to Attolotio, ttil h^ mj^compim 827. fc*| iiil»ilO''«f the Ariatote lian illlO ilipwi, mSo iZd InteU&blo. 8«8 • Hi Unictiono of tiie Actlvo and tmllm Intellecte. in the appre- hension of. WklMM a; '* "J2. « flSJ'jSS regaidhif tiodolalli of tho doctrine, »6* ^-968 brbywhom finally refuted. ^^M^Jg^S^ olataio not. however, abandoned mmm' «"•».•■• SStor 967 a : paBM«ee from Bid. dec, exl.ibit- Sf^i KomiMltatdoctrin*. »57-fl60 ; varioua doctrine! of, dwracteriaed, 960 b. Bpoiiior. bis Flatonic nm of the woid Win, »!«•, Mm. V18a|.«iioted on Mocemity Maqnallty olojr nitlons,978a; oitedontbotwm OjittiV^^^ Btadianua. (I'W'J^W^'^HA*'^ oonoiUatlon of Ubeiif Mli' 'I'MMMMO, 97A »» n^^ Stair AonO fete' iSiiiBnallon of Cohoninii ooi a. Htatllar. 'TMOk MC Cmomni Sense. Maoh. iH*ion AttanUon. 941 *. »• t. «« * ■MiiWl, (Dttiald.) opinion of* *o««*lnK !°f,^J diMsa of Wmary Truths, 748 a, n. ; mtetajo of. aa to ti» amiiiority of ooosdflwne^ ' W to the proper mining of 5^^ • «***"5* riSSi INDEX IL 103S lator of BufBer, 788 b; refiwe* to. 789 a; unmerited attack of. upon BulBer, 792 a ; his ODiniou. that perception is possible of distant Sbtaeto. critidid. 814 b, 822 a. 886 a ; his doc- tAw one only of representative perception, 820 1 01 alibi ; quoted in praiae of an observation of Hutcbosnn, 929 b. n. ; censure of Locke by, in- oormt. 887 a. n. » : recognised Cohesion as a Pri- mary quality, 939 a. n-, 892 b ; misrepresents Berkelev'8 employment of tlie term Solidity, 840 b n • quoted and criticised touching the origin of our notion of Space or Extension, 843 a ; an authority for the distinction of Primary aud Seooudary Qualities, 843 a b ; im reduction of fbo fbrmer criticised, ib. ; regards Hardnws, Soft- nofls &c as Primary qualities, 850 a ; doctnue of.a8totheconnection,in senseand imagination, of Wtension and Colour. 86(» b, u. , 919 a b ; that our notion of Spaoo or Brtenslon cannot be ovolTod out of eaperience. 868 b, n. ; his doc- trine of Perception, in contrast to that of »»r W. HamUton, 882 sq. ; his tlie only attempt at a bis- torv of the distinction of Perception proper and Sensation proper. 886 a, n. ; wrong In staimg, mnexdusiwlv. that Reid's 7"2"J» J"**™' to Kanfs, lb. ; character of his re^of >" »" Kant ib • on Aristotle's enumeration of the laws of Assodatlon, 890 b; touchinR the pro- rr application of the term Association, 894 n *• referred to, in connection wiih Berke- ley's employment of the term Suggestion, 906, ii>; denied the existence of mental acts bo- ' TOnd consciousness. 939 b; misapprehended ' keid's opinion touching the difference of Atten- tion and Reflection,94»a; nouces the distinc- tion of Observation and Reflection. 940 b , orror of, as to Attention. 945 b: as to Reflec- tion, 946 a ; neglected the principle of Neces- sity as a quality of cognitions, 973 D ; questioned the necessity of tho Divine presdence. 976 a. n. t ; his answer to an argument from Prescience against Liberty, 977 a, n. J. Btiadenroth. quoted on the testimony of conscious- nSJCpeiiJption. 748 a ; reduced Contrast as an associative principle to Reaembknce under a higher notion, 915, n. t- ,^ # . »»* i Btoeger, acknowledged the existence of a natural bdief in Realism, 748 b. , ,_ ^ . . Btoica. (the,) thoir employment of the term Axiom. 766 a ; r^al authors of the br..card. mhil^t %n intelkctu quod non pritisfuent tn semu, 772 a, n. Storchenau, (Von,) 792 b. see Common bense. Stmbo referled to. 860 b; on Attention as a con- StSn ^f pS?epti;n, 877 b. n. * ; on .he mind's consciousness of it8 own operatmas, 931 b. Strato Pliysicus. referred to, 878, n. U , on tne self-aDDrehensioo of sense, 931 b. Stu»rt,^(^lexander.) cited ^ ^^? ^l^^^^^'J^^, StMorium Commune, 861 a, n. ; on tne connec- tion of mind with body, 861 b, n. Sturmius, referred to, 850 b. Suarez. referred to, 813 b, n. ; cited, 860 b, n. nSStoSed Species in the external and internal MMM 956 •%. t ; dovdoped tho doctrine of S^^JS^^v^^^ Object, OPi^ve:ih. history wS meanhiK of the terms. 8 .6 b, n. ♦. BuMect and Object, the opposition of, emplamed gSfe^ttiiiSS^^ «S!rira?oT«'p^i for the phenomenon aJSiiir^rAcStr-law ^^^^^^ by the ^Jdnciple of the Conditioned. 165. , nidntial Forms, thaoiy of. 827 a. n. * ; ses Aris- flJ!S^*tiSit.rm. h°»ir^i7«ppXJ' Slip's gr!^in? I., of. as » law of thought, 910 a, ^l?b?933 1; m CoiiiouanoM. Reprodudion. Bueflsanus, made Ood the eauBe of spedso,95ll b, n. t ; his doctrine an approximation to Mala* branche's theory, 967 a. Suggest, Suggestion, terms used in relation to first principles, 761 b ; the oldest and best terms for the process of reproduction, 901 a, n. *. 907 b, n. ; proper application of, 911 b. Suggestion, see Reproduction ; Reid's theory of the suggestion of primary qualities through the secondary, criticised, 820 b. 821 a. Suidas, cited, 943 b. Sulxer. quoted on the law of the coexistence, in an inverse ratio, of Perception and Sensation, 888 a ; cited on acts of mind beyond consciousness. 939 a : on Consciousness in general, 944 a. ^vvau^ condition! of, 8«3, n.; itenliitloa to Feelinff. 803, n., 804, n. ; wbal oompmliended under, by Aristotle, 867 a, n. ; Ckfdatt% fourfold diaiiinilnation of, 867 b, n. «te BilonMoii, Fluiii* liipiltiidfc fOurtnal, referred to on tba^ llinmla»' :lltiiii|188 b, m, ; maittlainwl that m eaunol taiafint' Ihlwi- ■ion witbowl CMoar, 918 b, n. \ ■int. dM 00 the term idea, 928 a, flMf , m, ilo.) lUlowed D'Alembert in hit dividon of Vis Inerti«, 851 b ; ettablished tia dlatino- tion between Activo and Faaalve tooafcy '808 a, n. ; many of bit 'inObolitiDal 'aiialfMi aUonMj bonouM if DT' 1. IntWB and Dr J. Young, 808 b, n. t a 8«90lsiiiaii by daMjent, ib. ; died on tbe term idea, 928 b ; egaliill |io dMnctton of Oheertalloii and Boieeion, 9li b, B. |. Tmmmiimii, liow dlatlonililiii by Kant from InmiMMlMfal, 762 b. llmiMMwtaiiil. meaning of the term, aa mod by tbe Schoolman. Kant, Ac, 762 b, 763 a. Trembliy, I Jl.,> of C»«i©»a» nnltoad, 762 % n. Trendelenbefff . inierpPita AffMolle^ as maaninff % xlvilffis local motion, 829 a, n. •. Treviranus. refened to on tbe Optic Nenre, 803 n, n. ; on tbe oonitltiitlin of tbe retina, 802 b, n. fVevotfs, Jlfeiiioliiif di, quotation flrom, on ESgolem, 988 b. Trutlifl of Reason and of Pact, or NMMMlf and Oontingent Tnitb% dtallupiWiod, 7mm,m.,J6A b ; the atiuineiit Ihnm^ Co«M. ion* « ptliidiai teportaiioe la rafawi^ to fta. latter cla«^ Ib. Tueier. dted on tbO' condlMion. of Liberty and Puiicienoe, 975 b, n. TnmllBua, (A.J 78& h, T8« a. imOjiwwi Tuaaaua. ble imkm lafined. to. 810' Ik. n. Tmp** «• » payebohfliBl. ■•atim, nol to bo literally, 94ik. 'tii* Tyrtoi, p«a«*«»«> w««»^ *«>, 780 b, 879 b, n. Taetaea, roiwred to, 879 b^ m. Uanaawaaani. oltoi «« tba biw of Paeilitjr aa an aModatifo prinai|il% 910 b, an. Vmbrdt, died on tbe oonneetioii off nliid with body, 8ilb»i>» ..... ^ UnderalaMHif . nMiiitoff of the term, aa oomiiartd with litaaoii* 'IU'"! Mc Intellaet. VaiieiiiilX. Pwinto.) ae a ebaimctof of too FUn- ■t 7o4 b, Too a» ITalbbii]*. idliffad tiL SIS hfc B. ¥a)la. (Laurantiua.) Md toat Llbartj ia t pmhensill%.974%.B.{. , _ , la n i ^ ii | i ^ y lift .llOrfea, 87i b ; curl oua gMliiii^eiiBMBamorated by, 907 a, n. Variation or Viridv, If w of. WO b, 90S a. Aw OoBaeionMiaH, Bogipoduetloii. ▼aflpio% nlitfod to. 810 h . ^ , fanlllua» motlia^ of nil doeMM lloriia, nik ■• I, davdopad the doetiina of Sdentia Media, 981 a. Yelthuyaan, referred to, 701 b. Yenioa Flaccue, referred to, 838 b, n. Vioo, 790 a, M« Common Sense; quoted on the propriety of studying the sdences of Observa- tion before those of Reflection, 980 a b. YiUemot, referred to, 850 b. Yivee, (Ludovicus,) quoted in illustration of Remi- niaoence, 802 a, n. * ; vindicated asrainst the criti- dsm of Sir James Mackintosh, 893 b, n.; quoted in illustration of Habitual consecution, 896, n. * ; pnvioua to Hobbes, enounced the kw of Re- dtalapalion, 898 b, n. ; divided Reminiscence Into Natural and Directed, 902 a, n. ; quoted, 908, n. t ; on Attention, 946 a, n. *. Voikmaon, dted, 802 a, n. Yoltaiia, saying of, stolen from BufBer, 768 b ; re- ferred to, 857 a, n. t ; his answer to an argument fkom Preadence against Liberty, 977 a, n. J. Wmwtdlung, vague generality of, in the Leibni- tian and subsequent philosophies, 805 a, n. Yorstlus, (Conrad,) denied the prescience of God In respect of future contingents, 976 a, n. t- Yossius, (Isaac) referred to, 850 b. Vulpius (Yolpi), 7!>0 a, see Common Sense. Waeivamvs, his • Noologta,' 770 a. Welch, cited on acto of mind beyond conscious- ness, 939 a ; on the term Contingent, 978 b. Walker, (Alexander,) valuable speculations of, on the Nerves, 974 a b. Weber, experiments of, on tactile discrimination, 803, n. ; his suppodtion, that Weight is tested by the Touch alone, criticised, 865, n. *. Weight, see Gravity. Weislie, his Longiuus rderred to, 897 a, n. Weiss, dted on Consciousness, 944 a. Werenfels, (8 ,) quoted anonymously, 746 b; dted on tlie Cartesian Doubt, 969 b. Wetael, dted on the law of the co-existenca of Per- ception proper and Sensation proper, 888 a. Wbatdy, (Archbishop.) cited on the words Coii- UNpnt, J'Oisible, Cmrtain, 978 b. WhawoII, (Dr.) his ** Demonstration that all Hat« tar is Heavy^ crlticiaed, 853 b, n. White, (Thomas,) De Albiis or Anglus. previous to Hobbes, enounced the law of Redintegration, 808 b, n. ; cited on Aristotle's doctrine of upecies, 962 a, n. Willis, referred to, 872 a. Wolf, (Christian,) 790. «e< Common Sense; referred to, 860 b ; divided Vis Inertiae into two, 851 b ; statement of Bfaass regarding, corrected, 899 a, a ; bis employment of tbe term idea, 928 h; bdd tbat Consdoosness is a discrimination, 933 b : his distinction of Perception, Ap)»erceptiou, and Cogitotion, 944 a ; cited on the terms Possible and Impossible, 978 b ; quoted on tbe difference between Conceptions and Intuitions, 987 a ; ra- lemd to on Egoism, 988 a. WoUaatou, 789 b. 790 a. see Common Sense. World, External, see External World. Wyttenbach, bis use of the term idea, 928 h. TovNO, (Dr Jobn,) dodrine of, as to the connec- tion in imagination of Extension and Colour, 860 b. B., 919 b ; plagiarisms of 868 b, n. Toiing, (Dr Thomas,) speculation of. antidpated by Alblnus, 874 a ; quoted as holding that per- eimtioa of tarmiBal Unea is werdy negative. 933 Zababbixa, dted. 800 b, n. ; quoted on Aristotle's dootrlBO of Species. 952 a, n. ; on the words in- tmMmt lalinfioaoi, 96S b. n. ; his division of Ilia imanial Bansea. 968 b, n. ; bis opfaion touch- iMtbo Aetlva and Paadve intdlecta, 950 a, b. K | rafemd to, 958 b, nn., 973 a. Zsdlerlan Laaleoo, refined to, 700 bi b. Eddlems, hia * Noologla.' 770 a. StanaMrmann, diad, 996 K ERRATA. Page 10 a, 1. 17, /or 1763. read 1763 [1764]. 11 a, I. 61,yor 1781, read 1781 [1780]. 33 b, 1. 35, /or fifteen, read sixteen. 803, among the authorities, Omphalius should be entered as Gernrum, not as Frendi. „ 861 b, 1. 61, n,/(w L. ii. c, read L. i. a 8. tf i COLUMBIA UNIVERS TY 0032145802 OLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES lis book is <••» » **' Indicated below, or at th« : • ■■ ■* «5 of * •• ■• wing, *»•» 192R27 15 V.2 Kla r >„ 1